“Initial reports from the farms are optimistic, your highness.”
Kyle nodded at the minor official as he sat casually in his rather plain throne. The original, gilded piece had been melted down to add to the treasury the moment Kyle returned to Alterac. Similarly, the young king was rather simply dressed, looking more like he’d be heading to the training grounds or even the fields instead of attending a royal court. Everyone was used to the little quirk by now though.
“Good. Complaints?”
The man gave a cheery smile as he answered. “All farmsteads have adopted the gnomish machines without reluctance, your highness. Fuel consumption is within expectations, and there’s no calls for repairs yet. If there’s any discontent, it is private.”
Pelton joined the king in nodding happily at that. Really, it boggles the mind seeing how worrisome humans can be. The first time the engineers presented the farming machines, there were terrified cries with absurd misassumptions that the converted tractors would somehow damage their fields. Riots had actually threatened to break out until Kyle stepped in and assured them that the machines were optional, though an incentive in taxes was given to those that adopted them.
Despite that, in the first year, come harvest time, only a measly four farms took up the offer of free machines and lighter taxes to give the tractors and their various attachments a try. Yet in little time at all those families reported a faster harvest with far less spoilage, without the need for hiring extra farmhands. The fields were also quickly recovered for planting livestock feed right before winter hit.
With such praise, even with the tax breaks gone, the start of this spring saw adoptions of gnomish tractors more or less hit 100%. It was an easy matter for Kyle to sponsor the newly freed up farmhands workforce into owning farms of their own and emptying out the kingdom’s stores of tractors, or redirect them to other industries that actually needed the labor.
Pelton was highly satisfied with that. The young king had wholeheartedly encouraged the spread of gnomish innovations, putting faith in the skills of Gnomeregan’s engineers to deliver. With his and Pelton’s feedback, the drafting process required little revisions, and the tractors that were once automated ballistas quickly proved themselves. And despite his supposed pessimism, Kyle had placed a massive order of the machines.
With that, Alterac found a means to fill its granaries despite their still limited workforce, and the engineer guilds of Gnomeregan found a new profitable venture that conveniently dealt with obsolete technology. A very satisfying win-win all around. Kyle also had ideas of adding more attachments to the tractors, giving them more use beyond the farms. Earthmovers, lifters, road-layers, heavy-load sleds… The possibilities seemed endless.
Already news was spreading to the other kingdoms, and last Pelton heard, Khaz Modan had placed a hefty order to revive their own war-torn farmlands and aid in road building, and the other human realms were discreetly expressing their interest.
The elves remained aloof, of course, but they weren’t the target market to begin with.
“Let’s hope we can achieve maximum farming efficiency,” Kyle said with a hopeful grin. “What’s our expectations again?”
The official bowed cheerfully, willing to play along. “No less than seventy percent in farm yields, your highness.”
Which was thirty more than it used to when the people were being ignored by the regents. So much wasted land and mismanaged laborers…
“Excellent. Has the incentive been sent out yet?”
“Aye, your highness. Any farmlands that reap at least eighty percent of their farm’s potential will have their tractor fuel and maintenance fully subsidized by the realm.”
“Excellent. Assuming this harvest exceeds the surplus we expect it to, we can try diversifying what we grow. Maybe have local variants to match the elves’ offerings.”
With food security assured, Kyle could move away from the subsidized imports from Quel’Thalas and stop feeding Anasterian’s little political scheme. The elven king had made an offer impossible to refuse back when Kyle was officially crowned, offering food for almost nothing for four years. It was mostly to show up the human kingdoms, of course, and prove that Magni wasn’t the only one providing heavy support to Alterac. Why Anasterian needed to rub it in his peers’ faces was beyond Pelton, but considering the benefits the gnome couldn’t complain.
But where Anasterian’s aid was a means to a petty end, Magni’s contribution was more sincere, even if it did have the nice bonus of burnishing Khaz Modan’s reputation.
