The few who did allow curiosity to investigate further were met with the surprise that the rumours were a little truer than expected. Previously perceived conceptions were tilted sideways, the Galdor choking on their words while the observing lesser races became more enthusiastic. No, enthralled with the idea that one of them had done this.
The inventor was one Abigail Saunders, an uneducated twenty-something from Vienda. They had clearly polished up for the occasion, or whatever this attempt was: a short collared shirt, a grey dog toothed waistcoat, and a set of trousers - leather reinforcing the inseam and crotch- tucked into tightly laced boots. They dressed like a man despite not being one; it was not unheard of, but surely for such an occasion one should dress to match what they were born as. There were a few tuts over this, but this inventor seemed unfazed by it all as she stood on the narrow platform that raised them and their invention a foot from the ground. She spoke clearly too, the northern Anaxian twang loitering in the back of her voice as she explained the machine in such detail that perhaps, just perhaps, she could really be the inventor.
I think... I'm going to be sick.
Gale Saunders blinked, their finger tugging at their collar. They were just high enough above the heads of the small gathering of individuals to not be breathing in their faces, their heart alternating between fast and slow skips as they spoke. Some were nodding, the few humans and wicks clearly interested in what they were saying. The Galdori were harder to read, with stern faces and disapproving expressions, the occasional mumbling of "Who does she think she is?" and "Who on Vita sponsored this?"
Castor Devlin, to be exact. A plaque reading "sponsored by Castor Delvin" hung beneath the main sign Gale had erected. "The Steel Horse, the motorised bicycle and combustion engine created by Abigail Saunders." They did not linger too long on the how this invention reached their sponsor, but they would not have been surprised if a certain Teeter had been somehow involved. Even if their full name was being used.
I will not get used to hearing that name being so freely thrown about.
Clearing their throat, the Smith continued to talk, their hands gesturing to the Steel Horse Zero - the working prototype was polished to a shine and the seat leather replaced.
"The machine works via the use of internal combustion, primarily through the burning of Kerosene oil. This feeds into the engine itself, via the intake valve. The piston inside the chamber moves downwards, allowing the air to enter. As the piston rises, the valve is closed, the hot tube ignitors are lit, and a spray of fuel enters the engine to instantly ignite it. This leads into a working stroke-"
"This is a lot of talk over a metal box on two wheels." One of the Galdor scoffed. "I would wager that it does not even work. Powering through lamp oil? Impossible."
Gale resisted recoiling, their eyes floating around the Galdor who spoke up. There were a few chuckles from others, the lower races giving nervous looks before averting their gaze - a momentary withdrawal. Their cheeks burned, fingers curling up into a fist, the tendons in their neck growing tight. But humans could do it, humans could create marvels and invent and-
"It does work." The Smith spoke flatly.
"Of course it does." It was a sneer. "Would not even roll a single foot. Admit it."
Gale glanced to the Steel Horse and then down to the short stretch of road they had been given to drive on, neatly fenced off to stop anyone from just driving down it - not that the Galdori seemed particularly believing that it would be able to drive. Exhaling, they let the tension go.
"I was going to demonstrate later. But it seems the good Sir wishes to see it now." Stepping down behind the stage, the smith claimed their small workbox. They pulled a leather coat over the top of their clothes, buttoning it up before pulling out a flask of kerosene. They held it aloft in a presentation to the crowd. "Kerosene. If you would like to check, by all means, do so-"
Uncapping it, a few gave a quick inhale and approving nods in confirmation. With that Gale uncapped the fuel tank of the steel horse and poured the contents in, using a rag to wipe away the drips and sealing it back up again. Wheeling the machine down the short ramp and onto the street, Gale straddled it, put the brass crank into the left of it. They inhaled, grasping the lever before spinning it around.
The engine rumbled. They did it again, the engine let out a mumble. There was a snigger that was silenced by a firm jab of the ribs. Gale turned it a third time; they felt the gears inside engage, the hissing spark vibrating through the metal. The Steel horse snorted, a splutter of noise as it grumbled into life; the smith twisted the accelerator in the handlebar, the machine letting out a small rumble as the engine was revved. They looked back to the once sneering Galdor, his face turning red as he shrunk into his neck. Gale gave him a smile, engaged the machine and took it for a quick drive down the road, the little engine chuffing as it was forced into activity.
They did not go fast, the cobblestones of the street caused them to shake a judder as they passed over the bumps. It was certainly faster than a bicycle though, their feet rising up onto their rests, their back straight as they pumped the breaks - it was all practised motion now, even leaning into the turn as they made the loop at the end of their stretch of street. Without show or fanfare, they returned to the crowd, coming to a complete stop and putting the Steel Horse into neutral. They turned the engine off, dismounted and promptly gave a bow to the crowd. By now the Red-Faced Galdor was storming off, taking his small entourage with him and shouting some kind of obscenities - what exactly Gale did not care, nor did it matter.
Clearing their throat, the smith spoke.
"Any questions?"