'My father?'
Suddenly the sound of the wheels seemed very loud in the narrow corridor. Revan's expression didn't change, but his mind was racing.
Lord Valerius von Alstaire. Revan only knew him from the game wiki: a respected military commander who had brought honor to the Alstaire name before the family fell. That was all. Of the man himself there were no memories, not his voice and not his face. Revan had inherited the body and the name, along with the pathetic stats, but none of the love that was supposed to come with them.
Still, hearing Dain say "your father" like that threw him off balance.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Marshal."
Another step brought Dain close enough to fill the whole corridor.
"Your father had the same habit. Sneaking around in the dark, sticking his nose where it didn't belong, asking questions that should have been left alone."
He leaned closer, so the smell of old tobacco and gun oil reached Revan. Anger tightened his voice.
"Valerius was a brilliant commander and a loyal friend. He was also an idiot about politics. He thought honor would protect him from the snakes in the capital, and he was wrong."
None of that was in the game, because the game never cared about Revan's family. According to the wiki, the Alstaire family went bankrupt because of "bad investments and political missteps," a lazy backstory for a trash-tier character. Dain made it sound like somebody had pushed his father.
"If my father was a fool, Marshal, his mistakes died with him. I'm a servant of House Vespera. The politics that ruined him have nothing to do with me."
Silently, Dain studied him and frowned. Then pity mixed with disgust crossed his scarred face. He shook his head slowly.
"You really believe that. You think serving that spoiled little witch will keep you safe. You're standing on the same tracks your father did, boy. You're just waiting for the train to hit you."
"Marshal—"
"Go back to your room, Revan."
The commander's bark was back in his voice as he turned away.
"And stay off the roof. My men have orders to shoot anything that moves near the cargo. I won't save you twice."
With that he walked off into the security carriage, leaving Revan alone in the dim light with his jaw clenched.
'Save me twice? When did he save me the first time?'
'Man, I really hate my life.'
Back in his windowless room, he lay down and didn't bother undressing. A train full of illegal catalysts was carrying him into a death trap, so his dead father's politics would have to wait.
***
By morning, everyone on the Z-Class Express was tense. They were getting close to the Ashenmoor Corridor.
From the corner of the dining carriage, silver water pitcher in hand, Revan watched breakfast. Nobody was joking now, because everyone knew what was coming. Cassian buttered his toast without smiling. Mirael frowned over a stack of mana formulas and kept rewriting the same line. Even Lyra moved stiffly and said little. Her hands never went far from her apron, where Revan suspected she kept more than handkerchiefs.
Sylvia had changed the most. At the head of the table, she sat without touching her food and stared out the window at the gray land rushing past.
Dain came in wearing full combat gear, with a big plain broadsword strapped across his back.
"Three minutes to the first perimeter. I suggest everyone get ready. The transition is unpleasant."
Cassian wiped his mouth and asked about blackouts, but Revan had stopped listening. His eyes were on Sylvia.
Tension sat in her shoulders while her hands stayed folded in her lap. To anyone else, she looked calm and bored. A lifetime of reading those hands let Revan see that her knuckles had turned white.
'She's scared.'
It was hard to believe, but it was true. Sylvia von Vespera, who could crush a man into paste with a flick of her wrist, was scared.
Screeeech!
The train jerked like it had hit an invisible wall. Wheels screamed. Crystal chandeliers flickered and went out while the heated floor shut off at the same time. Cold air rushed in and filled the carriage.
They had entered the Dead Zone.
First came the cold, then the pressure. It pushed on Revan from every side, like the air had turned into lead. For a Warrior, who only had to move Aura inside his own body, it felt like moving underwater. Heavy, but he could manage.
Mages had it worse. To them, it was torture.
Then someone gasped. Bent forward, Sylvia gripped the edge of the table so hard the wood creaked. Her face had gone gray and damp. All that mana had nowhere to go. Trapped inside her, it was choking her. Even the pressure she always gave off was gone.
Right now, she was just a sixteen-year-old girl suffocating on her own power.
"Lady Sylvia!"
Cassian half stood up, his eyes bright. Revan knew why, because he had seen that look before. That man was checking how weak she had become.
Dain stepped forward and put a hand on his sword.
"Sit down, Lord Voss. The first shock will pass. Her internal circuits are adjusting to the suppression."
Nothing seemed to bother the Marshal himself, because a fighter who relied only on his body didn't lose much here. Revan's hand had already moved to the black sword at his hip.
