On The Transantarctic Rail, somewhere in the Commonwealth Territory

67°30’57.0”S 106°26’47.1”E

19.05.2024 – 03.30 Local Time

I exited the Briefing room. I swept away the sweat from my forehead and headed to the toilet. I locked the door and poured water on my face, pulling the handle all the way to the cold side. The cold had to shake me straight.

It will be okay, I said to myself, and looked at the mirror. It was hard to believe how good I looked given the circumstances. My long hair was wrapped into a professionally made braid, that I would not dare do normally. But, shockingly enough, the position came with personal stylists. No one associated with Trastamara Royalty could dare not always look stellar. I stared myself in the eyes.

“It will be fine,” I said. I looked through the mirror at the window of the bathroom next to me. Snow and ice hit the vehicle with nature’s rage, but the Transantarctic, at its extreme speed, could hardly feel it.

“Ela, you are needed in Wagon 3, over”

The unexpected words from my earpiece shook me more than the water did.

“Wagon 3, Ela, Over”

I pressed the button on my earpiece and responded.

“Are you a five-year-old?” I asked annoyed. I hated when he called me Ela, but there was no point in clarifying again. I grabbed a towel and quickly dried my face.

I cursed and looked at the mirror again. No, the make-up was intact. Not that I cared, but I wouldn’t want to go through a mandatory glow-up session again.

I exited the bathroom, quickly walked past Wagon 3, and found Miguel. It was simple enough – this was a common commercial train, repurposed for our mission. Most of the wagons were empty. Two or three agents rested in each one.

“It is Elena for you,” I barked at the T-4 agent, once I found him sitting and exhibiting his silly grin. He laughed. I despised that kid – well, everyone did. He had the behavior of an amateur, and when they paired someone with him it was never a choice.

“Whatever,” he responded “What’s the gossip then? I saw more T-3s passing by earlier, I know the briefing is over”

“It is for 3s and above. And for the love of whatever you hold sacred, go take a break. I don’t need your nagging,” I said. He had no respect for authority or hierarchy, so I did not expect him to abide. From the very first week we were staffed together, I had realized that there was no reason for me to exhibit proper behavior either.

“Ouch, that bad?” he closed in with his annoying smile “Don’t worry you got me”

He patted my shoulder. I grabbed his arm and twisted it. He shrieked.

“Don’t tempt me boy,” I hissed at him, as he backed off.

“Ok calm down sheesh.”

“Go. Take. A. Break.” I pronounced slowly, but he was already heading away. He’d rather do it before I order him, lest he appears obedient.

“I will be with the guys in 5” he yelled.

The guy was a walking menace, but unfortunately, for good reason. People with such combat-useful Curses were rare, and his Curse had limited to no downsides. I knew indeed if things ever were that bad, he would probably be the one to rely on in the field. His lack of discipline had kept him from rising in the ranks, but no one from the top brass dared fathom not having him in our already very limited roster.

I sat on a seat with a table and looked outside the window. Not that I could see anything on the white canvas, but the nothingness calmed me a bit.

I cursed again. Maybe it was that bad. I thought about Marcelo – he probably would be lying devastated in his wagon. All the diplomatic envoys, the exchange of gifts, letters, promises, and his hard work have gone down the drain within that last weekend in London.

The Spanish Colonies and the Commonwealth have been stuck in these Antarctic Negotiations for decades, as both states were divided on their ties with the motherland Europe. Marcelo Trastamara was the first Prince to attempt to sponsor heavily these negotiations. And more importantly, he was one of my closest friends.

“Hey Ela,” I heard Marcelo’s kind voice in my earpiece. He was the only person I accepted to call me like this. And even encouraged.

I smiled. “I was just thinking about the hot boiling mess you landed on.”

I heard him laugh a bit, and that improved my mood.

“Oh I will be media dogfood once the news reaches N. T.” he responded “But we have quite a while before that happens. I gave a gag order.”

“You should be sleeping,” I added.

“I can’t”

I looked around me a bit guilty. No one was in Wagon 3, but still, I felt uncomfortable at the idea anyone would realize my closeness to the Prince. T-1s were of course aware, but Marcelo had also made sure this information does not leak to anyone below that level.

Perhaps Miguel knows, I thought, annoyed with how he was always trying to pick my nerves by calling me Ela.

“What will happen now?” I asked.

“I think it will be a while before we see each other again. I will have to travel to Madrid and play prince. I am sure my mother has already sensed the Domain shift and is preparing me a private jet.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Maybe I can come to Madrid as well?” I asked, with a begging tone.

He did not respond. Both of us knew that I would go at great lengths to protect him, as I had done many times. And both of us knew that when things got serious, he always chose to go ahead alone, for that very reason.

“Ela, I don’t think it is a good idea.”

“Shit Marcelo not the same thing again. Spain is not safe for you.”

I heard a beep on my earpiece. Someone was trying to reach me on another frequency.

“I need to pick this up, stay on the mic,” I said as I stood up from the table. That conversation had given me some resolve: it would all be fine because I was not going to leave him alone.

As I stood, I noticed something peculiar. The snow outside was not hitting the windows with the same force, and in fact, I could feel the train’s movement a bit.

“Ela, pick up. Why are we slowing down?” I heard Miguel’s voice on the new channel.

“I am here, I am here.” I hesitated “I don’t know.”

There was nothing said in the Briefing Room about a planned stop and frankly, there was nothing so far from the Trastamara Domain border. We wouldn’t reach the first towns for hours. But undoubtedly the train was slowing down.

