Steampunk Revolution

“So those things in the sky above Springfield are airplanes?” Abigail said as they stepped through their last mirror; John had just finished explaining the concept of airports to Abigail, who had understood quickly. “I always thought that it was an Abyssal thing! It’s not like I’ve ever heard a mundane person talk about them.”

That’s right. I wonder if she’s ever talked to a mundane person at all. She grew up as an Abyssal and a hermit. He turned to her to respond, but she had split from the group and seemed to be making quick friends with a fellow bounty hunter, a woman with blue hair and a clockwork sniper rifle. I guess it isn’t that unlikely.

“The dossier explained that airship tickets and train tickets have been submitted with our names already, we just have to present our guild cards before boarding,” Amy said as Abigail rejoined the group, flashing her new friend a thumbs up.

“That friendly hunter told me to mention that the airships in the capital are down today! Are airships like airplanes?” Abigail asked, rejoining the group. Having missed Amy’s words, she was confused at the annoyed reaction from the group.

“There’s more than one way to travel, no?” Mandruzzo asked the group, not one to be discouraged. “I’ve heard this Kingdom is more primitive than some, but perhaps their locomotives will be luxurious.”

“The train goes near everywhere the airship does,” Grace said as they emerged into the city beyond the Rider-Waite building. Rider-Waite bases were uniform regardless of the actual location, usually only taking on the exterior architecture of the Kingdom they resided in. A sense of culture shock hit John as they emerged from the relatively sterile base into the Victorian wonderland beyond.

Gray brick towers dotted the landscape, some twisting and curving as they stretched into the sky. I don’t even want to know how those don’t fall, John thought, soaking in the sight before him. An enormous pipe sprouted from the top of the tallest building, running down the side with metal supports holding it in place.

Looking down, he noticed an enormous staircase which led to the street below. The whole thing was paved with cobblestones, and occasionally a horse drawn (or magitech powered) carriage drove by, though the most traffic was from civilians on foot.

“That’s the palace down there!” Grace pointed to the left, and a mile or two away, elevated above the small shops surrounding it, John saw a stout building, modest compared to the sprawling city downtown. Instead of the pointed or slanted roofs most of the buildings had, the castle had a stained glass dome, and though he couldn’t quite make out the shapes from afar, the formless myriad of colors looked beautiful in its own way.

They walked through the capital without much further incident, Abigail (and occasionally John) gazing and gawking at the various sights before them ranging from a giant, open theatre of humanoid clockwork puppets performing a tragedy to a street full of food carts, at the end of it the train station to the left and the airport to the right.

“Come on! We’ve got time! The train ride is going to take an hour, we have to get food!” Abigail insisted, not waiting for a response from the group before stepping toward a stand from which smells of fried meat wafted, skewers of what looked like beef available behind glass. “Six please!”

“That’ll be one gold,” the mischievous merchant replied, grouping together six meat skewers with a stick in each hand and flipping them onto a plate.

“One gold! That’s highway robbery!” Grace stepped between Abigail and the outstretched plate of food, a dangerous decision if one valued their life. “You could get an eight course meal for a gold!”

“What do you know of our local culture?” he replied, taking the plate back and resting it on the metal table. “What would you pay for them?”

“I’ll take the lot for one silver and not a copper more!” Grace shouted at the man, arms at her sides. The rest of the group looked on, ranging from intrigued to amused.

“The art of negotiation. I was hoping someone here would know how to do this, I’ve heard the salesmen here can be sharks,” Mandruzzo professed, a small smile on his face. “Alas I have to admit, I did not think it would be her.”

“It definitely wasn’t going to be Abigail,” John said, tipping his hat to a passerby that happened to lock eyes with him. His words caused the pyromancer to turn around and stick her tongue out at him, the tip aflame.

“I am trying to make a living here, lady. I’d make more money selling the nails from my cart than selling six for a single silver!” the man replied with a boisterous laugh.

“There’re plenty of carts on this street! We’ll just find someone more reasonable,” Grace asserted, grabbing Abigail’s arm and interrupting her taunt. She began to walk away, but the man stopped her.

“Wait! I can see I’ve misjudged you, you’re no fool. I’ll give all six to you for five silver each, thirty total. How about that?”

“Five silver!”

“Twenty-five!”

“Ten!”

“Twenty!”

“Fifteen!” They said in unison, both smiling and happy to come to a conclusion. Reaching into her jean pocket, Grace produced three silver coins, each with the number ‘5’ stamped on.

The merchant made note of the transaction in a notebook, smiling to himself as he underlined it twice. At the top of the page was the normal price for one such item, thirty copper.

So they walked away, one for each of them (and two for Abigail), each enjoying their greasy breakfast. Grace walked with a puffed out chest, proud of her superb negotiation skills. Abigail voraciously consumed her food, any who dared impede on her meal in danger of losing a limb. Amy divvied up the bounty, dismounting Ignis and feeding half to her, petting her fox’s head before she leaped up and onto her fox’s back again. Mandruzzo was the only one who took a condiment from the stand, a savory sauce made mostly from dried tomatoes, chili peppers, and basil.

