Waiting for me when I returned to the inn was Alette.
She was the leader of a peculiar band — knights belonging to the small nation of Rolfis's order, yet also adventurers working in Baim, a tradition they maintained.
There were rumors that a position as deputy commander awaited her back in her homeland.
And this very Alette had come looking for me.
"…I didn't think we'd meet again so soon."
When I said that with a somewhat awkward expression, Alette offered a smile tinged with shadow and let her shoulders slump.
"Me neither. We both understand it'd be better to take a little more time apart. But I have to talk to you no matter what."
Alette had come to the inn accompanied by her adjutant.
When I moved to confirm the details, Alette invited us all out for a meal.
"—So then. Could you make some time for me? I know it's a bother, but this is urgent on our end as well. Let me treat you to dinner."
The one handling the exchange with me was Miranda.
She sat down in a chair, crossed her legs anew, and gave me a nod.
(Up to my judgment to decide. I should let her know that May eats a lot.)
I added a disclaimer that I'd at least come to listen, then spoke up.
"A meal sounds lovely. But one of our members is a big eater, you know. I'd brace for twice the amount if I were you."
Hearing that I was willing to listen, Alette visibly relaxed.
"That's a relief. Well, whether you're a knight or an adventurer, big eaters are the same. I know a place we frequent — we'll have dinner there. As for the reason I'm here, it's the same invitation I mentioned before. Though that part isn't so urgent. What I really came for is a letter of introduction. Anyway, I'll send someone to pick you up in the evening."
A letter of introduction — for whom? I considered, but there was really only one person it could be.
After Alette and her party left the inn, Miranda rose from her chair and came over to my side.
I had gone to the Guild with Aria, but since I came back alone, Miranda seemed a bit exasperated about it.
"I'll let the other members know about dinner myself. More importantly, why weren't you with Aria?"
I had taken Aria to the Guild for her training, but when it was time to leave, Aria had stayed behind to pick up some equipment.
"Today was the day to collect the equipment, so I had her go straight there. If she came back to the inn first, she'd just have to go out again."
Miranda heard this and glanced toward the door Alette and her party had left through.
"That's probably about Professor Damian. A letter of recommendation from Lyle would certainly interest him. Want me to write one?"
Among my acquaintances, the one Alette would most likely be interested in was Damian Bale, a professor at the Aramsass Academy.
He was an eccentric among the academy's Seven Worthies, but also a brilliant scholar.
It was Damian who had restored Monika, discovered in the Dungeon, to working condition.
And now, having developed a magical system called Golem, he was credited with creating the cargo-carrying Golem known as Porter.
Technically, I was the one responsible, but since I had learned the magic from Damian and consulted with him on it, it was essentially a joint development.
"Porters are convenient, after all. Anyone belonging to a knightly order would want one whether they liked it or not. Since I refused to teach it to them…"
Seeing my mood darken, Miranda gave a wry smile. She crossed her arms and leaned her weight slightly against the table.
"Well, it's the right decision. Teaching it for profit wouldn't be bad, but I think it's a bit much for the sake of our ultimate goal. So, are you going to write the letter?"
From the Jewel hanging around my neck, the Third Generation's nonchalant voice came through.
*"Why not write one to curry some favor? And we should also convey information about Monika and everything that's happened so far… It's possible Ceres might become interested in Damian, so putting him on his guard would be wise too."*
The latter half was spoken in a serious tone.
I gripped the Jewel and, signaling my agreement, spoke to Miranda.
"I'll write it. I want to convey various things about the situation. As a former student of his, is there anything you'd like to add, Miranda?"
At that, Miranda smiled.
"He probably doesn't even remember names by now. That's just the kind of professor he is. Anyway, I'll go spread the word to the others. Make sure you keep your evening free."
I watched Miranda head toward the inn's staircase and thought about what to tell Damian.
(I'll write a letter of introduction, and then... I can't leave out Ceres. And what happened in the Dungeon before that, too. Damian might know something?)
