Raven leads the way off the train, moving with the easy preening confidence that always gets on my last nerve. I follow close behind, conscious of the curious stares from the few other passengers who've disembarked.
The outpost is small but surprisingly well-maintained compared to the crumbling infrastructure we left behind in the Outer Reaches. Low buildings of white stone gleam in the late afternoon sun, their surfaces unmarred by the scorch marks and decay that characterize most structures in the wastelands.Guards in crisp white uniforms patrol the perimeter, their movements disciplined but not openly hostile.
"This way," Raven murmurs, leading me toward a small office at the edge of the platform. "Follow my lead, and for fuck's sake, try to look less like you're planning to murder everyone."
"This is just my face," I growl back.
"I know. It's a problem."
We approach a checkpoint where two guards stand at attention. They straighten as we near, hands resting casually on their weapons—not drawing them, but making sure we see they're armed. Their posture is stiff and cautious, but not aggressive.
"Halt," one says in Vrissian, probably on my account. "State your business."
Raven steps forward, inclining his head in a gesture of respect that somehow doesn't look servile coming from him. He switches to Surhiiran, and while I can't make out what he's saying, I know enough to get the gist. He's bribing them. And the fact that they don't shoot us in the face suggests they're amenable.
I watch silently as Raven produces a small pouch from within his robes and hands it to the guard along with what look like travel documents. The guard opens the pouch, examines the contents—gold coins, by the weight of it—and nods slightly.
"Traveling party?" the guard asks, switching to Vrissian once more for my benefit.
"Five," Raven answers. "Myself, my companions here, and three more waiting in the train. We travel as a pack."
The guard's eyebrows rise slightly at the word "pack." It's uncommon these days, especially with the war. Most packs were decimated, families torn apart. The ones that survived tend to be military, or criminal. We're clearly not military.
"Tell Larin that Shadow sends his regards," Raven adds smoothly. "He'll vouch for us."
The guard studies Raven for a long moment, then nods to his companion, who disappears into the office. We wait in tense silence. I scan our surroundings, noting potential escape routes, vulnerabilities in the perimeter. Old habits die hard, apparently.
"Is there any language you don't speak?" I ask under my breath, more to break the tension than out of genuine curiosity.
Raven's lips quirk up at one corner. "Arrogant prick," he replies without missing a beat. "But you've got that one covered."
I snort despite myself. It's almost like old times for the briefest moment. That easy back-and-forth we used to have before everything went to shit.
The second guard returns, accompanied by an older man in civilian clothes but with the bearing of someone accustomed to authority. He studies us with sharp eyes, then nods once.
"Shadow's friends are welcome here," he says, his Vrissian heavily accented but clear. "Your papers are in order. You may proceed."
Raven bows slightly. "Thank you for your hospitality."
The man—Larin, I presume—hands Raven a bundle of documents and a set of keys. "Your vehicle is waiting, as requested. I hope it will be large enough for all?"
Raven hesitates. "One of our companions is... substantial. He may need to walk."
Larin's eyes narrow slightly, but he nods. "As you wish. Stay on the roads. Do not wander. The border areas are still occasionally contested."
We thank him and return to the train, where the others are waiting tensely. Cosima rises when we enter, her face questioning.
"We're in," Raven announces quietly. "Papers all in order, and transportation arranged."
Relief flashes across her features, followed by something more complex that I can't quite parse. Anticipation? Anxiety? Maybe both. After all, this isn't exactly a social trip.
"What's the catch?" Geo asks, always suspicious. That's the one thing I like about him.
"No catch," Raven says. "Just standard warnings about staying on approved roads and not wandering."
"Let's move," I suggest, suddenly eager to be away from the train. The confined space that had seemed luxurious hours ago now feels oppressive. "Before someone decides to look more closely at our 'papers.'"
We gather our belongings quickly, with Knight, me, and Geo carrying the majority of our supplies. Raven is traipsing after Cosima with only her bag on his shoulder, but I guess he pulled his weight getting us through the border.
