The morning convoy assembled exactly on time.
Twenty-three wagons. Perfect spacing. Drivers ready. The slot system had worked flawlessly for weeks.
Arthur stood at the eastern gate and watched them depart.
The lead wagon rolled forward. Then the second. Then the third.
Then everything stopped.
A farmer's cart had entered the same lane. Small. Light. Unremarkable. But slow. Terribly slow. The horse walked at half the convoy's pace.
The third wagon slowed. Then the fourth. Then the fifth.
The perfect spacing collapsed into a compressed line of frustrated drivers.
Arthur watched the farmer's cart crawl up the road.
Behind it, twelve wagons stacked up like a fist closing.
---
Zack arrived at a run.
"Same thing at the south slope. Heavy timber wagon climbing slow, twenty carts stacked behind it. Drivers shouting. Almost crashed."
Arthur didn't turn from the road.
"We fixed timing. Now speed's the problem."
