Steel and Mana

Chapter 291 – Spreading Influence

The Atuvian League's hardened soil had long been both a bane and a challenge to its farmers. The dry, unyielding earth was rich in nutrients but stubbornly hard, requiring back-breaking labor and countless oxen to work it just to yield even the smallest fields of crops. It was a fact that had shaped the League's culture, forcing them to rely heavily on trade and the ingenuity of their merchant class to survive. When producing their own food was less worthwhile than importing it, they began importing what they needed while exporting their raw materials, which were more readily accessible for the Atuvians. It not only transformed their society, but it built up a reliance that showed its ultimate weakness after suffering two harsh winters only a few years apart. It was a gut-punch to the League and for so many other nations on the continent, forcing them on their knees. But right now, it seemed that a helping hand arrived, ready to pull them up from the ground.

The focus of the Goldlight and Quickfeet guilds was twofold. First and foremost, they began building the first railway connecting their territories to Avalon to accelerate their trade, especially acquiring food to survive until they could restart their own production. The second was unraveling the secrets of the tractors they bought, the machines that had begun to change everything. The steam-powered beast, with its churning pistons, rotating gears, and hungry boiler, swallowing up coal that they had in abundance, was like an artifact from another world. Well... it was, but they didn't know it. Its arrival in the League had set the members of the two guilds ablaze with curiosity and ambition, especially when one of them was dismantled by a joined task force for study.

Outside the bustling city of Aldrim, the home base of the Goldlight Guild, a massive construction site had been erected in only days. Rows of laborers worked under the summer heat, sweating and swearing as they drove iron spikes into timber ties. The air was thick with the scent of freshly cut wood and the acrid tang of hot iron while the rhythmic pounding of hammers echoed across the plains, stretching for kilometers at once. They were also building a so-called train station while thousands of others were laying down parallel lines, heading towards the west. Those workers who knew nothing couldn't imagine why, but they were paid, and every bit of money could save lives in these dire times.

The Goldlight and Quickfeet engineers, still amateurs at understanding Avalon's designs, huddled over blueprints and guidelines provided by Avalon itself on how to measure and build these tracks. These plans outlined the dimensions of the steel beams, the composition of the rails, and the precise angles needed for stable turns. One of the difficulties was that they had to adapt to Avalon's measurements, which were alien to what they were used to. However, after understanding it and executing these designs with their own tools, they had to realize the difficulty had risen once more as it became more challenging to produce them to specs than they first believed.

“Flattening the rails is our biggest hurdle,” Master Forn, a blacksmith with decades of experience but no knowledge of mass production, grumbled to his people. He was examining a crude iron rail, its surface looking rippled like disturbed water. “Without proper furnaces or rollers, we’ll be stuck hand-beating every single one of these for months...”

Chairman Alvor, his employer, stood nearby, his arms crossed as he observed the progress and listened to his report.

“Then we must innovate,” he said firmly. “We’ll scale the furnaces to Avalonian proportions if we must. Maybe I can acquire their blueprints on my next visit. If it takes a mountain of coal, so be it; we have it in abundance. This railroad is our lifeline to Avalon, and failure is not an option.”

The Quickfeet Guild had already mobilized its caravans to bring in supplies—timber from the northern forests, iron from their reopened mines, and stone to stabilize the trackbed. Every guild member, from lowly apprentices to seasoned merchants, understood their assignment, working together like an anthill. The promise of Avalon's machines, coupled with the potential for a resurging trade dominance in the north, had, once again, reignited their morale.

Within a cavernous workshop in Quickfeet’s capital city, Zortan, the tractor, designed to be reverse-engineered, arrived like a slumbering monster of metal. Its black exterior was marred by scratches from countless inspections they did while transporting it, and its inner workings were now exposed, like the bodies of the beasts killed by Avalon, ready for harvest. Around it gathered crafters, smiths, and tinkerers from both factions, the brightest of their people, their faces smeared with grime and their hands constantly picking up and putting down pieces they examined for the eleventh time. The lead engineer and designer, an experienced middle-aged man named Harrik, jabbed a finger at one of the tractor’s pistons, now disassembled on a wooden workbench.

“This,” he said with awe, “is the beating pulse of it all. These parts move in tandem to drive the wheels or the tracks, but the power source—this... steam engine—is what baffles me most. It may look just like a simple cylinder, but... it is not.”

Beside him, Lissa Vrynn, one of Quickfeet’s Chairman, leaned in, visiting them almost every second day.

“And you’re sure it’s powered by boiling water?” she asked, "Some people said it may be magical."

“No, it is not. And really, it is powered by fire and water.” Harrik nodded to his boss. “But it’s not just that. The pressure must be immense, enough to drive the pistons back and forth at incredible speeds. That boiler over there”—he gestured to a cylindrical contraption—“is key, but replicating it has been... proven to be difficult.”

The artisans had tried forging their own version, following the Avalonian one as best they could. The result was a crude, leaky cylinder that had exploded during their first test. It had taken a week to repair the damage, and the workshop’s roof still bore scorch marks from the blast.

“We need finer metalworking tools,” muttered another smith. “The precision of these Avalonian parts... we’re decades behind, if not more. I would sell my daughter to one of their engineers just to see what tools they are using.” Lissa frowned, pacing the workshop as she listened.

