In Banseim, the term "true nobility" was reserved for families of baron rank and above.
Knight Baronets and Baronets existed below that tier. It wasn't that anyone looked down on them, but when you considered the scale of their territories and their responsibilities, saying that true nobility began at the baron houses wasn't wrong.
The number of subjects they sheltered, and the expanse of land they managed.
Those things came with a duty to protect, and in turn, it placed Knight Baronets and Baronets in the role of patron families.
However, the Walt family had not occupied that position through long centuries of inheritance — they had risen from nothing, and the surrounding nobility harbored unease about them.
There had been good times: the Third Generation was a hero, the Fourth Generation enjoyed the King's favor... or so everyone believed. But then came the era of the Fifth Generation.
Around this time, Banseim's internal affairs had begun to sour. The invasions of neighboring territories had dwindled, after all. And naturally — the national strength depleted during the Third Generation's era had recovered, making this an age when surplus discontent and domestic problems came surging to the surface.
The Fifth Generation's memory room—
The scene that appeared within it was something I couldn't believe.
It was an unfamiliar mansion, not the Walt residence. A boy with green hair — the Fifth Generation, Fredericks, in his youth — stood in a secluded corner of the estate, his foreign-style clothes smeared with dirt, surrounded by boys and girls.
Fredericks was crying.
"I... I didn't do anything..."
He had been small even as a child, and none of the composed, philosophical air he carried now was present. Looking at his past self, the Fifth Generation covered his face with his right hand.
"...I thought I didn't have to show you this. But if Mireia won't accept it, I'll never be able to entrust you with my Skills."
The gathered boys and girls were kicking Fredericks.
"You're annoying, you upstart!"
"Because of your family, ours is having a terrible time!"
"You come from a lower house, yet you strut around just because people call you a hero!"
The girls giggling as they watched seemed to genuinely enjoy seeing the boys kick Fredericks.
I reached out to stop the foot about to kick Fredericks, but my hand passed through without making contact. In the memory's footage, Fredericks was slammed against the wall.
The Fifth Generation explained.
"The succession of the throne had already taken place, you see. The king who felt indebted to House Walt — or rather, the king who feared the Third Generation — was the previous king, Grandfather's predecessor. The situation had changed. These kids probably sensed that on some level, even as children."
"The thing about it being House Walt's fault?"
"Hmm? Ah, well, that's this: the Fourth Generation really was exceptionally skilled at domestic governance. He invited craftsmen to a place where there was nothing, and nurtured them. He consulted with Mama and experimented with territory management, doing all sorts of things... and those efforts bore fruit."
Those efforts bore fruit. And because they did, House Walt had become a standout presence among its neighbors.
The tax rate was the same as the surrounding areas — high — but through various forms of cooperation, they could be waived, or by paying rewards, they managed to draw out the motivation of their subjects.
As a result, House Walt had created a situation where their taxes were effectively lower than those of their neighbors.
"I can understand their resentment too. If one area drastically lowers taxes, the subjects flow there. It's a hassle for both those fleeing and those being flooded with newcomers. That's why such negotiations happen and things are kept somewhat equal. The Fourth Generation apparently recommended this to the surrounding areas too. No one feels motivated when they see their income decrease — even if their neighbor achieves great success. Well, the reasons weren't limited to just that, though."
Even knowing that success was possible, many people simply wouldn't change their established ways, the Fifth Generation murmured. And here, House Walt had a big problem on its hands.
"...House Walt, which they had always considered inferior, now held the greatest power in the region. But if the surrounding areas cooperated, they could suppress House Walt. They were balanced on a rather precarious tightrope."
The children doing the bullying had apparently grown up watching their parents fear this version of House Walt.
"Looking back on it now, they were probably scared of it too. Of House Walt, which kept growing."
When the Fifth Generation said that, the children disappeared from around them. Fredericks, still with a tear-stained face, wiped his eyes with his sleeve, stood up, and brushed the dirt off his clothes.
Then the attendants arrived, led by the mansion's servants.
"...Were the servants in on it too?"
The servants' expressions varied — some looked conflicted, others were trying to suppress laughter. Perhaps they had conspired at the behest of the mansion's heir, or perhaps they had deliberately separated the attendants from their charge.
