—The Rezno Margrave.
He was one of the lords tasked with guarding the border with Fonbeau, and one of those who had grown busier as relations with Fonbeau deteriorated.
He held responsibility for the border, but that didn't mean he defended it alone. He cooperated with neighboring lords to guard it, but at present, he had been isolated.
A hostage demand from Central.
The current head, Barius Rezno, had his long gray hair tied back. He rarely tied it, but after reading letters from the neighboring lords and from his son Barfelt Rezno—whom he had sent to Central—his face was twisted as though he'd bitten down on something bitter.
"That little brat from House Walt. She's been leading my son astray, hasn't she?"
In the beginning, it was not uncommon for lords of margrave rank to maintain a residence in Central. They would place a proxy there, and naturally, Barius had sent his heir, Barfelt.
When Ceres of House Walt became engaged to the Crown Prince, the gears began to grind. No—they had already started going wrong before that.
Barfelt had argued that it would be unwise for Barius to leave the territory, and had taken up residence in the Central manor himself.
Even regarding the hostage situation, it was Barfelt who had volunteered to become the hostage.
Up to this point, Barius had accepted that there was nothing to be done. But then a letter arrived from Barfelt himself, asking that his wife and son—Barius's own grandchildren—be sent to Central for Lady Ceres's sake.
Letters had also arrived from the neighboring lords, urging him to comply.
"Has the house that has guarded the border with Fonbeau for generations become so untrustworthy?!"
He crushed the letter in his fist, and a knight of House Rezno who had been standing by spoke up.
"Lord Barius, if this continues, we'll be surrounded by Fonbeau and the neighboring lords. I know it's unpleasant, but we need to take some sort of action."
Barius was well aware that something was wrong in Central. However, many of the baronies and viscounties that lacked the power of a margrave had chosen to send hostages to Central to secure their safety.
The forces of Central were part of the reason, but it was the military might of House Walt that truly drove them to act.
As Central fell into disarray, the lords had taken action of their own. Many had gone to Central to remonstrate—and many more had been charmed by Ceres.
As things stood, Barius had several options before him.
"...If I send my adopted daughter and grandson to Central, they could end up as that girl's playthings. But if I defect to Fonbeau—"
The knight took over Barius's words.
"The duchy would become a battleground between Banseim and Fonbeim. The safest option is to send hostages and adopt a relative as a heir. That way, you can align with the surrounding lords and stand against Fonbeau."
Barius slammed his fist on the desk. The letter in his hand crumpled, tearing from the impact.
"A relative? Only if there's anyone worth a damn! Every last one of them is after the Border Duke title. Everyone else is just there to borrow money. If they were worth anything, I wouldn't be this conflicted! I have no intention of passing this title to anyone but my grandson!"
The knight narrowed his eyes.
"...I understand you love your grandson. However, this is not the time for sentiment. While not direct, the bloodline of Rezno will remain."
Barius adored his grandson and had decided only he would inherit his title. But the fact remained that among his relatives, none seemed suitable to be Border Duke. The knight, for his part, seemed to think that with a few years of training, he could at least serve as a stopgap.
"...Give me some time to think. They've even taken my beloved son from me. This matter is tabled."
Barius sank deep into his chair and covered his face with both hands—.
"Oh? So the Border Duke's sons, except the eldest, were married off as sons-in-law?"
While heading toward Fonbeau, I had stopped in a town to gather information. The five of us visited the market. Residents from nearby villages and towns were selling goods, and while purchasing food, I chatted with a friendly auntie.
When I refused the change from my purchase, her tongue became remarkably looser.
The well-to-do auntie—was her husband minding the shop? Once left alone with the man, he told us all sorts of things.
"We're on good terms with the local lord. You see, the Border Duke's territory is near the national border, right? He got busy recently after sending a princess back, but his sons are all excellent. Before he got busy, they were on friendly terms, so he married his second and third sons into other families."
I heard that during a period of friendly relations with Fonbeau, the second and third sons had been married off.
But when the situation changed, the heir apparent son was sent to Central.
