It was the Sixth Generation's memory room.
I had been undergoing training, and once I was told I had passed, I was shown the Sixth Generation's memories.
A young woman — the Sixth Generation's half-sister — was sobbing uncontrollably, clinging to her biological mother.
When she saw the Fifth Generation — Fredricks — she lowered her head and started crying even harder.
The Sixth Generation in the memory — Fines.
"Father, she went through hell. Just leave her be."
Fines was a brother who shielded his sister, but Fredricks was different. Looking at his weeping daughter, he turned to the girl's mother — his concubine.
"...I'm taking her home. Get ready."
Then, the woman —
"...You're the one who married me off to a place like that! I was treated like I was nothing! 'She's just a girl from a family with nothing but a bloodline,' he kept saying!"
Her biological mother pulled the woman — still hurling abuse at Fredricks — into her arms and led her out of the room.
And then, perhaps unable to hold back any longer, Fines grabbed Fredricks by the collar.
"Do you care more about your beasts than your own children?! Your daughter was treated like that, and you can't even get angry?!"
Fredricks was smiling — just barely.
In one motion, he hurled Fines to the ground and pinned him there. The one who came rushing into the room was Fines' mother — his legitimate wife.
"Fines!"
Seeing her child pinned to the floor, Fines' mother was frantic. Then Fredricks spoke softly.
"That's right. That's what I wanted to see from you two... you pass."
With that, he released Fines, and Fredricks called out in a booming voice.
"Prepare the weapons! Send out the fast horses! Fines, I'll need you out there too. No... you'll lead the charge."
Seeing his father grinning like that, Fines was stunned.
With those words, Fredricks stepped out of the room, and the retainers had already gathered in front of it. He barked orders one after another, and the vassals scrambled into motion in a flurry.
Yet there was something almost delighted about it all.
Fines watched his father's cheerful expression as he was lifted up by his birth mother, and murmured under his breath.
"What is going on. My old man, of all people, looking that happy..."
Then his birth mother spoke.
"He used to be someone who smiled a lot, apparently. He was kind, you know. Didn't your grandmother ever tell you about it?"
Fines replied.
"...She did. I thought she was making it up."
With that, Fines pulled away from his mother and walked out of the room.
Watching him go, the Sixth Generation rested a hand on his chin. He looked amused — and wistful, at the same time.
The scene changes.
They were outside now.
In the center of the settlement, there was a town ringed by walls of hewn logs. Fields spread out in every direction, and a river flowed through it all. But the sight was anything but peaceful.
Knights rode on horseback, and soldiers marched in formation.
Their equipment, their numbers — everything seemed to follow a strict order. Banners were raised, converging on a single destination, as an armed group marched through the settlement.
"What is this? Normally, if things went this far, there'd be some kind of resistance, right!"
The Sixth Generation was laughing. He let out a booming laugh and pointed toward a certain spot.
"What if resistance is meaningless?"
Looking back, knights and soldiers were streaming in from behind as well. They weren't converging from just that one road.
They were gathering from every direction, all headed toward the town.
The Sixth Generation spoke, a nostalgic tone in his voice.
"Our father devised the military code for House Walt. But to put it into practice, he needed to station men who had studied the code in every region. He couldn't teach it without distinguishing allies from enemies. That's why we were necessary... we were educated, trained, and deployed everywhere. He even told us to teach our daughters and pass it on to their children."
"He really did that?"
"Yeah. But back then, I assumed every house was doing the same thing."
I had wondered whether going that far was really necessary. By the Seventh Generation's era, it must have spread even further.
"The number of soldiers, weapons, messengers, military discipline... the elite force capable of upholding all of that came together around this time."
That was probably why the equipment showed such uniformity.
And then the Sixth Generation spoke.
"Look. The soldiers up on the walls are panicking, aren't they? That's what happens when you round them up at the last minute!"
Within their own territory, sure — but the fact that the Fifth Generation had created a situation where this many could be mobilized so quickly...
Perhaps it was because he had suffered so much at the hands of the surrounding lords that he had felt the need.
Looking toward the town, a messenger had rushed out to negotiate.
