Chương 159: Speeding Things Up

Since the merchant insisted on accompanying the explosives personally, explaining that somebody needed to confirm the delivery, provide directions, and make certain Sieghart did not accidentally take several dangerous boxes toward the wrong dungeon. For the first several minutes, they moved at the same frustrating pace as the animal-drawn wagons ahead, giving Morran enough time to examine Sieghart, his clothing, and the strange controls curiously.

"You just started working as a traveling merchant, didn't you?" Sieghart glanced sideways.

"Yes."

"I figured." Morran leaned back against the seat, though his eyes continued studying Sieghart with enough curiosity that pretending not to notice became increasingly difficult.

"You look young. Your voice sounds even younger." Sieghart had already considered that weakness inside Phantom Image. Changing his face, hair, proportions, apparent height, and clothing mattered considerably less whenever somebody heard an unmistakably young voice afterward. Voice-changing magic existed somewhere, naturally. Sieghart had encountered references to illusions affecting sound, but he had never learned the principles required to alter his own speech convincingly.

That would become increasingly useful if he planned to maintain older identities. Looking fifteen while sounding ten could probably survive brief conversations, but anything older would become considerably harder to explain. Unfortunately, his current body had another complication approaching eventually. Sieghart had already survived puberty once and remembered exactly how ridiculous voices became while changing unpredictably between pitches.

He was not particularly excited about experiencing that awkward stage for a second lifetime, especially while attempting to maintain identities whose apparent ages depended upon sounding remotely convincing. Until then, speaking less remained the simplest solution. Sieghart had never considered silence particularly difficult, and allowing other people to invent assumptions about him often worked better than providing unnecessary explanations.

"You don't talk much either."

"I noticed." Morran stared. Sieghart continued driving. After several seconds, the merchant apparently understood that demonstrating Sieghart's reluctance to speak by repeatedly asking questions would not produce the conversation he wanted. The wagons ahead finally crossed Greymill's eastern boundary, passing the last scattered houses before entering a broad countryside filled with cultivated fields, windmills, and gently descending hills.

Sieghart waited until every building disappeared behind them before increasing the mana flowing through the steering contacts, immediately feeding greater power into the carriage's Fire Runes. The engine responded with a deeper mechanical rhythm as pressure rose through the reinforced chambers, pistons accelerated, and the wheels began turning faster beneath their expanding flow of power. Morran immediately grabbed the side of his seat.

"You're speeding up."

"That was the arrangement."

"I know. I wasn't complaining yet." The road became increasingly rough as they gained speed. Every shallow rut struck through the wheels, sending uncomfortable vibrations through the chassis and making the strapped explosive crates rattle behind them. Sieghart glanced backward. That sound was undesirable. He increased speed anyway.

The first merchant wagon ahead slowly drew closer until its driver looked backward, noticed the horseless carriage rapidly approaching, and immediately pulled farther toward the roadside. Sieghart passed without slowing. Several people aboard the wagon stared after them, apparently surprised that a vehicle without animals could maintain such speed across an ordinary road.

The second wagon received similar treatment moments later, followed by a heavily loaded cart whose oxen reacted badly to Sieghart's rumbling engine and required its driver to calm them. Before long, every wagon from Greymill disappeared behind them. Only open road remained ahead while Morran bounced repeatedly against his seat and reconsidered the generosity of his promised payment.

"You said you could get us there faster."

"Yes."

"I didn't realize you meant like this."

"You offered double." Sieghart looked ahead.

"Directions." Morran blinked.

"What?"

"I'll need you to give directions if you want to arrive quickly." The merchant nodded and pulled the local map from beneath his coat, though reading it became noticeably difficult while the carriage shook his arms, shoulders, and head repeatedly. He eventually pointed toward an upcoming division in the road, shouting that they needed the narrower eastern route before the river turned south toward another farming settlement.

Sieghart followed the instruction, steering sharply enough that Morran grabbed the seat again while the cargo compartment produced another collection of deeply concerning wooden rattles. Sieghart frowned. The vehicle could clearly move faster than ordinary wagons, but its suspension, wheel construction, frame, and cargo mounts had never been designed for the speed he was forcing from them. Eventually, he wanted proper measurements.

Maximum speed, safe turning speed, braking distance, engine temperature, fuel efficiency that meant absolutely nothing to him, and how much punishment the chassis could survive. This delivery provided a convenient opportunity to test several of those limits, though transporting enough explosives to demolish a blocked dungeon tunnel made catastrophic failure unusually inconvenient today. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The carriage struck another rut. Morran nearly left his seat.

"That one almost knocked me."

"You're fine."

"The explosives?"

"Fine for now." Sieghart glanced backward.

"They haven't exploded." Morran became considerably quieter after that answer, perhaps recognizing that questioning Sieghart's definition of fine might produce information he preferred never possessing. Sieghart continued experimenting carefully. Additional mana increased engine power almost instantly, but traction eventually became the greater limitation whenever loose gravel covered steep sections. Steering also became increasingly sensitive.

Small movements that barely mattered at ordinary wagon speed could shift their entire path dangerously once momentum began carrying the vehicle faster. Sieghart adjusted his technique, holding the wheel more steadily and planning turns earlier rather than correcting direction constantly like he had during slower travel. Still, the shaking remained irritating. More importantly, the vibration threatened his cargo. Sieghart activated Protection.

Normally, the spell covered his body directly, wrapping skin, bones, organs, and clothing beneath a magical defensive layer designed to absorb external force. This time, he expanded it outward. Protection stretched from his hands into the steering wheel, followed the conductive mana channels through the carriage, then spread gradually across the wooden and metal frame. The first attempt became uneven.

