“In total, there are four cars excluding the locomotive—the fourgon, voiture-lit, voiture-salon, and the voiture-restaurant at the very end,” Conductor Machel recited his NPC lines as he walked with me down the aisle. “As you can see, Mademoiselle, the Orient Express includes everything that you may require and more to cast off the ennui of travel.”
“Oh, that’s very nice…”
I was planning to go about exploring the train on my own, but as soon as I exited my compartment, the Conductor greeted me with a polite smile and offered his assistance when he heard about my intention. There was not really a reason for me to decline, so I let him guide me through the train as he rattled off the introductions of each car of the train.
“The fourgon is where the staff quarters are housed, and also where we store the bulkier luggages of our passengers.”
“The voiture-lit consists of the passengers’ compartments, which are separated into first class and second class. The second class compartments, numbered 1 to 4, fit two persons each, while the first class compartments, numbered 5 to 12, are designed for the single traveller with the highest level of comfort in mind.”
“Right now, we are in the voiture-salon, which is open 24/7 for passengers looking for a place of retreat. Here, you can order any drink that you prefer from our complimentary bar menu, and enjoy the passing scenic views via the panoramic windows during the day.”
“Last but not least is the voiture-restaurant, which houses the kitchen and dining compartments…”
Conductor Machel paused in front of the connecting door to check his pocket watch.
“Oh my, it’s already time for the first service. Please excuse me, Mademoiselle, I must go now to announce dinner to the remaining passengers.”
“Ça va. Thank you for accompanying me here, Conductor.”
After he left in a hurry, I entered the dining car by myself. The low hum of conversation and clinks of crystal and silver greeted my ears immediately; from the bustling kitchen, the tantalising aroma of freshly cooked cuisine wafted into my nose, causing my stomach to rumble in anticipation.
“Bienvenue, Mademoiselle Guinevere.” The smiling headwaiter approached me with a notepad in his hand. “You have arrived just in time. I shall go and prepare a table for you immediately.”
“Merci, I’ll be waiting here.”
I slowly scanned the dining car after the headwaiter excused himself. Out of the eight tables arranged in two rows of four, five of them were already occupied: the No. 1 behind me on the left, No. 2 and No. 3 in front of me, and No. 6 and No. 7 on the right-side row.
I surreptitiously eyed the occupant of table No. 2 first—a curly-haired gentleman who was dressed in a thick charcoal-grey suit. He was busy filling his pipe, and did not seem to care about my presence in the slightest.
‘This serious-looking man must be the Doctor, Dr. Konstantine.’
I moved my gaze to the table behind him, table No. 3. It was also occupied by a man, but noticeably much younger in appearance—probably no older than his mid-twenties, if I had to guess. He was reading a book, but his eyes were seemingly wandering to the table opposite him, No. 7, instead of being focused on the open page before him.
The table in question was occupied by a grandfather-granddaughter pair, who had already commenced their silent dinner.
‘What were their names again…oh, right. The grandfather is Graf Viktor Obolenskaya, and the girl is Lady Faina Obolenskaya. Then, the man sitting opposite them must be Faina’s unrequited lover, Nikita Dolvaskinov. Poor guy…”
As for the lady dressed in a pink travelling-dress sitting at table No. 6, she had been sipping her champagne flute the entire time while keeping her gaze on the window, as if she was making a conscious effort to avoid eye contact with anyone else inside the dining car.
‘Looks like she’s the Widow, Mrs. Karen Hubbert. What an unapproachable woman, just like in the game…”
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The headwaiter returned, giving me a polite bow as he gestured at the table in the rear left corner,
“Mademoiselle Guinevere, thank you for your patience, your table is ready. If you will follow me to table No. 4…”
Suddenly, I felt a tap on my elbow.
“You are that Mademoiselle Guinevere, aren’t you?” the smiling man sitting at table No. 1 asked. “We have heard so many things about you. Why don’t you join us for a drink?”
“Er, well…”
His companion, a bespectacled man who appeared to be on the plump side, leaned over the table to whisper something in his ear.
