The model I think is fairly self explanatory.

Pressure climbing, boiler probably fine, probably.

I, Malakai. Why is there a fuse? One more test.

They called me engineer once, before they called me mad, before the guild struck out the name of everything I had. I built the unsinkable and watched her sink below. I built the undestructible, that one had quite a show. But dwarfs were in those wrecks with me, good dwarfs who trusted what I'd made. So they took my rank, I took the crest, and swore my life would pay.

But there's a drawing on the table and I had another thought. One more lift, more steam, more power, what's the worst that could go wrong? One more test, one more flame, one more chance to clear my name. If she flies, then I was right. If she blows, I die tonight. Turn the valves, light the fire, push the pressure ever higher. If you want my soul, Grimnir, catch me first.

A slayer's meant to seek his doom, not spend his nights with gears, but I've still got designs enough to last another hundred years. A cannon needs a bigger bore, that rotor needs more speed, and if you give me twenty barrels, I can make the goblins bleed. They say, "Malakai, that's dangerous." I, "That's rather why it's good." "If that boiler bursts, it'll kill ye." "Well, now we're understood."

One more test, one more flame, one more chance to clear my name. If she flies, then I was right. If she blows, I die tonight. Hammer down, lock it tight. We'll find out if the math was right and if the calculations fail, and settle back and watch.

But sometimes when the hammers stop, I hear them. The ones who trusted me, the ones who never came home. They said my machines were reckless. Maybe they were right. Maybe everything I build is just another way of asking them, "Was I worth forgiving?" I cannot bring them back. I cannot make it right. But I can make the next one better. So light the fire.

Timber braced, Jack. Pressure holding, Jack. Engines primed, Jack. Emergency release? Malakai, we don't need it. The Spirit of Grungni groans above us, a mountain made to fly. Every dwarf upon the field is finding somewhere safe to hide. Someone shouts, "It's going to blow!" I grip the rail, I bare my teeth, then let the bastard try.

One more test, one more flame, one last chance to clear my name. Engine screaming, pressure high. Come on, you bastards! The cables snap, the engines roar, the earth begins to fall away. No fire, no wreck, no screaming. We're flying. We're bloody flying!

So, one more test, one more flame. I don't need them to clear my name. Let the guild write what it will. I'm slayer sworn, I'm engineer, and apparently, I'm still bloody here. So, Grimnir, keep your doomed tonight, I've got improvements left to make.

It works. It actually works. Malakai, is that gauge supposed to be red? No. Everybody down.

https://vocaroo.com/1dCKgpymuk1M

Back to my devilish tricks.

Works well at a strength of 1

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