The Diehard
In the end, of the three of us who had been hiding in the supply storeroom, I was the only one who managed to slip properly into the line.
There was no room for regret, or for that hollow sense of futility. The ordeal was not over yet.
"Let us through there, will you!"
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Impatient, aren't you."
An hour had already passed since we dropped anchor in some nameless port of the Federation. It was nowhere near enough time for several hundred passengers to disembark, and the deck was still a solid mass of bodies. I wedged myself into a gap in the disembarkation queue.
Fortunately, no one spared so much as a glance for the ash-gray hair spilling out from under my hat. Sea wind, piles of luggage, and countless people jostling every which way had thrown up enough confusion to blind them all. Some simply closed their eyes and surrendered themselves to the crowd. I did the opposite, and opened mine wide.
This was the sight I had drawn over and over in my dreams. The very scene I had only imagined for eight long years was unfolding before me. I could not look away.
Shoved along in a daze, I found myself walking the auxiliary gangway that ran from the Eddington down to the pier. As I descended the ramp, the rise and fall beneath my feet slowly faded.
Thud.
The moment I took that last step, it vanished altogether.
"Hah."
Dry land. The feeling of both feet planted on something solid. Barely half a day had passed aboard the ship, and yet walking on land already felt strangely unfamiliar.
"Maybe it's because this isn't familiar ground."
Well. It wasn't as if the whole of the Federation were made of mud. I shook off the idle thought and pressed on.
Unlike Rosco, the Empire's port city, which had been little more than an open stretch of ground, this nameless harbor had an enormous building rising right beside the pier. An immigration office of some kind, perhaps. Even watching every soul off the Eddington stream toward it, I could not be sure—simply because of the scale.
Red brick, and four towers crowned with domes. It looked easily twice the size of the bank in Lehman, and under the mana-lamps set all around it the building was nothing short of imposing. Had I not surveyed the harbor from the deck, I might have thought that building alone was simply that large.
It wasn't. Even this nameless port city was more prosperous than Lehman, one of the Empire's principal cities—and that despite the fact that a great deal of it must have been rebuilt after the war with the Empire. I kept my mouth shut and simply stared.
"If I hadn't crossed over, I might have gone a long time without ever knowing."
That the world was changing this fast.
Then someone gave my shoulder a firm shove.
"Hey. Kid. Don't block the way—move."
Right. It wasn't over yet. I started walking again.
True to its size, the immigration office's main gate boasted the grandeur of a monster's maw. The difference was that being swallowed by a monster would have meant endless dark, whereas the inside of the office was filled with a soft, steady light. Mana-lamps hung beneath a roof borne up by steel beams, illuminating the broad hall without a single shadowed corner.
The crowd, chaos itself a moment ago, began slowly to take on order. Inspection was right in front of me. A dozen or so inspectors worked without pause, while people sat in the rows of chairs set before them, waiting their turn. From what I could see in a brief watch, soldiers of the Federal Army seemed to pass through easily on a separate certificate.
The problem was ordinary people like me. They were not screening all that strictly. Even so, seeing roughly one in a hundred led off to a side room, I could not afford to relax.
"Please."
Time flew, and my turn came.
Thud.
"Good day."
I stood before a desk manned by one weary-looking inspector and a young assistant. He did not so much as look at me, giving the instruction in a lifeless voice.
"Yeah. Identification."
I already had it in hand. I passed over the certificate without hesitation, and the inspector who took it slowly raised his head.
"Hmm."
Our eyes met.
"A simplified certificate, with no residence listed. What brings you to Oslovia?"
Oslovia. Once a country in its own right, and one of the three pillars of the Frauvia Federation. Fortunately, I had expected the question.
"I've come to study magic."
When I discreetly showed him a magic book, his expression softened a little. His suspicion, however, did not seem to have ended there.
"Take off the hat."
"......"
Hesitating here would only deepen it. I slipped off Madam Dieman's hat. In that instant my distinctive ash-gray hair was laid bare before a crowd of strangers.
This time it was the inspector's turn to fall silent.
"Well now. Gray hair."
In his right hand he held two stamps. Eligible and Ineligible. The latter was precisely the stamp that meant being moved to the side room. I would not be caught on the spot, but if they conducted a detailed investigation in that room, the fact that I was an illegal entrant would inevitably come out.
I forced my face to stay calm. Even so, the inspector shifted his grip to the Ineligible stamp. He was just about to bring it down on the paper.
