Technomancer ReGenesis: Chapter 39 Rex Imperia
Aerwyna climbed the inner keep stairs faster than her recovering legs liked, ignoring the twinge. Two guards at Ezra's door snapped to attention and opened it without question.
The small, strange sanctuary room of her son.
"Evan," she said, allowing a little of the strain into her voice. "The Rex is here."
Sir Evan, who had been standing guard at his usual post near the window, straightened so sharply his back cracked.
"His Majesty is here?" he blurted. "The-the Emperor? I thought Lord Blackfyre had fallen from his grace."
Ezra looked up from the book propped clumsily in his lap. It was a primer on geography he'd bullied Aerwyna into giving him.
"I saw him," Ezra said. "I felt him, too."
Aerwyna shut the door with care and crossed the room, lowering her voice.
"Then you understand why I came," she said. "That was the courtyard. This is the hall. He'll be closer."
Ezra's eyes tracked her.
"Hm," he said.
"That's… interesting."
"Interesting?" she echoed, while she raised an eyebrow.
He definitely knows more than he's saying, she thought.
She shoved that aside for now.
"Call it mother's intuition," Aerwyna said, "but I think he is here to see you. Not the ceremony. You."
Evan swallowed.
"Milady, surely—"
"How good are you at hiding your aura?"
"Pretty good," Ezra answered, pumping mana on his throat.
"Well let's see if it's good enough Aerwyna sighed."
**
The Rex Imperia was taller than most. He had a sharp gaze and broad shoulders. But even with his bulk, he moved with the ease and balanced distribution of someone who had worn armor longer than most men had been alive. His gait alone turned heads.
He commanded presence. Not in a demanding, unnatural way. It was as if he had been a born commander. Every eye was fixed on him.
An unyielding hush overtook the reception.
The crest of his house—the Twin Fires—shone as the banners caught the sun. Red on black: a black flame on the left, a red flame on the right, and in the center a black lion.
His hair was a deep auburn, gone darker with age. High cheekbones. Straight nose. A mouth that rested in a stern line when he wasn't speaking.
An overbearing presence.
Beside him walked a second figure in plainer plate. He was slimmer, and he looked quiet… even guarded. But he possessed the same bone structure, the same carved-from-stone calm. His armor bore fewer flourishes, his ring no seal, but the way he moved—always half a step behind, never in front, eyes scanning the perimeter—marked him clearly.
Primus Praetorian.
First of the Rex's personal guard. The shadow to the light.
The black-and-crimson-cloaked guards parted around them like water. The courtyard, already full of lords, vassals, and the household guard, seemed to lean inward as the pair advanced.
A ripple ran through the courtyard.
Then silence.
Not even a shuffle could be heard.
Then the Primus Praetorian, clad in full plate, broke the silence. His mana-enhanced voice boomed.
"SUBJECTS OF THE REX IMPERIUM—KNEEL!"
"BEHOLD YOUR EMPEROR, THE REX IMPERIA."
"His Majesty, Kaizer Friedrich Regaladeus."
A sudden wave of pressure swept over the audience—not crushing, not hostile, just a sharp shift in the air, as if the atmosphere itself had decided to enforce obedience
Every knee had already dropped even before the proclamation.
Ezra felt the surge even from the safety of Aerwyna's arms.
It didn't register as heat, like Reitz, or cold, like Aerwyna.
It felt like gravity slightly strengthened.
Aerwyna's grip tightened on him. Not painful. Just… ownership.
The Emperor strode toward a kneeling Reitz.
"Rise, Earl of Fulmen."
"Your Majesty," Reitz said, his voice carrying, with a bowed head. Reitz slowly stood up. "We did not expect you to honor us with your presence."
A low chuckle rolled over the courtyard.
"If I wanted to see you kneel, I'd have you back in the capital."
Reitz pushed himself up, dusting off his knees, head still bowed but eyes lifting.
The Rex stepped closer, invading his personal space with the prerogative of a liege lord.
"Not expect me?" he said, one eyebrow lifting. "You sent an invitation, did you not? Or do you send letters to every peasant in the Empire—each with an official Blackfyre seal intact? Ha!"
Laughter—short, nervous—rippled through the crowd. The tension broke.
Reitz forced himself to meet the Emperor's eyes.
There was warmth there, almost fatherly.
"When can I see the boy?" the Rex asked.
"I travel all this way, my joints ache, the roads are garbage, and I expect at least a glimpse of the troublemaker."
Everyone who heard laughed again, a little louder this time.
Reitz's throat went dry.
"Surely you jest, my liege."
The emperor answered with a broad grin.
Everyone knew that those at the apex of the Aufstiegfrieden were demigods. The higher your rank, the more mana you could condense, and the more circles you could control, the slower you aged. The Rex was likely older than Reitz's father would have been, yet he moved with the of a man in his prime.
