In the shadowed heart of the Khanty-Mansi Dome, within the towering edifice of the Magnito Steelworks, Nimrod reclined upon a simple cot, his body at rest but his mind ablaze with purpose.
Through the relentless enactment of his "Lawyer" role over recent days, he had consumed the greater part of his potion's essence. He sensed that he stood on the precipice of complete digestion, a final step separating him from true mastery of his Beyonder powers.
At that moment, the harsh buzz of a short-range vox-comm pierced the silence, its grating tone echoing through the chamber.
Nimrod sprang to his feet with the fluid grace of a Primarch, activating the device. The respectful voice of Rawlslev, his loyal lieutenant, crackled through the static.
"Boss, a noble lord from the Finder family in the Upper Hive has come to see you. He says he's here to deliver your reward."
"Escort him to the conference chamber," Nimrod replied, his voice calm yet commanding. "I will join him presently."
Rising, he adjusted his armor, its Mithral Steel plates slightly constricting against his rapidly maturing frame—a testament to his Primarch physiology. He strode purposefully to the newly constructed conference chamber, its utilitarian design a stark contrast to the opulence he anticipated from his visitor.
As the golden-haired noble, Howard Finder, entered, his piercing blue eyes studied Nimrod with a mixture of astonishment and admiration.
"I can scarcely believe it," Howard declared, his voice tinged with awe. "Your followers were once mere gang rabble, yet now they serve with discipline and purpose."
"This is the power of order," Nimrod responded, his tone resonant with conviction. "I have granted them hope, a vision of transformation, and their lives have been reshaped by it."
Howard extended an iron-bound case toward Nimrod. "This is yours."
As Nimrod accepted the elongated box, his heightened senses detected the faint pulse of spirituality and Warp energy emanating from within, a subtle thrum that resonated with his Beyonder instincts. He opened the case, revealing its contents.
"This Psychic Crystal is substantial," he said, his voice betraying no surprise. "You've gone to great lengths."
Howard waved off the informal address, unperturbed by Nimrod's breach of aristocratic protocol. "I've come not only to deliver your reward but also to propose a commission."
"I wish for you to serve as my advocate in the Arbitration Court, to deliver a defense on my behalf. Name your terms—be it dominion over several domes or even factories in the Upper Hive."
Nimrod's response was measured, his mind already calculating. "I will need to review the case files first."
Howard's approval deepened at Nimrod's restraint, the boy's refusal to be swayed by promises of power affirming the wisdom of this impromptu decision. From the inner lining of his ornate power armor, he produced a data-slate and handed it to Nimrod.
With deft fingers, Nimrod navigated the slate's interface, poring over the case files and posing precise questions to Howard. Within moments, he had constructed a comprehensive understanding of the situation.
His mind synthesized the case's essence: Four days prior, Earl Sari, patriarch of the Finder family, had died unexpectedly. Breylon, the second-in-line heir, produced a will claiming a third of the family's wealth.
"One question," Nimrod said, his gaze piercing. "Why me?"
Howard's reply was candid. "This will violates the Finder family's traditions, but Breylon has secured the support of a royal figure, Estupinian, who serves in the Arbitration Court."
"No grand barrister dares take the case. The Fifth Arbites' authority is not fearsome, but a scion of the Boleslav family is another matter entirely."
Howard's honesty revealed his strategic calculus: he had time to seek other advocates, perhaps deploying the family's lesser lawyers. But if Nimrod faltered at the court's outset, it would be too late to pivot.
"No issue," Nimrod said with casual confidence. "But I want to select an item from the Finder family's vault."
He recognized that serving as Howard's advocate in the Arbitration Court would provide the ideal stage to complete his potion's digestion, fully embodying the "Lawyer" role. Moreover, he suspected the Finder vault held materials essential for his next Beyonder potion.
"You…" Yasin, Howard's loyal retainer, bristled at the audacity, his hand twitching toward his plasma gun.
Howard raised a hand, silencing him. "I accept. You may choose one item from the Finder family's vault."
Though the vault's treasures were priceless, none matched the value of a third of the family's ancestral wealth.
Nimrod requested a temporary Upper Hive pass from Howard, issued orders to his subordinates to guard the factories and continue tracking the elusive Lung Spider, and set out alone for the Upper Hive.
Three days later, in the Arbitration Court of Tetzvok Hive's Upper Hive.
Nobles clad in resplendent finery and Tech-Priests shrouded in crimson robes entered through twin alloy corridors, their footfalls echoing in the hallowed chamber.
Influenced by the Martian creed, Vostonia revered red as the color of utmost sanctity. Every significant venue, including the Arbitration Court, was awash in crimson hues, its walls and furnishings a testament to the Omnissiah's dominion.
