"These degraded copies... No matter how you look at it, taking care of Chick should be my job too. Oh wait, before those idiots show up, I'd better swap out the key to Chicken's bedroom real quick."
——Night.
Monica pulled a set of tools from between her skirt and apron in front of Lyle's room, humming a tune as she swiftly replaced the lock.
She'd been worried about the Valkyries suddenly getting all excited over caring for Chick — Lyle's baby — so she was making her move.
After swapping the key, she opened the door and said one thing.
"I've also rigged an iron plate in there, so they won't break through that easily. If they push too hard, Chicken will jump up and the midnight visit fails... Idiots! Cute little Chicks are all mine!"
Laughing to herself, Monica double-checked the key and the iron plate hidden inside the door, then closed it. She set off to deliver the replacement key to Lyle——.
——Valkyrie Number Nine was clinging to the wall of the Rolfis royal castle.
She'd been watching Monica from outside the window, relieved that the key had been swapped. Clad in black and plastered against the wall, she looked every bit the suspicious intruder.
"...By all means, keep being greedy like that. Your performance may be superior, but... you clearly don't understand that we have the numbers. The great people of old said it too. Wars are won by numbers."
Number Nine moved to tamper with the key on Lyle's door and climbed in through the window. But the moment she opened the window, stepped into the hallway, and landed, other Valkyries — all dressed identically in black — appeared at the door at the same time.
One dropped from the ceiling. Another emerged from behind cover——.
"Oh, you lot!"
Number Nine sprang to her feet and shifted into a combat stance as Number Thirty-Two readied a set of lock-picking tools.
"We're all thinking the same thing, are we? However, I've already stoked Aria's fire too, so there's no backing down now."
Number Fifty-One, fists raised, was just as unwilling to retreat.
"Same here. Number Thirty-Two says they're going to put Chick duty on a rotation... There's no way I can back down now!"
Number Nine looked between the other two and made a proposal.
"Wait. Don't you think we could work together? Fighting here won't accomplish anything. Cooperating for the sake of each other's interests is what——"
Then, three Valkyries in maid outfits rushed onto the scene.
"We won't let you!"
"What are you doing in front of our Master's room!"
"They're suspicious. We should eliminate them. Even if they're sisters, dressing like this makes them outsiders. Rivals should be disposed of."
While the third one spouted extreme things, the three in black outfits tried to mediate.
"Wait. If we cooperate with each other—"
The maid Valkyries declared.
"—Sorry. We're in Shannon's faction. Even if the others get a Chick, we'll be last in line. So... we've decided to obstruct you!"
"We won't let a precious chance to get an adorable Chick slip by!"
"A Chick that inherits Shannon's knack for futility... I think that's the best!"
"How unbelievably underhanded! Pulling others down like that... I'm annoyed with myself for finding it just a little envy-worthy."
These were automaton maids who should have been outstanding, yet here they were having a terribly unfortunate conversation. They held tools and cleaning implements, standing frozen in a standoff before the door.
Watching this scene from afar was Lyriel, who had finished work. Observing the standoff from a distance without a word, he headed straight for his office.
"I'll just sleep in the office today. There's a blanket."
Saying this, Lyriel didn't return, and the Valkyries maintained their facing-off posture until morning.
For the past few days.
I hadn't returned to my bedroom. Monica had given me a new key, but Valkyries were always facing each other with weapons in hand outside my door.
I heard it was all about "this Chick" or "that Chick"... more importantly, my child being universally nicknamed "Chick" was the real issue. What the hell? It was like everyone accepted that I was a "Chicken."
From that day on, I continued sleeping in the office or other rooms. On one occasion, I even slept in General Broa's office. After talking business, he let me doze off right on the sofa.
"Why do I have to be the one running around?"
When I grumbled about it, the Third Generation laughed.
"How adorable, Master Chick. Still, it is a problem you truly cannot ignore. Though the timing is rather poor."
The House Walt was already mobilizing, and the royal castle was in a state of bustle — yet the Valkyries were causing a needless commotion on top of it all. The Core was definitely exerting some kind of influence on the Valkyries. Thinking about that, I couldn't help but feel the obsessive will of the ancient people — the creators — that had been carved into the Core.
Standing in the castle courtyard, watching the knights and soldiers who had finished their preparations, I was letting my mind wander over such trivial matters.
However, the Seventh Generation looked grave.
"...If possible, it would have been better to have at least one child. The coming battle will have lasting consequences. In terms of settling things with Banseim, you could call it the moment of truth."