"Your Majesty," he said, "the formal ceremony is set for this afternoon. Ezra is being prepared. We had not… fully arranged the order of presentation. "
The Rex snorted.
"Is he awake? Is he having a fit? he asked. "Oh he's there with that Riverrun Lass,"
Reitz didn't Interrupt. At the peak your senses would already be heightened, he would have already noticed Aerwyna holding Ezra. This was the Rex's attempt at small talk.
"I've seen many a Day of Introduction than I care to count. Once had a little lordling vomit down the front of my robes during the blessing. Whole hall smelled like sour milk for three hours. Hilarious in retrospect. Less so at the time."
He grinned, teeth flashing white in his beard, then clapped Reitz heavily on the shoulder. The sound of gauntlet on leather rang out like a gunshot.
"See that your boy is healthy and presentable," he said. "No one faints on my watch. I will be staying three days. If your cooks have declined since the campaign, I'd have you drilling again before the next campaign."
"Yes, Your Majesty," Reitz said.
His hands were slick with sweat inside his gloves.
He had expected an Envoy.
A banner.
A dagger.
A hound.
Not this. Not the Rex himself.
"The guest rooms will be made ready at once," Reitz added quickly, signaling to the steward with a frantic chop of his hand. "I had set aside rooms for a royal envoy, but they are unfit for your station. We will—"
"Reitz," the Rex said, tone dropping an octave.
"If your people start hauling furniture around because of me, I will be annoyed. I am here to see a child, not to be worshipped with draperies. The room you prepared for the Envoy will do."
"Honestly, I'm a little disheartened you didn't even consider that your liege lord might come," the Rex said, his voice taking on a faint note of disapproval as he studied Reitz.
Reitz's mouth instinctively twitched.
First, everyone knows the Rex doesn't go to these events. Second, you didn't even look at me when I was being tried in the Tribunal. How would I know you'd send an envoy at all—let alone come yourself?
"I truly apologize, Your Majesty," Reitz bowed.
"Hah!" the Rex waved him off. "Water under the bridge."
The crowd started to get lively as the formalities ended and the Rex entered the hall.
The reception shifted to the Great Hall.
The Lords of Fulmen packed the space, their earlier political maneuverings forgotten in the wake of the Emperor's arrival. Shock was simmering in the bones of all.
Reitz's standing among them transformed in an instant.
The Duke of Pharae—who had come more to nag at the topic of shared mining rights than out of affection—watched Reitz with new wariness and reverence, even though the Duke was Primarch Laufferk's direct vassal. The Rex coming to the Day of Introduction was a statement that in of itself. If the situations were reversed, even he didn't know if the Primarch would come if he were to host his own Day of Introduction.
But all of them, veteran politckers or minor barons, bent close for even a scrap of the Rex's attention.
They got more than scraps.
The Emperor moved through them like a man among distant relatives at a family gathering. He wasn't an austere figure. He wore an approachable mask. Other people in positions of power would have kept their distance, keeping to themselves. He didn't. He was boisterous, occasionally sharp, asking after fields, children, whether that old bridge had finally been repaired. He remembered names he had no business remembering, and he forgot none of the titles he could have safely ignored.
This wasn't a shock. This was just the effect of being able to cast 7th circle spells.
To the vassals, it was intoxicating.
Ezra watched it from Aerwyna's arms near the dais.
He kept his face blank.
He blinked at appropriate intervals.
He acted as normal as how he would Imagine an infant would.
Ezra could feel the Rex's aura in the room the same way he could feel a pressure change before a storm. It wasn't loud. It didn't flare like Reitz's fire or bite like Aerwyna's ice.
It didn't need to.
It was simply there, dense and undeniable, like a law of physics.
And the Primus Praetorian—half a step behind, eyes darting around and looking for any suspicious gazes. Not that the Rex needed protecting, in fact. They were the ones who needed protection from the Rex if an altercation were to happen. This was just the Praetorian doing what the Primus Praetorian should.
"Your Majesty," the Duke of Pharae said when he managed to get close enough, his hands almost visibly shaking around his goblet. "Forgive my boldness, but… are the Primarchs expected as well? In particular, Primarch Laufferk…?"
The question just slipped out, trying to fish for information on whether Reitz was truly out from under the thumb of the West.
The Rex's expression stiffend. Displeasure was evident in his face.
"No," he said.
Flat.
Color drained from the Duke's face.
"They were not invited," the Rex added, his tone was icy. "Nor is Blackfyre their vassal."
A silence fell in their immediate circle.
The Primus Praetorian leaned in and murmured a few low words against the Emperor's ear.
