Episode 3 - A Fantastically Ironic Vacation
Ironically, transportation in this fantasy world is pretty much like the modern era. Trains, cars, and ships. The only difference is they run on mana instead of fossil fuels like coal or oil—otherwise, it's hard to spot any real distinctions from back home.
"No airplanes?"
On the train platform, as the whistle blared and the soldiers handling security boarded, Camilla Lowell asked.
"What's that?"
"A machine that flies through the sky..."
In this rootless pseudo-Cold War fantasy world, there were no airplanes. If she asked why, even I—a double humanities major with zero mana affinity and a total nerd—had nothing to say. I'd have to defer that to the STEM kids or the magic majors.
"The standard modes of transport are trains, cars, and ships. That's it."
Camilla Lowell tilted her head.
"But what about carriages?"
"Those are for official ceremonies. They've got style, you know."
"Ah."
The world might lack romance, but it had flair. This was the realm of diplomacy and pomp. That's why the Church always provided Camilla Lowell with a carriage. Because it looked cool.
But right now, style was the last thing on our minds.
"We need to move fast, so the train it is."
"Hmm..."
Camilla Lowell spoke in a worried tone.
"Won't it take too long? I heard it's pretty dangerous..."
"Crossing the Uninhabited Zone does make it risky."
Uninhabited Zone. A lawless wasteland crawling with outcasts and monsters. It wasn't exactly a cozy neighborhood, which meant land travel came with endless headaches. That's why we'd taken the safest option—ships—when heading to the Church.
"If you want safe and fast, ships are the way. But you'd get seasick, right?"
Camilla Lowell got seasick. Her face went pale just remembering how she'd puked her guts out last time.
"N-no, let's just take the train."
"Smart choice."
The train's interior was downright luxurious.
"Whoa...!"
Camilla Lowell let out a gasp of awe.
"This shit's all paid for by taxes, isn't it?"
"Ugh, seriously..."
My underpaid subordinates grumbled curses.
Yep. This was a taxpayer-funded train. And this was the VIP car, to boot.
"It's for nobles. Gotta have some class."
"Whoa, Major, saying you're a noble like it's no big deal..."
"Yeah. Minor viscount family out in the sticks."
If my family had real wealth or power, I wouldn't have joined the military. In my past life, patriotism drove me; now, not so much.
"Oh, right—you're all on a week off."
"Huh?"
"Just take it. One full week to chill."
"Yesss!"
Pippin and Jake jumped for joy. A whole week off? These days, folks were grateful for a measly three nights and four days. A week meant bowing three times toward HQ.
Pippin and Jake bounced around like they were about to break into tap dance, while Camilla Lowell oohed and aahed over every decorative detail.
"Miss Camilla Lowell, we're departing soon. Please take your seat."
"Okay."
"You two, sit down."
"Got it."
For the record, we'd chartered the whole train. Security concerns, plus keeping up appearances—the kingdom had loaned it out entirely.
Pippin and Jake sprawled across their seats, while Camilla Lowell...
"I'll sit here."
"..."
She plopped down right in front of me.
"...Is that okay?"
You're already sitting.
"Uh, sure... whatever's comfy..."
I was her colleague, but we weren't exactly buddies. Work had kept us too slammed for chit-chat. With terrorists striking anytime, who had time for small talk? Manager or bodyguard fit us better than "friends."
"Hehe..."
"..."
She smiled, gazing at the scenery reflected in the window. I'd planned to relax, but with her right there, it felt awkward. Couldn't exactly snap at her for beaming like that, though.
No sleep coming on, and the weird silence bugging me, I spoke first.
"What's so fascinating?"
"First time riding a train like this."
"Never been on one?"
"I don't really like traveling..."
"It can be a hassle. All the little things to worry about."
Memories flooded back of ditching the weather check to hit a stream with friends—only for a downpour. The guy who'd recommended the game was there too.
But if you hated travel, why take a train?
"Does this train run on mana?"
"Yep. That's why the engineers are magic majors."
"Mages?"
"Close enough."
Mana affinity varied person to person. Beyond whether you could use it, the key was how much you could handle. Only those above a certain threshold got called "mages."
