Fantasy Writers 1860

Lentinion, St. James’s District, King’s Cross Station.

woo-

A sharp whistle rang out, and the huge steam train finally came to a stop at the edge of the platform. Dorian disembarked from the train with the bustling crowd.

"So this is St. James's District... It really did take a train to get here; I wonder how much it would have cost to come by horse-drawn carriage..."

Since he was already out of town, Dorian decided to take care of buying a staff and sword at the same time.

I heard from the clothing store clerk that St. James's was far away and that it would be more cost-effective to go directly by train, and now it seems that was true.

Stepping out of the station, Dorian glanced back at the building behind him. Stone walls and pillars supported intersecting steel trusses, forming a vast dome filled with large slabs of glass that reflected a crystal-like brilliance in the sunlight.

In this era, steel and glass are still relatively cutting-edge and trendy building materials.

I read in the newspaper that the Crystal Palace, the venue for the World's Fair to be held next spring, has adopted an even bolder design, completely abandoning traditional building materials such as stone, brick and wood, and being built entirely with steel and glass.

Newspapers hailed it as a new pinnacle of imperial architectural technology, predicting that the Crystal Palace, like the pyramids, would stand forever until the end of time.

However, for Dorian, this was hardly anything to be surprised about.

Hopefully, the "end of time" in this world won't be in 1936.

He went to the carriage rental shop and waited for a cheap public carriage. The driver, wearing a hat covered in coal dust, shouted to urge the horses on, and finally stopped at the intersection of a relatively quiet street.

"Old Port Street... Steam Echo..." After getting off the bus, Dorian wandered back and forth on this somewhat old-fashioned street, searching for the shop called "Steam Echo" amidst the crisscrossing pipes and the chaotic walls covered with graffiti and flyers.

After some effort, he finally found the wooden sign with the name written on it in an inconspicuous corner.

Dorian pushed open the shop door, and the brass bell on the door rang out with a clear but slightly hoarse "ding-a-ling". Light streamed in through the dusty glass window, illuminating the dust particles in the air, and a strange fragrance filled the shop.

It smells like the sweet scent of flowers, and also like the aroma of some kind of wood.

The shop's shelves and walls were covered with all sorts of oddly shaped mechanical parts, as well as some tools and devices that Dorian couldn't name.

An aged voice came from deep within the shop: "Welcome."

Dorian looked in the direction of the sound and saw an elderly man with gray hair and a slightly plump figure come out from the inner room.

"Are you Mr. Duke?" Dorian stepped forward and asked politely.

"yes".

Old Duke wiped his equally greasy hands with a greasy rag. "Is there anything I can help you with, young man?"

"I heard that you can make staffs and swords here," Dorian stated his purpose directly.

Old Duke didn't seem surprised by the young man's needs.

"A staff and a sword? Hmm, that's a good choice, practical and understated... Come with me." He turned and walked toward a display case inside the shop.

Old Duke opened a heavy glass cabinet, inside which were neatly arranged seven or eight canes of various shapes.

"Here are some finished products. If you don't have any special needs, these are all very good. You can take them directly without waiting." Old Duke picked up one of them. The staff was made of dark brown hardwood, with a dull agate inlaid at the top. "This one is made of rosewood, with a fine steel blade and a non-slip design on the hilt. The price is also reasonable."

He picked up another staff, which looked more slender and seemed to be made of some kind of light-colored wood, with simple geometric patterns carved on it. "This one is made of boxwood, it's quite lightweight, and the carving is also quite good and beautiful."

Old Duke introduced them one by one, from the material of the staff to the length of the sword blade, the type of steel, and some strange little mechanisms, such as some staff handles that can be unscrewed to hold things, and some sword sheaths that have bullet firing devices that can be used as guns.

Dorian listened attentively, occasionally picking up one of the weapons to weigh it in his hand and feel its weight and texture.

"How much is this?" Dorian finally picked up a dark black cane with a smooth, plain brass sphere at the top, without any additional decorations, just the stereotypical cane.

He gently twisted the end of his cane and quickly drew a long, narrow, and sharp sword from it, unfolding the folding guard with a "click".

"Three Ducati and twelve Denali," Old Duke quoted the price.

Dorian frowned. "Why is this so expensive? None of the ones I saw before were this pricey."

"Because you have a good eye, this is the best cane sword in our shop." Old Duke squinted. "The cane is made of specially treated North German hard oak, which is waterproof and moisture-proof. The blade and scabbard are forged from gun barrel steel from the Imperial Armory, which is extremely hard. The only drawback is that it's a bit heavy."

Dorian pondered for a moment: "Since they are all made of gun barrel steel, can they be used as guns? I just saw a design like that."

