That night, Anakin slept like a baby…quite literally.
Whether it was due to mental exhaustion, or as a result of his newfound infant status, Anakin didn’t know why he felt so tired. The latter explanation seduced his rationality, but, for some reason, he desisted from internalizing the thought.
Perhaps it was because his current scenario still seemed preposterous. It made a mockery of his logic.
He was suddenly a baby? But how?...and, more importantly, why? If there was even a why. One moment he was begging for his life, and the next, he’s suddenly trapped in the body of a newborn.
The change in circumstances was a complete 180, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. Reincarnation still presented itself as the most sensible explanation, but what if it was something else?
What if, instead, his former life as Anakin Ross was all a dream, an illusion he was forced to see. He attributed the source of his skeptic obstinacy to his notorious bad luck. It had haunted him his entire life, and he thought it highly improbable that he was lucky enough to be reincarnated.
Lucky enough to be presented with a second chance at living.
Surely, the odds of such a thing must be infinitesimally low? Or, what if it was not? What if reincarnation was something everyone experienced?
‘Nah, that can’t be right…’ Instinctively, he thought in protest, but upon deeper introspection he realized it was baseless. He had no proof to back up his claims; it was all speculation.
The knowledge on whether or not reincarnation was regular would shirk him; at least, for now. He couldn’t even move his hands without getting tired, so such universal secrets were way out of his reach.
‘Yeah, there’s no point thinking about it. Instead, I should analyze everything I’ve experienced so far. Let’s find some clues to understand my current situation.’
Subtly, his analytical side took over his subconscious, and within moments he was reviewing the memories from the day before. They were all still vivid, and welled ardent wonderment within the young boy’s heart.
He’d seen real magic!
Though, he realized that it was not his first clue. That accolade would have to go to the room, if that was what it was called in this world. Intuitively, he tilted his head and took in the portion of it that was visible to him, and, in the process, several signs that he had missed earlier now became apparent to him.
For one, he could see what seemed to be electric bulbs. That single finding contributed a big chunky piece to the puzzle. There was electricity, that was big.
Still, he continued to survey it. Since it was morning, everything was bright, and the large window’s natural lighting allowed him to internalize more.
‘This room is fucking huge. And, these decorations…do these people swim in money? It's obscenely lavish…’
The room was just that. From its elaborate, elegant wallpaper, to its plush, posh-looking furniture, the entire room was the embodiment of luxury. He swore he could see gold lining the furniture. Surely that must not be right. If so, that was disgusting…disgustingly wealthy.
Additionally, he was sure the architecture was Victorian. He’d seen enough movies and documentaries that overly romanticized the period to know.
He was sure just the room alone could pay his college tuition several times over. Christ, the thought was ridiculous. He had grown up rather humbly, so the exposure was something unfamiliar to him.
‘The next clue…Ah, yes, that was it…’
The next clue was his supposed new parents. Their mannerisms, accents, appearance, and attitudes. They all screamed ‘Noblesse Oblige’, or something similar to it. Another piece of the puzzle was found.
‘And the last piece of the puzzle….’
No, it was not magic. He did not even consider it to be part of the puzzle. Instead, it was their reactions. They behaved like parents who’d just seen their long lost child, and radiated expressions of immense relief. He’d watched enough families to distinguish it.
‘A plot to claim my life, perhaps?’
He immediately cooked up an explanation. It had no basis, but Anakin’s mind, devoid of optimism, pushed him to believe it. He wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case.
What exactly the plot was, he couldn’t tell you, though that did not hinder him from considering it a possibility.
‘That or disease. Disease seems more reasonable, given the historical ambience of this room. If my conjecture is correct, medicine should be backwards so it's likely.
But, that wouldn’t make sense. After all, there’s magic in this world. So, surely the disease could've been cured with it. Or, perhaps, I’m overestimating its capabilities? I know next to nothing about it…’
Regardless of what it was, it was the final piece to the puzzle, and now, Anakin had a solid idea of the kind of world he was in. At least, he hoped he did. Until he could explore it for himself, his suppositions would remain trapped within the realm of speculation.
‘I’ve reincarnated into a wealthy aristocratic family in some alternate reality. The world’s technology and knowledge level should parallel late 18th century to late 19th century Earth, which was the height of the Victorian Era. Late 19th century Earth is more likely, as the architecture is too similar.
Depending on the society’s history, culture and current status quo, magic may or may not be incorporated into everyday life. If it's hidden knowledge, I should not expect to see it integrated with the various faculties of knowledge. Though, judging by my supposed father’s casual usage of it, it’s likely this is not the case. Although, this is not nearly enough to conclude such.
Considering the fact that I seem to be a legitimate child of an aristocrat who can use magic, I should have some talent in it, so using it in the future should not be an issue —if talent is required to use it. If shit doesn’t go the way it usually does in novels, my life seems relatively straightforward.