Whatever he said smoothed the sharpness.
The Rex's mouth twitched.
"Well," he said, clapping the Duke of Pharae on the shoulder hard enough to make the man wince. "If Laufferk wants a report, he can read yours. I expect you to pay attention. Or shall I send someone else to watch on his behalf?"
"N–no, Your Majesty," the Duke stammered, spilling a drop of wine on his sleeve. "I would not presume—I am honored to serve as witness. I just thought that, since the High Conclave had just concluded..."
The Rex didn't say a word. He just abruptly turned away. He didn't even let the Duke finish. The Duke's eyes widened involuntarily, he didn't expect a walk out. He was just probing.
The nobles in the circle stared at their goblet feigning interest.
The Duke had already see his life flash before his eyes. This was a political death sentencing unfolding, with a noose already on his own neck. He would be avoided by his peers like the plague.
However, the Rex went back to the conversation as if something just caught his interest.
"Sorry, did you say something?" the Rex reeled the conversation back in.
"Nothing Important, your majesty." The Dukes tone lowered. "I was just saying something that really didn't matter in context."
"Oh? Good," The Rex chuckled.
Talk rose again in patchy bursts, frantic whispers dissecting the exchange.
On the dais, Aerwyna shifted, unable to hide the tension in her shoulders. She wore formal blue black and red velvets, but she stood like she was wearing full armor. This was its own battlefield.
She leaned toward Reitz, voice low.
"You did not know he was coming? Didn't he send a hawk?"
Reitz's eyes stayed on the Emperor as he spoke, watching the way the man navigated the room.
"No," Reitz said quietly. "I never expected him to come. I thought he was finished with me the day the Tribunal convened. Before that… he liked me well enough."
"You were one of his favourites," Aerwyna murmured. "Until you refused."
Reitz's mouth twisted.
"I would refuse again," he said.
Even if I had to live that campaign a thousand times.
His tone roughened, the court polish flaking away to reveal the soldier underneath.
"We were across the border, remember?" he went on, staring into his wine. "Expeditionary push. One ridge, one fort—nothing that should have bled us white. The order came down. Thirty thousand footmen up the hill as the first wave, to soften the tide. Walk them straight into prepared spellfire, traps, and the Omniscience knows what."
He snorted, low and ugly.
"Counts, Viscounts, Barons sitting in reserve behind them," he said. "Plenty of power to take the ridge cleanly. But why risk the shining names, when you can mulch conscripts instead?"
His hand tightened on the table's edge.
"I told them no," Reitz said. "Told them a handful of high-circle nobles and one serious Earl behind them could crack that hill in an afternoon without wasting a single peasant life. The answer I got was a sealed writ with the Emperor's ring and a polite reminder that I was replaceable."
He huffed a breath that wasn't quite a laugh.
"They went anyway, under protest," he said. "Most of them came back. Two didn't. Not because they were weak—because the plan was stupid. Even now, I don't really care about them. I think I left a handful of fiefdoms with headaches, and the Officium with more paperwork."
Aerwyna watched his face, eyes softening.
"And he court-martialed you," she said.
"He needed to," Reitz replied. "Disobeying a sealed order from the Rex himself can't go unpunished. The Tribunal's theatrics were all optics. Laufferk wanted my head, and they had to give it to him. Besides, in the Imperium, his office—the Primarch of Fire—officiates over the Imperial Tribunal. The Rex gave him my suspension. Maybe they had a tacit understanding under the table with Laufferk, and I was a bargaining chip."
He finally looked away from the Emperor, meeting Aerwyna's gaze.
"I left his service with my head still attached and my lands intact, and my title as Augmenti-Kronlehn*," Reitz said. "That alone should have told me he doesn't hate me, it was more of ignore me."
"Then why is he here?" Aerwyna asked.
Reitz exhaled.
"I don't know," he admitted. "Ezra is the obvious guess, but word doesn't travel that fast, even with messengers. The abduction was days ago. To pull a full royal procession together, ride all the way out here… he must have left the capital before it happened."
"Catalyna?" Aerwyna tried. "Some tie to the capital? Maybe—"
"No," Reitz said, shaking his head. "If she had Imperial ties, she wouldn't need to sneak through nurseries. And if she knows what Ezra is… she'd keep that to herself. You don't wave around a treasure like that. You hide it."
Aerwyna folded her arms, frowning.
"What about the rumors?" she pressed. "The ones spreading through the city. Guards talk. Servants talk. A baby on the rooftop. A baby shouting commands. A baby's voice in the battle."
"Come on Aerwyna," Reitz said. "Do you even believe half of what the common folk spread around in taverns?. Who takes that seriously in the capital, unless they have motive?"
Aerwyna didn't answer.
In her gut, the unease twisted.