Chapter 117: Start the Construction
The following morning began before sunrise.
By the time Ernest’s carriage departed Oriel Estate, the eastern horizon was only beginning to brighten beneath a blanket of pale grey clouds. Morning mist clung stubbornly to the fields surrounding Helmarte while the roads remained quiet except for farmers heading toward their land and merchants preparing their wagons for another day of trade.
Beside him, Hollen looked remarkably unhappy to be awake.
"This had better be important."
Ernest glanced at him.
"It is important."
"You say that every time."
"Because every time it is."
The older man crossed his arms.
"I miss the days when important meant deciding what scent to add to soap."
"Those days ended approximately three years ago."
"Unfortunately."
The carriage rolled onward.
Behind them followed two additional wagons carrying survey equipment, food supplies, measuring chains, tents, stakes, tools, and enough paperwork to make several government offices jealous.
Construction projects had a remarkable ability to generate paperwork.
Some things apparently transcended worlds.
By the time they reached Beryl District, the sun had finally climbed above the horizon.
The valley looked almost exactly as Ernest remembered from his first visit.
The stream cut through the landscape in a gentle curve before disappearing into the forests further downstream. Morning light reflected off the water while mist drifted lazily above the surface.
It was peaceful and quiet.
The first workers were already arriving.
Surveyors unloaded tripods and measuring equipment while laborers began unloading timber stakes from the wagons. Several carpenters were assembling temporary tables beneath canvas shelters while teamsters watered horses near the edge of the clearing.
Master Mason Clarke climbed down from another wagon and surveyed the valley.
Then he looked toward Ernest.
"I dislike how beautiful this place is."
Ernest raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"Because beautiful places always become difficult construction sites. And also, this is a gated community..."
Unfortunately...
He wasn’t wrong.
The survey teams began immediately.
Chains stretched across the ground while markers appeared throughout the valley floor. Workers hammered stakes into the earth while Samuel Wren walked slowly behind them making notes on maps and measurements.
Ernest joined him.
"We got permission to build and it’s not going to be that big. And once completed, who knows, the residents might benefit from this project, So how is it going?"
Samuel studied his notes.
"Better than expected."
That was promising.
"The powerhouse location is stable bedrock approximately one and a half meters below surface level."
"Excellent."
"The intake position is also good."
Another pause.
"The penstock route worries me."
Ernest looked up.
"The ridge?"
Samuel nodded.
"We’ll need additional excavation here."
He pointed toward a section of hillside roughly halfway between the intake and powerhouse locations.
"The slope becomes steeper than expected."
Ernest studied it for several moments.
"Can we avoid it?"
"Not without increasing pipe length significantly."
Longer pipes meant greater friction losses.
Greater friction losses meant lower efficiency.
Lower efficiency meant less electricity.
He shook his head.
"No. Keep the current alignment."
Samuel nodded and wrote something down.
Nearby, another team began marking the access road.
Clarke watched them for several moments before walking over.
"Four meters wide?"
"Correct."
The mason looked toward the surrounding terrain.
"We’ll need to remove approximately thirty trees."
"Remove them."
"You’re unusually comfortable destroying forests for someone starting a timber company."
Ernest laughed.
"I’m not opposed to cutting trees. Only to running out of them."
"Exactly."
That earned an approving nod.
Responsible forestry wasn’t complicated.
Cut trees.
Plant trees.
Repeat forever.
History had somehow managed to complicate that remarkably simple process.
By late morning, the first sections of forest clearing had already begun.
Axes echoed through the valley while workers removed brush and undergrowth from the future road route. Survey stakes marked the edges of future excavations while engineers moved constantly between work crews answering questions and adjusting plans.
For the first time, the project felt real.
Hollen walked over carrying two cups of coffee.
"Here."
Ernest accepted one gratefully.
"Thanks."
The older man looked around the valley.
"It’s beginning."
"Yes."
"Strange feeling."
Ernest nodded.
He understood exactly what Hollen meant.
Factories felt different.
Factories were expansions.
This felt more like founding something entirely new.
Hollen followed his gaze toward the stream.
"Do you realize what this place will become in a year?"
Ernest smiled slightly.
"Hopefully it’ll boost attractions and possibly start a new industry."
"There it goes again," Hollen chuckled.
The older man shook his head.
Hollen continued. "Soap made people cleaner. Steam engines made factories larger. The telegraph made communication faster."
He looked toward the stream.
"But this...This feels different somehow."
Ernest remained silent.
Because he understood.
Electricity wasn’t another product. It wasn’t another machine. It was infrastructure.
Foundational technology.
The kind of thing civilizations quietly rebuilt themselves around.
Eventually Hollen spoke again.
"Though admittedly important things usually become expensive."
That earned a laugh.
Nearby, shouting suddenly erupted.
Not angry shouting. Construction shouting.
The universal language of men attempting to move something heavier than originally anticipated.
Both turned toward the sound.
A group of laborers were attempting to position one of the larger survey markers near the future intake location.
The marker refused to cooperate.
Spectacularly.
Clarke arrived moments later.
"What happened?"
"The ground is harder than expected."
The mason looked down.
Then snorted.
"Because that’s a rock."
The worker blinked.
"Oh."
"Try moving two feet to the left."
The marker went in immediately.
Construction, it seemed, remained construction regardless of century.
By afternoon, the temporary camp had begun taking shape.
Carpenters assembled barracks frames while cooks established kitchens near the edge of the clearing. A well location had already been selected while trenches for latrines were being dug a safe distance downstream from the camp.
Ernest specifically inspected those personally.
Clarke noticed immediately.
"You’re checking latrines."
"Yes."
"Most industrialists inspect machinery."
"Disease kills more projects than equipment failures."
The mason considered that.
Eventually he nodded.
"Fair point."
History agreed. Entire armies had learned that lesson repeatedly.
Construction projects too.
Clean water and proper sanitation looked boring right up until people started dying without them.
As evening approached, the valley had changed completely.
Road markers stretched toward the horizon.
Survey stakes covered the future powerhouse site.
Trees marked for removal bore bright paint.
Temporary buildings rose near the construction camp.
For the first time, the future hydroelectric station existed physically in the world instead of solely inside Ernest’s head.
Clarke approached carrying a hammer.
"Well?"
Ernest looked at him.
"Well what?"
"Every project needs a beginning."
The mason held out the hammer.
Realization struck immediately.
The first stake.
Of course.
Ernest accepted it.
The gathered workers fell quiet as he walked toward the center marker designating the future powerhouse foundation.
The stake stood waiting.
He raised the hammer.
Then brought it down.
The sound echoed across the valley.
When he stepped back, the marker stood firmly in the earth.
Clarke nodded.
"Now we’re committed."
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