"...Are you alright, Lord Lyle?"
In a room within the Arelia Ducal residence, young Leold was gazing at me with concern as I slumped over the desk.
Leold, who appeared to be a boy, had been sticking close to me at work these past few days.
Right now, I was handling paperwork related to the territory that the Duchy of Galleria had newly designated as a direct domain. Documents had been brought in by the armload, and I was processing them.
Technically, it was supposed to be Leold handling the work, and he was observing my tasks to learn — partly as a form of assistance.
Well, I say "technically," but Gracia wasn't exactly skilled at this kind of work either. She was swamped with her regular duties, so she had reassigned Leold to me instead.
"...I think I'm alright."
After sharing a meal with Vera in Baim and chatting for a while, I left Eva there and headed off to meet May and Rolfis.
From there, word reached me that Galleria had subdued the surrounding lords, and short-handed as they were in the aftermath, I rushed over to help.
Yesterday, I had also delivered a letter to Rusworth. With the Chancellor absent, the Rusworth officials were in a state of confusion. On top of that, Elza was looking visibly troubled as well — the paperwork the Chancellor had been handling had ended up falling on her shoulders.
I had left Novem and Aria behind, so the two of them should be able to help out in various ways.
Well, Novem would be fine, but I was worried about Aria. That girl was completely useless when it came to paperwork.
"No, really, you look pale. Shouldn't you take a rest?"
I stared at the mountain of documents piled on my desk. I almost burst out laughing. Between handling all sorts of documents and reports for Rolfis, issuing orders for Rusworth, and now facing this mountain of paperwork for Galleria—
Something was wrong. I was supposed to be an adventurer.
Sure, I'd been running around behind the scenes, but how had I ended up doing this? I had envisioned more cloak-and-dagger type physical labor.
Then again, thinking about how things had been with Zayin, maybe this was just how it went.
"I suppose I'll rest a bit once this is done. Still, the management here is just as terrible as ever, isn't it?"
I glanced at one of the reports. The previous lord had been collecting a seventy percent tax rate. Collecting taxes was one thing, but he had barely reinvested any of it into developing the territory. His approach had been to maintain the status quo and use war to cover any shortfalls from the growing population.
It seemed like they had been plundering through warfare to earn supplementary income. The Fourth Generation inside the Jewel was also roaring with fury.
'Why has such rich land produced so little development?! That's absurd! And what do you mean people could survive paying a seventy percent tax?! If they'd invested more in domestic affairs earlier, they could have beaten Rusworth without a war!'
Well, since they had all been at each other's throats out of mutual agreement, they probably weren't all that fixated on winning.
"Baym is close by, too. With new technology and enough gold, they could have attracted people. So why did things end up like this?"
The one who answered my question was Leold.
"…Well, there was no need to aggressively push outward, so things were fine as they were. On top of that, Rusworth was the only threat among the neighboring nations. Our neighbor Selva had been feuding with Zayin and Rolfis for years."
Rusworth was the sole threat in the region. And since they were evenly matched in national power, there were profits to be had from waging wars against each other — at least for some people.
"Did Baym try to get involved in trade relations? But you're still buying goods from Baym regularly, aren't you?"
Leold didn't seem to know much about that particular aspect.
"I'm not sure. However, there are plenty of lords who don't want to rely on Baym. Even though they're called the City of Merchants and Adventurers, many despise them as a gathering of death merchants, mercenaries, and thieves."
Indeed, Baym appeared at first glance to prosper through trade.
But most of the goods they dealt in were weapons. The Trace family also contracted with blacksmiths and craftsmen to mass-produce weapons.
The consumers of those weapons were adventurers and mercenaries, and given that Monsters roamed the entire continent, weapons were guaranteed to sell.
There were probably times when they even incited wars to get both sides fighting and made enormous profits. You only need to look at how things played out in the former Zayin and Rolfis to see that.
They sent mercenary companies to both sides and sold them arms and supplies. Enormous sums of money must have changed hands.
"I'm sure there are plenty of lords who resent me for bringing the Trace family into this," I said, gazing up at the ceiling.
Leold gave a wry smile.
"Yes, quite a few. But if we can secure the port, it will mean enormous profits for Galleria as well. Sticking to old methods forever isn't realistic."
He was younger than me, but he seemed to have given things a great deal of thought.
From the Jewel came the voice of the Fourth Generation.
"AAAAAAAAAH!! How does this kind of method of governance actually work?! I'd be too scared to even sleep at night if it were me!!!"
Continuing his work, he half-listened to the Fourth Generation's screaming while flipping through the Galleria lord's report.
—Miranda had come by the room that had been given to Laiel.
She was carrying drinks and a late-night snack, having knocked on the door and waited for a reply. But no answer came from inside the room.
Having taken service under the Galleria royal family, Miranda reached for the doorknob, confirmed it wasn't locked, and stepped inside.
"Are you already asleep? Laie…l?"
When the hallway light spilled into the darkened room, she could see Laiel's legs protruding from the sofa where he lay.
On the other of the two sofas, a boy smaller than Laiel was sprawled out.
Miranda entered the room, switched on the light, and set the drinks and snack down on the table.
