Chapter 32 – Of Guards, Markets, and Consequences

Two weeks had passed since the hover drive demonstration, and Elara Wyrmshade had almost found a new rhythm. The chaos in the capital had slowly settled, replaced by hushed awe and frantic adaptation. Nobles rushed to reserve production rights, craftsmen scrambled to repurpose old stables, and guilds filed formal complaints faster than the king could ignore them.

Elara, however, was exactly where she wanted to be: back in her hidden city workshop, a modified warehouse repurposed into a high-mana lab on the edge of the industrial district. Her latest project sprawled across the worktable, an array of etched rune plates, mana capacitors, support matrices, and notes scattered in what only she could call organized.

The hover truck prototype—the world's first hover freight wagon—was nearly done.

A knock at the door interrupted her reverie.

She paused, brow furrowed. No one ever came here without warning.

A second knock. Firmer.

Sighing, Elara stood, wiped her hands, and opened the heavy side door.

Two armored figures stood at attention. Both wore the crest of the royal family.

"Lady Wyrmshade," one said—a tall woman with greying hair and a measured tone. "We are your assigned security detail. The King has summoned you."

Elara blinked. "Security detail? Since when do I have one of those?"

The woman bowed slightly. "Since the incident."

Ah yes. The incident.

Two days after the hover drive reveal, the King had formally assigned Elara a personal royal guard. She hadn't thought they'd be on-duty 24/7. That assumption had died the moment the first assigned duo had shown up.

Elara still cringed.

It had been a bright afternoon. She'd been wearing a navy skirt, her favorite blouse, and a pair of modest heels. It had been a casual day in the lab.

The guards had arrived to introduce themselves: one older, composed woman, and a freshly appointed young man.

The moment the young knight saw her, he turned crimson, fumbled his greeting, stared at her blouse—and promptly passed out with a nosebleed.

The Queen herself had ordered all future guard rotations to consist solely of experienced, older knights.

And now here she was, living under royal surveillance.

Back in the present, Elara sighed. "Let me get changed."

She slipped into a simple but elegant travel dress, added her latest pair of heels—red with golden accents—and fixed her hair in a half-up style that Lyria had recommended the night before.

The hover carriage outside was hers—a private model with additional shielding and defensive runes. As she rode through the capital, she noted with satisfaction that more and more hover carriages dotted the streets. A few even looked like knock-offs of her original prototype.

At the palace gates, the guards saluted her. No fanfare, just respect.

Inside, the king awaited her—not in the grand throne hall, but in a private side room with large windows, tea set, and a warm fire.

"Lady Wyrmshade," King Alvared greeted her warmly. "Please, sit."

She did, folding her legs with the practiced grace that etiquette class had drilled into her.

"You've caused a storm," he said without malice.

"I tend to do that," Elara replied. "But at least this time, it's productive."

"Indeed. The nobles are restless. The merchants are exhilarated. The horse guilds are furious."

She chuckled. "That's about what I expected."

He poured her tea himself, a gesture of intimacy.

"And now," he said, "you want to show me something even more dangerous."

Elara slid a tightly sealed scroll case across the table.

"Hover freight. The hover trucks," she said. "Same concept. Larger scale. Fully functional test model is almost done."

He unrolled the parchment slowly, eyes scanning the design. The weight distribution model. The reinforced hull. The dual mana reservoirs. His eyes widened.

"This could cross mountains."

"And deserts," Elara added. "And oceans eventually. But that's another generation."

"And the economic shift?"

"Unavoidable," she said bluntly. "You can collapse three trade guilds with a single convoy."

He nodded slowly. "And open up ten more across the continent."

"If you handle it right."

They spoke at length. Of infrastructure, taxes, roads rendered obsolete, and what new world might emerge once material flow was no longer bound to horse or terrain.

"The dwarves will want this," he mused.

"That's where I want to test it," Elara said. "They've got ores. We've got food and ale. Give them a trade route that doesn't depend on mountain paths and you'll both make fortunes."

The King leaned back. "I'll draft a proposal."

Elara stood. "Just... be careful. This is bigger than a few angry stablemasters."

He gave her a nod. "Always."

That evening, Elara returned to the dorms, her heels clicking down the hallway. She opened the door to find Sylv and Lyria waiting, both perched on the bed with knowing grins.

"How's our darling inventor?" Lyria asked.

"Glorious and grumpy," Elara muttered, tossing her coat aside.

"Did anyone faint this time?" Sylv asked sweetly.

"No, but Erlen almost sent a poem."

Both girls gasped.

"You have to show us!"

"It's already been incinerated."

They laughed. Elara smiled in spite of herself.

Later that night, lying in bed, she stared at the ceiling. She was building a new world. But somehow, with fanclubs, etiquette classes, and her own reflection becoming a stranger, it still didn't feel like hers yet.

She would change that too.