Chapter Sixteen: The Iron Warlord’s Judgment

The streets of Eternis Primus were silent as the Iron Dominion's envoy made their way toward the Hall of Lords. The towering, armored figures of the Iron Legionnaires marched in perfect synchronization, their mechanized limbs hissing softly with every step. Vandemir's people watched from the sidelines, their usual lively conversations subdued in the presence of such an imposing force.

At the center of the formation, a massive warhorse clad in blackened steel armor carried the envoy—General Kael Dorn, one of the Iron Dominion's high-ranking commanders. His left arm was fully mechanical, an intricate construct of steel plating and enchanted gears. His crimson cloak, tattered at the edges from countless battles, billowed behind him as he surveyed the city with sharp, calculating eyes.

Unlike most emissaries, Dorn wore full battle armor, a deliberate statement that he did not come as a diplomat, but as a judge of strength.

| Inside the Hall of LordsLords |

The grand chamber, designed for Vandemir's ruling councils and high-level meetings, was constructed with massive obsidian pillars and adorned with banners bearing the golden phoenix crest. A long stone table dominated the center, with seats prepared for both the Vandemir delegation and their Iron Dominion guests.

Aedric sat at the head of the table, his expression calm as he watched Dorn and his retinue enter. Sebastian stood at his right, as unreadable as ever. Captain Darius and Lord Varion Eddelmar were also present, representing Vandemir's military and trade interests.

Kael Dorn removed his helmet and placed it on the table with a dull thud. His face was lined with scars, his gray eyes holding the cold gaze of a man who had seen more war than peace. He studied Aedric for a long moment before speaking.

"You are younger than I expected."

Aedric leaned back in his chair, unfazed. "And you are exactly what I expected, General Dorn."

The room was tense. The Iron Dominion did not engage in diplomatic pleasantries—they assessed. They measured strength, weakness, and resolve. And Aedric knew that if Vandemir failed to impress, the Dominion would not hesitate to crush it before it became a real threat.

Dorn's mechanical fingers tapped against the stone table. "We have observed your rise with interest. You have taken land, sky, and sea, built an economy that rivals even Argos, and forged alliances that should not exist." His gaze darkened slightly. "And yet, you have done this without the backing of an empire, without noble lineage, and without divine right."

Aedric's lips curled slightly. "Does that trouble the Dominion?"

Dorn studied him, then gave a low chuckle. "No. It intrigues us."

A pause. Then Dorn leaned forward. "The Iron Dominion does not respect titles or wealth. We respect only strength. We are here to determine whether Vandemir is worthy of recognition—or if it is a passing fire that will burn itself out."

Aedric met his gaze without flinching. "And how do you propose to make that judgment?"

Dorn smirked. "By testing you."

The Iron Dominion's test was not a battle of words, nor a mere display of wealth or diplomacy. It was a contest of power.

Kael Dorn laid out the terms:

A Duel of Champions – A single combat between Vandemir's best warrior and the Iron Dominion's chosen warlord.

A Trial of Machines – A competition of technology, where each side would showcase their most advanced war machines.

A Strategic War Game – A simulated battle where tactical acumen would decide victory.

"The result will determine our future dealings," Dorn said. "If you fail, the Dominion will consider you insignificant. If you prove yourselves… we will negotiate as equals."

Aedric considered the offer, then gave a slow nod. "Vandemir does not fear tests of strength."

Dorn grinned, satisfied. "Then let the trials begin."

The Colosseum of Vandemir, an arena still under construction, was hastily completed for the first trial. Its massive iron gates opened to a roaring crowd eager to witness the clash between Vandemir and the Dominion.

Kael Dorn had chosen his own second-in-command, Warlord Rhoren Karst, a seven-foot-tall titan clad in mechanized armor, wielding a warhammer infused with shock runes. A veteran of countless campaigns, he was the Dominion's enforcer, a warrior whose victories were etched into his armor like sacred texts.

Aedric, however, had no doubt in his choice.

Vandemir's champion would be Captain Darius.

As the two warriors stepped into the arena, Aedric watched from the royal viewing box, his expression unreadable. Sebastian stood beside him, arms folded.

"The Dominion does not hold back," Sebastian murmured. "Karst will not yield unless forced."

Aedric's eyes glinted. "Neither will Darius."

The horns of the Colosseum signaled the start.

Karst charged forward, his massive warhammer crashing down with the force of a siege weapon. Darius sidestepped, his dual blades flashing in the sunlight as he slashed at the exposed joints of Karst's armor. Sparks flew, but the Dominion's armor was thick—too thick for conventional attacks.

The crowd roared as Karst swung again, forcing Darius to dodge with blinding speed. The air crackled with electricity as the shock runes in Karst's hammer discharged, missing Darius by inches.

Aedric watched closely, analyzing every move. Strength was Karst's advantage. But strength could be used against him.

Darius, recognizing this, changed tactics. Instead of dodging, he began leading Karst into overcommitted strikes.

A feint. A sidestep. A counter.

Karst swung wide—and Darius struck.

His enchanted blade slipped beneath Karst's arm, slicing through the leather bindings that held his shoulder plating. Armor fell away. An opening.

Darius exploited it mercilessly, spinning into a rapid series of strikes that severed Karst's mechanical arm at the elbow. The shock runes malfunctioned, discharging energy in a wild, uncontrolled arc.

Karst stumbled, then fell.

The arena erupted into cheers.

The duel was over. Vandemir had won the first trial.

Kael Dorn, watching from the opposite viewing box, let out a deep, rumbling laugh. "Impressive."

As Aedric descended into the arena to meet him, Dorn clapped a metal-plated hand onto his shoulder. "You have earned my interest, Sovereign of Vandemir."

Aedric smirked. "And I intend to keep it."

Dorn's eyes gleamed with approval. "Then let us see how your machines fare in the next trial."

As the Iron Dominion's war machines were prepared, and Vandemir's finest engineers brought forth their own creations, Aedric turned to Sebastian.

"The real test," he murmured, watching the massive doors of the industrial quarter swing open to reveal Vandemir's newest war machines, "is only just beginning."