Chapter 63 - Covered in Ashes (7)
Ernest headed home before sunset to keep his promise to his father.
As he walked down the street, he caught a whiff of smoke and realized there had been a fire somewhere nearby.
In winter, it's common for people to drink heavily to forget the cold and end up knocking over a brazier or candle, or to stuff too much wood into the fireplace and accidentally cause a fire.
These accidents are especially frequent in the slums on the outskirts of town, where many poor commoners live.
The House Krieger home isn't in the slums, but it's still close enough for the smoke to reach them.
It wasn't the sort of thing that called for much concern.
As usual, Ernest unlocked the door with his key and entered the house.
"I'm home."
"Welcome back, Ernest. I'm glad you made it home early."
Haires replied calmly to Ernest's greeting.
Sensing something unusual in his father's tone, Ernest quickly swapped his shoes for slippers and headed for the living room.
"..."
Ernest looked at his father, who seemed to have been sitting on the sofa reading a book, just as he did most days.
Then he glanced at the long sofa placed with its back toward the fireplace.
Haires closed his book and rose from the sofa.
"I heard about it at the marketplace. I found her collapsed in an alley and brought her home."
He spoke with a troubled expression, then quietly turned to look at his young son.
Ernest slowly walked over and leaned across the sofa's back to look at the person lying there.
A pale face dotted with freckles, red hair, a small frame, and a dirty cadet uniform peeking out from beneath the blanket.
"Marie…"
Ernest murmured in shock.
"I heard from people at the marketplace that she asked for our house. She was probably looking for you."
"…"
"Keep an eye on her. I need to go back to the marketplace and finish shopping."
Haires reached out to pat his dazed son's shoulder, but when he saw his own hand, he suddenly stopped, startled.
After a moment's hesitation, he let his hand fall to his side, quietly got dressed, and left the house.
Ernest stared blankly at the unconscious Marie for a moment, then, snapping back to himself, slumped onto the sofa where his father had been sitting.
He gazed at Marie, trying to make sense of the situation.
'Why is Marie here?'
Because Father brought her here.
No, before that—why was Marie in Grimman in the first place?
The moment he thought that, Ernest quickly dredged up and pieced together memories he'd shoved to the back of his mind.
'Because of me.'
Ernest knew that Marie's relationship with her family was terrible. No, it was beyond simply bad—she harbored murderous intent toward them.
To someone like Marie, Ernest had once said that running away or avoiding things could be a way to solve her problems.
And Marie, who had been holding on through dependency on Ernest, took his not-quite-advice and chose to escape, to run from her problems with her family.
Instead of returning to her hometown, Marie chose to stay and endure life in Grimman.
Naturally, a small, young, and poor Aeblonian girl like her wouldn't have much money, so she couldn't afford Grimman's high cost of living and ended up out on the streets.
"..."
Ernest ran his rough, scarred hands—far more battered than those of other boys his age—slowly across his face.
Maybe it would've been better if he could've just let things go without knowing anything, but clever as he was, Ernest saw right through Marie's situation with painful clarity.
It was foolish to meddle in something he couldn't take responsibility for.
That's why, at the Year-End Party, Ernest had only told Marie to stay strong and said nothing more.
But before that, Ernest had already said something that influenced Marie too deeply.
His mind had been a tangled mess from the outing and everything with his father—he was excited, distracted, and without realizing it, he'd crossed a line he usually never would have.
Ernest felt a strange sensation.
But it didn't take him long to recognize what it was. It was guilt.
Haires returned not long after.
He saw his son sitting on his sofa, quietly looking at Marie with deep, shadowed eyes, lost in thought.
Haires silently made his way to the kitchen and started preparing dinner.
As the smell of food began to fill the house, Ernest realized his father was back.
He got up and headed for the kitchen.
"It's because of me."
Ernest spoke in a composed voice.
Although guilt was clearly threaded through his words, that was all—there wasn't a trace of the excessive emotion you might expect from a boy his age.
"I said something I shouldn't have."
Haires continued cooking in silence, listening closely to his son's words. Even though his father didn't turn around, Ernest wasn't disappointed or upset. He knew perfectly well that his father was paying full attention to him.
In fact, if Haires had turned to face him, Ernest probably wouldn't have been able to speak so honestly with his father.
