Chapter 165: The Design Phase
Iron Fortress, Forging District, Open Testing Grounds.
Paul stood before the Frost Wyrm, his head tilted back so far his neck was starting to ache.
"Holy sh*t... this thing... it's absolutely gargantuan, isn't it?"
Behind him stood a dozen craftsmen, the finest artisans Iron Fortress had to offer. There were elderly Dwarven woodworkers, Orcish smiths specializing in heavy alloys, and several human engineers who focused purely on mechanical gear-work.
And, of course, there was Paul's small apprentice, Buri. The young Dwarf was clutching a notebook larger than his own head, his eyes wide as dinner plates as he stared at the massive skeletal dragon.
"Master... is... is that a real Frost Wyrm?" Buri's voice had a noticeable tremor.
Paul spared him a sideways glance. "What are you shaking for? You see the dead every day. This is just a bigger pile of 'em."
In truth, Paul's own heart was drumming against his ribs. He'd seen plenty of the Master's creations—Skeleton Soldiers, Ghouls, Vampires, even the Seven Generals and the Sovereign himself—but a Frost Wyrm was a different breed of terror.
The dragon lay sprawled across the dirt, its leathery wing-membranes folded tight, its massive skull lowered. Ghostly blue Soul Fire pulsed within its sockets as it watched the group of "insects" with a cold, ancient patience.
Paul cleared his throat, summoning his courage to step into the beast's personal space.
"Um... hello?"
The Frost Wyrm gave no reaction. Paul raised his voice, shouting toward the skull.
"Hey! Big guy! Do you understand the human tongue?!"
The Soul Fire flickered. Finally, a voice like grinding glaciers resonated through the clearing.
"Yes."
Paul let out a breath. At least they could communicate. "Right. That makes this easier."
He turned back to the whispering craftsmen, waving them over. "Come on! Don't just stand there gawking! We're on the clock!"
The artisans crept forward. A young human engineer tentatively reached out to touch the Wyrm's front claw. "This bone... it's as hard as enchanted steel."
An elderly Dwarf circled to the rear, squinting at the wings. "The span must be twenty meters at least."
"More," a smith corrected. "Twenty-five, easy."
An Orcish smith knelt by the tail, rapping his knuckles against the vertebrae. "The thickness here is sufficient. It can handle a massive load-bearing weight."
The Frost Wyrm remained motionless, allowing the "two-legged pests" to crawl over it. It was merely following the Sovereign's command to cooperate. Whatever these ants were planning was beneath its notice.
Paul climbed up to the dragon's flank, peering at the broad expanse of its ribcage and spine. "The platform has to go on top..." He trailed off, his brow furrowing.
The Wyrm's back wasn't flat. It was a jagged landscape of rising and falling vertebrae. Worse, the bone structure shifted and flexed with every breath—and would certainly buckle during flight.
Paul visualized the scene in his head: the dragon snaps its wings, the rigid wooden platform begins to tilt like a seesaw, and the passengers start falling off like dumplings into a boiling pot.
He shook his head. "No. This won't work."
The craftsmen behind him had reached the same conclusion. A chorus of dissent broke out.
"The spinal geometry is too irregular."
"The vibration from the wing-muscles alone would shake a fixed mount to pieces."
"If we bolt it down, we hinder the dragon's mobility. If we don't, the customers are getting a one-way trip to the pavement."
Paul remained silent for a moment before speaking. "Don't write it off yet. Kid, get the notes ready."
Buri flipped his notebook open, charcoal pencil poised. "Ready, Master!"
Paul pointed to the ridge of the spine. "Point one: Surface irregularity prevents direct mounting. Point two: Dynamic spinal fluctuation during flight renders fixed platforms unstable. Point three: Complex installation—we need to account for the unique anatomy of each specimen."
As Buri scribbled, the other craftsmen chimed in.
"There's also the material fatigue issue," a Dwarf added. "A Frost Wyrm is massive; standard timber won't hold up to the G-force of a sustained flight."
"And the scaling," an engineer noted. "No two dragons are identical. The mount needs to be modular."
Paul nodded. "Record all of it."
Looking at the mountain of technical hurdles, Paul realized they were out of their depth.
"We can't solve this at our level," he admitted. He looked up at the dragon. "Hey, big guy. Could you give us a quick takeoff? We need to see the movement."
The Soul Fire pulsed. "Confirmed."
The next second, the gargantuan wings snapped open.
BOOM—!
A localized gale erupted as the wings beat against the air, sending the craftsmen tumbling like dry leaves. Buri clutched his notebook, his small frame being shoved back several paces by the atmospheric pressure. The Frost Wyrm surged into the sky, circling the clearing with predatory grace.
Paul squinted against the wind, his eyes tracking every shift of the dragon's frame. The spine rose and fell with the wings; the tail thrashed to adjust the vector.
"This is..." Paul's frown deepened.
The Frost Wyrm touched down, refolding its wings. Paul turned to his team. "You see that? A platform is a death trap."