“Now, onto other profitable areas, still no complaints from the dwarven mining guilds?”
Pelton shook his head with an amused smirk. “None yet. And probably ever. You’re being too pessimistic in your assumptions, o King Kyle.”
“Hey, it’s a valid precaution to take, Pelton.”
Only in Kyle’s mind. Concerns of saboteurs or irrationally disgruntled workers still failed to materialize as the dwarves took over the mining and prospecting. With how openly it was proclaimed, it was a great fool indeed to sabotage an initiative of King Magni of Khaz Modan.
Indeed, dwarven miners and foremen revitalized Alterac’s industry, providing far safer and efficient working conditions in the usually hazardous and back-breaking industries of mining and construction. Kyle had secured a deal with Magni guaranteeing that for every three mines the dwarves opened for their guilds and companies, they’d help open one fully owned by the throne of Alterac itself.
Some argued that he was being too generous, others said he was being too stingy. Pelton was in the camp that didn’t care, since the end result meant significant progress and improvement in Alterac as a whole. Dwarven professionalism meant that the prospectors had not skimped out in the six Alterac-owned mines, making sure that the ore veins in each were just as rich as those profiting the dwarves’.
As for rebuilding Alterac, the dwarven foremen had also proven their worth. It initially took a while for the humans to get used to Khaz Modan’s standards of construction, but once they did the new buildings that rose up in Alterac City and other towns and villages were obviously far sturdier than their previous incarnations. Having lumber be used almost equally along with stone meant that the process went far quicker than usual dwarven buildings.
Pelton had to admit some amusement at hearing of the dwarves’ sensibilities being so assaulted by shingles and thatching being preferred by the humans over a solid stone ceiling. The biggest downside to all this though was that the new buildings kind of looked the same, because apparently the hybridization between dwarven common aesthetics and the war-suffering Alteraci austerity resulted in plain, almost barren faced blocky things with a door and just enough windows to remind everyone it was hollow inside.
Even the churches to the Light looked more like dour fortresses than places of worship.
Still, the once destitute humans of Alterac now had the worries of homes and food mostly dealt with, and they also found safe (well, safer than previous standards), honest jobs in the mines or in the forges popping up to refine the ores, or in rebuilding town halls and homes of their countrymen. Not to mention the additional opportunities that arose as infrastructure rose up around those industries, like taverns and shops.
Pelton kept his usual report on Alterac’s industries brief; it’s pretty much rehashing the same thing at this point.
Kyle nodded satisfiedly at Pelton’s conclusion. “Well, since we’re on track, maybe we can free up some laborers, and see if we can get more people to join the local militias.”
The ranger instructors from Quel’Thalas helped create highly skilled patrols that secured the flow of commerce and industry in Kyle’s domain. Training was harsh by all accounts, but the results spoke for themselves. Bandits and gnolls were removed or chased well away from the inhabited regions of Alterac. The Alteraci ranger-militias took on deserters-turned-marauders and the occasional roving troll bands and won handily. Coupled with Kyle’s own magical scrying, it meant that very little could hide underneath the patrols’ noses.
“Some incentives could be offered,” one advisor suggested, an older man who used to be a notable Alteraci merchant.
“With the many sources of food and coin to choose from, there’s little else we can really give them,” a woman from Kul Tiras countered.
Another woman, a younger one from Lordaeron, raised a hand. “What if we offered cheaper housing?”
“We’re practically giving away the houses now,” came the retort. “Besides, with all the initiatives being undertaken, the treasury’s barely keeping afloat.”
That was true as well. While Magni and Anasterian were generous in their deals, there was still a price to be paid. Thanks to the former regents’ inaction though, the initial stagnant funds were still enough that Kyle only needed to order the liquidation of most of his palace’s valuables to keep a reserve while he paid off the Gnomeregan engineers for their machines. The eccentric Valoghan also offered a hefty donation that bolstered the treasury, but it was the mines opened later on that funded pretty much every other project Kyle implemented to rebuild Alterac. It still left the vaults rather sparse though, at least until the tax season during the fall.
