A year passed. Corbus was now two years old. Not too much had changed from when he was one, but he was far more mobile—able to run—and he spoke about all sorts of strange things. His parents and siblings didn't quite understand him, but he was their pride and joy. To them, little Corbus was the Smart One.
Now that he was two, they officially settled on a name for him. They agreed he would be called Corbus, though the name was still hard for his parents and siblings to say. Everyone continued calling him "Smart One."
Corbus had four older brothers, and every few months, they would take a trip to the main city. They were part of the Mi family—specifically, one of the many servant families under the vast domain of the Mi Family. The estate was enormous, comparable in size to the United States. The "main house," or The Big House, as everyone around Corbus called it, was roughly the size of Texas.
Every few months, his four eldest brothers—Aoo, Boo, Coo, and Doo—would take the servants' produce, in their neighborhood, to the Big House, and receive their stipends, which they then split among the servants in their neighborhood based on contributions.
Corbus knew that if he was going to learn to become literate, his only chance would be at the Big House. It wasn't just the estate, but the name the servants used for the entire city: Mi City. But to them, it was always just the Big House.
He had to go, but the only weapon he had to force his desire upon his parents were childish. Not letting that stop him, he pestered his parents relentlessly and then his siblings. Eventually, they gave in. The only reason he managed to convince them was because he was such a good child—obedient, quiet when asked, capable of entertaining himself, even trying to take care of his own needs.
He had even tried changing his diapers—unsuccessfully, of course—but he tried. Every day, he exercised his little sphincter, hoping he wouldn't need diapers much longer. It was something everyone laughed about. How little Corbus, the "Smart One," would strain and strain, only for everyone to hear the unmistakable sound of something slipping from his little bottom. The family would laugh, and poor Corbus, though embarrassed, would just become more determined to succeed.
Finally, his parents agreed to let the older brothers take him.
Since they were still within Mi Family territory, they didn't have to worry about bandits. Once you reached the Big House, the whole city was stricter. Corbus and his brothers joined a caravan of other servants traveling with goods from their quarter. The journey took three months.
When they finally arrived, Corbus was awestruck. The place was so vast that he wouldn't have seen the Big House, except it sat on a very high hill. Yet even from far away, the colossal building shimmered in the sunlight. It was so large that it seemed impossible.
Corbus found this world to be a moving contradiction. Some things were extremely advanced—he saw that right away—but others were still very rudimentary. For example, they still had outhouses, but some carriages didn't even have wheels—they floated just above the ground. How are they doing it? He wondered. Technology? Magic?
His curiosity roared to life. His power thrived on curiosity. It was like a drug. If he couldn't satisfy it, it would drive him insane.
So when the caravan reached the trading depot and he was told to stay with the wagons, he did—at first. But then he saw one of the floating carriages, and couldn't help himself. Curiosity took over. He climbed off the wagon and moved closer, getting beneath the carriage to examine it.
Even with his power, the only thing he understood was that some special material underneath allowed it to float. But what the material was, how it worked—whether it was manufactured or mined—he couldn't tell.
What Corbus lacked most was information. Books. Experts. Knowledgeable people. But coming from a very poor servant family, he had access to none of it.
Determined to learn more, he climbed up the carriage step to get a better look at its inside. Just as he did, the carriage moved! He held onto the step with all his strength as the carriage pulled away, moving quickly. He was terrified—he barely had the strength to hold on. If he let go, he might die.
After some time, the carriage finally stopped.
Shaken, Corbus slipped off the step and looked around. He had arrived in front of a strange building. A middle-aged woman got out of the carriage and walked inside. Curious, Corbus followed her, slipping through the door just before it closed.
The woman, lost in her thoughts, didn't even notice him.
Inside, Corbus looked around, exploring this strange place. Eventually, he found what felt like paradise: a great library filled with books.
He ran to them, only to realize they weren't made of paper. Instead, they were bamboo scrolls, strips of bamboo that were tied together. He saw diagrams and text on the strips.
He reached for the lowest shelf and pulled out a scroll. It appeared to be an anatomy book. Curious, he grabbed another, then another, getting lost in the diagrams and characters. One scroll had pictures of leaves and trees. Slowly, he began matching diagrams with words. After some time, he figured out his first written word: leaf.
Corbus beamed with pride, lost in his little oasis.
He never even noticed the old man standing behind him, quietly observing.
After a while, the man spoke."Did you find something interesting?"
Startled, Corbus turned. "Oh—excuse me, sir. Is this your library?"
The old man nodded silently, still watching him.
"Can you read that book?" the man asked.
"No… but I'm learning."
"Oh? You're learning? What have you learned?"
Corbus propped up the book and pointed to a word. "This word means leaf."
The old man raised an eyebrow. "How do you know that? Has your mother been teaching you?"
"No, sir. I figured it out on my own."
The old man looked skeptical. "And how exactly did you do that?"
"Well… I looked at the pictures of the leaves. There was one word that showed up beside each one. I figured that must be the word for leaf."
The old man was silent for a moment.
"That was an accident?" he asked.
"No. I'm trying to learn how to read. Nobody around me can teach me. Do you know what it's like being in a house where you're the smartest person, at two years old?"
Corbus paused. "Don't get me wrong. My parents have their kind of wisdom and intelligence, but I mean book smarts. I want to understand the mysteries of life. How things work. There's so much in this world, and I don't know any of it. What I wouldn't give to learn…"
It was an impassioned plea for a toddler.
The old man looked at the scattered scrolls on the floor and touched the child's head thoughtfully.
"You want a chance at a better life?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Well… it just so happens I only have about five hundred years left to live," the man said dryly, "...and before the end, my wife and I would like to take a long tour of the world together. I was going to leave this place to one of my disciples, but none of them is as intelligent as you. Perhaps I can speak with your family. We could come to an arrangement. You could become my little apprentice. I'll teach you everything I know. How does that sound?"
Corbus gasped. "Is that… really possible?"
"Of course. But your parents must be willing."
"Oh, they'll be willing," Corbus said with certainty. "Though they love me, I worry them. They don't know what to do with me. I think knowing I had a chance at a better future—what parent wouldn't support that?"
"For such a little toddler, you speak surprisingly well," the old man said with a chuckle. "Well then—tell me where your parents are. Let's talk to them at once."
"They're not here," Corbus replied. "I came with my four older brothers. They're probably still at the trading post. They must be worried—I don't even know where I am."
"Well then," the old man said, smiling gently, "let's go find your brothers."