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“...Remember that your train leaves at eight in the morning and that neither me nor your dad will be here to take you to the station because we have to leave early in the morning, prepare your alarm clock to ring at six so you'll have time to shower and make breakfast alongside checking your belongings, I know Heimdallr’s a big city, but you’ll have to learn how to use public transportation sooner or later, considering you don't even have a license yet. Besides, you're a Thors graduate! If you're adept enough at swordsmanship, hailing a cab or using the tram should be no problem for you…”
These were the very wise words of one Alisa Reinford-Schwarzer to her son Marc, who is about to embark on his first ever trip abroad to Crossbell. Initially, Rean insisted during dinner the night before to drive him there himself so they could have a proper father-son sendoff; but “urgent family business” or at least that's what Alisa said when she barged into her own son’s room all of sudden at night when he was just about to fall asleep, meant that his parents would leave at five in the morning and he’d be all alone for the two hours he has from the time he wakes up to the time the train leaves the station.
“Simple morning.” Marc thought, he never took too long in the shower and all of his belongings were already packed the night before. “All I have to do is run down the stairs, grab my luggage, eat breakfast and find the nearest taxi!”
.
.
.
Now all of that would be simple enough, except for the fact that he didn't encounter a single taxi for three whole blocks, wasting twenty minutes of his time running around aimlessly.
“No worries, no worries… I'll just head over to a tram stop and ride it to the station!” Marc says to himself as he sprints towards the nearest stop which coincidentally has a near empty tram, allowing him to put his bag of belongings on the empty seat beside him as he rides instead of sacrificing his legroom; which is a relief much needed for someone as tall as he was, having already surpassed his father’s height at sixteen and is still yet growing throughout his young adult years.
Looking outside the tram window, the peak of winter had already reached Heimdallr a week ago as multiple weather reports warn citizens of snow that may be piling up on the sidewalks alongside multiple accounts of people across the countryside reporting that the snow is already knee deep and that exiting out of their homes is virtually impossible due to the snow blocking their front doors.
“It’s the third year in a row now that the capital’s broken its record amount of snowfall.” The tram driver sighs, looking ahead as he tries to make conversation with Marc, currently the only passenger on the tram. “It’s only been going up for the past year! First it was eight tenths, then eleven, then fourteen!”
Marc didn't have much to say to the driver, other than, “Yeah, it's unbelievable.”
“Actually, if you don't mind me asking… I noticed you don't have many layers on you considering the weather, not a city boy?” The driver tries to make small talk, noticing Marc’s lack of a scarf or greatcoat, in its stead was a simple zipped up long sleeved jacket with the hood down alongside a crest located over the left breast pocket.
“Ehhh…. sorta? My mom has a lotta business in the capital, but my dad’s a college professor and he also works in the capital but also has a home in Ymir where I grew up and-” Marc had gone on a small tangent but quickly shut himself up. “...Yeah, that's about it.”
“Ymir!? Why didn't you say so? I was from there too! Went down to the capital for work and here I am.” The driver’s tone is noticeably more jovial when talking about Ymir. “I haven't gone home in months, I should probably ask for leave soon, haha!”
“Isn't the highway to Ymir experiencing heavy snowfall? That's what I last heard on the TV.”
“True, true, but I've pre-ordered a train ticket just a week after New Year's Eve!” The driver’s excitement is infectious, giving Marc a small smile across his face. He was never one to really engage or start a conversation first, unlike his father who always seemed to engage in small talk with anyone if he had the time, but he still shared Rean’s compassion in listening when he does get into a conversation with someone.
“That’s cool! I'm headed to Crossbell myself, personally.” Marc replies, pulling out his ARCUS that is slowly ticking towards eight o’clock, with only seven minutes left to spare before the train departs. “If I can catch it…”
“Crossbell?” The tram driver raises his eyebrow, not like Marc could see his face anyways. “Good luck with that, I heard the old folks there still don't like us Erebonians.”
“That- hasn't it been more than twenty years since the whole annexation thing?” Marc turns away from looking out through the window. “I thought we made up.”
