Alvin sat cross-legged on the floor, several notebooks spread around him, one boot lazily tapping against Xavier's thigh. A half-finished sketch of the base layout lay between them, along with a crude diagram of the nearby river system.
Xavier leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
"You're serious," he said flatly.
Alvin glanced up, eyes bright.
"Always."
"You said that last time before you tried to enchant a frying pan."
"It worked."
"It exploded."
"It purified the oil."
Xavier stared at him.
Alvin waved dismissively. "Minor side effect."
The problem at hand was not exploding cookware, however.
It was water.
The base's water filtration system—once municipal, now repurposed and barely maintained—was failing under increased usage. Too many people. Too much sediment. Too much residual mana contamination drifting from mutated zones upstream.
"We can boil it," Xavier said.
"We already do."
"We can reinforce filters."
