Chapter 77: More Completed Projects
The sun had barely crested the rooftops of Madrid, yet the capital was already abuzz with anticipation. The grand plaza outside the Royal Municipal Hall teemed with workers in blue coveralls, schoolchildren waving miniature flags, and foreign dignitaries dressed in subdued silks and polished boots. At the center of the square, a gleaming brass podium had been erected, its polished surface reflecting the dawn light like fire.
Beneath their feet, the ground was no longer what it had once been.
"Two hundred kilometers of sewage tunnels," declared Chief Architect Lorenzo Vidal to the assembled officials. "Five separate intercepting lines. Two treatment reservoirs north and east. And for the first time in this city’s history—no human waste in the drinking water."
Prince Lancelot stood beside him, his gloved hands resting on the ceremonial blueprint case strapped to the table. Unlike his usual navy coat, today he wore an ivory overcoat with silver trim, the symbol of civic dedication worn by past monarchs during major infrastructural reforms. His face, however, bore none of the pomp. He looked tired, older than his twenty-six years, though his voice carried clear when he finally addressed the crowd.
"Madrid once drowned in its own waste," he said bluntly. "Streets flooded during rains. Cholera, dysentery, and rot carved through families like blades. You all remember it. I remember it."
He paused, letting the memory settle in the air.
"This is the end of that Chapter."
He pulled a lever embedded in the podium. A deep metallic groan resonated beneath the plaza. Then, a rumble. Fountains of clear, treated water erupted from four industrial spouts stationed in each corner of the square—each one purified from the new system’s final filters. The crowd gasped, then broke into roaring applause.
It was more than a symbolic act. For the thousands of city workers, engineers, and families present, it was a victory over something invisible but deadly. A victory that would never be celebrated in parades or etched into medals—but one that saved lives.
Lancelot stepped down and shook hands with the senior engineers. Beside him, a foreign observer from Prussia—a thin man with wire-framed spectacles and an ever-present notebook—murmured to his assistant.
"They’ve done it," he said. "Sewage management without British pumps. By gravity and filtration alone."
Another diplomat from Denmark muttered, "And those rail lines... they’re laying copper beneath the curbs. This isn’t just sanitation. It’s electrification."