"Sir. You're doing it again?"
The young assistant spoke up.
"Don't you remember the last time you took one look at a gray-haired old man, decided he was an Imperial, and we got thoroughly chewed out for it?"
"Even so—"
"We barely get one illegal entrant every three months as it is. He's got identification, and he's carrying a magic book. You're really going to detain a promising talent like this?"
The assistant shook his head with a comic look on his face. The fellow probably just wanted to get off work early. For me, though, it was the best possible turn of luck.
The inspector gave in.
"All right. All right."
Thump!
He held out the stamped paper.
"Welcome to Oslovia."
"......Thank you."
I took the paper and hurried my steps.
The immigration office was built like a gatehouse; past the inspection desk, another door appeared—a door that led straight into the city. Before me lay a city with neither guards nor soldiers, glowing softly even in the dead of night.
Only then did it feel real. This was the first step of my dream.
A racing heart and a march toward one's dream were all well and good, but more important than either was food, clothing, and a roof. If I failed to find an inn tonight in particular, I might well be thrown back to three years ago, forced to seek sleep under some bridge or other. Had I no money, that would not have been so bad—but unlike then, I had twelve pounds in hand.
Finding an inn was not difficult. Alongside the movement of goods, lodging seemed to be one of the industries that kept a port city standing. Signs reading tavern and inn hung all along the streets.
"If I can help it, a place with fewer guests would be better."
From among the many inns I picked one that looked respectable and, at the same time, had fewer lights burning.
Jingle—
I stepped inside to the bright ring of a bell. The interior was cozy. It lacked the warmth of the Oslos' two-story house, but it was a home with the feel of lived-in life in every corner. I liked it well enough, save for the proprietor, who looked thoroughly cantankerous.
Instead of asking my business, he jerked his chin at me. I knew nothing of the customs between innkeepers and lodgers. Doing my best to look natural in both gesture and expression, I asked.
"One night. No meals. How much?"
It seemed to have been the right answer. The proprietor looked me over and replied.
"Eight pounds."
"Pardon?"
"You deaf? Eight pounds."
Eight pounds? Far too expensive. But the proprietor added nothing, only staring blankly at me, his eyes asking what the problem was.
"Ah."
From that utterly unbothered bearing, I could tell exactly where I had gone wrong.
The Federation and the Empire. The Empire and the Federation. Since the war, the Empire had been reduced to borrowing the Federation's currency. Of course the prices could not be the same.
"One night, please."
"End room, second floor."
Only after checking five more inns, and confirming that a night's lodging was, if anything, more expensive than eight pounds and never cheaper, did I return to the first. Perhaps people live much the same everywhere; the room was not dramatically better than my storeroom back home. It was about twice as wide, though.
"Oh!"
There was a bed.
I flopped onto it and lay stretched out for a few minutes, and the aftereffects of seasickness and nerves seemed to ease a little. Staring blankly at the ceiling, I sorted through the situation.
"Prices are high."
Considerably so. In the Empire a single shilling would buy a loaf of bread; here I would have to pay something like three. And that was not all. The greatest problems were travel and lodging.
When one spoke of the Frauvia Federation, one chiefly meant a union of three nations. Oslovia, developed in steelmaking, textiles, and all manner of industry. Fraussen, the center of magic. Berleux, lined with vast pastures and farms. Of the three, the place I meant to reach was none other than Fraussen.
"Even the name says it's the heart of magic."
From what Benjamin had told me, his wife Susan and the rest of his family lived there, and above all the Federal Magic University stood there. He had written to his family in Fraussen to let them know of me, but even so. I had no intention of holding out my hand right away. I had at least that much shame.
Even setting that aside, going to Fraussen, where the magic university stood, was the choice that drew me most. And here travel and lodging became the problem. On foot it was a journey of several weeks, so I would have to take the railway no matter what.
The original plan had been this: to spend my twelve pounds with the utmost thrift and enjoy a railway journey all the way to Fraussen.
And yet.
"If a single night costs eight pounds, what on earth does a ticket cost?"
I did not have enough money. Not nearly. There was only one way to solve it—hide my identity as an Imperial completely, and scrape together the fare to Fraussen. In other words, I had to find work, somehow.
"......This journey is going to be longer than I thought."
Rest came first. I buried myself in the soft bed and courted sleep.
I did not dream. It was already real.