Moving Up in the World

Levi lay awake as the light streamed in through the windows.

The blurry blue ceiling looked like the sky had, at that time.

The final words of his father, who he loved so very much, rung again in his head.

As they did over and over. Every day, without fail.

“Levi, you can find kindness in all places.”

Then he had left Levi, hidden behind a barrel.

Watching the guards run past.

Hearing the yells.

Levi’s eyes swum into focus. He climbed out of bed, and put his clothes on. He wouldn’t complain, he wouldn’t cause trouble, he would try his best to get home.

So come back.

Levi didn’t cry, he just went to his door, opened it, and looked around the dim hallway.

Usually, nobody was awake around this time, he had found.

But Levi couldn’t go back to sleep.

He began down the stairs, and stopped halfway as he saw two people in the entryway.

Emilia’s mother straightened the butler’s collar.

… Is that? That was the man Emilia was talking to before she chased us.

Marland looked in his direction, “Boy, come here.”

Levi flinched, gulped, then finished descending the stairs slowly.

“So you’re awake.”

Levi looked up at the gruff butler, who wore a seemingly perpetual frown under his curly black beard.

Marland looked at his wife. “He’s gotten into the Scholarium, Cathryn?”

Emilia’s mother–Cathryn–folded her arms. “That’s what Emilia said, dear.”

Marland thought for a moment. “Mmm. Ok, boy, put on your robes. You’ll be coming with me.”

Levi, confused, didn’t budge.

“Hurry it up, boy.”

Levi did as he was told.

—

Levi trailed behind Marland as they approached the wall enclosing the city’s manor, like a bubble attached to the inside of the city wall, securely protecting the building from the public.

Levi had been separated from Emilia, following the man who had apparently taken Oliver away. But he was about to enter the place most likely to hold the answers that he, Oliver, and Stephen needed. A big responsibility.

Levi felt terrified.

They approached a small gate, one of a few, manned by guards wearing pieces of plate armour. Generally more well equipped than the normal city guards Levi had seen around.

He kept his head down, hiding his trembling hands in his conveniently large robes.

“Morning, Head Butler.” They recited.

Marland raised a hand in a half-hearted wave as he and Levi crossed without any trouble. They continued up a path, until coming to an entrance on the side of the large building.

Marland pushed open the door. “Come, boy.”

They entered a hallway not too different from those at the Scholarium. Wooden, plain, lit with strange lights.

Turning a corner, they found maids and butlers standing at attention outside doors along the hallway, mostly younger people.

Marland clapped once, and they all started moving.

Then he called out, shortly. “Jessica.”

A maid appeared, tall and with freckled features, “Head Butler?”

“Take this boy to the lobby and wait with him there, he’ll be travelling with the young Lady.”

The maid looked surprised, but just nodded. She held out a hand for Levi to hold.

Levi, having been handed off (again), looked at Marland with that mix of caution and inquisitiveness he’d been wearing all day. He took the maid’s hand, she seemed nicer.

Levi was led through some more corridors, until going through one of the doors, which opened into what seemed to be the main building. The ceilings were double as high as anywhere else Levi had been in this city so far.

“You must be quite the smart young man, going to the Scholarium at your age.”

The maid whispered to him as they made their way into a room with a small indoor fountain and a big door.

“What family are you from?”

Levi looked into the maid’s expectant eyes. “Um…”

He hadn’t thought about what to say if someone asked him for his last name. Levi’s last name was Owen, but that information felt surprisingly private.

“My name is Levi Crest.”

The maid frowned, not recognising the name, “Crest… Do you live in the upper or lower part of the city?”

“... Near the Finance Ministry?”

The maid raised her eyebrows. “So you’re common?”

Levi wasn’t sure what that meant, so he kept silent.

“I suppose that means you’re quite skilled.” She smiled.

Levi and Jessica had idle small talk for some time, waiting for the ‘young lady’ Marland had mentioned. He was just trying to come up with a reason for his good education when a high pitched voice sounded from across the room.

“Hello, Jessica.”

The small girl with bright red hair entered. She was about as tall as Levi was, and wore robes similar to his. Though she sported a wide brimmed witch’s hat, and her robes seemed even nicer than the nice ones Emilia had bought him.

“Good morning, Lady Mia.” Jessica curtsied and bowed her head.

The small lady, taking this in stride, turned toward Levi, inquisitively. “Never seen you before. Name?”

She’s a bit rude. Levi thought, but he was well behaved, so he just answered.

“Levi Crest.”

She kept looking at him, like she was expecting him to do something. His eyes flickered from person to person, confused.

This lasted only a few seconds, until Marland came into the room. “Good morning, Lady Mia. I see you’ve found the boy.”

Lady Mia turned to Marland, “Sir Marland, might I ask why there’s a boy of his age wearing robes?”

