Free Web NovelChapter 234: Chapter 203: Sir Gordo Craig
The Morris Brothers chose to take a carriage to the Craig Welfare House.
As two outstanding international students from Repin Academy, neither of them knew the Teleportation Technique.
They were genuinely outstanding students, no embellishments about it. Repin Academy had no need to spend money bringing in subpar international students just to boost its global reputation.
But they truly didn’t know the Teleportation Technique; their School’s specialization didn’t cover it.
Fortunately, carriage rentals were already a very well-established service in the city. Otherwise, the two brothers would have had a rather tiring walk to the welfare house in the suburbs.
"Oh? Have carriages gotten this advanced now?" Big Mo curiously observed the carriage stopped in front of him. The rental he had taken over half a year ago was much worse than this.
He might have looked like someone who went out and had fun often, but in reality, he spent his days either in the lab or training, rarely leaving the academy grounds.
He was on a scholarship, planning to complete his studies and return home to help build his hometown, not to enjoy a life of leisure.
The carriage’s interior had a tidy environment, comfortable cushions, and a small dial that displayed numbers.
"What’s that thing?" Big Mo asked, pointing at the small dial.
"It’s an odometer. Just get in, quick," Xiaomo urged. He always felt it was shameful to ask about common things in public, fearing it would reveal they were from a small town and hadn’t seen the world.
"An odometer? How does it work? Does it calculate the mileage from time and speed?" Big Mo was extremely curious.
"It’s connected to the wheels. It counts the number of rotations."
"And then multiplies it by the circumference to get the mileage. What a clever design," Big Mo exclaimed. "Why have rental carriages changed so much? Did they finally have a change of heart and decide to improve their service?"
In his memory, carriage drivers had always been aloof and dismissive, refusing fares at the drop of a hat and always trying to find ways to overcharge.
It wasn’t that good drivers didn’t exist, but they were definitely in the minority.
’Then again, I wonder if they’ve rigged this odometer to secretly add mileage.’
"It’s probably not a change of heart. Rumor is, an inventor created a vehicle that doesn’t need horses or tracks. Some companies are already trying to produce it, so the carriage companies are feeling the pressure."
’It seems the motivation to improve only comes when their livelihoods are at stake.’
"Didn’t that kind of vehicle already exist?" If Big Mo recalled correctly, the self-propelled Magic-guided Vehicle was an old invention from over a hundred years ago. However, because it was too expensive to build and had no use beyond transportation, it never became widespread.
He heard that when it was first created, they claimed it was the future and would change how people traveled. In the end, it had no impact whatsoever.
Every so often, something would pop up claiming it would change the future of this or that, but most of them turned out to be gimmicks not even worth a chuckle.
"This one’s different. It doesn’t use Magic. It’s a completely mechanical structure, called an internal combustion engine, I think. The manufacturing cost is much lower than a Magic-guided Vehicle, and it even competed in a race against a carriage once."
"Did it win?"
"It lost. The vehicle broke down halfway and wouldn’t start again, no matter what they tried."
"Then why are the carriage companies so anxious?"
"Because everyone can see that the day will come when the internal combustion engine can be improved and made viable. But a horse will always just be a horse."
Perhaps one of the last fleets of carriages to operate in the city carried the two brothers all the way to the suburbs.
In the midst of an estate filled with olive trees stood the Craig Welfare House.
It was a charitable institution funded by Sir Gordo Craig, which cared for orphans until the age of 14.
Usually, this kind of work was handled by the Church, but the Church’s welfare organizations typically only provided food and lodging. The Craig Welfare House also provided a basic education.
This was to help prevent them from seamlessly joining a gang and creating more orphans the moment they left the welfare house.
Fourteen might sound young, but under the current circumstances, it was considered a long time to be cared for.
After all, most 14-year-old poor children on the streets already had about eight years of work experience.
They would be considered skilled laborers on the open market.
Xiaomo followed his brother into the estate’s main building, a large house with a structure somewhat resembling a church.
In front of the colorful windows, a group of children in uniform stood in three rows. Bathed in the languid evening light, they sang in unison under the direction of a stout woman.
"Gazing upon the journey you have passed,
"The forgotten children have lost their way,
"Please reach out a helping hand,
"And guide them until the day breaks anew."
Big Mo didn’t understand music. Singing was the main flaw in his otherwise perfect student persona, and music theory was completely out of the question.
For years, talent shows had been an insurmountable challenge for him. At family gatherings during his childhood, one cousin would sing a song, another would perform a dance.
Oh, and Xiaomo could even perform mental arithmetic.
Only him... he couldn’t very well demonstrate how to play ball in front of everyone.
As a result, he had never been interested in musical performances; they always reminded him of the ridicule from his relatives and elders.
Nevertheless, he listened intently to the children’s performance until the end.
’It’s beautiful.’
’It’s truly beautiful.’
They were so professional they didn’t sound like a group of children; they were even better than many of the songs on the network he used for testing.
He felt as if he were being purified.
"Very good. You are now the best choir in the city. Believe me, even the people in the opera companies aren’t as good as you."
An old man’s voice came from the shadows.
The little singers’ faces broke into unconcealable smiles.
"What about the curtain call?"
Everyone hastily gave a somewhat clumsy bow.
"Alright, dismissed. The desserts are all ready for you, but remember, you can only have them after dinner. Anyone who doesn’t eat their dinner properly won’t be allowed to play outside tomorrow."
Before he could finish, the children cheered and scattered, rushing headlong towards the dining hall.
