The moment Ernest finished signing the contract, his life inside the forge immediately changed.

For the first time since arriving in this world, he no longer needed to spend the entire day hauling coal beside roaring furnaces until his body nearly collapsed.

Instead, he now sat inside the upstairs office beside stacks of ledgers, merchant records, and inventory parchments.

Honestly?

Compared to the workshop downstairs, this place felt luxurious.

Not because it was rich.

Far from it.

The office itself remained simple.

Wooden shelves.

A large desk.

Stacks of parchment tied together using rough strings.

Ink bottles.

Feather pens.

A cabinet containing merchant contracts.

But compared to furnace heat and charcoal smoke?

This was paradise.

Still, Ernest quickly realized something important during his first official morning as Hollen’s assistant.

The forge’s administration system was horrifyingly inefficient.

Actually, "system" was being generous.

It barely qualified as one.

Merchant requests were stacked randomly together.

Inventory records used inconsistent measurements.

Some workers counted iron by bars.

Others counted by bundles.

Coal deliveries sometimes used weight estimates while other times they used wagon counts.

And the ledgers themselves?

Completely disorganized.

No indexing.

No chronological structure.

No categorization.

From a modern business administration perspective, this forge operated almost entirely on memory and luck.

Hollen sat across from him while reviewing merchant requests.

"So?" the owner asked.

Ernest looked up from the mountain of paperwork.

"Honestly?"

"Yes."

"This entire office is a disaster."

Hollen snorted loudly.

"That bad?"

"Worse."

Actually, Ernest was not exaggerating.

A single misplaced record here could delay entire merchant orders.

And delayed orders meant delayed payments.

Which meant cash flow problems.

Even medieval businesses still depended heavily on operational organization.

Ernest grabbed one stack of parchment afterward before placing it beside another pile.

"For example, these are merchant delivery requests."

Then another stack.

"These are inventory records."

Then another.

"And these are payment confirmations."

Hollen frowned slightly.

"Yes?"

"They’re mixed together."

Hollen probably never thought deeply about organizational structure before.

Like many businesses in primitive societies, the forge grew naturally over time without proper administrative planning.

Ernest continued.

"Imagine trying to forge a sword while your tools are scattered randomly across the workshop."

That immediately clicked inside Hollen’s head.

The owner frowned deeper afterward.

"You waste time searching."

"Exactly."

Ernest stood afterward before walking toward the shelves lining the office walls.

"We need categorization."

Hollen raised a brow.

"Categorization?"

"Grouping similar records together."

Ernest pointed toward the parchments.

"Merchant requests in one section."

"Inventory in another."

"Payment records separately."

"Delivery schedules separately too."

Then he grabbed several parchments.

"Right now, your office operates like dumping every forge tool into one giant pile."

The owner slowly nodded afterward.

"...That actually sounds annoying."

"It is."

Very.

Ernest immediately began reorganizing the shelves afterward.

At first, Hollen simply watched quietly.

Then gradually, the owner started noticing how much faster record retrieval became.

A merchant requested horseshoes?

Instead of searching through random stacks for several minutes, Ernest immediately retrieved the categorized request file.

Coal delivery records?

Same thing.

Payment confirmations?

Separated clearly now.

Actually, this was one of the simplest forms of administrative optimization from modern office systems.

Basic filing structures.

Yet even this alone dramatically improved operational efficiency.

Hollen noticed it too.

"...By the gods."

The owner stared toward the reorganized shelves.

"I usually spend half the morning looking for records."

"Because the system depends too much on memory," Ernest explained.

Then he grabbed another ledger afterward.

"And this is another problem."

The inventory ledger. It was terrible. It has no standard formatting and tracking consistency.

Some pages used abbreviations while others wrote full descriptions.

Actually, several entries contradicted each other entirely.

Ernest quickly drew several lines across a blank parchment afterward.

Columns.

Rows.

Basic tables.

Hollen frowned slightly.

"What’s that?"

"A standardized inventory sheet."

The owner looked confused.

Ernest explained further.

"Right now, inventory tracking here works like counting coins by throwing them into random bags."

Then he pointed toward the drawn table.

"This organizes everything."

Column one.

Material name.

Column two.

Quantity received.

Column three.

Quantity used.

Column four.

Remaining stock.

Hollen stared toward the sheet quietly afterward.

"...That’s simpler."

"Much simpler."

Modern accounting systems basically evolved from concepts exactly like this.

Structured tracking reduced human error dramatically.

Ernest continued writing.

"Once materials enter the forge, they get recorded immediately."

Then another line.

"When materials get used, that gets recorded too."

Then finally.

"At the end of the day, remaining inventory gets verified physically."

Hollen slowly leaned forward now.

Honestly, the owner already looked invested.

"Why verify physically?"

"Because records alone can lie."

The owner blinked once.

Ernest tapped the ledger.

"People make mistakes."

Then toward the forge downstairs.

"Workers miscount."

Then another tap.

"Or steal."

That last word immediately sharpened Hollen’s expression.

Because material theft probably already happened constantly inside the forge without proper tracking systems.

Coal.

Iron.

Finished tools.

Without standardized inventory verification, detecting losses became nearly impossible.

Ernest continued calmly.

"If records say you have one hundred iron bars left but physically you only have ninety..."

Hollen finished the sentence immediately.

"Then something’s wrong. How do you know all this?"

Ernest already expected that question eventually.

"It’s kind of like my idea."