The morning sun had only just warmed the dew off the estate lawns when Sharath found himself bundled in a travel sling, his tiny head peeking out like a royal pastry from a velvet napkin. His father, Lord Varundar, was overseeing a logistics inspection of the estate's outposts—a routine check of guard posts, granaries, and trade routes.
Sharath had insisted on attending.
Silently. Through gurgles, head-turns, and the careful targeting of his "unreasonable shriek" whenever he was left behind.
His mother had relented. "He wants to see horses, I think."
Lord Varundar chuckled. "Then we'll show him how kingdoms move."
Sharath gurgled diplomatically.
Yes, let's examine the undercarriage of civilization together, Father.
❖ The Cavalcade of CreaksTheir journey began with the estate's official caravan—five horse-drawn carriages, two ox-carts for provisions, and one highly decorated but poorly balanced ceremonial chariot for Lord Varundar.
Sharath was loaded into the main cart, his cradle strapped down beside crates of grain and linen. The cart wheels creaked like disgruntled toads every time they rolled over a pebble. The suspension system was—generously—nonexistent.
Each bounce nearly sent Sharath's wooden duck toy into orbit.
Note to self: medieval wagons are designed by people who've never sat in one.
The horses, beautiful but untrained in formation, moved unevenly, requiring constant verbal correction. At one point, a goat from a roadside shrine sprinted through the middle of the convoy, causing an ox to lurch, a cart to tilt, and Sharath to slide halfway down his cushion like a noble sausage.
❖ Transportation Report: Inefficiency AchievedAs they trundled along the main estate roads, Sharath began mentally cataloging everything.
Observed:Two types of carts: hand-drawn for peasants, oxen/horse for nobles.
No suspensions. No uniform wheel width.
Paths uneven; stone-laid roads limited to central trade lanes.
No directional signs except local gossip and vague shrine placement.
Conclusions:Travel speed capped by terrain and beast temperament.
Carts break frequently—no modular design.
Zero incentive for innovation—"This is how it's done" mindset.
Bottleneck: The wheel is fine. The rest is the problem.
He had no quill. No chalk. But in his mind, he began sketching.
Frame.
Pedal.
Chain.
Wheels with spokes instead of solid iron discs.
Light. Efficient. Elegant.
A bicycle.
❖ The Chicken CatalystIt happened just past a hilly turn near a sheep-farm outpost.
The road narrowed.
A servant's child carrying a chicken in a basket slipped on loose gravel and toppled forward. The chicken, seizing its moment, burst free and ran under Sharath's cart.
The ox yelped (Sharath didn't know oxen could yelp), swerved, and the cart tipped halfway sideways.
Everyone yelled.
Sharath's cradle tipped dangerously.
Instinct kicked in.
He rolled against the tilt, spread his arms, and latched onto a corner rail—his face pressed against the wooden edge, blinking at the fleeing chicken as if it had declared war on innovation.
Lady Ishvari caught up just in time to right the cradle. "By the moons! Is he hurt?"
"No," said the steward, peering down. "He looks… annoyed."
Sharath blinked twice.
Very.
❖ Old Birds, Slow WordsAt the guard outpost, Sharath was introduced—gently—to the kingdom's communication system.
Runners: Fit young men who memorized messages and ran village to village.
Scribes: Kept "standard phrasing tablets" to avoid deviations in memory.
Pigeons: Trained to fly between key watchtowers and merchant hubs.
It was elegant.
It was ancient.
And it was so slow it hurt his soul.
He watched a pigeon be given a message scroll, a wax-sealed capsule tied to its leg, and launched into the air.
It promptly circled three times and landed on the pigeon handler's hat.
Sharath squinted.
Your messaging system is powered by creatures who think hats are trees.
❖ The Bottleneck BlueprintBack home that evening, Sharath sat up in his cradle, hair tousled from wind and thought.
His mind raced.
Transportation bottlenecks:
Carts unstable.
Horses unpredictable.
Roads unimproved.
Speed restricted to endurance and terrain.
Communication bottlenecks:
Messages limited to memorization or birds.
No long-range clarity.
No guaranteed receipt or confirmation.
No system of encoded delivery for layered content.
He stared at the moonlight on his cradle's rim and whispered the name of his next goal:
Project Swiftspark.
✦ Concept Notes (Mental Draft Only)Build a lightweight, rune-reinforced two-wheel frame.
Introduce rotating pedal chain system with adjustable seat.
Embed "Momentum Glyphs" into wheel hubs for slight magical boost.
Propose standardized courier stations with enchantment-assisted message transference.
Eventually: develop "Rune-inked memory slates" for long-distance data imprinting.
❖ A Noble Toddler (Again)Just as Sharath was finishing his internal dissertation, a familiar voice toddled into the nursery.
"Your horse is ugly," said Noble Toddler Taimar, pointing at Sharath's duck toy.
Sharath blinked.
Taimar climbed onto the rug with all the diplomacy of a small warlord. "I'm going to build a fortress. With fire. And tell the priests you can't talk."
Sharath reached over and stole Taimar's toy knight.
Taimar gasped.
Lady Ishvari peeked in, sighed, and said, "They're getting along splendidly."
That night, Sharath looked out the nursery window, watching the torches being lit along the city wall. Below, horses clopped slowly through the cobbled streets, and a pigeon—probably still confused—circled the watchtower twice before disappearing into the dark.
He whispered, "Faster."
Not angrily.
Just… like a promise.