They emerged from Ginger’s house into a colossal swarm of bats. Most of them reacted with terror; Bonnie dove back into the house with a shriek while Artemisia and Concordia struggled to keep face. Mel let out an evil laugh and shouted, “welcome to Flint!”

The swarm cleared up a few moments later when a group of Tinkerers in a terrifying hulk of brass on wheels drove past, blaring music from the cones attached to every part of their vehicle. All of the bats fled in terror, revealing Neith, who stood there with a disappointed expression.

“We were catching up!” she yelled at the retreating vehicle. When there was no response, she smoothed out her skirts and let out a frustrated snort. “Mortals! What disrespect!”

They continued through the rest of the city, Mel showing them around in their best tourist-y voice. And by “showing them around”, I mean “giving them the most morbid details about life in Flint as they could”.

“And on your left, you’ll see a house that got crushed by a falling stalactite!”

“Up ahead is the town hall, which is burned down annually by the boiler system that everybody is always dragging their feet about replacing!”

“Overhead is the Castle of Amontillado! They say it’s haunted by the ghosts of the people its lord liked to bury alive! Sometimes they drop rocks on the heads of passersby for their amusement!”

Eventually the group reached a train station made of some bizarre mix of copper, steel, and panes of glass made from the glowing crystals on the cavern ceiling.

“This is the Asphodel Line!” Mel said cheerfully. “It travels all ‘round the Flint in a daily circuit and is the most reliable means of transportation down here, with an average fatality rate of fifty percent!”

Concordia and Artemisia exchanged looks.

“I’m just kidding!” Mel added gleefully. “It’s actually got a fatality rate of forty percent!”

Neith bought them four tickets; Mel apparently got a pass for being a Spelunker. The interior of the station was no less strange than the outside, but far more grand; it descended deeper underground and opened up into an enormous mass of railway tracks interspersed with bridges and platforms. Flinters milled about like ants, and hawkers pawned their wares in little stalls that looked like the slightest breeze would send them tumbling onto the tracks.

They crossed a few rickety bridges and stopped at a platform about halfway across the station. Bonnie was eagerly soaking in the sights, chattering to Mel the entire time. Artemisia was a bit more cautious.

“Are we sure about this?” she asked Neith.

“We’ll be fine,” Neith promised. “I’ve traveled these tracks before.” She paused. “Admittedly it was in a handcart and we were hit by a train halfway through, but besides that we were fine!”

That didn’t help Artemisia’s anxiety. At all.

The distant screech of a whistle snapped her out of her thoughts. She looked up to see a train thundering towards her, a colossal beast of iron and smoke whose wheels screeched against the tracks, sending cascades of sparks into the air.

Artemisia had seen trains before. They ran in a circuit around most of the inner city, but they were smaller and lighter than this one. This…this was a monstrosity, as tall and wide as a four-story building and so long she couldn’t see its end. Its light glared balefully like the eye of some great behemoth, casting the platform in a harsh yellow glare. Despite herself, she flinched as it thundered past, and the shrieking of the brakes pierced her ears like railroad spikes. She clamped her hands over them as the train pulled to a stop, steam hissing from its engine as it slowly settled into its rest.

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“All aboard!” Mel said cheerfully, pushing the group towards the train. Artemisia eyed the narrow gap between the train’s entrance and the platform warily, then stepped aboard.

The interior was all brass and hardwood; how that had gotten this far underground, Artemisia didn’t know. Copper lamps hung cheerily from the walls, filling the room with an amber glow. Rows of seats with tables between them stretched to the back of the car.

They took a seat at the back. Artemisia rapped on the window, which barely even moved; lead-paned glass. This thing was built for defense as well as luxury, it seemed.

Mel kicked their boots off and shook a pile of rocks onto the carpeted floor. When Artemisia glanced around, she found that, despite how ritzy the car seemed, no one seemed to care about Mel’s callousness. It seemed Flint was different from Flax in more than just its location and appearance.

Bonnie kicked back, resting her feet on the table and linking her fingers together behind her head. She whistled. “I can see why you guys love your luxury. This place is nice!”

