Though the former general had adopted a deferential manner, AB was no more overwhelmed by the honor than she had been inclined to treat him as a general. She simply said her piece in her usual stiff manner.

“I will hear your request before making a decision. Be advised that unreasonable demands may be refused, and the fact that you made such demands may also be reported.”

Only moments ago, Frontain would have barked at her for her insolence. This time, he offered no rebuke.

“No country can be entirely free of crime. No other country has public order as good as the Military State's, but even that has its limits. Violence exists everywhere, at all times.”

His throat dry, Frontain gulped down the water in his cup before broaching the subject.

“As you know, when people in the Military State come of age, they receive a biometric terminal and are assigned a citizenship level. And most citizens... spend their entire lives at that level, or lose levels over a momentary mistake or misunderstanding. For all practical purposes, you might as well assume that rising in level is impossible. In other words, they have no hope of anything better.”

AB pointed out in a flat voice, “Warning. Your remarks are excessively negative. The Military State recognizes private property. Those who live diligently can enjoy ample prosperity until their deaths.”

“People cannot live on canned beans and tap water alone, Captain. To live as human beings, people sometimes need hopes and dreams.”

“A lack of hopes and dreams is not fatal.”

“No, sometimes it is. You will understand once you have raised children.”

Having never raised a child, AB could not readily counter that. The old soldier's underhanded argument also irritated her a little.

Meanwhile, Frontain sighed, fiddling with the cross in his hand.

“Rigid. The country, the citizenship levels, all of it. So rigid there isn't a single crack to squeeze through. At the very least, we should not have rejected the Sky God and the Holy See.”

“Correction. The Military State has never rejected the Sky God or the Holy See.”

“It merely imposed a Level 2 luxury tax on religion. If that isn't rejection, what is? If even emotional support has to be bought, how can people who can barely keep themselves fed afford faith?”

AB calmly pointed out, “That is a choice. If faith is so precious to them, they can spend their surplus funds to acquire it.”

“... Hah. It sounds reasonable enough. But the world doesn't always work the way words do! How much of life have you seen to speak like that?”

AB was about to point out his lack of objectivity and ask whether he was only saying this because he worshipped the Sky God.

Before she could, Frontain burst out.

“Young people with nothing left to lose are bound to turn violent. They have neither hopes nor dreams. Even the faith that promises them peace and rest after death has submitted and been taxed! What sort of heaven can you only reach by paying taxes? They have nothing at all to lean on!”

Frontain clenched his fist in the air. The energy arts he drew from his aged body gathered feebly around it, then vanished.

“Those are the sacrificial lambs the Military State's Shadow has gathered. People who have lost their hopes and dreams and staked their lives on a gamble. The Shadow is using them as sacrifices. So I...”

Frontain seemed to have aged considerably in those few moments. In a voice that threatened to break, he made his request of AB.

“Would you... show them even a little mercy? The children have only briefly lost their way.”

The Shelter.

It managed orphanages across several districts and had been entrusted with running distribution centers. It was a nest built by childless veterans to protect children, and a private veterans affairs office that offered comfort to the families of the fallen.

But if even an only child did not grow up as their parents wished, what could one expect of children in an orphanage?

Parents could not be held wholly to blame for their children's delinquency, but perhaps it was only natural for them to feel responsible.

Thus Frontain, the Shelter's director, had bowed his head to a mere captain and pleaded out of a profound sense of responsibility.

But it was not something AB could allow.

“That is not possible.”

“... Yes. I thought as much.”

Once a crime had been committed, there was no mercy. The Military State did not forgive.

And so—

“However, I can at least ensure that they receive a fair judgment.”

Information supplied by a communications officer carried that much authority.

If AB clearly observed and conveyed all these events, the Military State would accept her account.

“Thank you.”

Frontain readily bowed his head at the assurance of a mere captain who had not even given her name, rank, or unit.

For a moment, a solemn mood settled over them. If they parted now, it could easily have been dressed up as a touching farewell.

AB broke that mood with another question.

“One question remains.”

“An older man who once outranked you has even bowed his head, and you still have more to squeeze out of him? You truly are a soldier in the Military State's image. For better or worse.”

Frontain had not grumbled in the expectation that anything would change. He sighed and waited for her question.

“Do you know about the magician?”

The retired soldier's eyes widened.

“The magician? That merry criminal?”

Merry? Criminal?

The incomprehensible combination of words puzzled AB.

“A merry criminal? How can a criminal be merry?”

“Such things do happen in this world, Captain. Though I don't know whether someone with so little experience can understand.”

