Bradley stood aside, his palms sweaty. It was only when the iron car slowly came to a stop three hundred meters away that he breathed a sigh of relief.
What followed was a long-repressed cheer.
The craftsmen raised their arms, their cheers echoing.
Someone excitedly patted a companion's shoulder, the glow of the furnace flickering on their faces.
Hamilton, however, stood frozen, his face flushed, gripping the roll of blueprints tightly.
It wasn't until Louis turned his head and nodded in acknowledgment to him that he hurriedly responded, lowering his head to softly say, "Th-thank you, my lord..."
The dust on his face was dissolved by sweat, slipping down his neck, a light in his eyes that couldn't be concealed.
Louis disembarked, his gaze sweeping over the body of the vehicle.
The residual flames from the furnace were still flickering, heat still rising from the vent.