The hall echoed with a jumble of voices as Kyle’s mixed court began throwing ideas about. Actual, legitimate ones. Half his court were local Alteraci, while the other half came from all across the Alliance. From Lordaeron all the way to Stormwind, there were a surprising number of applicants when Kyle put out the call for advisors. A few were delusional, and fewer still were utterly incompetent, but those that remained were so far proving themselves by dispensing decent advice when requested.
The possibility that they could be spies for the other kingdoms were beneath Kyle’s concerns for the time being, he only cared that they did their jobs.
Kyle regarded the cacophony with some bemusement before rising up from his wooden throne. “I’ll leave it to you to hash something out. Give me three…four of your most decent suggestions tomorrow. If there’s nothing else…?”
He turned to Pelton, who shook his head. “Good. I’ve got some things to deal with.”
“Enjoy your evening, your highness,” Pelton sent off before straightening his back and prepared to herd the advisors into brainstorming decent results.
Krasus had the right idea in tasking the gnome to help Kyle in the capacity of a steward. Halion was too stuck in elven decorum that he’d probably polymorph everyone the moment they tested his patience, and his place was in Anasterian’s court anyway. Lora was suited for the practice yard, torturing the palace guards in what was supposed to be training. At least she was having fun.
Still, perfect fit or not, Pelton felt some pride that not only did Krasus place his faith in him, but Kyle too trusted Pelton enough to leave him to his work.
The gnome beamed a smile at the courtiers, setting off a harmless flare spell to get their attention. “Now then, let’s consider the limitations of what we can realistically use as an incentive. Yes, Sir Maxon?”
*****
Kallum wobbled through the palace halls, panting with heavy exertion. Training with Lora was brutal as ever, though at least by now he could actually feel his limbs. He stumbled into his brother, who immediately gave him a look of exasperation.
“How many times must I tell you to hit the showers first, Kal?”
“But…tired…”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “If you can walk back to your room, you can walk to the showers for a quick wash. Let’s spare our poor servants the chore of dealing with your sweaty ass funking up your room.”
Kallum gave a weak harrumph, but turned around. Despite his annoyance though, once he dragged himself to the showers, he quickly slipped into a cubicle and basked in the comfort of the warm water raining down from the pipework above. His reluctance forgotten, Kallum once more marveled at how much some copper piping snaking around the palace could provide so much comfort.
This was one of five showers within the palace built by engineers from Gnomeregan. Kyle had his own private one adjacent to his room, a larger one was by the training yard, two were at opposite ends of the palace for the servants, and this was the family showers. Each shower hall was converted from an unused room. The family showers Kallum was in was formerly a study room, simply retiled over and its furniture moved out.
It made for a luxurious experience each time Kallum used it, however much he might think otherwise before stepping in. Back in Lordaeron, his family had to settle for straining their backs drawing water from a well to fill a cramped wooden tub. Kyle must have really disliked that to implement the showers like this.
Just like how much he disliked their old outhouse to get the gnomes and dwarves to carve out tunnels under the palace latrines to lay pipes. Thanks to the new toilet piping, the water closets barely stank at all (so long as one remembered to flush after each use) and Kallum was most eternally grateful that he didn’t have to be on his toes for snakes or frogs slinking out of the seats.
Revolutionizing bathing and shitting alone made Kallum decide that his brother was a good king. Apparently he was waiting for enough gold to begin introducing the marvels to Alterac City, and then the rest of Alterac. The people of Alterac were sure to be as grateful as Kallum was for having access to hot showers and clean, stinkless shits.
Kallum got out of his shower and slipped into some new clothes, finding his brother waiting outside for him.
“Still feeling like you have to take a nap?”
Kallum shook his head, and Kyle smiled. “I’m gonna go see Ma and Pa. Wanna join?”
