Chapter Two: Journey North

Erik had no memory of ever traveling by train, even if he had; it was unlikely he had ever traveled in anything resembling the opulent private railroad Saloon car he was currently seated in. It was decorated in elegantly gilded carved wood which contrasted beautifully with the dark velvet used on the seats and curtains. There were scattered plants throughout the Saloon, which helped create a rather domestic setting. The Saloon was only one of the carriages which appeared to belong exclusive to his host. There were other carriages, one housing their bedrooms, another appeared to be solely for the comfort of the staff. The space they currently occupied appeared to serve as a sitting area which provided adequate spacing for a family to travel in, yet it was only himself and his host occupying the generous space. He was not ignorant of the luxuries many aristocrats were privy to; however, he was aware of the difference between the wealthy and the very wealthy. The man currently seated across from him undoubtedly belonged to latter.

Although, no formal titles had been exchange in their brief introduction, Erik recognized an aristocrat when he saw one. Years of emulating the wealthy who frequented the Opera house had given him a talent for detecting certain traits. Nicholas displayed all mannerisms of someone born into a world of splendor. It wasn't his wealth that betrayed his heritage but his noble bearing. His clothing was immaculate; he recognized a well tailored suit as much as he knew the back of his hand. Nicholas had spoken French flawlessly however, occasionally a slight accent made itself known. He was a foreigner, yet was well versed in the etiquette of French customs. Erik observed as Nicholas reached into his vest pocket and withdrew a gold watch. It was engraved in a language he did not recognize.

A servant approached him with a cup of tea in his hands. A moment of panic flooded him as his hand went to his face, only to touch bandages. In lieu of a mask Nicholas had bandaged his face, claiming he had no other means to offer on hand. He had graciously accepted the bandages, preferring to shield his face than to remain exposed. The servant said something in a foreign tongue before nodding in encouragement as he extended the cup to him. Erik eyed the man suspiciously, unaccustomed to being tended to in such a manner, even less being treated without prejudice.

"They have no reason to fear you, Monsieur." Nicholas explained politely.

"They should."

"Do you wish them to fear you?"

"I don't know." Erik confessed as he slowly took the cup of tea from the servant's hand. "Thank you."

"He does not understand French, I'm afraid."

"How do I say thank you in a language he will understand?"

"Spasibo."

"Spasibo." The servant smiled and bowed before retreating.

"You're Russian?"

"I am."

"I suppose that would explain why we are traveling north."

"Are you adverse to my home country?"

"Not at all, although, I'm afraid I do not have the adequate wardrobe for the climate."

"Fear not, Monsieur," Nicholas smiled softly. "You may utilize what you require from my wardrobe until we are able to reach the tailor in Saint Petersburg."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes." Erik took a sip from the tea, savoring the taste.

"Is it so difficult to believe someone can extend a helping hand without seeking anything in return?"

"In my experience, it's very difficult to believe."

"Madame Giry told me much about you," Nicholas inhaled deeply, "her emotional turmoil over your impending fate was enough to sway my decision to assist you."

"How do you know Madame Giry?"

"We were once engaged."

Erik's eyebrows rose slightly at the revelation. He prided himself in knowing everything about those who worked in the Opera house, the fact this small piece information had somehow escaped his notice irked him. It rattled him even more to know Madame Giry had been able to keep such secrets from him. He had always been under the belief there existed no secrets between them, naively perhaps, but he had believed her to be as much his confident as he was hers.

"Does our previous engagement upset you?" Nicholas inquired.

"Not exactly," Erik placed his cup down, "I merely taken aback by the news. She never mentioned you." Erik noticed Nicholas appeared to flinch at the news, before nodding slightly.

'I suppose I cannot say I'm completely surprised to learn she's omitted to mention my name to those close to her." His voice carrying a slight twinge that had not been there previously, "I have much to amend for."

"You are only helping me because of her," Erik whispered in realization.

"I owe her a debt."

Erik remained silent as he observed the man who claimed to have once been engaged to his long time ally. The man appeared to be decent enough, he had to admit. He had offered him a means of escape and shelter, and despite his suspicious nature, he found himself eerily at ease around the nobleman. He could not fault Antoinette for concealing her amorous past, the discreet yet poignant exchange between Antoinette and Nicholas at the train station had spoke volumes. Whatever occurred between them, he was sure he would eventually learn the truth, for now it was enough to know whatever sense of loyalty Nicholas had toward Antoinette was likely to extend to him.

"How long until we reach our destination?" Erik inquired as he looked out the window. The passing scenery being engraved into his memory as he realized it was unlikely he would ever be able to return to his adopted home country.

