We had just defeated the Dungeon, and were now eating and drinking in the festival-bustling streets.
The others were back from the innermost chamber with slightly odd expressions on their faces, which was a bit concerning, but all in all, this Dungeon subjugation could be called a success.
Considering the expenses invested in preparation, as well as the number of days spent here and the costs incurred, the haul from this Dungeon was better than usual.
We had also managed to obtain the peridot, which was apparently a gemstone of some significance.
Beyond that, the fact that we had managed to defeat eleven bosses on the eighth underground floor was a huge achievement.
Even if it was only Magic Stones, we had received a more than generous sum.
We had been told the Dungeon subjugation was complete during the daytime, but the festivities had kicked off from then, and now it was night.
Listening to the surrounding clamor, I was at our campsite preparing for tomorrow's departure.
Eva was singing songs together with the elves, her kin.
May was busy eating the food being served and drinking to her heart's content.
Clara, perhaps worn out by all the commotion, was lying down inside the Porter.
Aria was chatting with what appeared to be adventurers she had met outside.
I saw Miranda, seemingly bothered by something, leading Shannon and heading over toward Alette and the others.
Monica was tidying up equipment and beginning to clean the surrounding area.
I was using a wooden crate as a makeshift table, arranging the dishes being served onto plates. Drinks, papers, and a few other things were set alongside them.
I needed to calculate the income and expenses for this trip, and also figure out what to do with the peridot.
Inside the Dungeon, we had ultimately managed to find eight peridots.
Despite the noisy bustle all around, I didn't find it the slightest bit irritating.
"So this is what a festival is like."
For me, until now, a festival was something I only ever watched from afar—this was my first time participating.
From within the Jewel, I heard the confused voice of the Third Generation.
"Huh? Weren't there harvest festivals and other celebrations? There were in my era."
The Fourth Generation then explained the situation.
"Well, once you climb to the rank of Baron, you likely wouldn't participate. Even for the larger festivals, you'd offer your greetings and then return to your manor."
Eating and drinking together with everyone at a festival was something I had no part in. I remembered being brought by my father to offer greetings when I was young, observing briefly, and then returning home right away.
The Fifth Generation spoke up.
"...If we were there, the folks who wanted to cause a ruckus would feel inhibited."
Only the Sixth Generation sounded cheerful.
"If Lyle were just a little older, I could teach you all about drinking, gambling, and all sorts of things... Or if you want, I could teach you about women for future reference too?"
At the Sixth Generation's laughter—Gahaha—the Seventh Generation delivered a sharp rebuke.
"For someone who failed at his own romantic pursuits, your words carry not a shred of credibility. Lyle, many ruin themselves through idle play. You would do well to be careful."
Smiling slightly, I reached for the food on the table.
It was potatoes sliced thin and deep-fried, and sausages prepared the same way. My hands got greasy from the oil, but it was delicious.
Just as I went to wipe my hands with a towel, Novem handed me a damp cloth.
"You're not going to join in the excitement?"
I took the towel, wiped my hands, and placed it on the table.
Seeing the paper I used for taking notes, I explained to Novem.
"I want to finish this first. Then I'll enjoy myself at the end, even if just a little. I've given everyone their reward, enough for some fun, so you should enjoy yourself too, Novem."
It had turned into a boisterous festival, but without money, there was no point.
I gave everyone enough money for a bit of fun, of course. I also made sure to tell them it would be deducted from their rewards later.
"Calculating the rewards? What about the jewels?"
When Novem asked, I told her the jewels would be dealt with separately.
"We'll have them appraised after we get back. Keeping them as assets might not be a bad idea either. Well, we made a huge haul this time, so I'll hold on to them for when we really need them."
I'd have someone look up the prices, and if it was better to sell, we'd sell.
And keeping some on hand for a rainy day wouldn't be a bad idea either.
In my notes, I'd written down things like who had tackled the Dungeon how many times, and how to evaluate them to determine rewards.
I'd considered splitting everything equally, but that would basically let Shannon, who'd done almost nothing, reap the benefits.
I could hand Shannon's share to Miranda, but she probably wouldn't be satisfied with that.
My thinking was to distribute a base reward equally, and then let individual effort determine the rest.
(What a pain.)
Just as I was mulling it over, the Fourth Generation, who'd picked up on my thoughts, spoke up.
