Casia was hurried off the train by a station attendant, still clutching several thick books. He checked every car from the first to the last, but there was no sign of Nor in any of them.
He stood bewildered in front of the Imperial Express, surrounded by a crowded throng of people from all over the Empire, all gazing in awe at the towering steel-city of Manoma. The nobles and wealthy merchants had already departed in their various ceremonial carriages.
Everyone arrived in Manoma wearing smiles of happiness and amazement, full of ambition and pride. Only Casia felt as if a sharp knife had cut a piece out of his heart, leaving him filled with a profound sense of loss. He felt like a small abandoned kitten standing in a black, stormy night with no lights, only the fleeting lightning illuminating hidden corners. Cold, hungry, tears streaming silently, the fully loaded handgun he held close—already warmed by his own body—offered no comfort or security.
Cold sweat streamed down his forehead. His heart raced with unease.
"Excuse me, have you seen a girl…?"
"Sir, did you see a lone girl…?"
"Sir, sitting here, have you noticed a lone girl with pale golden hair, like this…?"
The afternoon passed. The Imperial Express slowly departed, yet there was still not a single clue of the little girl.
People merely cupped their hands around their mouths, exhaling hot breaths, shaking their heads in confusion.
"No."
"Nothing."
It was as if he had returned to the moment he first asked Nor her name.
"What is your name?"
"Nor." The repeated answer. Back then, he had also been impatient.
But when he thought of the girl's clear black eyes, filled with trust and dependence, Casia felt nothing but a soft tenderness, like a big cat caring for a small one.
The sun of the day had yet to rise fully and was already beginning to sink slowly.
It wasn't that Nor had left—it was that he had been abandoned. The thought struck him suddenly, out of nowhere, and a deeper, inexplicable wave of emotion surged within him. It felt as if the trajectory of his life had once again been forcibly rerouted.
"Hey, brother, if you don't hurry, it'll be too late!" someone called nearby.
Casia looked over. The speaker was young, sun-darkened, lean yet wiry, with a bright smile.
"You're heading to the Imperial Heavy Industry School, right? I noticed you earlier when I was recruiting. You stand out, and after a few looks, I saw your acceptance letter. If you don't leave soon, you'll miss registration. These schools in Manoma don't accept late students. The day's nearly over. I'm heading back to western Manoma anyway, but I'll give you a deal—fifty Sancti coins."
Casia remained dazed, silent. The young man continued: "Brother, I can see you're no noble or merchant. You're a commoner. How about forty? Come on, get in. The ride starts immediately. My carriage is as fast as the wind, safe, no overturns. I can take you straight to the entrance of the Imperial Heavy Industry School. I've taken many people like you every year—they all said it was great!"
"Come! Come! I'll help you with your luggage." The driver's enthusiasm was fiery. Casia's chest ached, a lump of sadness forming, but he buried thoughts of Nor deep inside, focusing on his ultimate purpose in coming to Manoma.
The carriage was simple—no roof, no padded seats, not even a full frame. Only a basic mechanical skeleton reinforced with thick steel plates, on which simple wooden benches were affixed with iron nails.
"Don't mind the looks, kid. The ride's excellent! You can ask any veteran here—my car's solid, reliable, and the service is top-notch."
Lemmer scanned the surroundings. "Those fancy carriages calling everyone 'honorable sir and madam'? Most of them curse you silently if you're not a noble. I've seen it."
He patted his chest, then opened the various steam valves on the "driver's seat," if it could even be called that. A plume of thick steam puffed from the rear as four rubber wheels rolled onto the smooth road paved with steel and concrete, heading toward the steel jungle beyond the station.
In the station's VIP room, a girl quietly stood on an incensewood table to make up for her height, watching the bustling platform below. Behind her, a line of attendants in black top hats and high-collared coats stood silently, their faces hidden in dim light. Under the coats, their clothing was simple, hands in pale gloves, black boots dulled to prevent reflection.
The door opened silently, and two more attendants in similar attire entered, carrying several bulging black plastic bags. No human warmth or sound accompanied them; even their footsteps on the oak floor were impossibly silent.
"Captain Elinor, Valoca's group has completed the school notification tasks," they said respectfully. "Do you require inspection, Captain?"
"No need. Throw them into the furnace," the girl said, her gaze still fixed on the flowing crowds outside. Her eyes sparkled again, like a night sky full of stars.
The steam locomotive departed, swallowed by the towering steel city.
"Return. I no longer wish to be a tool. I will overthrow the current head of the Chirande family, my father Tovillest Chirande, and reorganize the council of elders. There is much work to do, and you will be very busy," the girl said, her voice commanding. She lightly jumped off the table. The shadowed black-clad figures behind her, a heap of warlike implements, silently vanished into the bustling cityscape.