Money is most certainly not a problem…no actually, it might be, depending on whether or not I have siblings. Also, it depends on the family’s succession laws. Hopefully, I’m the oldest boy. That way, I’m at least more likely to be heir, if the laws resemble anything remotely close to those employed by European nobility—assuming that’s the standard.’
Anakin continued to surmise, scrutinizing every detail he had observed to improve his conjecture.
‘What else?...Ah, yes, my parents seem to be passionately in love. I should definitely expect some siblings. Hopefully, no boys. That would mean no likely competitors. My plan is set then. Inherit the family’s estate, delve into magic, and live a lavish life. It sounds fucking amazing… ’
Unknowingly, he began to envision the future, regardless of how bleak it insisted on appearing. The thought ignited fervent curiosity within the baby’s mind, and the sudden surge of emotion set his abyssal spirit ablaze.
Magic…something that until now, seemed fictitious.
It was now within his grasp, and all he had to do was wait a few years…or wait, why did he have to wait a few years? What was stopping him from using it now?
The thought was like a tumor that quickly eroded his mind, consuming it in its entirety, and soon, he couldn’t get it out of his head. Within seconds, he had already made his decision.
“ABRACADABRA!” he outstretched his miniature hand, and squealed with great concentration.
…But, nothing happened. Anakin frowned.
‘Too generic, perhaps? Or, am I not putting enough intent into it? Fuck, I must look like an idiot right now. Whatever, let’s go more unique…’
He searched his memories for more magical words, assuming that chanting it would produce some effect. Within seconds, he found his next choice.
‘Aha! This ought to work…’
“ALAKAZAM!” He squealed, with even greater intent.
…Still, there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“BIBBIDI-BOBBIDI-BOO!”
…Still nothing.
“SHAZAM!”
Poot!
For a moment, he became ecstatic, of the impression that he had succeeded, but a minute later, his face contorted uglily, as a ghastly stench wafted through his nostrils. It seemed that he had indeed succeeded…succeeded in casting a baby’s signature spell.
The dreaded dirty diaper.
‘Christ, I’ve shit myself. I’ve fucking shit myself….’
Embarrassment? Sorrow? He didn’t even know what to feel. He tried to remain stationary, in hopes that he wouldn’t feel its texture, but became shocked to suddenly hear the familiar euphonious voice.
*“ Lively today, aren’t we?”* The woman peered over him and flashed her dazzling smile. For a moment, Anakin froze.
‘The fuck?! When did she get here? Did she see all of it?’
His cheeks immediately reddened, and to the woman, he suddenly became even more adorable. With gentle arms, she lifted him out from his crib, and hoisted him in the air.
*“Arlo, my angel, you look so adorable!”* The affection in her tone was obvious, but once she got a whiff of the foul smell, she broke out into a chuckle, * “ Tsk, tsk. It seems you’ve dirtied yourself, Arlo. You’re already making your mother work…let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”*
She beamed and carried Arlo towards the room's door. The boy in question was completely beet red by now, imagining the experience of getting his diapers changed. The thought was frightful, but he inwardly braced himself for the dreadful experience.
‘..I guess there’s a first for everything….’ he wryly consoled himself, jittery at the series of events that had just unfolded.
✵ ✵ ✵
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Meanwhile, in another room within the grandiloquent Aldritch Manor, the man Anakin had assumed to be his father was seated in a high-backed, ornately carved study chair.
His expression was wistful, and in front of him—on a large mahogany desk matching the ornate carvings of the chair—lay a stack of neatly ordered documents.
In one hand, he held a fancy-looking fountain pen, while in the other, a piece of parchment was glued, one which he seemed to be viewing fixedly.
‘It appears the undertaking will cost a lot more than I initially anticipated…’
He had… miscalculated. The actual proposed expenditure was at least thirty percent greater than his initial estimates, and this presented a slight problem.
It wasn’t about the money. No, he could easily cover the costs without putting a dent in House Aldritch’s coffers. The problem was more about conspicuousness. There was a limit to how much he could personally fund it.
For now, he wished to maintain a low profile and draw as little attention to himself as possible. It was crucial for his plans, after all. Blindly financing the project would, undoubtedly, rouse suspicions, and for the current him, that was bad. Already, many were wary of him.
‘It's no matter, though. The solution to this problem is easy.’
A playful smirk crept up his face, and he began twiddling his fountain pen as though amused. The solution to the problem was simple, and it paraded itself within his mind.
‘The criminal underworld…’
It was the quickest, and easiest way to gather the extra funds. Simply put, it was expedient, and he’d had his eye on it for quite some time too. It seemed now was the perfect time to dip his fingers into it.
