In this continent where division continues to grow, the city closest to the "Plateau" is Plaque.
Located on the outer edge of human territory, this town thrives on commerce related to monsters. To maintain order, the Lord issues requests to adventurers, who subjugate monsters and bring the materials back to town. These materials are processed or sold elsewhere. Through this cycle—tax collection and new requests—the town sustains itself.
Because it is near the Plateau, the town is built on land where monsters that are "hard to kill by human standards" roam. This makes it incredibly valuable to the Kingdom. Monster materials can be turned into powerful weapons or magic tools, making them efficient exports for acquiring foreign currency. Thus, the Royal Family maintains a monopoly here, appointing powerful, trusted knights like Matilde as "Protectors."
Now, as for our ostriches who arrived in such a town...
They were having the time of their lives.
Everything they saw, heard, and smelled was a first. While they usually can't hold a memory for more than three seconds, they occasionally remember the names of objects like "I saw a [blank]!" or "I know what a [blank] is!" This is all thanks to ten years of education by Reis... proof that even an ostrich has a glimmer of intellect.
But what happens when they enter a world they truly know nothing about?
It was... total pandemonium. Truly.
"What's that! What's that! What's that!"
"That is a 'house.' That is a 'cow.' That is... a bald old man?"
"Bald? Bald! Bald!"
"Hey! Why did you pick that word to remember?! Stop it!"
They bombarded their mother—no, their Chieftain—with questions about every little thing. They don't remember their actual mothers' faces, though they are likely in the flock. But rather than a mother they can't recognize, it's faster to ask "Everyone's Mama," Reis-chan. She knows everything. The ostriches threw questions at her and began chanting words whose sounds they happened to like.
Needless to say, the elderly gentleman whose hair had recently become "lonely" looked very sad.
Of course, that wasn't all.
In this town surrounded only by "humans"—who are not seen as predators—the ostriches felt the instinctual need to flock together thinning. Having realized this, some began to attempt "prison breaks" from the group.
"What's that over there~?"
"Looks fun!"
"Wanna go?"
"Let's go~!"
"I am so, so sorry! My kid didn't mean it! They just really liked the sound of the word..."
"I-It's... it's fine. It... it is the truth, after all... sniff."
"Now you, apologize too! ...Hey! You over there! Don't wander off! ASSEMBLE OVER HERE!"
It's not that they wanted to leave the flock; in fact, they usually hate being alone. However, faced with an interesting world filling their field of vision, they aren't smart enough to stay still. They move as they please, gather when the Chieftain orders them to, forget why they gathered, and go right back to wandering.
"This... this is brutal! I expected this, but I underestimated their sheer lack of discipline! I'm glad they're interested, but I need more hands! I NEED MORE PEOPLE!!!"
The Chieftain groaned, letting out a rare moment of weakness.
No, she wasn't a Chieftain right now. She was a Preschool Director.
It felt exactly like a school field trip. The temporary "teachers"—Claudius, Zad, and Amelia—were trying their best, but only a few ostriches listened to them: the ones like "Dere-chan" who had started to take an interest in humans.
And unfortunately, even the new teachers weren't perfect.
"Haa... haa... Finally checked everyone. ...Hm? Amelia-san, Dere, what's wrong?"
"I suppose she's a girl after all," Amelia said with a gentle smile. "She seems very interested in the accessories here..."
"Wait, really?! Her emotional intelligence has developed that far...? Wait, that look in her eye is...?"
Reis-sensei, having finished her headcount, noticed the tender look on Amelia's face. They were standing in front of an outdoor stall run by an old woman selling accessories. Dere was staring intently at the jewelry, and Amelia was watching her with a heartwarming smile. It was a peaceful scene.
Even to an amateur, the accessories looked carefully crafted. The old woman running the stall called Dere a "cute girl" and explained that she made everything herself.
Reis-sensei, moved to tears that one of her flock had finally grown enough to appreciate beauty, peeked at Dere's face... only to find the Eyes of a Predator.
"Amu (Chomp)."
""DON'T EAT THAAAAAAT!!!""
The two of them grabbed Dere's neck and shoved their hands into her beak. They managed to stop her from swallowing, but the accessory was now dripping with drool. The old woman laughed and called her a "mischievous one," but they couldn't just give it back like that. Amelia-sensei had to pay for it out of her own pocket.
Well, it was... progress. Compared to the ten years of solo management, having assistant teachers made things easier. However, the reality was that Reis-sensei still had to look after the vast majority of the ostriches herself. It's no wonder her eyes were getting a bit watery.
