As the days passed, Goldenova Headquarters transformed into a hive of activity. Engineers with ink-stained fingers, blacksmiths with soot-covered aprons, and workers with calloused hands moved in and out of the grand stone building. The air buzzed with animated discussions about innovations that would elevate the Gold Territory beyond anything its inhabitants had ever imagined.
Inside the main hall, sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing above a massive oak table. The surface was barely visible beneath a sprawl of meticulously drawn maps, detailed blueprints, and artistic renderings of structures that existed only in Harry's mind. Around this table sat two dozen of the territory's finest craftspeople—veteran forgers whose hands bore the scars of decades at the anvil, master builders who could judge a stone's integrity with a single tap, and engineers whose curiosity matched their expertise.
Harry stood at the head of the table, smoothing down his simple but well-made tunic. Despite being younger than most in the room by at least a decade, he carried himself with quiet confidence. His eyes, sharp and observant, scanned the gathered workers before he cleared his throat.
"We've brought light to the city," he began, his voice steady but tinged with unmistakable passion. "Homes that once fell dark at sunset now glow well into the night. But this—this was merely our first step." He paused, allowing his gaze to meet each person individually. "The next leap forward for our territory is something even more fundamental, more transformative... water."
The workers exchanged puzzled glances. A few shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Some looked down at the maps, trying to decipher Harry's meaning before he explained it.
Marrek, a forger whose beard was more gray than black and whose forearms resembled twisted oak branches, furrowed his brow. "Water?" he asked, his voice gravelly from years of smoke inhalation. "But we already have wells scattered throughout the city. The eastern district has three new ones just this season. And the Silvercrest River provides more than enough for the mills."
Harry nodded respectfully, acknowledging the man's confusion. "You're absolutely right, Marrek. We have water sources." He stepped around the table slowly, fingertips trailing along its edge. "But what if I told you we could harness water in ways you've never imagined? What if we could store it during times of plenty and distribute it precisely when and where it's needed? What if water itself could provide power beyond what our windmills can generate?"
The confusion in the room only deepened, etching deeper lines into already weathered faces.
Orlan, the chief engineer—a slender man with calculating eyes and perpetually ink-stained fingers—uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. "Control water on such a scale?" he asked, skepticism evident in each syllable. "The gods themselves would struggle with such a feat. How exactly do you propose we accomplish this, Harry?"
There was no challenge in Orlan's tone, only genuine curiosity wrapped in doubt. He had worked alongside Harry long enough to know the young man's ideas, however outlandish they initially seemed, often held remarkable potential.
Harry turned to the table, where among the various drawings lay one particular illustration. He carefully shifted other papers aside to reveal a detailed rendering of a massive wall blocking a river's path. Behind the wall, a vast lake spread outward, while below it, intricate lines branched out toward settlements and farmlands.
"This," Harry said, tapping the drawing with an index finger, "is what we call a dam." His eyes lit up as he continued. "Imagine a structure so massive, so perfectly engineered, that it can hold back an entire river. The water accumulates behind it, creating a reservoir—essentially a man-made lake that we control. From there, we dictate when and how much water flows downstream."
The workers leaned in closer, studying the illustration with expressions ranging from doubt to fascination.
Tilda, a blacksmith whose skill with delicate metalwork was unmatched in three territories, squinted at the drawing. "Hold back an entire river?" She shook her head, dark curls bouncing with the movement. "With all due respect, Harry, that sounds like a recipe for disaster. Rivers aren't meant to be contained. What happens when this... dam... inevitably breaks? The flood would destroy everything in its path."
Her concern spread through the group like ripples in a pond, manifesting as murmurs and uneasy glances.
Harry met her gaze directly, his lips curving into a gentle smile. "An excellent question, Tilda. Your concern is exactly why we must build it right." He gestured toward the drawing again. "The dam isn't just a simple wall. It's a meticulously engineered structure of layered stone, packed earth, and reinforced supports, all working together to distribute the immense pressure of the water. When designed properly, a dam can stand for generations."
He pointed to small gates illustrated on the lower portion of the dam. "These allow us to release water in controlled amounts. We never let the pressure build beyond what the structure can handle."
Tilda nodded slowly, not entirely convinced but willing to consider the possibility.
Garrin, one of the older builders whose family had constructed half the buildings in the city, spoke up next. His voice carried the weight of decades of practical experience. "I understand the engineering principle, at least in theory. But I'm struggling to see how this benefits the common folk of Gold Territory. We're not short on water—we haul it from wells and rivers as we've always done. How does this massive undertaking improve daily life?"
