The morning sun beat down mercilessly on the training grounds as Harry completed his final set of sword forms. Two grueling hours of physical conditioning had left him completely drenched in sweat, his training tunic clinging uncomfortably to his skin. His lungs burned with each labored breath, and his muscles screamed in protest as he forced himself through the last sequence of movements.
When he finally finished, Harry collapsed onto the packed earth of the training yard, chest heaving as he gulped down air. The wooden practice sword slipped from his trembling fingers, and he closed his eyes against the bright sunlight overhead.
Lor stood nearby, barely winded from their session. Unlike his son, the lord of the Gold family maintained his composure even after rigorous training—a testament to years of disciplined practice. He observed Harry's exhausted form with a mixture of amusement and pride before approaching.
"Even technological geniuses need physical strength, Harry," he remarked, his shadow providing momentary relief from the sun's glare. "The mind may conceive brilliant ideas, but the body must be strong enough to bring them to fruition."
Harry managed a weak groan in response, which only widened Lor's smile.
"Go wash yourself," Lor instructed, extending a hand to help his son up. "Then meet me in my office. We have important matters to discuss."
Harry accepted the assistance, his legs wobbling slightly as he rose to his feet. "Important matters?" he questioned between heavy breaths. "About what?"
Lor merely raised an enigmatic eyebrow. "Clean up first. Some conversations deserve proper attention, not the distracted mind of a boy thinking about how badly he needs a bath."
Harry nodded, too exhausted to press further. He dragged himself across the courtyard toward the mansion, grateful that at least the new electrical lighting system was a success. His aching body was reminder enough that he still had much to improve in other areas.
After a refreshing bath that washed away the grime and eased his sore muscles, Harry dressed in clean attire suitable for a formal meeting with his father. The Gold family might be newly elevated to nobility, but Lor insisted on maintaining proper etiquette within their household—a constant reminder that their position required dignified behavior to match their wealth.
Standing before the imposing oak doors of his father's office, Harry paused to straighten his collar before knocking firmly. Royal protocol demanded that even family members announce themselves before entering the Lord's private domain—a rule Lor enforced without exception.
Three measured knocks echoed in the hallway.
The door opened smoothly to reveal Steward, the family's head butler, whose impeccable posture and carefully neutral expression had become as much a fixture of the household as the furniture. His silver-streaked hair was meticulously combed, and his uniform bore not a single wrinkle.
"The Lord is expecting you, young master," Steward announced with a polite inclination of his head, stepping aside to grant entry.
Harry returned the gesture with equal formality. "Thank you, Steward."
The office beyond was a testament to calculated opulence. Dark wooden bookshelves lined the walls, filled with leather-bound volumes on governance, military strategy, and business—the collected wisdom Lor had acquired during his rise from merchant to nobility. Behind the massive mahogany desk, tall windows overlooked the estate's sprawling grounds, strategically positioned to allow natural light to illuminate the room throughout the day.
Lor himself sat at the desk, quill in hand as he reviewed and signed various documents. Without looking up, he gestured toward the chair positioned across from him. Harry took his seat silently, knowing better than to interrupt his father's work.
After completing his current task, Lor set the papers aside and leaned back, studying his son with penetrating eyes. In the quietude of the moment, his mind wandered back to the previous evening's revelation—the mansion transformed by steady, unwavering light that required neither flame nor magic. Even now, with daylight streaming through the windows, Lor found himself replaying the moment when darkness had surrendered to Harry's invention.
The servants had taken to calling the glass bulbs "captured stars," a poetic description that wasn't entirely inaccurate. Harry had attempted to explain the scientific principles behind the phenomenon—electrons, filaments, and energy conversion—but most of the terminology had been beyond Lor's comprehension. The simplified version, however, had made some sense: the panels captured the sun's essence, stored it like water in a reservoir, and then released it through the glass orbs when needed.
"Remarkable," Lor murmured, almost to himself.
Harry shifted slightly in his chair. "Father?"
Lor refocused his attention, straightening in his seat. "Harry, what you accomplished yesterday was nothing short of extraordinary. The staff can speak of nothing else, and your mother has already commissioned special fixtures to complement the new lights." A rare smile softened his typically stern features. "Even Lord Bennington's messenger, who arrived this morning, was visibly stunned when I received him in the illuminated study well before sunrise."
Harry couldn't help but return the smile, a flush of pride warming his cheeks.
"You mentioned plans to expand this lighting system beyond our mansion," Lor continued, his tone shifting toward business. "To our entire territory, if I recall correctly. Is such an undertaking truly feasible?"
"Completely feasible," Harry confirmed without hesitation, his confidence unwavering. "The principles remain the same whether lighting one room or an entire city. It's simply a matter of scale."
Lor's expression grew contemplative. He rose from his chair and moved to the window, gazing out at the territory that stretched beyond their estate walls.
"Do you understand the significance of what you're proposing?" he asked, his voice softer but more intense. "Nights have always been a time of vulnerability and fear for ordinary people, Harry. When darkness falls, those without magic become effectively blind outside the feeble glow of torches and oil lamps."
