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thatnightlamp · 11 days ago

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I know it's a big ask but can you make a part 4 of the rogal dorn and imperial fists slice of life fic where they now have a construction company?

Slice of life with Rogal Dorn (and Imperial Fists)

It's a sequel to this one. Of course I'm too lazy to write it seriously, but here's basically what happens next if you're curious.

I used the biggest Deus ex machina 乁⁠[⁠ ⁠◕⁠ ⁠ᴥ⁠ ⁠◕⁠ ⁠]⁠ㄏ

Summary: A strange encounter solved 99% your problems

You dragged your feet up the concrete steps to the county administrative building, a manila folder of hopeless paperwork clutched in your hand. The morning sun beat down mercilessly, matching your mood as you prepared for another futile battle with bureaucracy. Three months of housing five enormous amnesiac men with a fortress-building obsession had drained not just your bank account but your spirit.

Inside, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead as you approached the counter labeled "Permits and Zoning." The same clerk who'd rejected your paperwork twice before glanced up, recognition and something like pity crossing his face.

"You again?"

You nodded, sliding your folder across the counter. "I've filled out the retroactive permit applications. Again."

The clerk - Barry, according to his name tag, thumbed through the documents with the weariness of someone who'd seen it all. "You're still missing the structural engineering certification. And these contractor credentials…" He trailed off, shaking his head.

"They're legitimate," you lied, knowing full well that Vladimir had drawn up the credentials himself using design software and a printer at the local library.

Barry didn't even bother arguing. "Look, between us, you should probably just hire a lawyer at this point. The fines are only going to increase, and with the property tax reassessment."

"I know," you interrupted, not wanting to hear it again. The numbers kept you awake at night, an ever-growing mountain of debt that threatened to consume everything.

Barry was about to say something else when his eyes focused on something behind you, widening slightly. You turned to see what had caught his attention.

A man stood in the center of the government building lobby, radiating an authority that seemed to bend the very air around him. He was tall, taller than Rogal, and imposing, with broad shoulders and a face that somehow appeared both youthful and ancient simultaneously. His hair was dark, long with a high forehead, and his eyes… there was something about his eyes that made it difficult to maintain eye contact.

More striking than the man himself was his entourage, at least six men of extraordinary size, large as Rogal and his companions. They wore fitted dark suits that barely contained their muscular frames, standing at attention with military precision, scanning the room continuously like bodyguards.

"Who's that?" you whispered to Barry, whose mouth had fallen slightly open.

"No idea," he murmured. "But the big guys with him just walked past security without anyone stopping them."

The mysterious man's gaze swept the lobby, pausing briefly on each occupant before moving on. When his eyes met yours, a jolt ran through you, like static electricity but deeper, resonating somewhere behind your breastbone. His expression changed, surprise, then interest, then something like amusement.

He began walking directly toward you.

You resisted the urge to flee as the man approached, his entourage moving with him in perfect formation. Up close, his presence was even more overwhelming, like standing next to a high-voltage power line.

"You," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle for someone so imposing, "are experiencing an unusual housing situation."

It wasn't a question. You blinked, momentarily speechless.

"Me what?" you finally managed.

The man smiled, the expression transforming his severe features into something almost warm. "My apologies. That was abrupt. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Neoth. And you, residing at that quaint suburban home, are currently hosting five rather distinctive individuals with a penchant for unauthorized construction."

Barry was staring openly now, paperwork forgotten. You felt a cold sweat breaking out along your spine.

"How do you know that?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Neoth made a dismissive gesture. "Information is easy to acquire when one knows where to look. Your situation has created quite the administrative ripple. Building code violations, HOA complaints, tax reassessments." He glanced at the folder on the counter. "And now, desperate attempts to legitimize what cannot be easily explained."

One of the suited giants leaned down to whisper something in Neoth's ear. He nodded slightly before returning his attention to you.

"I believe we should continue this conversation somewhere more private. Would you join me for coffee?"

Every warning bell in your mind was ringing. This man knew too much, appeared too suddenly, and radiated too much unnatural charisma. But curiosity, and the faint hope that somehow this stranger might offer a solution to your impossible situation, overrode your caution.

"Fine," you agreed, gathering your useless paperwork. "But just coffee."

Barry watched with wide eyes as you left with the mysterious man and his intimidating entourage.

