Sael stood on the railroad tracks, staring down at the fat leather bag in his hands.
One hundred Dracos.
One gold ingot, actually. Worth one hundred Dracos. Stamped with a lowercase "d" bisected by a single vertical line, the official mark of the draco. The guard captain had apologized about not having a dimensional bag at the station, said this leather pouch was the most practical solution for transporting a single ingot.
Sael hefted it. It was satisfyingly heavy. Real wealth. The sort that could buy a house, or fund a small business, or keep a family comfortable for four to five years.
Greed, it appeared, was thankfully still present in him.
Since he seldom felt any excitement these days, perhaps he should cling to this greed. Nurture it. Let it grow into something properly obsessive.
Then again, maybe that's exactly how dragons became so hard to bear with. Started with one satisfying piece of gold and ended up sleeping on hoards, burning villages that looked at their treasure funny.
Sael had always been warned about that by his mother. She'd been very firm on the subject. Wanting more than you need invites unnecessary complications, she'd say while skinning whatever monster Sael had killed that morning. Value knowledge. Value strength. Possessions are replaceable.
Sensible advice from a woman who'd raised him alone on the continent of Hel, where the monsters were mean and the landscape was meaner.
He'd heed it.
But in this case—standing here with a bag of gold he'd earned by stopping a murderer—he was relieved that even without needing most human comforts anymore, he still liked money.
A silly thing to cling to, perhaps, but it grounded him.
Sael let out a slow breath, letting the weight of the bag settle in his palm one more time.
Then he looked up.
And became suddenly, uncomfortably aware of his surroundings.
The railroad stretched in both directions, cutting through what had once been forest and was now... not quite forest anymore. The trees had been pushed back to make room for the tracks, leaving a wide corridor of cleared land. Stumps dotted the edges. Brush had started to reclaim some of it, but not much. The soil was dry. Packed. The sort of ground that had been walked on by construction crews and hadn't recovered.
No buildings in sight. No people. Just the rails, the sky, and the distant tree line on either side.
Sael turned in a slow circle.
Nothing.
Which was fine. He'd teleported here on purpose. Picked a spot far enough ahead of the train that he could intercept it. The isolation was intentional.
Still.
Monsters generally avoided populated areas. Cities, towns, anywhere with enough foot traffic to make hunting inconvenient. But places like this—transitional zones, edges of civilization, corridors carved through wilderness—these were exactly the sort of spots where things with teeth and hunger liked to lurk.
Not as much as before, probably. This used to be deeper forest. Now it was a railroad. The construction would have driven most creatures away. The regular passage of trains would keep them cautious.
But still.
Sael's eyes moved along the tree line. Checked the shadows between the trunks. Force of habit.
Nothing moved.
He looked down at the bag of gold again.
When would the train arrive? He'd calculated the timing, but calculations were approximations. Could be ten minutes. Could be twenty. Could be five.
He should have asked for a more precise schedule.
Or he could buy a watch.
The thought surfaced unexpectedly. A watch. An expensive one. He'd been thinking about that for—what, ten years now? Ever since watches became more sophisticated. There was this brand out of the northern territories that had started incorporating minor enchantments. Time-keeping was accurate to the second. The faces were beautiful. Crystal and silver and tiny etched runes that glowed faintly at night.
He'd seen one in a shop window in Verath. Hadn't bought it because he told himself he didn't need it.
But with a hundred Dracos in his hand—
A sound.
Behind him.
Sael's head turned.
It wasn't a loud sound, or even a close one. But his hearing had been enhanced decades ago, and distance meant less than it used to. What reached his ears was... voices.
Not human ones.
High-pitched. Guttural. The consonants were wrong, the vowels stretched in unfamiliar ways. Goblin speech. He recognized the cadence even before he recognized the words.
And from the increasingly frustrated shouts, the rising pitch of what sounded like anger—
They were fighting.
Sael turned fully.
The tree line was maybe sixty meters away. There was movement in the underbrush. Shapes. Small ones. Green-gray skin visible through gaps in the foliage.
He counted. One, two, three... five. Five goblins.
