Perhaps it was retribution.
Fredriks, the Fifth Generation head of House Walt, said that to me.
The scene unfolding around me was horrific.
A carriage that had plunged down.
In a torrential downpour so cold it stung the skin, a woman was shielding Fredriks with her own body. Blood flowed from her, and her slightly swollen belly was a grave concern as well.
No—I already knew what came next.
"Mama! Mama!"
Fredriks clung to the Fourth Generation head's wife—his mother—inside the carriage that had fallen from the cliff.
"I-it's okay. Fredriks... it's okay."
The attackers had been dressed as bandits. But judging from the images in my memory, they were seasoned professionals. They had pinned down the guards and targeted the carriage alone, shoving it off the road. This was no ordinary robbery.
The Fifth Generation, watching the scene alongside me, spoke.
"Mom was pregnant with a baby at the time. She miscarried protecting me. After that, she kept making excuses about not wanting more children, but... I could tell it was because of the accident. I've always been able to tell."
The guards who arrived on the scene hurriedly established a perimeter around Fredriks and the others, tore apart the carriage to fashion a roof, and started a fire. After administering first aid, one of the knights rode out through the downpour on horseback toward the Walt estate.
The vision turned gray and froze there, and the raindrops seemed to stop.
"...They weren't ordinary bandits. I considered that we might have earned the hatred of some bandits, since our house shows no mercy toward them. But looking back, they were far too experienced. Besides, the son of a neighboring lord who had lured us out—he was the one who came up to me with a smile at that moment."
Was the Fifth Generation overthinking it, or had it all been orchestrated from the start?
The vision shifted, and this time Fredriks was standing before a door, listening in. Inside the room, the knights were speaking with the Fourth Generation head.
He slammed his fist on the table, the Fourth Generation head, his breathing ragged.
"Lord Marks..."
The worried knight looked familiar. He had aged considerably, but he was the same knight who had once been punched into submission by the Third Generation and who had alerted the Fourth Generation about the Third Generation's crisis.
"……I understand. My wife and Frederks are both safe. I know asking for more might be excessive…… but how can I forgive this! Search thoroughly! Extract every bit of information from the captured thieves, by any means necessary! I'll follow later with this……"
The Fourth Generation, gripping the blue gem hanging from his neck, intended to use Mind — a Skill recorded from the Third Generation. But anything obtained that way would not serve as evidence.
"Information extracted through Skills is often dismissed as something the Skill simply forced someone to say. Even if we identify who's behind this, we can't easily move against them. Funny, isn't it? We've grown too big a house to act freely anymore."
Just as I was about to ask the Fifth Generation something, the vision shifted.
Frederks, in his early teens, was once again at a location other than the House Walt estate. Surrounded by children his own age, he was being punched and kicked.
"Hey runt, when are you going to start doing what you're told?!"
A large boy hurled Frederks across the room. Slamming into the wall, Frederks tried to get back up without saying a word. He was kicked while he was down.
Around them, girls from noble families the same age were laughing as well.
"New money types are the worst. I would never want to marry into House Walt."
"Well, he is a runt."
"His mother's a runt too, and she's Court Nobility on top of that. And she can't even have children anymore. The lowest of the low for a woman."
Frederks, head bowed, gritted his teeth and endured it all. The large boy grabbed him by the front of his clothes and lifted him up.
"Go ahead, say something back, runt. Well, I guess you can't since it's all true. Was it the day your carriage overturned that you got hurt or something?"
Frederks endured. His fists were clenched so tightly that blood seeped from them, but he endured.
"Fifth Generation, why didn't you say anything back?"
The Fifth Generation, watching the vision unfold……
"……Because they all had their stories straight. If I fought back, I'd be made out to be the bad one. Of course, it would come up as an issue during the discussion between our parents too. Like I told you — House Walt was in a delicate position at that time. I couldn't even trust my own vassals. There were some houses that were willing to help, though. House Foxes was one of them."
Then the vision shifted to the House Walt estate.
The mother spoke to Frederks.
"Frederks, is there anything you're hiding?"
"Ah, no, there isn't."
Marks was the same way.
"...Actually, a neighboring lord has proposed marrying his daughter to you. But I turned it down. The head of House Foxes and the previous head both strongly opposed it. They said it wouldn't be a suitable match."
"...Yes."
Marks seemed to have noticed something as well, but Frederks didn't seem eager to talk about it.
He simply wore a smile directed at his parents.
Then the vision shifted to the village that had begun its settlement.
