Chapter 104: Approval
The meeting did not end after the king approved the project.
If anything, that was the moment the real discussion began.
Servants entered carrying additional chairs while attendants rolled maps across the large conference table. Officials who had not even been present during the demonstration somehow began appearing one after another as word spread through the palace. By the time Ernest looked around the room, he realized the gathering had transformed from a royal audience into something much larger.
It had become a planning session.
The Minister of Finance arrived first, followed shortly by the Ministers of Trade and Infrastructure. Representatives from the Royal Army appeared next, along with several naval officers from the Admiralty. Clerks carrying notebooks squeezed into whatever space remained while aides lined the walls with ink and parchment ready to record every decision.
All of it because of a single machine sitting quietly on a table near the window.
The telegraph looked almost unimpressive now that the excitement of the demonstration had passed. A few coils of wire, a battery, and a key mechanism rested on polished wood while sunlight from the afternoon window reflected softly against the brass fittings.
It looked harmless.
Ordinary, even.
Meanwhile half the government of the Kingdom of Belfast stood around it discussing how it might change the kingdom forever.
The first person to truly grasp the implications was the Minister of Finance.
Lord Pembroke adjusted his spectacles and stared at the telegraph wire running across the room as though seeing something invisible hidden within it.
"If provincial tax offices could report revenues weekly instead of monthly..." he muttered.
The sentence trailed off before he suddenly fell silent.
His eyes widened.
"No."
He slowly lowered himself into a chair.
"Daily."
Several heads turned toward him.
"The Treasury could know the financial condition of every province almost immediately," he said quietly. "Tax shortfalls, shortages, surpluses, failed harvests. We would know before problems reached the capital."
The room grew noticeably quieter.
King Edward leaned back in his chair and smiled.
"I had much the same thought."
Lord Pembroke let out a slow breath.
"I understand now why Your Majesty approved the budget so quickly."
Across the room, the Minister of Trade appeared equally disturbed by the possibilities.
Merchants lived and died by information.
Grain prices changed daily.
Ships arrived early or late depending on weather.
Markets rose and collapsed based on rumors that often traveled slower than the events themselves.
The minister turned toward Ernest.
"Could private merchants eventually use this system?"
"Eventually, yes."
"How long is eventually?"
Ernest considered the question carefully.
"After the military and government network is established, dedicated commercial lines between major cities and ports would be possible. Belfast, Northport, Eastgate, Ravenford. The infrastructure could support it."
The man stared at him.
"Merchants could learn grain prices in another city before their competitors even leave port."
"Probably."
"Good God."
The Admiralty representative stepped forward next.
Unlike the ministers, the admiral wasted little time imagining economic opportunities.
His thoughts went directly toward war.
The older officer spread a map across the table and pointed toward the northern coastline.
"If one of our fleets encounters an enemy force near Northport, how quickly could the capital know?"
"Minutes."
The admiral looked up immediately.
"Minutes?"
"Assuming the line already exists, yes."
The officer slowly straightened.
"For generations we’ve relied on ships carrying reports back to the capital. Even under ideal conditions that takes days."
He looked toward King Edward.
"Your Majesty, do you understand what this means for naval operations?"
The king folded his hands together.
"I believe I’m beginning to."
The admiral shook his head.
"Respectfully, sir, I don’t think any of us fully understand it yet."
That statement lingered in the room because everyone knew it was true.
The telegraph was one of those inventions whose consequences extended far beyond its original purpose. People could see the immediate applications, but the larger changes remained hidden somewhere in the future.
Even Ernest couldn’t predict all of them.
History had a habit of underestimating communication revolutions.
Railways changed transportation.
The telegraph would change information itself.
One moved people and goods.
The other moved knowledge.
The Minister of Infrastructure finally broke the silence.
"How many support poles would be required between Belfast and Northport?"
Ernest quickly estimated the numbers.
