Inner Sanctum Underground | 9:33 AM | ∞ Day

  Including myself, there were supposed to be 10 members of the cast, though the amount of foreknowledge I was given about them was wildly varied depending on 'Kasua's' own understanding. Five, I knew, were other beneficiaries of the will. Two were other members of Fellowship - Hildris Wulkasduttar, an economist of some sort who had also worked pro-bono as Rastag's accountant, along with Tuthal Tuthaliyasun, who had at one point been his business partner. There was also his estranged sister, Phaidime Mithraiosduttar, and young protégé, Summiri Hattusduttar. Finally, there was one last claimant who remained unnamed, and two additional workers besides the one Bahram mentioned, a co-driver and a cleaner/caterer. (Of course, it was a common - if a little cheap - twist in mysteries for there to be less or more people in the story than originally suggested, so until I met them all in person, I was taking these details with a grain of salt.)

  If you're anything like I was as a teenager visiting the royal palace in Xattusa for the first time on a class trip, you may be wondering what's up with all these wildly different-sounding names. Due to the collapse serving as a choke point for most cultures, Rhunbardic was the last commonly-spoken language in the world that could be said to have discrete 'groups' as opposed to congealing together (like Ysaran) or having altogether different roots despite their names (like Inner and Outer Saoic). Part of the reason for this tied into its anthropological history. Of all the Parties, Rhunbard's cultural ancestors had been the last to 'civilize' in the classical sense of the world, with the main reason they hadn't been assimilated by the precursors of the Inotians or Saoites being that their homeland was also the homeland of the horse. As it turns out, even if you don't have fancy things like agriculture or writing, there's a lot you can accomplish just by going really fast. They spread out early and comprehensively, covering a quarter of the earth by the New Kingdoms Era, and adapted their customs around that distance in a way other cultures - advancing much later as a more urban wave - never bothered to.

  As a result, even if it all ultimately came back to the same stuff, they had about 10 different ways to say and pronounce everything. The more metropolitan interpretations of the language tended to be more obviously influenced by Ysaran or Viraaki, but the rural stuff was a lot more guttural and bestial. Is that racist? I think that might've been racist.

  Anyway, don't think I'm rambling on about this for no reason. That tendency to drive towards the frontiers and socially drift could end up being important to the whole scenario. Maybe the diversity in names was even foreshadowing, though that might be giving them too much credit.

  But to get back to the story, the next to show up was Tuthal. He was a somewhat younger - though still visibly middle aged - man dressed somewhat ostentatiously in a striking red robe, neck-length black hair pushed back, his powerful forehead on full display. His odor and boots indicated he'd rode here instead of taking a carriage or another train, and instantly I could tell the type of character he was supposed to be: Some kind of overconfident, entitled braggart. Probably a playboy.

  In a normal story, that archetype would generally either be a red herring - acting like an asshole early on to make you think they were the culprit, then getting killed off or ending up being completely irrelevant - or there'd be a double bluff, and it would turn out they did the crime for some extremely petty reason. I found those kinds of twists a little annoying, usually because they ended up disregarding a ton of foreshadowing purely in the name of subverting the reader's expectations.

  But that was in a book. In this format, where the people involved were making improvisational choices, I had no idea how it would work.

  Bahram, who had just been about to tell me about his wife, stopped in the middle of the conversation to greet him with a lot more enthusiasm than he had me, rising to his feet. "Tuth!"

  "Bahram, you old fuck!" he said cheerily, embracing him in a hug. "How have you been?"

  Yep, got it in one. I didn't rise from the bench, watching the two of them blankly.

  "Oh, you know, surviving," he replied cheerily.

  "How's life in the arse end of nowhere?"

  "Karat's hardly nowhere nowadays," he corrected him. "There's nearly a million people about the place, according to the last parliamentary census."

  "Pedantic as ever, I see."

  "And it's going well! I'm head of the department at the university, as of last summer."

  "My goodness, man, try not to leave us completely in the dust on your climb to the top," he replied sarcastically. "What are they paying you now? Four arda a month?"

  The arda was the pre-Alliance Rhunbardic currency. I remembered it came from their word for silver, though paper currency had already returned by this time period.

  "Don't be an ass. You know it's not about the money for me."

