14 February 1875 of the 6th Era, Stolberg’s Grand Train Station, Stolberg

  The Iron Giant gradually slowed down and almost glided into Stolberg’s Grand Train Station, accompanied by the flashes of several dozen cameras and cheers from those gathered on the platform. As Charlotte disembarked, she couldn’t help but stop for a moment, taking in the surroundings. The platform was lavishly decorated, and the cheerful attendants were passing around sparkling wine and farewell gifts to everyone who had participated in this journey.

  She watched the passengers cheer. Many thanked Mr Perkins and Ms Sharrock for the great time spent on board. Some relayed their condolences regarding the tragedy that marred the otherwise flawless trip. Others expressed hope that the culprit would be caught sooner rather than later. A fair few, as was par for the course, jokingly asked if they were being detained. A few more made sure to point out that they, of course, were fully aware of who the murderer was, but were going to let the SIU handle it. Or the Royal Knights. Or the Nightmare Poets. Whoever was in charge of the investigation. No one, however, behaved erratically, or otherwise shiftily.

  The crowd slowly dispersed, until there were maybe a dozen people left. Then, she watched a group of agents from the Nightmare Poets enter the train and retrieve the body of Ms Glancy along with all of her belongings, then carry everything away. Before that, Mr Placek also handed over the broken vial.

  Tomorrow, if all went well, they would know for sure what poison was used to end Ms Glancy’s life, and when it could have been administered.

  “Which hotel are you staying at?” She turned to Antony.

  “You told me you had booked ‘The Pines’, so I did the same,” he produced a small envelope.

  “Splendid. Then you can come with us. There should be space in the carriage. Unless, of course, you need to run some errands with Mr Holmes.”

  He looked at Dorian, but the latter shook his head, “It can wait until tomorrow. I’m staying at a hotel a few blocks away from yours together with Professor O’Neill, as it so happens, so I guess this is where we part ways for the time being.”

  “Then use a Sending spell once you need me,” Antony pressed his hand on his chest and bowed, combining the Enuan and Lundish gestures.

  “Shall we then?” Charlotte started walking towards the exit. They left the platform and descended the stairs, joining a much larger crowd in the main hall. People around them were hurrying towards the night trains leaving for Quillivia and Ledavia, or late evening trains travelling to some smaller local destinations.

  The building of Stolberg’s Grand Train Station was truly grand, more reminiscent of an opera house. Sturdy metal columns frivolously decorated with birds, grape vines, and metal flowers supported the ceiling so high that the light from the chandeliers could not reach it. The walls were decorated with murals depicting different creatures from the Realm of the Fey, while a few more portrayed the former kings and queens of the country. In the middle of the hall was a small area with information booths. That, too, was intricately decorated to fit into this dignified atmosphere. Charlotte also caught a glimpse of a restaurant and a cafe in the waiting area. The sweets display looked quite charming, but she felt no desire to explore those. Perhaps during her next visit to this city, whenever that might happen.

  Among this splendour, she truly felt insignificant, as if the interior made it a point to remind her that she was no more than a guest to this city. A city that made even the oldest of elves feel like children, with its spires, towers, the royal palace, and the mysterious constantly changing halls of the Forbidden Library, a building-artefact from the beginning of the Third Era.

  She raised her head. Even the “Welcome to Stolberg” sign was enormous.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  “Quite. You didn’t lie when you said it was pompous,” she chuckled.

  “Just wait till you see the city proper. St Rachel’s Avenue alone will–”

  A bang sounded above their heads, making the entire building shake violently. The chandeliers went into a frenzy.

  Someone shrieked.

  The sign Charlotte was eyeing just now shattered and collapsed. Its shards mixed with chunks of wall and ceiling darted towards the people below – a volley of shrapnel, with no time to react or run for cover.

  Time slowed down, then stopped completely, and the entire world turned vibrant gold. People froze in place. Some only beginning to panic. Some not even realising that there was danger. Some still smiling, talking to their friends or family members. Children. Women. Elderly. Who knows how many more would be swept away by the panicking crowd.

  Antony tried to stop his hands from shaking, but without much success.

  “Now what do I even do…”

  “You let me handle it.”

  He turned towards the voice and saw that Charlotte wasn’t affected by his magic, calmly standing right next to him.

  So many people. Too many to move to safety, or to shield with a conventional spell… Unless… Yes. I can shield them, although it will cost me.

  She raised her hand, and the gold turned black and white. Every living being in the hall was reduced to a shapeless shadow, equally just as stunned as they were when they were golden statues.

  A single word left her lips. The next moment, the World between Worlds retreated, breaking Antony’s spell as it did so and allowing reality to resume its course. Now, though, above their heads hovered a giant shield made of ice-like shimmering matter, which had caught most of the falling debris, freezing around it and rendering it harmless. Whatever pieces still remained got picked up by an eerie wind. They were no more than fallen leaves now, carried and gently dropped on the ground far away from people.

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  “What in the name of,” Dorian breathed out.

  Charlotte briefly looked around, ascertaining that her and Antony’s joint actions prevented the worst of the worst from happening. There were several members of the SIU and the Nightmare Poets rushing towards them, while a few people were already attempting to stop the crowd from panicking.

  And the four of them were presently right at the entrance.

  “Let’s get away from here.”

  Antony and the others nodded, quickly deciding in favour of a corner sufficiently far away from the possible trajectory the crowd could go, should true panic break out. There, Antony leaned on the wall and, forgoing all principles of decency, slid down it onto the floor, closing his eyes.

  “How are you feeling?” Charlotte, too, sat down in front of him, taking his hands into hers.