One of them was larger than the others. Not by much—still small by human standards, barely chest-height on an average man—but noticeably bigger than its companions. More muscular. It had its hands wrapped around the throat of a smaller goblin and was shaking the creature violently while the other three tried to pry them apart.
The smaller goblin's legs kicked uselessly. Its hands clawed at the larger one's wrists.
The three in the middle were shouting. Pulling. Accomplishing nothing.
Sael watched.
The struggle continued for another few seconds. Then one of the three gave up on pulling and bit the larger goblin's arm instead.
That worked.
The larger goblin released its grip with a yelp, spinning to cuff the biter across the head. The strangled goblin collapsed to the ground, gasping. The other two scrambled backward.
And then one of them looked up.
Saw Sael.
Froze.
The others followed its gaze.
Five pairs of yellow eyes fixed on him.
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then the largest goblin hissed.
It was a sharp, aggressive sound. A warning.
The others joined in. A chorus of hisses, rising in pitch, overlapping. Threat displays. Territorial aggression.
"Hmm."
This was a hmm of mild displeasure. Sael had been having a reasonably pleasant moment of introspection. The greed. The memories of his mother. The contemplation of buying a nice watch. And now this.
How rude of them.
The goblins seemed to take his lack of reaction as an invitation. Or perhaps a sign of weakness. They emerged from the underbrush in a loose group, the larger one in front. They were armed. Crude knives, mostly. One had a sharpened stick. Another had what looked like a broken bottle tied to a length of cord.
They approached in a way that was probably meant to be intimidating. Spread out. Low to the ground. Making themselves look bigger than they were.
The largest one stopped about ten meters away.
It pointed a knife at Sael.
"Give," it said.
Sael blinked.
The goblin's voice was rough. Gravelly. The word came out mangled, the "v" more of a "b," the whole thing compressed into a single harsh syllable. But it was, unmistakably, a word.
A human word.
"Give," the goblin repeated, jabbing the knife toward the bag in Sael's hand. "Gold. Give."
Sael stared at it.
"You can talk?" he said.
The goblins looked at each other.
Then back at Sael.
The largest one's expression shifted. Its brow furrowed. The hissing stopped.
"Talk?" it said. The word was incredulous. Offended, even. "Yes talk. Why not talk?"
"We talk," one of the smaller ones added, its voice higher and faster. "We talk good. You think we stupid?"
"We not stupid," another one said.
"Stupid human," the first small one muttered.
"Think we animals," the one with the broken bottle said bitterly. "Think we no words."
"Rude," said the strangled one, who had apparently recovered enough to join the conversation. Its voice was hoarse. "Very rude."
Sael raised a hand.
"I apologize," he said. "That was not my intention. It's just—goblins generally do not live around humans long enough to learn their language. That's why I was surprised. I meant no offense."
The goblins processed this.
There was a brief silence.
The largest one lowered its knife slightly. Its expression was still suspicious, but the raw hostility had faded into something more like wariness.
"Humans kill us," it said. "Chase us. Burn homes. Not live near. Not choice."
"Fair point," Sael said.
More silence.
The goblin with the hoarse voice rubbed its throat and glared at the larger one, who ignored it.
Sael looked at the group. The knives. The aggressive postures that hadn't quite relaxed. The bag of gold still visible in his hand.
"Are you trying to rob me?" he asked.
The goblins exchanged glances again.
"Yes," the largest one said.
"...Why?"
The largest goblin gestured at Sael's hand with its knife.
"See gold," it said. "Want gold."
Sael considered this.
"Well," he said. "That's logical."
The goblins seemed momentarily thrown by the agreement. The one with the broken bottle lowered it slightly.
"Why not work for it?" Sael asked.
"Work?"
"For the gold. Instead of taking it."
The goblins exchanged glances. This was apparently a complicated question.
"Work is..." The largest one searched for the word. "Hard."
"Robbing also seems hard," Sael pointed out. "You were strangling each other when I first saw you."
"That different," the large one said quickly. "That was... disagreement."
"About what?"
"Who gets biggest share."
"Ah." Sael nodded. "So you haven't actually robbed me yet, but you're already fighting over how to divide the spoils."
