The Insane Regressor: Throne of Pride

Ravian drew a building beside the river, then added a series of elevated reservoirs.

”The first is the drainage and treatment network, which protects the city from poisoning itself. The second project supplies water on ordinary days and during emergencies.”

Ravian gestured toward the paper with both hands, drawing their attention to what came next.

”I call it the Capital’s Lifeline Network.”

Patrick leaned forward, one eyebrow rising in surprise.

”A pumping system that runs on... steam?”

”Yes. The pump houses will be built beside the river, alongside the clean-water treatment facilities. Steam engines will lift the clean water into elevated reservoirs distributed throughout the district.”

Ravian drew pipes extending from the reservoirs.

”The height of the stored water generates pressure. From there, sealed main lines carry it to the public water facilities, workshops, inns, nobles’ properties, and any household prepared to pay for a private connection.”

He marked several points along the larger roads.

”These will be connections dedicated to fighting fires. A fire brigade can attach reinforced hoses and draw pressurized water immediately instead of forming bucket lines from the river.”

Larette studied the intersecting marks on the map with a smile, having all but forgotten the disaster that had struck only a few days ago.

Earl Patrick noticed her reaction and turned to look at Ravian, only to find him smiling in turn.

’So this is what he meant by turning the capital’s attention away from the disaster and toward the future—toward progress.’

Patrick understood what Ravian had meant the moment he saw his daughter’s reaction to the projects.

It was rather like losing a friend, only for your father to move you out of your modest home and into an extravagant manor, so that exploring and improving it occupied you instead of dwelling on the past.

’What would a mind like this look like if it were turned loose on a battlefield and used properly?’

A frightening thought crossed the Earl’s mind for a moment.

Had he known what Ravian had already done, whether at the border or here in the capital, he would have coughed up a barrel of blood.

”The fires spread all around the blast radius after the explosion because the roads were blocked and there was no water nearby,” Larette said suddenly, pulling Earl Patrick out of his thoughts.

Ravian nodded.

From what Ravian had observed while moving through the capital earlier, many houses hadn’t been inside the blast radius at all, but the wind had carried the flames outward from the explosion, setting nearby homes alight, and no one had been able to extinguish them quickly.

”Exactly. A city that sits beside a river shouldn’t lose entire streets simply because it can’t move that water to where it’s needed in time.”

”You’re proposing two networks underground,” Shmichael said. ”That means opening the same streets twice.”

”Only if they’re built separately,” Ravian said as he picked the pen back up.

Ravian drew a cross-section of a road.

”The sewage conduits will run at a greater depth, while the clean-water mains will sit at a higher level and a safe distance away, inside a sealed channel of their own. The access points for each system will remain separate, but both can be installed during the same reconstruction work. The street is opened once, both networks are built with the proper separation between them, and then the road is restored.”

He added wider routes running across the damaged blocks.

”The reconstruction district should also use wider streets and planned gaps between the main blocks. That layout gives repair carts access and keeps ordinary fires from traveling freely from one block to the next.”

Patrick tapped the section closest to the erased district.

”The Gray Guard has sealed off the crater. No builder will be permitted anywhere near it.”

”I have no intention of building inside their perimeter. The crater itself is useless to us. What I’m proposing is that we rebuild the damaged districts surrounding it while remaining outside the boundaries of the zone sealed off by the Gray Guard,” Ravian replied.

”And you think people will willingly come back to live beside the place where thousands vanished?” Shmichael asked with a frown.

Ravian shook his head calmly.

”Not immediately. But reliable water, safer streets, work, and low initial rents will bring people back. And once the district starts to recover, the nobles and merchants will follow as land values rise.”

Patrick considered the drawing for a moment.

”And what if a similar incident happens again?” Patrick asked, though only he knew the purpose behind the question.

Ravian looked at him, his expression untouched by any emotion.

”Then nothing we build will stop it,” he replied, perfectly calm.

The blunt answer silenced the room.

Ravian continued before anyone could take his meaning the wrong way.

”I won’t sell you protection from a force capable of erasing an entire district. The Lifeline Network is meant to limit everything that follows a disaster like that one: the fires, the poisoned wells, the blocked roads, the disease, and the collapse of relief efforts. We can’t prevent something that lies beyond human strength, but we can prevent its aftermath from killing more people than the original event did.”

Patrick slowly turned the black ring around his finger.

”At the very least, you understand the limits of what you’re offering.”

”Anyone who tells you his pipes can stop what happened is either a liar or a madman,” Ravian said.

”And which of the two are you?” the Earl asked with a smile.

”Neither. I’m just a simple young man with brilliant ideas,” Ravian replied in complete seriousness.

Larette covered the beginning of a smile with her hand.

Patrick paid her no attention whatsoever.

”The engines are the first obstacle you’ll face,” he said. ”The capital has foundries capable of producing basic steam mechanisms, but a pump engine that has to run continuously and maintain constant pressure demands far greater precision.”

”Then we build one before work on the network begins—a full-scale prototype tested beside the river,” Ravian answered. ”It has to raise a calculated volume of water to a specified height and maintain the pressure for a fixed period. Your engineers and any witnesses you choose can inspect it.”

”And if it fails?” Shmichael asked.

”It won’t fail,” Ravian answered without hesitation.

”Why?” Shmichael asked, unable to understand where such confidence came from.

”Because I’m here with you. You won’t fail as long as I’m with you,” Ravian said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Earl Patrick’s and Shmichael’s expressions froze at the certainty in Ravian’s voice, whereas Larette’s smile only widened.

’A madman,’ Shmichael thought before glancing over and finding Earl Patrick smiling now that his initial shock had passed.

’The kind of madman that people with power and money grow obsessed with.’

”What about fuel?” Patrick asked, the smile not yet entirely gone from his face.

”Supply contracts will be secured before construction begins. Every pump house will receive a protected reserve large enough to cover interruptions in delivery. The number of engines required and their consumption rates will also be calculated before any site is approved.”

Patrick raised another finger.

”Control. The Imperial Palace will never allow a single noble family to own the capital’s water.”

”Then House Viola shouldn’t own it alone,” Ravian said. ”Establish a chartered company. House Viola will remain the largest private shareholder, while the Crown receives direct oversight and a share of the revenue. A small number of other families can also be brought in as minority partners.”

”You want me to invite my rivals into the project?”

”I want them invested in its success rather than being paid off to keep them from wrecking it. You choose which families receive the right to participate and how large their shares will be.”

Patrick’s expression didn’t change, but Ravian could tell that the answer had caught his interest.

”Did you prepare all of this before you came here?” the Earl asked.

”No. These aren’t things I need to prepare for, your lordship,” Ravian said, and he wasn’t boasting.

The matter really was too trivial to waste thought on when far more important matters demanded his attention, such as his own advancement through the ranks, the situation at the border, and everything else besides.

”Good. But won’t we run into a few detractors accusing us of exploiting the capital’s circumstances to line our pockets?” Earl Patrick asked.

”There’s nothing in politics that can’t be twisted. That’s your field of work, not mine. I’m here to present an idea, not an instruction manual for how to carry it out.” Ravian shrugged indifferently.

Patrick gave him the faintest of nods.

That was the first open acknowledgment that Ravian understood where his own expertise ended.

”You speak like an engineer, an investor, and sometimes a politician,” Shmichael said. ”And yet you appear out of nowhere, refuse to explain where you learned any of it, disappear for eight days, and then return with a different body.”

”You don’t need to know my past,” Ravian answered. ”Just test my proposals—I already know they’ll work.”