Reetha jumped off the roof of the carriage as soon as it had been drawn into the courtyard through the open gate. The procession gradually lined up along the fixed walls. Ironborn Lords had considerably less individuality in their appearance than the higher ups. Their forms, like metallic skeletons, were illuminated by the pale green mists that drifted in swirls behind them as they moved, cascading from their artistically shaped rib cages. Their cast iron bodies looked menacing in the near utter darkness.

It got dark in the Iron Domain, incredibly dark. There were no natural or artificial light sources beyond what filled the courtyard at that moment and the sickle of the moon above. “Invader!” Reetha shouted up at the Gamer, who had positioned himself on the circular walkway elevated a couple of metres above the courtyard. “Our ruler, the Emperor of the Iron Domain, has seen it fit to answer your arrogant request for a meeting.” The metal elf gave him a poisonous glare. “It is required for you to come down here and meet him face to face!”

The Gamer tapped his heel against the throne a couple of times, before shrugging. “Sure,” he agreed nonchalantly and began to hover. Effortlessly, he landed before the metal horses. Standing face to face with those creatures, the Gamer realized that their heads were more akin to that of carnivores and their feet consisted of claws locked mechanically into the shape of hooves. The green glare of their flickering eyes conveyed a deep distrust.

John had an interest in the origin of these beings. Were they entirely artificial in nature or were they based on a kind of horse that really existed in the Iron Domian? Although humanoid species were pretty diverse from what he had observed so far, the wildlife was scarce. It wouldn’t have surprised him to learn that the Ironborn systematically slaughtered the majority of edible animals. How they then prevented the plants from taking over was anyone’s guess.

Thoughts in that direction ended when the carriage let out a decompressing hiss. Like the petals of a flower, the metal construct opened up. The roof extended and the walls rolled outwards. The front John was facing folded outwards, drawing the horses to the sides and giving a clear view of the beings that sat inside the massive carriage.

There were three of them, sitting together on a massive throne. Two were women, the Iron Maidens. Despite them sharing a title, physically they had nothing in common besides their beauty.

One was a woman with lead coloured hair and brown skin that was almost entirely covered in jagged and spiky plates of that same, dull colour. Although its appearance could easily be mistaken for the mundane metal, John had experienced enough Astrotium to know when he was looking at it. In the design of that armour, her muscular shape and in the impatient way her fingers tapped against her upper arms, she reminded him greatly of Metra.

The other woman had light blue hair and her body glistened like mercury. Her slender curves were completely exposed, yet showed no sexual features besides the outline of her breasts. Most of her body was an oceanic blue, crossed by various black lines that shifted when she moved. Here, too, John’s experience helped him identify the metals: Poseidury and Schattengarn, two of the elemental extreme metals, used in some kind of semi-alloy to create a liquid metal body.

The Iron Maidens each rested against an arm of the massive being at the centre, wrapped possessively around them. Each of the limbs was as long as their entire body and almost as broad. They were a dark, dull grey, with a greenish tint to them, attached to a colossal body of the same colour. Unlike other Ironborn, the Emperor’s various parts were not fully connected. Instead that green, baleful mist was serving as a conduit that bound the limbs, the torso, and the head together. All of him had the appearance of animated armour. The dense mist surrounded the helmet, the shape of a crown forged onto it, like a wreath of burning incense.

All of the Ironborn sunk to one knee. The simultaneous rattling of metal against stone was the final sound of the procession that had filled the night with their steps. In the oppressing silence that followed, the light emanating from their bodies dimmed, until the Emperor was the only true source of light – a flame among fireflies.

“Invader. That is what Reetha calls you,” the Emperor said, his voice deep, metallic, and engrained with a natural sense of authority. He spoke slowly and with a sense of gravitas to each syllable. The decorative teeth at the front of the helmet remained unmoving. A tilt of his head served as the only expression of his curiosity. “She uses it as a term of insult – I carry it as a word to describe an equal. Only a conqueror would dare to stand before me.” The almost white dots filling his helmet drilled into the Gamer. “Then again, is it really you who is before me?”