Silence.
"We still figuring out," one of the smaller ones muttered.
Sael shifted his weight. He considered setting the bag down—it would free up his hands—but that seemed like it would send the wrong message.
"Are you usually bandits?" he asked. "Is this your profession?"
"Fifth time," the largest one said. There was a note of pride in its voice.
"Fifth time robbing someone?"
"Fifth time trying."
"...Trying?"
"Yes."
Sael waited.
The goblins did not elaborate.
"And the previous four times?" he prompted.
"Did not work," the largest one admitted.
"What happened?"
Another round of glances. The one with the hoarse voice rubbed its throat again and looked away.
"First time," the largest one said, "we try to kill bear. Sell fur in town."
"That's not robbing. That's hunting."
"Bear too big. Bear chase us. We run. Grik fall in river." It pointed at one of the smaller goblins, who was indeed slightly damp-looking now that Sael looked more closely. "Almost drown. No fur. No gold."
"I see."
"Second time, we find dead deer. Already dead. Very lucky. We take to town to sell meat."
"And?"
"Humans say meat is rotten. Say we poisoned it. Chase us out. Throw rocks." The goblin's voice turned bitter. "Deer was fine. Humans just mean."
"Third time?"
"We try to steal from adventurers."
Sael's eyebrows rose.
"They were sleeping," the largest one said defensively. "Very quiet. Very careful. Nix here—" it gestured at the strangled one "—he knows how to be sneaky. Grew up with humans."
The strangled goblin—Nix, apparently—nodded. Still rubbing its throat.
"What went wrong?"
"Adventurer had dog."
"Ah."
"Dog was not sleeping. Dog bit Grik." Another gesture at the damp goblin, who now looked both damp and offended. "Adventurers woke up. They had swords. We ran."
"And the fourth time?"
The goblins went very quiet.
"Fourth time," the largest one said slowly, "we find man on road. Alone. No guards. Very small. We think, easy. We approach. We say, 'give gold.' Very scary. Very threatening."
"What happened?"
"Man was wizard."
"Ah."
"Set Tograk on fire." The goblin pointed at another of the smaller ones, who did, now that Sael examined it, have patches of fur that looked singed. "We ran. Again."
Sael looked at the group.
Five goblins. One half-drowned, one bitten, one burned, one strangled, and one who was apparently the brains of the operation despite having a track record of leading them into disasters.
"That's a lot of running," he said.
"We very fast," the largest one said. "Good at running. Running is easy."
"The robbing less so."
"Robbing is..." The goblin searched for words again. "...learning."
"You've been learning for a while."
"We get better." It sounded almost hopeful. "Each time, less fire. Less biting. Less drowning."
"The strangling seemed new."
The goblin's expression darkened. It shot a glare at Nix. "That was Nix fault. Nix say we split five ways. But Nix also say he gets extra because he does the talking. That not five ways. That cheating."
"I do talking!" Nix protested. Its voice was raspy. "Talking is hard! You try talking to humans! They look at you like you are bug!"
"You want extra for talking, then I want extra for fighting!"
"You don't fight! You just stand there and look big!"
"I am big! That is contribution!"
Sael watched the argument escalate. The other three goblins were trying to stay out of it, which meant edging slowly backward while keeping their weapons raised in case things turned violent again.
This is a mess.
"Wait," he said.
The goblins paused.
"You said you wanted to leave the forest. That's why you need money?"
The group fell silent. The anger drained out of the largest one's face, replaced by something more complicated.
"Forest is..." It hesitated. "Forest is bad now. Many monsters. More than before. We used to have cave. Good cave. Safe. Then bigger monsters come. Take cave. We have to find new place. Then more monsters come. Take new place. Now we sleep in trees. Not safe. Not warm. We want to go somewhere else. Somewhere with walls."
"Humans have walls," Nix added. "Humans live inside walls. Monsters don't go inside walls. Walls are good."
"But humans not let us in," the largest one said. "Nix told us. Humans want money. Everything cost money. Food. Shelter. Safety. All money."
Sael looked at Nix.
"So, you really did grow up among humans."
Nix's yellow eyes flickered.
