Episode 32 — The Master of Stone and the Shut-in’s Grand Design.

The man sitting on my living room sofa looked as if a boulder had decided to sprout limbs and put on clothes.

He had sun-baked, swarthy skin, a messy beard streaked with grey, and thick hands covered in layers of heavy calluses. This was Garam, the man Bartos had introduced to me. Apparently, he was a descendant of the dwarves who had settled here ages ago and was known as the finest stonemason in all of Felsen.

“So, you’re Zect, then? What’s this all about? Master Bartos dragged me away from the site, huffing and puffing about some ‘job that’ll rewrite history.’”

Garam’s voice was deep and heavy, like a low rumble in the earth. His eyes had the sharp glint unique to those who command a workforce on the front lines.

“Ah, sorry for calling you out so suddenly, Garam. …Actually, for the construction of the new city, I’m planning to get rid of the wells entirely.”

When I said it so casually, Garam’s eyes widened for a second before he let out a scoffing laugh.

“…Get rid of the wells? Are you sane, boy? Humans can’t last a day without water. What are you going to do—have your mages make it rain from the sky forever?”

“No, that’s not it. Wells are unhygienic, and the water supply is unstable. Instead, I’m going to run ‘artificial blood vessels’ through the entire city. A system where water comes out just by turning a handle, no matter where you are… I’m building a waterworks network.”

I spread a sheet of paper I’d brought from the study on the table—the “Urban Piping Network: General Overview” outputted by the Translation Printer. Garam knit his brows and peered at it.

“What are these lines…? You’re telling me you’re going to run stone pipes through the ground this meticulously? …Besides, Mr. Zect. No matter how precisely you carve the stone, once the water pressure hits, it’ll leak from the joints. If pipes buried underground start leaking, the whole city will sink into a marsh.”

“Yeah, you’re exactly right. That’s why we won’t just connect them. We’ll use ‘sealing’… inserting elastic cushions to fill the gaps. Garam, do you have any flexible materials around here, like a waterproof resin made from processed tree sap?”

“Waterproof resin… aye, we have that. But if you bury that stuff underground, it’s over once it rots. You’ll just end up having to dig everything up again, won’t you?”

Garam’s point was valid. In buried infrastructure, the greatest enemies are “aging” and “lack of access.”

“That’s why these pipes won’t be one continuous piece. At fixed intervals, we’ll build vertical access shafts large enough for a person to enter—manholes. We’ll modularize the system so parts can be inspected and replaced from there. We’ll build it on the premise that things *will* break, so we only need to swap out the old parts. That way, we can maintain these ‘blood vessels’ almost semi-permanently without ever digging up the city again. …It’s what we call the concept of maintenance.”

“You’re going to build it… specifically so it can be replaced?”

Garam was speechless. For builders of this era, structures were either “finished until they broke” or required “massive reconstruction.” The rational system of “maintainability,” looking centuries into the future, was clearly a shock to his common sense.

“…Furthermore, Garam. The biggest problem is the volume of water.”

I scribbled some figures onto the side of the blueprint.

“I did a rough Fermi estimation based on the projected population of the new city. If one person uses 200 liters a day, 10,000 people need 2,000 tons. When you factor in agriculture and fire prevention, simply drawing from the river won’t be enough during the dry season. It’d be like trying to drink a giant cup of water through a tiny straw.”

“…Two thousand tons. Aye, the little stream around here wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“Exactly. That’s why we’re going to dam up the canyon upstream and create a massive reservoir… a ‘dam.’ We’ll store a vast amount of water there and use potential energy to flush it down to the city through natural pressure.”

Garam remained silent, his eyes scanning every inch of the blueprint. His finger stopped at one particular section: a series of enormous hollow chambers drawn deep beneath the piping network.

“…Mr. Zect, what is this ‘giant hole’ at the bottom of the map? It’s much deeper than the pipes. It’s wide enough to be another city underground. Is this another reservoir?”

“Oh, that? That’s an ‘underground discharge tunnel’ for flood control.”

“…Flood control?”

“Even with a dam, the city might flood if we get a once-in-a-century rainstorm. So, we’ll temporarily divert the excess water there and store it underground. Once the rain stops, we slowly release it back into the river. …I figured with this, we could eliminate not just ‘wells’ from this city, but the very word ‘flood’ as well.”

Garam wasn't laughing anymore.
He realized that this soft-spoken, shut-in young man wasn't just trying to make a convenient tool.
He was creating water to sustain tens of thousands, maintaining it for centuries, and protecting the residents even from natural disasters.
This was a blueprint for an “immortal city” that a stonemason could previously only have seen in a dream.

“We’ll use ‘Magical Concrete’ with increased density through magic, and build it in blocks to allow for structural ‘play.’ …What do you think, Garam? This ‘Dam’ and ‘Underground Temple’—don’t you think it’s a much more interesting job than digging wells?”

Garam stared at the blueprints for a long while. Eventually, he scratched his head with his thick fingers and let out a fearless grin.

“…Ha! You’ve got that right. A man is lucky to see a drawing this insane once in a lifetime. …Fine, Mr. Zect. This ‘Dam’ thing—we’ll be the ones to give it shape. In exchange, tell Master Bartos to round up every able-bodied man in Felsen. This is a job for the history books; it won't come cheap.”

The living room filled with the heated spirit of a craftsman. I took a sip of my cola and gave a relaxed smile.

(…Good. Looks like I’ve won over the foreman.)