The craftsmen nodded grimly. "Unless we make a 'Floating' platform that adjusts in real-time... but the magical engineering for that would be too expensive and prone to failure."
Paul set his jaw. "Report it."
"Report it?" Buri asked.
Paul nodded. "This is beyond a blacksmith's pay grade. Rather than wasting time on a flawed concept, we tell Lord Greed immediately so he can inform the Master."
Thirty minutes later.
Greed reviewed Paul's report in his office.
"Platform concept: Non-viable..."
Greed pondered for a moment before accessing the Soul Link to Kaito. "Master, we have hit a developmental wall regarding the Aviation Project."
Kaito was currently taking a nap in his coffin. Hearing Greed's voice, his Soul Fire flickered to life. "What's the bottleneck?"
Greed detailed the anatomical issues Paul had identified. Kaito remained silent for a few seconds.
"I suppose I was being too literal," Kaito admitted. "A dragon isn't a horse; you can't just slap a saddle on it and call it a day. Tell Paul and the others to abandon the 'Platform' idea. We need a new perspective."
"I have only three core parameters:"
"First: Rapid installation. It must be easy to mount and dismount, whether it's a Frost Wyrm or a living dragon."
"Second: Safety and comfort. I don't want my subjects dying of heart attacks or gravity."
"Third: Universal compatibility. One design must fit all."
"How they achieve this is up to them."
Kaito paused. "And tell them this: I am pleased that they identified the flaw and reported it rather than delivering a defective product. Once the design is finalized, every craftsman involved will receive a bonus of one hundred gold crowns."
"By your command, My Lord."
A Ghoul messenger soon skidded into the Forging District, handing a sealed parchment to Paul. He tore it open, scanning the script. He immediately whistled for his team.
"The Master has spoken! The platform is dead!"
The craftsmen let out a collective sigh of relief. "Thank the Spirits. It was a stupid idea anyway."
Paul cleared his throat. "But! He's given us new parameters. Easy install, safe and cozy, and it has to fit any dragon we throw it on."
The artisans looked at each other. "But... how?"
Paul saw their long faces and let out a cackle. "Use your brains! The Master said if we nail this design, there's a reward!"
"A reward?"
Paul held up a single finger. "One hundred gold crowns. Each."
The atmosphere in the yard shifted from a funeral to a festival in one second.
"HOW MUCH?! Did I mishear? Gold?! Not silver?!"
"A hundred crowns?! I could marry three wives with that! An Elf, a Succubus, and a human girl for the weekdays!"
"What are we waiting for?! Start thinking!"
"Yes! This is a direct mandate from the Sovereign!"
Paul watched his team suddenly ignite with productivity, nodding with satisfaction. "Alright, clear the drool off your chins. Let's brainstorm."
The craftsmen formed a tight circle, sketches beginning to fly.
"If the back is off-limits, where else can we put it?"
"Under the belly?"
"No, the wings need that space for the downstroke."
"The tail? Too much whip-action."
"Wait... what about hanging it?"
The group went still. A Dwarven smith's eyes lit up. "Wait, wait! That's it!"
"The underside of the center-mass is the most stable point of the dragon during level flight!"
"And it doesn't interfere with the wings or the tail!"
Paul liked the direction. "Keep going. How do we hang it?"
"Ropes?"
"Too much sway. One gust of wind and the passengers are sick."
"A cage?"
Buri suddenly spoke up, his small hand raised. "Master, I have an idea."
Paul looked down at the boy. "Speak up, kid."
Buri flipped his notebook, drawing a few rapid, confident strokes. "We build a... a Gondola. Like a birdcage, but enclosed."
"We use a lightweight but high-tensile alloy for the frame, covered in enchanted leather or canvas to block the wind. We don't mount it to the belly. We mount a Heavy-Duty Harness—like a massive saddle—over the shoulders and neck where the bone is thickest. We connect the Gondola to the harness using high-grade iron chains."
"But that's not the best part!" Buri's voice rose with excitement. "The harness handles the weight, but we use the dragon's Front Claws to grip the gondola's top-rails! Like a person carrying a shopping basket!
"The harness takes the load, but the claws provide absolute stabilization! No swaying! And when it's time to land, the dragon just lets go of the rails and we unlatch the harness. The pod sits flat on the ground. Easy for people to get in and out!"
Paul snatched the notebook, staring at the crude but structurally sound diagram. His eyes went wide.
"Kid... you... you actually have a brain in there!"
The other craftsmen swarmed the book, marveling at the simplicity.
"This is genius!"
"Harness and Claws—dual redundancy! It's airtight! We can even add windows for the view!"
Paul pounded Buri on the shoulder so hard the little Dwarf nearly face-planted. "Brilliant! We're going with this! We've got it, lads! The project is back on!"
He whirled around to the Frost Wyrm, which was still acting as a very large paperweight.
"Hey, big guy! You think you can carry a basket in those claws of yours?"
The dragon's Soul Fire flickered as it processed the visual. After a moment, its low, grinding voice returned.
"Acceptable."
Paul grinned, revealing a row of white teeth.
"Then let's get to work!"