01 - Dust and Steel

I don’t think I’ve ever been more excited about going home—and I hate traveling.
I mean, I never get much joy out of cramming myself into a Cruiser or train, headed for whatever unknown place I’m unfamiliar with in the first place. But add to that a destination of such wasteland rawness, yuk, it doesn’t suit me—not at all.

The stumbling metro continued to pierce through tunnels of darkness. The wagons itself were packed to the brim, filled with people—filled with an atmosphere, but most notably, filled with a stench. It was this bitter scent of sweat and dust, mingled together to form a disgusting type of cologne, one that seemed popular with the inhabitants of Cratos.

Now there was a lot to be said about Cratos, the old mining grounds turned wasteland capital. I didn’t like it, but a lot of people seemed to have found their forever home here, and honestly, I can see the appeal. Cratos is the kind of city where you can live whatever life you please. It is versatile, enormous, and don’t forget the abundance of sports and culture that really seems lively in this place. Yeah, that’s something even my humble hometown of Frelyon can learn from.

The darkness softly started to fade and give way to an overwhelming rain of sunlight. As the metro then gently curved in its tracks, one of Cratos’ craters—home to the district of Shadowfall—crept into sight.
Honestly, this was something I could get used to. A sight we could never match in Freylon. The crater was tall, this one appeared much more sunken than the previous crater I was staying at. I bet that’s where the name Shadowfall might come from.
The buildings here looked gorgeous, the houses more expensive and the streets looked organised and clean, like a totally different side within the same city.
What stood out to me was the beautiful university up ahead, a magnificent grand centerpiece, guarded by majestic, tall towers, climbing up over the entire crater of Shadowfall. But as I trailed the decorated towers in awe, my eyes quickly fell upon a busy hall on the other side of the crater. It looked familiar, this is where I arrived in Cratos in the first place. The busy transport hub—which gave me such culture shock on arrival—marks my last station, my farewell to Cratos, before hopping back on the rails to Freylon, back home.

With a lot of blaring screeches and hisses, the metro started slowing down. This was then followed by the pleasant sounds of a female voice, echoing through the metro:

“Next stop: —kar f’ut:”
“BUC, Business University Cratos”

Oh yeah, my mind drifted back to my presence in the metro, languages are so complicated and abundant here in the wastelands, it’s a lot less overwhelming in the south.
The first language was Gylmorian, our leading language across all Gylmorian lands. But it was followed by a language I recognised as Mo’azic, which is not a common tongue around my homelands. It’s rather a typical wasteland language that found its origins in the history of wasteland dwellers, the Mo’az.
Plenty of them still lived here, scattered all around Cratos and the wastelands as a whole.
Just eyeing around the metro, I noticed the pink tones of a fancy-dressed Mo’az woman trying desperately to keep her two children in line. This was actually someone I had noticed before, but with annoying kids like that, it’s hard to not. They were screaming, yelling, running, crying. Typical kid stuff, careless for the world around them. It’s pretty much the whole reason I never started that whole chapter in the first place.

A few seats behind them, another Mo’az face popped up, but his was a little less saturated with happiness than I noticed in the woman with her children. This man seemed almost depressed. Dressed up for a nice job I presume, suit and tie, a nice black briefcase on the side, but the joy of his life was all but present.
I guess that’s simply what life in Cratos does to you, I thought to myself as my attention shifted back outside.

The metro now calmly entered the station of “BUC”, the business university of Cratos. This station was a lovely one, one that perhaps, for a slight second, made me change my mind about Cratos. The platforms were hanging from the crater wall, leaning over what seemed like a blossoming campus. Elegant arches supported the metal tracks that, just a second ago, were only supported by natural bricks and stone in the caves connecting the craters.
The station, just like the campus, was filled with greenery. A smile formed on my face, it looked beautiful against the barren crater I had been staying at all this time. Why couldn’t my stupid company afford a place here?

Air hissed, and seconds later, the metal doors shifted to the side, making room for people to move in and out of the vehicle. I noticed a group of students hopping on to right in front of me. I set a step back and sighed as I, yet again, had to surrender a bit of personal space.
The students appeared very diverse, all slightly different from one another. I managed to point out a Kitlori girl with her big eyes and stretched body features. Her hair was pitch black, effortlessly falling over her earlobes that fell down halfway through her neck. They were beautifully decorated though, lots of rings, gems, and plenty of other shiny decorations. She was clearly not embarrassed of her genes, I’m all for that, though the jewelry was a bit much for my taste.
She was talking to a smaller boy that stood out a little more within the metro crowds. His face was pale, still barely covered in highlights of blue. His hair toned cloudy white, falling down right over the top of his neck. He was wearing shorts and a light top, but he wasn’t able to hide the sweat absolutely dripping down his sides and back.
This was a Rhyllorian, one that probably found his origins in the northernmost edges of the wastelands, a place where the sun is a lot less heavy and the temperatures are ten times more bearable. It was kind of a funny sight, seeing him all drenched in sweat, not yet having acclimated to the heat here. I bet it’s only a first year, maybe he’s already considering going back home after his first semester.

An orange light started pulsing over the doors, and with a mechanical rumble, they closed down again. My grip over the strap—hanging from the ceiling—tightened as my body slightly tumbled backwards. The metro started driving again, and with it, my attention turned back to the group of students in front of me.
The third student in the little group seemed slightly taller than the rest. I had noticed his gaze shortly drift to me, before turning his attention back to the duo in front of him. He was like me, Vargoth.
His hair was brown and curly, waving next to his folded horns down his neck. Over his cheeks ran the first messy signs of sideburns, growing down to his chin, where somewhat of a goatee already sat. His eyes were green, of course, but these were even a little greener than mine. It was almost a striking colour, which must work perfectly as a hypnotising stare.
By Xylae, I’m surprised the others weren’t lost in their enchanted eyes, even I was jealous of those.