"Yes," it said. "In town. Worked for butcher. Carried things. Cleaned floor. Ate scraps."
"You had a job."
"Was slave." The word came out flat. "Butcher bought me from trader. Kept me in back room. Beat me when I was slow. Beat me when I was fast. Beat me when I looked at him wrong."
"So you ran away?"
"Bit his hand when he sleep. Then ran." Nix's expression was hard to read. "Found others in forest. They not know about human things. I teach them. Money. Words. How towns work."
Sael was quiet for a moment.
That explains how wild goblins know about currency.
"If it's your fifth time, though," he said, "shouldn't you have enough gold by now? Even a little?"
"We never get gold," the largest one said.
"Never?"
"Never."
"You've tried five times and earned nothing?"
"Bear chase us. Deer rejected. Adventurers had dog. Wizard had fire." The goblin ticked them off on its fingers. "And now you."
"You haven't robbed me yet."
"We trying." The goblin's voice was patient, as if explaining something obvious. "You ask many questions. Very distracting."
Sael almost laughed. This was a good pass-time.
"What about other prey?" he asked. "Other travelers?"
"This first road we find," the largest one admitted. "Forest is big. We walk for many days. Find this." It gestured at the railroad tracks. "Nix say wait here. Rich people come on..." It frowned. "What word?"
"Iron-snake," Nix supplied.
"Iron-snake." The largest one nodded. "Rich people ride iron-snake. They have gold. We wait. We take."
"You've been waiting here for the train?"
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Three days."
Sael stared at them.
"You've been waiting beside railroad tracks for three days?"
"Iron-snake not come yet," the largest one said. "But it will. Nix promise."
Nix shifted uncomfortably. "It supposed to come. I see it once, when I live in town. Comes every few days. Very loud. Very big. Full of humans with bags."
"And you've been living in the bushes this whole time?"
"Trees," the goblin corrected. "We sleep in trees. Safer."
"For three days."
"Yes."
Sael looked at the group. The damp one. The bitten one. The burned one. The strangled one. And the one who'd been leading them on this disaster of an expedition because he'd once seen a train from a distance.
These might be the most incompetent bandits in the continent.
"Look," he said. "I appreciate the effort you've put into this. But I'm not giving you my gold. I earned this money. It's mine."
The largest goblin's expression shifted.
Something harder came into its eyes.
"Then we take."
It stepped forward. Raised its knife.
The other goblins hesitated behind it. The burned one and the bitten one exchanged uncertain looks. Nix's eyes darted between Sael and the largest goblin, calculating something.
"Grokk," Nix said. "Maybe we—"
"No." The largest one—Grokk, apparently—cut him off. "No more talking. No more waiting. We take. Now."
"He's very calm," one of the smaller goblins muttered. "Humans usually scared by now."
"Maybe he stupid," Grokk said. "Stupid humans easier."
"He doesn't look stupid."
"Shut up." Grokk advanced another step. His grip on the knife tightened. "Give gold. Now. Before iron-snake comes. We go before it gets here. Easy. No one hurt."
Sael didn't move.
The smaller goblins shifted nervously behind Grokk. The burned one was actually lowering its weapon.
"Grokk," Nix tried again. "Something not right. He not scared. Why he not scared?"
"Because he stupid."
"He not look—"
"I said shut up!" Grokk spun to face Nix. "You always talk! Talk, talk, talk! You say wait for iron-snake, we wait! You say this is good spot, we stay! Three days! No food! Tograk almost eaten by wolf last night! Now there is human with gold, right here, and you want to talk more?"
"I just think—"
"You think too much!" Grokk's voice rose. "I am done thinking! I am done waiting! I am done listening to you!"
The other goblins were backing away now. The burned one had definitely lowered its weapon. The bitten one looked ready to bolt.
Sael watched Grokk's tantrum with a growing sense of clarity.
Ah.
There it is.
The problem wasn't the goblins. The problem wasn't even that they were bandits—terrible ones, clearly, but bandits nonetheless. The problem wasn't Nix, who seemed to be the only one with any practical experience but also seemed to have led them into a three-day stakeout of an intermittent train route.