“Excuse me, how can I forget my manners?” the man exclaimed with a hearty laugh. “I am Herr Weinstein, a merchant, and this is my associate, Professor Sternberg. It’s a pleasure to be acquainted with you.”
“Oh, likewise…”
‘Huh, isn’t this a little too early to talk with Weinstein and Sternberg? I don’t think Violet meets them until dinner is over in the game.’
Weinstein pulled out the empty chair next to him and gestured at me with a wave of his hand. “Please, Mademoiselle, have a seat. Sommelier, a glass of red wine for the lady.”
It was obvious that he really wanted me to join them, and after a moment of hesitation, I decided that there was no harm in obliging him. The sommelier handed me a glass and poured a serving of red wine from his carafe.
“Merci.”
“Bon appétit.” Weinstein clinked his glass against mine and leaned closer.
“I’m curious, Mademoiselle Guinevere. What brings you here on the Orient Express?”
‘Weird, what kind of question is that? This isn’t part of his dialogue…’
Sternberg, on the other hand, asked the headwaiter for a copy of the evening newspaper.
“Well…”
I looked at him while sipping at my wine, trying my best to recall his background information from the game.
“I could ask the same of you, Herr Weinstein.”
He cocked his head to the side in apparent bemusement.
“What is a German merchant doing in Paris?” I asked carefully.
‘Thank goodness I had an interest in History back in my high school days.’
Surprise flashed in his blue eyes. “Mademoiselle Guinevere, what exactly might you be hinting at?”
“Shouldn’t you know better after what happened with Alsace and Lorraine?”
His face froze for a fraction of a second. But before he could give a reply, the headwaiter returned to our table with a folded newspaper.
“The newspaper you requested for, Herr Sternberg.”
Out of curiosity, I glanced at the front page of the newspaper, but the man picked it up before I could decipher the bold-lettered headlines.
“Hmm?” he said, seemingly noticing my gaze on the newspaper. “Perchance Mademoiselle is also interested in the political scandals of the Empire?”
“Oh, no, I wasn’t…” I trailed off, and raised an eyebrow at the strangeness of his comment. “Sorry, what do you mean by ‘the Empire’?”
“Professor Sternberg is referring to the Austro-Hungarian Empire, where he hails from,” Weinstein quickly explained, jumping at the opportunity to change the subject. “Has Mademoiselle had the chance to pay Her a visit before?”
“Austro-Hungarian…ah, unfortunately not…”
‘Because it hasn’t existed for almost a century by the time I was born in my previous life,’ was what I wanted to say in a wry tone.
“What a shame,” he remarked with a pitiful look in his eyes.
“Indeed, the Empire has one of the world’s most beautiful sights to behold,” Sternberg concurred. “Mademoiselle, it will be a waste for you to not stop by Vienna and Budapest along your journey.”
“I’ll consider that,” I said, standing up from my seat. “Thank you for the wine, Herr Weinstein, but I must have my dinner on time.”
“Ah, my apologies for holding up your time,” he said in a nonchalant voice.
“Please enjoy your meal, Mademoiselle,” the Professor chimed in.
I turned to ask the headwaiter for the menu when all of a sudden, a jolt ripped through the dining car. Plates and cups rattled violently on the tables as the train screeched to a halt.
‘Oh? Did I trigger something?’
Everybody instantly stopped their conversations and looked around in a mixture of surprise and puzzlement.
“Why are we stopping?” Lady Faina questioned the headwaiter. “Isn’t it a little too early for our next arrival at Épernay?”
“I’m afraid I’ll have to check…”
Before the equally dumbfounded headwaiter could finish his sentence, the connecting door of the dining car burst open to reveal Conductor Machel panting in the doorway.
“Conductor!” the headwaiter exclaimed and rushed towards him. “What is the meaning of this?”
Machel took a second to catch his breath before making a sudden announcement to everybody inside the dining car.
“Ladies and gentlemen, please return to your compartments immediately and prepare your identification papers! The French police will be conducting an inspection on board the Orient Express!”