"One pole approximately every forty to fifty meters depending on terrain and weather conditions."
The minister frowned.
"That many?"
"The wires require support. Wind loading and sag become serious problems over long distances."
Lord Ashford reached for a notebook.
"Three hundred kilometers," he murmured while writing figures. "That comes to roughly six thousand poles."
Several officials exchanged looks.
Someone near the back of the room let out a low whistle.
The infrastructure minister rubbed his forehead.
"That is practically an entire forestry project by itself."
"It is an entire forestry project," Ernest replied. "It is also a mining project for copper, a metallurgy project for wire production, a chemical project for insulation materials, and a training project for maintenance crews and operators."
The minister stared at him.
"This machine becomes more expensive every time you speak."
King Edward chuckled.
"It also becomes more valuable every time he speaks."
That effectively ended the argument.
Eventually Lord Ashford stood and approached the map hanging on the wall.
"We need priorities."
The room immediately focused on him.
The Prime Minister pointed at Belfast.
"Phase One begins here."
His finger moved north.
"Belfast to Northport."
Then east.
"Belfast to Eastgate."
Finally west.
"Belfast to Ravenford."
No one objected.
The three largest cities in the kingdom.
The three most important economic centers.
The three locations whose connection would provide the greatest military and political advantage.
King Edward looked toward Ernest.
"How long would construction require?"
"For all three routes?"
"Yes."
Ernest thought for several moments before answering.
"Assuming funding remains available and material production can scale appropriately, approximately one year."
Several ministers looked surprised.
"Only one year?" the king asked.
Ernest shook his head.
"One year for the first network."
Understanding spread almost immediately.
The first railway always took the longest.
The first steam engine required decades of experimentation.
The first factory created methods that later factories copied.
Infrastructure accumulated knowledge.
Knowledge accelerated construction.
Lord Ashford smiled.
"You already intend to improve the process while building it."
"Of course."
The Prime Minister laughed quietly.
"I should stop being surprised whenever you say things like that."
By the time the meeting finally ended, the sun had already begun descending toward the horizon.
Officials departed carrying documents beneath their arms while conversations continued in hallways and staircases throughout the palace. Clerks hurried between offices while military officers debated deployment priorities near the entrance.
Somewhere during the past several hours, the Royal Telegraph Project had quietly transformed from an experiment into official state policy.
The realization felt absurd.
Two months earlier Ernest had been trying to convince factory workers that batteries would not explode if handled properly.
Now ministers were debating nationwide communications infrastructure.
Life had become ridiculous again.
Somehow that no longer surprised him.
The journey back to Helmarte proved considerably quieter than the trip to the capital.
Mostly because Hollen looked overwhelmed.
Again.
The forge owner spent nearly an hour staring out the carriage window before finally speaking.
"You know what bothers me?"
"What?"
"The king approved the project before asking what it would cost."
Ernest smiled.
"He did."
"Kings usually ask about money first."
"Good kings ask about value first."
Hollen considered that for a while before nodding slowly.
"Fair enough."
Outside, farmers worked distant fields beneath the orange glow of late afternoon sunlight while children chased each other beside dirt roads connecting villages and farms. Smoke rose from chimneys while carts moved steadily toward nearby markets.
Life continued exactly as it always had.
Nobody outside the palace knew that the kingdom had just committed itself to constructing the first electrical communications network in human history.
History often worked that way.
People living through important moments rarely recognized them at the time.
They still worried about harvests.
Still argued over prices.
Still complained about weather.
Civilizations changed quietly before anyone noticed.
Then suddenly everyone wondered how the world had ever worked any other way.
Hollen interrupted his thoughts.
"So what happens now?"
"Now comes the difficult part."
"The engineering?"
"No."
Ernest shook his head.
"The politics."
The older man looked genuinely surprised.
"Politics?"
"Copper producers will fight for contracts. Forestry companies will want supply agreements. Glassmakers, transport companies, construction firms, mining operators. Everyone will want a piece of the project."
