11th of September, 502 of NDE.

  Mereddud Penry sunk in to the fine leather seating at the back of the limousine, surrounded by his prideful Presidential Guard provided by The Court. Though whilst they compined in their courteous manner, they relented to leave him the whole coffee brown seating to have a clear view of the busy streets where people thronged in the warm glow of the day as they headed for work, whilst Penry and his elegant entourage headed for the train station.

  “Our first stop will be at the mountains for resupply.” Jauna, his stunning half-sraudornian, half lunar elven secretary started the review of their journey from south to the northernmost point of Eoran.

  Her smooth, lustrous skin almost as white as the snow, her hair the bold and regal shade of hazelnuts, voluminous yet kept in bondage as she preferred keeping it in a tight bun of a ring braid. Only a few strands dangled before her wide, slender eyes with corners mildly upturned, circled by dark, lustrous lines. Her voice pouring out from her meaty, lustrous lips gleaming in the vibrant shades of fuchsia soothed Penry as he adjusted his velvet necktie of a bold indigo against the arcane-weave, lustrous and smooth crimson dress shirt.

  Penry himself enjoyed the natural good looks of his family, granted by the Fey of Magnificence and Nobility who bestowed his ancestors after their contribution for the freedom of Eoran and the formation of the United Republics he now wished to become its president. Whilst in his mid-fifties, his skin was still bereft of any natural blemishes, wore only the decorations of a warrior – a few scars near his strong and angur jaw, one crossing across his left eye, slicing through his thick and straight left brow. His hair voluminous, dense and kept short, combed back and with a refined greasiness. Though it showed his age a little in the form of a few gray strands mingling amongst the dark browns. Lush and well-groomed beard accentuated his handsomeness, a beard worthy of his family of former Drengriars who settled on Eoran.

  Like his father, grandfather, mother, uncle, aunt and many other ancestors, Penry ceased not to seek rest even when peace reigned supreme in the world. He continued picking fights, wishing to bring prosperity upon his people, and for this reason he first served in United Republic’s host fighting the rebels in the northern regions, wishing to break apart what his ancestors fought tooth and nail. And now, retired from the Host, his aim fallen on two enemies. One within, one outer. Namely, Goewyn his rival in the election with a soaring popurity equaling his, and the cartels funding her campaign. Even more precisely, the Oscurazon Cartel whose ghastly hands reached into his city, the capital of His State.

  “Is everything alright?” Amidst the continued reviewing, Naiaer asked in her usual caring tone as her soft hands caressed his hands resting in his p. Her voice, deep and mellowing, always pleasant to Penry’s ears as he wrapped his hand around hers and soothed her worries with a tender smile.

  A solfrith beauty with light amber golden skin gleaming regally as the light entered through the dimmed window, hair dark as jet, tumbling down in its great volume upon her shoulders, one side of her bewitching elven face framed by the curling silken smooth locks with feathered tips, bangs swept over the left side, covering the crimson eye which peered expectantly at Penry as silence fell in the long back section of the limousine where she sat closest to him, draped in the uniform of the Presidential Guard like her fellow comrades. Though only her and Jauna looked at her whilst he pondered, the rest remained stoic, facing each other, eyeing the streets beyond the windows for any potential danger.

  They all wore the same uniform, thick suit-jackets made from PNC (short for Pixier-Niomahn-Cgiuth) a material created by the Fashion Corps of The Court to recreate the divinely opulent leather-like fabrics of the Fey. Smooth texture with a strong gradient luminosity and liquid like patina, bold hues. Like their allies uniform overseas, they possessed stiff and angur frames, though adhering more to symmetry when it came to their sharp features. A single-breasted front, smooth and structured shoulders with long, oblong straps striding across them, neck with elevated tab from which the round and high colr arose, spreading and folded down like their shirt’s colrs wedged betwixt them, whilst at the chest line, pels spread broadly. The edge areas dyed in the blue hue of sapphires bleeding evenly into the inner deep, cool bcks.

  The smooth, high-colred dress shirts, skirts and trousers were made from Siabgruin Cotton. An arcane-weave cotton like fabric mimicking the smoothness, fluidity, opulent gloss of satin or silk. The angled colrs themselves, were designed with a slight roll and the bck pants and trousers with higher waist to hold their weapons and other gadgets. And the shirts themselves belonging to his Presidential Guard bore a bold pinkish-red hue with bck vein embroidery sprawling front and back, a vermilion red necktie shrouding the concealed button line, adorned with a golden pin sculpted after the feathery wing of avian feys.