"Master Fredericks! What happened to you?!"
"Ah, th-this..."
Before Fredericks could say anything, the mansion's servant spoke.
"So you fell? That's terrible. Let me prepare a change of clothes for you."
With that, she led him away.
When I saw all that, I was at a loss for words. I never imagined the Fifth Generation had such a past.
The Fifth Generation spoke.
"...Laiel, let's call it here for today. I've had enough too."
After the Fifth Generation said that and I nodded, I found myself back in the Round Table chamber. Mireia was on her hands and knees on the floor, gasping for breath.
The Third Generation, seated in her own chair, was watching that sight.
"Laiel, were you able to learn anything?"
The Third Generation was yawning and hadn't moved from her spot. I looked between Mireia and the Third Generation as I spoke.
"Could it be that you deliberately separated me from Mireia?"
The Third Generation chuckled.
"Everyone has a past they'd rather not have seen. Mireia has a bit of a father complex, so I figured she'd want to tag along. She's got a brother complex too, making her quite the troublesome great-granddaughter."
Mireia stood up, looking at me.
"...Laiel, did you see the Fifth Generation's past? What you take from it is up to you."
I shook my head.
"Mireia, please don't say things like that as if everything that happened up until now never happened."
The moment I said that, a gun barrel was pointed at me, so I decided to escape back to the real world.
The morning we departed from Cartafus.
I watched my companions, all of whom seemed off.
Shannon was her usual self. She sat on the back of the reborn Porter — looking cool as ever — legs dangling, gazing at the scenery outside.
But Clara seemed a little off.
She was talking with Ludmilla, who had come to see us off, but Ludmilla's attitude was so casual it was like she was chatting with an old friend.
Ludmilla spoke.
"Here's what I was told to give you. Happened to have it in Cartafus, but it's actually pretty rare. Take good care of it."
What Clara accepted with a nod appeared to be some kind of ammunition.
"That's a huge help. Bullets are precious too."
Ludmilla handed over a large quantity of those precious bullets to Clara.
"No problem. Keeping you safe is important to me too. Besides, you need them to protect Rael."
Ludmilla said that with a smile.
It was true that having Clara, who knew how to fight, was a relief. Whether it was Monsters or bandits, pistol attacks were effective to a certain degree.
But Aria was the only one watching the two of them with a complicated expression. She seemed oddly distant from the pair. No — she seemed distant from Shannon too.
Monica, who was nearby, noticed the distance between them.
"My my, it seems there's some new factional maneuvering going on. Would be simpler if they just fought it out. Those Chicken losers are no match for Monica alone, you know."
Seeing Monica go on about factions, I snorted.
"What factions? You're being ridiculous. Sure, there's been some history, but it's not that serious. Come on... Still, if anyone was going to hit it off with Ludmilla, I would've thought it'd be Aria."
I figured Aria and Ludmilla, both fighters, would have plenty to relate to. But apparently, it was Clara who had gotten close to Ludmilla after they'd shared the bath together.
I wanted to tilt my head at the unexpected pairing, but figured stranger things happen, and we set off.
From inside the Jewel, Mireia, who had been sulking in silence, finally spoke up.
"...A strong enemy has appeared. To think that child would side with them."
The Third Generation spoke in a voice just a shade lower than usual.
"I'll get angry if anyone lays a hand on my precious Clara."
As I listened to the two of them talk, I was about to tilt my head again when the Seventh Generation spoke.
"How unexpected. Ludmilla seems like she'd get along well with Aria... Could it be a case of like disliking like?"
Amid all that, the Fifth Generation was the only one who addressed me.
"...Lyle, talk to Aria. Even just chatting during the trip is fine. Also, tense up a little more."
I assumed it was because we were heading to Banseim, but apparently that wasn't it.
"This is bad. A bride who knows the factions. She might be more trouble than Novem."
The Fifth Generation looked genuinely troubled.
The journey in the reborn Porter was comfortable.
On decent roads, we could travel with minimal shaking. Since we were moving in a lump of iron, both bandits and Monsters apparently thought better of it and stayed away.
They'd watch from a distance, and once the speed exceeded anything before, they'd quickly give up the chase.
