Laos Territory — Testing Yard
The surface of the testing yard was scarred from years of trials.
Blackened soil.
Cratered earth.
Broken stone.
Shattered remains of targets that had long since been replaced.
Some sections of the yard had been reinforced so many times that the ground itself looked artificial.
The air carried the familiar smell of burnt metal and alchemical residue.
At the center of the yard—
Beleth stood like a tree.
The massive grey Exo-harness towered over the surrounding engineers.
Its sloping armor plates overlapped like the shell of some enormous armored beast.
Runic circuits glowed faintly beneath the plating.
Bal stood perfectly still inside the armor.
Waiting.
Logos stood several meters away with a clipboard in hand.
Several engineers watched from behind a reinforced observation wall.
A technician checked the final readings.
"Pressure stable."
Another called out.
"Runic conduits stable."
Logos glanced at the figures.
Then—
"Proceed."
Bal followed the order.
Beleth raised its left arm.
Until now, the limb had carried a standard armored gauntlet.
Now—
A section of the forearm split open.
Metal plates rotated aside.
Internal mechanisms shifted.
A reinforced barrel emerged from within the arm.
The weapon looked almost absurdly large for something mounted on a humanoid limb.
Several engineers stepped closer to their observation windows.
The internal runes ignited.
A deep mechanical hum followed.
Bal raised an eyebrow.
"That is new."
"Correct."
Logos looked down at his notes.
"Fire."
Bal pulled the trigger.
BOOM.
The discharge shook the testing yard.
The shell crossed the distance almost instantly.
It struck the reinforced training construct.
For one fraction of a second—
Nothing happened.
Then the target exploded inward.
Wood.
Metal.
Stone.
Everything was thrown backward.
The projectile continued through the wreckage and embedded itself deep into the earth behind it.
A cloud of dust rose.
Silence followed.
One of the engineers slowly lowered his measuring instrument.
"...Perfect penetration."
Another stared at the ruined target.
"Complete structural failure."
A third checked his instruments twice.
"Velocity was within projected parameters."
Logos wrote something down.
"Expected."
Bal raised the massive arm.
He looked at the weapon embedded within the armor.
"What's the name?"
Logos looked up.
"Decimator."
Bal stared at him.
"Subtle."
"Functionally descriptive."
"That's what you call subtle?"
Logos ignored him.
Bal turned the armor slightly.
"What about the axe?"
"Unchanged."
"The Wrath remains?"
"Yes."
Bal nodded.
"Good."
Logos looked toward Beleth.
"The cannon is intended primarily for command units and heavily armored targets."
That earned a grin.
Bal looked toward the weapon.
"That would certainly help with enemy commanders."
"That is one intended application."
"Armor-piercing?"
"Yes."
"Explosive?"
"Integrated into the projectile."
Bal's grin widened.
"That's nasty."
Logos nodded.
"Correct."
Bal laughed.
"You're enjoying this."
"No."
"You are."
"I'm documenting the results."
"That's your version of enjoying something."
Logos considered that.
"...Perhaps."
The engineers began moving toward Beleth.
Measurements were taken.
Barrel temperature.
Mana consumption.
Recoil.
Structural stress.
A dozen separate calculations were recorded.
The weapon had passed its first test.
Which meant it would soon become another entry in Laos's growing arsenal.
Bal eventually climbed out of Beleth.
He removed his helmet and handed it to a nearby technician.
Then looked toward Logos.
"So."
Logos continued writing.
"So?"
"Are you ready?"
Logos finally looked up.
"For what?"
"The negotiations."
Logos stopped writing.
For several seconds—
He simply stared at Bal.
Then he glanced toward the map lying on the nearby table.
Faros.
Gab.
Laos.
Three territories.
One increasingly unstable border.
"I have prepared."
Bal folded his arms.
"That's not what I asked."
Logos raised an eyebrow.
"Then clarify."
Bal gestured toward the testing yard.
