Chapter 595: The Wheel of History

Though the lord had temporarily left his loyal capital, the land continued to thrive under an ironclad order.

There was no social upheaval, no breakdown of law and order. Soldiers still carried out their commands, sheriffs maintained public safety, markets bustled as usual, and the nights remained peaceful. People had worried that Cecil might descend into chaos during the lord’s absence, but the system of governance established by Gawain Cecil, along with the strict laws, held firm—the lord was gone, but the law remained.

And in Cecil City, still vibrant and prosperous, new wonders emerged as they always had.

On the eastern edge of the city, near the factory district’s boundary at the end of “Mechanics Square,” thousands of citizens had gathered on platforms and open grounds, having heard the news. Even more were arriving by foot or carriage from the factories, docks, and other neighborhoods, swelling the crowd until the once-spacious plaza teemed with people.

Winter was approaching. Though the first snow had yet to fall, a recent rain had brought a sharp chill, and a brisk north wind blew in from across the Whitewater River, reminding everyone of the cold season ahead. Yet the cold did nothing to dampen the crowd’s enthusiasm. More and more people pressed into the open space and onto the few raised platforms, all craning their necks toward the eastern sector, cordoned off by security forces and soldiers.

There, stretching straight to the horizon, lay a strange structure: a road paved with gleaming runes, flanked on both sides by curious “pillars” that shimmered with arcane light.

The citizens speculated about the “magical locomotive” described in yesterday’s broadcast. They debated eagerly how many new jobs and extra income this marvel might bring. Sharp-eyed observers noticed reporters from the Cecil Gazette, the Chatty Times, and the Curious Chronicles had already taken positions atop the easternmost platform, setting up arcane cameras and preparing to capture the big story.

—The Cecil Gazette was the principality’s oldest and most widely circulated newspaper. The Chatty Times and Curious Chronicles were newer publications, having gained popularity only in recent months. The former was founded by scholars from the northern regions, while the latter was the brainchild of a local entrepreneur and several craftsmen passionate about modern technology. As literacy spread and reading interests diversified, these new papers found growing audiences.

The crowd buzzed with guesses and discussions about the impending marvel—and it did not keep them waiting long. As the great mechanical clock in Gearwheel Square tolled loudly, a clear, melodious whistle pierced the air.

The whistle’s sharp, high-pitched tone reminded many of the increasing number of arcane-powered ships on the Whitewater River, but it was somehow more piercing, more urgent. As the sound grew clearer, the crowd on the platforms and plaza stirred with excitement, their murmurs swelling into cheers and gasps.

From a massive building in the distance, a colossal engineering and arcane creation emerged, forged of steel and awe-inspiring in scale. It moved forward with solemn dignity, gradually picking up speed.

It was a train—but unlike any train anyone had ever imagined. If the earlier arcane carriages had at least resembled “horseless wagons,” this was something else entirely.

Composed of a dozen or more steel cars linked together, each car larger than the biggest arcane vehicle before it, the whole formation stretched like a giant steel serpent crawling across the earth.

At the front and rear were enclosed cars—white, rectangular boxes with rows of neatly set windows. Between the windows, steel plates bore glowing runes and mechanical pillars, while the roofs were adorned with metal frames, arcane crystals, and lamps.

The middle cars were open-topped, also steel but painted a sober dark gray. They looked like enormous crates, rougher in style than the end cars but exuding raw mechanical and industrial power. Heavy-duty machinery was visible beneath and along the sides, with huge numbers painted on the sides—larger than a person. Anyone with a bit of sense could tell these “crates” were meant for hauling massive quantities of cargo.

This was the “magical locomotive” the arcane network had announced—a “man-made beast” capable of carrying thousands of passengers or tens of thousands of tons of goods across plains and hills in a single run.

The train sounded its whistle again. Mechanical parts along its sides adjusted the angles of the glowing rune pillars. The hum of magic and the creak of stressed machinery filled the air as the “man-made beast” solemnly pressed onward, accelerating steadily.

Onboard were some technicians and workers, and the cargo cars held a load of supplies. The train was embarking on a half-load trial run to the mining town east of the city, where its mechanical systems and runic structures would be inspected and fine-tuned. Afterward, iron ore from the mines would fill every cargo car for the return trip to Cecil City.

Standing on a nearby platform, the principality’s mature and elegant Grant Chancellor Hetty Cecil watched the steel giant recede into the distance alongside technicians and government officials. Her expression was solemn, but a faint trace of relief and satisfaction shone in her eyes.

It had finally begun. A massive project, born of countless hours of labor and immense effort, had borne fruit. She could finally breathe a little easier.