Harry's eyes sparkled at the question. He walked deliberately around the table, his steps measured. "Picture this, Garrin: A farmer in the western fields, watching his crops wither during a summer drought, praying for rain that never comes." He paused, allowing the image to take hold. "Now imagine that same farmer, but this time, when the rains fail, he simply opens a small gate on his property. Water flows in from a canal connected to our reservoir, saving his harvest even in the driest season."
The room grew quieter as the implications began to sink in.
"Right now," Harry continued, "our prosperity is tied to the whims of weather. Too much rain brings floods that destroy homes and crops. Too little, and famine threatens. But with a dam and a system of canals, we take control of our destiny." His voice grew more passionate. "No more failed harvests due to drought. No more homes washed away by spring floods. Water, delivered precisely where and when it's needed."
The murmurs resumed, but their tone had shifted. There was interest now, calculation, even a hint of excitement.
Lev, barely into his twentieth year but already showing remarkable talent for metalwork, raised his hand tentatively. When Harry nodded to him, he asked, "You mentioned power earlier. I don't understand—how does still water create power?"
Harry's face lit up, and he moved to another drawing, this one showing a cross-section of the dam with curious wheel-like structures positioned where water would flow through. "That's the most extraordinary part, Lev." He tapped the drawing. "As water rushes down from the reservoir, it passes through these—turbines. They're essentially sophisticated water wheels, but crafted with precise metal blades."
He mimicked a spinning motion with his hand. "The force of the flowing water causes these turbines to spin rapidly. This spinning motion is what generates electricity—the same power that lights our homes now, but potentially in much greater quantities than our windmills can produce."
Lev's eyes widened with understanding and excitement. "So we wouldn't need to rely on the wind anymore? We could have power even on still days?"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed, pleased by the young man's quick comprehension. "And not just that—we could generate enough power to expand beyond lighting. Imagine machines to help with farming, smithing, even cooking, all powered by the river's flow."
The excitement in the room was palpable now, but Orlan, ever the pragmatist, brought them back to reality. He stroked his short beard thoughtfully before speaking. "The concept is... remarkable, I'll grant you that. But Harry," he locked eyes with the young leader, "we're forgers, builders, and engineers of a different sort. We've never constructed anything of this magnitude. The logistics alone are staggering. Who among us has the knowledge to build such a structure?"
A heavy silence fell over the room as the enormity of the task settled on their shoulders.
Harry straightened his back and looked around at each face—some excited, some doubtful, all waiting for his answer. "We will build it together," he said, his voice quiet but firm. "I know it seems impossible now. But wasn't bringing light to the city also deemed impossible before we did it?"
The silence lingered as workers exchanged uncertain glances.
Then Ferran, a master forger known for his blunt speech, gave a nervous laugh. "Harry, with all respect—there's a vast difference between creating tools, weapons, and small machines, and damming an entire river. We're skilled at our crafts, but this..." he gestured at the drawings, "this is beyond anything we've attempted."
Several others nodded in agreement, their earlier excitement dimming.
Harry had anticipated this reaction. Without a word, he pulled a fresh piece of parchment from beneath the pile and set it before him. Taking up a charcoal stick, he began to sketch with confident strokes. The room fell silent save for the soft scratching of charcoal against parchment.
"I understand your concerns," Harry said as he worked. "And you're right—we won't build the entire dam at once." His hand moved swiftly across the page, creating a series of smaller drawings. "We'll approach this methodically, step by step."
He turned the completed sketch for all to see. It showed a sequential plan, with smaller milestones clearly marked.
"First," Harry explained, pointing to the initial drawing, "we select the ideal location—a section of the river with natural hills or cliffs on either side to serve as anchor points. This reduces the amount of new structure we need to build."
His finger moved to the next illustration. "Then we divert part of the river flow using temporary channels, allowing us to work on the riverbed itself. We'll excavate deep into the earth to create a solid foundation—the most critical part of the dam."
The workers leaned in, their interest rekindled by the practical approach.
"Next, we lay the foundation with densely packed stone and clay mixtures that harden underwater, creating a waterproof base." Harry traced the progression of the drawings. "Only then do we begin building upward, using cut stone blocks arranged in a slightly curved shape that actually becomes stronger as water pressure increases against it."
He pointed to small rectangular openings illustrated in the dam wall. "Throughout the construction, we leave these controlled openings for water flow, preventing buildup of pressure until the structure is complete."
The methodical explanation was having an effect. The workers' expressions showed growing comprehension and consideration.
Tormin, a builder known for his meticulous attention to detail, rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The theory seems sound enough when you break it down like that. But the practical challenges remain enormous. How do we transport so much stone? We'd need hundreds of carts, thousands of workers, and years of labor."
Harry smiled, appreciating the practical question. "You're absolutely right about the scale, Tormin. We'll use innovations to make the work more efficient—pulley systems and cranes to lift heavy stones, floating rafts to transport materials downriver to the site. We'll build in sections, completing one fully before moving to the next."
