Chapter CXLIX – Whosoever shall compel thee to go an empire, go with him in twain.

53rd of Spring 5860
The Gray Palace, Imperial Capital of Hauptstadt

The Imperial chancellery office, once a mostly cosmetical office for a mostly cosmetical Imperial authority, was buzzing with activity again like the old days.

The model of the renovated Hauptstadt he meant to built was moved to be the centerpiece of the room, now grander than ever with many, many more buildings added to the model. The Gray Palace in the middle, upgraded to have a giant dome, then various ministries built around it, with a grand wall protecting the entire complex from the common rabble. Several layers of wall, in fact, with several different courtyards overlooking each other to shred attackers to bits as they tried to climb up. A grand structure, which would be nigh impossible to construct with the current architectural technology of Gemeinplatz.

Chancellor Spear however, worried not. His will would triumph, one way or the other. He leaned on desk holding the model, with a giddy smile that’s shared by every man who builds miniature models. “A capital to last a thousand years!” he shouted all of a sudden, unable to help himself. He would surpass his Leader who raised him. Spear would make a thousand-year empire a reality. He would-

Knock knock! “…come in.”

A soldier. Dressed in his new clothes: a slate gray button-up gambeson, with an incongruously modern-looking steel helmet perched on top of his head. Nobody was allowed to enter Imperial offices with weaponry, so, he was unarmed.

“Hail the Emperor!” shouted the Protection Squadron soldier with his arm raised forward, doing the salute introduced by the Chancellor.

“Hail the Emperor” replied Spear, who himself thought that the whole gesture was ridiculous. Its purpose was to be ridiculous. A simple loyalty test, to see who would go along with it and who wouldn’t. Those who didn’t comply, it was simple: they were untrustworthy. Those who did comply were at least afraid and cowardly enough to comply with such a ridiculous order to escape attention. At what point, at which ridiculous order, would they say “stop”? A salute was simple enough, a way to break their spirit and plant that seed of doubt within them. If they could be made to comply with a simple yet harmless order, they could more easily be made to comply with something less simple. Thus, even such a simple salute was a tool of the New Order of the Chancellor.

“My Chancellor, the betonworks asks for your presence. They have good news.”

Spear nodded. “Excellent. Take me there.”

Spear and the soldier headed out of the chancellor’s office. The palace was still as it was, stone brick, stained decorative windows, winding halls… “We really should knock this entire place down” blurted out Spear. “The palace lacks function and efficiency.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier could only nod along and comply.

“Architecture is supposed to be functional. Grand, eternal, yet utilitarian. Meant to stay in its place and provide its function evermore. This – why are these columns so decorated? Why are the windows tinted? So many questions, with no appropriate answers. Better to tear the whole place down and start anew…”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier hated being sent to the Chancellor. He had talked about this exact same topic to him before. This was the fourth time. He kept his poker face up in front of the Chancellor, tuning him out while thinking about what to have for dinner today. Meat pie? Meat pie sounded nice. He’d splurge on some meat pie.

“Halt.” Thoughts of meat pie were interrupted by Spear suddenly pausing. They were out in the courtyard now, where a squad of Protection Squadron soldiers were practicing. Their rifle-shaped spears had been replaced by flintlock muskets. An innovation that Spear had thought of himself to have brought here first, though he had yet no idea that Brown had beaten him to it. He only had heard reports that the fugitive slaves had an “unexpected number” of firearms in their possession, and nothing related to the nature of them.

Production of flintlock mechanisms had proved quite difficult with the technology of Gemeinplatz humans, the capital lacking dwarves, but Spear hoped that it’d come useful as a weapon for these elite soldiers initially before they could produce enough for the rest of the Imperial troops. Unlike Brown, he had more than a million people in the capital alone at his disposal.

The PS marched forward in ranks three-men deep, the line stopping with the first rank firing blanks and then crouching to get out of the way of the rank behind them. Then so did the second rank, and then the third. Spear clapped, which prompted them to notice the existence of the Chancellor and all give a salute in unison. Things were going well enough for the troops that he didn’t need to intervene. “I’m starting to understand why the Leader loved his position… Let’s continue.”

In the palace grounds, protected inside the walls surrounding the palace away from curious eyes, was the Chancellor Spear Betonworks. “The fountain of modernity from where it shall flow to all of Gemeinplatz” as the Chancellor so aggrandizingly called it. In plain English, it was a cement factory, its chimneys spewing smoke as a group of workers carried concrete bricks outside of the building and stacked them on top of pallets. The workers saluted the Chancellor once they disposed of the load in their hands.

“Hail to the Emperor, my Chancellor.” The foreman had snuck up to Spear, and he gave a surprise salute which startled the old man. “As you can see, we have successfully finished our first batch of mass-production beton.” Since the Gemeinplatz language lacked a word for “concrete”, only “concrete” as an adjective and not a material, it was simply referred to with the term that Spear had given them for the material.

“Excellent.” It was excellent indeed. Spear watched stacks upon stacks of blocks come out of the building. So much in so little time, even with relatively primitive kilns. “It’s wonderful what a lump of hydraulic lime can do.” Limestone, clay, and gypsum. What one needs to make what many on modern Earth would recognize as cement. Nothing that the more old-fashioned folk in Gemeinplatz can’t mine up.

“We were wondering if you would be able to increase the deliveries of gypsum, my Chancellor. It’s the only ingredient we’re running short on.”

“Hmm… Yes, since you have done such excellent work. I’ll dedicate another work camp to it.” Spear makes a mental note, and then takes a concrete block into his hand. It feels as heavy and sturdy as concrete should be. “Oh, what wonders we can create when we all unite as one instead of bicker. Instead of countless lords controlling their slaves, using them on wasteful production such as that of cash crops, we today have seized on the moment and made Gemeinplatz great. Now production is rational, efficient, concentrated. We’ll easily produce what we need. Who can stand against a corporate body whose organs all work in unison...?” Spear put the concrete block back in its place “Now, that’d certainly make a nice speech. I should note that down.”

“Indeed, my Chancellor.” The foreman too, had learned very well to just nod along the monologues of their dear leader.

“I have business to attend to; keep up the good work.” Spear turned around, to go back to his office for said important work: expanding his miniature city model.