Stories at the Passenger's Crossing
Arthur Von Gusse sat quietly, sipping his tea.
It was some dreadful Asian blend — nowhere near as pleasant or aromatic as a solid Brittianian tea; what was the country coming too? The King was becoming far too multicultural, Arthur mused. When Queen Virginia was alive, the Empire always had the best, whether it was English or not. Of course, the best often was English, and if it wasn’t… well, a short war would soon see that it was. Now, all King Wilhelm seemed to care about was making friends, and by extension making everything as foreign as possible. The Passenger’s Crossing was one of the few places left in the whole of Cliffside that hadn’t completely succumbed to the advancing hordes.