  Penry missed wearing these uniforms as he looked around. “Nothing, just excited at the road ahead.” He answered simply, contempting not to speak as a warrior, but a politician. Yet, he had the smile of the former.

  *****

  Tovorn stood in the middle of the train station’s ptform, taking a long drag of his cigarette. Its acrid, bitter smoke filling his mouth, tainting further his sallow teeth. His posture straight, his slender, wiry arms stretched whilst his fingers firmly wrapped around the handle of his briefcase. Eyes peering around, searching the throng of folk in luxurious, gmorous garments waiting, heading into the train’s back carts, then stopped on a maiden with lustrous, olive tan complexion, shadowed by her oversized hat matching in shade with her crimson red, flowing dress with golden, sparrow brocades embroidered along the smooth, opulently lustrous surface adorned with a few, elegant wrinkles. She rolled her baggage inside, led by a servitor smitten by her beauty.

  Then his attention turned whilst bumped in the shoulders by a few passing passengers, one an orc with a haggard face, long muted bck hair slicked back, greasy and with grayish undertones. On his muscur, tall frame a tailored, elegant basilisk leather suit and pants of a deep, bold emerald shade, matching a little with his pale greenish skin, beneath it a knitted turtleneck in the shade of ripe watermelons, completely ruining the composition. Tovorn liked his confident stride as he passed between the people and entered the cart with each bulk resembling the Caith-Sidh – feline fey belonging to the Court of Guiles and Pride.

  Front snted downwards, slightly roundish like a cat’s head including two protrusions resembling their sharp, broad ears. Within them, iridescent magical crystals filled the sockets, wild astral mist swirling within, the formed silent inscriptions of speed and its adjustment. Slightly above the foundation, round shapes adorned each side resembling feline eyes slits included in the middle, within them dull spheres hovered in utter stillness, warm golden at the sides, muted white right where the slit separated them.

  On the roof, broad, segmented ridges strode across the center, snting thin antennas protruding from their center, whilst glowing indigo blue and maroon red spheres danced endlessly, Tovorn’s senses alerting him of danger as he peered at them with a revealing spell cast upon his eyes. On the sides, long, roundish windows stretched far up and down, wide with golden frames against the gradient walls – bck from the top, down a strong ptinum, or as they say in the north, snow silver. Along the golden frame, Sidhian runes danced around the smooth, lustrous surface, holding spells less threatening held within the dancing orbs above. Mostly spells reaching into the viewer, allowing them to stretch their sight and clear the view.

  An outer deck with tall rail circled around the bulks, lined with smooth and dull metallic floor of silver. In the bulwarks, a protective barrier rested, waiting for the train to finally take off. And down betwixt the carts, slithering silver metallic cords connected each cart from front to back, resembling the serpentine tails of the Caith Sidh.

  Whilst inspecting the carts, their outer frame and interior, Tovorn’s gaze stopped upon a handsome, older man of well-groomed looks, honey tanned complexion with folds more regal, complementing his air compared to his hideous ruining his once magnificence. Complexion warm, honey tanned, voluminous and tufted hair bck as onyx at the roots, white as snow around at his temples and top. Countenance square and angled, with trimmed beard leaving his wide lips unframed. Elegant, arcane-weave dark suit hugged his slender, muscur form and a cravat red as blood around his still muscur neck. He looked back at Tovorn, sensing his inquisitive gaze and nodded with a vulpine smile before entering into the cart.

  Tovorn frowned, but just as he stepped forward, the scenery shifted and a cold breeze chilled his whole being. “I am on my way master!” He began in the utter darkness, sensing those hollow, jet bck eyes cking luster worthy of kings staring at him.

  “Why eliminate the ravens, Tovorn? Do tell me, didn’t I tell you not to attract unwanted attention? That this task is most imperative?” The voice boomed through the emptiness, dry and hollow, yet still carrying the strength and confidence afforded only to monarchs.

  “I do remember, my liege! I simply saw an opportunity to mask our presence better!” Tovorn spoke trembling, his own confidence lost standing beneath the looming shadow.

  “Yet you failed at that and now ravens flock towards to thwart our efforts. Fail and wish they killed you, otherwise the Prince shall triumph and get his due!” Before he could answer, he found himself at the station once more, shivering from fear. With a bit of effort, he wrenched back control over his muscles and sauntered towards his cart with the ticket punctured.

  *****

  “Oh ho-ho. This is to my liking!” Maleern excimed jovially when the three of them stepped inside their cabin.

