25. The Forging of the Loyalty Horn (1)
A world where a severed head becomes a tool of diplomacy is probably one of a kind. Still, since everyone came out ahead in their own ways thanks to it, isn't that just fine? The Eldra were too ashamed to utter a word, and for humanity, it was captivating—His Majesty snapping the neck of those bastards who'd strutted back out after the Great War, as easily as twisting a child's wrist. Cheers of adulation erupted everywhere.
The final ten seconds of the golden platter spread across the galaxy in no time at all. Hundreds, thousands, quadrillions of people endlessly clipped and shared just those last ten seconds from a speech that lasted mere minutes, howling in ecstasy over the sensational victory. The combo of "cute, adorable severed head makes surprise cameo in Emperor's peace speech" was unprecedented in history—and unprecedented always goes viral.
In the end, the Senate chamber of Senatus Aula called an emergency session of the full assembly.
"We must fight for humanity!!!"
"We need a slaughter even greater, more massive, more brutal than the Great War!!!"
"We shouldn't have settled for half-measures from the start!!! We have to rip off every last ear from those ear-headed freaks!"
Senate Chairman Marcus Valerian slammed his gavel from the podium, trying to calm them, but with thousands of senators shouting at once, it was impossible to rein in. The sound of his gavel sank away like a pebble tossed into waves.
That's when Yuri Solovyov, the young congressman from the Civitas Union, shot to his feet and bellowed.
"His Majesty is fighting on the front lines himself! We can't just sit here! We need to pass the wartime special budget bill right now!! This is why His Majesty empowered us—to be competent bureaucrats who respond to crises! The quadrillions of Imperial citizens believe in His Majesty and us!"
Victoria Krupp from Corona Imperial shot back.
"It's not about the budget! We need to discuss a formal declaration of war against the Eldra Union! They invaded Imperial territory first—"
"Declaration of war?!"
Vice Chairwoman Livia Castellana cut in.
"His Majesty just said the 'window for dialogue is open'! A declaration of war would go against His Majesty's will—"
"His Majesty talked about dialogue while showing off the enemy commander's head!"
Krupp shouted.
"What else could that mean?! It means dialogue on the condition of unconditional surrender from those ear-fucks!!"
"That's a matter of interpretation—"
"Interpretation?! You need interpretation with a head sitting on a golden platter?! We should tear off every one of those ear-headed bastards' noggins, stew 'em into jerky, and feed the broth to the green-skins—and that still wouldn't be enough!!!"
With the assembly devolving into total chaos over this unprecedented fiasco, it naturally turned into a contest of who could be the most extreme, the most Nazi-like. Meaningful policy debate faded into irrelevance.
Then Erica von Stein from the Imperial Labor Innovation Party stood up, raised her fist, and yelled.
"We must exterminate the ear-heads!! They got a taste of our wrath in the Great War—should've learned their lesson—but they crawled back out?! This time, we finish it for good—"
"Congresswoman von Stein, calm down."
Chairman Valerian said in a weary voice. The 180-year-old's face was etched with exhaustion, his energy sapped by the childish antics of his fellow senators.
Fuck... Your Majesty. What the hell kind of battle did you just fight?
For the first time, the old man seemed to grasp why the Emperor had gone to such extremes—even if he was alone in that realization. But just as the lone sane man in a madhouse gets labeled the crazy one, he quickly dismissed the thought, wondering if it bordered on treason. After all, common sense dictated that no matter how much the Emperor proclaimed himself human, he was practically a superhuman.
Yet no matter how level-headed his personal thoughts, with everyone else insane, calming things down was hopeless.
"Calm down?! While His Majesty bleeds on the battlefield?!"
Von Stein's cry was echoed from all around.
"We can't forgive the Eldra!"
"We must become His Majesty's sword!!! If that's what His Majesty desires, then melting this body down in a furnace to forge a blade—"
"This is a holy war! A holy war!"
Sick of the playground brawl, Valerian snapped back to reality.