I recalled what the Automaton claiming to be Monica's sister had said, and decided that was what I would pass along to Damian.
The dinner invitation from Alette had been impressive in both quantity and quality.
They'd reserved the entire dining room, and perhaps as a way of celebrating our successful Dungeon subjugation, several of Alette's subordinates had joined us as well.
With the place to ourselves, we all sat together and had all sorts of conversations.
Among those, I even had the chance to meet and greet the knights being dispatched to Aramsass.
On our way back to the inn, Monica was carrying Shannon on her back, the girl having fallen asleep from exhaustion. She came up beside me and, quite unusually, asked me a favor.
"Hey, Chicken, when we get back I'll look up at you with big cute eyes and beg you properly, so just listen to my request for now, okay?"
I looked at Monica with a disgusted expression and glanced around.
May, apparently satisfied, was chatting with Aria about the food. Which dishes had been good? She hadn't even eaten that one! — I could hear snippets of their conversation.
Eva had been taking notes, having heard from Miranda about what happened in Aramsass.
Clara was talking with Novem.
On the cold walk home that night, I observed all this and thought to myself.
(Maybe things have improved a little?)
I turned my gaze back to Monica and agreed to hear her out.
"Within reason, at least. So, what's the request?"
Monica held Shannon steady with one hand, then reached into her apron with the other and pulled out a small, dark, narrow board.
"...What is this?"
"It's a memory board. It's packed with content that Automatons can read. Slip it inside the introduction letter where it'll be noticed."
I took it, and Monica steadied Shannon with both hands.
Holding it, I examined the small, flat object.
"Better to deliver it separately. Knowing Damian, he might not bother checking the contents of the introduction letter. I'll write a letter too. I can slip it in there."
It would be best to hand it off to the knights heading to Aramsass and have them deliver it.
But there was one thing bugging me.
"Content that Automatons can read... Didn't you have bad blood with the three over at Damian's place?"
I was wondering whether there was even anything left to convey at this point, when Monica spoke with an unusually serious expression.
"...It's to show off that I met my sister, and that this Monica has drawn closer to my perfect form. Oh, but it's not just showing off. I've written in detailed notes about the situation back then, so it should overlap with that Chicken's plans."
"You've been on a real roll lately. Fine, I'll just stick it in the letter then."
Even if it was just boasting, it was probably good enough that Monica was sending a letter at all. Or rather, something occurred to me.
(Monica, in this world, the only ones like you are those three activated Automatons at Damian's place, right? Doesn't that get lonely?)
I tucked the precious little black board carefully into my pocket and headed home.
The next day.
After gathering everyone and confirming the requests we'd take on, I left Clara in the room.
Clara Blumer had been working as a temporary staff member at the library in Aramsass. On top of that, she possessed useful Skills.
Novem and Miranda were present in the room, while Monica was preparing tea.
Clara, with her dark blue hair, clutched her staff close to her body. Those half-lidded eyes, usually drowsy, were now sharp and narrowed even further.
Her red eyes seemed to glow, and I felt as though Clara was faintly illuminated within the room.
Clara's ultimate-stage Skill, Walking Library—I directed my question toward Clara, who had become a library on legs.
"A question about the beauty whose charm caused the fall of the Centlas Kingdom three hundred years ago."
"Yes. There are several theories, but records exist of a woman who appeared in the late period of the Centlas Kingdom, who mesmerized many men. It is now considered an example of internal decay prior to the kingdom's collapse."
Clara answered in a voice that was more detached than usual, devoid of emotion. And Clara's will was not in it.
It was her own Skill, yet she couldn't utilize it effectively.
Clara considered that a defect.
"It was the First Generation King Banseim who defeated her, right?"
To my question, Clara responded, detached as ever.
"The recorded materials and stories state as such. However, there are also documents indicating the involvement of others."
Up to this point was fine. The problem was what came next.