Floating beside her was the round, buzzing metallic orb known as Nicholas “Egg” Tot, humming softly: “The mining town isn’t far from here. It’ll arrive soon—then pause for half a day, mostly to inspect the machinery, runes, sensors, and controllers, before returning fully loaded.”

Rebecca, head of the arcane technology department, was also present, her face glowing with pride. Hands on hips, she wore an expression that said, “I pulled off a major victory today.” “If nothing goes wrong during the run—which I doubt, since I tested it over eighty times in the Origin Lab—then we can extend the tracks eastward from the mining town all the way to Grant City. The station there is already under construction. Once we get the order, they’ll start laying tracks simultaneously, heading both east and west—west to connect with the Cecil line, east all the way to the White Sand mining area…”

Rebecca’s manner was still unrefined, lacking noble polish, but Hetty was in such good spirits she didn’t mind. She simply nodded: “Everything will go smoothly.”

The journey from Cecil City to the mining town was not long. This run was essentially a test—both of the train itself and the track’s power supply system. Only after passing this trial could the train enter full operation.

Once fully operational, the first route to open would be Cecil–Mining Town–Grant–White Sand, with freight trains running first. They would transport a steady stream of ore from White Sand mines back home, replenishing the metal shortages caused by recent war machine production, factory expansions, and city growth. Meanwhile, two arterial lines leading north to Rockfort and west to other regions would soon begin construction.

Watching the train’s silhouette shrink in the distance, Hetty recalled a previous dispute with her ancestor—and the changes made to the train’s design afterward.

She had rejected the original train design her ancestor had approved and ultimately… reintroduced wheels to the magical locomotive.

Yes, the final production model did have wheels. To fit the V-shaped tracks, it had three sets of wheels: a central “main” or “support” wheel embedded at the bottom of the V-track, providing necessary support when the train was stopped or under heavy load; and two “side wheels” on either side, angled to be perpendicular to the sloped track surfaces. These side wheels offered extra support and enhanced stability during turns or lateral swaying, ensuring safety.

None of the wheels were powered. The train’s propulsion still came from repulsion devices mounted on its sides.

She knew the original plan, agreed upon by her ancestor and Rebecca, was for a fully levitating train—one that floated low over mountains and plains, swift and elegant, a true embodiment of magical power.

But such a design was prohibitively expensive and had limited carrying capacity.

As a Grant Chancellor versed in both technology and governance, Hetty understood the challenges faced during development and the principles behind the final solution. She knew the idea of using repulsion engines for propulsion was sound—it solved the power problem. But in her view, the repulsion units beneath the track only needed to lift the train slightly, enough for the side repulsion devices to push it forward. There was no need for full suspension. High-quality wheels could compensate for the lack of full levitation, reducing friction and allowing smooth movement, while providing greater stability and load capacity.

More importantly, steel wheels were far cheaper than covering the entire track with repulsion runes.

Of course, this added mechanical complexity and wheel wear (which repulsion units largely avoided), but compared to the savings on runes and the increased load capacity, the trade-off was well worth it.

Fortunately, and unsurprisingly, her ancestor eventually agreed to her modifications.

After rigorous calculations and repeated tests, the final production model struck a balance between wheels and track-based repulsion. About one-third of the track’s repulsion runes remained to reduce wheel pressure and allow the side pillars to accelerate the train smoothly. When empty, the train could hover slightly, facilitating maintenance, assembly, and transport. The wheels provided higher load capacity and greater stability, preventing derailments even when carrying heavy cargo or if the track’s power supply faltered.

The repulsion pillars on the train’s sides and the relay pillars along the track remained unchanged—they were still the train’s source of propulsion.

All told, these adjustments cut overall costs by roughly a third while significantly increasing load capacity.

As Heddy pondered the balance between the costs and benefits of the mana-powered train, and contemplated its future development, Rebecca stood quietly nearby, lost in her own thoughts.

To her, the finalized train was essentially a massive, uniquely structured mana engine. At its core, it still relied on repulsion mechanisms to drive a “rotor” in motion—except this “rotor” wasn’t spinning in place; it was a train running along a track, moving linearly rather than rotating on the spot…

In a way, it could be seen as a kind of piston engine stretched out over a great distance, propelled by a relay-like system.

This ingenious design cleverly solved the traditional engine’s problem of insufficient power density. Instead of concentrating all the power in the locomotive at the front, the entire train—and even the track itself—became part of the engine.

Maybe this should be called a “linear mana engine”? The third type of mana engine after the piston and rotor designs?

On this day, as the train set off and the wheels of history thundered forward, the young marquise’s mind began to wander and expand…

(End of chapter)