I have lost my position, but not my faith. As long as His Majesty the King's Government is still present, I remain its loyal servant.
——Arthur Hastings "Fifty Years of Life"
The rain continues to fall, the strands of rain entwined like threads, pouring down, washing the stone steps of Kensington Palace immaculately clean.
A pitch-black Brougham carriage slowly makes its way along the gravel path, its wheels rolling over the cobblestones in the pooled water, producing a steady sound as if synchronized with the Royal Family's concerns.
The carriage comes to a stop, and before the driver turns to open the door, the passenger inside has already deftly put on his white gloves, covering his fingers entirely, his demeanor composed.
Then, with a click, the carriage door opens from the inside.