The scene shifted to the tent where Fredricks and Feinz were. Inside stood men clad in armor.
The messenger, his face ashen, stared at Fredricks as he sat in his chair.
Beside Fredricks sat a woman no longer dressed as a village girl. Accompanied by her birth mother, she sat with her head bowed.
Seeing this, one of her brothers by the same mother rose to his feet and lunged at the messenger. The other brothers nearby held him back.
"Let go! You bastards — I'll ask you what you did to my sister! I'll lop off your head right here and send it back as my reply!"
As the brother thrashed about, Feinz—
' Don't kill the messenger! That's our rule. If you're going to kill them, it's on the battlefield or after.'
The messenger's face had gone pale.
" Viscount! We swore to enter your protection! This kind of treatment is unconscionable! "
Then Fredericks turned his gaze to his daughter, who stood beside him with her head bowed.
" ...Tell the messenger there what was done to you. Your family will handle everything that comes after. "
With her head still lowered, the woman began to speak in halting words.
" ...He said that once I gave birth to a boy, I'd be of no more use. "
The messenger's face drained of color as he tried to clear up the misunderstanding.
" N-no! That isn't—I may have gone a bit far while explaining our family's rules, but I was only trying to teach her strictly— "
The messenger fell silent under the sharp gazes around him, and the woman spoke again. Behind her brothers stood other noble families who served as vassals.
" ...He said the furniture Mother gave me was worth only a handful of gold coins. That I came from a poor, unreliable family. "
Seeing the woman wiping her tears away with her hand as she wept, the reactions around her turned to cold fury. Then Fredericks began to laugh.
" Oh, so I'm a poor noble, am I? My apologies. I had too many children and couldn't spend much on any of them. And then what? "
The messenger was looking at the woman, tears streaming from his own eyes. Perhaps he was recalling everything he had done and feeling regret.
" ...He said the people of House Walt were nothing but slaves. That I'd inevitably betray them and go back to raiding again, so I only needed to pass on noble blood. And just like that, my son was taken from me... I've never even properly held him! "
Hearing that, the tent erupted with murderous intent. A nearby vassal noble stepped forward and shouted at the messenger.
" So that was your intention all along! You spoke of letting bygones be bygones since we share the same liege lord, and yet... Viscount! Please allow my house to lead the charge! As a family that similarly welcomed the Viscount's daughter, we cannot tolerate the likes of these people! "
Then Feinz's brothers spoke up.
" You treated our sister like a slave? Don't be ridiculous! Go back and tell them to prepare for war! This is exactly why we didn't want a family like this as our vassals! Go grovel before some declining Baron instead! "
The Sixth Generation was laughing, and I, unable to fully grasp the situation, tilted my head.
"A declining house? Um, what happened there?"
"Hm? Oh, around that time, the neighboring baronial house was on the decline. Well, they'd been running roughshod over House Walt's territory for ages. So the Fifth Generation simply crushed the invaders as they came, and smashed the mercenary companies too. Apparently he used some pretty ruthless methods, but when you do that to a baronial house that came to pillage — their knights get killed, they can't plunder anything, and they lose their horses and equipment! On top of that, they kept losing, and their credibility vanished!"
Hearing that, I sort of understood. The Fifth Generation had endured it all.
He crushed the invading bandits, smashed mercenary companies, and destroyed the vassal forces that came to plunder from other houses. From the other side's perspective, House Walt must have been a troublesome existence.
"Well, even though they were in the same country, repeatedly raiding like that doesn't exactly inspire trust."
But the Sixth Generation…
"Happens more often than you'd think. On our end, we'd been focusing on domestic affairs, and we'd built up allies through marriage diplomacy. The blood of true nobles. Every house wanted it."
Mages. The blood of those nobles called mages — many noble houses didn't possess it. That must have been what the Fifth Generation leveraged.
The envoy desperately repeated his excuses, but the tide had already turned.
Fredriks rose to his feet.
"That's enough. Go back and deliver our message. Tell them to prepare their arms."
The envoy collapsed to the ground and begged the weeping woman for help.
