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I came down the back mountain with Saladin and exited the academy’s main gate.

Since Saladin’s student ID was already prepared in the room, there was no issue leaving the academy.

At first, Saladin struggled to break free from my shoulder. But realizing he couldn’t escape, or perhaps feeling ashamed of being carried like a sack, he decided to behave and walk on his own if I lowered him, which I eventually did.

“Where exactly are we going?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

Saladin walked with a slightly nervous expression, seemingly afraid that I was taking him somewhere without asking anything at all.

“If I die, the Al Kamil royal family will definitely protest to the Empire—”

“…Don’t worry, that’s not going to happen.”

Could he be imagining being dragged somewhere to be silenced? How many assassination threats must he have faced back in his homeland for him to think that even an academy instructor might kill him?

Saladin might have thought that some unknown men were waiting for him in a dark alley, but the place I was taking him to was the Tram Station.

We took the tram and arrived at Capital City District 8, Free Market Street.

Just a couple of days after the chaos of the protests, the market street was once again bustling with countless people, as if nothing had ever happened.

The voices of merchants calling out to customers, the haggling of buyers trying to lower prices, and the variety of languages other than the Empire’s common tongue filled the air, making the Free Market as lively as ever.

I had visited this place once before at Marian’s request, but Saladin seemed slightly overwhelmed by the massive crowd.

“W-What kinds of people…?”

In this crowded place, he appeared to relax much more than earlier, perhaps feeling that nothing would happen to him now.

“Isn’t that Galian mountain wine? It would cost five gold coins in the kingdom, but here it’s only one gold coin…! Huh, they’re openly selling magic scrolls at the market? That precious thing? No matter how advanced the Empire’s magic technology is, we could never have imagined this in the kingdom…”

Wait, is he just feeling like a tourist?

Anyway, I’m glad he’s starting to relax.

I walked through the market street with Saladin, whose eyes darted around in amazement. We soon arrived at a spice merchant’s shop.

“Welcome! Pepper, cumin, saffron! We have all the spices from the desert!”

The merchant had skin as dark as Saladin’s, dressed in Al Kamil-style clothing.

While I had no personal connection with this merchant, I recalled that his shop had been attacked by protesters on the day when the future of the Empire was being discussed.

I had wondered if he had closed up his shop and left, but it seemed he hadn’t done so.

Saladin grimaced in surprise at seeing someone from his homeland selling goods here.

“Uh? A kingdom resident…?”

“Hmm? Haha, look at that, running into someone from your hometown here. You look quite young; what brings you all the way to this far-off Empire, kid?”

“What? I’m not a kid—ack!”

Saladin flared up at being called a kid and tried to raise his voice, but I grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back, posing a question to the merchant.

“Is there a restaurant around here that Al Kamil people often go to?”

The merchant looked back and forth between Saladin and me, then nodded as if he understood.

“Aha, I see. Just go one more block behind me and look for a building with a yellow roof. You’ll definitely find a place that serves our food.”

“Got it. Thank you.”

I handed the merchant a silver coin in gratitude and sought out the restaurant he had mentioned. Even amidst the mingling of various races in the market street, the unique sign made it easy to find.

As soon as I stepped inside the shop, an exotic smell of spices hit my nose.

While it was a scent unfamiliar to me, Saladin seemed to be lost in nostalgia, staring blankly around the store.

Inside the shop, there were not only people from the kingdom who shared Saladin’s skin tone but also a few Empire citizens like myself.

I guided the dazed Saladin to sit at a table. I then called the waiter and ordered one of each item on the menu.

Upon hearing my order, Saladin wiped the dazed expression off his face and spoke in a flustered voice.

“Is this really just to eat here?”

“Yeah.”

“No, if that’s the case, we could’ve just eaten in the dormitory. Why come all the way here…?”

I shook my head.

After finishing my training with Gwen yesterday, I had asked her if she knew what kind of foods Saladin liked.

Though they weren’t that close, I thought they might share a meal sometimes, so I figured I’d ask.

But Gwen had given me an unexpected response.

‘Saladin? Hmm, not really? He always finishes eating first and leaves, but… oh! Now that I think about it, he hardly eats at all. At first, I thought he disliked eating with us, but now I think the food didn’t suit his taste.’

Hearing that made it all clear.

Having been forcibly exiled from his homeland to the Empire, I couldn’t help but wonder if the food would even suit his palate.

When I first joined the army, I had struggled through terrible food meant just to fill calories, and I often remembered the stew Ella had made for me.

When someone faces hardships far from home, they naturally yearn for the familiar comfort of the food they’ve always known.

As I expected, when the table was filled with meat and fish dishes rich in spices and various stews, Saladin’s eyes began to shine with hunger.

He opened his mouth, as if trying to suppress the overwhelming desire to eat.

“T-This is nonsense… I shouldn’t be doing this…”

“Hmm?”

