Adrian approached the imposing expanse of the train station, its vastness looming beneath the canopy of the Rigs Forest, where the thick, imposing trees cast long, shadowy figures that whispered of secrets untold. Rigs Train Station, a crucial artery linking Snigograd to the eastern reaches of the Empire, lay like a dormant giant amidst the woods. The station itself, much like the city it served, was a place of dualities. It wore two faces, one catering to the travelers seeking solace from the clamor and smog of the city, and the other, quieter one, where hopeful dreamers bid their farewells, journeying to their villages and hometowns, leaving behind the harsh realities of Snigograd. These were the "dreamers," as they were known, brave souls who ventured into the heart of the city with aspirations, only to be met with its grim underbelly of crime, descent, and corruption. For some, this bustling metropolis held no promises, and they found solace in returning to their roots, to the simple, honorable lives they'd once known. Rigs Train Station stood as the gateway to this return journey, the first place dreamers saw when they arrived and their last glimpse of Snigograd's tangled web.
On the flip side of the station lay a sprawling depot, an intricate network where the lifeblood of trade flowed through the city's veins. Here, colossal cargo trains loaded with essentials, primarily wood and manufactured goods, prepared for their arduous journeys to the farthest reaches of the Empire. Mining corporations also played their part in this intricate dance, dispatching willing workers to remote mines, where they would toil in the depths of the earth to unearth its hidden treasures. These riches, born from the sweat and labor of countless souls, would eventually grace the velvet cushions behind the pristine glass displays of jewelry stores in the opulent Central District. It was a stark illustration of the city's heartbeat, its economy mirroring the coal that stoked the fires of the locomotives, a force that simultaneously forged and shattered lives.
As Adrian infiltrated the depot, a clandestine presence lurking in the shadows, he approached a side entrance with the utmost caution. His nimble fingers gripped the metal door's handle, and he eased it open, attempting to minimize any telltale noise. Unfortunately, the door betrayed him with a shrill screech of protest. Fortunately, the expansive space before him appeared deserted, an expanse filled with metal tracks, assorted trucks, and scattered workbenches for engine repairs, all cast in an eerie, dimly lit glow.
Adrian, his resolve unbroken by the door's outcry, pondered his next move. The late hour meant fewer people milling about, but the multitude of train carriages presented a formidable challenge. Each held the potential to whisk away vital information. After minutes of methodical observation, he teetered on the brink of surrender but found himself drawn to the foremost carriage of the longest train. These wagons, distinctively crafted for transporting animals, hailed from various companies, a discrepancy that ignited Adrian's suspicion. Could these be the wagons Xavier had alluded to?
Advancing further, Adrian moved from the depot's sheltered interior and out into the open beneath the night sky. His keen eyes settled on a particular wagon with its sliding door ajar, forming a narrow aperture that beckoned his curiosity. Adrian peered inside and was greeted by a sight that left him perplexed—a series of freshly constructed benches, accompanied by inexplicable metal chains mounted on the walls. These restraints, seemingly intended to secure animals during transit, posed an enigma: why were there so many benches accompanying them?
A sharp voice pierced the silence from behind Adrian, accompanied by the blinding glare of a flashlight casting an accusing finger of light upon him.
Slowly turning without making any sudden movements, Adrian faced the intruder, his demeanor deceptively composed. "I was just in search of something," he replied, his tone remarkably even.
"You're well aware you shouldn't be here, aren't you?" the man interrogated, his attire marked by the distinctive garb of a laborer, topped by a flat, checkered cap that concealed what appeared to be a balding head.
"I am aware," Adrian affirmed, his words punctuated by a thoughtful pause. "But I was told I could find some workers here for a job I have."
The laborer scratched his cheek, considering Adrian's words. "Follow me," he instructed, and Adrian complied, surreptitiously checking the gun holstered at his side, a gift from Artemia.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, the darkness of the depot's edges gradually giving way to the warm glow of a campfire. Around it, two men and a woman huddled, their faces momentarily illuminated by flickering flames.
