The final stretch of the journey passed in a blur of changing landscapes and the steady rhythm of the rails.
By the time the second, larger train, the one reserved for nobles and high clergy, pulled into the capital’s central station, two days had passed somehow.
The light outside the windows had already begun to soften toward late afternoon when the train finally stopped running. Jiro had spent most of the ride pressed close to the glass, watching the world transform from open fields to clustered towns and finally to a sprawl of stone and timber that seemed to have no end. Nothing in Doldia, nothing in the market towns they had passed, had prepared him for the sheer density of it. There was just too much to see, and he didn’t want to look away even once, in fear he would miss something.
When the train finally shuddered to a halt, and the carriage doors opened, the noise hit him first.
There were voices. Hundreds of them. Porters shouting for space, vendors calling out the prices of roasted nuts and hot tea, children asking for money, metal-wheeled carts rattling over the platform stones. The air here didn’t smell like his village at all. It kind of smelled of coal smoke, horse dung, baking bread, and too many bodies packed into too little space. People moved in every direction at once, rich cloaks brushing against work-stained tunics, skinny, malnourished children running or walking along the train-sides in hope of someone giving something, vendors and porters asking rich-looking people if they needed something.
Feeling a little overwhelmed by all of this already, Jiro stepped down onto the platform and stopped dead.
The station itself was a cavern of iron and glass, the ceiling so high that birds wheeled near the upper beams. Platforms stretched out on either side, each one crowded with travelers and luggage. Beyond the open arches, Jiro could glimpse wide avenues lined with multi-story buildings, banners snapping in the breeze, and more people than he had ever seen in one place in his entire life.
With everything happening around him for the past three days, now seeing the sheer size of buildings and numbers of people around him, his brain simply……stalled.
He stood there with the best quality satchel he had ever seen until now, that his mother gave him before leaving home, hanging loose from one shoulder, mouth slightly open, eyes tracking faces too quickly to settle on any single one. A woman in embroidered silk swept past, the hem of her dress missing his boots by a finger’s width. He pulled back a little, not to dirty her hem.
Then a pair of guards in polished breastplates followed a merchant who shouted orders over his shoulder. Somewhere nearby, a child also began to cry at the same time, and the sound was swallowed almost immediately by another larger roar of the station.
Seeing how he had lost his focus, a firm hand settled between his shoulder blades.
“Don’t gawk,” Tsunade said, voice low and dry beside his ear. “People will start thinking poorly of you. And look out for street thieves. Be careful to not lose your money pouch before arriving at the Temple. Though you’ll get an allowance of yours, it is best not to have your own reserves.”
Heat flooded Jiro’s face. He snapped his mouth shut and forced his feet to move, falling into step just behind her as the rest of the escort formed a loose protective ring around them. The embarrassment helped a little. As it gave him something smaller to focus on now than the overwhelming crush of the capital itself.
They pushed through the main archway and out into the open air. The avenue beyond the station was even wider than he had imagined. Carriages of every size rolled past on iron-rimmed wheels. Street performers competed with food stalls. Above it all, the spires of distant towers caught the slanting sunlight and threw it back in bright flashes at Jiro’s face.
Just as they got out of the main station area, there were several carriages waiting in a reserved space just outside the station gates. Their wood was darker, their fittings brighter than anything Jiro had seen on the journey.
And most importantly, a man in a finely cut coat and a modest chain of office stepped forward the moment Tsunade appeared. His gaze flicked from her face to the young man walking half a pace behind her. Whatever signal passed between them was small, but it seemed like it was enough for the man to know Jiro was the said Sage.
The man stopped a polite distance away and bowed with practiced precision.
“Sage-sama. On behalf of the Temple and the capital administration, welcome. It is an honor to receive you.”
Jiro got startled. The formal address somehow landed a little hard on his exhausted mind. He recovered as quickly as he could, managing a short, awkward bow of his own.
The words felt stiff in his mouth, but the man accepted them with another polite incline of the head and stepped aside to open the door of the nearest carriage. Tsunade gestured for Jiro to enter first. He climbed in, the interior smelling of polished leather and faint incense. Cushions far softer than any train seat welcomed him. Tsunade settled opposite, and the door closed with a solid, expensive sound.
Outside, the well-dressed man had already turned away and begun issuing crisp orders. Jiro caught fragments through the open window: “tighten the Temple approaches,” “double the evening rotation,” “no delays on the eastern gate will be excused”, before the carriage lurched gently into motion.
He sat very still, hands resting on his knees, and tried to process the simple fact that high-ranking strangers were rearranging the city’s defenses because he had arrived. Witnessing first-hand how high-quality treatment he was receiving, the crest under his sleeve felt suddenly a little heavier. A thin thread of unease wound through the lingering awe of him. Part of him still expected to wake up on the thin mattress in his house, in Doldia, with the sound of his parents bedframe against the wall.
Tsunade watched him for a moment, then spoke in a quieter tone than she had used on the platform.
“You don’t need to worry about anything, Jiro-sama. As long as I am here, beside you, the capital will not swallow you whole, I promise, hehe. So, breathe.” Her smile made her look like an angel to Jiro at this moment.
The simple assurance landed more effectively than any formal speech would have. Jiro exhaled, shoulders loosening a fraction. The carriage rocked steadily over the smooth stone of the avenue. Outside the window, the city continued to unfold, grand facades, crowded side streets, the distant gleam of what might have been the Temple’s outer walls. Inside, the cushions were deep, and the air was warm.
With the days of travel, the constant newness of everything finally caught up with him; his eyelids finally began to grow heavy. The last thing he registered was the steady rhythm of the wheels and the quiet presence of the beautiful commander sitting across from him.
By the time the carriage turned onto the final approach to the Temple grounds, Jiro had already drifted into a light, exhausted sleep.