The train station was crowded, filled to the brim with people of different origins and pasts. One of the few places where the poor and rich cohabited in this town, far from the grandeur of the capital. The smoke blocked the view of everyone walking through the station, as the growing population of smokers turned the air gray with each and every cigar.
The train was late, like usual. The system was far from perfect, and the locomotive was still in development. Who knew what the engine could look like in the future?
It was in this place that many people's lives restarted; the footsteps following the descent from the train often symbolized new beginnings or, sometimes, the end of something.
Next to the rails was a particularly interesting encounter. A man of the most ordinary kind was standing close to the fantasy of the unordinary. Both men had nothing in common; one was short, while the other was well above average in height. One had a joking, jovial expression, while the other's face remained unmoved by the scene.
One had short black hair that fell just below eye level. While the other had long, gorgeous white hair, in an attempt to mask them as best as possible from the bystanders, he wore a fur top hat on his head. His pale blue eyes masked rather well in the smoke, though the same could be said of the shorter man's devilish red eyes, slightly brighter than blood's.
One of them pulled down their sleeve, revealing a pristine wristwatch clocking at 7:47 in the morning. He seemed frustrated by the train's apparent lack of punctuality.
"Can they come even later than this? What kind of train arrives 30 minutes late?"
The tall man looked down at the complainant next to him. "That's just how it is. Nothing much we can do about it, unfortunately." His tone was calm and unwavering, like he had seen this situation numerous times.
The other's face contorted with incomprehension. "How can you think a 30-minute delay is normal!?"
"It's not, but can we do anything about it?"
The man made a "tsk" sound, then nodded, acknowledging the man's words.
"I guess you're right in some way, but I still think they're not putting in enough work; they'd better have a good excuse!" He sighed. "You're also going to Merrial, right? For work, I assume?"
"That's not quite it. I have my own reasons for going there." His answer was as vague as he seemed to be.
"Hmm, why for then?"
The white-haired man looked upwards, then down, towards the rails. "I'd prefer not to get too involved in the life of others. Remaining as a happy souvenir or as a unique encounter is enough for me."
The black-haired man observed the man's expression through the smoke, though nothing was gained from this attempt. He only looked up to the sky, hidden by the same gray air.
"I suppose I can understand the sentiment. I've been trying to start anew for a while, but it seems my past just cannot bother to stop hindering me." He made an overexaggerated gesture, perfectly matching his personality and looks; though ordinary, they were still covered by a developed fashion sense. His attire was black and simple, but had traces of extravagance, probably only limited by the setting of the train station.
"The name's Charles, if I may; What about you?" The short man asked politely, giving his name and asking for payback.
"Lazare, I hope you may achieve your dreams of a new life." His face did not scream content, nor did it seem unhappy; it just seemed like the face of a man going with the flow of time, simply responding to the questions and giving prayers to the man.
As they waited for the train to arrive at the station, someone bumped into Lazare, almost making him fall onto the train tracks.
He managed to balance himself, but still escaped death by a couple of centimeters.
"Be careful! Today's not supposed to be your last one!" The jet-haired man spoke as soon as he saw Lazare balance himself on a single leg. He didn't know what else to say to him; those were the words he found instead.
Lazare, now steady and both feet on the ground, looked back at Charles and waited for a bit, seemingly wanting to say something. "You're right, my work here is not finished; There is still something to be done." He managed to put out a slight smirk on his face, incomparable to the expressions of the man next to him, but still a significant change from his resting face.
In the distance, loud sounds grew louder and louder. Mechanical and crying at times, the train screamed its presence like no other machine. The entire train station would know of its arrival before it stopped on the tracks.
Once it did, a man began opening the multiple doors leading into the locomotive as a crowd of people surged out of the train, and three times that number followed to enter. Both men waited for the group to thin out so they could enter the vehicle more fluidly.
As soon as both did, they saw themselves going in opposite directions.
"Going there, I see." He sighed, "Well, take care of your life, you only have one, you know?" He joked before departing in his direction.
"Enjoy yours."
These final words marked the end of the conversation between the man of the most ordinary kind and the man belonging to the realm of fantasy.
"…"
The corridor was long and empty; most people had already found their seats in the scheme of the engine. Only the white-haired Lazare remained, walking towards an appropriate seat for him.
The green couch-like seats filled the view. He ended up finding one near an exit, far from the rest of the crowd. He looked at the clock in front of him, showing the hour of 8:15.
I hope they don't take too long to arrive; that would be a shame indeed. I was right to buy an early ticket for Merrial; ever since it rebecame the capital, an immense number of people have been going there.
Thankfully, the ticket wasn't too expensive; I'd feared it would be costly, but it seems they're more considerate than I thought.
Lazare adjusted his top hat and looked through the window, aimlessly.
He checked his inner and outer pockets, verifying the presence of his few belongings. Though he was moving out of the family's household, he didn't have many things to bring with him.
He pulled out a pocket watch, despite the presence of a bigger one in front of him. He opened it swiftly, revealing its contents.
The clock was the most classical, black-and-white, like any other. But its presence was accompanied by the portrait of a family; a young girl sat in the middle, her visage was uncut and unmarked, unlike the rest of it.
But Madeleine was not the person he was looking at. No, his gaze was on the little boy next to him, his face scratched from the portrait, as if done purposefully.
How long will it take me…
To find you.
"…"
The train arrived at its destination, the sky was sunnier, and the cathedral's bell rang for the ninth time of the day. The believers were on their knees before the azure height of the holy sanctum.
Lazare adjusted his hat under the sun, protecting his pale skin from the ravaging shine of the sun above the land.
He once again patted the inner and outer pockets of his clothes, starting with the outer coat he wore, black and regal, utter contrast to the fairness of his skin and the snow of his barnet.
Under the new ruling of an Emperor, the newfound capital, the ancient ex-capital of the Northern Continent, found back its solace as the head palace of the nation.
Merrial was a place of opportunities.
Lazare was neither a man of fate nor faith. He believed in seizing the chances in front of him. Nothing good would come from being passive behind a closet, awaiting the flow of time to act, only hope guiding the blind.
This land was the one that gave him the greatest hope for his most cherished outcome. His heart wished for his eyes to land on the man he was looking for; he hoped Madeleine's brother would just come to him, but Fate was not so kind as to do such things.
He wondered how long it would take him to find the man he was looking for.