“You have no idea how long people can hold grudges, kid.” The tram takes a right turn, just a bit more until it stops at the station, “From the civil war to the annexation and everything else? The early 1200s were a… weird time if you said you're a proud Erebonian citizen; if you went abroad and said that stuff, people either thought you were ignorant or some crazy nationalist.”
“Really?” Marc raises an eyebrow at the statement, looking back at the snow covered city outside.
“Not entirely, but you really had to watch your mouth on which parts of the Empire you were proud of!” The driver explained, “Saying you love the culture and the arts? All fine and dandy… but Aidios forbid you make one remark about the military or the government and suddenly they think you agree with that cuckoo Chancellor’s policies back in the day! Which let me be clear, I did not approve-”
Marc lets the tram driver ramble on for a while longer, zoning out by looking out at the tram window into the passing city. He had ridden in the capital’s iconic trams many times before during his childhood, sitting on the lap of his mother as he excitedly pointed out anything of interest.
In fact, most of his Heimdallr memories came from Alisa and Granny Irina; not that he minds, the latter always gave him plenty of money when they visit–only for mom to snatch it from his little hands for “safekeeping”.
Looking at his faint reflection in the tram window, one could hardly tell he was even a Schwarzer at first; his hair is a bright shade of blonde inherited from Alisa, he hardly enjoyed fishing (in fairness, one temper tantrum about not catching fish when he was six hardly counts as a whole fishing experience, but it did leave a sour taste in his mouth), the swordsmanship he mastered to get a shot at graduating the academy was part of the Vander School which was encouraged by uncle Kurt’s daughter Alanna- speaking of which, they haven't seen each other since grad-
“Hey kid! We’re at the station!” The driver’s voice finally got through his head. “I’ve called you out twice now, c'mon! I got more passengers waiting!”
“Oh shi- uh- yeah!” Marc stammers, hurriedly grabbing his belongings. “I'm off! I'm off!” He rushes to the tram exit and fumbles with his wallet for a bit trying to pay the fee. “Here, two hundred Mira!” He tosses the money onto the tram dashboard, if his parents were here, he'd be reprimanded for rude behavior, thank goodness they're not.
“And hey! One more thing!” The driver calls out to Marc just in time before he makes his mad dash towards the station.
“Arise, o youth of the world! Haha!” He yells, before pointing out the Thors Military Academy badge on his jacket.
To which Marc just hurriedly gave a thumbs up while jogging backwards, before turning back and gunning it towards the station. “Wait, was that guy an alumni? How the hell does a Thors alumni end up as a tram dri- forget about it! I have a train to catch!”
Running up the quick steps to the entrance of the station, Marc burst into the lobby of Heimdallr’s train station panting with his back bent forward trying to catch his breath looking towards Platform 3… and it's gone.
“I swear I set the timer right…” Marc picks the ARCUS out of his pocket and finds that there's still two minutes left on the clock. “Surely the train didn't leave early?” He looks around and decides to ask a nearby Railway Officer.
“Excuse me, sir?” He approaches the officer, who was slightly leaning against a pillar. “I wanted to ask about the train on Platform 3, the one heading to Crossbell.”
“Oh, you'll have to wait a little longer before the train arrives, I'm afraid.” He sighs, looking at his watch. “An… unfortunate landslide occurred just outside of the capital, the train is okay but it'll take some time before the tracks are cleared again.”
Aidios shines on Marc once again. “I see… how long do you think the delay will last?”
“Roughly an hour if things go smoothly, the Railroad apologizes for this delay.” The officer bows his head a little.
“It’s okay, I can wait an hour.” Marc stops the timer on his ARCUS so he doesn't get spooked by it later.
“If you're hungry, I can suggest checking out the station’s newly expanded food court.” He points towards the section of the station lit up by various different restaurants and convenience stores. “We now offer Eastern culinary dishes, they just opened yesterday.”
“Oh, I see…” Marc nods, knowing full well that if he did want any Eastern dishes, he could just ask his dad on how to make them; speaking of which, he should probably call his parents.
