Chapter 207: The War of Currents

Alistair’s promotion was like a giant stone thrown into a calm lake, creating ripples throughout the kingdom’s mage community.

In the library of the Royal Magic Academy, the voices discussing profound theories grew fewer.

Instead, mages gathered in groups of three or five, heatedly discussing the application-related papers in the Magitech Theory journal.

Every paper published by Lia was studied over and over, every formula, every design diagram, was like a mark on a treasure map.

“Professor Lia’s theory of electromagnetic induction is a gold mine!”

“Yesterday, I tried to make a small heating device using her theory. Although the efficiency was low, it really could boil water!”

“Do you think if we combine the electric motor with the alchemy stirring array, we could make an automatic dough kneading machine?”

The alchemy workshops, once considered a “distraction from proper duties,” now became the most popular places for mages.

They were no longer satisfied with theoretical discussions; they were eager to turn those formulas and theories into tangible, touchable objects.

An unprecedented wave of invention and creation swept through the entire kingdom.

The first notable achievement came from a Fourth-Circle female mage named Fiona.

She had always been bothered by the short lifespan and high cost of magitech light bulbs.

After months of experimenting with hundreds of materials, she finally found a type of tungsten filament treated with a special alchemical method.

The filament made from this new material not only had a higher luminous efficiency, but its lifespan was also extended by more than ten times, while the cost was only half of the original.

Fiona named her invention the “Ever-Bright Bulb” and established the kingdom’s first company specializing in the production of light bulbs.

Orders flew in like snowflakes. In just one month, Fiona went from an unknown Fourth-Circle Mage to a wealthy businesswoman.

Her success further stimulated other mages.

If the electric lamp could be improved, what about the generator that provided the electricity?

Although Konrad’s clumsy “Magic Converter Model Two” was overshadowed by Lia’s electric motor, the scene of it lighting up hundreds of light bulbs had still left a deep impression on many people.

A group of engineers and mages with considerable research into mechanics and water-element magic turned their attention to the rushing waterfall on the outskirts of the Royal Capital.

“Such a huge force of flowing water, if it could be converted into power, wouldn’t it be a hundred times stronger than a human-powered capstan?”

Based on Lia’s electromagnetic theory, combined with their knowledge of statics and kinematics, they designed a complex and ingenious transmission device and a huge water wheel.

After more than half a year of arduous construction, the kingdom’s first hydroelectric power plant, amidst the roar of the waterfall, was successfully connected to the grid.

Stable and cheap electricity, like fresh blood, was injected into every corner of the Royal Capital.

This blood gave birth to more and more wonderful inventions.

A female mage skilled in ice magic, named Isabelle, had always been troubled by the inability to preserve food in the summer.

After studying Lia’s electric motor and Klein’s paper on energy conversion, she had a sudden inspiration.

Since electricity could generate heat, could it, in reverse, also be used to “transport” heat?

She designed a small, enclosed refrigeration magic array and used a miniature electric motor to drive the energy cycle of the array.

After countless failures, she finally succeeded in creating a wooden box that could continuously produce cold air.

She named this invention the “Frost Magic Box.”

When the first Frost Magic Box was delivered to a wealthy merchant’s residence, the merchant, looking at the ice cubes and chilled wine taken from the box on a hot summer day, was so excited he could barely speak.

The “Frost Magic Box” quickly became the most fashionable luxury item in the high society of the Royal Capital.

Isabelle also became famous for this, and some nobles even called her the “Goddess of Ice and Snow in Summer.”

The concept of electric home appliances began to become popular among the wealthy class.

In the early morning, there was no longer a need for servants to pull open the heavy curtains. A simple press of a switch by the bed, and the electric curtains would automatically open, letting the sunlight fill the room.

On a scorching afternoon, there was no need for maids to painstakingly fan the air. A humming electric fan could bring continuous coolness.

In the kitchen, mechanical arms that could automatically mix flour and beat eggs appeared, making dessert preparation easier than ever before.

The greatest significance of the appearance of these inventions was that their users did not need to possess any magical power themselves.

An ordinary wealthy merchant, a noble lady, even a citizen with some savings, as long as they could afford the electricity bill, could enjoy the convenience that was previously only available to high-level mages.

For the first time, the power of magic was opened to the entire society in such an approachable and widespread way.

However, among all these novel inventions, the most eye-catching was a team composed of top-notch alchemy craftsmen and several mages proficient in electromagnetic theory.

They posted a stunning announcement on the bulletin board of the Royal Academy of Sciences.

They announced that they were developing a new type of vehicle that did not require horses and was driven entirely by electricity—the “horseless carriage.”

As soon as the news came out, the entire Royal Capital was in an uproar.

The demise of the Galloping Horse Couriers was still fresh in everyone’s memory, and now, the traditional carriage guilds also felt an unprecedented crisis.

“A carriage without a horse? That’s just crazy!”

“Do they think they can run with just an iron box?”

“This is a blasphemy against the sacred horse!”

Doubts and ridicule were endless.

But more ordinary people were full of curiosity and yearning for it.

A fast means of transport that did not require a spellcaster and could be “driven” by ordinary people.

The concept itself was fatally attractive.

It heralded a day when ordinary people might also be able to travel freely and quickly between cities and villages like mages.

This technological explosion was changing all aspects of this world at a speed beyond anyone’s imagination.

The old order was collapsing, and a new one was being established.

In the laboratory of the mage tower, Lia was looking at a newspaper that Adèle had brought along.

The report listed the various new electrical appliances that had recently appeared in the Royal Capital.

“Ever-Bright Bulb,” “Frost Magic Box,” “Automatic Mixer”…

Behind the dazzling array of product names was a chaotic and dangerous market.