Haa...
He slammed the gavel repeatedly.
Behind him brewed an invisible storm of absurdity and irritation, manifesting as a thunderous headache. He bellowed to the assembly.
"Everyone, back to your seats. We're restarting."
Order was needed. This assembly required His Majesty's presence. Or rather, if it crumbled without him, it never should have existed in the first place. A chaotic mob of creatures unfit even to be pretty potted plants for His Majesty, debating national policy? Far better the Imperial Labor Innovation Party's push to abolish the Senate, perfect absolute monarchy, and follow the superhuman Emperor's path to the end.
"Maintain order. The Senate moves by reason, not emotion."
As Valerian felt something twisting deep in his chest, Dominic Habsburg sat quietly in the Imperial Labor Innovation Party seats, observing the spectacle.
That fellow will come over to our side soon enough.
Legs crossed, arms folded, the 110-year-old leisurely savored the assembly's death throes in a way unbefitting his age.
Maximilian de Fleur, beside him with half-lidded eyes, whispered.
"Congressman, Corona Imperial's pushing hard for a declaration of war. Should we... join in?"
Habsburg shook his head slightly.
"That would be treason itself. Idiots. They know the Empire's situation full well yet push to win on momentum. His Majesty doesn't want war. Remember that."
De Fleur's half-closed eyes twitched faintly.
"The speech was clearly dovish. But those last ten seconds—"
"The last ten seconds looked like an accident. Everyone's yapping about intent, war-mongering, threats with swords for flavor—but His Majesty maintained a perfect poker face thanks to his skill, and it was just Aurora Highness barging in... not His Majesty's design."
"But public opinion—"
"What does the public know? To read His Majesty's true intent, you look at the full context of his words—not clip the last ten seconds. Pretending to know without meeting him personally and talking? That's like a maggot critiquing wrinkles. As I always say: conscience without action is ever on the side of evil."
As he finished, Herta Eichmann leaned in from behind.
"Then what does His Majesty truly desire?"
Habsburg fell silent, lost in thought. Amid the chamber's din as background noise, the 110-year-old politician gazed up at the ceiling, where eight spiral-arm holograms gleamed.
"We'll know when the time comes. I can't even chew your food for you, can I?"
With that curt reply, Habsburg straightened the coat draped over his chair, slipped it on, and stood.
"I'm heading out first."
"Where to?" Eichmann asked.
"This kiddie play is fun for a moment, then tiresome. Time for something more substantial."
"Substantial?"
"Something like that. Make sure those idiots' weird loyalty stunts—like a war declaration request—don't reach His Majesty and sour his mood."
"Ah, got it. Should I vote against, then...?"
"Why ask when you know?"
Habsburg quietly exited the chamber.
The important thing is His Majesty. He must work eternally. Absolutely. He is the answer.
Habsburg's destination wasn't the Senate. He took the orbital elevator from Terra's uppermost administrative district, transferred to a shuttle, passed through the inner solar system orbits, and headed to the asteroid belt—a considerable effort for somewhere truly vital.
The target was simple: the massive industrial complex carved from Ceres, the largest asteroid between Mars and Jupiter.
It also housed the headquarters of IndyneXo. They were the empire's number-two corporation, handling 25% of military industry. While top-dog Stella Industries specialized in ships and large weapon systems, IndyneXo made "everything on the ground." Giants, combat vehicles, personal firearms, combat suits, rations. From the boots on a soldier's feet to planet-cracking siege-class Giants—they produced it all for ground warfare. But IndyneXo's real star was something else.
> Destination: 3 minutes remaining.
Thud—!
As Habsburg's shuttle approached Ceres' docking bay amid the alert, the first thing visible on the asteroid's surface was a giant. A colossal bipedal war machine, 120 meters tall—fifteen times a standard Giant's size—standing tall.
"Overwhelming every time..."
