Chapter 160: I Tried Explaining Cars and Somehow Ended Up Teaching Aerodynamics

An hour later, they had everything they needed: steel, oil, tools, ammunition storage, basic replacement parts, dried food, water, salted meat, and fruit that had a reasonable chance of surviving more than two days inside a travel bag.

They also had feed for the horses, purchased at a price Roland described as "a moral victory."

Raven didn’t ask how much he had actually saved.

He suspected the answer would make the victory considerably less impressive.

They returned to the Mercenary House Annex shortly before the wagons began assembling near Kharad’s southern gate.

The same clerk from the previous evening was waiting with the finalized contract.

At the top:

KHARAD SOUTH RELAY RESTORATION ESCORT

Raven read through the details again.

Three wagons.

The first carried food and water. The second held medicine, bandages, and basic supplies. The third had been loaded with beams, planks, nails, tools, replacement parts for a damaged pumping system, and two barrels of roof sealant.

Nothing heroic.

Perfect.

South Relay had served for decades as a stopping point between Kharad and the trade roads farther south. It wasn’t large enough to be called a village. The station consisted of a well, stables, several corrals, a main building, and a handful of small storage structures where merchants could change horses, repair wagons, spend the night under a roof, and refill their water before crossing the next dry stretch of road.

The recent Burrower incidents had damaged both part of the route and one of the relay’s structures.

As long as South Relay remained only partially operational, larger caravans had to divert toward another station.

The detour added almost a full day.

Delays meant money.

That was why the contract paid reasonably well for what was technically only a one-day escort.

Kharad wanted the route operating again.

Raven wanted the money.

Their interests aligned much more cleanly than they had during his last job.

The clerk pointed toward the seal at the bottom of the document.

"Full payment is released once the Relay supervisor confirms that all three wagons arrived and unloading could begin normally."

"And if the station turns out to be unusable?" Raven asked.

"You still receive seventy percent as long as the supplies are delivered. The remaining thirty covers security during the initial restoration."

Raven looked up.

"We’re expected to help repair it?"

"Not as specialized labor. The contract only requires you to keep the station secure while the cargo is unloaded and essential repairs are completed."

Roland read over his shoulder.

"How long?"

"Until tomorrow at noon at the latest. If they finish earlier and the area is stable, you’re free to return or continue your journey."

That fit their plans even better.

Raven signed.

The clerk attached the note about the large shadows reported along the route.

"There still hasn’t been a confirmed attack."

"Any new reports?"

"None since last night."

"Then we keep the contract."

Valeria glanced toward the mission board.

"I never imagined we would accept a job where our primary enemy was a damaged roof."

Raven folded his copy of the contract.

"Roofs have a better risk-to-reward ratio than Elites."

"Until they collapse."

"That’s why people repair them."

Roland approached carrying their three credentials.

"The drivers are ready."

Raven looked toward the door.

For once, so was he.

The wagons moved slowly once they left Kharad.

That was unavoidable. The beams on the third wagon extended past the rear of the bed, and the southern road still showed signs of emergency repairs. Workers had filled several fractures caused by the underground movement, while other damaged sections forced the convoy onto rough temporary paths around collapsed ground.

Raven rode beside the lead wagon. Roland stayed near the rear, where he could keep an eye on both the cargo and the road behind them.

Valeria lasted less than an hour in the middle before boredom brought her alongside Raven.

For a while, nothing happened.

That should have been ideal.

No enemies. No creatures following them. No nobles arranging elaborate ways to murder one another. No explosions.

Just wagon wheels grinding over dirt, harness leather creaking, and the occasional complaint from one of the horses when the road became particularly uneven.

Raven found the silence comfortable.

Valeria apparently did not.

She looked toward the road ahead.

"So this is what normal mercenary work feels like."

Raven glanced at her.

"We’ve been traveling for forty minutes."

"And nobody has tried to kill us."

"Give it time."

"That is not the reassuring answer."

From somewhere behind them, Roland called, "I heard that."

"You were supposed to," Raven said.

Roland urged his horse forward until he was riding on the other side of the lead wagon.

"I’ve decided this is suspicious."

One of the drivers looked at him.

"The road?"

"The peace."

The driver laughed.

"You people have had a bad week."

"You have no idea."

Valeria looked at Raven.

"He does, actually. Half the settlement knows about Bore Twelve."

"Not the useful parts."

Roland nodded toward the long rifle case across Raven’s back.

"I still think the useful part is that we’re escorting flour with something that can punch through four centimeters of iron."

Raven looked at him.

"The flour is unlikely to resist."

"That isn’t what I meant."

"I know."

They rode another stretch in relative quiet.

A repaired section of road forced them into single file, and conversation stopped while the wagons carefully crossed packed earth over a shallow collapse.

Once they were through, Roland moved up again.

He watched one of the drivers flick the reins.

"Did people in your world still use horses for this?"

Raven took a moment to understand the question.

"For hauling cargo?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes. Not usually over long distances."