"Three days, perhaps four if we prolong our stop in Germany."

"What will happen when we arrive in Russia?"

"It's up to you, Monsieur. You are welcomed to stay at my estate as my guest for as long as you like, or you may go your separate way."

"How do I know you will not betray me?"

"I believe if I wanted to I could have already," Nicholas replied honestly, "I'm a man of my word, Erik, and a man's most valuable asset is his word."

Erik did not know what to make of this man. He almost seemed too good to be true. Despite his misgivings he trusted his instincts, and his instincts were inclined to believe Nicholas. It was fairly obvious Nicholas was a man of integrity, and as with most gentleman, they placed much value on their word. He believed Nicholas would not break whatever oath he had made to Antoinette Giry.

"Monsieur if I may ask, what is your name?"

"Erik."

"Do you have a last name?"

"No."

"Well…," Nicholas coughed slightly as shifting uncomfortably in his seat, "is there a last name you would like to identify yourself with?"

"Why are you asking this?"

"We are not too far from the border. They will ask for your surname."

"What about identification?"

"Do not worry about identification. I shall tend to the matter personally," he said as he began adjusting his shirt.

"I suppose I will use Giry."

"It's a good name," Nicholas smiled causing the lines around his eyes to crinkle. He noted his unusual blue eyes. Granted he had seen blue eyes before but Nicholas possessed a very unique blue pair which contrasted with his caramel skin tone. It was not difficult to imagine Nicholas to have been a very handsome man in his youth, for in truth, despite his advanced age, he still retained a handsome profile and physique. He could understand how a young Antoinette Giry had managed to succumb to his charm. If it wasn't for the weariness that weighed heavily upon him, he'd smile in amusement.

Nicholas found himself with a rather peculiar guest who seemed to yearn for nothing except for his solitude. He had never been one to invade one's personal space and saw no reason to begin now. In the two days since their departure from Paris, they had spoken a handful of times. Although, Erik initially appeared weary of his intentions, he now appeared almost indifferent. Antoinette had warned him Erik was a complex man whose unusual upbringing had greatly affected his ability to trust. He found himself agreeing with Antoinette's assessment; however he also believed given Erik's intricate life, one could hardly have expected different results to have been yielded. Erik was very much a product of years of cruelty and neglect.

He shook his head in disgust before glancing out of his window. They were to arrive in Saint Petersburg in a few hours. There would be much do to when they arrived. Despite not having declared his intentions, Nicholas was confident Erik would remain with him as his guest. He would need to wire Antoinette and advise her of their safe arrival, and then he would need to send word to the tailor to visit his home. Erik needed clothing, and a mask. He had regrettably had no mask to offer when Erik had pitifully requested one shortly before their departure from Paris. The best he had been able to offer were bandages. Erik appeared to appreciate the gesture, while he burned with shame for having to cover the poor man's face. He was not disturbed by the disfigurement, at least not after the initial shock has subsided. Yet no amount of reassurances had swayed Erik when he insisted on covering his face, and he had relented to the bandaging.

When he decided to visit Paris, he never could have imagined the turn of events that would occur in one night. He had traveled to Paris with two intentions; the first was to pay a belated visit to Antoinette Giry.

Despite having remained in contact through correspondence over the years, neither had sought the other out. It was a silent and mutual understanding between them. The recklessness of his youth still hung heavily between them. She had forgiven but never forgotten, and he could not begrudge her for it. He sighed heavily as he pulled his gold pocket watch from his pocket. It opened to reveal a miniature portrait of his daughter. The daughter he had failed to visit due to his hasty retreat from Paris.

He did not resent Erik for the miss opportunity to visit his daughter. Everything is God's will, as his own mother would often recite. He would find an occasion to visit her soon enough, the most pressing matter on hand however, was tending to the wounded man under his care. The same man who had spent years living underground as though he were some repulsive rodent. It is not surprising Erik had sought companionship after leading such a solitary life.

Nicholas had neither the heart nor right to broach the subject of Miss Daee. The lovely girl with an angelic voice was hundreds of miles away, yet her name weighed heavily in the air. Neither man had discussed the incident at the Opera house. Emotions and wounds were still raw and Erik was carrying his afflictions quite close to his sleeve. Still despite his silence on the matter, on more of one occasion, he had caught Erik with a distant yet panged expression as he stared out the window. It was evident Erik was pining for the lovely Miss Daee. The matters of the heart were simply too personal to discuss with a stranger. Perhaps in time Erik will voluntarily discuss the matter, however, until then he would remain respectful of his privacy. There were certain ailments for which only time and silence were the remedy. He genuinely hoped the distance would help Erik heal so he may find a new path in life.