The air of Merchant’s District was completely different from the ones in the places of the city Elmer had been to. If he was to describe it, he would say it had a choking feeling. Not one caused by a pungent or rotten smell like the one in the Backwaters, but one that had come to be because of the murky factory smokes that filled the area.

The clouds were black and thick as though rain was about to fall onto the world, but no downpour came despite how long they lingered.

Moving around the streets, pushing, pulling, or carrying loads, were poorly dressed factory workers, which consisted of grownups and children alike. They were haggard and looked tired, but they went on with their work regardless.

In the alleyways sat people with little difference from the factory workers. These ones had the conduct of beggars and they looked sickly. Even in the Backwaters, Elmer had not seen such—that place was basically empty to be fair.

One place or another on the streets, as the steam car he was seated within rode past, Elmer would glimpse nothing less than a few couple of kids no older than Mabel, all dressed in patchworked clothes. They were running about scatteredly from the guards that chased them while shouting and screaming threats as they swung their truncheons.

The children had one thing in common, or in truth they had a lot in common, and the little he took notice of was the hot bread in their hands and the swollen bags beneath their eyes. They had stolen from a bread factory, probably one they had been working at.

Was this how he would end up one day? He did not have a very good paying job, and he was just lucky that he had outran the ostrich-lady to come before this doctor, if not he would probably have returned home penniless and hungry, starving Mabel in the process.

Elmer closed his eyes and shook his head, trying his best to free himself from such disheartening thoughts. There was no way he would let himself remain this way, he had to push his limits for his sister.

He curled his fists in determination, and breathed out a deep exhale. But still…

“This place looks worse than the slums,” he muttered in something akin to a whisper, but the interior of the car was so quiet that his words had not been kept all to himself.

“It is,” the doctor who had employed his services put in.

Elmer turned to the man whose eyes were still firmly placed on the newspaper he had bought a while back before they had entered into the Merchant’s District.

The doctor turned a leaf over, his dark-brown hair shuffling as he moved his head toward the new page that had presented itself.

“The factories are here, the work is here. This place is more of a home for your kind than the slums, seeing as they spend more of their time here.”

Your kind…? The hierarchy again…

Elemer’s face almost squeezed so he had to turn back to gaze at the streets in order to keep that from happening.

“Where exactly are we headed, good sir?” Despite his little angered heart, Elmer still kept his polite tone toward his employer.

“To get the leeches, as you already know.” Elmer heard the ruffles of the newspaper again and he figured another leaf had been flipped.

“I do, good sir, but this place does not look like where we can get leeches,” Elmer said. “Leeches are found in places with water. I believe the docks of this city would have been a better place, probably.”

The flat cap of a boy, who looked to be no older than six or seven, fell onto the road as their steam car drove past him. Elmer leaned closer to the window to glimpse the boy getting caught by the factory guard that had been chasing him, all because he had stopped to pick up his cap.

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The guard forcefully pulled open the boy's vest, ridding it of all its buttons, and within it were little crumbs of bread split apart in the different openings of the vest.

They could not let him go for some crumbs…? Elmer felt a distaste sour his tongue.

Meadbray looked to be far better than the city now that he was here. No one would have queried a boy of six to this extent because of some crumbs of bread. If only it had a lot of working opportunities, everyone would have preferred to stay there.

“And you’re right,” the doctor’s reply pulled Elmer abruptly from his outside gaze, and back into the car. “But the docks take the Northern road which is very far away from the train station. There’s an abandoned pond nearby here, that’s where we’re headed.”

Elmer nodded, satisfied.

It did not take much longer before they arrived in front of a large gate woven fancily with wrought iron bars.

Beside the gate stood a pair of white brick pillars which were both engraved with the circular crest of an exquisite number-less clock which had its sole hand pointing upward, and beneath it words that read: Hugh Atkinson’s Fish Pond.

Out of the guard shack at the edge of the left pillar approached a young man dressed in a dark brown buttoned-up frock coat, with a bowler hat seated atop his head. He wore white gloves and held a truncheon.

“This place is off limits.” The guard stopped before the steam car and continuously slammed the truncheon he held into his palm gently, as if to intimidate the car driver.

“Here,” the doctor called the guard’s attention as he finally put down his newspaper.

The guard leaned closer to see who called. It took a few seconds and a little creasing of his eyebrows, but it came nonetheless.

He suddenly bounced back in shock, tightened his fingers, and flung a salute toward his forehead.

“Forgive my ignorance, sir,” the guard voiced strongly, so much that even the car driver flinched and had a face of inquiry as to why he had begun to act in such a way. Elmer was no different.

“Forgiven,” the doctor said. “Now let us through.”

“As you wish.” The guard scurried away from the side of the car to pull the gate open, allowing the still confused driver to take the car through.

For an area with an abandoned pond, it looked quite expensive and well taken care of. The grasses surrounding the property were still green and seemed to have been trimmed recently, giving the area an ambience that would be befitting for none other than someone with a great standing in society.

But none of that was what concerned Elmer now. He was curious as to who his employer was, and he had never been one to shy away from questioning.

“You seem quite respected, sir. Who are you exactly?” From the edge of his glasses, Elmer espied the car driver glance back for a split second. It seemed he had asked a question for two.

The doctor laughed softly as he placed one hand over his half top hat which was placed in between him and Elmer on the cushion. “When asking who someone is, isn’t it polite that you introduce yourself first?”

“Oh.” Elmer gasped softly, then took off his ivy cap and placed it over his chest as he made known to his employer who he was, “I’m Elmer Hills, sir, and I just moved into this city from Meadbray in the countryside. It’s my pleasure meeting your acquaintance.” He bowed after narrating his words as politely as he had been taught to do by the all-knowing Pip.

The bronze skinned doctor chuckled. “Name’s Eli Atkinson. It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Make your acquaintance”? I said it wrong…? Pip…

Elmer raised his head up as the car suddenly shook slightly. It was as though they had found their way onto a gallop, but there had been none as far as he had seen. The driver had just mishandled his steering for a moment, probably.

“You still don’t understand?” the doctor, Eli Atkinson, asked with a slightly curious tilt of his head at Elmer’s plain face.

“I don’t—” Elmer was about to make known his ignorance, but the car driver had had enough.

He cleared his throat and interrupted with a vaguely peeved voice, “He’s the son of Magistrate Wylie, boy. How do you still not understand?”

Magistrate…? Elmer still had his ignorance for a second, before he finally realized. Magistrate…?! As in the leader of a city…?! He fell dumbfounded at once.