Votradnoi Railway Station, the busiest transportation hub in the Kingdom of Bagnia, was shrouded that day in an unusually solemn atmosphere.
The platform had been cleared, replaced by a security cordon of stern-faced soldiers in immaculate Royal Guard uniforms.
The air smelled of machine oil and coal-fired steam, laced with an invisible tension that made it hard to breathe.
Military Judge Jacques, who had been transferred from the Defense Force to the Royal Guard, stood tall as a poplar before the train that would soon serve as the King's special train.
His face still held a trace of boyishness, but now it bore a gravity and sharpness far beyond his years.
Jacques held a thick dossier listing the names, backgrounds, and security clearance records of every attendant who would accompany the train. His task was to conduct one final, exhaustive personnel screening before departure.
"Begin."
Jacques's voice was quiet, but it carried clearly across the platform. Behind him, more than a dozen veteran noncommissioned officers from the Military Affairs Department's Military Law Office and the Intelligence Bureau immediately sprang into action.
The checks were rigorous and swift.
Every member of the train crew, from the experienced conductor and composed engineers to the humble attendants and silent stokers, had to have their identification tags checked again and answer random questions about their family backgrounds, work histories, and even recent contacts.
Jacques also boarded the train, his gaze sweeping over each person's face, hands, and even the smallest, barely perceptible movements.
Under that intense pressure, everyone serving aboard the royal train reacted differently. Some were nervous, some excited, some composed, and others afraid...
The first frightened person Jacques spotted was a stoker.
His name was Olsen. His file showed a clean background and considerable technical skill.
Yet when Jacques approached him, beads