The immense maw clamped down with a sharp clap. What it missed in its attempt to consume Charles was its own teeth catching Charles' arm.
Dangling in the maw, Charles whipped his head forward several directions in hopes of an exit. Minutes pass on end with the sliver of a hope thinning every second. In loss of optimism switches to unbridled ire, amidst a volley of blows from his left fist.
"WHY! WON'T! YOU! LEAVE! ME! BE!".
His fist crunched under every signal strike he landed, blending profusely from it without care. He wanted out, to be free, to not be pray, and to live. Eventually cracks began showing signs via a relentless bloody fist, splashing down on the focused tooth. Charles knuckles became a pulp of flesh barely clinging together in a heap, though now wasn't time to lighten up his progress. In a massive roar, he finally landed a punch capable enough to break through. A flash of light blinded him almost immediately, however in the midst of his final blow, something soft connected at its end. Charles' eyes shot open, still in the chair he was asleep in. Looking down, he had seen a grave mistake unfold. A grave mistake of his own fury.
Edward was slumped unconscious near his chair, groaned breaths slipped through. His nose has a thin line of blood running slowly down. Charles knew by mistake he had struck his friend.
"No no no no. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Désolée".
In a bolt, Charles fell off his chair hard before reaching out his arms to cradle the unconscious butler. This was his first time in a situation like this. He had never once struck a friend by mistake, though now his attention was focused on stopping Edward's running nose. Chalres looked through his pockets in search of a handkerchief to use and eventually did find a piece of cloth to use, however what Charles had allowed to slip his mind was that the cloth came from the same pocket he had pocketed the stolen peppers from earlier. This upon pressing it to Edward's nose, immediately jolted him awake from the brimming sensation caused by Charles blunder.
"Bloody hell, what's on that piece of cloth"?
…
"Well, it was from..I…think..pepper….."
Charles stammered over his words with possible excuses or explanations as to what occurred.
"Now why am I in your arms"? Edward inquired intensively about his current position, but then he remembered. "Ah, right. You for some reason struck me out of the blue. Remind me next time to keep my distance so as to not receive another blow".
Dead in silence, Charles clasped his lips tightly by embarrassment. To have admitted hitting someone because of a bad dream was worthy of ridicule, although he'd never utter it now, so thus an idle moment without cause lingered longer than necessary, until he changed his mind a moment later.
"I'm sor…". Chalres stopped himself, remembering this wasn't how he's supposed to speak in this new world. So drawing upon books and tv shows he had seen, Chalres spoke in the most fancy way he could. "My deepest sincerity to my apologies, Edward. I shouldn't have struck you with my night terror haze".
(Crap, I'm laying it too deep with this British talk. I should've left it shorter. I'm so confused, having to remind myself this world speech is different. My modern terminology would draw too much attention, though my real struggle is suppressing my French speech. I've only gotten lucky so far).
"Well, apologies accepted sir. Though no more of your midnight brawls, I don't believe I'll be able to survive another hit".
———————
Since that little hiccup, Charles had been restraining himself before each night for many nights. He didn't want a repeat of that night's incident. What was constantly repeating instead was the same nightmare over and over. The clown kept up its torment in sick glee. Finding new ways to instill dread. He had started becoming accustomed to it from constant exposure.
*yawn*
"Another day, mmm. Tuna's running low, so might head to the market again".
Charles pushed himself off his bed to stand. Before he could make more than a step, immediately tripped over his other foot like a total moron.
"Ahh F#ck! Why's my luck so sh#t. I can't even have a normal morning to myself anymore".
Grumbling out his complaint, Charles stood back up, grabbing his hat and coat. He took a sigh then made his way out the house.
Amidst his leisurely March back to the market place, Chalres hand subconsciously wondered to his left coat pocket, digging around in hopes of leftover money he could use. A soft rattle met his hand in a cool touch, while digging out six dirty coins, each with rusted steel. Despite the coins being old and worn, it still had a bit of shine when basking in light. Carved onto its surface was of a young woman in grandeur, wearing a Roman Laurel, along with tied back curly hair.
"By the mother, allow what comes out of my pockets to be something useful or plenty enough. Ah, six shillings, I believe this can get me a couple items in this world?"
