Every invention is a confession.
And in the chambers of Forge Libre, Emil Dufort was about to confess everything he believed the future needed to be.
A New Design Philosophy
V.A.T. was not a weapon.
It was a statement.
A modular, transformable armored platform capable of switching between three configurations depending on terrain, threat type, and command interface.
Bruno dubbed it a "chassis without allegiance."
Vera called it "a steel metamorphosis."
Emil said nothing.
He only sketched.
First a compact, tracked body with retractable stabilizers.
Then a secondary hull system that could extend outward into "wings"—not for flight, but for lift-assisted momentum across uneven ground.
Finally, an undercarriage designed to detach and replace components mid-field, turning the same vehicle into a command post, a mobile forge, or an artillery crawler.
They would not build an army.
They would build one machine that could become an army.
Code Red in PragueWhile Emil's engineers designed the future, the present burned.
September 30, 1914.
A German assault division known only as Fenrir Omega rolled into the outskirts of Prague, ignoring diplomatic neutrality.
It wasn't a siege.
It was a cleansing.
Five Lupus Rex tanks.
Dozens of mechanized infantry.
And for the first time—civilian reports of unmanned drone-crawlers, armed with flammable gel charges and coded with a single behavioral pattern:
Approach target. Ignite. Expire.
The machines didn't retreat.
They sacrificed themselves in waves.
"They're not designing victory anymore," Vera said when the news broke. "They're designing saturation."
"If we don't disrupt the model," Emil added grimly, "they'll drown us in steel corpses."
The Fenrir Omega DoctrineFuchs sent a new communique. This time, openly, via a Swiss diplomatic channel.
"Dear Emil,
Victory doesn't require innovation. It requires inevitability.
While you craft your perfect sword, we are flooding the battlefield with daggers.
For every Typhon you build, we will bury you with fifty that need no name.
Sincerely,
—W.F."
Henriette threw the note into the furnace without a word.
Ilse, quiet in the corner, stared at the ceiling.
"We can't match them in quantity," she said. "But what if we could beat them in time?"
Assembly in MotionInspired by Ilse's words, Emil drafted the concept for a mobile production module—a segment of the V.A.T. capable of deploying small sub-forges in the field using modular resource packs.
It would work like a train's engine car, but with swappable trailers—each one a fully functional micro-assembly bay.
The goal?
Build and modify the V.A.T. in real time. React to battlefield conditions not with reports, but with transformation.
Camille tested the concept on a modified Sanglier Mk IV, retrofitted with an internal welding arm and deployable mold furnace.
It worked.
Crude, slow, unstable—but it worked.
"We're not just making tanks anymore," she said, soot on her face. "We're making ecosystems."
A Knock at the Door
As Forge Libre finalized its prototype V.A.T. schematics, an unexpected visitor arrived at their southern checkpoint.
General Alphonse Lemoine.
A decorated French strategist. Political relic. And former superior to Emil during the failed defense of Metz in 1912.
"I come in peace," Lemoine said. "And with two options."
Emil met him in the war room, flanked by Henriette and Bruno.
"Option one: return to Paris. Place Forge Libre under state authority. Let your machines save the Republic."
"Option two?"
"We declare you rogue. Not neutral. Not independent. Enemy-adjacent. Every trench commander gets orders to shoot your people on sight."
Vera stepped forward.
"We just saved Reims. Your army couldn't do it in six months."
"Doesn't matter," Lemoine said coldly. "You're not sanctioned."
Emil stared at him, calm.
"We'll take option three."
"There is no third option."
"There is now. We become a country."
A Country of Iron
Three days later, Emil addressed a gathering of over 200 representatives: soldiers, engineers, miners, exiled politicians, scholars.
They met in a concrete warehouse near Rouen, draped in wires and fumes, with tanks parked outside like ceremonial guards.
"Forge Libre is no longer a factory," Emil said. "It is a nation. Stateless, rootless, but united by a belief: that invention belongs to no king, no flag, no empire."
"We are the Iron Republic."
Vera handed out forged provisional documents—issued in ten languages, signed by the heads of each engineering division.
Henriette drafted a charter.
Camille designed the seal.
Bruno pressed the first insignia into steel.
Two gears.
One flame.
And a blacksmith's hammer raised above both.
War Council
The first act of the Iron Republic was to finish the V.A.T. prototype.
They named it: Prometheus
Height: 3.4 meters
Weight: 26 tons (modular)
Mode 1: Siege Walker
Mode 2: Terrain Glider
Mode 3: Artillery Spine (with mounted 120mm railgun)
Ilse installed the real-time learning core, derived from Vera's earlier flight logic models.
"It will rewrite its own target heuristics every five minutes," she explained. "It will learn how to fight. And how not to die."
Vera tested its agility on a frozen lake.
Camille tested its treads in the mud of Châlons.
Bruno fired the main cannon once—turning a bunker into a footprint.
Henriette simply watched it idle.
"It doesn't roar," she said. "It waits."
"Because it's not angry," Emil replied. "It's focused."
Counter-Rumors
As Prometheus neared deployment, rumors of a German counterweapon emerged.
Codenamed Garmr.
Said to be a mobile anti-fortress missile launcher.
Possibly automated.
Possibly nuclear.
There was no confirmation.
But Forge Libre prepared.
Agnes tightened radiation shields. Ilse consulted with Eastern chemists. Vera redesigned Prometheus's emergency ejection system to include a black-box recorder and fragmentation shields.
"If they launch a weapon to erase us," she said, "we make sure the world learns how we built what we built."
The Eve of Unveiling
On October 8, 1914, the Prometheus prototype was loaded onto a custom railbed under heavy guard.
It would be deployed first in Belgium, then rerouted toward the Rhine—where the first massing of Fenrir Omega battalions had begun.
That night, Emil stood alone beside the sleeping machine.
He ran his hand along the cooling hull.
"You are not a weapon," he whispered. "You are a decision. And tomorrow, you decide if humanity evolves… or digs its grave."
Behind him, Vera approached.
"When this rolls out, we can't go back," she said.
"There was never a back."
"You afraid?"
"Terrified."
They stood in silence.
Prometheus breathed in steam.
And the sky above them turned grey.