By mid-March, winter's chill had faded completely. The ground outside Bunta City, once frozen solid by the bitter cold, grew warm and damp, and countless tender green blades of grass broke through the soil.
This was the perfect season for spring outings. Whenever the weather turned bright and clear, young noblemen and noblewomen would ride out of Bunta City in their families' luxurious carriages, heading for the lush countryside beyond.
Several straight, smooth roads now surrounded Bunta City. Its western outskirts, designated an industrial district by the city lord, were covered in factories of every kind, leaving little greenery. The Southern Suburbs, however, had been designated a leisure and recreation area. Not only had the grass and trees been preserved, but a canal had also been dug to bring in water from the Sandy River, transforming what had once been an unremarkable stretch of wilderness into a wonderful destination of green hills, clear waters, birdsong, and fragrant flowers.
Today was another fine, sunny day. The sun had barely climbed into the sky when countless noble families' carriages rolled out through Bunta City's southern gate toward the greenery to the south.
The young nobles intended to take advantage of the lovely weather for an outing in the countryside and hold a relaxed, cheerful outdoor feast while they were there.
Today, however, was a little different.
Among the many carriages pouring through the gate were two rather unusual things.
Hearing cries of surprise outside, the young nobles lifted their carriage curtains and saw two people on the road leading to the Southern Suburbs, each seated on a strange-looking, narrow contraption made of two wheels and an iron frame.
Beneath each rider's feet were two pedals. As they pushed down continuously, the pedals spun rapidly around a disc.
As the discs turned, the