Chapter 1: Fifty Talents

　　On a trickling stormy Sunday afternoon, the train station was abuzz with movement. It was small, but there wasn`t much of a problem. Strong winds flew by, blowing the sock southwest with a persistence streak. It wound along the numerous buildings and trees in the village, bringing a posse of intimidating ethereal soldiers who marched the usually azure sky. They were dressed in a gray standard uniform which made them look cold and held them with guns at ease. Waiting for the moment to unleash the storm that brewed below.

　　Meanwhile, the porters plodded around with their duty, sometimes tilting their head on some rather engrossing juice. They dragged cargo and luggage of some who managed to get a ticket.

　　"Poor Norton," One of the porters muttered, "I do not know how he manages to keep that smile on, even though he`s under the weather."

　　He pointed to the clerk in the kiosk. A man with an unpleasant face filled with wrinkles and stress. However, he had a wicked smile; forced and unnatural. His face was paler than the sun at Easter.

　　"Insane willpower, probably or perhaps a habit of smoking." His co-worker answered. "Other than that, I can`t really think of anything else."

　　Suddenly, Norton slammed his desk with a single blow, and immediately stormed out of the kiosk. He ran off and jumped off the station in a stomping rampage. The porters looked at each other with a look of familiarity. Then, he slipped on the wet wooden stairs.

　　"Are you fucking kidding me?!" He shouted before thudding onto the ground.

　　"There he goes&" One of them muttered, before rushing to help him.

　　The sound of a distant train whistle echoed through the air. The townspeople knew what this meant - the 7:00 AM train was approaching, ready to take passengers and goods to their destinations. The train

　　As the train chugged into view, its black steam engine belching smoke and steam, the platform of the station came alive with activity. Families said their goodbyes, soldiers in uniform boarded with their duffel bags, and businessmen in suits settled into their seats.

　　The train then departed from Rochsydt to take a journey to a town on the end of the sea of green grass. The rolling hills of the countryside seemed endless, it was a strange feature in these dull plains, as grazing cattle whizzed past quickly as the train picked up speed. Inside, the passengers were busy conversing with one another and busy still moving to their seats. They were all ordinary people; members of the peasantry, and the cabins were packed.

　　As the train made its way through the countryside, the scenery changed from green fields to rolling hills to small towns and villages. The conductor called out each stop, and passengers disembarked to visit loved ones or start new adventures.

　　The train cars themselves were a marvel of engineering, with wooden paneling and plush seats that were both elegant and comfortable for a rural town. The windows were open, letting in a gentle breeze that carried with it the smell of fresh hay and wildflowers from the fields outside.

　　But there was also a sense of nostalgia on the train - a feeling that this was a simpler time, when travel was slower but more leisurely, and people had time to enjoy the journey as much as the destination.

　　Ms. Lucille Styron was one of these passengers, and she was holding a notepad and armed with a pen. The notepad was filled with scribbles and errors, and draft sentences being laid out for review. It was a hard job to think of how to write the story, but as a journalist, she takes pride in this occupation. It`s been the most fun she`d ever had ever since that day.

　　First, she wrote a story she`d gotten from an old woman. About the rumors about the mayor`s affairs with the local brothel. Then, she`d write multiple drafts& No, that wasn`t right. It did not fit the story whatsoever. Every single one of them was peer-reviewed by the most picky critic. Her own mind.

　　She tried giving the draft to her colleague, who sat next to her and just so happens to be her sister Bel. Bel was busy with her photos, which she processed in the darkroom in Rochsydt. They were all photos of the local people hanging about and around their daily monotonous lives. Bel gave her sister a most wonderful review, saying, "It`s a good draft for tomorrow`s story, just make sure to not get carried away. That`s the editor`s job!"

　　"Like that`s going to help me." Lucille snarkily commented, "I know you`re lying just to make me feel better."

　　"I`m not, Lucy. There`s not a single drop of untruth in my voice. Please believe me." Bel replied, "You`ve been so far excellent in writing up scoops, and you`re better in writing than I am."

　　"Alright then, I believe you. You`ve always been after my attention."

　　The two sisters stared at each other for a moment before looking back at their works.

　　Bel watched the blurring motion on the window. The rolling hills of the emerald plain seemed to mimic the waves of the ocean. She stared at them, imagining a ketch sailing on the sea and a large sea monster. She then looked back at one of her photos, one of a man in his bakery placing a large hunter`s pie out to cool. She wished she asked him to make one.

