• EN 45

    It was an old wagon, composed of compartments. Every piece of metal or glass had been replaced by wood, plastic gave away for impressive and iridescent pieces of fabric. Since when was the floor covered with carpet?

    As a first reaction I looked through the window to check whether the station remained rooted on the right epoch. Nothing had changed. On the platform travelers didn’t seem confused by the anachronism.

    What about people we were sharing the carriage with ?

    I had a glance to other compartments with Cassie at my heels. I was nearly expecting to find a countess covered of powder.

    But we were alone.


    We exchanged a sight and without having time to emit a comment the train started.

    EN 45