Building a Conglomerate in Another World

March 15, 1899Washington, D.C. — Hesh Residence

The city of Washington was experiencing one of those rare moments where the air seemed almost too calm, too peaceful. The hustle of government was still going on, but for the first time in years, it felt like the political machinery had quieted down. The war was officially over, and the dust had begun to settle. What had once been an era defined by military mobilization and political maneuvering was now being replaced by a new, quieter phase.

At least, that was how it felt at the Hesh residence.

Matthew Hesh sat at the dining room table, his hand absentmindedly tapping the surface of his morning paper. The house was peaceful—Amber and the children had gone out to visit family for the day, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He wasn't quite sure what to do with the silence. It was a welcome change, of course, but the stillness felt a little foreign to him. He'd spent so much of his life in the heat of battle, both on the physical frontlines and in the war rooms of diplomacy. This new normal, this calm, was something he would have to grow accustomed to.

A glance out the window showed the first hints of spring—trees just beginning to bud, flowers poking through the dirt, and a thin layer of fog lifting from the streets. It felt as though nature itself was stretching its limbs and awakening after a long, hard winter. The sense of renewal was in the air, and for the first time in a long while, Matthew felt like he could breathe again.

He rubbed his face, his mind wandering back to the days before the war had ended, the constant pressure of making the right decision, of keeping the balance between allies and enemies. It had been a time of constant alertness. But now? He wasn't sure what to think. What was next?

The thought made him smile to himself. He had made the future once. Now it was time to let it unfold on its own terms.

There was a soft knock at the door, followed by the gentle creak of it opening. Collins stepped in, his expression as composed as always. His brown hair had gone a bit grayer over the years, but his eyes still held that sharpness Matthew had always respected.

"Mr. President," Collins began with his customary formal tone, though it softened when he spoke Matthew's name. "The latest reports from Seoul have arrived. The rebuilding efforts are progressing smoothly, and our forces are nearly ready to begin transitioning out of the region."

Matthew's face softened with a hint of relief. He had been keeping a close eye on the aftermath of the war, particularly the efforts to restore order and infrastructure. The rebuild wasn't just about physical construction; it was about restoring the trust and stability that had been shattered. He trusted his allies to handle it, but he couldn't help but feel responsible for what came next.

"I've been meaning to get there myself," Matthew said, setting the paper aside and standing up. "What's the situation like? What's the mood on the ground?"

Collins seemed to consider the question carefully. "In some ways, it's still fragile. You know how it is. When people are forced to rebuild from destruction, there's always the fear that things could fall apart again. But the spirit of the people is strong. Both the Koreans and the Amerathians are working together. General Lee's leadership has been instrumental in that."

Matthew nodded thoughtfully. He'd heard much about General Lee's role in the reconstruction efforts. Lee's leadership had been invaluable, not just on the battlefield but in guiding the people toward a new future. His legacy in Korea was beginning to take shape, and it seemed that the country was finally beginning to feel the weight of their hard-earned independence.

"And Japan?" Matthew asked, glancing back at Collins.

"They're keeping to their word," Collins replied. "The Japanese have made major investments in rebuilding, and their presence in the region is focused on long-term peace. General Okada is still involved, though his role is more diplomatic now than military. It seems that the Japanese are focusing on integration, not just control."

Matthew smiled, the thought of it easing a bit of tension in his chest. "Good. That's what we need—a lasting peace. Not just a ceasefire, but a foundation for something better."

"And what about you, sir?" Collins asked, his tone shifting slightly. "Are you ready to move on from all of this?"

Matthew looked down at the floor for a moment, a quiet contemplation on his face. "It's strange," he said finally. "I thought I'd be looking ahead to more battles, more negotiations. But now… I don't know. Maybe it's time to focus on what's in front of us. To focus on the people who fought, on the ones who didn't make it, and on the ones who will live with the consequences for the rest of their lives."

Collins didn't say anything at first, just standing there as Matthew spoke, then nodded slowly. "I suppose the hardest part is always what comes after. But that's why we're here, sir. You've always done what was necessary. Now it's about making sure the peace holds."

Matthew glanced at him, a look of resolve settling into his features. "Yes. And that means making sure we're not just making promises. We need to deliver."

That afternoon, Matthew took a short walk around the neighborhood, strolling along tree-lined streets that had begun to shake off the winter chill. His thoughts drifted from policy and strategy to something more personal. Amber. Arthur. Sophia.

He hadn't seen much of them in the past few weeks. The weight of the war had pulled him away from them, from his family, and he knew that he needed to reconnect, to spend time with them, to focus on their future. His family had been through the worst of it, too, even though they hadn't fought on the front lines. He owed them this time. This peace.

He made a decision: when he got home, he would spend the evening with them—no work, no reports, just his family. His four-year-old son Arthur had become fascinated with anything that moved. Boats, horses, trains—anything with wheels or hooves. Matthew had been promising Arthur a trip to the waterfront for a while, and he would keep that promise today.

When he arrived back at the house, he found Amber in the garden, bending down to help Sophia pick up a fallen leaf. The sight warmed his heart. Amber looked up and smiled as she saw him approach, her eyes filled with the same quiet warmth she always gave him.

"Matthew," she said softly, standing up straight. "How was your day?"

"It's been quiet," he said, stepping closer and placing a kiss on her forehead. "But I've made a decision. We're taking the kids out for a little adventure today."

She raised an eyebrow, her smile deepening. "An adventure?"

"A walk along the waterfront. Arthur's been asking about the boats again, and I promised him we'd go see them." He glanced down at their daughter, who was now standing beside him, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers in her hand. "You're coming too, right, Soph?"

Sophia nodded solemnly, holding out the bouquet to him. "For you, Papa."

Matthew chuckled softly, kneeling to accept the gift. "Thank you, sweet girl. I love it."

Amber laughed gently and took his hand. "Alright, let's make sure we don't forget anything. Shoes, jackets, snacks for the walk." She paused and looked at him with a playful grin. "But you can't go without your coat. It's still chilly outside."

Matthew grinned. "Deal."

The walk to the waterfront was leisurely, the crisp air carrying the sounds of the city and the distant hum of boats in the harbor. Arthur ran ahead, excitedly asking about the ships he could see from a distance, while Sophia, holding Matthew's hand, pointed at every bird and flower she saw along the way.

Amber walked beside him, their conversation quiet but meaningful. They spoke of the future—plans for their home, for their children, and for the future of Amerathia.

When they reached the edge of the harbor, Arthur's eyes widened in delight as he ran toward the docks, staring at the boats bobbing gently in the water.

"There they are, Papa! The boats!" he exclaimed, pulling on Matthew's sleeve.

Matthew smiled and crouched beside him. "Yes, they are. You want to get closer?"

Arthur nodded enthusiastically, and together they walked down the dock, the sound of the water against the wood beneath their feet adding to the tranquility of the moment.

As they stood there, watching the boats, Matthew took a deep breath. There was peace now. Real peace. The kind he had fought for, not just in wars, but in his heart. His family was here. The world was moving forward, and for once, he could see the horizon without fearing the next storm.

"Do you think it will always be like this?" Amber asked, her voice soft, as she stood beside him.

"I don't know," Matthew said quietly, his arm around her. "But I'll make sure it is. For all of us."

They stood together, watching their children as they explored, and for the first time in a long while, Matthew felt content. Peace had come not just to nations, but to his heart as well.