The Enginewright's Oath

The opening brims with atmosphere, yet the story soon settles into familiar beats that undercut its promise. Ada tightening a brass collar in the Underworks and the image of her self-made prosthetic sliding over a piston rod are vivid—those are the moments that show real craft. But after a while the narrative relies too heavily on well-worn steampunk signposts (the all-powerful Conclave, the ancient Hearthwheel, the draped bench and sudden mentor-death) instead of complicating them. Pacing is the biggest issue. The prose luxuriates in texture—nice!—but it often pauses where momentum is needed. The bell that “announces the unwelcome” reads melodramatic rather than necessary; the mourners gathering at Juniper’s bench feels staged to force Ada into action instead of emerging naturally from the character dynamics already on display. That makes her inheritance and the “charge” she receives feel convenient rather than earned. How exactly Juniper’s schematics translate into political leverage is never fully explained, and the prototype’s mystery is teased without meaningful follow-through in the excerpt. There are also missed opportunities in the political setup: the Conclave is presented as a faceless technocracy instead of a textured institution with internal contradictions, which would make sabotage and small acts of engineering feel riskier and less predictable. Likewise, the idea that neighborhood repairs equal resistance is promising but undersold—show us consequences, escalation, or moral cost. Concrete fixes: trim some of the lingering description to tighten beats, give the Conclave internal politics, and ground the prototype and Juniper’s charge with clearer stakes early on. With those changes, the worldbuilding here could power a much smarter, less predictable story. 🤔

Tightly written, intelligent steampunk. The author nails the tradecraft — Ada’s ability to ‘read temper and fatigue’ in machines is shown, never told, and scenes like her correcting a misaligned governor that feeds the laundries make the stakes tangible. The Conclave/Hearthwheel setup gives a neat political axis without bogging down the narrative in exposition; instead, the story lets everyday repairs become acts of resistance. The mentor’s bench draped in mourning is a well-placed pivot to transition Ada from apprentice to agent. My only minor quibble is a few places where the prose luxuriates in texture when I wanted a quicker beat, but that’s a stylistic preference. Good pacing overall, strong character work, and a city that feels lived-in.

I loved how intimate the opening is — Ada tightening a brass collar in the Underworks, the smell of oil and coal, the way the prose lets you hear metal sing. The relationship between maker and machine is rendered so tenderly: her prosthetic hand fitting a piston rod felt like a small mourning ritual and a quiet triumph at once. The worldbuilding around the Hearthwheel and the Conclave is evocative without being heavy-handed, and Juniper’s workshop as a parish for the needy is a lovely touch that grounds the political stakes in human need. The moment the bell thuds and the mourners gather at the draped bench gave me chills; it’s simple but effective, setting Ada’s inheritance and duty with real emotional weight. Overall the plot moves with the steady rhythm of the city’s regulators — purposeful, craft-focused, and full of small acts that add up. Highly recommended for anyone who wants steampunk that cares about community as much as cogs ❤️

If you’ve ever loved stories about people who fix things and thereby fix the world, this one’s for you. The Enginewright's Oath feels like a love letter to the tinkerer’s life: the clink of brass, a hand that’s part machine and part memory, and those little neighborhood victories (water in the laundries!) that actually matter. I grinned at Juniper calling Ada “half contraption, half conscience” — that line landed perfect. The Conclave as a technocratic antagonist is deliciously ripe for sabotage and moral gray zones, and I appreciated that resistance here is crafty, communal, and incremental, not just bombs-and-revolution. Some scenes made me laugh out loud (the bell that announces 'unwelcome' is so on-point), some made me tear up. Hope the rest of the book keeps delivering these quiet, mechanical revolutions. Also, more schematics pls 😏🔧

Short, atmospheric, and very human. The Underworks are a character of their own — you can feel the heat and the pull of the Hearthwheel — and Ada is a believable, empathetic protagonist. The scene where she stays late to ensure neighbors have water was a nice touch: small-scale heroism that resonates. The writing balances technical detail with warmth; the workshop-as-parish image stuck with me. Looking forward to seeing how the prototype and Juniper’s legacy play into the larger Conclave intrigue.

I wanted to love this more than I did. The worldbuilding is lush — the Underworks, the Hearthwheel, the tactile descriptions of gears and pistons are vivid — but the plot often slips into familiar beats. The orphaned/made-up-by-machinery hero inheriting a mysterious prototype and a martyr-mentor is a trope I didn’t mind, but the story ticks those boxes a little too neatly. The bell at the workshop, the draped bench, and the immediate charge to oppose the Conclave felt on-the-nose rather than earned. Ada is sympathetic, yet I kept waiting for the narrative to surprise me or complicate the Conclave’s motives beyond technocratic villainy. There are also small logic gaps: how does the Conclave maintain surveillance across districts so easily? Why are Juniper’s schematics left in a way that feels convenient rather than plausible? Still — the prose shines in places and the communal scenes (repairing laundries, helping neighbors) are the strongest parts. I’d recommend a tighter second act that subverts expectations and addresses some of the setup’s contrivances.