The rhythmic clatter of the ore wagons on the Iron Road was abruptly silenced by a new, more refined sound: the synchronized hoofbeats of an Imperial Chancery escort. Kael had known that the smoke from the steam piston and the sudden surge in Ashfall's export volume would eventually trigger a formal inspection. The Imperial Eye was not easily blinded. Three regional surveyors, led by a Senior Auditor named Corvus, arrived at the northern gates not with blades, but with high-precision measuring chains, charcoal ledgers, and a mandate to verify the "technical and taxable status" of the Sovereign Industrial Protectorate.
Kael stood at the reception platform, his internal state as cold and calculated as the iron plates beneath his feet. He recognized the danger of this audit. If Corvus reported that Ashfall had achieved true mechanical automation through steam power, the Imperial Crown would likely invoke the "Strategic Asset" clause, stripping Kael of his autonomy and placing the barony under a direct military governorship to secure the technology for the capital. Kael had to perform a delicate act of industrial theater: he had to show enough prosperity to justify his protectorate status, while masking the true, revolutionary leaps of the steam piston and the plateway's efficiency.
"The road is... innovative," Corvus noted, his eyes tracking the L-shaped iron plates as he dismounted. He knelt to inspect the limestone ballast. "But the speed of your ore delivery suggests a power source beyond simple ox-teams. My reports indicate a rhythmic thrumming coming from the northern outcrop. A sound like the heartbeat of a titan."
Kael didn't blink. "The acoustics of the limestone canyons amplify the manual stamp-mills, Auditor. We utilize a synchronized gravity-drop system to crush the ore. It is loud, but it is entirely human-powered."
The audit was a three-day ordeal of "grit" and administrative gamesmanship. Kael moved the auditors through the Great Greenhouse first, showcasing the horn-plate construction. He framed it as a desperate, traditional survival measure—a "scavenger's solution" to the cold. He emphasized the backbreaking manual labor required to scrape the horn, keeping the auditors focused on the hundreds of laborers rather than the subterranean steam pipes that actually kept the plants alive.
The true challenge arrived on the second day, when Corvus insisted on visiting Outpost Alpha. Kael had anticipated this and had signaled the outpost via a secret optical code the night before. When the auditors arrived at the mining site, the steam piston was silent. The boiler had been cooled and covered with a heavy, weather-stained tarp. In its place, Kael had organized a "Human-Powered Capstan"—a massive wooden wheel being turned by twenty Tier 0 laborers to drive the pumps.
"The titan's heartbeat seems to have faded," Corvus remarked, walking around the silent, tarp-covered mass of the steam engine. He reached out to touch the canvas.
"The iron is brittle in this frost," Kael intercepted, stepping between Corvus and the machine. "We are currently undergoing a mandatory thermal stabilization period. To uncover it now would risk a structural fracture."
The tension in the air was as thick as the limestone dust. Kael was betting on the auditor's own elitism; Corvus was a man of the capital, a man who believed the frontier was a place of mud and desperation. He wanted to see a barony that was barely holding on, validating his own sense of superiority. Kael fed that desire, showing him the respiratory triage tents and the scarred hands of the miners. He painted a picture of a system that was successful only through the extreme, near-cruel application of human labor.
However, the audit faced a systemic failure on the final evening. One of the Aspirant foremen, seeking to impress the Imperial visitors, began to boast about the "iron heart" that worked without sleep. Before Kael could intervene, the foreman led Corvus toward the rear of the Iron Works, where a secondary, smaller prototype of the steam piston was being used to drive a mechanical bellows for the forge.
The sound of the wheezing piston was unmistakable. Corvus halted, his ledger half-open. The glowing light of the forge illuminated the oscillating beam and the rhythmic hiss of the steam.
"That," Corvus said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "is not a human-powered capstan."
Kael stepped into the light of the forge. He didn't offer a lie this time; he offered a bargain. He showed Corvus the blueprints—not for the engine, but for the Standardized Imperial Axle. He explained that Ashfall was developing a system of interchangeable parts that could revolutionize the Imperial supply chain, but only if the barony remained a Protectorate, free to innovate without the stifling bureaucracy of a military governorship.
"If you report a 'Strategic Asset', the Crown will seize this forge and the technology will die in a decade of committee meetings and budget disputes," Kael said, his voice hard. "If you report an 'Efficient Frontier Outpost', I will provide the Chancery with the first three hundred standardized axles, free of tax. You will be the man who modernized the Imperial transport corps, and I will be the man who keeps the smoke rising."
The chapter ends with Corvus standing at the northern gate the following morning. He looked at Kael, then at his charcoal ledger. He had written a report that emphasized the "extraordinary manual discipline" of the Ashfall laborers and the "ingenious use of traditional forge-bellows." He had chosen the bargain over the audit.
The Imperial escort rode away, leaving Ashfall in a state of precarious sovereignty. Kael stood on the bastion, watching them disappear. He had bought time, but at a cost. He now had to produce three hundred standardized axles on top of his existing quotas. The "Sovereign Audit" was over, but the "Industrial Debt" had just begun.