The brothers navigated the palace halls effortlessly, ending up outside in what was once a fenced off garden. Kallum remembered that there used to be several ornate fountains, a gazebo, and other noble decorations. Now, it was more of a private farm, tended almost obsessively by Pa.
“You can take a man out of the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of a man,” Pelton had rightly said.
It wasn’t that great a loss; Kyle had a lot of new fountains around, and as pretty as the flowers looked, Pa’s crops were edible.
They found their father slowly walking along a row of tilled soil, pushing some wheeled contraption on. Ma was sitting idly, almost reclined on a plush seat looking out of place outdoors.
Supposedly, it used to be King Perenolde’s favorite chair.
“Hey Pa,” Kyle greeted first, “How’s the seed planter?”
“Cumbersome,” came the grumbled reply. “Stupid wheel’s too heavy and sinks in the soil.”
“Well-”
“You asked for a larger wheel the last time, dear,” Ma cut in with a teasing drawl.
Pa put down the seed planter and turned to Ma with a look. “So? I asked for bigger, not heavier.”
“Bigger means heavier, Dylan. Common sense, ain’t it?”
Both brothers shared soft chuckles as their parents bickered lightly, with Ma as usual proving the winner in the exchange by virtue of Pa stewing in silence.
Kyle gave her a bright smile and a quick peck on the cheek before walking over to Pa to comfort him. “So, lighter wheel? Or would it be better if it was wider instead?”
Brought out of his defeat, the ingrained farmer hummed thoughtfully. “Hrnn… Not sure. Though it’d be useless if the wheel’s so light that it snaps or bends…”
“How’s training dear?” Ma suddenly asked, drawing Kallum away from the conversation between his father and brother.
“Huh? Oh, the usual. Lora’s teaching me how to split a rock with a blunt sword.”
“That sounds great, dear,” Ma replied with a cheerful, supportive smile, even if she didn’t fully understand the significance of cracking boulders with a battered piece of metal. “I’m sure you’ll be a proper knight in no time if you keep at it.”
Kallum could only nod at that. No need to tell her that what knights did and what Lora taught were almost completely different things. Kallum once dreamt of becoming a knight of the Silver Hand, but after learning ‘proper fighting’ from Lora and being exposed to her disparaging remarks about ‘stuck up tin cans on poor abused horses’, he found himself more enamored in settling for being an armsmaster like the dwarf instead.
Shattering boulders and cleaving trees felt way more fun than practicing stuffy chivalry and aiming a lance.
He bantered with his mother for a while longer, enjoying the simple luxury of talking about nothing in particular rather than worrying over crops or leaking rooftops. Instead of concerns of murlocs and wolves threatening the coops, mother and son discussed the brisk spring weather. Instead of worrying about which jar of pickles had to be eaten first, they exchanged expectations on what the cooks would be preparing for dinner. Out in the tilled soil, Kyle and Pa continued talking about the contraption, and no doubt the disgruntled feedback the latter gave would be delivered to the gnomes via Pelton.
After a while, a servant appeared, signaling for dinner.
“Well, it’s a bit faster if we circled around instead of going inside,” Kyle correctly pointed out as he offered a hand for Ma to take and help herself up. “Care for the scenic route?”
“Our shoes are already a little dirty, so I guess why not?”
“Just be careful where you tread,” Pa warned, pointing out where he’s been growing his new round of crops.
They followed Kyle out of the backyard farm and took a short walk along the exterior of the palace, greeting the dutiful palace guards they passed by patrolling the grounds. By now, Kallum and his parents paid no heed to the exotic gilded fountains that were scattered around the palace, like some of runestone arrangement from the stories. They, like most people in the palace, had gotten used to Kyle’s magic, including conjuring the fountains literally overnight.
Kallum had his speculations about the true nature of the fountains, but he hoped that he would never be placed in a situation to find out.
