In the face of the Arbites' imposing authority, Nimrod's countenance remained an unyielding bastion of calm, his features betraying no trace of trepidation.
"I brought the Magnito Steelworks under my control not for personal gain," he declared, his voice steady and resonant, "but for the greater glory of the Khanty-Mansi Dome—and, indeed, for you, Arbites."
The young master of the Finder family, seated in his ornate throne, cast a gaze alight with intrigued amusement. Dimitrov, the Arbites overseer, let out a scoff tinged with incredulous mirth.
"You dare speak such nonsense, boy? You seized the steelworks for your own ambitions—how could it possibly be for my benefit?"
Nimrod's tone remained serene, almost hypnotic, as he responded. "Vostonia has pledged fealty to Mars for millennia, has it not? The devotees of the Omnissiah, the Adeptus Mechanicus, prize efficiency above all else. Am I mistaken in this?"
Dimitrov's volatile temper began to ebb under the soothing cadence of Nimrod's words, though confusion lingered in his furrowed brow. He could not yet discern how the boy's argument pertained to him.
His tone softened, though skepticism remained. "You're not wrong. But what does that have to do with your seizure of the steelworks? How does it serve me?"
Nimrod's explanation flowed with the precision of a Primarch's intellect. "The steel industry, exemplified by the Magnito Steelworks, lies upstream of my D-46 Foundry. As the ancient Terran management sage Chandler once taught, controlling upstream enterprises enables the optimization of resource allocation, thereby enhancing efficiency and maximizing output."
"By integrating the steelworks with my foundry, I can vastly elevate productivity. The Khanty-Mansi Dome will rise above its peers, distinguished among Vostonia's myriad domes. And you, Arbites, will come to the notice of the Tech-Priests, your name elevated in their cogitators' annals."
Dimitrov fell silent, his mind ensnared in contemplation. All of Vostonia was governed by an uneasy alliance of nobles and the Tech-Priests of Mars. To earn the favor of even a single Tech-Priest was to secure a path to ascension, a coveted rise to the Upper Hive.
After a prolonged pause, he spoke, his voice measured. "Why you? Why not me taking control myself?"
Nimrod's lips curved into a confident smile, his presence radiating an unshakable certainty. "If you, Arbites, were to seize the factories yourself, you would provoke fierce resistance from their overseers. Your forces would suffer grievous losses, your authority undermined."
"But when I annex these factories, the opposition will not immediately unite against me. They cannot fathom the scale of my ambition. By the time they realize the truth, the tide will have turned, and my dominion will be unassailable."
"I possess the strength to consolidate all factories, and I alone can elevate the efficiency of the entire dome to heights unseen."
Dimitrov regarded Nimrod, his resolve wavering under the weight of the boy's logic. The unyielding confidence in Nimrod's words stirred something within him—an almost preternatural assurance that this youth could achieve what he promised. Yet, bound by the Finder family's directives, he grasped for a counterargument.
"Rules cannot be broken," he declared, his voice firm but faltering.
"Or else."
Nimrod's mind flashed to the legal knowledge gained when he consumed the "Lawyer" potion. From the annals of Tetzvok's precedents, he plucked a case to wield as his shield.
"To my knowledge, thirty-eight years ago, the Kurnikova family, without precedent, launched a audacious raid. Within nineteen work cycles, they seized fifty-two chemical plants in the Upper Hive. In the subsequent tribunal, convened by nobles and the Adeptus Mechanicus, they emerged victorious, securing a monopoly over the chemical industry."
"Furthermore, according to the *Omnissiah's Guiding Codex*, penned by the sage Kivior, Chapter Eleven, 'Tetzvok Governance Regulations,' Section Eleven, Factory Management Rules, Subsection Eleven: 'All prior precedents of this hive may be invoked as a basis for adjudication.'"
Though Vostonia had yet to be formally integrated into the Imperium, and the Adeptus Arbites' Judiciary had not established a foothold in Tetzvok Hive, the planet's unique dual-headed governance—nobles and Tech-Priests—had birthed a bespoke adjudicatory body.
This Arbitration Court, mirroring the Imperium's Judiciary in name, comprised nobles and Tech-Priests who deliberated on matters of grave import. From this institution emerged specialized roles, such as lawyers, adept in navigating its labyrinthine codes.
In the Lower Hive, this system was simplified, vesting sole authority in the Arbites overseer.
The blond noble, Howard Finder, fixed Nimrod with an intense stare. The boy's invocation of obscure precedents and subsections was a feat typically reserved for the hive's grand barristers. How could a mere Lower Hive youth, barely more than a child, possess such knowledge?
[His appearance belies his origins—he looks unlike any Lower Hiver. Yet, even the Upper Hive's finest barristers, at his age, would still be studying rudimentary codes, not mastering them to this degree.]
