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"A king who comes to power with the help of the rich nobles will have more trouble keeping it than the king who gets there with the support of the people, because he will be surrounded by men who consider themselves his equals, and that will make it hard for him to give them orders or to manage affairs as he wants..."
- Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince (1532, 2nd Era)
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Erec stood still beneath the rusted plates of the bulky Armor and waited for all of the core and subsystems to boot up. It took a good minute for everything to come online—given the make of the model and the substantial repairs, he was just happy the Armor was in working order.
He dismissed all of the notifications flashing through the visual interface. Since borrowing the outdated Armor, those systems hadn't been present or were previously corrupted. Given these types of models received software updates and no hardware upgrade, it was impossible to say what should've been still functional or not. The software might be searching for subsystems that never existed in the first place.
Caring about any of that was an exercise in futility; this Armor already lived on borrowed time. The only important part was that it held together to let him put on a show and join an Order. From there, the Order would issue him an initiate's model to work with—it wouldn't be top of the line, but a far sight better than this hunk of junk.
If I'm good enough for an Order to extend an offer to begin with…
There was a small chime like a bell in his helmet to accompany the last notification, and the joints unlocked.
He clenched his fingers in the heavy steel gauntlet. The servos worked well. He held his fist for a moment more and sighed before exiting the workshop. Only a couple of hours of sleep, but he did what he’d had to.
Walking through the underground pathways was reasonably straightforward; the Kingdom tried their best to lay it in the most logical way. At least on these levels. And heading towards the main shaft elevator was simple—considering the large construct was smack-dab in the middle of the city.
Erec ran into Garin at the base of the giant steel beams and gated entrance to the room-sized shaft elevator. Garin gave a bit of a wave, his Armor’s helmet tucked beneath a steel arm. His friend was wearing his father’s suit—complete with the House Honestus eagle painted on the chest plate. “Hey!” Garin smirked.
“Heya,” Erec’s voice came from the modulated filter of the helmet. Unlike Garin, he didn’t dare to detach the helmet for fear that the locking joint might malfunction when he tried to replace it.
“Glad you got it working after all. I was half scared I wouldn’t see you. Cut it close to show time, huh?”
“Well, I tried to get a few more minutes of sleep. Was up late last night. But I’m here now, so I can’t complain.” He shrugged, the gesture more mechanical then a smooth motion within the the death trap Armor. It didn’t flow like newer models, unfortunately.
Erec sighed. It was going to be a long, hot, and uncomfortable day now. The vent ports in the back of the suit were open, letting a bit of fresh air in. A bead of sweat was starting to form on the tip of his nose. It didn’t compare at all to a proper cooling system. I hate this Armor so damn much.
The gears began to go into overdrive as the main shaft elevator rose, it stopped on their level, and the chain-link shutters slid open. Erec and Garin got on the massive platform and moved towards the back. It rose and stopped nearly every floor—allowing workers to clamber on and off to their destination.
Everybody in the Kingdom knew what today was, commoners to nobility, even though these trials were primarily composed of people of noble blood. The day was practically a holiday, as everyone looked up towards the Knights—the saviors of humanity.
Though the potential initiates took up an increasing portion of the elevator, most came alone. Their families and retainers would head to the event in an hour or two. But the would-be-initiates were expected far earlier.
A few stops later and the elevator floor became overwhelmed with nobility, displacing the poor workers. They continued to pour on with every floor. The truly greedy demanded their servants carry equipment for them. The closer they got to the top, the more sets of Armor joined their ranks, which was unsurprising. Most of the high-rankers lived towards the surface.
The last batch contained the elite, or rather, the elite of those still living somewhat underground. Most had moved to the blooming city above, but there was a mix. Tradition and holdings kept some of the more prestigious families towards the top levels of the Kingdom.
He took in the variety of people on the elevator. One of them was hauling stones to a higher cavern. It was hard to tell whether they were minerals or needed further processing for a project. The man had parked there before Erec and Garin even got on the lift, meaning he came from a much lower cavern. It wasn't an easy job for the commoners, often back-breaking with long hours and a strict timetable. And the nobles were screwing that up by crowding the elevator.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Move,” A stern voice commanded from a smooth blue armor with a diamond-shaped helmet.
Erec turned his head to see that the new figure was glaring at the poor worker with his barrel full of stones. Two pinpricks of emerald light locked onto the man through the helmet’s visor, eerily like eyes.
“Are you deaf?” Diamond Head asked as the confused commoner didn’t budge. “I don’t want any of your sweat getting on my paint job.”
“Leave the guy alone,” Erec called out, stepping between the two.
“You have no right to issue me orders, rust-bucket.”
“Oh yeah? Well, maybe if you’d take a second and get off that throne of yours, you’d realize that just because you were born with a gold spoon in your mouth, it doesn’t make you better than anyone else. Leave the poor guy be; he was here first.”
The prick growled and then stepped in. Without warning, Diamond Head shoved Erec and took a step toward the commoner.
