"Fuck! FUCK! DRAGONS!" the captain yelled with as much power as his lungs allowed, alerting the crew. They froze, all of them, for just a second - seeing the impossibly massive creatures swooping from the skies was a sight that would affect anyone - but mere seconds later their training kicked in and they all set off to their respective positions.

"Reynolds! McCarthy! Crank guns!" the captain commanded. They had far more sophisticated weaponry on their train - from large explosives to electrified harpoons, but the closer the dragons would get, the less functional they would become. The crank guns were tried and true, their simplicity allowing them to function even in magic-rich environments.

"LeDawhe! As much coal as the firebox allows! We have to pick up as much speed as we can before the steam stops flowing!"

The stoker wasted no time and started to shovel coal into the fire with as much speed as her muscles would allow. She knew the fire would start behaving strangely soon; she did not look forward to it.

"Edwards!" the captain said and turned towards his adjutant. "When will they make contact?"

The adjutant, a young lad with freckled cheeks, carefully looked through the looking glass. Despite his young age, he was one of the best spotters the captain had worked with and despite the dragons in close proximity, his hands remained rock steady, much to the captain's surprise.

"1 minute 34 seconds, sir," Edwards replied calmly.

"Blast it all!" the captain swore. "I told the Admiralty this much gold and silver would attract these magpies, but they wouldn't listen! Fools, the lot of them!"

He walked to the back of the cabin again. "LeDawhe! Engine?" he yelled.

"No good 'sah! Water's past boiling but no steam!" she sounded off.

The captain smacked his clenched fist into the wall. He had hoped there'd be more time for them to pick up speed and get momentum going. Still, he at least got a bit ahead; he dealt with dragons before. He knew that nothing of that size was able to fly with just wings. It was simple physics.

So the dragons defied the laws of physics.

Magic seeped from their very beings, bending the way the world worked. It allowed them to fly despite their mass, breathe fire without injury, all sorts of nasty business. And, unluckily for the humans, their technology relied on the laws of physics not being broken.

"Edwards?"

"150 meters, sir."

"Crank guns! Engage!"

The words barely left his mouth before being drowned by the deceptively loud twangs of the rotary crossbows that filled the air. Bolts, good 2 meters long, flew through the air towards the attacking dragons who started weaving in the air to try and dodge as many as they could. Several shots hit, but only got stuck in the armoured scales, hanging from them harmlessly.

The captain cursed under his breath before noticing something even he had not expected - they were picking up speed. Despite the steam engine slowing down, they were going faster than before... unless...

"Engage the brakes!" the captain yelled.

"Sir?" Edwards turned.

"The magic! It's twisting our friction on the tracks! Brake! NOW!"

Edwards, slightly confused but confident in his captain's expertise, reached for the massive red lever at the front and pulled with all his admittedly limited might. Loud screeching filled the air yet their speed once again increased.

"SUCKERS!" the captain yelled with mad cackling as the dragons started lagging behind after only a few unsuccessful attempts to dislodge the vault wagon filled with the sought-after precious metal.

Until one of them sped up as well.

The captain's laughter stopped suddenly as he saw one of the dragons look behind and let out a massive burst of blue flame, propelling it forward.

"Cap'n! We're outta bolts!" one of the gunners yelled with more panic than he wished. The captain looked around the train car until an idea popped into his head. Vaulting the cabin's railing, he dashed towards the back of the car where the ballista was and yelled to one of the gunners to help him.

"Sir, we've got no bolts left! It's-"

"Stunner!" the captain barked. The gunner opened a nearby box and lifted a long wooden bolt that lacked the ordinary metal tip, instead sporting a large, flat slab of wood - a bolt usually reserved for non-lethal engagements. Loading it, the captain grabbed the back of the ballista and aimed carefully.

"Only shot, sir!" the gunner yelled. "But it will barely slow it down!"

"Come on you bastard..." the captain murmured as he carefully aimed at the approaching dragon. "Just... a... little..."

*thwump*

The bolt flew from the ballista.

Time seemingly slowed down for the crew as they watched the bolt fly...

And miss the dragon's head entirely.

Instead, it flew past it and hit the dragon's chest where one of the previous bolts had lodged itself. Like a hammer on a nail, it pushed the bolt past the armoured scale and into the dragon's chest. It screeched loudly and plummeted from the air onto the ground with an ear-shattering crash.

The crew collectively let out a breath of relief as the steam engine once again roared to life and the adjutant released the brakes that would, properly this time, slow them down.

The captain released the handles of the ballista and turned to his crew, their smiles wide and impressed. He reached into his coat, pulling out a pipe. Lighting it, he took a long drag and grinned back at his crew.

"Messed with the wrong crew, didn't they?" he exuberantly yelled. The crew cheered loudly, some even throwing their hats in the air; one of which was regrettably lost to the wind.

"When the dock, the drinks are on me!" he added.

And, somehow, the cheering got even louder.