—The grand council room of Rusworth Castle.
"Prime Minister Retol, it was members of your faction who had ties to the lord of Galleria. Should you not take responsibility for this in some form?"
Surrounded by armed soldiers, Retol — the Prime Minister — wore a look of utter distaste on the inside, though outwardly he maintained an expression of feigned ignorance.
"Well, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't recall giving any such orders."
Mid- and low-ranking officials had taken the lead, commanding the soldiers to arrest key members of the establishment alongside the evidence, and were reading out the charges.
Elza, likewise surrounded by soldiers, sat upon her throne in silence, watching the situation unfold without a word. Among the soldiers stood a robed mage — a woman holding a staff — and on the opposite side, another woman in similar robes, this one carrying a spear.
Both, judging by their bearing, were clearly formidable fighters.
(They've hired some rather capable people, haven't they? I can't act carelessly. And yet — that ungrateful little brat won't even lift a finger to help me!)
Retol had never been allowed to meddle in domestic affairs, and now that was coming back to haunt him. Elza had issued no order to spare his life.
And yet —
"But surely you, as head of your faction, can't simply wash your hands of this? You'll need to voluntarily withdraw from public life and confine yourself to your estate for two months."
Hearing their demands, Retol stroked his neatly trimmed beard with his fingers. Inside, he could barely contain his laughter.
(So they understand that without me, governance would grind to a halt… They've used heavy-handed tactics to chip away at my power, but they had the sense to realize they couldn't push it any further!)
Confident in his administrative abilities, Retol was quite pleased with what he considered an absurdly lenient punishment. In that case, he thought, he should eagerly accept the penalty of his own accord.
"I agree to those terms. Very well — I'll submit to voluntary house arrest. But I do hope that governance won't grind to a halt during the two months of my absence. The livelihoods of our people depend on our work. Your Majesty, is that acceptable?"
Having said this to Elza from across the council chamber, Retol maintained his outward courtesy while casting an insolent gaze toward the queen.
(Honestly — a little girl who's utterly useless outside the battlefield.)
Elza closed her eyes briefly, then slowly opened them again —
"…The Prime Minister is to serve two months of house arrest. What about the others?"
The mid-ranking official at the center of it all bowed his head deeply.
"Those who conspired with the enemy and enriched themselves at the nation's expense. The penalty of death would be fitting."
Elza rose to her feet.
"Then see it done."
With that, she walked out of the conference room. The senior officials and high-ranking officers, now surrounded by soldiers bearing sentences of execution, began to scream.
"N-No! It was the Prime Minister's orders!"
"It wasn't just me! Him too! He was in on it as well!"
"Don't be ridiculous! Why is it only us… Why are you lot just standing there silently?!"
Others who were said to have ties to the lords of Galleria were dragged away by soldiers, crying out all the while——.
——The manor of the Galleria Sovereign House.
Having gathered the assembled lords, Gracia declared in a booming voice.
"There are lords who betrayed the Sovereign House and colluded with Rusworth. The evidence has already been gathered, and in Rusworth, certain high officials have already been punished. Surely we cannot simply do nothing on our end? In the name of the Galleria Sovereign House, I hereby declare a campaign of subjugation!"
Several lords who had not participated in the meeting were present, and their absence was being treated as proof of treachery.
Normally, there would have been many more of them, and some among the crowd would have worn stern faces as they berated the traitorous lords. But the lords were……
"But to carry out punishments simply because the enemy says so…"
"We only just sent soldiers out previously. We cannot mobilize again now."
"Would it not be better to investigate more thoroughly first?"
They were reluctant. The lords who were themselves colluding were especially panicked. Even among those who had not betrayed the kingdom, there was a shared understanding that they lacked the troop capacity to mount another campaign.
So Gracia declared:
"Then the Sovereign House shall act alone. If we leave traitors unpunished, Galleria will be made a mockery of!"
While those around her remained reluctant, Gracia — Galleria's greatest fighting force — declared she would move. The lords and territorial rulers had grievances, but given her legitimacy, they could not raise any objection.
However, none of them believed the Sovereign House could field a satisfactory number of troops under the current circumstances, so the lords decided to defer to her judgment.
No matter how powerful she was, they reasoned, even if Gracia won as a lone force, the aftermath would be difficult — managing the conquered territories would prove far too much for one person.
They were biding their time, hoping that when the venture inevitably failed and the moment came to deploy proper armies, they could send reinforcements, carve up the spoils, and demand payment for their participation—
While Rusworth and Galleria churned in turmoil,
I was at Rolfis's village near the border of both nations, going through paperwork. "Paperwork" was generous — I was mostly reading a letter from Baim while raking my fingers through my hair.
The real problem right now was the request from Fidel.