"Please, help us! If this continues, our domain will be utterly destroyed! We'll never do anything like this again! I swear it, please!"
And then Fredriks—
"Then return the grandchild. We'll educate them on our end. And the lord's head — hand it over. We'll have the body put on display."
After that, it was announced that the major vassal families would also be dismantled for having turned a blind eye to the situation.
"...And they accepted this?"
The Sixth Generation—
"Of course not. But it was simple enough."
The vision then showed a town engulfed in flames. The mansion at the center was burning, and a woman cradled a baby in her arms.
"...Even though nothing around it is burning."
Looking around, the only thing ablaze was the mansion itself. And on the ground, the corpses of knights and soldiers lay scattered about.
According to the Sixth Generation:
"When the envoy returned and explained the situation, preparations for war began. But the vassals refused to obey. We're talking a force of nearly ten thousand. Surrounded, they panicked. Well, that was when House Walt took the offensive—more like a warning shot, really."
This was how the vassals were made to understand what would happen if they defied House Walt.
After that, the vassals' reactions were apparently different.
As Feinz stared at the burning mansion, Fredrix approached him.
And then—
"Remember this. It's not someone else's problem. If your judgment falters even slightly, this is the future of House Walt."
When Feinz turned around, Fredrix handed him the blue Jewel.
"Oh, Father."
"My work ends here. The rest is up to you. I'm stepping down. I'm tired now... The rest is in your hands."
With those words, the weary-smiling Fifth Generation walked away from the spot.
As the image faded to gray and time froze, the Sixth Generation spoke:
"Enemies everywhere, and you can't tell friend from foe around you. The only one you could count on was... let's see, House Foxes? That kind of father managed to build something in our generation. Even now, I don't want to admit that his way was the right one."
The Fifth Generation had fathered many children. But at the same time, that created a major problem—family turning against family, brothers fighting brothers.
"The Fifth Generation... did he perhaps... deliberately turn the family's hostility toward himself?"
Rather than directing hostility toward the one who would inherit the house, it seemed to me that he had drawn it upon himself to hold the family together.
"Honestly, I don't know. I never asked, but maybe that was it? He'd never tell, of course. Well, there were certainly plenty of squabbles between siblings, but it never came to killing. Whenever something came up, we'd gather like this and fight the enemy together. My mother told me a lot about it afterward, too. Looking back, I couldn't deny all of it."
The surrounding scenery vanished, and the mansion's garden came into view. The Sixth Generation folded his arms and spoke to me.
"Look, Laiel… all I did was move the armies the Fifth Generation had prepared. The reason we fought and won against everyone around us was because the Fifth Generation had arranged it all. The preparations for victory were already in place, and we won because we were meant to win. That's all there was to it."
The Sixth Generation had vastly expanded House Walt's territory. But he told me that was only possible because the Fifth Generation had laid the groundwork for it.
I said to the Sixth Generation.
"That's not true at all. The Sixth Generation is strong too, and plenty dependable."
When I said that, the Sixth Generation turned around with a smile on his face. He smiled, and then—
"I wish that were the case. I made all sorts of mistakes and caused trouble for Broad. He was keeping his distance from me somewhere along the way."
I had thought the relationship between the Sixth and Seventh Generations was good. But perhaps it was just like the Successive Heads—something that never showed on the surface, even though something had been there.
After letting out a deep sigh, the Sixth Generation looked at my face with a serious expression.
"Laiel, I'm going to teach you a Skill. …Real Spec. This is my third Skill. You'll be able to obtain more information than ever before."
Apparently, it lets you learn in even greater detail what state someone is in. But what struck me more than the Skill itself was—
"Why… it doesn't have to be right now."
Hearing my desperate voice, the Sixth Generation shook his head. Being taught his final Skill—the third, the last stage—meant farewell.
"No, it has to be now. This is all I can do for you. After this, the rest of the bunch will support you. They're more reliable than I am."
"Nothing is over yet! It's barely even begun. Besides, I'm counting on the Sixth Generation too!"
The Sixth Generation scratched his cheek with a fingertip. He gave a wry smile.