“Negative. It is impossible. Crime must be shunned and rejected. There can be no such thing as merry crime.”

“Is that so? Listen to what the magician has done. Then see if you can still deny it.”

Smiling like an old man telling a child a story, Frontain began.

“You know Seamless Heavenly Garments, I assume?”

At the name of the Military State's most famous holding company, AB immediately nodded.

“Of course. It produces Arche Avatars and military armaments. One of only five holding companies in the Military State, is it not?”

Everything in the country belonged to the Military State, but there were a few things the Military State could not produce.

The best-known examples were Arche Avatars and alchemical fabric.

Alchemical fabric could only be used with a human template that resonated with it: an Arche Avatar.

Usually paired with a clothing packet, an Arche Avatar required highly specialized magic, exceptional skill, and a delicate touch to create. It was a sophisticated magical tool that the Military State had repeatedly tried and failed to mass-produce.

Currently, the holding company Seamless Heavenly Garments was the only place in the Military State capable of making Arche Avatars.

Having originated as a fabric shop in the old Kingdom, Seamless Heavenly Garments had invented Arche Avatars and clothing packets. It was, quite literally, a pillar of the Military State's technology.

“They nearly went under because of that one magician!”

That was why his next words startled AB.

“How is that possible?”

“Simple. They were trying to sell leather bags, accessories, wallets, and belts! And then some lunatic started picking pockets in every district he could find!”

Who could make an old man like him laugh like a child—a great soldier who had once worn a general's stars, whose face was lined with scars and wrinkles from every hardship imaginable?

The magician had accomplished something akin to magic merely by having his name spoken.

“Seamless Heavenly Garments really were a pack of scoundrels back then. They even dragged in convict laborers to make their goods, and roped in the orphanages, claiming children made them better with their small hands... But thanks to a single pickpocket wiping out all those accessories they'd produced, the bastards went completely bust!”

“Correction. Seamless Heavenly Garments did not go bankrupt.”

“The Weaver took over as president and got them back on their feet! Do you think they would have survived otherwise?”

After chuckling for a while, Frontain fell into a distant reverie, lost in memories of the past.

“Back then, at the orphanage I managed, magician was the most popular dream job, and pickpocket came second. You have no idea what a headache their games of stealing from each other gave me... I'm too ashamed to mention it often, but some of them probably really did become pickpockets.”

“How peculiar. Did the military authorities make no attempt to apprehend him?”

The old man's memories ran as deep as his years, and it took him quite some time to emerge from them. Only after AB prompted him a couple of times did Frontain answer.

“A few police officers investigated, but they all came away empty-handed.”

“What did the military police say?”

Frontain chuckled as though he had heard an amusing joke.

“What? Send the military police to catch the King of Pickpockets? You know how it works. The Military State doesn't bother intervening unless public order has seriously deteriorated. King of Pickpockets or not, he is still only a pickpocket. How could launching an investigation over that one man be worth the cost?”

Rationally, AB could not agree with his cheerful laughter over crime. But his amusement was so genuine that she found herself accepting the feeling.

“In any case, he is a criminal. Understood. Thank you for your cooperation.”

Having had his fill of laughter, Frontain cleared his throat and assumed a dignified air.

“... In any case, be careful. The magician is unlikely to meddle with an officer like you... but those men calling themselves the Shadow may be all the more inclined to target you.”

“Thank you for the advice.”

AB held her cap against her chest and bowed. She had merely observed ordinary courtesy toward a retired soldier who was effectively a civilian, but Frontain seemed more pleased than he would have been with a salute.

“Hah. No romance left, but we still have soldiers, do we? The Military State has a bright future.”

Watching AB walk across the Shelter's small courtyard, Frontain murmured wistfully.

“Old soldiers merely step aside... A shame I can no longer take the field.”

They were retired soldiers. People who could no longer fight because of age or injury.

Once soldiers, they were now observers who viewed the Military State through civilian eyes.

A change in vantage point brought a change in perspective. Retired, and now civilians, they looked upon the Military State with deeply complicated feelings.

Behind the proud, flawless insignia lay the thick nails and layers of glue holding its shape together. It was an eyesore that few besides veterans could recognize.

And yet.

“Still wanting the country to prosper... Is that loyalty, or am I simply attached to the country I helped build?”

The old soldier clicked his tongue and stood. His back screamed at the mere act of rising from a seat, and he resented it more than usual.

“Let's see. I need to order some canned food from that fellow Krin... Buy some packets, too... Ah, and mend the fence.”

He had more tasks to attend to than years to his name.