> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, █████.
> 2nd of New Conception, 1316;
> 8:10 Sol Time.
Aboard this Sark/tech’s train it is an estimated four days without stops before reaching the destination, and as luck has it the thing provides everything necessary to endure the lengthy trip— principal among them are dedicated cabins complete with tables and beds which also serve as seating. It is far from first class but it does the job well enough.
Having a total of twenty cars with five closed to the passengers, another five for services, the remaining ten are divided into two travel classes. The first is the first class, and the second is the standard class. Aethel resides in cabin five, car eighteen; the very back end, the smallest room, and the cheapest ticket.
At the very least there are no restrictions as to where a passenger is allowed to loiter, except for the obvious places, and there are also open air viewing decks on the right-side of and behind the train. Considering all that, the trip may be lengthy but it certainly is far from grueling.
Getting accustomed to his home for the next half-week, Aethel lazily spreads on the small bed, his legs left hanging, while flipping through a thick, leather backed notebook. The rain hits his window just right, making a perfect atmosphere to relax and let the world slip away.
But in the notebook, the dates go all the way back to Weltbirth, otherwise the first month of spring this year. Written inside are prayers he composed or general prose and poetry about his thoughts.
He passed several entries until coming to the first, at current time, empty page. Twenty or so pages left, he counts by eye… twenty left out of four-hundred. Nodding to himself, he sits up and rummages through his things to find a pen, after finding it he looks at the empty page and sets his pen down.
> New Conception 2, 1316
>
> To Arcis, her wills; to Mastema, his stars; to Lightveil, his saints; and to Goldwyn, his records—
>
> The trip I am on is rather selfish as I leave behind the only home I know, my surrogate father, the memory of my mother, and the hallowed service to all of you; I hope you can forgive me for this. In the book of Valorheart, an angel of Yaveh, he recounts the time that the good king revealed a fundamental truth to him, “You say that the human is selfish and this is why he sins, true, but I ask you now how can he not be selfish? A human is unlike you or me, the core of him is the self.” This is the basis I start my prayer today.
>
> Calling upon the fundamental truth of self, selfishness, and the breakthrough of selflessness, hear the petition of one of your faithful,
>
> O Arcis, that I am protected from spirits of the old world in passing through to the borderlands thus the wastes. Run your fastest steeds and most vindictive knights, that just as the railways carry my body now, let them carry my spirit from now until the time of my current journey’s terminus. Do this and in the hour of my own life’s terminus, I will journey anew in your realm for glory in your name.
>
> Arcis Praise.
Finishing up whatever it is he is writing, Aethel closes his notebook and stows away his pen before laying down again and closing his eyes. As his back hits the mattress a bothersome grumble is faintly heard. Groaning for a second, he manages to get up and leave the cabin.
Passing into car seventeen, however, provides him with a roadblock. In front of him is a group of people, not inherently a problem, until he sees them taking up the entire hallway discussing something.
On one hand a person may be able to excuse themselves and pass, but the group is speaking in a foreign language. Another solution would be to check out into the viewing deck, but the rain has only picked up since leaving.
Standing about for a few seconds, Aethel observes the group more closely. Four of them in total, two women and two men, one of the women is far taller than any of them, and immediately catches his eye.
Her hair is a strange shade of blue, almost exactly like a blizzard, it perfectly suits her eyes of the same hue; she wears a gold and purple cloak which covers one entire half of her body, and below it is an outrageous white, fur coat. The whole way she carries herself is rather graceful too, like the statues at church, purity incarnate.
On her left is a scarily stern looking man who just barely stands to her shoulder yet is already taller than the remaining two, his hair is a shining platinum gold, his eyes are a violent blood color, and he wears what can only be described as an army major’s uniform. He too wears the same kind of cloak as the woman, all of them do.
With that in mind he looks to the right and sees a man in a wine colored tux, who contrasting with the previous two, has hair the color of a nebula. He wears a mask fit for a masquerade but from whatever features are visible, he maintains a jovial, almost flippant look that suits his decidedly sharp and handsome look very well.
Finally, his eyes land on a woman with eyes like his own, but perhaps prettier. Her hair is one of the fullest browns he has ever seen and she wears a navy colored hunting jacket that extends down to her ankles. Unlike the stern major, the graceful lady, or the sharp mask, she has quite the kind look to her face, something near motherly.
Aethel continues to stand, his face twisted as he falls further and further into thought… a position that certainly asks to be noticed by anyone who sees it…
“Salut étranger, I ‘ave a question for you, to Crowsea or to New Bell?” suddenly the towering woman approaches and asks with a soft voice and a strong accent.
Shocked, Aethel jumps quite violently, earning a curious look from the group. He replies after a few seconds of catching himself, “...What? Oh— uh, is that for me or for you?”
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“Your connecting train, is it to Crowsea, Kane City or to New Bell, Bradburton?” a clear and commanding voice breaks through Aethel’s stupor, the stern one is talking now.
Turning to the man dressed like a major, Aethel straightens up more than he already did, “Kane City, sir— I mean, friend— or stranger…?”
“Brilliant darling, allow us to pay for your ticket to Bradburton, then.” it is the masked man’s turn to speak this time, his voice practically dripping with guile.