  "I should think fucking not! I know you've always been crazy, but I couldn't believe my ears when I heard you'd turned down your share of the hoard." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "Either you're a modern day saint, or you know something we don't."

  Bahram chuckled, then tapped his nose.

  The other man's mirth seemed to leave him a little bit at this, his eyes darkening slightly even as his smile held. "I hope this isn't going to be a waste of all our time, Bahram."

  He shrugged hopelessly. "You'll just have to see at dinner, I'm afraid."

  Maybe it was only because I knew what was going on, but the way they were talking definitely felt a little artificial to me-- Like they weren't just catching up on life organically, but instead were subtly reminding one another of the details of the scenario, reinforcing the shared reality. It made me cringe a tiny bit.

  "What about you?" Bahram asked, dodging the question. "Been well?"

  "Pah, as well as one can get in the world of business nowadays, with Old Mud taxing us all half to death for his idiot projects." He was probably talking about King Isimud I (r. 637-802), the 'current' monarch of Rhunbard, who would later be regarded by history as the father of the Empire and the last truly competent leader before the plunge into mediocrity and later outright ineptitude that would ultimately lead to Sara (and later Ysara) usurping the court and rendering them puppets. "I'm hanging on, which is more than I can say for most. But I miss the old days, when a man had space to build something in this corpse of a world."

  "Don't say that. I've never known you to be the type to live in the past."

  "Better that than die in the present," he opined.

  "Come now--"

  "I'm serious. All the good money is in old shit nowadays. That's the only thing they haven't got their grubby hands on." He inclined a head towards the train. "Case in point."

  The information I'd been given about Tuthal framed him as a sort of old money real estate baron, contrasting Rastag, who'd come from nothing and built his fortune from scratch. After meeting him in college, he'd been the one to provide him some of the initial funding and property needed to get his railway venture off the ground, but at some point in the past few decades their relationship in that regard had grown more distant. Since then, though he'd continued to participate in high society, his entrepreneurial profile had gone quiet.

  Reading between the lines, he was probably in some sort of money trouble, possibly as a result of whatever had happened between him and Rastag. So his motive would be financial-- Again, perfect fit for type so far.

  "Speaking of which, it seems I rode out here ahead of schedule. It's just you and..." His eyes wandered in my direction. "Is she one of ours?"

  "Oh-- You don't recognize her? That's Kasua. Mariya's girl."

  He squinted. "God, it is, isn't it? Same hair and everything." He snorted. "Been a long time since she was that pretty, though."

  The bio didn't specify how Kasua was supposed to feel about him, but the answer seemed self-evident. I frowned slightly. "We've met before, sir."

  "Have we?"

  "Several times," I told him. "I served you drinks when you were visiting the estate. And I attended one of your galas."

  He raised an eyebrow. "Which one?"

  I did not have this information, so my instinctive response was to feel like this was some kind of accusation-- That he'd caught me in a lie. But of course the gala thing was in my backstory, so he was probably just asking me to improvise the details. Not like that was much better. How do people do things like this? What if I accidentally break the whole plot?

  If it were something that could break the plot, it would be in the pamphlet, my common sense asserted.

  So just come up with something in two seconds that doesn't go against like twenty pages worth of information? Easy-peasy.

  "...the one at your winter mansion, that you held for new years at that turn of the century," I attempted. "I was there with my mother then, too."

  "Were you." He blinked a few times. "I must admit I spent most of that night blackout drunk." He smirked. "In either case, you'll have to forgive me-- I have a shitty memory when it comes to kids. Though I can see you're very much a grown woman now, for what it's worth!" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

  This guy was really overdoing the bit. I gawked at him with my mouth half-open for a second.

  "For goodness sake, Tuth," Bahram chided, though more with historically accurate amusement than any genuine distaste. "Don't talk like that to the poor girl. She's not even a quarter of your age, have some manners."

  "What? I'm being perfectly gentlemanly! Just having a little fun-- Don't be such a prude." He looked at me. "Come now, you don't think me a boor, do you?"

  "Uh--"

  "We'll start over and do this properly," he declared, stepping forward and offering a hand. "Tuthal Tuthaliyasun. Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

  "...Kasua Inarsduttar," I replied, making a point of inclining the engagement ring towards him as I took it. (I never got to do this sort of thing in real life, so it felt like a fun opportunity.) "Charmed."

