Dear readers,
The history of the North Western Railway is quite well known, from arrival dates to engine builds, personalities to milestones, and everything in between. But what if they'd changed?
What if the Flying Kipper had never happened?
What if the original Wellsworth and Suddery number one through four had swapped places with the iconic Wellsworth and Suddery No. one through three?
What if history as we know it was rewritten?
Well, you'll find out soon enough.
Yours truly,
the Authors.
PLEASE NOTE: These "What If…?" Chapters are NOT CANON and shouldn't be considered otherwise. Thank you.
What If… Henry was rebuilt as a Princess Royal?
Story 1, Part 1: Rivals
Written by memesandtreasure
Proofread and Corrected by the S:TTS Team
Winter, 1935, Crewe, 7:43 PM:
One Bertram Topham Hatt sat anxiously in his chair, racked with worry over his number three. It had not been very long since the accident, not even a day, and the wounds were still fresh. As much as he wished he could have kept Henry from being allocated to the Kipper, he also knew that there was no undoing the past, and that no one could have ever known this would have happened. After all, as far as he knew, it was just a freak accident.
"Maybe some hot chocolate will calm my nerves.", the director thought, taking a sip of the hot, brown drink; for the time, it would do the trick.
30 long minutes later, the train came to a halt, and Bertram laid his boots onto the snow, prepared to meet a familiar face.
"Topham, my old friend. This is quite an unexpected surprise."
"Yes, it is.", Bertram replied, "It's great to see you too, Bill. I wish we could've had this reunion on better terms."
Gesturing to the large green engine sitting on its two flatbeds, William grimaced at the sight of him, his face contorted in a mix of pity and intrigue.
"What… is it?", he questioned, "It looks like a Gresley build. Never seen anything like it though."
"He… is my number three, Henry. A long time ago, he was pawned off on me by his builders, who wanted nothing to do with him. Since then, he's had mechanical issue after mechanical issue, which were compounded further by that stay in the tunnel he took. He tried his best, but it just wasn't enough. The original board hated him, but they didn't touch him. No. Those zealous bastards decided to toss away most of our old tank engines, and threw away our Stirling Single."
"I'm so sorry to have heard that. What happened to them?"
"The tank engines? They've scattered to the winds by now. Emily? Who knows? As for the board? Supplanted by a new one, and good riddance, but they still left us without a pilot. Henry and my number 4 and 5, Gordon and James, didn't take too kindly to having to shunt their own trains, on top of the work I've had to put them through because of this blasted depression."
"Can't say I don't feel the same way."
"Well, it's good to know that us Sudrians aren't the only ones feeling the pressure. I did get a station pilot to appease them, and he's our current number 6, Percy, but the trio were still punished for the havoc they caused, especially James. What he did tanked our budget so hard, it left us with no choice but to use some very cheap coal, in price and quality… Henry always did have trouble building up enough steam, but we were able to buy some Welsh coal for him. Made quite the difference in his performance, but just in case, we brought in a replacement. He's currently substituting in for Henry, while the board's helping out in my stead."
"Good. I was afraid you were cutting into valuable time with this personal visit. But please, continue."
"Thanks. Anyway, shortly after we brought in the C2, Klondike, things went south, fast. Henry was pulling a fish train up to Manchester, the Flying Kipper, when he crashed into Klondike's goods train. Ice and snow seems to have caused the accident, but I'm still suspicious. Something's off with that Atlantic. I know it."
"...And that accident is what's brought you here?"
"Yes."
"Well then, time for you to cash in on your favor. From what I can see, he needs a complete rebuild and essence transfer. Come to my office, we'll discuss details there. Plus, I know you're not exactly a fan of the cold."
"Agreed."
The pair had slowly started shuffling towards William's working quarters, as an LMS Jinty 0-6-0 hauled Henry's broken form into the workshop, when an L&YR Class 21 "Pug" had dragged a large pacific out of it at the same time.
But to call it large would have been an understatement; its six driving wheels towered over Bertram and William, its boiler loomed over them like a mountain, and coupled behind it was an absolute behemoth of a tender, resting on a six-wheeled frame and ready for action. Most peculiar of all were how far back the cylinders were, something of which perplexed the Fat Director, as he was used to the further forward arrangement employed on the likes of Gordon.
