CH921 · Rewrite
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Chapter 921: The Locomotive Era (Part I)

The North Slope Mine was about to witness something it had no category for.

A new railway linking the ore stacking yard to the furnace area had been cleared for the last time — swept, raked, debris removed from between the ties. Different from the iron-coated wooden rails inside the mine, this one was wider, built to carry greater loads, and forged entirely from steel. Heavy, dark, and unyielding. The amount of metal laid into the ground here could have armed a full knightage — armor, swords, and all of it — and yet here it sat, fixed in earth, exposed to wind and weather, rusting at no lord’s command but Roland’s.

Any other lord of this era would have called it obscene.

Roland led the conference participants out from the hall and down to the stacking yard. The officials fanned out behind him, and almost at once he heard the stirring begin — murmurs, paused steps, a collective drawing of breath. Not every department had been told what they were looking at. The Longsong representatives in particular stood with their mouths open, eyes tracking the twin rails as though cataloguing something impossible. The construction was imposing even absent any context: sheer mass, sheer confidence. Cast steel, laid on the ground, fixed there as though it belonged.

They would never have thought their king a wastrel — he had surprised them too many times for that. But this strained even their trained willingness to believe.

Neverwinter could afford to build such a railway. That was the point. After the blast furnace and the converter had come online, the city’s industrial foundation no longer depended so entirely on witch-power. The converter still required Anna to melt the iron for the first step, but it was something that had no name in this era. The smelting works on the North Slope had been rebuilt with Lotus’s help — she had blasted away the ceiling of the mine itself, converting the upper section to open pit. Monthly steel output in Neverwinter now exceeded every other city in Graycastle combined.

Roland had expected it. He would have been surprised by anything less. That was what factories did.

This railway was an experiment: a test of what it meant to link mine, smelter, and wharf by rail. He had set the gauge at one and a half meters — easy to remember, easy for Lotus to build a roadbed around. The ties were cut from logs; the ballast was rubble from the mine reconstruction. It looked, in other words, exactly like a railroad. Like something out of a world he’d left behind.

It was also unfinished. Anna had processed and installed the trial section herself, using her Blackfire. The Graycastle unification campaign had halted the second half before it was complete.

At Roland’s instruction, the workers moved to the end of the yard and began pulling away a canvas — dusty, scattered with fallen leaves. It came off in folds.

What stood beneath it was a black steel vehicle, low and square and dense with purpose.

“Your Majesty, is it a — ” Petrov, governor of the Longsong area, tried to find the word. “A steamer carriage?”

Roland wasn’t surprised. Steam engines had proliferated across Neverwinter’s operations: paddle steamers on the river, pump engines at the farms, loading rigs on the wharf. The officials had grown familiar with the barrel-shaped boilers, the churning gears, the smell of coal smoke. They recognized the steam engine mounted in the vehicle’s steel frame without needing to be told.

It was a reasonable name. But Roland had no intention of surrendering the naming rights.

This was a machine of era-making significance. Its first prototype was slower than a horse cart, and it would eventually be rebuilt a dozen times in a dozen different forms, but its name had never changed in the history he remembered — not once, across its entire long life.

“It’s a train,” he said, correcting Petrov. “It’s the answer to the transportation problem.”

Barov studied the machine, then the rails, then managed the word again: train. His tongue worked around it like a foreign object. “Do you mean to build a railroad like this one across the grassland? What happens when the demons attack the construction teams?”

“Two tracks, side by side — to keep traffic moving if one is damaged.” Roland stepped closer to the map spread on the table beside the locomotive. “And I’m not routing it across the open grassland. The line starts from the Misty Forest, turns east near the Taquila ruins. Leaf controls that corridor. She can shield the whole forest section from demonic beasts during the Months of Demons. As for the demons themselves —” He paused. “Any place the train can reach is our battleground. It can move cannons and shells faster than anything else we have. If they destroy a section of track, we rebuild it faster than they can destroy it again.”

The Advisory Department had already run the numbers. The route through the forest was longer than the open grassland alternative, but faster to build — because under Leaf’s direction, the undergrowth would clear itself, drainage slopes would form without labor, and Hummingbird could ferry construction materials in quantities no wagon train could match. Lotus would handle the roadbed. The Ministry of Construction would lay ballast, place ties, and set the rails; Anna would weld the joints behind them.

Before the end of winter, they could have a line running from the forest to the Taquila ruins. When they did, the ruins would fall within the Longsong Cannons’ range.

The officials had gone quiet. Several of them looked at the black vehicle, then at the rails, then back at each other — not in the way they looked at something ridiculous, but in the way people looked at something they were not yet willing to believe.

Roland decided not to rush them.

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