He placed both hands flat on the table, leaning forward with intensity. "Yes, it will take time. Yes, it will be difficult. But imagine what we'll have created when it's complete—a structure that will serve this territory for generations, preventing floods, ending droughts, and powering innovations we haven't even conceived of yet."
The room fell silent again, but this time, it was a silence of contemplation rather than doubt.
Orlan, after studying the drawings intently for several long moments, finally looked up. His eyes held a mixture of apprehension and determination. "You've never led us astray before, Harry," he said slowly. "If you believe this can be done... then I'll put my skills toward making it happen."
Emboldened by the chief engineer's support, others began to nod as well.
"I can design the metal fittings for the gates," offered Tilda, already mentally calculating the specifications.
"My team can begin surveying potential sites," added Garrin, his earlier skepticism giving way to practical planning.
One by one, they committed their expertise to the project, their voices rising with growing enthusiasm.
"We're with you!"
"Let's build this dam!"
"For the future of Gold Territory!"
A warm smile spread across Harry's face as he watched the transformation. This was how change happened—not through force or decree, but through vision shared and embraced. The first step toward revolutionizing their world had begun.
The days that followed were a flurry of preparation and planning. Harry sat in his office at Goldenova Headquarters, the large room illuminated by both sunlight from tall windows and the warm glow of oil lamps. The space had transformed from a orderly command center to what some might call organized chaos—every surface covered with blueprints, sketches, material calculations, and reports from survey teams.
Harry rubbed his tired eyes, leaning back in his chair. The challenge before him was immense. Building the dam would require not just manpower but machinery on a scale the territory had never seen. The workers were willing, their skills exceptional, but they were limited by the tools at their disposal. Moving earth by shovel and stone by cart would take decades.
"There has to be a better way," he murmured to himself, tapping his fingers rhythmically against the desk.
His mind drifted back to memories from his past life—massive yellow excavators carving into hillsides, towering cranes lifting steel beams effortlessly, cement mixers turning endlessly to produce the lifeblood of modern construction. If only...
Harry sat upright suddenly, an idea taking shape. He reached for the special pen he kept locked in the desk's hidden compartment—a pen unlike any other in this world, infused with a magic that could bridge the gap between imagination and reality.
With newfound energy, he cleared a space on his desk and unrolled a massive sheet of pristine parchment. His hand hovered over the blank surface for just a moment before he began to draw with precise, confident strokes.
First came the excavator—a mechanical behemoth designed to move earth with efficiency no team of men could match. He detailed every component: the powerful hydraulic arm that could extend and retract, the massive metal bucket with teeth designed to bite into rock and soil, the tracked undercarriage that could navigate rough terrain, and the operator's cabin where a single person could control this incredible machine.
Harry lost himself in the detail, labeling the fuel system, hydraulic lines, and control mechanisms. As he completed the final stroke on the drawing, the parchment began to emit a soft, golden glow. The light intensified, pulsing outward from the paper in rhythmic waves. Harry stepped back, watching as the magic he had harnessed took physical form.
Outside, in the courtyard of Goldenova Headquarters, the air shimmered and distorted. Particles of light coalesced, taking shape according to the blueprint Harry had created. Metal formed from nothing, components assembled themselves, and within minutes, a fully functional excavator stood where only empty space had been before—a marvel of engineering brought to life through the fusion of knowledge and magic.
The appearance of the massive machine drew gasps from workers crossing the courtyard. They froze in their tracks, staring open-mouthed at the strange contraption that had materialized before their eyes.
Invigorated by his success, Harry returned to the parchment. Next, he designed a tower crane—a soaring structure with a horizontal boom that could swing in a complete circle, lifting heavy materials to great heights. He detailed the counterweights that would keep it balanced, the powerful winch system, and the operator controls. Again, the parchment glowed, and outside, the crane took form beside the excavator, its boom reaching skyward.
Working with feverish intensity, Harry continued designing. A fleet of dump trucks emerged from his pen—massive vehicles with reinforced frames and beds that could tilt to unload tons of material in seconds. He drew them with practical considerations in mind: wide tires for stability on uneven ground, powerful engines for climbing steep grades, and fuel-efficient systems for long-term operation.
As each vehicle materialized in the courtyard, the commotion grew. Workers abandoned their tasks to witness the miracle unfolding. Some approached cautiously, circling the strange machines with expressions of wonder and fear. Others ran to fetch their colleagues, unwilling to describe what they were seeing without witnesses.
Harry moved on to cement mixers—rotating drums mounted on wheeled platforms, designed to combine sand, gravel, cement, and water into a consistent mixture that would form the backbone of the dam. He added water pumps, compactors, and other specialized equipment, each appearing outside as it was completed on paper.