The problem was Grokk.
Grokk, who was bigger than the others. Stronger. More aggressive. Who had been strangling Nix when Sael first saw them. Who shouted down anyone who disagreed with him. Who was now working himself into a fury because things weren't going the way he wanted.
Sael had seen this before. Many times.
A group of otherwise reasonable creatures, made unreasonable by a single bad leader.
Grokk turned back to face Sael. His face was twisted with frustration. His knife hand was shaking.
Not with fear.
With anger.
"Last chance," Grokk growled. "Give. Or I take."
Behind him, the other four goblins looked miserable.
Grokk charged.
It was, Sael had to admit, a committed charge. The goblin put its whole body into it, knife raised, teeth bared, a raspy war cry tearing from its throat.
The knife came down on Sael's arm.
There was a dull thunk.
Grokk stared.
Sael looked down at where the blade had made contact. His sleeve wasn't even torn.
"Huh," Grokk said.
He tried again. Harder this time. A real swing, putting his shoulder into it.
The knife shattered.
Pieces of rusted metal scattered across the ground. Grokk was left holding a wooden handle with a jagged stub where the blade used to be.
The other goblins went very still.
Grokk's yellow eyes traveled slowly from the broken handle to Sael's face. The anger drained out of him like water from a cracked pot, replaced by something more primal.
Fear.
There was a particular thing about goblins that most people learned eventually, if they spent enough time around them. They were not stupid creatures—not truly—but they understood the world in simple, immediate terms. Hierarchy. Strength. Pain.
The best way to make a goblin understand something was usually to show them you could hurt them.
"You're the leader," Sael said. It wasn't a question. "Yes?"
Grokk nodded. The motion was jerky. His eyes kept flicking to his broken knife.
"You're no longer the leader."
Grokk opened his mouth. Closed it. Nodded again.
Sael looked past him to where Nix stood frozen, bottle still clutched in one hand.
"You. Come here."
Nix's eyes went wide. It glanced at Grokk, at the other goblins, then back at Sael. Slowly, as if expecting a trap, it shuffled forward.
Sael was already reaching into his bag—his actual bag, the dimensional one, not the sack of gold—and rummaging through its contents. His fingers passed over artifacts, spare clothes, an expired potion he really should throw away, several items he'd forgotten he owned...
"Ah."
He pulled out a thin bronze bracelet, unadorned except for a faint etching around its circumference.
Nix flinched when Sael reached for its wrist, but didn't pull away. The bracelet clicked into place.
Sael watched the goblin's information shift in his vision.
Level 4 flickered, shuddered, and reformed.
Level 35.
"That's a Band of the Lesser Titan," Sael said. "Multiplies the wearer's level by approximately nine times, give or take. Nix is now the strongest goblin here by a significant margin."
Nix stared at its wrist. Then at its hands. Then at Grokk, who had gone a very pale shade of green.
"You feel that?" Sael asked.
Nix nodded slowly. Its posture had already changed. Straighter. More solid.
Sael went back to rummaging. The potion really did need to go. He pushed it aside and kept searching.
"There's a forest called the Verdant Hollow," he said. "About two weeks travel northeast of here, if you move quickly."
His fingers found paper.
"Ah."
He pulled out a folded map, slightly crumpled, and handed it to Nix.
"I trust you can read this?"
Nix unfolded it carefully. Its eyes moved across the markings.
"Yes."
"Good. Go there. Find the Turtle King—his name is Mossback, you'll know him when you see him, he's very large and very slow—and show him that bracelet. Tell him Sael sent you."
Nix looked up. "Sael?"
"That's me."
"Why would turtle king help us?"
"Because I helped him once, and he has a long memory." Sael shrugged. "There are other goblins there already. Living in the forest. Not robbing people. Not getting chased by dogs or set on fire or drowned in rivers."
The other goblins had crept closer during this exchange. Even Grokk, though he kept his distance from Nix now, eyeing the bracelet with something between fear and resentment.
"You could live there," Sael continued. "In peace. With walls, of a sort. Mossback's territory is well-protected."
"Why?" Nix asked.
"Why what?"
"Why help us? We try to rob you."
