[Still Randall's POV]
"… mmhh…"
Ashes blew past my cheeks, some still carrying an illusory shred of last night's warmth. Though, the coldness running up my back brought me back to reality. The one where the past couldn't be changed.
The position I found myself in, while far from awkward, had slowly but surely turned into one I wanted to escape from. Sleepiness drove my stomach from facing the sky, to the hori–
... As I turned, my hand touched something.
'Eh?...'
At least now I knew that the cloth was a blanket. And I wasn't the only one using it, no.
I forced my eyes to open up and scan the figure lying by my side.
A large, bulky man. A short, yet somewhat unkept beard decorated his defined, dark jawline, along with a few battle scars.
'Nevermind, that's a guy… wait, who is behind me, then?'
Turning around, I spotted another man lying in the same blanket as us. Which made me feel curious about something.
I got up silently and looked at the "bed".
Besides the two I was (not really) sandwiched by, there were three more. Every man from the knight squadron was present, if placed in a tetris-like manner. I seemed to have one of the better, more "free" positions.
We weren't the only ones to sleep like this, though. Surrounding myself, multiple dozens of men and women shared a resting spot akin to ours. Many had a notably lower quality, resembling make-shift emergency equipment.
All of the beds had been placed outdoors. Given the condition of the ruins that used to be "homes", it's no surprise why they were empty.
As for the citizens, a majority of them had minor wounds... Fortunately, some didn't have any. At least physical ones.
"Randall?... It's too early to be awake, go back to sleep…" Vague yawns mixed in with the feminine voice of a magician.
Heavy, dark eyebags dragged down the glaring, squinted eyes. One hand held on to a wall, using it to support the notably exhausted body owner.
The void-like hair went from almost having a mystic flow to a disastrous mess. Some of her loose hair strands dropped on the dirty, white semi-dress shirt. Similarly, many others reached the black cloth worn on the girl's bottom half.
Additionally, her ears didn't have the obsidian earrings from yesterday. Only the dirty clothes.
"What time is it?"
"For you, it's time to sleep." Her blunt reply came in hand with yet another yawn.
"You look like you need that rest more than me…"
A sigh came out of her mouth, before she covered a part of her head with her hand. "Alright, you want to stay awake? Come and help me, then. There's work to be done here, and the people here need as many healthy hands as possible."
She turned and, after two seconds, walked off towards the nearest crossroad. Her legs barely faltered... barely.
'By the time I had gone to sleep, Jean was still awake...'
... If someone who, at best, slept 4 hours is awake and helping, then I have no excuses. That's a truth.
Thus, I followed her in silence.
'If the position of the moon is enough to guide me, then… At best, it should be close to 5 AM.'
Jean brought me over to a small, outdoors deposit. Plenty of large wooden logs rested on the ground, just like the townspeople. "Looks like you're willing. For now, we need to carry some of these logs to an inn near Maple Square."
And well, I accepted. Not like there was much else to do…
Jean picked up a whole, huge log. On her own.
With one arm.
An absurd feat on its own, but it still raised a question: Why? One person carrying them is inefficient in comparison to that person carrying them on a cart or something similar.
"Aren't there carts in this town?"
"Yes, but there are wounded sleeping on them."
… Nevermind, that's mildly concerning. I guess they didn't have much choice.
With that in mind, I looked down at the trunk pile. 'Can I even lift up one of those things?...'
Flashbacks of yesterday's wall climb stuck me.
'... I could try.'
Walking up to one of the two ends of a trunk, I slid my hands under the trunk, then poured strength into both limbs.
'This would be too mu-'
... The trunk had been lifted with ease.
"What...?????"
I dropped it and rushed to the middle to see if it'd work. And it did.
"Randall? Are you coming?"
Ah, right. I lifted up a log myself and followed her lead. We passed by a few ruined houses, and the remains of others.
The second one to my left had lost the roof, while blood painted its outside walls. Some pieces of broken wood poked out of the structure, akin to bones.
