C53 The Imperial Yoke

Her cheeks colored slightly, but she quickly looked away, composing herself. Lupa let out an approving huff from the corner of the room, making Lucilia shift even more awkwardly. 

I pushed off the table, closing the distance between us in a few steps.

"Relax,"

I said, voice laced with amusement.

"You're my date tonight, not a soldier on the battlefield."

She inhaled sharply but nodded.

"...Right."

My gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before I buttened up my shirt, put on my jacket, coat and the half cloak while securing my great sword to my right hip.

"Shall we?"

I extended my elbow toward her, while resting my right rings covered hand on reapers pommel. Lucilia hesitated, just for a second before placing her gloved hand in mine.

...

The grand ballroom of the former Teutonica Ducatum's palace had been transformed into a scene of imperial grandeur.

Massive banners bearing the insignia of the newly formed Greater Spartanum Ducatum hung from towering marble pillars, the crimson and pitch black Iron fenrir draping down like the wings of a conquering eagle.

The once purely Teutonica architecture, refined and delicate, now bore a new, more imposing presence, statues of ancient Spartan heroes had been erected alongside Teutonica's historical figures, a silent reminder of who now ruled.

Chandeliers of crystal and gold bathed the hall in a warm glow, reflecting off polished marble floors and the ornate gold trim that lined the walls.

The air was thick with the mingling scents of fine wine, imported spices, and the ever present aroma of power.

The guests a mix of old and new stood in hushed conversation, eyes darting between one another, feeling out the shifting tides of influence.

The old guard of Teutonica, former senators and high ranking officials, now found themselves standing among Spartanum's elites, some still struggling to comprehend their new place in this Imperial reality.

At the center of this delicate political ballet stood the Grand Duke, the man who, only days prior, had ruled as a sovereign in his own right.

Now, he was no more than a puppet governor, his power leashed to the will of a new master. His usual arrogance had been stripped away, leaving a man whose every movement was carefully measured, his eyes darting toward his new overlords, knowing that a single misstep could cost him more than just his title.

Standing beside him was Concul Augustus and his wife, the Imperator's grandparents, a reminder that even the highest rulers were bound by blood and legacy.

The aging Augustus leaned slightly toward the Grand Duke, his voice a quiet but firm whisper.

"Be wise, Your Grace. You will find that serving my grandson is far more rewarding than resisting him."

His wife, regal and sharp eyed, added with an almost motherly smile.

"And far safer, dear, afterall my grandson went as far as liquadating our entire dynasty"

The Grand Duke swallowed hard and nodded, the warning not lost on him.

Elsewhere, Spartanum's senators had taken it upon themselves to 'welcome' their new Teutonica colleagues into the fold.

Groups of them stood together, speaking in hushed but firm tones, giving their newly incorporated counterparts 'advice' on how to survive in the new regime.

A grizzled Spartan senator with a scar across his cheek leaned in toward one of the more hesitant Teutonica senators.

"You will find that things work differently here. If the Imperator says jump, you don't ask why. You jump. Understand?"

The Teutonica senator, once a man of dignity and pride, nodded stiffly.

Nearby, another Spartan senator chuckled darkly, recalling the brutal executions that had taken place only weeks before. His voice was low, but the threat was clear.

"If you ever think about betraying then be ready to be ripped apart by the Imperators pet. Remember that before you think about playing smart."

The Teutonica senators shuddered. They had heard of the Imperator's rather cruel and barbaric methods and they had no Intention of trying anything, because If tehy did their 'seniors' would be the first to rat them out.

Meanwhile, the government officials the ministers, bureaucrats, and military officers, were conducting their own 'orientation' for their new Teutonica subordinates.

The Minister of Industry stood with his newly appointed junior, a Teutonica official who had once held considerable sway over industrial production. Now, he was merely a cog in a much larger machine.

The minister exhaled slowly, sipping from his glass of wine before speaking.

