Chapter 69: The Progress of the Three Branches
The first shipments left Northport before sunrise.
Dozens of wagons rolled out through the factory gates loaded with wooden crates stamped with the Helmarte Soap Works seal.
Drivers shouted to one another.
Horses pulled against their harnesses.
Workers checked manifests one final time before departure.
For the first time, the Northport factory was no longer preparing to sell soap.
It was selling soap.
Inside the loading yard, the factory manager watched the wagons disappear down the road before letting out a long breath.
Months of construction.
Months of planning.
Months of preparation.
And now everything depended on whether customers actually bought the product.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Ernest sat inside the Helmarte office reviewing production reports when a clerk hurried into the room.
"Master Ernest."
"What is it?"
"The first sales figures arrived from Northport."
That got his attention immediately.
The clerk handed over the report.
Ernest quickly scanned the numbers.
Then scanned them again.
A smile slowly appeared.
The first week’s inventory had nearly sold out.
Not completely.
But close enough.
Much faster than projected.
Hollen leaned over the desk.
"Good?"
"Very."
The forge owner grabbed the report.
His eyes widened.
"Already?"
"Apparently people enjoy being clean."
Hollen laughed.
"Who would’ve thought?"
The success wasn’t limited to Northport.
A few days later, Ravenford sent its first sales report.
Then Eastgate.
Then another.
Then another.
Every report told the same story.
Demand exceeded expectations.
In Ravenford, local merchants had purchased entire wagonloads of soap within days.
Several store owners immediately requested additional deliveries.
One merchant even traveled directly to the factory to secure a long-term supply agreement.
His reasoning was simple.
Customers kept asking for Helmarte products by name.
That surprised him.
The company had become a brand.
Not merely a manufacturer.
People recognized the name.
People trusted the quality.
And trust was worth money.
Lots of money.
Inside a small shop in Ravenford, one elderly woman examined a bar of soap before handing over her coins.
The shopkeeper smiled.
"Second time buying it?"
The woman nodded.
"My daughter used it."
"And?"
"Now she wants more."
The merchant laughed.
That conversation repeated itself countless times throughout the city.
Word of mouth spread faster than advertising ever could.
A good product created its own customers.
Eastgate experienced even greater success.
The city already possessed strong trade connections thanks to the coal industry.
Merchants regularly moved goods between mining settlements, workshops, and neighboring towns.
Soap quickly joined that network.
Within weeks, Helmarte products were appearing in locations far beyond Eastgate itself.
Mining camps.
Roadside inns.
Small villages.
Trading posts.
Places Ernest had never visited.
Places he hadn’t even heard of.
Yet his products were reaching them anyway.
That was the power of distribution.
One afternoon, Ernest stood inside the Helmarte warehouse reviewing inventory figures.
A clerk approached carrying a ledger.
"Master Ernest."
"Yes?"
"We have a problem."
Ernest immediately looked up.
"A serious one?"
"Depends on how you define serious."
The clerk opened the ledger.
"We’re running low on inventory."
Ernest blinked.
"Low?"
The man nodded.
"Demand is higher than expected."
For a moment, Ernest simply stared.
Then he laughed.
The clerk looked confused.
"Master Ernest?"
"That’s a good problem."
A very good problem.
A year ago they struggled to produce enough soap.
Now they struggled to keep up with customers.
The difference was enormous.
By the end of the month, the impact became impossible to ignore.
Revenue climbed.
Production increased.
Hiring accelerated.
New workers arrived every week.
Entire departments expanded.
The payroll alone had become larger than the annual revenue of many businesses.
One evening, Ernest and Hollen sat inside the office reviewing the latest financial reports.
Neither spoke for several minutes.
The numbers spoke for themselves.
Finally, Hollen put down the ledger.
"Do you remember the first batch?"
Ernest laughed.
"The one that nearly failed?"
"That one."
The forge owner shook his head.
"We spent days trying to sell a few hundred bars."
"And now?"
Hollen slid the report across the desk.
The numbers filled nearly an entire page.