IndyneXo's next-gen super-heavy combat mecha-in-development: the Titan-class Giant, codenamed Colossus. In its right hand, a massive hammer. Handle, shaft, and head combined matched a 25-story building. Four huge rocket engines on the hammerhead's rear ignited on impact, exponentially amplifying strike force—a brutally powerful weapon.
Its target: a decommissioned 5-kilometer dreadnought battleship laid out on the surface. The 120-meter Titan raised its hammer high.
Whoooosh—!
Rockets ignited; four engines roared simultaneously as the hammer arced down in a massive swing.
Boom—!
The hammer crashed into the battleship's armor, the shockwave shaking the entire asteroid.
"Whoa?!"
Thud—!
The shuttle jolted in the docking bay; Habsburg instinctively gripped his harness.
"Goddamn... Even if it's impressive... Yeah. Impressive. Real impressive."
The dreadnought's triple alloy armor crumpled inward under the blow.
Then the test recorder's voice came over comms.
The dreadnought's durability was legendary. But after 23 strikes, dents and cracks spiderwebbed undeniably across the armor.
Habsburg watched through the shuttle window, a smile creeping on. It felt like rediscovering a long-lost emotion.
Thud—! Hiss—!
> Docking complete.
Metallic scrapes and venting oxygen generators greeted docking. Habsburg stepped through the hatch into the asteroid's interior facilities.
IndyneXo's Ceres HQ was a city unto itself, with some 3 billion residents—mostly employees and families. Labs, factories, test ranges, housing stacked layer upon layer. But Habsburg bypassed the main HQ.
Welcome to Lab Wing 7.
This was Lab Wing 7, buried in the asteroid's core. Officially a "special materials research lab" on IndyneXo's org chart. Though the actual work was far more dangerous.
Security at Wing 7's entrance was ironclad: standard guards, heavy infantry, even Giants patrolling open areas. Two 14-meter Slayer-class heavy Giants flanked the doors—a message screaming "no entry" without words.
"Who goes there?"
The Giant’s mechanical voice boomed. Habsburg flashed his Senate ID from his pocket.
"Hmm..."
The guard hesitated, scanning the Senate credentials. No reason for a senator here—but once whoever was watching confirmed it, clearance came from inside.
"Cleared."
The doors parted, revealing the interior.
"A factory crammed into a lab... Or a smelter?"
Heat from the forges hit like a wave. Massive furnaces boiled new alloys; a Giant wielded huge tongs, pouring molten metal into molds. Nearby, a 10-meter Ranger-class Giant hammered a red-hot block on an anvil.
Thud—! Thud—! Boom!
Precise arm swings rained sparks, shaping the metal. A symphony of wartime industry.
Habsburg strolled the central corridor toward the back, eyes on the displays lining both sides like exhibits.
A 15-meter blade with monomolecular edging—theoretically capable of slicing any armor. Nearby, a Giant-scale two-handed chainsword: diamond-coated teeth spinning at 200 RPM, grinding anything to dust. A demo screen showed it shearing an Eldra combat vehicle in three seconds.
"That one...?"
Deepest in, beyond a glass partition: a human figure. Body of rippling silver liquid metal. Its right arm morphed to sword, back to arm; left to shield, gun, arm—cycling endlessly.
Ah! That's the Terminator. Replaces fixers in close quarters...
A prototype, of course. Where fixers preferred ranged, Terminators were near-pure CQC: human limits maxed, body transmuted to liquid metal weapon.
And its creator stood before the glass.
"Lady Kaiya von Essenbach."
The only child of IndyneXo Chairman Friedrich von Essenbach turned at her name, smiled, and waved Habsburg in.
"Welcome, Congressman. I was just about to contact you—wondering when you'd show."
"Felt downright romantic on the way here. Been too long since I saw men and women sweating together in honest labor... That smell, how I've missed it."
"Haha, glad it stirred fond memories."
They smiled at each other—but both sensed the undercurrent too strange for laughter.
And thought simultaneously:
This woman's got eyes for His Majesty...
This old coot's got that look—like he's into His Majesty...
Two of a kind.