Additional Chapter!
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Thank this people for this additional chapter to TheLegion421, Etaylia, Senju77monarch, Jaseth_Vencebi, and Rylo for making this extra chapter possible.
Enjoy Reading!
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Eleven standard seconds remained until the coronation ceremony when Nimrod strode into the ceremonial hall, his towering presence commanding the vast chamber.
The assembled nobles collectively held their breath, awestruck. The giant before them exuded an oppressive aura far surpassing the grainy pict-feeds of surveillance footage.
Kozubal, along with the majority of the gathered aristocracy, harbored a shared thought: [Could this be the descent of a deity from the myths of the Old Night?]
Some invoked the war god Svantovit, yet the giant bore neither four heads nor four faces.
Others contemplated Perun, the thunder god, but the giant's head was not wrought of copper.
And so their speculations spiraled, each divine archetype failing to encompass the colossus before them.
Lysara, joined by a discerning few among the nobles, furrowed their brows, casting sidelong glances at Sage Kaminsky.
[Could this be a bio-construct of the Adeptus Mechanicus? Are they, discontent with the dual-headed political structure, overturning the board to unify Tetzvok under their sway?]
Kaminsky's augmetic eye surged with a torrential flood of zeros and ones, the data stream so rapid it emitted faint crackling sparks.
A summary scan result materialized in binary code, and his integrated translator, operating per preprogrammed protocols, rendered the technolinguistic output into Vostonian Low Gothic:
[Threat Level: Lethal.]
[Physiological Structure: Unparsable.]
[…]
The sage realized the giant before him transcended the limits of his scanning and analytical capabilities.
Undaunted, he persisted, overriding safety protocols to sustain the scanning module's operation until a wisp of black smoke curled upward, forcing a halt.
Two of his dorsal mechadendrites extended forward, their servos whirring.
After a brief flicker of electrical sparks, Kaminsky's scanning array stabilized, though he turned his head aside, a gesture of reluctant concession.
Howard Finder, resplendent in a crimson robe adorned with golden trim, addressed the assembly with a resonant voice.
"Lords and ladies, we gather this day to bear witness to the dawn of a new era."
"Honored guests, the Boleslav dynasty has long forsaken virtue, seizing and sabotaging the enterprises of our noble houses through overt plunder and covert treachery."
"The Boleslav king was naught but a rapacious vermin gnawing at Tetzvok's spire, despicable and avaricious."
The golden-haired count's words ignited a firestorm of indignation among the nobles, each house having suffered losses, great or small, at Boleslav hands.
"By divine providence, a noble savior has descended upon Tetzvok. Nimrod has overthrown the tyrannical reign of the Boleslav king."
"The servants of the Omnissiah, too, have beheld the radiant light of the Machine God shining upon him."
"Now, let us call upon Sage Kaminsky to crown our new king."
Kaminsky's lower mechadendrites lifted the crown, passing it to the upper pair, which hoisted it aloft. With measured steps, he advanced toward Nimrod.
His optical filters flickered with red and green luminescence, rationality warring with the Mechanicus' innate drive to unravel mysteries.
The one hundred and twenty-one meters to Nimrod felt like a ten-kilometer march.
Reaching the giant, Kaminsky prepared to instruct him to bow and recite the sacred coronation litany, but Nimrod preempted him, seizing the golden crown and placing it upon his own head.
His throne was not bestowed by the Adeptus Mechanicus but forged through his own conquests.
The hall fell into stunned silence, the act a stark deviation from tradition.
Kaminsky's filters blazed with frenetic red pulses, his vox-synthesizer emitting a tremulous stutter.
"Nimrod… crown… protocol…"
The sage, spared a full maintenance shutdown, struggled as his overheated logic circuits failed to process the breach.
"Sage Kaminsky, you cannot reach my head. My crown is best placed by my own hand."
The nobles stood mute, acutely aware that in such a setting, every gesture carried profound political weight. Nimrod's action was not merely a matter of stature, as he claimed, but a deliberate statement.
Their eyes collectively drifted to the crown's twin upright scepters, a symbol of dual authority, and a singular thought rippled through their minds.
[It seems this King Nimrod does not view the monarchy and Mechanicus as coequal powers.
What, then, are Kaminsky's thoughts?]
The nobles held their breath, palms slick with sweat, fearing the outbreak of a cataclysmic conflict.
Even Lysara, previously so assured, questioned her judgment. Was the new king a madman, intent on warring with the Mechanicus?
All eyes turned to the sage, awaiting his response.
Kaminsky stood silent for several seconds, an eternity to all save Nimrod.
At last, his vox-synthesizer intoned.
"The Omnissiah's grace be upon you, Nimrod!"
Eschewing the customary coronation oration penned by Sage Kivior, Kaminsky nonetheless affirmed Nimrod's kingship.
Nimrod remained composed, his expectations validated. Kaminsky, as anticipated, prioritized efficiency and industrial output over rigid protocol.
The sage, recognizing Nimrod's martial prowess exceeded his computational models and hoping such strength would resolve Vostonia's crises, would not risk war over political tradition.
In Kaminsky's logic, safeguarding productivity outweighed ceremonial orthodoxy.
Accepting Nimrod's breach was the inevitable outcome of his calculations.
Nimrod would collaborate with the Mechanicus, but only on his terms. Should dominance elude him, cooperation was futile—he would raze Vostonia to ruins and rebuild.
This day marked but the beginning. As his power grew, he would reshape Vostonia's order according to his vision.
Howard exhaled in relief. Had conflict erupted, none but he would likely have stood with Nimrod.
To forestall further surprises, he proclaimed loudly.
"The new king is enthroned! Will you not pledge your loyalty?"
With that, he was the first to drop to one knee, adhering to Muscovite tradition, and declared with fervor.
"I, Howard Finder, pledge my loyalty to my king, Nimrod! At his command, I shall obey and fulfill!"
Lysara, outmaneuvered, swiftly knelt.
"I, Lysara Kovalenko, pledge my loyalty to my king, Nimrod! At his command, I shall obey and fulfill!"
Kozubal and the others, roused to action, hurriedly swore their fealty to the new king.
Nimrod surveyed the assembly. "I accept your oaths of allegiance!"
As the nobles rose, he addressed Howard, still kneeling.
"Howard Finder, I hereby confer upon you the title of Count, in recognition of your loyalty and contributions."
Once more, Nimrod shattered Muscovite tradition, granting a title in the ceremonial hall rather than his spire or a noble's estate.
"To the rest, your titles remain unchanged. Your industries and manufactories shall resume operations immediately."
The nobles, relieved, accepted their orders with deference.
"As you command, my king."
"Howard, remain. The rest, execute my will at once."
Kaminsky approached Nimrod.
"At the next Hour of Baenys, Tech-Priest Rosicky will confer with you on weapon and armor designs."
"Per our accord, restore all Upper Hive manufactories within five work cycles."
"I shall honor my pledge."
After the others departed, Howard instructed Bukayo to retrieve the prepared gear from the steward, then returned to the palace.
"Rawlslev shall assume control of the former Boleslav holdings. For the other fallen houses' assets, devise an allocation plan within one stellar hour."
"As you command, my king."
Howard understood that, while Nimrod entrusted him with distributing the vanquished houses' industries, he could not apportion them arbitrarily nor siphon the most lucrative for House Finder.
To earn Nimrod's trust, he must allocate based on industrial synergy, maximizing efficiency.