Structure

His eyes remained fixed on the prominent, empty rectangle sitting right at the apex of the organizational flowchart, directly beneath the dark ink of TEUCHER IRON & STEEL CORPORATION.

President.

General Director of Production.

Master of Works.

Whatever title Ernest eventually inked into that vacant space hardly mattered. What made the old forge master's chest feel tight was the sheer, terrifying weight of the operational reality behind it.

Hollen slowly lowered his heavy frame into his creaking oak chair, the aged timber groaning under his weight. He stared at the blueprint for a long, silent minute before running both calloused hands down his soot-stained face, letting out a heavy, ragged exhale.

"I think you've finally lost your mind, Ernest," Hollen muttered, his voice barely audible over the thrum of the shop floor outside. "Completely lost it."