It was a cold misty morning when I arrived on Thornmont, homecity of the University of Lonethorn. It was the third and final stretch of my two-week long journey and for amenities sake, I booked the entire cabin to myself. My dreams were mist-filled, the cold grey grip of Sorez forever moored in mind and soul and the memories of the day my mother left forever nestled within the deepest recesses of my psyche, whether I wanted it to or not.

It's been almost ten years since that day. I am eighteen years of age, a man grown by the norms of old Sorez. Independent, for all intents and purposes. But as I've learned throughout my journey-- a year hence since I've been free of my uncle's guardianship - - I am still little better than a pimply-faced teen in the eyes of some. I glanced at the translucent reflection afforded by my cabin window, it showed a fair skinned young man, though a little bit beaten by the weather after a year on the road. Long gone were the babyfat and innocence of childhood and in its place was a hard-boned youth with haunting green eyes and a tightness in the jaw that may have a hint of bitterness and hardness like the worn and beaten rocks at sea. Years living under my uncle's roof imparted me more than certain self-sufficient skills but demeanor as well.

I keep telling myself that my mother's departure didn't have as much effect on me. That I was strong and surefooted in my path in life. That her choice was logical and was for my own betterment and that she didn't abandon me willy-nilly. Then why does it sound so hollow to my own ears then?

I let loose a long sigh, grateful for my foresightedness to book the cabin to myself. The privacy it afforded me without having to walk on eggshells on any erstwhile companions for the long journey was a welcome and worthy comfort indeed.

A gentle rap on the door brought me away from my reminiscing. The knob turned.

"Hey there 'yung fella'," the conductor suddenly greeted as he passed. He was an elder fellow, bushy eyebrows so thick and grey he reminded me of a squirrel, along with an equally bushy beard. He stooped when he walked and as he made his rounds within the rattling carriage of the locomotive in his faded and worn frock coat with the coat of arms of the train company stitched on the left breast, silver piston and hammer in a field of blue and silver.

"Fine morning ser," I replied back. The conductor had been a gentle soul throughout my journey, full of warm smiles in his wrinkly face and was never for a loss of polite remarks. He must be well liked by his coworkers, he has an affable air about him.

"Now, we be reaching the end of the line soon so best be ready with your belongings....not that you'd have to worry, he heh," He jested in good humor and indicating to my meager luggage which is merely composed with the clothes on my back and the sailor's ditty I have on my side. "Tis not uncommon to seeing young folk such as yerselves to travel alone....but I have heard some whisperings and speculations as to what brings you to mighty Thornmont. Is it true then? You are for Lonethorn?" He said with no small amount of wonder, eyes wide and bushy brows wriggling as high to his crinkled forehead could allow.

"Is it really that much of a wonder?" I asked him.

"Oh verily, verily. You strike me as an intelligent lad. But I could not help but wonder, aside from booksmarts and the likes, what you don't strike me is well forgive me lad but - -" he wagged a finger in my general direction and about the entirety of my person. I arched up a brow at his inquest.

"I'm afraid you have me at a loss good ser."

"Well, Lonely Thorn - -we calls it Lonely Thorn round these parts -- is one of 'em fancy schools, the kind that houses the gilded gets of 'em aristocrats, magnates and royalty. That's why they part of 'em so called "Regent League". Kings and such and all that hullabaloo. And well, without any ill thrown your way,....you look like from the other side of the tracks if you don't mind me saying."

Ah. I remembered I dressed simply. I put no such further thought into my clothing unless it is of a formal occasion. Little different from my time on the seas really. A simple wool trousers paired a white cotton shirt and sleek grey unbuttoned waistcoat that I am fond of to be honest. All finished with a pair of mud-encrusted, tall leather boots that went up just beneath my knees.

This time the conductor stooped somewhat lower and clasped his hand in front of him in a deferential air, "Anyways young master, there's another matter I wish to bring up. We hope we are not imposing of the sort, but on behalf of the company may we request something partial to your convenience?"

"What is it?"

"I know that you've fully purchased the cabin but we have some.....esteemed passengers that requires seating. And well, all the other first class cabin have been fully booked. Yours is the only one with acceptable space."

I sighed. The conductor was quick to add, "The company is prepared to recompense you of this indiscretion of course!" He said with a wrinkly smile. There was real nervousness behind those bushy brows of his. A sweat had formed on his temple despite the chill of the uplands air. Whoever these passengers are, they warranted extreme care for the staff of the locomotive. Must be some kin of the owners or relatives of such form.

I wanted to refuse. I had paid good money for my privacy and leisure. Money that almost cost me life and limb after a year on my own sweat and blood. My uncle tried his best over the years to be rid of the impetuousness and insolence that slowly took root in my soul. As much as I'd like to say that my mother's departure had not left me with scars, a seed was unwittingly planted. Was I unwanted? What reason is there to be doing things then? What use was being obedient and behaved and quiet if the things that we loved don't love us back? These were the thoughts that sprouted from that day. The day when my young innocent child-mind slowly began to unravel and sprout into an unruly and emotionally charged thinking of an adolescent. I have mostly kept those emotions under reins these recent years and I was in good humor that morning.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

I hoped it didn't show on my face. Maybe it already had. The conductor was an old and warm soul. Arnao Serrano would have agreed immediately and stoically to the small request and mild inconvenience. I ,on the otherhand, hesitated. A cruel retort forced down on whatever blackened part of my soul it crept from.

".....very well," I said eventually, after a few uncomfortable seconds (for the conductor).

