Chapter 67: Second Class

His family had already been waiting in the dining room for a long time.

Evelyn put down her soup spoon when she saw him walk in.

"Why did you leave so early without taking me?"

"Imperial Capital University doesn't let idlers in."

"I'm not an idler. I could have waited for you outside."

"And wait outside the university all day?"

The girl pictured that, decided it sounded dull, and muttered something before burying her face back in her soup.

His mother glanced at Richard, not asking what he had been doing at the library.

She placed a piece of chicken thigh onto his plate. "Eat up. You must have worked hard today."

"Mhm."

His father ate in silence across the table, occasionally glancing up at him.

Rogers had kept a low profile during their few days at Ashford House.

He didn't interfere in the matters between his father-in-law and his son, nor did he try to cozy up to anyone in the Ashford family. He just ate and slept as usual.

But every time his son returned, he would casually glance at the grandfather clock in the living room.

It was his subtle way of telling Richard that it was time for the family to head home.

...

The next morning, before heading to the train station, Richard said goodbye to his grandfather in the living room.

Gerard was waiting in his usual spot.

"When do you plan to return to the Imperial Capital?"

"It depends," Richard said. "If all goes well, you should see me over the summer break."

Gerard nodded, showing no surprise at his grandson's decision to return to Briston so soon.

"I'll keep your room ready. Come back whenever you like."

"Thank you, Grandfather."

Richard carried his suitcase out the gates of the Ashford Residence as an autumn breeze blew down the street.

This trip to the Imperial Capital had given him a lot.

The Gargoyle, the competition prize money, Flower Moon Street, the Classical Society recommendation list, the knowledge transcribed in the library, the information Isabella had revealed—every one of them would slowly ferment in the days to come.

The family of four stood in the ticketing hall of Imperial Capital Central Station.

"Four second-class tickets to Briston." Richard passed the money through the ticket window.

His mother reached out to stop him, but he had already taken the tickets.

"You should save this money for..."

"Bought them. They're non-refundable."

Margaret watched her son sort the tickets and hand them out. Her lips moved, but she ultimately said nothing.

His father pinched the paper between his fingers as he took his ticket.

A second-class, one-way ticket cost nearly twice as much as third class. For four people, it was no small sum.

"I actually wanted to buy first-class," Richard said casually, unbuttoning his coat.

Evelyn was the first to speak up. "First class? Are you crazy? That's over a pound a person!"

His mother took Evelyn's side.

"Second class is more than enough. You could buy several books with the money you saved."

His father chimed in, "You earned those thirty pounds from the competition. There are plenty of places you'll need money for your studies. If you throw it around now, you'll be left with nothing later."

The three of them shut him down from three different angles, their stances surprisingly united.

Richard noticed one thing, though: amidst all their scolding, not one of them had suggested he use the money to help out at home.

His father hadn't said it, his mother hadn't said it, and Evelyn certainly hadn't either.

Thirty pounds was enough to cover the family's living expenses for a long time.

Yet their attitude was unanimous: it was his money, and he needed to save it for his own pursuits.

Richard tucked the tickets away, picked up his suitcase, and headed toward the platform.

The second-class carriage was a massive step up from third class.

The seats were upholstered spring cushions. The fabric was a little frayed, but it was infinitely more comfortable than the bare wooden benches of third class.

There were no chicken coops, burlap sacks, or crammed masses of passengers, nor did the air carry the mingled stench of livestock and cheap tobacco.

The rows of seats faced each other, separated by a folding table equipped with a small iron ring to hold a teacup.

The windows were larger and the glass cleaner, complete with draw curtains on the frames.

Evelyn's eyes darted around the moment she stepped inside.

She touched the seat fabric, tested the bounce of the springs, and finally rested her hands on the folding table, giving it a gentle shove to check its sturdiness.

"This is so much better than the trip here," she said, leaning back with deep satisfaction.

Her mother sat across from her, helping her slip out of her coat and draping it across the girl's lap.

His father sat down opposite Richard and, as usual, pulled out an old newspaper he had procured from who knew where.

The train slowly began to move, the cast-iron pillars on the platform slipping backward one by one.

The skyline of the Imperial Capital gradually shrank in the window frame, its church spires, clock towers, and clusters of chimneys sinking beneath the horizon one after another.

Evelyn leaned against the window and watched the scenery for a while, but quickly lost interest once the rolling hills and pastures began to repeat.

She had already seen this entire route on the way here, and could guess exactly what lay around every bend.

Just another patch of grass, another flock of sheep, another small station they passed without stopping, and another dog sitting by a bench.

She leaned back from the window and turned, intending to chat with her brother.

But just as she opened her mouth, their mother gently shook her head from across the table.

Evelyn followed her gaze.

Richard's head was tilted toward the window, his forehead resting against the glass.

His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and slow. He was sound asleep.

Resting against the glass couldn't have been comfortable; every time the train jolted, his head lightly bumped the window frame.

Yet he didn't even frown, sleeping through every bump.

Evelyn stared at her brother for a long moment.

During their few days in the Imperial Capital, Richard had hardly taken a moment to rest.

During the day, he was either preparing for the Cicero Cup or running off to do who-knew-what, and at night, he would stay in his room studying until midnight.

Yesterday, he had spent the entire day holed up in the library at Imperial Capital University.

Now that he was finally on the train, sitting in a relatively soft chair...

...the hypnotic rhythm of the wheels over the tracks finally made him give in to his exhaustion.

"He must have been exhausted these past few days," Evelyn whispered.

Her mother nodded. "Let him sleep."

Evelyn rested her hands on her lap, suddenly at a loss for what to do.

She couldn't talk, couldn't make too much noise, and was already bored of the scenery.

The girl had no choice but to lean back, bury her face in her arms, and close her eyes.

The carriage quieted down.

Nothing remained but the steady clack-clack of the train wheels rolling over the joints in the tracks, continuous and rhythmic.

Margaret looked at her two children sleeping side by side, momentarily lost in thought.

Outside the window, the rolling hills gave way to flatter terrain as the silhouettes of clustered chimneys began to appear in the distance.

Once they passed through this industrial district, Briston would be right before their eyes.