Additional Chapter!
Thank this people (for smashing that three stones in this story) for this additional chapter to NightIce, Senju77monarch, Whadyamean (2x), DaoistptKdxj (2x) , eternal_arctic_fox, Etaylia, baiqisenpai, Alayashiki for making this extra chapter possible.
Enjoy Reading!
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Howard, weary from his journey, stood at the forefront of the left flank, having returned from Hanliman's dome with dust clinging to his resplendent attire.
"My lord, I have recruited workers from neighboring domes. At present, all manufactories in Hanliman's dome have resumed full operations."
"At the Hour of Nyke, I shall proclaim the labor standards for each post at the Magnito Steelworks and deliver an oration, conveying your will to all workers."
"Excellent," Nimrod declared, his gaze shifting to Lysara. "Lysara, your report."
"My king, the hive's garrison forces have completed their initial recruitment. Following Buksa's first training session, order has been restored to the Upper Hive."
Buksa, standing nearby, noted the glances cast his way by nobles who once dismissed him with disdain.
His face broke into a smile, his chest swelling with pride.
Nimrod, in accordance with the strategy devised with Lysara, refrained from direct involvement, fostering a relaxed atmosphere to allow the noble houses to perceive the benefits of cooperation. Only later would he intervene, establishing rules to ensure efficient collaboration through binding contracts.
He and his cabinet ministers tacitly avoided mentioning this plan, instead addressing matters such as infrastructure reconstruction before making a momentous proclamation.
"At the Hour of Nyke, I shall launch an assault on Lukov's hive."
The nobles and courtiers exchanged stunned glances, caught unawares by the announcement, having heard no prior whispers of such a campaign. Many now recalled the absence of Rawlslev, the regiment commander who had risen alongside the new king, from this hastily convened court assembly.
Howard felt the weight of countless eyes upon him. Having become an Arbites, he knew Nimrod wielded even more arcane powers, and he was certain Lukov could not withstand this god of war.
Ignoring the scrutiny, he held fast to the conviction that Nimrod's trust outweighed all else, his heart yearning for the next divine boon.
The assembly's gazes then converged on Lysara, a countess and the architect of the nascent cabinet.
The countess, feeling as though another strand of her hair had turned white from the pressure, spoke with reluctant candor.
"My lord, is this not somewhat precipitate?"
"Would it not be more prudent to begin with Mazov?"
"Too slow!"
Nimrod dismissed Lysara's counsel with a resolute rebuke. "If we possess the strength, there is no need for detours."
His radiating confidence was not a mere judgment but a prophecy, its certainty palpable to all present.
The court assembly concluded, and ten minutes before the Hour of Nyke, Nimrod strode from the spire.
His gaze bypassed Tech-Priest Rosicky, fixing upon a cargo hauler surrounded by a retinue of servitors.
"Your power halberd has been delivered. The armor will require an additional fourteen work cycles."
Nimrod nodded, approaching the hauler and drawing forth a deep black alloy power halberd with a single, fluid motion.
A servitor opposite him registered a gust overhead, craning its augmetic neck to glimpse only the towering silhouette of Nimrod's departing figure, leaving behind a single word—"Excellent"—before striding away with purposeful steps.
Concurrently, Howard hastened back to Hanliman's dome, accepting a silver goblet from his guard captain and quaffing the pristine water transported from the Upper Hive.
A sudden thought struck him, and he capped the goblet, retaining it rather than returning it to his guard, issuing a new directive.
"Deliver my evening meal to the factory's elevated platform."
"As you command, Lord Count."
The guard captain promptly dispatched a subordinate to fulfill the order.
As Nimrod mounted a custom-built open-topped war chariot, Howard ascended the platform.
Below, a thousand workers craned their necks, gazing up at the noble atop the dais as if beholding an alien creature.
Howard, forgoing a rebreather mask, inhaled the acrid air, redolent with the tang of copper and oil, his brow furrowing momentarily.
Yet this discomfort was merely habitual, not physiological; his enhanced physique swiftly overcame the irritation.
He summoned a smile, his voice resonant with promise. "My fellow workers, I bring you glad tidings—tidings that shall alter your destinies."
A worker, clad in tattered rags and smeared with grime, dug at his ear with a pinky.
"Lord Noble, what tidings? A pot of stewed rat meat, perhaps?"
"I've heard that the new king, Nimrod, once served rat meat broth to workers. One even found a tail!"
"That flavor—merely imagining it is intoxicating!"
He and dozens of nearby workers swallowed hard, their hunger palpable. Simultaneously, across other manufactories, workers watching Howard's address via hastily erected vid-screens gleamed with anticipation.
"Silence, you wretched—"
The guard captain's face flushed with fury, his hand drawing a laspistol, intent on teaching these Underhive dregs the respect due a count.
Howard raised a hand, halting his subordinate. A flash of anger crossed his eyes, swiftly supplanted by calm, his smile unwavering.
"You've tasted only rat meat, believing it the pinnacle of delicacy."
He lifted an aluminum meal tin at his feet, prying open the lid, unleashing a fragrance that wafted through the air, prompting every worker to stretch their necks in curiosity.
"What's that?"
"This is tuna, hailing from the Sea Canticle, an oceanic world."
"In the Upper Hive, it is a rare delicacy, yet now you have the chance to partake."
Howard spoke no falsehood. Vostonia's hive coalitions, beleaguered by xenos pirates, had failed to gain the upper hand, and disrupted supply lines were beginning to manifest in the Upper Hive's scarcity.
As workers in other manufactories jeered and questioned, the Magnito Steelworks fell silent.
Howard's compelling words and charismatic smile gradually won over the crowd. To their eyes, the golden-haired noble ceased to be a lofty aristocrat, and they quieted, heeding the Arbites' oration.
The guard captain, satisfied by the transformation of the Underhive rabble, felt a twinge of unease. He then heard his master's tone grow stern, imbued with commanding authority.
"On behalf of King Nimrod, I proclaim that, henceforth, a new ration system shall be enacted."
"Each trade shall have defined quotas. Those who meet their tasks shall receive a portion of corpse-starch."
"Those who exceed their quotas shall be rewarded proportionally."
Workers in other manufactories spat disdainfully on the ground or nearby machinery.
"A lie, surely. When have we ever been paid for our toil?"
"Exactly. Since the Omnissiah's servants abandoned the Underhive, those gang thugs only beat us with sticks. When have we ever been fed enough?"
"Even if it's true, the quotas will be impossible—just a trick to make us slave harder."
Within the Magnito Steelworks, the workers remained subdued, no clamor arising. Howard seemed to emanate an intangible aura, compelling their instinctive obedience.
Howard strode forward on the platform, his voice unwavering.
"You surely believe the quotas unattainable. I tell you now, with but a modicum of effort, they are wholly achievable."
The guard captain hurried to keep pace, gripping his weapon, warily eyeing the surrounding dregs.
Yet the golden-haired noble, now among the crowd, showed no trepidation. As an Arbiter, his enhanced spirituality granted him a persuasive charisma and sufficient authority, complemented by exceptional combat prowess.
Moreover, clad in finely wrought power armor, Howard was confident he could quell any worker uprising.
The workers remained still, their eyes trailing the golden-haired noble.