“Initial reports from the farms are optimistic, your highness.”
Kyle nodded at the minor official as he sat casually in his rather plain throne. The original, gilded piece had been melted down to add to the treasury the moment Kyle returned to Alterac. Similarly, the young king was rather simply dressed, looking more like he’d be heading to the training grounds or even the fields instead of attending a royal court. Everyone was used to the little quirk by now though.
“Good. Complaints?”
The man gave a cheery smile as he answered. “All farmsteads have adopted the gnomish machines without reluctance, your highness. Fuel consumption is within expectations, and there’s no calls for repairs yet. If there’s any discontent, it is private.”
Pelton joined the king in nodding happily at that. Really, it boggles the mind seeing how worrisome humans can be. The first time the engineers presented the farming machines, there were terrified cries with absurd misassumptions that the converted tractors would somehow damage their fields. Riots had actually threatened to break out until Kyle stepped in and assured them that the machines were optional, though an incentive in taxes was given to those that adopted them.
Despite that, in the first year, come harvest time, only a measly four farms took up the offer of free machines and lighter taxes to give the tractors and their various attachments a try. Yet in little time at all those families reported a faster harvest with far less spoilage, without the need for hiring extra farmhands. The fields were also quickly recovered for planting livestock feed right before winter hit.
With such praise, even with the tax breaks gone, the start of this spring saw adoptions of gnomish tractors more or less hit 100%. It was an easy matter for Kyle to sponsor the newly freed up farmhands workforce into owning farms of their own and emptying out the kingdom’s stores of tractors, or redirect them to other industries that actually needed the labor.
Pelton was highly satisfied with that. The young king had wholeheartedly encouraged the spread of gnomish innovations, putting faith in the skills of Gnomeregan’s engineers to deliver. With his and Pelton’s feedback, the drafting process required little revisions, and the tractors that were once automated ballistas quickly proved themselves. And despite his supposed pessimism, Kyle had placed a massive order of the machines.
With that, Alterac found a means to fill its granaries despite their still limited workforce, and the engineer guilds of Gnomeregan found a new profitable venture that conveniently dealt with obsolete technology. A very satisfying win-win all around. Kyle also had ideas of adding more attachments to the tractors, giving them more use beyond the farms. Earthmovers, lifters, road-layers, heavy-load sleds… The possibilities seemed endless.
Already news was spreading to the other kingdoms, and last Pelton heard, Khaz Modan had placed a hefty order to revive their own war-torn farmlands and aid in road building, and the other human realms were discreetly expressing their interest.
The elves remained aloof, of course, but they weren’t the target market to begin with.
“Let’s hope we can achieve maximum farming efficiency,” Kyle said with a hopeful grin. “What’s our expectations again?”
The official bowed cheerfully, willing to play along. “No less than seventy percent in farm yields, your highness.”
Which was thirty more than it used to when the people were being ignored by the regents. So much wasted land and mismanaged laborers…
“Excellent. Has the incentive been sent out yet?”
“Aye, your highness. Any farmlands that reap at least eighty percent of their farm’s potential will have their tractor fuel and maintenance fully subsidized by the realm.”
“Excellent. Assuming this harvest exceeds the surplus we expect it to, we can try diversifying what we grow. Maybe have local variants to match the elves’ offerings.”
With food security assured, Kyle could move away from the subsidized imports from Quel’Thalas and stop feeding Anasterian’s little political scheme. The elven king had made an offer impossible to refuse back when Kyle was officially crowned, offering food for almost nothing for four years. It was mostly to show up the human kingdoms, of course, and prove that Magni wasn’t the only one providing heavy support to Alterac. Why Anasterian needed to rub it in his peers’ faces was beyond Pelton, but considering the benefits the gnome couldn’t complain.
But where Anasterian’s aid was a means to a petty end, Magni’s contribution was more sincere, even if it did have the nice bonus of burnishing Khaz Modan’s reputation.
