To Adam’s dismay, Marcus was both better and worse than Abby. There were no stabbings, but there was definitely something wrong with the boy. He would have remembered back to when he was nine like Marcus, but he didn’t need to reminisce to know that they had nothing in common. Even after ending up in the orphanage Adam had been a rambunctious child, whereas Marcus seemed to be more akin to a golem. He never looked up from his task, working away with no stopping, no rest, and no complaint. It was only studying, but Adam had a hard time thinking of anytime he would have been able to sit still that long.

Martin had quickly led him back towards Abby’s room, but detored a bit before it for a different room. There was no response to his knocking, but Martin opened the door anyway. Gesturing Adam in ahead of him, the older man followed soon after. A brief cough was followed by, “Master Marcus, may I present your new nanny, Adam. Adam, Master Marcus.” What followed was complete silence.

While they waited for acknowledgement from the boy at the desk, Adam studied what he could see of him. Marcus seemed to have the same coloring as the duke, with a few changes. Unlike the duke’s suntouched skin, Marcus had the pale tone of a scholar, or prisoner. Furthermore, there was no evidence of the duke’s medium sized frame, leaving the boy thin and weedy looking. Add in that he was dressed wholly in black with ink stained fingers, and Marcus looked like a child scholar that was being held for ransom, or blackmail.

When no response was forthcoming, Adam stepped forward. He didn’t know what was driving him to approach the boy, but suspected that it had something to do with the System Assistance. He had the time to scan the desk, seeing it covered in papers, scrolls, and books. He had no idea what most of them were about, and several seemed to be in languages he didn’t understand. A tray sat on a small stand next to the desk; the food untouched. It helped to explain Marcus’ size.

Upon arrival at the desk Adam tucked around to Marcus’ side, grabbing the plate off of the tray as he did. Sweeping the book and papers that the younger boy was using aside, he plonked the plate right down in front of him.

“What do you think you are doing?” Marcus asked. He had obviously made the attempt to sound threatening and commanding, but it had failed miserably. His voice was as weak as his body, and just as intimidating. Which was to say not at all.

If Marcus failed to intimidate, Adam didn’t even try. Once more his voice came out in what he was already beginning to call his “mom” voice. “Making sure you eat, of course. You won’t learn if you don’t eat. Finish your food, and I’ll return your things.”

With the boy’s gaze turned from his studies, Adam was finally able to see his face. There was a good chance that Marcus had inherited his parent’s facial features, but his current near skeletal appearance hid it well. His skin was sunken in, emphasizing his cheekbones to the point they looked ready to tear their way free. The dark circles that people developed under their eyes with a lack of sleep had as good as swallowed his eyes, looking more like a mask than an ailment. The brown of his iris was fading, and the whites were yellowed like an old drunkard. All in all, Marcus appeared to be the most unhealthy person Adam had ever seen.

While Marcus wanted to engage in a staring contest or a dominance challenge, Adam breezed around him as though his interests didn’t matter. A twist of the wrist pulled the cover from the food, and wafted the scent directly into the younger boy’s face. With his attention and appetite captured, Marcus failed to resist the food any longer, falling on it like the starved wolf his appearance indicated he was. Distracted by his food, the boy missed Adam inspecting him, and checking his forehead for a temperature.

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When the final crumbs disappeared from the plate, Adam easily swept it aside and replaced it with the same books and papers he had originally stolen. Still confused as to who he was, and why he had interrupted him, Marcus simply stared. The older boy patted him on the shoulder as he strolled away, saying, “Now, back to your studying. I’ll bring some cookies by later to make sure you keep your energy up. Keep up the hard work!” He left a slightly less starving boy behind him blinking owlishly after him.

Outside the room, Adam set the food tray to the side for a servant to pick up later, then breezed away down the hallway again, Martin in his wake.

Martin was again at a loss for words. He knew the boy’s class would help him when dealing with the children, but he didn’t believe he yet had the skills to achieve the results he had. It was also difficult to imagine a skill that could change someone’s personality to the extremes that Adam had shown. There were concerns brewing in his heart, he just wasn’t sure who he was more concerned for: Adam, the duke, or his family. He would need time to resolve those concerns, but did not have it.

Putting it all aside for the moment, he called out to Adam. “Hold up.” When the Apprentice stopped, he rested a hand on his shoulder again. “I know there are things you aren’t telling me, but if you need to talk…” He trailed off, not entirely sure if he wanted to push that particular line of thought. He was loyal to the duke, but Adam reminded him of himself so many years ago. It was a tricky situation, so he avoided it for the time being. He sent a prayer to the gods, asking for a way out of the mess he had gotten himself into, but expected no response.

He pulled his hand back, then made a fist and bounced it on Adam’s shoulder. When the kid looked up, he smiled and said, “Come on. There’s more training to get to. Let’s see if you can finally hold a weapon long enough to hit me with it.”

Once the caravan had gotten out of the forest Martin had started trying to train Adam to fight with weapons, or at least better tactics. Not much had worked out the way he had planned. Each evening he had pulled Adam aside after dinner and tried to get him to use a weapon, and each evening, as soon as he tried to attack, the weapon would shoot out of his hand like a greased fish looking to escape. It was equal parts disastrous, dangerous, and humorous. And in Adam and Martin’s opinions, a worthy way to waste time. The Apprentice still needed to learn to fight better.

Ruefully, Adam shook his head. “Hey, I hit you with that hammer.”

Martin snorted. “Fine, hit me on purpose. Having a hammer fly out of your hand and land on my foot because your class won’t let you wield them doesn’t count.”

Adam sighed. “I guess that’s fair. I need to find someone to bring some cookies to the kids first, though.” He abruptly tossed an elbow Martin’s way, not that it had a better chance to hit than the weapons. “And stop calling me a nanny; it’s caretaker.”

“Call it whatever you want, you’re still a nanny.”

The man and the boy walked side by side down the hall, laughing about the oddities of Adam attempting to learn to fight with weapons and bickering about terminology.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Inside Adam’s mindscape Szellem was complaining. “Oh come on! He was just begging for the brat to be worse than his sister! Where’s the karma? The justice? The entertainment?”