Only Then Did I Feel Relieved
Only Then Did I Feel Relieved
"I didn't have any real reason to spare you. I'm just giving you a chance because anywhere else would be the same."
If they couldn't go back home anyway, leaving Ogwen would only have turned them into vagrants or punks in some other city. If anything, Ogwen—overflowing with work and booming—was the better environment.
I hadn't just holed up in the house training and studying for the past three years.
Three years was not a short time, especially when I'd deliberately carved up even my rest periods to make use of it. As long as I avoided training hard enough to interfere with my growth, there was always a little time left over after everything else. That spare time might vanish for someone who hated studying, couldn't concentrate, or struggled to understand, but I had the direction of a mind over thirty paired with a young brain that was still developing. The saying that early education mattered clearly wasn't bullshit. Learning was ridiculously easy.
I'd inevitably been carving out that leftover time to learn the city. Enough that not just the guards but even a few merchants recognized my face.
If you looked just a little, there were jobs everywhere—things you could do even without having learned them. Locals just kept it quiet because they didn't trust outsiders much.
"If you look around, you'll find enough work paying at least four coppers a day for every one of you. Four coppers will get you a decent place to sleep and two meals. Pick up the occasional extra job and you can even afford a proper wash at the baths. Once you're used to working, you'll be able to take on more and earn more. Build a good reputation, and your pay will rise until you've got some breathing room."
The ones left averaged fourteen, but most had spent their whole lives doing little beyond helping with household work in their villages. With no compulsory education, plenty barely understood day labor or how earning a living even worked. So they ran away only to end up as street kids and thugs with no future. At that age, they probably wanted to do nothing but whatever appealed to them. No wonder.
"I'm not forcing you. If you don't want this, you just remember the name Eldmia Ega and run off that way. Of course, if I see you again, I'll break your legs. But if you stay, I won't hand you money directly, but I'll find you work where nobody cheats you out of your pay. Decide."
Ogwen wasn't only a land of opportunity for punks. With the influx of outsiders and rapid growth, if you worked your ass off honestly from a young age, you could settle in as a proper member of the city fast enough. It would never be easy, but if they ran off right now, the best future the girls could hope for was prostitution, and the boys would be street thugs at best.
If any of them were destined for some heroic epic beyond that, they'd have already been writing it instead of meeting me.
I said my piece and stood there, but nobody moved. Maybe because they were kids who'd genuinely lost their place, they actually had a little sense after all.
"Follow me."
I searched the dead boss and found twenty coppers. The image of my badly bent practice longsword flashed through my mind and made me grimace, but the remaining kids told me where the hidden money was. Inside the crate that had served as a chair was a small pouch holding four silver and forty copper coins. That put a bright smile on my face.
It was nowhere near enough to count as compensation for the insult to Asilie, but as a bonus haul it wasn't bad.
I kept the four silver coins and planned to spend the rest on these kids. Leaving the corpse and warehouse behind, we made our way out of the alleys and headed for a clothing shop in the market.
It was a secondhand place that sold clothes people had worn at home and stopped using, mended and sold dirt cheap.
"Mr. Tex! Long time no see!"
Back when I'd been taking all kinds of odd jobs to learn local prices, I'd gotten to know the owner by delivering used clothes that households sold to his shop for cheap.
"Huh? Aren't you Eldmia? You seem like you've grown every time I see you."
"I'm still growing. Anyway, I want to get these kids something better than the rags they're wearing. Have you got anything that'll fit?"
When I pointed out the grimy kids lined up behind me, Tex's already thick chin bunched into three folds as he frowned.
"I've got stuff... but aren't they street kids? What are you planning to do with them?"
"Yeah, they're street kids. They look so miserable I'm going to find them some work."
"You're a weird one, you know that. Skirts for the girls? Dresses?"
"They'll be running around all day, so pants."
"Heh-heh. Right. Wait a sec."
Tex had been doing this for years, and he seemed to size them up at a glance. He rummaged through the stall and boxes and, in no time, pulled out five complete sets of clothes. Some were handmade household garments; finding matching sizes that quickly was a skill in itself.
Six coppers for each person's top, bottom, and shoes. He'd been thoughtful and picked decent quality, which robbed me of any leverage to haggle on that front, so I had to wrack my brain for all I was worth.
"Mr. Tex, Mr. Tex."
"Oh, what now, you little shit. You've done work, you know six coppers is cheap."
"Hey, I know that, that's why I'm asking. Just listen. I'm going to be looking after them for a while and getting them odd jobs, right?"
"So?"
"But I don't have much cash on hand right now. I need to buy them clothes, get them washed, and put them up at Madam Alisha's inn so they can start working tomorrow. After all that, I'm barely going to have enough left to feed them."
"Alisha's place? Yeah, that's the best value. But that's not a reason for me to run a charity."
"I know, I know. But what kind of work can kids do? It's all the same grimy stuff, right? No matter how careful they are, clothes get dirty fast, and right now they've got to make do with this one set. Sure, they can rotate with what they're wearing now, but no matter how much you wash it, you can't send them to work in those rags. Obviously not. And their average age is fourteen. They're still going to shoot up for a few more years."
