Childhood (4)

I do see that man sometimes, but he's been coming sporadically since I approached him a week ago, which would be a complete change to his everyday 'routine.'

Our conversation went perfectly fine to my standards - yet each and every time I walked up to him with his meal (I volunteered to give it to him these past few days), he left. I even once heard him mutter; "darned kid.." out the door.

This raised up a question: Am I possibly scaring him off…? It didn't make sense. He could be having some other problems, but if the former really was the case, I'd be unimpressed.

He's now just wasting my time. I thought he'd be at least a little more sociable.

Without his presence, nothing in particular changed. Why would it? I read, I did dishes, I put menus out, I ate bland food, and I sometimes got caught by customers and was forced to tolerate their rancid beer-breath, which only happened more and more as I grew.

Speaking of earlier;

"I really can't believe this one guy, he hasn't been paying for any of his meals. He's always my first customer, yet he's left behind so many untouched plates this week.. I've been having my son eat his leftovers for breakfast…" James complained to a customer as he leaned on the bar, serving up some brandy in a wood cup. It was the afternoon, about time the pub got louder but most were still sober. "I won't serve him next time if he doesn't pay upfront."

"Oh, is it Gus?" The customer speaking was a young, burly man with a moustache that he always stroked. "I heard people see him come here in the mornin'."

"You know his name? Then you know him more than me, he never talks at all." He paused. "…Keep this between us... but he kinda… gives me the creeps." James attempted to whisper, not bothering to cup his mouth.

"You're not the only one, he's always like that." the customer responded with a smirk. "He's also the only guy in our troop who wears that outdated chainmail constantly. We all wonder where he got it from."

"Really?" James hummed, throwing out an idea to see if it stuck. "Maybe it's valuable to him."

"Nah, it's just a hunk of garbage. Only old people and maybe the odd collector would keep it," The customer took a swig with an air of conviction, though James likely didn't mean for his response to be interpreted that way. "It's not even worth wearing. We can just use diamond cards to reinforce armor."

The man talking to James was named Robert. He's a knight like Gus apparently, which was news to me considering he only ever spoke gossip and dressed rather casually. He generally only stayed an hour as he was a lightweight, I've seen him around 4 times here. I don't care for his type but it was in my best interest that people like him who get around come around.

The people he talked about weren't interesting, moreso how these people would handle their disastrous situations.

I also noted his existence as he made me remember how I used to talk often. As he griped with Alva one day about a promiscuous lady cheating on multiple men for money, one man being himself, I had a memory while listening.

A random guy was insistent in buying me something in a coffee line, since we'd waited beside each other and talked about ourselves during the long intermission. I think I kept refusing, but I had an... Americano in my hand at the end of the encounter. I noticed quickly that it was when I was healthier.

Nonetheless, the concept of talking to a random guy for nothing sounded utterly tedious to me. Why would I talk to someone if they didn't have anything I wanted?

Perhaps I chatted to him because I actually wanted him to get me coffee, and I was simply being polite when refusing. It made more sense.

As I strained my ears, I would be approaching my first month without freedom. I wouldn't forget my autonomy compared to now; each time we've gone out, which has been only twice this month, I've been carried around by Alva. At times I thought of jumping out of her arms and looking around myself, but I knew there'd be repercussions to doing so. Though Alva and James seemed nice to anybody out of the loop, they were being inconveniently strict.

So, I'd have to wait. Time will pass eventually.

"Is he really so... private?" James continued.

"Well.. he's not always like that. He's actually always talkin, and lurkin, and mumblin under his breath. He's not - silent, he's just got that look like he's silent." Robert rambled, and James had trouble keeping up.

"Mumbling about what?"

"You ask him! Its always—Master this, oh, my Master told me that, my Master would never do this - under his breath! Its so weird! All of us plug our ears when he brings that guy up.

You know what we think?"

"What?" James placed an elbow forward.

"We think his Master, its this guy.." His voice lowered conspiratorially, "He's a Viscount, named Tavel. One guy heard him say the name and remembered a man from House Chartinal called the same thing. And Tavel isn't a common name, right?"

"Whaaat? Right! Are you really sure? He might've actually been taught by a-" As those two continued to dolt around, I was brought back to the present... That was worth checking out. If I first figured out what a Viscount did.

I walked over.

"Yeah, he's one crazy lad, isn't he?" Robert guffawed, loosened up by his drink. "Now, enough about him. Can't you tell me where Alva is at?"

"He really is…" James face soured in seconds. "Seriously? Quit thinking being tipsy lets you flirt my wife! Eat first! You're gonna get wasted, and I don't want anymore problems in broad dayligh—"

"Father."

"?" James snapped his head towards me. I was on the other side of the bar - right beside Robert. "What is it? Not right now, go find mommy."