The coffee shop across from the administrative building emptied quickly after Neoth and his companions entered. The six massive bodyguards positioned themselves strategically around the space, their presence making the small café feel even more cramped. You sat across from Neoth at a corner table, cradling a latte you hadn't ordered but which somehow contained exactly the right amount of caramel.

"I'll be direct," Neoth said, not touching his own coffee. "I can solve your problems with your houseguests."

You narrowed your eyes. "What problems?"

"Please," Neoth smiled again, the expression not quite reaching his eyes. "The five enormous men living in your home without legal identity. The unauthorized fortifications they've constructed. The mounting fines and tax burdens. The 'Imperial Fists Construction' enterprise operating without proper licensing."

You felt the blood drain from your face. He knew everything, details you hadn't shared with anyone.

"What are you? FBI? Immigration?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Neoth laughed, a sound like distant thunder. "Nothing so mundane. Let's say I'm a private citizen with particular interests and abundant resources."

"And why would you be interested in my situation?"

"Those men," Neoth leaned forward slightly, "are important to me. Their presence here is… unexpected, but not unwelcome."

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup. "You know who they are."

It wasn't a question, but Neoth nodded anyway. "I do. And I can provide what they need, legal identity, citizenship documentation, resolution of all outstanding fines and tax issues. I can even provide legitimate business credentials for their construction enterprise."

"In exchange for what?" you asked, suspicion heavy in your voice. "Free cheese only exists in mousetraps."

Something like respect flickered in Neoth's ancient-young eyes. "Perceptive. I merely wish to… reconnect with them. To ensure their wellbeing."

"That's it?" You didn't bother hiding your disbelief. "You'll pay thousands in fines and taxes, create legal identities for five men who don't exist, and set up a legitimate business, just to 'reconnect' with them?"

"The financial considerations are trivial to me," Neoth said with casual arrogance that suggested it was true. "As for the documentation, I have connections that can expedite such matters."

One of the bodyguards shifted slightly, drawing your attention. The man was enormous, golden-haired and impossibly broad-shouldered, his suit custom-tailored to his inhuman physique. There was something familiar about him, about all of them, really, that nagged at your consciousness.

"Why not approach them directly?" you asked, returning your attention to Neoth. "Why come to me?"

Neoth's expression became unreadable. "Our last… interaction was complicated. I believe a mediator would be beneficial."

You sat back, studying the man across from you. Everything about this screamed danger, mysterious benefactors offering too-good-to-be-true solutions always did. But you were drowning in fines and legal threats, with no viable way out.

"Let's say I believe you," you said slowly. "What exactly would this 'reconnection' involve?"

"A meeting. Nothing more." Neoth spread his hands, the gesture somehow both humble and imperial simultaneously. "I would like you to introduce me. To prepare them for my arrival."

"And if they don't want to meet you?"

Something dangerous flashed behind Neoth's eyes, there and gone so quickly you weren't sure you'd seen it at all. "That is their choice. My offer of assistance stands regardless."

The conversation felt surreal, like something from a dream or a particularly strange movie. You found yourself nodding, not quite believing you were agreeing to anything, but unable to see another option.

"Fine. I'll talk to them."

Neoth smiled, satisfied. "Excellent. My associates will handle the paperwork immediately." He produced a business card from nowhere, sliding it across the table. It was blank except for a phone number embossed in gold. "Call this number when you've spoken with them."

As you reached for the card, Neoth's fingers brushed against yours. Another jolt of that strange energy passed between you, stronger this time, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

"One of my men will escort you home," Neoth said, rising from the table. "I look forward to our next meeting."

Before you could protest that you had your own car, one of the giant bodyguards was at your side, gesturing toward the door where a sleek black SUV had appeared at the curb.

The ride home was silent and distinctly uncomfortable. The massive man beside you in the backseat didn't speak, staring straight ahead with military rigidity. You clutched your purse, the strange business card burning a hole in your pocket, wondering if you'd just made a catastrophic mistake.

As you turned onto your street, you noticed the changes immediately. The "observation post" that had caused so much trouble with the HOA was gone, not dismantled, but completely absent, as if it had never existed. The reinforced fence had been replaced by a normal-looking boundary that somehow still radiated sturdiness.

"What happened to…." you began, but stopped as you pulled into your driveway.

Your house looked… normal. The obvious fortifications were gone, replaced by tasteful architectural elements that disguised their defensive nature. It was still recognizably your home, but now it appeared to be an upscale renovation rather than a military installation.

