All Aboard

Charred steel discs smoked on the tracks. The smokestack released plumes blotting the sun. Rectangular steel arms caked with coal dust and track grime churned the belching worm forward. A screeching hiss momentarily deafened the workers on the makeshift wooden platform. A dulled roaring belch rolled through the engine while the shovelers took a short break.

The engine pulled a long line of battered box cars. The passenger cars at the rear lined up with the platform. The rumbling of the engine became lost to the grind of steel rolling on itself. The machine compounded the sweltering heat pounding the farmland.

Seven grey suited warriors of the 24th Prudian legion carried heavy breech loader rifles across their backs. Roxanne adjusted the massive supply pack over her back. The drab olive stretched bloated over her head. Pots, pans, knives, forks, spoons, and ladles hung from the outside like a traveling culinary shop. The bag pressed a large steel battle axe into her back. Two silver hand axes hung from the sides of her belt. Roxanne bounced up the steps rattling and clanging.

Adam barely kept up with her as he wiped his sweaty forehead with a dirty hander kerchief. A rifle with an overly long octagonal barrel rattled behind him. The heavy walnut stock hung to the back of his knees. A telescope was firmly screwed across the top of the weapon. Tin boxes attached to a large leather strap rattled whenever he moved.

“They won’t even let us use the station at Breslau? They had to have us picked up here? By a supply wagon? Is this some kind of joke?”

The humidity told on Kurl as well, who dabbed his forehead. The grey armored overcoats and black leather boots they’d been issued were hot on a cool day. Kurl took a large gulp from his canteen and laughed, “Smell that Von Rantzau? That’s the front calling!”

A heavy hand slapped the back of Adam’s coat, almost knocking him over.

Adam nearly tripped, then hunched over with sweat dripping from soaked hair, “What has our traitor in high spirits all of the sudden?”

“Nostalgia,” Kurl took a deep whiff of coal dust, “It’s like better days.”

Cutlery rattled as Roxanne took a deep breath, then coughed, “You’re one to speak. You were living in a brick luxury cell and getting nobles rations while we worked the mines.”

“What did I say about prison issues?”

Roxanne rattled as she looked down with something between a cough and a sigh, “It’s behind us for now.”

The workers stopped as Brunswick ascended the platform followed by a crew of beautiful maids and one middle-aged priest praying over a rosary. Vanessa followed behind him in a modest maid uniform with a stained apron. Her hair was tied back in two long horse tails. The thick glasses complemented the ruffled white hat. The black cloth soaked the sun, so the walk from the carriage left her uniform damp around the collar. The three tarnish mages attended her so closely she barely had space to walk. Reddish cheeks, a sweaty forehead, clamped mouth, and tight eyes dominated her silence.

Her slender fingers felt the handle of the silver blade extending from a pocket in her dress. With every step, she checked to make sure it remained in place. Sometimes she adjusted her pocket to glance at the gleaming handle. It refused to tarnish no matter how often she caressed it.

Susana offered Vanessa a pair of leather gloves studded with small silver pieces along the knuckles. They snapped across her fingers with a tight stretching sound. It would prevent her dagger from tarnishing if she wore them now, besides, this place was filthy.

A distinct line of soldiers kept the controller, the angel, and her itinerary away from Kurl’s group. Brunswick directed them into a spacious, well-furnished cabin with separate sleeping quarters behind a cozy lobby.

Vanesa’s dirty boots scuffed a hastily laid carpet, “Why are we separate from the others?”

“I thought you detested them?” Brunswick poured some tea from a metal pot.

“I do not anymore. They’re blessed warriors. I want to travel with them.”

“You’ll get to see them enough. I’m glad you’re getting attached. I’d have thought the dreaded demon angel who murdered an entire elite platoon would not be capable of such.”

“I want tea,” Vanessa sat down and held out her hands for a cup and saucer, which Jesicca brought to her filled with warm tea. The handle of the silver blade poked out her uniform at the hip.

“A silver blade?” Brunswick asked, “Is it a holy artifact?”

Vanessa shook her head, “No,” then reconsidered, “Yes.”

Fredericka tensed behind the angel. The other maids said nothing. Father Tergeist sat down with a cup of tea, smiling as he sipped.

“Well,” Brunswick snapped, “It either is or it isn’t.”

Porters hefted heavy wood crates into a supply carriage. Some of the crates jingled while sliding inside the luggage car. Kurl supervised the loading. Two small crates of silver bars and three large crates of donated scrap silver. A long crate gave the porters difficulty arranging placement among the already crowded car. Kurl checked for the squad mark on each crate. Three bags of silver coins were stuffed in gaps between crates.

“It’s been a long time since anyone has had to donate silver,” Roxanne noted as she pushed the last crate into place.

“Roxanne!” Kurl scolded as set down a heavy steel tank next to another so they wouldn’t roll.

She snapped to attention, “Sorry sir, I forgot myself for a moment. It won’t happen again!”

“Good, thanks for loading the potatoes.”

“Yes sir, plenty of potatoes. You can’t run an army without them, heh!” her stomach growled.

The train screeched with an angry billow of steam.