"Find anyone?" one of them inquired, then spotted Adrian and remarked, "Well, look who we've got here. This one doesn't seem like a common thief."
"He claims to have a job. Anyone interested?" the laborer who had found Adrian posed the question.
"What kind of job?" the woman asked, her attention divided between the conversation and the orange she was peeling.
Adrian maintained his composure, his voice steady as he spoke. "Oh, nothing too significant. I require some workers for the renovation of my superior's apartment, and I was informed that this might be a suitable place to find them."
One of the men lounging by the fire couldn't help but smirk. "Normally, you'd be right, but we're all under contract at the moment. Maybe try another time."
Curiosity piqued, another of the workers chimed in, "What kind of work are you looking for?"
Adrian met their gazes intently. "Just some woodwork," he replied.
"That's a shame," a woman lamented, sighing. "That's our specialty, but, we're tied up with a contract." She turned to one of her companions by the fire. "Can you believe it? We wait for days to land a job, and just when we get one, another comes along, and we're forced to pass it up."
The man beside her shook his head, a touch of ironic sadness in his expression.
"So," Adrian inquired, coming closer to the fire and producing a pack of cigarettes to share, "are you all employed by the woodwork factory or..."
"We used to be, but the wages aren't exactly generous," one of them replied, gratefully accepting a cigarette.
"Plus, there's too much politics rotting the brain," the woman added, tossing an orange peel aside. "We're here for the money, mate," she affirmed.
Adrian nodded in understanding. "So, you're essentially freelancers?"
"I suppose," the woman agreed.
Adrian continued his cautious probing. "And this contract you mentioned, might there be room for a better offer?"
The man who had initially escorted Adrian and now sat beside him leaned in with a smile. "I doubt your boss could outbid this gig," he asserted.
"Quiet down," another worker admonished him. "Isn't this supposed to be confidential?"
"Why should it be?" the woman countered. "He didn't ask us to keep it hush-hush, and he isn't paying us for silence. Just for our labor."
Adrian had more questions but tread carefully. "What exactly does this job involve?"
"We're tasked with refurbishing these wagons," one of them explained. "Adding twenty benches in two rows to each wagon, checking for any gaps in the walls that need sealing, and erecting walls around the latrines."
"So, they're converting these cattle wagons to accommodate humans?" Adrian inquired.
"That's right," another worker confirmed. "Seems like it's going to be quite a journey."
"Must be for the miners," The woman mused. "I've heard tales of the eastern mines, overflowing with precious gems. No wonder so many are eager to make the trip."105Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡhoAsJQRjqI
As they chatted about the allure of gems and diamonds, Adrian pondered for a moment. "It must be one of the mining companies that hired you."
"Perhaps. We've been dealing with just one secretary lady, but there have been plenty of those important-looking folks coming around, inspecting our work," one of them replied.
"Yeah, inspecting it, and then they criticize it all crooked," the woman chimed in, spitting disdainfully on the ground. She then turned to Adrian with exasperation. "Can you believe the audacity? They want us to finish the entire train in another week, just the four of us, and expect it to look like a grand palace."
Adrian nodded in understanding and pressed further, "And how much are they paying you for this?"
"A hundred and fifty Crowns a day!" one of the men exclaimed. "I've never seen such a generous salary before. That's why we can put up with the constant criticism. They just want to ensure they get their money's worth."
The rest of the workers nodded in agreement.
Adrian acknowledged their responses with a nod, then tossed his cigarette butt into the fire. "Thank you, my friends. It was a pleasure chatting with you. Now, I'll have to be on my way to find some workers." He offered them a warm smile and tipped his hat in a gesture.
The group regarded him with a mix of admiration and curiosity as Adrian faded back into the obscurity of Snigograd's nocturnal embrace.105Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoT1ERy7isx
105Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡn5eZQbx3CW
and then Add to home screen.