Grievous moved to the side of the bed and quietly placed his hand on the child's simple head. The room was still shrouded in the soft gray light of dawn, dust motes drifting lazily through the air. He whispered, speaking not only aloud but also sending a mental command. "Wake up, boy."
The moment Grievous' hand touched the child's head, Edmund's small body trembled visibly, a shiver running down his spine. For a heartbeat, his limbs seemed uncertain, as if caught between sleep and waking. Then, he steadied himself with surprising calmness and slowly pushed himself upright.
A sleepy voice drifted from the boy as he rubbed his eyes with a small fist. "Dad, can sleep I little more?"
"You must wake up and learn, Edmund," Grievous replied with a firm voice that left no room for argument. His tone was gentle but resolute.
Edmund opened his eyes wide, only to squint and close them again quickly as he adjusted to the sunlight creeping through the curtains. "Okay, Father," he said impatiently, as if eager to be done with the morning ritual.
Grievous calmly turned his back to the boy and said, "Come on, follow me. I will take you to the study room and introduce you to the place where the teachers will come to you from this afternoon."
The child let out a simple obedient sound, a small breath of acceptance. He jumped out of the wide bed with surprising agility, his bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. Quietly, he slipped on his new shoes, a small pair of polished leather that still felt unfamiliar, and began to follow Grievous.
'I have already given orders to the butler to write to the private tutors to prepare Edmund's appointments,' Grievous thought as they moved through the luxurious corridors. The walls were lined with paintings of past ancestors and grand landscapes, the air thick with the scent of old wood and polished stone.
'I basically told him to have Mrs. McCarthy come over today at noon. As the basis of any science is language, and he is not like me. I got language and its rules straight into my mind. The boy will need a different approach.'
The corridors seemed endless, stretching ahead with grand arches and intricate mosaics. The sunlight filtered through tall stained-glass windows, casting colorful patterns onto the floor. Edmund's small footsteps echoed softly behind Grievous' measured cane taps.
Quietly, the two arrived in front of a wooden door painted in pious white and decorated with artistic lines of bright red. The door carried the insignia of the House of Grievous.
Grievous pushed it open smoothly, the hinges barely making a sound, and he and the child stepped inside.
The room was literally gigantic.
On the four walls, towering bookshelves stretched up toward the ceiling, filled and divided meticulously with all non-magical sciences. Volumes of history, mathematics, philosophy, natural sciences, and the rudiments of engineering lined the shelves. Each book seemed to hum with knowledge, waiting patiently to be opened.
In the middle of the room was a circular table crafted from grey-colored wood. Its surface was polished to a soft sheen, reflecting the golden morning light. Four luxurious chairs rested quietly around it, their cushions embroidered with the same red and white motifs as the door.
Edmund looked around, his wide eyes reflecting awe and surprise at the sheer number of books before him. In the false memories that had haunted his dreams, his mother had owned only one book. It was a simple children's story, a gift from Grievous himself before he had left them.
He swallowed softly, his small voice barely audible as he asked, "I can read this all later when learn I the language?"
Grievous nodded, recognizing the child's imperfect words and grammar instantly. The boy's mind was still tangled in the unfamiliar syntax of Brazi, the kingdom's language. "Today at noon, language lessons will begin, and you will learn the language of the kingdom, which is Brazi."
Edmund nodded obediently, the seriousness of the moment settling on his young face. Then Grievous said, "Then let's go and have breakfast. It's almost time."
The boy's gaze lingered on the bookshelves for a moment longer before he quietly moved after Grievous. They closed the door gently behind them and began to head toward the family's main dining room.
The halls were quieter now as the household slowly woke. Servants moved silently in the distance, their footsteps muffled by thick rugs and tapestries. Grievous' cane tapped steadily on the covered floor, each step deliberate and measured.
'I will increase his comprehension during study time,' Grievous thought, his mind already working through strategies. 'So that he can finish the matter quickly and not take long years to learn important things.'
He imagined the boy's progress, the slow but steady climb from confusion to mastery. Edmund's mind was sharp, but untamed, as if it was a wild horse needing guidance and discipline.
The scent of fresh bread and brewed tea wafted from the dining room as they entered. The table was already set, gleaming silverware arranged with precise order. Morning light spilled through the large windows, illuminating the polished wooden surfaces and the delicate china cups.
The two entered the room quietly, careful not to disturb the calm atmosphere that hung like a gentle mist over the place.
The rest of the family sat in their chairs around the long table, which was covered with a clean white tablecloth that gleamed softly under the warm light. The scent of fresh bread and herbs lingered faintly, mingling with the subtle aroma of polished wood and aged leather.
Grievous' brother glanced at him and Edmund with a smile that reached his eyes, warm and genuine. "You have come!" he said happily, as though the arrival they had all awaited had finally materialized.
