Two days in, and the ceiling of Rowan’s train roomette was practically mocking him. How could days in this room overlooking gorgeous rolling hills and forests be so mind-numbingly boring? If he read another page from his books, he was going to gouge his eyes out, and he couldn’t believe he thought that was possible. He’d spent years locked away in college, but nothing compared to the torment of stuffing cotton into your ears and locking yourself in a room where you could touch both opposing walls with outstretched hands. He craved escape.
The last time he freed himself from his self-dubbed “broom closet”, the train was packed with other travelers. Granted, since then, more and more people left the train than stepped on. But the memory of grouchy glares because of his mostly dirt-covered apparel as he squeezed his way through the filled observation deck and sleeping cars to a locked car five cars down was enough to keep him secluded in cabin 1A.
Finally, his restlessness winning out over caution, he let out a hefty sigh and pushed himself up to his feet, gingerly stepping out onto the carpeted floor. As he’d hoped, the hall only had one woman, with a wrinkled and pinched face, waddling back into her roomette. The observation deck was more occupied than he’d hoped, with a scattering of passengers, but he could at least pause and take a look up through the glass and see a gray covered sky.
All the booths were still taken with people far too focused on their mugs of coffee or newspapers to truly enjoy anything beyond the glass. However, there was one table in particular that caught his eye. A young woman, a little younger than himself, hunched over a makeshift fort constructed of books atop the table. As he approached, he saw a small pinprick of light hiding between the books, casting a slight glow on her blue eyes, soft freckled face, and blond, braided hair.
Rowan cleared his throat. “Mind if I join you?”
Doing exactly the opposite of what Rowan had intended, she jumped, sending a tower of books cascading down. A green tome fell right into the light, and for a moment it hovered in the air while the other books clattered onto the table. Then it collapsed in on itself, vanishing along with the light.
“Oh shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!” she shouted, drawing disapproving glances from the other occupants.
Rowan looked down at the table, noting the clear markings of an alchemy sigil. While many people in Neosilica revere alchemy in all its glory, the further north you get, the less supportive people become. Especially when it’s done near them, on a train, where they can’t escape if something were to go wrong.
Acting on instinct, he slipped into the booth, shielding her exposed sigil work from the prying eyes of the few passengers present.
“What was that?” Rowan whispered, his gaze fixated on the fading symbols. The complexity was mesmerizing, especially the recurrent elemental symbols intertwining in an intricate dance.
“It’s… nothing,” she mumbled, a little too quickly, clearly flustered. “Professor Valeria warned me about practicing on the train. I’m dead if she finds out I lost her copy of Aether to Quanta.”
Rowan picked up a few of the books, reading titles like Quantum Alchemic Paradigms and From Cauldrons to Quarks: An Alchemical Guide to Improbability. “Name’s Rowan,” he said, smiling up at her. “Recent grad from Flamel.”
Elara sighed, looking around the room as she pushed the books aside. “Oh, good. Flamel? Me too, second year. Elara Frost.”
Rowan held up a paperback with a rather lewd image on the front, and the title: Briefs and Bosons: The Story of My Quantum Entangled Underwear. “Quantum, I take it?”
Elara’s cheeks flushed, and she snatched the book out of his hand. “Dr. Phomen writes some… questionable books, but he has some real practical uses in them. I mean, his personal life is a mess too, cheated on his partners after that came out.”
“Really? Well, I for one am shocked,” Rowan said, exaggerating as he clutched his chest.
Elara laughed, shoving some of her books into her bag. She looked out at the rolling green hills. “Just six more months, then I’ll be back in class. Back where I can actually make a simple space fold without making everyone panic.” She looked back at him and frowned. “You graduated, right? What are you doing going north?”
“Post grad study,” Rowan said. “Dean Vayu has me checking on some greenhouse in Frostfern. Ever heard of it?”
“You could say that.” Elara looked down and smiled. “My mom’s the mayor.”
“Oh!” Rowan said, a little louder than he intended, based on the grumbles from the other patrons in the car. He leaned in close and whispered. “Wait, how does a kid from Frostfern get into Flamel? I mean—” he stumbled over his words, seeing the look on Elara’s face. “I mean this far north, with the magic and all, how?”
Elara looked away and shifted in her seat. “I wish I could say it was talent, but my mom got me in. Hard to say no when a mayor, even a small one, from the north is willing to send her daughter to school at a magic academy.”