"Of course there are, but as an upgraded version, the price will naturally be higher." Old Duke said as he turned around and took out an identical cane from another cabinet. "This scabbard contains a miniature bullet firing mechanism and can hold two bullets."

"Actually, these canes with shooting functions aren't very reliable. Since canes are used daily, the internal mechanisms might get damaged after a bump or knock, requiring frequent adjustments, which is quite troublesome and not as good as you might imagine."

"Give me this, I really like it," Dorian said.

In the future, I will also have the opportunity to say the classic line, "The world has changed for adults."

The transaction was complete. Old Duke skillfully wrapped the cane and sword in oiled paper, then picked up a pen, wrote something on the oiled paper, and handed it to Dorian.

Dorian smelled that strange fragrance again, but this time it was even stronger.

"What is that smelling fragrance? I smelled it as soon as I walked in."

Old Duke grinned and pointed to an inconspicuous little earthenware pot in the corner of the counter.

"You're probably referring to the smell of this ink, right? It comes from the colonies in the East." He picked up the earthenware jar. "The local indigenous people use a special plant fruit and tree bark to make it. It has a deep color, and the writing on it is said to be resistant to insects and fire. The most special thing about it is the fragrance, which lasts a long time."

"How much is this ink?" Dorian asked curiously.

Old Duke put down the earthenware jar and held up two fingers: "This one is a bit expensive; such a small jar costs two gold coins."

Two gold medals!

Dorian gasped. Was this ink made of gold or silver?

"Forget it, this is something I can't afford."

Old Duke shrugged and put the pottery jar back in its place. "It's alright. So far, only a few noblemen have come to me to buy it. It's definitely not for ordinary people."

This isn't something the average person can afford, so why would he stock up on this kind of product? Who is he planning to sell it to?

If we're talking about doing business with the wealthy, this place doesn't seem like a high-end business.

But these cane swords aren't cheap either...

Dorian shook his head, no longer thinking about the question. He took the sword and staff wrapped in oil paper, thanked old Duke, and turned to push open the shop door.

They might be doing other business that they don't want to talk about, so there's no need for me to ask too many questions.

……

"I'm sorry, sir." The ticket inspector took off his hat, his tone revealing a perfunctory apology. "Just now, a passenger booked the entire first-class carriage at the last minute. Now we have to give you a refund, or you can change to the 6:00 AM train tomorrow. There will be no change fee."

Dorian gazed at the steam-filled railway tracks ahead. The train that was supposed to take him back was now surrounded by several workers in railway worker uniforms, two of whom were nailing a wooden sign that read "Private Car" to the train door.

Dorian: ?

Don't these rich people have private trains? They don't even book a chartered car in advance?

Faced with this unexpected situation, Dorian had no other choice. After all, there was only this one route, so he had to accept the change of his ticket to a train tomorrow morning, find a hotel here to stay for the night, and go back tomorrow.

Fortunately, tomorrow is Sunday. If I had come tomorrow, I wouldn't have been able to get back to the Taiwan Creative Content Agency on Monday given these unexpected circumstances.

No, if I had come on Sunday, this probably wouldn't have happened.

As night fell, the magic crystal lights lit up one after another on both sides of the platform. He walked out of the station, intending to find a hotel nearby, but bumped into a figure wearing a mink coat at the door.

The other person seemed not to see him and charged straight at him. Dorian staggered back half a step, almost dropping the staff and sword he had just bought.

"Can't you watch where you're going, you poor wretch?" the other person snapped, his eyes full of contempt. "You've dirtied my coat, can you afford to pay for it?"

Dorian dusted off his coat, said a curt "sorry" and stepped aside to make way for him.

Like I said, if you're really that rich, why don't you just take a private train? Why don't you just have the railway company shut down the lines? All you do is show off to your poor friends; you're probably just a nouveau riche trying to flaunt your wealth.

He couldn't be bothered to argue with someone like that.

The man, who appeared to be a nouveau riche, snorted and, surrounded by a group of servants, climbed onto the platform. The flight attendants quickly surrounded him, vying to help him with his luggage, polish his shoes, and even carefully brushing away non-existent dust from his coat.

Waaaaah—

As the whistle sounded loudly, the train slowly started moving and gradually accelerated out of the station.

"Mr. Samuel, would you like some wine?" the flight attendant asked solicitously as she approached the man.

"No, you may leave now," the man named Samuel replied calmly.

After the attendant left, Samuel was left alone in the empty "private compartment".

He watched the scenery rushing past the window, and his mood relaxed a little.

If I ever have the chance to meet Mr. Hakimi, I must thank him properly!