"What does a Viscount do?"

"…Were you listening?" I opened my mouth, but he didn't give me a chance to answer, "Oh, of course you were. Is this about another thing you're-"

Robert suddenly butted in: "Oh, I don't really keep track of any nobles besides His Grace, but I know I don't wanna see any else of 'em! I don't like any of those pesky Viscounts. They collect my taxes."

James smile twitched. "That's right."

"..."

"What about the other ones?" I knew there was more. Duke, Viscount… I also believe I heard 'Count' somewhere.

Robert scoffed, gesturing to me with a thumb while smirking some more at James. "He wants a whole lesson. What's he need it for?"

"NOTHING, we don't need nobles, I tell you! Screw them and their fancy parties and high taxes!" One bulky man far away from the bar cried loudly, picking up our conversation as he drank his beer, standing up and swinging his cup around in the air.

"Aye!" His group of 7 sang in unison, winning majority approval.

"That's what I'm saying!"

"Yeeeah!!!!?"

"Screw them Valentias—and Chartinals and… the other useless one!"

"Oh, by the Liberator…" James grumbled, another impending headache coming his way. Alcohol was getting everywhere. "Do you want any rags, Sirs?" He rushed off before they spilled more.

I gazed at the sloshed men before looking at Robert. "It was mentioned in a book," This usually worked. I'd used this excuse many times when asking 'weird' questions, mostly with a skeptical James. "I won't be able to understand anything without your help."

"…" Robert blinked at me blankly. "Well... if it's so important," he finally said as he stroked his stashe thoughtfully, resuming; "The Dukes the... leader, right under His Majesty, the King, and the Viscount is the guy who helps the Count. Then you got the Marquesses, they help with border patrol, and you got the Medecants, they handle the magic stuff.."

Robert went on to talk about Commanders, ("All pricks, bossy, so bossy,") Barons, ("Nobles who think they're hot… Hahaha! Could be hot bottom of the shit pit,"), and Knights like himself ("Most are humble"). He didn't go into detail, but each explanation made sense somewhat. He then proceeded to tell me about a man in his troop who recently fell off a horse and faceplanted into the mud. ("Jeremy's so funny. But you can never want to be—don't be like that one. Cough, never, ever.") He burped. He was drunk at that point.

Shortly after, he peered into the bottom of his cup, realizing it empty. He stood up, swaying. He tossed his money on the counter, and I picked it up, putting it in my pocket.

"ALVA! Please, come help me! He's built like a boulder!" James had started wrestling that drunk man in front of the groups table earlier, said mans friends watching amusedly, a few stray customers shifting away from the scene as to not get caught. I also observed, turning around.

"I'm not drunk! Let go, I'll tell a knight about this! You are fuckin' over! Gi—ve my beer, I' got to finish it!" He'd already knocked multiple mugs over, the men around James laughing.

"Alva! Someone, help! Don't just stand around—"

"What?! Why do I always have to do it?!" She slammed the door open with a ladle in her hand, face covered in condensation from a steaming cooking pot. "You know how! Tell them; READ THE SIGN!" She threw her open hand to point at a small picture frame in the corner of the bar stand, a sign that most wouldn't likely notice; 'OBNOXIOUS PATRONS WILL BE REMOVED FROM THE RED JESTER'

"I have said! Just come over, please!"

Alva groaned before she dropped the ladle, rushing around the counter. "Just kick his arse out the door! Is that so hard?"

"No, leave him in here!" One observer cackled.

"We'll pay for the damages!"

"Hy-ahh!!!" James dragged the man to the entrance with all his might as Alva restrained him so he'd stop flailing. I got out of my barstool, walking over to hover around the entrance.

"William, get out of the way!" Alva warned, and it seemed they made a silent agreement as they looked at each other: They'd shove him at once, outside. Would this work? I really couldn't tell, as the man was larger than the width of the door. Without preamble, they'd pushed him with one heave and ho.

As they pushed… I stuck my foot out.

"GGGGGYAAAAH!"

The bulky man screamed as he faceplanted into the cobblestone pavement, going dead silent, a small gasp of somebody's echoing in the pub. He then began to groan on the floor for a while, quieting down... Well, it worked. There was a chance that backfired and made him scream louder. He could've also just stepped on my foot... that would've hurt like hell. I started to back away.

"W-Hey!" James choked out with eyes wide like saucers. "Why did you do that?!"

Alva followed shortly after, a shocked look on her face before a grin appeared. "Haha, that's my son!" She bent down and grabbed my cheeks, pulling them around. I made a sound in protest and pulled her hands off, but she was unfazed by my reaction. "You already know how to deal with them difficult ones. And you folk—" She looked back at the mans group to address them, nodding to the door; "Go help him. We don't tolerate indecency until 8pm."

