When the Saintess Arrives, No King Exist

The discussion was at its noisiest when someone suddenly pointed at the viewing platform entrance and shouted, "Isn’t that Axent? What’s he doing here!"

Sibangqi squinted and looked over, only to see a man in a gray work jumpsuit coming up along the ladder.

He rifled rapidly through his memory, and Sibangqi immediately recalled who he was.

One of the team leaders of the Holy Alliance’s spring locomotive reconstruction group; just a few days ago, The Truth had mentioned his name.

If he wasn’t over there debugging the locomotive right now, why would he be here? Did it mean the debugging was done and the locomotive was on its way?

Impossible. He was the chief engineer of a whole team; there was no way he’d leave before the end.

It was obvious Sibangqi wasn’t the only one who realized this.

"It really is him!" Quite a few people immediately crowded around. "Mr. Axent, is the locomotive finished or not? Can it come out later?"

Axent’s face was taut, both hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t even look at the people crowding him. "Classified."

A Norn merchant refused to give up and chased after him, pressing, "Oh come on, give us a hint! We’ve got money riding on this!"

"I said it’s classified, so it’s classified." Tossing out that icy line, Axent shouldered his way through the crowd and walked straight toward the center of the viewing platform.

His steps were quick, as if something urgent was pressing.

Everyone came up empty, cursed under their breath, and drifted away.

Watching Axent walk over, Sibangqi began rubbing the ring on his finger.

This Axent was a core figure in the spring locomotive team; something real might slip out of his mouth.

By coincidence, Sibangqi’s seat was in the front row of the platform, and Axent, walking toward the center, stopped at the row just behind him.

Sibangqi’s eyelids drooped at once as he pretended to close his eyes for a nap.

Axent glanced at him, took him for an ordinary traveler, and sat down directly, staring at the tracks with a grave expression.

Before long, Sibangqi heard footsteps behind him again, and a voice calling, "Axent, where are you?"

"Over here!"

Sibangqi snuck a peek out of the corner of his eye; it was a man in the same style gray jumpsuit as Axent.

He was clutching a greasy wheat flatbread in his hand, crumbs still stuck at the corner of his mouth.

One look and you could tell he’d just rushed over from the workshop and hadn’t even finished his meal properly.

"What took you so long?" Axent kept his voice low, but it didn’t completely muffle his words. "How are things back at the workshop?"

"How do you think?" The man took a bite of the flatbread and complained indistinctly, "We worked overtime till the second half of the night, and still couldn’t get the axle box calibrated. We’ll be lucky to finish debugging by tomorrow, and that’s just to make it move. Whether it can actually go on the line is another story."

No, can’t laugh yet. Sibangqi forcibly kept his face straight.

"Exactly!" Axent sounded even more irritable. "These ten days our group’s been like lunatics, three shifts, round the clock, and for what?

The locomotive is still a half-finished mess. And His Majesty too, insisting on holding it on schedule—couldn’t he push it back two days?"

"Ah, come on!" The man chewed his flatbread, his voice a bit louder. "If it weren’t for that damn ’Pilgrimage Efficiency Act’ shoving all the resources onto our group, we might’ve actually finished one today. Think how much time that’s wasted!"

Axent let out a cold laugh. "Isn’t it all because that lathe of Leonardo’s gave His Majesty confidence?"

In Axent’s view, that was exactly it. The Saint’s Grandson was a Theologian—what did he know about machinery?

The machine-tool’s success was because Leonardo was brilliant; being able to build a precision lathe in one day—what did that have to do with Horn in the slightest?

Had he ever gone to university? Ever managed a workshop?

"Hey, hey, hey, ease up!" The man hurriedly tugged his sleeve and glanced around. "Careful someone hears you!"

"So what if they do?" Axent muttered, though he instantly lowered his voice. "This time the Holy Alliance is definitely going to make a fool of itself. I’ve run the numbers: there’s no way the locomotive’s ready today."

Their voices grew softer and softer after that, until they were barely audible.

But just that first part of the conversation was enough. Sibangqi leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth straining upward.

As expected, the Holy Alliance was just putting on a front. The locomotive wasn’t ready at all!

He cracked his eyes open and saw Axent and the other man still whispering, so he stretched lazily on purpose.

The two behind him immediately shut their mouths. He rose to his feet with deliberate slowness, pretending to stretch his legs, and walked toward the Steward not far away.

