The great city of Tariopolis seemed to stretch as far as Alexander could see from his place within the coach near the front of the train. Farms and houses and villages flew by at a dizzying speed. High above the city Alexander could see the silhouettes of airships seeming to hang in the sky. The train had departed the station at Orenmoth just as the sun was peeking over the horizon and was still racing along its tracks as the sun was beginning to dip behind the earth again, yet the novelty of the experience still thrilled the young Inquisitor. He felt a mix of fear and excitement at the prospect of this journey when he first saw the locomotive pulling into Orenmoth station from his room on the third story of the inn the previous evening, a grey plume rising from the engine pulling what seemed like an impossible load behind it. The scream of metal on metal grew louder as the machine approached the city at a frightening speed before the mechanical behemoth came to a stop. Passengers poured out of the coaches as men scurried to unload the cargo, hauled away on carts pulled by horses, donkeys, and slaves.
Alexander looked around at the other passengers in the car. Most were older men, some accompanied by their wives or children. A handful wore slave collars but were dressed in clothes finer than anything worn by even the wealthiest men in Croton. No doubt servants of powerful men who wished their status to be known by the attire that even their slaves wore. Alexander sat on a bench by himself with several empty seats in front and behind him. He was among the first to be seated when the whistle blew to alert passengers of the train’s impending departure. Passengers who entered the coach quickly found seats further away when they saw the dark grey Inquisition armor Alexander wore. At first, he was almost saddened by his isolation but that was quickly replaced by excitement when the train began to move.
The train had made several stops at small towns that had sprung up along the twin tracks, slaves unloading and loading cargo and refilling the coal and water with well-practiced speed. Each time, new passengers would board but none dared sit next to the Inquisitor, leaving Alexander alone with his thoughts. Just after noon another train passed, heading north, the cars moving by the windows of the coach so fast they were a blur. Alexander had to fight hard to resist the urge to move to the other side of the car to watch the spectacle of the other train speeding by. It would not reflect well on his character to be so concerned with novelty, he had to satisfy his curiosity with sideways glances from his seat.
Several blasts from the train's whistle announced its approach to the great station of Tariopolis. Alexander felt a lurch as the train began to slow, its wheels screaming on the tracks. Perhaps the body of the coach muffled the sound, perhaps he was accustomed to noise or partially deafened from the constant rumble of the train on its tracks and the periodic blasts from the whistle, but Alexander thought the metallic screech was more painful to his ears the prior evening as the train approached Orenmoth. Still, even if the sound was more tolerable than before, Alexander was glad when the train finally came to a stop and the noise ceased.
The sun was below the horizon by the time the passengers disembarked. The great station outside of Tariopolis was almost a city unto itself. Multiple sets of metal tracks converged from the north, west, and south. A broad highway connected the station and the numerous warehouses around it to the city itself a few miles away. Inquiring about the nearest inn, Alexander discovered that there were multiple places to lodge in close proximity to the station for the convenience of passengers.
Alexander picked a tall building and entered it. He could feel a change in the mood of the place when he passed through the doors into the common room. Boisterous conversations and laughter were replaced by hushed tones at the sight of him. He walked up to the proprietor behind the counter and asked for a meal. The smell of the place made Alexander well aware of his hunger, he hadn't eaten since the previous evening. He skipped breakfast in his eagerness to board the train, afraid that he'd miss the departure and need to wait an entire day for the next one. It was only after the train pulled away from Orenmoth that he realized passengers were expected to bring their own food for the journey. Fortunately for him, an Inquisitor was no stranger to hunger. Regular fasting was promoted by the Philosopher as an important part of mastering the appetites and bringing the body under submission to the intellect. Alexander suspected the other passengers believed he was doing such a fast given the way they turned away from him in their seats, shielding their meals from him with their bodies. A few seemed to avoid dining at all to follow the Inquisitor's example, little knowing that he would happily eat if he could.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
A bowl of stew and a cup of wine was provided. Alexander forced himself to eat slowly, deliberately, despite his hunger. A man who cast aside restraint simply because he hadn't eaten in a day would be seen as a man who did not truly have self-control. The Inquisitor attempted to make conversation with the innkeeper as he ate. The man was courteous and answered Alexander's questions with utmost respect but it was plain the man would rather not speak too long with a member of the Inquisition.
Finishing his meal, Alexander asked for a room for the night. The innkeeper led him to a door at the back of the inn on the main floor.
"I hope this is not too extravagant for your tastes, Inquisitor," the innkeeper said as he opened the door to reveal a room, barely larger than a closet, containing a simple cot and a bucket for waste. "I can have the bedding removed if you prefer simpler accommodations."
"No, this will be fine." Alexander said. He hoped his voice masked the disappointment he felt. His years with Marcus up north in the isolated villa had made him forget how austere Inquisitors lived in the heartlands. As the chief proponents and defenders of the Philosopher's Ethics, members of the Inquisition were held to higher standards of Virtue than those they watched over. They were to provide living examples of the Empire’s ideals and any hint of excess or luxury was avoided. Not to the point of asceticism like the practitioners of some religions in other nations where the body is hated and punished, but an Inquisitor must strive find the perfect balance between excess and deficiency that promotes well-being in both body and mind. Since it is easier to fall on the side of excess, members of the Inquisition tended to err on the side of restraint.
Alexander removed his armor and stripped off his clothes, laying them out as best he could on the floor in the narrow space between the bed and the door. He had hoped for a basin of water to wash himself when he arrived but that would have to wait. He knew the Inquisition headquarters had a large, heated bath that he may be able to make use of after concluding his business tomorrow. Regular attendance at the public baths was considered a civil duty and was vital to remaining in good standing with the community. The public display of hygiene was proof you were doing your part to spare your neighbors from filth-borne illnesses, rich and poor alike sharing the same water helped keep the divide between classes from growing too large.
Noise from the men working the train yard continued to pour in through the window in Alexander's room despite the darkness, the work of loading, unloading, and maintaining the trains never stopped. He lay on the bed and pulled a thin blanket over himself and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to come. Alexander's body ached but not as much as he thought he would. The train had rattled and shook him for the entire duration of the trip, and his ears were still ringing from the noise, yet Alexander felt surprisingly good other than the aches he had already acquired from his week in the saddle. His thoughts drifted to when he first went north with Marcus two years ago. The journey took many weeks on horseback, sleeping on the hard ground when there was no one to offer them lodging. Alexander had asked why they didn't take the train to speed their journey. Marcus replied that he was afraid of it, concerned that the noise and vibrations and speed would cause some manner of illness or injury, or at the very least be painful. The last thought to cross Alexander's mind before drifting into a deep sleep was about telling Marcus how much pain and discomfort he could have saved himself if he had simply screwed up his courage and rode the train both ways instead of spending two months on horseback.