Chapter 47
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 47
Chapter Title: Ariete (3)
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As Richer had promised, Ariete was able to join the triumphal procession.
She considered it a stroke of luck that she didn't know how to ride a horse. It allowed her to ride on the same mount as Richer and pass through the triumphal gate.
But Richer himself had little experience riding horses. Even on the front lines, he had traveled in a small carriage as a War Mage rather than on horseback.
Riding a horse for the first time in ages—and with someone seated behind him—Richer was tense, his entire body rigid. The horse was gentle, and someone else was holding the reins for him, yet he remained stiff.
Ariete could feel the taut muscles in Richer's arm as she cautiously held onto him from behind.
She found his state amusing and let out a small laugh, delicate as a mist flower.
The streets on that spring day were blanketed in flower petals to welcome the triumphal procession.
White petals, red petals, purple petals.
It had been a long war. The procession stretched on for what seemed an eternity, and so the petals covered a vast distance.
Many had died in it. As many lives had been lost, countless petals fluttered down upon the triumphant army.
A war begun from fleeting ambition. The once-vibrant petals were now trampled pitifully beneath hooves.
In that time, the little girl from the streets had grown into a full-fledged mage, and the young War Mage's face bore quite a few fine wrinkles.
The Emperor, resplendent in his finery, praised the procession for their hard-fought efforts, and the war was officially brought to a close.
With the Emperor so engrossed in his games of war, a new conflict would no doubt arise before long. But for now, a brief respite was assured. Even a mighty empire like this needed time for a short reorganization.
After the ceremony, Richer spoke to Ariete.
"Ariete. Why don't you stay at our house tonight?"
"Is that okay? Shouldn't you and your wife have some time alone together?"
"Maybe we should. But Mila will be disappointed if I don't introduce her to my first disciple."
Ariete smiled brighter than anyone. It was a situation she had always dreamed of—visiting Richer's modest cottage and finally meeting Mila, whom she had only seen in portraits.
"I'd love that. I've wanted to meet your wife in person. Besides, I have nowhere else to go."
The priestess giggled as she walked toward Richer's home.
Richer's house sat at the edge of the residential district.
It was a small wooden house with a red roof, just as Richer had always described.
White flowers bloomed modestly in the yard, and the house itself emitted a unique fragrance from whatever wood it was made of. It was like something out of a fairy tale.
Having heard so many stories about it, Ariete felt an uncanny familiarity with the house despite seeing it for the first time. Delighted by the sensation, she burst out laughing.
When Richer knocked on the door, a voice came from inside.
"Who is it?"
The question was short, but the woman's voice brimmed with eager anticipation. She clearly knew the answer she hoped for.
"Honey, it's me!"
Richer's face beamed with happiness and love as he replied.
Quick footsteps approached, the door swung open, and a small, plain-looking woman appeared.
She seemed less like the wife of a prestigious War Mage and more like an ordinary village woman one might find anywhere in the countryside—though a bit pale for that.
Normally, if a husband returned after a long absence with a glamorous young woman in tow, his wife might wear a suspicious expression. Ariete realized this too late, but it was already too late to do anything about it.
Ariete watched Mila anxiously. But her expression remained bright, without a hint of wavering.
"Honey!"
The couple embraced for quite some time. When they finally parted, Mila asked her husband with a cheerful face.
"Richer, who's this young lady?"
There wasn't a trace of doubt in her voice—only curiosity about who Ariete was and a warm welcome for a new face.
Just as Richer had shown boundless affection for Mila in the war tent, Mila returned his unwavering trust and love. They were an ideal couple, like something out of a painting.
"My first disciple. Her name's Ariete."
And Richer knew it too—that Mila wouldn't harbor even a shred of suspicion if he brought Ariete home.
The trust and love between them was that unshakable. Ariete found their bond truly beautiful.
"What a lovely young lady. Welcome!"
Mila made no effort to hide her delight.
Even as she spoke, her eyes overflowed with love for her husband.
And seeing Mila's gaze, Ariete realized something belatedly.
That Richer, who had been the object of her faith until now, could also be the object of her affection.
After a simple but joyful dinner, Ariete stood up.
"Ariete, where are you going?"
"Master. I have some tact, you know. How could I possibly stay over on a night like this?"
Mila blushed like a bride on her wedding night, while Richer floundered like a nervous groom on his first night.
"This girl doesn't hold back, does she."
"Ariete, it's fine—stay the night."
"No. I've spent my whole life bouncing between villages and battlefields. Now that I'm in the famous imperial capital, I want to sightsee a bit. It'd be even better if I met a handsome guy."