  Stepping inside, the crisp sound of her raven bck dragonidh leather jacket’s zipper coming down, further exposing the wine-red colrs betwixt, caressing her neck and jawline. Its frame angur, the front with a broad panel, the zipper exposed and the shoulders fring at the edges above the smooth, tight sleeves highlighting her wiry arms, their fred ends resembling the tips of blunter arrows. The peplum hemline swinging as she stepped excitedly in, rolling around like a kid looking around whilst Arvindel and Leonidrymi following in two – with slightly less enthusiasm thanks to their general, taciturn and shy nature.

  “It is expansive.” Arvindel noted, her soft voice creating a whispery echo quickly fading away amongst the white, polished walls with bold, lustrous brown oaken paneling running up towards the ceiling at each corner, forming a frame above with fluted designs broken by the heads of regal feys.

  Lining the walls on their right, cupboards, bookshelves line the walls, paintings of breathtaking vistas with one or two smaller, animalistic fey sitting either at the corners or the center in decorative frames. The floor carpeted, a contrasting bck against the walls, with golden embroidery of dancing Caith Sidh at the edges, at the center framed by the L-Shaped leather cushioned couch and the two sofas, the shimmering noble sun.

  Right across them, a panorama window with the boorish sight of the station crew cleaning, carrying supplies to the bank and front. Though they appeared vibrant in shades, crispier slightly compared to reality. In the far end, two doors on each side, leading into the bedrooms with built in bath areas, and a combination of lounge and diners equipped with top of the grade coffee magicraft artifice, tea brewers, ovens and wall fitted shelves holding ptes, gsses and even one with a gss door exposing bottles of expensive whiskey catching the eye of Maleern who peered at each bottle with glistening eyes.

  In each bedroom, the canopied double beds were hewn from Sidh Oaken found in the valleys of the Sinuous Mountain, polished and painted in the same shade as the framing wall and ceiling panels, their columnal foot posts curving, the opposite straighter, with Caith-Sids sculpture wrapping around them, their adorable heads leaning out with curiosity. Above, a bold burgundy red velvet tester offers soothing shade from the light seeping in from the round, deep-set window, its back-end cascading seamlessly down betwixt the columnal head posts with the moon and stars embroidered in silver at its top and middle. Four small and two rge and wide pillows await the dreamers, covered in rich silken of a hazelnut shade, a sprawling thick silken bnket of the same shade but with golden trims for smooth embrace for the journey into their dreams.

  Without hesitation, Arvindel betraying her own nguid, listless nature leapt onto the bed, stretching arms whilst thinking of buying two tickets ter. He would surely like the view. She thought whilst sinking into the soft bed, before it turned pleasantly stiff where the tendrils of drowsiness coiled around her.

  “First we should unpack and meet with Penry and his entourage.” Maleern broke her out from the soothing trance of the bed. Arvindel nguidly arose like a sleeping beauty, strands of her silken hair flowing across her soft, lustrous porcein white face. She nodded with a hum, leaping out and heading to help their subordinate Leonidrymi.

  A youthful agent of the Raven Eyes with slender form befitting a sorceress, a fairer complexion of blood golden befit of an assassin, and a meek personality befit of someone wishing to work from the shadows, often away from the company of others. Her hair lush, dark as the starless midnight sky, collected into an elegant low bun of the Franchoin chignon style. Her eyes a mesmerizing blue with mild hints of red, contoured droopily into a wide and lean almond frame lined by lustrous bck. Brows just as soft and lush as her hair, long and their edges with sharp, angled arches. Her nose fringing the center of her angled, lean and lovely visage graven out with prominence, its narrow bridge starting high from her exposed forehead adorned with a slim silvery diadem embedded with indigo gemstones brimming with an ethereal glow.

  On her form, a deep indigo blue button-down shirt of sleek Aetherna satin nestles beneath the light caramel brown dragonidh leather jacket with an asymmetrical panel across the abdomen section, adorned with golden trims resembling twisting vines. The concealed zipper runs diagonally towards the left, dangling at her chestline below the elevated neckline and the V-Shaped colr arising from it, slightly tilted outwards at the brims to give it a flowery look whilst the high, slightly rounded indigo colrs huddled betwixt, against her neck. On the shoulders, two straps rested, slightly elevated as they shared the pagoda style with Maleern’s jacket. On her legs, a long Mermaid-style skirt stretches down, scraping the floor and hiding her feet, embroidered with brass golden honeycomb-patterns.