"Our lord immediately sent his wife and children, but he took a mistress almost right away, so that was the end of that. The Border Duke, however, refused to send additional hostages. Thanks to that, the atmosphere in the country has been tense. Quite a headache, isn't it?"
First, send the sons as hostages, then demand the sons' wives and children as additional hostages—.
"That's tough. So around here, was it only the Border Duke who didn't send hostages?"
The old lady looked up slightly.
"Yeah, they sent them a few months back. No reason not to, really. The Border Duke really ought to consider the people around him a bit more. If Central sets its sights on him, they'll come for House Walt too. I wish he'd get tired of waiting and just send them to Central himself before Central sends a retrieval force."
House Walt was no longer Banseim's most prestigious family — it was an object of fear. From inside the Jewel, Mireia's voice reached me.
"Well, for the common folk, their lord's feelings don't really matter. Personally, I find it rather endearing that he's hesitating to send hostages."
The Third Generation was smiling.
"You find it endearing because we're Banseim's enemies, and that works in our favor. Still, in a smaller domain where the lord meets his people more often, the citizens might actually feel sympathetic."
The Fifth Generation spoke in a languid tone.
"That's only if the lord was a good one for his people, right? Even if they sympathize, they'll still end up telling him to send them. Everyone loves themselves first."
The Seventh Generation listened to the Fifth Generation's opinion and…
"A rather cynical take. Well, I suppose it's the truth, though. Now, let's put personal opinions aside for now… Laiel, we've got a job to do before we enter Fonbeau."
Clutching the Jewel, I gave a nod of confirmation and thanked the old lady with a smile. On top of that, I handed over the small change I'd been carrying.
"Thanks. That was an interesting story. Here's a little something for your trouble."
The old lady replied.
"Come by the shop again, won't you? I'll give you a discount."
She saw us off with a smile as we left.
Once we reached the inn in town, we took baths to wash away the fatigue of traveling.
When everyone gathered in my room, Monica had herbal tea and snacks prepared for all of us, setting everything in order.
When Shannon reached for the snacks, Monica said:
"If you eat that, you'll have to brush your teeth again."
Shannon puffed out her cheeks.
"I already brushed after my bath, so it's fine!"
Monica snorted derisively.
"That's obviously not okay. If you're fine with getting a cavity and getting lectured by your beloved big sister, then go right ahead."
Clara reached for the snacks.
"It's no big deal. I'll just brush again later, won't I?"
As for Aria.
"I'm going to brush before bed anyway, so I'm all good. Oh, these are delicious."
Monica flipped one side of her golden twin tails back while resting her other hand on her hip.
"These are snacks prepared by yours truly, Monica. There's no way they'd taste bad. The ultimate treat customized to the Chicken's preferences—"
The explanation was dragging on, so I grabbed one and popped it into my mouth. A crisp crust with tart cream and jam. Bite-sized and delicious. It paired well with the herbal tea, too.
However—
"I actually preferred the last batch."
The moment I said that, Monica turned to leave the room. I hurriedly called out to stop her.
"Hey, we're supposed to be having a discussion here?"
"Don't stop me! It's Monica's duty to prepare the snacks the Chicken wants! If the previous ones were better, then Monica will go borrow the inn's kitchen and cook them all over again!"
Shannon, who had reached for a third snack, was lying sprawled on the sofa on her belly with her legs up, swaying them lazily.
"Don't you have any cooking utensils? Why not do it here?"
Clara opposed Shannon's suggestion.
"I really wouldn't recommend it. There will be smells and things. You'll only get hungrier."
Since cooking in the same room would cause all sorts of problems, Monica—who understood that—must have been heading for the inn's kitchen.
Aria munched on her snacks.
"More importantly, let's get on with the talk. You're offering your cooperation to the Margrave this time, right? Negotiating so they won't hand over hostages?"
Aria's point was valid. It was true that we needed to figure out the hostage situation if we wanted them on our side. But we had no way of knowing what the other party was thinking.
I called Monica over, and she approached with a cheerful look on her face. She positioned herself just behind the sofa at an angle and struck a sharp, dignified expression.
"I do plan to make contact. But one wrong move and we'll be detained and shipped off to Central. So first, we spread some rumors. Then we move."
