Chapter 4

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Charles stood across the street from Kings College. It was suddenly full of life. But not of students and scholars. But instead full of wounded redcoats from battles and their nurses. Charles watched through glaring eyes as he watched two lobster backs mingle in front of the school. The school he should be attending. Where he should be learning and getting the education he risked so much for. But instead he watched soldiers invade it as if it was just another building that they could live and take over.

The British have been in New York City for the past couple of weeks. Instead of tattered, worn solders in ripped coats and no semblance of a uniform marching through the city, Charles watched from his window the sudden influx of red coats and neat orderly lines.

He watched the continental soldiers evacuate through Manhattan. He heard of the New York Provincial Company of Artillery who fought long and hard to defend New York away from these invaders. He heard how a student of his college was even at the head of the artillery. Oh how it must ache to watch a city you worked to defend to be over taken by those who only see it as a point of strategy. 

Damn this war, he thought to himself. The whole damn thing. Damn Howe. Damn Washington. Damn Congress. Charles wanted to get through college and fast track to being a lawyer with out such an extensive apprenticeship period. He feared the worse with some stranger teaching him. He couldn't even imagine how the Americans could win the war now. He had much to wonder and think about. He burned all his bridges back home and he would never return. That was not an option.Charles pulled the heavy bag over his head so it lay across his chest. He lugged around these books as he walked through the city, weaving between gossiping women and debating gentleman. He ran through options of what he could do from here on out. He ran through the possibilities, muttering to himself.

Nothing seemed right. His chest tightened up as he stressed over these turn of events. He needed a distraction. School was to be the distraction but that is now out of the question. He finished all the he had started with but he still had notes he wanted to take.

Charles wandered the streets of New York, eventually ending up at the store he first discovered. The store where he first met Jacques. It was a bittersweet memory but he needed books. Maybe one with more of a leisurely intention rather then that of education and research. He figured maybe it was time to find ways he could take breaks and still avoid the outside world. It seemed preferable then actually talking to people.

He entered the store and took in the smell of new books. It was the most satisfying thing to him. It smelled of home and of afternoons on his fathers lap learning how to read. He smiled as he made his way through the shelves and browsed the titles. He grabbed the few that grabbed his attention, the stack soon becoming heavy in his arms as he underestimated the weight of so many. Charles eventually had to force himself to actually sort through those that he picked and figure which he's actually going to purchase. Once he couldn't carry any more he turned to put them down on one of the small tables at the front of the store, though it became hard to maneuver with the stack of books almost higher then his line of sight. Though he was certain he would manage just fine. The store seemed slow and Charles figured he didn't risk bumping into any one. So he carefully turned around, walking away with his books.

"Sir!" the voice startled Charles as he briskly turned around in shock, his collection scattering across the floor.

"Oh god I'm so sorry! I was just startled! I'll get thi-" he started to ramble as he fell to the ground to pick up the books. He heard the other person start to gather them as well to help.

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