"When did this happen?" you asked the silent bodyguard, who merely opened your door in response.

As you stepped out of the vehicle, you noticed your neighbors across the street watching from their window, expressions curious rather than disapproving for the first time in months. The SUV pulled away as soon as you closed the door, leaving you standing in your driveway, staring at your transformed home.

The house was empty when you entered, the usual sounds of construction and strategic planning absent. A note in Rogal's precise handwriting sat on the kitchen counter: "Searching for you. Communications unanswered. Will return by 18:00."

You checked your phone, finding several missed calls and increasingly concerned text messages from a number you recognized as the prepaid phone you'd given Rogal for emergencies. With a pang of guilt, you realized what had happened, from their perspective, you'd disappeared without explanation, your car still at the county building, no word of your whereabouts.

What had felt like a strange meeting and uncomfortable car ride to you must have seemed like a kidnapping to them.

You sent a quick text: "I'm home. Safe. Long story. See you at 6."

The response was immediate: "Returning now."

You wandered through your house, noting all the subtle changes. The reinforced door frames remained, but now looked like attractive molding. The concrete bunker in the basement had been disguised as a wine cellar. Even the surveillance systems had been integrated so seamlessly into the architecture that they were nearly invisible.

You were still trying to process these changes when the front door burst open with such force that you nearly jumped out of your skin. Rogal entered first, his massive frame filling the doorway, his expression a mixture of relief and lingering concern. Behind him came Sigismund, his hand instinctively resting where a weapon would be if they had any. Alexis and Vladimir followed, both scanning the room with tactical precision, while Halbrecht brought up the rear, closing the door with far more care than Rogal had shown opening it.

"You are unharmed," Rogal stated, though the slight question in his tone betrayed his uncertainty.

"I'm fine," you assured him, suddenly emotional at the realization that these five giant men had been genuinely worried about you. "But something really weird happened today."

"We were concerned when your communications ceased," Sigismund said, his voice tight with what might have been suppressed anxiety. "Your vehicle remained at the administrative building."

"We initiated search patterns," Vladimir added, his massive arms crossed over his chest. "Divided the city into quadrants."

"Systematically," Alexis agreed. "Though with limited success."

"Halbrecht was preparing to access the local surveillance network," Rogal concluded, which explained why the normally reserved giant was carrying a laptop under one arm.

"You were going to hack into security cameras to find me?" you asked, torn between being touched and horrified.

"Technically, it would have been more of a passive monitoring integration," Halbrecht corrected, setting the laptop down. "But yes."

You gestured for them to sit, which they did with their usual careful movements, the furniture creaking slightly under their combined weight. "I need to tell you about what happened, and it's… complicated."

For the next hour, you recounted everything in detail, the meeting with Neoth, his strange offer, the SUV ride home, and the unexplained changes to the house. You described his imposing presence, the way he seemed both young and ancient simultaneously, his bodyguards who reminded you somewhat of them, and the casual way he spoke about resolving problems that had been keeping you awake at night for months.

"He knew everything about us," you emphasized, pacing back and forth in front of them. "Not just the obvious stuff anyone could see from outside, but details nobody should know. He talked about you like he knew you personally."

As you spoke, you noticed their expressions changing. Alexis and Vladimir exchanged meaningful glances, a silent communication passing between them. Sigismund's perpetual frown deepened, his right hand clenching and unclenching rhythmically. Halbrecht grew unusually still, his eyes focused on some middle distance. But it was Rogal's reaction that was most striking, his stoic features shifted through confusion, recognition, and something that might have been awe.

"He gave me this," you continued, pulling out the business card with its golden embossed number. "Said to call when I'd talked to you. And get this, he said all the financial problems are already being handled. The fines, the taxes, everything."

"Father?" Rogal murmured, the word barely audible.

"What?" you asked, startled by the non sequitur.

Rogal didn't elaborate, his gaze distant as if accessing long-buried memories. The others watched him, their own expressions suggesting similar internal struggles.

"The man you described," Sigismund said slowly, "and his… associates. They are familiar."

"You know them?" you pressed, stopping your pacing to stare at each of them in turn.

"Not know," Vladimir corrected "Remember. Partially. Like reflections in disturbed water."

"The modifications to the dwelling," Alexis noted, looking around at the changed interior. "They are consistent with his methods. Elegant solutions that achieve multiple objectives simultaneously."

