The young master ate to his heart's content. 'The food wasn't half bad here,' he thought to himself. However, it was still far in comparison to the things he could make. Feeling satisfied, he then turned to his other three to see their plates mostly cleaned. He wondered if they truly liked the cuisine or if they were just hungry. One of these days, he should definitely start teaching recipes to the chef. Maybe he could open a restaurant also.
Leaving the money with the small waiter, the group left the room. Jamie glanced once more at the palace in the distance and still felt like he was looking at the eyesore outside. This world was a strange one.
As they left the restaurant, watchful eyes of the customers down below peeked secretly and openly at them. Jamie almost felt like he was walking through a cafeteria on his first day in a teen-angst movie. Just like modern time, there was a topic being discussed and this young master really didn't to partake in it just yet.
According to the book, people's tongues were like lashings from a whip. They were able to attack at any moment even if someone wasn't doing anything. Jamie had to wonder if the author just loved stirring up conflict or if the people of this world just didn't have a natural filter. Even the aristocrats would get down and dirty from time to time while arguing. When reading, he counted at least five or so 'white glove' face smacks.
Now that he thinks about it, it really is for the best that he laid low, not that he was planning on sticking out in the first place... Well, not necessarily true. What person could travel through time with the 'will of God' - even if it was an accident - and not imagine themselves doing great things? His past life was bland, but it truly fit his style. Slow-paced, not rushed. The only things he didn't like was the constant lack of money and loneliness.
Now, he was surrounded by people and didn't have to worry about going hungry or water bills.
And it wasn't as if he wanted to do exactly be a mirror image of the other Jamie, stepping on the world whilst creating a harem and terrorizing young children. That seemed like too much time and effort, and well, tyrannical. He just wants to live a comfortable and peaceful life....
And maybe get rich in the process, help save his father, maybe stop the oncoming events that will possibly destroy the nation, save that poor villain....
Which reminded him, he definitely needed to write everything he remembered from the book before he forgets. He wasn't a genius. His memory retention was good but not great. It's been a while since he came to the world already. If it weren't for the fact that still had the book fresh in his mind before he died, he might have forgotten too many important things.
This place was his new life. He was definitely dead in his old world. The blood-chilling pain couldn't have been faked.
Leaving the restaurant and boarding the carriage, Jamie was feeling a little drained from the day, especially as he slowly fell into deeper into a food coma. The roads were a little bumpy; much better than the roads in the country, but they still made him jump in his seats every now and again. Handing him another pillow, Rina smiled. Seeing him this way, found her young master even more precious.
Jamie was valiantly fighting sleep when their journey home came to a screeching - or in this case, a neighing - halt.
The horses veered left, almost ramming into the pedestrians and street vendors. From the inside, Jamie jostled and shook. He could hear the screams of people outside. And in the midst of wishing for their safety, he had to wonder, 'Am I going to be prone to traffic accidents even in this world?'
Soon, the commotion ceased and the carriage crawled to a stop. Jamie looked out the window when Rina panicked, "Please stay inside, young master. It's dangerous! Let's wait for the guards to give a clear."
Jamie nodded at her suggestion. He certainly wasn't equipped with the ability to help at the moment. Still, he couldn't help but peek outside when a the sounds of fighting intertwined with a child's screams were heard.
They pierced Jamie's soul, frightening him to the core.
More than just wanting to know what was going on outside, Jamie didn't want to be one of those people who would get shot by a passing arrow while trying to sneak a glance outside, but the child's cries sounded painful until they went quiet.
More concern flowed from him. He peered through the small hole in the door. It was barely enough for him to make out what was happening outside. The ones to fight were three men seeming to be in servants clothing. They surrounded a small figure on the floor. The men were cursing foul language, spitting on and kicking the tiny ball. They had no qualms about their actions, as if their actions were unquestionable in broad daylight.
Gale stepped down from coachman's seat. His glint in his sword's sheathe was deterring to say the least. Jamie wanted to see what would happen next when he was again tugged back by Rina.
"Young master Sol! Please, wait patiently," the girl persuaded. Her actions and voice were gentle, but the crease between her brows said it all.
Jamie understood her worries. In the story, the original Jamie had been schemed and plotted against many times after being adopted by the General. The constant trouble and fights also became the General's biggest headache after the military situation at the boarder.
Although the situations were mostly the original Jamie's fault - who told him to go and provoke people at every turn - it still didn't change the fact that the enemies attempted insidious and stupid retaliations each time. For example, the original Jamie pulled a not too innocent prank on the son of another nobleman by putting itching powder in their boots. The son of a nobleman found out it was him and hired a group of thugs dressed as servants to beat him... wait a minute.
Jamie looked out the window and tried to get a good look at them men. Gale actually already cleaned them up, having them all sit in a neat and tidy row. This allowed for Jamie to get a closer look at their features.
The servant's clothes were old and faded. The knots at the waist weren't tied correctly. The men were unkempt, partly due to their chasing and fight, but it was also obvious that none have bathed in quite some time. These people weren't servants, they were thugs...
Jamie didn't think he'd be running into the work of that brat soon, but he honestly doubted he wouldn't be bothered after interrupting their plans. His eyes then wandered over to the small ball still laying on the floor. The child looked to be in pain, clutching his stomach... Jamie was worried. This child was obviously a beggar. If he's hurt there's no one who'd take care of him.
Feeling an odd sense of duty, as if some weird force was drawing him to do something, Jamie leapt out of the carriage and strode toward the child.
Rina was anxiously tugged on his sleeve again, a little more forcefully this time, tearing the fabric in the process. She didn't know why he was so interested in the situation. All she knew was that the ones outside were not good people. It's best that her delicate young master didn't get involved.
Jamie now didn't notice his slightly broken sleeve. Instead he hurriedly walked to the ball and squatted down. Trying not to frighten the child, he spoke with a gentle voice, "Are you hurt?" The child's breath hitched; he still laid in a fetal position, shrinking his neck and hiding his face with his small arms. Those arms were thinner than 'Soleil's', the poor orphan from the countryside. The child was probably as young those first two children who found him in the forest that day.
Jamie felt this weird pressing need to help this child, as if it was coming from his bones... no, his soul. This wasn't the normal feelings of pity or righteousness. He had to help him. He didn't understand why.
Jamie slowly reached out and touched the child's shoulder. The touch itself was as light as feather, but the electric shock flustered both of them. The child shrank more into himself and Jamie pulled his hand away.
Something was not right. Jamie looked closer and saw the child's head was covered in a cap, however, small strands of red peered through.
Red.
'Red tendrils of spun silk. Red, the locks of dragon's guilt.
Red like freshly spilled blood. Red, shade of young love
Red, the heat of dancing flames. Red the color of endless pain.'
Red, the color of the fallen. Red, the color of the villain.