Story no. 5. My deepest apologies for the delay! In the in-between time I have started classes at EPFL, and unsurprisingly I have been wildly busy. At least my computer has resumed working for the time being.
This will be only a two-parter.
At least Agbet’s boarding school town had a train station.
Cembarin repeated this to himself as he rang the bell again. The shutters over the ticket window remained closed.
Having a station meant that you had trains passing through more than twice a week. A train station meant you could leave—go to the next town! go to Caillon, even!—at virtually any time, without having to call Tuga Kadescher and beg her to let you sleep in the spare room over the garage on Thursday night until you could catch the Saturday morning train that buzzed through the platform at eleven-oh-five. With a train station in town, you certainly didn’t have to swallow your pride and beg your father to let you borrow the car, and find yourself walking twenty miles in a state of numb outrage when he squinted past you and said he didn’t think that was a very good idea and why didn’t you go down to the family shrine and pray on it a bit? Read More