"He wants me to strip the authority of the merchant houses backing the Chancellor in Rusworth? And on top of that, give him authority a full rank above what even the complex merchant network in Galleria holds? That guy… he's finally cashing in on his support, isn't he? Before, he never said a single word about—"
Inside the rebuilt house, Valkyrie No. 1 set a cup of tea in front of me, and I drained it in one gulp.
It was cold and delicious, but it still tasted different from the tea Novem or Monica brewed. Something was missing.
"Thanks."
When I expressed my gratitude, No. 1 bowed her head and refilled my cup without a word. I stuck a pen in my mouth and brooded over how to handle this, when the Fourth Generation offered some advice.
'Lael, the other party — Fidel doesn't actually expect everything to go through. He'll be satisfied if you address at least some of it. Incidentally, if you do handle this, the local merchants' resentment will end up directed at you.'
Handle it, then redirect the resentment toward me. Or rather, toward Gracia or Elza.
Gracia might actually prefer it that way. But with Elza, I'd been hoping to smooth things over.
"I need Gracia to have a certain amount of resentment directed at her from those around her, and I need to set the stage early to put Leold on the Sovereign Throne… So, how do I handle Elza's side?"
With Elza, the situation was trickier — the Chancellor was quite popular in Rusworth, so any misstep would immediately generate ill will. After all, in the provinces the Chancellor was despised, but in the capital, even after being removed from office, he was still highly regarded: a man who had acted for the good of the kingdom, forced to clean up after the fools in his own faction.
'He prioritized the capital — no doubt he was a brilliant Chancellor for the people living near the royal city. Truly a troublesome person to deal with.'
Still, ignoring Fidel entirely would be its own problem. I needed his support, and I was also considering whether to seek backing from Baim's other merchant houses.
Seeing me wrestling with the dilemma, the Fourth Generation seemed to be enjoying herself.
'Worry as much as you like. Oh, and let's make sure our information is based on verified facts. Set aside even a little of your own hopes and predictions, and think based on solid information.'
"...I'll have the Chancellor removed from power before long. As for the merchants who supported him, if there's someone else they'll back next... No, I should have Baim's merchants start backing someone now."
I turned things over in my mind, weighing the pros and cons.
As I deliberated, Monica — connected by the same line as the mass-produced Valkyries — processed the information they had gathered and relayed it to me.
But this line-based communication... it quietly drained my mana. The distance was a factor, but more than that, a considerable volume of information was being exchanged through me as a conduit.
I would have preferred to be spared, but it was necessary, so I endured.
The information Monica sent told me that Galleria had entered a state of war with certain lords.
It seemed to be a conflict on the scale of several hundred combatants. In Galleria, the royal house held the most power. In situations like this, they could secure victory with ease.
"...As long as they have a righteous justification, everyone around them stays silent."
There was the fact of the betrayal, so the surrounding parties either had no complaints about the royal house's response — or lacked the nerve to voice them strongly.
I decided to dispatch the Valkyries immediately and have them gather intelligence on the new territory. However, in cases like these, it would be faster for me to go in person.
"Once I'm done here, I'll head to Galleria... No, I should return to Baim and report to Eva... Actually, I need to have a detailed discussion at Rusworth too..."
I slumped face-down onto the desk.
I had the feeling the Fourth Generation was watching this scene with a cheerful smile from within the Jewel.
Baim.
I arrived at the port and waited for the Vera Trace to dock. I gave Eva and May some spending money and told them to enjoy some free time in Baim for a while.
As for Eva, she had work to do in Baim as well, so I told her she could have some fun while she was at it.
I had ridden on May's back to get to Baim in order to pay respects to our greatest supporter, Fidel — no, to check the mood of the Trace family.
That said, the real purpose of this trip was Vera.
When the large vessel arrived at the port, a gangway was attached, and the crew members disembarked one by one to begin their work.
One of the sailors noticed me.
"Lyle, sir! Is that you?"
I raised my right hand in a casual wave, and the sailor called out to Vera in a loud voice. Vera poked her head out from the deck, and it seemed she spotted me as well.
"What is it— wait, Lyle!"
Vera scrambled down from the ship in a hurry, and I went to greet her.
"It's been a while. Last time we couldn't meet up, so I came to see you this time."
Vera blushed slightly as she replied.
"Weren't you busy with Galleria and Rusworth or something? Well, I'm happy you came, but..."
"I figured we could grab a meal together. You know, I can't just sit around doing nothing forever, and... well, how should I put it — please, let me treat you!"
Vera looked a little exasperated by my request, but she smiled and nodded. I didn't want the situation to be one where I was always making her foot the bill, so this time I decided to pay with money I'd earned myself.
"You really don't have to go out of your way like that. But fine, I'll let you treat me this time."
While chatting with Vera as she flushed with embarrassment, I decided to wait until her work reached a stopping point. After Vera headed back into the ship to retrieve cargo, a voice came from inside the Jewel.