By the time Harry finally set down his pen, exhausted but satisfied, the courtyard had transformed into something resembling a modern construction yard. More than two dozen machines stood in neat rows, their metal surfaces gleaming in the afternoon sun. Around them gathered a crowd of workers, their whispered conversations creating a constant, nervous hum.
Taking a deep breath, Harry rose from his desk and walked outside to join them. The crowd parted as he approached, their faces showing a mixture of awe, confusion, and apprehension.
"What manner of magic is this?" asked Eldrin, one of the senior engineers, his voice barely above a whisper. He reached out hesitantly toward the nearest dump truck but stopped short of touching it, as if afraid it might disappear—or worse, react.
"Not magic," Harry replied, running his hand along the cool metal of the truck's hood. "Technology. These are machines designed to make our work faster, more efficient, and ultimately possible on the scale we need."
Orlan pushed through the crowd, his analytical eyes taking in every detail of the equipment before him. "But... how do they function? I see no connection to ley lines, no runes for power channeling."
Harry smiled, opening the door to the dump truck's cabin and gesturing for Orlan to look inside. "These don't run on magical energy. They use refined fuel—similar to the oil you use in lamps, but processed differently. When burned in a controlled chamber, it creates explosive force that moves pistons, which turn gears, which power the wheels or hydraulic systems."
Orlan peered inside, examining the steering wheel, pedals, and instruments with cautious fascination. "And these controls... they direct the machine's actions?"
"Exactly," Harry confirmed. "Like reins on a horse, but far more precise. One person can operate each machine, doing the work of twenty men or more."
Marrek the forger stepped forward, placing a calloused hand on the excavator's metal track. His touch was reverent, almost tender, as one might touch a living creature of unknown temperament. "And you say these... machines... they are not alive? They have no will of their own?"
"They're tools, Marrek," Harry explained patiently. "Sophisticated tools, but tools nonetheless. They only move when directed by a human operator. They don't think or feel or decide."
The crowd relaxed slightly at this assurance, though wonder still dominated their expressions.
A young apprentice builder, no more than sixteen years old, looked up at Harry with wide eyes. "Can they really build a dam? Something so massive?"
Harry met the boy's gaze with a confident smile. "With these machines and your skills combined, we can build not just a dam, but a future beyond anything you've imagined." He turned to address the entire gathering. "I'll need volunteers to learn how to operate them. It will take practice and patience, but those who master these machines will help reshape our world."
For a long moment, no one moved. Then, slowly, Tilda the blacksmith stepped forward. "I've always been quick to learn new tools," she said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty in her eyes. "I'll learn to operate one of these... machines."
Her courage broke the spell of hesitation. Others stepped forward—first a trickle, then a flood of volunteers, calling out their names and preferred roles.
Orlan, who had remained thoughtfully silent, finally spoke. "If what you say is true, Harry—if these machines can truly accomplish what would take us decades by hand—then we're witnessing something more profound than mere innovation." He looked around at the assembled equipment, then back to Harry. "This is the dawn of a new age for Gold Territory."
Harry simply nodded, allowing himself a moment of satisfaction. "This is only the beginning," he said quietly. "Now, let's get to work."
Within days, the entire Gold Territory hummed with unprecedented activity. Surveyors, equipped with new instruments Harry had designed, spread out along the Silvercrest River, taking measurements and soil samples to determine the optimal location for the dam. Building teams organized supply chains, establishing quarries where stone would be cut and clay pits where bricks would be formed and fired. Engineers huddled over miniature models of turbines, testing designs that would eventually harness the river's power.
In fields and villages throughout the territory, representatives from Goldenova explained the irrigation plans to farmers and landowners. Many were skeptical at first, but the promise of reliable water even in drought years eventually won most over to the cause.
The transformation was most visible at the machine training grounds, a flat area near Goldenova Headquarters where Harry personally instructed the first operators. The air filled with the unfamiliar rumble of engines as men and women learned to control the powerful equipment that would make their ambitious project possible.
As the sun set one evening, painting the sky in brilliant oranges and purples, Harry stood alone on a hill overlooking a bend in the Silvercrest River. Below, workers were setting up camps, clearing land, and preparing the site where construction would soon begin. Torches and campfires dotted the landscape like earthbound stars, their smoke rising in thin columns to meet the darkening sky.
"We really are doing this," he murmured to himself, a mixture of pride and trepidation filling his chest. The dam would change everything—not just for Gold Territory, but potentially for the entire realm. It represented more than just control over water; it was the first step toward a technological revolution.
Harry took a deep breath of the cool evening air, filling his lungs with the scent of river water, pine forests, and the faint smoke from the camps. Whatever challenges lay ahead, there was no turning back now. The future was being built, one blueprint at a time.