"Methods?" you repeated. "So you do know him? Is his name really Neoth? And what did you mean by 'Father,' Rogal?"

The five men exchanged glances again, a silent conference you couldn't interpret. Finally, Rogal spoke, his deep voice measured.

"There are… fragments of memory. Unclear. Inconsistent. But his description matches someone of great significance to us."

"He said he wanted to reconnect with you," you told them, remembering Neoth's exact words. "Said your last 'interaction' was complicated."

Another silent exchange of glances. Then, to your surprise, Sigismund rose from his seat and dropped to one knee in front of Rogal, his head bowed.

"If it is him, I will follow your lead, lord," he said formally.

Vladimir and Alexis nodded in agreement, while Halbrecht watched Rogal with intense focus.

"We will meet him," Rogal decided after a moment. "But with caution."

You looked between them, bewildered by this sudden shift in dynamics. "Okay, what the hell is going on? You're acting like this guy is royalty or something."

"Or something," Alexis agreed cryptically.

You sighed in frustration, picking up the business card. "Fine. Keep your secrets. I'll make the call."

The voice that answered was not Neoth's, but it carried the same subtle authority. Arrangements were made for a meeting the following evening. As you hung up, you noticed that Rogal had moved to the window, staring out at the modified exterior of the house.

"The defensive capabilities remain," he observed. "Disguised but not diminished. Perhaps even enhanced."

"Is that good?" you asked.

Rogal nodded slowly. "It suggests genuine understanding of our priorities, adapted to function within local parameters."

The following day passed in a haze of nervous anticipation. You distracted yourself by checking your online banking, gasping aloud when you discovered that all outstanding property tax payments had been made, along with what appeared to be an advance on future assessments. The HOA fines had vanished from their online portal, replaced by a notice of "compliance achieved."

Most shocking of all was the email from the county building department, confirming that all necessary permits had been retroactively approved and the code enforcement case closed. Attached were copies of the permits themselves, bearing official signatures and stamps that looked perfectly legitimate.

"He really did it," you murmured, showing the others. "Everything he promised, at least on paper."

"A demonstration of capabilities," Sigismund noted. "Or a gesture of good faith."

"Or both," Rogal added.

Precisely at 7 PM, a convoy of black vehicles pulled up outside. You watched from the window as Neoth emerged from the center car, flanked by his enormous bodyguards. They moved with coordinated precision, forming a loose perimeter as Neoth approached the front door.

You opened it before he could knock, finding yourself once again in the unsettling presence of this man who radiated authority and ancient wisdom.

He greeted you with a slight nod. "Thank you for arranging this meeting."

"They're waiting in the living room," you replied, stepping aside to let him enter.

Neoth crossed the threshold, his bodyguards remaining outside at a gesture from his hand. He paused in the entryway, surveying the interior modifications with what appeared to be approval.

"Efficient adaptations," he murmured. "Creative use of limited resources."

Then his gaze fixed on the living room entrance, where Rogal now stood, his massive frame nearly filling the doorway. For a long moment, the two men stared at each other, an almost tangible energy crackling between them.

"Rogal Dorn." Neoth said softly, the name carrying weight and history.

"Father." Rogal responded, the word both a statement and a question.

Neoth smiled, a genuine expression that transformed his severe features. "You remember."

"Fragments only," Rogal admitted. "But your presence… stimulates recall."

Neoth nodded, unsurprised. "The same is true for the others?"

"Yes," came Sigismund's voice from within the living room. "Though the memories are… incomplete."

You watched this exchange with growing bewilderment and unease. Father? What did that mean? Neoth appeared younger than Rogal, though something about his eyes suggested far greater age. The air in the room felt charged, like the moment before a lightning strike.

"May I?" Neoth gestured toward the living room.

Rogal stepped aside, allowing him to pass. You followed, curiosity overcoming your caution, though your heart was hammering in your chest.

Inside, the other four men had arranged themselves in what you now recognized as a formal reception formation. As Neoth entered, Sigismund, Vladimir, Alexis and Halbrecht each dropped to one knee, heads bowed in a gesture of unmistakable fealty.

The display sent a chill down your spine. These five men, who had never shown deference to anyone in all the time you'd known them, were treating this stranger like visiting royalty. Only Rogal maintained his usual bearing, though even he seemed more formal than usual.

Neoth regarded each of them in turn, something like fondness in his expression. "Sigismund. Alexis Polux. Vladimir Pugh. Halbrecht." He named them without hesitation. "My son's most dedicated warriors."