John smiled and shrugged, sitting in the window of a nearby tower. He was unsurprised that the Emperor guessed that he was speaking to a double. There were no magical or physical markers, the kind of Extension he had chosen made sure of that. It was just one powerful and seasoned being recognizing the most likely behaviour of an invader. Rather than have him and his harem be subject to a potential ambush, John had decided to present the Emperor and his servants with his double. It was only a minor safety precaution, but it had other benefits. Such as allowing John to see that connection between the Emperor and the far-off horizon. Observe was still blocked, but the Vision of Calamity was working well enough.

“To be fair, this vessel is just about as much my real body as that is yours,” Jack responded and pointed at the Emperor. “An Extension, if you will.”

“It would fit one like you to have such an ability,” the Emperor said and rose to his feet. A single step forwards tilted the entire carriage. A second step made the ground tremble with his weight and power. The colossus of an animated armour stopped before Jack, looking down at but not on him. “Let us walk, invader, and have that talk you desired.” The hand that could have just as easily grabbed the entirety of the Extension’s head gestured for the Gamer to lead the way.

Jack could practically hear the Astrotium-covered woman (Meteora if he had to hazard a guess) grind her teeth as he took that offer and guided the Emperor up the ramp. “If you wouldn’t mind, can you tell me your name?” the Gamer asked, remaining diplomatic for now.

“I’m the Revenant Emperor of the Iron Domain, Arkeidos,” the colossus introduced himself.

By comparison, the Gamer’s introduction felt inadequate. “I’m John Newman.”

“No title?” the Emperor asked.

“I suppose I go by President John Newman,” the Gamer answered.

“President? You must excuse me, this word does not exist in my language,” the Emperor inquired.

“It’s a leadership position where the power is invested by those that make up the organization.”

“What a peculiar idea. To lie so brazenly in your title,” the Emperor remarked. “Followers do not invest power in a leader, a leader is at the top because they hold the power. Such is the nature of conquest and domination. Such are the laws of the world.” The passive Observe worked in spite of any precautions and Jack could read the emotional status of respect dwindling. “Are you a puppet installed by someone too cowardly to hold their might openly?”

“Reconsidering if I’m your equal, huh?” The Gamer hummed, only for Jack to stop at the spot of the wall they were at now. Arkeidos directed his gaze from the motionless double to the real body now appearing before him. Coming down the last few steps leading down from the side of the tower, John continued, “Unsurprisingly, I deeply disagree with your way of running things. The misery you inflict on your people is unconscionable.”

“Misery is the womb of the Ironborn,” Arkeidos responded and met John at the bottom of the stairs. His respect was reinstated, for the most part. “Strength is the only authority. That knowledge forged me and it shall forge all that come to serve me.”

“I would like to hear that story,” John said. He spared himself the discussion, he had met enough dictators by now to know that discussions were useless. Any attempt at verbally convincing someone who had designed and upheld this system for a millennia and who didn’t even have the word ‘president’ in their vocabulary was just plain useless. Learning more about the Emperor himself may prove useful, however. Even if it didn’t, it would at least satisfy John’s curiosity as to how someone who was clearly intelligent and outwardly sane could decide to construct this.

Arkeidos walked beside John for about ten metres, his heavy steps reverberating in the solid stone walls, until he exclaimed, “As you wish, John Newman. My tale summarised is one playing out every day across the Iron Domain. A millennia back, when this world went by many names, I roamed it as a sick young man, plagued by the effects of Mettle and its pollution upon my mother’s body. This weakness of my body disgusted me. The weakness of will of my… peers, it disgusts me to this day. I realized a cure for my condition, trained until no warrior could best me. It was not enough to satisfy my hunger. Conquest, I realized, was my path. Authority and knowledge are the only resources those with power must care for. I gathered the few that would be worthy of my orders, destroyed and plundered the weak nobles of old, read all the tomes that they had hoarded, and improved upon the knowledge in search for the clue for immortality.”

“And that was the beginning of the Ironborn,” John chimed in.

“No, that was my personal ascendancy into Lichdom,” Arkeidos shared openly.

‘Shit,’ the Gamer thought. It wasn’t surprising whatsoever, everything around had necromantic under or overtones, but it complicated the affair a lot. John had hoped that the connection he was seeing was just remote control. Now it turned out he was dealing with a phylactery, most likely located in a fortress with a millennium of preparation in terms of defences. Not even Nia would have an easy time invading that.

“Flesh decayed from my bones, as the allies that I cherished aged and withered. Their once formidable powers weakened. They were disgusted by themselves, and in that disgust, I saw the righteousness of their will. It deserved to live on. It deserved more time to unfold its potential. They willingly partook in gruelling experiments until finally I found it – the way to crystallize the soul.”

