> █████, Long Travel Train SrTc-22, Standard Class Cabin 18-5.
> 5th of New Conception, 1316;
> 4:30 Sol Time.
An announcement plays over the PA system, resounding through the entire train, “ATTENTION: We are approaching Border Station number four, please check all your belongings and prepare to detrain in a few minutes, I repeat—”
Dressing himself with slow, lethargic movements, Aethel inspects the room from top to bottom. Finishing that, he checks his bag. With everything seemingly set, he departs to the viewing deck, meeting the rest of the passengers.
Aethel lingers behind most of everyone, choosing to spend this time in a relative silence, but then Fi approaches him.
“Aezel, ‘ow are you, mon ami? …Are you not a morning person?” she walks up, the early morning not affecting her energy, or so it looks.
Aethel only shrugs as he speaks slowly, “I’m usually less of a corpse in the morning, believe me. I guess the whole Weeping Tree debacle took more out of me than I thought.”
“Ha, zis is ‘ow Karter used to be. You know, back when we were students ‘e used to be so le’zargic, ‘e refused to even speak in ze morning— ah but ‘e was also quite ze meek fellow, no’zing like nowadays.” Fi chuckles, her eyes wandering to the horizon.
Squinting at that, Aethel asks, “Uhuh, meek… I guess you said that’s how he used to be, but how do you reckon a guy goes from that to whatever he is now? You guys don’t seem that old, it has to have been only what— three, four, years since you were students right?”
“Ah, zis is correct, you do not know how ze Imperial Academy works. To simplify it as much as possible, an emerging mage as young as seven can enroll, the oldest you can be is twenty-one. Long story short, I and Karter enrolled at zis age, ten years later we were magus actual, and zen zirteen on top of zat brings us ‘ere.” explains Fi.
Eyes widening, Aethel nearly screams, “You’re all thirty?! You guys don’t look past twenty-four yet.”
“Not all of us are. Nerva and Arianos are actually closer to the age you thought… Also what the damn is wrong with being thirty or above anyway? As far as I am concerned ‘that’ is when adulthood actually starts.” Karter interjects, approaching while crossing his arms.
Extending his arms out, Aethel argues, “There’s nothing wrong with it, you just look younger than I thought you were, it’s a compliment if anything.”
“Zis is because we are young, Aezel…” Fi actually looks at him with an expression of displeasure for once.
Aethel scoots away ever so slightly, “I don’t doubt that, guys, I really don’t—”
“ATTENTION! Everyone, we are approaching the destination, please be advised. I repeat—” one of the crew members yells out from a megaphone.
Karter slaps Aethel’s back, grabbing him by the shoulder as he speaks, “Saved by the bell, Gren— anyway, shall we meet with the others to detrain?”
“Yes, let us go.” Fi smiles at Karter as lays a hand on Aethel’s back.
The two of them push him forward as they walk to the other end of the viewing platform, there Nerva and Arianos stand idly, but, when noticing Aethel’s peril, the remaining two simply smile at him. The man himself though, deflates with a sigh, shaking his head slowly.
> █████, Border Station #4, Lobby.
> 5th of New Conception, 1316;
> 4:50 Sol Time.
The group gathers at the lobby and all, except Karter, sit down at one of the many rows of chairs, around them is their luggage and other packed necessities, Aethel rests his head on one of his cases while looking up at Karter. The entire group is looking at Karter too.
Karter stands with his chest out and hands behind his back, “All of you know the procedure… except Aethel, and seeing as I have no better excuse, this gives me a good chance to give you all a rundown of everything again. Hear?”
“Hear.” all members respond with varying levels of volume and enthusiasm.
Karter begins,
“Well enough. So, first things first, we are located at the fourth Wasteland Border Station, this in particular is the passover between the southern stretch of the old world with the eastern line of the new one. Our departure will be at eight-thirty Aurum, meaning that you all have the rest of the day to stretch your legs or whatever it is you wish.”
“Our train is due for Kane City, located in the very center of the east, it is the center of commerce and the most populous city there. From Kane we will take the westbound train to Prima, the neighboring city, and also the home of the fairly new Skywake Academy. It is there in Prima that we will drop off this sir, Aethel Gren of Wynland.”
“After that is done we will return to our duty as the Vellaveir dispatch, take the first train back to Kane City, and report to the Magistrate’s office there. With that being said, and Aethel is owed this much, we should expect to be attacked by the abominations of supernature. The report we received a few days ago, regrettably, said as much. Hear?”
“Hear.” again, everyone responds.
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Smirking as he nods, Karter declares, gesturing to the group, “Outstanding. Now please, do not allow me to hold up the rest of your free time.”
The group disperses for the time being, all heading towards different locations on station grounds, which has many various amenities. For starters, the lobby connects to four wings, the northern, southern, eastern, and western wings. These wings all serve their own purposes.
Going over yonder to the northern wing is Arianos, over there is the public library and study hall, popular with many Magistrate members. Here you will find the latest news and magazines, books of all sorts, computers for public use, and other informational or academic purposes.
As for the southern wing, Karter takes himself there, for within this wing is the mall. Exactly as it sounds, this mall houses many different establishments: from supermarket, department store, brand franchises, and most importantly, a bar. Early as it is there are plenty more reasons to visit than drinking.