Walking away and sitting on a nearby bench, he calls on both of his parents to no avail…. either they were still driving to whatever business they're up to, or the business was so important that they couldn't afford to answer a phone call. Resorting to sending a text message, he decided to text his father:
>hey dad, I'm at the station
>train got delayed by landslide so I'm waiting around the station for an hour
>can you vc soon? I know you wanted to give me a father son sendoff at dinner
Marc pockets his ARCUS, stretching a bit by standing and putting his arms up before putting his hands on his hip. “A sandwich sounds real good right about now-”
Those thoughts were interrupted by an arm wrapping around his throat, an unknown force weighing him back as it tries to unsteady his footing; it was a technique he was familiar with back at the academy, popular for how quick it was at pacifying the victim and allowing the assailant to either choke them until they were unconscious or snap their neck.
Fortunately, the assailant’s arm seems rather skinny as he’s able to grab the arm wrapped around his neck and break the chokehold as he hears a loud thud coming from behind him.
“Ow.”
Marc’s left hand reaches deep into his pocket, ready to pull out a folding blade he uses as a concealed carry… until he realizes who was dumb enough to assault him in the middle of a crowded train station. “Alanna…”
The blue haired girl lay flat on her ass for a lack of better words, starting to regret that funny idea in her head about pranking her friend she hasn't met since graduation day.
“No fair, you're like a foot taller than me!”
“And you thought the best way to greet me was trying to choke me!?” Marc looks at her bewildered. “The only way you didn't fall off was if you genuinely tried to kill me!”
“Yeah, my bad.” She eventually got up on her own, wiping any dust or snow left over on her jacket and track pants. “Good grief, I forgot how much of a… freak? No- no- uhhh…. athletically gifted you are?”
Marc took a second to process Alanna’s compliment, she wasn't wrong after all; he stood at roughly 1.93 arge and played football as his extracurricular back at Thors, replacing lacrosse as it was getting increasingly viewed as “old fashioned” and had declining memberships each semester, much to his mother’s dismay.
“Yeah, I've been working on that the past year,” Marc rubs the back of his head. “I’ve been applying for tryouts, but the only one that showed interest in me was Crossbell SC.”
“SC…? Oh right, I forgot the Crossbellan’s call it ‘soccer’.” Alanna did an air quotes gesture at the end.
“Oh c'mon, it's not that bad! It comes from association football, which was used to differentiate between other different types of footballs which then got shortened to assocc-”
“Yeahyeahyeahyeah I get it, shut up.” She waves him off. “How about you and I get sandwiches, eh? Compensation for the whole me trying to strangle you thing?”
“Are you gonna pay for both?”
“....Alright, but I won't always be so generous!”
“As long as you don't always choke me out of nowhere.”
Heading over to one of the convenience stores inside of Heimdallr’s large train station, the two buy the sandwiches that Alanna promised: katsu egg for Marc and tuna for Alanna, alongside a side of pretzels.
The two sit down at a table right outside the store, with a clear view at Platform 3.
“So, you going home?” Marc asks, unwrapping his sandwich. “I heard your dad’s school in Crossbell’s getting popular.”
Alanna swallowed the pretzel she was chewing to answer. “Yeah, but that's not the reason.” She leans back on her chair. “I mean- don't get me wrong, I LOVE my dad! He's the reason why I got into swordsmanship! But… I'm just gonna be attending my mom’s retirement party.”
“Oh shit, for real?” Marc's voice came out slightly muffled, mostly due to the piece of sandwich in his mouth. “I thought she had some more gas left in her tank… no offense.”
“None taken, she's gonna be forty two this year, anyways.” She finishes the last of her pretzels, the tuna sandwich still untouched. “She's gonna be hanging the old tonfas and… I dunno, play tennis all day?”
“Make sure she doesn't bust her hip, eh? Haha…”
………
Marc’s joke falls flatter than a pancake due to the lack of laughter from Alanna and her deadpan stare and backpedals immediately. “...Ha… forget what I said.”