Factories.
Warehouses.
Distribution contracts.
Regional sales.
Profits.
Lots of profits.
The forge owner leaned back in his chair.
"We’ve officially lost control."
Ernest raised an eyebrow.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the business is growing faster than I can mentally keep track of."
That was probably true.
The company had become too large for one person to manage through memory alone.
Systems were replacing instinct.
Managers were replacing direct supervision.
Departments were forming.
For the first time, Helmarte Soap Works was beginning to operate independently of its founders.
And that realization was both exciting and slightly terrifying.
Outside the office window, workers continued loading wagons under the fading evening sunlight. More shipments. More customers. More growth.
Ernest watched them for several moments.
Then his thoughts drifted toward another project.
The fifty-horsepower steam engine.
Because while the soap business was thriving, he knew something important.
Soap had made them wealthy.
The steam engine might change the kingdom.
And somewhere inside Hollen’s forge, that future was still being built piece by piece.
At the same time, the success created new pressure.
Every branch began sending requests.
Northport wanted more crates for shipping.
Ravenford needed more curing racks.
Eastgate requested additional warehouse guards because coal merchants kept trying to reserve soap before it even left the factory.
Hollen read that last request twice.
"Coal merchants are buying soap now?"
Ernest nodded.
"Coal workers get covered in dust every day. They’re probably some of our best customers."
Hollen stared at him for a moment.
Then sighed.
"Of course they are."
The reports from Northport were even more interesting.
Ship captains had started purchasing soap in bulk before leaving port.
Not for resale.
For their crews.
A sailor might tolerate bad food.
He might tolerate cramped cabins.
But after using soap once, returning to old cleaning habits became difficult.
One Northport merchant wrote that several captains had begun asking whether Helmarte Soap Works could produce smaller travel bars for ships.
Ernest immediately circled the note.
"That’s a new product line."
Hollen leaned over.
"What now?"
"Travel soap."
The forge owner closed his eyes.
"I should’ve known."
"It’s smaller. Easier to pack. Useful for sailors, soldiers, merchants, and travelers."
Hollen opened one eye.
"Profitable?"
"Very."
"Then continue."
Ernest chuckled and wrote the idea down.
Meanwhile, Ravenford discovered another market.
Textile workers.
Soap proved useful not only for bathing, but also for washing hands before handling fine fabrics.
Several mill owners began purchasing soap to reduce stains on cloth during production.
That one surprised even Ernest.
He had expected households.
Bathhouses.
Merchants.
He had not expected textile workshops to become industrial customers.
Eastgate was the most aggressive branch by far.
Mining companies wanted regular contracts.
Foundries wanted worker wash stations.
Inns near the coal roads wanted monthly deliveries.
The Eastgate manager sent one short line at the bottom of his report.
Demand is not the problem. Supply is.
Ernest read that sentence three times.
Then he leaned back in his chair.
That was exactly the kind of problem every business wanted.
Across the kingdom, people were not merely buying soap out of curiosity anymore.
They were adding it to daily life.
Workers used it after shifts.
Mothers bought it for their families.
Merchants kept it in guest rooms.
Bathhouses offered it as part of their service.
Ships carried it at sea.
Mines bought it by crate.
The product had crossed an invisible line.
It was no longer strange.
It was becoming normal.
And once a product became normal, demand became permanent.
Ernest looked toward the map again.
Four factories.
Four cities.
Four centers of production.
Yet the kingdom still had towns and provinces untouched by their distribution network.
That meant room to grow.
A lot of room.
Hollen followed his gaze and immediately groaned.
"Don’t say it."
Ernest smiled.
"I haven’t said anything."
"You don’t have to. Your face already did."
The forge owner pointed toward the map.
"You’re thinking about more branches."
"Eventually."
"Gods help me."
Ernest laughed.
But he didn’t deny it.
Because deep down, he already knew the truth.
Helmarte Soap Works had not reached its limit.
It had only proven its model.
And now that the model worked, expansion was no longer a gamble.