I sat down on a sofa that looked like a bench in the cargo bed and spoke to Aria beside me.
"It's gotten a lot more comfortable. The weird new parts that made it a bit narrower are a problem, though."
Aria seemed to share the same opinion.
"It doesn't shake like before, and it is more comfortable, but it is cramped. It would have been nice if it were bigger. Something like the one at Damian's—"
Aria was smiling. But when she brought up Damian's name, Monica, who had been knitting, reacted. She stood up and spread both arms wide.
"You want that oversized fake of a Porter!? How dare you mock a romantic masterpiece fitted with transformation mechanisms and the crystallized love between me and Chicken—Ow!"
I borrowed Aria's spear and lightly tapped Monica on the head with the handle. She sank to the floor with tears in her eyes, both hands clutching the spot where she'd been hit. Her twin tails drifted softly to the ground, looking elegant.
I'd recently learned from Valkyrie No. 1 that she calculated those movements to appear cute, and now it struck me as painfully deliberate.
"Monica, keep it down. Shannon, who's sleeping next to you with drool hanging from her mouth, might wake up."
Looking at Shannon sleeping peacefully, Monica took out a handkerchief and wiped the drool from her face.
"Don't dirty me or the Chicken Porter."
Saying that, she sat back down and resumed her knitting. Winter would be here soon. Apparently, she'd been making all sorts of preparations for it.
Last winter, I'd received an overly love-infused, heavy sweater and scarf, along with a pair of gloves. I was a little curious about what she'd come up with this year.
I let out a sigh and returned the spear to Aria.
"When I think about how it was in the beginning, we've really grown as a group. And back then, Darion and I were trying to become adventurers while Zelphy chewed us out. Now we're the ones getting kicked out of the Adventurers' Guild."
Zelphy was a veteran adventurer who'd guided us when we were brand new. In a city with lots of rookie adventurers like Darion, she was an experienced hand.
She apparently came from a family that once served Aria's household, and had been like an older sister to Aria.
"If the me of now showed up, I wonder what Zelphy would say… At least on the surface, I look like a proper adventurer, right?"
Aria certainly carried herself with the gravitas of a seasoned female adventurer. On top of her well-worn equipment, her fighting style was no less impressive than any man's.
Even so, having watched Aria stumble through countless mistakes back when she was a rookie adventurer, I could still see the difference.
"You've gotten wilder, but you haven't changed all that much. You're lively, and you've still got that unexpectedly girly side to you."
Aria looked awkward.
"Well, you're still crude no matter what."
She said that, but she didn't seem all that bothered by it. She was even smiling a little. But soon, her expression turned dark.
"Rail, there's something I want to ask you."
"What is it?"
Aria looked up at the ceiling, checked that Clara—piloting Porter up ahead—couldn't hear, and lowered her voice slightly.
"Anyway, you know… I'm like this, and I'll cooperate and all, but… I'm going to pass on marrying you."
What Aria had said was that while she'd cooperate, she wouldn't be marrying me. And yet, somewhere deep down, I'd already come to accept that.
After all, I did want Aria to be happy too, and if that was her choice, then—
But the one who voiced an objection was, surprisingly, the Jewel—the Fifth Generation.
"Lyle, you have to stop this girl no matter what. I'm telling you, she is absolutely necessary for you."
The Fifth Generation was seriously telling me to keep Aria here. While I was bewildered, Aria seemed to be waiting for my answer and looked a little tense.
I opened my mouth.
"…C-Can I ask why?"
"W-Well, look! I'm not stronger than anyone else, I can't throw money around like Vera, and I can't provide manpower like the others. I'm not as smart as Novem or Miranda… I can use magic, but it's not my forte. I'm well aware that I'm dead weight."
Hearing Aria's words like that, the Fifth Generation spoke from within the Jewel with a stronger tone than usual.
"Lyle, you absolutely cannot let Aria go. This girl possesses something you will need in the future. Not something Novem or Miranda has, and it's different from what Vera or Ludmilla have, but she is definitely necessary for you."
Listening to the Fifth Generation's desperate opinion, I thought about what I could say to Aria. But what I thought to myself was—would Aria truly be happy if she stayed by my side?
And also, should I really just pursue my own happiness while obeying the words of the Successive Heads like this?