Juliet Diekman is the daughter of a well-respected Marleyan scientist who works alongside the military.
In a new proposal, he is asked to go on an expedition to Paradis for research purposes before planning their big attack. He agrees, only if his b...
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THE TRAIN THUNDERS FORWARD, a speeding blur across the vast red-dust landscape, kicking up clouds of grit that cling to its rattling cars. Its iron wheels shriek against the rails, propelled by urgency, bearing its precious cargo of people and supplies toward Fort Salta. The mountain looms in the distance, its jagged peak a dark silhouette against the dusky sky, standing guard over the Marleyan fortification and the sprawling airship research base nestled at its stay.
Inside, the passengers hold on tight, faces drawn and tense, their eyes fixed on the view ahead. They know that beyond that hill lies the last remaining line of defense, a place that may soon witness either salvation or ruin.
Mr. Leonhart gazes out from the train engine door, squinting as he points to the vast mesa ahead. "That's Fort Salta, right?" the hope in his voice seems to thin in the dry air, "Are there really airships there?"
Mr. Diekman grips the doorframe as he studies the horizon, a grim line forming across his brow. "There should be," he says, his voice tinged with doubt. "But right now, I couldn't say for certain."
The Marleyan hostage conducting the train scoffs quietly, glancing back at them. "You're betting everything on a long-shot plan to steal one," he mutters, eyeing them with equal parts skepticism and loath, "I guess we won't find out if your gamble paid off until we get to the end of the line. Stupid Eldian." The venom in that single word hangs heavily in the air.
Before he can say more, Mr. Diekman lifts the gun in his hand, his face hardening as he aims it squarely at the conductor. "Hey," he snaps, his tone edged with a warning, "Careful how you talk to him."
Mr. Leonhart doesn't flinch, his expression somber but steady as he faces the conductor. "That gamble," he says, his voice low and unshakable, "Is the only reason you're not a stain in a foot-shaped crater right now. If it doesn't pay off," He leans closer, his eyes darkening, "Your family dies in the Rumbling with the rest of us."
Mr. Leonhart narrows his gaze, his voice sharp and unyielding as he addresses the conductor. "If you betray us, you die here of a gunshot wound," he lets the words hang for a heartbeat, their weight unmistakable, before continuing, "But if the plan works, you all see another day."
His hands grip the train's metal frame as he leans closer, his determination evident. "I don't give a damn if the odds are against us," he declares, "We're all gonna come out of this thing alive."
The train roars onward, dust and smoke billowing in its wake, as the men's eyes lock—a silent understanding lingering between them in the tense space.
Earlier that day, when Mr. Diekman had come to grips with the Rumbling's approach, his thoughts spiraled to the families of the Warrior Unit, the parents, siblings, and loved ones whose lives now lay bare against the tidal wave of death.