Manoma was a steel rose of bolts and rivets, a marble-domed forest of industrial marvels. Under the genius of countless designers and artists, combined with architects' skillful hands and the unmatched power of steam, the city seemed like a pair of twins, perfectly synchronized.
The towering structures made the city feel perpetually night. High-pressure mercury lamps flickered on along the streets, neon and small decorative bulbs adorned billboards, casting seductive colors like a woman in full stage makeup. Even though electricity was ubiquitous, steam pipes could still be glimpsed through open windows.
For Casia, this was the first time seeing such a city. In the small town at the foot of the Lilac Mountains, the grandest building was the cathedral visited once every New Year—a stark contrast to this forest of buildings.
Casia looked up at the new world he would soon inhabit. His sense of loss softened slightly.
Lemmer noticed his improved mood and adjusted the steam throttle, slowing the train.
"Don't be amazed yet. This is just the outer layer. There's a transitional city layer inside, and the core of Manoma is even deeper. I'd take you there if my car could manage it. My driving? Exceptional!" Lemmer held the simple welded iron steering wheel with determination.
"Yes, of course," Casia said, lifting his head, streets rushing past on either side.
By the time they arrived at the Imperial Heavy Industry School, night had fully fallen.
The square before the school teemed with vehicles—nobles, merchants, soldiers, and ordinary citizens mixed together. Some were accompanied by parents; many, like Casia, were alone. Students rushing to register filled the vast plaza under bright lights, a throng of moving silhouettes.
"Brother, we've arrived. Congratulations on your future endeavors," Lemmer said, pointing to the enormous plaza.
"Thank you," the boy said, holding his books tightly, descending from the carriage into a mix of horn blasts and hissing steam.
His luggage was gone; only a few pens and his stack of books remained. The expensive tuition had already been deceitfully taken by the train's managing officer. Casia had paid Lemmer forty Sancti coins for the ride, leaving just enough for a few days' bread.
Where should I go now? Casia wondered, clutching his books against the slit in his coat where a dagger had torn through, standing in the plaza like a drifting white fog with no home.
Tuition could wait, he hoped. Although a commoner, he held hope—schools should not be the exclusive domain of nobles.
Following a long line, he felt both anxious and uncertain, watching richly dressed children enter the school with smiles, while a few successful commoners carried frowns over their enormous fees. Privilege dictated emotion.
Fewer people were ahead now. Casia's tension grew.
The clerks seemed to be second- or third-year students—young, standing with military attendants behind them holding automatic rifles adorned with silver rivets, nearly a meter long. Luckily, lightweight alloys allowed for mass production. Behind them were alloy chests filled with gold coins, stamped with the faces of the Empire's first saint-emperor and king, each coin worth a thousand. More people used gold bank cards with the Empire's financial system, making transactions effortless.
Of course, obtaining a gold bank card required wealth and status. The Empire's wealth was always concentrated in the hands of nobles and merchants; commoners remained cheap labor, their numbers like locusts, while producing bank cards was a delicate craft, not suited for mass production.
Casia handed over his acceptance letter. The clerk before him was a capable young man, chest adorned with a steam engine-shaped medallion of the Imperial Heavy Industry School, greeting every entrant warmly.
"Casia Tusos?" the young man asked softly.
"Yes… um, actually, I wanted to ask about tuition…" Casia's words faltered and were cut off.
"Ah, hello, Mr. Casia Tusos. There is an issue with your acceptance letter. Please follow me; a specialist will explain, as this matter is beyond my authority." The young man rose, his body surprisingly sturdy beneath a thick coat, comparable to Casia's own.
Truly built for heavy industry. Casia silently admired his own unintentionally honed physique.
"Please, this way, Mr. Tusos." The clerk glanced apologetically at those still in line, leading Casia to a VIP-like room. He told him to wait, then disappeared.
Casia had no idea what was happening. His lack of tuition should not have been known. Surely the matter could not have escalated so far.
He looked around. The room was large, an oak table at its center. He set down his books, finally releasing his tired arms.
Could it be because of the events on the train? Casia touched the hidden handgun under his clothes, realizing for the first time the severity of the situation. Imperial law forbade civilians from possessing firearms—let alone killing someone with a revolver. If the law enforcement knew, he could no longer remain here.
Lost in his own spiraling thoughts, Casia hurriedly grabbed his books and strode toward the door. But before he could grasp the handle, a narrow gap opened.
Three figures, as solid as steel and immovable as rock, blocked the entrance, faces serious.