In Thalgorrin — the capital of the steampunk south, Thalgorrah — there is a rare place where steam does not escape at every single step. This is Thalgorrin City Park, located right next to the Grand Library.

At its magical center — which does not align with the geometric center in any measurable way — lies a small clearing with a pavilion. Through the middle of this pavilion rises a hollow column, about 30 feet tall and roughly 2 feet in diameter. It extends high above the roof, and from time to time a sharp, threatening jet of hot steam bursts out of it.

At the entrance to the pavilion, which is a circular space roughly 70 feet across, hangs an ornate brass plaque engraved with the warning:

“Thalgorrin must not become the third moon.”

Inspection Day in Thalgorrin City Park

In the center of the pavilion, the thirty-foot column hums softly, occasionally releasing a threatening jet of steam. Around it runs a beautiful brass railing, now decorated with freshly installed pressure gauges that gleam in the morning light.

A delegation marches onto the clearing. At the front stands a member of the city council — or rather, an esteemed brother of the Guild of Free Delegators. He wears an expensive coat, intentionally a little scuffed, and carries a folder filled with blank papers. His expression suggests he bears the weight of all Sionareth on his shoulders.

Next to him shifts the construction foreman, an old, seasoned engineer accustomed to grime, grease, and clear numbers.

Delegator (runs a finger along the brass railing, glances at a pressure gauge, then looks up sadly at the moon Keth. His voice becomes soft and ominously concerned): “From the highest places, it has been indicated to me that there is… unease. They have expressed concern about whether this aesthetic solution is sufficiently safe for the public. They ask what pressure actually circulates in these pipes.”

Foreman (confidently taps the nearest gauge with his thumb): “No worries, sir! We planned for this. Every five feet of railing has a calibrated pressure gauge. As you can see, the needle doesn’t move at all. There is no pressure in the railing — it’s purely decorative.”

Delegator (not a blink, his tone shifting into mysterious sympathy): “Ah, yes. You see zero, I see zero. But they ask: is that zero approved? What if that zero resonates with an incorrect regulation? I have been told that if the pressure were to rise, the public might succumb to panic.”

Foreman (his eye begins to twitch): “But there’s nothing to rise! These are empty pipes! They serve as a railing so people don’t fall into the arisaria beds!”

Delegator (closes his folder, sighs gently): “I understand, my friend. I am nothing — I merely convey their unease. Nevertheless, the Master requires that these pressure gauges be checked every hour, retroactively from last Tuesday. All records of zero must be submitted in triplicate to the Guild of Free Delegators. They want us to be prepared.”

Foreman (desperate): “Prepared for what?! Checking air retroactively from last week?!”

Delegator (turns on his heel, pauses, and whispers over his shoulder): “You see? They wanted it so…”