"Oh, what about this one?"

"It's nice Elyon."

"You aren't even looking!"

Elyon was holding up a simple velvet rosewood pink button-up dress with golden ribbons in showy bows at the breast and waist. It was beautiful, but Cornelia could barely spare it a glance.

"I told you it's nice."

Elyon frowned and tossed the dress to the side. The girl rifled through her vast wardrobe again, and this time came back clutching a peacock teal frock with intricate white lace overlay over the neck and shoulders and white lace cuffs. A butter yellow ribbon hung around the waist area, acting as a belt.

"Better?" she asked.

Cornelia loved dress up, it was her and Elyon's favorite thing to do. Today, however, her heart was simply not in it. She told herself it was because of the storms last night, yes, that was it. The pesky thunder had kept her up all night and ruined her beauty sleep. The train cabin didn't prevent sound as well as the thick walls of their manor.

"What's wrong?" Elyon finally said, her voice sharp with annoyance and yet still gentle and still concerned; a quality Cornelia had only found in Elyon.

"Nothing. I'm fine." she told her.

Her sister-in-law set down the heavy dress, and came to sit down with her on the divan. Elyon's grey eyes were filled with worry.

"You look really pale, Cornelia. Have you eaten this morning?"

Cornelia shook her head. She'd slept late and missed the main breakfast and the biscuits and cold cuts that had been set out for her later held no appeal.

"Are...are you sick?" Elyon asked, her voice lowered conspiratorially, and a sudden flash of hope ran through her eyes.

Cornelia felt like crying, but she didn't dare; not even in front of Elyon.

"No, Elyon," she told her firmly, but that didn't stop her heart from clutching painfully in her chest. Her eyes were watering now, and she had no choice but to look away.

When the two had been girls their favorite activities consisted of sitting on her plush rugs curled up by the fireplace in her room. The pair had spun the tales of their futures; their handsome husbands, beautiful doe eyed children, and most importantly their magnificent, extravagant weddings. They had read books about the old days, when knights and magic had ruled their land, and oh, how much Cornelia had wanted to be a princess! She loved the stories of brave heroes fighting for their fair damsels, and epic romances where the ladies were swept off their dainty slippered feet.

It was strange how things worked out sometimes. Elyon's brother hadn't been much of a topic of conversation amongst them until she was well into her womanhood. He'd gone to Sevit to get his classical college education (as many young gentlemen did) but stayed to attend business school (something of a faux pas, as everyone knew the Meridian University was best school for that), and had even resided in the country for a few years after completion of his schooling. When he'd finally returned, Cornelia had the pleasure of meeting him when she and Elyon were breaking from University themselves.

He hadn't been what she'd expected. He was charming in a way Cornelia had never found charming before. He was a slighter man, not particularly broad of the shoulder nor brawny but still somehow handsome to her. He was well read, well spoken and very intelligent. He never missed any opportunity to speak to her, and ask her opinions on things, though she was often out of depth on the topics of conversation, but it made her feel good. So, when Phobos had asked for her hand in marriage, she was surprised but happy to accept. He was older, but not scandalously so. He may not have been her strong, gallant knight, but he was her handsome, charismatic prince. Or so she thought.

"O-oh." Elyon mumbled, wringing her hands on her dress. Elyon had been so excited when they'd been married; she'd been her maid of honour and they had gone over every detail of the extravagant affair together. They had walked the aisle together in practice, surrounded by deep red roses and Elyon had held her hand. She'd worn a baby pink dress, and cried heavy, deep, tears of joy as Cornelia said her vows. If she divulged Elyon of her marital woes, it would just break the younger girls heart, she knew.

"Look," Elyon said standing up suddenly, her voice layered with a false happiness. "We don't have to talk about that. Let's talk about...um, oh! Mister Hansen and his noble quest to find the missing maiden!"

It seemed Elyon hadn't given up her hero stories yet, but Cornelia didn't want to talk about Caleb either. Her heart gave a painful lurch at the name alone. Caleb. She felt so stupid, how many men had gazed at her so over the years? What was one more?

She wondered what Caleb meant. Phobos meant 'fear', in an old tongue; Elyon was 'most high' and Cornelia 'strong willed'. That had seemed appropriate, once.

"What's that noise?" asked Elyon suddenly, standing up from her seat next to Cornelia.

She paused and tilted her head, listening for whatever Elyon had heard. The fireplace cracked amiably, and she could hear the distant click click of the telegraph machine, but little else.

"What noise?" she asked finally. Elyon pouted, and cocked her head as well.