Rowan nodded to the stack of books. “But quantum? You’ve got to be a genius to get any of that stuff.”
For a moment, she smiled. “Try telling that to my mom. Quantum alchemy? Might as well tell her I’m throwing my education away. We northerners aren’t stupid. We know about alchemy. We just care more about the practical ones. Ores, electrical, heck, even automaton studies would have been better than quantum.” She looked him up and down, her eyes stopping on a few stains in his shirt. “What’d you study?”
“Botanical.”
Elara leaned back and grinned. “Ah, you’ll fit right in then. Better watch out for Mr. Tiller; he’ll talk your ear off if you can help his crops.”
Rowan smirked, running a hand through his unkempt hair. “That might be a nice change of pace.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Elara said.
“Botanical alchemy is a dead art. Even after my final, the scouts walked right past me. Not that I expected anything different, but I mean you’re in quantum for a reason, right? Maybe the people up here won’t roll their eyes when they find out what I studied.”
Elara smirked. “Oh, they’ll still do that. They don’t love alchemy, but help them out here and there, and you’ll turn them around. You’re moving into that old greenhouse, right?”
“I am,” Rowan nodded. “Why?”
“Because the last guy who was there got the crops to grow out of season. I don’t remember it much when it happened, but people now complain that we ran the alchemist out of town when things were getting good.”
“Well,” Rowan said, laughing to himself. “They better watch out if they try to run me out of town.”
Elara frowned.
“Remember the sentient fungus?”
“That was you?!” Elara shouted.
A man behind her turned around and glared. “Keep it down,” he hissed.
Elara crouched low to the table. “That was you?” she whispered.
Rowan nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. “The one and only. Took a whole year to get it all.”
“Remind me to stay on your good side. I remember Professor Berms was stuck working out of a closet for four months because of that.”
“It wasn’t my finest moment,” he admitted.
She wiped away a tear from laughing so hard. “It was nice meeting you, Rowan. Just don’t make yourself a stranger. I might lose my mind if I can’t talk alchemy to someone.”
Rowan grinned. “As long as you don’t collapse me into some space fold.”
She smirked, gathering her books. “Deal. And in return, no sentient fungi.”
“Deal.”
Hours turned into days as Rowan and Elara took up residence on the observation deck. Others slowly filtered away, and soon enough, it was just the two of them. Rolling hills turned into mountains, and the train slithered up and through stoney corridors until all Rowan could see were snow-covered mountains and dark green blotches of a valley forest below.
“We’re almost there,” Elara said as they both settled into the booth early in the morning on their last day. She sat across from him, holding onto a steaming mug of hot chocolate.
“Is it always this cold?” Rowan asked, clutching onto his two layers of button down shirts.
Elara chuckled. “Up here, yeah, but Frostfern is down in a valley.” She looked out the window and straightened up. “You should see it in a second.”
Rowan leaned in close to the window as the train rounded another corner. Below them, between jagged mountains and snow, was a valley that looked like it was taken straight out of a fairy tale. Clusters of homes, each topped with a smoking stone chimney and sharply pointed roofs covered in moss and splotches of lingering snow, huddled together between cobbled streets. Even from this distance, Rowan could see the buildings were colored in pale pastels and light flickered from within as the town woke.
Following the streets with his eyes, Rowan found a downtown lined with glowing lamp posts and trees just budding, late into the season. People moved about slowly, opening up their shops and setting up a market in a large open square.
Surrounding the town, creeping up the sides of the mountain, were farms, slightly browned, but mingling among the dense trees that cascaded up the stone.
On the other side of the valley, a massive waterfall streamed down, crafting a river that cut the landscape in half before vanishing out into the forest.
“It’s… beautiful,” Rowan breathed.
“It’s Frostfern,” Elara said, sipping from her mug. “Home, sweet home.”
“I swear,” Marley heaved, sweat dripping down her face. “If you only packed books and no clothes, I’m going to kill you.”
Rowan’s heart pounded in his chest as he waddled up the marbled steps of Argentum Station backward in a sweat-covered button-down and slightly oversized pants only held up by a pair of suspenders. His fingers ached as he clutched onto his one and only suitcase that would accompany him on his journey. “There’s dirt in it too,” he said.
