Chapter 373: Princess Gift Box

The day before Christmas, at King's Cross Railway Station in the Imperial Capital.

Richard arrived at the platform an hour early.

The train whistle blew two long blasts and one short. The doors opened, and a few middle-aged passengers carrying suitcases stepped off first.

A familiar little head soon poked out from the doorway.

"Brother!"

Evelyn jumped straight down from the footboard.

Passersby turned to look at the reckless little girl, muttering something, but she didn't even spare them a glance.

"You've gotten thinner again!"

That was the first thing she said after stepping off the train.

Evelyn let go of him, took a step back, and looked him up and down twice.

"Your face is fine, but your wrists are a bit lacking," she concluded.

"Are you inspecting livestock or looking at a person?" Richard took her backpack.

His sister's backpack was bulging. Richard estimated it weighed at least seven or eight pounds.

"What did you pack in here?"

"Notebooks." Evelyn patted the bag.

"And two new molds, a bag of almond flour, half a jar of honey..."

"Honey? You lugged half a jar of honey all the way here on a train for hours?"

"Honey in the Imperial Capital is ridiculously expensive!"

Evelyn sounded indignant.

"The honey from that old beekeeper in Briston costs less than half as much as it does in the Imperial Capital. Mom said to bring it, so I did."

Margaret stood in front of Richard and reached out to smooth his coat collar.

"Have you eaten?"

"I ate."

"What did you eat?"

"A sandwich packed from the university cafeteria."

"That won't hold you over." Margaret frowned slightly. "Once we get to the Ashford Residence, have something hot first."

His father, Rogers, was the last to step off the footboard.

"Was the trip smooth?" Richard took the suitcase from him.

"We stopped in Manchester for over an hour during the transfer to let a military train pass."

"How long was the military train?"

"Couldn't count. It was dark, and I couldn't see the end of it."

His father didn't say anything else, turning his gaze toward the platform exit.

The Ashford House carriage was waiting outside the station. Seeing the family of four walk out, the driver nimbly jumped down to open the door.

Evelyn's mouth fell open when she saw the black-painted carriage.

"Does Grandpa's carriage have a heater?"

"It does."

"Great. My toes are about to freeze off."

She dove headfirst into the carriage and found the most comfortable spot by the heater.

Kicking off her deerskin boots, she warmed her bare feet by the vent.

Margaret followed her into the carriage and saw her daughter's bare feet.

"Put them on."

"It's too hot."

"Put them on!"

Evelyn reluctantly slipped the boots back on, but only halfway, flattening the heels under her feet.

The carriage headed west from King's Cross. Through the windows, they could see the Christmas decorations on the streets of the Imperial Capital, which looked much shabbier than in previous years.

A new poster was pasted outside the post office. It depicted a mother sending a package to the frontlines, with the words "Don't Forget the Frontlines This Christmas" written underneath.

Evelyn pressed her face against the window, exhaling a puff of white fog onto the glass.

She used her finger to draw a rabbit in the condensation.

By the time she finished drawing the rabbit's ears, most of the fog had dissipated.

She breathed onto the glass again and finished drawing the rabbit's two legs.

"Brother, why has the Imperial Capital gotten so poor too?"

Richard glanced at her.

"Because of the war."

Evelyn pulled her face away from the window. The rabbit she had drawn in the fog was already so blurred that only its two ears remained.

"I know there's a war."

"But I thought only Briston was poor. The Imperial Capital was supposed to be different."

Richard didn't answer.

The Christmas Eve dinner was laid out in the main dining room of the Ashford Residence.

Richard had been to this dining room several times, and the number of people present was different every time.

Gerard sat at the head of the table.

Richard swept a glance over him using Spirit Vision.

His grandfather's ether field was better than last time. Not drastically better, but it was heading in a stable direction.

Richard felt a wave of relief.

The effects of the Moon-Spike Reflection provided another set of reference data for clinical observation.

Vincent sat on Gerard's right. His left arm was fully recovered.

He purposely used his left hand to carve the turkey, his knife work clean and precise.

