(super long Chapter 2700+words and author guaranteed entertainment)

Two weeks after the Ironheart Project changed direction, the eastern research district developed a reputation that discouraged visitors.

The official explanation involved restricted industrial development.

The actual explanation involved Archon Maerath.

More specifically, it involved Archon Maerath working in the same building as Gandalf.

Several workers claimed the workshop generated more arguments than power.

Nobody could conclusively prove them wrong.

By the second week, the locomotive hall had expanded twice. Additional forges operated day and night, new machine tools filled previously empty sections of the facility, and dozens of engineers moved between workstations carrying calculations, revised schematics, and components that became obsolete almost as quickly as they were produced.

At the center of the workshop stood the reason for all the chaos.

Ironheart-I.

Or rather, what would eventually become Ironheart-I.

The machine occupied nearly an entire assembly platform.

What began as a simple freight locomotive had transformed into something far more ambitious. The original mana-assisted steam concept no longer existed. Lucien’s question about boiling water had destroyed that design so thoroughly that nobody bothered mentioning it anymore.

Now the project revolved around direct mana-drive technology.

Unfortunately, direct mana-drive technology appeared determined to fight back.

Ironbreaker stood beside a partially completed crankshaft assembly while several machinists waited nearby.

The dwarf rotated the component beneath a lantern before pointing toward a tiny imperfection.

"Make another."

The craftsman blinked.

"You found a flaw?"

"I found several."

The man stared at the polished steel.

"I don’t see them."

Ironbreaker nodded.

"That’s why I’m employed and you’re being corrected."

The machinist departed with visible disappointment.

Lucas arrived moments later carrying three reports.

One glance at the growing pile of rejected components told him everything he needed to know.

"How many today?"

"Thirty-seven."

Lucas stopped walking.

"Thirty-seven?"

"Improvement."

"Compared to what?"

"Forty-two yesterday."

The administrator looked toward the ceiling.

Sometimes he wondered if becoming a farmer would have been a better life choice.

Then he remembered farming required weather.

Weather could not be negotiated.

Neither could researchers.

The comparison remained inconclusive.

Across the hall, Maerath and Gandalf stood before a slate so covered in calculations that several assistants had begun attaching additional boards to nearby walls.

The current discussion involved weight.

Or more specifically, too much of it.

Gandalf pointed toward the latest engine projection.

"The frame cannot support this."

"It can."

"No."

"It absolutely can."

"No."

The argument continued for several seconds.

Then Gandalf stabbed a finger toward the calculations.

"The engine weighs nearly twice the original estimate."

"Only because progress refuses to be lightweight."

"The locomotive is becoming a fortress."

"A productive fortress."

"A fortress."

Maerath folded his arms.

"A temporary inconvenience."

Ironbreaker approached and studied the figures.

Then he frowned.

Then frowned harder.

Finally he looked at Maerath.

"The old man is right."

Gandalf looked pleased.

Briefly.

The feeling vanished when Ironbreaker continued.

"The frame won’t survive."

Now both mages looked annoyed.

Lucas looked concerned.

The dwarf pointed toward the engine schematics.

"You’ve added fourteen cylinders."

The room grew quiet.

That was the heart of the problem.

The first freight locomotive no longer relied on a single power chamber.

Instead, fourteen synchronized mana-assisted cylinders fed rotational force directly into the crankshaft assembly.

The design generated tremendous power.

It also generated tremendous weight.

Maerath stared at the calculations for several moments.

Then something occurred to him.

That was unfortunate.

Everyone recognized the expression.

Gandalf noticed it immediately.

"Oh no."

The archmage smiled.

"Oh yes."

Lucas immediately disliked where this was heading.

"What?"

Instead of answering, Maerath grabbed a piece of chalk and began sketching symbols around the locomotive frame.

Not engineering diagrams.

Runes.

Complex runes.

The room gradually fell silent.

Ironbreaker stepped closer.

"You’re putting runes on a locomotive."

"Obviously."

"Why?"

Maerath looked genuinely confused by the question.

"Because gravity is becoming inconvenient."

The workshop remained quiet.

Then Gandalf sighed.

The sigh of a man who knew the idea would work.

Which somehow made it worse.

Over the following days, the locomotive became a strange fusion of engineering and magic.

Runic arrays spread throughout the frame.

Weight-reduction runes reduced effective mass without weakening structural integrity.