Most reinforcement accumulated around the engine and front wheels, leaving the rear cargo compartment noticeably weaker while wasting mana where the structure was already reinforced. Sieghart corrected the distribution while driving, forcing Protection to spread evenly across axles, suspension, cabin, cargo mounts, walls, floor, and every major connection carrying vibration. The effect became immediately noticeable. The carriage struck another shallow hole.

Instead of producing the usual violent jolt, the reinforced frame absorbed much of the impact and distributed the remaining force through the entire structure. Morran stopped bouncing. He looked down. Then toward Sieghart.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing." Sieghart had used Protection upon people from a distance before, but reinforcing an entire vehicle created a different challenge because nothing biological naturally defined where the spell should stop. He needed to mentally treat the carriage as one connected object, maintaining enough awareness of every structural section that Protection understood what belonged within the reinforced boundary. Once that concept stabilized, the ride became dramatically smoother.

The wheels still reacted physically to terrain, yet fewer vibrations reached the cabin or cargo compartment afterward. That was extremely useful. Not because Sieghart cared about comfort. Comfort helped. But Protection was effectively compensating for engineering weaknesses his current craftsmanship could not yet solve mechanically, allowing the carriage to survive speeds beyond its original design. Sieghart smiled faintly. Different surroundings really did produce ideas faster.

Weeks inside his basement had given him uninterrupted experimentation, yet five minutes of driving explosives across a rough road had immediately revealed several applications he never considered underground. He looked toward the reinforced wheel assembly and started thinking about permanent solutions. Protection worked, but maintaining another spell while traveling consumed attention unnecessarily. Runes could potentially reproduce parts of the effect.

A Wind Rune positioned along the front could reduce resistance against the carriage, allowing higher speed without demanding additional engine power. Another formation might manipulate airflow around the cabin and cargo compartment, preventing turbulence from making steering increasingly unstable at greater speeds. Weight reduction sounded even better.

If Arcane or Wind Runes could temporarily reduce effective weight across the chassis, the engine would require less force for acceleration and the wheels would experience less stress. The challenge would be preventing the carriage from becoming too light. Strong crosswinds combined with reduced weight could transform transportation into involuntary flight.

Sieghart had enough experience with improvised flight to know that a carriage becoming airborne without permission would probably end with several expensive repairs. There were other possibilities. Reinforcement runes along the axles. Impact-dampening formations beneath the cabin. Cooling circuits around the engine. Pressure gauges. Automatic lighting. Perhaps even a barrier surrounding the entire vehicle.

Sieghart mentally added everything to his growing list while Morran continued watching him suspiciously, apparently recognizing the distant expression of someone designing something while supposedly concentrating on driving. The carriage climbed another hill, and the engine maintained enough power that their speed barely decreased despite the steep road and heavy cargo.

Once they reached the top, Morran pointed toward a distant river visible between wooded slopes, explaining they needed to follow its northern bank until reaching an old crossing. From there, mining markers would guide them toward the dungeon camp. Morran estimated they had already covered distance ordinary wagons needed several hours to cross.

"This thing is absurdly fast."

"It can go faster." Morran looked toward the explosives behind them.

"No." Sieghart briefly considered increasing the mana anyway. Then another crate rattled. He decided the merchant possessed a point. The current speed already pushed several mechanical parts harder than Sieghart liked, and Protection could reinforce structures without preventing every screw, latch, or poorly fitted component from gradually loosening.

He would probably need to dismantle half the carriage after the delivery, inspect everything, replace damaged sections, and adjust several components based upon today's stress. That sounded enjoyable. Sieghart realized he might genuinely like owning a vehicle simply because it provided another complicated object that could constantly be improved. Runic engineering had already transformed ordinary equipment into potential projects.

His carriage simply contained enough interacting systems that improvements could continue almost indefinitely. Perhaps one day it would become less carriage and more moving magical fortress. Sieghart liked that idea considerably too much. He imagined reinforced armor covering the exterior, barriers surrounding the chassis, magical weapons hidden beneath panels, automated defenses, flight runes, and enough storage to operate independently for months. Basically an Iron Man suit with wheels.

That was not the final goal. Probably. Morran interrupted his thoughts by pointing sharply ahead.

"Turn there!" Sieghart followed the indicated path just before passing it, sending the carriage onto a narrow mining road lined by wooden posts carved with faded symbols. The terrain worsened immediately. Deep wheel grooves crossed packed earth, exposed roots pushed through several sections, and loose stones covered slopes leading toward denser forest. Protection absorbed the worst impacts, but Sieghart reduced speed anyway.

Reaching the dungeon thirty minutes earlier would accomplish nothing if the explosives arrived distributed across several kilometers of forest. Morran finally relaxed enough to release the side of his seat.

"You really are new to this." Sieghart glanced toward him.

"Traveling merchant work."

"You keep testing everything while driving."

"That is how testing works."

"Most people test vehicles before loading explosives." Morran stared at him for several seconds. Sieghart looked away before his expression betrayed anything. If pretending to be an ordinary teenager required behaving reckless, experimental, stubborn, and overly confident, perhaps maintaining the disguise would become easier than expected. His actual problem remained the voice. Morran had noticed quickly.

Future identities would require solving that weakness, especially if Sieghart eventually wanted to appear twenty, thirty, or older while hiding his real age. Sound Illusion. Voice Manipulation. Perhaps Air Magic modifying resonance inside his throat. Another research project. The list grew again. Sieghart smiled slightly while following the mining road deeper between trees, realizing that every new place seemed determined to give him three problems for every answer.

That was exactly why leaving Lunar Arc had been necessary. The basement had provided safety and concentration. The road provided questions. And questions had always been far better at making Sieghart stronger.