"See that?" Vincent stacked the sliced turkey meat onto a plate and pushed it toward his younger cousins.

"Even the way I carve a turkey looks the best."

"You call that looking good?" Baldwin scoffed from across the table.

"Back in the day, your grandfather could slice a deer leg as thin as paper. What you're doing is just rough butchery."

"Then why don't you carve some and show me?"

"I can't." Baldwin stabbed his fork into his plate.

"These hands are made for holding an axe. Carving meat is too delicate."

Isabella sat next to her older sister.

The two sisters hadn't seen each other in months. Margaret stroked her younger sister's hair again and again.

"You've definitely been staying up late again. You have dark circles under your eyes."

"I didn't stay up late."

"Who are you trying to fool? You've been like this since we were kids. Whenever you lie, your eyes shift to the left."

Isabella's gaze was doing exactly that, but her sister pulled her attention right back.

"Look at me and tell me you didn't stay up late."

"...I was grading that pile of final exam papers until half past two last night."

Margaret sighed.

Sophia was also at the table.

She sat on Isabella's other side. This was her third consecutive year spending Christmas with her mentor.

Spending several consecutive Christmas Eves with her mentor probably meant there really wasn't anything to go back to at home.

Vincent finished carving the turkey, and the butler served a plate to everyone.

Evelyn pulled the box of Gingerbread Rabbits out of her backpack.

This year's new version was called the "Christmas Soldier Rabbit." Each rabbit wore a little brass-colored helmet molded out of frosting.

Evelyn pushed the tin box to the center of the table.

"I made them."

Gerard glanced at the row of helmet-wearing rabbits.

"Their hats are crooked."

"That's because... military caps are supposed to be worn crooked." Evelyn's voice lacked confidence.

"Looks to me like your hands shook when you were piping the frosting."

Vincent picked up a rabbit from the box and turned it over to inspect it.

"I worked really hard on these, and you're making fun of me!"

A small brass box sat on the mantelpiece, its lid embossed with the silhouette of a princess.

This year, Ashford House had received a Princess Gift Box for Christmas from Princess Mary.

Many soldiers on the Empire's frontlines had received such a box this Christmas, containing tobacco, chocolate, and a greeting card personally signed by the princess.

Ashford House wasn't part of the frontline forces, but since Baldwin held the rank of major in the military, the box had arrived through quartermaster channels.

Before Christmas, Baldwin had already distributed the tobacco and chocolate inside to the soldiers who were actually in the trenches.

He just brought the empty box back as a keepsake.

Halfway through dinner, his mother suddenly walked over to the old piano in the corner of the living room.

She played the first half of "Greensleeves".

When she reached the seventeenth measure, her left pinky couldn't reach the B-flat, so she stopped.

"I'm out of practice." Standing up with a hint of regret, she returned to the table.

Isabella stared at her older sister's back, blinking hard.

Her sister had been a very good pianist when she was young, even performing in the university's exhibition hall.

The meal and conversation continued at the table while the fire in the fireplace crackled.

Evelyn handed a Gingerbread Rabbit to her mother.

"Mom, try this one. The helmet isn't crooked."

...

After dinner wrapped up, Vincent and Baldwin went to the back porch to smoke.

Sophia had been curled up on the living room sofa for less than five minutes before she slumped over onto the cushions.

Isabella glanced over, grabbed a nearby blanket, and draped it over her.

"Are those red berries on the holly branches edible?"

Evelyn asked her mother, leaning against the kitchen windowsill.

"No."

"Really? They look pretty good."

"Just because something looks good doesn't mean you can eat it. How many times have I told you?"

"What if I use them to decorate a cake?"

"Poisonous things do not go on the dining table."

The voices of the mother and daughter carried from the kitchen to the hallway, diffusing into a hazy warmth.

Meanwhile, Gerard pushed open the heavy doors to the study.

"Did you hear about what happened in Whitby on the sixteenth?"

"I read the newspaper," Richard replied, sitting down across from his grandfather.

Gerard took out a document.

"The newspapers won't publish anything about the mystical side."