The arbitrators, adorned in varied hues of opulent attire and bearing distinct family crests, wore red sashes about their necks and sat upon crimson metal thrones. Behind them, their secretaries occupied the rear ranks, data-slates glowing softly.
At the head of the chamber, a crimson metal table stretched across the dais, flanked by the day's chief arbitrators: Estupinian Boleslav, clad in a red robe embroidered with golden solar motifs, and Tech-Priest Kivior-39, whose optic filters flickered with greenprincely green light.
Estupinian glanced at Kivior-39, who seized a gavel and struck it sharply.
"Silence!"
The murmur of noble voices ceased. Estupinian's gaze fell upon the plaintiff's side, meeting Breylon's eyes briefly.
"Let the plaintiff's advocate present their opening statement."
A bespectacled lawyer rose, bowing to the dais and the assembly.
"Lords and ladies, I am honored to represent my client, Mr. Breylon Finder."
His fingers danced across a data-slate, summoning a holographic will on the cogitator screens between the dais and the litigants' benches. His voice dripped with sorrow.
"My lords, Earl Sari was a revered figure who devoted his life to the Finder family."
"He and my client's mother, Lady Valin, shared a profound love, from which my client was born."
"Now, with Earl Sari's passing, my client seeks to inherit the loving bequest of his father, a rightful claim deserving of your sympathy and support."
Nimrod observed the plaintiff's lawyer, Golovin, whose emotive delivery and expressive gestures swayed many noble arbitrators. With Estupinian's evident bias, victory seemed assured.
"In closing, I cite the Omnissiah's Guiding Codex, Chapter Two, 'Noble Regulations,' Section Fifteen, Subsection Eleven: 'Illegitimate noble heirs may, under special circumstances, possess inheritance rights.'"
"In sum, my client meets these circumstances and should inherit per the will."
Estupinian regarded Golovin, Tetzvok's premier barrister with an unblemished record of 163 victories, with satisfaction. The case seemed won.
He turned to the defense, his tone dripping with condescension. "Defendant, your advocate is young. This court permits you to replace him."
"I stand by my advocate," Howard declared firmly. "I trust Nimrod."
Having heard Golovin's masterful statement, Howard knew his family's lawyers paled in comparison. He placed his faith in Nimrod, hoping for a miracle.
Estupinian drawled, "The defense advocate may present their response."
Nimrod rose calmly amid mocking gazes. "First, I must correct the plaintiff's omission. The cited subsection details specific circumstances, such as 'the primary heir's loss of mental faculty…'"
"Mr. Howard is in robust health and keen of mind, disqualifying such conditions."
Golovin's face paled. No barrister, not even one enhanced by cognitive augments, could recall the *Codex*'s millions of words. Only a Tech-Priest could master such minutiae.
As he opened his mouth to retort, Nimrod swiped his data-slate, projecting an image on the cogitator screens. Golovin's pupils dilated in shock.
"My lords, Breylon's mother, Valin, was once a dancer at the Nightshade Lounge. After a fleeting encounter with Earl Sari, she ascended to an Upper Hive villa."
"Yet she did not reform. Just two nights ago, she visited the merchant Julio's estate in Nightcap."
"Breylon himself is a drunkard, indebted to hive gangs for over twelve million Martian crowns."
Gasps rippled through the chamber—a staggering sum, even for noble houses.
Nimrod presented his three-day investigation, concluding with a pointed glance at Kivior-39.
"Imagine if Breylon, a wastrel with no rightful claim, squandered this unearned wealth after settling his debts. Such profligacy would diminish Tetzvok Hive's efficiency."
Kivior-39 rose, his voice crackling from a vox-emitter buried in his pallid chest.
"The defense's evidence is compelling, their logic irrefutable. The Omnissiah will not abide such sacrilege."
Estupinian's gavel grew heavy in his hand. After a moment's silence, he abandoned the promise of Martian crowns, his gaze burning with resentment toward Nimrod.
The gavel fell with a thunderous crash.
"By the unanimous judgment of this Arbites and Tech-Priest Kivior-39, the plaintiff Breylon Finder's claim against Howard Finder is dismissed."
Amid the binary hymns of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Breylon and Golovin's faces ashened. The nobles witnessed the rise of a new star, Nimrod's name etched in their memories.
Within Nimrod's eyes, chaotic black threads flickered, weaving into the sigil of the Black Emperor Pathway.
He felt something dissolve within, merging with his spirit.
[The potion is fully digested. I am now a true "Lawyer."]
He glanced at Howard, who restrained his excitement with noble decorum.
[And soon, I shall claim potion materials from the Finder vault.]