The lights of the train flickered. I tuned out Miguel’s annoying voice and tuned into the channel of T-3s. There was already chatter there. All agents reported status of their assigned wagons.

“…Wagon 2, we are good”

“Wagon 3 as well” I said. The reports kept coming, as the lights flickered.

“Wagon 5 as well, but turn on your screens!” said a worried voice.

I quickly picked up a remote at the center of the wagon and turned on the TV screen. An emergency news bulletin from Nuevo Trujillo, the frontier city of the Trastamara Domain, flashed up on the screen. A wave of ice had engulfed its northernmost districts. Drone scenes of buildings covered in icy mist played in the background, as well as videos from emergency campsites with people that had got caught at the edge of the catastrophic event.

“What is happening?” an agent said over everyone else’s silence.

TRASTAMARA DOMAIN COMPROMISED? Was the title of the news bulletin, as a reporter was explaining how no survivors were expected in the northern Chinese district. The tally of dead would reach many thousands. All the injured were the “lucky” ones far enough from where the Domain collapsed, who also managed to leave the area just in the nick of time and only got partially frozen. The imagery was beyond disturbing.

I raised my hand to change the channel back to Marcelo. His mother was the royal Cursed that kept the old Domain up, so if it was compromised that could only mean one thing.

Before I even could do that, Miguel overrode the channels with his yelling.

“Hostiles in 5! Hostiles in 5!” his scream hurt my ear and made me wince.

The lock-down bars started rolling on every window – as someone activated full lock-down on the stopped train.

I clicked the earpiece to the only channel I cared about. “Marcelo!” I yelled but got no answer. I pulled my gun off my belt. I was alone in my wagon, and I was ready to sprint towards the actions. The only thing that kept me from moving was a hope that I get first a reaction from Marcelo.

“Marcelo, do you hear me?”

The train was now entirely stopped. I could not hesitate anymore and started running towards Wagon 4, assuming people were running in position around the reported hostiles.

I felt tense as I ran: Marcelo was in Wagon 6, in a room sealed and not reachable by anyone. Nobody had this piece of information but me, and perhaps the T-1 overseeing the operation from the HQ in Santiago. That was the whole security plan: a huge train usually used for commercial rides and a member of the Royal family hidden in one of the wagons.

But knowing where he was made me even more desperate. Marcelo was on the other side of whatever was happening in Wagon 5, and I could not tell anyone. Of course, everyone would treat all wagons with the same attention – and no one would run to Wagon 6. This was a standard security protocol. Right before opening the door to 4, I couldn’t help but feel that a strike so near his wagon could not have been a coincidence.

But what strike exactly? From all the chatter on the general comms after Miguel’s call for help, no one indicated what was happening.

I entered Wagon 4, where a few agents were sitting next to the closed door to 5, their guns raised and on the ready.

Another T-3 – whose name I did not recall – looked at me right away. He was older than me, with a grey beard and a wide build. He held an automatic rifle.

“We have lost contact with all agents on 5. But we got the wagon surrounded from 5 and 6.”

I let out a small sigh. If we had agents on Wagon 6, Marcelo would be safe for now.

I switched to Marcelo’s channel once again. I needed to make sure he was safe.

“Do you hear me, are you safe?”

“We have not heard a single sound from in there, maybe their comms is jammed” the agent explained, thinking I was trying to reach out to the agents inside Wagon 5. I ignored him as he gave orders to his earpiece, asking for the emergency radio contact.

“We need to get past Wagon 5,” I yelled at the T-4 agents next to us. Nothing else mattered until we secured Marcelo.

“You don’t have command here, we…” the man said but then paused looking eerily right at me.

“I don’t care for your assessment, we need to secure the breach” I barked at him, to no avail. He completely ignored me as he passed next to me and walked towards the window. I would not accept any disobedience at a moment like this – I grabbed his arm.

As I turned, I saw that not just him, but also the rest of the agents around me walked towards the barred windows, with an empty expression and apathetic glare.

“Agents!” I yelled at them, to no reaction. My first instinct was to look outside and see what they were looking at – but my training kicked in. I crouched in a corner, a few rows of seats further away from the door. Something was pulling their attention away and that could only be one thing. I changed the channel to emergency frequency.

“Do not look outside. I repeat, do not look outside. Code Black. Do not look through the windows. Code Black.” Code Black was a confirmed Cursed threat. Nothing could enthrall people’s attention and control it like that, except for a Cursed individual.

All my allies were now entirely fascinated, not even blinking, looking outside at the Antarctic landscape that now had grown silent and unmoving. The train’s full rest was a stark reminder that we were fully exposed to outside threats if someone could breach the train’s hull.

No one responded to my emergency message. I stood there in silence, ready for anyone to jump in from any of the doors. Or the windows even. They might have been barred but a weapon strong enough could bend them. I spiraled trying to think of all the potential ways things could escalate. I switched again at Marcelo’s frequency.

“Marcelo, please talk to me,” I whispered. At this point, he was either also fascinated by whatever was happening outside or perhaps even in danger. Nothing but static played back at my ear.

“Ela, can you hear me?” I heard his voice, barely through the static “It is cold out here”

“Where are you, Marcelo?” I yelled. I felt my skin crawl, as a breeze blew through the train.

The train’s lights turned on and we started moving again.

The static went completely dead as if the other side had killed communications. “Marcelo please” I whimpered, but I fully knew at that moment, with the train inexplicably picking up pace again, that he was gone.