A considerable time had passed since the tragedy that destroyed James’s former business. Yet, far from breaking him, that episode seemed to propel him toward new horizons. The shop had risen from its ashes with undeniable majesty: wider, more refined, and now frequented by clientele of finer taste.

Clara, for her part, had begun taking shooting lessons on Sundays. At first, the weapon slipped often from her hands, and pulling the trigger seemed an insurmountable challenge. With his characteristic patience, James guided her step by step. Soon Clara was practicing by aiming at empty bottles tossed into the street by bartenders. She was becoming skillful, her gaze steady and her pulse increasingly precise.

One morning, James received a letter sealed with red wax. The envelope bore a discreet emblem: a crown upon a cogwheel. It was an invitation from the Circle of Helmcrest, the exclusive group he always referred to as “the closed circle of millionaires.”

London, October 1892

Dear Mr. James H. Lannister:

Through this missive, I extend my regards on behalf of the gentlemen of the Circle of Helmcrest. We have received word of an acquisition opportunity in Westbury County, where the extension of a railway line is projected to foster commerce and the presence of the learned class.

Given your interest in structural development and your impeccable reputation among our peers, we cordially invite you to a private meeting next Thursday, the 7th, in the Hall of Mirrors of the Grand Hotel of Eldhollow.

The presence of your legal or financial advisor is optional, though your judgment will prove crucial to the project’s advancement. As tradition dictates, discretion shall be rewarded.

Sincerely,
Lord E. Matheson
Secretary of the Circle

James read the letter carefully, then turned to Clara:

“Clara, prepare yourself. We shall go by train. It is an important journey. That day, Robert will likely watch over the shop.”

“Where are we going?” she asked timidly.

“To the Grand Hotel of Eldhollow. Fortunately, I know the way.”

“Truthfully, I would not know how to find my bearings alone.”

“Neither would I, if not for my father, who once took me across North America and to its most emblematic places.”

The day of departure arrived. James carried a light suitcase and, concealed beneath his clothes, his revolver. He was not a violent man, but he knew danger could arise in the most unexpected places—especially on trains crossing the desert. Clara walked beside him, elegant yet nervous. At the station, they purchased their tickets. In the distance, the whistle of the train pierced the silence like a metallic lament.

Once aboard, James instructed:
“Sit by the window. If anything happens, I will protect you.”

“What could possibly happen on a moving train?” Clara asked, trying to downplay her unease.

“There are desert bandits. They ride alongside the train, board it in motion. I’ll drive them away. And if necessary, I’ll clear a path for your escape.”

Clara nodded, though unease clouded her features. James noticed her anxiety.

“As long as you are by my side, no harm will come to you.”

The train set off with a sigh of steam. The landscape around them was arid, stripped of vegetation and color. To distract her, James pulled out a book and offered it.

“It is Journey to the Center of the Earth, by a certain Jules Verne. I bought it a few days ago. Fantastical, perhaps childish, but curious. Try it.”

Clara raised an eyebrow.
“I am not a child, James.”

“I never said you were. Only that the story seems unreal. A voyage to the Earth’s core with a machine…”

“A hundred years ago, no one would have imagined a train without horses, and yet here we are. Humanity evolves. Perhaps one day, that too will be possible.”

James straightened.
“You are right. Once we fought with swords. Now, a single bullet decides everything.”

The journey passed peacefully. Clara began to read with interest, but when she turned to share a thought, she noticed James was asleep. His hat covered his eyes, his breathing calm. She did not wake him.

Suddenly, something in the landscape caught her attention. In the distance, three riders advanced parallel to the train. One carried a wooden cage strapped to his mount. Their faces were covered with scarves, leaving only their eyes visible. Clara shivered.

A sharp thud resounded at the rear of the carriage. Murmurs quickly spread.

“Bandits!” someone shouted.

“There are two more on this side—faces covered!”

“And that one carries a cage!” cried another.

“Don’t be paranoid, they must be circus folk!” someone suggested, trying to calm the panic.

But the clanging of metal against the carriage grew louder. A passenger screamed:
“They’re boarding the train!”

James’s eyes snapped open. He rose calmly and drew his weapon.

From both the forward and rear carriages, two armed men appeared with revolvers.

“We want no trouble. We seek something specific,” one of them declared.

Suddenly, one of the riders burst through the door, seized Clara, and fled toward the exit. James tried to react, but the second assailant aimed directly at him. Swiftly, James delivered a precise kick, disarming the man.

He rushed to the window and caught sight of Clara being hoisted into the wooden cage upon the horse. His heart pounded.

“I must rescue her,” he thought. And without hesitation, he prepared to leap from the train and confront the riders.

The adventure was only just beginning.