Chapter 51: Eyes of Britannia
The morning sun filtered through the iron-trimmed glass of the Palacio Real’s west atrium, casting a pale glow on the polished tiles as the heavy bronze doors swung open.
Prince Lancelot stood at the top of the stairway in full regent attire—dark navy coat trimmed with silver embroidery, his gloves tucked neatly beneath one arm. At his side, Alicia adjusted the folds of her overcoat, scanning the courtyard below as the carriage of the Britannian delegation rolled to a halt.
"Three carriages," she murmured. "Not just diplomats. They’ve brought experts."
"Good," Lancelot said calmly. "Let them see what progress looks like."
The lead envoy stepped out first—a tall, balding man with a face sculpted in stern lines. Lord Halworth, Lord Chancellor of the Britannian Isles, dressed in a gray coat with understated brass buttons. Behind him, engineers, scribes, and what appeared to be a sanitation scholar followed, blinking at the unfamiliar heat.
A herald stepped forward and announced in both Castilian and Britannian tongues, "His Grace, Prince-Regent Lancelot of Aragon, welcomes the honored delegation of the Isles."
Polite applause followed.
Lancelot descended the steps and offered a firm handshake. "Lord Halworth, welcome to Madrid."
The man’s grip was equally firm. "An honor, Your Highness. We’ve read many reports—none quite prepared us for the smell."
Lancelot chuckled. "Then let me show you what causes it—and what cures it."
Within the hour, the delegation had been escorted to the southern ward of Lavapiés, where the first of the permanent filtration stations was nearing completion. The site, once a muddy depression between overcrowded tenements, had been transformed. Stonework platforms, covered pits, gravel layers, and iron-handled sluice gates were all being monitored by local workers and engineering students alike.