“Now, onto other profitable areas, still no complaints from the dwarven mining guilds?”
Pelton shook his head with an amused smirk. “None yet. And probably ever. You’re being too pessimistic in your assumptions, o King Kyle.”
“Hey, it’s a valid precaution to take, Pelton.”
Only in Kyle’s mind. Concerns of saboteurs or irrationally disgruntled workers still failed to materialize as the dwarves took over the mining and prospecting. With how openly it was proclaimed, it was a great fool indeed to sabotage an initiative of King Magni of Khaz Modan.
Indeed, dwarven miners and foremen revitalized Alterac’s industry, providing far safer and efficient working conditions in the usually hazardous and back-breaking industries of mining and construction. Kyle had secured a deal with Magni guaranteeing that for every three mines the dwarves opened for their guilds and companies, they’d help open one fully owned by the throne of Alterac itself.
Some argued that he was being too generous, others said he was being too stingy. Pelton was in the camp that didn’t care, since the end result meant significant progress and improvement in Alterac as a whole. Dwarven professionalism meant that the prospectors had not skimped out in the six Alterac-owned mines, making sure that the ore veins in each were just as rich as those profiting the dwarves’.
As for rebuilding Alterac, the dwarven foremen had also proven their worth. It initially took a while for the humans to get used to Khaz Modan’s standards of construction, but once they did the new buildings that rose up in Alterac City and other towns and villages were obviously far sturdier than their previous incarnations. Having lumber be used almost equally along with stone meant that the process went far quicker than usual dwarven buildings.
Pelton had to admit some amusement at hearing of the dwarves’ sensibilities being so assaulted by shingles and thatching being preferred by the humans over a solid stone ceiling. The biggest downside to all this though was that the new buildings kind of looked the same, because apparently the hybridization between dwarven common aesthetics and the war-suffering Alteraci austerity resulted in plain, almost barren faced blocky things with a door and just enough windows to remind everyone it was hollow inside.
Even the churches to the Light looked more like dour fortresses than places of worship.
Still, the once destitute humans of Alterac now had the worries of homes and food mostly dealt with, and they also found safe (well, safer than previous standards), honest jobs in the mines or in the forges popping up to refine the ores, or in rebuilding town halls and homes of their countrymen. Not to mention the additional opportunities that arose as infrastructure rose up around those industries, like taverns and shops.
Pelton kept his usual report on Alterac’s industries brief; it’s pretty much rehashing the same thing at this point.
Kyle nodded satisfiedly at Pelton’s conclusion. “Well, since we’re on track, maybe we can free up some laborers, and see if we can get more people to join the local militias.”
The ranger instructors from Quel’Thalas helped create highly skilled patrols that secured the flow of commerce and industry in Kyle’s domain. Training was harsh by all accounts, but the results spoke for themselves. Bandits and gnolls were removed or chased well away from the inhabited regions of Alterac. The Alteraci ranger-militias took on deserters-turned-marauders and the occasional roving troll bands and won handily. Coupled with Kyle’s own magical scrying, it meant that very little could hide underneath the patrols’ noses.
“Some incentives could be offered,” one advisor suggested, an older man who used to be a notable Alteraci merchant.
“With the many sources of food and coin to choose from, there’s little else we can really give them,” a woman from Kul Tiras countered.
Another woman, a younger one from Lordaeron, raised a hand. “What if we offered cheaper housing?”
“We’re practically giving away the houses now,” came the retort. “Besides, with all the initiatives being undertaken, the treasury’s barely keeping afloat.”
That was true as well. While Magni and Anasterian were generous in their deals, there was still a price to be paid. Thanks to the former regents’ inaction though, the initial stagnant funds were still enough that Kyle only needed to order the liquidation of most of his palace’s valuables to keep a reserve while he paid off the Gnomeregan engineers for their machines. The eccentric Valoghan also offered a hefty donation that bolstered the treasury, but it was the mines opened later on that funded pretty much every other project Kyle implemented to rebuild Alterac. It still left the vaults rather sparse though, at least until the tax season during the fall.