  The three quickly unpacked, then Leony turned at the two, with a bit contemptive looks they both find adorable. “Speak out Leony my dear.” Maleern said genially.

  “What about Nezha and Mave?” She asked out in a whisper spiced by her thick, franchoin accent.

  “They are making rounds.” Arvindel answered pinly, but Maleern noticed the worry in her whispery tone.

  “Fear not, I doubt the enemy would strike. Their aim is Penry, so those two shall be safe as long as they remain amongst the passengers.” Maleern answered, easing Leony’s worries. The leather creaked softly as Maleern touched her shoulders with care. “Stay here and focus on the Mirage System. We shall be back soon.”

  *****

  13th of September, along the snting ridges of the Sinuous Mountain.

  “Oh, the dinner was fantastic. Never thought the flesh of such, ravenous flora could taste like sweetened meat.” Night descended, and the mps embedded into the paneled roofs with glowstones, showered the hardwood floors, the white, polished walls and the golden frames of the long windows in a warm, sun golden light. Near the first turn of the S-shaped hallway, a door wide open, two women in elegant nightgowns of opulent colors and gloss talked about their dinner, oblivious to the creaks, groans, moans and whimpers just a few meters away from them.

  “I heard their stomach acids build in the flesh of their prey, and sweeten it a little.” The woman inside the cabin added, whilst Emigorn tightened his grip around the waist of the stygian, proud member of the Presidential Guard. Her moans muffled by the thick cloth drenched in a saccharine fragrant concoction pcing weights upon her already tired mind. The loung, tousled hair with feathered bangs and tips rustled, even more chaotic.

  Ten, nine, eight, seven… Emigorn continued counting in his head, around five, he loosened his grip feeling the slender form weaken, the tail which wildly shed his legs limp and dangling with its forked end, the skirt holding its root starting from between her cheeks silent, no longer soughing for help, for notice. At two, her nails parted, ceased scraping his hands covered in the pale green skin, resilient as iron, and her arms fallen with a soft creak, dangling towards the hardwood floor. Her infernal mauve eyes shut, and at st the orc assassin of the Oscurazon lifted off the cloth from her tapering vender visage.

  “Ouch.” He let out a husky groan when he leaned off from the wall, his cheeks scraped by the sharp tip of her dim horns coming forth from the top of her forehead.

  His eyes, turned towards the small orbs fitted in the ceiling’s corners, and satisfied his spell still held, peered out from the corner, still holding the unconscious stygian guard. The wild beating of his heart slow, calm returned to him when it was the gowned woman returning to her cabin neighboring her friends, instead of the seeker or adventurer wearing a sleek outfit reminiscent of the Wardens of the Grave – a group of zealous hunters of the dead and necromancers.

  Though at first sight, Emigorn felt no threat towards the petite Warden, wearing a bck leather version of the Warden’s uniform. An old stave-musketeer jacket which highlighted her bewitching form. Down the hem dangled, the center slit wide, the shoulders asymmetrical in looks, the left side having a simpler strong fre, the right altered to resemble an arrow pointing outwards with a velvety grayish bck cloak sprouting from its sharp brims and tip. The waist cinched by a lone slim buckled belt, and on top, from the elevated neckline, an open and broad, roundish colr reached up to her cheeks, thick and stiff with silvery brims and tip.

  Between them, sharp, folded down colrs stood proudly, forming sharp arches whilst buttoned down, shimmering even in the shadows with the luster of both silken and molten gss in a shade of sand golden. Down tight, slim leather pants accentuated her wiry, slender legs, boots with heightened hills and sharp toes gave her a few more centimeters. And a second belt stretched across the hem of her coat, holding weapons which stirred his senses, alerted facing the Warden of his presence was a fool’s errand.

  With her gone, the hallway empty as the hour of midnight approached with haste, Emigorn hoisted the unconscious stygian over his broad shoulders and walked out to the outer deck. Wasting no time, assured not even the assigned watcher could catch him red handed, threw her over the rails, down into the dim nature far, far below.

  His wide nostrils fred, the curtains before his beady, brass eyes shut as Emigorn tasted the chilly mountainous air. Then he gazed at the dim, yet still mesmerizing sight of Southern Eoran stretching far into the seemingly interminable distance, the grand, walled cities appearing in warm spots breaking the monotony of the nightly gloom. He rinsed the cloth still moist from the sedative concoction, a wave of heat pushing out the st, a mist dancing away before he tucked it away into his glossy, scaled suit’s breast pocket.