The kind looking woman cuts in, exasperation threatening to break through her patient tone, “All of you… you’re getting ahead of yourselves— sorry, it’s just… there are some things going on at Kane right now. And we can’t just let anyone head there, so is it alright if you head over to Bradburton instead? We’ll pay for the ticket.”
“Uh… I’m assuming that since you’re all being so insistent and you aren’t telling me what’s going on… it’s something pretty bad?” Aethel croaks out, standing in a guarded position with his hands close to his chest.
The masked man laughs gregariously before immediately snapping into a grave expression, “Practically speaking, yes, very much yes, love. It is a matter of… life o—”
“Stop talking; too much information.” The stern one immediately stops the masked one from speaking any more.
The masked one argues, “I mean darling, it is not like he is an invalid, anyone could figure out the gravity of all this.”
”That means nothing, our orders said this does not get out under any circumstances, but then here you are speaking about it like it came out on the news.” retorts the stern one.
Soon the two embroil themselves in an argument, this causes the remaining members to try and de escalate the situation, of course, leaving Aethel standing right in front of them.
Aethel motions to regain their attention, “You see that’s all well and good but… I really didn’t expect this turn of events as you can imagine, so I don’t have much information on Bradburton, in fact, my preparations only covered Kane City and the next city over, Prima.”
All of them turn to him again, visibly disapproving of his insistence to head off into Kane City.
“Zat isn’t ‘ow zis works I am afraid, we cannot simply allow you to ‘ead off into Kane City.” the tall woman nods disapprovingly while speaking, her resolve shining through in clarion fashion.
Interjecting with a revelation written on her face, the kind looking one theorizes, “Oh, but what if he’s only carrying Stella with him? If we drop him off at Bradburton he’d be broke in that case… Is that the case, sir?”
“Yes and no. I do have Stella on me but I’ve always been kind of broke… my plan was to look for a job anyway.” sheepishly Aethel answers, a small grin forming.
Seemingly amused, the masked man suggests a solution, “I got it! Why not just drop him off at Prima then, friends? It is safe there is it not? What is a little escort mission to us?”
“What a pain— but, as much as I loathe to, I do agree with Hal— Oh fuck, he has no clue who we are, does he?” says the stern man, looking to his companions for an answer.
Sighing, the kind woman admits, “No he doesn’t but I think we’re going to have to sit him down for that.”
“Well as long as you’re going to do that, can we get some food?” Aethel speaks up.
> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, First Class Cabin 7-1.
> 2nd of New Conception, 1316;
> 9:20 Sol Time.
The difference of the cabins from car eighteen to car seven are quite baffling, what is one room here in first class is about three separate rooms in second class, and instead of the bed doubling as seating there is actually a dining set in place. It really is a pleasant room even down to the decor and atmosphere.
Sitting in silence, Aethel is the current object of close observation by both the uniformed man and accented woman. Awkwardly the three sit face to face and none of them look particularly excited to start up any kind of conversation.
As of the moment the entire group seems to be waiting for both the masked charmer and the kindly woman’s presence, and seeing as no food lies on the table, they must be responsible for the food delivery.
The rain has not stopped either, or rather it seems to be growing substantially more torrential as time goes on. No longer is the pitter patter relaxing, instead the sounds are more like to evince a disconcerting feeling, and especially more so know with how imperative it is that no hindrances appear on the trip.
Deciding to break the silence, Aethel attempts a question, “So, where did you guys get on? The train, I mean.”
“All ze way back in ze Aulds, we ‘ad spent time in ze Magistrate’s ‘eadquarters. You know of zis Magistrate?” asks the accented woman.
Aethel thinks on that before responding, “I’ve heard of them but I’m… well I was a part of the Fundamentalist church myself as a brother, though I had to renounce the oath in order to go on this trip. So yes I know of them, but no, I don’t really know them.”
“Oo ze Fundamentalists, you might not be useless after all— er, pardon my use of language, I do not mean to insult you with zat. You understand what I mean, no?” she smiles in an attempt to soften the blow of her words.
A sudden interjection from the uniformed man, serious as ever, “But he is— was only a brother after all, and assuming he is as old as I think he is, it is not likely they taught him any divine sacraments, miracles, or anything like that.”
“I suppose not but I am sure he knows somezing or ze ozer. While we are still on ze topic, what do you know?” smiling, the accented woman nods optimistically.
Returning her smile, Aethel responds, eyes wandering to the stern man, “Only a brother, sure, but I do know about consecrating items, making holy water, the basics of rune and writ works, and of course connected to that, composing wards and prayers..”
“Tch— in a pinch, then, I will admit we could make use of your skills, but nothing else.” that clear and commanding voice is made only minutely softer by a grudging respect.
Her optimism swells as she claps her hands in a dainty manner, “C'est magnifique! Indeed, and at such a young age too, you are what— seventeen?”
“Eighteen last autumn actually, specifically in the Auldtide, and it’s part of the reason I wanted to leave home— I felt like I outgrew it all.” baring a more sheepish expression, Aethel rubs his neck as he speaks.
Uneasily, the usually grouchy man in uniform interjects, “Uhuh… hold that thought, I am going to go check on those two, they are taking far longer than I estimated. You two, If I— for any reason— do not show in five minutes, take that as a signal for things being close to F.U.B.A.R.”