The idea was that through it, the project would be able to sustain itself, potentially without him funding it at all. Though, he’d need a pawn that would handle it on his behalf. A scapegoat on whom to push the blame to in the event of a backfire.
‘The Sanguine Lions?’
A potential pawn emerged in his mind. They were a gang of hoodlums that had gained some notoriety recently. Using them was a seductive option.
It could stifle their growth, and potentially stop them from becoming too powerful. There were already enough organizations like that.
‘No…Hah, Adgar, when did you become so cheap?’
He inwardly mocked himself upon realization. The Sanguine Lions were a good option, but there was a better one, and using them would be akin to killing two birds with one stone. It was an option that simply begged to be picked.
‘House Lytton, it’s time to pay your debts… ’
With his smirk turning sinister, he decided on the perfect scapegoat. Lately, the House had become a thorn in his side. They had become a little too imperious for his liking. It seemed a little economic and political success had gotten to their heads, and caused their rationality to fly out the window.
Not only were they seeking to move out of his sphere of influence, but they were also slowly challenging his economic authority. It was subtle—as subtle as slowly gaining significant amounts of equity in his rival corporations— but it could not escape his ‘all-seeing’ eyes.
Unknowingly, they had signed their death warrant, and only had themselves to blame.
‘And that’s the end of that…’
Inwardly, he jeered at it all. Playing god with the lives of powerful organizations and families filled him with satisfaction like no other. It had become his hobby, and he was sure it would never get old.
It was all too easy, after all. With one word, he could change the fate of millions, and the influence he held was immense. Few could say no to the Duke of Athanor, and Head of House Aldritch.
‘I wonder if they’re awake…probably, since it's already 10am.’
Earlier he had left his sleeping wife and newborn son to sort out a few things, and now, they suddenly invaded his mind, stuffing his heart with boundless glee.
Glee…it was an emotion the previously alexithymic him was a stranger to. Those days seemed distant now, and he was glad they were. Vittoria had torched them into oblivion.
The mere thought of it elicited a broad smile on his face. ‘Love changes everything.’ His father had always told him, and for the longest time, the meaning of the phrase eluded him. Though now, he was sure he understood it.
Knock, knock, knock…
Suddenly, soft rapping sounds permeated the air, and instinctively, his mouth opened in response. It was about time he showed up.
“You may come in.”
There was an audible click, and the next moment, the large foreboding doors of his study parted to reveal a tall, aged figure donning a well-tailored black suit with a high-collared white shirt and a neatly knotted tie.
The figure’s face was visibly wrinkled, though his spirited steel blue eyes gave the impression that his appearance was but an illusion. His silver hair was parted down the middle, and neatly combed, and his composed posture emanated wisdom and authority.
The figure walked a few steps, before gently shutting the doors behind him.
“Good morning, Your Grace.” his fruity, gruff voice rang through the air the moment the door closed, and Adgar’s smile visibly faded.
“Good morning, Edward. How was your night?” he responded. In a tone that would seem ambiguous to many.
Edward smiled, unfazed, “It was brilliant, sir. How was yours?”
“What do you think?” Adgar deflected the question with another, and his eyes inspected Edward scrupulously.
Edward’s smile persisted, and his demeanor remained unperturbed. He knew perfectly well what Adgar was playing at. It was a test…a rather annoying one in his opinion. Often, he’d wondered when his Lord would cease administering it.
It seemed like that day would not be anytime soon.
Composed, he calmly replied, “Though it was faintly discernible, your welcoming tone was slightly high-pitched. Your legs are crossed, and your eyes, sharp….two signs that you’re relaxed. Lastly, you remembered to test me, so your mind is clear, and your mood stellar.”
His lips curled, “Judging from all of that, I’d say you had one hell of a night.”
‘Concise, and accurate….countenance as calm as stagnant water… same aether signature…It’s him alright…full marks.’
Adgar grinned, “It seems you’re still as keen as ever.” he pointed to one of the two seats in front of his desk. “Come, have a seat. It’s been quite some time since I last saw you.”
His first statement was a warning disguised as praise, and Edward knew this well. Had he been any less observant, his job would have potentially been at stake and that was the last thing he wanted.
Uncanny acumen and perception were a must for House Aldritch’s Head Butler, and any less was a recipe for disaster.
Edward’s gait was relaxed, and soon, he was seated opposite Adgar. “Indeed sir, it has. Two weeks, to be precise.”
The duration did not come as a surprise to Adgar. It was within his expectations. He hummed and reached for his desk drawer, before taking out an antique, fancy-looking wooden cigar box.
“Care for one?” he offered Edward, as he took out a cigar for himself.
“No thank you, Your Grace.” the old man chuckled, and Adgar merely shrugged and returned the box to its original location.
“Does Lady Vittoria know you still smoke?” Edward asked with a knowing smirk, and Adgar flinched slightly in response.
