The train never stops for long. Usually, it stays at the platform for no more than an hour, sometimes even just a few minutes. But today is different. For the first time, the train will be stationary for eight hours to allow for a locomotive change, an essential operation to cross the mountains, as a more powerful engine is required to tackle these steep routes. Mero, accompanied by Leila, took the opportunity to discover the village of the Swizik watchmakers.

  The village of the Swizik watchmakers, nestled between imposing snow-capped peaks in the heart of the Tempelune mountain range, seemed straight out of a dream. The half-timbered houses, with their sloping roofs covered in red tiles and adorned with colorful shutters, clung to the steep slopes. Their dark wooden facades featured delicate carvings evoking ancient clocks and clockwork mechanisms. Small windows with whitewashed frames let in a soft, warm light, even when night fell over the city.

  The crisp air, filled with the scent of burning wood and freshly baked bread, enveloped the village in a both warm and invigorating atmosphere. The narrow streets, paved with gray stones, wound between the chalets, dotted here and there with colorful flower beds and climbing plants, giving the place a timeless charm. In the distance, bells echoed, mingling with the soft murmur of a crystal-clear river that meandered peacefully between the buildings, offering a picturesque view that contrasted with the modernity of the train and the Empire.

  In every corner, the fresh, woody scent characteristic of the mountains permeated the air. At every street corner, watchmakers bustled in small glass-fronted shops, displaying gleaming gears, finely adjusted hands, and watch dials carefully arranged on wooden worktables. The local language, with its rolled Rs pronounced from a guttural depth that recalled, indeed, the verve of certain sailors but remained singularly different, added an authentic and strangely melodious side to the atmosphere, reinforcing the impression of a place suspended between reality and dream, where the soft ticking of clocks replaced the usual bustle of big cities.

  Wrapped in a thick shawl to protect herself from the mountain cold, Mero's nursemaid walked the streets with undisguised curiosity. In a hushed voice, she commented, "This is quite different from what we know..." As Mero observed the surroundings, he noticed that the cobblestone streets were lined with small shops offering handmade watches, spiced chocolate, and fabrics embroidered with mountain-inspired patterns. The inhabitants, wrapped in warm coats, greeted politely as they passed, as if to testify to their pride in belonging to this preserved place.

  They set off on the main street, strolling as they pleased. The wooden signs swayed gently in the breeze, and at every street corner, a new scent revealed itself. A baker, taking out a batch of golden loaves, let out an irresistible aroma that blended harmoniously with the more heady scent of melted cheese from a nearby inn.

  At the end of an alley, the nursemaid stopped in front of a watchmaker's shop, her eyes sparkling with wonder at the watches displayed in the window. "These mechanisms are incredibly precise..." she murmured admiringly, while Mero, closely examining the details of the objects, was also captivated by the unique atmosphere of the place.

  Further on, the street opened onto a lively square where a market was being held. Stalls overflowed with thick fabrics, finely crafted knives, and bottles containing a local amber-colored alcohol. A group of musicians, accompanied by the rhythmic clacking of a dancer's hobnailed shoes, played a lively tune that gave the scene a festive and authentic air. It was then that Mero's gaze was drawn to a particular stall.

  Set up under a worn canvas awning, an old man was selling jewelry and metal engraved objects. Among these treasures, a finely decorated compass immediately caught his attention. Its lid, adorned with a relief depicting a ship facing a storm, seemed to hold the soul of distant seas. Mero approached and, in a calm voice, asked the old man the story of this compass and how he had acquired it.

  The old man then raised his clear eyes, sparkling with a mischievous gleam under bushy eyebrows, and gently took the compass between his gnarled fingers. He turned it slowly, as if awakening an old memory buried in the depths of time. "Ah, this compass, young man..." he began in a gravelly voice, tinged with a typical regional accent, "it has seen more seas than most men in this village!"

  He explained that once, a passing captain, a long-haul sailor, had exchanged this precious object with him. "They say it belonged to a feared privateer, a man who sailed the waters of the Empire and beyond," he added, carefully opening the compass lid to reveal an inscription engraved in the metal patinated by time:

  "May the horizon never close upon me."

  The old man smiled slyly, as if complicit in a great dream. "They say this compass has never failed, that it always points the right way, even when all seems lost. But, between you and me, these might just be sailors' tales."

  With a curious look, he continued: "You look like a traveler yourself. A compass like this could be very useful to you."

  Mero, passionate about the sea and its mysteries, silently agreed. He also noticed, in a corner of the stall, a small pocket watch. The old man, noticing the young man's interest, carefully took another one out of his pocket, attached to a finely chiseled silver chain. Although slightly worn, this watch, with its polished brass case gleaming in the light, seemed to tell its own story.

  "Ah, this one..." he said, pressing a small button, "it is more recent than the compass, but it has its own charm."

  He presented it to Mero, explaining that a traveling watchmaker had once sold him this watch, which had belonged to an explorer who measured every second of his adventures—the tides, the sunrises, and even the time it took to write a letter. He then pointed to an inscription engraved on the case:

  "Tempus Fugit—time flees, but he who wears this watch will always catch up with it."

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  Carefully closing the watch, the old man added, with a mischievous smile:

  "And you, young man, do you prefer to know where to go, or how much time you have left to get there?"

  After this rich exchange, Mero inquired about the price of the compass. The old man, caressing the object gently, said in a measured tone:

  "This compass has guided many men on the seas, and could still be of great service. I could let it go for, say, forty piastres. It's not just a trinket; it's precise, robust, and full of history."

  Mero, with a spirit of negotiation honed by his many experiences, began bargaining in a confident voice. First, he offered twenty piastres, which made the old man frown. After a short silence punctuated by a small laugh, he replied:

  "Twenty, really? You have nerve, young man, but this compass is worth much more. I'm sure you can do better than that."

