The air crackled with nervous anticipation as Crainus strode through the grand marble halls of the City Hall. The unveiling of the Sky Sweeper was a mere day away, and the city was buzzing with a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Yet, Crainus, the man – or rather, the machine – at the center of it all, felt a cold emptiness settle in his metallic chest.
He arrived at the Mayor's office, a room he hadn't set foot in yet. The heavy wooden door creaked open, revealing a spacious room adorned with plush leather chairs and portraits of past Mayors. A young woman with sharp eyes and a wary smile stood behind the mahogany desk.
"Mayor Crainus," she greeted, her voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.
Crainus halted in the doorway, his mechanical limbs creaking in protest. "Actually," he rasped, his voice a distorted echo, "I believe the title is Lord Crainus, now."
The woman blinked, taken aback by his unexpected correction. "Lord Crainus?" she stammered, adjusting her glasses. "But… the official proclamation…"
Crainus cut her off, his metallic hand slamming against the doorframe, sending a tremor through the room. "There will be no 'buts', assistant. I am the ruler of this city now, and I will be addressed accordingly."
The woman gulped, her face pale. "Of course, Lord Crainus," she stammered. "How may I be of service?"
Crainus ignored her initial address, his eyes scanning the room with a critical glint. Everything here – the plush furniture, the antique portraits, the very air of tradition – felt suffocating. This office, a symbol of the old guard, did not reflect the new era he envisioned.
"I am not one for stuffy rooms and outdated furniture," he declared, his voice echoing in the silence. "My command center will require… more… innovative accommodations."
The woman stared at him, bewildered. "Accommodations, Lord Crainus? You mean… besides this office?"
Crainus let out a mechanical chuckle, the sound devoid of humor. "This office," he scoffed, "is fit for a museum, not a ruler. I require something… grander. Something that reflects the power and progress this city is about to embark on."
He strode to the window, his gaze sweeping across the sprawling cityscape. "Imagine, assistant," he continued, his voice low and raspy, "a colossal airship, a behemoth of steel and gears, hovering majestically above the city. My command center, a constant reminder of the new regime, a symbol of progress that dwarfs even the tallest skyscraper."
The woman's eyes widened in disbelief. "A… a blimp, Lord Crainus? As your command center?"
"Not just any blimp," Crainus corrected her, a hint of pride in his distorted voice. "A marvel of engineering, equipped with the latest technology, a testament to the ingenuity of this city."
He turned back to her, his cold gaze fixed on her pale face. "This is what I require, assistant. See to it that it is built. And quickly. Time is of the essence."
The woman, overwhelmed by the sheer audacity of his demand, stammered, "But… the cost, Lord Crainus! Building such a… a contraption would be… unprecedented!"
Crainus's metal fist clenched, steam hissing from the vents etched into his knuckles. "Cost is no object," he growled. "This city has resources. It has the ingenuity. And more importantly, it has the will to comply. Now, carry out my order."
The woman, intimidated by his imposing presence and the cold glint in his metallic eyes, simply nodded, her voice lost in the echo of his demands. Crainus, satisfied with her submission, turned and left the office, leaving her to grapple with the impossible task he had laid upon her.
