Chapter 172: The Sovereign’s Efficiency
The heavy black iron of the Mana Train glead under the midday sun.
We pulled into the central station of the Velkrath capital. The platform was completely overwheld.
Thousands of citizens had gathered to witness our return. Orc chanics covered in soot stood shoulder to shoulder with human rchants and Beastman warriors.
They had felt the apocalyptic shockwaves from the coast. They knew the Holy Empire had co to burn them.
And they knew their Sovereign had utterly crushed the invaders.
I stepped out of the royal car. I did not wear my helt. My heavily scarred green face and glowing red eyes were completely visible to my people.
The crowd erupted. It was a deafening, unified roar of absolute loyalty. They slamd their fists against their chests, chanting the na of the Forge.
Ramona stepped out right behind . The ancient Half-Dragon looked at the massive, cheering crowd in pure awe.
In her era, mortals only scread in terror when a Calamity approached. Here, they were cheering for her.
I reached out and wrapped my heavy arm around her waist, pulling her close to my side as we walked down the platform.
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An hour later, the heavy doors to Ramona’s new permanent chambers inside the Iron Estate clicked shut.
The room was massive, lined with the finest silk tapestries and dark velvet. Ramona walked slowly across the plush carpet. Her reptilian tail swished thoughtfully. She turned to , her molten gold eyes bright with a sudden idea.
"Husband," Ramona began, a playful, greedy smile touching her lips.
"This room is large. But it is terribly bare. If I am to be your Queen, I require a proper nest. Have your workers tear out this carpet. I want the floor covered entirely in refined gold coins. I want startal chalices and rare gemstones piled to the ceiling. A true dragon sleeps on her hoard."
I stopped in the center of the room. I crossed my heavy brass gauntlets over my chest.
"No," I stated flatly.
Ramona blinked. Her smile faltered, genuine confusion replacing her excitent.
"No? But you are the Sovereign. You possess the wealth of an entire continent."
"And I use that wealth to build weapons," I replied, my baritone voice echoing with absolute authority.
"Gold is a soft, useless tal. It shatters under pressure. It cannot be machined into a rifle barrel, and it cannot power a steam engine. I do not care about shiny rocks, Ramona. I care about efficiency. If you want a nest, you will sleep on silk. We do not hoard resources in this empire. We burn them in the foundries to make ourselves stronger."
Ramona stared at .
For a second, her ancient draconic pride bristled. But as she looked at my massive, scarred physique and felt the absolute, uncompromising logic of my Domination Aura, her pride lted into deep respect.
"Efficiency," Ramona whispered, a soft, devoted smile returning to her face.
"You truly are a creature of war, Grik. I accept your silk."
Thousands of miles away, across the Azure Sea.
The grand throne room of the Holy Empire was bathed in cold, divine light.
The Pope sat upon a towering seat of pure white marble. He wore heavy robes spun from gold thread, his ancient face completely unreadable.
Kneeling on the floor before him was a single, shivering Paladin. He was the lone survivor I had spared on the beach. He was soaked in saltwater and completely traumatized.
"The Lightbringer is dead, Holy Father," the soldier wept, his head pressed to the marble.
"The beasts... they did not use dark magic. They used mountains of exploding tal. They have iron ships beneath the waves. Their King told to deliver a ssage. He said the Monster Continent is closed."
The surrounding Cardinals gasped in absolute horror. Whispers of panic spread through the grand hall.
The Pope slowly raised his hand. The room fell instantly silent.
He did not scream in rage. He did not order an imdiate, blind retaliation.
He was an ancient, calculating ruler who understood the horrifying reality of an industrialized enemy.
"The Zenith Academy failed to keep the beasts in the mud," the Pope stated, his voice chillingly calm.
"If we send another fleet of wooden galleons, they will sink before they even see the shore. We will not throw away the lives of our Paladins on foolish pride."
The Pope stood up, his holy aura flaring with terrifying intensity.
"Lock down the ports," the Pope commanded.
"Conscript every mage, every blacksmith, and every scholar in the Empire. We will spend the next five years building an armada of heavily enchanted dreadnoughts. We do not attack until our fleet can part the entire ocean."
The Holy Crusade was delayed. My brutal execution on the beach had bought the Velkrath Imperium the exact window of ti we needed to prepare.
That evening, the central dining hall of the Iron Estate was filled with the heavy scent of roasted drake at and spiced wine.
It was the first official Pack Dinner since we returned from the coast.
I sat at the head of the massive oak table. Lysandra, Kaelith, Nyssa, and Anise sat along the sides. Ramona sat directly to my right.
"I must ask," Ramona said softly, looking at the other four won as she sliced a piece of at.
"In my era, sharing a powerful mate always led to bloodshed. Do you truly feel no jealousy? I am a Level 90 Calamity. I could easily claim his full attention."
Lysandra laughed out loud, her maroon wings fluttering in genuine amusent. The Succubus Queen took a sip of her wine.
"You have been asleep for a long ti, Ramona," Lysandra smiled.
"The common sense of this continent is very simple. The absolute strong claim the mates. The Sovereign’s core is infinite. A single Queen would shatter under the weight of his ambition. We share his power, and we share his bed. That is how the Forge survives."
"She is right," Kaelith added quietly from the shadows of the table.
"We are Pack. We protect each other so he can conquer the world."
Ramona looked at the won, and then up at . A deep, highly satisfied purr vibrated in her throat. She had finally found a true family.
The heavy wooden doors of the dining hall pushed open.
Pri Minister Hardsteel stepped into the room. The old Orc did not look like a man celebrating a massive military victory.
He looked deeply exhausted. He carried a thick stack of logistical reports under his massive arm.
"Forgive the interruption, Sovereign," Hardsteel grunted, bowing deeply to and the Queens.
"Report," I commanded, setting my silver fork down.
"The economic integration of the local human population is moving too fast for the traditionalists," Hardsteel explained, stepping up to the table.
"The humans from the fallen Zenith cities and the coastal towns are flocking to our factories. They are working hard. They are earning standard wages. For the first ti in their lives, humans are buying good food, heavy coats, and protected housing."
"That was the design of the Labor Mandate," I noted coldly. "Efficiency."
"Yes, Master," Hardsteel sighed heavily.
"But the minor monster lords are furious. Lord Vulg, a highly influential Orc chieftain in the northern industrial sector, is inciting a rebellion. He claims you favor weak humans over true monsters."
I leaned back in my heavy iron chair.
"It is pure racism," Hardsteel continued, his old eyes narrowing in disgust.
"Vulg believes humans are prey, not equals. He hates seeing them prosper while his own seasoned Orc warriors have to work the foundries. He is just trying to create a problem. Vulg has officially barricaded the northern Mana Train tracks. He is refusing to let human workers enter the factories until they are stripped of their wages."
I looked down at my massive green hands. The Fla of Death sparked briefly against my knuckles.
I had just vaporized a Level 80 god to protect my empire. Now, a minor, racist Orc lord thought he could disrupt my economy and block my trains because he was clinging to the outdated mud of the past.
"Prepare my armor," I growled, standing up from the table. My Domination Aura violently flared, dropping the temperature in the room to freezing.
"I am going to the northern sector. I am going to remind Lord Vulg exactly whose tracks he is standing on."
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