  He either didn't notice or was completely indifferent. "I'm a little surprised to see you're on the list for all this, honestly." His gaze turned skeptical. "Or are you? If you're here because your mother was invited, I'm not sure how that's how it works in a case like this."

  "No. I was named in the will."

  "Really?"

  "It's true," Bahram chimed in. "Though only by the skin of her teeth. Ras updated the text just a few months before he died."

  "How about that," Tuthal intoned. He regarded me with an amused expression, though spoke in an ambiguous tone. "Still, don't you think it's a little shameless of you to show up to collect an inheritance from a man you've never even met?"

  I frowned. It was difficult to know exactly how to interpret this question; was he just teasing me? Trying to test my intentions? Sincerely bitter that I was, depending on how this all worked, going to take some money that could have gone to him instead?

  Actually, the better question was how I ought to respond in-character. So far, other than referencing the facts from the guide as demanded, I'd basically just been acting as myself, but that obviously wasn't going to cut it. There was a point where appropriate reticence would give way to appearing unable to act. According to the rules, that mattered as much as solving the mystery.

  Well, I thought, Kasua is supposed to dislike lying... and also to not really care about the inheritance.

  But, I mean, realistically, she probably wouldn't turn down money if there were no strings attached.. And she wouldn't talk about her real reasons right off the bat to this asshole.

  So...

  "...I'm just here to see what exactly is being given away," I told him. "I don't think there's a person alive who'd be invited to something like this and then not even bother showing up."

  He scoffed. "You're just here because you're curious, is that what you're saying?"

  "Don't be silly. Obviously it's not just that." I glanced away. "My mother poured hundreds of thousands of arda into the Lifeblood Foundation over the years. If I'm going to run her business, it's my responsibility to at least see some kind of return on that."

  "Not much of a believer in charity, then."

  I honestly hadn't given much deeper thought to the words as they'd left my mouth, but I spontaneously decided that, yes, Kasua was indeed a ruthless and cynical capitalist. "Whether or not you're giving things away, I prefer investments that at least have tangible results, as opposed to whatever you were all doing."

  Tuthal looked at me intensely for a moment, then broke away with a pensive hum. "Maybe we have more in common than I'd assumed."

  While this response seemingly placated him, now it was Bahram's turn to take ambiguous offense, speaking with unease. "Now, you shouldn't talk like that about something you're not involved with, Kasua. The foundation has done great work. Your mother--"

  "Oh, please," Tuthal said dismissively. "Don't you think it's about time to be honest with ourselves?" He turned from me, eying the other man. "I know you've always been a bit of a mystic, not to mention not being the type to piss on a friend's parade when it's mostly his money anyway, but now that he's pushing daisies, you have to admit the whole endeavor is a bit fucking bonkers."

  "That's uncalled for, Tuth." His face hardened somewhat.

  "It's a glorified private school with an admission criteria that assumes magic is real," he replied dryly. "I think calling it 'bonkers' is entirely reasonable."

  "Don't be stubborn. Even if you don't agree with the underlying philosophy, thousands of children have been given opportunities they could have never have hoped for without the foundation. Saved from lives of poverty where their potential would have gone completely to waste."

  Tuthal leaned back, resting one hand against the bench. "Yeah, well, the thing about kids with wasted potential is that there's no shortage of the fuckers. All I'm saying is there are probably better ways to find the most deserving than trying to scry out their destinies with bloody numerology."

  Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

  "You know it's not that simple," Bahram objected. "You were as enthusiastic about the method as anyone, once upon a time."

  "I'm not denying that I was as gullible as anyone else. It's the halo effect - when someone seems like they're getting results in one regard, it's easy to start thinking they have everything figured out. But even you've got to admit that all that project seems to have produced is a lot of, well, let's be nice and call them eccentrics." His gaze shifted suddenly, and he lowered his voice. "Speak of the devil."

  I followed his gaze. Approaching from the other side of the station was a young woman, possibly even younger than I was supposed to be. She was dressed in a uniform-like professional black dress with gloves, and had a different complexion than you'd usually expect for Rhunbardi, with mostly straight - if slightly messy - black hair and warm undertones to her skin. Under normal circumstances, I have said she looked half-Saoic - like my dad - but this was before the age of sophisticated distinction therapy, so it was more likely that her seed just happened to look that way. (Well, or the people running this game accidentally introduced an anachronism.)