“No…she doesn’t.” he sheepishly admitted. Smoking was one of his old habits that she vehemently detested. He’d already promised her he'd stop, but…
“I figured.” Edward laughed. “I guess it’ll be our little secret.” he added, and Adgar laughed along with him.
“Old habits die hard…”
“True that.” Edward agreed. He too had his own fair share of old habits.
There was a tacit understanding between them, so no extra words were needed. It had always been like that, even when Adgar was little.
Edward wouldn’t divulge the information even if he were coerced. After all, if Lady Vittoria found out about it, he’d be in more trouble than Adgar…
Adgar grabbed a cutter from another drawer and cut the end of the cigar. Then, with a snap, a bright red magic circle materialized around his arm and a small flame sprouted from his index finger.
“So…” he finally got to business, lighting the end of the cigar and placing it into his mouth, “Were you able to get it done?”
Edward’s expression visibly turned serious, “Yes, I did… albeit barely.” he confessed and Adgar simply puffed the smoke he’d inhaled in response.
Again, Edward’s answer spared him astonishment. He had calculated the outcome even before assigning him the task.
Edward continued, “I managed to capture him alive. It was quite the hassle, in all honesty. I’ve never seen magic as powerful as that. It brought me to the verge of insanity…combating it was truly onerous.”
The terror in his tone was apparent, but Adgar remained unfazed.
“I see.” he mumbled, puffing out another smoke cloud. “So where is he?”
“The torture cellars.”
Adgar’s eyebrows lifted, “You brought him here?”
“Yes, Your Grace. It was the safest option.”
“You’re right.”
Edward was right indeed. Putting him anywhere else was too risky. Adgar knew this, but still insisted on possibly finding another location to house the target. In general, he preferred conducting his business as far away from his home as possible.
His family lived here, after all, and the last thing he wanted was for them to get embroiled in his mess. His mother, Vittoria, and now, Arlo. He couldn’t allow harm to befall any of them. He’d never be able to forgive himself should that happen.
Adgar sighed, puffed out another cloud of smoke, and placed his cigar on the ashtray near him.
“Ensure my mother and wife learn nothing of this.” his tone was stern, and Edward nodded.
“Understood, Your Grace.”
“Good. We’ll deal with him today, but before that, take a look at this. It’s the second reason I summoned you this morning.”
He picked out a document from the neatly-arranged stack and slid it into Edward’s view, and the old man’s eyes darted to it.
[PROJECT NOVUS: ARLO ALDRITCH]
Edward’s eyes visibly widened, and his jaw dropped slightly, “The Young Master survived?” he inquired, with an incredulous expression.
Adgar smiled, “Indeed, the little warrior did.”
Edward’s expression turned even more astonished, “...But how? They said he’d live at most a week.”
“We don’t know yet.” Adgar’s smile grayed, “I would like to call it fortune, but I don’t believe in luck. I’ve already sent for the family physician. Perhaps when he inspects him, we’ll have a better idea of what happened.”
“I see..” Edward muttered, but his expression didn’t change. He picked up the document, and inspected its contents.
It was a document detailing Arlo’s upbringing. From his education, to his physical training, daily schedule, etiquette, and nutrition. The document covered it all.
“Her Ladyship is to be governess?” Edward’s eyebrows raised, noticing that specific detail. It was unusual for noblewomen to personally oversee their child’s nursing. At least, for the first few years.
“She insisted.” Adgar explained, “You know how she is. When she wants something, no one can stop her. Not even the devil.”
Edward nodded. He knew this very well. The memory of his near-death encounter with her was still fresh in his mind…he barely escaped. No… she let him escape, now that he thought about it. Probably to draw Adgar out.
“I’m surprised that was the first thing you pointed out.” Adgar then said, and Edward smiled, knowing what he was referring to.
“So, what do you think? Are you up for it?” Adgar then asked, shooting Edward an intent look.
“Absolutely. It’d be my honor.” Edward immediately replied, putting his enthusiasm on full display. He’d been appointed as the Young Master’s Tutor. It was something he hadn’t expected.
After all, it was Aldritch family tradition for the Head of the House to tutor its young males. He was sure he was probably the first exception in a hundred years.
“Can I ask why?”
Edward gave Adgar a curious look, and the latter smiled faintly.
“You already know why, yet you ask. It seems your old habits run even deeper than mine. Father’s dead, so cease it at once.”
He’d been caught. By asking, he was trying to pry into his liege’s mental state to understand why he was so hell-bent on executing that undertaking. It was the reason, after all.
The undertaking was too grim. It would result in the loss of several millions of lives, and that was too much, even for someone like him who’d done a multitude of unspeakable things.
Adgar Aldritch was sinister. That was something everyone knew; even his parents. His Dad was the one who’d instructed him to keep an eye on him, and now, it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so.
"Understood, Your Grace.”