"Your son?" you blurted, unable to contain yourself. "But you're…"

"Older than I appear," Neoth finished for you, amusement in his voice. "Though our relationship is not biological in the traditional sense."

You looked between Neoth and Rogal, suddenly noticing the similarities that had escaped you before, not physical resemblance, but something in their bearing, their presence, the way they occupied space. It was deeply unsettling, like watching pieces of a puzzle rearrange themselves into a picture you couldn't quite grasp.

"I don't understand what's happening," you admitted, your voice smaller than you intended.

"Few would," Neoth assured you. "The full explanation would strain credibility. Suffice it to say that these men are important to me, and their unexpected appearance in your reality is a matter of significant interest."

"Our reality?" you repeated, catching the strange phrasing. A cold knot formed in your stomach.

Neoth smiled enigmatically but didn't elaborate. The kneeling men rose at a subtle gesture from him, arranging themselves around the room with military precision.

"I've taken the liberty of establishing legitimate identities for each of you," Neoth continued, turning his attention back to the five giants. "Citizenship, documentation, all necessary legal frameworks."

He removed a leather portfolio from inside his jacket, handing it to Rogal. "Everything you need is here, including business credentials for 'Imperial Fists Construction & Engineering, LLC.'"

Rogal accepted the portfolio, opening it to reveal meticulously organized documents, passports, Social Security cards, birth certificates, all appearing completely legitimate.

"This seems excessive," Rogal noted, though his tone suggested approval rather than suspicion.

"Hardly," Neoth replied. "It's the minimum required to function effectively in this environment. I've also arranged for proper business licensing, insurance, and contractual templates. The company is fully operational, effective immediately."

"And what do you want in return?" you asked, still waiting for the other shoe to drop, your unease growing by the minute.

Neoth turned to you, those ancient eyes seeing too much. "As I said before, a reconnection. And perhaps, occasionally, access to their particular skills for projects of my own."

"What sort of projects?" You asked, speaking the question clearly on all your minds.

"Nothing that would violate your principles," Neoth assured them. "Primarily construction and security consulting. I have numerous properties that would benefit from your expertise."

It sounded reasonable, but you couldn't shake the feeling that there was much more to this story than anyone was telling you. The strange references to "your reality," the way these men recognized each other despite fragmentary memories, the inexplicable resources Neoth commanded, it all pointed to something far beyond your understanding.

"The company headquarters," Neoth continued, gesturing around him, "can remain here for the time being. I've ensured the zoning permits allow for a home-based business operation. As your enterprise grows, more suitable accommodations can be arranged."

"You have considered all contingencies," Rogal observed.

"It's what I do," Neoth replied simply.

The conversation continued, delving into details of the business structure, potential contracts already lined up (all from Neoth's mysterious associates), and the legal frameworks now protecting both the company and your property. Throughout it all, you felt increasingly disoriented, like you were watching a play where everyone knew their lines except you.

The atmosphere in the room was charged with unspoken significance. Sigismund, Vladimir, Alexis and Halbrecht maintained a formal respect toward Neoth that bordered on reverence. Rogal alone seemed able to engage with Neoth as something approaching an equal, though even he showed deference in subtle ways.

You found yourself retreating to the corner of your own living room, feeling like an intruder in a reunion of beings from another world. Which, based on Neoth's cryptic comments, might not be far from the truth.

As the evening drew to a close, Neoth prepared to leave, his bodyguards still waiting patiently outside. He paused at the door, turning to address them all one final time.

"Your first official contract," he said, handing Rogal a sealed envelope, "requires absolute discretion. The specifics are contained within."

"We will evaluate and execute accordingly." Rogal confirmed, accepting the envelope with his customary seriousness.

Neoth nodded, satisfied, then turned to you. "Thank you for your hospitality, and for providing shelter to my son and his men when they needed it most."

Before you could respond, he was gone, his entourage folding around him as they returned to their vehicles.

"So…." you said into the silence that followed, your voice slightly shaky, "that was weird."

Vladimir actually laughed, a rare sound from the usually stoic giant. "Indeed."

"He called you his son," you said to Rogal, who was examining the envelope with typical thoroughness.

"He did," Rogal confirmed without elaboration.

"And that means…?"

"It means," Sigismund interjected, "that our situation has become simultaneously more clear and more complex."

