Iron Fortress, The Main Gate.
At the takeoff and landing platform of Frost Wyrm Aviation, the crowd was packed so tightly that not even a gust of wind could pass through.
A Dwarf, whose head sat lower than most people's waists, was attempting to leverage his height by crawling between the legs of a statuesque Elf. He figured that with his nimble fra, he could surely secure a more advantageous viewing position.
However, just as his head poked through, his backside was t with the precise, stinging jab of a hard object.
The Dwarf clutched his rear, whipping around to glare at the Elf. "Ow! What was that for, tall-stack?!"
The Elf spared him a cool, downward glance, thodically retracting her staff. "What are you doing down there? Is my stride a dog-door for you to scurry through?"
Before a localized race war could erupt, several skeletal staff mbers holding signs that read [PRACTICE CIVILIZED QUEUING] and [BE A MODEL CITIZEN] waded into the mass. They repeated their instructions in a flat, rhythmic monotone:
"Please maintain the line. Please maintain the line. Do not skip. Order is the Master's will..."
It was, of course, entirely useless.
Kaito stood atop the city wall in the distance, Bochi the Sli perched on his shoulder, as he surveyed the chaotic spectacle below.
"Are they... truly this wealthy?"
The ticket prices were exorbitant—he had set them himself specifically to filter out the riff-raff and keep the crowds manageable. Now, it seed he had underestimated the disposable inco of his subjects—or rather, their desperate curiosity regarding the outside world.
After waiting for a reply that didn't co, Kaito glanced sideways. Bochi was currently engaged in a silent staring contest with Greed, who stood nearby. Sensing the Master's gaze, Greed imdiately bowed.
"Master, this is within expected paraters."
"The triumph of the Evernight Mall has already proven that the residents possess significant purchasing power. Statistics show that this morning alone, over thirty thousand individuals ca to inquire about flight manifests. All six Frost Wyrms are currently in rotation, each capable of carrying a hundred passengers, yet it remains a drop of water in a desert."
Kaito nodded. He had expected a hit, but not a frenzy.
These residents had been subjected to a constant cultural bombardnt of novels and manga. They harbored an infinite longing for the Elven Forests, the coastal Freeports, and the mountain strongholds of the Dwarves described in those stories. Previously, they were anchored to their birthplaces by the slow pace of horse-drawn carriages. Now, with a high-speed transit system finally available, their wanderlust had reached a boiling point.
Just then, a skeletal attendant below shouted with the full power of its fra:
"FIRST GROUP: PREPARE TO BOARD!"
The crowd surged. One hundred individuals clutching official parchnt tickets were escorted toward the monolith resting on the platform, accompanied by the envious, soul-piercing glares of those left behind.
The Frost Wyrm lay flat on the stone, its massive fra looking like a small mountain. Clamped firmly within its front claws was a rectangular tal gondola. The pod was forged from lightweight alloys, its surface etched with glowing defensive arrays, and its "windows" were sealed with reinforced, transparent Mana-crystals.
The hatch hissed open, and the passengers stepped inside with cautious, wide-eyed wonder.
"Gods... look at this cabin! It's bigger than my whole house!"
"Look! The seats are padded! They're soft!"
"The windows are so clear! I can see everything!"
The interior was divided by a central aisle with two rows of fifty seats. The benches were wrapped in soft beast-hide—utilitarian, yet surprisingly comfortable. But the true draw was the view; every seat was paired with a crystal porthole.
A Death Knight stood at the entrance of the cabin, his voice a hollow rumble.
"Everyone: Take your positions. Fasten your safety harnesses."
"Safety... harness?" one passenger whispered.
The Death Knight reached out, pointing to the two leather straps beside each seat. The passengers fumbled with the buckles, mimicking the Knight's demonstration. One particularly portly rchant struggled for nearly a minute before he managed to click the straps over his stomach.
"(TAKEOFF) PREPARATIONS COMPLETE."
Once the Death Knight confird everyone was secure, the heavy tal hatch slamd shut with a resonant thud. He perford a fluid leap, landing atop the Frost Wyrm's spine and gripping the master-saddle.
The dragon slowly rose to its feet. That simple movent alone prompted a chorus of gasps from within the cabin. Then, the leathery bone-wings snapped open.
BOOM—!
A gale erupted from the downstroke, scattering the onlookers below. The next heartbeat, the Frost Wyrm surged into the sky, hurtling toward the clouds.
Inside the cabin, pandemonium broke out—in a good way.
"WE'RE FLYING! WE'RE ACTUALLY FLYING!"
"Oh Spirits! Look! Iron Fortress is shrinking!"
"Get away from my window! This is my paid view!"
Through the crystals, they watched the ramparts of the capital recede. The majestic stone structures that defined their lives now looked like tiny toys scattered in a sandbox. Looking straight down, the pedestrians beca specks of dust, and the carriages looked like ants.
"Too... too high..." a young Dwarf girl whispered, clutching her stomach as it did a sorsault.
A burly Orc sitting beside her gave her shoulder a clumsy, supportive pat, handing her a piece of salted at. "Don't look down. Look at the horizon. Eat sothing; it settles the inner-ear."
The girl took the at and looked forward. Through the front porthole, she saw the world unfurl in a way no human eyes were ant to see. Jagged mountain ranges, winding silver rivers, and the endless green of the Great Forest. In the far distance, the silhouette of a coastal city shimred in the morning mist.
"Beautiful..."
The vertigo vanished, replaced by a soul-shaking awe. Everything the books had said was true. The world was vast. It was magnificent.
The Frost Wyrm moved at a terrifying velocity. In re minutes, they had crossed hundreds of kiloters of wilderness. The Death Knight communicated with the beast through the Soul Link.
"Approach pattern: Freeport. Comncing descent."
The Wyrm let out a low, vibrating roar of acknowledgent, banking as it slowed its speed. Inside, the passengers gripped their harnesses, their hearts drumming against their ribs.
The Frost Wyrm touched down softly on the Freeport platform. It released its claws, setting the gondola flat on the pavent. The Death Knight dismounted and unlatched the hatch.
"STATION: FREEPORT. ALL PASSENGERS DISEMBARK."
The travelers unbuckled and stumbled out of the cabin. Their legs were shaking, but their faces were masks of pure euphoria.
"Incredible!"
"A hundred tis faster than a carriage!"
"I'm writing a whole chapter about this in my diary!"
The landing platform at Freeport was just as sward as the one in Iron Fortress. A mob of rchants and travelers were already clamoring to board.
"When is the next flight?!"
"I need to get to Jade Territory!"
"Are there any direct routes to the Elven Forest?!"
The skeletal ground crew were running in circles. "Patience! Maintain the line! Tickets only!"
The Frost Wyrm rested for a brief mont, then snatched up an empty cabin, loaded a fresh batch of passengers, and roared back into the sky.
Similar scenes played out across the continent. Six Frost Wyrms, assigned to six primary routes, made ten round-trips a day. Each trip moved hundreds of souls.
In a single day, Frost Wyrm Aviation moved over five thousand passengers. The world was becoming a very, very small place.
☆☆☆
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