The six weeks following the Order's arrival in Romania were a blur of intense labor and engineering. Having secured the sprawling, decommissioned limestone quarry, Daemon immediately invested every single remaining coin he possessed into the construction of a stable, secure headquarters. His money was almost exclusively spent purchasing vast quantities of steel and reinforcing materials, as the site was already rich in limestone, which the Order efficiently extracted and processed into cement using their steam engines and chemical expertise.
Through six weeks of relentless, extensive labor, the Order had transformed the abandoned quarry into a fortress and a resort simultaneously. The architectural style Daemon employed was concrete brutality—a stark, imposing blend of rough concrete surfaces and deliberate incorporation of lush greenery, blending the functional severity of the structure with the natural environment. The high, reinforced walls of the transformed mine could easily put the Pasha's own palace to shame.
Inside, the living quarters were designed for maximum comfort and privacy. Personal rooms were furnished to the individual tastes of each member, and personal bathrooms and kitchens were installed throughout the labyrinthine tunnels. However, all members were strictly required to eat breakfast together, a simple measure to maintain cohesion, shared purpose, and a routine that prevented fragmentation.
The facility was fully equipped for the Order's ongoing development: communal gyms and training grounds, a large, well-ventilated forge, and an expansive lab that ran deep into the earth. For relaxation and decompression, Daemon had installed swimming pools, fed by water pumped from deep wells using his customized steam engines, which also doubled as elevators to access the deeper levels of the complex.
Security was paramount. Daemon designed all interior and exterior doors with complex mechanical and runic locks that ensured only those wearing the ring of the Archangel could open them. This guaranteed that intruders, even if they bypassed the surface guards, could not move freely without immediately being detected and confined.
Daemon had been deliberately putting off the Pasha for weeks regarding the shipment of the B-1 explosive materials (referred to internally as the M-1, or Military Material 1). The M-1 was essential to the Pasha's prestige and his standing among other regional nobles, and the continued delay served to heighten its perceived value.
That day, the Pasha's patience snapped. He personally stormed the abandoned mine, expecting to find a disorganized, makeshift encampment. Instead, he pulled his horse to a sudden stop before the quarry's entrance. The high, smooth concrete walls, softened by creeping vines, and the deliberate, brutalist geometry shocked him. It was a structure he had never seen, and it spoke of immense, organized power.
Daemon, clean and composed, emerged from the newly constructed entrance and performed a welcoming, respectful bow. "Welcome, Pasha Musa, to our new headquarters, which we have christened Angel Corp."
Daemon led the Pasha and his small escort into the facility. He navigated the Pasha past the training areas and the complex steam-powered infrastructure, finally leading him to the vast, open area designated for weapons testing. There, laid out under heavy guard, was their entire stockpile of the M-1.
"As promised, Pasha, the fruits of our labor," Daemon said, gesturing to the crates. The stockpile numbered about one hundred and fifty boxes, with each box containing ten canisters of the devastating B-1 compound, totaling fifteen hundred canisters.
They proceeded to the testing grounds. A few canisters were set up, and a small, controlled detonation was prepared.
When the M-1 exploded, the Pasha's reaction was immediate and focused. The resulting flash was blindingly intense, searing the ground, and the shockwave was sharper and far more localized than any typical Fire magic spell. Pasha Musa instinctively raised his arm, not in fear, but to shield his eyes from the brilliance. He slowly lowered his arm, his expression transforming into one of deep satisfaction and professional interest.
"It is not magic," the Pasha declared, his voice a low, excited rumble. "It is a simple, effective tool. An oversized grenade, yes, but one capable of being thrown by any peasant and effective against even armored units. This will be invaluable for arming our non-magic forces and leveling the field for our weaker, commoner infantry." The power wasn't terrifying to him; it was a potent, scalable commodity.
With the power of the M-1 firmly established as a military necessity, it was time for the bargaining.
The Eichorst twins, Griselda and Fredrick, stepped forward. Their contrasting magics—Griselda's earthy stability and Fredrick's fluid intelligence—made them perfect negotiating partners. They spoke with the utmost courtesy, but their language was firm and based on the principles of supply and demand Daemon had taught them. They presented complex, detailed spreadsheets factoring in the cost of labor, synthesized materials, and political risk, negotiating in such a way that made the Pasha feel he was receiving a hard-won, beneficial deal.
"Given the scarcity of the core synthesis components and the specialized labor required," Griselda stated calmly, citing an appropriate figure, "the price is not merely transactional, but reflective of the unique military parity it grants the Sultan's forces against the magical elite."
Eventually, they agreed on a fixed price per canister, a sum that would be paid immediately upon the goods being picked up and transported by the Pasha's men. The Order now had its first major source of external funding.
The Pasha then brought up the topic that had been burning in his mind since their arrival: the remaining two airships. "Daemon, now that your supply lines are secured, I wish to purchase the remaining two flying machines. Name your price."
Daemon smiled faintly. "Pasha Musa, those two remaining ships are the culmination of a year and a half of intensive labor. It took fifty highly skilled people fourteen months to construct just one of those craft. As such, the price would be truly astronomical—it would bankrupt your entire province. I urge you, Pasha, to be content with the airship you possess. Let us instead focus our efforts here at Angel Corp on providing you with the fuel and maintenance for your single machine. That, sir, is a more sustainable relationship for us both. Your air superiority relies on our chemical output."
Daemon's refusal was polite but firm. He had secured his base, secured his funding, and successfully protected his most valuable assets—the means of transport and the knowledge to fuel it. The Pasha, awestruck by the sheer industrial might of Angel Corp and convinced of the necessity of the M-1, could only nod in frustrated agreement. Daemon had won the first round of the economic war.