"Pfft-haha. So, every time that happens, the kids will end up becoming my customers, so give me a discount just this once?"
Tex rested his chin on the stall and grinned at me. I spread my arms and spoke in an exaggerated, theatrical way. The moment he smiled like that, I knew he was going to knock something off.
"Exactly! An investment in the future! A merchant's virtue! Kids' clothes don't sell that fast anyway. And who am I? Eldmia Ega. I'm not asking for much. Knock just one copper off each set and I'll make sure every mother in town hears how Mr. Tex took pity on the growing number of street kids and helped them get settled so they could find honest work. You see where I'm going with this, right?"
The kids alone weren't enough to make the bargain worthwhile. They might die, leave the city, or disappear for any number of reasons, and then all that talk of investment would mean nothing. But spending five coppers to spread a positive reputation was another matter. Tex's business depended on buying cheap clothes from local households in the first place.
On top of that, if those former street kids genuinely worked hard and settled down, for a long time they'd have no choice but to buy clothes here because of that first kindness and the low prices, so the effect was certain. At worst, it was a deal with no downside.
"Damn, kid, you've really got a head on your shoulders. Planning to start a day-labor agency or something? How long are you going to look after them?"
"I keep telling you, when I turn sixteen I'm heading out into the world. Technically I could look after them for another five years, but honestly, after a year they should be able to find their own way, shouldn't they?"
"What? You're still eleven?"
"Dependable and smart, but yes, still eleven. Warranty period's no joke, right?"
"You really are something else. Just give me twenty-three coppers."
"I'm overwhelmed by your generosity! This is why I like you, Mr. Tex. You hear that? Mr. Tex knocked off another two whole coppers for your sake—money you don't just dig out of the ground."
"Th-thank you!"
"Thank you!"
They weren't completely mannerless after all. Without being told, all five bowed almost simultaneously—quite a sight.
"What a world. That damn war, I swear."
Even as he took the coppers I handed over, Tex clicked his tongue and looked at the kids with a pitying expression. He was a father of three himself, and as far as I could tell, a man overflowing with paternal love.
Though only one of those kids was actually a victim of the war, I didn't bother to point it out.
"Still, with people like you around, there's actually a way to get kids like these back on their feet. Doesn't that mean the world's still worth living in?"
"Just going by the way you talk, you're better than my own son. Why don't you just... never mind. I'm old enough to be spouting nonsense. Forget it."
He'd probably been about to tell me to just live in town, or maybe jokingly ask me to become his son. But every local knew the family circumstances of Eldmia Ega, the sole survivor. He must have decided it wasn't something to joke about.
Grateful for that consideration, I flashed a grin.
With the clothes in hand, I dropped the kids off at the bathhouse. By the time they came out it was already four in the afternoon. Those filthy brats needed at least an hour to wash properly, so while they were at it I went ahead to our destination, Alisha's inn, and buttered up the owner.
"Big Sis! I'm here!"
"Who are you calling Big Sis, you rude little bastard?!"
I opened the door with feigned cheer and stepped into the first floor. Alisha, who'd been cooking alone in the combined kitchen and hall, glared and yelled.
The foul-mouthed old lady, well past fifty, brandished the kitchen knife she was holding and looked absolutely enraged.
"Asilie is my big sis too, so you qualify as Big Sis Alisha. Don't you?"
"You've lost your damn mind. A kid your age already figuring out exactly what to say to charm women—the world really is ending. What do you want?!"
"Got a room?"
"Stop fucking around and go home. Are you not getting the switch from Asilie or what? Already pulling overnight stays."
That was her. A foul-mouthed old lady, consistent no matter where you put her. But no matter how loud her voice got or how many curses flew, deep at the root there was profound care. That care extended from the building to the food without exception—among the inns in the village at two coppers per stay, hers offered the finest accommodations and meals.
"No, not me. Five street kids. I'm getting them washed up now so I can put them to work starting tomorrow."
"...Ugh, what a pain. Someone checked out today, so I've got exactly one room free. Bring them or don't. What about food?"
"I'll buy their meals here. Oh, I'm going home to eat."
"I'm already busy as hell and you're making me busier, you shit!"
Even while cursing, her hands were already busy preparing extra ingredients. By the time I'd paid the room charge in advance and brought the freshly washed kids over, she had the whole table set and waiting. Their eyes practically popped out at the generous chunks of meat—far too much for a one-copper stew—and they sat there drooling while I made a stern declaration.
"This is the owner and head chef of the inn where you'll be staying from now on: Madam Alisha. If you've got a single brain cell between you, you'll have no trouble feeling the overflowing compassion in between her high voice and foul language, so be grateful at all times."
"Stop bullshitting and feed them already! The food's getting cold!"
The steaming stew held small pieces of meat in every bowl, distributed evenly—meat that would've disappeared without a trace if she'd simply thrown it all into the pot and boiled it together.