"They can use magic, but low affinity means no heavy-duty spells."
"Ah."
"Most end up in research or industry jobs."
Magic was damn convenient like that. If you could wield mana, career worries vanished. Pure no-brainer.
Camilla Lowell stared at her palm.
"Is this power of mine magic too?"
"We're guessing it is."
Heroes were rare samples, so research lagged. Some called it magic, others divine power, others supernatural force. We couldn't even pin down magic's origins yet—how could we analyze otherworldly abilities?
So we'd brute-force it with science.
"Back in the kingdom, we'll run tests on your abilities, Miss Camilla Lowell."
"Tests?"
"Gotta figure out why you pass out. We'll do a full checkup at the hotel."
"Ah..."
She blacked out mid-use. No one knew why—just theories.
"I don't remember much."
Memory gaps before and after. She knew she handled flames now, but not the fainting.
Classified info: she'd passed out using powers at the palace too. That's why she was clueless about her own strength.
"Mm... Don't worry too much."
"Huh?"
"Our researchers are sharper than they look. They'll nail it quick."
I skipped mentioning the Magic Tower option.
"Rest easy."
"...Okay."
*
A few hours on the train brought endless episodes.
"Ewww..."
"What the hell are you eating?"
"Jelly!"
Stuffing wriggling worm jellies like some exotic snack.
"Major."
"Yeah."
"What's those running animals over there?"
"..."
"Major?"
"...Wildlife, I guess."
Gawking at monsters chasing the train like it was fascinating.
"You can't just fly broomsticks anywhere?"
Asking obvious stuff due to her shaky common sense.
"No flying magic in cities."
"Why?"
"Privacy invasion, safety issues."
She tilted her head, not getting it.
"Imagine changing clothes and locking eyes with a mage flying by."
"Ah..."
Fine in rural areas or transit, but cities? Disaster. Drunks smashing windows, dropping crap on heads, buzzing secret sites, peeping bedrooms. World full of psychos.
"Brooms need a license too."
"License?"
"Kids crash 'em recklessly sometimes."
"Ah... Driver's license."
Back when high-affinity folks got funneled straight into magic ed, it bred socially stunted mages ignorant of other fields. Spying on couples, pranking pedestrians, broom chases with cops. That's what birthed mandatory mage service and education laws.
"Still plenty of 'em out there."
"Who?"
"Racing brooms downtown sometimes."
This world's highway racing. Cops and MPs go full alert. Used to be shoot-on-sight; now it's finger-lopping for leniency.
Random magic questions, though. Interest piqued?
"Hmm..."
Camilla Lowell wrapped flames around her palm, inspecting intently. Dipping fingers in, shaking gently, sniffing...
"Why the hell are you sniffing it?"
"Wondered if it'd smell like me burning."
"What'd burn to smell like you anyway."
She blinked at the rising flames.
"Huh, yeah."
"Jeez..."
Camilla Lowell giggled.
"Pretty dumb, huh?"
"Humans are curious critters by nature."
*
Camilla Lowell, Pippin, and Jake crashed out after feasting and fun. I draped blankets over them and waved off the waiting mages.
Mages guarding the train and Hero.
Camilla Lowell had rolled into a blanket burrito like a caterpillar. I straightened her out, then stared out the window.
Sunset on the distant horizon. Stars peeking shyly. Below, vast plains with a few monsters scampering. Occasional flashes far off—fights in the Uninhabited Zone.
Some lived there, some died. Crossing borders for a better fate, escaping jails, civil wars, oppression, plagues. Reasons varied, but all flocked there to survive.
Just how the world worked.
"...Major."
One guard mage approached.
"Crossed the border. Three hours to the capital."
Safe territory now.
"Thanks."
"Rest easy."
The mage slipped away. I turned back to the window. Border villages and cities blazed with lights, blurring earth and sky.
"...We're here."
I pulled up the blanket, eyes drifting shut.
Yeah. Time for some shut-eye—
Ring ring.
Ah, fuck. Who calls this late?
Unknown number on screen. Who the hell?
"...Hello?"
"Not 'honey,' though?"
"..."
"Aw, why won't you pick up properly?"
Crazy bitch.