When Perturabo's Streltsi annihilated the suppression forces sent by the Kislevite lords with thunderous momentum, the fierce reputation of the army was carried back to their masters by the few stragglers who managed to escape.
Naturally, to maintain morale, the lords strictly forbade these defeated soldiers from describing the circumstances of their loss. But it was too late. As the traumatized survivors told their stories to passersby and comrades, they achieved exactly the effect Perturabo desired.
To avoid looking like fools who had been easily defeated, the stragglers embellished their accounts, describing their enemies as god-like warriors descending from the heavens, intentionally exaggerating the Streltsi as an unstoppable force.
Mixed with the mysterious rumors of Perturabo's origins, the descriptions of the man himself became even more hyperbolic—not only possessing the world-shaking wisdom to craft technological tools but also the preeminent talent to command ten thousand armies. Ironically, they were not wrong; Perturabo was exactly such a figure.
As these rumors spread through word of mouth, many Kislevite towns feared that too much resistance would bring down the wrathful slaughter of Perturabo. Consequently, when Perturabo arrived with his Streltsi, the local people would kill the officials appointed by the lords as a token of surrender, opening the gates to swear fealty to their new master.
Soon, Perturabo found himself in an unexpected predicament—ironically caused by the fact that he fought too well. His minor advances led to avalanche-style surrenders across entire regions.
His greatest challenge was no longer how to defeat more enemies, but how to properly handle the towns and people who surrendered out of fear. Regardless of whether Perturabo was a ruler who valued the common folk, he had to ensure they did not hinder his grand conquest; a fire in the backyard while he was fighting on the front lines would be disastrous.
In Perturabo's view, the proper management of these civilians was a vital link in building a new Kislev. He sought to realize his political ideals within his temporary occupation zones.
Thus, to digest the land and rest his troops, Perturabo temporarily halted his advance after annexing a vast territory. This move allowed the remaining Kislevite lords to breathe a sigh of relief, knowing they would not be crushed into powder by Perturabo for the time being.
However, Perturabo had only "paused" his pace; he had not abandoned his dream of conquering all of Kislev. This respite gave the other lords time to organize and reform their armies, hoping they might last a little longer against his next offensive.
Back in Perturabo's camp, he gave up further advancement to consolidate the newly occupied lands. In the eyes of the proud Lord of Iron, these feudal lords were merely useless refuse; he could crush them with ease whenever he chose to launch a new attack.
Now, Perturabo's jurisdiction extended far beyond Perturabograd, encompassing countless towns and villages. He had to think carefully about how to develop and utilize these conquered territories. Having initiated the industrialization of Kislev, he required more manpower and resources to let the process snowball.
"Congratulations, Abo. I never imagined you could conquer such a vast territory—or rather, that you could conquer such a wide world so effortlessly."
Looking at the map where the color representing Perturabo's rule expanded daily, Mikhail spoke with a tone of amazement.
"Yes, Mr. Mikhail, I have indeed conquered a vast territory." Perturabo nodded at his foster father's praise, but then his brow furrowed.
"However, the biggest problem now is that I must stabilize these newly conquered lands." After a moment of internal struggle, Perturabo laid out the situation to his mentor.
"Indeed. Even an old man like me, who knows nothing of politics, can see that the influx of such vast land and population is a massive problem for you." Mikhail nodded in agreement, recognizing the gravity of the issue.
"So, Abo, do you have any ideas? How do you intend to deal with these new lands?" Mikhail asked. He held absolute confidence in this child of the heavens, certain he would have a solution.
"Mr. Mikhail, do you remember the ideals I once described to you?" Perturabo gave a soft laugh, sensing his foster father's faith in him.
"So, you wish to replicate Perturabograd in these towns? You want to expand those smoke-belching factories to the newly annexed cities?" Mikhail asked.
"Exactly. I will meticulously develop the resources of these cities—whether manpower or minerals—and utilize them for my cause. When these resources are fully harnessed, I will be able to manufacture even more advanced devices and weapons."
Perturabo did not hide his intentions, explaining the necessity to his father.
"Very well. I have only one question: what if the people only wish to be your subjects but do not want to be exploited in such a way? What will you do then?" Mikhail asked with a serious expression.
"Heh, Mr. Mikhail. I will build theaters, bathhouses, and libraries—convenient infrastructure for them. I will not make them work for me for nothing."
"However, if there are those who are obstinate—or rather, so lazy that they refuse to accept my terms—then they will go where they belong." Perturabo gave a cold smile as he answered.
"It seems you have your own ideas, Abo. I won't ask further."