Morning. Arthur walked through Main Street, reviewing the morning flow. The stalls were open. The merchants were calling. The wagons were rolling. Everything was normal.
Then he noticed something unusual.
Children. Dozens of them. Scattered throughout the city, not in classrooms or workshops, but in the streets. Some helped their parents at market stalls. Some carried water from the well. Some simply played, chasing each other between the legs of adults who barely noticed them.
One little boy sat near the warehouse row, counting crates on his fingers. He was young—maybe seven or eight—his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips moving silently as he tallied each wooden box.
Arthur stopped. Watched.
The boy counted to seventeen. Lost his place. Started again.
A merchant nearby laughed. "If that boy learns numbers properly, he'll replace me."
Arthur turned to the merchant. "Does he attend school?"
The merchant scratched his head. "School?"
Long pause.
"No."
