Chapter 45
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 45
Chapter Title: Ariete (1)
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Children have something in common with the squirrels of the forest. Not something you notice at first glance. But in the way they hide everywhere.
The burned-out city of a fallen nation was more than enough to become a forest for squirrels.
Of course, the fact that they hid well and survived anywhere wasn't the only thing children and squirrels had in common.
They'd peek out from between collapsed and charred houses, and if soldiers tossed them food now and then, they'd scamper out to snatch it up. That was similar too.
Children in a normal country each come from different families.
Affluent homes, impoverished ones.
Harmonious homes, unfortunate ones.
Families where parents are merchants, families where they're officials, and so on.
Diverse options intersect, leading to countless possibilities.
But if the nation falls, its people are slaughtered en masse, and every building in the city burns down, children's family situations boil down to just two types.
Families with parents. Families without.
And War Mages were the ones who overwhelmingly increased the proportion of the latter.
The brown-haired War Mage, who always wore a gloomy expression, was no exception.
Ariete had the most common family situation in the city of ashes.
She had just welcomed the third spring of her life, yet she was vigorously supporting a one-person household.
However, there was one big difference between Ariete and the other children.
Ariete had lived without parents even before the war, and she worked in a profession with a long history.
Young as she was, she was a proper street girl.
As such, unlike other girls pushed onto the streets by hunger after losing their parents, Ariete possessed an outstanding professional spirit.
Ariete's demeanor as a professional was truly exemplary.
She showered every customer with generous smiles and responded to their awkward requests without hesitation.
Also, every evening, Ariete put in the effort to wash herself by the stream.
Ariete was exceptionally beautiful and clean. It goes without saying that she received more affection than the other children with their plain looks and grubby appearances.
Of course, such fine professional spirit stems from expectations of extra payment. Like an additional half-handful of hardtack, for instance.
The other children would wail through their work only to get a single handful of hardtack—or a hearty slap filled with irritation instead.
But Ariete had never been slapped, not once. She always managed to secure a full handful plus half more. She took a little pride in that fact.
Moreover, Ariete had sharp eyes and quick wits.
She could tell the size of a soldier's palm at a glance, even from afar.
It might seem trivial, but it was a quite important and useful skill. Soldiers with big hands could grab more hardtack in a single fistful.
Ariete was clever too.
By eavesdropping on just a few snippets of conversation from Empire soldiers passing through the streets, she could tell if one was ordinary or dangerous.
Considering how often street girls died while "working," this was a very vital talent.
With every adult in the city dead on the battlefield or executed, its residents fell into just two categories: the occupiers and the kids who survived execution.
And it was only natural that Ariete stood at the center of the neighborhood kids.
As mentioned, she had outstanding looks and skills, plus a kind heart.
Ariete generously shared her hardtack with starving children, and countless kids followed her for it.
The grubby ones called her the "Street Saint." But it was far too heavy a nickname for a street girl.
Thanks to that moniker, though, Ariete could settle around the occupiers' dump.
Don't underestimate a dump. It was the best spot allowed to children.
If soldiers lit a fire to burn trash, kids could spend a warm, cozy night. Sometimes they'd even find useful junk.
On days they picked up a worn blanket with a corner torn off, the children would fight to sleep under it.
Yet amid those scuffles, no one touched the kind-hearted Ariete's blanket.
On one such spring night, as Ariete slept warmly under her blanket, she awoke not to brilliant morning sunlight but to someone nudging her foot.
'I huddled tight in the corner so I wouldn't be in the way—what's going on?'
She didn't know the exact reason. But she knew how to respond. Even without fully opening her eyes, Ariete bowed low at the waist.
"Sorry!"
But the reply was unfamiliar.
"Sorry for what?"
Surprised by the uncharacteristic response, Ariete looked up sharply.
Standing before her wasn't an Empire soldier in uniform, but a young man with brown hair wearing a gray robe embroidered with gold thread on the sleeves.
His face, however, looked as gloomy as if he might kill himself any moment.
"Uh, sorry for catching your eye."
"Is that something to apologize for? That's not why I woke you."
If not for being in the way, there was only one reason to wake Ariete.
"Then, shall I lead you somewhere? There's a bed in that building ahead that didn't burn. A bit small, but I cleaned it up."
The man furrowed his brow.
"That's not it. Do you want to come with me?"
"Pardon?"
"I'm asking if you're satisfied with street life. As a street veteran, let me tell you from experience: I wasn't."
"Well...?"
Ariete couldn't tell if she was living satisfactorily or not. She'd roamed this city's alleys since her earliest memories.
The only difference between then and now was that the city used to be intact, but now it was burned.
Actually, now might be better. With all the adults executed, Ariete had become the top street girl in the city.
As if her thoughts didn't matter, the young man got to the point.
"If you want to leave this city and come with me, find me by morning tomorrow. The big tent in the center of the barracks. The one with the yellow cloth at the entrance."
"Pardon? Oh... okay..."
The robed man said his piece and left. She didn't know what he did or why he wanted her along. But her instincts told her not to brush this off lightly.
Fortunately, Ariete knew plenty of kind men who could answer her questions.
That lunchtime, she asked a soldier who gave her an extra half-handful of hardtack.
He was tough during work, but not terribly twisted.
"Um, can I ask you something?"
"Huh? What?"
"Do you know a young man with brown hair by any chance?"
"Brown-haired guy? There are at least a hundred in this city alone. Any other features?"
She'd tested the waters, and the response wasn't bad—in fact, he seemed curious. Good enough for the full question.
Ariete beamed and continued.
"Oh, right. He was wearing a gray robe with yellow gold embroidery on the sleeves. He said his tent has yellow cloth too. Oh, and his expression was really gloomy."
"What? How'd you run into him?"
"I was sleeping today, and he woke me up. Do you know him?"
"The only mage with brown hair and yellow gold on his sleeves is 'Madman' Richer."
Ariete's eyes went wide. It didn't match his face at all.
"Madman?"
"It's a nickname. One the enemy gave him."
Madman. Not the nicest ring.
"How'd he get a nickname like that? Wild."
"That's how he looks to the enemy. In battle, he drops massive lightning and wipes out dozens, hundreds in the blink of an eye."
"I see. Scary. Fits the nickname."
"Nah. That's not why they call him Madman. When enemies are captured, Richer weeps and apologizes profusely. Even after slaughtering tons of them. That's why."
"Weird guy."
"Like all War Mages, he's no normal fellow. Anyway, fun as always."
The soldier adjusted his pants, stood, and left. Ariete sat quietly on her rickety bed, pondering.
Why did this Richer want her to come along?
The reason was easy to guess. Ariete knew she only had one use.
The question was whether following him was a good choice.
'I heard the soldiers will leave this city soon.'
Soldiers tormented or hit kids sometimes, but they were essential to survival. Without them, kids had no food source.
Once soldiers left, kids would have to head to another city for food. She'd heard one was about three days' walk for an adult.
A weakened child's odds of arriving after three starving days were low, and even lower that a dirty kid would be welcomed. They'd likely end up pickpockets or thieves.
Assuming that city hadn't burned yet.
It was clear: if there was a chance to leave, she had to take it.
So, was following Richer the right call? The guy nicknamed Madman?
She couldn't be sure, but her instincts signaled it wasn't a bad choice. Truly dangerous trash always wrapped themselves in flowery words.
In their brief talk, he hadn't tried to sell himself at all.
Yeah, if she had to leave the city anyway, better to seize the opportunity.
The next morning, Ariete rose early, washed up, and headed to Richer's tent.