  I instantly recognized her as Summiri. She carried herself with anxiety and a stiff posture, her head hunched and her eyes constantly glancing every which way as she approached. She was carrying two overly-large duffel bags that seemed more than she could handle, her shoulders visibly strained.

  "Ah," Bahram said, quickly glossing over the escalating awkwardness of the conversation. "Hello there!"

  The girl seemed barely able to look at him, her face rushing between shock, panic, annoyance and intense embarrassment all in the space of about five seconds. "h," she said, the sound so small, flat and pinched that it sounded closer to something made by a piece of old furniture than a human being. "h-h-hello."

  I frowned. As an introvert who had my fair share of experience with social anxiety, I felt as though I ought to be offended.

  "You must be Miss Hattusduttar," he went on, undeterred. "I've heard much about you."

  She said nothing to this, by appearances attempting to hide her face by carefully angling her hair.

  Again, the backstory with Summiri was that she was supposed to be Rastag's understudy. A graduate of one of the Lifeblood Foundation's institutions, she had been hand-picked by him and raised up as a successor to his business, tutored in every skill - economics, politics, game theory - one could possibly need for such a role. Supposedly, on paper, she soared through every criteria with flying colors, being capable of market predictions and optimal budgeting that surpassed even him by leaps and bounds.

  The problem, though, was that she proved an irredeemable void of charisma. On top of being riddled with phobias both interpersonal and otherwise, she also had no sense of tact, poor self-control, and generally seemed to hate being around other people. When Rastag had attempted to introduce her properly into the upper echelons of his empire, there'd been a revolt. It went so far that his staff and associates in the guilds began to question his judgement, and had lost his absolute control of the enterprise in the process.

  Now that he was dead, her future had been rendered very much in doubt.

  I suppose this was also a kind of trope character, though not one you saw in mysteries very much. Her superficial motive would obviously also be financial, but unlike the others who 'I' was supposed to have some personal experience with, all the information I had about her was only rooted in hearsay.

  "Can I take one of your bags?" Bahram offered, gesturing at them. "You look a little strained there."

  "n-no," She jerked backwards sharply, her posture becoming defensive. "no. no thank you. it's uh. my things are. a-are. delicate."

  He looked at her hesitantly. "Er, very well, then."

  "You'll be pissing up the wall trying to get anything out of that one, Bahram," Tuthal remarked conceitedly. "Don't waste your time."

  Summiri, who hadn't seemed to have processed his presence up until this moment, looked towards him and grimaced. "you."

  Bahram looked between the two of them. "You two know one another?"

  "Of course I know her," Tuthal replied. "You couldn't have a meeting with Rastag in the last couple decades and avoid it-- She was stuck to him like she was his own shadow. I'm surprised you don't know her."

  He frowned. "Well, we were never in business together."

  "And you can count yourself lucky in that regard!" He laughed at his own joke, if it could be called that.

  Bahram sighed. "Tuth, do you have to be like this? I know you have your grievances, but just for day, I think it would be best if we all just--"

  "Just what? Not talk about any of it?" He snorted. "He practically ruined me, Bahram. Stabbed in the back, took millions of my money. I'm not going to spend a whole day on this fucking train at his posthumous whim and talk around it."

  I bit my lip. That assumption panned out quickly, then.

  "However you interpret what happened, he evidently didn't consider your friendship soured enough to remove you from his will," Bahram pointed out, his tone half-shaming and half-pleading. "You could at least show him some basic respect."

  "One, I'll come to any judgements on that front when I know for sure this isn't all going to be some complete farce he contrived as a final humiliation," Tuthal retorted harshly. "Two, it's 'basic respect' for him to have not salted the wound by cutting me out-- If it weren't for that, we'd be doing this in court. But this isn't the funeral. I'm not going to suck his cock."

  Bahram just frowned. Before he could say anything else, though, there was a rustling sound from one of the two oversized bags that Summiri was carrying, and a creature poked its head out, causing its owner to immediately jolt and move to gently shove it back in.

  It was a spotted white cat. It meowed.

  Bahram stared at it, flabbergasted. "You brought your cat? For a trip on a train?"

  Summiri's face glowed violet. "i-i. she's uh. delicate." She swallowed. "i couldn't trust a c-c-carer." The small mammal resisted her attempts to contain its influence, repeatedly pawing open the fabric and rising to the surface of its prison.