John, still full from the breakfast Jenny had so lovingly concocted, had a bite to try the local cuisine before feeding his elementals the rest of his share. He gave his hawk some exercise by tossing each piece up into the air as he plucked it off the skewer. Would you like some, Cinder? Are you even capable of eating?

I’ll have the the last piece with the wooden skewer, if you don’t mind, Cinder replied, taking shape in her incorporeal form. Out of sight of the rest of the populace, she slowly floated upwards, taking in the sights all around them for herself. When David swooped by her, she floated downwards and appeared next to John.

Taking the food with a grateful nod, she slowly fed it into her mouth whole. No gag reflex, huh?

I would have no need for such a thing, master, Cinder replied to the question he hadn’t actually meant to ask.

Abigail’s eyes widened as she watched the flame elemental consume the skewer. Turning the tip of her tongue to flame again, she attempted to replicate the flame elemental’s actions, only to discover that she couldn’t actually taste anything.

“Please ensure that your hawk is stowed away before embarking,” a passing security guard said, nodding to the bird on John’s shoulder. David screeched indignantly at the man, who picked up his pace in lieu of a response.

Their tickets got them into the first class section of the train, and Abigail pulled them to the dining car. The booths there were made of navy blue velvet and bolted to the soft green carpet below, as were the wooden tables between.

“All of you, press these papers to the bottom of your forearm. It’ll allow you to recognize me when I have this on,” John said, plucking the mask from his belt buckle and unfolding it. His four companions did as they were told. The tattoo, which before was just a plus sign, had started to take a different shape. The sheets he held instead displayed two guns crossed, with a silhouette of the mask underneath them.

He donned his newest piece of equipment, and it settled into place comfortably on his face. With a whim, it once again molded into a pair of wooden-framed glasses and brown chin-stubble.

After a man with a trolley brought them all water, Amy, Abigail, and Grace went to see what the chef had prepared, leaving John and Mandruzzo sitting alone in the booth.

“Mio amico, that is a good look for you. The frames compliment you well. A good thing too, if they were wireframes you’d look a bit like a nerd,” Mandruzzo commented with a good-natured smirk, putting an arm around John’s neck.

He leaned in closer to whisper, “What is with you and the pyromancer, eh? The light that you look at each other with is radiant, but you hold her at arm’s length. Are you not interested?”

“Why, are you?” John replied with a smirk of his own, causing the Italian before him to retreat with his palms held up defensively.

“No, no, you misunderstand. Our present company is not much to my taste. I prefer my partners to be older women,”

“Really?”

“Or men.”

“Didn’t see that coming,” John deadpanned, reclining in his seat as Mandruzzo elbowed him in the ribs playfully.

“So you see I am no competition for you, glorious leader.” He leaned forward and grabbed a cup of water from the table, taking a few sips before continuing, “I have only your best interests at heart. So where were we… oh right, your hesitation?”

“It’s not as simple as you make it out to be,” John said, shrugging off the Italian’s arm. “Jenny’s my girlfriend, and I don’t think she’d be okay with me just dating whoever caught my eye alongside her.”

At this Mandruzzo broke out into laughter, throwing himself back into the rest of the spacious booth. He wiped a tear from his eye as he sat back up. “You’re a late bloomer, aren’t you?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” John asked, a little offended at the assumption in the question.

“In combat, you’ve adjusted well, socially, not so much. Moreso even than some people who’ve lived in the Abyss their whole life. My friend Max, he’s the opposite. Failed his trial because of it, I think. If our interactions were kept merely to business, I probably couldn’t have guessed,” Mandruzzo admitted, having another sip of water, “but I can see it in how you think, how you are. The Abyss is fast and loose, you’ll have a much better time if you’re open to new experiences. You’re tense and old fashioned. You carry the weight of your struggles on your shoulders instead of letting them release from your heart.”

“What does that even mean?” John groaned, rolling his eyes at the wise sage before him.

“Be a little more open, signor, you may be happy to see where it gets you. Instead of resisting the winds of change,” Mandruzzo said, conjuring a gust of cool mist that washed over John, not unwelcome in the somewhat stuffy train, “let them carry you. You and her want to be together, see if you can come to an agreement with this Jenny. Love begets love, but not if it’s stifled.”

“Oy! Abigail and Amy are saving us seats, but there’s about to be a duel in the next car down. You in or what?” Grace asked, coming back to the table with a bar of creamy tan fudge. Mandruzzo’s eyes were more focused on the food than his ears on her words, and she gave a sigh of annoyance. “There’s more down there too! Are you coming or what?”

John, eager to end the conversation, and Mandruzzo, eager to taste the sweet which he had had many times as a child, rose from their seats, John taking all of the waters into his inventory.