"I guess it was nothing," she said. Elyon signed wistfully, purposely, and grasped Cornelia's hands tightly, who was taken aback slightly by the gesture.

"You know, that I want you to be happy...no matter what, right?"

Cornelia gave her a smile back, but pulled her hands away. She always felt so pathetic during these, albeit rare, conversations. She was the one who comforted Elyon, not the other way around. How could she support her sister if she wasn't strong enough to pull herself together?

"I am happy, Ellie. I just...miss home is all. I miss the manor, this place is just...so...so…"

"It's not so bad!" Elyon told her. Cornelia held back a frown. Haven was undoubtedly the worst place she'd ever been in her whole life. The town was filthy, the people were disgusting drunks, and the mud. Dear lord, the mud was everywhere. She missed the parties in the capital, the people, it was easier to pretend there.

Caleb Hansen wasn't there either.

A reality of her life was men gazing at her with something akin to lust. She ignored them outwardly, but inside, where she could admit to herself just how lonely she truly was, she reveled in it. It was good to think, that it wasn't her fault, that men still found her attractive. Caleb was no exception to this, not really. It was just...she'd never met a man like him before. Her life was balls, gold and glitter. Caleb was dirt, mud and blood too she supposed. The thought repulsed her, even as it excited her all the same. Her stomach rolled as she wondered if she would even care, if he wasn't so damn handsome. Was she so shallow?

What has my life come to?

She had never seriously considered what it would even be like to cheat on her husband. Ladies didn't do that! She didn't do that.

But why?

How many men disgraced their their women (and themselves!) back in the capital by spurring their wife and taking another lover on the side. Or, even worse, setting their wife aside for another woman! And if she left Phobos? Surely another man would take her. People would understand if she explained; that there was no love between them, surely?

But the rumors would destroy them both if she did that. But...if she was with Caleb, far far away from the capital...would it even matter to her?

No. No. No.

She couldn't do that; not even to Phobos. Though, often she wondered if he would be so kind if another woman ever caught his eye? No, Cornelia thought even as she realized just how self centered her line of thought was, if I can't catch his gaze I doubt any women can.

Phobos just cared too much about his damn railroad, his legacy. What legacy could he have though, without any children to carry those laurels? Maybe...that was it. Maybe when the rail was finally done, Phobos would turn his attention back to her and they could have the perfect marriage and their perfect blonde haired babies.

Unfortunately, the rational part of Cornelia's brain was not so easily diluted by fairytales as it had been as a child. He will never love you; and you will never love him.

Could she live like that? She had for three years now, would the rest of her life be as hard as that?

"Cornelia?"

Elyon's voice cut through her thoughts and she looked up for the other woman. Elyon was pressed up against the window, her shoulders tight. Cornelia felt her stomach ache and twist again, even as her own breath caught in her tight throat.

"I think something is wrong."

Irma Lair loved the days after it rained. Sure, the ground was muddy and sloppy and she would slip and slide across camp as she walked; but that was all part of the fun. The way the land smelled after a good rain, the dewdrops glimmering in the grass like diamonds; oh, she just loved it.

Today, however, she had bigger plans than sitting out in the sun.

"Please Miranda, you have to help me. Please!"

Miranda scoffed, and continued washing out her favorite dress. "Absolutely not Irma, you can do that."

"Ple-"

"No!"

Irma pouted. Miranda wasn't looking though. She stamped her feet in the mud, childlike she knew, but she still didn't care.

"I just need a distraction; something, anything."

"I said no Irma. If you get caught in there and I was the one playing her, I'll go down same as you. Probably even worse since I'm not from Meridian."

She was right, Irma knew; but Irma also knew that if they didn't do anything more girls would get hurt. I can't let that happen, not again! Guilt had gnawed heavily at her for the last week, it wouldn't be long until it ate a hole right through her.

"Fine, I'll go search her tent by myself," she spat, her blood pressure rising till she felt it pounding in her head. Though she knew she was more angry at the situation than her friend in truth. She didn't want Miranda hurt either, so maybe it was better to do it on her own.

"Irma!" Miranda called, but Irma had already marched off. The mud clung to the hem of Irma's old faded blue gown but she paid it no mind. Her mind was racing, thinking of an excuse to get into Sondra's tent or how to sneak past her. Maybe she would get lucky and the other woman wouldn't even be in.

