The next morning, the entire estate gathered to witness the maiden voyage of the "Ground-Dragon."
The horses in the nearby stable were kicking their stalls, agitated by the sll of coal smoke and the hissing noise. They knew, instinctively, that they were looking at their replacent.
Arthur sat in the driver’s seat. It was a simple bench with two levers: One for the throttle (steam valve), one for the brake (a wooden block that jamd against the wheel).
Sarah sat next to him, gripping the bench so hard her knuckles were white.
"Young Master," she yelled over the idle hiss of the engine. "Is this safe?"
"Statistically?" Arthur checked the pressure gauge. "Yes. The boiler has a 20% safety margin before catastrophic failure."
"Only 20 percent?!"
"Initiating transport," Arthur ignored her. He pushed the throttle lever forward.
CHUG-CHUG-CHUG-CHUG!
The machine lurched. Smoke billowed from the smokestack. The iron wheels a bit into the gravel.
It moved.
It wasn’t fast—maybe 5 miles per hour at first—but the torque was undeniable. It felt unstoppable.
The Open Road
They turned onto the concrete road Arthur had paved in Chapter 4.
"Surface optimal," Arthur noted. "Increasing velocity."
He opened the valve further. The chugging accelerated to a roar. The wagon sped up to 15 miles per hour.
In a world where the fastest travel was a galloping horse (which couldn’t be sustained), 15 mph in a heavy wagon felt like breaking the sound barrier.
The wind whipped Sarah’s hair. She scread, half in terror, half in exhilaration.
"We are flying! Young Master, we are flying on the ground!"
Arthur was less impressed. "Vibration is significant. My teeth are rattling. I need to invent rubber tires imdiately. And springs. This suspension is garbage."
They approached the village.
A farr was crossing the road with a cart of cabbages. He looked up.
He saw a black tal monster, spewing smoke, roaring like a demon, barreling towards him without a horse pulling it.
"Demon!" The farr shrieked, diving into a ditch. His donkey, smarter than the farr, simply froze and stared.
Arthur pulled a cord. HOOOOOOOOOONK!
The steam whistle scread across the valley. It was louder than a dragon’s roar. Birds took flight three miles away.
The farr covered his ears.
Arthur steered around the cabbage cart with surprising precision. The steering tiller was heavy, but the vehicle responded.
As they passed the village, children ran out of their houses. They didn’t run away. They ran alongside it.
"Look at the smoke!" "Where are the horses?" "It’s the Young Master! He’s riding a stove!"
Arthur checked his watch. "We have covered three miles in twelve minutes. That is a 400% increase in efficiency compared to a laden ox-cart."
He looked at the cargo bed behind them. It was loaded with 500 crates of Toothpaste.
"We will reach the capital by tomorrow afternoon," Arthur concluded. "The supply chain crisis is resolved."
Sarah looked back at the village fading into the distance. She looked at the small boy driving a multi-ton explosion-machine with a bored expression.
"Young Master," she shouted. "The world is going to change, isn’t it?"
"Only the logistics, Sarah," Arthur said, adjusting the throttle. "Only the logistics."
[Achievent Unlocked: The First Driver.] [Public Panic Level: Moderate.] [Rumor Generated: The Pendeltons have enslaved a fire demon to pull their carts.]
Arthur sighed. Demon. Dragon. Why can’t they just call it a Thermodynamic engine?
End of Chapter 13
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