In a low, steady voice, Ernest quietly explained the situation to Haires—how Marie had ended up in her current circumstances, why she was in Grimman now, and why she had come looking for him.
"So, what do you want to do?"
After listening to his son's story, Haires asked as he plated the finished food.
Ernest gazed tensely at his father's back, but when he saw Haires take some stew and thin it out with water, he realized that his father, without saying a word, was already giving his silent consent.
"This is all because of something careless I said, but I can't take responsibility for it myself."
Ernest relaxed a little and spoke in a subdued voice.
"So, there's nothing I can do but ask you. Would it be alright if Marie stayed with us for a while?"
"Sure, help me carry the dishes."
"Yes, sir."
Haires accepted his son's request as if it were nothing, and Ernest followed his father's instructions, carrying the dishes to the dining table.
Clatter.
After moving the dishes with Ernest, Haires brought over one of the newly purchased chairs and set it next to his son's seat.
When Haires looked at him, Ernest stepped over to the sofa by the fireplace and gazed down at Marie.
"..."
"Marie. Father has given his permission. Get up and have something to eat first."
Marie, who had been feigning sleep after waking up to the smell of food—silently listening to Ernest and Haires's conversation—fluttered her eyelids and managed to open her eyes at those words.
She couldn't bear to look Ernest in the eye, so she just stared at the blazing fire in the fireplace, struggling to rise with her exhausted body.
"I'll help you," said Ernest.
But Marie couldn't even sit up on her own.
All she'd had to eat in the past five days was two pieces of bread—the bare minimum provided by the inn—and she had burned through too much energy in the cold.
Eating handfuls of snow to quench her thirst hadn't been a wise move, but at least it kept her from dying of dehydration before she reached House Krieger, so it hadn't been all bad.
Marie, already small and scrawny to begin with, seemed to have shrunk even more from what she'd endured over the past few days.
It wasn't an exaggeration to worry that her legs might snap just from walking.
Ernest tried to help her walk, but when he realized she couldn't move at all, he ended up lifting her and settling her into a chair.
Marie, her face almost bluish, could only manage shallow, trembling breaths.
After Ernest sat down, Haires pulled out Mia's chair a little and took his own seat.
"Let's eat before it gets cold."
"Yes, sir."
Then, as if he hadn't noticed Marie's presence at all, Haires began his meal just as he always did.
Ernest glanced at him briefly, but quietly started eating as well.
"..."
Racked with horrible fatigue and hunger, Marie looked at Ernest with half-closed eyes, then at Haires, and finally, her gaze came to rest on the thin stew set before her.
Then she slowly raised her head again and met Haires's gaze.
Haires said nothing.
With those deep, dark eyes—so clearly inherited by his son—that betrayed not a single emotion, he simply watched Marie in silence.
Yet somehow, Marie understood with absolute clarity that this was his way of giving permission.
With trembling hands, Marie struggled to pick up her spoon, scooped up a bit of stew, and, finding herself unable to bring it all the way to her mouth, she just buried her face in the bowl and began to eat frantically.
"Huu… huu…"
It was thin, but warm, and filled with plenty of finely chopped ingredients to make it easy for Marie to eat.
On top of that, it tasted wonderful.
Marie fought desperately to hold back the sobs that kept rising as she ate.
Tears dripped down onto the bowl, vanishing as they mixed into the watery stew.
Neither Haires nor Ernest said a word about Marie's disastrous table manners.
Looks like she doesn't remember.
However, Haires was watching Marie's reactions very closely, trying to determine if she remembered anything about her abduction. He'd confirmed that Marie had completely lost consciousness while he was rescuing her.
But he still didn't know if she recalled the moment she was kidnapped.
That might seem trivial, but it was actually quite important. If Marie began to wonder how she'd ended up waking at House Krieger after being abducted… well, that could get a little awkward. Fortunately, Marie had already reached her limit well before the kidnapping even happened. In truth, Marie couldn't even properly remember asking the merchants for directions to the House of Krieger.
There were only three things she truly recalled about that time.
One was the cold, another was her hunger, and the last was the phrase she kept muttering to herself—"Hang in there"—over and over so she wouldn't collapse.
Marie scraped up every last bit of the stew.
Luckily, now that her hunger was somewhat eased, she regained her senses enough to resist the urge to lick the empty bowl like an animal.
