A lady dressed in hybrid attire, a skirt over trousers, paired with dark gloves and heavy boots, stood with her gaze flickering toward the gangway door.
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Second-class compartment.
A knife bit into my neck as the pirate hauled me toward the engine room. He needed the train to keep running; there was no choice for him but force. Between us and the pilot stood the first-class compartment: a noblewoman and her guards clustered behind velvet curtains.
To reach the engine he would have to pass them. My chances dimmed by the second, the likely plan was to take the pilot hostage, but even if he succeeded the true danger was whether the guards would intervene. If anything went wrong, it would be my throat on the line.
Surely, they wouldn't value the life of a hostage if danger threatened the noble house.
The pirate scanned the passengers, his eyes sharp for any sudden moves. As he inched closer, his knife pressed against my neck, grazing it just enough to draw tiny drops of blood, a single misstep could have been deadly.
There was no room to move, no way to twist or pull away from his grip. Any wrong move, and I'd be lying on the floor, bleeding out.
Slowly, he dragged me toward the first compartment as the guards, on high alert, reached for their revolvers and shouted in unison, "Halt! Drop the knife now!"
Startled, he managed to maintain the dark expression on his face.
His voice guttural and rabid, snarled, "Put the gun down, or this bitch's head won't stay on her neck."
Despite the threat, the guards held their guns steady, prepared to unleash a barrage of bullets on both the hostage and the pirate.
My heart was throbbing like crazy, and my legs were trembling, I couldn't take more steps, but the pirate, kept pushing me go forward, atlas he tried to kick to jolt me back to my sense.
But it was a mistake on his part.
As he shifted his attention slightly, a bullet was fired. The sound was so loud that I was numb for seconds. It was soon followed by a large thud. I looked behind and saw a body lying limp.
No movement.
My face was smeared with sticky red, smelling of iron and copper. My once black dress was now draped in dark crimson, and the veil that had covered my face was blown away, revealing my bare face to their eyes.
As my eyes remained wide open in shock, I turned toward the spot from where the bullet had been fired. A Derringer hovered in the air, smoke coming out of its barrel, held by a woman dressed in hybrid clothing. Her demeanor exuded nobility and strength....
It was Lady Beatrice. She slowly pulled back her gun and slid it into her holster as she stepped closer to me.
Her voice, sweet and melodious, didn't sound like the same brute who had just fired at someone holding a hostage.
"Are you alright?"
If I hadn't already faced near-death and outright death situations, I might have died from the shock alone. What kind of question was that? It wasn't something a sane person would even ask.
Then again, a sane person wouldn't have even fired the gun.
I stayed silent as the moments passed. She exhaled and turned to her attendant, instructing her to help me clean up.
Trains from this era didn't have bathrooms or even washrooms. Even the first-class compartment lacked such luxury. As a result, I was only wiped down with wet towels before being given a dress from Lady Beatrice's own collection.
Curtains were drawn around me, offering a bit of privacy, as the lady instructed the men to handle the pirate's body and leave the compartment.
Lady Beatrice had a dark complexion, rare among the people of this land. Her lively brown eyes sparkled with passion and courage that seemed ingrained in her very being. Her gray hair, with black roots subtly showing through, hinted that she had intentionally dyed her once-black hair gray.
She was from overseas and had been adopted when the joyous household visited a local orphanage there.
However, she was never disregarded because of this.
Treated fairly by her family, she owned properties and a manor in her name and took pride in upholding the family's image.
The recent duel she won had undoubtedly added value to her standing, one even stronger than blood.
After I was changed and the remaining blood residue was cleaned, the attendant looked at me and asked if I wanted to throw away my previous clothes. They were stained with blood and seemed beyond saving, even with dry cleaning. I shook my head to indicate that I didn't want them back. She instinctively nodded, suggesting she would take care of it for me.
Suddenly, A voice melodious called out to me, "So, what's your name?"
I straightened my back as I looked toward her, "Sarah."
Lady Beatrice addressed me as a friend afterward and asked if I was hurt. I replied that I believed I wasn't hit but wasn't entirely sure. I wanted compensation, but since she wasn't very apologetic, I couldn't push for it, at least not indirectly. If I wanted to act shamelessly, I could ask her outright; surely, a noble of her stature wouldn't hesitate to pay to silence me.
We ended up talking for a while about topics sometimes completely unrelated to what had just happened.
She then asked where I was headed. I didn't have an answer, so I made one up on the spot, saying I was looking for work. As soon as she heard that, a smile spread across her face. I was confused but didn't press her to explain what she was thinking.
After that, we didn't talk much since it was time for her lunch. She invited me to join her, and I gladly accepted, who wouldn't want to enjoy a grand meal fit for nobility? As I took my seat, various delicacies were presented on the table, most of which I couldn't even name. One thing that stood out compared to my world was how much more delicious looking and unique the food here was.
Their cuisine was unlike anything I had ever seen. Even cooking shows, where people from different nationalities showcased their dishes, didn't offer as much diversity as the spread I saw before me.
Lady Beatrice saw my facial expression and laughed. "You can start," she said in her sweet voice.
And so, I did...