Building a Conglomerate in Another World-Chapter 85: Drinks on Me

The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the skyline of Sylvania warm hues of orange and crimson as Matthew Hesh stepped out of his office and onto the factory floor. The rhythmic clanging of machines and the low hum of activity filled the air, a familiar and comforting symphony of progress. Tonight, however, the factory would soon quiet—for celebration was in order.

Matthew’s boots echoed on the metal staircase as he descended toward the main production area. Workers, engineers, and foremen paused from their tasks, their curious gazes following him. Word had spread through whispers that the Army Board had met to discuss Hesh Industries’ weapons, and anticipation had been mounting all day.

Matthew arrived at the center of the floor, where a makeshift podium—a crate marked "Model 85 Rifles"—stood waiting. He climbed on top of it, his sharp gaze sweeping across the crowd. Robert Anders, the factory’s chief foreman, stood to the side, clipboard in hand and a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. The workers began to gather closer, wiping grease from their hands and exchanging hushed murmurs.

Matthew raised his hands for silence, and the room stilled almost instantly. The hiss of steam and distant clangs from idle machines became the only sounds.

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"Ladies and gentlemen," Matthew began, his voice carrying easily across the vast floor. "I’ve just come back from the War Ministry. I’m sure many of you have been wondering what the Army Board decided about our work."

The crowd stiffened, breaths held in collective suspense. Matthew paused just long enough to let the tension hang before delivering the news.

"They approved it," he said, his voice calm but clear. "All of it—the rifle, the automatic gun, and the pistol. The United Army is adopting our weapons!"

For a split second, the room was silent as the words registered. Then, like a dam breaking, cheers erupted from every corner of the factory. Shouts of excitement echoed through the space as workers clapped, slapped each other on the back, and whistled. Some threw their caps into the air, while others let out triumphant whoops that could be heard even outside the factory walls.

Robert grinned, shaking his head in disbelief. "We did it… by God, we really did it."

Matthew smiled, his gaze sweeping over his team as they celebrated. He stepped down from the crate and raised his voice again. "I want you all to know—this victory belongs to every single one of you. Your hard work, your precision, your late nights—you made this happen."

The crowd roared in approval, their pride evident on their grease-streaked faces. For many of these men and women, this wasn’t just a job; it was a chance to contribute to something that could change the course of history.

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"And to celebrate," Matthew added, raising his voice over the din, "I’m taking you all out. Drinks, food, the works—on me."

That set off another wave of cheers, even louder than before. A chant of "Hesh! Hesh! Hesh!" started among the younger workers, spreading quickly across the floor. Matthew laughed and waved them off, motioning for Robert to take charge.

"Get everyone ready," Matthew said to Robert as the workers began to shuffle toward the doors. "We’ll head to The Iron Tap. It’s big enough for this lot."

Robert nodded, already barking orders to get the factory closed up for the evening. Workers exchanged tools for jackets and scarves, their excitement palpable as they made their way outside. Within half an hour, the factory floor had emptied, and Matthew found himself leading a procession of jeeps, wagons, and bicycles toward the heart of New Hudson.

The Iron Tap was a sprawling tavern with high ceilings, brick walls, and sturdy oak tables. Its warm, golden light spilled onto the cobbled streets, drawing curious glances from passersby as dozens of Hesh Industries workers poured inside. The owner, a burly man named Fergus, had known Matthew for years and welcomed him with a grin as wide as his beard.

"Mr. Hesh!" Fergus called, wiping his hands on a rag. "I heard rumors, but it’s true, isn’t it? You’ve won over the Army Board."

"It’s true, Fergus," Matthew confirmed, clapping the man on the shoulder. "And tonight, we celebrate. Put it all on my tab."

Fergus laughed heartily. "Well, you’re going to keep me in business for a year at this rate. Go on, then—find your tables."

The tavern quickly filled with noise as Matthew’s workers claimed seats and shouted for pints, plates of roasted meats, and steaming loaves of bread. The air buzzed with conversation, the workers swapping stories about the factory, the weapons, and the future they were helping to shape.

At a table near the center, Matthew sat with Robert and a handful of senior foremen. Fergus personally delivered a large round of drinks, setting them down with a wink. "You’ve earned it."

"To Hesh Industries!" Robert called, raising his mug high. "And to the man who made it happen—Matthew Hesh!"

A cheer erupted around their table, and others in the tavern echoed it. Mugs clinked together, and Matthew took a long drink, savoring the moment. He had spent countless nights planning, designing, and refining his weapons. Tonight was the reward for that labor, and he wasn’t about to let it slip by.

One of the foremen, a wiry man named Simon, leaned forward with a grin. "What’s next, Mr. Hesh? The rifles are going to the army—what do we make after that?"

Matthew set his mug down, his expression thoughtful but confident. "This is just the beginning, Simon. The Army is stepping into a new age, and we’ll be there to make sure they have what they need. Better weapons, better vehicles, better everything."

"You really think this changes things?" another foreman, Henry, asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and awe.

Matthew met his gaze squarely. "It already has. We’re not just building guns, gentlemen. We’re building the future."

Robert raised his mug again, grinning from ear to ear. "To the future!"

"To the future!" the table echoed, voices ringing loud and clear.

Across the room, workers laughed, sang, and toasted one another, the sound of their celebration spilling into the night. Matthew watched them, a faint smile tugging at his lips. These people—his team—were the backbone of Hesh Industries. Their dedication had brought his ideas to life, and he would make sure they shared in every success.

As the evening wore on, the noise in the tavern grew louder, the energy infectious. Fergus brought out rounds of whiskey, and someone in the corner began playing a raucous tune on a fiddle, prompting a few workers to clap along and stomp their boots.

Matthew leaned back in his chair, savoring the moment. He had accomplished what many thought impossible—his weapons had been approved by the United Army. The road ahead would be full of challenges, but tonight, none of that mattered.