Chapter 17 – Like Old, Like New

mogust

[CW: Some mild transgender discrimination present in this chapter.]

Crys woke to find that not only had the train had stopped, it was also silent, and still. Sunlight streamed in through the small carriage window for the room, right into her face, and her sleepy efforts to try and rectify that situation resulted in her rolling out of the bed onto the floor. Fortunately she’d had the presence of mind to sleep in the bottom of the two bunks, so there was no injury to anything but her pride, not that anyone actually saw her do it, but she still felt foolish. Untangling herself from the blankets she got up, and headed into the main area of the carriage, seeing what looked like an old train yard through the windows as she walked down. Her hair was a mess too and she felt the need to do something about it.

Clocky and Alison were seated at opposite sides of one of the table, Clocky eating a sandwich while discussing something with the tall blonde that she couldn’t quite make out. Alison gave her a look that she couldn’t quite make out, Clocky giving her a smile as soon as he noticed her. She sat down on the side bench nearby.

“Morning,” Clocky greeted, in between bites of his meal. “Sleep well?”

“Yes thanks,” Crys replied. “I thought this was only meant to be a very quick stop?” Crys then asked, sure that was what he had said last night.

“That it was,” Clocky stated, sighing. “Apparently our plans have been changed for us. A message was waiting here for us. Audrey, he’s the manager for the Brightswater Steam Train Co, has arranged for an additional carriage to be hooked up to the train. We’re to take some ‘special’ passengers through to Brightswater, but they won’t be here till this afternoon. There wasn’t meant to be any other passengers on this trip, so something's up. At least they’re paying more for this.”

“I tell you, something is off about this,” Alison stated to Clocky. “I don’t like it.”

“And I agree. We’re just going to have to take extra precautions. I’ve asked them to hook it directly behind our carriage, but they reckon that they don’t have any spare engines to do that much shuffling around. A shallow excuse if you ask me.”

“So,” Clocky then said, turning back to Crys, “We’re probably going to be here for most of the day.”

Crys just nodded.

“I’m going to have a look around town,” Alison said as she got up. “See if I can learn anything.”

Clocky nodded as Alison made her way out of the carriage. If she had been much taller she’d have to bend in order to move through the carriage. She had to do that for the door as it was. Crys noticed that Alison strapped a sword to her back as she left the carriage.

“She likes to be armed,” Clocky offered as way of explanation. “I’ll make you some food.”

Crys watched as he got up and started fishing around one of the cupboards for stuff, eventually pulling out some more bread and filling. She wondered if that was his staple diet. Crys looked at her hair again, dismayed as the mess that it had become. She hadn’t had the length for long, nor was actually sure how it had ended up that long in the first place, but she did want to keep it looking tidy and nice. Rachael had beautiful hair, but she doubted that without any of the hair care products that use to exist she’d be able to get it looking that good. She would try. After all, Alison and Fairweather’s hair looked good too. First things first though.

“Is there somewhere where I can get a hairbrush or the like?” she asked as Clocky brought her a sandwich, which she gratefully accepted.

“Ah, the joys of long hair.” Clocky grinned. “Vorsce and Fairweather are currently out getting more supplies. I’ll ask Fairweather if she can brush it for you when she gets back, and then take you on a shopping trip. You should be able to find something suitable. It might be worth looking for some additional clothes and the like, perhaps a cloak or a pack or something? I have no idea what you actually want though, if anything. Not sure if we’d find anything quite like what you are wearing here though. Maybe in the bigger towns, definitely in the Innerlands I think. Oh, if you have any more relic jewellery, get Fairweather to pawn some for you. It’ll give you some spending money without the associated suspicions.”

“How many?”

“A couple or so should suffice. They’re worth a bit, and avoids too many questions, especially here.”

Crys tried to avoid thinking about how many she had collected. They didn’t make any noise in the harness fortunately, and she’d make sure not to bring any notice to the fact that she had them. Clocky had a point about clothes, though she didn’t really fancy anything she had seen them wearing. She wanted something nice and feminine. In the meantime she was quite happy with what she had. A cloak and maybe a satchel could have their advantages though, especially once she was walking again. She knew that she would probably need some armour at some point as well, but leather armour and chain weren’t her thing at all. She was kinda hoping she might be able to find the matching pieces for the boots that she was wearing, but she was aware that was likely a pipe dream.

“Why especially here,” she queried as she ate.