"Laiel, you need to get your finances in order, or you'll be in real trouble when the time comes. Overpaying is no good, but underpaying is just as bad. We have goals ahead of us, and properly compensating people for their work—even companions—is important, you know."
When the Fourth Generation made it clear that this wasn't something I could half-ass, the other Successive Heads apparently shared the same opinion, since none of them raised an objection.
Before distributing rewards, I'd probably also need to explain the funds used by the party.
Then I'd have to tell everyone how much we'd earned this time, and on top of that, explain how I'd arrived at each reward.
Even after everything was done, I'd still be busy.
(No, I just hadn't been thinking through the small details myself. There was a lot to learn from this one.)
When you looked at it as a party, our numbers were small.
And even moving that few people around was a real struggle for me right now.
Novem looked at me with an expression that said she wanted to say something.
"Something on your mind?"
"...Won't you ask? About me and Octo. And about Septem... about Lady Ceres."
I reached for my drink, took just one sip, and felt the light of the lantern I'd left on the table flicker in the wind.
That wasn't actually the case, but that's how it felt.
(...Honestly, I really, really wanted to ask. I did want to know.)
But I wanted to ask only after the party's discontent had been at least somewhat resolved. I also didn't want to rehash old wounds.
"...Do you want to talk about it?"
When I said that, Novem wore a troubled expression and lowered her gaze.
"Then it's fine whenever you're ready to talk. Oh, right—let me just confirm one thing."
"What is it?"
I looked at Novem.
"Who are you doing this for, Novem?"
When I asked that, Novem pinched the hem of her skirt, lifted it lightly, and gave me a graceful curtsy.
"...For Lady Laiel. There is no lie or deceit in those words."
"I see. Then that's good enough. A lot happened this time around, and I've got my own secrets too. Alright... let's have a proper talk sometime. For now, though, I'd like to enjoy the festival atmosphere just a little longer."
Drinking and making noise... I wanted to lose myself in the revelry and forget about this whole incident—the problems that arose after my growth.
I didn't think I'd actually forget, though.
(Besides, this time around has been exhausting with everything that happened. I just don't have the bandwidth for it anymore.)
With my thoughts occupied by more immediate matters, I turned my gaze back to the papers.
—Baim East Side Guild.
When word arrived by fast horse, an emergency meeting was convened at the guild.
Only whichever staff members could be gathered were summoned, and since it was being held in the middle of regular operations, the staff looked worried.
They'd heard things were going smoothly—had something gone wrong?
Everyone wore the same anxious expression as they filed into the meeting, and then the staff member in charge entered the room.
Perhaps he was in a rush—his usual 7:3-parted hair was disheveled as the supervisor strode into the conference room and announced the success of the recent Dungeon subjugation to everyone.
"First off, I'm sorry for pulling you away from your duties. And I know everyone's been on edge, so let me get this out of the way: the recent Dungeon subjugation was a tremendous success. Casualties were minimal, and I hear the Magic Stones and treasure recovered were quite abundant relative to the scale. The Guild couldn't be happier about it."
The staff visibly relaxed.
Tahnia, who had recommended Lyle and the others, felt the same relief.
But the supervisor's expression didn't look particularly pleased.
"At the same time, we've also received a report regarding the treasure found in the innermost chamber. It was recovered by the party led by Alette Baie. In itself, there's no issue. However, the treasure in question turns out to be a considerable quantity of mithril."
Mithril.
Even among rare metals, it was considered exceptionally scarce. Under normal circumstances, it would be found in Dungeons spanning the twentieth to thirtieth floors underground.
And yet here it was, unearthed from a Dungeon of roughly ten floors.
Tahnia adjusted her glasses with a finger and waited for the supervisor to continue. The staff members around her exchanged whispers with their neighbors, but the room gradually fell silent.
It was true that mithril could appear in Dungeons with twenty or more floors. But just because something was possible didn't mean it showed up in large quantities.
"Many of you probably know Alette Baie's situation. If she returns to her country, she's a member of the Knights. Naturally, she can't go against the wishes of her homeland. If she tells us she has no intention of selling, then that's that, but…"
The real problem this time was that Alette and her party had happened to find mithril of all things.