"No, it's already over. If you can't win with this, then you've reached your limit. But I believe you'll win. This is good enough here. No—if not here, I'll end up lingering forever. I can't say I mind being asked to stay, either. But you know, Laiel… our purpose was to entrust our Skills to you. That's taken a little—no, quite a bit longer than expected. Try using my Skill. You'll just find yourself wanting to know even more about how to use it."
As instructed, I used the Skill. The volume of information was on a completely different level from Search or Spec.
"Using it simultaneously with the Fifth Generation's Skill works too, but this one alone is incredible. Though the sheer amount of information makes it tough to handle."
When I used the Skill, the sudden flood of information made me press my left hand to my head.
The Sixth Generation watched with a smile.
"It can't be used for too long, but it's incredibly useful in all sorts of ways. Well, I'm sure you'll be able to make the most of it, so that puts my mind at ease. Now I've got nothing left to regret."
I tried to say something, but the memories of my regrets from the First and Second Generations came flooding back all at once. I'd shown the First Generation nothing but a pathetic sight until the very end.
With the Second Generation, I'd refused and never even managed to say a proper goodbye.
I forced a smile onto my face.
"Ah—thank you. I think you're an incredible person, Sixth Generation. I mean, you've got your share of flaws, but... you taught me so many things!"
The Sixth Generation gave a gentle smile.
"Truth is, I wished I could've taught you even more. Drinking, gambling... those bad habits of mine! But hey, I had fun teaching you all kinds of things too, Lail. Oh, and look after Miranda and Shannon for me. Make them happy."
"Still joking around right until the end, huh? I understand. I'll do everything I can."
The Sixth Generation cracks jokes. I play along.
And as the scenery around us dissolves into particles of light, the Sixth Generation scratches his head.
"Ah... alright, I lied. There was one thing I still had on my mind."
He says it with a smile, but there's a trace of loneliness in his expression.
"What is it?"
The Sixth Generation places a hand on my shoulder.
"I won't get to see you in your moment of glory. You on horseback, swinging a halberd around, making your debut on the battlefield... I wanted to see that. No, that's not it either... I wanted to see you standing up to Ceres. I swear, all I was supposed to do was pass on a Skill, but I just couldn't help wanting to look after you."
"Then why not stick around a little longer and see for yourself?"
When I said what was on my mind, the Sixth Generation shook his head.
"I told you, didn't I? If I did that, I'd never know when the right moment to entrust you with the Skill would be. ...Hold your head high, Lail. You can do this. You're one of the few things about my failure-ridden life that I'm actually proud of. If anything, I should be the one thanking you."
As I opened my mouth to speak, the Sixth Generation's figure began to fade away.
"Lail, thank you... and I believe in you. I know you can do it."
"No, it's me who should be saying that... I'm proud of the Fifth Generation too! You're the ancestor I'm most proud of!"
Whether my words reached him or not—the Fifth Generation smiled, and faded away.
When I opened my eyes, tears had spilled down my cheeks.
I touched my cheek, and sure enough, I had been crying after all.
"I held it in, too... I really am hopeless, aren't I? He definitely saw me crying."
I sat up in bed, muttering to myself, when I heard a voice coming from the Jewel resting on a small table beside the bed.
It was the Fifth Generation.
"...It's fine. I'm not angry."
The Seventh Generation then spoke to me as well.
"I should be thanking you, Lail. I always kept the Fifth Generation at a bit of a distance, you see. Even when he recommended the halberd to me, I turned him down. I still think back sometimes to how lonely Father looked back then. But when he was teaching you, he looked truly happy. Thank you, Lail."
I looked over at Miranda, sleeping in the bed next to mine. It was still dark outside the window.
(There's no time to stand still. But just for this moment, just a little longer...)
Regret lingered inside me. I wished I had asked the Fifth Generation to teach me more. I wished I had talked with him more.
Come to think of it—
(Come to think of it, the Fifth Generation was always more on my side from the very start. He covered for me, cheered me on... Now I'm going to start feeling lonely all over again, aren't I?)
I picked up the Jewel from the table and gripped it tightly in my hand.