"Carine changed things."
"Every important person in Gab saw what Laos can do."
"Faros will hear about it."
"The nobles will hear about it."
"Merchants will hear about it."
"Other kingdoms will hear about it."
He paused.
"People talk."
Logos looked across the testing yard.
The enormous Beleth stood surrounded by engineers.
Behind it—
Rows of Banes waited beneath covered shelters.
Beyond them—
Rail wagons carried artillery shells toward storage depots.
Workers moved between factories.
Smoke rose from distant industrial towers.
Laos had become something much larger than the small barony he had inherited.
Perhaps that was the problem.
Bal continued.
"They've seen the weapons."
"They've seen the army."
"They've seen what you can do."
"They'll start asking questions."
Logos nodded.
"I know."
"And?"
Logos looked toward the southern horizon.
"I don't know what they will do."
Bal waited.
Logos continued.
"That's why I'm going."
Bal smiled.
"Good answer."
Logos looked at him.
"Why?"
"Because for once..."
Bal gestured toward the testing yard.
"...you don't seem interested in building something to solve the problem."
Logos looked at the Beleth.
Then toward the artillery.
Then toward the map.
"We can always use the things Mother shelved."
Bal's expression immediately changed.
"Hard no."
Logos sighed.
"They were designed for emergencies."
"They were designed by you."
"Yes."
"And Lucy personally locked them away."
"Yes."
"She told us never to use them."
"Correct."
Bal pointed at him.
"Then they are not emergency weapons."
"They are weapons that create emergencies."
Logos remained silent.
Kleber, who had been listening from nearby, slowly nodded.
"That is perhaps the wisest thing Bal has ever said."
Bal looked pleased.
"Thank you."
Logos sighed.
"Fine."
He placed the clipboard down.
"Then we will have to make use of several contingency plans."
Bal's smile disappeared.
"How many?"
Logos looked toward the map.
"Seven."
"...Seven?"
"Currently."
Kleber closed his eyes.
"Of course."
Logos moved toward the table.
The map of Gab and its neighboring territories had been marked with dozens of small symbols.
Supply routes.
Railways.
Military installations.
Ports.
Border crossings.
Political territories.
Logos picked up a marker.
"First, we determine the urgency of each problem."
He marked Faros.
"Military."
Another mark.
"Political."
Another.
"Economic."
Another.
"Internal."
Bal looked over the map.
"And the negotiations?"
Logos placed the marker down.
"Those come last."
Bal frowned.
"Last?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Logos looked toward him.
"Because negotiations are not the problem."
He tapped the map.
"These are."
Bal studied the markings.
Logos continued.
"Faros may want peace."
"They may want war."
"They may want concessions."
"They may want time."
"We don't know."
"And until we know..."
He folded his arms.
"...everything else is speculation."
Bal nodded slowly.
"So what do we do?"
Logos smiled.
"We observe."
"And if observation fails?"
"Then we adapt."
"And if adaptation fails?"
Logos glanced toward the enormous Decimator cannon mounted on Beleth's arm.
"...Then we escalate."
Bal stared at him.
"You're enjoying this."
"No."
"You definitely are."
Logos returned to his notes.
"Begin production of the Decimator."
Bal looked back toward Beleth.
Then toward Logos.
"How many?"
Logos answered without looking up.
"Two hundred, for your personal squad."
Bal turned toward the engineers.
"Well?"
One of them raised his hand.
"Yes?"
"How long until we can produce the first batch?"
The engineer checked his notes.
"Three days for the first prototype series."
"Mass production?"
"Two weeks."
Bal looked toward Logos.
"That works."
Logos nodded.
Then he looked toward the southern horizon once more.
Faros waited beyond it.
So did the negotiations.
So did the consequences of Carine Forest.
And somewhere beyond those borders—
Other nations were beginning to realize that the little Barony of Laos had stopped behaving like a little barony a long time ago.