Glancing around, she saw that the processed documents were stacked in towering piles. She brushed back a strand of her wavy, pale-green hair with her fingertips and picked up one of the sheets to check its contents.
"…Lower the tax rate slightly, and offer a tax reduction in exchange for cooperation with the flood-control construction? That brings it back to the average tax rate, then. Well, I suppose they wouldn't cooperate otherwise."
Galleria, land-rich as it was, meant its citizens never felt particularly desperate. Even when asked for cooperation, a modest tax reduction alone wouldn't entice them to participate—they could get by without it.
The fact that Laiel was acting with these considerations in mind was something Miranda never would have imagined based on his usual demeanor.
"It's almost like he has some brilliant aide helping him…"
Suddenly, Miranda's gaze was drawn to the Jewel at Laiel's chest, which was emitting a faint blue glow.
For an instant, Ceres crossed her mind. Just as the Jewel—the yellow Jewel—held within it the consciousness of the nation-seducing beauty Agrissa, perhaps Laiel's gem also held…
At that thought, Miranda shrugged.
"Maybe I should go grab a blanket."
With that, Miranda left the room—.
—Inside the Jewel.
The Third Generation and Fourth Generation were alone in the Round Table room. It was a courtesy shown by the Successive Heads who had been considerate, and by Mireia.
'Well, so it's finally Marks's turn. When will my role be finished?'
Rather than being called the Fourth Generation, Sley, the Third Generation, called his son by his name, Marks. In terms of appearance, Marks actually looked older.
The Third Generation was nonchalant, and to put it mildly, looked young. His personality didn't seem mature either; if anyone was asked who was younger, they would point to the Third Generation.
'Father, you have the important job of putting together the "Best of Laiel," don't you?'
At the Fourth Generation's words, the Third Generation laughed heartily.
'That's certainly important! ...But there are few judges, don't you think? We need more judges, right?'
The Fourth Generation removed his glasses, took out a cloth, and polished the lenses.
'I don't think so. We've always had plenty, and I have high expectations for Father's choices.'
Being called Father, Sley narrowed his eyes.
'...Marks, I couldn't say it because it was embarrassing. But even if it's meaningless, even if the real us are dead, I'll say it anyway. Marks, you were a far more magnificent head of House Walt than I ever was. You were a son to be proud of.'
As Marks put his glasses back on, he lightly wiped the corners of his eyes with the cloth. Noticing this, Sley deliberately said nothing.
'...I wanted to apologize to Fredericks for various things, though. That guy runs away when I try to apologize. Could you tell him from me? 'It's been tough. I'm sorry.''
At those words, Sley shook his head.
'It's not just you, Marks. I also pushed the position of head onto you without any proper handover. Parents leave various things for their children, and children for their grandchildren. Whether those things are good or bad is another matter.'
Marks stood up from his chair, straightened his posture, and looked at Laiel's chair. When Laiel's seat emitted a blue light, Laiel appeared there.
Sley... the Third Generation, silently watched the Fourth Generation.
The Fourth Generation, Marks, faced Laiel.
'Laiel, I think today I'll convey the final Skill.'
The Third Generation watched the Fourth Generation smile as he said that to Laiel. And he watched the two of them until they passed through the door of memory...
"Marks, among all the Successive Heads, you held the position of lord the longest. You went through a great deal of trouble, but... you are more admirable than I ever was."
...And so, he murmured—.
It was a straight road stretching on without end.
It was the very road the Fourth Generation had hurried down to reach the Third Generation, who had fallen on the battlefield — a place etched deeply into his memory, unchanged.
The Skill that manifested when the Fourth Generation wished he could run even faster to reach the Third Generation — that was the Fourth Generation's Skill, Speed.
Thanks to that, the Fourth Generation had been able to reunite with the Third Generation while he was still breathing. And he had been able to receive the Jewel, passed down from generation to generation.
A blue sky with white clouds.
Looking up at the sky, I somehow understood what the Fourth Generation across from me wanted to convey. It was precisely because I understood that I spoke.
"Isn't this a bit too sudden?"
The Fourth Generation smiled.
"Is it? I don't think so. My role... no, I believe this is as far as I can help you."
This time I turned my face toward the ground and pressed both hands against it. I felt tears threatening to come, but I forced out a joke.
"You're a busy person, so let's do this when you have more time. You know, the atmosphere matters and all that — the Fourth Generation said so himself, didn't you?"
The Fourth Generation laughed out loud.
"No, that was in the context of speaking with women. But I'm glad you remembered it properly. This is something you'll need going forward — no, something you absolutely must have down, so I want you to practice it on Novem and the others."
Who else would there be? I steadied my breathing and looked the Fourth Generation straight in the eye.
"I wish you'd teach me more things, though."
"I've taught you the basics. After that, you have to wrestle with things on your own — you won't grow unless you hit a major wall. Oh, but I don't mean the usual kind of growth."
At the Fourth Generation's words, I gave a bitter smile. And then, as the Fourth Generation's expression turned serious, he moved to my exact side in the blink of an eye.
When I looked over, the Fourth Generation had his hand on my shoulder.
