Hooves clotted, dirt kicked up into small clouds that quickly diminished, the trembling of a wooden wheels rolling over dirt, smoothed into a path over years of worn and travel overhead. Every week, a postal courier would travel to down the road through Finefield from the city, delivering and receiving letters to be sent to and fro from all of the homes that dotted this nobles' countryside.
The butler, Heinrich, would take hold of the basket full of letters in the foyer of the servants quarters to be delivered, kindly making a trip once around the manor in telling, "Today is mail day, everyone! If you are yet to hand over your letters, please, promptly do so now." Every week on this day, at the time of eleven before noon, he would do this. Some would quickly run up to him to throw their letter in, while others laughed sweetly at them for having not done so all that week.
Heinrich would make his up the secondary stairway, east of the manor, and down the hall to return back to the entrance. It was as he did, passing the many guest rooms, one of which was Count Henry's, the old man would promptly reach his hand out to the old butler in excusing him. "Ah! Heinrich!"
Heinrich stopped, greeting the Count. "Hello, Lord Codux. Arth though doing well this morrow?"
"Yes, yes. I have a letter, too, that I would like you to have deliver." he handed over a wax sealed letter. Heinrich did as told, taking the letter with extra care. He would hand the letter over to the courier, with the letter being placed in a special black box, stored neatly among a handful of others with many empty slots. The rest of the letters were simply packed into boxes and slid into the back of the wagon.
That letter would make its way back to the city, past the gates of Novergracia's western walls, and through the streets of brick and manors. Count Henry's letter was to be delivered to the Scholar's Guild, where upon reaching it, would find its way through the few hands that would deliver it to who was considered to be one of the kingdom's greatest minds, Grand Scholar, Andrew Wisely. He was a long time friend to Henry, having known him since they were young and attended the same school. "Ah, old Henry." he muttered in a quiet, soft spoken whisper carried by his breath. He then reached for a parchment from a stack of, and a pen, sitting ready on his desk.
Another letter would be delivered hastily by one of the guild's own couriers upon horseback, reaching the Chamber's estate in Finefield within the day. This brought word of Andrew Wisely's letter to the attention of Henry, and Vindor and Celia thereafter.
"A scholar?" Celia yelped.
"Yes, yes, my dear. A scholar. I was rather good friends with Andrew Wisely, still am. You once met him a few years ago, yes, yes. He is the Scholar's Guild Head, in fact. He is a good man, a true philosopher!" he raised a finger. "I trust him very much, and believe that the scholar he arranges to be sent from the guild will be more than suitable of teaching young Erik."
"Well, father, I had wished you had told us first."
"I apologize, though I am telling you now. It would not be too late to turn them away."
"No, no!" Vindor said with a welcoming energy. "I know you had Erik's best interests at heart, and if he is as gifted as you believe him, this would be a good thing. Perhaps he can teach the other kids as well."
"Yes, but my worries are that this scholar will be a stranger. We take precedent when hiring, as you never know how deceitful someone can be."
"Of course, we will meet him and see for ourselves."
Soon enough, within the week, a man from the Scholar's Guild would arrive. From his carriage, he approached the entrance to the manor while he barked orders at the driver. "Quickly! Carefully! Bring my luggage! Don't drop it!" his voice rasp and with a tone of grump. A long, black trench coat covered a slightly hunched back. Dark hair, slicked and greasy fell out from underneath a top hat. He walked with a cane, thumping it hard on the ground with each step he made. The man was tall, with horrid teeth and an uneven nose. He knocked on the door, not by the knocker, but rather with his cane against the lower of the door. Promptly, the door would be opened by the butler who after a momentary raise of his eyebrow, would welcome the guest inside.
Scholars were told to be men of profound insight and intelligence. They were the eldest of men who wrote history books, discovered innovations, and were the tellers of all great philosophical quotes. Thus, it was of little surprise that many of the servants were curious of the scholar, stealing glances and quickly spreading word of the man and his apparel.
Heinrich, in realizing this, stood guard outside the door almost justly.