Tiny fragments in Cedric's brain began to surface bit by bit, to allow Charles small moments of clarity. Those memories had been an immense aid, especially by his current financial position, a bundle of knowledge was key with survival. The six shillings in his current grasp felt heavier of importance. These very coins were his and Edward's livelihood by a small margin, that won't last longer.
(My best choice now is to seek a job, although what workplace would hire me? From what recollection this body had retained, my formal education only goes as far as tutelage, and not even that'll be enough without experience. I need it soon, or my fate ends grim again).
His thoughts pondered restlessly as each growing second ticked down. While marching his way to the market, he blankly forgot to watch his steps, leading to a blunder. Charles found his face nearly flattened on the stone tile floor before he managed to catch himself ahead of time. Stopping a possible injury that he might not have a chance to have tended to by a doctor. No, it would be crippling to his current budget.
"Merde".
Charles cursed his own lack of surroundings. Steadily, he watched his steps this time as he entered the main part of the crowd cramping the city once more. The city was slightly better than the last, though it still kept its space-eating bypassers. Charles craned his head upward, looking at dark sickly smoke, blotting out light. Not ready for a lunge problem yet, Charles swept his coat over his lower face, to block out what little he could.
In a peregrinations, Charles took his precious minutes, viewing random stalls and owners who announce their deals or what most likely false advertisement about how their goods were best above most. Nothing had caught a glint of interest in his eyes. Peddling further up ahead, led a small space for stretching his arms out further by a couple more inches, not by much.
Charles squinted in slits. Eyes darting around at random spots and locations, until falling upon a massive tower structure laid in the middle of the city. Charles found himself about three neighborhood block squares away to the tower in his present standing space. The immense structure towered above most nearby homes, in Charles presumption, it looked about thirty nine stories high and two hundred feet wide. It had occurred to Charles at his very moment, he had been blind to not haven't seen a mega structure peaking up at the sky. Charles sunk into thought once more of his vision probably worsening, if not completely selective to what he can see. Fiddling through his pockets, he fidgeted by rubbing two shillings together for its texture.
The tower lacked windows except its peak from the top floor. A giant staircase at its bottom with railings with lion statues guarding each side of the railing. It had about four brown oak doors at its entrance, with slight vines growing at the tower's sides. Each ten floors had rainducks sticking out, ending at each corner. The tower's color was a sleek rock wood pallet and dark brown outline, leaning with faint golden pattern stripes. The tower's top was a pointed shape similar to wizard towers from books you'd be read by parents. Its architectural design was simpler, plain looking compared two most surrounding buildings. Lamp posts circled the perimeters. The rooftop tiling was deep pitch black.
Chalres could see many common folk enter and exit out the tower's doors, numerous with books in hand. What really struck his interest was how such a tall tower would be able to exist in a time period that just entered proper sewer lines and electrical gas. It didn't seem plausible one bit for this era. He was sure the people of this age didn't have the technology to build something this tall.
An air of mystery stunk his nose. In hopes of finding more, Charles found himself approaching the tower's base. He found an older gentleman about late 30s, dark brown eyes, dark gray hair, hooked nose, sunken cheeks that made his cheek bones and jaw pop more, in formal wear, and a gray long coat, exiting out.
"Kind, sir. May I trouble you as to inquire of what this buildings' facilitates"?
A lull occurred. Charles had spoken his words carefully to maintain his character. So why wasn't this gentleman answering?
(By the mother, please don't let it be so that I had offended him. Did I spoil his day?)
The older gentleman took a deep puff from his worn-out looking clay pipe before he removed it from his mouth to speak.
"Lad, could you perhaps be a jobbernowl"?
Charles fixed his eye on the man in a clear confusion. Never had he ever heard of the phrase 'jobbernowl', nor could he know its meaning.
The older gentleman looked Charles up and down in assessment and had reached a conclusion, Charles was a moron. Taking another puff of his pipe, he finally answered.
"What your eyes are witnessing is the city's 'Tower of knowledge'. A grand accomplishment of hard working builders and architects that spent back breaking years building their backs off. For a simpleton such as you, it's a public library. Well, the first two floors are at least. For what I know, it's been around for at least a hundred years or more. It has served as a place of great opportunities for those seeking to educate oneself to receive more balanced odds in the workforce. Are you satisfied with my response or should I continue if you have more to inquire?".
