When the Saint comes, she does not collect food

Chapter 1144 Did the carriage win?

As September arrived, the weather in the mountains cooled down a bit, though there were still occasional bouts of late summer heat.

The Holy Alliance is incredibly lively these days.

Not only were the inns in St. Regis fully booked, but Joan of Arc and Hot Springs Castle were also packed, much to the delight of the innkeepers.

The streets were filled with tourists from other places, who were excitedly buying local specialty products from Saint Lian.

Those who enjoy drama should go to the theater to watch plays that are unique to the Holy Alliance and are banned in the Empire.

If you like sports, go to the suburbs to watch Holy League football or watch gladiator octagon fighting at night; there's a chance you'll refresh your list of veterans.

And it wasn't outside the venue, it was inside.

After the expo was announced, tens of thousands of tourists flocked to the surrounding area in July.

By August, influenced by the gambling on the galloping horse, tens of thousands more tourists arrived.

In total, it is estimated that there were more than 30,000 visitors.

This number is probably still too small compared to the popular tourist attractions in Horn's home planet.

But in an era when the Empire considered a city to have 30,000 people, this was already an extraordinary flow of people.

For the members of the Holy Alliance, this action was seen as a window to showcase the prosperity of the Holy Alliance to outsiders, and they were extremely friendly.

This surprised many travelers who initially held prejudices against the Holy Alliance.

Wide streets, tidy houses, clean roads, and well-dressed and polite people.

There was also a dazzling array of goods, including dragon's blood pepper spices never seen before, spider silk clothing unique to Saint Union, as well as expensive bicycles and novel canned fruits.

Those living in the Holy See Court, in particular, made new discoveries every day, as there were always big Xu Sheng and inventors causing trouble on the streets.

A museum featuring everything from land vehicles and flying wings to mechanical horses and wind-up cats, and even all sorts of bizarre and strange creatures and plants.

In an effort to promote himself and attract investment and immigration, Horne gave these travelers a hard time.

However, these people also brought a lot of diplomatic and security problems.

Fortunately, Duvalon had matured through numerous experiences, and these travelers were not hooligans or thugs, but rather mostly respectable people.

So despite the increase in the number of tourists, the security situation in the Holy Alliance has not declined much.

However, this still drew a sour criticism from the Cold Springsburg Times, which said, "They're quite enthusiastic about helping foreigners find lost items."

While the Holy Mechanism Court was bustling with activity, Horn did not stay there but instead went to the outskirts.

The observation platform in front of him was a temporary wooden frame structure, about 8 meters high, with thick wooden planks covering the surface and a railing about half a person's height around it. Timers and speedometers for testing were hanging on the railing.

As he climbed the wooden ladder, Horn reached the observation platform, held onto the railing, and looked down.

A railway track, alternating between gray and dark brown, extends northeastward from the observation station.

All the way to the wooden sign five miles away, that was the end point of this test.

Each section of rail is made of wrought iron, about three meters long, with a smooth surface.

The joint was secured with four iron bolts, and pine sleepers, dark brown in color, were placed under the rails.

As for the sleepers, they are laid every 0.6 meters, with gravel and mortar bases filling the spaces between them to prevent the rails from shifting.

Below the observation platform, on the railway tracks, lies the main subject of today's test.

A ferocious, clockwork steel beast with massive gears—the motorcycle "Father's Hand III".

The locomotive's cab is 6 meters long, 3.2 meters wide, and 2.5 meters high.

The main body is a dark gray forged steel plate, half an inch thick, with the surface joined together with rivets.

The rivets in each row are spaced evenly and arranged neatly.

At the very front of the car is a three-quarter circular spring chamber, about 1.2 meters in diameter, with a shell made of stainless steel.

There is a pull rod on the side of the mainspring barrel, from which two drive shafts extend backward, with polished surfaces.

Even from a distance, you can see the gear teeth marks on it, which connect all the way to the four wheels of the locomotive.

The wheel's edge protrudes, perfectly engaging the grooves in the rail.

As for the side of the clockwork locomotive, there are two rectangular observation windows fitted with thick, transparent glass.

The words "Hand of the Holy Father No. 2" are painted in white on the body of the vehicle, with a line of smaller text below that reads "Made by the Holy Union Industrial Division in 1457".

The only regret about this multi-rivet steamed steel is that there's no burst of steam, only a huge, spinning spring.

However, the key does not actually have any practical function; it is only used to reflect the internal condition of the clockwork and serves a decorative purpose.

On the open ground to the side of the locomotive, the testing opponents were parked.

A light racing carriage, pulled by four Franz warhorses.

The carriage frame is made of poplar wood, which has been dried and is one-third lighter than that of an ordinary carriage.

The vehicle body has no extra decorations, only handrails on both sides for easy gripping by the driver.

Raymond, the driver, is considered one of the best coachmen in the Holy Alliance. He is a veteran who delivered supplies to Rapids City back in the day and is also a perennial champion at the racetrack.

At this moment, he was bending down to inspect the horse tack, occasionally raising his hand to stroke the warhorse's neck, his movements practiced and gentle.

Only when gazing at that colossal creature would a look of fear and disdain appear on his face.

If this thing becomes widespread, won't these coachmen go hungry?

It's just that this thing is progressing too fast. A few months ago, it was far ahead of him, but this week it's caught up.

"How is it?" Horn asked without turning his head when he heard footsteps behind him.