The hall echoed with a jumble of voices as Kyle’s mixed court began throwing ideas about. Actual, legitimate ones. Half his court were local Alteraci, while the other half came from all across the Alliance. From Lordaeron all the way to Stormwind, there were a surprising number of applicants when Kyle put out the call for advisors. A few were delusional, and fewer still were utterly incompetent, but those that remained were so far proving themselves by dispensing decent advice when requested.
The possibility that they could be spies for the other kingdoms were beneath Kyle’s concerns for the time being, he only cared that they did their jobs.
Kyle regarded the cacophony with some bemusement before rising up from his wooden throne. “I’ll leave it to you to hash something out. Give me three…four of your most decent suggestions tomorrow. If there’s nothing else…?”
He turned to Pelton, who shook his head. “Good. I’ve got some things to deal with.”
“Enjoy your evening, your highness,” Pelton sent off before straightening his back and prepared to herd the advisors into brainstorming decent results.
Krasus had the right idea in tasking the gnome to help Kyle in the capacity of a steward. Halion was too stuck in elven decorum that he’d probably polymorph everyone the moment they tested his patience, and his place was in Anasterian’s court anyway. Lora was suited for the practice yard, torturing the palace guards in what was supposed to be training. At least she was having fun.
Still, perfect fit or not, Pelton felt some pride that not only did Krasus place his faith in him, but Kyle too trusted Pelton enough to leave him to his work.
The gnome beamed a smile at the courtiers, setting off a harmless flare spell to get their attention. “Now then, let’s consider the limitations of what we can realistically use as an incentive. Yes, Sir Maxon?”
*****
Kallum wobbled through the palace halls, panting with heavy exertion. Training with Lora was brutal as ever, though at least by now he could actually feel his limbs. He stumbled into his brother, who immediately gave him a look of exasperation.
“How many times must I tell you to hit the showers first, Kal?”
“But…tired…”
Kyle rolled his eyes. “If you can walk back to your room, you can walk to the showers for a quick wash. Let’s spare our poor servants the chore of dealing with your sweaty ass funking up your room.”
Kallum gave a weak harrumph, but turned around. Despite his annoyance though, once he dragged himself to the showers, he quickly slipped into a cubicle and basked in the comfort of the warm water raining down from the pipework above. His reluctance forgotten, Kallum once more marveled at how much some copper piping snaking around the palace could provide so much comfort.
This was one of five showers within the palace built by engineers from Gnomeregan. Kyle had his own private one adjacent to his room, a larger one was by the training yard, two were at opposite ends of the palace for the servants, and this was the family showers. Each shower hall was converted from an unused room. The family showers Kallum was in was formerly a study room, simply retiled over and its furniture moved out.
It made for a luxurious experience each time Kallum used it, however much he might think otherwise before stepping in. Back in Lordaeron, his family had to settle for straining their backs drawing water from a well to fill a cramped wooden tub. Kyle must have really disliked that to implement the showers like this.
Just like how much he disliked their old outhouse to get the gnomes and dwarves to carve out tunnels under the palace latrines to lay pipes. Thanks to the new toilet piping, the water closets barely stank at all (so long as one remembered to flush after each use) and Kallum was most eternally grateful that he didn’t have to be on his toes for snakes or frogs slinking out of the seats.
Revolutionizing bathing and shitting alone made Kallum decide that his brother was a good king. Apparently he was waiting for enough gold to begin introducing the marvels to Alterac City, and then the rest of Alterac. The people of Alterac were sure to be as grateful as Kallum was for having access to hot showers and clean, stinkless shits.
Kallum got out of his shower and slipped into some new clothes, finding his brother waiting outside for him.
“Still feeling like you have to take a nap?”
