Creating an Industrial Empire in 19th Century Parallel World

Poul and Saud signed the document together at the table and once they were finished, they rose to their feet and exchanged a firm handshake.

"Now to cement our partnership, we must take a picture," Poul gestured at the front, where the cameraman stood ready with his large-format camera. The cameraman, dressed in a black suit and bowler hat, adjusted the lens and prepared the necessary equipment.

"Indeed, a photograph to commemorate this momentous occasion," Saud agreed, his regal demeanor giving way to a hint of excitement. "Let us capture this milestone for future generations to witness."

Poul and Saud positioned themselves side by side, with the document they had just signed prominently displayed on the table in front of them. The room fell silent as the cameraman readied the camera, adjusting the settings and ensuring everything was in place.

"Just a moment, gentlemen," the cameraman said, lifting a black cloth and carefully placing it over his head, disappearing under its cover. He adjusted the lens once more, ensuring perfect focus.

The cameraman's muffled voice broke the silence. "Ready... steady... hold your pose."

The flash ignited, briefly illuminating the room before fading away.

"And... done!" the cameraman exclaimed, removing the black cloth from his head and revealing a relieved smile. He carefully extracted the photographic plate from the camera, handling it with utmost care.

Poul and Saud relaxed their stance, a wave of satisfaction washing over them.

"You are leaving now, Mr. Nielsen?" Saud asked.

"Yes, Your Highness. We have a business to take care of in the United States. Though we will remain in touch," Poul said.

"I see well good luck on your endeavors, Mr. Nielsen. I will have my men escort to escort you and Ms. Weiss to the Jeddah port."

Poul nodded appreciatively. "Thank you, Your Highness. Your assistance is greatly appreciated. We look forward to maintaining a strong partnership with the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia."

Amelia, who had been observing the exchange quietly, stepped forward. "Your Highness, I would also like to express my gratitude for your hospitality and the opportunity to engage in this historic collaboration. We hope to contribute positively to the growth and development of your nation."

Saud acknowledged Amelia's words with a nod and a warm smile. "The pleasure is mine, Ms. Weiss. Now then," he beckoned the guards forward, "please ensure Mr. Nielsen and Ms. Weiss have a safe journey to the port."

The guards, clad in traditional Arabian attire, stepped forward. Poul and Amelia gathered their belongings and followed their escorts through the ornate corridors of the palace. Outside were the camels that awaited them.

"At last we are going home," Amelia mumbled but Poul overheard her words and turned to her with a gentle smile.

"At last it is," Poul chuckled.

"I couldn't bear the heat in this country. Poul, make sure that we export air conditioners to Saudi Arabia," Amelia quipped, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

"Really? In our three days of stay here, that's what you came up with?" Poul teased, shaking his head playfully. "Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to explore that possibility."

As they mounted their respective camels, the driver looked up at them and raised a thumbs up, indicating if they were ready.

Poul returned the gesture with a thumbs-up of his own, signaling their readiness to begin the journey.

***

In the Port of Jeddah, Poul and Amelia gazed at the mysterious ship that is currently docked at the port.

"Is that a British battleship?" Amelia asked, her eyes fixed on the warship.

Poul, who had been keeping tabs on the Royal Navy's fleet after they took a deal from the United States to build a battleship, identified it immediately.

"Based on the appearance alone, it appears to be their latest warship, HMS Royal Sovereign," Poul said. "But what is it doing here…"

He trailed off the moment his gaze caught someone. Poul recognized the figure descending from the gangway of the battleship—it was none other than King Alexander of the British Empire, accompanied by his entourage of dignitaries and officers. The sight of the monarch in Jeddah was unexpected.

"What the heck is he doing here?" Poul dismounted his camel and rushed towards Alexander.

"Poul wait!" Amelia called after him, her voice filled with concern. She quickly dismounted her camel and followed Poul, trying to catch up with him.

Poul reached the gangway where King Alexander was descending and approached him, but the Royal Guards immediately blocked his path.

"Stay back!" One of the guards commanded.

"No, it's okay Andrew," Alexander said, easing his hand up, signaling his guards to lower their defenses. Poul came to a stop, a few feet away from the king. "Fancy meeting you here, Mr. Nielsen."

"Yeah fancy meeting you here as well," Poul said, scoffing. "What are you doing here?"

"Is that the right way to speak to the King?" Alexander said, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement."

"Are you following me?" Poul asked, his brows narrowing.

"Following you?!" Alexander scoffed. "Why would I do that? I'm here on a diplomatic mission to establish a formal relationship with Saudi Arabia. What makes you assume that? This is too ridiculous."

"So we happen to coincidentally meet again? Is that what you want me to believe?" Poul retorted.

"Watch your mouth you uncultured Albian!" The guard snapped, unable to bear the disrespect Poul is doing.

"Calm down, Andrew. I got this," Alexander said, raising his hand to signal his guard to step back. He then turned his attention back to Poul, his expression serious but composed.

"Well, Mr. Nielsen, I don't think you have the right to know what I'm doing here in this country specifically, but may I ask, how is the election going on? The latest polls suggest that you are not even making it to the top three. What happened to the big words you were throwing around during our last encounter? That you are going to become a president…" he burst out laughing, followed by his royal guards.

"This bastard…" Poul cursed inwardly.

"Mr. Nielsen, remember when I told you that I'm not finished with you yet? The humiliation of taking away Penelope from me. Well, get ready because I'm getting started now. It seems to me that you just struck a deal with the Sauds, what is it again…ah the oil mining rights."

"How did you know that?" Poul demanded.

Alexander ignored Poul's question and simply looked at the timepiece. "I'm sorry, it seems like we are getting late for our appointment. Mr. Nielsen, it was a pleasure talking to you, even though it was not. Get him out of my sight."

Andrew, the head of the royal guard, stepped forward, his stern expression leaving no room for negotiation. "You heard the king. Leave now."

"So you are explicitly declaring war on me now, Your Majesty?" Poul said. "In that case, come at me with all you have got."