“Dirt?!” Marley shouted, slamming her end of the suitcase down on the stairs. She adjusted her grease-covered overalls and pulled back her purple locs into a ponytail. “Who the hell packs dirt?”
A tinny voice echoed next to them, sounding from one of the many tall metallic automatons lining the stairwell. “Please, do not hinder the flow of traffic. Proceed up the stairs.”
Argentum Station was packed, and even though they kept closer to the line of automatons than the rest of the crowd, their momentary stop on the stairwell already resulted in three shoulder checks from passing people.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Marley grumbled, yanking up the suitcase and begrudgingly walking up the stairs.
“It’s a botanical thing,” Rowan said, finding purchase on the last step up onto the platform.
“What?” Marley asked, pushing through the last few steps. Immediately, she let go of her end, and the wheels bounced on the solid stone with a loud clunk.
They paused for a moment, catching their breath before weaving through the crowd of people in various forms of dress. Argentum Square, although newly built, quickly became the hub of Neosilica, providing the fastest transportation to some of the farther-reaching cities and villages. All that meant to Rowan was more people in his way as the two of them settled under the sign for Platform Three, the exact spot Dean Vayu had instructed him to wait.
“It makes alchemy easier,” Rowan said, holding the stitch that formed in his side. “Botanical Alchemists get accustomed to local dirt. For all I know, they’re sending me off to the coast, and I doubt they considered the time it takes to acclimate to a region’s soil composition. So, I brought dirt.”
Marley elbowed him before leaning up against the smooth marble wall. “You better take care of yourself. You hear me? If it’s two months in and I’m not hearing about some boy you’re chasing after, then don’t come whining to me because you only have two pairs of dirt covered clothes.”
“What?” Rowan said, spreading his arms wide, showing off the various lines of dirt that had already found their way into his clothes. “The rustic plant daddy vibes don’t do it for you?”
Marley snorted, “Plant daddy? More like sprout twink, if you’re asking me.”
“Hey, who are you calling a sprout twink, my little grease mommy?” Rowan retorted, falling into a fit of laughs.
“I’m going to miss this,” Marley said after the laughter died down. “You got your ticket?”
“No,” Rowan said. “The Dean said he was sending someone to meet me.” Rowan watched people pass by, eyeing people with significantly smaller luggages, hopping onto a large two story train, crafted by the finest metallurgical alchemists to travel up to the far north. A knot formed in his stomach and he looked down.
Marley bumped shoulders with him and said, “It’ll be fine. You said it’s a week north of here right? I mean, I’m visiting, obviously. As soon as I get a break from this internship.”
“Hold up,” Rowan said, a smile stretching across his face. “It’s official?”
Marley stood straighter and cleared her throat. “Yep. You’re looking at the newest employee of Titanium Innovations, the shinier and better version of Steelwright Automatons.”
“When were you going to tell me? Congratulations!” Rowan dove in, wrapping arms around her, taking in the acrid scent of burnt metal and grease.
Marley grunted and wriggled free from his bear hug. “I just found out this morning. You were caught up in—”
“Rowan Mosswood?” A gruff voice said behind him, cutting Marley off.
He turned, and came face to chest with a tall, broad-shouldered man adorned in a deep blue uniform with gold cording and the crest of Flamel University embroidered on the chest.
“Uh, yes?” Rowan said.
The man held out a train ticket and a sealed, cream-colored envelope. “Courtesy of Dean Vayu.” He nodded to the double-decker train. “Better board, they’re leaving soon.”
“Uh, thanks,” Rowan said, taking the ticket and envelope from the man. “What’s in the—” he started, but before he could finish, the man turned and vanished into the sea of people.
“Well, bye,” Marly shouted after the man. She turned and pulled the ticket from Rowan’s hands. “So, where is it? Are they putting you on some beach?” After a long pause, she looked up. “Frostfern Valley?”
“Where the hell is Frostfern Valley?”
“Second to last stop,” Marley said, squinting at the ticket. “Somewhere in the Ferra Mountains.”
Rowan spun around, eyeing a large map with a red line trailing up and into the coast. On it, was one tiny dot way up in the mountains, spread far apart from the other stops. “That’s the middle of nowhere! Are you serious?”
Marley handed him back the ticket. “Yep, and they put you up front. Better get some earplugs.”
A horn sounded, echoing loud onto the platform.
Rowan looked over at the train, then back at Marley. “Well. I guess this is goodbye?”