Normally, mithril was something the Guild and merchants would be eager to buy. But if the other party had no interest in selling, the Guild had to step back.
The rights belonged to the adventurers who had defeated the boss in the Dungeon. If they tried to force the matter, they would end up causing trouble with powerful adventurers.
"...The knightly order she belongs to. Meaning, there are national circumstances involved as well. This could become a bit of a problem. Stay prepared for that."
The kingdom that Alette's knightly order served was classified as a small nation among its neighbors.
However, despite being a small country, it boasted an elite knightly order that valued practical combat experience — one that trained its members by having them serve as adventurers.
Surrounded by nations larger than itself, it sought to compensate through quality rather than quantity.
Such was Alette's kingdom, but—
"Seriously, I wish some adventurer other than Alette Baille had been the one to find this."
The chief said as much, then dismissed the staff.
Tahnia recalled the circumstances surrounding Alette's homeland.
(Of all times, and there's a nation seeking mithril in connection with the succession of the Saint, of all things.)
The kingdom Alette belonged to — Rolfis — was situated as a neighbor to Zayin, a religious nation with whom it maintained a delicate diplomatic relationship.
And in Zayin, the succession of the Saint — the nation's very symbol — was underway, and they were scrambling to gather mithril.
Regarded as a sacred metal, mithril was considered befitting for the Saint to possess in Zayin.
Though their diplomatic ties were fraught, Rolfis was also a nation that had fought wars with Zayin time and again.
The current situation was calm, but it was like a powder keg that could explode at the slightest provocation.
And then there was the mithril Alette had found. Moreover, in a considerable quantity, at that...
(I really hope this just ends with a diplomatic incident or something and nothing worse.)
Tahnia thought to herself as the dismissed staff rose from their seats and returned to their respective departments.
— Inside the Jewel.
Back in the meeting room from the arena, the Successive Heads sat gathered around a circular table.
This latest Dungeon subjugation had been a highly profitable venture for the Successive Heads.
The Fourth Generation stood up, prepared a blackboard, and began writing a summary of the situation on it.
"Now then, I'm sure everyone has had their own thoughts about this matter, so perhaps we should consolidate our thinking here. Lael is still feeling down, so I doubt he'll be up for doing anything more for a while."
Unfortunately, the real Lael—minus the affectionate "Lael-san" that Novem used to call him—was sorely lacking in initiative.
When it came to this incident, it was obvious no matter how you looked at it: something was going on with Novem.
The Third Generation spoke.
"…Novem is a good girl. There's no doubt about that."
She stubbornly refused to place any blame on Novem.
The Fourth Generation, too, didn't truly want to blame her either. She was the daughter of House Foxes, who had looked after them all, and Lael's former fiancée.
And she had devoted herself to Lael all this time.
"We can't exactly just sweep minor problems under the rug, can we? Let's make each person's position clear."
In the tense atmosphere, the Fifth Generation leaned on the table with his elbows and spoke up.
"The Eighth, was it? The one designated as number eight, yet lurking deep within the Dungeon. No way to go meet them, but there's one entity in my mind that overlaps with that description."
It was the Seventh Generation who agreed with that assessment.
"Indeed. Rather than 'number eight,' the key phrase is 'deep within the Dungeon.' If you think of it as the one who created the Dungeon itself, there's only one entity that matches. In other words, a foul god who gave birth to the Dungeon and became humanity's enemy."
The Sixth Generation gazed up at the ceiling.
"Seven goddesses, two foul gods. That's nine in total. If what the Automaton said is correct—starting from zero up to nine—that makes ten gods, doesn't it?"
This world had originally been nothing.
The myth that remained told of how the goddesses descended and created the sky, the earth, the sea, the forests, the creatures, and humanity, and finally bestowed upon them wisdom.
The reason gods were spoken of as female in this world was because it had been created by goddesses.
The Third Generation placed a hand on her forehead.
"Quite the grand story, isn't it? Well, but still... that doesn't really concern us."
The Fourth Generation nodded as well.
"Indeed. Making the problem bigger won't solve it, and above all, this isn't really a discussion about how the world should be."
The Fifth Generation agreed.
"That's right. Our objective is to defeat Ceres, who hijacked Banseim. And moreover, it has to turn out well for Riel."
The Sixth Generation spoke.