Richer reached out, worried that his naive disciple might run into trouble.
But she was a prodigiously talented mage with plenty of street smarts. No random thug lurking in alleys would get the better of her.
Above all, the desire to give his wife some alone time stayed his hand.
"Alright, then. If nothing comes up, I'll be home for a while, so come visit whenever you have time. It's no trouble to give you a room."
"Got it!"
Ariete flashed a bright smile, left the little house, and stepped into the street.
But before she even exited the first alley, thick tears began streaming from her eyes.
Squatting beside an anonymous roadside tree, Ariete wept through the night.
As dawn broke, Ariete found her answer.
The clue had been the triumphal procession. There was a way for her to stay by Richer's side. She might not monopolize his love like Mila, but she could remain at his side.
Ariete indulged in sweet fantasies. Becoming a War Mage and wandering the battlefields with Richer for life.
Even if they lived amid flowing blood and shattered flesh, what did it matter? As an equal War Mage to Richer, she could always be with him.
When there were no wars, Richer would return to Mila's side, but Ariete could spend even more time with him than Mila could.
Ariete unpacked her bag and burned every advanced magic theory book she had studied so far. They were hard-won treasures from the front lines, but she felt no attachment to them now.
The path to truth would end, but a bridge of clouds would span toward love and happiness.
Many mages pursue truth and find happiness and fulfillment in it. Paradoxically, the moment Ariete abandoned truth, she felt ecstasy.
My happiness. My love. Having chosen it all with her own hands, how could she not feel rapture?
Ariete laughed with a clear voice.
She had never felt this joyful before.
Mages who came to join the Imperial Army's Mage Corps typically fidgeted anxiously, their faces etched with hesitation, before signing the application.
The reason was simple. Joining the Mage Corps meant choosing reality over truth—becoming a weapon of the Empire and complicit in slaughter.
If even mages of ordinary talent agonized over it, how deep must the torment be for prodigies applying to become War Mages?
The low-level clerk who guided them had seen countless such talented mages. They all shared one trait.
Every single one signed the application with the look of someone contemplating suicide.
The reason he had risen to this clerical position was straightforward. He excelled at offering just the right comfort to coax them into signing.
And today, he witnessed the most extraordinary scene he had ever seen.
A woman so stunningly beautiful she made his eyes widen entered with dance-like steps.
She requested a Mage Corps application in a voice brimming with joy and even asked for the War Mage qualification exam at the same time.
Her expression was radiantly bright, her voice like song. Her slender fingers fidgeted, eager to sign as soon as possible.
It was clearly beyond protocol, but the clerk couldn't contain his curiosity.
"Do you perhaps know what it means to join the Mage Corps?"
"Of course. I've been on the front lines for over a year, even if not officially in the Corps."
"Then how can you look so happy?"
Ariete's eyes curved into a beautiful smile.
"It's the path to my happiness. Why wouldn't I be happy?"
Ariete finished signing and stepped out into the spring streets. It felt as if the whole world was blessing and celebrating her happiness.
A floral scent wafted from somewhere. Whether from the crushed petals of the triumph or from flowers blooming vibrantly along the streets, she couldn't tell.
All that mattered was that the scent of flowers had come to her.
On the street as the sun set, Ariete danced shyly.
Lightly, gracefully.
The passersby stared as if watching a curious spectacle, but she was too joyful to stop.
The long winter that had blanketed her life had ended unnoticed at some point, and spring had arrived. A spring bursting with flowers.
Until the end of that summer, Ariete never once visited Richer.
Richer went to Hilario and vented that raising a disciple had been pointless after all. Of course, Hilario just let out a hollow laugh upon hearing it.
"You don't visit often either. And you, man—you pick up some grubby kid, raise her into a proper mage, and suddenly she shows up as a War Mage. How's that feel?"
"Well, I didn't have much choice."
"Choice or no, you should've at least come consult your master first."
"I was in a rush; it didn't even cross my mind. What can you do? I'm not perfect."
"Sigh, how'd my one disciple turn out like this."
"If a disciple lacks virtue, isn't it because she learned from a flawed master? Doesn't seem like my fault, no matter how I look at it."
"Don't say that crap anywhere else. If I heard it from someone else's mouth, I'd die of frustration."
Having visited Hilario after so long, Richer chuckled as he left the tower.
And that autumn, on his way to the battlefield, Richer encountered Ariete. Bright yellow gold thread was embroidered on her sleeve.