Inside, the welcomed scholar was being met by the manor lord and his wife. Upon seeing his apparel, even they were taken aback. To Vindor, he lacked the dignity and respect carried by most noblemen or knights, while to Celia, it was simply a matter of his cleanliness and mannerisms, not to say that he was without manners, but that he spoke in a strange way. "Lord Chamber," his lips twisted and his tongue flicked past and against those thin, yellow teeth. "I, am Sebastian Godfrey. It is a pleasure."
"Yes," Vindor raised his chin and relaxed his shoulders, "a pleasure. Sir Godfrey, tell us, where are you from?"
"I am from Capricene."
"The port city? I see."
"Yes, home of the gulls and salty air, or muck, depending from which part of the city." Vindor was to ask another question, merely able to open his mouth in breathing in a conversation's worth of air before Godfrey raised a hand and spoke. "Please, do allow me to say. I am certain you have questions, but I am old, and what little remaining time I have left on this world diminishes by the nano-second. You may be wondering why I was chosen to instruct your child, and that is because I am, particularly, qualified, in handling children of high, status," he emphasized and pronounced, with clicks of his spits of his tongue and quick ticks. "Be it math, history, philosophy, languages, which I speak a, many, of, even the art of decorum, medicinal, geographical, and so on, and so on. You see! Your lordship, and, madam. I, am a unique, teacher. I have taught many a students, and learned much, in my~ life, that I, in all meanings of the word, have been left, disappointed."
"D-Disappointed, you say?" Celia lowered her head, raised her eyebrows, and looked at the man with a slightly disgusted irk upon her lips.
"Yes. I have one thing to make clear, and that is, that when I, tutor, a child, I expect a certain attention. Children need guidance, they are the future, after all, and what is not our goal but to leave all that we have learned, for the next generation to learn, from our mistakes. Thus, I impose that I be granted permission to discipline the child in necessary moments of, acting, out. Else, I am afraid, that my presence may linger shortly, elsewise."
"At to what extent would you enact such discipline."
"Mildly, so. The facts are, that the letter inscribed by your father, Count Henry Codux, was that your child is a young genius, and that his wishes are for his grandson to receive the best education he can from all such areas of study, if and or upon the moment he chooses his academic path. It is no harm for a child to have manners and be educated on the innerworkings of everyday physics. Now, if you may, do allow me to settle in and begin my work. I would like to meet the child in question and have my things taken to a room."
"Yes, of course, Heinrich!" Vindor called out to the shut door, which promptly opened from the outside.
"Yes, master?" the butler poked his head in.
"Do arrange a room for Sir Godfrey here. He will be staying with us for some time. In the meantime, Sir Godfrey, perhaps we will discuss your pay."
"If I find the child is worth educating, then it would be, expected, that I would be granted a sizeable room, offered meals, a place to bathe, as well as adequate compensation. Eleven copper a day."
"Eleven silver... That is quite a sum." Vindor stroked his beard, considering the sum of wealth with a strained expression. A single silver was by no means a small sum, as even Vindor, a man from royalty, understood the worth of a single coin, and eleven copper was enough to buy bread, ale, a night's stay at a local inn, and a woman bedded, and to pay that for every day would quickly become a noticeably dent in their revenue. Still, it was decided that Godfrey would be granted the position within the manor.
He was granted a room of his own on the second story, in one of the many guest rooms, and was brought to the same room as Erik. The hunchbacked man merely observed the boy as he was told a story by his nanny. Nomay told him a story, holding up a book by her hands, with him sitting between her lap. He watched with such focus, one would mistake it for childlike wonder, if not for that lack of expression in his stale gaze.
Godfrey was a straightforward man, by all means. He wasted no time to the point that one would think to insult his lack of patience, but he was in fact a very patient man. From his trunk of luggage, he took out a neatly packed boardgame, a beautiful, handcrafted board, which had been weathered from age and use, yet still maintained its elegant craftsmanship, and its many pieces, which depicted detailed figures. Though Erik was young, he explained the game to him as he would any one else. "This, is a game called chess," he explained, placing the pieces with such delicate precision, his fingertips aligned them perfectly into the center of their tiles with slight push and turn. "These pieces, that run across this line, do so on both sides. They are pawns; one or two tiles forward, only on the move for each. From there, one," he explained, making the first move as white. He looked to Erik, saying nothing, giving no explanation or gestures. Erik reached his hand forward, taking hold of a pawn and moving it forward two, just as Godfrey had. "The rook," he placed his finger upon. "It may move any number of tiles, but only in a straight line in any direction." Pressed forward, did he move his rook.
