This necklace was an item Miss Audrey had personally blessed in a ritual. It pulsed with a faint, golden spiritual aura, an enchantnt designed to help the wearer ward off misfortune for the next two months.
Of course, she didn't neglect to remind Jenkins to finish the books on his reading list.
Watching Jenkins head toward the station, suitcase in hand, the woman let out a soft sigh and instructed the coachman to proceed to their next destination. She then retrieved the letter she'd received earlier. She turned the envelope over in her hands, her eyebrows arching slightly before she slid the letter out.
It was only a short ssage, yet it took Miss Audrey a long ti to read through it.
Her brow furrowed as she gazed at the pedestrians outside the window. Summoning the motes of light that represented her abilities, she saw that, just as she suspected, a new one had appeared: [The Guide of Destiny (Purple Destiny)].
"So, I made the right bet after all?"
No one could answer that question.
He had just stepped down from Miss Audrey's carriage and rounded the corner when the noisy, chaotic Nolan station ca into view. Another carriage was parked near the entrance to an alley, and from it, Hathaway waved enthusiastically at him.
"Hathaway, you didn't have to see off again. I'll be back in a week."
He voiced the sa sentint after climbing into her carriage. The red-haired young woman was dressed in a sky-blue gown Jenkins had never seen before, with multi-layered lace cuffs. She had tied up her overskirt to reveal a portion of her petticoat—like most young won of the era, she had clearly put a great deal of thought into its color.
"Is Miss Mikhail not with you?"
The mont the words left his mouth, the sweet smile on the young woman's face vanished, her expression instantly clouding over.
He knew, from any angle, that it was a foolish question, and he scrambled to recover.
"Oh, I an, thank you for coming to see off. I really appreciate it."
His clumsy attempt seed to mollify Hathaway slightly, though she still kept her lips pressed into a thin line.
"That won't do at all, Mr. Great Writer," she said. "With social skills like that, you'll be laughed out of the capital. The people there look down on 'country folk' like us. Hmph."
So that was the sound of ridicule.
"Besides, the old, established nobility despises those who've gained their titles through the conveniences of the modern age—though your circumstances are a bit better, of course. Here, take this. Our etiquette lessons aren't finished, but I've written everything down for you. You'll need to spend your entire train journey studying this if you hope to handle the challenges you'll face. And be more confident, young man. I know you're probably planning to hide away in the church the entire ti you're in Bel Diran..."
She handed Jenkins a black-covered notebook. When he opened it, he found pages filled with dense, elegant script. Pencil-drawn illustrations were interspersed throughout the text, providing detailed explanations for various postures.
"I... I don't know how to thank you for this."
In truth, Jenkins had been planning to project himself to Ruen during the train ride and ask Miss Miller for help with basic etiquette. He rembered Miss Stuart as well; as a princess, she would certainly be an expert on such matters.
But even with that plan in mind, he was deeply touched by Hathaway's gesture. It was so much text; just copying it all would have been a chore. She must have stayed up all night writing it.
Thank you, really.
He thanked her again in his heart, a strange warmth spreading through his chest.
"It's nothing," Hathaway replied. "Have a safe trip, Jenkins."
As she spoke, she turned her blushing face away, feigning a sudden interest in the carriage's decor.
After bidding Hathaway farewell, Jenkins continued toward the station, suitcase in one hand, cat carrier in the other. This ti, thankfully, there were no more interruptions. He presented his ticket and was imdiately escorted through a private entrance directly to his carriage, avoiding the throng of passengers on the main platform.
Papa Oliver, Robert, and Mary were already there, waiting for him.
"You're cutting it a bit close. Next ti you travel by train, you should be at least an hour early. Only a god can predict exactly when these things will depart."
Papa Oliver warned.
It was a common joke about steam trains, a jab at their notorious lack of punctuality.
"It's... oh, eight o'clock exactly. I understand."
He glanced at the pocket watch he pulled from his coat pocket.
Mary recognized it at a glance as a lady's pocket watch and tugged on Robert's sleeve. But Robert Williams's attention was fixed on the train; he had always been fascinated by such massive steam-powered machines.
The four of them stood before the carriage, going over Jenkins's itinerary one last ti. While they spoke, a middle-aged gentleman, two ladies of high society, and an elderly nobleman with silver hair boarded the train.
Papa Oliver happened to recognize the last man: Giles Marlow, a baron. Unlike the unlucky aristocrats who had been swept away by the changing tis, both of his sons ran large, profitable factories. He was, therefore, a truly wealthy and powerful mber of the old nobility. Papa Oliver only recognized him because the baron had once purchased antiques from his shop.
The departure ti was fast approaching. Jenkins's luggage and his cat were taken to his private compartnt, and at the last mont, Mary burst into tears.
Standing at the window, Jenkins could hear Robert comforting his mother. Papa Oliver, anwhile, was waving a book at him—a clear reminder not to neglect his studies during the week.
With a trendous roar, a plu of white steam shot into the sky. The great tal wheels began to turn, slowly but surely, the connecting rods driving the carriage forward with gathering montum.
Whooo~
The train finally pulled away from the platform. Mary threw her arms around Robert and began to sob, while Papa Oliver looked on, at a loss for what to do. He then turned and waved one last ti at Jenkins, who was leaning out the window.
Jenkins kept watching until the three figures vanished from sight completely, only then did he pull his head back into the carriage. He sniffled; standing in the cold wind for so long was certainly not good for one's health.
When he turned around, he saw the elderly nobleman from the platform standing at the other end of the corridor, watching him while slowly rocking the pipe in his hand.
"It reminds of my own youth, the first ti I traveled far from ho," the old man said. "My mother was much the sa."
He offered Jenkins a warm smile, then deftly struck a match against the carriage wall and brought the fla to his pipe.
"Care for a ga of cards?" he asked. "A long train journey requires a bit of amusent, I find."
Train travel in this era was an exceptionally tedious affair, and Jenkins's only form of entertainnt was a suitcase half-filled with books. The train was scheduled to arrive at its destination in the small hours of Wednesday morning, with only two stops along the way. He had a long, boring journey ahead of him.
As for a ga of cards, he simply wasn't in the mood.
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