In the early autumn of the Northern Territory, the wind already carried bits of a chilling cold.
In the northern district of Red Tide City, the newly built freight platform was cordoned off by a solemn circle of red-armored knights.
Only a few people were allowed to approach the inner circle: a black-robed scribe from the Ministry of Internal Affairs, a surveyor in a gray uniform from the Road Department, just over a dozen business group representatives, and seasoned craftsmen permitted to witness the scene.
On the hillock in the outskirts, a circle of citizens gathered from afar.
They were flushed with cold, but their eyes were fixed intently on the parallel tracks stretching into the gray-white mist.
"Damn this weather..." Retto shrank his neck, trying to tuck his frozen chin into the fox fur of his collar.
