The Steam Tycoon by Golden Czermak

Author:Golden Czermak [Czermak, Golden]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Steam Punk
Publisher: Golden Czermak
Published: 2017-05-21T16:00:00+00:00

ANOTHER DAY HAD dawned and Jesse was up early to walk the bright streets of Comprass, an edge borough on the eastern side of Diablo. Wearing some of his less showy finery, he still managed to stick out amongst his surroundings.

The area was rough and its proximity to not only an exterior gate but also the rail station added to it, akin to a catch basin filled with residents, immigrants from the four corners of the world, hunters, trappers, and the dregs of society. As such, the feel was much different than Chester Avenue or the segregated Grayson Market. There, things were orderly and clean, whereas Comprass – like all the edge boroughs – was more free-flowing and jumbled. When viewed, it was difficult to believe it was all part of the same city.

Jesse passed by squalid shops topped with houses on both sides of the slender thoroughfare, their arches chipped and windows so filthy he couldn’t make out anything inside. Overhead, children dressed in nothing more than rags tottered along the roofs, nonetheless with innocent smiles on their faces. Behind them, rising fifteen solid meters, was the city’s defensive wall.

Even as Jesse stared at the pauperism around him, he couldn’t help but be impressed by what he saw. That particular day marked four hundred years since civilization fell and instead of disappearing into history, humanity rose from the brink, at least from an architectural and technological standpoint. The hearts of men, though, could still use improvement.

Jesse’s eyes came upon a person from the Mudlands – evident by his mannerisms, clean-shaven face, and strangely colorful attire – arriving at a jeweler’s storefront. While browsing the inexpensive wares through the dusty shop window, the man received judgmental glares from several passersby, their offhand statements carried over the soft beat of their footsteps. He seemed unbothered by the commentary, but Jesse shook his head at the notion that clothes alone could be the cause of such contempt, especially when not knowing the character of the person wearing them. It was in his experience that the best dressed oftentimes had the most to hide.

Speaking of such people, the store owner – who was a substantial man with no due to the size of his beard – was also watching raptly from the other side of the glass. One of his eyes was wide open while the other squinted hard, both eyebrows crooked with ill-placed concern.

The man at the window continued perusing, liking the appearance of a garish silver chain that was set amongst a few equally kitschy rings in the display. Wanting to purchase it, he moved toward the shop’s entrance.

The owner was visibly troubled by this development, having kept his eyes locked on the man the entire time. He bolted toward the door faster than a dueler’s hand to a pistol, barring the Mudlands resident from entering, not for being a brigand, but based solely on who he was. Words were flung between them, voices rising in volume, and before long fists were flying.

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