Chapter 47: Beneath the Capital Part 2
By the time Prince Lancelot emerged from the eastern shaft of the sewerworks, the sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the city skyline. The once-smoggy afternoon sky now held the soft pastels of evening—an Aragonese blue tinged with gold, as if the heavens themselves watched and waited for what would come next.
A steam carriage waited at the entrance of the worksite, hissing and clanking softly, its driver snapping to salute as Lancelot approached.
"Back to the palace, Your Highness?"
Lancelot shook his head. "No. Take me to the Chamber of Ministers."
The driver blinked. "Shall I—notify them?"
"They’ll already be there," the prince said quietly, climbing aboard.
The Chamber of Ministers was located within a neoclassical wing of the old Cortes building—one of the few sites in Madrid that had been spared during the riots of 1785. The stone lions at the foot of the stairs had been cleaned, the bullet marks on the doors filled in, but the sense of history remained—an echo of both failure and progress.
Inside, the ministers stood in various states of readiness. Some were deep in discussion, maps of the capital spread across tables. Others shuffled stacks of fiscal reports, city health records, and water table data. Only a few noticed when Lancelot entered.
"Gentlemen. Ladies," he announced with clarity, "Madrid’s lungs are almost finished. Now we must build its heart."
The room quieted.
He stepped forward, placing a rolled scroll on the central table and unrolling it with care. The parchment revealed a detailed plan—dozens of red lines threading beneath the city like veins.