"What did you use?"

"Vehicles."

Valeria gave him a sideways look.

"That word again."

"It remains accurate."

"It also explains nothing."

Raven considered ignoring her.

Then he remembered they had several hours left.

"Machines with wheels."

Roland frowned.

"Self-moving wagons?"

"Essentially."

The driver beside them glanced over.

"No horses?"

"No."

That earned Raven three simultaneous looks.

He had expected that.

Valeria leaned slightly closer.

"Magic?"

"No."

"Then what moved them?"

"Engines."

Roland waited.

Raven sighed.

"Fuel burns inside the engine. The expanding gases move mechanical parts. Those parts turn the wheels."

There was a short silence.

Roland slowly looked down at his horse.

Then back at Raven.

"So you sat on a wagon powered by continuous explosions."

"Controlled combustion."

"That sounds like the phrase people use when they want an explosion to seem respectable."

Valeria laughed.

Raven looked at her.

"Your Blood Magic involves manipulating fluid inside living bodies."

"Yes."

"And somehow the engine concerns you."

"My magic doesn’t carry me down a road at absurd speed while exploding repeatedly."

"It isn’t exploding repeatedly."

Roland immediately said, "You literally just described repeated explosions."

"I described combustion."

"That distinction sounds important only to you."

The driver was still listening.

"How fast?"

Raven regretted continuing the conversation.

"Depends on the vehicle."

"Faster than a horse?"

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Hours."

That got the driver’s attention.

Roland leaned forward slightly.

"Twice as fast?"

"More."

Valeria studied Raven.

"How much more?"

"On a normal road? Several times faster."

The driver turned his head.

Raven pointed forward.

"Road."

The man looked ahead again.

"Right."

Roland stared at Raven for another moment.

"And you considered that normal?"

"Yes."

"Your standards are damaged." ℴ𝗆

"That conclusion took you this long?"

Valeria laughed again.

The conversation faded after that.

They passed a stretch of low red hills and a dry wash where the road narrowed. Raven used the time to scan the ridgelines, partly from habit and partly because of the reports from the previous night.

Nothing moved above them.

No unusual shadows.

No distant wingbeats.

Eventually Valeria broke the silence again.

"Did you own one?"

Raven looked at her.

"One what?"

"One of your exploding wagons."

"Vehicles."

"That wasn’t an answer."

"Yes."

Roland made an interested sound.

Valeria continued before Raven could regret admitting it.

"What was it like?"

"A car."

"That also explains nothing."

"It had four wheels."

Roland nodded solemnly.

"We’re making progress."

Raven ignored him.

"It was enclosed. Engine in the front. Seats inside."

"How many horses of power?" Roland asked.

Raven looked at him.

Roland smiled.

"I’ve learned enough to know that was a reasonable question."

"It wasn’t."

Valeria’s smile widened.

"Now I want to know too."

Raven considered explaining horsepower.

He decided against it.

"No."

Roland laughed.

One of the horses ahead flicked its tail.

Valeria glanced toward Raven’s mount.

"Did you own a horse?"

"No."

"Ever?"

"I’ve ridden them."

"That wasn’t the question."

Raven gave her a flat look.

"I did not have a horse waiting for me at home."

"I’m trying to imagine you caring for one."

"It would survive."

Roland laughed loudly enough that the rear driver looked forward.

Valeria covered a smile with one hand.

"That is possibly the least affectionate answer you could have given."

Raven glanced down at his current horse.

The animal continued walking without complaint.

"This one is fine."

Valeria studied it.

"It tolerates you."

"That is sufficient."

"For you, perhaps."

Raven looked at her.

"What exactly do you want from the horse?"

"Nothing. I’m appreciating how consistently you approach relationships."

Roland made a choking sound that suspiciously resembled suppressed laughter.

Raven ignored both of them.

Several minutes passed.

Then one of the drivers pointed toward a bird circling high above the hills.

"Storm kite."

Raven looked up automatically.

Small.

Too small to match the reported shadows.

The bird turned with the wind and drifted south.

Valeria followed it with her eyes.

"Did your vehicles ever fly?"

Raven answered before thinking.

"Yes."

Silence.

He realized the mistake immediately.

Roland’s horse drew closer.

Valeria turned toward him.

The driver looked back again.

Raven closed his eyes for half a second.

"No."

Valeria smiled.

"You already said yes."

"We are not doing this."

"What flew?"

"Aircraft."

"What is an aircraft?"

"A machine designed to travel through the air."

Roland stared at him.

"With people inside?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"Aerodynamics."

Roland frowned.

"That sounds invented."

"It is a field of study."

Valeria looked far too entertained.

"We have several hours."

"That doesn’t mean I’m spending them explaining lift coefficients."

"What is a lift coefficient?"

Raven stared toward the horizon.

The road ahead remained completely empty.

For the first time that morning, he found himself wishing for something moderately dangerous to appear.

Nothing did.

Valeria smiled.

"Perfect. Start with the coefficient."