"Listen, I won't waste time explaining things. You do as I say, when I say it. No questions. No delays. This isn't your old Ducatum anymore. You work for the Imperium now. So don't ask, just do it."

His junior nodded stiffly, gripping his own drink like a lifeline.

The Minister of War, a hardened veteran, was less diplomatic. He stood with a group of Teutonica officers, many of whom had once commanded the very armies that now lay in ruins. His voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"Your army lost because they were weak. That weakness will not be tolerated in the Imperium. You will follow our doctrines, adopt our strategies, and if I even catch a whiff of resistance from any of you..."

He let the silence hang for a moment before finishing.

"You won't have to worry about retirement."

The former Teutonica officers nodded, some swallowing nervously. The message was clear, adapt or perish.

Journalists and photographers buzzed around the room, their cameras flashing, their notebooks filling with every interaction, every glance, every shift in power dynamics.

The world was watching, and this moment would define the new order.

At the far end of the hall, a raised dais awaited the Imperator himself. A massive, high backed chair, not quite a throne, but undeniably a seat of power stood at its center.

The entire hall was designed so that all attention would be drawn to that one focal point, to the man who had shattered an entire nation in just three days.

...

MC POV

The grand double doors of the ballroom creaked open, and for a single heartbeat, silence reigned. Then, like shadows spilling into a dimly lit chamber, the Death Squad entered.

Fully geared for war.

The ten 2 meters and five centimeters tall armored figures marched in unison, their exoskeleton armor enhanced movements eerily precise, each step measured, calculated.

Their skull shaped helmets face plates gleamed under the chandeliers, their crimson plumes swaying slightly with their movement.

The crowd barely had time to process their arrival before they spread out into two perfect rows, forming an unbreakable wall of war incarnate.

A single voice echoed through the speakers of Zero One's helmet, distorted and inhuman, yet filled with absolute authority.

"HAIL IMPERATOR!"

Every official, every senator, every officer in the room snapped to attention. Then, I walked in.

A ripple of murmurs swept through the gathered audience. Not because of me, I was expected. It was because of the woman at my side.

Lucilia clung to my elbow, walking with hesitant, measured steps. Dressed in purple gown, murmurs turned to outright whispers.

"Who's that?"

"Wait... isn't that the Imperator's secretary?"

"No, no... Isn't she a former w..."

Before the whisperer could finish their sentence, a sharp voice cut through the gossip like a dagger.

"Watch your tongue."

The senior officials whose alarm bells were already ringing In their heads shot deadly glares at the less experienced and juniors, their expressions a mix of warning and silent threat.

Augustus and his wife observed quietly. My grandmother, Constantia, narrowed her eyes, leaning slightly toward her husband.

"Dear, what is our stinky brat of a grandson up to now?"

She asked, voice laced with a mix of amusement and suspicion. Augustus stroked his beard, watching as I walked forward with Lucilia still clinging to my arm.

"Hmmm... I don't know, dear, but I'll have to have a word with him soon."

Meanwhile, Lucilia was drowning in the weight of a thousand stares. Her fingers trembled ever so slightly against my arm. She lowered her head, her entire posture shrinking, as if trying to disappear into the floor.

"Imperator... w... why don't I step back? I... I shouldn't be here,"

She whispered. I cut her off immediately.

"No."

Her breath hitched. I tightened my hold on repaers pommel, my voice dropping to a low, icy murmur.

"Keep your back straight and raise your head. You shouldn't give a f*ck about what these old f*cks think."

My voice grew colder by the second. My scleras darkened. Black veins crawled beneath my eyes. Murmurs turned to shaken silence.

"It seems these f*cks still haven't fully learned their lesson..."

I muttered under my breath. Then, I spoke, louder, sharper.

"KNEEL."

Instantly, the most experienced among them dropped to one knee, their heads bowed.

A fraction of a second later, the less experienced followed, their movements more hesitant, but equally obedient.

Finally, the youngest, most junior officials realized what was happening and scrambled to kneel, eyes wide with fear.