Chapter 102.4 - The Second Year at the Academy - The Place Called Home (4)
Myself, Lily, and for some reason, Elphimia, who tagged along, headed towards the refugee district from the north gate.
Though we had traversed along the main road, we had never stepped into the refugee district before.
A city where refugees reside. In terms of the impression it gives, one might imagine a scene filled with shabby houses and tents.
But the reality is slightly different.
While its true that there are many such dwellings, there are also quite a few rough but brick or stone-built houses.
At first glance, it appears to be just a slum or a poor neighborhood.
Naturally so, as the first refugees settled here over seven hundred years ago, after Alphus built the walls.
If there were no walls, the term refugee district would have long disappeared.
Guided by Lily, I turned my attention to the houses. The reason for the roughness of brick and stone-built houses is they dont use decent building materials.
Even now, the refugee district is made of waste.
When buildings age and are rebuilt, inevitably, waste materials are produced.
Outside the walls, there are several disposal sites where these are collected, becoming valuable resources for the refugees.
Also, at regular intervals, the waste is transported to a distant final disposal site, and this process also serves as a temporary income for refugees and the poor.
The waste materials I replaced with stone walls at Dubals request were useless soil and rotten wood even for the refugees.
Transportation to the disposal site apparently earns rewards based on quantity, and the reward and timing remain unchanged.
The fewer the materials, the easier it is for the refugees.
Observing the refugee district, I noticed something strange.
Clearly, unbroken bricks and stones were also being used.
It was out of the question to buy them, and even if stolen, they were too heavy.
While refugees could have baked the bricks, the use of stones seemed impossible.
Someone must be discarding usable building materials.
Somehow, Danbars smug expression crossed my mind.
That eccentric guy would probably mix them in with the waste.
Whoever it is, its a clumsy kindness.
While gazing at the intricate refugee district, Lily advanced without hesitation, leading the way.
It seems outsiders like us attract attention, as many refugees observed us from a distance.
Some peeked out only their eyes from their dwellings, while others sent subtle glances that turned into intense stares upon a second look. Various reactions.
But the gaze wasnt directed at me; it was Elfimia, brimming with Elven vibes.
I felt some appraising glances, but the person in question was nonchalant.
Not only accustomed to the stares but also confident enough to retaliate if needed.
After a while, the atmosphere around us became more shabby. Dwellings with just hung-up cloth and structures not resembling houses were scattered around.
Apparently, this was the area of new refugees.
Here it is.
From the direction Lily pointed, the sounds of determination and swordplay reached us.
Silently moving forward, the field of vision suddenly opened up.
An open space in the refugee district.
There, facing each other, were Ted and two boys.
The two looked young, around seven or eight years old.
Desperately swinging sticks, they were dodging and counterattacking.
Ted was holding back, but not pulling his punches.
The sound of impact was intense, and the boys bodies were covered in countless bruises.
Jema and Nails were watching. Nails noticed me and tried to greet me.
But I shook my head, signaling him not to disturb the practice. A bit sly, but well.
What do you think?
Weak.
When asked for her opinion, Elphimia dismissed it nonchalantly.
Then she continued.
But everyone starts weak. What matters is talent.
True.
Even if they lacked strength, they had the will. Elphimia evaluated it that way, and I agreed.
While feeling Lily, who was eavesdropping behind, I returned my gaze.
The two boys were ordinary. Different from Ted and Jema.
They were surprisingly earnest about living.
Enough to make me want to lend them a hand.
Holding onto their sticks despite being knocked down, the boys faced the situation with teary eyes.
Ted didnt cry, but he shared the same competitiveness.
However, I didnt understand.
Why did he pull such a calculated stunt?
The goal was simplemy active support.
Im teaching Ted and the others not only how to fight. But also basic knowledge like letters.
The boys are also seeking that.
Even so, he could have confronted me directly.
If I refused, he could have learned from Ted and the others.
There would be plenty of opportunities for persuasion in the future.
Was there no opportunity? Or perhapswas he in a hurry?
This content is taken from fr(e)ewebn(o)vel.𝓬𝓸𝓶