"You were very bad at it," Sael said. "And you would eventually die. Probably soon. And painfully. This seemed like less of a waste."
Nix was quiet for a long moment. Then it folded the map carefully and tucked it into a pouch at its belt.
"We go," it said. It turned to the others. "We go now."
The goblins gathered themselves. Grokk hesitated, shot one last look at Sael, then fell into line behind Nix. They started toward the treeline.
"Wait."
They stopped.
Sael looked at the sack of gold in his hand. His grip tightened on it for a moment. Then, with a sharp motion, he tossed it.
Nix caught it, almost fumbling.
"Travel expenses," Sael said. "Roads are dangerous. Inns are expensive. Try not to get robbed."
Nix stared at the bag. Then at Sael.
"Thank you," it said. The words came out rough, like they weren't used often. "We will not forget."
The goblins disappeared into the trees.
Sael watched them go.
His hand was still open from the throw. He closed it slowly into a fist.
The watch could wait. He didn't really need the money, he could make double that in a day if he took hunting jobs. It was fine. It was the right thing to do.
And yet.
He still wanted it.
The wanting was sharper now than it had been earlier. The greed was getting stronger, feeding on each denial, growing teeth.
Sael smiled.
Good.
Very good.
It really did ground him.
Speaking of which, the ground suddenly vibrated under his boots, cutting through his thoughts.
Subtle at first. Just a faint tremor that might have been mistaken for wind or imagination.
Then stronger.
The rails beside him began to hum. A low, resonant tone that built steadily into something almost musical. Small stones on the railroad bed started to shift, rattling against each other.
The train was coming.
Sael tucked his personal coin purse into his [Inventory]. Significantly lighter now than it had been this morning. The bag vanished with the usual shimmer.
He turned to face the direction the vibration was coming from.
After signing the documents to retrieve the bounty money, the train had already left. The guards had been apologetic about it, but not apologetic enough to delay departure. Schedules were schedules, apparently. Very important. The whole system would collapse if trains just waited around for people.
So he'd teleported.
Now that he thought about it, teleporting directly to Orlys and meeting Ilsa and Orion there would have taken about the same amount of time. Maybe less.
Oh well.
He needed social practice anyway. And the young ones were interesting enough. Ilsa was Bushy Brows' descendant, which made her relevant to his interests whether he wanted to admit it or not. And Orion clearly knew who Sael was, which was either going to be endearing or exhausting.
Probably both.
The vibration grew stronger. The rails were singing now, a clear note that resonated through the air.
Then he saw it.
A dark shape in the distance, growing rapidly larger. The train.
The shape resolved into details. Sleek blue-and-silver cars. The pointed nose of the engine. Windows reflecting sunlight in bright flashes.
And at the front, visible even from this distance—the conductor.
The man was leaning out of the engine car's side window, arm waving frantically. His face was twisted in panic.
He was blowing the whistle. Sharp. Repeated. Desperate.
Sael looked down at himself, then at the tracks he was standing on.
Ah. Right.
From the conductor's perspective, there was a lunatic standing in the middle of the railroad, directly in the path of a train that couldn't stop in time even if it tried.
"[Invisibility]."
The spell settled over him. At least now the man wouldn't have to live with the memory of watching someone get obliterated by several tons of enchanted metal moving at speed.
The train was close now. Maybe half a mile out.
"[Search]."
The spell unfurled like a net, expanding outward in a sphere. One mile radius. Within that range, he could locate specific mana signatures if he knew what he was looking for.
He filtered through the ambient noise. Dozens of people on board.
There.
Ilsa's signature was sharp and controlled, like a blade kept in good condition. Combat training did that.
Orion's was messier.
They were in the same car. Third from the front.
Quarter mile. The ground shook hard enough that Sael had to shift his weight to stay balanced.
The conductor had given up on the whistle and was just bracing himself, eyes squeezed shut.
Sael locked onto both signatures.
"[Blink]."
The world stuttered.
One moment he was standing on the tracks with a train bearing down on him.
The next moment he was standing in a cabin.
Small space. Wooden paneling. Two cushioned benches facing each other. A window showing the countryside blurring past.