  Renewed by the air, Emigorn moved towards his destination, towards the fourth car specially made for VIP passengers. In this case, Penry’s cart, heavily guarded. A prospect more exciting then distressing to the orc who went against worse odds in his life. All that mattered to him is to finish off the mission before they would reach even Central Eoran, and he would earn the hefty bonus.

  Though before he could step inside, he felt cold, invisible hands seize his mind. Struggling, he tensed his muscles, whilst feeling prickly fingers in his mind, brain digging into the folds. A groan escaped his trembling lips, yet when it shut, he could watch from the deepest recess of his mind as his legs turned him around. At the rails, his palms touched the broad bulwark with even top, and climbed over, leaping after his st victim.

  “One more down.” Leony said as she ceased the spell, exhaled whilst staring at the painting of a nightly ndscape with colorful spots – swirling Fey of the night and stars.

  “Good job.” Maleern gave her a cup of warm tea, mixed with a bit of mana potion. Her lips curved with approval before she turned towards the sources of the muffled whimpers, grunts. Two cartel assassins sat on their living room’s floor, bound with silver sealing tape at their midsection, wrists wrenched behind, their mouths and eyes sealed tightly in ten yers winded around. “At the next station, we drop these off.” She added, sipping the expensive whiskey whilst looking at Mave, the petite and fiery solfrith agent who sat in the couch with arms folded, her caramel golden eyes brimming with mild frustration of not getting the chance to kill the orc.

  *****

  The train arrived early morning, when the sun set over the mountainous small town, its edifices and the station erected from the gray stactite of the mountain itself. Stepping out, carrying the two heavy, wheeled suitcases with stamps spped onto their tops imbued so only their fellow Raven Eyes could zip them open. Watching as the light lengthened over the ascending town with a single street with six or eight streets branching sideways, Mava forgot about her vengeance for Weeko and Liluruil, enjoying the moment whilst giving over the suitcase to the young feyfolk of the winter, whose pale white cheeks reddened, his eyes gazed at the youthful sun elf.

  “Thanks.” She said courteously, forcing a bewitching smile onto her well-rounded, naturally pouty and plump lips, covered in milk chocote brown lipstick, matching with the shade of her voluminous, tousled hair with choppy tips and thick, dense bangs falling like disordered curtains over her slim, straight eyebrows.

  “Where you heading?” The young staff member asked, noticing there was none else around them.

  “To Maba, heard there are undead roaming the deserts round there.” She answered, repeating the cover story she thought up, matching with her chosen, quite striking outfit.

  As they continued talking, Mava noticed a tall, pale elf someone reported seeing the night her two Sisters, friends perished. A demise which every time she thought of, boiled her blood. All three corpses were barely recognizable, their skins, flesh, garments, all melted into one horrendous sludge, their bones riddled with bck nodur growths found on the OD victims of the Oscurazon’s strongest drug in circution. She was sure, the pale Dracorith had to be the culprit, and whilst excusing herself to follow him inside the Spire where the train entered the station, she still asked his name and if he lives in the town.

  Stepping inside, a translucent bluish mist emanated and vanished around her dragonidh leather boots, loud ccks followed each of her step as her blood seared, her hand resting on her antique wand pistol with a rounder bulk. Seeing the swaying of the toilet door, she followed after Tovorn, but instead of entering in a mundane way, her body lost its texture, became a shadowy silhouette. Her palm touched the rough wall, and swirled into it as her silhouette silently exploded.

  Swimming across the wall, up to the ceiling she watched as Tovorn shook his small, fccid phallus poking through the slit of his dull pants. His loud snivel echoed across the long and wide space, one side lined with urinals, the other with the shitters behind polished gray doors of the stalls. Mava continued, halting directly above him as he reached into his suit’s inner pocket for a cigarette. At least that’s what she thought whilst slowly descending towards her, legs still in an umbral state, sunken into the gray ceiling.

  “An old trick.” He spoke up, turning his gaunt, wrinkled face towards her with a mocking smile, cigarette between his thin lips.

  A light blinded her and she fall as the spell ceased and the ceiling spit her down. “I guess he was right. But it worked out still.” He said, aiming his silenced wand pistol at the growling elf, then a small mauve bullet hit her, numbing all the muscles in her limbs, paralyzing her completely.

  He grabbed her by her boots and dragged her inside the furthest stall, sat her upon the shitter whilst rummaging inside his right inner pocket for the roll of fluorescent silver sealing tape.