"Even if a god showed up, it would be a bother. In fact, I'd rather they just stayed out of it and watched."
The Seventh Generation said.
"However, faith in the divine is important. It affects the morale of the troops. Well, for now, the issue was Novem."
The Fourth Generation took off his glasses, wiping them with a cloth.
"Honestly, if an evil god tells you to believe in Novem, logically, little Novem is going to be on the evil god's side. Hmm, what a cute evil god, though. Ceres is better suited to being an evil god, isn't she?"
The Fifth Generation, while exasperated, continued the conversation.
"Being called a god is troubling, isn't it? Well, once we have some breathing room, we could have Riel look into it. Of course, by then, no one will be here anymore."
All of their faces took on a strangely lonely expression.
The Sixth Generation said.
"...We may have gotten a bit too involved."
The usually detached Third Generation touched his chin.
"That's true. Normally, we'd just teach them how to use Skills and be done with it. But for me, I'd like to believe this meeting had meaning."
The Seventh Generation said.
"How weak. If there is no meaning, you simply create it. We are here to ensure Riel's victory, after all."
Seeing the Seventh Generation brimming with confidence, the Third Generation smiled and said, "That's right."
Then he straightened his back.
"Well, we've gathered a fair amount of funds. Now, as for gathering intelligence, from here on out, Riel will need a military force capable of going toe-to-toe with a nation. Or rather, without that, there won't be any contest."
The Sixth Generation said.
"The knights and soldiers of House Walt are on the other side. Quite the predicament, I must say. Our finest elites will be turning against us."
Hearing this, the Fourth Generation said.
"Well, you could say... we know their weaknesses inside and out."
The Fifth Generation said.
"Superior quality alone won't win a war. Whoever makes the preparations to win and finishes them first will come out on top. We'll need to get them that far at least."
The Seventh Generation said.
"If she could at least command a nation's soldiers, things would be different. But having her build everything from scratch—Riel won't have enough time."
The Third Generation added.
"And to top it off, money alone won't solve it. You can't seriously lend soldiers to some fool who just piles up gold and says 'Lend me troops.' And you wouldn't want to borrow soldiers from someone who'd do that, either. Man, what a spot. After making such a bold declaration about helping her win, we don't have a single plan."
Seeing the Third Generation raise both hands in surrender, the Sixth Generation was exasperated.
"Don't give up right away. It'll take some time, but there's still the option of founding a mercenary company and seizing control of a nation."
The Fifth Generation said.
"Nah, I'm gonna pass on that one."
The Seventh Generation agreed.
"Mercenaries—can't exactly trust them."
Just then, the Fourth Generation adjusted his glasses and said with a jest.
"Hey, why not have Lail go seduce some princess or other? He's got the bloodline to prove it, he's good-looking enough to hook two or three of them, and we'd get a country out of the deal too. Just kidding—"
The Fourth Generation had been about to say it was a joke, but he froze.
Everyone gathered around the round table was lost in thought, wearing grave expressions.
The Sixth Generation spoke.
"Wait… isn't that actually a good idea? I mean, if we were really committed, we could pull it off using Skills or whatever, right?"
The Fifth Generation said:
"No, no, that's just morally wrong. It sounds doable, but all it would accomplish is making Ceres into a man—the end result would be the same. The deed itself is identical."
The Seventh Generation:
"It is an emergency, and if it came down to it, all of us as wives… No, I don't think that's possible, though."
The Third Generation:
"Damn it. If it were Lail, he probably could've seduced that Fonbeau princess too. We missed a huge opportunity."
At those words, everyone exchanged glances.
They had considered it, but they couldn't believe such a thing was actually possible.
The Seventh Generation:
"Well, it's impossible, I suppose. It does feel like it could work, though."
The Sixth Generation agreed:
"Indeed. If we tried something like that, the country we were trying to court would have our heads."
The Fifth Generation wiped away cold sweat:
"R-right? It's impossible, right?"
The Fourth Generation straightened his glasses, wiped the sweat from his face, and forced a smile.
"That's right. Laiel basically can't do such things, and besides, she's usually quite reserved. Well, let's gather information and think about this matter from there."
Everyone was forcing a laugh to dispel the strange atmosphere, but only the Third Generation had a serious expression.
"...If it were Laiel-san at full power, she could definitely do it."
That was the conviction held—.