To the left stood a huge, round building, five stories tall. To reach it, one had to skirt around a marble fountain.
There were people in the castle courtyard. They were mostly grown men and women. The men were dressed in tailcoats, and the Duke of Westminster, in his blue suit, stood out against them.
Richie, too, would have preferred a suit to an uncomfortable tailcoat, but he was told that the boy's current status did not yet allow for a "casual" dress code. Once he became a duke, he would be able to wear a suit to events where tailcoats were required.
The girls were wearing evening gowns. The variety of colors and designs of the dresses and hats, as well as the abundance of expensive jewelry on the ladies, was dazzling.
The crowd was mostly concentrated around the two-story half of the castle. People were gradually filing inside. Getting in quickly was problematic, as footmen in red livery stood at the entrance, checking invitations.
"Dad, should we go there?" Richard asked, nodding towards the crowd.
"Yes, Richie," the Duke replied. "That wing of Aunt Lisa's is where the ballroom and reception hall are."
"Aunt Lisa, huh?" thought the transmigrator. "Hmm... I wouldn't be wrong if I guessed that's what Gerald called Queen Elizabeth II... Holy shit! It blows my mind."
Soon, Richie and Gerald were inside. The boy gasped and couldn't tear his eyes away from the beauty that greeted him.
The ballroom was thirty-six meters long and eighteen meters wide. It was finished in Carrara marble. The exquisite Gothic interior was decorated with paintings by famous artists.
When Richie curiously climbed the wide staircase to the second floor, he found himself in a vast dining room. From the street, the high ceilings weren't noticeable. In fact, the ceiling was made of glass mosaic, offering a view of the sky.
The walls were arched, sometimes projecting forward, sometimes forming niches. On the protruding walls, marble pedestals seemed to rise to a height of approximately four meters, upon which gleaming suits of plate armor, each wielding a two-handed sword, were mounted. It's worth noting that there was a considerable distance from the helmets of the armor to the ceiling, allowing not only for concealed electric lights that illuminated the ceiling and lit the hall, but also for the delicate gilded metal structures supporting the glass ceiling. The niches held gilded pedestals, upon which were mounted marble busts of ancient rulers.
A wide table ran from front to back in the center of the reception hall, lined with hundreds of burgundy-upholstered chairs. The chairs were positioned so that guests could exit quietly without disturbing their neighbors, and avoid elbowing each other during meals. There was enough space behind the chairs for several waiters and guests to pass each other without issue. In fact, it was so spacious you could drive a car through. The dining table was at least five feet wide, sometimes even two meters. Electric lamps disguised as candles were installed at intervals in the center.
Luxury! Sparkle! Gold and chic! That's what came to mind for anyone who found themselves in this room of the castle.
Richie continued to explore the reception hall with bated breath, each time discovering new details, such as previously unnoticed portraits of kings and queens. Although it would have been odd not to notice the paintings, two to three meters high and over a meter wide, depicting the rulers standing at full height. And the red carpets? It was easy to miss them, with the glitter of gold all around. Even the gigantic fireplace at the end of the room, at least five by five meters in size, was lost against the surrounding splendor. Besides, it was a long way off.
The spell had broken, and Richard decided to return to the ballroom. The crowd had grown, so Richie couldn't find his father.
The boy turned his head, searching for familiar faces. He spotted an elderly man in a blue suit exactly like the Duke of Westminster's. Thinking it was his father, the boy headed in that direction.
When Richie reached the right place, the man stood with his back to him. He was chatting with an elderly lady in a blue dress and hat with a small bouquet of wildflowers pinned to it.
Richie tugged the man's jacket slightly and said:
- Dad, I lost you.
The man turned to face the boy, and Richie realized it wasn't his father. From behind, he looked similar, but when he turned around, the first thing he noticed was the lack of glasses, slightly fewer wrinkles, and blue eyes. A slight bald spot on the front of his head. His face was less plump than Gerald's. A warm smile lit up his face.
"Richie!" the man said happily, recognizing the boy. "Hey, kiddo. You've grown up since the last time we saw each other."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Richard said, embarrassed. "I was mistaken."
The old woman looked at Richard with affection and handed him a candy.
"You're Gerald's son, aren't you?" she asked.
Richard accepted the candy from the elderly lady, put on a charming smile and replied:
- Thank you, madam. Yes, I am Gerald Rich's son. Richie.
"Oh, what a charming young man," the smiling old woman said tenderly. "Call me Grandma Lizzy."
"Grandma Lizzy?!" Richie asked questioningly.
The transmigrator realized who he was speaking to, causing the boy to experience cognitive dissonance. Could he have imagined that the Queen of Great Britain herself would one day give him candy? Richard turned his head to the older man and asked:
- Uncle Charlie, is that you? I'm sorry, I didn't recognize you at first.
"Ho-ho-ho! Uncle Charlie!" Prince Charles brightened considerably. "You used to call me godfather. Why not? I like it, so call me that, Richie." I felt instantly younger, as if I'd dropped thirty years.
"Charlie, take the boy to the children's room," the queen asked her son.
"Yes, yes," said Prince Charles. "Richie, come with me."