The automobile factory was a vast, imposing structure—an industrial fortress of steel and iron. Massive iron girders stretched upward to form the skeleton of the building, while thick, riveted panels of metal and towering glass windows gave it a rugged, utilitarian look.

Inside, the factory floor was alive with activity, the air thick with the acrid scent of magic machine oil, molten metal, and the occasional whiff of smoke from welding sparks of wands.

Conveyor belts hummed as they carried parts of engines, axles, and steel plates to the assembly line, where workers in dirty overalls toiled in synchronized efficiency. The sound of clanking tools, grinding gears, and the ceaseless roar of machinery echoed off the high ceiling, mixing with the rhythmic hiss of steam vents.

At the far end of the factory lay the training area—a rough section of the floor cordoned off by iron railings and marked with deep tire tracks. A dozen recruits stood lined up, their eyes darting nervously between the monstrous vehicles parked before them and the man who oversaw their training.

Ogren stood in the middle of the dusty track like a predator claiming his territory.

He was a hulking figure, muscles straining against his black leather armor, eyes like two steel-grey daggers that cut through the oily haze of the factory. His voice had been a deep, guttural bark that commanded the recruits’ full attention, a tone that left no room for negotiation or mercy.

One recruit had stopped his vehicle, his face pale and drenched in sweat. The engine had coughed to a stop, steam hissing from under the hood.

He wiped a shaking hand across his brow, a look of frustration and fear in his eyes. "I... I can't do it," he had muttered, his voice weak.

Ogren’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He strode over, his boots thudding against the concrete floor, and fixed the struggling recruit with a glare that could have pierced through solid steel.

"What did you just say?" he growled, his voice low and menacing.

There was a tense silence as the recruit stammered, unable to meet Ogren’s stare.

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"If you don’t learn to drive this machine, I’ll personally set your hair on fire," Ogren had said, his voice an absolute menace.

The threat was enough to jolt the recruit into action, his eyes wide with panic as he nodded furiously. He scrambled back into the driver’s seat, and the engine roared to life once more. This time, the recruit's hands were steadier, his focus sharpened by the fear Ogren had instilled in him.

Ogren watched, his face impassive, as the vehicle rumbled forward, clumsy but moving. He crossed his arms, the ghost of a satisfied smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. The training had to be brutal—these men were being prepared for war, and there was no room for weakness.

They had to learn how to drive vehicles so they could pilot the war tanks that Ren intended to bring to the war against Drakonia. Now that he was seeing the scope of Ren’s foresight , Ogren was happy that Ren had been tough with him and had been unrelenting. The waiting had been worth the while.

Ren’s car rolled into the factory with a low, throaty rumble, the smooth lines of the vehicle a stark contrast against the rough, industrial surroundings.

The engine hummed as he brought it to a stop near the edge of the training area, its steel body gleaming under the dim lights of the factory. A cloud of dust settled around the wheels, and a few nearby workers paused to glance in admiration at the remarkable machine—a symbol of Aropia’s progress under Ren’s rule.

Hazel stepped out of the car first, her eyes bright with excitement. “I have to admit, Ren,” she said, turning back to look at him with a grin, “this ‘car’ of yours is truly impressive. We’ve covered twice the distance it would have taken on horseback, and without the need for a single rest.”

Ren leaned back casually in the driver’s seat, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

Across the training yard, Ogren’s eyes snapped to the source of the engine’s sound. He watched as the princess emerged from the strange vehicle, her laughter light and joyful amid the harsh noise of the factory.

Ogren’s stern expression softened for a moment—just a fraction—as he saw Hazel. There was genuine warmth in his gaze, a hint of protectiveness that belied his otherwise hard-edged demeanor. Without hesitation, he left the recruits to their training and made his way over to the car, his heavy boots echoing off the concrete.

When he reached them, Ogren gave Hazel a short, respectful bow, his usual scowl softening into a rare, almost fatherly smile. “Princess,” he said warmly, his gravelly voice taking on an uncharacteristically gentle tone. “It’s always a pleasure to see you here.”

Hazel returned his smile, her expression warm and familiar. “It’s good to see you too, Ogren,” she said. “It looks like you’ve been keeping everyone busy.”