  Tuthal seemed to find this turn of events very amusing, breaking into laugh again. "Oh my god, this is great." He shook his head. "She's like a child. And this is the girl he wanted to put in charge of the company!"

  She stared at him with murderous malice, visible sweat on her brow.

  Bahram cleared his throat. "Tuth--"

  "No, no, I'm sure it's fine. Knowing Ras, he probably has a bloody menagerie on board it'll fit right into!" His laugh all but became a cackle. "It's just a shame it wasn't a dog. With this weather, we'd have three frigid bi--"

  But before he could finish his slur, the door to the carriage in front of us finally slid open, and two men stepped forward from within. One was a rather old individual - perhaps even older than Bahram - with a stocky build and almost entirely greyed black beard, while the other was almost his comical inverse, a skinny and very tall (6'4? Very tall) youth who could have passed for a teenager; he even had a spotty face. The older of the two men stepped forward, clearing his throat.

  "Good morning, everyone," he said, his tone deep and somber. "The Xerxes will now be boarding. My name is Gaizarik Hanalusun, and it will be my pleasure to serve as your driver and conductor for today's journey." He gestured towards the other man. "This is Wiliya, my assistant. When you are ready, we will be happy to take your bags and welcome you aboard the train."

  I peered. I guess this was the guy that Bahram was talking about earlier. This kind of hyper-faithful, hyper-formal servant was another stock character for these sorts of things, arguably the most well-known of all, usually serving as more of a plot device than an actual person. I don't even need to tell you this kind of stuff, do I? You're not stupid.

  "About time," Tuthal spoke, turning. "My ass is giving me hell from the ride here. I need to sit down on something soft before I get piles."

  I stood up quickly. I might have ended up sitting out most of the preceding conversation, but the least I could do was to appear enthusiastic to get on board the thing.

  Summiri fidgeted. "d-do we. our. invitation letters..."

  "That will not be necessary, Lady Hattusduttar," Gaizarik replied, with a respectful incline of his head. "Since our manifest for today's journey is very small and personal to the master, I am confident in my ability to recognize you all by sight. For that reason, I will remain here until the boarding is complete, while Wiliya shall show you to your rooms."

  I should say something. "How long will you wait for the others to arrive?"

  "For half an hour," he stated. "Our departure time shall be one o'clock."

  "Here you go, boy," Tuthal said as he shoved his luggage into the lanky young man's hand. "Show me the level of luxury Rastag got for the thousands he poured into this wretched thing."

  "Uh, right. Follow me, please," he replied.

  The two of them disappeared up the steps. I moved to follow, figuring I could carry my own relatively modest baggage, but Gaizarik moved to stop me, raising his arm slightly.

  "Forgive me, Miss Inarsduttar, but I must ask that you wait until Wiliya returns before boarding the train. Otherwise we would not be able to welcome you appropriately."

  "It's fine," I told him. "I don't need any help."

  He did not relent. "Nevertheless, I must insist. It is the proper protocol."

  "Protocol?"

  "Indeed. I beg your forgiveness, but please wait a moment." He bowed his head subtly.

  "Sorry, Kasua, but Ras had a lot of queer rules when it came to his private train," Bahram informed me mirthfully. "He was a great believer in providence, in ways that sometimes were beyond even my understanding. I hope you'll indulge him this one time." He smiled weakly.

  I narrowed my eyes. In mystery writing, there was a general rule that, if something odd was done - either within the text or metatextually - that didn't have an immediately coherent explanation, the usual reason was that it was trying to hide some piece of information. If I forced my way into the carriage now, I would learn X. (Or, alternatively, forcing my way into the carriage now would prove impossible because of Y.) Either way, the answer I was being given now was like stage lighting - something to direct my eyes away from whatever I wasn't supposed to see.

  I was tempted to shove the man aside and charge right in just to see what would happen, but that would probably be, as the rules had called it, 'bad faith'. I couldn't just incorporate my suspicions on a narrative level into my actions directly-- I had to weave them in with subtlety, with plausible justification.

  Still, I was under no obligation to accept this framing at face value. Kasua was supposed to be a skeptic, after all.

  "It sounds kind of suspicious, that's all," I stated. "I've never heard of such a strange custom. I don't like feeling as though I'm being isolated for no good reason. Especially when so much of this is already so odd."