Moving on, the eastern wing is the recreation center, Joséphine heads this way along with what seems to be some parents and their children. Over here are games for all, ranging from games like bowling to even chess, there is a pastime available for everyone.
Finally where Nerva is advancing, the western wing, or rather the restaurant and lounge where businessmen and other serious sorts gravitate. More than just a place to find food and a seat, the lounge is where negotiations, impromptu meetings, and other grown-up affairs are held. It is also the only smoking zone in the station.
While everyone is going off to do their business, Aethel decides to get more fresh air, opting to ascend to the balconies. There he finds a suitably remote area, sets his luggage down, and sits down with his side pressing up against the railing. Half paying attention to the area, half taking in the sights, and completely alone.
In the beyond, or rather the horizon, there lies a vast stretch of wasteland. Farther beyond, a promise of civilization awaits, the new world as they all call it. It seems like this wasteland never ends, it seems like the cities far off will never get close, and it seems like the world does not care either way.
In the now, or rather the station proper, many people talk excitedly down below and in the populated areas of the balcony. No one seems to care at all, to spare any thoughts to anything that is not in the present, perhaps this is best… Perhaps not. No one knows except time, and it never tells.
It is then that his eye is caught by something, an arm reaching over from the wasteland into the station, it trembles greatly as it holds onto the platform. Aethel scrambles to his feet, going off to check it out.
Excusing himself through different crowds and onto the platform where the train bound for New Bell will arrive, Aethel spots a man climbing up on the opposite side of the tracks. Immediately, he calls the attention of a guard, who signals for other workers to come along.
Aethel watches as they pull him up, drag him to safety, and lay him on the floor. It is then that he approaches, seeing that the man looks terribly unwell. This man’s skin is unusual; almost completely sallow and grey, his hair is wet with a viscous substance, and he shakes in what can only be described as a possessed rigor.
Silently, Aethel grasps the silver beads in his pocket, muttering a quiet prayer underneath his breath.
In the instant he begins— the man shoots up and wails in a familiar way! Someone tugs at Aethel’s arm, pulling him back with an irresistible force. Aethel looks to his side: there stands a boy with hair similar in color to Fi’s, he wears a white frock coat and holds an expression completely on guard. Violent energy pulses through him.
Screams and sounds of torn flesh turn Aethel’s attention back to the man, but there is no more man, nor are there any employees. In their place a writhing mass of broken bones and tree-like growth begins to wail and disperse a black miasma. Aethel immediately gets on his feet.
“D’you have experience with this?” the boy asks him, his voice is rather youthful.
So much so that in taking a closer look Aethel can immediately recognize that they are probably the same age.
Aethel shakes his body a little, then he responds, “Ah, kind of, but I had lots of help.”
“Yeah? Well, I’m all you need right now, so stone the fuck up.” the boy smirks as the energy swells around him.
Taking hold of the boy’s arm, “Wait! How about… I mean… what a horrifying thing… all those people who tried to help too—”
“We can mourn them later, I said stone the fuck up!” shaking Aethel off him, the boy runs towards the writhing mass.
Aethel freezes, the boy notices, but continues nevertheless. He channels his energy into an impressive sword, “Arcane Gladius!” he casts while jumping up, felling it into the mass as he comes down. As he does, the thing splits apart, and begins to scatter into luminescent dust.
But as he returns to his feet another bout of screams come in from around the station, he returns to Aethel with a scowl, before taking him by the collar.
Practically screaming, the boy reprimands, “The shit was that—? You know, fuck it, go hide in a corner or something, it’d be a pain in the ass if you died on my watch.”
Just as he allows Aethel to fall to the ground, Karter comes running in with a few civilians. He looks to the boy and Aethel with wide eyes before commanding whoever is following him to stay in the area. After that, he approaches and crosses his arms.
“Régis meet Aethel Gren; Aethel meet Régis Alistair. That out of the way, we have a situation, as I am sure both of you know by now.” Karter speaks as if restraining himself.
Looking at the boy, Régis, Aethel asks, “Alistair? Like— okay, I get it, we should hurry then!”
“With this amateur, really, Karter? You’re just like Josie, getting all soft in your years. No, we can handle this on our own— we don’t need this guy—” letting out a loud scoff, Régis protests.
Karter towers over Régis, commanding, “Listen here, kid. Aethel is with us whether you or I like it or not, now no more wasting time, move out!”
Unable to argue anymore as chaos begins to overtake the station, the trio head off towards the lobby, Aethel turns to the platform while following. His expression seems somewhat unsure, but at the nudging of Karter, he shakes his head and turns his face back to the front.
As they enter the lobby, the place is in utter disarray: people running away from beasts that look straight of the underworld, fearful and blood curdling screams from all around the station, a formless coat of mist beginning to form at their feet, and unfortunately, the first few casualties lying with rent flesh in their own blood.
Aethel feels something strange at this point, like the words of old swirling through his head, telling him to do something without actually speaking. Not that the words make any sense, for no language in the world sounds like it, and neither would he understand if it did for it is also swirling far too quickly.
He clutches his head before noticing that Karter is doing it too, Régis on the other hand is looking at them with a scowl, yet it seems to turn softer through some kind of concern. Régis takes a hold of Aethel’s shoulder, wordlessly asking him a question.
“W-we’re fine, right Karter?” smirking slightly, he assures.
Karter shakes himself a little, slapping his own face, then responds, “Yeah, this is no problem, kid— kids, both of you.”