I. The Barony of Thasselridge
Nestled in a fog-drenched valley, the Barony of Thasselridge had never known war.
Its fields stretched golden in the afternoon light, untouched by flame or footfall. Its stone towers were old and proud, but their cannons rusted. Their knights—what few remained—were sons of comfort, not battle.
It was a place of poetry and peace.
Which is precisely why Magnus wanted it.
"Thasselridge produces half the duchy's flax," Tobias noted, standing at the war map. "Their looms could feed your forges."
"Not could," Magnus corrected, "will."
II. The March of Iron
The Iron Vanguard approached not in secret, but in spectacle.
They came not as raiders—but as a parade of progress.
Clockwork musicians marched at the front, brass flutes whistling as steam whirled around their shoulders. Behind them came walking automata shaped like lions and wolves—coated in silvered plating, breathing harmless white mist.
And at the center, riding a platform borne by iron stallions, stood Magnus himself.
He wore no crown, no cape.
Only a tailored black coat, lined with tools instead of medals. His eyes, bright with the reflection of flame, scanned the watchers on the parapets.
"Do not raise your swords," Magnus called.
"Raise your standards."
III. The Siege Without Steel
Baron Geran of Thasselridge was no fool.
He watched the procession from his high tower with narrowed eyes, flanked by his council. A siege without engines. A march without swords raised.
"Is he mocking us?" one advisor spat.
But Geran shook his head. "No. He's making a statement."
The gates remained closed.
Until nightfall.
That's when Magnus made his move—not with fire, but with ideas.
His men passed pamphlets through the grates. Folded sheets of parchment illustrated with diagrams of his looms, his presses, his promises.
"Work under Magnus," they read, "and earn triple pay. No more famine. No more taxes to dying kings. Just steel. Just certainty."
By morning, hundreds of commoners gathered at the gates—not to fight, but to welcome him.
Geran stared in disbelief as the people pulled the gate chains themselves.
IV. A Quiet Surrender
Baron Geran met Magnus in the courtyard.
He wore his ceremonial blade but made no move to draw it. Instead, he knelt.
"I will not see my people bleed," he said. "If you must take Thasselridge, then do so without cruelty."
Magnus extended his hand. "Then you're smarter than most."
He offered Geran a seat on the newly-formed Council of Steel—a group of nobles and thinkers who would help manage the cities under Magnus's growing rule.
Geran accepted, though unease lingered in his eyes.
V. The Theater of Triumph
That night, the people of Thasselridge lit torches in the streets as Magnus addressed them from the central square.
"Your lord has chosen wisdom," he proclaimed. "And you shall be rewarded with freedom."
From behind him, engineers pulled a tarp to reveal the first Magnus Loom—a fully automated textile machine powered by a steam-bellows system.
It could out-weave ten men.
And it never slept.
The crowd gasped.
Some cheered.
Some stared with quiet dread.
Magnus did not care.
Invention had no room for hesitation.
VI. A Letter Ignored
Back at Emberhold, Tobias delivered a message to Magnus—sealed with a red wax dragon: a summons from King Thorne II himself.
"You've taken two baronies," Tobias said. "The crown wants answers."
Magnus tossed the letter into the forge.
"Let him come to me," he said.
Then he turned back to his blueprints—already sketching his next creation.
A steam artillery walker.
Tall as a tower.
Lethal as a god.