He turned back to face his son. "When emergencies strike after sunset—fires, accidents, childbirth complications—the darkness itself becomes an enemy as deadly as any other threat. Unlike mages who can summon light with a gesture, common folk must fumble through blackness or waste precious minutes trying to light unreliable flames."
Harry listened intently, beginning to grasp the deeper implications of his invention beyond mere convenience.
"If what you've created could truly illuminate our entire territory..." Lor left the sentence unfinished, the possibilities hanging in the air between them.
After a moment of reflection, Harry posed a question that had been nagging at him. "Why hasn't something like this been created before? Surely other forgers must have considered the problem of nighttime illumination?"
Lor returned to his seat with a heavy sigh, his expression darkening. "You've touched upon a complex matter that reveals much about our world's politics and prejudices." He steepled his fingers before continuing. "Advanced illumination devices do exist, but they're primarily crafted by dwarven forgers who guard their techniques jealously. Their creations are masterful but prohibitively expensive."
He leaned forward, his voice taking on a tone of frustrated recollection. "Three years ago, Emperor Aurelius himself requested dwarven assistance to illuminate the capital's main thoroughfares. The dwarven representatives demanded payment equal to one-fifth of the imperial treasury for a single main street. They claimed the materials alone cost nearly that much—a transparent excuse to keep their methods exclusive or extract wealth from human kingdoms."
Harry's brow furrowed as he processed this information. "But surely human forgers could develop their own methods?"
"That reveals our second weakness," Lor explained. "Humanity's strength lies in our numbers and adaptability, not specialized expertise. The empire has pitifully few master forgers compared to the dwarven kingdoms. Most of our population consists of either pathless individuals with no magical affinity or those with only modest talents in limited domains."
He rose again, this time moving to a cabinet from which he withdrew a rolled map. Spreading it across the desk, he revealed the known world with its various kingdoms, territories, and geographical features.
"Long before the empire united us, humanity was fractured into warring kingdoms," Lor continued, his finger tracing old boundaries that no longer existed. "Centuries of conflict destroyed countless libraries, workshops, and repositories of ancient knowledge. Techniques and artifacts that might have elevated all of mankind were lost to petty rivalries and shortsighted kings."
Harry studied the map thoughtfully, understanding dawning in his eyes. "We've been holding ourselves back."
"Precisely," Lor confirmed, nodding with approval at his son's quick comprehension. "And that is why your innovations could be so transformative. You're creating knowledge rather than merely preserving it."
Harry sat up straighter, his mind already working through practical considerations. "The solar panels alone won't be sufficient," he acknowledged. "They rely on sunlight, which means cloudy days or extended winter nights would create power shortages."
He leaned forward, enthusiasm building in his voice. "But there's another source we could harness—wind energy. Our territory includes the Eastern Ridges, high mountains that remain largely uninhabited due to their rugged terrain. If we install wind turbines there, they could generate substantial power regardless of weather conditions."
"Wind turbines?" Lor echoed, the unfamiliar term sitting awkwardly on his tongue.
Harry's hands moved animatedly as he explained. "Massive structures with blades that capture wind energy and convert it to electricity. I can forge the prototype components and train mages to assist with the assembly. With their elemental affinities, they could manage the installation in locations too dangerous for ordinary workers."
Lor stroked his beard contemplatively, his analytical mind already calculating potential costs against benefits. Harry's ideas were ambitious, certainly, but the boy had already proven his concepts were more than mere fantasies.
"A comprehensive power grid would require significant resources and manpower," Lor noted, though his tone suggested interest rather than dismissal.
"Yes," Harry agreed, "but the long-term benefits would far outweigh the initial investment."
Lor studied his son for a long moment before a slow smile spread across his face. "You speak not just of innovation but of business," he observed. "Good. The Gold family has not risen to prominence through charity alone."
He leaned back in his chair, his posture shifting subtly from curious father to shrewd businessman. "Though you won't officially reach adulthood until fifteen, I believe you've demonstrated sufficient acumen to discuss this venture properly. Tell me, Harry—how do you propose to transform these remarkable inventions into a profitable enterprise?"
Harry straightened, recognizing the shift in conversation. This was no longer theoretical discussion but practical planning—his father was taking him seriously as a potential business leader despite his age.
"We'll establish a service model," Harry replied confidently. "Residents would pay a monthly fee for access to electricity. The initial infrastructure would be our investment, but the ongoing revenue would quickly surpass those costs."
He continued, warming to the subject. "I'll train our existing forgers to create the necessary components. They won't be able to replicate the entire system without my guidance, but by breaking down the manufacturing into specialized tasks, they can produce individual parts efficiently."
Harry's eyes gleamed with strategic foresight. "Then we'll create a new class of skilled workers—electrical technicians—trained specifically to assemble and maintain these systems. We'll start with our own territory as proof of concept, then expand outward as demand grows."