Nevertheless, Bertram stood there, an expression of awe plastered on his face.
"Ah. I see you've taken an interest in our newest metal dragon. That there is a Princess Royal, or what the men have nicknamed a 'Lizzie'. That one was just in for a bit of minor maintenance, I can assure you, but they're quite capable passenger engines, and we've currently got several allocated to our most intensive toplink expresses. Seen anything like them before?"
"Yes, actually. Those 'King' locomotives on the GWR… William, did you just enlarge the King designs to accommodate a pacific wheel arrangement?"
"...Yes."
"Alright then. Tell me more about it when we get inside."
"Will do, Topham, and I can promise you this; when we're done with your number 3, no matter what design you've chosen for him, his new and improved firebox and shape will turn him into the backbone of your railway. Soon, your board won't have to drain their life savings to fuel that Welsh Coal fueled bonfire of yours."
"Well, that depends on whether or not your men can restore him."
"But that's the thing. It's not a matter of if, but rather… when."
Season unknown, Date unknown, Location unknown, Time unknown:
"No, please. I can be a good engine. I don't want to go. Please, I can be a good engine."
"That's clearly not what your controller thought. I'm sorry that no one bought you sooner, but between slowly rusting away or this blair water being pumped through your systems, I think you and I both know which fate that lies ahead is better for you."
The cutter brought the barrel closer to Henry's water cap.
"No, please.", the engine muttered.
He opened it.
"NO."
He slowly tipped it over to align it properly.
"NO."
With that, the barrel finally fell over.
"NO. NO, PLEASE. PLEASE. I DON'T WANT TO GO. PLEASE. N-"
"-OOOOO-"
William Stanier rushed down from his office, intent on seeing what the commotion was about.
"He's having a nightmare, Mr. Stanier. What do we-"
Stanier rushed into Henry's new cab, frantically fumbling about while searching the controls, when he found just what he was looking for.
Pulling down hard, a long and loud two-toned, yet familiar, fwooo-fwoooo was released from its chamber, bringing Henry back down to reality once more.
"W-where am I? What is this… place?"
"This is Crewe, Henry. And you're amongst friends. You're safe.", William comforted, stepping out of the cab to personally greet the North Western Railway's number three.
"Who are you?"
"Why, I'm William Stanier. Surely, Topham's told you engines about me. I'm his best friend."
"...Wait, you're that Bill he talks about?"
"The one and only. He sent you here under my personal care until you could be fully repaired once more."
"Oh. Well, I don't think that'll help. Surely, he's already-"
"He did. But, it's been, what, a year and a half now? You'll be fine, and if you want, I can show you your new shape right now."
"New shape? Let me see."
"As you wish."
Reaching into his outer shirt pocket, William uncrumpled and unfolded a paper, bringing it up to Henry's line of sight, close enough for the engine to see. Henry was stunned, the photo seeming almost unreal; resting on a line and positioned against a white backdrop, a newly built Princess Royal stood alongside several men, a number "3" painted on the side of his tender. William then proceeded to pull out an entire folder of these photos from his suitcase, presenting them to the engine. Slowly, Henry came to a realization, one that would change his path in life for the rest of his days.
"Am I… this engine?"
"Of course. After all, who else has that number painted on the side of their tender?"
"This… isn't a joke?"
"Why would I joke about saving your life?"
"...Good point. Still, I'm quite hesitant about this new shape of mine."
"As are all rebuilt engines, but don't worry; we'll be putting you on a trial run to test your capabilities, not that I have any doubt in mind that you're quite capable as it is."
"...Then let's get started."
"That's what I'm talking about."
When Henry had gotten to Euston, he hadn't expected there to be so many people, let alone such a massive train of… 20 coaches?
"Sir, are they all packed with passengers?"
"Yes, but the front one is private, made for the board and I. And please, call me William."
"Okay then, William… Do you seriously think I could pull this train?"
"Henry, you're a Princess Royal now, a toplink express engine design. You'll do well on the 'Royal Scot'. Just trust me on this."
"...Doesn't seem like I've got any other choice, so I will."
"There's a good engine. Now, you'll be seeing some familiar men soon enough, and I think you'll find them to be quite the pleasant surprise. Tata for now."