The two played a game, with Godfrey explaining once the rules of the game as they continued. Erik said not a word, his eyes straying from the stranger before him in focusing on the pieces laid out ahead. As the pieces made their way in a dance around the board for the first half of the game, Godfrey raised an eyebrow. Erik needed not to be explained a second time, moving the pieces as he was told they were able. He began to do more than move them as he thought able, but to play the game as though he knew winning was an option. That, he had not been told. Ultimately, after a lengthy game, Godfrey had won, expectedly.
"Oh my, very good game, young master." Nomay clapped rapidly from her seat nearby.
Godfrey, upon moving his knight in toppling the black king, then declared, "Check mate. Your king has fallen, and thus, you, have lost, the game, child."
"Why?" Erik asked.
Godfrey raised an eyebrow before chuckling dryly. "Why?"
"I still have my army."
"An army is not, without a commander to lead it, or a king to serve."
For the first time since they began playing, Erik's gaze turned to the man. His eyes, blue as sapphire in the moonlight, as wide as could be, and with such a subtle intensity, it was as though he would burst into flames at any moment, experienced an emotion he had yet to experience in his short lifetime. That, being spite.
"I want to play again." Erik demanded.
Godfrey ignored the boy, standing up with audible pops running down his back as he stretched, best he could. "Refrain from being so headstrong as to believe you can defeat an opponent you just lost to. While you may think of ways to overcome mistakes you made in your prior joust, as will they learn from theirs." He spoke as though he were merely thinking out loud his own found wisdom, turning to leave slowly.
Nomay approached the table, a charmed smile on her face as she began to reorganize the pieces on the board. "Perhaps I may be of good match, young master. I believe this game would be fun."
As Godfrey opened the door to leave, the butler, who was standing outside, gestured with his arms to the next room across the hall. There, Vindor, Celia, and Henry all waited with expectation and slight nervousness. As Godfrey entered the room, all eyes were on him. He simply told them, "Your child is rather exceptional. Gifted, if not a natural born genius."
Count Henry nearly jumped out of his seat in excitement. "I knew it!!" He laughed at the top of his lungs, his grin as wide as could be, and his hands meeting one another in clap. "A scholar thinks he is a genius! I told you, had I not, daughter?"
"Yes, yes, father, you did. I must say, if a man of your standing thinks so, when he is still so young, then we shall put our trust into you."
Godfrey nodded his head. "You are kind. I accept the position and give you my word, I shall teach the boy well, with my reputation as a member of the Scholar's Guild on the line."
From that day, Erik's education began. Up to that point, it was mostly Nomay who was in charge of his education. Godfrey took on the task of teaching him the basics in a way that Nomay simply could not.
Godfrey was granted a room down the hall from Erik's, just before the library. The room was furnished with two sofas, a chair, table, and a few tables against the wall. For Erik's studies, a chalk board was brought in, as were the many books Godfrey had brought with him. Godfrey taught Erik with a show of his work on the board, which Erik attentively learned from. He first began with math, teaching as though he were giving a lecture to a whole class. It was during that first lesson, that he began to realize Erik's true capabilities.
He explained and taught numbers and their names, moving on to basic addition, subtraction, division, and multiplication, and in order to test Erik's memory and understanding, he wrote out simple problems. "Now then, child, using what I taught you, how would you solve this?"
Erik answered swiftly, not a moment's hesitation, not even a moment to ponder. "Eleven."
Godfrey hummed, "Very well, now this one," he wrote another, this time more complicated."
"Seventy-seven."
Godfrey was a bit stunned, fully taking in just how young Erik was, yet how smart he showed himself to be. "Without seeing the problem, tell me what fifty-five, multiplied by eighty-seven, divided by six, with the addition of seventeen, minus eight, split in half."
"Four-hundred-three, and a quarter."
Godfrey was simply astounded, as shown on his wrinkled, and roughly worn face; he could not help but look at the boy with an open mouth and a loss for words. "...Perhaps we move on to, calculus, and see how you fair."