Chapter 21

"Where should I start?"

In the back room of the clinic, Jamie looked at the incredible collection of texts feeling a little overwhelmed. He was expecting something akin to a series of encyclopedias on a book shelf or two, not a small library.

The doctor proudly lifted his chin. Other than the archives in the Imperial Palace, he was sure that he had the most complete collection of medical journals in the Capital. "I recommend starting over here," Imire said, sweeping his hands to a set of books that were at least ten times thinner and less frightening to the modern day person.

Jamie scanned the shelves, choosing one under the watchful gaze of the doctor. Twined beneath a skin of leather, none of the books were labeled. Jamie wonder how the doctor could distinguish any of these from another.

In reckoning, he pulled the one to his most right. 

Straight pages of woven stems. The book was made of papyrus. He opened it up to the first page which revealed beautifully illegible calligraphy.

Everything uniquely curved and slanted, Jamie's mind went a little haywire - similar to how his grandpa would react when he tried to use his old flip phone for the first time.

Unlike the colorful textbooks with pictures and schematics he used while growing up, the pages were literally only filled with words.

On the other hand, there wasn't any 'graffiti' or random doodles from kids who were bored in class. Neat, tidy, and maintained with excellent care.

Jamie's suddenly realized another of the many differences from his previous life...

How important is knowledge in this world? Each word was reverently written like hand-stitching a garment; messing up once could ruin the entire work. There was no mass-production here. From the creation of the pages, to the twisting of the twine used to sew the pages together, everything was man-made.

With this in mind, his handled the book much more gingerly as if what he was holding was a newborn baby and not an inanimate object.

"Have you learned to read before?" 

The question wasn't asked to be rude. The young master stared long at the text on the page, the doctor had to wonder this. He was an orphan from the countryside, no doubt. Not many learned persons would settle in such overlooked places.

If it weren't for his own teacher taking him in as a humble disciple, Imire would never have had a chance to bask in such knowledge.

Jamie's eyes certainly hurt from deciphering each letter, but it was doable. Raising his head, he assured, "Yes. It's just that this font is a bit... exorbitant."

"Is that so?" The doctor's brow arched, a little offended. These books were masterpieces. The more important the knowledge, the more intricate the transcriber's strokes. But again, the boy was just a child. He was an adult that can distinguish between insults and opinions. "I must return to my work. Please return the books where you found them once you are finished."

The man hurried away, leaving them to do their own thing.

Jamie then turned to the other three. "I'll be here for a while. If you guys are bored, you can go out."

Cieran wanted to immediately reject the offer, but Gale and Isla nodded; their hands strongly urged the child away. The two of them have been waiting for a chance like this. The General asked that they bring Cieran for a nice 'chat' once he adjusted. No one expected that there was no need for and 'adjustment period'.

The boy clung onto their young master like a tick in the spring and morphed into the role of a servant like a fish in water. 

When they all left, Jamie brought his book to a chair near the window. With good lighting, the fancy text was less strenuous on his eyes.

A nice breeze passed in the calm library. Just like this, he read from noon to dusk.

~~~

The General listened to the reports from the slums, connecting the newest news to the information already collected. 

"The number is high...maybe even hundreds. There are no records in the census for that area, so we may never truly know."

An anger in his chest rose. Deep and blazing, it was seeded in him from long ago, never truly going down like the tide of the ocean. "Have the families reported the missing children to the authorities?"

"Some have... and the results varied from case to case. Very rarely did it result in the child being found. We haven't been able to ask too many under the context that there is someone watching."

"...Keep an eye out on who these people communicate with. See if you can catch a tail."

The subordinate nodded, leaving to perform his duties. With the kettle cooled, Randall poured a cup of water and handed it to the General. "You think that there's a rat among one of these families?"

Jederick took the cup and downed it in one go. "I'm not saying that there is, but we can't rule out the possibility that there isn't. A case like this doesn't happen just over night. And no matter how poor, people won't just lay down knowing their own flesh and blood was taken."

Randell nodded; no need to say more.

A short while later, another knock sounded at the door. Randell welcomed them in seeing how it was Isla and Gale with the raven-haired boy.

The General motioned for the boy to sit and so he did. "Have you been adjusting well?" 

Randell placed a plate of snacks in the middle. This was going to be a long talk and the best way to converse would be to gain the child's trust first.

Cieran took a pastry from the plate and chewed a bit. The bread was crunchy and soft with a hint of savory sweetness. He didn't know how something could taste so contradictorily good.

Swallowing, he licked his lips before speaking. "It's fine."

The General's mouth twitched. "You have a unique accent. Were you born in Lorn also?"

Lorn, the place the General had picked up his son, was one of the poorest states in the entire Kingdom. A mountainous region, the population was sparce and mostly a place to travel through rather than to.

The boy shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

Randell took a seat beside the General, their closeness was done unconsciously and naturally. "What does that mean?"

Another shrug. "I can't remember much. The young master said I used to know him. And he seems familiar. He seems safe."

The couple's eyes connected.

The General still didn't trust everything about the boy, but as of right now, they didn't have a real reason to rip open his past. They just needed enough to know where to go from here.

"Your adoptive parents, where are they?"

Like a squirrel, Cieran's mouth never stopped chewing. His cheeks were puffed up like they were filled with cotton. Plainly he stated, "Dead."

"Was this recent? Or..."

"It was a few years ago. They were killed by someone they pissed off."

The men didn't hear any inflection in the child's tone. As much as it was unsettling, it was also impressive. 

"Those men, were there any others?" Randell asked. "They may be linked to another case. You may have heard of the other children who were being taken from the south of the city."

Cieran's didn't answer this time. Time for another mule conversation it seemed.

"Eyewitnesses said they were trailing you before. We need to know as much as possible so something like this won't happen again." The residual fear that Randell had from the other day dissipated and was replaced with embarrassment. The child was mysterious, but not a threat to them. "Anything you know - small or big - might help us catch the bad guys."

Cieran took out a clean handkerchief and swiped another pastry for later. Folding it up carefully, he stuffed it back in his pocket then looked back at the men. Like two deep pools, the child's eyes criticized them in his mind. 

Randell found it hard keeping a straight face while looking at this child. He still felt the sense of shame from nearly fleeing last time.

Conversely, Jedrick had no problem. Even if he pretended to be a sheep, the boy was obviously a tiger. Such a gutsy nature led him to break into the mansion... Rather than seeing this as a crime, the hot-blooded general could only think that this kid would make one hell of a soldier one day...

Pouring himself another glass, he slowly drank his water this time. The man dared the child to say something uncouth to them. 

And something uncouth he said, "You two are f^$%!#g."

Like ocean mist on the rocky shores of a beach, the water sprayed into the air, most of which landed on the remaining pastries.

Cieran looked at the food forlornly. He was still planning on eating those... What a pity...