Kallum shook his head, and Kyle smiled. “I’m gonna go see Ma and Pa. Wanna join?”
The brothers navigated the palace halls effortlessly, ending up outside in what was once a fenced off garden. Kallum remembered that there used to be several ornate fountains, a gazebo, and other noble decorations. Now, it was more of a private farm, tended almost obsessively by Pa.
“You can take a man out of the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of a man,” Pelton had rightly said.
It wasn’t that great a loss; Kyle had a lot of new fountains around, and as pretty as the flowers looked, Pa’s crops were edible.
They found their father slowly walking along a row of tilled soil, pushing some wheeled contraption on. Ma was sitting idly, almost reclined on a plush seat looking out of place outdoors.
Supposedly, it used to be King Perenolde’s favorite chair.
“Hey Pa,” Kyle greeted first, “How’s the seed planter?”
“Cumbersome,” came the grumbled reply. “Stupid wheel’s too heavy and sinks in the soil.”
“Well-”
“You asked for a larger wheel the last time, dear,” Ma cut in with a teasing drawl.
Pa put down the seed planter and turned to Ma with a look. “So? I asked for bigger, not heavier.”
“Bigger means heavier, Dylan. Common sense, ain’t it?”
Both brothers shared soft chuckles as their parents bickered lightly, with Ma as usual proving the winner in the exchange by virtue of Pa stewing in silence.
Kyle gave her a bright smile and a quick peck on the cheek before walking over to Pa to comfort him. “So, lighter wheel? Or would it be better if it was wider instead?”
Brought out of his defeat, the ingrained farmer hummed thoughtfully. “Hrnn… Not sure. Though it’d be useless if the wheel’s so light that it snaps or bends…”
“How’s training dear?” Ma suddenly asked, drawing Kallum away from the conversation between his father and brother.
“Huh? Oh, the usual. Lora’s teaching me how to split a rock with a blunt sword.”
“That sounds great, dear,” Ma replied with a cheerful, supportive smile, even if she didn’t fully understand the significance of cracking boulders with a battered piece of metal. “I’m sure you’ll be a proper knight in no time if you keep at it.”
Kallum could only nod at that. No need to tell her that what knights did and what Lora taught were almost completely different things. Kallum once dreamt of becoming a knight of the Silver Hand, but after learning ‘proper fighting’ from Lora and being exposed to her disparaging remarks about ‘stuck up tin cans on poor abused horses’, he found himself more enamored in settling for being an armsmaster like the dwarf instead.
Shattering boulders and cleaving trees felt way more fun than practicing stuffy chivalry and aiming a lance.
He bantered with his mother for a while longer, enjoying the simple luxury of talking about nothing in particular rather than worrying over crops or leaking rooftops. Instead of concerns of murlocs and wolves threatening the coops, mother and son discussed the brisk spring weather. Instead of worrying about which jar of pickles had to be eaten first, they exchanged expectations on what the cooks would be preparing for dinner. Out in the tilled soil, Kyle and Pa continued talking about the contraption, and no doubt the disgruntled feedback the latter gave would be delivered to the gnomes via Pelton.
After a while, a servant appeared, signaling for dinner.
“Well, it’s a bit faster if we circled around instead of going inside,” Kyle correctly pointed out as he offered a hand for Ma to take and help herself up. “Care for the scenic route?”
“Our shoes are already a little dirty, so I guess why not?”
“Just be careful where you tread,” Pa warned, pointing out where he’s been growing his new round of crops.
They followed Kyle out of the backyard farm and took a short walk along the exterior of the palace, greeting the dutiful palace guards they passed by patrolling the grounds. By now, Kallum and his parents paid no heed to the exotic gilded fountains that were scattered around the palace, like some of runestone arrangement from the stories. They, like most people in the palace, had gotten used to Kyle’s magic, including conjuring the fountains literally overnight.
Kallum had his speculations about the true nature of the fountains, but he hoped that he would never be placed in a situation to find out.