The Third Generation nudged me to pay attention.
"In the battle with Banseim, that is. Ceres is a separate matter, Laiel."
When people mentioned children, I couldn't bring myself to answer — there was embarrassment, and various other complications. Then the Seventh Generation spoke.
"Laiel, come to the Jewel tonight. We should talk. You grew up in all sorts of unusual circumstances, so you may not understand this, but... continuing one's bloodline is an extremely important thing."
I understood what the Seventh Generation was trying to say. I gripped the Jewel tightly, indicated my agreement, and looked around.
The preparations for departure were complete, and all the key figures had gathered nearby. Troops from North and South Baim had joined as well, along with reinforcement units from the four-nation alliance.
Cartafus and Jampere couldn't participate, but even so, everything was ready.
Clad in blue and white armor, helmet held in my left hand, I gazed up at the sky. Scattered white clouds drifted across the blue expanse. The morning chill had eased slightly with the sun's rise. Its light felt warm.
Novem walked over toward me.
"Lord Laiel, preparations for departure are complete. Some units have already begun moving. We should hurry as well. There will be an address after we arrive."
I listened to Novem outline the upcoming schedule and answered with a hint of exasperation.
"I already gave a speech the day before. Well, I suppose that's part of my job too. ...Novem, the House Foxes is mobilizing as well. You don't have to push yourself to go—"
Before I could finish, Novem shook her head.
I tried to get her to step down several times, but she looked determined not to budge no matter what.
"From the moment I left the Baise territory with Lord Lyle, I severed ties with my family. Even if I were there, my father and brother would not—"
hesitate.
Of course, I won't either.
Novem looked at me with eyes that betrayed not the slightest hint of wavering. "I see," I said, and started walking. The others followed.
"...Fighting your own family is rough."
I'd meant to mutter it too softly for anyone to hear, but Novem caught it. And the words she said next were—
"I'm sure you'll overcome it, Lord Lyle. Please, have more confidence in yourself."
I suppose you could call that typical of Novem.
House Foxes, who inherited memories and served House Walt. A lineage that bore the power of Novem, who was called a demon god.
There was plenty on my mind, but for now I wanted to look forward—to focus on my father, Meizel Walt.
Night.
Lying in Porter's cargo bed, I sent my consciousness into the Jewel.
I'd been summoned by the Seventh Generation, but I was starting to understand why. If it was just to talk, all I needed was to find somewhere I could be alone.
If not, then it must mean the time had come for the Seventh Generation to show me what he wanted to show: his memories.
The Seventh Generation was waiting in the Round Table chamber, but when I looked around, the Third Generation was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's the Third Generation?"
"I asked him to step out. No—he must have decided there was no need to watch. After all, the memories I'm about to show you... you'd be better off seeing them for yourself."
I hurried after the Seventh Generation as he walked toward his memory room and followed him inside.
What came into view was a scene from the Seventh Generation's childhood.
The young Seventh Generation—Broa Walt—was on the verge of tears.
"...Aunt."
It was the entrance of the Walt family mansion. Parked in front of the entrance were an opulent carriage and a luggage wagon loaded with belongings. The luggage wagon had a canopy-covered roof as well. Moreover, knights on horseback were standing by all around.
Precious-looking items were being loaded onto the luggage wagon, and both Feinz, the Sixth Generation, and Fredricks, the Fifth Generation, had come out to see them off.
Feinz patted Broa on the head.
"Don't be so sad. For Mireia, this arranged marriage is her last chance. It would be a pity if she stayed single forever, you know."
I glanced at the Seventh Generation standing beside me.
"Doesn't the Sixth Generation's way of speaking come off as a bit rude?"
The Seventh Generation nodded.
"It does. But well, he was the kind of person who could get away with saying things like that."
Mireia was smiling. Fredricks, the Fifth Generation, kept a certain distance and didn't try to join the conversation.
"Brother, that makes me sound like an old maid who's past her prime. Well, it's true, I suppose. But I do understand that this is my last chance. Now then, Broa."
Mireia crouched down to Broa's eye level and gazed at him with her golden eyes.
"Find someone better than me. Someone far better. And be careful around stubborn people like me. You're too earnest for your own good, Broa."
She giggled softly, and Feinz chimed in from the side.
"What's wrong? What are you two talking about?"
Mireia smiled back at Feinz's cheerful face and said, "Nothing at all." It felt very much like something she would say.
