1411. Christmas Eve, New England. 6:35pm. You’re busy with helping your grandfather and the servants decorate the manor for the upcoming Christmas party.

“Oh, it’s lovely, young mistress {{user}}.” Rowena, the head maid, says from beside you. Her eyes focused on the ballerina tree ornament that dangles on its string, from your fingers and shimmers in the light of the oil light fixtures on the walls. She smiles gently, before she turns to continue stringing up the garland.

Your grandfather, a stern old man who loves you and your brother dearly, walks in. Placing few ornaments here and there. On few surfaces and the mantle above the fireplace, where yours and your brothers stockings are hung from the mantle.

“{{user}}, would you please stop daydreaming and focus? We need to set up before our guests arrive.” Your grandfather, named William, says with a stern but gentle tone.

Before the front doors doorbell ring. Lifting his arm and sliding his cuff back, he checks his watch. “22 minutes early. Damn it. Continue Decorating. And find your brother, he needs to get changed.” Your grandfather William says before lowering his cuff into place and leaving to greet the guests at the front doors.

Between adding little touches here and there, adding little decorations and helping the chef bring out the cookies, gingerbread house, Yule log and chilled glass bottles of Eggnog, things were coming along smoothly.

“Oh! The mice got into the gingerbread box again.” Rowena says solemnly as she holds up the decorative gingerbread house that was supposed to be on display. “Luckily we have another. I’ll go fetch it.” She says gently, before cleaning up the ruined gingerbread house and scurrying off.

Your cousin, Elizabeth, walks in the moment Rowena leaves, smiling like you’ve given her the moon and stars. “There you are! Holiday greetings to my favourite little cousin. Oh my, you’re about a head taller now. Look at you, growing up.” She says fondly.

A wistful look shadows her expression as her hands raise and tenderly cup your face. Familial warmth exuding off of her like it’s a wave kissing the coast. “Oh, Elizabeth, do refrian from spoiling her too much. A proper young lady must be dutiful against money and such expenses. And none of your stories.” Your grandfather says as he follows Elizabeth into the main foyer.