CH376 · Rewrite
☕ Support

Chapter 376: The Castle’s New Facilities

“What are those?” Andrea asked, turning a strip of dried fish between her teeth.

The prince of Graycastle was building something again. He was splicing sections of brass tubing together, having Anna fuse the joints with Blackfire and Soroya coat each connection with a layer of magic film. At first glance they looked like the water pipes in the bathroom, but far larger—each segment roughly as thick as a human thigh, impossible for one person to move without Hummingbird cutting the weight. And it was not two or three rooms being fitted: the pipes ran horizontally through the entire castle and the Witch House, entering each room through a corner, connecting with a strange metal grating along the baseboard, crossing to the next room and joining a vertical run at the far end.

The project had drawn a crowd. Witches from Sleeping Island and the Witch Union alike circled the workers, watching.

“Any guesses?” Roland smiled. “Correct answer earns an extra ice cream bread at dinner.”

Ice cream bread. The words landed on Andrea like a hook. It was the most extraordinary food she had encountered since arriving in Border Town—sweet cream sandwiched between two slices of toasted bread, a combination that had no equivalent anywhere in the Kingdom of Dawn. She had fallen in love with it immediately, and Ashes had been making her pay for that ever since. But the teasing changed nothing. The bread was worth it.

“Water pipes for the rooms?” Ashes frowned.

“Obviously not,” Andrea said to herself. Copper was expensive, and the bathroom’s small pipes managed water distribution perfectly well. Why use tubing this size? Though—given that Ashes had indeed said exactly the sort of obvious thing Andrea had been thinking first, she had no intention of saying so aloud.

“What a shallow guess,” said a voice behind Andrea. “His Highness doesn’t do pointless things.”

Incisive. That was precisely what Andrea had been thinking—only better said. She turned.

Nightingale stood a half step back, her chin at exactly the angle that conveyed disdain without effort. Of all the witches in Border Town, she was the one Andrea felt closest to: she had demonstrated extraordinary ability during the rescue at the ruins; she came from a noble background; her hair color was nearly the same shade as Andrea’s own. On the wall, fighting demonic hybrids, Nightingale had sized up Andrea’s ability without ceremony, shared her dried fish without sentimentality, and treated her as an equal. She conducted herself the way a noble should.

Most importantly, she did not like Ashes at all.

Andrea didn’t know the precise origin of the hostility—something from the early days, apparently—but the principle was clear: the enemy of my enemy, and beyond that, a genuinely compatible character.

“You speak as though you know the answer,” Ashes said.

“I’ve been in the office when His Highness drafts his plans,” Nightingale said, with an expression of comfortable superiority. “I’ve seen every drawing.”

“That’s not fair!” Mystery Moon muttered.

“She doesn’t participate in the contest, though,” Roland said. Nightingale’s expression collapsed by a fraction. “Here is a hint: these pipes are only part of the system. Look elsewhere to understand the whole.”

Maggie shot out of the room as a pigeon; Lightning was barely a step behind her. The others scattered in different directions. Andrea let them go ahead. When they had cleared out, she stepped to Nightingale’s side and lowered her voice.

“What is it actually?” She held up one finger. “I’ll give you half my bread tonight if you tell me.”

“I don’t know either,” Nightingale said.

“But you said you’d seen all the drawings—”

“I said I’d seen them. Have you read Natural Science Theoretical Foundation? You can understand each word and still not understand the sentence.” Nightingale’s tone was sympathetic in the way of someone who had already made her peace with this limitation. “Only Anna can look at his drawings and understand his intent. If you ask her, she’ll tell you.”

After Nightingale left, Andrea stood in the corridor and considered it. She did not ask Anna. This was not shyness, and it was not embarrassment—it was something closer to reverence. She had passed the prince’s office once and heard them talking inside, Anna and Roland, and had stopped in the corridor without intending to: high-angle calculation, orbital adjustment with drop-point parameters, the conversion between kinetic and potential energy in an ideal state. She had stood there with goosebumps rising, unable to move. They were both witches. But what Anna was—the particular depth of it, the calm with which she commanded language Andrea could not even enter—placed her at a different elevation. Not higher than Andrea; differently constituted. Andrea’s admiration for her was total and, she had decided, permanent. One did not ask a mountain to explain its altitude.

She had no choice but to find the answer herself.

Following Roland’s hint, she went room to room. Where the installation was finished, a low rectangular metal railing separated the baseboard fitting from the rest of the room. Railings meant danger. Danger meant heat. If the pipes would carry hot water, why not build them smaller? But if they carried something that expanded under heat—

The most useful discovery came on the ground floor of the Witch House. A small stone annexe had been built between the two buildings, new construction. The brass pipes from both sides entered it. Inside stood a large iron box: hollow at the base, a chimney at the top, a pipe from the courtyard well running into the side wall.

A boiler.

If it carried steam rather than water, the size of the pipes made sense. The railings made sense. The heat would be distributed through the pipes into each room and released through the metal grating along the wall.

She had the answer. She simply could not confirm it.

She spent the rest of the afternoon working through the logic and failing to arrive at certainty she could defend.


Before dinner, Roland gathered everyone in the great hall.

“The castle’s heating system is officially in service,” he said, with the mild pleasure of a man who has completed a calculation correctly. “Water is heated in the boiler; steam at high temperature travels through the pipes into each room. As long as the doors and windows are closed, the temperature rises quickly. No fire barrels, no risk of smoke poisoning from poor ventilation. When the system is running, you’ll feel as warm as spring.” He paused. “When calibration is complete, the residential quarter will be fitted with the same system.”

“The ice cream bread winners,” he continued, “are Anna, Soroya, and Hummingbird, who participated in the installation. Among those who guessed correctly without prior knowledge—there was one.”

He looked across the room.

“Tilly.”

Andrea stared at Lady Tilly, who was eating her bread with an expression of perfect serenity, every trace of noble reserve suspended in favor of enjoyment.

Steam, Andrea thought, with a kind of resigned admiration. Of course she saw it first.

Discussion

Suggest a change