May 12, 1924

Duke whistled. "Everybody get on, I don't want to leave you behind." People piled into his coaches and off he started. As he started off, he coughed. "Blagh!"

"I say, Duke, do you need any help? Perhaps you're getting old?" Tim, a snooty black Beyer Peacock Olomana box tank who'd worked on the Arlesdale Tramway before its closure, asked haughtily as he passed.

"No! Just some routine maintenance is all I need."

Maintenance was right. Duke needed his tubes cleaned. His crew were just finishing up at around six o'clock when Stuart entered the yard. "Hallo, Granpuff!" Stuart wheeshed.

"Please stop calling me that."

"Well, anyway, there's a passenger train to the harbor at sundown. You're on it."

"Smudger came off the rails again?"

"Yep."

"He's going to get himself removed from service, that moron. Are ALL Americans that stupid?"

"No, just him," Jerry, the lime green Barclay six-coupled, remarked as he passed with a goods train.

Stuart looked at Duke, concerned. "Duke? Should I be ready to help you in case you need it?"

"Bah! I can manage."

"Famous last words," Jerry muttered to no one in particular.

Edward puffed down the Ffarquhar branchline, which was normally managed by four Wrightson Coffeepots named Glynn (red), Glen (blue), Glinda (green), and Bartholomew (black). "I'd like to have a branchline one day," Edward remarked as he pulled into a station.

"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Eddy old boyo," Glen said weakly from the front of two orange-brown Stroudley coaches. "Boiler sludge again. I swear it'll be the end of us. Annie and Clarabel need to get to the top station and promptly."

"Alright. Happy to lend a buffer." Edward coupled up to them and they were off.

"How are things, Edward?" Clarabel, the brake coach, asked.

"Yes, we've hardly heard anything from the main line," Annie added from ahead. "Is it true you're no longer just shunting?"

"Indeed it is." Edward sighed.

"Are you alright?"

"I've been thinking about the world. The big engines sans Henry don't believe me when I say that a new war is coming. But after the Beer Hall Putsch last fall, I can't help but feel that it really is."

"But who's going to start it?" Annie asked.

"That funny little man who led the thing, no doubt," Glen suggested. "He doesn't seem right in the head."

"My thoughts exactly. He needs to be dealt with and fast. Otherwise he'll do horrible things the likes of which we couldn't have dreamed up before," Edward finished gravely.

Duke puffed along with the evening passenger train, taking in the sights of his home, when suddenly he felt weaker. Steam hissed from his valves, which had come loose.

"Oh, bollocks!" snapped his driver. "I knew we should've checked Duke over elsewhere!"

"Nothing we can do now except call for help," replied the fireman. He did, and they struggled on to the next station. Once there, Tim and Stuart arrived and coupled up in front of Duke.

"Ha! See? You are getting old," Tim gloated. Stuart felt sorry for Duke and said nothing.

They continued on to the harbor, and Tim took half the coaches to the boat. Stuart hauled the remainder, and Duke, to the last station. The route ran over a tall hill, and Stuart wasn't accustomed to the steep slope. "Oh!" he groaned. "This one's tough!"

"My valves may be loose, but I can still make steam!" Duke replied. "Driver, let 'er rip!"

Suddenly, the train lurched forward as the tender engine's systems roared back to life. Duke surged forward, Stuart assisting where his elder's valves couldn't.

Juliet pulled into Kirk Ronan. "Everybody off!" she announced. Passengers began spilling out. "Ah, this is the life! I can't believe Sir Topham lets me pull this glorious train to the Dublin charter every day!"

"Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but that may not last for much longer."

"What?"

The other voice had come from Devonia, a GWR Achilles and the private engine for the Minister of Sodor. She was painted Tyrian purple and was purchased for the Minister following her 1908 withdrawal.

"Devonia? Whatever are you doing here?" Juliet asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not a bleedin' normie engine! And what do you mean, won't last for much longer?"

"The LMS isn't happy at how much revenue your train is raking in," Devonia explained. "They want to absorb our railway into it, and your train's being used as a justification. I've brought the Minister and Sir Topham here so they can have a meeting. By the looks of things, this charter might get reduced to just Tuesdays and Fridays. I'm sorry, but a compromise has to be reached if we're to remain a safe haven for Lifers."

Juliet scowled. "Well, f–"

At the final station on the Mid-Sodor, a boy looked confused. "Why does this train have two engines? It normally doesn't need two."

Duke was about to explain but Stuart beat him to it. "I broke down and Duke is helping me!"

"Oh! That's very nice of you, Duke!" The boy, satisfied, followed his parents into the coach.

That night at the sheds, Duke looked at Stuart, confused. "Why did you lie?"

"Because you've suffered enough embarrassment for today, Granpuff. You can rest up while we take your trains until your valves are tight again. We do like you, well, some of us do."

Duke smiled. "Thanks, Stuart. And it just goes to show, life can't win if you're determined to fight it."