It was the Fourth Generation. Lately, the Fourth Generation had been the one reaching out to me most often.
'Lyle, treating her to one meal doesn't make you any less of a freeloader, you know.'
(...Yeah, I know.)
——Inside the Jewel, the Successive Heads watched as Lyle sat across from Vera at a restaurant, the two of them making stilted conversation.
Mireia observed the pair dining at what was a fairly upscale establishment.
"In a way, it's both endearing and a bit pathetic that he has all these women around him yet still gets so awkward... It's quite entertaining to watch, isn't it?"
Lyle himself had impeccable manners, even in a high-end restaurant like this. But as he talked with Vera, there was something stiff and awkward about him.
He was being considerate of his conversation partner.
The Third Generation watched Lyle's demeanor with a warm smile.
"I'm sure there's a different kind of amusement once you get used to it, but well, Lyle himself never really thought much about building a harem. I imagine he has a lot on his mind, unlike Novem who gives him her complete support."
Mireia murmured Novem's name as she spoke.
"Novem, is she... Well, that girl approves of Lyle for better or worse, no matter what. She saw him at his most pathetic and still didn't abandon him. The Foxes bloodline runs true, I suppose."
House Walt had, for generation after generation, received the patronage of House Foxes. They had lived long enough that it no longer seemed strange, and every person present in the room had long since accepted it as simply the way things were.
The Fifth Generation looked at Lyle, who seemed bewildered by Vera's suddenly flushed cheeks.
"That guy, he'll sometimes drop a line that's so sincere it's scary. He never succeeds normally, but when it counts—in important places like this—he never misses... Could it be he's actually aiming for it?"
The Seventh Generation laughed, watching Vera, who had turned red at Lyle's words.
"At this rate, I'd love for him to win over the Two Great War Maidens—or rather, the two witches as well."
Among them, the Fourth Generation alone wore a bittersweet, almost lonely expression as he watched Lyle, gazing at the images projected on the Jewel's ceiling.
"In truth, Lyle's happiness would be running off somewhere far away with Novem—to a place even Ceres's hands couldn't reach—and living out his days in peace. But Lyle chose the path of fighting Ceres."
Mireia turned her gaze to the Fourth Generation, then shifted it to the Fifth Generation and stared intently. The Fifth Generation averted his eyes from Mireia.
Mireia let out a sigh.
"Really, why does he have to be so stubborn... Fourth Generation—no, Grandfather."
"What is it?"
The Fourth Generation adjusted his glasses with a fingertip, sat with his legs crossed in his chair, and rested his hands on his knee. He looked toward Mireia with a gentle smile.
"I serve as Lyle's guide. I do hope the Successive Heads will fulfill their duties, but I believe what Lyle needs right now is not the Fourth Generation's Skills, but rather his wisdom."
Hearing this, the Fourth Generation smiled. It wasn't mocking, and it wasn't amused—it was simply a warm expression.
"That's kind of you to say. That you need my knowledge more than my Skills. ...I suppose that's true. Skills, when you push them to their limit, are just tools. Our role is to teach him how to wield them well. But if you tell me that we—the ones who guide—have more value, then I'm glad to hear it."
He said he was glad, yet there was a touch of loneliness in the Fourth Generation's voice.
"But you know, Lyle will need to strike out on his own someday. The path he chose is one where we'll only get in the way as time goes on. It'd be easy to just keep molding him in my style, but if I did that, I'd crush what makes Lyle... Lyle. There's no need to snuff out his new possibilities just to impose my own way of doing things."
The Third Generation spoke without turning to look at the Fourth Generation. His eyes were fixed on the scene of the outside world reflected on the Jewel ceiling.
"...Ideally, I should be the one to disappear first. Having Skills this outstanding is honestly a burden."
Whether it was a joke or something he truly meant didn't really matter.
The Fourth Generation offered a wry smile and addressed his father, the Third Generation.
"Third Generation—no, Father. I get the feeling you'd manage just fine in any situation, so I can entrust Lyle to you without worry. The way you've navigated such delicate positions with such finesse, along with those fearsome Skills of yours—I have nothing but respect for that."
The Third Generation murmured softly.
"You don't sound like you respect me all that much. But I suppose the timing is about right."
The Seventh Generation listened to this exchange between father and son in silence.
The Fifth Generation apparently couldn't stand the atmosphere any longer.
"Lyle shouldn't be much longer, should he? Are you planning to do it right after he comes back?"
The Fourth Generation burst out laughing at that.
"Yeah, it's a real shame. I'd like to watch Lyle and Lyle-san together just a little while longer, but... I think I'll go ahead and pass on my Skills and disappear before that happens. You know, I never expected to feel this lonely about it. To think I'd end up having such high hopes for that helpless Lyle of all people."
On the ceiling, Lyle could be seen sitting there in a daze while sharing a meal with Vera—and the Fourth Generation watched him with a gentle smile.