There was a moment of horror at the surprising amount of force behind the blow. Erec wheeled his hands as the railing hit his back, damn near almost tumbling over it. Garin rushed over and helped Erec regain his footing while the worker took one look before running off. Obviously, he didn’t want to deal with any of this as he was just doing his job.
Diamond Head slid into the spot he’d demanded and turned away as if nothing had happened.
“Who do you think you are?!” Erec shouted. The conversations around them slowed or cut off as people looked on.
The noble slowly turned to face him—one hand raised to his face and tapped the side of the helmet. In a flash, the metal visor melted away and revealed a youthful, far too-fair face with curly black locks. “I am Colin Nitidus of House Nitidus, firstborn son to Duke Nitidus.” His voice rang smoothly, no longer muffled by the heavy equipment and vocalizers. “Do you still have a voice to raise complaint to me, rust-bucket?”
“Yeah, I do. That’s no way to treat other people. You can’t demand things and shove people around however you want.”
“Oh?” Colin frowned, his eyebrows furrowed but with an undercurrent of amusement. “And who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do? With Armor like that, I had assumed you were another commoner. They usually only loan out junkers like that to commoners with a sponsor, but something in your attitude tells me you’re not what I thought. They know when to be quiet.”
There was now muttering going around as people formed a circle to watch. Most would consider it a grave error to pick a fight with a Duke’s son—but Erec didn’t have much to lose. Nor did he particularly want to let this arrogant asshat get his way, like usual.
“What noble’s crotch you fell out of doesn’t change a thing. Do not treat people like that.” Erec stepped closer; for a moment, it looked as if Colin genuinely didn’t know how to respond.
The cocky smile returned to Colin’s lips a moment later. “I treat people how I wish, as befits my station. If you aren’t a commoner, what family do you hail from?”
It was dangerous territory to throw his house in the crosshairs of someone so high-ranked, but Erec had passed by any form of logical thought. I want to punch him. So, he didn’t respond. The servos in his fist whirled as his fingers clenched into a fist; a warning flooded the visual display, informing him that the digit servos were under heavy strain and liable for malfunction.
“Whoa, whoa, cool down there.” Garin stepped in between them and bowed his head to Colin. “Sorry things got this far, sir. He’s just a little heated under that Armor. Air coolant malfunctions; you can imagine how it is on a day like today—“
“His house. Which house does he hail from?” Colin tilted his head.
“House Audentia.” Erec fought to shove his friend aside as he spoke. But Garin refused to budge; moving his hale friend was easier said than done.
“Ah, a traitor’s house. I’d thought they were dissolved. Oh well.” Colin shrugged and turned away. As if he’d lost interest in the situation. His finger tapped the side of his head, and the helmet visor slid back into place.
Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get to shove me and just—
The elevator jerked to a stop. Above the great steel vault shutters began to part. Almost three feet thick, they’d long served as the first line of defense for humanity against the harsh world. Now the heavy steel doors slowly vanished into the sides of the shaft, letting sunlight spill down. The sight of the blue sky above stunned Erec. He gave up struggling against his friend and caring about the jackass as the elevator moved again, taking them to the surface.
Everywhere around the clearing were buildings made of white stucco and concrete.
A fountain sat not too far away—a statue dedicated to Queen Lothria sat in the center. She raised a sword to the heavens. Erec’s jaw dropped, and the anger that had welled up in him vanished in the light of the beauty of this city. It was unlike the narrow winding corridors and carved sides of the cavern—the ground was inlaid with brickwork; clumps of green foliage grew haphazardly in conjunction with the city. A clear contrast to the lack of vegetation down below: it felt almost wrong to see people move freely with nature. Men and women milled about, some laborers, but most in rather fine clothing.
“Attention!” A loud voice boomed out and cut through the distraction of people exiting the elevator and the open world. “All would-be initiates, form lines!”
The nobles scrambled off the elevator; Erec turned towards the voice but wasn’t sure what that command meant. Let alone who gave it. Garin yanked him by the arm, which triggered another warning courtesy of the Markos II Armor. It seemed it didn’t like the sudden jolt as Garin pulled him away. It became pretty apparent that “form lines” was a literal command. The nobles that knew what was happening slipped into a formation of two precise lines, spaced five feet apart. Erec fell in easy enough, thanks to his friend.
He watched the few unlucky workers trapped in the elevator with this mess; as soon as the way was clear, they scrambled off to do their jobs.
More shouting came from what must’ve been a voice amplified by an Armor. “Right face!”
About forty percent of those assembled did a heel turn to their right. Erec, of course, had no clue and sloppily moved to the same position as the rest a full two seconds after the order once he caught on.
“Never before have I seen such a disgraceful right face. May the Goddess have mercy on us all! This trial is bound to be a slaughter." Finally, Erec made out the guy giving commands; he had a bulky Armor model with large pauldrons with a massive two-handed sword slung over the back. What he didn’t have was hair. Without his helmet, the sun reflected off the guy’s scalp and was damn near blinding. But… By the Goddess, that loud voice isn’t from some amplification. He can just yell that loud. Erec’s jaw dropped in horror.
“Quit gawking. You all look like a sand-geckos with your bewildered postures and open mouths. Forward march!”