With that, William Stanier walked away to board a private dynamometer car, meant to measure Henry's power output, to converse with his fellow railway men, while Henry waited, already coupled up to the train. It seemed like hours, but in reality, it was only six minutes.
"Hmph. You'd expect there to-"
"Sorry we're late. Traffic was more congested than we thought it'd be. Sorry to have kept you waiting after all this time, old boy."
"Who are you calling old boy, you-"
Henry stopped himself short, astonished by the driver and fireman who stood before him.
"Owen? Grant? I haven't seen the both of you in so long, I didn't know if either of you had made it out. How've the both of you been? And the others? The North Western?"
"Calm down, Henry.", soothed Owen, "We have time for questions later."
"Yeah. Besides, if there's one thing I haven't missed, it's your whining .", added Grant, stifling a chortle.
"Ha ha, very funny. Now, if you're done with your shitty jokes, I think we have a trial train to pull."
"Seems like you can read minds." replied Grant, hopping into the cab, with Owen following after him.
Two minutes later, a guard's whistle blew, and slowly but surely, Henry pulled out of Euston with his heavy express train, intent on seeing just where his limits lie.
Summer, Countryside, 1936, 12:13 PM:
Needless to say, Henry was having the time of his life, as he sped down the mainline towards Glasgow. He had never felt so well before, even with the Welsh Coal, and he'd never gone so fast either. The train behind him felt as light as air, and for the first time in his entire working career, Henry finally felt like he could cut loose.
"THIS IS THE GREATEST DAY OF MY LIFE!"
His crew easily concurred, as it had never been so easy to build up steam before that batch of Welsh Coal, but even then, his new firebox seemed to be giving the premium fuel a run for its money; the bonus on top was that Henry seemed to be able to ride even smoother now, thanks to the new and improved trailing truck. They could definitely see that Sir Topham had truly gotten a bargain.
"If we keep this up, he might be placed as the chief express engine when he gets back."
"You might just be right, Grant. For now though, let's just focus on getting to where we need to go, okay?"
"Whatever.", he answered, returning to his duty of shoveling coal.
Children flocked to fences to get as close to the tracks as possible, keen on getting a glimpse of the green Princess Royal on his way to Glasgow, while rail enthusiasts took photos and filmed the engine as he thundered down the line; this was new for the big green engine, as he was unremarkable in appearance and poor in performance when he was in his old build, but finally, things were looking up for him.
Alas, he couldn't make the entire trip with his loyal driver and fireman at the helm with him, as they still had limits far below his own; luckily for him, a stop at Carlisle would be made to change crews to give Owen and Grant a break. Still, it wouldn't be able to put a damper on his spirits. In fact, he was actually so elated, he would have overshot his stop had his new driver been just a little slower to the draw. Nevertheless, the trial had otherwise been an unprecedented success, and Henry had felt better than ever.
As he was uncoupled from his train, which was being taken away by another LMS Jinty, who he whistled at in appreciation, he thought back on the last time he tried to pull the Wild Nor' Wester after the tunnel, his mechanical failures having nearly stranded the passengers on the mainline. Now though, he could never see himself in that sort of position ever again. No longer was he the weak little knockoff of an A1. Now, he was a strong, capable express engine, able to run circles around even an engine like Gordon. He felt good, and he would've kept pondering his new position in life, when he heard a knock on his shed door.
"Hope we're not interrupting anything with your friend there."
Henry glanced around the shed, before laying his eyes on a sentient LMS Black 5.
"... I didn't know she was there."
"Sure you didn't. Anyway, you know that thing we did to celebrate our first anniversary of all of us working together?"
"No, not… wait a minute. Don't you dare."
Owen pulled out a bag of steaks.
"Why are you doing this?"
Grant brought out a pan.
"Please."
Both slowly crept into Henry's cab.
"...Dammit."
30 minutes later:
Owen and Grant were enjoying their celebratory steaks, glad to finally be reunited with their faithful engine once and for all. Henry, as hard as he tried to pretend to be miffed about them using his firebox to cook their meal, was glad that they could get to do this again. The Black 5 had already left for a train of her own, but before she left, she did get the opportunity to introduce herself as Hedwig. Henry thought it was an odd name, but she was otherwise alright, so he had nothing else to say about her, although it had been quite a while since his accident, so he'd definitely need to get himself up to speed.