“Because of what it once was. Even though a lot of people no longer remember, the town itself hasn’t forgotten what it once was. Cannonsgate is a shade of its former glory, and even the rail going through it now hasn’t really done much for it. Brightswater holds all of the importance that it once had, with its better location, status as a transport nexus and a resident Channeller. The Shattering acted strangely in the vicinity of the Ethis Plains, as you noticed, and a lot of old cities and their technology remained untouched for centuries due to that. Three hundred years ago a Channeller decided to do a mass migration and settle a town here, as a base of operations to explore all of the ruins in the plains and its area. It grew quickly, both in size and wealth, and a lot of stuff was found and shipped off, but when the Channeller died under mysterious circumstances the city all but tore itself apart. Various factions and groups vying for power and blaming each other for his death. Killings in the streets, sabotage at the excavation sites. When it all settled down, most had either left or died, not that the Outerlands had a lot of population in the first place.”

“Now it is just a stopping point en route between Port Alexis and Brightswater, those here that ones that refuse to leave and call it their home, or those that have a vested interest. It is a safe place however, whatever causing the mishap with the Shattering also seeming to keep the most dangerous of the Wildlings away as well. People feel comfortable and secure. If there is death here, it is usually caused by human hands or natural causes.”

“They do still have expedition teams based here as well, but in the last fifty years any safe salvageable ruins have been near impossible to find. There are still quite a lot, but many of them are unstable, and the teams won’t approach them. Last I heard there are currently two viable locations, both sponsored by a noble from Brightswater, and the competing groups aren’t too happy about that. Yup, the stain of wealth still exists.”

Clocky looked thoughtful as he sat back on his reversed chair.

“Not to mention that your boots and weapons are something special on their own. Life in this age is going to be tough for you, unless you come into the power to make it your own. But I guess that has always been the case. Don’t let it get you down though. Challenge fuels growth right?”

He was right of course. Things had always been like that, though every age. Now though, she was in an age of magic, and one doesn’t just luck into power like that. Crys did appreciate his honesty though.

Vorsce and Fairweather returned a short while later, Clocky pottering around the carriage while Crys just stared out the window of the carriage looking at the surrounding buildings, not that a lot could be seen from here. Matching Clocky’s description they all looked weathered and old, but not excessively so. A frontier town would be the comparison that she would make. She could see a few brick buildings, but most seemed to be built with wood, a far cry from the stone and metal cities of her time. The station itself was a simple wooden affair, sturdy, but not built for high traffic, and only large enough for one carriage to pull up in front of it. It had had even less attention than some of the other nearby buildings, the little paintwork that had been done patchy, the repairs to damaged sections of the structure obvious. It still felt so weird, that a few days ago she was still at the flat, working and dealing with personal issues, and now she was here, in a time that would have made the perfect setting for a campaign. She couldn’t help smile to herself at that thought.

A collection of bags and packages were dumped on the floor in the kitchen for Clocky to apparently deal with.

“Hey’a kid, sleep well?” Vorsce asked as he sat down beside her.

“Much better than I had expected, thanks,” Crys replied.

“That’s good,” he replied, nodding. “Some people don’t adapt so well to it at all. Saylin was one, hence why she isn’t with us at the moment.”

“She’ll be back with us when we finish up with this train gig,” Clocky stated, moving the bags to the table. He then looked over at Fairweather who was eating an unusual looking fruit that Crys couldn’t identity. “Any chance you could have a look at Crys’ hair, and then take them out shopping for some personal items please?”

Crys blushed at the request, feeling quite nervous about it, but Fairweather just chuckled, glancing at Crys.

“It might indeed be just a little bit messy. Just a sec”, she said, then promptly disappearing into one of the rooms at the front of the carriage. She then returned a minute later, brushes in hand. Motioning for Crys to shuffle down the seat a bit and face away from her, she sat beside Crys and started the laborious process of trying to tidy and brush her hair. She found it kind of soothing.

“You haven’t brushed it since you woke?” Fairweather queried.

“No. All I had is what you see.”

Fairweather chuckled. “Long sleeps are never convenient.”

Little by little Fairweather got her hair under control. Crys didn’t think it had been that messy when she had initially woken up by South Mall, but she had been through a bit since then. It was a new skill that she was going to have to master, not that she minded.

“You have nice hair,” Fairweather stated once she was done brushing. She pulled out some simple hairpins, using them to keep the hair back a bit and out of Crys’ face.

“You look good,” she then said with a smile. By that time Vorsce had headed back out and Clocky was done with the supplies. “Right, lets go have a look and see what we can find.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” Crys then got up, fishing out three of the rings as she did so, turning and passing them to Fairweather. “Clocky said you’d be able to pawn these for me?”

Fairweather looked at each of them in the light before squireling them away into a pocket. “They’re really pretty. You made a good find.” She smiled at Crys. “I’ll do that for you. Shall we go?”