He didn't need to turn around; he could tell it was Sylph from her scent and footsteps.

The wolf girl was wearing a light gray canvas work jacket today, the sleeves rolled up to her forearms, revealing her fair wrists and silver watch. The Director of the Industrial Division, Halkin, followed closely behind, wearing the familiar, shrewd, and ingratiating smile that Horn wore.

“Everything is ready.” Sylph came to Horn’s side. “The final adjustments were made last night, and theoretically it can now outrun a warhorse.”

Taking the report from Sylph, Horn nodded as he read it: "In the previous five tests, over a distance of five miles, the locomotive and the warhorse were basically level. This time..."

“We can win.” Despite her dark circles, Shilov said confidently, “Last night’s final unloaded test was a minute faster than the fastest time of a warhorse.”

Horn looked at Raymond, who had just finished checking the horse tack.

He looked up and waved toward the observation deck, and Horn nodded slightly.

Upon seeing the signal, the messenger beside the observation platform took a deep breath, raised his right hand, and shouted, "Test begins!"

As soon as the shout was uttered, the engineer next to the locomotive immediately pressed down the lever.

Instantly, a "click-clack" sound rang out.

The locomotive's wheels paused for a moment, then slowly began to roll.

The wheels rolled over the rails, the steel clashing, and surprisingly, a clanging sound was produced.

As the spring continues to unwind, the speed gradually increases.

At the same time, Raymond suddenly swung his riding whip, making a crisp sound as it struck the air.

With all four warhorses exerting their strength, their hooves pounding the ground, they surged forward in an instant, leaving the carriage far behind.

The wheels kicked up dust, forming a grayish-yellow column of smoke.

Horn's brow furrowed slightly, while Halkin's heart jumped into his throat.

"It's started! It's started!" Harkin shouted. "Your Majesty, look, we've caught up!"

Raymond glanced back at the motorcycle behind him, his lips tightening even more.

He could see the locomotive getting closer and closer, and the distance that had initially increased was constantly shrinking.

He cracked the whip again and shouted even more urgent commands, but the warhorse's breathing became rapid, and pale pink mist spewed from its nostrils.

The speed was barely increased again, but it was clear that the warhorse had reached its limit, and its running posture was beginning to become somewhat unstable.

"It's still accelerating!" shouted the engineer next to the observation platform, a barely suppressed smile on his face.

The locomotive's speedometer needle pointed to 20, which was now the same speed as the horse-drawn carriage.

Less than a minute later, the pointer jumped to 22, and the locomotive began to overtake the rear wheels of the horse-drawn carriage.

The engineers beside the railway tracks began to cheer, some waving their notebooks and others patting each other on the shoulder.

Sylph, unusually, took Horn's arm and smiled slightly.

Sweat beaded on Raymond's forehead, trickling down his cheeks and dripping onto the horse harness.

He gritted his teeth and pulled on the reins with all his might, trying to make the warhorse go faster.

But the warhorse's speed not only did not increase, but began to slowly decrease.

The locomotive drew closer and closer, soon becoming level with the horse-drawn carriage.

From the observation platform, the dark gray locomotive and the brown carriage were traveling side by side, the locomotive's drive shaft turning faster and the "clicking" sound becoming more frequent.

But amidst the cheers, many people, including Horn, suddenly heard a strange sound.

It sounded like a metallic, twisting, grating noise. The sound was incredibly sharp and grew louder and louder, even drowning out the rumble of the motorcycle and the neighing of the warhorse.

The cheers stopped, and everyone's eyes turned to the locomotive.

Suddenly, a brass drive shaft on the side of the locomotive broke off, flew out, landed on the grass next to it, and pierced through the roadside trees.

At the moment of its breakage, the locomotive suddenly bounced upwards before crashing heavily onto the rails with a loud bang.

Immediately afterwards, orange-red sparks appeared from the spring compartment at the front of the car.

This is very unusual; even if a wind-up motorcycle explodes, it won't produce sparks.

But the next second, a ball of flame suddenly exploded, and the raging flames instantly engulfed the motorcycle and spread along its body.

"This is?"

"How could it explode?"

"Quickly, hurry and put out the fire..."

"Don't get close, or you'll be killed by the out-of-control clockwork mechanism."

Those on the observation deck and beside the railway tracks stared in disbelief, their cheers turning into stunned silence.

"No!" Horn suddenly realized, "That's red dragon's breath! Someone's sabotaging us!"

Harkin's expression changed drastically, and he immediately shouted, "Quickly, put out the fire!"

Horn's expression changed drastically: "Never mind this for now, tell René to immediately seal off the motorcycle research institute!"

Several guards rushed over with buckets of water, but they were unable to extinguish the red dragon's flames.

They dared not get too close, because the orogen clockwork seemed to be a giant snake unleashed from its cage, rolling and bouncing, shattering countless pieces of iron.

The motorcycle's body was visibly blackened from the heat.

The brass casing of the clockwork chamber was deformed, and most of the gears inside had melted, leaving only a twisted metal frame.

Surrounded by the still-burning wreckage, the engineers' faces were filled with regret and anger, muttering curses under their breath: "It must have been the Francois! They were afraid our locomotives would win!"

Horn ignored him, his face grim as he scanned the crowd.

Suddenly he beckoned to Halkin, who was standing nearby: "Find that mechanic named Capone, where is he?"

(End of this chapter)