"Much thanks young master. Much thanks!" the old man beamed. He must've been in quite a pressure. "Proper recompense would be given to you on our ticketing offices on the platform once we arrived within the city proper."

Hardly a minute had passed when in strode two women. One young and the other middle-aged. Upland customs required respectable young women, commonality and aristos alike, to have some form of chaperon when travelling or in events where there is even a smallest hint of possibility of persons from the opposite sex. An older female relative or even an unrelated employee with that specific task. Quite unlike back home, were the women are expected and trusted to conduct themselves properly without an overseer. Here a guardian is required and I do not blame them. The youth can be quite illogical and emotional creatures, what with onset of adulthood bearing down and changing them at a biological level.

Still, I was in the littlest bit of way, peeved. Peeved that my peace and privacy was disturbed. That bitter impetuousness that I tried to reign in and, for the most part, succeeded. A few leaked against my resolve however. Such that they manifested themselves as small acts of pettiness. I gave them an acknowledging nod, not really bothering with remembering their faces, just a blank look in their general direction and I returned to my musings as we approached the city proper. We have been steadily travelling ever deeper into the heart of the city. The wide open praire and moors gave way to signs of civilization. Brickwork and staccato walls rose as habitations and places of businesses at the outskirts of the city. Towering limestone and quarried rock dominated here. Magnificent Low-pitched roofs and pointed arches rose upwards towards sky and I was entrapped as I took in the fine architecture at display as our locomotive pierced ever deeper into one of the hearts of the Modern Age.

I felt eyes on the back of my neck.

I snapped my head around.

The younger woman was staring at me.

"Did I hear that right? You are for the University?" There was slight hint of derision in her tone as well as disbelief. I had not been paying attention. My initial glance was so cursory. But if it had been a second or two longer, I should have known that these two are not mere commonality. Gentry, of that I am certain. They wore promenade dresses, simple clothes for any outdoor endeavor. Their clothes were not frilled but little nuances and the mere quality of it, despite lacking any garish or frivolous decorations, would instantly nominate them as aristos. The young lady wore a dress of deepest dark-burgundy while the older one was in humble beige. The hem of her skirt reaching her ankles and her hands were clasped neatly on her lap as she watched me coolly.

"Electa, hush! It is a rude line of questioning," the older woman reprimanded her young charge. So she says but her eyes were calm, not filled with secondhand shame at the blunt tone the younger woman spoke. She wore an expression that I had difficulty discerning.

"I am madame." I said keeping my voice neutral. The young woman, Electa, made no secret as her gaze swept me up and down. Her chin was slightly tilted upwards making her eyes looking down at me. It was so small a gesture and yet the condescension reverberated ten fold in the small confines of that cabin. I almost grinned at that. Here I was minding my own, eager to be in my own company and she had the gall to belittle me? (although in a subtle manner that could easily be overlooked or missed). I took a bit of sadistic pleasure at being mocked at. I am not so insecure to be cowed like a lamb. Still the effort she made to waste time and thought was very amusing.

"Do you have proof of that?" she continued. Her governess merely pursed her lips and seeming to bore fire at the back of her charge's neck. It seems this demeanor of the young lady was not uncommon.

"You mean a letter of admission?" I said, fishing out a letter stamped with the seal of the University. I had to keep my lips level and face as stoic as a stone. Uncle had repeatedly remarked I had a "feces-consuming grin" (his own words) and that it can irritate people. Her eyes narrowed at the piece of paper with the dried wax embossed. I returned the letter to my ditty bag. Her nose scrupled as she took the sight of my sailor's ditty.

"Are you a peer, good ser?" she asked politely but her expression did not match her tone. "You purchased an entire first class cabin all to yourself after all."

"I do not have that privilege." Not yet anyway. Soon.

"Then how then? It's still weeks but already you are being admitted into the university. I have yet to receive a letter myself."

"You are for the University too then?" I asked.

She gave a dismissive, flippant shrug as if it was a small matter. "I applied for Eldrotology as well as the histories. It is expected, as mama often reminds me. Maybe even a minor in Aetherlosophy if fortunes favors me. What course have you applied for?"

"Commerce and Industry."

"Ah....." she said as the words began to settle in. She seemed disappointed at the mundanity of my chosen study. It sure as hell did not sound as exotic as Eldrotology or Aetherlosophy, whatever the hell those are.

"Well that's.....certainly a respectable course," she belatedly added.

"Indeed," I answered with my most charming smile. Then I crossed my legs, rested my chin against my knuckles as I watched the cityscape pass by. The rails went by an industrial complex, billowing pillars of smoke rose as workers by the hundreds went to and fro the gaping mouths of the buildings. Thirty-seven seconds of silence passed within the cabin. Without meaning to, I have become a master of uncomfortable silences. Where my mother was a born adept of social graces, I was the exact opposite. I can read a room just well enough (not to the level as my mum of course) but for the life of me, I could never restrain the worst parts of my character to make myself be likeable. Not for long anyway. Uncle says I give people a cold and distant air whenever I am about. A remark of his I agree with.

I returned my gaze back to young Electa and I was rewarded by a twitch at the edge of her lips. She was caught off guard by my response (or lack thereof). Her chaperone was just glad that her charge wasn't making any more breach of proper conduct befitting for a young lady.

"I never did catch your name, ser." She finally said, breaking the silence. Her tone was icy.

"Anrique Ortega Serrrano, dear madame." I said with another beaming smile, dismissive of her tone.

"Covington." She replied with no small pride as if we have restarted introductions once more. The name meant nothing to me. Not yet anyway.

"Electa Blanche Covington, of the Drakenmoore Covingtons'."