Crys nodded, following Fairweather as she dismounted from the carriage and headed around the front of the train. The engine was still coupled at the front, the rest of the freight trucks sprawling out behind it. She could see Vorsce doing a patrol around it, and Dudley was sitting on top of one of the trucks. Once around the engine, they headed towards the station. The train was parked on one of the sidings, though the train was too large for it, but Crys assumed there were no other trains expected along the track as there hadn’t been any move made to condense it down. The railway track looked to have been built after the city had reached it peak size, as it was situated on the outskirts of the town. A bit further down the track she could make out a collection of warehouses and a smattering of empty freight trucks, as well as a small locomotive, sitting there cold. She wasn’t sure if the carriages had been detached from the train as Clocky had said was meant to have happened. She honestly couldn’t recall the original size of the train when she had boarded. She was after all just a passenger to their journey.

Walking past the station they exited onto a dirt road that led straight into the centre of the town. A dozen green trees with stereotypically shaped leaves the size of her head sat clustered around the fountain that sat in the middle of the town square. A statue of a man sat in the centre of the fountain, his cold grey eyes staring right at them as they approached, water flowing out around him, a couple of pigeons nesting on his head. He was dressed in a waist coat and dress pants, a top hat on his head with a pair of goggles attached to it, a cane supporting him in one hand and a weird looking gauntlet in the other. Steampunk was the term that came to Crys’ mind.

“He was the founding Channeller?” Crys asked as they walked past, a couple of kids playing by the fountain, and some adults watching over them from nearby. They looked at the pair, giving them cold looks before then ignoring them.

“Yup, that’s him. Stephan Cannon, founder of Cannonsgate. An eccentric, but aren’t they all to some degree?”

“I guess...?” She wasn’t actually to sure, not having much to go off, but Fairweather was likely right.

A cluster of shops, what she guessed were offices, and a tavern made up the town square, a couple of horse drawn wagons sitting outside of one of the buildings, another stark reminder that a lot of progress had been lost. She did wonder what the working cars of this age actually looked like now. Probably nothing like what she remembered. They stopped outside a small shop that had old junk on display in the window, the sort of stuff you’d expect to see in a second hand traders store. Antiques now though.

“Just wait out here,” Fairweather stated, opening the door and disappearing within. Crys nodded, and stood beside the window, waiting. A couple of old ladies wandered by, giving her odd looks before they shook their heads and continued on. Crys sighed. There was a reason that she had never wanted to be seen in public like this. Multiple actually, but she tried to not think about any of them. She continued to look around the square. It was actually quite pleasant, it had that home town feel to it. She was having a hard time working out what all the stores were for though. How much of their nature had they changed in the last thousand years she wondered.

Something in the window of the store two doors over caught her eye though, and curious she wandered over. It was a clothing store, ‘Belladonnas’ according to the hanging sign that swayed in the gentle breeze. Behind its large and somewhat dusty window stood three mannequins, all female. One wore a lose fitting cotton top and pants, with an ornate floral pattern of it, reds and purples. It was nice enough and it was good to see that some techniques remained, but it wasn’t her style of clothing. The second wore a set of nice fitting leather armour, similar to what Alison and Fairweather were wearing. She guessed the store catered to every occupation. The third one wore a silky red dress that was low cut at the front, hugged the top half very closely, and then flowed out the rest of the way in layers. It was a nice dress, and though more to her style, not quite to her tastes. Now if it had been a lot shorter in the lower half that would have been a very different story. But she did appreciate it none the less, lamenting that she didn’t have the figure to be wearing something like that.

A wolf whistle sounded out from behind her, Crys freezing, her blood running cold. She continued staring into the window, hoping that it wasn’t directed at her. The sound of figures stopping behind her told her that, no, it definitely had been.

“Why hello there,” a masculine voice behind her started, the sort of voice you knew belonged to a creep. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here by yourself?”

Crys tensed. That was oh so cliche, and it was the last thing she wanted to deal with right now. They weren’t going to go away either either if she ignored them she knew. Not their type.

deep breaths

Crys took a deep breath and turned around, looking at the three men. They were wealthy, that much was obvious. The middle one was dressed in a silk shirt and pants, both a pale white, and his like coloured dress shoes were coated with dust. His sandy blonde hair clashed with his clothes though, and Crys couldn’t help grimace at the combination. The other two men wore leather pants and chain mesh shirts, the links a lot larger than what she had seen on Dudley, with swords strapped to their sides. His bodyguards she assumed. It kept on getting worse.

“Shopping,” she said matter of factly, her voice of course distinctly masculine.

“What the...” The man’s face went from lustful to embarrassment to disgust and rage. He scowled at her, eyes burning with hate. “How dare you,” he spat at her. “How dare you pretend to be something that you not, you... you tramp.”

That stung. Not because of the derogatory term, she could live with that (it was tame all things considered even though it stung too), but because of the accusation she was trying to be something she wasn’t. She was in fact being herself, and she had every right to be, just like he could dress in those awful clothes that made him stand out as a spoilt wealthy brat that he likely was. She was however afraid, his guards taking offensive stances. This was another of the reason why she hadn’t wanted to be out in public like this.

