The coastal terminus platform at Port Thalor was bathed in the warm, brilliant light of the autumn noon.
Below the polished white granite terrace, the blue waters of the southern ocean lapped gently against the massive concrete sea-walls.
Behind the seawall, sitting comfortably in a huge saltwater tidal basin carved from coastal dark rock, Terravorax rested with its diamond snout sunk in the cool waves, blowing playful geysers of salty mist into the air like a huge, kind whale.
A nonstop line of forty wagons, loaded high with soft white spar-stone limestone gravel and sweet orchard apples, was parked along the basin wharf, where dockworkers tossed shovel after shovel of treats into the titan’s waiting mouth.
The inaugural electric passenger express train glided into Port Thalor. Then, the platform erupted in an ear-splitting roar of celebration.
The train had left Haven-Hold at seven o’clock that morning, racing through three hundred miles of seamless, glass-fused dark rock tunnels at sixty miles an hour without a single jolt or shaking.
As the brass-trimmed carriage doors opened, hundreds of travelers stepped onto the sunlit marble concourse, their faces glowing with exhilaration.
Refugee merchants from the northern mountains marveled at the smell of the ocean, having crossed an entire continent in less time than it used to take to walk to the next village.