…

The group left reluctantly as 2 men carried the fat guy off. The pub settled down after that. People went back chatting as if nothing had happened, which I found was interesting. If something unusual like that happened and I cared to be interested, I'd be gossiping about that drunkard to everyone I knew until dawn.

Then again, would a drunkard be that interesting? I could be biased, since I see it so often. I don't believe anyone would want to talk about themselves drinking in a run-down pub.

I wiped the floor with a rag, under my shoe. I moved my leg around to mop up alcohol, an egg and some other mysterious green thing that was caked in between two floorboards.

"Can we go out after this?" It was Sunday, shopping day. Alva was on her knees, scrubbing debris and liquid out of the wood by the earlier groups table along with me.

"Sure, darling." She glanced over her shoulder before tilting her head back under the table. "Just—one second... all the damn time," she muttered to herself as she hit the cloth in one place multiple times. "James, we're going out soon! Don't let that happen again."

James was also already back to chatting with customers, talking to a chipper lady and man. He agreed and nodded her way, somewhat unwilling.

The road we live on is relatively clean. It gets increasingly dirty as we walk down the street, the sleek pavement turning to dirt, the smell of an amalgamation of rat droppings and lack of hygiene invading my nose as we turned the corner, entering the street market. We bought some fruits, vegetables, and grain.

We needed to buy a lot in order to sell food, and since there were more sellers than buyers, prices were ridiculously inexpensive when you bought in bulk. You'd see a woman carrying a large crate of freshly picked turnips, a man covered in soot trying to barter for a 3-quarters aluminum priced bread, a child attempting to steal an apple... those less fortunate littered the sides of the street begging for chips, hiding underneath shaded spots.

We had passed one small, tanned girl with a tattered dress, curled beneath a flickering lightpole. Alva leaned down and handed her a meager half of an aluminum chip that could at most buy her a few oranges.

The girl whispered 'thank you' so quietly I wasn't even sure she said anything, her head ducked as we carried on. As I peered backward, we made eye contact when she nodded back up, her eyes widening before she looked away first. I almost bumped into Alvas side as we stopped at yet another vegetable stand.

"You see?" She weighed a cabbage in her hands.

"Mm," I searched for Martha's stand since I believe we were fairly closeby.

"If they're green and dense, they're good. You want them tightly packed, and you don't want any yellow leaves." Alva handed the one she held over to the vendor and picked out more, a few unbound flies hanging around in blistering hot June weather.

An iced coffee sounds great right about now, I mused out of the blue as I rubbed sweat off my forehead, despite not even remembering what coffee tastes like. Another memory gap…

"You can make a lot with cabbage. Soups, salads, frying it in oil.. It's all very good for your gut, and you should have as much as you can when we get it."

Whatever. "Porridge tastes better."

Alva tsked, whacking my head weakly. "You're gonna be frail if you keep pushing your vegetables on the side of your porridge. Don't you think I haven't noticed you pushing away your stews, either.."

"But those stews are leftovers from other customers, aren't they?" I've seen her scrape plates of unfinished meals into a pot while sitting in the kitchen. You can call me picky, but I didn't want to risk eating what others might've spat in.

"So? It's not like they're poisoned. Perfectly fine." She grabbed a few onions.

I could get sick from it, though. Has she seen the amount of people who've sneezed in their meals and licked their fingers? I always see it happen.

"4 aluminum and a half," The vendor informed as she grabbed the onions from Alva and put it in our basket. Alva dug in her apron and pulled out her drawstring.

"My birthdays coming soon, I don't want it for dinner that day." It's in 3 days, the 20th.

"That's a given. I'm not gonna make you eat something you don't like on your birthday," She snapped a chip in two and gave the lady the rest, taking the basket back.

"Hmmm… speaking of the topic, do you want anything?" Alva swung the basket gently as we walked along.

"Books."

"It's always books," She rolled her eyes before they widened. "OH! You'd love the library. That's where I get all your books, actually. Do you wanna check it out?"

A library? I didn't realize there was any nearby. I nodded. "I'm guessing its far."

"It is. probably a... 25 minute or so walk. But you can handle it, right? Cause you're a big kid now." She snorted.

"Yeah." Right.

As we exited the market, we reached a place I hadn't gotten to yet. As we got closer to the large castle in the distance, things got cleaner, echoing our residence; but it simultaneously became more extravagant, detailed and large. The buildings got newer.

The sound of people got louder, and their outfits got visibly more expensive. Monocles and leather and frills tucked under equally lavish umbrellas.

I got tired around this point, started to lag behind, so Alva carried me the rest of the way.