"...[Full Drive]. My ultimate stage skill. If you can master this, you might be able to stand against Ceres."
At most, the Fourth Generation didn't say you could win, only that you could "stand against." After all, Ceres could do something close to this while almost completely unpowered.
When I gasped, the Fourth Generation stepped back and drew a dagger from his lower back. Then he began tossing it into the air.
Two, four, six, eight... by that point, his form had blurred from sight. Before I knew it, the daggers thrown into the air were neatly stuck in a circle around me.
Behind me, the Fourth Generation was skillfully juggling with two daggers.
"...You're teaching me with quite a radical method, aren't you?"
The Fourth Generation gripped two daggers in his right hand, then adjusted his glasses with his left.
"If all I had to teach was the Skill, there are other ways. But I want you to learn how to fight using a Skill, and how to fight using my weapons. Did you think my style only used two daggers?"
I had sparred with the Fourth Generation many times. But I'd never seen him use this many daggers before.
"There was no need to use them?"
"No, basically against multiple opponents, two daggers won't cut it. Plus, by using multiple Skills—"
I swung my right hand, and a Saber appeared to deflect a dagger. However, only the first was deflected; the second pierced into my right shoulder.
When I pulled out the deeply embedded dagger, I was shocked by its power.
"...You used the First Generation's Skill to boost the power. And you deliberately varied the aim and timing between the first and second."
He had used the First Generation and Second Generation's Skills to increase power and precisely aim the thrown daggers.
But then the Fourth Generation picked up two new daggers.
"That's a shame. I was also using the Third Generation's Mind. It seems less effective against Laiel, but it should dull your judgment a little?"
As the Fourth Generation readied his daggers, I lunged forward and thrust my Saber. But the Fourth Generation before me vanished, and I was slashed across my body.
Arms, legs, torso, neck, head... I was bleeding from everywhere.
"Mind isn't just about hypnosis. It can also cause hallucinations. Even if the opponent resists, if there's even a slight effect, this is the result."
When I turned around, the Fourth Generation wasn't there. And then, a voice came from behind me again.
'It truly is just a Skill that makes you move faster than usual, isn't it?'
I turned again, but the Fourth Generation wasn't there. This time, the voice came from diagonally behind me, and then he raised his left hand and blew away the surroundings with magic.
"Thunderclap!"
A peal of thunder roared down, and lightning struck the area. As the cloud of dust enveloped everything, I heard voices coming from all four directions.
When the dust cleared, dozens of figures of the Fourth Generation stood there.
I hastily readied my Saber, but pain immediately shot through my right shoulder. Next was my left thigh.
'...Even for a person with strong resistance, if you just rattle them a little, this is the result. Seriously, the Third Generation's Skills are underhanded. I wonder if even I could win.'
I steadched my breathing and pulled the daggers that were embedded in my shoulder and thigh. I threw the two daggers in a different direction from where the Fourth Generation was, but when the Fourth Generation in front of me vanished, the daggers I had thrown curved back towards me, tips pointing my way.
I batted them away with my Saber and then remained on guard. I used the Second Generation's Skill—Field—to sense the surroundings, and also employed the Sixth Generation's—Search—to try and locate the Fourth Generation.
But even when I found a reaction, the next instant he had moved, and daggers came flying. Sometimes, the daggers flew in wide, curving arcs.
Many daggers lay fallen around me, some embedded in the ground.
I picked one up and hurled it toward a reaction I sensed from the Fourth Generation. Mid-air, a dagger that I presumed the Fourth Generation had thrown spun horizontally and knocked my thrown dagger aside.
"Hah... hah..."
As long as I was fighting inside the Jewel, injuries would heal quickly. No—perhaps I was never really injured to begin with, and only felt the pain.
In the midst of this, I gradually began to be able to react to the Fourth Generation's movements.
I deflected more daggers, and the number of times I was hit decreased.
Around us, the clear blue sky gradually clouded over, and in the dim light, I fought the Fourth Generation.
"You're normally quite strong, you know. From what I've heard, the Fourth Generation left great achievements in domestic administration but not much in the way of combat accomplishments!"
As I deflected a dagger with my Saber, the dagger spun through the air, and the Fourth Generation caught it in his hand.
"It was a different era, you see. There were plenty of bandits and plenty of Monsters. I set out on subjugations many times myself. I never got the chance to fight in a proper war, but there were plenty of little skirmishes between territories."
The view along the endless straight road had grown dark under the overcast sky.
Rain began to fall.
But I widened my eyes.
"...Looks like I've gotten the hang of it."
I could see the raindrops falling slowly toward the ground. And I could finally keep up with the Fourth Generation's movements.
I caught the Fourth Generation's lunging slash with my Saber.
"Good reaction. As expected — Lail has talent. It took me until my late twenties to manifest this Skill."
The Fourth Generation leaped back to create distance, and I adjusted my stance with my Saber ready.
"...All right. Let's make this the last one."
The Fourth Generation removed his glasses and tucked them into his breast pocket, then lowered his entire body. As the rain grew heavier, his movements seemed to slow even further.
By the end, it was as if the raindrops themselves had stopped. And when the Fourth Generation moved, I lunged forward in kind.