The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Patrick raised his eyes from the papers spread before him, then looked Ravian over from head to toe.

”So you’re Rayan Veyr.”

”And you are Earl Patrick Viola,” Ravian replied, that strange gleam returning to his eyes.

’Damn it—not now, please!’ Ravian screamed inwardly as he reined in the sudden surge of Pride.

Larette stiffened slightly at the way he had answered, but a faint smile appeared on the earl’s face.

”At least you didn’t bow and immediately start flattering me,” the earl said.

”My apologies, sir. I only arrived in the capital yesterday, and I don’t know enough about you to have anything to flatter you with,” Ravian said with complete honesty.

He saw no point in hiding when he had arrived, since Robert already knew—and appeared to know the earl as well.

”No matter. You’ve saved us both some time.”

Patrick gestured toward the seat across from him.

”Sit.”

Ravian sat down, while Larette remained near one of the side chairs and Shmichael stood at the earl’s right.

”Shmichael and my daughter tell me that you want to rebuild the capital’s water and waste-disposal systems—and that you claim the project will generate recurring profit instead of being a mere expense,” the earl said, interlacing his fingers as a black ring glinted on one of them.

”That’s correct,” Ravian replied.

”Explain it to me. In detail.”

The earl motioned toward Shmichael, but before the elderly servant could move, Ravian pulled a blank sheet of paper from the edge of the desk and picked up a pen without asking permission, taking Patrick’s gesture as sufficient approval.

Patrick raised an eyebrow but didn’t stop him.

Ravian drew two parallel lines.

”The current problem is that clean water and sewage pass through channels located too close to one another. In some districts, they mix directly, while in others, one seeps into the other. That means any attempt to clean the streets alone will only ever provide a temporary solution,” Ravian began, his eyes fixed on the paper before him.

He pointed toward the first line.

”We create a separate route for clean water—either through covered channels or pipes, depending on which materials can be manufactured at a reasonable cost. I already know which materials will work for every price range you can realistically provide.”

Then he pointed toward the second line.

”As for the waste, it will be carried through underground channels that rely on the natural slope of the land instead of requiring the continuous use of mages’ abilities. We build dedicated openings for inspection and cleaning, then direct the sewage toward treatment basins outside the residential districts—rather than dumping it into the same channel from which people draw their water.”

Ravian had developed this proposal from the magic circles embedded deep within every fountain he had passed while wandering through the capital the previous day. He had also noticed that the river he had been thrown into earlier was far from pure.

Together, those observations had allowed him to infer the stage of industrial development humanity had currently reached.

Based on that assessment, he had chosen to present the more advanced version from the outset.

”Treatment basins?” Patrick asked.

Ravian drew several rectangles in sequence.

”The heavier matter is allowed to settle first. The water then passes through layers of gravel, sand, and charcoal. Suitable magical materials or stones can be added later if their cost is reasonable. It won’t become drinkable immediately, but it will be far less harmful before being returned to the river or used for other purposes.”

The earl took the paper and examined the drawing.

”Digging channels beneath the entire capital won’t come cheap,” he said.

”We won’t begin with the entire capital.”

Ravian took another sheet and drew a small square.

”We choose a single district where you own most of the property or wield the greatest influence—preferably one of the middle-class districts near the nobles’ quarter. We implement the project there on a limited scale, then compare disease rates, odors, cleaning costs, and property values before and after its completion.”

”And if it fails?” the earl asked, even as the corners of his lips twitched.

”You lose the cost of one district instead of the cost of the entire capital,” Ravian replied.

He paused briefly, already knowing exactly what was running through the earl’s mind.

”...And if it succeeds?” Patrick asked, sounding as though he were seeking confirmation rather than genuinely posing a question.

Ravian smiled.

”We won’t need to convince the other nobles. They’ll come to us on their own—money in hand—demanding that we implement it throughout the capital.”

Patrick didn’t answer immediately. He continued staring at Ravian, his expression unreadable.

Larette interjected.

”I told you he was a genius.”

”You also told me you’d known him for only a few hours,” her father replied without looking at her.

Larette closed her mouth.

Patrick returned his attention to Ravian.

”Where does the recurring profit you promised come from?”

’I was waiting for you to ask.’

Ravian kept his expression under control so he wouldn’t appear arrogant again.

”Monthly connection and maintenance fees charged to every home and shop that benefits from the system. Separate contracts for factories, hotels, and other large buildings. You will also profit directly from the increase in value of any land you own within the district once it improves.”

”You’ll need thousands of workers.” The earl nodded, tapping his fingertips against the desk.

”Even better for you, sir,” Ravian replied, giving him a sly smile.

”It gives you a reason to employ the poor instead of leaving them in the streets. The work doesn’t require every laborer to be a mage or an aura user. We’ll need engineers, overseers, and a limited number of Awakened for the more difficult sections, while ordinary laborers can handle the digging and construction.”

”And the streets will have to be closed during construction,” Shmichael said, already imagining the chaos Ravian’s project could create throughout the district.

”In phases,” Ravian explained. ”One street at a time, with temporary lanes left open for carriages. We won’t dig up the entire district at once.”

”What about homeowners who refuse to allow the channels to pass beneath their property?” Larette asked.

Her question surprised Ravian more than he cared to admit.

’So she’s not useless after all.’

”You give them two choices: allow the channels to pass and receive the service at a reduced rate, or refuse—and pay a higher price when they’re eventually forced to connect later,” Ravian replied calmly.

Patrick raised his eyes from the paper, undisguised surprise crossing his face.

”You speak as though you’ve done this before,” the earl said.

”I haven’t.” Ravian shook his head.

”Then where did you obtain this knowledge?”

Ravian rolled the pen between his fingers.

”Will the source of my knowledge change how much profit you’ll receive?”

”No, but it will change how much I trust you.”

”Then don’t trust me. Simply reject the project,” Ravian replied, sliding the paper back across the desk.

The two stared at each other for several seconds, while Larette and Shmichael remained tense between them, watching two foxes test one another through conversation.

Then Patrick let out a short laugh.

”I’m beginning to understand why Shmichael decided to promise you an Eighth-Rank heart before you’d even met me.”

Ravian looked toward the elderly servant.

”He made an excellent decision.” Ravian gave him a teasing wink.

Before Shmichael could respond, there was a knock at the study door.

One of the servants entered and bowed before the earl.

”My lord, Detective Robert of the Capital Investigations Department requests to see you urgently.”

Ravian’s smile froze.

Shmichael immediately turned toward him, his eyes widening, while Larette looked at Ravian after noticing Shmichael’s reaction.

Patrick, however, kept his attention on the servant.

”Did he mention a reason?”

”He said the matter concerns Mr. Rayan Veyr,” the servant replied.

Silence descended upon the room.

Shmichael slowly raised his eyes toward Ravian.

”A small misunderstanding?”

”It seemed smaller last night,” Ravian replied, scratching the back of his head.