"Helpful." you muttered.

Alexis approached, holding one of the newly-issued passports. "These appear legitimate in every detail. As do the business credentials."

"So we're official now?" you asked. "Just like that?"

"Apparently so," Halbrecht confirmed, examining the business license with something like pride.

"And our first client is… your father?" you looked at Rogal, still struggling with the concept.

"It would appear so," Rogal agreed, opening the envelope Neoth had given him. His expression shifted as he examined its contents, becoming unreadable even to you, who had grown somewhat accustomed to his subtle moods.

"What is it?" you asked, trying to peek at the documents.

Rogal handed the papers to Sigismund, who studied them briefly before passing them to the others. Each man's reaction was similar, a momentary stillness, followed by an exchange of meaningful glances.

"This is…" Vladimir began.

"Significant," Alexis finished.

"Can I see?" you asked, reaching for the papers.

Rogal hesitated, then handed you a single sheet that appeared to be architectural specifications. You stared at it, baffled. The document was filled with symbols and notations you didn't recognize, interspersed with what looked like mathematical formulas of extraordinary complexity.

"What am I looking at?" you asked, turning the page sideways as if that might help.

"A project of exceptional importance," Rogal said solemnly.

You flipped the page over, finding what appeared to be a location and a handwritten note: "Top Priority. Maximum Security. Absolute Discretion Required."

"This looks like… gibberish," you admitted, handing the paper back. "Is it in code or something?"

"Of a sort." Halbrecht acknowledged. "The specifications are clear to us, however."

"So what is it? A bunker? A bridge? What are we building?"

The five men exchanged glances again, that silent communication that excluded you.

"The nature of the project must remain confidential," Rogal finally said. "Even from you, for the present."

"Wait, what?" you protested. "I'm supposed to be the CEO of this company, according to those papers. How can I not know what we're building?"

"A precaution," Sigismund explained, not unkindly. "Knowledge carries risk."

"Great." you sighed. "A secret project from a mysterious client who might be from another reality, and I don't even get to know what it is. Perfect."

"Your role remains essential," Rogal assured you. "The administrative and logistical functions will require your expertise."

"So I'm just the front person? The one who signs the papers and deals with the bank?"

"For this specific project, yes," Alexis confirmed. "Future contracts will likely be less… sensitive."

You shook your head, trying to process the surreal turn your life had taken. "So we're really doing this? Running a construction company with giant men who might be from another reality, backed by a mysterious benefactor who calls himself your father, building something so secret I'm not allowed to know what it is?"

"An accurate summary," Rogal agreed without irony.

"Perfect," you sighed again. "Just when I thought my life couldn't get any weirder."

Alexis was already examining the business documentation. "The corporate structure lists you as CEO." he noted.

"Yeah, CEO without clearance for our first project," you pointed out. "Some CEO I am."

"You know about functioning in this society," Sigismund pointed out reasonably. "We do not."

"Great. CEO of a company I never asked for, working for a client who might be some kind of interdimensional being, building something I'm not allowed to know about." You laughed despite yourself. "My business degree is finally paying off."

Rogal placed a massive hand on your shoulder, the gesture surprisingly gentle. "We build. We adapt. We fortify. It is what we do."

Looking around at these five impossible men who had crashed into your life and completely upended it, you felt an unexpected surge of affection mixed with exasperation. They were strange, obsessive, and frequently infuriating, but they were also loyal, dedicated, and in their own way, caring.

"Fine." you conceded. "But you'd better not be building a doomsday device or something in my backyard."

The five men exchanged yet another of those meaningful glances.

"Wait," you said, suddenly alarmed. "You're not actually building a doomsday device, are you?"

"No," Rogal assured you, though the slight hesitation before he spoke did nothing for your peace of mind.

"The specifications are for a defensive structure," Vladimir added, which wasn't nearly as reassuring as he seemed to think.

"With certain… unique properties," Halbrecht said, which was even less comforting.

"I don't want to know," you decided, raising your hands in surrender. "Just don't get us arrested or invaded by the military or whatever."

"Operational security is our highest priority," Sigismund promised solemnly.

Imperial Fists Construction & Engineering, LLC, headquartered in your suburban living room, staffed by giants with fragmentary memories, backed by a man who radiated power like a nuclear reactor and had just casually erased thousands in debt with a wave of his hand, now apparently building something so secret and important that even the company CEO wasn't allowed to know what it was.

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