Entry 35 : Summer Doesn't Last Forever (5E137)
Cathnoquey isn't just a land of green hills and rolling meadows. There is a city, in the far north of the country, a city of snow and almost constant cold weather. Welcome to Northpoint...
The town was built in a valley, nested between the Neville Brook Hills and the Sterling Range.
For up-and-coming and hopelessly irreverant urban planner Robert Preston, this could be the place that would kickstart his career.
As the plane began its final approach to Northpoint Airport (NPR), Preston finally got a look at the city he was to call home.
The people of Northpoint were rugged. Would he be able to blend in?
His plane finally landed on the near frozen runway. Luckily, there was no snowstorm that day.
After what seemed like an eternity, the plane finally came to a stop by the domestic terminal.
Once he retrieved his luggage, Preston headed to the near empty parking lot. He briefly considered hopping on a streetcar into town, but he decided to hail a cab instead.
"4500 Nahakara Avenue", he chirped as he sat in the warm car.
The Khakiit taxi driver took a cautious look at the Imperial. "Khajiit drives slowly, yes? The snow has not been plowed this morning. Khajiit hates traffic divertions, but this one has no choice."
The way out of the airport was clear, sure enough. Preston looked at his folders. One of his priorities, as set out by the City Board of Trustees, was to improve north-south traffic from the airport to the city centre.
He quickly realised the job would be harder than he thought.
"Why don't you use a motorway?" he asked the driver, who scoffed. "Motorway? We are not in Glenvale, this is our main road into town."
Soon enough, the road became a fast but narrow road on the east bank of the river. There was a faster way, but it was closed down because of the weather conditions. Preston look a look at his files again. This road definitely needed upgrading, he noted.
At least the road avoided a tedious drive through the Windsong residential district...
Ten miles ahead, he smiled as they finally reached the heart of the city.
"See this shop, southerner? Khajiit always goes at the end of his shift. They have the best hamburgers in all of the North Territories."
Somehow, this relieved Preston a little. The Glenvale man had no clue what the people of Northpoint were like, and seemed to be under the impression they ate the most disgusting things.
They drove through the business district. No high-rises here. There was little need for high rises. The population was only 100.000 souls, barely more than Westport and a mere fourth-to-fifth of the population of Glenvale. Land was relatively cheap, and earthquakes were relatively common in this part of the country.
The heart of the city, the Mall, was little more than a battered and muddy field. Preston thought of changing that, too, but would the locals accept his mingling?
Some of the taller towers were residential complexes and hotels. Whittler Avenue, the main east-west through-way, was better built, he thought.
He smirked at the public curling facilities. The Khajiit driver noticed that.
"Amusing, is it not? This one may be a cat-person, but this one won several prizes on these rinks. This one came third last year, during the '36 Briers."
Preston only slightly nodded. This was the first time he ever heard of curling.
The car finally stopped on the side of the road, in front of Preston's hotel room, on the corner of Whittler and Nakahara. Preston got off, took a look at the ruined fort, before making his way in. His hotel was decidedly warmer and his accommodation more like an apartment than a hotel room - all paid for by the Board of Trustees who hired him.
It was barely 3.30 in the afternoon when the sun began setting down. Preston decided to have a walk through the city and a bite to eat.
He hopped on a D line streetcar, and stopped at the Arboretum.
He learned, streetcars were the main way to get around in the town. While there were bus lines, mostly concentrated along Whittler Avenue, streetcars served the main population centres and were far more reliable.
He reached the Newquay district on foot, and ended up dining at the Red Mountain, a restaurant serving Morrowind and Vvardenfell specialities.
On his way home, he noticed firemen rushing to a building on fire. He watched from afar for about ten minutes, but the cold was too biting, so he decided to head home.
Preston fell asleep. The next day, he would meet the Board of Trustee, and his work would truly begin. But what would he do? The locals seemed grumpy and introverted. He truly was as far as he could possibly get from Glenvale.
But tomorrow is another day, full of opportunity.
And that concludes this entry! I hope you liked, and feel free to leave some feedback. :3
Oh, and that's a map of the streetcar network!
See you next time!
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