The military council convened, and Nimrod first called for reports, with Bukayo deferring the opportunity to Szczesny.
"My king…"
Szczesny, gripped by trepidation, raised his head, only to meet Nimrod's obsidian gaze, his mind plunging into a void of blankness.
Stunned for several seconds, he was jolted back to awareness by Bukayo's nudge at his side, recalling the youth's kindly advice en route.
"Fix your gaze upon our lord's feet."
Szczesny hastily lowered his eyes, instinctively adopting Bukayo's form of address.
"My lord, the Seventh Company has secured control of the Piszczek. The vessel's crew has sworn fealty to you."
"The ship remains in optimal condition, ready to launch at your command."
"Well done."
Nimrod's words eased Szczesny's tension, though he remained puzzled why he, a mere squad leader, was tasked with reporting instead of the company commander.
"My king, the spire's defensive fortifications have been preliminarily established."
Rawlslev, steadfast in his own manner of addressing his master, spoke, though in his heart, Nimrod was akin to a deity.
"Additionally, among the surviving prisoners, four thousand eight hundred and six souls proclaim you, who felled the Mad King, as the true emissary of the Omnissiah. They seek to pledge their loyalty to you."
Thierry, sensing the weight of all eyes upon him, spoke with measured conviction.
"My king, I believe their allegiance is genuine."
"Puhach governed his army by fostering personal worship, proclaiming his perfected form as the embodiment of the Omnissiah's will."
"His private legion, indoctrinated over years, believed his delusions. Your slaying of the Mad King before their eyes shattered their faith."
Thierry's mind drifted to the recent scenes, still reverberating with profound awe.
"Thus, they naturally cast you in the mold Puhach crafted."
Nimrod nodded, his mind swiftly recalibrating his military strategy.
Ten seconds later, he declared with resolute authority.
"I accept their fealty. Rawlslev, select soldiers at once to replenish the First Regiment's ranks."
"Thierry, using House Viera's personnel as a foundation, choose from the surrendered troops to form the Second Regiment, modeled after the First Regiment's structure."
"Bukayo, you shall form the Third Regiment. You may select from the surrendered troops or recruit independently to establish your regiment."
Nimrod granted Bukayo greater autonomy, recognizing that the youth's mortal frame and "Sleepless" Beyonder nature, unlike the absolute martial prowess of a "Warrior," necessitated a distinct approach to forming his regiment.
"As you command, my lord."
"Szczesny, you are tasked with forming the Fourth Regiment. Your squad and the remaining prisoners shall serve as your foundation. Recruit additional personnel as needed. Any concerns?"
Szczesny's war merits were the least among those present, leaving Nimrod to assign him the remnants after the other commanders' selections.
This was his final trial; should he falter, Nimrod would relegate him to squad leader.
Szczesny froze, staggered by the leap from squad leader to regiment commander.
Though astonished, he kept his gaze lowered, avoiding the mental paralysis of before.
"My lord, your trust in me shall not be misplaced. I will not fail you."
"Szczesny, fear not. I shall not claim any prisoners; they are yours to command."
Seeing Bukayo's confidence in his own plans, Nimrod approved their allocation, pondering briefly before issuing further orders.
"So be it. Send the remaining prisoners to Tetzvok. Command Howard to form the Fifth Regiment."
Fully staffed, the five regiments would muster twelve thousand five hundred warriors, excluding commanders and supplemented armored vehicles. The logistical burden, for Nimrod, who controlled Tetzvok and Lukov, was fiscally sustainable.
Moreover, he intended to conquer two additional hives. Were it not for a paucity of talent, he could raise five to ten more regiments without issue.
[Talent remains scarce!]
This thought brought to mind the two "Polymath" Beyonder potions he could prepare. His gaze settled on Thierry.
"Among your followers, are there any skilled in technical matters?"
"My king, I command a technical team of thirty-seven souls. Among them, only Wojciech Bielik qualifies as a true technical adept."
Thierry produced a data-slate, displaying Bielik's dossier to Nimrod.
"The Bielik family has been artisans for generations. Wojciech has been immersed in machinery since childhood."
"The technique to rouse the machine spirit of the mag-lev train was devised by him and taught to others."
"I require his services."
Nimrod resolved to observe Wojciech closely. Should his ability and loyalty meet the minimum threshold, he would cultivate him as a "Savant" Beyonder. (T/N: This one was originally 'Generalist' in which as far as I know doesnt exist in 22 existing pathways so I change it to Savant Pathway. A pathway that was knowledge-focused path mastering disciplines, advancing from recall to civilization-shaping genius.)
"To serve you is his honor."
Thierry gladly offered his most capable technician. "I shall summon him at once to report to you."
Nimrod's gaze swept over the four commanders. "Your regiments must undergo swimming drills, especially the Fourth Regiment."
Szczesny offered a wry smile, joining the others in acknowledging the order, inwardly fretting.
[Is my lord deliberately testing me, knowing I cannot swim?]
Moments later, a middle-aged man clad in red-and-white robes, with neatly cropped brown hair, strode purposefully into the palace, saluting the assembly with solemnity.
"My king."
"Lord Thierry, honored lords, Wojciech Bielik offers his respects."
"You are reputed as a technical adept. I entrust you with two tasks: repair the fracture in my power halberd and develop waterproof weaponry."
Nimrod issued immediate challenges to test Wojciech's capabilities.
"As you command, my lord."
"Szczesny, remain. Others, dismiss."
Thierry's loyalty yet unproven, Nimrod chose to first elevate Szczesny as a Beyonder.
As the others departed, Nimrod regarded Szczesny.
"You seem burdened by pressure?"
"My lord's insight is true. All else I can manage, but swimming eludes my talents."
Nimrod casually plucked a book from the desk, handing it to Szczesny.
"Retire to the side chamber, read, and await my summons."
"As you command, my lord."
Szczesny, accepting the tome, discovered it was not a treatise on military theory but a volume on rhetoric.
He trudged to the side chamber, his origins humbler than the Underhive's denizens but sufficient for basic literacy from the Omnissiah's altar. Yet rhetoric, a discipline for nobles, Arbites, and lawyers, was beyond his ken.
Szczesny deemed this work cycle both his most fortunate and most vexing. Still, settling into a leather chair, he plunged into earnest study.
As he wrestled with the rhetorical text, Nimrod's voice summoned him.
Clasping the book, Szczesny hastened back to the palace.
Ten meters from Nimrod, he halted, but the giant strode directly to him.
Szczesny beheld Nimrod's left hand extending a vial of potion, its blue, gel-like contents shimmering like the sea.
"Drink it."
Without a moment's hesitation, Szczesny seized the vial and swallowed its contents.
Half a standard hour later, under Nimrod's guidance, Szczesny mastered meditation and spiritual vision.
"My gratitude for your divine gift, my lord."
The "Sailor" Beyonder exclaimed, his conviction in Nimrod's divinity deepening.
"Do you still fret over swimming?"
"My lord, the sea is my home. I yearn to plunge into its depths."
"The chance will come soon enough."
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🤦 : Oops! You've reached the limit for today. But just for your power stone and recommendation I might— no I would add additional Chapter.
20PS — 1 additional Chapter
40PS — 2 additional Chapter and special mention if you've contributed 3 or more PS.
That's all. Enjoy Reading!