“You haven’t seen nothin’ yet,” Mel said, drawing a flask from under their vest and taking a massive swig of it. “Wait until we get to the Lake of Fire. They use gemstones the size of your hand as paving stones.”

Bonnie’s eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and she rubbed her hands together gleefully.

“Now what’s this all about anyway?” Mel continued, this time turning their attention to Artemisia. With their gaze came that of the others.

Artemisia sighed and pulled out her necklace. The gem glittered in the coppery light.

“Bonnie gave me this to pay for stealing my cannon,” she shot Bonnie a glare, which the bandit returned with a shrug. “It brought back memories, but I don’t know why.”

“Memories of what?” Mel asked.

Artemisia slid the necklace back under her shirt. “Do you know what a Youngblood is?”

Mel shrugged. “Some high-and-mighty surfacers who can’t die or something.” Their eyes widened. “Wait, are you a Youngblood?”

“…yes. Youngbloods are one of Flax’s factions. We guard the walls of the city. And it’s not that we can’t die, it’s that we don’t age.”

Some of us are too stubborn to die, though, Concordia added helpfully.

“Most of us don’t remember where we came from. The earliest memory I have is meeting Neith, so remembering something from before that is a very big deal.”

“So that’s why you’re going on this scavenger hunt?” Mel asked, intrigued.

“Indeed,” Neith said.

“And what if it leads to nothin’?” Mel asked.

Artemisia fell silent, trying to come up with a suitable answer. “Then at least I’ll have seen something of this city I’m supposed to protect.”

Mel gave her a vaguely suspicious look for some time, then shrugged. “Meh. Good for you, I guess.”

They took another swig from their flask. The train jolted; Artemisia glanced outside and saw the station pulling away, its lights gradually fading into the dark.

“Anyways,” Neith said brightly, deciding a change in conversation was needed, “what’s your story, Mel?”

Mel screwed the cap back on their flask and tucked it away gods-know-where. Their face wrinkled. “Me? I’m nothin’ special. Came from a poor family in the Hollows, took to spelunkin’, scraped together enough for us to survive. Ginger helped a lot, of course; met her in a spelunkers’ gathering. Not sure how she managed to wriggle down there; probably a trinket of some sort. We’ve been close ever since.”

“Friends?” Neith asked.

Bonnie and Mel exchanged looks, then burst out laughing.

“Bold of you to assume that Flinters have the same concept of relationships as all of you,” Bonnie said cheerfully. “Nah. It’s called mutualism. It’s somewhere between friendship and…whatever you and Artemisia have.”

Love? Concordia offered helpfully.

“Romance,” Mel corrected. “Love’s a catch-all term for carin’ about something other than yourself. You all put too much value into romance, if I’m bein’ honest; you’ve even mixed it and love together. Not everything’s gotta be about romance.”

“Yeah!” Bonnie echoed.

Concordia glanced between Mel and Bonnie, then signed, I’m not sure what this has to do with Mel’s background.

Mel looked at Artemisia. “What’d she say?”

“She asked what this has to do with you.”

“Ah, yeah. Mutualism. Me an’ Ginger are in one.”

Artemisia nodded. Flint was weirder than she expected and she was having a little bit of trouble wrapping her head around this whole thing, but it was polite to nod, so she did exactly that.

“What about the rest of you?” Mel asked.

“Concordia is a Youngblood like I am.”

“I’m a vampire,” Neith said. “Artemisia is my girlfriend.”

That seemed to be all the explanation Mel needed, as they barely seemed surprised.

“I grew up in the wastes. My parents ditched me and sailed across the sea with some privateers, which left me as the leader of the Bandits,” Bonnie said. Going by her cheerful tone, this tragic background had little effect on her anymore.

There’s really not much else to us, Concordia chimed in.

Mel was quiet for a moment, taking this all in. Then they grinned. “Well, guess I underestimated just how odd Flax was. Should probably pay it a visit. Unless a cave-in kills me first.”