Outside, the metro still didn’t submerge underneath the homes of Cratos’ residents. Rather, this line wrapped all the way round the walls of the crater, making the ride a little longer, but also far more enjoyable. I suppose that was the advantage of having craters as your districts, the views from above are absolutely breathtaking.

We rode along for a couple more minutes, the metro ever filled with chatter and wasteland odors, when finally, the wagon started declining. The intercity transport hub now lay directly in front of us. From my arrival here, I remember this station, in fact, being below ground, meaning we were probably making our approach to the proper station this time around.
And not long after we did submerge below the tended gardens and streets, the announcement indeed confirmed my thoughts:

“Next stop: —kar f’ut:”
“Cratos Transport Hub. Alight here for the intercity Cruiser lines. —Khaz’ ma’ja alot hr’aza’uhrz Cruiser”

Soon enough, artificial lights streamed through one side of the metro. The station was big, but I guess that’s what it’s a hub for. Large crowds were already waiting to get into the metro on the other side, while people inside of the metro also started getting up in preparation of getting off the train here.
For a second, another great sense of discomfort washed over me. I was trapped inside the masses and noises while people were stacking up behind and in front of me.
Luckily, I was close enough to the door that when the metro finally came to a halt, and the doors gently slid open, I could quickly start making my way out.

As my feet stepped outside, it was as if the whole atmosphere had changed once more. My nose was finally free from the terrible smells that continued to haunt the metro wagons. Even though the station was underground, fresh air seemed much more abundant in comparison to the vehicle I had just found myself in.
Around me, the hall came back to me, I remembered it quite well from when I first arrived here. The platform had a metro line running on both sides, with in the middle section a big staircase that led upwards. On the other side of where I had just arrived lay another platform exactly like this one. That was the metro I took last time, or at least, I think it was.

I started following the large crowds that had already started their climb up the central stairs. Upstairs, the crowds kind of split, part of them headed for the exit, or for the stations above ground. But I remembered that I needed to stay underground for the Cruiser connection back to Freylon.
The hall above opened into a typical station hall, one that was impressively large for an underground hub. The open spaces were alternated with shops popping up every now and then. Some of which were your quality brands and products, way too expensive for what you’re actually getting, but among them were also your typical customer service boxes and information points. The hall more or less continued to flow into a set of huge tunnels and platforms where the large Cruisers would depart. The sheer size of these tunnels made it so impressive. I get that the Cruisers are large, but seeing the infrastructure for them in a place like this really managed to put it into perspective for me.

I strolled along, my gaze pointed upwards, still impressed by the decorations and size of this place. Something that especially stood out was the large, golden clock, hanging from the ceiling like a chandelier, which had something majestic to it.
My inattentiveness, however, caused me to occasionally bump into an angry traveller, they all seemed to be in such a hurry here. Relax.

I halted next to a couple that were, like me, trying to find out what platform their Cruiser would be departing from. The board read some platforms of upcoming Cruisers, along with their scheduled time of departure:

“NUMIDA – PLATFORM 6 – 11:56 (+30)”
“BARECOMB – PLATFORM 1 – 12:02 (+15)”
“EBB – PLATFORM 2 – 12:15”
“FREYLON – PLATFORM 4 – 12:22”

That’s the one. Platform 4 it is.
I curiously looked back down, carefully eyeing down the tunnels and numbers attached to them. A grand ‘5’ appeared above the tunnel right in front of me, which would mean…
I turned my head ever slightly to the left, where indeed, a large ‘4’ appeared over another platform.
As I started walking again, I once again turned to the clock. This time, not to admire it—though I can’t say I wasn’t—but to read the time:
12:05, seemed like I was perfectly on time.

Even though the platform was visible from the entrance of the station hall, the walk took me longer than expected. I was now standing in front of the long-stretched tunnel, marking the platform for my ride back to Freylon. The tunnel stretched out far, but wasn’t endless.
The end of the tunnel marked just a small exit back to the surface. And it made perfect sense to me, having the Cruisers dive down just a bit below the surface. You wouldn’t wanna have these big metal trains bust directly into the city like that.

On the platform, I noticed a lot of diversity again, not only in heritage, but also in, well, everything. Both wealthy solo travellers and dressed-up families stood waiting for the Freylon Cruiser to arrive. And right as I had set foot on the platform, the light at the end of the tunnel dimmed when the Cruiser finally started making its way over.

A full-metal bullet is almost what it seemed like, built to pierce the lawless lands of the wastelands and provide safe travels for those on board. This train was an absolute unit.
It had multiple levels, which made sure that plenty of people were able to board. This was a necessity, since the Cruiser was pretty much the only viable way of traveling around these lands.

The Cruiser was already heavy on the brakes as it made its final stretch down the platform. And with blaring hisses, clangs, and screeches, the mechanical work of art finally came to a halt. I remained in awe. Though traveling might not be my passion, it was always inspiring to see what magnificent creations people could come up with.

For a second, the train kept quiet, no motion or movement. The people mirrored this behaviour as they patiently waited for the Cruiser to act. And then, as a high-pitched whistle echoed over the platform, the doors began to open.