Building a Conglomerate in Another World

The cold, damp air hit Matthew's face as he stepped outside the tavern, the rain now little more than a drizzle. His feet sank slightly into the mud as he started east, following the barkeep's directions. The road was rough, more of a dirt path carved through the center of the town, but it was lined with the occasional lamp flickering in the fading daylight. The surroundings were eerily quiet except for the distant sounds of people going about their business.

The road soon gave way to fields, and in the distance, he could see the silhouette of a railway station nestled between hills. Smoke curled lazily from a chimney above the station, signaling some sign of activity. The faint sounds of metal clanking and the occasional whistle of a train reached his ears, filling him with a strange sense of determination. 

It was a symbol of civilization, and he couldn't help but feel at ease by it.

As he walked closer to the station, the sight of workers finishing their shift for the day greeted him. They were dirty, covered in soot and grime, some laughing, others trudging silently as they made their way toward the small shacks in the distance—likely where they lived. The station itself was larger up close, made of weathered stone and timber, with a few freight cars sitting idle on the tracks.

"Steam locomotive huh?" Matthew commented. It was like a literal trip to the past for Matthew. In his previous life, this kind of technology was part of history books—an era long gone, replaced by electric trains and high-speed systems. Now, here he was, standing in a world where this was the pinnacle of progress.

Matthew walked up to the main building of the station, its wooden walls creaking slightly with age. The station was simple, functional, and bustling with activity as workers sorted through cargo and organized schedules for incoming and outgoing trains. 

Not long after, a rough hand shoved him back, catching Matthew off guard. He stumbled slightly, regaining his balance just in time to face the man who had pushed him. The man was broad-shouldered and wore a dark, worn uniform with a tarnished badge on his chest. His face was hardened, with deep-set eyes that glared down at Matthew.

"Hey, kid! You're not allowed in here," the guard growled, his voice sharp and dismissive. "This is no place for beggars or street rats."

Matthew, still catching his breath from the sudden shove, raised his hands defensively. "I'm not here to cause trouble. I was told to ask for the railmaster—I'm here for work."

The guard snorted, his expression showing clear disbelief. "Work? You? In this state?" He looked Matthew up and down, his eyes lingering on the mud-streaked clothes and thin frame. "You don't look like you could handle a day's labor, much less work on the railway."

Matthew fought to keep his composure. He had faced skeptics before in his past life—people who doubted his abilities or his resolve. This was no different. He stood taller, meeting the guard's gaze directly. 

"I may not look like much, but I can read, write, and handle numbers."

"Yeah, pretty much everyone could say that," the guard sneered. "Doesn't mean the railmaster's gonna waste his time on some kid like you. Go on now!"

Matthew clenched his fists, feeling frustration boil inside him. He couldn't let this opportunity slip away. His life depended on this. If he couldn't get a job, then he won't have money to survive, and everything will go to waste, his advantage of having knowledge so ahead of their time.

"I'm not leaving," he protested, his voice firmer now. "Just let me speak to the railmaster. He can decide for himself if I'm worth his time."

The guard's expression darkened, and he took a threatening step forward. "You don't understand, kid. You're not welcome here. Get lost before I—"

Before the guard could finish, the sound of a door slamming open interrupted him. From the station office, a stern-looking man in his fifties with a gray beard and neatly pressed clothes stepped out, his eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding.

"What's all this noise?" the man barked. His sharp eyes flickered between Matthew and the guard, clearly irritated by the commotion. "Can't a man get a moment's peace in his own office?"

"This kid was causing trouble, Railmaster," the guard replied quickly, standing straighter now that his superior had arrived. "He says he's here for work, but—"

"I am here for work," Matthew interrupted, stepping forward before the guard could finish

The railmaster's gaze shifted to Matthew, appraising him with a skeptical eye. His brow furrowed as he took in Matthew's ragged clothes and thin frame, but something in Matthew's determined expression seemed to give him pause.

The railmaster folded his arms. "You're looking for work, are you?"

"Yes, sir," Matthew replied, his voice steady despite the tension. "I may not look like much, but I can help. I've got skills that might be useful."

The railmaster stroked his beard thoughtfully, then glanced at the guard. "You're too quick to judge, Benson," he muttered before turning back to Matthew. "You say you can read and write. You'd better be telling the truth, or this'll be a short conversation. Follow me."

Matthew exhaled a sigh of relief, nodding eagerly. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

The railmaster turned on his heel and began walking toward the office. The guard, Benson, gave Matthew a sharp look but stayed silent, letting him pass. Matthew followed closely behind the railmaster, feeling a surge of hope.