Marland turned to Levi, “How old are you, boy?”

“Nine.”

Marland turned back to the young lady, “He’s your age, Lady Mia.”

The young lady just paused. “Yes… But why is he…” She thought for a second, then placed a fist in her palm with realisation, “You were the boy in the test. You passed?”

Levi cocked his head. “Yes?”

“And you’re nine?”

“Yes?”

“How?”

Levi furrowed his brows. “You can’t be much older than me.”

Jessica interjected with a teasing grin, “It seems you’ll have company at school after all, Mia.”

Both of the children looked at Jessica, then at each other.

Levi shrugged, Mia raised an eyebrow.

—

Levi sat across from ‘Lady Mia’ in a carriage, as it made its way through town. He was mostly silent, not sure how he ended up there.

Mia asked him, seemingly tired of the silence. “Who taught you how to read and write?”

Levi scratched his head. “Um. My… brother, Oliver?”

“Oh? And what does he do?”

“He works at the ministry with Miss Emilia.”

Lady Mia grinned, “Sir Marland’s daughter? So he’s an Official then?”

Levi shook his head, “No, he works for her.”

The young lady pursed her lips, and they didn’t speak for another few seconds.

“I assume he didn’t take you due to his work?”

“Not exactly…” Levi averted his eyes. Not wanting to mention something like Oliver being in prison.

A woman’s deep voice called as the carriage came to a stop. “Milady, we have arrived.”

Levi heard the clanking steps of metal make their way from the front of the carriage to the side door. Upon opening it, the Knight he’d been told was accompanying them–wearing a mix of plate and chainmail armour–held out her hand for Mia.

Mia stepped down with the Knight’s help. “Thank you, Diana.”

They were outside the Scholarium, and Levi opted to jump out of the wagon rather than step down, robes fluttering behind him.

Mia looked at him, and crossed her arms. “Rather dramatic. Unnecessary.”

Levi, thinking he had done something cool, blushed. “It was just easier.”

The Knight looked between the two and chuckled. “It’s time to go.”

And so they set forth. They drew eyes from the various citizenry as they made way toward one of the larger entrances to the Scholarium.

—

Emilia sat in her office, thoughts of the dramatic situation she found herself in distracting her from the work she needed to get done.

She had woken up, ready to take Levi to the Scholarium, only to find her mother, who told her he’d been stolen away by her father. Apparently he’d been dressed and ready to go to the Scholarium, but how that was going to work was beyond Emilia.

Her employee, the strange, suspicious employee who had turned down offers so he could continue to work under her– behind bars for hitting her annoyingly important father. She looked down at Oliver’s bags again, wondering what secrets he was keeping.

She wasn’t stupid. Oliver, Levi, and Stephen all seemed to share above average intelligence, strange assumptions, and obscure backgrounds. Memory loss wasn’t a good enough reason for all the inconsistencies.

Her running theory was that they were the insurgents being hunted down by the big shots in the capital. Her father had gone on something of a rant about the ‘overstep’.

But if that was even the case… Maybe Oliver could be a foreign agent, but why a child and an old man? Better cover?

She didn’t have enough information, and–perhaps due to their origins–they were less susceptible to the pressure she was under, so they were a big help.

Something seemed… off… about the whole situation.

Across the room, her stand-in employee was making ground on Oliver’s workload.

He hadn’t been able to help with the mess as much, being old, but he was certainly an intelligent guy.

She didn’t quite trust him. He clearly didn’t know Oliver, but his rapport with Levi…

He didn’t use the same strange mathematical system as Oliver did, using standard written notation instead. But something about it spoke of a different internal thought process, as if he was only writing it down that way after the fact.

Emilia suspected he was taught in the same method as Oliver.

Stephen, noticing Emilia’s look from across the room, decided it was appropriate to ask.

“You really should let me hold on to the bag.” He said, still concentrating at Oliver’s desk.

“You are being helpful, I’ll admit. The answer is still no, it will go back to Oliver when he gets out.”

Stephen grumbled, but didn’t reply.

Emilia looked back at the bag.

What could possibly be inside?

—

This was the second day he would be spending behind bars, he had barely gotten any sleep.

Oliver rolled around the cold hard floor, it seemed pillows weren’t something they accommodated prisoners with. Well, at least he wasn’t curled around various articles of office furniture… it was good to stay positive.

Something that wasn’t positive, the food. Some brown slop which was certainly bereft of any health standards. If there were any health standards.

They didn’t even give it to Oliver on a metal platter like in most depictions of prisons and American schools. Just a wooden cup full of slop, pushed through by a guardswoman with a pole.

If you wanted to know what it tasted like, Oliver didn’t, so it was still sitting there at the edge of the cell. Hopefully he wasn’t in this place too long.

Surely holding prisoners this long cost them resources.

He looked back at the slop. Not that many resources.