“Lia, look at this,” Adèle pointed to a corner of the report. “A bakery in the west of the city had a short circuit because they used a shoddy automatic dough kneading machine. It almost burned down the whole shop.”

“And this, a noble lady was using a magic curling iron, and because there were no protective measures, more than half of her hair was burned off.”

Lia’s brow furrowed slightly.

She looked at the internal structural diagrams of these so-called electrical appliances attached to the report.

It was a disaster.

Wires were tangled randomly, without any insulation protection.

Different appliances used completely different voltages, ranging from a dozen volts to several hundred volts.

What gave her the biggest headache was that almost all the inventions used direct current.

“Direct current…” Lia muttered to herself.

This was not surprising.

For beginners, the principle of direct current was more intuitive, easier to understand and apply.

Whether it was batteries or the most basic generators, they all produced direct current.

But Lia knew better than anyone the fatal flaws of direct current in long-distance transmission and the huge risks in high-voltage applications.

If this situation was allowed to develop, a large-scale electrical accident was only a matter of time.

At that time, the public’s yearning for electricity would turn into fear.

This nascent wave of electrification was very likely to be aborted because of this.

“I have to do something,” Lia said to herself.

She walked into the study again and spread out the manuscript paper.

She didn’t intend to directly negate everyone’s efforts; that would dampen the innovative enthusiasm of the entire society.

What she needed to do was to guide, to establish standards.

A new paper quickly took shape under her pen.

Safety Guidelines and Standardization Suggestions for the Alternating Current System.

In this paper, Lia did not use overly profound theories.

She used the simplest, most understandable language to elaborate on three core concepts.

First, grounding. She explained the necessity of connecting the appliance casing to the earth to prevent personal injury from electric shock accidents.

Second, the fuse. She designed a simple device made of a low-melting-point alloy and explained how it would automatically melt when the circuit current was too high, thereby protecting the appliance and the line safety.

Third, voltage levels. She strongly recommended that the kingdom unify its electricity standards, stipulating a relatively safe operating range for civilian voltage, while industrial electricity would use a higher voltage.

At the end of the paper, she once again tirelessly emphasized the huge advantages of alternating current in long-distance, high-efficiency, and low-cost transmission, and gave the basic design principles of a transformer.

As usual, Klein signed his name at the end of the paper.

This paper was published at the fastest speed through the channels of the Magic Association.

However, this time, the response was no longer a chorus of praise and adulation.

The day after the paper was published, Isabelle, the inventor of the “Frost Magic Box,” the female mage known as the “Goddess of Ice and Snow in Summer,” publicly published a document questioning Lia’s views.

“I respect Professor Lia Farrien’s great achievements in the theoretical field,” Isabelle wrote in her article, “but in the field of application, practice is the sole criterion for testing truth.”

“My Frost Magic Box, as well as the vast majority of successful magitech appliances on the market, all use stable and reliable direct current. This proves the superiority of direct current.”

“As for the alternating current that Professor Lia advocates, its voltage and direction are constantly changing, like a moody elemental sprite.

Introducing such a dangerous force into thousands of households is irresponsible to the safety of the public!”

Isabelle’s words were quite sharp.

She even implied that Professor Lia was a “castle in the air” builder who was obsessed with theory and did not understand the complexity and danger of practical application at all.

Her article immediately caused a great uproar.

Many workshop owners and inventors who were already using direct current technology and had invested a lot of money immediately sided with Isabelle.

For them, this was not just a debate about technical routes.

If the kingdom’s electricity standard eventually adopted alternating current, it would mean that all their existing equipment, technology, and production lines would become a pile of scrap iron.

Their investments would be completely lost.

A war over “alternating current” versus “direct current” was being fought simultaneously in the magic and business worlds.

The side supporting direct current portrayed alternating current as a monster that could explode at any time and kill people.

They hired street performers to create various dramas, telling tragic stories of families being ruined because they used alternating current.

The side supporting alternating current was mostly composed of academic mages with a more solid theoretical foundation.

They tried to explain the superiority of alternating current to the public from a mathematical and physical level.

But complex formulas and theories seemed pale and weak in the face of sensational stories.

For a time, public opinion in the Royal Capital actually leaned towards the side of direct current.

Adèle angrily slammed a newspaper with Isabelle’s article on the table.

“This Isabelle is too much! She doesn’t understand the essence of alternating current at all, and she’s just spouting nonsense!”

Lia calmly drank her black tea, seemingly not angered by this.

She had expected there would be controversy, but she hadn’t expected it to be so fierce.

Behind this, huge commercial interests were at play.

Klein walked out of the study; he had heard Adèle’s words.

He picked up the newspaper, glanced at it, and a hint of displeasure flashed in his azure eyes.

“Someone is questioning your theory?” he asked Lia.

Lia nodded. “Disputes over technical routes are normal.”

“I don’t think this is normal,” Klein’s voice was flat, yet it carried an indisputable tone. “There is only one truth; it doesn’t need to be disputed.”

He looked out the window, in the direction of the Royal Capital square.

“Since they can’t understand reason, let them see the facts with their own eyes.”

Klein turned and ordered his magic butler, “Notify the Royal Academy of Sciences that in three days, a public demonstration of long-distance power transmission will be held in the Royal Capital square.”

“In my name,” he added.

“I want everyone in the Royal Capital to understand who is right.”

Klein didn’t like to argue.

He preferred to use absolute power to crush all foolish doubts.

And when the object of the doubt was Lia, the crushing would be even more thorough.

Adèle looked at Klein’s back and sighed helplessly.

She had originally wanted to solve the problem in a gentler way.

But now, it seemed that a simple and brutal “show of skill” was inevitable.

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