The rhythmic tapping of horses' hooves resounds on the concrete street, accompanied by the creaking of wooden wheels. Gradually, the sounds fade into silence as a majestic carriage halts in front of a grand mansion. The air becomes still, with the carriage poised before the lavish estate.

     The mansion stands tall and imposing, reaching towards the heavens. Time has worn the once pristine white paint on its walls, transforming it into a creamy beige. On the front stands a towering iron gate that guards the entrance to a spacious garden adorned with lush greenery.

     Oliver, Gregory, Edgar, Sarrah and Bethany hop off the carriage and pass through the tall gate. They walk across the front lawn, where plants and bushes have turned orange and brown, swaying with the wind. The wooden floorboards clank under their steps as they ascend the porch that leads to the mansion's entrance.

     The double front doors creak open. Oliver and his companions enter the mansion, and their footsteps falter as their gazes meet a man standing before them. A humble yet welcoming smile graces the man's lips, causing their expressions to brighten with delight and warmth.

     In the mansion's lobby stands Frederick, a man whose short hair has turned as white as cotton. His pale skin bears the gentle marks of time, with wrinkles tracing stories on his face. His eyes, the colour of oak, glimmer with benevolence, and his teeth beam with a comforting warmth. Frederick is none other than the adoptive father of the Remaining Podeshire.

     Frederick dons a plain white shirt under an ocean-blue vest. His soil-brown trousers provide a contrasting backdrop to his white cravat tie. And simple black shoes, reflecting the candlelights around him, complete his outfit.

"Dad!" Oliver grinned as he approached Frederick.

"Oliver! My son!" Frederick stepped outside, past the doorway.

Gregory removed his top hat, acknowledging Frederick with a polite nod. "Greetings, Mr Frederick."

Frederick raised an eyebrow, playfully admonishing Gregory. "I thought we had an agreement that you'd call me 'Dad' too?" said Frederick.

Gregory quickly corrected himself, offering another greeting. "Oh, yeah. Greetings, Dad," Gregory smiled, suppressing his laugh into a faint giggle.

"Better," Frederick raised his chin and placed his hands behind his back. "So, how's everyone's day been?"

Oliver strode forward, walking past Frederick. "I battled a tornado," Oliver said, smirking.

"And Greg is still clingy," Edgar added.

"Hey—" Gregory glared at his cousin, Edgar, raising a brow.

"Well, Gregory used a spell to freeze the tornado, which helped a lot," Sarrah interjected.

"Oh," Frederick gasped, placing a hand on his mouth as his eyes trailed over his adoptive son.

     A room plunged into an abyss of darkness. A mystifying ambience shrouded the surroundings. Dimly lit candles stood in every corner, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows that painted the space with a soft glow.

     Utensils delicately collided with the plates, producing a gentle symphony of clinks, while the receding food left an expanding void on the table. The pouring of wine into a glass created a harmonious cascade. As the cold wind howled outside and blew across the yards, Oliver, Frederick, Gregory, Edgar, Sarrah, and Bethany eagerly dined in the dining room's warm embrace.

Frederick savoured a sip from his wineglass before addressing the group. "So, my dear ladies and gentlemen, have you all received the momentous news?"

Curiosity sparked in Oliver's eyes as he swallowed a mouthful of potato. "What news, Dad?"

"This news is truly transformative, signalling the dawn of industrialization in our world," Frederick teased.

"Well, do share," Oliver urged, reaching for a glass brimming with red wine.

"Today, on the first day of December in the year eighteen twenty-seven, the City of Asbranne ceased to exist as a single city and emerged as a country," Frederick announced.

"A country?" Oliver gasped.

"Yes," Frederick replied with a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

Bethany's eyes widened with excitement. "Truly, how fascinating!"

Gregory, taken aback, chimed in. "So, we now inhabit a distinct nation?"

"Yes, indeed. Asbranne has also been partitioned into regions and cities," Frederick informed them. "We now reside in Auberry City, located in Region Four of the Republic of Asbranne!"

"Such extraordinary news," Oliver thought.

"And do you know what else? Our mayor has assumed the title of president," Frederick ventured.

"I had no inkling of these developments," Oliver admitted.

"Nor did I," Gregory added.

"In that case, it behoves you all to read the newspaper every morning, at least a single page," Frederick suggested with a wink.

"Oh, Dad," Oliver rolled his eyes as he grinned.

"What? I'm serious," Frederick retorted.

"Oh!" Gregory raised his hand, his curiosity piqued. "And how about Hannsbarnne? Sophia's place of origin? Has it undergone a similar transformation? Is it still a city? Or has it become a country, too?"

"Thus far, no news has reached us concerning any changes in Hannsbarnne's status," Frederick disclosed. "However, it is possible that Hannsbarnne might soon follow our path and become a republic country, much like ours!" he raised a finger.

"I wonder when that will come to pass," Gregory mused.

Oliver took a final sip, emptying his glass, and spoke up. "Speaking of transformations, it is time for me to attend to my nightly correspondence. May I be excused, Dad?" he said politely.

"Carry on," Frederick nodded, closing his eyes.

     Oliver reached for a neatly folded napkin on the tablecloth, gently dabbing it against his hands and lips. He then stood up, pushing his chair back with a subtle scrape against the floor. Bidding his companions a silent farewell with a nod, he turned towards the doorway and left the dining room.

"Oh, Oli! Ask Sophia how she's doing, by the way!" Gregory stood up and raised his hand.

"Sure! I'll check my mail! You check yours, too!" Oliver replied as he ventured into the lobby.

     Oliver's footsteps echo through the grand lobby as he steps on the majestic staircase and climbs to the second floor. Gregory settles back to his seat, smirking as he shakes his head. He then leans forward, reaching out for a glistening wine bottle, and pours himself a drink.