The Steward was standing at the edge of the viewing platform; seeing him approach, he immediately bowed. "Do you have any orders, sir?"

Sibangqi flicked a glance toward Axent’s direction and lowered his voice. "Find me a reliable bookie and put this month’s pocket money of mine all on ’the locomotive won’t show up.’"

"Ah?"

"Ah what? Go!"

Back in his seat, Sibangqi looked up at the clock. Almost time.

Just then, the crowd suddenly fell quiet.

Following everyone’s gaze, he saw a young man wearing a golden olive crown walking up from the other side of the viewing platform.

"Pope Wanpiao!"

"That’s right, we love you too!"

Given Horn’s prestige, the moment he appeared, countless hands shot up from the crowd.

But this wasn’t just the Holy Alliance’s faithful today; there were plenty of outside travelers as well.

Faced with the surging shouts, they were still questioning him: "Your Majesty, what about the locomotive? We want to see the locomotive!"

"Right, if we don’t see the spring locomotive today, we’re not leaving."

Confronted with the crowd’s accusations, Horn instead let out a soft laugh.

He walked to the center of the platform, bowed to the crowd first, and then began to speak.

"Thank you all for coming to the Holy Alliance Universal Exposition. It is my honor to have been able to invite you here.

I know everyone wants to see the race between the galloping mare and the locomotive, but before that, please allow me to thank a few people.

They are Master Leonardo, every Dwarf Artisan who worked through the night, and all the workers who contributed to the locomotive’s reconstruction.

Without them, today’s spring locomotive would not exist."

The Holy Alliance’s faithful in the audience reflexively burst into applause, clapping echoing from one end of the viewing platform to the other.

This did not drown out the "We want to see the locomotive" cries in the crowd, but in the next second, things changed.

Raising his hand, Horn smiled and made a forward gesture.

At that very moment, a shrill whistle pierced the air from somewhere, cutting through all the noise.

"Dee—dee—"

The metallic screech was as sharp as a Banshee’s wail, making many people instinctively cover their ears.

Sibangqi flinched at the sound, but immediately turned toward where it was coming from.

Half hidden by the forest, branches swaying, a big yellow hulk slowly rolled out from behind an invisible bend in the trees.

Its body gleamed, massive gears exposed to the sunlight, the spring chamber in the front of the engine glinting coldly.

No need to think—this had to be the "Hand of the Holy Father" series spring locomotive described in the papers!

The locomotive clattered along the tracks, the "clack-clack" growing louder as it drew closer.

Sibangqi’s pupils slowly dilated; his jaw dropped of its own accord, and the once-fierce murmurs around him cut off at once.

Damn, my pocket money!

Axent behind him lost his composure even more, springing out of his seat as if launched, staring blankly down below.

They’d actually built it? They’d actually built a spring locomotive engine in ten days?

Impossible. His calculations couldn’t be wrong.

By now, the shrieks in the crowd had turned into gasps of amazement. "It’s the locomotive! It really is the locomotive!"

"My god! They really built it!"

The people who had just been shouting "It’s a scam" were all struck dumb.

The ones who’d been yelling "The locomotive is a hoax" slunk quietly toward the back of the crowd.

But once they’d retreated all the way, they bumped into something hard.

They reached back and felt around. Oh, it was the solid chest of the Cheka.

Looking up, they saw the Cheka’s hearty grin.

"Ah—"

Standing up, Sibangqi strode to the edge of the viewing platform, fingers clamping down on the railing.

The locomotive rumbled closer and closer, the front painted in white letters: "Hand of the Holy Father No. 5."

The driveshafts were spinning at a furious pace; you could even faintly hear the gears meshing. This locomotive looked even sturdier than he’d imagined!

Most importantly, trailing behind that spring locomotive’s carriage were another nine spring locomotive engines!

"How is that possible..." he muttered, all trace of schadenfreude long gone.

Forget ten days, fifteen engines; ten days, ten engines—they’d actually pulled it off!

As for where the other five had gone, one look at Axent’s stunned, reddening face told the story.

The locomotive eased to a stop in the middle of the tracks. The spring chamber at its nose stopped turning, and the whistle fell silent.

As if by instinct, everyone present fell silent too, gazing in a daze at this behemoth.

Looking at the crowd, a faint smile appeared on Horn’s face. "Everyone, this is the Holy Alliance’s answer."