  “I’ll gnll nhh hffhlm!” Before she could say anything more, Tovorn tore off an ample strip from the roll, held by his fingers, quickly and strongly applied against her lips and cheeks, catching a few strands of her hair, whilst outlining the lips beneath. Then put her limp arms into her p, wrapped around the cuffs, cinching together her wrists before curling her hands into fists, binding them into a mitten. Another loop secured them to her wiry thighs.

  Tovorn shook off his own cuffs, looked at his clock for a moment, then knowing he had ample time, continued wrapping her ankles and calves together, and against the porcein base of the shitter. Instead of wrapping her chest to the tank, he tore off several, exceedingly long strips and attached both ends to the walls, pushing and keeping Mave in pce upon the closed seating. After the fifteenth strip, Tovorn straightened out, looked satisfied and assured she could move not. Looking once more at his clock, he sighed.

  “Well, this shall hold you for long enough.” He patted her taped cheeks. “Farewell, dark warden.” And kissed her that made her almost threw up when his rancid breath hit her.

  “Rht hn fm Mndlmff Hbnff! Hll mhgm fhrm nhh gh fmrm nhh hmbmcnlm!” Ignoring her muffled grunts and threats, the creaking, squeaking melody performed by the topmost grade leather and sealing tape stirred his feeble dick whilst the tip of his index finger lit with an ethereal light whilst he drawn a silencing rune onto the stall door. The st few muffled threats ceased reaching beyond the stall, and noticing a stack of ‘Out of Commission’ papers, he glued one on the door before leaving – without his hands washed.

  *****

  “Eastern corridor is clear. Found anything here?” Fernando Grant’s deep, gravelly voice frightened the petite looking Glynnis Eynon, whose yellowish rge eyes and wide eyes with a sharp upward lift at their outer corners. Though in any other day, her superior’s voice sounded pleasant to both her upper feline contoured ears, and the rounded resting below the smoothly cascading waves of golden-brown mane reaching only an inch beyond her subtly tapering jawline.

  “Not a speck of dust Sir!” She swirled and saluted to Grant towering over her, his uniform neatly hugging his light coffee tanned and hulking form. His face squarely contoured with high, angur cheekbones, angled and strong jawline, icy blue eyes in a tender almond frame which always possessed an air of austerity, subtle hints of tenderness appeared seldom, only when Grant addressed those closest to him.

  “Good. Let’s pray this tour shall be as uneventful as the others.” He said whilst pulling his fingers through his dense blonde hair with tight curls.

  Glynnis nodded simply, returning her gaze to the busy station where at least a quarter of the passengers got off. Amongst them she focused on a peculiar girl, petite like her dressed in a leathery, bck version of the Wardens of the Grave uniform, following after what looked like a pallid Lunar Dracorith, the ugliest elf she ever gazed upon in her short life. Then her attention was drawn away from the two heading towards the toilets, a soft and muffled clinking drawn her attention to Grant’s lifting arm.

  “It is time. Let’s deactivate the runes.” She nodded after the sleeves parted back over the silenced clock, and they both entered the Penry’s luxurious, expansive quarter. Their steps echoed loudly on the tiled, white marble floors as they approached the artificial stream circling about the circur ptform upon which the canopied bed stood, the silken bnkets shuffled and Naier awoke on her husband’s bushy, scar ornated chest, her hair unbound and disheveled, flowing in soft waves and framing her sleepy face.

  “Morning!” Grant greeted the two rising upright whilst Mereddud’s log like left arm looped around Naier’s dress shirt draped waist, and gently kissed her on the temple which she responded with a kiss of her own upon his.

  “Breakfast first.” Before Grant could continue, Penry gestured his silence. “Have you two eaten yet?” They shook his head and smiled mirthfully.

  Afterword:

  And another one. A few more rounds of character introductions before stepping onto the main stage of the story, the train.

  On a small comment, I love trains, probably my favorite mode of transport after walking.

  Now some worldbuilding notes. The first the PNC. Essentially the PVC of Heleion, that was given to the Eoranians. Originally was thinking of going with gzed leather uniforms, but wanted something sexier, hence PVC but a less glossy version, to tie it into their history with the Bck Roses a little bit. Though its more of a connection to a Branch of the BR, that will feature in the end of the year story.

  On the other hand, I am expanding on the idea of magicraft vehicles modeled after fantasy or mythological monsters. A speedy train kinda resembling the feline fey of Eoran, known to be the messengers of the Archfey. Even the limousine Penry travels to the station.

  Anyhow, that is enough rambling for today. Thank you for reading this and have a nice sunday folks!

  Twitter || BlueSky || Patreon || SubscribeStar || Pixiv || Deviantart