Chapter 135: Off to the Parliamentary Library

Clark quickly greeted, "Uncle."

Geoffrey looked at him, his eyes filled with complexity. "You used to call me Dad when you were younger."

Clark paused. It was true; he used to call him that, but after his younger brother was born, Grandmother had ordered him to stop and refer to Geoffrey as "Uncle" instead.

"Don't want to call me that anymore?" Geoffrey asked, his voice calm but carrying an underlying weight.

Clark hurriedly explained, "No... it's not like that." He felt nervous, but his grandmother had given a strict order.

Geoffrey understood the boy's dilemma, so he didn't press further. "Fine, if you don't want to call me Father, you can still call me Uncle."

Clark felt conflicted. It wasn't that he didn't want to; it was just that he had grown used to calling him "Uncle." When Geoffrey had raised the idea of being called "Father" again, Clark couldn't help but feel grateful, but also struggled with the difficulty of saying it.

"Please, sit down," Clark stammered.

Geoffrey, with a calm gesture, sat down and tapped the table. "Sit down, I have something to ask you."

Clark obeyed, though he felt nervous. It was always hard for him to be in Geoffrey's presence; the man had always seemed so imposing, so out of reach.

Geoffrey regarded him for a moment. Clark reminded him so much of his younger self. The only difference was that when Geoffrey had joined the military, his mother hadn't objected. Looking back, maybe she didn't think much of his talents and figured he would never amount to much in the army. But Geoffrey had worked his way up, eventually being appointed a general, solidifying his career. However, his mother's smiles had grown fewer with each passing year.

"Make sure you do well in the Parliamentary Library. Learn, work hard," Geoffrey spoke briefly, his words less verbose than his expectations.

Clark, moved by his words, felt his throat tighten. "Understood."

"Tomorrow, you'll move to Lamgett Manor," Geoffrey continued.

Lamgett Manor was close to Geoffrey's study, just a wall separating them. Geoffrey mostly stayed in his study these days, and his decision to support Clark with such an action spoke volumes.

"Yes," Clark replied, not knowing what else to say.

Geoffrey had intended to discuss the events of the night, but something held him back. Perhaps it was because the atmosphere felt right, and bringing up such matters would only ruin it.

Instead, Clark asked, "How's Braden?"

Harlan, standing nearby, added, "Don't dwell on what happened tonight. Forget what needs to be forgotten, and remember what needs to be remembered."

"Yes, thank you for your advice, Harlan," Clark replied, respect clear in his tone.

Geoffrey stood up. "Get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll arrange for a carriage to take you."

Clark stood, bowing slightly as Geoffrey turned to leave. "Goodbye…" he murmured, but the words "Father" still remained trapped in his throat.

The next morning, the Duke's estate bustled with activity. Three carriages were being prepared: one for Clark to go to the Parliamentary Library, one for Geoffrey, Prudence, Vance, and Priscilla to head to the magistrate's office, and one for Isolde to inspect the shops.

Clark's mood was tense. The Parliamentary Library was a prestigious place, the starting point for many influential people in the Eryndral Empire. Although it seemed like a humble beginning, it was a place that could elevate someone to great heights; a place scholars from all over the country aspired to enter.

As the carriage neared Peace Street, they encountered a commotion. People had gathered, blocking the path. Clark pulled back the curtain, anxious to see what was happening, but the human wall blocked his view. He turned to Cooper. "Find out what's going on."

Cooper squeezed through the crowd and returned with the news. "Sir, a little beggar has been beaten badly. There's blood everywhere. He might die soon."

Clark froze. "Why hasn't anyone taken him to the medical center?"

Cooper shook his head. "Who would take a beggar to the medical center? Even if they did, no doctor would treat him without money."

Clark immediately dismounted and pushed his way through the crowd. He saw the beggar lying on the road, his head bleeding, his body shaking in convulsions. His eyes were wide, pleading, but the words coming from his mouth were incomprehensible, sounding more like a dialect from a distant village.

"Cooper, help me," Clark called out.

Cooper hesitated. "Sir, it's your first day at the Parliamentary Library. You can't afford to be late."

"Get him on the carriage, and you take him to the medical center. It's not far. I'll walk there."

Cooper, in a panic, shook his head. "It may seem close, but it's too far to walk. You'll be late, and that's more important. Your future is at stake."

Clark hesitated, looking at the dying beggar, his heart torn. The crowd murmured around him, some staring with curiosity, while others hesitated to help, likely afraid he wouldn't pay the medical fee.

Clark, feeling the pressure, finally spoke up, "I'll pay the medical fee. Does anyone here want to take him to the clinic?"

But no one responded. The crowd only looked at him in astonishment.

"This is a life! How can you ignore it?" Clark pleaded, his voice desperate.

At that moment, a carriage stopped nearby, and a middle-aged scholar dressed in fine day clothes walked over, observing the scene before looking at Clark and saying, "You were going to save him?"

Clark, seeing someone step forward, bowed and said, "Sir, could you please take him to the medical center? I'll pay the fee."

The scholar sneered. "He's a beggar. What good is saving him? Once he's healed, he won't have the money to repay you."

"It doesn't matter," Clark insisted. "Please, this is a human life!"

The scholar scoffed. "A beggar's life isn't worth much."

Clark's anger flared, but he held his composure. The crowd watched him like he was an oddity. Some seemed ready to step forward but were hesitant, fearing he wouldn't pay them back.

Determined, Clark spoke again. "Forget about the money. Cooper, help me lift him."

Without waiting for a response, Clark tore a handkerchief from his sleeve, pressed it to the wound, and tried to stop the bleeding. Cooper, seeing that Clark had made up his mind, joined him, and together they carried the beggar onto the carriage.

The carriage moved off, and Clark's focus was entirely on the beggar, the possibility of missing his appointment weighing heavily on his mind. He knew his future was uncertain, but he refused to let a life slip away because of bureaucracy.