And two very startled young people.
Ilsa had her sword halfway out of its sheath. Orion had jumped so hard he'd hit his head on the luggage rack and was now clutching his skull while his other hand reached for a spell that wasn't forming.
Sael canceled the invisibility and pulled back his hood.
"Hello," he said.
Silence.
"The train left without me. So I followed the tracks and boarded while it was moving." He paused. "I tracked you by your mana signatures. Memorized them earlier."
Both of them made faces that made Sael reconsider what he'd just said.
Perhaps knowing you could be found easily by a high-level mage wherever you were, just because they'd memorized your mana signature, was not a comforting thing to tell people.
Social skills. He was working on those.
Ilsa slid her sword back into its sheath slowly. "We were about to apologize for drawing weapons on you."
"You had good reason," Sael said. "Unannounced teleportation is generally considered rude."
"Is it?" Orion said faintly, still rubbing his head. "Now that I think about it… you could've just met us in Orlys." He blinked, dazed. "You could teleport there directly, right, sir?"
"I could have," Sael agreed.
Both of them waited for him to elaborate.
He didn't.
Instead, Sael gestured to the empty bench across from Ilsa. "May I sit?"
"Of course," Ilsa said quickly, like remembering her manners. "Please."
Sael sat down. The bench was comfortable. Well-cushioned. The cabin itself was nicer than he'd expected. Polished wood paneling. Brass fixtures. A small table between the benches. The window showed the countryside blurring past at impressive speed, trees and fields and the occasional building reduced to streaks of color.
Good enchantments on this train. The ride was smooth despite the velocity. Barely any vibration at all.
There was a knock at the door.
All three of them turned to look at it.
The door slid open, and an elderly man in a crisp uniform stepped inside. He was carrying a tray. A teapot, cups, a small coffee service, and a tiered stand with what looked like pastries and small sandwiches. The man's expression was pleasantly neutral, like he'd seen stranger things than a hooded figure materializing in a passenger cabin.
Or maybe he just hadn't noticed.
"Your order, miss," the man said, setting the tray on the small table. "Tea, coffee, and the afternoon selection. Will there be anything else?"
Ilsa glanced at Sael, who said he was fine, then back at the attendant. "No, thank you. This is perfect."
The man nodded, stepped back out into the corridor, and slid the door closed behind him.
Ilsa poured tea while Orion went for the coffee. The pastries were arranged with unnecessary precision on the tiered stand. Small sandwiches on the bottom. Scones with cream and jam in the middle. Delicate cookies dusted with sugar on top.
They talked about smaller things after that as the sun moved across the sky. The countryside shifted from fields to hills to towns that passed in blurs.
Around the eighth hour, Ilsa and Orion started to fade. Which made sense. They'd had a long day. Ilsa tried to stay awake, blinking slowly over her teacup, but lost the fight within twenty minutes. Orion didn't even try. He stretched out on his bench and was asleep almost immediately.
Sael meditated instead. He closed his eyes and focused inward. Checked his mana flow. Adjusted minor inefficiencies in his casting framework. Let time pass.
The night went by. The sun rose. The landscape changed. Hills became forests became farmland became villages.
Buildings grew more frequent. Closer together. Taller.
Ilsa woke first, blinking at the sunlight. Orion woke less gracefully, jerking awake and groaning into his coat.
The city was visible now. Orlys sprawled across the landscape like something that had grown rather than been built. Tall stone buildings. Narrow winding streets. And on a hill in the distance, the massive structure of the Astra Academy glowing faintly with enchantments.
The train began to slow.
The station came into view. A cathedral of glass and iron. The roof arched overhead in sweeping curves. Platforms stretched in both directions.
The train pulled in. Slowed. Stopped.
The sudden stillness was jarring.
Sael stood. Ilsa and Orion gathered their things. The door slid open magically.
They stepped out onto the platform. The station was even more impressive from inside. Glass roof scattering sunlight. Air smelling like coal smoke and coffee and something sweet from a vendor's cart. People moving in every direction. Organized chaos.
"We're here," Ilsa said.
Sael adjusted his clothes. "Let us go find that professor, then."