  Summiri became my ally. "i. i d-don't like it either," she stammered out. "that m-m-man, he's. big. giant-like. he could do anything." Her eyes bulged.

  "Now now, let's, eh, calm down a little," Bahram said soothingly. "Don't you think you're both being a little paranoid? The entrance leads right into the rest carriage, if my memory serves. We're talking about a single hallway here." He looked at me. "If it really bothers you, Kasua, why not simply wait by the door inside once you're shown in instead of settling into your room? That way, you'll be the last person alone."

  I thought I noticed Gaizarik's eyes flicker for a moment, but it might have been my imagination.

  "...maybe," I said, and left it at that.

  About 30 seconds later, Wiliya returned as promised, and I entered the train alongside him. The 'rest carriage' consisted of a long corridor with few windows and eight interspersed doors leading into private compartments, all on the opposite side of the carriage to entrance. The windows all had blinders down, which for some reason felt very exotic to me.

  "You're, ehh." The young man, who had to hunch his back slightly to not brush against the ceiling lamps, spoke to me as he consulted a list. "You're Kasua, right? I mean, Miss Inarsduttar?"

  "That's right," I affirmed.

  He reached into the pocket of his grey uniform, producing a bronze key. "You're in room two. I'll show you in."

  "Okay," I said, then as we passed a window, "why are those there?"

  "To... see out of?"

  "No, I mean the blinders."

  "Oh." He scratched the side of his be-pimpled face. "Ehh, well, this is the rest carriage, innit? So, y'know, people coming and going might not be, ehh, decent." He licked his lips. "Yeah, that's probably it."

  This guy didn't really seem like the type of person who'd normally be working on a private luxury train. Something was probably up with that.

  As we walked towards my door, I noticed another thing that was strange. Between the 3rd and 5th rooms, there was a conspicuously elongated distance where there was no door at all. Like there ought to have been 9, but someone had simply forgotten to build one of the entrances for some reason.

  So what was happening with that space? Were the two adjacent rooms simply bigger?

  Before I could question this, we'd arrived at the 2nd door from the end. "Here we are. You... need me to help you unpack?"

  "No."

  "Right then," he said awkwardly. "Well. Enjoy."

  I did want to make good on Bahram's suggestion, but I decided that I'd take at least a quick look inside the room, and so stuck the key in the lock and twisted. The interior, while miserably cramped by any normal standard, was appropriately indulgent for a train. An old-fashioned fancy single bed sat against the left wall, while a small desk (/dining table?) and chair were perched by a large window with red plush curtains. On the opposite side of the room was a dresser with period-appropriate world map overhead, and next to it a doorway which led to what had to be the world's smallest bathroom.

  Like, seriously, this thing was microscopic. There was a toilet tucked in right behind the entrance, and directly in front of it was not only a sink, but one of those tall-and-round old fashioned bathtubs, where you had to pull your knees in to even fit in. Complimentary soap had been left inside.

  Honestly, I found the whole thing kind of charming, and ended up feeling a little sad that - since the murder would probably happen at some point over the course of the day - I'd most likely never actually get to use it as intended. Though, that being said, I probably wouldn't have been able to sleep in this weird body anyway.

  Leaving my luggage behind, I stepped back out into the hall just in time to see Bahram being led to his room (enough time had passed for something to have plausibly happened, I realized, and I regretted my indulgence); he gave me a little wave. I edged closer to the door as they brought in Summiri, who was refusing to let the assistant near her, let alone touch her bags. Once she'd disappeared, presumably cat and all, into her compartment with a loud slam of the door, the young man gave me a brief confused glance before heading back outside. I half-followed and stole a glance-- Him and Gaizarik were, as stated, simply waiting on the platform in silence for the rest of the guests. If there was a trick, I'd missed it.

  After that, since no one had told me I couldn't, I decided to scout out the train while everyone else was busy settling in and wouldn't question me being a snoop. (For the purpose of this explanation, I'll refer to the 'front' and 'back' of the train in accordance with the direction we'd later travel.)

