It wasn’t long before midday when a whistle shrilled. The tremendous rumble of the steam locomotive slowly died down to a quiet chugging noise.
Rasputina and Anastasia exchanged a knowing glance—the Orient Express was about to make a full stop at the next station.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please do not exit your berths for now!” From up the train Machel’s authoritative voice reverberated through the carriages. “Rest assured that we will commence disembarkment shortly!”
With iron brakes grinding and giant wheels squealing, the Orient Express finally puffed to a laborious stop at Gare de Versailles.
Gazing outside, Rasputina spied a large, red-walled clock tower sitting atop a sturdy stone building lined with beautiful cut-glass lattice windows. Above each window, emerald flags bearing the emblem of the Grand Duchy fluttered in the gentle breeze—a sign that they had entered the border of Alsace-Lotharingia.
It was quite a lovely station, by all means…except for the startling sight of armed legionnaires patrolling the platform. She briefly puzzled about how the Grand Duke caught wind of their early arrival.
“Sure feels like we’ve been stuck in this train for an eternity…” Anastasia let out a languid sigh as she stretched her body beside her. “Don’t you think so, Rasputina?”
“The train’s been running non-stop for almost an entire day,” she replied matter-of-factly. “It’s only a matter of time before the boredom and ennui catches up with you. That’s the bane of travel, isn’t it?”
“Mm.” Stifling a yawn, Anastasia laid down on the bed, her messy rose-coloured hair fanning out over the cream white sheets. “Tomorrow we’ll reach Sirap, huh…”
“Woi, don’t go sleeping on me now,” Rasputina chided in jest. “Don’t you need time to change into your outerwear?”
She stirred slightly. “Wait, but why are we alighting here?”
“Hello?” Rasputina lightly smacked her cheek. “Because you’re Princess Anastasia, and the self-declared investigator of a murder case? At the very least, the legionnaires will want to hear our testimonies.”
“Ah, that makes sense…” She reluctantly shifted to a kneeling position on the bed. “I’m too lazy to go back to my compartment, Rapsutina. Let me wear one of your dresses.”
“What happened to saying ‘pleaseʼ, princess?” Breathing a small sigh, she walked over to her closet and sorted through her garments. “I think this one suits you well, do you fancy it?”
“Ooh, such a pretty colour!” Anastasia held the lavender silk travelling-dress up before her with a delighted smile. “It feels so nice to touch too~”
“This dress comes with this cute bonnet too,” Rasputina gleefully added, passing her a white cottage bonnet. “Here, Iʼll help you put it on while you wear your dress.”
She carefully tidied Anastasia’s hair with her fingers and coiled it up before fitting the dainty bonnet over her head. “Does the dress fit you well?”
Anastasia stretched her arms and did a little twirl in front of the mirror. The taut bodice stretched across her chest, amplifying her full breasts with every movement. “Mhm, it’s a little tight in the front, but nothing too major.”
Rasputina glanced down at her own disappointing bosom before snapping out of her thoughts. Choosing a dove grey pelisse with soft cream fur and silver lace to complement Anastasia’s dress, she hastily draped it around her shoulders. “It’ll be chilly outside, so you should wear this to keep yourself warm.”
“Thanks, Rasputina.” Giving a giggle, Anastasia buttoned the pelisse around her. “I’ll go back to my room to get my shoes first, meet you—”
A sharp knock at the compartment door interrupted her mid-sentence.
Sharing a confused look with Anastasia, Rasputina got up and tentatively approached the door. “Who’s there?”
“I-I’m Patrick, Your Grace. A porter from the station.” a flustered-sounding voice replied. “I have an important message to pass to you and Her Highness. Might Her Highness be residing in your room now?”
She unlocked the door and gingerly opened it. Standing in the corridor was a teenage boy in a tan railway uniform, his porter’s cap slanted over his nervous blue eyes. His mousey brown curls fluffed out from beneath the sides of his cap.
“Anastasia is with me now.” Rasputina furrowed her brows at him. “A message, you say?”
“The General o-of-the Legion has requested all passengers and staff of the Orient Express to gather on the platform with their papers i-in fi-five minutes,” the boy rapidly explained, his words tripping over one another in the rush to get them out. “I-I’ve been sent by the General to escort you and Her Highness to see him.”
Rasputina exchanged a look of bemusement with Anastasia. “Patrick, uh…yes, certainly. We will be right with you in a minute.”
There was a commotion outside the station building when they finally alighted from their carriage. With a quick glance, Rasputina could tell that the passengers and train crew were separated into two groups, surrounded by legionnaires who seemed a little too trigger-happy with their rifles. Sir Burdett was even arguing with a young legionnaire who had rudely jabbed his rifle at Angela.
Whatever the situation, it certainly didn’t give the impression that the Grand Duchy was going to extend a warm welcome to them from the get-go.
“Everyone else has already been summoned and brought to the General,” Patrick, who was following close behind them, said in a hurry. “He is waiting for your arrival, Your Grace and Highness.”
Anastasia glanced in the direction of the commotion. “About this General guy, Patrick, who exactly is he?”
“The General is in charge of the Legion, the mercenary army of the Grand Duke,” Patrick answered meekly. “He’s super popular among the folk here, Your Highness.”
“Is that so…” she turned to Anastasia and whispered, “isn’t the Legion a part of the Aetherium military? Why does it sound like the Legion is its own entity instead?”
“Though the Legion is a corps of the Army on paper, they’re more often than not regarded as an expendable force to be sent to the frontlines,” Rasputina quietly explained. “There’s also the fact that the Legion accepts anyone regardless of nationality or colour, something rather contentious in the Empire.”
Anastasia merely pursed her lips and didn’t say anything.
