At the yearly military exposition in Kotorath's capital, there's always tons of new innovations and equipment. But this year, there's rumoured to be something incredible, declared to be the nation's ticket to world domination. Could it be true?

~1k words

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Warmaker
By: Cheese


The grand hall, built in a time of renaissance and massive enough to hold an entire village’s worth of people, now sits at the precipice of glory for the Kotorath Empire. Between blackened marble pillars, arching to the roof high above the floor, is stained glass, telling of tales long and old, of true and false, but of mostly demanded belief. The walls they lay in are ‌white brick, which meet the wooden roof at a golden trim.

On the regal floor of the grand hall, militaristic inventions of new are placed on tables and stands alike. Guards plaid full in bulky matte-black plates of armour, rifles in arm, stand at the walls while canines in similarly black uniforms with red accents explain their works.

“This here is the ultimate form of the assault weapon!” one may say. “This may hold less ammunition, but-” Impressed chatter of the city-folk fills the hall, for those who disapprove wouldn’t dare to voice so. Those in attendance wander from table to table, soaking in their country’s greatness.

Agents continue to enthusiastically describe the Kotorath Empire’s newest methods of war, guns and bombs alike, exoskeletons to provide the wearer the strength to lift far beyond reasonable. But a lingering curiosity weighs in the air. At the back of the hall exists a curtain, holding back what was claimed to be the biggest achievement in history. A war machine so powerful it could be its own army; just beyond that red curtain. Should such a machine prove real, would the world be turned upside down? Would total conquest be at the ruler’s whim?

Through speakers no one noticed, a masculine voice crowds the hall, halting the operations of the exhibition. “Attention! Please turn yourselves to the curtains.” The voice pauses as the conversations in the hall end; the whirrs of machinery, previously hidden behind the voices, slowly fade, too. “For far too long has this glorious nation been denied the right to rule. Let today be the beginning of a new era, the end of peace!” The crowd, hesitant at first, cheers. They fill the hall with perceived celebration, only for a continued speech. “I present to you an exo-suit of great power; such that with just a small platoon of ten, we may rival an entire opposing army!” The cheers continue, louder. “Behold! The Warmaker!”

The curtains lift, revealing the multi-billion dollar investment. The feet are the first to be revealed. Then the torso and arms. Then the head, shaped to a canine’s image, a decoration piece if not to contain countless cameras and sensors. On its arms are a sword raised high and a ring of barrels, each barrel worthy of ripping apart any target with a single projectile. The metallic war-bringer stands at three observers tall, nearly making the agent at the bottom go entirely unnoticed until his voice rings out once again. “This marvel of engineering can support itself for weeks at a time and supply its own suppressing fire and artillery! With just a few of these on a battlefield, victory can be nothing but ours!”

He walks to a table sat next to the towering robot. “Even better, this behemoth can be controlled entirely remotely, or even artificially!” He picks up a strange device from the table, consisting of joysticks, buttons, and sliders, raising it into the air. “All can be done, just from this control panel!”

He presses a button on the device, and the mech growls and shakes to life. A quick puff of thick black smoke is expelled from the exhausts, up into the arches, and then ceases as it settles into idle power. It continues to vibrate lightly, but the agent takes no note.

“Just watch it take a few steps!” he says, pushing a joystick on the panel forward, prompting the robot to groan as it lifts a foot into the air and drops forward. A clunk sounds upon landing, a sound of shifting parts, but this sound of failure is missed among the spectacle, crowd and agents alike assuming it to be intended.

As the robot goes for another step, the crowd steps back to offer the mech room; but on the downswing it seizes to a grinding halt, black smoke is coughed out of the exhausts inconsistently as the mech’s mechanisms fail on itself, metal grinding with a searing screech. “S-stand back!” the agent yells into the mic, only drowned out by the continually coughing and grinding mech, now falling in his direction. He frantically presses at the control panel to no avail, the robot continuing to tip, smashing into the floor directly next to him.

The historic floors give way under the weight of the incredible mech as its engine finally sputters out, but not without spilling grey smoke out from everywhere but exhausts. The crowd evacuates the hall before the mech is completely engulfed in a dance of flame. By the time help has arrived, the mech is hidden behind the raving flames as they continue to lick and eat at the fallen destructor, even despite the water and fire retardants now being splashed onto its surfaces.

Flames eat away at the engine, throwing the embers away to continue the feast. Top of the line weaponry is melted into nothing but molten puddles as the fire burns hotter than thought natural. The fire never spreads beyond the mech, even if the heat may sear those attempting to stop it. It remains content in its generous serving of militaristic spending, making a show of the disaster.

So, no. Total conquest would not be at the ruler’s whim. A machine to win all wars? Such a thing exists only in dreams, and poor, rushed plans. The gods forbid it.