Reinforcement runes strengthened critical load-bearing sections.

Heat-distribution arrays redirected thermal stress away from vulnerable components.

Vibration-dampening runes reduced harmonic resonance throughout the chassis.

The results were immediate.

The engine became lighter.

The frame became stronger.

The vibration problem decreased significantly.

Lucas hated how effective it was.

Not because it failed.

Because it worked.

Working solutions were expensive.

Failed solutions at least stopped requesting funding.

During one review session, Lucien finally arrived to inspect progress.

The duke spent several minutes studying the updated schematics.

Then his attention shifted toward a second collection of drawings resting near the edge of the table.

Unlike Ironheart-I, these designs looked absurd.

The engine stretched across multiple sheets.

Cylinder banks extended almost the entire length of the locomotive.

Lucien raised an eyebrow.

"What is that?"

Maerath looked proud.

Which immediately concerned everyone.

"The military version."

Gandalf looked exhausted.

Which concerned nobody because he always looked exhausted.

Lucien examined the drawing.

"Twenty cylinders?"

"Twenty."

The duke stared at the design.

Then at Maerath.

Then back at the design.

"Why?"

The archmage pointed toward an older report.

"Because you requested more than five thousand horsepower."

Lucas immediately joined the conversation.

"I blame you."

Lucien ignored him.

The military engine concept continued expanding across the table.

Unlike the freight locomotive’s fourteen-cylinder arrangement, the military design utilized twenty synchronized cylinders divided across extended banks.

The result looked less like an engine and more like a mechanical siege weapon.

Ironbreaker studied the design.

Then laughed.

The sound drew attention.

"What?"

The dwarf pointed toward the engine.

"If you make it any longer, the locomotive reaches the destination before the last cylinder leaves the station."

Several engineers laughed.

Even Gandalf smiled.

Maerath looked offended.

"Exaggeration."

"Only slightly."

The freight engine continued developing over the following week.

Failures occurred frequently.

One test generated enough vibration to loosen half the bolts on the test frame.

Another caused a mana synchronization imbalance that nearly twisted the crankshaft assembly apart.

A third incident filled the workshop with steam despite the fact that the design technically no longer relied on steam.

Nobody understood how that happened.

After three hours of investigation, Gandalf discovered an engineer had accidentally connected two entirely unrelated systems.

Lucas considered banning experimentation.

Lucien informed him that would defeat the purpose of research.

Lucas considered banning researchers instead.

Unfortunately, that would also defeat the purpose of research.

The situation remained unresolved.

Meanwhile, Ironheart-I slowly approached operational status.

The frame stood completed.

The runic arrays functioned correctly.

The fourteen-cylinder engine had finally been assembled.

Transmission components survived preliminary testing.

The air-brake system continued receiving improvements after its earlier attempt to reorganize an entire train through brute force.

For the first time since the project began, genuine optimism spread through the workshop.

That should have worried everyone.

Because optimism and prototype testing rarely remained friends for very long.

The first major test occurred shortly after dawn.

Ironheart-I stood upon a reinforced testing frame in the center of the workshop while engineers occupied observation stations around the hall. Every major component had been inspected repeatedly. The fourteen-cylinder engine had survived static examinations. The runic reinforcement arrays functioned correctly. Even Gandalf appeared moderately satisfied.

That alone should have been considered suspicious.

Lucas arrived carrying several reports.

One look at the gathering immediately worsened his mood.

"Why are there more people than usual?"

An engineer answered.

"Everyone wants to see history."

Lucas looked around the workshop.

Then at the enormous engine.

Then at Maerath.

"I would prefer history remain outside the building."

The archmage ignored him.

Power flowed into the engine.

One cylinder activated.

Then another.

Then another.

The crankshaft began moving.

The enormous assembly rotated smoothly while mana flowed through the synchronization arrays. Deep mechanical vibrations echoed through the hall as the engine accelerated beyond anything previously achieved in Elarion.

For several seconds, everything worked.

Then a wrench began moving.

Ironbreaker noticed first.

The dwarf pointed.

"That’s bad."

A young engineer followed his gaze.

"The wrench?"

"No."

The dwarf pointed toward the table.

"The fact that it is attempting migration."

Several nearby tools had started moving as well.

Not quickly.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

The vibration spread through the testing frame.

Bolts rattled.

Support brackets trembled.

