Becoming A Founding "Father"- Historical Hamilton

Chapter Two: Peter Lytton

Peter Lytton was the cousin of Alexander Hamilton and James Hamilton Jr (...) he had purchased many of Alexander's items at the auction of her estate and took custody of James and Alexander Hamilton.

---

There's a few things I found out about this place.

The first thing I noticed was the complete lack of electricity. I've looked far and wide, but there was nothing- no lights, no sockets, no electronic devices. There are several candles in the corners of each room to substitute the lamps.

"(Christ, how far from civilisation are we?)" I muttered sourly, switching my phone to power saving and then powering it off. The boy watches my actions, looking at my phone with caution, but he doesn't say anything.

I also realised that this house didn't have a water supply, which really caught me off guard. What kind of house doesn't have a water supply, like, come on. The only thing in the house I could find was a basin with murky water in a desolate room. It seemed to have been used for bathing, but I didn't see a toilet anywhere. "Technically a bathroom, I guess."

The house was reasonably large, and it was definitely meant for more than two people, which only makes me wonder where these other people are. The house was by no means empty, but seemed to have been abandoned, the only resident being the boy that has taken keenly to following me around.

Oh, how he has been following me around.

Surprisingly, the sickly boy didn't hole up and hide away from me, instead sticking to me like a shadow. He's as silent and timid as shadow, too- I don't notice him half of the time, as he just hovers around me, always in the same room, but never really there with me.

Even as I look at him now, he is gazing into the distance, a cloudy look in his eyes. Sometimes I wonder what goes on in that head of his. I've never really met anyone like him, I couldn't take a guess of what he's thinking about- actually I could, scratch that, but it doesn't really explain anything to me.

I'm not really in touch with emotions. But I don't have to be to give the boy food or tell him stories in the evening. By a candle that I lit, we ate stale bread I found and I told him of fairytales and legends that I remembered- of Gediminas' Iron Wolf, of Eglė the Queen of Serpents and her tree-turned children.

He listened intently, leaning in with intrigue- but he never spoke to me. Not once. I don't even know if he understands me, as my English isn't the best, but he seems to listen. He always seemed to listen, even as I was walking around, taking to myself. Maybe he didn't understand me- maybe he just prefered the sound over the empty room.

I didn't know that he could speak English until they found us.

"Lord almighty! We leave for a trip abroad and it seems like everyone has vanished!" Both of us had been asleep when an unfamiliar shout had rung out in the house, waking us both from our dreams. I blinked drowsily, looking around in confusion, before setting my eyes on two complete strangers. "Alright, children are here, why are they not with their mother-?"

They were both wearing clothes I've never seen before- frankly, they all looked outrageously out of fashion. Both men seemed to be concerned about something, one being more obvious about it. Soon, to my confusion, they leave to check the other rooms.

"Hey," I nudge the boy softly. He groans, opening an eye. "Do you know these people?" I knew by the suddenly petrified look that he didn't, even as they reentered the room we were in.

"Blasphemy, that's what this is." One of them mumbled, redirecting their attention on us. His icy glare landed on me, flicking to my chest for a second, making me feel insecure.