Edmund's small feet pattered eagerly across the floor as he ran to his uncle. His face lit up with pure joy, and he stretched out his hand. "Uncle Ziono, Uncle Ziono," he called out, his voice bright and full of excitement.
Ziono rose swiftly from his chair, his figure tall and commanding despite the softness in his expression. He scooped Edmund into his arms, lifting him high into the air and moving him gently back and forth. "It's Edmund!" he exclaimed with a laugh that filled the room with warmth.
Grievous watched the scene unfold, a quiet satisfaction settling deep within him. 'Without a doubt, manipulating their memories to make them compatible and even actually meet was the right choice,' he thought, his gaze lingering on the tender interaction. 'This will save a lot of effort.'
And as he saw his own reflection in the polished surface of a nearby table reminded him that he now shared the body of a man barely twenty-one.
With steady steps, he moved forward and took a seat at the table. His eyes met those of his parents, and he nodded in acknowledgment.
Ziono, having returned to his chair after placing Edmund down, spoke with a hint of relief. "Fortunately, you came before the food was served."
Grievous nodded quietly in response, emitting a low hum of agreement. 'Their individual thoughts still exist,' he thought silently, 'but my orders and manipulations have affected them greatly. For now, they are acting normally according to the new memories.'
The conversation around the table was light and easy, filled with gentle laughter and the soft clinking of cutlery against plates.
The family exchanged stories and updates, the familiar cadence of voices weaving a comforting art of belonging.
Lord Hyde muttered under his breath, his calm demeanour as usual, "Recently, there seems to be a stirring within the halls of Nobility."
He kept silent for a couple of seconds, the words hanging in the air within the seized sound of cutlery.
Finally Lord Hyde said, "The Queen Mother looks to be in preparation to ascend!!!"
Lady Hyde's face became ugly as the name was uttered, then word seemed to escape her mouth, uncontrolled. "But hasn't she said that it'll be another 200 years before such a thing would be said?"
Her husband shrugged, his face pale and seemed to hung there like a mummy creeping though its sarcophagus. "Well, what is a small family like us do..."
Finally silence filled the air with tension, alone Ed was eating like normal.
Grievous' mind was thinking of all that was said as he understood that the matter was going to effect him greatly, ' Power and power alone is what matters in such a world...'
Time passed with hurry, the evening stretching out peacefully.
Once the meal had ended and the last crumbs cleared away, Grievous gathered Edmund by the hand. Together, they left the dining room and made their way to the home gym.
The gym was a space often frequented by Grievous' older brother, filled with machines and weights. As Grievous looked around, his mind quickly assessed the equipment. 'It simply depends on the range of motion and free weights through little mechanics. It works,' he thought approvingly.
Edmund's wide eyes scanned the room with curiosity. "Are we here, why father?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with wonder.
Grievous returned a warm smile, the kind that wrapped around the child like a protective cloak. "We must make your body stronger, Edmund." Inside, he added quietly, 'So do I.'
The boy's gaze settled on the weights arranged neatly on a rack. He pointed at them with a small finger and asked, "Does you use them how?"
Grievous rolled up the sleeve of his simple blue shirt, revealing lean muscles only obtained by his cultivation. He reached for the weights, each one weighing fifteen kilograms, feeling their familiar cold metal against his skin.
With calm and deliberate movements, he lifted his right hand first, then followed with the left. "You must imitate my movements exactly so as not to hurt your muscles," he instructed, his voice steady and patient.
A spark of keen interest ignited in Edmund's eyes. He nodded vigorously, eager to learn and to prove himself. Grievous motioned for Edmund to come closer. "Here we will train the arms and chest."
The room seemed to shrink around them as their focus sharpened. The cool air hummed softly with the unspoken promise of growth. Edmund's small hands wrapped around the weights, his fingers trembling slightly with the unfamiliar weight. Grievous adjusted his grip, guiding the boy's posture with gentle corrections.
'Strength is not just in muscle,' Grievous reflected, 'but in patience, in perseverance, and in the silent resolve to rise each time you fall.'
Edmund mirrored his movements with surprising precision, his tongue poking out slightly in concentration. Sweat beaded on his forehead, glistening under the overhead lights.
As they moved through the exercises, Grievous kept his tone encouraging. "Slow and steady. Feel every muscle. Let it work."
Edmund's breathing grew steadier, his confidence building with each repetition.
Time slipped by unnoticed in the rhythm of their shared effort. The clatter of weights and the soft thud of feet on the padded floor were the only sounds, punctuating the quiet resolve between teacher and student.
Edmund looked up, eyes shining with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. "Will I be strong like you, Father?"
Grievous' smile deepened.
"Stronger," he promised. "Stronger than anyone."
The boy beamed, the weight in his hands no longer a burden but a challenge met head-on.