She was still hungry.
But after so many years surviving on scraps, it never crossed her mind to ask for more food in a situation like this.
"You couldn't handle any more food right now anyway."
As if he'd heard the words she hadn't spoken, Haires took a sip of water, then said in a low voice,
"Get some more sleep first. Then, when you wake up, you can eat again."
"…Yes…"
Marie replied in a faint, rough voice, as if she were rubbing sand together.
Then, doing her best to behave, she tried to remain seated quietly until the Krieger family's meal was finished.
Thunk.
But as her worries faded, Marie lost consciousness again.
Just before her head could slump into her empty bowl, Ernest, who was sitting beside her, quickly caught her.
He supported Marie's shoulders and gently steadied her small, drooping head as well.
Then, flustered, he looked up at Haires.
"Go ahead and lay her down."
"Yes, Father."
With his father's permission, Ernest, ever so carefully, committed the discourtesy of getting up with food still in his mouth in the middle of a meal.
After laying Marie down on the sofa and even covering her with a blanket, Ernest returned to his seat at the dining table.
Haires spoke.
"There are three possible ways."
That was all Haires said, but Ernest immediately understood what the three ways were.
The first option was to send Marie back to her hometown.
It meant simply covering up and ignoring this incident or accident—whatever it was—that had struck House Krieger.
To be frank, from the Krieger family's perspective, all they'd done was save a penniless girl.
The guilt Ernest felt?
How could anyone have predicted things would turn out this way for him?
And really, what was so significant about the kind words he had offered her?
But Ernest could easily imagine what would happen if Marie returned home like this.
No matter how she'd been treated by her family in the past, now Marie was their only hope.
Everyone would be excited about the prospect of living in luxury off the money Marie would earn as an officer.
However, Marie hadn't wanted to go home.
From her family's point of view, this was a clear act of betrayal. Retaliation would be inevitable, and in the worst case, they might even kill her.
Now that Marie's name was listed as a noble in the military registry, anyone who did such a thing would have their entire family executed.
It was madness, but even so, uneducated fools—seeing only that she was a noble, a soldier, but first and foremost their own child—could easily beat her to death if they wished.
Parents who tried to sell their own child into slavery wouldn't suddenly look back on their past deeds and feel remorse now.
They probably believed that simply giving birth to Marie and not killing her—raising her this far—was enough to fulfill their duty as parents.
And even if what she did had been a thoughtless mistake of youth, Marie must have acted by her own decision.
Sending someone like her back to her hometown couldn't be called a good deed, either.
The second option was to support Marie.
Whether it meant giving her money or providing her a place to stay, the idea was to let her manage on her own.
They could ask for the money back once Marie became an officer, or simply forget about it.
After all, the Krieger family had more than enough wealth.
Maybe this was the best solution for everyone.
For Ernest, this meant taking on a clear financial obligation, enough to ease his sense of guilt.
And for Marie, she wouldn't have to return home, nor would she freeze or starve to death—she could survive the winter and return to the Military Academy in spring.
But Grimman was too cold a city for a small, weak Aeblonian girl who, out of desperation, had resorted to such reckless measures.
This wasn't an exaggeration—drunken commoners could beat Marie to death on a whim, simply to vent their frustrations or out of boredom.
Though Marie was now an officer cadet—a minor noble registered as a soldier in the Imperial Army—without her cadet uniform, she was just a small, plain Aeblonian girl.
Finally, the third option was to do as they were doing now.
Let Marie sleep, eat, and stay at the House of Krieger, and in the spring, send her back to the Academy with Ernest.
"I'm sorry."
Ernest spoke softly, watching his father's expression.
"It's all right,"
Haires replied calmly.
That was the end of it.
These two—who knew each other so well, and were both exceptionally sharp—could read one another's intentions fully within that brief exchange.
Ernest had decided it would be best for Marie to stay at the House of Krieger.
So, feeling sorry for dragging his father into such troublesome matters, he apologized.
And Haires, having chosen to respect and accept his son's decision, simply replied that it was all right.
Privately, Haires wanted to send Marie away.
He had many complicated reasons, but the main ones were twofold.
First, there was the issue that could arise if Marie's dependence on Ernest grew any worse.