Frederks was shown studying various things while watching the village being developed, surrounded by knights.
"Is this good land?"
One of the knights was explaining to Frederks in a polite manner.
"I can't say it's the finest, but with some effort, this place could become prosperous as well. If it succeeds, it will be Frederks' achievement."
"I'm just touring it as part of my training, though?"
The Fifth Generation glanced at the young knight and murmured.
"...Old man Landberg. That's his grandson."
At the name Landberg, I looked at the young man's face. I felt I'd seen him somewhere before — he was the person I'd admired as a knight.
The Fifth Generation continued.
"He's been serving House Walt as a knight since the Third Generation's time. He was a good man."
Then a small girl crashed into Frederks. She had come running out from beside a building and collided with him.
"H-hey! Get away from Frederks this instant!"
When the knight reached for the girl, Frederks laughed and shook his head.
"It's fine. Just be more careful from now on."
The girl stared at Frederks, clearly not quite understanding what was going on. Then her older sister came running over, her face pale as a sheet. She bowed deeply and apologized.
"I—I am so sorry!"
She bowed again and again, pulling her little sister into a tight embrace as she pleaded for forgiveness. Even Frederks looked somewhat flustered by the sight. But when he caught sight of the older girl, his cheeks flushed pink.
"I-it's fine! I'll let it slide this time. Now, go on and get back to work."
His voice came out slightly higher than usual, and both girls broke into relieved smiles as they bowed. Watching their retreating backs, Frederks stood there looking bewildered.
The knight saw this and spoke up.
"Shall... shall I have them brought to your room tonight, perhaps?"
Frederks's face went bright red.
"Y-you—you imbecile! I would never... never..."
The surrounding men watched Frederks and chuckled. He set off with long, heavy strides, pushing past the knights and marching ahead.
The Fifth Generation watched the scene unfold.
"Our household planned to keep expanding into new pioneer villages. That's why the Fourth Generation decided I needed to see this kind of thing for myself. This whole area was completely wild back then."
The Fifth Generation spoke with a nostalgic air. But the way he looked carried a touch of sadness.
After that, several more scenes played out of Frederks conversing with the sisters. Slowly but surely, Frederks and the girls were growing closer.
Then came the moment.
Frederks was summoned back to House Walt's estate and had to leave for the time being.
At the village entrance, the heir to House Landbark stood with the villagers, seeing Frederks off.
Frederks mounted his horse and turned to the two girls he had grown fond of.
"I'll be right back. And... and when I do..."
The girls around him smiled at Frederks, who was blushing. The young woman nodded.
"We'll be waiting for you, Lord Frederks."
Frederks broke into a smile.
But—
The next memory that appeared was of the village after it had burned to the ground. Frederks stood rooted in place, staring at the tree in the center of the village as his escort knights surrounded him on the scorched remains.
There were a few survivors, and when Frederks arrived, they hurled abuse at him.
"Why didn't you come sooner?!"
"My... my daughter..."
A couple he had seen somewhere before. They were the same couple that had appeared in the Sixth Generation's memory of leaving home.
Frederks walked slowly toward the tree in the center of the village.
Villagers had been hung from the tree.
The young man from House Landbark had been stripped of everything and was in a wretched state. It was clear he had resisted until the very end.
And right in the most prominent, forward-facing position hung the sisters Frederks had been on friendly terms with.
Thoroughly—though that word felt wrong—hung in a way that seemed designed specifically to torment Frederks. Frederks collapsed to his knees and looked at the characters carved into the tree.
"Runts"—that was what was written.
When Frederks lowered his head, his gaze had changed. Sharp, and turbid with something dark—I held my breath.
I turned back to the Fifth Generation.
"...There's no proof. Besides, there were people who knew the village's inner workings. I wanted to rush in with soldiers and tear the place apart. I wanted to do the same to them. No—I wanted to wipe them out entirely."
The Fifth Generation's expression hadn't changed as he continued in a flat tone.
'Someone leaked information about how close I was with my sisters. I had a pretty good idea who it was. It was one of the retainers' associates. Smiling to my face while selling out our information behind our backs.'
I looked up at the tree in the center of the village, then looked away. That someone could do something this terrible—and that they needed to go this far.
"This is too much. This is..."
'Don't give me "this can't be possible." Listen, Laiel. The ones who did this—were the same as us. Same as lords, same as nobles. Take one wrong step, and we'd do the same thing. In fact, Feinz probably did even worse to the territories they conquered. When the enemy invades, you have to retaliate. If they sense weakness, they'll just keep pulling stunts like this.'
