Sometimes I dream of Master.

Where is he now? What is he doing?

He was probably in a place surrounded by books. After all, he was a bibliophile.

He only loved two things in this world: Books and Machines. He also hated war the most.

War was one thing no one could escape from in this kingdom. It has become a part of life. So much that no one could describe a world without it.

Death. Famine. Greed. It was normal.

Peace and harmony were but a fairytale. Right when you think you have found them, they vanish in an instant like a cloud of dust. Just like home. Just like Master.

Master never told me why he had to leave. He just said he had to 'set things right' and that he could not take me with him.

What did he mean by 'setting things right'? It was a question left unanswered.

I would find him and stay with him once again. We'd be reading books together and chatting about the affairs of the world beside a warm fire once again like before...

My thoughts were interrupted by a loud whistle.

"Your ticket please," I heard a voice.

I hastily lifted up my ticket for the train conductor to punch. After receiving it back, he moved on to the next passenger. I reoriented myself with my surroundings: a view of the daytime countryside scenery through the window at my right, bored passengers sitting on cushioned seats, and the rattling sounds of wheels passing over iron rails.

I had forgotten I was onboard a passenger car pulled by a steam locomotive.

"Your ticket please," the conductor said to the next set of passengers.

Minutes passed before the train gradually halted to a stop in the middle of a tall wooden viaduct over the Paterson River. Everyone knew something was wrong. Trains don't suddenly stop in the middle of towering bridges.

"Everyone, please stay calm," a conductor standing nearby urged the passengers to remain in their seats as the other crew members hurried to the train engineer. "It is highly likely a mechanical failure."

I glanced at the person seated beside me. Amidst the sounds of panic and anxiety, he was sleeping soundly while hugging his suitcase. The noise did nothing to wake him. Strands of his disheveled light brown hair fell over his glasses. It was hard to tell whether his eyes were open or not. Only a light snore hinted that he was most probably asleep.

"Members of the rebellion. They're here," a crewmember returned and whispered to the conductor. Almost immediately, the conductor's face transformed into a grimace.

The rebellion.

I heard about them before. They were always mentioned in the newspapers Master kept in his library. They were former soldiers of the king's army who were dissatisfied with his rule. Although they never allied with the other kingdoms that were at war with ours, they still managed to gather resources and supporters to build a formidable force ready to strike the castle anytime.

Appearing at the front door of the car were a few men dressed in dark purple cloaks with their organization's emblem. Half of their faces were covered in white cloth. Each one of them carried a certain type of weapon, none of them being a gun. Thankfully guns were a luxury item only the nobility could afford.

Deep fear swept through the passengers, making them freeze in their seats. They immediately knew that this was a hostage situation.

I lazily stretched out my laced boots after a long period of limited movement. My sleeping seatmate and I were the calmest people in the car. I only appeared calm because of my absence of emotion. My seatmate was the real attraction between the two of us. It didn't take long for the rebels to notice him.

"Wake him up," their leader ordered.

Before the man could force my seatmate to stand, a suitcase came swinging towards his forehead. Blood gushed out of the rebel's nose before he fell backwards and landed unconscious on the floor. The other passengers gaped in their seats. I stared curiously.

The once-sleeping passenger's face winced at the pain he caused. "Oh! I'm very sorry about your friend, but that was very rude of him to wake me like that," he said apologetically.

Two more men stepped forward in anger to avenge their comrade. My seatmate stood at the aisle and prepared for their attacks.

"I suppose I wasn't forgiven."