“What does Peter have to do with this?” Chester asked, confused.

“He’ll know something.” Jonathan shrugged. “If we’re lucky, Peter will know exactly where we need to go to find the kids.”

“That’s why you made the bet.”

“Yes.”

Chester hesitated a few times and then straight out asked, “He didn’t kidnap the kids, right?”

“No,” Jonathan swiftly shot down. “He’s just . . . good at getting strange information other people don’t know. I’m not sure how to explain it.”

Chester held his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’m just making sure Peter isn’t like some sort of serial kidnapper and I didn’t know.”

“I know. It’s fine.”

They found the merchant with about half of the mercenary band, where the camp was being set up.

Jonathan headed towards Peter, and Chester went to check on how the food was coming, or more accurately, to bribe Hans for a larger portion.

“How’d it go?” Peter asked. He had laid out a few goods in front of him on a blanket. Even in this situation, he was selling people things.

“Well.” Jonathan leaned forward and quietly asked, “Do you know where they are?” On his shoulder, Oceton chirped at the merchant with the same sort of intensity.

“Where who is?”

“The children who went missing.”

Peter smiled. That was the correct answer apparently. “You need to go into the slums. I’ll draw you some directions.”

“That’s appreciated.” Jonathan smiled. “Now what’s the cost?”

“I need a few of Oceton’s feathers for a job in another place.”

“Deal.”

The two transmigrators shook hands.

———

About an hour later, Chester and Jonathan were deep into the city’s slums. They were surrounded by houses, mostly mud and wood. Many of the buildings had partially or fully collapsed. The wood was often rotting away into nothing, feeding and housing the bugs that infested the district.

The place Peter had directed the bard and whittler to was an alleyway between two collapsed houses.

Jonathan’s arm was grabbed.

A child was pulling on Jonathan with all of his might. He was wearing expensive velvet that was covered in mud. There was a desperate look in his eyes.

Jonathan stood his ground and didn’t allow himself to be budged an inch.

“Woah, woah.” Chester coaxed, “Slow down kid. What’s the problem?”

“I’m 4th Prince Bas Legen. I order you to help me,” the kid replied. He had quickly hidden his desperation with confidence, despite his appearance and surroundings. His black hair was combed neatly, and contrasted with the purple velvet he wore. There was a small stamp in his other hand that he held up that showed the royal symbol of Malamut.

“Why do I keep running into royalty?” Chester questioned. “Do I need to start counting?” He sounded half-confused and half-tired at the whims of life. Even the exuberant bard knew how strange it was that he kept running into such people.

Jonathan winced. He knew the feeling, but he was also technically royalty in this world, meaning that Chester could add yet another person to a tally of royal run-ins.

Bas Legen started pulling on Jonathan’s arm again, and this time the transmigrator let the kid move him into the alleyway.

Several beams of thick, rotten wood had fallen. Amidst them, another kid was stuck, with two of the planks around her leg.

Jonathan frowned. He pried Bas’ fingers off and absent-mindedly reassured, “We’re here to help. Don’t worry.”

Chester crouched down and started talking to the girl. “I’m Chester. What’s your name?”

“Why’d you get them?” The girl spat out, looking at Bas.

“They were the only people I could see close by!” Bas defended.

The girl stuck out her tongue.

Bas stuck out his tongue as well.

Jonathan was inspecting the pile of beams. He needed to make sure that if they moved one or two beams, it wouldn’t end with the others shifting and crushing someone. If they saved the kid but lost fingers in the process because they were hasty, he would regret it the most. The transmigrator didn’t really believe in saving others at the cost of himself, especially his life. His best friend would have disagreed, but Micah wasn’t here to be a self-sacrificial idiot.

“What’s your name?” Chester repeated.

“My name is Cornelia.” The girl, despite her situation, seemed hostile. Her curly brown hair was braided into two buns on the sides of her head. The blouse she wore was yellow and paired nicely with her dark skin. She was covered in debris.

“Nice to meet you, Cornelia. We talked with Norel and are part of the searchers. My friend and I are going to get you out of here.”

“Any cloth we can use to wrap our hands?” Jonathan asked. He didn’t like the look of some which were splintering to pieces.

Chester pulled out a shirt and cut it up into pieces.

Jonathan and Chester wrapped their hands and Bas was told to stay back. Jonathan carefully pulled up a beam and used his foot to keep any others from sliding down. Chester hauled Cornelia out of the pile and set her on the ground safely nearby. Jonathan lowered the wood and walked over.

“How’s your leg feeling? Your foot?” Chester asked.

Cornelia didn’t reply. Her leg was bleeding as the wood had scraped along her skin when she tried to pull her foot out before. She tested her foot by putting weight on it and grunted at the spike of pain.

Chester muttered under his breath. He didn’t do well with blood. The bard wrapped one of the unused rags he had made from the shirt around Cornelia’s wound.

“Did you sprain your ankle?” Jonathan asked the girl.

“No.”

Bas crossed his arms. “She did.” He knew Cornelia just didn’t like feeling weak, but she was hurt and needed help.

Cornelia shot a glare at Bas, betrayal clear on her face.

Chester turned around and crouched. “Alright, alright. Get on then. It’s a bit of a walk back to the smithy.”

Cornelia was pouting now, still feigning that she was okay. “I don’t need to.”

“Come on,” Bas said. The boy was channeling his concern into annoyance. “Stop being stubborn.”

Jonathan sighed. “Cornelia, you’re doing us a favor. We walk faster than you two. Also, everyone is weak at times. Accept that and you can work on being strong. Okay?”

Cornelia nodded. However, she reached out towards Jonathan instead of Chester.

Chester looked away, shoulders shaking in quiet laughter.

Oceton puffed up his feathers and quickly glided to the ground. He walked over to Bas and seemed to inspect the prince.

Jonathan crouched down and let the girl climb on his back.

Bas stuck close to Chester and Oceton.

Thus, the four set off.

Chester decided to keep the children distracted and started up a conversation. “Why is a prince out of the capital? Out for adventure?”

“I don’t like it in the capital.” Bas glanced at his friend and added, “Cornelia can’t visit me there, so I have to visit her here.”

Cornelia seemed happy at that admittance, and smiled a bit.

Jonathan, meanwhile, was happy to let Chester carry the conversation between the children the rest of the walk.

The smithy wasn’t too far away, only a few blocks.

Norel was happy the two children had been found and held up his side of the deal.

Jonathan bought an anti-magic longsword. The grip was uncomfortable, but the weight wasn’t. Next time, he really needed to go for a broadsword; basket hilts were best for him.

Bas thanked them. The prince dragged Cornelia with him, but the apprentice begrudgingly did thank the two men as well.

Chester beamed and ruffled both of the kid’s heads. He ignored how Cornelia was now glaring at him.

Jonathan couldn’t help the slight smile that formed. He opened his satchel and selected two carvings: one was a small crown, and the other was a sword.

After a quick glance at the sky to check the time, Chester and Jonathan ran back to the mercenary camp in order to not miss dinner.

A/N
And here two more kids are: Cornelia and Bas. They don’t have a lot of time in this novel, but they get more in the sequel.

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