The entire structure developed a low mechanical growl.

Maerath’s smile disappeared.

Gandalf noticed the same thing moments later.

"Shut it down."

The command echoed across the hall.

Engineers rushed toward emergency controls.

Power disconnected.

The cylinders slowed.

The growling gradually disappeared. 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Silence returned.

Everyone inspected the frame.

Several mounting brackets had cracked.

One support beam had partially deformed.

A vibration-dampening rune had fractured completely.

Lucas stared at the damage.

Then at Maerath.

"Good news?"

The archmage examined the results.

Then nodded.

"The engine survived."

Lucas looked at the broken supports.

"The building appears less enthusiastic."

The following two days disappeared into calculations.

The vibration problem eventually traced back to microscopic differences between cylinder timing sequences. Individually, the errors meant almost nothing.

Together, they attempted to shake the locomotive apart.

Maerath called it a synchronization issue.

Ironbreaker called it fourteen engines trying to disagree simultaneously.

The second explanation proved easier for everyone to understand.

While the engine team solved their problems, Gandalf moved forward with the railway braking system.

This test took place outside.

A short section of reinforced rail extended across the eastern field. Several cargo wagons sat behind a test locomotive while engineers monitored pressure gauges positioned throughout the train.

Lucien attended personally.

Not because he doubted Gandalf.

Because experience suggested attending important tests usually resulted in entertaining disasters.

The old mage stood beside the control station.

"Everything has been inspected."

Lucas immediately looked worried.

Gandalf noticed.

"What?"

"Every major failure we’ve experienced began with those words."

The researchers laughed.

The administrator did not.

The locomotive accelerated.

Pressure built throughout the braking system.

Indicators remained stable.

The test train reached operational speed.

Gandalf nodded.

"Emergency stop."

The command triggered immediately.

The locomotive responded.

The first wagon responded.

The second wagon responded.

The remaining wagons demonstrated remarkable independence.

Several engineers watched in horror as half the train stopped while the rest continued moving.

The collision wasn’t particularly violent.

It was embarrassing.

One wagon climbed partially onto another.

A third rotated sideways.

The rear section compressed forward with enough enthusiasm to convince everyone that additional calculations might be useful.

Silence followed.

Gandalf stared at the wreckage.

Then at the pressure gauges.

Then back at the wreckage.

Finally he sighed.

"I have located the problem."

Maerath folded his arms.

"Excellent."

"The designer was an idiot."

The archmage nodded thoughtfully.

"A breakthrough."

Gandalf glared at him.

Lucas covered his face.

The workshop spent another week correcting both projects.

The engine improved.

The brakes improved.

The researchers improved.

Lucas remained unconvinced about the last one.

Then came what later became known as the Great Steam Incident.

Nobody intended it.

Nobody planned it.

Nobody could entirely explain it.

One engineer modified a pressure-regulation system connected to an experimental auxiliary heating unit.

The modification itself was reasonable.

The implementation was not.

Several minutes later, a pressure imbalance developed somewhere inside the workshop.

Then a second imbalance.

Then a third.

By the time anyone realized something was wrong, every emergency release valve activated simultaneously.

The workshop vanished.

Not exploded.

Vanished.

A massive cloud of steam engulfed the entire building.

Visibility disappeared instantly.

Engineers shouted.

Tools crashed.

Someone tripped over a toolbox.

Another engineer became convinced the engine had exploded.

A third engineer argued that the engine could not have exploded because he was currently standing on it.

Nobody could verify either statement.

At that exact moment Lucas entered the building.

His timing remained legendary.

Several minutes later, the steam finally began clearing.

The administrator stood in the middle of the workshop.

His clothes were soaked.

His hair was soaked.

His patience had evaporated.

He looked toward Maerath.

"Did it explode?"

The archmage considered the question carefully.

"Not in the traditional sense."

Lucas closed his eyes.

That answer somehow made everything worse.

Afterward, Ironbreaker spent nearly an hour laughing.

Nobody helped him.

The final phase began shortly afterward.

Weeks of failures had produced results.

The vibration problem had been reduced significantly.

Runic reinforcement arrays had exceeded expectations.

Weight-reduction runes allowed the frame to support the fourteen-cylinder configuration without becoming absurdly heavy.

The direct mana-drive system functioned.

The transmission survived.

The braking system stopped attempting civil war against its own train.

