The station wasn't much more than a weather-stained platform with a half-collapsed roof, the kind of place that rattled in the wind. A single light flickered above the ticket machine, buzzing faintly.
Lucen shoved his hands into his coat pockets. "You think the train'll even bother stopping here?"
"It's on the route," Varik said, stepping up onto the platform. He leaned one shoulder against a support beam, posture loose but balanced. "They always stop."
The breeze carried the smell of wet earth and old metal from the tracks. Somewhere in the distance, a bird let out a hollow, rasping call.
Lucen was about to comment on the silence when voices drifted up the stairs from the far end. Four people emerged, a squad, judging from the matching dark-blue jackets. Their gear looked expensive but lightly used. One carried a bow slung over his back, another had twin short swords strapped across her hips.