　　Then, a new article caught her eye, its title printed in all-black boldface. Its contents were perfect, too perfect. They were as if it was a master poet who uttered in commoner tongue and spoke of the Gospel and half-truths. Only they would make these newspapers.

　　"Looks like they`ve got their scoop, and it`s a big one." She exclaimed, passing it to her sister. "It`s those pesky Winston brothers and their crappy stories."

　　"Why did you give me this?" said Lucille, before she began reading. At first, it was a standard old newspaper. But then she looked to the publishers. It was their main rival.

　　"They`ve gone too low. They`re hitting us with politics. These freshwater politicians are feeding them with the juiciest stories that only God knows. If I had a dime for every single sin a politician had committed, I`d have enough to retire early," Lucille vented.

　　"Easy with the ranting, Lucy," Bel interrupted. "I won`t go above insulting them until we`ve met them."

　　"You`re right," Lucille agreed, before turning the pages. "Oh Bel! Have you heard about this? In our destination, there`s going to be a fleet of ships arriving from the Sublime Cities, they`re setting up a town festival happening in a few days. Would you like to check them out? I might get a scoop in town!"

　　"Town festival? Sounds wondrous, but I might get bored there. It`s just going to be like all those boat shows we`ve seen back when we were young&"This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

　　Suddenly, Bel looked as though she recalled something terrible.

　　"Lucille? I forgot to mention this& I saw one of them back in Rochsydt. They were& I cannot even say what they looked like. It`s& just hard to say, Lucille."

　　"Even in Rochsydt? They still have not let off our trail? I was so sure that we tricked them when we bought that man`s services to dress in our old clothes. He cursed us off in the end, but his daughters were probably happy to have silk clothes right?"

　　"Maybe we should go back. They`ll probably forgive us." Bel stammered.

　　"No, we can`t go back." Lucille`s tone turned stern. "

　　"Yes, you`re right&" Bel`s uneasy voice trailed off like an owl`s echo, "I can`t believe I was thinking that way. These conversations are making me feel more and more sick of the past. Let`s just let them rest& I`m sure they haven`t found us yet."

　　"Save it for when we reach Loreinstad."

　　Suddenly, gunshots were heard and the train came to an abrupt halt.

　　The passengers jumped out of their seats and began to panic, shouting and screaming. The train conductor ran through the aisle, trying to calm everyone down.

　　"Please, everyone remain calm! We don`t know what`s happening yet, but we`ll get to the bottom of it," he yelled.

　　Lucille and Bel exchanged worried glances, their hearts pounding in their chests. They could hear footsteps outside the train and muffled voices. Suddenly, the train door burst open and several men in dark clothes and bandanas stormed in, brandishing revolvers and repeaters. The conductor quickly hid inside a closet by his quarters, along with the train driver.

　　"Everyone stay down and keep quiet!" one of them shouted, waving his gun around. "The more you move, the more it gets hard to live!"

　　Lucille and Bel huddled together, trying to make themselves as small as possible. Bel`s face grew pale, her auburn hair began to rise. Her glasses were sliding off her nose, greased with sweat. Thunder clapped in the distance and the raindrops began to fall harder, which did not help her rising fear. They could feel the cold barrel of a gun pressed against their backs as the robbers went through the passengers` belongings, taking anything of value.

　　And fear crept behind their backs as more and more unpleasantries rose over their minds. The chatter of the other passengers slowly began to simmer down, and the attendants went row by row asking if anyone needed anything. Although they were quickly refrained by doing so with a revolver on their heads.

　　Bel gripped on her photos and put them back in her satchel, and Lucille bit on her pen, a fountain pen, and twirled her dark blue hair. Lucille looked down on her notepad. The page had a drawing of a smiley face. Her eyes were wandering more and more before the silence was broken by Bel`s whispering fear.

　　The robbers walked up to all the passengers, asking for any sort of valuables that the poor people in the train may have. Their leader, a tall man with a fedora and old police uniform, kept insisting to his prisoners that nothing bad was going to happen if none of them crossed him and his gang. He had a soothing but commanding voice, which largely kept everyone at bay.

　　"Well, Boss?" A thief asked, "The train doesn`t have a gold storage, it`s all passenger cabins."

　　"Tch, then continue with the job! Do it nimbly, like a jackrabbit. Remember what this is all for."

　　Lucille eavesdropped on their conversation.

　　As Lucille listened in on the robbers` conversation, she couldn`t help but feel a surge of excitement. This was the kind of story that she was made for - a thrilling, high-stakes situation unfolding right in front of her. She quickly grabbed her notepad and pen and began to jot down notes, trying to capture every detail she could.