And then, without looking at the Seventh Generation's face—
"...Could it be that the Seventh Generation's first love—"
"Probably Aunt. At that age, I didn't really understand it. Whenever I was at the mansion, she was the one I could talk to. Father was always busy, but more than that, Aunt was the only one who truly understood my worries."
The surrounding scenery turned grey, then crumbled away, transitioning into a different scene. In it, Mireia and Broa were doing something together in the garden.
Something like a target had been set up, and Mireia was holding a gun that could only chamber a single round.
The scene, having regained its color, began to move in slow motion.
"It must be painful being compared to your uncle. That's a tough one. I think Brother only recommended the halberd to you, Broad, because he wanted to be the one to teach you himself. The desire for you to surpass him — I doubt that's really a factor."
Broad, who had been looking down, raised his face just slightly and stared at Mireia's gun.
"...Father may think that way, but everyone else doesn't. Um, could you teach me how to handle a gun?"
Mireia was a little surprised and started to say something. But she stopped herself, shook her head, and then turned a smile toward Broad.
"Well, there's no harm in learning, so I'll teach you. Once you reach my level, you can do things like this too."
With that, she aimed the gun without even looking at the target and fired. The bullet pierced straight through the center and embedded itself in the wall behind it.
"Th-this! With this, I can be as accomplished as Father!"
At Broad's delight, Mireia offered a slightly troubled smile.
"I don't think you need to worry about it that much. Brother isn't a perfect head of house, either. I think you'd be better off aiming to be the kind of Walt family head that suits you, Broad."
But even after hearing Mireia's words, Broad just hung his head again.
"...I've studied hard. I've trained extensively, too. And yet, all anyone talks about is how incredible Father was. I know he was incredible. I'm proud of him too. But I'm not as strong as Father was."
Mireia consoled Broad.
"The previous head, Grandpa Fredericks, was small in stature, but even so, he had his own way of—"
"But he was strong, wasn't he! Everyone says both Father and Grandfather were incredible! They say House Walt has been... a powerful lineage since the very beginning. I... I'm..."
I looked at the Seventh Generation. He had a slightly embarrassed expression on his face.
"Back then, no matter what I did, I could only see the backs of my father and grandfather — the Sixth and Fifth Generations. They felt like walls I could never climb past. After all, everyone was always singing their praises. And on top of that, House Walt just kept growing. That weight bore down on me."
I felt like I could understand, just a little. Meizel Walt — my father — had been the same way. He had been chasing after what it meant to be noble.
Looking back now, he had been chasing too hard. It was different from me — I, who had touched the memories of the First through Seventh Generations and drawn my own conclusions from them.
The Seventh Generation had grown up hearing tales of how the Successive Heads had been glorified through word of mouth, and he had lived under enormous pressure as a result.
"The heavier it gets with each generation. You have to pass it on to the next. How will you be remembered? The duties and responsibilities only grew weightier as the house expanded. The more victories Father claimed, the more House Walt's prestige rose. But what about me? I thought that more often than not."
When he noticed I was listening in all seriousness, the Seventh Generation gave a theatrical cough.
"Well, anyway — what I'm trying to say is... I want to see my great-grandchild's face."
I stood there with my mouth hanging open, blank-faced, and then:
"Huh? That's it? What does that have to do with anything you just said? What are you even talking about?"
When I shot the Seventh Generation a flat look, he hurried to explain, punctuating his words with gestures.
"No, I mean — look! Passing the generations on means all sorts of things, but it's not all bad. Besides, if you don't have an heir, the house dies out."
I had to admit that was true. But we'd been having what seemed like a perfectly serious conversation — who wouldn't be thrown off by a sudden pivot like that?
Then the Seventh Generation murmured:
"Lail... if you fight, either Meizel or you will die. No — one of you will die. And Meizel is Xenoa's child. Just as you are exceptional, so is Meizel. In truth, you should have fathered a child before this battle ever came to pass."
I said to the Seventh Generation:
"If I lose, I lose everything right there."
"And still. There are plenty of problems, I know. But without a child, there is no one to inherit what you leave behind. No matter how great a legacy you build, if no one carries it on, all you become is a footnote in history. Let me be blunt. Issues of a wife or political factions — all of that is still better than having no heir at all."
When I couldn't find an answer, the Seventh Generation spoke again:
"Deep down, I don't want to watch you and Meizel fight each other. But there is no turning back now."
It was clear that the prospect of my battle with Father had sharpened the Seventh Generation's sense of urgency. And from that, I could infer that Father had to be strong — so much so that even the Seventh Generation was worried about my chances of winning.