Meanwhile, a few people slept around the fifth house to the right. While the shattered glass littered parts of the floor, and the doors… weren't even there to begin with, some critically wounded townsfolk lay down on mattresses and blankets. Life slowly but surely escaped the grasp of their fragile hands.
"And here we are! Drop it all off here, gent-"
And I dropped the log.
"-...ly. Anyway, next trip. We have to do this around fifteen or sixteen times, by the way."
And so, we did it nineteen times. Because she miscalculated.
"Alright, that's…done? Yeah, done."
We returned to the spot where I lay previously, only to find only one of the men asleep.
"Where are the others?"
"I'm not quite sure…"
Until someone called us out.
A knight, wearing set pieces of yellow and silver armor, with his helmet on.
"Aha, I finally found you two. You see, Commander William has just fixed the Mana Transmissor, and Monarch Orwell left a message stating that we are to return to the Capital. Thus, we're heading back in an hour or so."
And, he woke up the sleeping knight, only for both of them to leave.
She blinked twice. "We... we are leaving already?..."
I kept my gaze on her downcast eyes, and spat out something. "What if we don't?"
She looked perplexed, but I kept on talking.
"Take a look around you. It's impossible for these people to get back up on their feet with ease, especially on their own."
By this point, she couldn't even hold eye contact. Not that it mattered.
"Thus, even though I doubt the Monarch will be thrilled about us staying here, I'm fairly confident he won't be too mad, either."
She looked at the nearby, collapsed buildings, and the debris lying around.
At the remaining humans, whose despair leaked out of their almost lifeless eyes. And… at the corpses of those who didn't make it.
With a clenched fist, she left.
… About an hour later, the knights got ready to leave. All of us were present.
'I guess she didn't want to… That's a pity.'
She walked up to William, and spoke with him for a bit.
"I see… I'll make sure to take care of the report, then," the Commander replied.
These two shook hands, only for him to mumble something… quietly.
"I don't need to remind you, but that young man is talented. Take good care of him." The mage nodded her head in response to his words.
Her crossed arms rested just below her chest. Unmoving, observing as the knights all got on the horses… and left.
Of course, she wasn't the only one observing. Rather, quite a few people stayed to watch…
Some had gratitude in their eyes, but others… Their eyes emanated pure hatred.
With her being one of the first to leave, I took my chance to approach her. "So, you chose to stay in the end?" I asked, in spite of knowing the answer.
"Yeah. I can't go back to a palace knowing there's so many people deserving of help."
Fair enough. I'd probably feel the same.
And so, we got to work for the rest of the day.
Due to her ability to wield fire magic, she ended up working with the cooks… Or at least those that remained.
As for me? I had to carry materials. Mostly wood, stone and a few other items, including stairs. Quite a few of the people who could carry this with ease either got injured, or injured during the battle.
… But many of them died.
Anyway, as I dropped a few logs near the makeshift hospital, a well-hidden scene lured my eyes.
Two men, one dressed in rags and another wearing a uniquely green robe, met under the dark guise of an alleyway.
… I walked towards their position, and hid behind one of the nearest walls.
"Mister, please, my daughter… needs help…"
One of them let out a sigh, before talking. "I understand, sir, but her wounds aren't that bad. She must wait for her turn to arrive."
"B-but… Her arm-"
"She can last for a few hours. Right now, everyone is equal. Only the severity of their wounds decide how much priority they are to be given. Now, forgive me, but I need to depart now… Others are waiting," spoke the calm figure, before walking away.
"... Bullshit. The blacksmith's son only lost a finger, but he… He was one of the first to get treatment! H-how do you explain that?!"
The figure's steps stopped. "... He had a higher priority on the waiting list," he replied, before walking off.
'... Corruption.'
… A drop of water leads to another, which eventually leads to a rainstorm.
Thoughts tend to work in a similar way.
Unknowingly, my right hand curled up into a fist, accompanying my now darkened expression.
'While I expect corruption to exist in any society… Seeing it first-hand always hits differently.'
It really fucking does.
With the cold man gone, the ragged one was left in the alley. Filled with nothing but frustration. Anger… And hatred.
...