But she wasn’t going to bow to someone like him. Never. Even if she was shaking with fear.

“I am not pretending,” Crys stated, trying to reign in her nerves. “I am just being true to myself. That is a freedom we all have.”

courage is a decision,

but it always carries a cost

Crys’ vision blurred as the man stepped forward and slapped her hard across the face, forcing her to stumble and take a step back. Her face stung, tears forming that she tried to hold back.

“You’re a disgrace to both men and woman,” the man sneered. “It doesn’t deserve any of what it’s wearing. Strip it and let it run naked instead.”

Panic started to claw away at Crys. Things had just gone from bad to worse. While she did have a weapon, she had no skill in using it, and his bodyguards would likely kill her if she resisted. But the fate for not resisting would be even worse, and she wasn’t going there. She’d never be able to face Rachael, nor herself, again. Angry, at the world in general for the way it treated those different, even in ages long past the one that she last knew, she started to reach towards her sword.

An ear-splitting growl snapped her focus back, Spectre standing in front of her, it’s body glowing brightly.

“What’s going on?” another voice said from the side. Fairweather’s voice.

The three men suddenly looked panicked and unsure. “This isn’t the end of it,” the man declared, before all three scurried away.

Crys collapsed, her strength leaving her, Fairweather catching her mid fall. She held onto Crys, giving her a strong hug.

“Are you alright?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone. I didn’t think anything like that would happen.”

Crys shook her head, holding Fairweather tightly, trying to stop shaking. “It’s not your fault. I wandered off. I thought perhaps that people would be more accepting, but they’re not, even now. I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of it as well. The more things change, the more things stay the same. That’s how the saying goes.”

“I have, and even now it hurts.” Fairweather stood Crys up. “It’s about how we let it effect us. Clocky taught me that.”

“I know.” Crys sighed. “They’re not going to stop me from being me. I’m not strong like you or Clocky though, or like the rest of your team.” Not strong like Pyre either. Crys wasn’t sure at all how she was going to defend herself against the likes of that man though. She needed to get stronger, but the how was a mystery.

“I think you’re doing well for someone who has only been awake for a few days.” Fairweather gave her a smile.

Crys looked down at Spectre. “What exactly happened there?”

‘Hmmm? They must have thought they’d seen something that they were afraid of.’ Spectre proceeded to wash its paws like a cat. Which likely did noting for it.

“Thanks.” She was grateful, even if Spectre wasn’t going to give a full answer.

“Can we head back?” Crys then asked of Fairweather. “I think I’ve had enough of town for the moment. Sorry.”

“Sure.” Fairweather nodded. “Don’t be sorry.”

Crys had no idea if anybody gave them any attention at all on the walk back, her gaze firmly fixed on the path ahead of her, trying to ignore everyone else. She felt a complete mess, though she did start to settle down a little as they got to the train station, the anxiety, and stress fading a bit. She really was grateful that she had run into them.

“Here, I got you this.” Fairweather passed Crys a small leather satchel. It was distinctly feminine with it’s delicate (but still sturdy) look, the image of the sun and a pattern of flowers embossed into it. A handbag for this day and age, and she liked it. She smiled in appreciation, opening it to find a small pouch of coins of various metals, and a white and gold coloured wooden hairbrush.

“Thanks,” Crys said, meaning it.

“You got a good exchange. It’ll last you a while. I saw those there and thought they’d suit you perfectly.”

“They do,” Crys smiled. “Do I owe you guys more for all of this?” she then queried.

Fairweather laughed. “Not at all. If there is one thing that Clocky doesn’t want for, it’s money. When we eventually part ways, if you want to give him some more at that point he’ll probably accept. Or he may not. He took you on board because he wanted to do so. The ring you gave him for passage he just gave to me.”

There was obviously a lot more to him, than met they eye. And the group as a whole too she suspected.

‘Yup.’

Crys looked down at Spectre. And the Arkchild was the biggest mystery of them all.

mogust

The more things change, the more they stay the same. True change is possible, it just takes a lot of time sadly. At least things are better for us now than they were a few decades ago (or perhaps even less than that).

Not too much to say this time to be honest. Writing is coming along well, sluggish at times but overall I am happy with the progress. Crys gets a big segment, then Rachael gets the same, though I have almost finished her section before I switch back to Crys again. At some point they will join up and then I'll just have the difficulty of working out whose perspective I'll do it from (both perhaps - I find that bit to be the hardest of them all, having both together). Rest assured I do know exactly when and how they meet up ^^

The character art is coming along well as well, and I am excited for the final product.

Chapter 18 (Belonging) will be up later this week.

Thanks for reading as always :)