January 5th, London, Lambeth District, Nightingale Club.
With the passing of the New Year, the shops on the streets opened their doors one after another, workers returned to their jobs, and the factories near the outskirts of the city churned out products, with chimneys billowing thick coal smoke, returning everything to its normal order.
The sky grew overcast and began to rain, with droplets beating against the windows. Inside the private lounge of the club, Great Prince Charles cradled an ancient book, reclining in the soft sofa, appreciating the peacefulness of the afternoon tea time.
Nothing was more relaxing than resting on a rainy day. Listening to the pitter-patter of rain outside the window, Great Prince Charles completely unwound, leisurely propping up one leg and taking a sip of the tea from the table.
Just when he thought the afternoon would pass calmly, there was a gentle knock on the door of the lounge.