  Smiling mischievously, Mero retorted that in this region, the compass was of little use, and that he would be forced to keep it for a long time if he couldn't negotiate a more reasonable price.

  The old man, amused by this reply, thought for a moment before proposing a compromise:

  "Very well, I will lower my price. What do you say to thirty piastres? It's certainly not a trifle, but it's worth it."

  Mero's gaze met the merchant's with determination, and the deal was sealed with a nod.

  "Deal," declared the old man, then he added with a smile:

  Mero handed over the thirty piastres, and in exchange, received the precious object, which glinted softly in the sunlight. The old man then placed the compass in a small leather pouch and handed it to him, as a token of restitution, the corresponding piastres.

  Fortified by this new acquisition, Mero continued his stroll through the picturesque village, the compass now in his possession, a symbol of mysteries and adventures to come. Soon, hunger set in, and attention turned to a restaurant offering a singular dish called "raclette"—a term still unknown to the young heir. Immediately, Mero and his nursemaid headed to the establishment to discover this dish.

  Inside, the restaurant exuded a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The server, wearing a welcoming smile, enthusiastically explained that raclette was a hot dish made of melted cheese, served over potatoes, vegetables, and sometimes accompanied by charcuterie. The cheese was placed on heated plates next to the table, allowing everyone to enjoy this simple and hearty feast at their leisure.

  Mero observed the other diners, captivated by the intoxicating aromas of hot cheese and various ingredients that filled the air. When the dish was finally served, he discovered a device with multiple small pans under which the cheese melted slowly, creating a harmony of textures and flavors. After the first bite, Mero felt a genuine pleasure. The melting cheese, the softness of the potatoes, and the crunch of the vegetables blended to form a delicate whole of unexpected finesse.

  Looking at his nursemaid, Mero indicated with a gesture that he had just found his new favorite dish. The nursemaid, amused by the young man's enthusiasm, burst out laughing and exclaimed:

  "I see you have the taste of a prince, even for the simplest dishes!"

  Her tone, mixing tenderness and affectionate mockery, warmed Mero's heart, who savored each bite in a relaxed and convivial atmosphere. The conversation between them ensued, punctuated by remarks on the singularity of the dish and the subtleties of local cuisine, while the aroma of cheese and potatoes created an almost magical atmosphere around them.

  After this moment of gastronomic comfort, it was time to head back. Mero and his nursemaid retraced their steps, walking again through the cobblestone streets of the village. At the end of an alley, they passed the watchmaker's shop again. The nursemaid paused for a moment, her gaze thoughtful, in front of a carved wooden sign. Mero, sensing the desire to prolong this discovery, suggested they enter the shop to explore any potential new finds.

  The interior of the shop offered a mysterious and timeless atmosphere. The floor creaked softly under their steps, while the scent of polished wood and ancient metal enveloped them. The merchant, busy rearranging some pieces on a shelf, soon noticed the two visitors and greeted them with a warm smile.

  "Welcome to Au temps qui passe!" he said cheerfully.

  The nursemaid scanned the space with an attentive gaze, her fingers brushing here and there small wooden boxes and delicate mechanisms. Her interest was particularly drawn to a large pendulum clock, whose beauty and complexity seemed to captivate her mind. However, Mero, aware of the conventions that governed their relationship and the gaze society cast upon her, realized that such a gift would be too grand. A pendulum clock would have been a public declaration of their bond, and although he was deeply moved by it, he knew that the world around him would not easily accept such a demonstration.

  Rather than opting for such a grandiose gift, Mero considered a more discreet but equally symbolic alternative. He then thought of offering her a small object, such as a pocket watch, which could express his attachment without breaking social norms. Leaning towards the merchant, he asked in a calm voice:

  "Would you have something more discreet? A small, refined object that could please a lady, without being too flashy?"

  The merchant, seeming to have guessed his need, nodded with a complicit smile. "I think I have just what you need," he replied before heading to a corner of the shop. He returned with an antique pocket watch, finely crafted and adorned with a discreet inscription.

  "This one is discreet, elegant, and perfect for a personal gift," he declared.

  Mero took the watch in his hands, appreciating its lightness and the fineness of its details. After a moment of reflection, he handed the jewel to his nursemaid with a sincere air.

  "I think this would suit you better," he said softly to Leila, hoping that this gesture would convey all the gratitude he felt for her.

  The nursemaid, initially hesitant, looked at the watch with an expression of surprise and emotion. A slight smile formed on her lips, and after a short silence, she murmured in a trembling voice:

  "I... I didn't expect this... It's much more than I ever imagined receiving. I don't know how to thank you..."

  Although slightly embarrassed by such a gift, her gaze expressed deep gratitude, and she held the watch close to her, as if to cherish its symbolism.

  "It's just a small gesture," Mero replied calmly, a reassuring smile on his lips. "A gift for the one who has always been there for me, who has guided and supported me. You deserve so much more, but I hope this pleases you."

  The nursemaid nodded slowly, her eyes shining with emotion, before gently slipping the watch into her pocket, her heart still a little surprised by the delicacy of this gift.

  Time was now pressing. As the day wore on, Mero and his nursemaid realized that the train would soon be ready to depart again. Their steps quickened as they returned to the bustling streets of the village. The crowd was busy, merchants were packing up their stalls, and the preparations for departure could be felt in the air.

  Accompanied by the rhythm of footsteps and the murmurs of the population, they crossed the village towards the station. Once there, they were quickly escorted to the reserved car. Boarding the train seemed less burdensome this time, as if Mero had found some comfort in the experience. The car door closed behind him, sealing their temporary separation from the bustling life of the village.

  The car door closes behind him, and the train resumes its journey, once again heading into the unknown.