Understanding slowly appeared on Hollen’s face.
"This touches almost every industry."
"Exactly."
The forge owner sighed heavily.
"I preferred the engineering answer."
"So do I."
Three days later the first government delegation arrived at Helmarte Machine Works.
Delegation, however, felt like the wrong word.
Invasion seemed considerably more accurate.
Surveyors arrived first.
Then procurement officials.
Then treasury representatives.
Military engineers appeared not long afterward, followed by accountants, clerks, and several officers who apparently existed solely to ask questions and write down the answers.
By midday Ernest’s office contained more government officials than factory employees.
One treasury representative looked around the room with visible disappointment.
"I expected something larger."
Hollen immediately frowned.
"This office built steam engines."
The official blinked.
"That wasn’t criticism."
"It sounded like criticism."
Ernest wisely chose not to participate in that conversation.
The following week disappeared beneath mountains of paperwork.
Material requirements.
Cost estimates.
Construction schedules.
Maintenance procedures.
Training programs.
Manufacturing targets.
At some point Ernest realized he had spent nearly three hours discussing standardized telegraph pole dimensions.
That realization disturbed him slightly.
Industrialization had somehow transformed him into the sort of person who debated wooden pole specifications with genuine enthusiasm.
The worst part was that he actually enjoyed it.
One evening he remained alone in his office reviewing maps for the Northport route when a knock interrupted his concentration.
"Enter."
Hollen stepped inside carrying two cups of tea.
"Still working?"
"Always."
"Healthy attitude."
"It really isn’t."
"Fair point."
For several minutes both men studied the map in silence.
Eventually Hollen pointed toward the northern coastline.
"Why Northport first?"
"Because wars are won by logistics."
The forge owner raised an eyebrow.
"The navy protects Belfast from there. The army crosses the channel from there. Supplies arrive through there. If Northport can communicate instantly with the capital, every military operation becomes easier."
Hollen nodded slowly.
"You’re starting to think like generals."
Ernest smiled.
"No. I’m thinking like an engineer."
The older man looked confused.
"What’s the difference?"
"Generals think about battles."
Ernest tapped the map.
"Engineers think about systems."
Hollen stared at him for several seconds before laughing.
"That sounded incredibly arrogant."
"Probably."
"Still true though."
Outside, the factory continued its familiar rhythm.
Steam hissed through pipes.
Machinery turned steadily in the distance.
Workers shouted instructions across workshops filled with iron and smoke.
The industrial district kept growing around them.
Ernest’s eyes drifted toward the oil lamp sitting quietly on his desk.
Hollen noticed immediately.
"Oh no."
"What?"
"You looked at the lamp again."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
The older man pointed accusingly.
"What are you planning this time?"
"Nothing."
"That answer concerns me."
Honestly, it concerned Ernest as well.
Because batteries were improving.
Wire production was improving.
Electrical theory was improving.
The pieces were slowly assembling themselves whether he intended them to or not.
The telegraph had opened a door.
Behind it waited generators, electric motors, lighting systems, and industries that belonged centuries in the future.
He wasn’t trying to build them.
Not yet.
But history possessed momentum.
And momentum rarely asked permission.
As evening settled over Helmarte, lamps and lanterns slowly appeared throughout the city beyond the factory walls.
Small islands of fire pushed back against the darkness.
Ernest watched them quietly before glancing once more toward the battery resting on the corner of his desk.
Stored electricity.
Controlled electricity.
Useful electricity.
Humanity stood on the edge of something entirely new.
They simply didn’t know it yet.
Behind him, Hollen sighed.
"You’re smiling again."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
The older man narrowed his eyes.
"Should I be worried?"
Ernest considered the question seriously.
Then he smiled even wider.
"Probably."
Hollen closed his eyes.
"Wonderful."
Somewhere beyond the factory walls, the future had just become significantly more complicated.
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