The plan was to go to the Adventurer's Guild to exchange monster materials for money so they could shop, but now, Reis was using all her energy just to keep the ostriches under control. They were moving forward, but at a snail's pace. In this slow-moving mass, an ostrich would forget a warning the moment it was given and repeat the same mistake, forcing Reis to literally run around to stop them.
Just as Director Reis was thinking, 'I can't do this anymore. Let's just turn back!', an incident occurred.
You see, ostriches are quite the gluttons. They run a lot and play (hunt) a lot; the more they move, the more they must eat. While they can endure hunger when staying still, today's ostriches had been moving a great deal.
They had munched on Orcs for breakfast, but then came the journey to town, the waiting period while the Chieftain fought, and the "Big Rampage" after arriving. Even with a full breakfast, it was the time of day when you start getting "the munchies." Yes, it was snack time.
"Hungry?"
"Hungry!"
"Snack!"
"Want a snack!"
The moment someone said it, the surrounding ostriches became aware of their own stomachs. Yes! We wanted a snack! In the Plateau, Director Reis would have planned a hunt in advance and provided food when they got hungry. But this was a town. There were plenty of "prey" around, but they instinctively sensed that 'If we beat those up, the Boss will be really mad,' so they managed to avoid attacking people.
Even a stupid ostrich could understand that much. So, they looked for other snacks.
Peering around with their big, round eyes... they found a place nearby with a huge pile of fruit. Naturally, they decided to take their friends and go check it out.
"Oh, a group of Beastmen? That's rare. Welcome!"
When they arrived at the fruit stall, a human spoke to them. They were supposedly speaking the same language, but the ostriches had no idea what he was saying. However, they could tell that the fruit belonged to this human.
The concept of "theft" is too complex for an ostrich, but they do understand that you shouldn't eat something that belongs to someone else without permission. Ostriches are smart! But right now, they were hungry. And there, right in front of them, was fruit they'd never seen on the Plateau—it smelled sweet and looked delicious.
As they stood there staring intensely at the fruit, the human guarding it couldn't bear the gaze any longer.
"You like them that much? ...Well, I guess I can give you one as a present. You're new to town, right? First one's on the house!"
I'll say it again: long conversations are forbidden with ostriches. They understand nothing. Thus, they didn't understand the specific sentence the human said. They caught a few words, but forgot the meanings while trying to remember them. However, they did understand that the human said, "You can eat."
The human spread his arms wide, signaling, "Take one each! I'll charge you next time, though!" The ostriches looked at the human, then at the fruit.
And so, they interpreted it as: "You can eat ALL the fruit here."
Once they "understood," they moved fast. The ostriches plunged their beaks into the fruit all at once. Hearing the sound, the rest of the flock came charging toward the stall. Despite the human's—the fruit seller's—futile resistance, nearly a hundred ostriches swarmed the shop, and the fruit began to vanish.
And by stroke of luck (or lack thereof), these fruits were all selectively bred. Much like the world of Reis's past life, these weren't just picked for quality; they were enhanced with magic to be sweeter and better.
In other words, they were far more delicious than anything on the Plateau.
They might have heard a voice—"someone's" voice—screaming in the distance, but the sheer deliciousness of the fruit sent them into a berserker state. By the time they realized it, all the fruit had vanished from sight.
But hey, the ostriches' bellies were just right! They had a delicious snack and were full! They were in high spirits. They all began to move out to find more fun things in town, but...
They noticed a strange sensation.
Specifically, their skin was prickling. Unbelievably so.
Faced with this abnormal phenomenon, the ostriches' tiny brains worked in unison to reach a single conclusion. They remembered a scene from the past. They didn't remember the reason, but they remembered the sight of their Leader when she was truly angry.
Cold sweat poured down. Trembling, they fearfully turned their necks toward their Chieftain. Their Leader. And there she was...
"Y... O... U... K... I... D... S...?"
Wrapped in a mysterious red aura of pure rage, with her hair standing on end and a literal demonic expression, the Chieftain stood waiting.
"""W-WE'RE SOOOOORRRRRYYYYYY!!!"""
"Phew. I am so... f-cking... tired."
After finishing the "punishment" for my kids, apologizing to the fruit seller, and promising to pay for everything, I led the sobbing ostriches back outside the town. My anger had sucked the life out of them; they were all slumped and depressed. They'd be back to normal after a day of rest, but I felt a twinge of regret for getting that mad.