Irma had spent the last few nights trying to think of a plan to expose her boss' misdealings. Aldarn, her new friend, had gone with Mister Hansen to find some lost girl. She found that to be incredibly brave, like something her lawman father would have done. It made her proud to think of both of them and so she would have to be just as brave to help her own girls. She knew most of them didn't enjoy their job, that they had no choice and had simply fallen on hard times and never gotten up. That made her all the more protective of them. She could help them.

Haven was quiet, as it usually was during the work hours. A few men ambled about still too drunk to work from the night before and the craftsmen who always stayed in town. Andrew Hornby the baker who would always bring Irma fresh rolls when he came for a turn, waved at her as she past and she could see Raythor lambasting a particularly rowdy drunk in the town center. Irma giggled as both men fell in the dense mud as Raythor slipped.

Madame Sondra's tent was away from the tent city that her girls worked in, on the edge of the makeshift town itself, near a rare patch of bright green grass. Irma thought it was almost peaceful here, on the edge of the town watching everything that went by without actually being a part of it. It reminded her of her old balcony at her childhood home.

"Miss Sondra?" she called, her chest tight with fear yes, but also excitement. Only silence greeted her. Surely it couldn't be that easy.

"Sondra?" she yelled again, but still nothing. She glanced around. No one was around in this area of Haven. She worried the insides of her lips; could she really just walk right in?

A slight quiver ran through her outstretched hand as she pulled the light canvas door aside. Sondra's tent was fairly plain on the inside, more so than Irma had imagined anyway. There was a desk, a heating stove and bed with lackluster yellow and white linens. Irma pouted her lips, ashamed of herself for her stupidity. Why would anyone hide important information in an area anyone could sneak into? She glanced back outside; still nothing. She would check the desk anyway, just to be sure.

It was old and oak, stained a robust cherry with small circular patterns etched in front of the smaller drawers. She pulled the little iron handles gently and they slid open easily. Inside, to her disappointment, but not surprise, was the usual odd assortment of junk that normally sat in the bottom of desk drawers. Ink, pens, paper, clips; boring.

She opened another drawer, inside were two letters stamped with vaguely familiar postmarks. Hesitantly she picked one up, it was thick, heavy paper with a twisted serpentine stamp that she thought may have been from Sevit. Miranda still sent letters from time to time.

"Lord Dorian Hesh?" she'd never heard of that name before. She might have to ask Miranda.

She opened the letter and glanced over the contents. It wasn't very interesting to her disappointment. The man was simply asking where the major hubs of the railroad were planned to be. Irma wondered why he didn't just ask the main office, it wasn't a secret after all. The next one proved better. It was also from someone she'd never heard of, but the stamp she recognized as the golden sunbeams of the capitols sigil.

"Dear Ms. Jones,

Thank you for your previous letter, the information has proven most useful to my cause. It is a shame that a woman of your particular talents has been so wasted within Escanor Rail. Once my company has successfully acquired the assets of Escanor Rail I will be most excited to offer you a far better position within my own company. Until then, I will need more information regarding the vault of Mr. Escanor. Or more precisely the company vault. Who has access aside from Mr. Escanor if anyone? Is the vault with him? Anything and everything will be of use. Perhaps some of your 'little darlings' can be of assistance in this matter?

Your most appreciative future employer,

Nerissa Crossnic."

"Sondra's spying on Mr. Escanor?" she gasped out loud. She didn't know who this Nerissa was, or what the letter meant for her before she heard the sound of the tent flaps opening up. Irma clutched the letter fiercely to her chest, and whirled around to face the newcomer.

It was not her boss, as she had feared, but a man she'd never seen before. He was a plain faced man clad in riding leathers, and twisted a set of mismatched lips as he regarded her.

"Sorry, little dove. But you shouldn't be here," his voice was high and yet rough and Irma felt her hair stand on end as he spoke to her.

Irma didn't know what that meant either, except that it meant danger. Her eyes darted to anything she could to protect herself. Anything, anything, anything!

The tent was as bare as it had been when she'd entered. Panic should have been filling her veins, but instead Irma found only steely resolve, even as she searched through the panic. The man leveled a old pistol at her face, and she felt her eye twitch.

In an act that would have made her father proud, or given him a massive heart-attack, Irma charged the man before he had a chance to pull the trigger. She bowled herself into his legs, and he toppled over with a yelp. There was a flash, and then Irma had to hold her ears in pain as the sound of gunfire echoed and rolled sharply in her head. The pistol fell beside them harmlessly, save the two pairs of hands desperately reaching for it.