(A hundred or more? The likelihood of these people building this tower dwindles by a large margin. It took far further for humanity to advance before being able to build such large structures… What am I thinking? The real question is if this 'tower of knowledge' has job openings. My best gamble would be by this point. It should, I was a book shop keeper).
*cough*… "is there by chance, this tower in need of extra assistance"?
"A job is what you seek, then you'll get the most. Heard word of mouth, their need for a qualified candidate, educated at most to be able to read for eligibility to take an entry level job as a librarian. Sound akin to something you're capable of"?
Charles' eyes twinkled with hope. A Liberian position was the best suited career, to a college student he was when still working back at the bookstore on Roosevelt Street. The odds with his qualification would no doubt be a great asset.
"Greatest of thanks, sir, and hail the mother".
Shaking the hand of the man, vigorously, grateful for the information shared. Charles, took off through the streets, clearing crowds of people similar to a ship cutting through waves in a storm. He was determined to draft a résumé back home, before this opportunity was seized up by another.
(Wait, wait, wait. Should properly stop at the canals first, for tuna).
In a hurry, Charles redirected his path along his steps, each with a quicker pace. What a better way for introducing an opportunity that could better their lives then with another filling meal, Charles thought aimlessly. Clearing himself a path, shown the same canal dock from a previous visit in search of food. Same wide canal about eighty feet wide, needing a bridge to cross. Flimsy looking railing, which a child might've been able to break through effortlessly if determined. Its walls were forty feet high, until touching water on a slight slope one could slide down. Its water depth is undetermined to Charles. The water is a sickly brown as last seen. Fish venders aligned across the railings, shouting off their catch of the day. He was running on a Panglossian mood, while his eyes scanned several stalls for the fisherman he met a couple days back, in hopes of him keeping his word about the discount whenever he'd buy from him.
…
"HELP, HELP, HELP"!
A distant squeaky voice pierced through Charles' left ear. It sounded filled with despair, choking out tears as a young boy ran into Charles peripheral view, whilst he swiveled his head left to look at the source of this noise.
The young boy was dressed in a loose button up shirt, a high tailored high-waisted waistcoat dyed deep red, knee length shorts, and white high socks, smudged by dirt from what was likely caused by tripping. He was running, adult to adult, begging anyone who'd listen to his plea. Most people didn't pay mind to the young boy, which caused his already troubled face to deepen.
(Curious. Wonder what might have evoked a strong reaction by the boy? However, his clothes are high quality tailored, which could suggest a wealthy background. I could only not just help, but I might be rewarded by his parents if I'm lucky).
A slight devious thought crossed his mind. Help the kid and might receive compensation for his actions. Charles stepped into the boy's line of step, ready to call out.
"Hey, bo-
Before Charles could call out properly, the boy had already run head first at full force to Charles' gut. Knocking wind out his breath, causing him to stagger back a couple steps before he could regain his foot hold.
"Please, sir! Help me, please. I need your aid. It may be bold of me, I'm crying just for your help. PLEASE!"
The boy spurted out his needs too rapidly for Charles to catch at once, let alone figure how to hear him through his choked up words.
"Child, grasp your breath first. Tell me in proper, of what ails you".
Charles held the boy still by his shoulder and cheek, having knelt down to the boy's eye level, to help him. The boy grasped onto Charles' coat in a startling amount of strength for a kid his age.
"My…ma dog fell through the gaps of the railing into the canals. She can't swim well. I'm begging you to save her, good sir".
The boy managed to convey his words through choked up sobs, which this time Chalres could make out clearly.
(No wonder why the boy was so panicked, a beloved pet's life is in grave jeopardy).
Charles, now dropped all plans of a reward, to bolt to the railings right away, to survey the dogs current location in the mucky waters. A small whitish-brown pug dog barked desperately against the waves of crashing tides on its body, slowly sweeping it towards open water at sea. The boy kept tugging at Charles' coat in his crying plea. It didn't take more for his nature to help the helpless surfaced. Charles tossed the boy his coat and hat, right before he leaped over the railing to deep waters, unknown.
[Clock strikes 5, when titans wake].