...and Back (V1 Prologue)

Still too familiar. This cabin, that view, even the dawn breaking the fog. Barely, but enough: the greying grass, the frozen streams, the bitter wind… and the city’s faint silhouette – monoliths looming in the mist, nestled altogether atop the furthest coastal cliff, half-defiant against this white wasteland and a half-step away from plunging beneath the waves. Fr–

“Fascinating, ain’t it? The City of Exiles.” ...him. Again. “A world power now, but–”

“Save me your rhetoric.”

A pause.

“Aww, don’t be a spoilsport. Here, have a drink.”

“What are we, tourists? Ever heard of professionalism?”

“C’mon, one or two can’t hurt. Besides, there’s still hours left to our ride.”

“Sigh. Unfortunately.”

A glass began nudging against my thigh, forcing me to turn and face him.

Wine, huh. Not exactly my sort of liquor – wine was plain excess; too fanciful, too sweet – but it will do. Didn’t care as long as it numbed the boredom. The old fart offering it, on the other hand? With such an obvious grin, anyone could tell he was anticipating a spectacle to happen.

“Royal Sanguine. Finest batch of the year.”

Nonetheless, I accepted his... pleasantries. Alcohol was alcohol, how bad could it be?

The red flickered under the warm interior glow, an aftereffect of its viscous texture, like a promise of distilled richness already melting in the mind’s eye. Clearly poison reserved for the nouveau riche and their bottomless antics, plus a certain someone guzzling glass after glass the entire trip, as if inviting alcohol poisoning. A shame such fine delights always end up with him.

Instead, a slow swirl, a customary whiff, then the light si– You... ah, I should have known.

“...cough... I see your tastes are still awful.”

Crimson dripped from the edges of my lips, its steely flavour clinging onto my tongue.

“Ya won’t know till you try, ain’t it?”

“I’m no bloodsucker, thank you.”

“Aw, you’re no fun, ya’know?”

“God, please drop the accent.”

“A trade, then. Loosen up and I’ll–”

“Don’t turn this against me.”

Then... a chuckle. Muffled at first, it grew and grew, louder, madder, taking on a life of its own, his voice increasingly tortured, until it reached peak obnoxiousness: some weird blend between a raspy croak and a dying wheeze. All the while I watched in silence. If anything, I was long used to it.

“Alright, playtime’s over. Let’s get to why I’m here already.”

“What’s the hurry? We still have five years to catch up on.”

Not with how much you’re enjoying this farce. Of all the people to send as a ‘welcoming party’, the chief interrogator? Whose job description is literally to be the most un-welcoming person alive? Sigh. Although, it wouldn’t surprise me if he had strong-armed his way to this chore on a whim or something. He is the chief interrogator, after all.

“No need. Just tell m-”

“So cold. Weren’t we pals before? Ain’t that mean much?”

“Have we ever been close?”

“Sure we have, right? Right?”

“...”

“Come on, at least as colleagues?”

Silence.

“Hey, hey, at least a relationship, yeah? Please?”

Still.

“... At this rate, you’ll lose everyone.”

“... I don’t mind.”

He paused, again.

“Speaking of, I didn’t see you at her–”

“I was busy.”

“Busy enough to miss it?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

And nothing. Just like that, the quiet returned.

Clink. Yet another glass he poured, yet another bottle tossed to the alcohol scrapyard his seat long became. Between the array of empty bottles and dubious red did lay a few saner drinks: some sparkling white, others limpid amber… and a can of soda was mixed in. Drink in hand, he retreated to a private corner, watching the oversaturated corridor through the glass door, eyes glazed in thought. The other cabins had already drawn their blinds down upon noticing the voyeur. Still, he watched.

In return, my gaze drifted back towards the barren tundra.

Tap. Tap, tap. Rain flicked against the window with growing urgency. Darkness steadily usurped the hazy surroundings, sparing only the city whose skyscrapers bathed in artificial light. A faint glimmer really, no more than a flickering candle. Yet, here, afar, in the cold and the dark, it did look like a beacon.

“Dear honoured guests, we will be arriving in Anzpael soon. The weather looks to be heading for the worse, so please be prepared for the oncoming cold. Should you require any assista–boom! ...kzzt.”

Jolts rumbled throughout the train. Seconds later, the lights all bursted to a flare before burning out. Static began flooding the announcement system as the train stuttered to a halt. People pouring into the corridor. Screaming. Pushing each other. Panic everywhere. A picturesque horror scene.

Here’s to having a smooth journey.

“Wouldja look at that! Interesting, ain’t it?”

“And irritating.”

“That too. Say, ya wanna bet? Dumb robbers–”

“–or dumber nobles?”

“Of course, of course! Who else!”

“The Saint of Train Crashes and Insurance Fraud?”

“Bahaha... haa… Hmm? Are you smiling?”

“Be glad I care for a joke now.”

And interrupting our brief moment, the speakers revived.

“Is this working yet? Ah! Good day, ladies and gents! Your hijacker speaking, by the way ~♪ Wait, does train crashing count as hijacking? Oh well, one less life accomplishment.”

A hush overcame the pandemonium as he spoke – shouting died down to murmurs, their voices more confused than fearful, and understandably so. My guess, whoever hired this airhead to play bandit must be kicking themselves by now. At least play the part, right?

“Anywho, I’m here for the heads of Inquisitors. Let’s see... forty-three in total. Nine real ones and the rest wannabes who just signed on. Welp, too bad ~♪ As for the irrelevant lot, you folk can just dandy along the rest of your trip. And a piece of advice, this metal heap won’t be of much help.”

On cue, a second barrage thrashed the train.