"So, what happened after I crashed? All I remember was the impact, and then waking up at Crewe."
"Well,", Grant started, "after you were carted off, we were hospitalized for a few broken bones from jumping out of you before you'd crashed. We've recovered fine since then, but Klondike's crew and guard were killed. After the accident, he was given a new driver and fireman, and set out to substitute for you while you were gone. He was a complete ass during his stay, and we were all feeling the strain without you there to help support us, even with the deadweight giving us his 'help'. Still though, we've held out against the odds, and I don't know how."
"...Sorry to hear that. I wish I could've been there, but… my rebuild."
"It's fine.", Owen responded, Grant shaking his head in agreement.
"...What happened to Klondike?"
"Burning in Hell, for all we care. Deserves it for trying to force himself on Ruby.", Grant darkly sneered.
"He what now?"
"Yeah. Don't know where he got the idea from, but it's still disgusting. Anyway, it turned out that he had actually orchestrated the entire accident. Killed three innocent men just to get you out of the picture. Last I heard, he's already been executed like Cecil, and cut up too. Feel sorry for the sod who gets stuck with bits of Klondike in a shaving blade though.", Owen added.
"...Oh my god."
"Yeah. Bastard was a menace though, through and through. We don't know what made him that way, but it sure as hell wasn't anything good. He wasn't even a boon. More of a bane to us.", Grant sneered.
"…Don't know how to feel about the compulsory final firing. Can't say he didn't deserve it though. From what you've told me, I think we're better off without someone like him in the world."
"Here, here. Now, the two of us have some sleep to catch up on. Tomorrow, we'll be making the trek back to the North Western. Are you ready to see everyone again?", questioned Owen.
"...Maybe. I just don't know if they're ready to see me."
"You'll be fine, Henry. Just show that you've changed for the better, and you'll be fine. They know you're a good engine, you've just got to prove it. Besides, it isn't something to lose sleep over, not when it's coming tomorrow."
"...Alright. When do we leave?"
"10:00 AM again, because apparently, that's how express trains work on the mainland."
"Good to know… well… good night."
"You too."
Leaving Henry to his own thoughts, Owen and Grant jumped out of the Princess Royal's cab, closing the door behind them, and leaving Henry to have his first peaceful dream in years.
The next day:
Henry ran down the line towards Euston with another heavy express behind him, and while there wasn't as much fanfare on the trip back, he did also enjoy the peace and quiet this run was surprisingly able to give him. This time, he made sure to not repeat the same mistake as when he pulled into Glasgow, and actually watched where he was going to keep from overshooting the station platform again. It felt good to have a smooth run with an express for once in his life, and he felt elated to be going home once more. Uncoupling from the train for a station pilot to take it away for him, Henry was just about ready to depart for Sodor with his crew, when the LMS chief mechanical engineer ran to the crew with an envelope in hand.
"Henry, Owen, Grant."
"Mr. Stanier? What brings you here?", questioned Owen.
"I have a letter for Bertram. Very important, if the LMS and NWR are to do any further business in the future."
"Okay…, wait, why didn't you bring it to the post office?", inquired Grant.
"To personally see you off, of course. After all, if one of my designs is going to a different railway, then it's my job to wish good luck upon it and its crew."
"Oh wow. Thank you, Mr. Stanier. Hope you have a good day, and may we meet again on better terms.", replied Henry.
"Oh, we will.", William answered back, handing Grant the letter before turning around to return towards his office at Crewe, "At least my successors will."
Once the London, Midland, and Scottish railway CME was out of earshot, crew and engine all turned to look at one another, a mutual confusion shared amongst them.
"What was that about?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want to ask him?"
"It's not our problem anymore. Now, let's get on our way, shall we?"
"Let's."
Several hours later:
Henry hadn't expected to return to such fanfare when he came home to Sodor, nor did he expect to see Ruby and Yang glad to see him after all he did; he mused that this was probably because of the near-death experience he had, but he was grateful for having the camaraderie back between him and the others nonetheless.
"Good to see you back, you big lug."
"How was Crewe?"
"Hope you're feeling alright."
"How's it feel to be the biggest engine on Sodor?"
