Chapter 43: Well Of Sorrows

When the ducal carriage and the heavy wagons arrived, the villagers didn’t even move. When in normal days, the sight of a ducal carriage in an ordinary village should have made anyone celebrate and brag for months.

But at that moment, they sat in the shadows of their crumbling stone huts. Their eyes were hollow as they watched the massive shape of the wagon with simmering resentment.

To them, the machine looked like a funeral pyre on wheels.

"They’re wary," Ace murmured, his hand resting instinctively on his sword hilt as the crowd began to gather at a distance.

Evelina stepped out of the carriage. For once in a long time, she didn’t look at the machine.

She looked at a woman sitting by the dry well, clutching a child whose skin looked like parchment.

Evelina called out, her voice clear and carrying across the silent plaza, "The provisions."

At her command, the guards threw back the canvas covers of the trailing wagons. The scent hit the crowd first; the rich, earthy smell of fresh-baked bread and the cool scent of clean water stored in clay jars.

"By order of the Duchess," the guards announced, "Distribution begins now."

The shift in the crowd was instantaneous.

The fear didn’t vanish, but it was buried under the primal urge to survive.

Evelina didn’t stand back on a dais to watch. She took a loaf of bread and a cup of water, walking directly to the woman by the well.

"Eat," Evelina said softly, pressing the bread into the woman’s trembling hands.

"Bless you... bless you, My Lady," the woman sobbed, the tears carving clean tracks through the dust on her face. She fell to her knees, kissing the hem of Evelina’s gown.

Soon, the air was filled with the sound of weeping and prayers.

Evelina felt a sudden, sharp ache in her chest.

In her past life, she had fought for scraps of affection, for a seat at a table, for a glance from people who hated her. She had spent a lifetime wanting to beseen.

But seeing these people, seeing how such basic necessities could move an entire village to tears, it cracked the armor she had worn around her heart in this life.

Her eyes grew misty, the gold of her [Merchant’s Eye] flickering as her emotions surged.

At this moment, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was heavy and calming.

Ace stood there without uttering a word. But the comforting aura around him grounded Evelina.

He took a water jar from a guard and began to serve the men nearby, following her lead. The Iron Duke, a man who had led charges through wars and kingdoms, was now handing out cups of water with a gentleness that left the villagers stunned.

As the sun reached its peak, the mood changed. The villagers looked at the massive iron machine being unloaded by the guards and smiths.

They whispered to one another, words likedark magicandclockwork demonsfloated through the air but they didn’t retreat or charge.

Probably because they have been fed and they felt seen, they showed a hint of a fragile faith in the woman who had personally served them.

It took three hours to position the iron monster over the mouth of the dry well.

Victor Thorne moved like a man possessed, connecting the deep-bore drill to the steam assembly. The coal was shoveled into the furnace, and soon, a column of black smoke began to rise into the orange sky.

The machine began to hum. It was a low-frequency vibration that shook the very soles of the villagers’ feet.

"Ready," Victor gasped, looking at Evelina. His face was slick with sweat and grease, "The pressure is at the red line. If we don’t release it now, the boiler will blow."

The crowd fell into a deathly silence and even the wind seemed to stop. Hundreds of eyes were fixed on the Duchess.

Evelina stepped onto the iron platform. She looked at Ace, who stood at the base of the machine, his hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend her if the crowd turned or the machine failed. He gave her a single, firm nod as if saying:I am here.

Evelina reached for the brass-tipped lever. It was hot to the touch, vibrating with the caged energy of the steam.

"In the name of the North," she whispered.

And then, she pulled the lever.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened.

The place drowned in a sinking silence.

Suddenly, the iron seemed to have erupted into a scream.

A deafening hiss of escaping steam tore through the silence as a white plume shooting twenty feet into the air.

Deep beneath the stone, a rhythmicclank-thud, clank-thudbegan to accelerate. The pistons began to move, rising and falling.

The villagers screamed, some falling to their backs, others crossing themselves in terror. The machine shook and the copper pipes groaned under the strain of the vacuum being created miles below.

Then, the sound changed gradually. It went from a dry metallic clatter to a wet slap.

With a sound like a thunderclap, the main valve exploded open.

A geyser crystal clear ice-cold subterranean water erupted from the mouth of the well. It hit the top of the iron derrick and cascaded down in a shimmering curtain, catching the light of the dying sun.

The water roared to life by flooding the stone basin, overflowing onto the parched earth and turning the dust into mud in seconds.

The villagers stood frozen for a split second before a roar of pure joy erupted. They ran toward the geyser, reaching out to touch the water as if it was heaven’s magical nectar.

Evelina stood on the platform, the spray of the water drenching her hair and gown. She looked down at Ace.

He was already looking up at her, the water splashing against his face..

"You did it," he mouthed over the roar of the machine.

[Global Influence: 15%->25%]

[ERROR! Target Ace’s devotion levels reaching Sacrificial!]