Irma reached it first. She wasn't sure what had overtook her, but the blood pumping furiously in head and the terrible ringing in her ears seemed to force her hands to move faster even though she felt like thick, black, tar was clinging to the rest of her. Next, she was pushing herself up, the pistol held out in front of her and…

The man's head exploded.

Irma felt her stomach turn, as she gazed at the large chunks of gore splattered before her. The pistol remained unchanged in her hands.

"Come on girl!"

Hands grasped gently at her shoulder, and Irma found herself being pulled away from the tent. Raythor, his favorite shotgun smoking in one hand, led her away and into the chaos of the open camp.

People dashed around Haven frantically, some fleeing before others, others meeting the invaders face on with guns or shovels, or whatever else was laying around camp to use as a makeshift weapon. She recognized some of them, fighting and yelling, and a few others laying lifeless in the mud.

"What's happening?" She yelled at Raythor. His grip on her shoulder was firm as he pushed her across the muddy yard.

"Go to the office, barricade yourself and whoever else you can in there. Go on!"

The man gave her an uncharastic shove towards the building he spoke of; the mire of the yard clung desperately to her boots and it took everything she had to stay upright, her pistol tumbling clumsily from her hands. White-hot fear thrummed in her head, her ears still ringing, as she raced to the central office. She'd just made it onto the porch, when some forgotten instinct whispered amongst the throbbing chaos in her ears.

Many of her friends were already relatively safe in the structure, she spied Miranda foremost among them, practically having to drag another sobbing woman in by her hair. She turned back to look at the turmoil that Haven had descended into. Those able were attempting to hold off...whoever it was that attacked them, but there just wasn't enough of them, even for the meager force that they faced. Before she could continue to despair however, a scream from the side of the building drew her attention. Just now noticing she'd lost her gun, she grabbed one of the shovels from the porch while yelling at herself for being so careless to lose it in the first place.

Irma turned the corner of the building, raising her shovel menacingly as she could as she sought the source of the screams. A man, one of the office workers, the one with the nasally voice and big glasses, was being dragged through the mud by another man, who was yelling at him, "Just give me the maps!"

"I don't have them!" he shrieked, kicking uselessly at nothing in particular.

The two were facing the opposite direction from her, and Irma with another flash of madness, raced towards them and swung her shovel against the men's head with all the force she could muster. With a clang, and thump that sounded very much like a melon exploding, the man toppled over and slopped into the mud.

Irma and the ginger-haired office manager blinked at each other, stunned. Irma because she didn't think that would have actually worked, and Martin because he was amazed that someone had actually come to help him. Irma was the first to recover her wits however, yanking Martin up by his ink stained cavat.

"Well, come on!" Irma yelled, dragging the dumb-struck man along, as he stared at her in wide-eyed wonder. It was only once she and and Martin were safe in the office, as she patted her pockets that Irma realized, in the fray, she'd lost Sondra's letter.

Cornelia was frenzied, as she shifted through the mass of papers upon Phobos' desk, hoping against hope that what she was looking for would actually still be there. Her husband was out at the cut, supervising, and the likelihood that he'd brought it with him was very high, she knew.

Elyon was already hiding in the closet as Cornelia had bade her to do, crying softly as she hugged her knees to her chest, understandably terrified. The two could hear the deep, heated voices of men as they crashed into their locked, barricaded door. Cornelia was not such a fool as to think the ornate doors would hold much longer.

She wasn't quite sure what had come over her, but as those wicked men hammered against her sanctuary, and Elyon sobbed pitifully in the background, the former debutant who had indeed never so much as even looked at a truly dangerous situation, found it was not fear coursing through her veins. It was ice-cold rage.

All she could think of was how Elyon needed her, and what would happen to her if Cornelia failed them. Oh, she just had to find it! She tore open drawer after drawer, paper and ink and bonds and letters spilling out unto the floors as she tossed them aside. She growled some very unlady-like words as she ripped one drawer clean out of the desk. Oh! And there it was, salvation!

Cornelia gripped the little pistol in her surprisingly steady hands, even though she could feel the blood pumping madly through her veins. She looked back at Elyon and warned her, "don't move!"

The pistol had two shots; she hoped that would be enough. The blonde faced the door, and contemplated a warning shot, but decided not to waste the precious bits of lead. With a final heavy, a dreadful crack, the door yielded the last of its protections and swung open. Elyon screamed behind her, as Cornelia gun held aloft, stepped in front of her. Two people poked their heads into the cabin, a man with gnarled lips and a plain faced woman. The woman narrowed her eyes at them, as she stepped into the train.

