Strolling through the city, Orin watched as people in the city preferred to have a permanent place, their own shops, instead of quickly put together stalls, covering the streets like in Aldrim. Sothing like this in an Atuvian city was only a possibility for the wealthier families. Those who had their own caravan businesses and connections. Yet here, it was the norm, and he had already realized that many of these shops were also functioning as the hos of those running them, with the second floor serving as their living space. His steps were taking him past one displaying books, their leather spines crafted masterfully, the titles of the books printed onto them in golden letters. He stopped there for a mont, marveling at the sheer variety available for people. Back ho, books were usually treasures, hoarded by the wealthy or the clergy operating in Atuvia. Here, they were stacked high, with signs advertising prices even a common laborer back ho could afford.
"Madam Lu...?" He mumbled, realizing that the books whose titles were printed in red signaled that they were for adults only. Then he noticed that people were readily buying them, which finally made him note down the most important conclusion. "Everyone is educated here..."
As a rchant and living in a country of traders, Atuvia's literacy was already high compared to other places. However, that didn't an everyone mastered the art of reading or calculus. Why should a worker who had to carry the shipnts from one end to the other be able to read more than he needed? He just had to recognize the letters and numbers he had been assigned to carry out his task. Sa with the rcenaries they usually hire. It was enough if their leader could read a letter; those others who died fighting bandits had to only know how to hack and slash.
"We must do sothing about it," Orin muttered, his eyes flashing. "I will need to speak about this with Dad. The people here are the worst custors!" He laughed, thinking about it, "They can read and count, countering our greatest advantage... Hopefully, not many of ours tried to swindle Avalonians, or Dad will have a bad ti tomorrow."
Thinking about it, Orin turned down a side street and found himself in what appeared to be a schoolyard. Children of all ages milled about, so playing gas in the snow, others clustering around a teacher who was drawing sothing on the ground into the snow. Orin paused for a little, watching. The teacher—a man with a thick coat and a thoughtful face—was explaining so kind of ga based on arithtic... Or was it a rhythm ga? Because, just as he thought about it, the children started hopping on the drawn squares while counting loudly.
“Are you lost?”
The voice startled Orin. He turned to see a younger boy, close to his age, perhaps fifteen, wearing a fluffy jacket and a colorful scarf wrapped tightly around his neck.
“No,” he answered quickly. “Just… curious. Is this a school?”
“The newest." The boy nodded. "We are big on teaching ourselves, and the Sovereign began introducing split schools, separating them into elentary and high school education. As we call it. I heard that there will be a third one, called university too, but that is for the brilliant ones!"
"I see... So... is this an...?"
"Elentary. It is always open because kids need a place to be if their parents are working. Also, every child has to go here until they’re at least fourteen. After that, it’s up to them. High school wasn't made mandatory anymore, but I know nobody who skipped it.” He grinned, "I just started there last year; it is the original school where the Pri Minister was the first teacher. Although he no longer holds regular classes, only a few ones at grand occasions, his duties are nurous, after all!"
"Incredible... Sorry to ask so many questions; it is just new to ! But please, tell ..." Orin frowned a little. “Even poor children must learn? How are they paying for the tutors?”
"Ahaha!" The boy laughed out after hearing him speak, making Orin further furrow his brows. “First, it's free. Second, poor children especially have to co here. That’s the point. How else are they supposed to make sothing of themselves?”
“That’s… different,” Orin murmured. Back ho, education was a privilege reserved for those who could afford the price of the few tutors available. The idea of teaching every child, regardless of their station, was almost an absurd idea. And yet, looking at these children, he couldn’t deny the logic. No wonder every Avalonian he saw was confident and capable. They would grow up to be sothing more than farmhands, dock workers, or rcenaries.
“It works,” the boy said as if reading his thoughts. “My dad’s a machinist now, driving the train that goes to the Silver Region and back. He grew up in a village with nothing. But he ca here, learned to read, and got a job at one of the factories building the train, and then... Well, he is now in charge of one. We’ve got a warm house, food, and everything we need, and I have already submitted my application to be an army chanic after school. Life is good here, Mister. You should consider becoming one of us.”
“That sounds… incredible.”
“It’s just Avalon." The boy shrugged. "Where are you from?”
“Atuvia,” Orin said, finally turning away from the schoolyard.
“Ah,” the boy expressed knowingly. "I did guess you were a foreigner; I just wasn't entirely sure of it. Well, I need to go. Although we have a winter break, I am still working to gain experience for my application! Take care!”
Before Orin could respond, the young man waved and jogged off, leaving him alone again. Orin watched him disappear and lingered only for a mont longer before continuing his exploration. The more he saw, the more he began to understand what made Avalon different. It wasn’t just the machines or the buildings... It was the people. They believed in sothing bigger than themselves, and they believed it firmly, even with a kind of fanaticism. Maybe Ishillia was like this once, and maybe Atuvia was too. Perhaps it can be again.
He passed another new-looking building, its doors swinging open to admit a woman clutching a sick child. Inside, he spotted people in priest-like, spotless uniforms moving quickly, their faces calm and focused. At first, he thought it was a church, but their white clothes were different. And he heard no praying. He was about to ask soone when he noticed the plaque next to the front entrance: House of Healing.
"Huh... a place where sick people can go to?" He muttered, trying to figure out the concept behind a hospital as he continued walking.
