Sinclair Feldman's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

Sinclair Feldman crouched on the wooden watchtower at Fort Orynth, his yellow eyes scanning the forest beyond the walls. His radio crackled with static—another dead zone. He wanted to build a network that would connect every allied outpost and trading village. He climbed down the ladder and walked to the fort's planning room. On the table sat blueprints for a sleek transmission tower with polished metal panels. The design looked like something from old tech magazines—retro but functional. This tower would send messages between distant trading outposts. No more static. No more lost voices. Sinclair rolled up the blueprints and headed outside. Near the gate, workers hammered a green metal road sign into the ground. White letters marked the distances to nearby trade posts. Travelers would know exactly how far they had to go. The network needed more than just voices—it needed clear paths too. Back at his desk, Sinclair studied the final plans. The central building would house everything—a modern station with a striking transmission tower on top. Its bright colors would make it easy to spot from the road. From here, signals would reach every allied outpost. The network was starting to feel real. He folded the papers and tucked them into his pack. Tomorrow, the real work would begin.