  “I… Just need a moment. None of you are hurt, right?”

  “We’re fine,” Dorian reached a decision and snapped his fingers, casting some form of concealment or invisibility spell, though Charlotte couldn’t tell what kind. “I take it this is your doing?”

  “Yes, but I don’t want to take any credit for it,” she nodded. “If it can be helped, I was just as scared as everyone else. Same for Mr Dahl.”

  “I guess I’ll improvise something,” Dorian sighed, then turned around and walked towards one of the SIU agents who were trying to keep the order. Thankfully, whatever methods they were using, they were working.

  ******

  By the time Dorian returned, the situation had calmed down completely. The ice shield, too, had melted, and the shards fell down on the ground, posing no more danger to anyone as the perimeter had been cleared of people.

  Antony got up from the ground, having partially regained his composure, though Charlotte still saw traces of lingering panic in his eyes.

  “What did the authorities say?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but failed miserably.

  “Anarchists. Possibly some form of protest against Mr Perkins’ endeavour. Not everyone is happy with international travel,” Dorian walked up to Antony and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Are you really alright? Maybe we can help you somehow?”

  “I’m fine, truly. Then keep us informed, please,” he looked at Charlotte. “Shall we go to the hotel?”

  “I’d love to.”

  As they continued to the exit, Charlotte only paused by one of the smaller shards to examine something on its surface. Then, she stood up and ushered Antony into the streets and onto a cab, as she had instructed her father to leave without them.

  As they were driving along the well lit streets of Stolberg, listening to the quiet clacking of the horse’s hooves and the churning of the wheels, Charlotte produced a neatly folded handkerchief and handed it over to Antony.

  “Do you still have the dust you gathered from the light bulbs?”

  “Yes. Think this could be the same thing?”

  “I’m not sure, but I really want to find out. And if it is…”

  “That wasn’t an anarchist attack. I’ll run a few tests on these first thing in the morning. Second thing, actually.”

  “Second?”

  “You wanted to find a bookstore. Will give you something to do while I tinker with alchemic equipment. Or I could give these to Dorian and let him deal with it. I did promise to show you the city,” he finally resembled his usual self as he said that. Antony leaned back on the seat, crossing his arms on his chest and closing his eyes. His face betrayed very little emotion, so Charlotte wasn’t sure if he was simply resting or if his mind had wandered elsewhere. Finally, he uttered, “I don’t understand one thing.”

  “Mhm?”

  “If this was arranged by Ms Glancy’s murderer, when did they have time to prepare it? And were we really the intended targets?”

  “They managed to coat the lightbulbs on the train without anyone noticing,” Charlotte reminded him. “We stayed on the platform for at least thirty minutes. You saw how dim the lights were in the hall. An invisibility spell and a levitation spell, and you’re where you need to be.”

  “There’s security against that.”

  “Says the man who can bypass almost anything, including the glyphs to the section of our archives that should only be open to me,” Charlotte couldn’t hold back a quiet laugh. “Those who truly deal with Undeath know ways to deal with magic security, detection devices, and exorcists that get in their way. If this is truly someone like that, we all must be very careful.

  “As to your second question… The more logical assumption would be Mr Perkins. I saw him among the crowd as we were getting out of the way, and not too far away from us. However, that’s just an assumption. It could have been directed at me, or at Mr Holmes, or at someone else entirely. Who knows, maybe those were anarchists or someone upset with trains becoming a means of international transportation. Or Mr Perkins’ competition. Truly, I don’t know.”

  He nodded, continuing to sit with his eyes closed. Charlotte turned away, watching the streets and trying to get the feel for the city. Presently, it was somewhat hard due to the heavy snowfall that obscured a lot of the landscape.

  Stolberg was nothing like Ledavia, at least nothing like she remembered it to be. Almost like a different country, although… If she remembered correctly, it used to be a different country until three thousand years ago. Then, after a prolonged war between two smaller kingdoms, Enua united under a single ruler. And while three thousand years was a lot for short-lived species, for elves and sylphs, and even dwarves it was almost yesterday. Tensions still existed between the industrial and progressive West and the lofty, more Arts inclined and conservative East.

  “That shield you created.”

  Charlotte tensed. She knew he’d eventually ask that question, but was hoping against all hope that maybe in his panic he had not realised what was going on. Or, having come to his senses, thought that his imagination had gone into overdrive.

  “What of it?”

  “That wasn’t your magic. Your hand, too. It was made of butterflies, wasn’t it? Charlotte, if something is wrong, please tell me. Your hair coming to life yesterday, now this feat. You also seem distant in the weirdest way. You’re talking to people, replying to their questions, laughing and smiling. But at the same time, to anyone who knows you, especially who knows you well, it feels like you’re miles away. Your expressions, too, more readily resemble donned masks.”

  Fatigue spread across her body as Charlotte heard that. There was no running away from this conversation, but whatever little mental energy was left in her was not enough to deal with it. Right now, what she wanted was a warm bed, and maybe a bath before that.

  “Please,” she felt Antony’s arm slide behind her back, pulling her closer.

  “It’s fine.”

  “It isn’t.”

  “It really is. She’s manifesting a bit more often nowadays, but,” she placed her head on his chest, closing her eyes, “I’m certain I still have a few decades left.”

  “You do realise that a sylph’s lifespan can go beyond fifteen hundred, and you’re not even six hundred years old? You should have centuries,” his voice broke into a barely audible whisper.

  “I’m almost six hundred, Antony. Five years aren’t that much,” she tried to argue. “Please. I really don’t want to talk about it. It’s inevitable. You and I both know it.”

  Antony didn’t reply, only hugged her tighter.