"You look like you could give Gordon a run for his money on the express."
All of their compliments and greetings lifted his spirit up to no end, although Gordon was noticeably quieter than everyone else, but Henry paid him no mind as he made the trip towards Tidmouth sheds; as much as he liked the mainland's larger size, it felt good to be surrounded by familiar faces and environments. He was almost able to completely drift off to sleep, when a booming voice called out to him.
"Henry. How's my number three holding up?"
Henry looked down to see Sir Topham Hatt standing before him, relieved to see his engine in such good condition.
"Sir Topham. I'm doing well for myself right now; building up enough steam has never been easier for me, and the new firebox and boiler are doing wonders too."
"Good. Now, I have a job for you."
"Oh, wow. Already putting me to work, and I haven't even been here for a day."
"Well, we can let you rest if you want."
"No, no. I was just joking, and that won't be necessary. After all, I've been itching to pull another train since I got here. What do you have in mind for me?"
"Well, we've got another express to Barrow coming up. Normally, Gordon would be the one heading the service, but I think you deserve another shot at it, especially now that you're definitely in an improved form."
"It'd be my honor."
"Good. You've got another half hour to take a breather, and Percy should be getting your train arranged. Do yourself and the rest of us proud, alright?"
"You've got it."
Bertram had almost gotten into his car, before Grant had called out for him, running over to the car like a madman.
"Wait!… oh god… Mr. Stanier… shouldn't have skipped out on gym… has a letter you should really read later."
Pulling something out of his left inner pocket, Grant handed a red envelope to his boss, before hobbling back over to Henry.
Half an hour later:
It had been quite a while since Henry was allocated to the Wild Nor' Wester, as his flaws had always left him with not enough steam to make less than half of the journey, but this time would be different; he was a Princess Royal now, and he could burn even the worst of coal better than ever before. While the North Western Railway's number three happily waited for the guard's whistle by platform one, the number four was coupled up to the Limited on platform two; glad as he was to not have been put on a stopper, he was still decidedly unhappy with being supplanted from the express.
"It should be me on that train, not him."
"Quiet down, Gordon.", snarked Thomas, pulling in with his two faithful coaches, Annie and Clarabel, "At the very least, it's only for a day; it might not even be permanent, but I'd take Henry over you any day of the week."
"Really?"
"Yeah. At least he's polite, and not a pompous ass like you."
"You're just saying that because he almost died without being forgiven by the likes of you and the others."
"...Yeah. But, my point still stands; out of the entire trio, Henry's the best of you, and if you do anything to sabotage his new shape's maiden run, I will come for you."
"Thomas, I wouldn't so much as even dare to stoop so low. No, I'll just outclass him, like I did with the others all those years ago."
Thomas rolled his eyes, and the moment the signal was given, he set off back down the Ffarquhar branch, intent on getting away from Gordon's aura of arrogance; Henry had heard everything, but this only encouraged him to outdo his fellow pacific even more. The flag was waved, the whistle was blown, and finally, Henry set off.
"Isn't this when you're supposed to be telling me to slow down!?"
"Why would I, when we've yet to see just how far you can go on the island's mainline!"
"Here here!"
Henry was racing from Knapford to Elsbridge with the Wild Nor' Wester behind him, his wheels rotating so fast, they had almost become complete blurs; as he hoped, he had been able to not just rival Gordon's proficiency with the express working, but also found himself outpacing the blue pacific. By the time he had gotten to Elsbridge, it turned out that he had reached the station a full 10 minutes earlier than expected. Of course, this is quite the feat for any engine to pull off, but for Henry, it was utterly astonishing to hear of, let alone witness.
Another 10 minutes later, Thomas pulled in with his own passenger train, amazed to see Henry arrive so early, and with the Wild Nor' Wester of all trains.
"Where exactly were you?", interrogated Henry.
"Running my trains on time. You?"
"Of course, you would. After all, little tank engines wouldn't understand the importance of pushing oneself beyond their own limits."
"Are you saying that-"
"I'm joking, Tom."
"Oh, wow. I didn't know you had a sense of humor."
"Well, when you're constantly fighting an illness and feel like shit nearly every day, it's hard to develop one in the first place."
"Touché."
"Exactly."
