Episode-1013
Chapter : 2025
"I need you to control the narrative. You are the Head of Morale and Propaganda. Use your art. Use your bards. Paint pictures of heroes winning. Tell stories about how the enemy is weak and stupid. Make the people believe we are winning, even if we are losing. If the civilians panic, they clog the roads, they stop working in the factories, and the economy collapses."
Faria looked disgusted. "You want me to paint pretty pictures while people die?"
"I want you to give them hope," Lloyd said sharply. "Hope is a weapon, Faria. It keeps men holding a line when they should run. It keeps workers building shells when they want to hide. You understand the heart better than anyone here. You know how to make people feel. Make them feel brave."
Faria stared at him for a long moment. She saw the exhaustion in his face. She realized he was asking her to protect the minds of the people while he protected their bodies.
"Fine," Faria said, her voice tight. "I’ll paint you a hero, Lloyd. I’ll make them believe the ‘Silent Lion’ can stop the sky from falling. But you better live up to the legend I’m going to write."
"I'll try," Lloyd said.
Finally, he turned to the end of the table. To Rosa.
Rosa hadn't moved or spoken since the meeting began. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, her face a mask of absolute calm. But the air around her was cold. A thin layer of frost had formed on the edge of the table near her hands.
"Rosa," Lloyd said.
She looked up. Her grey eyes were clear.
"You aren't going to the front," Lloyd stated.
Faria and Amina looked at him in shock. Rosa was a Sovereign-level ice mage. She was the single most powerful magic user in the room. Keeping her back seemed insane.
Rosa didn't look surprised. She didn't argue. She just waited.
"Why?" Amina asked. "We need her power on the line. Her ice can freeze the Fire Fly machines."
"Because if the line breaks," Lloyd said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "there is nothing between the enemy and this house. Nothing between them and my son."
He looked at Rosa.
"You are the Ultimate Defense," Lloyd said. "You are the Sovereign Fail-Safe. I am assigning you to defend the Ferrum Estate. If the army falls, if I fall, if the Titan Squad is wiped out... you are the last wall. You have to hold this ground. You have to protect Mina and Sullivan. No matter what happens out there, no matter what you hear or see... you do not leave this house."
It was a terrible request. He was asking the warrior who had fought beside him in India, the woman who had crossed dimensions for him, to sit on the bench. He was asking her to stay behind and wait for bad news.
But it was also the highest trust he could give. He was entrusting her with the only thing that mattered more to him than the war: his family.
Rosa stood up. The frost on the table cracked.
"You are asking me to be the jailer again," Rosa said softly. "To stay in a tower while the world burns."
"No," Lloyd said. "I am asking you to be the Queen. A King goes to war. A Queen holds the throne. If I don't come back... you are the head of this family. You have to survive."
The room was silent. The tension was thick enough to choke on. Everyone knew the history between them. Everyone knew the pain.
Rosa looked at Lloyd. She looked at the map with the red dots closing in. Then she looked at the door leading to the nursery where the baby was sleeping.
She took a deep breath. The cold air around her seemed to settle, becoming solid and unbreakable.
"Very well," Rosa said. "Go and play your games in the mud, husband. I will keep the house clean."
It was a yes. It was a promise.
Lloyd let out a breath. The pieces were on the board. The roles were set.
"Good," Lloyd said. "The Council is adjourned. Get to work."
________________________________________
Date/Time: Year 2513, Month of Sun, Day 13 – 09:30 AM
Location: Ferrum Estate – Hallway to Manufactory
The women moved fast.
Chapter : 2026
As soon as Lloyd gave the dismissal, the War Room exploded into activity. Princess Amina was already shouting orders to her aides, demanding encrypted crystal balls and secure lines to the Zakarian desert. Queen Seraphina was practically running toward the door, her mind already organizing convoy schedules and grain quotas. Faria paused only briefly to grab a sketchbook, her face set in a grim frown as she began to draft the first posters of the war effort.
But before they separated, there was a moment. A pause in the doorway.
Rosa stood by the exit. As Amina and Seraphina passed, they stopped.
There had been rivalry between them. There had been jealousy over Lloyd, political maneuvering, and petty arguments about tea parties. But looking at each other now, with the weight of impending annihilation hanging over their heads, none of that mattered.
Amina looked at Rosa. "If the line breaks," Amina said quietly, "and the enemy comes here... don't let them take us alive. I would rather be frozen by you than processed by them."
Rosa looked at the desert princess. She nodded. "I will keep the gate shut, Amina. You just make sure he knows where to point the sword."
Faria stopped next to them. She put a hand on Rosa's arm—a brave move, considering the cold radiating off the Winter Queen.
"He trusts you the most," Faria said, her voice surprisingly gentle. "That's why he's leaving you here. He knows you're the only one strong enough to stay behind."
Rosa looked down at Faria’s hand. She didn't pull away. "Just keep his spirits up, artist. Don't let him forget what he's fighting for."
They shared a look—a silent pact of sisterhood forged in the shadow of death. They were no longer rivals fighting for a man’s attention. They were a unified machine, a Council of Queens operating with a single purpose: to ensure Lloyd Ferrum survived the week.
Then they broke apart, each rushing to their station. The machine was running.
Lloyd watched them go from the end of the hall. He felt a strange mixture of pride and terror. He had built this. He had brought these incredible, dangerous people together. Now he just had to hope he hadn't led them all to their graves.
He turned and walked in the opposite direction, toward the rear of the estate. Toward the smoke stacks and the noise of industry.
He walked down the long stone corridor that led to the Manufactory. With every step, he shed the persona of the political leader. He unbuttoned the collar of his dress uniform. He rolled up his sleeves. He wasn't a Commander anymore. He was an Engineer.
He reached the heavy iron blast doors of the workshop. He placed his hand on the scanner. The locks tumbled with a heavy thud-thunk. The doors hissed open.
The Manufactory was alive. It was a cavernous space filled with the smell of oil, heated metal, and magic. Sparks flew from welding torches. Golems carried crates of ammunition. But Lloyd ignored the main floor. He headed straight for the restricted section at the back—Sector Zero.
This was where the monsters lived.
Inside the secure hangar, three massive shapes stood in the darkness, illuminated by overhead spotlights.
The Aegis Mark II suits.
They were twelve feet tall, hulking bipedal tanks painted in matte grey. They were ugly, brutal machines. They didn't have the elegance of Lloyd’s personal Mark III. They were built for mass production and heavy trauma. They were built to be piloted by people with no magic.
Standing at the base of the machines were the three pilots Lloyd had pulled from the gutter.
Ren, callsign "Rook." The former clockmaker in the wheelchair. He was looking up at his machine with a look of pure adoration.
Vala, callsign "Valkyrie." The failed squire with the street-rat eyes. She was checking the edge of her vibro-blade, her movements twitchy and fast.
Kaito, callsign "Ghost." The gambler. He was leaning against a crate, flipping a coin, trying to look cool, but Lloyd could see the sweat on his forehead.
They snapped to attention as Lloyd entered.
"At ease," Lloyd said. His voice echoed in the hangar. "How are the nerves?"
"Solid, boss," Ren said, patting the wheel of his chair. "Just ready to get my legs back."
"The machines are fueled," Vala said. "We ran the diagnostics. Green across the board."
"Good," Lloyd said. "Because we are skipping the final simulation. The timeline has moved up."
He walked over to a console and typed in a command. A mechanical arm descended from the ceiling, holding a bundle of thick, glowing cables.