The station buzzed with noise, steam curling around iron pillars and people shouting for last-minute tickets. But today, for the first time in months, Rynn and Eren weren't part of the chaos.
Because in their hands were…
gold tickets.
Not just any tickets — stamped with a silver crest shaped like a mirrored sun. The Guild's seal.
Rynn inspected his for the tenth time. "Are you sure these aren't fake?"
"Lior gave them," Eren said. "Fake isn't his style. Ruining your sanity? Yes. Counterfeiting? No."
They followed the signs, weaving past crowds until they reached a quieter section of the station. A sharply dressed attendant checked their passes, squinted at their dusty clothes, hesitated… then politely stepped aside.
"This way, gentlemen."
Gentlemen.
Rynn elbowed Eren. "Did he just call us gentle—?"
"Don't ruin the moment," Eren whispered.
They walked into a sleek platform lined with polished steel and deep-blue carpets. And there, waiting like a beast built for kings, was the Arasverin Eastern Express — glossy black metal trimmed in silver, its windows reflecting the midday sun like calm water.
A bell chimed.
"Last call for luxury passengers," the attendant announced.
Eren stiffened.
Rynn panicked.
They sprinted.
They reached the doors just as they slid shut behind them. Rynn collapsed against the wall.
"We… made it…" he gasped.
Eren nodded weakly. "Barely… but yes."
Then both froze.
Because the first thing they saw inside was…
a chandelier.
A small one, sure, but a chandelier in a train.
Rynn whispered, "We're in heaven."
---
Their private cabin was polished wood, soft amber lights, a carpet thicker than bread, and two beds that practically begged to be jumped on.
Eren stared at his bed like it was a mythological treasure. "I… forgot beds could be soft."
Rynn poked the mattress. His finger bounced.
His soul left his body.
"This is illegal," he whispered. "Luxury like this should be illegal."
He jumped. Eren followed. The cabin squeaked under their repeated attacks, but neither cared — it was the happiest they'd been in months.
The train started moving, humming low. Outside, the city began to drift away like a painting losing color.
Then someone knocked.
A hostess in a sharp uniform wheeled in a cart full of brightly colored dishes.
"Welcome aboard the Arasverin Express. Cuisine for the afternoon is complimentary. Would you like a preview?"
Rynn froze at the word he hadn't heard in years.
"Complimentary?"
"Anything you like," she said with a warm smile.
Rynn turned slowly to Eren with an expression of pure betrayal.
"You… didn't tell me this was a buffet train!"
"I didn't know!" Eren defended. "Lior didn't say anything!"
The hostess placed dishes on the small table:
Soft rice with spiced herbs
Mountain pepper stew
Glazed vegetables
Citrus-grilled fish
Warm bread
Rynn held the steaming bowl with both hands like it was a newborn.
"This is… warm."
Eren exhaled. "I might cry."
They ate like two boys who had fought monsters, bled, starved, and now found salvation in stew form.
Rynn finished first.
Eren finished shortly after.
Then both collapsed back onto the soft seats, dazed.
"I think I saw my ancestors," Rynn whispered.
One meal in, and they already felt spoiled beyond saving.
---
The first two days passed like a dream.
Rynn stuck to the window, fascinated by everything — forests shifting in waves, distant ruins jutting like stone teeth, lakes reflecting sunlight like polished mirrors.
Eren, surprisingly, relaxed. Not alert, not ready to fight — just relaxed. He laughed easily, joked more, told stories Rynn hadn't heard.
At one point, a server brought fruit pastries and Rynn screamed internally. Eren actually smiled with teeth.
Children from the next cabin peeked in occasionally, curious about Rynn's odd questions about everything and Eren's quiet charm. The boys helped an old man carry his luggage; the old man rewarded them with stories from the north — about a lake that sang and a creature that only appeared when the moon forgot its shape.
Rynn soaked those stories like a sponge.
Eren listened silently but intently.
---
By day four, they'd fully adapted to luxury life.
"Eren," Rynn whispered one morning, "I can't go back to normal food."
"You're becoming spoiled."
"It's not my fault! My standards evolved!"
Eren rolled his eyes but kept eating the free pastries anyway.
They met a traveling scholar who was researching early Mirra theory, a merchant who traded rare teas, and a painter sketching the mountains. They didn't get names — just stories, and that was enough.
One night, Rynn practiced Mirra control the way Lior had told him: quiet, subtle exercises, shaping small sparks inside instead of outside. Eren watched silently.
After a while, he said softly, "You've gotten better."
Rynn looked up. "You think so?"
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
A strange comfort settled in the cabin after that.
---
Day seven brought storms.
The sky darkened, the carriage swayed gently, and lightning carved silver veins through the clouds. Passengers gathered in the dining car to watch the spectacle through panoramic windows.
Rynn sat with a steaming cup of tea, staring at the storm like a child staring at fireworks.
"It's beautiful," he said.
Eren nodded. "Feels like the world is stretching."
They didn't talk about fear.
Or the Trials.
Or what was coming.
But both felt it — that the storm outside was a preview of the storm waiting for them in Arasverin.
---
Day eight and nine slipped by in warm lamps and laughter from strangers, stories shared over hot meals, landscapes rolling endlessly like a living mural. The train became a moving world, and for once, they weren't running or fighting.
They were simply… alive.
On the tenth day, the mountains sharpened around the rails, their shadows long and cool across the valley. The train cut through narrow passes, the world outside turning wilder and sharper with every mile.
Rynn pressed his forehead to the glass. "The mountains feel endless…"
Eren nodded. "That's the thing about reaching places that matter — the road always feels longer."
They weren't close to the destination yet — not even near.
Arasverin's border was still far beyond the next few ranges.
The conductor had said it plainly that morning:
> "Five days more at least. Weather permitting."
And judging by the thickening clouds and the rugged terrain, weather wasn't planning to permit anything peacefully.
The train rumbled into a long curve, wheels singing against the rails as pine forests rushed by. A distant waterfall flashed silver before vanishing behind rock walls.
Inside the cabin, warm lamps hummed softly.
Passengers dozed.
Others whispered quietly over late tea.
Rynn stretched out on his bunk.
Eren leaned back, arms behind his head.
"We're really doing this," Rynn murmured.
"Yeah," Eren replied. "No turning back now."
The carriage swayed gently — a calm, steady motion that made eyelids heavy and thoughts quieter.
Neither noticed the footsteps stopping outside their cabin door.
Day ten slipped into night.
And with day eleven waiting on the horizon…
Someone new was about to enter their journey.
---