"How did the First Generation King Banseim defeat the beauty? How did he fight the Centlas Kingdom?"
When I asked these two questions, Clara closed her eyes. When she opened them again.
"Records remain stating that as internal corruption deepened, the First Generation King Banseim, then a regional lord, sought cooperation from the surrounding areas. Even now, many influential figures are descendants of those who lent him their strength at that time. However, while records exist of the result—the defeat of the beauty—there are no records of the process."
Clara, who read anything and everything, had read nearly every book in Aramsass's vast library.
With each new book published, she would read it.
There were books she couldn't read, but those were only a restricted few.
Novem, sitting on the sofa, tilted her head down slightly, her hand resting on her chin. She seemed to be thinking about something.
Conversely, Miranda sat on my bed and posed a question to Clara.
"There's no record of how she was defeated, is there? Or is it just that Clara hasn't read it yet?"
To that inquiry, Clara replied, detached as always.
"It's a possibility. However, Clara Bloomer, using her Skill, had read eighty to ninety percent of the library's books. Within the range accessible to the general public, I conclude that no further records exist."
As soon as those words left her mouth, Clara's condition took a turn for the worse.
I rose from my chair, went to Clara's side, and braced her by wrapping an arm around her shoulders.
"That's enough. Let's lay Clara down."
Monica placed a pillow on the sofa in the room, and I laid Clara down on it. She was so small that carrying her was no burden at all.
I had checked several times already, but the answer remained the same.
I shifted my gaze from the sleeping Clara to Novem and Miranda, who were still in the room.
"So — there's no record of how the kingdom-toppling beauty was defeated, or did they simply feel no need to record it... Which do you think it is?"
In response to my question, Miranda crossed her legs the other way.
"Who knows. Even if she lured men in the same way Ceres does, you can't really say her combat ability was on par with that kingdom-toppling beauty from back then. I'm afraid I can't make a call on this one."
Novem looked at me.
"I believe the queen of that era, who continued to commit atrocities, did possess considerable strength. We confirmed just how horrific her deeds were the last time Clara used her Skill. To have done all of that, she must have had a certain level of power, without question."
This kingdom-toppling beauty — cruel and radical — seemed like someone who walked a path paved in blood.
I had confirmed this with Clara after she used the Walking Library, but her actions were none other than Ceres herself — no... they were worse.
The stories were so disturbing that I had to stop partway through.
However, there was still a great deal unknown about her actual abilities.
Even if records existed stating that she was beheaded, it was unclear whether that was done by her own hand or by a subordinate — the accounts varied depending on the book, and Clara's Skill couldn't give a definitive answer.
What could be said was this:
"They didn't pass down how she was defeated, then. It's fine if there was no need to, but it does give off a somewhat deliberate feel."
I felt like grumbling at King Banseim for not leaving behind records of that era.
But inside the Jewel, the Successive Heads were already hurling insults left and right.
"You're not very useful, are you? That's why I don't trust royals."
"It is suspicious, isn't it? I mean, it wouldn't be strange for records of how the kingdom-destroying beauty who tormented so many people met her end to still exist. How she was defeated—perhaps she was even subjected to interrogation. Or perhaps the opponent took her own life…"
"She either couldn't write it down, or chose not to. Either way, there was probably something shady going on. Nobles are like that to some extent, and royals—well, it wouldn't surprise me if there were countless stories."
"I was taught that King Banseim of that era defeated her and the participating lords' representative took the credit… but well, none of the people involved are alive anymore, so the truth remains shrouded in darkness."
"How useless."
The Seventh Generation's useless remark drew a correction from the Third Generation.
"That's not about Clara, right? The useless ones are the royals, right? Right?"
The Seventh Generation looked slightly troubled.
"O-of course not."
That was the reply.
(I was hoping to rely on old records and use them as a model for defeating Ceres, but it's not going to be that easy.)
Looking at Clara, who had fallen asleep from fatigue after using her Skills, I placed a hand on my forehead and began thinking of another approach.