I Reincarnated as a Prince Who Revolutionized the Kingdom-Chapter 156: ICE Carriages

In the quiet hours before dawn, King Bruno sat in his study, the flickering lamplight casting long shadows over the paper spread before him. Diagrams of pistons, crankshafts, and fuel injectors filled the pages—blueprints of a vision that had taken root in his mind. The success of the steam-powered navy had proven Elysea's capacity for industrial advancement. Now, Bruno envisioned a new frontier: the transformation of land transportation through the introduction of automobiles powered by internal combustion engines.

Bruno's inspiration stemmed from memories of his previous world, where gasoline and diesel engines had revolutionized mobility. He recalled the mechanics: in gasoline engines, a mixture of fuel and air is compressed and ignited by a spark plug, causing an explosion that drives the piston. Diesel engines, on the other hand, compress air to a high temperature before injecting fuel, which ignites due to the heat of compression. These principles, though complex, were achievable with Elysea's growing industrial capabilities.

Bruno convened a council of Elysea's brightest minds—engineers, blacksmiths, alchemists, and scholars. He shared his vision of a self-propelled carriage, detailing the mechanics of internal combustion engines. The council listened with a mix of skepticism and intrigue. Bruno addressed their concerns by referencing the kingdom's advancements in metallurgy and steam technology, emphasizing that the leap to combustion engines was a natural progression.​

The next challenge was sourcing suitable fuel. Bruno recalled that gasoline and diesel were refined from crude oil. He dispatched expeditions to explore Elysea's territories for oil deposits. Within months, they discovered a site rich in crude oil. Refineries were established, and alchemists worked tirelessly to develop methods for distilling the oil into usable fuels. The process was arduous, but the promise of a new era of transportation fueled their determination.​

Bruno's inspiration stemmed from memories of his previous world, where gasoline and diesel engines had revolutionized mobility. He recalled the mechanics: in gasoline engines, a mixture of fuel and air is compressed and ignited by a spark plug, causing an explosion that drives the piston. Diesel engines, on the other hand, compress air to a high temperature before injecting fuel, which ignites due to the heat of compression. These principles, though complex, were achievable with Elysea's growing industrial capabilities.

With fuel production underway, Bruno turned his attention to vehicle design. He sketched models inspired by the early automobiles of his former world—compact, sturdy, and functional. Workshops buzzed with activity as craftsmen built chassis, forged engine components, and assembled the first prototypes. The inaugural model, dubbed the "Elysean Cruiser," featured a single-cylinder engine, wooden frame, and iron-rimmed wheels. Though rudimentary, it marked the beginning of a transportation revolution.​

The first test runs of the Elysean Cruiser were met with anticipation and trepidation. Bruno himself took the helm, guiding the vehicle along a makeshift track. The engine sputtered to life, propelling the Cruiser forward amidst cheers from onlookers. Subsequent tests revealed areas for improvement—engine cooling, fuel efficiency, and suspension systems. Engineers iterated on the design, incorporating feedback and refining the mechanics. Each prototype brought the kingdom closer to a reliable, mass-producible automobile.​

Recognizing the need for infrastructure to support automobiles, Bruno initiated the construction of paved roads connecting major cities. He established the Royal Motor Works, a state-sponsored facility dedicated to vehicle production. Training programs were launched to educate mechanics and drivers, ensuring a skilled workforce to sustain the burgeoning industry. The economic impact was profound—new jobs emerged, trade routes expanded, and the kingdom's internal connectivity improved dramatically.​

The day finally came.

A brisk morning breeze rustled through the banners strung across the central square of Elysee, where thousands of citizens had gathered for what was promised to be a historic unveiling. Merchants left their stalls untended. Apprentices slipped away from workshops. Children perched on balconies, their faces bright with anticipation. Even visiting envoys from neighboring kingdoms stood among the crowd, their expressions cautiously curious. Everyone wanted to witness what King Bruno had long hinted at—a new marvel to change the way Elysea moved.

A raised platform stood at the center of the square, surrounded by tightly woven ropes and flanked by royal guards. In front of it was a long stretch of freshly paved road—the first public motor lane in the kingdom, lined with lamp posts and carved stone curbs.

Then, the trumpet sounded.

