The Great Pipe-Lay was not merely a construction project; it was a grueling test of Deacon's ability to outpace both the laws of physics and the eyes of his enemies. In the long-form reality of industrial development, a discovery like the geothermal siphon was useless without the metallurgy to contain it.
Deacon spent his first three days back in the Oakhaven foundries, ignoring the celebratory banquets Julian tried to organize. He stood before the blueprints pinned to the rough stone walls, explaining the fundamental problem to Miller and the senior smiths. To move 180°C steam from the depths of Section 4-B to the surface required pipes that didn't yet exist in the Empire. Cast iron, the standard for water pumps, was too brittle; it would expand unevenly and shatter under the thermal stress, turning the transit tunnels into death traps.
Wrought iron with a higher carbon consistency was the only answer, but it required a more precise control over the furnace temperature than the Oakhaven men were used to. Deacon introduced the concept of the air-blast converter, a method of forcing oxygen through the molten iron to burn off impurities. As the first successful length of high-tensile piping was pulled from the cooling racks, it didn't look like the rough-cast grey of the old pumps. It was dark, smooth, and rang with a clear, bell-like tone when struck with a hammer.
The layout itself was the next hurdle. Deacon's drawings featured strange, U-shaped bends every hundred yards along the line. Miller questioned the design, arguing that the extra pipe would only lead to a drop in pressure. Deacon had to explain the reality of thermal expansion: when the superheated steam hit the line, the metal would physically grow by several inches. Without those expansion loops to absorb the movement, the entire three-mile main would tear itself out of the stone anchors as it tried to expand against the unyielding rock.
Just as the first mile of the pipe-lay was being secured into the tunnel ceilings, the watchman's horn sounded from the valley gate. A caravan of sleek, black carriages bearing the purple-and-gold livery of the Imperial Regulatory Commission rolled into the town square. At the head of the party was Inspector Vane, a man whose face was like pinched parchment and whose eyes missed nothing.
Vane stepped out of his carriage and immediately wiped a smudge of soot from his glove with a silk handkerchief. He cited the new Charter, claiming that the Silver Circle had raised concerns regarding unregulated atmospheric discharges and structural instability in the Oakhaven mines. He was there to conduct a mandatory safety audit of the steam infrastructure under the authority of the Imperial Boiler Safety Acts.
Deacon stood at the mouth of the mine, his forearms stained with grease and a heavy wrench tucked into his belt. He didn't look like a Lord; he looked like a foreman mid-shift. He realized immediately that Vane was not a mere bureaucrat. The man had calluses between his thumb and forefinger that came from handling delicate alchemical glass, not pens. He was a Guild saboteur sent to find a weak point in the steam loop before it could be fully pressurized.
The arrival of the inspector forced Deacon into a dangerous game of industrial misdirection. While Vane was led to the guest quarters by a nervously charming Julian, Deacon pulled Miller aside. He knew that if the inspector found the expansion loops or the primary welds, he would know exactly where to plant a resonance charge to sabotage the system.
Deacon's plan was to lead Vane through a rigged inspection of the old, decommissioned waterworks, presenting them as the "new" infrastructure. While the inspector was occupied with auditing the dummy system and checking useless paperwork, the crews would perform a high-stakes "Hot-Weld" on the primary geothermal main under the cover of the night. It was a race to make the city self-sufficient before Vane could find a legitimate reason to quench the furnaces and shut down the mountain.