'Whoever is planning to attack this train knows about this. They know this is when she can't defend herself.'
An explosion went off, so loud the whole carriage shook.
The dining car tipped hard to the right. Somewhere ahead metal tore, while plates smashed against the walls.
"Brace!"
Through the window, Revan saw that someone had smashed the warning signals on the tracks. On the ridge to the northwest, dozens of figures in black armor stood against the gray sky.
Beyond them, the rails were already gone.
***
Everything turned into screaming metal and breaking glass.
At full speed, the train hit the broken section. For one terrible second the dining carriage lifted off the ground. Then it slammed down on its side and dragged through the frozen dead earth of the Ashenmoor Corridor.
Inside, tables splintered while the chandeliers exploded into flying glass.
Revan's body moved before his thoughts could catch up. Fifteen years in the Vespera household had trained it for moments like this.
As soon as the floor tilted, he pushed his Aura into motion. The Dead Zone tried to crush it, so he pulled it in tight around his muscles and bones, like armor on the inside.
Then he jumped across the tilting floor.
Sylvia couldn't move. Suppression had broken her focus. Any second now, the crash would throw her straight into a huge iron stove sliding out of the galley. Revan grabbed her around the waist, pulled her out of her chair, and threw them both behind the reinforced pillar in the middle of the car.
CRASH!
The stove smashed into the spot where she had been sitting and buried itself in the wall.
For another hundred meters the train dragged on before it finally stopped. Steam hissed from broken pipes and fogged the air. Cold air poured in through the shattered windows. Now the carriage lay on its right side, its wall turned into the floor.
"Status!"
Dain pushed a big piece of debris off his chest like it was cardboard, without a scratch on him.
Nearby, Cassian was brushing dust off his ruined suit, breathing normally. Revan saw a faint shimmer of dense Aura sinking back under his skin.
'He used Aura to hold himself in place during the crash. And Lyra is... wait.'
Above them, Lyra dropped down from what used to be the ceiling. Nothing of the cheerful maid was left. In each hand she held a curved short sword. Her eyes were flat.
That grip caught his attention.
'Short blades, one in each hand. So where did those two-handed calluses come from?'
Even her voice had changed, cold and sharp.
"Perimeter breached. Hostiles coming down the northwestern ridge. At least three dozen."
Slumped against the debris, Sylvia looked up with eyes wide and scared in a way she had never let anyone see. Here, without magic, she was a liability. She knew it.
Dain drew his broadsword and turned.
"Protect the cargo! Voss, Lyra, take the front! Nobody gets to the VIP!"
Before anyone could move, the broken ceiling windows burst inward.
Five figures in black armor dropped into the carriage, their faces hidden behind plain iron masks. They didn't shout or hesitate.
With a roar, Dain swung his broadsword. Its heavy blade cut through the armor of the first two like wet paper. Blood sprayed across the velvet curtains.
But Lyra was faster. She slid under the third man's thrust and stabbed both short swords up into the gaps under his arms. He dropped without a sound.
Cassian stepped aside from the fourth man's swing, raised one white-gloved hand, and hit him in the sternum. Ribs cracked as the attacker's chest caved in.
'They're all monsters. And all three of them are only fighting what's in front of them.'
The fifth attacker hadn't fought anyone.
In the chaos he had slipped past the others. His iron mask was turned toward Sylvia. Silently, he stepped over the debris and raised a hooked blade.
Sylvia saw him, but her body reacted too slowly. Wide-eyed, she raised a hand out of habit and started a spell. Nothing happened. All that came out was a choked gasp.
The blade swung down at her neck.
CLANG!
Sparks flew when steel met steel. From the force of the parry, the attacker's arm jerked back.
Revan was standing between them.
Back straight and feet planted, the tired boy who poured her tea every morning held a plain black sword in his right hand. Volkar's steel didn't have a single chip on it.
Quickly the attacker recovered and thrust at Revan's heart.
Revan stepped into it and breathed in the dead, heavy air.
'In a world where magic is dead...'
He turned his hips, let the thrust slide past his shoulder, and moved inside the man's guard.
'...steel and technique are king.'
His blade flicked up and found the thin gap between the iron collar and the helmet. It went in clean.
The man froze, his eyes wide behind the mask. Revan pulled the blade out and stepped back. As the body fell, he flicked the blood off his sword.
Silence fell over their corner of the carriage. Then Revan turned his head to look at Sylvia.
"Stay behind me, my lady."
His voice was calm. There was no fear in it.