“I will keep that in mind. I hope your daughter is young and beautiful." Lissa commented, and they knew she wasn't joking. "We don't have time to wait until you copy their tools, so we must import their stuff. If Avalon's Sovereign won’t part with his methods, we’ll find another way then. Trade routes stretch far beyond these borders—surely someone out there has what we need. I will get what you require to replicate this machine. Until then, learn everything you can!”

Despite their setbacks, the tractor’s potential was undeniable. When they had managed to put the others into motion, their iron wheels had churned through the toughest soil with ease, dragging their tools behind them. They were transforming fields that would have taken months to plow into arable land, finishing it within days. They were the equivalent of hundreds of serfs working at once and without complaining or slacking off. Farmers from surrounding villages had come to witness the spectacle, their eyes wide with wonder and envy, as not every land owner was given one, only those who were the most experienced and most loyal to the two Guilds.

“This machine could double our harvests—no, triple them!” One such lucky farmer reported after spending a week with the tractor, learning to handle it properly. Not long after... every other documented the same thoughts, making the two guilds' leadership really eager to up their trade with Avalon and forge a much deeper relationship with their new neighbor.

Alvor didn't rest either. He had seized on this sentiment, organizing demonstrations across their territories to showcase the tractor’s capabilities. This calculated move was designed to rally support for the costly railway project while also planting the idea of future sales.

“You’re sowing seeds, Chairman Alvor,” Lissa had remarked after one such demonstration. “Seeds of profit. You do realize that the other Guilds, fighting for the control of Atuvia, will hear about these machines...”

“Precisely,” Alvor had replied. “Once we’ve cracked the secret of its construction, we’ll flood the market with our own variants. Every farmer, noble, and guild master will clamor for owning one, and the League will rise again. Inner trade is just as important as dealing with outsiders... When we revitalize our home, we will have the power to dictate who gets one and who doesn't.”

"And at what price." Lissa nodded, agreeing with his idea. "Still, we will need to be ready, and they will want to take it by force."

"They have no money to hire mercenaries." He countered, "Both of us know that fact as we are the same. Brutes can't be paid for by raw materials, only by gold. We have the former but lack the latter."

"What about the Avalonian loans?" she asked, although she was against them and understood the implications behind them very well. They just had no way of refusing them.

"I would rather spend it on other things if we must put ourselves into debt than waste it on a bunch of untrustworthy vultures."

"True." She nodded, thinking a little, "The other guilds' infighting is already taxing enough..."

"Yes, and otherwise, I wouldn't be brave enough to be this loud about our miracle machines," Alvor added with a sly smile.

Back in the Goldlight Guild’s headquarters, plans were already underway to secure patents for their future machines, even without having a working variant yet. While Avalon's Sovereign had shown no interest in monopolizing his designs, the League’s merchants disagreed with Leon's decision. If they were to mass-produce tractors, they needed control over their distribution.

“We’ll need to differentiate our models,” Chairman Roven stated as he examined a sketch of a simplified tractor design that was presented to him. Even if it was just a concept for the moment. “Strip away the unnecessary frills, make it affordable for smaller landowners. At the same time, we can develop luxury models for the aristocracy—ones with gilded frames and custom engravings, decorations, crests, uniquely shaped boilers, and complete customization!”

“Sell to everyone,” others agreed. “But we must ensure quality. If the first models fail, our reputation will suffer.”

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As the weeks turned into months, progress on both the railway and the tractor accelerated. Apprentices learned to operate basic rolling machines, creating smoother rails in half the time after Alvor returned from another trip to Avalon, bringing some tools with him. Meanwhile, the workshop in Quickfeet finally succeeded in replicating a functional boiler. Its maiden voyage was a smoky, triumphant affair, even if its output was behind Avalon's design. At least, this time, it did not blow up.

The moment it was confirmed, the League’s merchants began negotiating deals with foreign traders, promising early access to the tractors once they were ready for export. As for their origins, rumors began spreading of Avalon's technologies, drawing envoys from neighboring regions curious to witness the League’s transformation, inquiring if this mythical Avalon truly existed or not... or how they could make contact with them. Even if the price of that contract could be... high.

It seemed that Atuvia's luck, at least the regions under the control of the Goldlight and Quickfeet Gulds, was turning. No, it was evolving. For centuries, they had been known only for their shrewd merchants and vast connections backed by their thousand-strong caravans. Now, they stood on the brink of an industrial revolution, one driven by their determination to match Avalon's ingenuity and seize the opportunities it offered.

As the first stretch of railway neared completion, linking the League’s central cities to Avalon’s border, Alvor stood atop a newly laid embankment, surveying the scene. Laborers worked tirelessly to secure the final rails while a crowd of spectators gathered to witness the historic moment.

“This is just the beginning,” he murmured to himself, his thoughts drifting to the tractors still under construction and the profits they promised. “Avalon may have given us a spark, but we’ll grow it into a proper fire.”

Standing there, he could already see in his mind's eye: In the distance, the first Avalonian train... Appearing on the horizon, its unmistakable whistle signaling its arrival while its loud rattling would cut through the air like a herald of things to come. The League was ready to embrace the future, one rail and one wheel at a time. Maybe... one day, they will also have giant, walking machines of war to defend themselves.

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