“Don’t make it weird,” Marley said, diving in for a hug. “It’s just a year. And I’ll come visit. I promise. Even if it’s a five-day ride.”
“You’re right, it’s just a year,” he squeezed her back.
“You’ll do great, Mosswood,” she said, grabbing him by the shoulders. “And if you don’t, and you destroy Frostfern Valley with another one of your sentient fungus stunts, I’ll be sure to make you look good in your biography.”
Rowan laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Any time.”
He gripped onto his suitcase, giving Marley a last wave before starting toward the train.
It loomed over him, the fine dark metallic train glimmering in the sunlight. A conductor automaton, dressed in full garb with a deep red woolen three-piece suit, took his ticket and helped him heft his suitcase onto the train. Inside, the floor was carpeted with the same deep red color and the corridors were lined with rich mahogany paneling, making for a stark contrast to the cold metallic exterior.
Rowan navigated through a few cars until he reached the front, stopping at sleeper car 1A tucked right at the front of the car. As he slid the door open, he saw just how small the room was, with a bunk that would cause him to sleep in the fetal position across from a small drop down wooden table that would only work if he sat hunched over on the bed.
The sharp scent of burning coal wafted into his room, a strong undertone that intertwined with the pleasant woody smell of a newly furnished train that Rowan could get used to.
Atop his bed were two packaged earplugs, which Rowan promptly stuffed into his ears as the churning engine rumbled his room. He tucked his suitcase away underneath his bed and leaned in toward the small window, looking over heads until he spotted the purple hair in the crowd. He waved, eventually catching Marley’s gaze, and she waved back, sending him a big kiss in the air.
The train whistle blew one last time, and the train started its slow churn away from the station.
Rowan’s chest tightened, and his neck grew hot. This was really happening, and for the next five days, this would be his home. Then what? Frostfern Valley? What would even be there waiting for him? Would he fit in?
He slowed his breathing, and his eyes fell on the envelope, still sealed with a wax imprint and the crest of Flamel University.
He cracked it open and dumped the contents out onto the table. Aside from a letter, a few stacks of crisp banknotes and an ornate brass key with an intricate leaf design clattered onto the desk.
He’d packed everything he had in his suitcase, including what little money he had to hold him over until he found himself a job. But now, with the money in front of him, he wouldn’t need one. At least, not for a while.
He quickly stuffed the banknotes back into the envelope and wedged it beside his suitcase. Something for him to worry about later.
He looked over the letter and read:
Dear Mr. Rowan Mosswood,
I trust this letter finds you earnest and prepared as you embark on your postgraduate studies. First and foremost, I must reiterate that you are traveling as a representative of Flamel University, and all future certifications and degrees for your studies will depend on how you represent our fine establishment.
We have assigned you to study the depletion of magic in the northern expanse, in the small town of Frostfern Valley. We at the university have been aware of this depletion, even studying it a decade prior, but funding for the previous research halted. Anonymous donors have provided the funding for the research due to Neosilica's industry’s interest in expanding infrastructure and connectivity.
Enclosed within this envelope, you will find the funding that will serve as the stipend for your year long study. You will also find a brass key. The previous researcher in Frostfern Valley owned a greenhouse and laboratory just outside the city. The university has continued to fund the upkeep and care of the building, but as I have not personally visited, I cannot speak on the level of disrepair that the building may have after a decade of vacancy.
We expect updates on the status of your research on a monthly basis. We would like to know if there is any biological correlation between the natural ebb and flow of magic in the north, and how to predict, leverage, or potentially restore balance. All tests, methods, procedures, new alchemical discoveries, and field notes will be sent back to the university for review.
At the end of your studies, we will grant you an opportunity to publish your findings in the Journal of Alchemical Arts. If your research provides insight into this anomaly, then you will be considered for entry into the Grand Alchemist’s Guild.
Mr. Mosswood, I have the utmost confidence in your abilities and look forward to your findings. May your work in Frostfern Valley be a testament to the profound relevance of Botanical Alchemy in our world today.
With warm regards,
Dean Vayu
Flamel University
Grand Alchemist of the Ethereal Arts
Rowan leaned back in his chair. Entry into the Grand Alchemist’s Guild? He couldn’t believe it. If he was in a guild like that, then he’d never have to worry about a job again.
He looked out the window, his heart racing as the city melted away into the countryside.