I understood the point about not letting the enemy see weakness.
And then, the Fifth Generation continued.
'...The lord of the territory that invaded us—well, the one before my predecessor got along fine with the Third Generation. But generation by generation, it came to this.'
A lord presides over the territory and the people... A lord who can decide policy will bring prosperity if he's competent, and ruin if he's not.
More often than not, a change in generation meant decline. Sometimes, the opposite was true.
'...You know, Laiel. That was when I made my vow. I swore I would have my revenge. No matter how many years it took, no matter how many decades—I would wipe them out to the last.'
I saw the Fifth Generation's head bow. Yet, during his era, House Walt endured and ultimately never went on the offensive.
"What happened to make the Fifth Generation change his policy?"
At my words, the Fifth Generation looked up at the sky and laughed. He laughed, and finally, in a small voice:
'My own children. When I first saw Feinz, I genuinely wavered. I hated them so much. I wanted to kill them... But I didn't want these people—my own children—to go through what I felt. It was too late by then, of course. I already had a concubine and was moving forward with my plans... By the time I realized it, things had already gone too far to stop.'
With that, the Fifth Generation silently pushed me out of the memory chamber.
Inside the porter.
By lantern light, what Monica relayed to me concerned the hostages that Banseim had taken.
An order had gone out across the entire country, commanding all lords of baronial rank and above to send hostages to Central.
When Adele and the others compiled the information they'd gathered, the picture that emerged was clear: there were likely many lords who couldn't move even if they wanted to.
I pondered the information that had been conveyed through the Valkyries. But what kept passing through my mind was the Fifth Generation.
Inside Porter's cargo bed, Clara spoke to me.
"Laiel, are you all right? I think you should take a rest."
I lightly rubbed my temple with my fingertips, then shook my head.
"Sorry, keep going."
Monica had been watching my condition as she relayed the information they'd gathered.
"Other than the hostages, it seems the lords of baronial rank and below can be moved by assurances regarding their territories. If we can bring them over to our side, we'd be able to muster troops within Banseim's borders."
That was when the Third Generation chimed in.
"No, that's not quite right. Sure, there are lords who want territorial guarantees. But not all of them think that way. Some want even more land, and plenty of others are hoping to use this opportunity to settle disputes with neighboring lords. What we really need is the cooperation of lords who hold baronial families as vassals. Fewer headaches that way. Besides, you can't hold things together with nothing but minor lords. Leading a large-scale army would be difficult."
According to the Third Generation, it would be difficult to unify the opinions of all the smaller lords. What they needed were lords capable of that kind of delicate coordination — lords who could bring baronial houses under their umbrella.
Incidentally, he also noted that they wouldn't be capable of commanding large forces as military leaders either.
"Monica, pass this on to Adele. Whittling them down piece by piece is important, but I want them to bring one major lord onto our side. There's no way we can hold them together ourselves."
Monica had been preparing tea for me. It looked like herbal tea.
"I think that will be difficult. The hostage situation is one issue, but the real problem is the hostages themselves. Can we be sure they're still safe under that Ceres? Even if we promise rescue, in the end they may have genuinely switched sides to Ceres's camp. And in the worst case, they may no longer be alive—"
The families and retainers of lords who had been taken away were incredibly difficult to retrieve. In negotiations, we couldn't simply promise "We'll definitely save them" — the situation wouldn't allow for that kind of assurance.
Clara spoke to me.
"Wouldn't we have no choice but to keep breaking them apart, one small piece at a time? Even if we defeat Ceres, if the hostages aren't safe, it'll leave lasting resentment."
Aria was equally pessimistic.
"If it were possible to storm Central and rescue them, someone would probably have already assassinated Ceres by now."
Aria's opinion carried weight — she had faced Ceres directly and experienced his irrationality firsthand.
Still, we were running out of time.
"The western front. What's happening with the lords near Fonbeau and your hometown? We're supposed to head that way. If they're still safe, there's a way to handle this."
Aria looked up, and Monica shook her head.
"I'm afraid we don't have that level of information. Adele and the others are stationed in the east."
Novem and the others were in the south. If they completed their mission safely, they were supposed to enter Banseim from there.
Aria pondered for a moment, then reached a conclusion.
"We gather intelligence first. If there's still time, we consider a rescue — or even a forced extraction. Central is obviously out of the question. But anything else, we do what we can with the numbers we have."
She swept her gaze across everyone, and one by one, they nodded.