“Yeah, that's enough from me and my parents… how about yours!” Alanna flips the question. “How’s Alisa and Uncle Rean doing? It better not be just your mom doing CEO stuff and your dad fishing this time!”
“Oh boy, do I have bad news for you…”
“Seriously!? All that rep with your parents and you got nothing!? Zilch!?”
“Yep, I guess they don't like the noise.” Marc shrugs, eating the last of his sandwich. “Mom’s helping Reinford pivot to civilian products, dad still plans to teach history…”
“Not even any… y'know… tall tales or stories from when they were young and in their prime?”
“...I dunno, dad always seemed hesitant whenever I asked about the stuff he did when he was my age,” Marc sighs. “Always had that pensive look in his eyes whenever we talked about it.”
“Oh…” Alanna’s face shifted from mild annoyance to a more neutral expression. “Yeah, I- I mean- it's not like I'm asking you to make your dad relive his war memories, but would it hurt for you to ask him about the things he did back then?”
“I'd rather not think about that, I love my dad, but I wouldn't ask him that question for a million Mira.” He looks down at his ARCUS, still no call back or response to his text. “...But I think I know why he said he should be the only hero in the family.”
“Hm?”
“With all the things he went through, I'm sure he wouldn't be too mad if I end up being a footballer or something… After all, I only learned swordsmanship from your dad for self defense.” He shrugs. “The Schwarzers have enough heroic tales to last a lifetime, he said; people can call him Ashen Chevalier or Divine Blade all they want, but to me: he's just my dad.”
“Damn… that's… probably the most profound you've been since we met.” Alanna unwraps the now (probably cold) tuna sandwich and starts biting into it.
“It also helps that I hardly look like him… I mean, I've got his eyes, but my hair’s blonde, my face looks more like my mom’s, I hardly like the same things he likes… I'm just… not him, I guess.” Marc looks down for a few seconds before raising his head up again, looking a lot more downcast.
“Hey, as long as he’s happy, right?” Alanna bumps his shoulder with her elbow. “Our parents learn war and politics so we can study sports and arts.”
“I'm surprised you still remember that quote, I thought you hated political science?” He turns back to face her, smirking.
“Oh, I just hated all the books I had to skim through and all the theories I had to fit in my head.” Alanna chuckles. “It's true, though; I don't doubt that our parents wouldn’t want us to be war heroes just like them. They've gone through so much already, why subject your own kids to the same thing?”
“You’re a lot more profound than you let on, you know that?”
“Don't inflate my ego, Marc.”
The two of them just sit there in silence after eating their food, the train’s not going to be here anytime soon and there's not much you can do in a train station anyways….
Eventually, the recognizable and long-awaited sound of a train whistle echoes through the station as the PA system comes to life.
“The train on Platform 3 bound for Crossbell will arrive-”
“Finally!” Marc raises up from his chair, any longer and he probably couldn't feel his legs. “C'mon Alanna, train’s here.”
Alanna stirs back into consciousness after daydreaming and follows suit shortly. “By the way, are we gonna ride in the same car?”
“Unless you're riding in executive, no.”
“Tch, look at Mr. Moneybags over here.” Alanna scoffs at him, grabbing her bag as she starts walking off first.
“I didn't even pay for it! My mom arrang- oh, whatever.” Shrugging off Alanna’s remark, he makes his own way to the executive cars which were located in front while Alanna walks towards the middle cars.
Marc finds his seat and puts his luggage on the compartment located above the seat, while pulling out his ARCUS and headphones as he tunes in to his favorite podcast, putting the device by the window…
A few minutes into the trip, he finally gets a reply from his father, but setting the ARCUS to do not disturb meant he didn’t receive the notifications:
>Marc
>I can't call you since your do not disturb is on
>this probably means you're on the train then, right?
>I hope you can call me or your mom when you reach crossbell
>I wanted to say how proud I am of you
>I always said that you don't need to be like me or do the things I did, and I'm happy you chose a career like this
>Maybe you can be a hero by scoring a last minute goal haha
>Anyways me and your mom are gonna have fun at the alumni reunion party for a while, enjoy the trip!