Chapter 151: The Progress of Five Years Part 2
The royal procession ended at the newly completed Grand Civic Square, the ceremonial heart of the reconstructed capital.
Five years earlier, the same space had been little more than an uneven field crossed by muddy footpaths and crowded with temporary market stalls. During heavy rain, the ground turned to sludge. During summer, dust covered everything.
Now the square stretched across nearly fifteen acres of granite plazas, landscaped gardens, ornamental fountains, flowering trees, and broad promenades connecting the Royal Palace with the principal government ministries.
Every part of it had been planned around the movement of people.
Wide stairways opened toward the avenues. Covered galleries provided shade along the government buildings. Fountain basins collected and recirculated water through pumps hidden beneath the pavement, while underground drainage channels prevented rain from collecting across the plaza.
By the time the royal carriage arrived, nearly every available space had been filled.
Families crowded balconies overlooking the square. Government officials stood inside designated galleries, while engineers wearing the blue uniforms of the Helmarte Capital Infrastructure Authority gathered near the eastern platform.
An entire section had been reserved for the people who had physically built the city.
Construction workers, surveyors, bricklayers, machinists, blacksmiths, electricians, plumbers, drivers, and laborers stood shoulder to shoulder beneath the morning sun. Many wore the same uniforms they had used at construction sites only days earlier. Some still had calloused hands, faded sleeves, or small burn marks left by years of work.
No one had asked them to dress like nobles.
The ceremony was for them.
The royal carriage came to a stop before the ceremonial platform, and the square erupted the moment King Edward stepped onto the polished granite stairs.
"Long live the King!"
"Long live Belfast!"
The sound rolled between the surrounding buildings and carried far down the connecting avenues. Flags rose above the crowd, children climbed onto shoulders, and workers removed their caps as the King made his way toward the podium.
He did not begin immediately.
For several moments, he simply looked across the square.
From where he stood, much of the completed capital remained visible. The government ministries rose beyond the gardens, their windows and entrances fitted with electric lighting. Farther back stood church towers, schools, hospitals, railway stations, libraries, factories, and entire residential districts connected by the broad avenues that now extended across Helmarte.
There were no cranes left along the skyline.
No unfinished bridges.
No walls of scaffolding.
The reconstruction was over.
King Edward rested both hands on the podium.
"When Baron Ernest Teucher first entered the palace five years ago and presented his plans for Helmarte, many people believed his proposal was impossible."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"I was one of them."
Laughter moved through the square, quiet at first, then warmer when the King allowed himself to smile.
"I believed we could repair the roads. I believed we could improve sanitation in some districts and perhaps modernize several government buildings. I expected progress."
He turned slightly and looked toward the city behind him.
"I did not expect this."
Applause rose from the crowd.
The King waited for it to pass before continuing.
"We did not merely improve Helmarte. We rebuilt it. We replaced streets that had served us for generations, buried entire systems beneath the ground, brought clean water into homes, carried electricity through every district, expanded schools and hospitals, and connected the capital to the rest of the kingdom through railways and modern transport."
His voice remained calm, but it carried clearly across the square.
"That achievement did not belong to one office, one company, or one noble house."
He extended one hand toward the workers gathered near the eastern platform.
"It belonged to the surveyors who measured every street before the first trench was opened. It belonged to the miners who supplied coal and iron, the foundry workers who cast the pipes, the machinists who built the engines, and the bricklayers who spent years underground constructing tunnels most citizens will never see."
The square became increasingly quiet.
"It belonged to the electricians who installed cables through miles of conduits, the plumbers who connected homes one by one, and the laborers who worked through winter rain and summer heat to move stone, timber, steel, and earth."
Several workers lowered their heads.
Some looked toward the ground, uncomfortable with the attention. Others stood rigidly, their expressions tightening as the King continued.
"Many of their names will never appear in history books. Most citizens will never know who laid the water main beneath their home or who inspected the bridge they cross each morning."
He paused.
"But this city will remember them, because their work will remain beneath every road, inside every building, and throughout every district for generations."
The applause began among the workers before spreading across the square.
It lasted far longer than the first.
Men who had spent years carrying stone and steel raised their caps into the air. Engineers clapped beside the laborers they had once supervised, while families in the balconies leaned over the railings to cheer.
Several workers wiped their eyes before pretending to adjust their hats.
They had endured accidents, equipment failures, late deliveries, difficult winters, and deadlines that had often seemed unreasonable. Many had spent years away from their villages and families. Others had remained in the same district for months at a time, watching entire neighborhoods disappear beneath trenches before rising again around them.
For most, the finished city was the only reward they had expected.
Hearing the King acknowledge their work made the moment feel different.
When the applause finally faded, Prime Minister Ashford approached the podium carrying an ornate wooden case. He placed it on the table beside the King and opened it carefully.
Inside rested a royal document sealed with red wax and reinforced with a gold ribbon.
Ashford looked toward Ernest.
"Baron Teucher, please join us."
Ernest stepped onto the platform beneath another wave of applause.
He had attended countless ceremonies during the reconstruction, but this one felt strangely unfamiliar. There were no engineering reports waiting to be reviewed, no maps spread across tables, and no supervisors preparing to explain delays.
For once, there was nothing left to inspect.
Ashford lifted the document from the case.
"By the authority of His Majesty King Edward of Belfast, the Crown recognizes Baron Ernest Teucher for extraordinary service to the kingdom."