By the ti the sun began to set, Orin found himself before the most glorious building he had ever seen when he started following the steam rising to the skies in the distance. Its sides were decorated with heroic figures, statues, and depictions of the Sovereign and his machines of war, slaying monsters. Asking around, he found out it was a public bath. He couldn't stay his hand, not after realizing what it was for, and soon, he was in, buying a ticket for himself.
He even got a numbered locker where he could put his clothes and a warm, soft towel, and began wandering the insides, noticing the beautiful mosaic work depicting the Sovereign's wives in the different areas within the bathhouse. In the end, he ended up in the Mikan wing, soaking in hot water, right outside, watching the sunset and the slow snowfall beginning to co down on the city. The otherworldy, purplish, and orange sky was gorgeous as the sun ducked below the horizon. Then, looking up while sitting in the steaming bath, ca the snowfall, almost making him fall asleep while watching nature's beauty. It was... the most relaxing experience he had ever had.
When it was ti to leave, he didn't know how he got back ho, only returning to his thoughts when Alvor finally also arrived. His expression was unreadable as always, but he seed pleased. As they walked into the dining room, joining his father to have a late-night al, he couldn't help but speak up.
“Father, did you see the schools last ti?” he asked eagerly.
“Schools?" Alvor raised an eyebrow. "I did not. Why?”
“They teach every child,” Orin began, his excitent returning. “Every single one. And the libraries—anyone can use them. And they have a place for healing! It was so clean and organized. It’s no wonder they’re so advanced compared to us. They give everyone a chance to learn and grow. To live. To stay healthy! That’s why Avalon is the way it is. We must copy it!” For a mont, Alvor said nothing. Then he leaned back in his seat, his gaze thoughtful.
“That's why I brought you with . You’re young and observant, Orin. My and others' old minds are already conditioned to think in a certain way and see only what we want to perceive. Your eyes are still fresh, and that’s good. But rember: what works here may not work elsewhere. The League is not Avalon.”
“But it could be,” Orin said quietly.
“Ambition is a dangerous thing, son. Don’t forget that.” Alvor’s eyes narrowed. "Our League may fall apart if we start copying them one-to-one. But... We can see what we may take away from Avalon and implent it ourselves."
Orin fell silent, but his mind continued to race. He’d seen a glimpse of what was possible, and he couldn’t unsee it. For the first ti, he wondered if his father’s way—the old way—the sa that every Chairn was adhering to, was holding them back. Maybe Atuvia can't be changed just yet... but he can lay the foundations. He just needs allies. Young allies who can see it as he does.
...
....
......
"Are you preparing for tomorrow?" Sasha asked with a chuckle, entering our room and seeing read a report, sitting on the couch in front of the fireplace. My left thigh was the pillow for Leyla, while Arthur occupied the right. Of course, Lancelot wasn't about to stay out of it, so he climbed up to my lap as a solution.
"Not exactly." I answered quietly, "I just got myself an interesting report."
"Oh? What about?" she asked, gently sitting down next to us so as not to bother our kids, peeking at the papers.
"Paxon has caught sothing interesting."
"Krel's Toys..." She muttered, reading the report's opening title.
"We got soone who may not even realize what he had done."
"Sothing bad?" She asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at .
"Not at all! Quite the contrary." I chuckled, stroking my sleeping children's heads. "Keep on reading."
I let her go through it without interrupting her thoughts, watching as she pursed her lips, going back and forth and checking so of Minister Paxon's comnts within the report.
"He really did manage to create a walking toy?"
"Seems like it. I told them to bring one back for to see, but it turns out he is out of stock. He was noticed because of the request he submitted to the Ministry, asking for a loan to expand his business. When it reached Paxon's ear, he realized its importance and imdiately put together a survey to bring to . I already checked the toy, too."
"You said he had none."
"But Dorian did. He bought one, so I visited him to see it in action. It is a marvelous little thing."
"It is more than that, isn't it?" She chuckled, looking at the grin on my face. "Reproducing sothing at this scale... What do you think? Would Kraus and his team be capable of replicating it?"
"With the blueprints? Yes. Still, our dear Krel had done it alone because he wanted to make a great toy. Nobody seed to think anything about it until it reached Paxon's eyes, and he saw the opportunity. And the seriousness of the situation."
"Miniaturization," Sasha muttered, making nod my head. "You did tell that everything gets smaller as ti goes on."
"Usually. Now... I am not saying that what he did was replicating our chs at all, and he was selling Avalon's secrets. That would be simply impossible." I chortled, watching her thinking expression, "But his toys will surely inspire so other talented group wherever his toys end up."
"Will you stop him from selling them?"
"I don't know yet." I shrugged, leaning my head back, "I thought about it. I would reimburse him for the unfulfilled contracts and restrict him to only doing business with locals. On the other hand... his toys work via steam. I already sold tractors to Atuvia, so..."
"What they would gain from his toys is his craftsmanship. The insight on how to work it at that scale. Although they would still need proper tools... And they are struggling with creating a working copy of our tractors."
"That's why I don't know what to do with him. Haaah... I will ask the Ministers for their opinions. But first, I will et with Alvor tomorrow. Then, I intend to talk with our toymaker. Let us see how his head works... He made very curious about what kind of man he is."
Reviews
All reviews (0)