Clara looked at me and made an expression that said "again?"
"Lord Lyle, are you planning to deceive them again?"
Inside the Jewel, the Third Generation tried to correct the misunderstanding even though they couldn't hear him. He probably couldn't stand the sight of his beloved Clara looking at me with suspicion.
"That's not it. That's not it at all, Clara! The point here is to make widely known what happened to the hostages that were sent! There's no way they're safe after being sent to Ceres!"
Aria was the same. She looked at me.
"You and your tricks, always the same."
The one hurt by those words was the Fifth Generation. His voice trembled slightly.
"...N-no. This is basic stuff—controlling information is important. It's not a dirty trick."
These people were the worst. Once his favorites gave him a thumbs-down, he crumbled. If it had been the First Generation, he probably would have drawn up a plan Aria would have loved—charge in without thinking and negotiate on the spot. What about the Second Generation? He would have acted cautiously, no doubt.
The Fourth Generation would have been...and the Sixth Generation...
Mireia spoke.
"This is exactly why those who don't understand are no good. Look at Shannon. She doesn't even grasp the situation, yet she doesn't even bother to deny Lyle's plan."
Was that actually something to be proud of? As I was thinking that, Shannon yawned.
"You're always so petty, aren't you?"
she said. Inside the Jewel, the Seventh Generation was howling with laughter, but after the sound of multiple gunshots rang out, he went quiet.
"I'm sorry, but I'm not changing the plan. We'll gather information and consider the person's character before deciding on the details. If possible, it'd be great if Central could send someone to pick up the hostage."
Apparently, Central sometimes dispatches a retrieval team for the hostage. If we could arrange that, it'd be much more convenient when dealing with them.
Aria rested her elbow on the armrest of the sofa, propped her cheek in her hand, and looked my way.
"So what are you planning this time? Even if you fight the retrieval team and win, it won't mean anything. If anything, they might send a full-scale force after us. Or are you cooking up some kind of trick again?"
Because I was always pulling various stunts, people apparently thought I was fond of cunning schemes. But that wasn't quite accurate. The truth was, if I fought fair and square, I'd lose — so I had no choice but to resort to trickery.
It wasn't my fault. The gap in combat strength between us and Banseim was simply too wide.
"No, this time it's not that much of a trick. It's more of a frontal approach, actually."
Clara showed interest.
"That's unusual. So what's this frontal approach?"
I declared with full confidence.
"Well, actually, I'm thinking of kidnapping the border count's son's wife. And then we'll start negotiations!"
Everyone except Shannon, who looked half-asleep, reacted. Aria and Clara stared at me with deadpan expressions. Monica was muttering something from behind, like "That's too evil, Chicken. But I'll follow even such a chicken. That's my aesthetic!"
"Huh? B-but think about it! This way it'll be easier to negotiate with the border count! At the rate things are going, we can't even meet him properly, and it's iffy whether he'd even listen to what we have to say... Wait, huh?"
Even the Third Generation was stunned by this reaction.
"Huh? I actually think it's a pretty good idea?"
The Fifth Generation agreed.
"For something Lyle came up with, it's actually not bad?"
The revived Seventh Generation said:
"Maybe it's just a matter of phrasing? We rescue the border count's blood relative from the clutches of Central's dogs! See, doesn't that sound much more reasonable?"
Mireia giggled as she listened.
"It might sound more presentable, but it's the same thing we'd be doing either way. Still, Lail's come a long way — thinking about snatching... rescuing a relative of the border count and leveraging that into negotiations."
I stood up to explain, but only succeeded in making both of their gazes even colder.
"What's wrong with that?!"
Shannon looked straight at me.
"So wrong that I don't even know where to start. Besides, isn't this obviously a threat against the border count? I mean... isn't it underhanded?"
Being called underhanded, the phrase that immediately popped into my head was: "Being called underhedral is a compliment!"
...It seemed I'd been thoroughly tainted by the worst traits of the Successive Heads. Particularly the Third Generation, the Fifth Generation, and the Seventh Generation... What a lineup — and to think, every last one of them was a thoroughly scheming person.