Chapter 97: Choosing the Land
"Well then, before we return to discussing this... telegraph of yours," King Edward said, resting a hand on the edge of his desk, "there remains the promise I made you."
He turned toward the Prime Minister.
"Ashford."
The older man immediately understood.
Without another word, he crossed the room to one of the bookshelves and withdrew a large leather tube. Returning to the desk, he carefully untied its leather straps before unrolling an enormous map across the polished oak surface.
The parchment spread nearly from one end of the desk to the other.
It was far more detailed than the maps Ernest had seen hanging on the walls.
Every county.
Every major road.
Every navigable river.
Forests.
Mountain ranges.
Ports.
Mining districts.
Even noble estates had been carefully marked in different colors.
Lord Ashford placed several brass weights on the corners before looking toward Ernest.
"As His Majesty promised, Baron Teucher, you are entitled to select lands befitting your new title."
He pointed toward several areas shaded in dark green.
"These are Crown lands."
Ernest leaned forward.
"Crown lands?"
The Prime Minister nodded.
"They belong directly to the Crown rather than to any noble family. Some are forests. Others are undeveloped hills, grazing lands, or territories that have never attracted significant settlement."
King Edward smiled.
"You may choose whichever you believe suits your future."
Hollen quietly moved closer to the table.
He had expected perhaps an estate.
A manor.
Several farms.
Certainly not an entire map of the kingdom.
Lord Ashford continued.
"Most barons request fertile farmland."
He indicated a broad plain east of the capital.
"Good harvests."
Another.
"River access."
Another.
"Nearby villages."
He smiled politely.
"I suspect you will do the same."
Ernest didn’t answer immediately.
His eyes had already begun searching.
Not for rivers.
Not for farmland.
Not even for existing towns.
He was looking for geography.
Mountain ranges.
Rock formations.
Coastlines.
His memory drifted back to university.
An engineering lecture.
A history elective he had taken almost on a whim.
A professor discussing why Britain—not France, not Spain, not Italy—had become the birthplace of the Industrial Revolution.
Not because its people were inherently smarter.
Not because its kings were wiser.
Because of geography.
Coal.
Iron.
Navigable rivers.
Natural harbors.
Everything industry required happened to exist within relatively short distances.
His finger slowly moved across the western side of the kingdom.
Mountains.
Rugged terrain.
Sparse settlements.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
He continued scanning.
Then...
His hand stopped.
His heartbeat quickened ever so slightly.
There it was.
A broad mountainous region bordering the western coast.
Several rivers flowed through deep valleys before emptying into a natural harbor.
The region itself appeared largely undeveloped.
Few villages.
Little farmland.
Almost no noble estates.
Yet the terrain...
The terrain looked hauntingly familiar.
Not identical.
But remarkably close.
South Wales.
His memories immediately resurfaced.
The South Wales Coalfield.
One of the richest coal deposits in Britain.
Iron ore.
Limestone.
Coal.
Everything necessary for blast furnaces and steel production.
Entire cities had eventually risen there because of what lay beneath the earth.
Ernest looked toward the Prime Minister.
"This region."
Ashford glanced down.
"The Ravenmoor Highlands?"
So that was its name.
The Prime Minister looked mildly surprised.
"I didn’t expect your attention to settle there."
King Edward walked over to the desk.
"Neither did I."
Ernest remained silent.
Ashford traced the region with one finger.
"Approximately five thousand hectares under direct Crown administration."
He spoke matter-of-factly.
"Mostly hills and mountains."
Another tap.
"Thin soil."
Another.
"Very poor agricultural yields."
He looked toward Ernest.
"Only a handful of shepherding villages."
King Edward added, "Successive barons have shown little interest in it."
"There are no major towns?"
"No."
"No significant estates?"
"No."
The Prime Minister almost smiled.
"In truth, Baron Teucher, this is one of the least desirable Crown properties."
Hollen slowly looked toward Ernest.
Then toward the map.
Then back again.
He knew that expression.
That was the same expression Ernest wore before purchasing flood-damaged soap equipment.
Before building steam engines.
Before opening factories in Eastgate.
Every time Ernest looked at something everyone else considered worthless...
It somehow became valuable.
The forge owner sighed quietly.
"I know that look."
King Edward raised an eyebrow.
"What look?"
"The one that eventually empties my purse."
Laughter spread around the office.
Even Lord Ashford smiled.
Ernest ignored them.
Instead, he asked another question.
"What lies beneath these mountains?"
The Prime Minister blinked.
"Beneath them?"
"Yes."
Ashford frowned thoughtfully.
