Riddonkulous has forty, I have thirty-one. I wish I knew what number three is. Start with a type of museum, followed by a word that starts hypotheticals. Finish with a book of the New Testament.

I carry kings but wear no crown, Through dust and battle I race through town. Two wheels spin, the horses fly, I thunder fast, yet cannot sigh.

I live on a horse. You wouldn't believe me if I told you that the next major improvement came almost one thousand years after my invention. And, oddly enough, I came thousands of years after the invention of another.

With walls raised high and watchful eyes, I stand where strength and safety lies. Built to guard from threat or fight, a place that holds against the night.

I keep the past on display, yet I never age. People visit me to look backward, though they walk forward to do it. I hold dead kings, stolen moments, and silent wars. What am I?