An attendant unfolded a second copy so the Prime Minister could read the declaration aloud.
"For his leadership in the reconstruction of Helmarte, for his contributions to engineering, industry, education, science, and public welfare, and for helping transform Belfast into a modern nation, the Crown grants him an honorary title to be carried alongside his name in the history of this kingdom."
Ashford paused and looked directly at Ernest.
"Father of Modern Belfast."
The square fell silent.
The title was simple.
That simplicity gave it weight.
Ernest had received noble rank, royal charters, industrial honors, and government appointments. None of them had described what his work had come to mean to the kingdom as clearly as those four words.
The first cheer rose from the workers’ section.
Others followed almost immediately.
Within seconds, the entire square was on its feet.
"Father of Modern Belfast!"
"Long live Lord Ernest!"
The chant spread through the crowd until it became difficult to distinguish individual voices.
Engineers embraced one another. Workers raised their hats. Children shouted Ernest’s name without fully understanding the title, only knowing that everyone around them was proud.
Even several members of the Royal Council joined the applause.
Among the foreign delegation, the ambassadors watched in silence.
The Ambassador of Valen folded his hands behind his back.
"I have attended coronations, military parades, and the signing of peace treaties," he said quietly. "I have never seen a country celebrate an engineer like this."
The Ambassador of Estra kept his eyes on the crowd.
"Neither have I."
A diplomat from the Kingdom of Arden glanced toward the completed ministries and the avenues beyond them.
"Perhaps that explains why they are ahead of us."
The Estra military attaché studied the square before answering.
"We came here to inspect roads, power stations, and water systems."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"Instead, they showed us how a nation thinks."
No one replied.
There was little to add.
Belfast had not gained influence by conquering territory or assembling the largest army on the continent. Its strength had grown through factories, schools, railways, engineering institutions, skilled workers, and a government willing to support them.
That did not make the kingdom less dangerous.
It made its strength harder to imitate.
After the formal ceremony, King Edward invited Ernest onto the palace-facing balcony overlooking the square.
The crowd below stretched from one end of the plaza to the other.
Thousands of faces looked back at him.
Most were strangers, but several stood out immediately.
Victor and Anna were near the front of the invited families. Hollen stood beside them, dressed more formally than usual but wearing the same satisfied expression he had shown whenever a difficult business decision ended well.
Arthur stood with the HCIA staff.
Chief Engineer Wallace was surrounded by district supervisors and younger engineers. Benjamin Carter spoke with several members of the electrical division, while Guildmaster Frederick stood among senior merchants near the western gallery.
Ernest also recognized several workers from the old forge.
They appeared older now. Some had become supervisors, machinists, or factory managers. Others had remained craftsmen.
Among the nearby families, a few women carried woven baskets containing bars of soap wrapped in familiar paper.
The sight nearly made him laugh.
Helmarte Soap Works had become one of the smallest companies inside Teucher Industrial Group, yet the business had started everything.
A dirty forge.
Workers with grease covering their hands.
A few bars of soap.
A merchant willing to invest in an idea no one else understood.
Hollen looked up toward the balcony and met Ernest’s eyes.
He did not wave.
He simply smiled.
Ernest returned it.
Neither needed to say anything.
By evening, the formal ceremony had turned into a celebration across the entire city.
Music filled the parks and public squares. Restaurants opened additional tables along the sidewalks, while food stalls served workers and families who had no intention of going home early.
Children ran beneath the electric streetlights, chasing one another between fountains and gardens. Bands performed near the railway terminal, and factory associations organized their own gatherings throughout the industrial district.
After sunset, fireworks rose from the riverbanks.
Their colors reflected across the windows of government ministries, factories, schools, hotels, and homes. Crowds along the waterfront cheered each explosion, while river steamships answered with long blasts from their horns.
The city had celebrated many milestones during the reconstruction.
The first running water.
The first electric streetlights.
The first completed district.
The opening of the railway terminal.
None had felt as final as this.
Late that night, Ernest stood alone on the observation deck of the HCIA headquarters.
Five years earlier, he had watched workers open the first trench from the same place. Back then, much of the city had been hidden beneath dust and scaffolding, and no one could say with certainty whether the plan would succeed.
Now light filled the avenues all the way to the horizon.
There were no trenches below.
No temporary bridges.
No unfinished roads.
Helmarte was complete.
Footsteps sounded behind him.
Arthur emerged from the stairwell and stopped near the railing.
"It’s beautiful."
Ernest nodded.
"It is."
Arthur rested his arms on the stone edge and looked across the city.
"You did what you said you would do."
Ernest remained quiet.
For years, that had been the goal.
Rebuild Helmarte.
Modernize the capital.
Prove that Belfast could create something no other kingdom on the continent possessed.
He had accomplished all of it.
Yet as he looked beyond the city, the completed capital no longer felt like an ending.
It felt like a foundation.
"No," Ernest said.
Arthur turned toward him.
"No?"
"We rebuilt one city."
Ernest looked past the outer districts toward the darkness beyond Helmarte, where towns, villages, mines, farms, and provincial capitals remained scattered across Belfast.
Some had begun changing because of the reconstruction.
Most had only taken their first steps.
"We still have provinces without reliable roads. Towns without proper sanitation. Villages too far from railways to reach major markets. Thousands of children who have never seen the inside of a technical school."
Arthur followed his gaze.
"So what happens now?"
Ernest folded his hands behind his back.
"Now we build the rest of the kingdom."