Between the Jin Countdom and High Castle, there was another path beyond the roads for people and carriages: a track made of iron.
It was a road of steel for the iron horse.
Chik-chik-chik-chik— Paaaang—
A train roared along the railroad, spewing steam without pause.
“How’s the ride on the train, Sir Arad?”
Inside the train, Isabelle, whom I hadn’t seen in a long time, asked with a smile.
“Well, seeing that Lord Balzac isn’t getting motion sickness, I’d say it’s excellent.”