Just then, another whistle blew, signalling that Henry was cleared to go.
"Goodbye Thomas. I'll be seeing you later."
"You too, Henry. You too."
While Henry wouldn't be able to repeat that 10-minutes ahead of schedule run for quite some time, he generally seemed to arrive at every station several minutes early. Sure, he was probably going over the speed limit, but it was still an effective testament to his new capabilities, and by the time he'd gotten to Barrow-in-Furness, he had pretty much crushed Gordon's personal record.
"I truly am the greatest.", he thought to himself, as an unfamiliar whistle rang through the air.
Not a moment sooner, a Jubilee had arrived on the scene to take it the rest of the way, and was pleasantly surprised to see someone besides Gordon heading it for once.
"Well, would you look at that? Finally, that island gets another proper design. You look to be one of those Princess Royals, my cousins. What's your name?"
"Why don't you go first?"
"In that case, my title is 'Bermuda', but my real name is actually Guinevere."
"Hm. Must be new around here then. I'm Henry."
"Well, Henry, despite the fact that I barely even know you, I can already tell you're far more tolerable than the big blue menace your railway owns, as most Stanier engines are."
"Oh, you've no idea. But, he's still my friend. After all, bigger engines such as us need to stick together, am I right?"
"Indeed."
"Oi! If you two could wrap up your conversation, that'd be great. Especially you, Henry, seeing as 'Guinevere' here is taking your passengers the rest of the way.", complained a young guard.
"Alright, alright.", muttered Henry, as passengers poured out of the coaches and entered Guinevere's.
"Well, goodbye for now, cousin. May we meet again soon."
Having finally finished talking with each other, Guinevere whistled goodbye, chuffing into the distance with her rake of coaches in tow.
"What an interesting engine.", he mused as he uncoupled from the train, parking himself on the turntable while another passenger train, this time headed by a Stanier Class Five mogul from the mainland, pulled into Barrow.
"And who might you be?"
"Arnold, but I have another goods train to take very soon, so if you could hurry up with whatever you're doing over there, that'd be great."
"Well, this turntable can't go any faster."
"Then move faster once it stops, you tub of lard."
"Fine, but only to get to my express work sooner, not because I like taking orders from someone who's clearly compensating for their size."
"You little-"
"That's enough!", exclaimed a guard.
For the rest of the day, Henry mostly juggled a few fast and semi-fast passenger trains, as well as several fast goods runs, once he got back from Barrow after having made an enemy out of Arnold; while none of them were as prestigious as the Wild Nor' Wester, they were also far more peaceful and equally pleasant treats in and of themselves. Plus, Henry was able to pull away with them far more easily than before, so the added fact of not having to strain himself as hard was the perfect bonus to an exceptionally great day; to say he was cheery was an understatement, and a stark contrast to the worrisome A1 knockoff of the past. By day's end, he didn't even feel as though a single drop of energy had been used and felt like he could go for more; he would have gone to Sir Topham Hatt about requesting for more trains, but came across the odd sight of the NWR's workers, human and machine, gathered at Tidmouth Sheds with none other than Sir Topham Hatt standing in the middle.
Intrigued, Henry slowly rolled up to ask someone what was going on, and found himself parked next to Edward in the process.
"Oh, hello again, Edward."
"Nice to see you in such high spirits, Henry. Seems like Crewe did a wondrous job on you. No doubt about that."
"I didn't know you were such a charmer."
"I'm just complimenting a friend."
"Well, as flattered as I am, I actually just want to know what's going on here."
"Welcome to the club, because Sir Topham's kept it a surprise from us this entire time."
"Really now?"
"Yeah. I think it's starting now, actually, so we should probably start paying attention."
Promptly shutting up, the pair laid their eyes upon the Fat Director, who now stood upon a podium of wooden crates.
"Engines and men and women of the railway. As you all know, our dear Henry had been left at Crewe for more than a year in light of his tragic accident with the Flying Kipper."
Murmurs of acknowledgement and pity spread throughout the crowd.
"As the rest of you also know, it was due to a vindictive relief engine named Klondike, a C2 Atlantic brought on just in case the Welsh Coal were to fail for our beloved number three."
The atmosphere became even more tense, rage and contempt flooding the area.