"I couldn’t say with certainty."
Another pause.
"There are several abandoned quarries."
He pointed toward two small markings.
"Some iron has been extracted over the centuries."
Another point.
"There have also been reports of black stone being burned by local blacksmiths."
Black stone.
Coal.
Ernest’s pulse quickened.
King Edward noticed immediately.
"You’ve found something."
Ernest smiled.
"I believe I have."
The king folded his arms.
"What do you see that we’re missing?"
The young engineer looked back at the map.
"Potential."
The Prime Minister looked unconvinced.
"It has very little farmland."
"I know."
"The terrain is difficult."
"I know."
"The roads are poor."
"I know."
"There are almost no major settlements."
"I know."
Ashford spread his hands.
"Then why choose it?"
Ernest looked up.
"Because one day, I believe those mountains will become one of the wealthiest regions in Belfast."
The room fell silent.
King Edward studied him carefully.
"You sound remarkably certain."
"I’m confident."
"Based on what?"
Ernest smiled faintly.
"Professional instinct."
That wasn’t entirely a lie.
He simply couldn’t explain that his confidence came from remembering another world’s history.
King Edward looked toward the Prime Minister.
"What do you think?"
Ashford considered the map for several moments before shrugging.
"The Crown has derived little revenue from Ravenmoor for generations."
He looked toward Ernest.
"If Baron Teucher truly wishes to develop it, I see no reason to object."
The king slowly nodded.
"Very well."
He reached for a document already prepared upon his desk.
"Dated this day, by authority of the Crown..."
He signed his name in bold strokes.
"...I hereby grant Baron Ernest Teucher the Crown Estate of Ravenmoor Highlands."
Another signature.
"The estate shall comprise approximately five thousand hectares."
Another.
"Together with all forests, rivers, quarries..."
He paused intentionally.
"...and all mineral rights contained within its boundaries."
Ernest looked up.
Mineral rights.
Exactly what he had hoped for.
Without them, the land itself would have meant very little.
With them...
Everything beneath the mountains now legally belonged to him.
Coal.
Iron.
Limestone.
Perhaps copper.
Perhaps more.
The king handed the signed document to Lord Ashford, who pressed the royal seal into warm crimson wax.
"It is done."
Hollen slowly rubbed his forehead.
"I have absolutely no idea what just happened."
King Edward laughed.
"I suspect neither do we."
Ernest carefully accepted the charter.
It felt surprisingly heavy.
Not because of the parchment.
Because of what it represented.
This wasn’t merely five thousand hectares.
It was the foundation of the kingdom’s future industrial heartland.
If his suspicions proved correct...
Ravenmoor would eventually become priceless.
King Edward returned to his chair.
"Now."
His tone shifted noticeably.
"The reward has been given."
He folded his hands.
"Let us return to matters of state."
The room grew serious once more.
The king looked directly at Ernest.
"You described a machine capable of sending messages across my kingdom in minutes."
"I did."
"I want it."
There was no hesitation.
No bargaining.
No political maneuvering.
Simply a king making a decision.
Lord Ashford opened another folder and began writing notes.
King Edward continued.
"You shall have every assistance the Crown can reasonably provide."
He began counting on his fingers.
"Engineers."
"Surveyors."
"Laborers."
"Military escorts."
"Access to roads."
"Permission to construct upon Crown property."
He looked toward the Prime Minister.
"And funding."
Ashford nodded immediately.
"The Treasury will allocate whatever resources are required."
Hollen’s eyebrows shot upward.
"Whatever resources?"
King Edward answered before Ernest could.
"If the project costs one hundred thousand riels, we shall pay it."
He paused.
"If it costs one million, we shall pay that as well."
The king’s blue eyes met Ernest’s.
"I care little for the expense."
"What I care about..."
He pointed toward the map connecting Belfast and Northport.
"...is seeing that line become reality."
The room became completely still.
Finally, the king spoke the words that transformed the conversation from an interesting discussion into a royal commission.
"You have six months, Baron Teucher."
"The first telegraph line shall connect the Royal Palace in Belfast to the Port Authority of Northport."
He leaned forward.
"I want it operational before the first soldier of Belfast sets foot upon the shores of Valoria."
Ernest looked at the map.
Then at the king.
Six months.
Enough time.
Barely.
A slow smile spread across his face.
Across the room, Hollen closed his eyes.
"There it is."
King Edward frowned.
"What?"
"The smile."
"The smile?"
Hollen nodded with absolute certainty.
"Your Majesty..."
He pointed toward Ernest.
"...something tells me the Kingdom of Belfast is about to change again."
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