Lor nodded slowly, impressed by the comprehensive approach. "Your plan has merit, but it raises an important question of intellectual property. Are you certain you wish to share even portions of this knowledge? Once others understand the principles, they may attempt to replicate your work without compensation."
Harry's response came without hesitation. "That's exactly where humanity has always faltered, Father. Progress stagnates when knowledge is hoarded. Let others try to copy these initial designs—by the time they manage to reverse-engineer what I've already created, I'll have developed ten more innovations they haven't even imagined."
He leaned forward, passion evident in his voice. "The truly valuable asset isn't any single invention but the mind that creates them. I'm not concerned about protecting yesterday's ideas when I'm already working on tomorrow's breakthroughs."
A rare look of genuine admiration crossed Lor's features. "Well spoken," he acknowledged. "You understand what many take decades to learn—that true leadership comes not from clutching tightly to existing advantages but from constantly generating new ones."
He studied his son with renewed appreciation. At just ten years old, Harry demonstrated business instincts that rivaled veteran merchants. Combined with his unprecedented technical genius, the boy was positioning himself to become a transformative figure in their society.
Lor straightened in his chair, transitioning fully into his role as head of the Gold family. "If we're to launch this venture properly, we need more than just technical brilliance and sound business strategy. We need a name—a banner under which these innovations will march into the world."
"A name?" Harry echoed, momentarily caught off guard. In his focus on the technical and logistical aspects, he hadn't considered the importance of branding.
"Yes," Lor confirmed. "A powerful name creates an impression before people ever encounter your product. It carries reputation, inspires confidence, and becomes shorthand for quality—or lack thereof."
Harry fell silent, his fingers drumming thoughtfully against the chair's armrest as he considered the weight of this decision. The name would need to convey innovation and reliability while honoring their family legacy. It should be memorable yet dignified, ambitious without seeming grandiose.
After several moments of contemplation, his expression cleared. "Goldenova," he said decisively.
"Goldenova?" Lor repeated, testing the sound of it.
Harry nodded with growing confidence. "It combines our family name with 'nova'—an astronomical event where a star suddenly becomes extraordinarily bright, outshining everything around it. It represents both our family's wealth and the brilliance of the innovation we're bringing to the world. A golden nova—something bright, powerful, and revolutionary."
Lor rolled the name over in his mind, considering its cadence and implications. Goldenova. A celestial explosion of light bearing the family's mark. There was poetry in it, but also substance—exactly the combination that memorable names possessed.
The more he considered it, the more fitting it seemed. Harry wasn't simply creating useful devices; he was igniting something that would potentially transform society itself. The name captured both ambition and heritage in two elegant syllables.
"A star that suddenly outshines all others," Lor murmured approvingly. "Yes, that does seem appropriate for what you're building."
His perception of his son shifted subtly in that moment. This wasn't merely a child with unusual talents; this was a visionary who understood not just the technical aspects of creation but the human elements of leadership and legacy. At ten years old, Harry was already thinking about how his work would be perceived and remembered.
After a moment of thoughtful silence, Lor gave a decisive nod. "Goldenova it shall be. The name honors our family while establishing your enterprise as something distinctive."
He turned toward Steward, who had been standing discreetly near the door throughout their conversation. "Summon all available forgers and mages to the east courtyard within the hour. My son will address them regarding an important new venture."
"At once, my lord," Steward replied with a precise bow before departing on his mission.
Lor returned his attention to Harry. "We have several warehouses constructed for future commercial expansion, along with considerable undeveloped land surrounding them. That area would serve well as the foundation for your company."
Harry's eyes brightened at the prospect. "That's perfect—enough space for manufacturing facilities and eventual training centers."
"I'll have Steward show you the properties this afternoon," Lor promised. "You can begin planning the layout immediately."
Steward returned momentarily to inform them that the staff would be gathered as requested. Harry rose from his chair, straightening his posture as he prepared to present his vision to the household's skilled workers.
"I'll return to my room to prepare my notes," he said, the weight of the opportunity already setting his mind racing with plans and diagrams.
As Harry departed, Lor remained at his desk, gazing thoughtfully at the space his son had occupied. The boy who had left was simultaneously still a child and already something more—a creator on the cusp of reshaping their world in ways even Lor couldn't fully anticipate.
"Goldenova," he whispered to the empty room, feeling the word's potential unfurl like a banner catching the wind.
He had built the Gold family's fortune through shrewd trading and calculated risks, elevating them from merchants to nobility within a single generation. But what Harry was beginning might eclipse even that remarkable achievement. This wasn't merely commerce; this was transformation.
Lor moved to the window once more, looking out at the territory under his stewardship. The afternoon sun bathed the landscape in golden light, but in his mind's eye, he could already envision it illuminated by thousands of electric lights after nightfall—a constellation of brilliance spreading outward from the innovation center his son would build.
Somewhere in that future, the name Goldenova would shine as brightly as the technology it represented—a legacy not just of wealth but of progress. And it would begin today, with a ten-year-old boy explaining electricity to bewildered mages and skeptical craftsmen.
Lor smiled at the thought. The world was about to change, and his son would be the catalyst.