Perturabo and Mikhail walked together, engaged in conversation. Today, Perturabo was taking his respected foster father and mentor to see his latest invention.
"I am sorry, Abo. I truly did not realize that Savinkov was an assassin. If he hadn't chosen to abandon his intent to kill you, the consequences... they would have been unthinkable."
Mikhail felt a lingering fear as he recalled his decision to allow Savinkov a personal audience with Perturabo. Had Savinkov brought a weapon and struck with all his might while Perturabo was distracted, the outcome could have been disastrous.
"Heh. Mr. Mikhail, do you think he is someone capable of killing me? Look at this frame of mine; even with his full strength, he might not have broken my defense."
"In fact, I almost wished he had drawn a weapon and attacked. But he is a clever man. Once he witnessed my power, he chose to abandon those foolish nobles and swear fealty to me instead."
Perturabo gave a cold laugh, answering with an air of indifference to Mikhail's concern.
"Still, Abo, this shows that your arms trade has hurt the interests of many people. They will naturally unite and find ways to eliminate you. The assassin Savinkov is only the beginning."
After a moment of thought, Mikhail spoke again, his expression filled with worry as he urged Perturabo to remain vigilant.
"True, Mr. Mikhail. But let them come. It is merely the final performance of their impotent rage."
"My plan will soon begin. They will be swept away by my new army and cast into the dustbin of history."
Perturabo tilted his head at his father's words, speaking in an effortless tone.
"Finally... are you finally beginning your destined work? It is just as well. Being a profit-seeking arms dealer was never your fate. You should fulfill your destiny and practice your ideals."
Mikhail frowned, then sighed with a resigned smile. Following his conversation with the Emperor, he realized that Perturabo, as a divine messenger from the heavens, would not stay in the small nest of the monastery forever. He would step out from this warm refuge to face the biting winter winds of Kislev.
"Mikhail, do you know something? Your attitude is making me curious," Perturabo asked with a light, playful smile.
"No, it is nothing, Abo. I simply remembered what you said before—that your father would one day come for you, to be reunited."
"I think he is almost here. Perhaps you should start your career early so as not to disappoint him."
Mikhail shook his head, using a vague answer to deflect the question. He was still unsure whether he should describe the "oracle" the Emperor had bestowed upon him. Given Perturabo's leaning toward atheism, Mikhail decided it was best not to mention the supernatural nature of that communication.
The two arrived at the gates of the largest factory in the city. This was Perturabo's private workshop, where the prototypes he designed and built were kept before being compromised for mass production.
As the storage site for Perturabo's mysterious creations, it was the most heavily guarded place in Perturabograd. Several battalions of Streltsi were deployed around the perimeter to bar entry to outsiders.
Soldiers dressed in the grey uniforms designed by Perturabo were divided into squads, patrolling day and night to prevent spies or unauthorized personnel from entering.
Upon seeing Perturabo and Mikhail, the guards immediately opened the gates.
"Abo, what marvelous machine are you going to show this old man today? Every time you bring me here, you have something incredible to present."
Once inside, Mikhail asked in a relaxed tone. He no longer questioned his son's inventive talent; he only wondered what Perturabo had created this time.
"Heh, Mr. Mikhail. Try not to be too surprised. What I am about to show you will change the very form of warfare."
Perturabo laughed, his voice carrying his usual confidence and pride. He led Mikhail to an open space in the center of the factory. A massive object covered by a white cloth stood there.
"Prepare yourself, Mr. Mikhail. You are about to witness the weapon of a new age!"
Perturabo shouted as he pulled back the white cloth with lightning speed, revealing the object's true form.
Mikhail saw an intricately designed war machine. The large chimney protruding from the top made it clear that it was steam-powered—it ran on wood.
On either side of the chassis were massive tracks instead of wheels, seemingly designed for traveling over unpaved, muddy terrain. The smoothbore cannon mounted on the machine was impossible to ignore; it promised devastating firepower.
"It looks like a warship sailing on land! Abo, you have moved a battleship to the ground! Is this the thing that will change warfare?"
Mikhail cried out in shock.
"Yes, Mr. Mikhail. This machine combines the mobility of cavalry with the firepower of artillery. Under its cover, my trained infantry will crush the armies of the old nobility with unstoppable force."
Perturabo replied with a flat expression.
"The new era has begun, right here in this workshop."