  First, I headed down to the rear. There was only one carriage in this direction from the one I'd started in, which I believe in train parlance would be called an 'observation car'. The windows here were huge, the walls more glass than not, and at the terminus the entire rear wall was replaced with a single curved piece, providing an excellent 180 degree view of the steppe and the overhead sky. Nowadays this much glass would be considered tacky and dated aesthetically, but in this age before replication arcana, it would have been an incredibly costly indulgence.

  Other than that, the carriage seemed to mostly serve as a kind of 'lounge' for the train. There was a lot of comfy seating arranged with no mind to the usual rigid grid, two well-stocked bookshelves, and a bar with some snacks and a fairly large selection of drinks. There was even a small piano in the corner.

  Going back in the opposite direction, directly ahead of the rest car was the engine car, which I was only partially able to access. The carriage was broken up into three 'parts' - the engine itself, an adjacent locked indoor area which based on what I could see through the windows seemed to be a combination of driving room and staff quarters, and finally a little walkable gangway that went around the left side of both before coming to the entrance of the next carriage in a sort of elongated U-shape. For some reason - rain? - the entire thing was covered by a thick wooden overhang that protruded even beyond the edge of the gangway itself.

  Two features struck me as notable. The first was a small ladder and hole in the overhang in the bottom left corner where it appeared possible to access the roof of the train. The second was the answer to the question of 'how, with 700s era technology, are you supposed to drive a train from the midsection?'

  The answer appeared to be an elaborate set of mirrors, protruding from both sides of the carriage like wings and ultimately feeding into the driving area. This baffled me, and would have to be involved in some kind of trick. Like, it seemed like it just about worked, but why? Why would you make it like that?

  The final accessible carriage was the dining cart, which compared to the previous didn't have a lot going on. Large tables that looked cumulatively capable of seating about 12 were arranged on either side, surrounded by flower arrangements. The far end of the carriage was mostly occupied by another locked area that a sign designated as 'KITCHEN'. However, following an L shaped passage led to a final inter-carriage door, this one locked far more seriously than anything preceding it, with a heavy bolt and chain. And that was it. The limit of what I could explore.

  Oh, but I should also talk about the connective areas between the carriages. Rather than leading outdoors outright or joining seamlessly like you'd see in a modern train, they were each divided by a small indoor liminal space where the floor, walls, and ceiling were all segmented such that they could all bend as the train moved. These 'chambers', if indeed they could be called that, were utterly empty and completely lightless, such that in order to avoid being in the dark, you had to open the door leading in, open the door leading out, and only then close both doors one at a time. It was janky, especially since they were very small. You could probably fit a maximum of two people inside, and even that would be a squeeze.

  Finally, none of the windows anywhere opened in a serious way. You could get a little fresh air, but that was it.

  All of this led me to two conclusions immediately.

  1) Because of the way the train had been angled in the station, and the ways it could be viewed from the inside, it was impossible - assuming, at least, that the track was largely straight - to determine how many carriages were at the front of the train, beyond the dining car. There could be 1, 2, 100, or even 0. It was completely ambiguous.

  (You might be wondering why I'm raising this idea despite there being no particular evidence to support it, but you have to understand the reason that trains are such a popular setting for mysteries. It's not just that they're a very small and contained space that definitionally become separated from civilization (though obviously that's a part of it), it's that they're a malleable space. Train mysteries are the king of the 'setting twist', where the trick relies on the environment the story takes place in being somehow subverted or outright deceptive; carriages detaching, attaching, being inserted at junctures, being replaced by near-identical but slightly different carriages at junctures-- There's a million ways you can do it. I even saw one where the twist was that a carriage was secretly two stories tall and thus, after being dropped into a pitfall on a stopped train where the passengers couldn't leave, created the illusion of having been replaced. If you meet a mystery novelist on the road, kill him.)

  2) Relatedly, there was only one place on the train where it was possible to go outside, and only two more specific places - the rear of the observation cart, and the ladder - where it was possible to get a semi-complete cone of vision of the train's environment, from ground to sky. The driver's seat, suffice it to say, seemed like a highly conditional third at best.

  With all that established, I headed back to the rest carriage, where two more people had just arrived.

  https://topwebfiction.com/listings/the-flower-that-bloomed-nowhere/ And here's a question pertaining to the VN adaption - having read the entire novel, if there was a chapter or segment of the opening (ie, everything up until they arrive at the sanctuary) that you had to cut, what would you pick? Currently trying to edit down the script into something snappier, but have so far only made modest structural changes.