She had already relied on Ernest before, and now she seemed intent on doing so again.
Living under the same roof at House Krieger might only deepen her attachment.
Second, Marie was a Baltracher.
Haires didn't want his young son to have too much contact with someone from the Baltracher line.
Even so, Haires judged there was enough value in respecting Ernest's decision to take on all these potential problems.
Although this hadn't started out as Ernest's choice, things were now moving according to his will. Whatever happened from here—no matter if it led to bitter disappointment or failure—everything that followed would be Ernest's responsibility. By letting him learn the weight, the fear, and the hardships of that responsibility because of this one, supposedly insignificant girl, Haires considered it a worthwhile trade.
In truth, Haires saw Marie as not much more than a stray kitten his son had brought home.
A kitten that happened to speak well and carry a few troublesome issues, unable to survive without Ernest's care—a kitten Haires had agreed to take in, mainly to nurture his son's sense of responsibility.
If this kitten scratched or bit his son, he could always throw her out.
Or, if necessary, he could get rid of her without Ernest ever knowing and simply say she had run away.
Such was an animal.
That was Haires Krieger's honest, unvarnished feeling toward Marie Fiders.
But regardless, Ernest had made the decision, and Haires had given his permission, so Marie would be spending this winter at the House of Krieger.
***
"Oh my God."
Robert mumbled in a daze, utterly dumbfounded.
"You don't even believe in God."
"I mean, still, this is... this is... This is really one of those moments where all you can say is, 'Oh my God.'"
"..."
Seeing Marie—dressed for now in some of the clothes he used to wear as a child, fiddling with her hands and hanging her head in silence in response to Robert's words—Ernest spoke to Robert.
"I know, but that's just how things turned out."
No matter how it all happened, that's just how it was.
Marie Fiders was going to spend this winter at the House of Krieger.
From both Krieger's and Marie's perspectives, it was a staggering, unexpected twist.
But for Robert, it was none of his business.
"...Want to go eat something? Ah, Marie, do you want to come too?"
After a moment of hesitation, Robert put on his usual smile and spoke to Ernest.
While he was at it, he made the offer to Marie as well.
Not really understanding what was going on, he decided not to dwell on it and just accept things as they were.
Truly, it was a fitting and sensible choice.
"...The dress..."
Marie mumbled quietly to Robert.
"I lost it... I'm sorry..."
After saying that, Marie gripped her clothes tightly with her small hands, and tears started rolling down her cheeks.
When Marie was abducted, the bag with her dress had been taken to John's Gang's building along with her. But during Haires's dramatic rescue, such trivial things as clothing never even crossed his mind. So, the first dress Marie had ever worn in her life was caught in the fire and burned away without leaving a trace.
Seeing Marie cry like that, Robert looked as if he might let out a shriek; he grabbed his head in shock.
He couldn't believe it: the fierce Aeblonian girl, Baltracher, was apologizing to him, the one who gave her that plain dress, just because she'd lost it—and then actually started to cry sorrowfully.
Robert had never imagined such a thing.
"Uh, what, hey, uh, well... it's, it's okay! Really! Hey, I got some allowance money—should I buy you a new one?"
Oliver Jimman, who thought of his officer cadet son socializing with noble friends as a form of networking, gave Robert an astonishingly generous allowance.
Even if Robert blew through all the checks his father had given him in one outing with friends, Oliver would just laugh it off and praise his son for spending well.
It must have meant that he was fitting in well among the noble boys.
"...No."
Marie, tears streaming down her face, looked up at Robert. She wiped her runny nose on her sleeve, sniffled, and then shook her head.
"A-are you sure? Are you really okay with it? You're sure I don't need to buy you a new one? You're really sure, right? Right?"
Robert, as if he were being threatened, double-checked with Marie again and again, clearly terrified. Marie nodded in response.
Whether it was because she was too self-conscious to accept his offer, or because she was genuinely satisfied just to have worn the gift once and truly didn't need another, even Marie herself wasn't quite sure.
Maybe, even though the situation was far from normal, it was just that she was glad to have a space where, at least for a moment, she could feel like she belonged.
Looking just like an ordinary eleven-year-old girl, Marie wept—her tears falling in big drops—like an ordinary thirteen-year-old girl.
Though the winters in Grimman were brutally cold, her tears were strangely warm.