"There's nothing but two fancy little ladies in here! Oi, girl! You got any maps or plans in here?"

They probably did in fact, but Cornelia shook her head in the negative. The other woman eyed her cautiously, her grey eyes darting between the weapon in her hand and her own steely eyes.

"Come on then, I don't think this one is fooling."

The man stepped into the train now, sneering at Cornelia. "You gonna believe this one? Nah, I'm gonna take my chances. Look at this place, who knows what's here, aside these two lovely ladies of course."

Cornelia didn't like the lecherousness of his tone as he appraised her with pale colored eyes, but neither did his fellow it seemed.

"Eh, now none of that, we're just here for papers-"

The man pushed the woman aside and stood in front of Cornelia, leering at her. She was afraid now, her nerves tingling inside her in such a way she hadn't felt since, ironically, her wedding day.

"Don't come any closer," she warned him.

Her voice was rigid as her stance, as she pulled the lever back on the gun. The man stepped forward, intent and even though the girl was behind her all Cornelia could see was Elyon cowering in the closet, her face tear-stained. She could feel her arm start to seize up, the gun trembling in her too firm grasp. She looked at the man again, who had stepped closer still, his evil smile wide. She shut her eyes, and pulled the trigger.

The blast rang through her ears, but somehow she barely heard it. All she could hear was the man yelling, cursing, and then collapsing to the floor, silent.

Cornelia opened her eyes. The man's chest was red, too red, the color hurt her vision. What did I do- The woman started moving now and panicked, Cornelia pointed the gun at her. The woman squeaked, and held her hands up, trembling.

"Ah! E-easy love, I didn't want to hurt you in the first pla-"

"Go! Get out!" Cornelia snapped, the words forming in her mouth unbidden. The other woman shook her head vehemently and promptly fled back out the open door. Cornelia stood, her body still fixed in place, the gun pointing into empty air. The air felt...dense around her, and all at once she was suffocating as her gaze wandered back to the man lying dead on the floor. She didn't know what she should be feeling, but this horrible cold, emptiness wasn't it, she thought.

"Cornelia!" Elyon cried, leaping up from the closet and wrapping her arms about her. Even as Elyon's warmth enveloped her, she still hadn't moved. It wasn't until her sister-in-law finally pushed her arms down that she finally dared to look away from the man. Elyon's green-grey eyes were filled with tears, as she buried herself into Cornelia, and all she could murmur was…

"You saved us."

By the time Caleb and the rest of the men had arrived in Haven, most of the fighting was done. It had been a small force, and the town had put up a better fight than expected. He and Lady had chased a few men down as they fled from the camp, but he soon circled back to inspect the damage.

Many of the tents had been torn down, or burned, or ransacked, and many people lay unmoving on the ground, trails of red surrounding them. He growled, and spurred Lady onwards as he made his way to the office. Most of the people still alive had taken refuge inside, and Caleb found himself thankful that Haven had at least one wooden building. As he moved closer, he spied Martin sitting on the edge of the porch, holding a rag to his head.

"Martin!" he called, as the office man looked up, his broken glasses sliding off his face. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Ahh, group of Kahedrin attacked, looking for maps and surveys," his voice sounded as shaken as he looked.

"Why?"

"I assume to stop progress, I don't know, I..uh."

Caleb stopped him, and told him to rest. Martin slumped against the wall of the office miserably, trying to piece his glasses back together. Finally, he gathered the courage to wander over where Cornelia's cabin was. Relief flooded his system when he found her sitting on the steel steps of the train cabin. He moved closer, to speak to her, but Phobos and Elyon had her surrounded, trying, and failing to gather her attention. Consoling himself that he would speak to her at a later date, the final part of his survey brought him back to the top of the hill, as he waited for Aldarn and Taranee to arrive.

A familiar, heavy feeling clung to him, as he watched them cross the plains. He thought back to the Kahedrin man, minding his own business, and shot mercilessly in the night. He shook his head, as Lady agitated under him and he was forced to attempt to soothe her. Yet, even as his mind tried to turn to the tasks ahead, Caleb was left wondering…

Was this my fault?

AN:

Haha, yeah, so much for that quick update time. Right, well, whatever!

Next chapter we will deal with the aftermath of the attack, from Cornelia's shell-shock to Caleb's nagging (and rightful) feelings of guilt. Also a proper introduction to Taranee and her place in this world and the lovely Miss Vandom's first appearance. It will be quite a long chapter, so, unfortunately no guarantees on a time frame. As always thank you for reading, and enjoy! -RoR