　　The robbers were quick and efficient, moving from cabin to cabin, taking anything of value they could find. Lucille watched as they rifled through people`s bags and pockets, taking jewelry, cash, and even a few small trinkets. The passengers were too terrified to resist, and the robbers seemed to be in complete control of the situation.

　　But Lucille knew that she had to do something. She couldn`t just sit there and watch as these criminals took everything from these innocent people. She looked over at Bel, who was still huddled in fear, and took a deep breath.

　　"Bel," she whispered, "I`m going to try to sneak out of here and see if I can find help. You stay here and try to take some pictures.

　　Without thinking, Lucille stood up and marched towards the robber. "Hey, leave him alone!" she shouted, her voice loud and clear. The robber turned to face her, his gun still trained on the passengers.

　　"What did you say, miss?" he sneered, a dangerous glint in his eye.

　　"I said, leave him alone!" Lucille repeated, her voice unwavering. "You`re not going to get away with this. The police will be here soon, and you`ll be caught."

　　The robber laughed, his cronies joining in. "You really think the police can stop us? We`ve been doing this for years, and we always get away with it. So why don`t you just sit back down and be a good little passenger?"

　　But Lucille refused to back down. "I`m a journalist," she said, holding up her press badge for all to see. "And I`m not afraid to expose you for the criminals you are. You`re nothing but a bunch of cowards who prey on the weak."

　　For a moment, there was silence. The robbers looked at each other, unsure of what to do. Then, one by one, they began to back away, their guns still trained on the passengers.

　　"Listen here, missus." The leader of the gang spat condescendingly, "Since you`re a reporter, you should write what you want to write about us. Me and the boys won`t care. In fact."

　　The leader snapped his fingers, "Boys, that`s enough. We`re going. Little miss, consider this a token of respect. This doesn`t make much sense, I know what you`re thinking, why would robbers who take from these people spare them from danger. Well, that`s for you to solve. Me and my boys are going to meet again."

　　"What do you mean we`ll meet again?" Lucille asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

　　The leader turned to her, a sly grin on his face. "Oh, don`t worry about it," he said. "Let`s just say that we have a business proposition for you. We`ll be in touch soon. Loreinstad."

　　And with that after what felt like an eternity, the robbers finished reaping the loot from the passengers. They had put everything into a leather sack, and the robbers finally left the train, disappearing into the night. The train conductor emerged from his hiding place and checked on the passengers, making sure everyone was okay. They had also kept their word, as nobody had been hurt by the thieves.

　　Lucille stood there for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. She couldn`t believe that she had stood up to those robbers and actually made them back down. And she couldn`t shake the feeling that there was more to their "business proposition" than they were letting on. But for now, she had to focus on getting help for the passengers. She turned to Bel, who was still cowering in the corner, tired and terrified.

　　"Are you alright?"

　　As the train started moving again, they knew that they would never forget this terrifying experience.

　　The train finally arrived at Loreinstad, and Lucille and Bel got off, their legs wobbly from the adrenaline rush. They made their way to the hotel, checked in, and Bel collapsed on the bed, still trying to process what had happened.

　　As they lay there, Lucille suddenly sat up, a look of determination on her face.

　　"Bel, we have to write about this. This could be the story of a lifetime," she said. "Don`t you see the look on those dastardly Winston brothers crumbling before this article? It could sell papers nationwide!"

　　Bel nodded slowly, still feeling shaken from the robbery, and whispered: "You almost got yourself killed, Lucy!"

　　"I`m sorry. But I`m reckless, and I just couldn`t stand it."

　　"You could`ve died. What do we have on those thieves other than first-hand accounts and the fact they robbed the train? I couldn`t even take a single photo. Oh, and they said that we will meet them again!"

　　"I don`t mind that." Lucille dismissed, "But, let`s not get all too scared. Bel, everything is going to be alright. We don`t have to worry about them for a while, not until the festival."

　　"You say that as if it is, but it isn`t. But, you`re right, Lucille." Bel calmed down. "How are you going to write your article now?"

　　"I could always write it like a story with ourselves at the center, or at least one central figure." Lucille suggested, before she turned to her bag. She took out her personal portable typewriter, and some clean pieces of paper and began writing. "Moreover, the publishers might appreciate this gift of mine. This is going to be my best article yet, you`ll see Bel."

　　"Sure, Lucy. You take care of yourself. I`ll head to sleep."

　　And with that, the night slowly passed on, the events of the earlier still fresh in their minds.