For the first time, Ironheart-I appeared ready.

Or at least ready enough for researchers.

Which was not necessarily the same thing.

The entire project gathered inside the testing hall.

Even workers from nearby construction sites found excuses to attend.

Rumors had spread.

Everyone wanted to see whether the machine succeeded.

Or exploded.

Both outcomes attracted attention.

Ironheart-I dominated the workshop floor.

The locomotive engine stretched across the reinforced chassis while glowing runic channels flowed beneath protective housings. Fourteen synchronized cylinders lined the engine body, creating a machine unlike anything the continent had ever seen.

Nearby rested the military design sketches.

The twenty-cylinder monster.

Every engineer who looked at those drawings eventually reached the same conclusion.

The future armored train would be terrifying.

And absurdly expensive.

Lucas reached that conclusion several times each day.

Maerath stepped toward the control platform.

"Begin power transfer."

Mana flowed.

The cylinders activated.

One.

Then two.

Then four.

Then all fourteen.

The crankshaft rotated.

Smoothly.

More smoothly than any previous attempt.

The enormous engine accelerated while runic arrays stabilized the frame and distributed stress throughout the structure.

Power climbed.

The transmission survived.

Power climbed further.

The frame survived.

Even Ironbreaker looked impressed.

Gandalf watched the gauges carefully.

No problems.

The workshop grew quiet.

Engineers exchanged hopeful glances.

Lucien watched the machine.

For the first time, success seemed possible.

Thirty seconds passed.

Then forty.

Then fifty.

The engine continued operating.

Power output reached the projected threshold.

Several engineers began smiling.

That was their mistake.

A metallic scream echoed from deep inside the engine.

The sound lasted less than a heartbeat.

Then everything went wrong.

A connecting rod failed.

Not because of the runes.

Not because of the design.

Because the steel itself had reached its limit.

The fracture propagated instantly.

The damaged rod shattered.

The failure cascaded through the engine.

Metal tore apart.

Fragments punched through internal housings.

The engine roared like a wounded beast.

Steam erupted.

Mana surged.

The workshop shook.

Engineers dove behind barriers.

One observation platform lost an entire railing.

Several windows ceased participating in architecture.

Then silence arrived.

Smoke drifted upward.

Steam hissed from damaged pipes.

Ironheart-I sat motionless.

Dead.

Nobody spoke.

The machine had survived less than a minute.

Then Ironbreaker walked forward.

The dwarf climbed onto the damaged frame and pulled a fractured connecting rod from the wreckage.

He studied the break carefully.

Rotated it.

Examined the fracture line.

Then nodded.

"Good."

Lucas nearly lost consciousness.

"The engine exploded."

"Yes."

"How is that good?"

Ironbreaker pointed toward the fracture.

"Yesterday we didn’t know what would fail."

Then he lifted the broken rod.

"Today we do."

Around him, engineers immediately crowded closer.

Calculations began.

Arguments followed.

Ideas emerged.

The postmortem discussion started before the wreckage finished cooling.

Lucas looked toward Lucien.

"I think all of them are broken."

Lucien studied the researchers.

Maerath was already redesigning the assembly.

Gandalf was arguing with him.

Three engineers debated improved metallurgy.

Another group discussed stronger alloys.

The replacement project had begun before the first project officially ended.

Eventually Lucien nodded.

"I believe that’s a requirement."

Lucas sighed.

Maerath approached carrying several revised calculations.

The old archmage looked excited.

Far too excited.

"We can improve this."

The administrator stared.

"It exploded."

"Informatively."

"I hate that word."

"You shouldn’t."

Gandalf joined them.

"He is correct."

Lucas looked betrayed.

"Both of you?"

The old mage shrugged.

"We just discovered the actual limit of our metallurgy."

Ironbreaker nodded from the wreckage.

"And now we know what needs improvement."

Lucien looked toward the ruined engine.

Then toward the increasingly enthusiastic researchers surrounding it.

The answer seemed obvious.

"Build another one."

The workshop erupted into renewed activity.

Lucas looked toward the ceiling.

Somewhere between industrialization, runic engineering, fourteen-cylinder freight engines, and plans for twenty-cylinder military monsters, Elarion had crossed a line.

He wasn’t entirely sure where that line had been.

He was absolutely certain there would be no returning across it.

And judging by the excitement spreading through the workshop, nobody wanted to.