“The Empire is the enemy… it’s a country of heretics… selling food to heretics? It’s written in the doctrine that you shouldn’t even serve anything to those who don’t believe in the father…”

“Pfft! Hahaha!”

It was not me who laughed at that, but a dark-skinned man at the next table, who was eating his meal.

He was dressed in light leather armor and had a sword—probably a mercenary. He set down the utensils he was holding and clutched his belly, laughing heartily for quite some time.

“W-What’s so funny…?”

“Cough, cough… it turns out there’s a very devout follower of the father here. You don’t understand why Al Kamil people are here cooking and selling food? Is it against the doctrine?”

Saladin slowly nodded.

“Really? Then according to the doctrine, you shouldn’t touch anything made by someone who doesn’t believe in the father, yet you guys openly buy and use ingredients from the Empire, right?”

“T-That’s… as long as the last person who makes the food is a fellow believer, it’s okay… right?”

“What about alcohol? According to the doctrine, aren’t you forbidden to drink? Yet everyone makes all sorts of excuses to drink secretly, and anyone who knows knows, right?”

Saladin seemed at a loss for words at that statement and fell silent.

The mercenary chuckled lightly.

“The Empire treats us like dirt. I don’t like the Empire either. But did the Kingdom treat guys like us any better? That’s a whole different story.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Kid, do you really think I and the other guys here would come all the way to this far-off Empire if things were peachy back home?”

The other customers in the shop were now listening with intrigued expressions to Saladin’s conversation with the mercenary. Even the shop owner had come out of the kitchen to watch.

“It’s just as hard for a lowlife like us to live anywhere. Honestly, the Empire is a bit better. Being a wealthy nation, there’s more work and, consequently, more opportunities.”

“But the Empire and the Kingdom don’t get along, right? Don’t people hate you…?”

“What does it matter? The church folks glare at me every time I pass by. But just like I’m not a devout follower of the father, not every Empire citizen is a devout adherent to the goddess. Just like this guy here.”

The mercenary pointed at his counterpart across the table. That person was an Empire mercenary, casually tearing into a spiced piece of meat, then smiling at Saladin.

As if they had just finished their meal, the two mercenaries placed a few gold coins on the table with oily fingers, patted Saladin on the shoulder, and left.

“Once you actually mingle, you realize that wherever people live, it’s all the same.”

Saladin stared at the entrance where the men had exited with a confused expression.

Leaning back with my arms crossed, I casually remarked.

“The food’s getting cold.”

“…Huh?”

“Stop spacing out and eat.”

At those words, Saladin slowly picked up his utensils. He gradually scooped a spoonful of soup into his mouth.

“Mmm…!”

From that moment on, it was as if a dam had burst, and Saladin started devouring his food as if he hadn’t eaten for days.

Seeing him like that, I raised my own utensils as well.

*

“Ugh…”

Saladin clutched his very full belly, trying to calm his churning stomach. Even though it had been a long time since he had tasted food from his homeland, he had likely overdone it.

But there was clearly someone who had overdone it even more.

Saladin glanced over at Instructor Ion, who was quietly walking beside him.

While Saladin had eaten quite a bit, he ended up leaving leftovers because he had gotten full halfway through. In contrast, Ion had ordered one of everything on the menu and polished off the massive heap of food without leaving a single crumb behind.

The sight of him eating more than ten portions by himself left Saladin and even the shop owner dumbfounded.

“……”

Instructor Ion, who truly seemed to have come just to eat, did not ask Saladin anything even as they were now heading back to the academy after their meal.

Saladin began to think that he could not comprehend what was going on in the instructor’s mind, making him feel increasingly alien-like due to his strength and the complete lack of grasp on his intentions.

However.

Somehow, seeing that stern-faced man made him think this as well.

That guy probably wouldn’t pity me even if I told him my story.

He wouldn’t ignore or mock me; he would just listen calmly.

Until now, he had assumed that the Empire citizens disliked Kingdom folks unconditionally. Even if everyone pretended otherwise, he believed they would shun him, and he thought that, in the end, he would be made uncomfortable.

So, being certain he would be hated, he had chosen to keep his distance first.

But looking back now, while it was true that people might have shunned him because of his skin color and origin, perhaps his own attitude played a part.

Before long, the tram arrived at the academy. Even as we entered through the main gate and boarded the campus tram, Instructor Ion said nothing.

It was only when we were nearing the Lecture Building stop that he casually spoke up.

“I submitted the absence report for the morning classes, but make sure to attend the afternoon ones on time.”

Ultimately, that meant he wouldn’t ask anything at all, and bowing my head low, I nervously scratched the back of my neck and, after some thought, finally opened my mouth.

“Uh… I-Instructor!”

Just before getting off at the stop, Instructor Ion paused and turned to look at Saladin.

Saladin couldn’t bring himself to meet Ion’s gaze, speaking in a small voice like an ant scuttling by.

“Please… let me talk to you.”

 

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