The second month of the eighth evaluation arrived quietly, almost slipping in without fanfare. Ashburn noticed it only because of the calm notification that appeared on his wrist device early in the morning, right after he finished reading the daily reports.
[System Message: Eighth Evaluation — Month 2 Progress: Regional setup initiated. Bhawal Nagar operations active. Autonomous efficiency increasing.]
A faint smile touched his lips. Faraz had moved faster than expected.
Right after breakfast, Ashburn prepared to visit the new sites personally. The sun was still low when he drove out of the city, the roads stretching endlessly ahead. Within an hour, the suburbs thinned, and soon the familiar signboards of Bhawal Nagar appeared. The city buzzed with its usual rhythm—trucks coming in from nearby towns, shopkeepers calling out to customers, vendors shouting their prices. It still held that old charm of being the district's central hub, a place where small traders and large distributors mixed in the same streets.
Faraz was already waiting at the office when Ashburn arrived. The building was small but well positioned—easy access to the main market, parking space, and a back entrance for delivery vans. Faraz greeted him with a brief salute, trying to hide the pride flickering in his eyes. "Everything's ready, sir," he said, guiding him inside.
The interior was modest but functional. Two desks, shelves for documents, a small meeting area, and a designated corner for administrative work. A few employees were already sorting files and reviewing supplier lists. Ashburn examined every corner with his usual quiet attention, noting the airflow, the layout, even the position of the notice board. Nothing was extravagant, but everything felt correct—clean, simple, efficient.
From there, Faraz led him to the cold storage. It sat on a side street, large enough to handle the city's expected demand for the next six months. Workers were checking the equipment, boxes were being arranged, and the cooling system hummed evenly. Ashburn stepped inside, tapping a carton, checking temperature readings, and observing the workflow. It wasn't perfect yet, but it was a solid foundation.
"Good work," he said softly.
Faraz's shoulders loosened a little at the praise.
Next came the first shop.
The moment Ashburn stepped inside, he could see the effort. Shelves lined neatly, display counters polished, freezers placed at the most convenient corners. The manager, a man in his mid-thirties named Sohail, hurried over with a smile that blended excitement and nervousness. "Welcome, sir. Everything's just like your guidelines."
Ashburn walked slowly, running his fingers across the product labels, checking the lighting, the tidiness. In the back, two boys were stocking biscuits and ready-to-eat items. On the right wall, a promotional stand displayed a few sample packets from Ashburn's factory—crisps, salted peanuts, sweet biscuits. The branding was clear, minimal, but eye-catching.
"Faraz," Ashburn said, turning toward him, "prepare the first batch delivery today. I want them stocked before evening."
Faraz nodded. "Already arranged, sir."
With that confirmation, they stepped back onto the main road. Ashburn could feel the quiet pride settling in him. From risk mapping to selecting these very locations, everything had aligned well. The city felt ready to open itself to his business, and he intended to make the most of the opportunity.
The marketing team had also arrived from the district earlier that morning. Aisha was supervising them remotely, but Kainat had come in person to ensure things moved smoothly. She spotted Ashburn from a distance, waving a clipboard as she walked over.
"We've already started distributing posters in the central market," she said quickly. "And a local radio channel agreed to run a short advertisement for three days." Her eyes sparkled with that familiar spark of ambition. "The branding looks great in this area. People were asking questions already."
Ashburn nodded in approval. "Keep the message simple—fresh stock, direct from factory, guaranteed quality."
"We're on it."
The marketing team set out again, some carrying banners, others handling pamphlets. A boy followed them with a loudspeaker, repeating the simple slogan Kainat had developed: "Fresh snacks—factory to your city!" It wasn't fancy, but it caught attention, especially in the narrow streets where voices carried easily.
Later in the afternoon, Ashburn visited three major wholesalers to strengthen the distribution network. Two remembered him from years ago—the time he had received his first big order from this very city. Seeing their surprised expressions gave him a strange, satisfying feeling. They now spoke to him differently—not as a newcomer hustling for attention, but as someone whose name carried weight.
"We've been hearing about your products," one wholesaler said. "If the taste is good and packaging holds up, we'll place regular orders."
Ashburn offered them free samples, neatly packed boxes from the factory. "Try them for a week," he said. "If the customer response is good, we'll talk quantity."
The man nodded thoughtfully, already opening a packet.
The marketing team also visited dozens of smaller shops to hand out sample packs. In busy corners of the city, they organized tiny events—children spinning a small wheel to win free snacks, elderly men gathering around wooden stalls where Ashburn's products were stacked neatly. The laughter, the chatter, the soft music from portable speakers—it all built a subtle buzz around the new brand.
Ashburn watched from a distance, hands in his pockets, observing how people reacted. Kids always went for the crisps first, breaking them with loud crunches and smiling widely. Shopkeepers opened the biscuit packets, nodded, and said things like "Ye to theek lag rahe hain," or "Chalo, sample to accha hai." Even the casual interest was enough. Small steps today would turn into orders tomorrow.
By evening, the first delivery trucks arrived at the new cold storage. Workers began unloading boxes, stacking them carefully. Faraz moved between them, giving instructions confidently, the quiet discipline of a trained regional head visible in every gesture. Ashburn felt a soft sense of reassurance watching him—not dramatic, but solid.
There was still more to do.
He visited the second potential shop location briefly—a compact space near one of the busiest intersections. It wasn't ready yet, just an empty shell with walls needing fresh paint and shelves to be installed. But Ashburn could already see it filled with customers, the layout forming in his mind as naturally as breathing.
Back at the office, he sat with Faraz and discussed the next steps. Delivery routes, order cycles, staff training, stock rotation, timelines for opening the second shop. Faraz noted everything with practiced ease.
"A week," he said confidently. "We can make the second shop functional within a week."
"Good," Ashburn replied. "Keep the momentum. Slow expansion kills morale."
They worked until late evening, going through lists and schedules, reviewing costs, ensuring nothing stretched beyond the planned budget.
When Ashburn finally stepped outside, the city lights flickered gently, casting long shadows across the quiet road. The air smelled of dust, roasted corn, and petrol—the familiar scent of a city moving forward even at night.
He looked back at the freshly painted office board: Bhawal Nagar Regional Operations — Horizon Foods.
A small office. A cold storage. One shop. Hundreds of sample packets circulating the market. Two delivery vans already making rounds. A regional head with steady hands.
It wasn't grand yet.
But it was the beginning of something that would snowball.
Ashburn stood there for a minute, letting that thought settle, the weight of potential stretching out before him. This city, once just a dot on his expansion plan, was now a living part of his business—a new pulse added to the growing network.
He took a slow breath, quietly pleased with the pace.
Tomorrow, more deliveries would go out. More shops would test the snacks. More customers would taste something new. And step by step, the city would adjust to his presence without even realizing how fast it happened.
With that quiet certainty warming his chest, he finally headed toward his car, ready to return home and prepare for the next wave of plans.