Inside, Matthew noticed the absence of electrical lighting or modern conveniences. The office was dimly lit by oil lamps where its light flickered across the room. The walls were lined with maps, timetables, and paperwork stacked on a wooden desk. A large window overlooked the platform outside, where the workers moved about, preparing for the next incoming train.

The railmaster sat behind the desk, gesturing for Matthew to stand in front of him. 

"So, you claim to be good with reading, writing, and numbers, eh?" His voice was gruff but less harsh now, more curious than dismissive.

"That's correct," Matthew simply confirmed.

"You look scrawny, and there ain't much muscle on you for heavy lifting. But if what you say is true, I might have something for you." He grabbed a piece of parchment from the side of his desk and slid it across the table along with a quill and ink. "Let's see how good you really are. Copy this schedule onto that parchment."

Matthew took the parchment and studied the contents. It was a simple train schedule with departure times, destinations, and cargo listings—nothing too complex.

He worked quickly but with precision, making sure the writing was neat and legible. When he finished, he handed it back to the railmaster, who examined it.

The railmaster grunted in approval. "Not bad. Your handwriting's better than half the men I've got working here." He glanced up at Matthew. "You might be useful after all."

Matthew's heart lifted. "Does that mean I have the job?"

"Maybe…if you pass a series of my test which will evaluate your overall aptitude for the job." The railmaster leaned back in his chair, narrowing his eyes as he studied Matthew. "See, I had an assistant not long ago, and he made a mistake so glaring it nearly derailed half our operations. I fired him on the spot. I need someone sharp—someone who can think quickly and handle the pressure."

"I'm up for it, sir," he replied firmly, determination clear in his voice.

The railmaster smirked, nodding slightly as he rummaged through the papers on his desk. He pulled out a sheet of parchment with a series of questions written across it and handed it to Matthew. 

"Here," he said, tapping the page. "Solve this."

Matthew took the parchment and scanned the questions. They were designed to test not just basic arithmetic but also logic and practical knowledge of the railway business. The first few questions were simple math problems—calculating times and distances, measuring train speeds, and converting cargo weights into load capacity. These were no challenge for someone with his background.

However, the questions quickly became more complex. One problem asked about scheduling overlapping train routes to avoid delays, and another tested his ability to reroute cargo during a bottleneck. It was clear that the railmaster wasn't just looking for a clerk—he needed someone who could think strategically, someone who understood the bigger picture of how the railway operated.

Matthew took a deep breath and began working through the questions. After a few minutes, Matthew finished and handed the parchment back to the railmaster, who took it without a word. The older man leaned forward, scrutinizing each answer carefully.

When he finally looked up, there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes. 

"How come a scrawny man like you, do this in such a short amount of time?" the railmaster asked.

"I told you I'm good," Matthew replied.

"Where did you get your education? Did you have a family background that has a history in the railway business?"

Matthew shook his head, his expression calm despite the probing question. "No, sir," he replied. "I don't have a family. I don't know where they are. And everything I know, I learned by myself."

The railmaster's eyes narrowed as he studied Matthew's face, searching for any sign of deceit.

"Alone, huh?" he muttered, almost to himself. "That's a tough way to grow up."

Matthew nodded. "That's all I know."

The railmaster leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. For a moment, the room was silent except for the faint sounds of trains and workers outside. The older man seemed to be weighing something in his mind before he finally spoke again.

"You've got brains, no doubt about that," he admitted. "You passed the test with flying colors, and you've got a sharp head on your shoulders. You can work for me as my assistant. But before you can start on your job, wash yourselves first. You look like you've been dragged through the muck." The railmaster smirked slightly, but there was no malice in his tone. "I can't have you scaring off everyone looking like that."

Matthew glanced down at himself, still caked in mud from his earlier trek. He nodded, grateful for the opportunity but knowing that appearances mattered, especially in a place like this where respect was hard-earned.

"Understood, sir," he replied. "I'll clean up and be ready by tomorrow morning."

The railmaster waved his hand dismissively. "Good. Go to the back of the station, there's a pump you can use. Benson will show you where you can stay for the night. Be here first thing at dawn. We have a big shipment coming in, and I need someone I can rely on." 

"Thank you, sir…oh by the way I haven't asked about your name."

The railmaster raised an eyebrow at Matthew's question, then grunted with a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Name's Gerald Stone, but everyone just calls me Railmaster Stone. Been running this station for close to twenty years now."

Matthew nodded, grateful for the railmaster's firm but fair demeanor. "Thank you, Railmaster Stone. I'll be here at dawn, ready to work."

Stone gave a slight nod before gesturing to the door. "Off you go, lad. Get yourself cleaned up and rested. Tomorrow's a long day."