As they neared the station building, a tall, broad-shouldered man in a dark turquoise capote sharply raised his hand to stand the legionnaires down. Rasputina could instantly guess from the gold braid hanging from his shoulders and line of medals decorating his chest that he was the General in question.
Pulling on his shako, the man approached them with his head held high and gave a curt salute.
“A pleasant morning, Your Royal Highness. I am General Bouideffre, commander of the Légion étrangère,” he said in a cordial but hardly enthusiastic voice. After Anastasia nodded her head in acknowledgement, he turned to face Rasputina.
“And you must be the distinguished guest of Her Royal Highness, Saintess Rasputina of Kievsta.” His piercing eyes slowly shifted from her face to the rest of her and back again—a gesture that insanely creeped Rasputina out for some reason. It almost seemed like he was trying to inspect her to make sure of something…something that eluded her.
His hardened voice broke her train of thought. “It’s an honour to welcome you to the Grand Duchy of Alsace-Lotharingia on behalf of our Grand Duke.”
“Please, save the pleasantries.” She ran her gaze over the agitated faces of the passengers and crew. “And what can we do for you today, General? I sure hope not that this is how you treat outlanders on a usual basis.”
General Bouideffre stiffened. “I received word about a runaway train heading towards Sirap with Her Highness on board,” he rejoined, casually dropping the word ‘Royal’ from Anastasia’s title. “We are simply concerned that the Orient Express may have been hijacked by some undesirables bringing misfortune upon the Empire, hence I stationed a regiment here to intercept the train. On that note, might Your Grace be kind enough to give an explanation for what transpired after departing from Canterbury?”
“I believe that if your men searched the carriages, they would come across the dead body of a woman in the No. 4 berth,” she said flatly. “We were in the midst of an investigation, so we instructed the train crew to not stop the train and risk anyone escaping.”
A faint hint of emotion flashed across his impassive face. “Pardon?”
“Someone was murdered on the Orient Express, General.” Anastasia nodded her head towards the passengers. “One of them is the murderer.”
The General arched his eyebrows for a moment, then leaned back and crossed his arms. “Does Your Highness suspect anyone in particular?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” she said, meeting his gaze squarely. “I request that you detain Miss Talemi Obolenskaya and her companion, Miss Mira Wolf, for further questioning.”
“So, Your Highness has already solved the murder?” He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “May I dare request to see your proof of guilt?”
“Proof? Well, um, this might be a little complicated to explain…” Hesitating, Anastasia cast a ‘help me’ glance at Rasputina.
She let out a silent sigh and quickly chimed in, “the deceased left behind clues pointing to the identity of her murderer before she died, General—a pair of glass slippers. The slippers do not fit the deceased’s feet, so we have reason to suspect that they belong to the murderer instead. And Miss Obolenskaya fits the slippers perfectly.”
Observing her silently, the General pressed his lips together in a thin, hard line. He beckoned towards an officer in a green kepi. “Colonel Klein, get your men to search the train for a body and a pair of glass slippers. I also want Miss Obolenskaya and Miss Wolf to be brought before me, understood?”
The officer didn’t hesitate to salute back. “Oui, mon Général!”
“You, garçon—” he turned to point at Patrick next “—bring Her Highness and Grace to a suitable waiting room. Make sure that they are comfortably settled and served the best food and water.”
His unsmiling eyes finally travelled up to meet Rasputina’s. “I hope that you find your stay in Alsace-Lotharingia to your liking, Your Grace.”
Before she could muster a sarcastic reply, the General saluted again and promptly dismissed himself.
“I think you might have pissed him off a little, Rasputina,” Anastasia whispered, a look of rare concern on her face.
“Hardly a fault of mine,” she muttered. “Patrick, is your famed General this grumpy on a usual basis?”
“W-well, about that…” The porter boy glanced past her and paused uncomfortably. “Your Highness and Grace, please follow me to the waiting room.”
Rasputina discreetly glanced in the direction of the legionnaires and noticed the General’s gaze too. “Anastasia, let’s go.”
Without another word, they entered the station building through a pair of double doors. Warm air rushed over them, causing Rasputina’s cold nose and cheeks to tingle. It smelled like old wood, cedar and stale smoke, but before she could get a good look at the interior, Patrick immediately led them through a side hallway and into a service alcove tucked away.
“The waiting rooms aren’t safe for us to talk,” he whispered after making sure that the coast was clear. “We can speak here for the time being, Your Highness and Grace.”
“Please fill us in, Patrick,” Anastasia said. “Is there something wrong with the General?”
Hesitating, he shook his head. “I suppose Your Highness and Grace have not received news of the Ausnahmezustand?”
“Ausnah…what now?” Rasputina quizzed.
“His Highness Prince Arthur just declared a state of emergency in Sirap and other major cities in Alsace-Lotharingia,” he explained hastily. “The Legion have been trying their best to suppress the revolutionaries in the capital, but it’s clear to everyone that the situation is spiralling out of control.”
“Revolutionaries?” Anastasia shot a questioning look at Rasputina. “Are they the same as the Ottoskis separatists?”
“No, Your Highness.” His eyes anxiously darted towards the row of windows separating them from the legionnaires patrolling outside. “They are traitors of the Empire.”
“O-our own people?”
“What do you mean by that?” Rasputina pressed.
“Th…the revolutionaries want to abolish the Cetheri monarchy and revolt against the bourgeoisie.” Patrick’s face took on a darker shade as he continued, “rumours have been spreading that the Federation is secretly supporting them in exchange for Your Highness’ head.”
~thank you so much for your support of this series!!~
End of Book 2
To be continued in TCFS: Book 3 - World’s Fair arc
