The Valerius family carriage jolted slightly as its iron-rimmed wheels crushed the damp cobblestones. Inside, Evelyn sat upright, her hands—encased in white silk gloves—resting on a small silver-embroidered handbag. Through the thick glass windows, Oakhaven began to reveal its true face: a bustling, chaotic cacophony of progress.
This morning, Evelyn's schedule was a visit to the tailor in the Central District before the inevitable tea at Baroness Moore's. It was one of the few moments she could observe the world beyond the cold walls of her manor, even if only through a barrier of glass and oak.
"Oakhaven feels more crowded today, doesn't it, Martha?" Evelyn asked softly, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery.
Martha, sitting opposite her with a rigid back, glanced briefly outside. "Construction on the new railway to the northern docks is being accelerated, Milady. The Lord Duke says it is to increase the coal export quota to the capital. Progress demands space, and space always brings crowds."
Evelyn fell silent, absorbing the answer. Progress. A word often echoed by her father and ministers at the dining table. To them, progress was numbers on parchment and stacks of gold in bank vaults. But to Evelyn, progress looked like black smoke belching from giant chimneys—factories that never stopped pulsing, like a massive heart made of iron and steam.
The carriage entered the main thoroughfare of the Commercial District. Here, the smell of horses and manure mingled with the sharp scent of engine oil and steam hissed from underground pipes. Four-story red-brick buildings stood tall and arrogant, their windows small and perpetually shut to keep out the soot.
"Look at that, Martha," Evelyn pointed to a clockmaker's shop at the corner. In the display window sat a prototype of a new mechanical clock with intricate copper arms. "Everything is driven by springs and steam now. Sometimes I wonder, will humans be replaced by machines soon?"
"A strange question, Milady," Martha replied flatly. "Machines were created to serve us. As long as we control the steam and the coal, man remains the master."
Evelyn gave a thin, secret smile. She was clever enough to realize one thing people like Martha often forgot: machines needed fuel, and fuel needed humans to dig the earth. A weary, never-ending cycle.
As the carriage slowed across the Serpentine Bridge, Evelyn pressed her palm against the window. She could feel the vibrations of distant machinery crawling through the wheels, into the wooden frame, and finally to her fingertips. The world felt so mechanical, so orderly, and so... predictable.
There was no room for the illogical in a world governed by steam pressure and production. Yet, Evelyn's deep curiosity often led her to notice things others ignored—how the shadows in the narrow alleys seemed darker than they should be, or how certain ancient buildings in the Old District possessed an architecture that made no sense for modern steam engines.
"We have almost arrived at Madame Claire's boutique, Milady," Martha's voice broke the trance.
Evelyn stepped out, inhaling the heavy Oakhaven air. Her silk gown swept across the pavement, creating a sharp contrast against the street dust. She looked up at the sky, crisscrossed by a web of telegraph wires.
"A very busy world," Evelyn whispered to herself as she stepped inside, leaving the city's roar behind.