“And how did you do that?” John inquired, not expecting an answer.

Without hesitation, Arkeidos reached into the air next to him. Delicately, he held an object the size of a plate and presented it to John. It was made from a blend of all elemental extreme metals, swirling together, but never quite mixing. The bottom was softly curved, with a flat surface at the lowest point. From one side, a handle extended, stretching all the way to the middle. There was a spike where the palm would rest when gripping the apparatus. The tip of the handle forked into two smaller extensions.

Observe was blocked once again. Arkeidos must have noticed the Gamer’s interest in the object, no matter how much he tried to obscure it. “A single of these Sylkarions can create one Ironborn. Their creation is only known to me. Any attempt to teach the enchantments infused into these incredibly rare metals has been without success.” For a moment, it looked like Arkeidos would hand the refiner to the Gamer. His hand stopped in the middle of the process. “Is this what you seek?”

There was no great use in denying it. “Yes,” the Gamer admitted.

“Then I am willing to make a trade,” Arkeidos responded. “You have come here to seek the Sylkarion. I can bestow ten of them to you.”

The number made John’s mind swirl. He could save ten people from diseases incurable even by Abyssal standards. Alternatively, he could use some of them to make friends of his eternal. One day everyone mortal he knew beyond his harem would be gone. With this, he could retain at least some of them. After their one time usage, the material those disks were made from would still find usage. At ten, he could afford to at least attempt to decipher the enchantment. Even if nothing came of it, losing one or two wasn’t too bad.

“In return, you must give me the secret you used to invade my domain,” Arkeidos continued, ripping John out of his thoughts. The Gamer looked up to find the eyes of the revenant burning with a passion like glowing hot iron. His voice boomed with a web of emotions. Lust, desire, enthusiasm, a sorrow for time lost and a need to make up for it, all reflected in his words, “I had wept, knowing there was nothing left to conquer! Your existence reveals to me the fractured state of reality. A cosmos filled with equals to challenge and unworthy whose mettle to test! Their bodies shall be the mortar out of which I carve an even greater domain!”

‘Shit,’ the Gamer thought again, this time because he realized the knock-on effects his failure here could have. He hadn’t considered that there were Kingdoms unaware of others existing beyond their boundaries. If he lost here or left, Arkeidos would find a way to sprawl outwards. He had the drive and time to find a method to travel between Kingdoms. The Emperor could not be allowed to continue to that point, lest his Iron Domain covered even more worlds with misery.

“You appear to have a misguided attachment to peace,” the Emperor commented on John’s wary expression. “An agreement of mutual neutrality can also be struck. Certainly, my equals need not be conquered. Between us, people of might, there may be peace.”

The worst part was that he meant that. To Arkeidos, John was someone worthy of talking to, because he was strong. Everyone below the power of an Ironborn Lord was just a necessary body in a bloodline that may yet produce someone even slightly worthy down the generations. Arkeidos had honour when dealing with his equals. Anyone below were animals that could talk.

“I can’t offer this to you, even if I wanted,” the Gamer responded. “The method is tailored to me, just like the creation of these Sylkarions seems to be tailored to you.”

The sound of a deep inhale reverberated in the armour. “I see,” was the short answer. “Then a lesser offer. Three of the devices and you leave the Iron Domain, never to return. I have research to attend to.”

The benefits of just accepting the deal were obvious. Considering them was useless. “What would it take for you to upend the entirety of this system?” John asked, ignoring the binary choice presented to him. “For you to agree to you and me working together for a decade so that I can show you the benefits of a happy people?”

“Happiness doesn’t matter, it’s fleeting, like their mortal bodies are,” Arkeidos declared, putting away the Sylkarion. They both knew where this was going. “Your suggestions are unwanted.”

“I had to ask,” John sighed and put his hands into his pockets. “Arkeidos, your system is so deeply sickening that I couldn’t agree to any deal that you offered me. I will end your reign.”

Arkeidos’ body started to tremble, then a deep laugh followed. “An open declaration to kill me. How interesting. Fine then, John Newman, let our ambitions clash! One of us will be ground to dust.” The Emperor turned around, to walk back to his subjects. “I will attack this position in three days. Prepare yourself in any way you wish. I look forward to this war.”