At the end of plattform F stood a young man named Charles Leclerc, awaiting his train. Charles pulled up his sleeve to gaze at his watch, this was the second time he had done so. By now more people had arrived on the platform. Charles watched as the many young students, all dressed identically to each other, himself included, said their last goodbyes.

"Ciao mama" a boy said, kissing his mother on the lips.

The mother, who seemed to strongly contain her emotions, told the boy to behave and to call home whenever he found the time to. "First years", Charles thought to himself. He was eleven years old when his parents first drove him all the way up to the school. He had also promised his parents to phone home every week and he even did so during his first year. However, Charles was 18 now and his parents were lucky If they got a call from him every other month. "It's when you're older you're gonna want to phone home", Charles imagined himself telling the young boy, "That's when you call to ask for more money."

The early morning was cold and the air damp. Apart from the students, the different men and women on the platform wore long coats and scarfs around their necks. Charles, dressed only in his school blazer, felt the sharp air easily penetrate through his thin jacket. By the time the train arrived at the platform he was already shivering with his shoulders up to his neck.

Boarding the train was his least favorite part, the chaotic scene of people finding their different compartments was unsettling to him. Big bags, suitcases and people blocking the already narrow passage gave him temporary claustrophobia. Charles didn't mind giving others aid with their bags and luggage, particularly females or older ladies. He had seen his father and grandfather do it before him whenever they rode the train. Charles felt it was his duty to follow their example.

An elderly lady thanked him as he insisted on escorting her, along with her luggage, to her assigned compartment as they boarded the train together. 

"Thank you young man, a gentleman is what you are. We don't have many of those left."

Charles gave her a brief smile and shut the door to her comperment. He continued down the passage in search of his own assigned seat. On his annual train ride Charles always made sure to be assigned to a compartment and not a single seat. The journey to the school was long and he didn't feel comfortable shutting his eyes amongst other people, leaving his luggage unsupervised. If he were to share a compartment, at least he'd recognize the faces of whom he would first accuse of seizing something from his possessions. However the day was in Charles' favor. A rush of joy overtook him as he found his assigned compartment empty. His compartment could fit up to six passengers with its two row seats placed across from each other, a table separating them. In a few hours when he would most likely feel the need to rest, he could simply stretch out his legs and do so.

Charles began to store his luggage in the space above the seats, leaving his bag and briefcase upon the low table. Returning to his briefcase he immediately began to set up the chess set that had been lying within. Thirty two pieces made out of brass and nickel, given to him as a gift from his grandfather on his twelfth birthday. The mahogany chess board was given to him later on by his grandmother. It was given to him a couple of months after his grandfather's passing. Charles had played with the chess pieces many times before, but only against the owner himself. There were many times that Charles had been declined a game of chess against his grandfather because of his number one rule to always play with his own pieces, to rule only on set. Charles understood the loyalty in that. It showed your loyalty to them and so they shall show the same loyalty to you during every battle you face together.

The train began to move, making its way out of the station. Charles leaned back in his seat and admired the setup of his chess game. He would need them during his last train ride towards hell.