In the days that followed, the streets of Savadra beca a sea of gleaming spokes and polished fras. Bicycles of all shapes and sizes zipped through the cobbled lanes, their riders—mostly the children of nobles—giddy with delight. Teenagers, in particular, hounded their parents to purchase the newest, most fashionable models, eager to be seen atop these symbols of modernity.
To et the surging demand, Matthias expanded his operations. A second workshop rose on the outskirts of the city, beyond the clamor of the market square, and more craftsn were hired, their hamrs and saws singing late into the night.
But success drew unwanted attention. Envoys from Prince Reuben’s camp arrived at Matthias’s door, their words laced with veiled threats. They demanded production of a specialized bicycle fitted with a sidecar. Refusal, they warned, would an the closure of his shops. Though bitterness simred in Matthias’s heart, he had no choice but to comply.
Yet even as he begrudgingly assembled the sidecar models, Matthias and his loyal designers started putting Gideon’s work into reality—the Iron Horse.
When at last they unveiled it, the machine captivated all of Northem. Its sleek fra and unmatched speed rendered Reuben’s cumberso "Open Carriage" obsolete almost overnight.
The Tryke, as the people called it, sold faster than Matthias’s workshops could produce them. Left with no alternative, Prince Reuben was forced to slash prices, and what was once a symbol of status now beca the transport of common folk.
Faced with this humiliating defeat, Reuben’s advisors urged him to change strategy. If he couldn’t outshine Matthias, he would outmaneuver him—by seizing control of the market through mass production of Iron Horses and bicycles. Reuben found the idea appealing and began enticing Matthias’s apprentices away with promises of wealth and prestige.
Matthias, seated across from Prince Alaric in the quiet of the study, let out a weary sigh."Your Highness, the crown prince grows more brazen by the day."
Alaric, ever composed, leaned back with a faint smirk."Let him be. We’ve earned more than enough, and soon, we’ll be profiting off his ambitions too—through royalties."
Matthias nodded, recognizing once again the sharp mind of his prince.
...
A week before Prince Alaric’s departure from Savadra, the Grand Duke of Arches, Prince Dakota, hosted a grand banquet to formally present his great-grandson to society. Nearly a month had passed since the boy’s return, and the ti felt right for such an occasion.
That morning, Lara and her family departed their estate, their two carriages rattling along the winding road to the sprawling Arches estate. The land was vast, dotted with ancient oaks and silver-barked birches. At the southern edge, Dakota’s own castle stood tall and proud, a sentinel over the countryside, while a kiloter away rose Duke Conner’s stately fortress.
At the fork in the road, the first carriage veered south toward the king’s castle. The second, carrying Lara and her siblings, continued on to the Duke’s residence. The mont their carriage drew to a halt, young Sandoz burst from the drawing room, his face alight with joy as he flung himself into Lara’s arms.
"Sister, you’re finally here!" he exclaid, his voice bubbling with excitent. "I’ve been waiting for you!"
Lara laughed and ruffled his hair."I brought you sothing," she said, motioning to the coachman. From the carriage, the man carefully lifted down a small bicycle, its fra tailored perfectly to Sandoz’s height.
His eyes sparkled like twin stars."For ?"
"Of course," Lara said, smiling warmly.
But the surprise wasn’t over. The coachman revealed a second gift—a sturdy Tryke with two passenger seats behind the driver.
Sandoz’s jaw dropped."Oh! There’s another one!" Sandoz exclaid.
"Yes, you can drive your sisters around." Lara pushed the bike to him. "Co on, try it." Lara urged him.
Initially, Sandoz wobbled unsteadily as he mounted the bike, his body fighting against the unfamiliar motion. With each uncertain push of the pedals, he felt the clumsy sway beneath him.
However, after a few determined attempts, a flicker of confidence ignited within him. Gradually, he found his balance, the bike transforming from a fickle companion to a steadfast ally. With newfound ease, he glided along the path, the wind tousling his hair as he navigated with grace and exhilaration.
"Thank you, Sister." Sandox was grinning. "These are the best gifts I ever received."
After a few more rounds, Sandoz invited Lara inside the drawing room. There, she t Linnea. The woman was getting more and more beautiful. She hadn’t seen her for two weeks, and it was her trusted maid who accompanied Sandoz on his training at the Norse estate.
Now, she looked like a princess, poised and elegant.
"Madam Linnea, I haven’t seen you for quite a while," Laras asked.
"I’m doing well," Linnea replied, a rosy hue creeping onto her cheeks. "My husband requested my company as he headed to Zamaya for so business dealings." Her voice held a hint of warmth, as if the re ntion of the trip stirred fond mories within her.
Lara chuckled. She has been married for so long, and she still feels shy around her husband.
"Sis, the servants and that pompous butler can no longer push my mother around," Sandoz said, his voice laced with determination as he tugged at her sleeve, yearning for her full attention. The sparkle in her eyes reflected a newfound strength, a bold step forward in reclaiming their dignity.
"Oh, that’s great," Lara replied. Is it because they feared your mother’s fighting skills?" She imagined Linnea kicking and punching the servants or simply hitting them at the back of the head, which would cause them to be unconscious.
"That—and because Father won’t tolerate it. If he catches them mistreating her, he punishes them. I think he’s falling more in love with her every day. Sotis I catch him stealing glances at her, the way Prince Alaric looks at you."
Lara nearly choked, caught off-guard by the boy’s innocent yet startling comparison. The warmth of the mont mingled with a sudden, flustered heat in her cheeks.
Sandoz had a contented smile on his face and looked dreamy. I think my father is getting fonder of my mother every day. Sotis, I catch him stealing glances at my mother, or sotis he would just look at her like Prince Alaric looks at you," Sandoz blurted out.
Lara nearly choked, caught off-guard by the boy’s innocent yet startling comparison. The warmth of the mont mingled with a sudden, flustered heat in her cheeks.
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