"However, as you all can see, his plans have clearly backfired, as not only is Henry back in action, but he's also been rebuilt into a top-of-the-line Princess Royal pacific, courtesy of my friend, William Stanier; he unfortunately couldn't be come for the occasion, but I'm sure he'd be delighted to hear that his rebuild of our new chief express engine has been nothing short of a success."
All sang their praises for the LMS CME and applauded the efforts he took to save Henry from his uncertain fate to varying extents… until they realized the weight of Bertram's words.
"... Could you repeat that, sir?", deadpanned a shocked Gordon.
"You all heard me right; Henry's performance with the Wild Nor' Wester today, as well as the work ethic he's shown despite only being back home for less than a day, has proved nothing short of exceptional, and on every passenger train he has taken, everyone has raved about how well he runs. On top of that, he's actually beaten our number four's very own record breaking runs with the Wild Nor' Wester. Plus, with the reports that William Stanier has given me about the performance of his 'Lizzies' on LMS metals, I simply feel as though it's time for the mantle of the North Western's primary express engine to be passed on, especially to someone so deserving of the title. The only question is, do you want to accept this, Henry?"
"It… it'd be an honor, sir."
"In that case, THREE CHEERS FOR OUR NEW TOPLINK ENGINE! THREE CHEERS FOR HENRY! HIP HIP!"
"HOORAY!"
"HIP HIP!"
"HOORAY!"
"HIP HIP!"
"Hooray.", Gordon muttered under his breath.
Bertram Topham Hattwas drained beyond all belief; after the other engines and their crews departed when the announcements were finished, he and the other railway men who had time to spare went out to a pub to celebrate with Grant and Owen; while Sir Topham did occasionally drink, it wasn't very often, as the responsibilities of being a father and director of a railway outweighed the desire to drink and party.
As a result, he was a bit of a lightweight for his size, and opted out early, phoning one of his assistants to come pick him up. He couldn't remember anything else beyond that point, and his memory was too hazy to piece together anything else from before then.
"Oh… shouldn't have downed those last few glasses of beer."
Forcing himself up off the couch, he was just about to phone the railway board that he would be out for the day, and that one of his assistants would be taking over for him in the meantime, when a glint in the morning sunlight caught his eye; looking toward the coffee table, he spotted something familiar, and recognized it to be none other than William Stanier's letter for him.
"Hm… well, I guess the phone call can wait for a few minutes."
Pulling out a letter opener from its white mug, Bertram ripped open the sealing in one clean slice, before pulling out its contents. Once that was done, he began to read it, intent on seeing what William had to say for himself.
My dear friend, Bertram Topham Hatt,
How has Henry been holding up? I trust he's doing well under your care, thanks in no small part to my brilliant designs. Now, I'm going to assume that you believe that this will be the only time that the LMS will ever be willing to work with you, but I can assure you, it is not. You see, public relations has been having a field day with their touting my favor as an example of the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway's magic; something about the company being able to make the greatest designs out of nothing, like how I apparently did so with your number three.
I wouldn't have called his old design nothing though, as the only major problem was shoddy construction; shame it all got banged up in the crash, but oh well, nothing I can do about that. Nothing short of magic anyway, but I digress, as this isn't supposed to be about my ramblings.
No, I actually have another proposition for you. You see, I've been able to line up one more favor, a rebuild of any of your engines, but this one will have to be a bit more secretive; you see, we would like to work on your number four, Gordon, and unlike with Henry, I'm a bit more keen on working with the only other man who's actually designed some very successful pacifics: none other than Sir Nigel Gresley himself. We'll each be supplying different components, but I believe that your number four will be quite the different engine when we're done with him.
Cheers,
William "Bill" Stanier.
Bertram Hatt laid still on the couch, his mind racing with an assortment of thoughts and feelings; minutes had passed, but they felt like hours, and Bertram eventually forced himself up, his mind set on the matter. He walked towards his office to make a phone call and reply to William's letter, only to fall flat on his face by tripping over a coat rack laying on its side.
"...Dammit."
Visual adaptations of Thomas the Tank Engine: The Lost Stories will be available to watch on the Broa Island YouTube Channel starting from the 27th of September, 2021. Check out our Discord Server for more information (a link to which you can easily find on the aforementioned YouTube Channel).