Chapter 304: Taking Northem By The Storm
In the days that followed, the streets of Savadra became a sea of gleaming spokes and polished frames. 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 meet 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 craftsmen were hired, their hammers 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 mean the closure of his shops. Though bitterness simmered 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 frame and unmatched speed rendered Reuben’s cumbersome "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 became 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."