Dimitrov's gaze grew vacant, uncertainty clouding his mind. He was not even certain if the *Omnissiah's Guiding Codex* contained such a subsection. As an Arbites overseer, his duty required only a surface understanding of the rules.
As he grappled with doubt, Nimrod's voice cut through the silence.
"I trust this noble from the Upper Hive is familiar with this regulation."
"Insolence!" one of the guards barked. "How dare you address the lord so directly? You will call him 'my lord'!"
"No matter," Howard Finder interjected, clapping slowly, his eyes gleaming with appreciation. "A splendid oration, as riveting as the finest barristers' arguments I've heard in the tribunal halls."
"You have persuaded me. The steelworks you seized supplied raw materials to the Finder family—this was the reason for my presence here."
"When I learned that a boy, ten years my junior, had achieved such feats in so short a time, I resolved to meet you in person."
"Now, your performance has left me in awe."
He turned to Dimitrov. "Arbites, grant him this opportunity. I wish to see the extent of his capabilities."
"As you command, my lord," Dimitrov replied, his tone deferential.
Seeing Nimrod earn the favor of Lord Howard, envy flickered in Dimitrov's eyes.
Howard Finder turned back to Nimrod. "But I have one condition: I will place an observer at your side."
"Before you refuse, know that he will not hinder your actions. His role is merely to observe your abilities. Should you prove exceptional, I will support your expansion in the Lower Hive—and perhaps even aid your ascension to the Upper Hive."
Nimrod pondered briefly. Psychic Crystals, rare and coveted, were most likely held by noble houses or the Tech-Priests' forge enclaves.
"Agreed," he said, "but I require one Psychic Crystal."
"You drive a steep bargain," Howard replied, pausing for a moment. "Very well. But you must control all factories in the Khanty-Mansi Dome within one month and increase production by at least ten percent. Can you achieve this?"
"Without question," Nimrod answered, his voice brimming with unshakable confidence.
Howard's curiosity deepened at Nimrod's audacity. He turned to a subordinate wielding a plasma gun.
"Yasin, you will accompany him."
"As you command, my lord," Yasin replied.
Dimitrov addressed Nimrod. "Congratulations, Nimrod. The Magnito Steelworks is yours, and you are authorized to annex all factories in the Khanty-Mansi Dome."
As these words reached him, Nimrod felt his spirituality surge, vibrant and alive.
[Hmm… By embodying the 'Lawyer,' securing gains through persuasion, and earning others' recognition, I digest the potion far more effectively than through mere acquisition.]
Sixteen work cycles later, in the Upper Hive.
Howard Finder sat in his office, his brow furrowed in deep contemplation.
As he brooded, the vox-comm system within his ornate power armor emitted a series of sharp beeps. He activated it, and the voice of his personal steward crackled through.
"Master, Yasin has returned."
Howard's brow furrowed further. His orders to Yasin were clear: return only when Nimrod's endeavors bore fruit.
[Has he already seized all the dome's factories? Impossible. Surely he hasn't perished—not with the prowess he displayed. But how could he have succeeded so swiftly?]
"Send him in."
Moments later, Yasin hurried into the chamber, his demeanor urgent.
"My lord, Nimrod has conquered all sixty-three factories in the Khanty-Mansi Dome. He has increased production by fifteen percent."
Howard froze, stunned. It took several seconds for him to regain his composure.
"How did he accomplish this?"
"My lord, his martial prowess is nothing short of terrifying. Even our finest, trained under your command, could not stand against him."
"I suspect he is a product of gene-craft, perhaps even birthed in the Adeptus Mechanicus' gene-vaults. In mere days, he grew visibly taller, his combat a symphony of artistry—precise, efficient, lethal in a single strike…"
Yasin's words poured forth, vividly recounting Nimrod's conquest of the dome with fervor and awe.
Howard, reclining in his leather chair, gradually straightened, his hand cupping his chin as he absorbed his confidant's report with rapt attention.
"There is a quality to him—his orations are electrifying. The listless workers, once dulled by toil, were as if reprogrammed by his words, brimming with zeal. Even gang lords, after hearing his speeches, pledged their factories and followers to his cause."
"He not only achieved his goal but revolutionized factory management, streamlining the entire production chain. He ensured the workers and enforcers were well-fed, their loyalty secured."
"Not only the workers—even the dregs of the gangs now adhere to his regulations with unwavering discipline, as if…"
Yasin paused, searching for a term Howard had once used.
"…as if they've been reborn, transformed. I daresay the Arbites' enforcers pale in comparison to Nimrod's followers now."
"He has truly done it."
Howard sat stunned for over ten seconds, his mind racing. A sudden realization struck him, tied to the dilemma he currently faced.
[Perhaps he can resolve my present troubles.]
He rose abruptly, activating his family's crest—a red field emblazoned with golden lightning—to unlock a sealed chamber. From a cache of Psychic Crystals, he selected the largest: a meter long, with a cross-sectional diameter of ninety centimeters.