"You're gonna love it so much!" Alva exclaimed, "I can't believe I haven't thought of taking you sooner... maybe we can get a library card for you."

Yes. They'd definitely have more than children's tales... however, I felt inclined to ask; "How much would one cost?"

"Hmmm... I think it was a few silver. Or more, considering the neighborhood we're in. Consider it your birthday present." Alva smiled.

I opened my mouth as I felt a yawn coming, but nothing came out. "What's after silver? Gold?"

"Correct—yet again," She replied, hoisting me up twice to get a better grip as I slipped down. "but you're never gonna see gold in our house. We both think its a bad idea having such an expensive chip, since it'd be small and easy to lose. We'd rather have a bunch of copper chips and silver quarters—"

"Look, its that woman.. The blonde one. Look at her eyes." A high pitched voice had said loud enough for both of us to hear. Something sounding like a fan shut with a sharp 'click.' I looked over Alvas shoulder.

The women wore large, poofed out dresses and tall hats, much too heavy for the current temperature. "The woman from that incident?" The shorter one noted. "By the gods, shes carrying—she has a kid? With that man? I didn't know that."

"Me neither! Look at his, too. It's exactly the same as they said in those newspapers."

"My, you're right... I can't believe it, Vanessa. How can you remember something like that? I envy you."

"Oh, its nothing~ I just found the story so... romantic. I wish I had a man like that."

"Haha!" The shorter woman fanned herself erratically, sweat dripping down her jaw. "Romantic? I think it's more foolish than anything. Why would she eve—"

"Already…?" I heard Alva grumble under her breath bitterly. I turned my head to look at her when she suddenly pressed her open hand over one of my ears.

She started speedwalking, angling me away from the conversation.

"We're almost there," She said louder than what's considered normal. "What a horrible afternoon… I hope this is worth it, darling."

"You—"

"Not right now."

"…Okay."

A sidewalk gradually appeared, and Alva followed it until she slowed by curved text, a half-circle sign;

'Dromes Library'

She stopped in front of the storefront windows awning, displaying all different types of books on all different types of podiums and stands, decorated with classy streamers and potted plants.

As we entered the intricately carved door, a few bells chimed melodically, and we were met with a large, dark brown reception desk. Behind it was a young, dark-skinned lady with… eyes and straight black hair, neatly wrapped in a blue-ribbon ponytail. She wore a quaint light-blue dress to match. Behind her were rows and rows of vertical bookshelves and a few long ladders.

Where are her pupils? As we got closer, they came to be completely white, with faint red cracks around the edges. Nothing there.

"Richay! Hello." Alva had walked over to the side closest to the librarian, putting me down in the process.

The lady only turned her head in our direction when Alva said something, only staring at the door prior.

"Ah, Alva." She smiled up at her as she propped her head on her chin, voice soft as to not disturb the peace. "How are you? I hear some other footsteps."

"I'm doing alright... I've come with my son."

Her face went neutral, before her lips quirked up again in understanding. She peered down over the desk, right at me... or perhaps through me.

"William. I've heard about you from your mom. I know you're quite the bookworm."

"…Yes, I am."

"Would you like me to give you some suggestions?"

"Uhh…" The proactive response made my brain lag for a moment. "Like what?"

She hums. "Three Clubs of Clava, Dragonfelt, The Redeemers 52 Records.. myths and fairytales, those are all popular with the children." Her expression twisted into a considerate pout. "Withal…

I recall your mother saying you wanted Spade Tyrant not too long ago, too. Hmm." She paused, rubbing her chin, wording her next response carefully.

The book I had lost? I'd asked for a new one a while ago when I realized it was gone like I presumed, but Alva came back with nothing the next day, fervently shaking her head, not elaborating. I even asked a few customers about it the following few days but each of them ignored me.

That's another annoying thing to recall. "What about it?"

She blinked in my direction before turning her head back to Alva, grinning. I noted Alva looked utterly mortified.

"Let's get him something else. He shouldn't be reading something like that, at his age."

"I already told you, I didn't realize it was there! Richay…"

"You don't have to explain yourself, Alva." She dismissed with a chuckle. "I thought you were getting it for your husband at first."

"Oh, that makes it even worse…" She pinched her dress at the sides while looking at the ground, I glanced between the two women. "Let's just move on—I'm getting embarrassed. I've decided to get a library card."

"Oh?" Richay repeated, smirking. "Finally." Alva scratched her cheek as she glanced up, much more timid than usual. "Each time you bought a book, I couldn't help but die inside a little. I'll always say its a good investment. One moment." She reached under her desk and pulled out a long scroll.

Alva then pushed my back towards the bookshelves, urging me on. "Go look around, see what you want to bring back home. I'll be a while."