King Bruno appeared, dressed not in his ceremonial finery but in a long leather coat, gloves, and goggles pushed up on his brow. He looked every bit the mechanic-king that the people had come to admire. Queen Amelie stood proudly beside him, and Prince Louis clung excitedly to her hand, hopping in place to see what was coming.

"Citizens of Elysea," Bruno began, stepping forward and projecting his voice with the confidence of someone who knew history was listening. "For generations, our cities have been connected by foot, by horse, by cart. But today, we turn the wheels of time forward."

With a simple wave, the ropes were pulled aside.

From beneath a velvet tarp, six gleaming vehicles were revealed—sleek bodies of polished brass and oak-trimmed metal, their wheels rimmed with vulcanized rubber and headlights like silver eyes. Engines thumped beneath their hoods, releasing faint puffs of white smoke.

The crowd gasped.

"These are not carriages. They are not wagons," Bruno said. "These are Elysean Automobiles. Built here. Fueled here. For our roads, our people, and our future."

He stepped into the nearest one, a four-seater painted in royal green and trimmed in gold. He turned a small crank lever on the side—an interim method until self-starting engines were perfected—and the engine roared to life. The sound was unlike anything the square had ever heard: rhythmic, mechanical, alive.

Bruno pressed the pedal and the car jerked forward, gliding along the smooth road.

The cheers were thunderous.

The other drivers—apprentices from the Royal Motor Works—followed suit, guiding their Cruisers around the square in a slow, elegant circuit. Children chased behind the cars. Elderly citizens wiped their eyes in disbelief.

Later that day, an announcement was made: the first production run of the Elysean Cruiser would begin immediately. Applications for purchase would open within the week—not only for nobles, but for merchants, doctors, messengers, and farmers who could prove need and responsibility.

In the weeks that followed, the kingdom saw the birth of an entirely new industry.

Gasoline stations—initially called "fuel depots"—began appearing at key crossroads and town centers, each manned by trained attendants. New workshops opened in every major city, offering repair services and custom parts. The Royal Motor Works expanded into a sprawling compound with three assembly lines. Orders flooded in faster than they could be filled.

Bruno ensured that access to vehicles wasn't monopolized by the rich. He passed a royal edict: a quarter of all vehicles produced in the first three years would be subsidized for lower-income citizens contributing to essential sectors—medicine, agriculture, logistics, and education.

Roads continued to stretch outward like veins from the capital, linking villages that had never seen cobblestone paths to the heart of the kingdom. Journey times shrank. Farmers could deliver goods to markets days earlier than before. Doctors arrived to rural emergencies in hours rather than days.

And with the transformation came stories.

A teacher in Valenport used her Cruiser to bring books to five remote hamlets.

A blacksmith invented a new braking system and was invited to join the Royal Engineering Guild.

A postman who once rode for days now finished his route by noon and taught literacy in the afternoons.

Everywhere, the sound of progress was no longer the beat of horseshoes—but the steady hum of combustion.

The foreign emissaries who had witnessed the launch sent letters back home filled with urgency. Some requested to purchase the vehicles. Others tried to decipher the engine blueprints from memory. But Bruno held firm: Elysea would lead this revolution. Collaboration was welcome—but only if it served peace and mutual prosperity.

One month after the public release, Bruno returned to the central square for a quieter visit.

He sat on a bench, watching three Cruisers pass by—one driven by a young couple, another by a baker delivering pastries, the third by a soldier-in-training wearing his uniform with pride.

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Amelie sat beside him, Louis sleeping against her shoulder.

"It's only been a few weeks," she said softly.

Bruno nodded. "And the world already moves faster."

She looked at him sideways. "Will it be too fast, someday?"

"Maybe," he admitted. "But the answer isn't to stop it. It's to guide it. Teach it. Build lanes, not walls."

She smiled. "Then that's what we'll do."

And so, with roads paved and engines humming, Elysea entered its next great chapter—not just a kingdom reborn from crisis, but a kingdom in motion. A place where the future didn't arrive overnight, but rolled forward one revolution at a time, driven by the courage of a king who remembered what was possible.

And never forgot who it was for.

And from that day on, the sound of progress echoed not just in gears and engines—but in the hearts of every Elysean citizen.