Chapter 119: Potemkin Villages

The road from Castle Wayland to Dornheim took three days. Three days of jolting in the carriage, dust, and the endless thrum of hooves from the hundred guards accompanying us.

​I sat in the carriage opposite Wayland. He was silent most of the time, staring out the window. I was just trying not to fall apart.

​"You look as if you’re about to lose consciousness, Iron," the Count said without turning. "My healer says your pulse is too weak for a man of your age."

​"It’s been a hard month, Your Excellency," I replied, rubbing my aching shoulder. "Engineering requires not just brains, but nerves."

​Wayland finally turned to me. His eyes narrowed.

​"I hope there is a place in Dornheim where you can come to your senses."

​"Yes, a place will certainly be found," I said quietly.

​On the outskirts of Dornheim, I started to get nervous. Elyria had three days to pass my instructions to Darwin, but giving an order is one thing—executing it under a total lack of time is another.

​When the outlines of the village appeared on the horizon—though it looked more like a small town now—I leaned against the window.

​At first glance, it seemed like a regular, prosperous settlement, but my eye caught the "edits" immediately. All the pneumatic turrets we’d managed to install on the walls were gone. In their place stood ordinary wooden towers with archers.

​We drove through the main gates.

​"Hmm," Wayland leaned forward. "You have surprisingly clean streets."

​"I don't like filth," I snapped. "We built a system of closed drains and pavements. It saves time on logistics and reduces the risk of epidemics among the workers."

​The Count looked around with poorly hidden surprise. Thick white steam rose above the workshop roofs, but the pipes were disguised as ordinary chimney flues.

​Darwin was waiting for us in the central square. He looked like a man who hadn't slept in a week: circles under his eyes, disheveled hair, and hands smeared with soot. He bowed low to the Count, but his gaze toward me was full of a silent question: Do you realize what hell we raised here to hide all this?

​"Your Excellency," Darwin rasped. "Welcome to Dornheim. We have prepared the best building for you, but... I'm afraid our conditions will seem modest to you."

​"Conditions don't concern me," Wayland cut in. "Better to go to the object."

​"The object..." Darwin faltered and looked at me. "Ah, you mean the resource warehouse?"

​I gave a barely perceptible nod.

​We walked through residential quarters to the edge where the main workshops were located. Everything here was thought out to the smallest detail. The very machines we’d struggled to assemble were covered with heavy tarps and piled with empty crates and old scrap.

​The blacksmiths, seeing us, began hammering away at ordinary plowshares, though I knew that an hour ago they were machining parts for new compressors.

​"And where is the entrance to your 'Point No. 1'?" Wayland stopped before a ramshackle structure that looked like an ordinary coal shed. Piles of anthracite lay around, and the walls were black with soot.

​"Here," I pointed to an iron-clad door. "Below this warehouse lies the primary distribution node."

​The Count turned to one of his companions—a tall, thin man in an alchemist's robe. The man pulled a device from his bag: a copper frame with a mana crystal suspended on a thread. The alchemist walked along the warehouse, frowning.

​"It’s empty here, Your Excellency," he said coldly. "The background is absolutely neutral. No traces of ether or active flows."

​Wayland slowly turned to me.

​"Iron, I very much dislike being played for a fool," the Count said quietly. His guards simultaneously placed their hands on their sword hilts.

​I felt cold sweat trickling down my back.

​"Your alchemist's magic looks for mana," I replied calmly, though everything inside was tightening. "But this object doesn't run on mana. It runs on logic. Step back."

​I approached the warehouse wall where an ordinary rusty hook for hanging a lantern jutted from the brickwork. Instead of pulling it, I pressed a specific brick three rows below while simultaneously turning the hook counter-clockwise.

​A metallic click rang out.

​Part of the floor inside the warehouse, covered in coal, began to lower slowly. The thin gaps between the stone slabs were fitted so perfectly they were impossible to notice from the outside. The slab receded down on hydraulic pistons.

​The Count's alchemist recoiled, the device in his hands never even flinching.

​"How... how is this possible?" he muttered.

​"Please, Your Excellency. Welcome to 'Point No. 1'."

​How good that Darwin was able to find the Point in advance and pass it to me through Elyria, I thought.

​Wayland walked to the edge of the shaft. Below, in the light of our torches, the black composite of the walls shimmered—exactly like in his castle.

​"You actually opened it," the Count breathed. There was awe in his voice.

​The Count stared down in silence for a few seconds.

​"Darwin."

​"...Light it up."

​He pressed a lever at the entrance. Deep in the shaft, dim lamps flickered to life, powered by our primitive chemical reactor. The light was uneven, shimmering, but it revealed a staircase descending into the depths of the earth.

​"We will descend tomorrow," the Count said suddenly, stepping back from the edge. "Today... I need to digest this. Walter! Organize a perimeter guard. No one is to enter here without my knowledge."

​I barely suppressed a sigh of relief.

​I thought this only happened in movies, the thought flashed.

​The first test was passed. We showed him the "entrance," but the most dangerous part—the functioning computing center and our own workshops on the lower tiers—remained hidden behind the false walls Darwin had managed to erect.

​"As you wish, Your Excellency," I bowed my head slightly. "Darwin will show you to your quarters. And I... I think I'll go sit down."

​I walked away slowly, feeling Wayland's heavy gaze on my back.

​When we were alone behind the corner of the workshop, Darwin caught me by the arm.

​"Do you even realize, Iron, that we’re on the edge? If his alchemist thinks to scan through the warehouse walls, he’ll see our new pistons."

​"Look at him, he’s clearly a novice, he won't think of it," I whispered. "The main thing now is to survive this night. And not let the Count go too deep."

​"But won't he be able to guess?"

​"No. Since I haven't seen the Point itself or what you've done, my emotions will be genuine. It sounds stupid, of course, but we have to rely on them."