I mean, it was my fault for not stopping them... but I believe you have to scold them when they do something wrong.
These kids are bottomless idiots, but it's not that they can't remember anything. They say the word "Food" with the understanding that it is "something I eat to live." They're morons, but they aren't without intelligence.
Therefore, I believe I must scold them so they don't repeat the mistake. They seem to remember things for about a month, and even after that, they can remember if given a prompt. I have to teach them that "bad things are bad." That's my job as the leader who led them out of the Plateau.
"I thought it would be a good experience... but maybe it was too soon."
I suppose I was a bit too excited to see civilization myself. It's a good experience for them, sure, but I should have taken it step by step. This is on me.
"A currency-based economy might be impossible... maybe I should wait until they understand bartering before we try a rematch."
I don't know if they can understand it, but as long as we live here, it'll be necessary. Considering the danger of the Plateau, going back is only a last resort. If we can return anytime, we should save that for the very end.
"The fruit seller wasn't even that mad... it felt more like he was speechless because the scene was so overwhelming. He forgave us, but I need to go back and apologize again later."
As I said, I promised to pay for the fruit. Or rather, I asked the adventurer team to handle it. While I took the kids outside, I asked the adventurers to exchange the monster materials we brought; they'll use those funds to pay the debt.
The shopkeeper had laughed and said, "Saved me the trouble of selling them! I'll have more ready next time!" but still...
"No, overthinking won't help. Let's just switch gears and move on. Hey, everyone! Gather 'round!"
"Uuu..."
"Sorry... so sorry..."
"Bad bird..."
Ugh. It's awful. Every time I do this, the guilt is massive. But they won't remember a normal warning... Is this what parenting is like? It's hard. I mean, they're different from human kids, and being ostriches makes some parts easier, but still... I wish I had a professional educator here.
"Alright, alright, I'm not mad anymore. It's okay, it's okay."
"Really?"
"Not mad?"
"Not?"
"I'm not. Let's cheer up, okay?"
I comforted them by petting each one. I think the reason they get so depressed and terrified is because they fear being abandoned by me—by their kin. We ostriches are creatures that live in a flock; we can't survive alone. That's why we get along and help each other. Therefore, causing trouble for others or the flock feels like a risk of being kicked out.
If that happened, we couldn't survive. Probably not even me.
After petting them all and calming them down, I made them sit for "Class Time." Even though they'd calmed down, they were still a bit mopey. But if I didn't do it now, it wouldn't stick in their memory. I had to teach them what was wrong and what they should have done, or they wouldn't survive in society.
(Returning to the wild is an option, but I won't let my negligence take away their choices.)
"Alright, I'm going to explain what was wrong. Does anyone know right now?"
"Because we ate it?"
"All of it?"
"Was it bad?"
"Yes, yes, that's right. You understand, you're smart. But there's a bit more to the reason..."
I layered my words. Simple language that they could understand. Long speeches are useless, and staying on one topic is hard. So I drew pictures on the ground, made little stories, and used every trick in the book to make it stick in their memories.
"So, that's how it is. Do you get it?"
"...Maybe?"
"I'll try!"
"Try try!"
"Aha, good. Now, go play and clear your heads."
The memory probably won't last until the day is over, but they seemed to have reached a sense of closure. If they can just remember 'If I eat a person's fruit without permission, Boss gets mad,' I'll take it as a win. I've been doing this for ten years; I'll look after them until the day I die. If they can get even a little smarter by then, that's enough.
Alright, now that I've finished educating the kids, I'll wait for the adventurers to come back...
"Lady Reis! Sorry to keep you waiting! I've brought a Guild official with me!"
Speak of the devil. But wait, a Guild official? What do they want?
[Ostriches and Fruit]
Ostriches are omnivores and will eat anything, but many individuals seem to have a sweet tooth. This is likely because sweets are rare and highly sought after on the Plateau.
Sweets on the Plateau usually mean tree fruits, but the competition for them is fierce. Some of the creatures Reis described as "opponents you can't beat even with a flock" love fruit, and even the weaker, more numerous monsters covet them. Reis's policy was: "Rather than aiming for delicious but scarce fruit, we should hunt the monsters that gather around them to fill our bellies." Thus, the flock rarely had the chance to eat fruit.
Because of this, when fruits that matched their internal definition of "Rare and Delicious!" appeared before them, they couldn't help themselves. Reis also told them, "Once we start earning properly, I'll let you eat as much as you want," though who knows if they'll remember the promise.