At Waverley Station, a whistle parts the morning air, and with a slow breath of steam and a rhythmic chug of the wheels, the Royal Scotsman begins its glide. The soft chime of golden whisky in crystal glasses echoes through cabins dressed in oak and leather, as beyond the pane, the emerald Scottish countryside unfurls. Rolling hills stitched with ancient stone, as the train winds forward, its forest-green engine drawing a procession of claret-red carriages across the iconic arches of the Glenfinnan Viaduct, with the glint of a distant loch shimmering beneath.