On the night I learned of Ceres's atrocity.
I appeared in the round table chamber inside the Jewel and sat down to talk with the Third Generation, who was already seated at the table.
"Well then, let's summarize the information we've gathered so far. Novem is an Evil God, and House Walt — the family watched over by such an Evil God — carries the blood of Septem. That's said to be the blood of a goddess, but in reality it's the blood of a monster known as Agrissa, a beauty who could topple nations. Furthermore, Novem isn't serving Ceres — she's serving Laiel. On top of that, Novem carries the blood of Novem, and even Octo is concerned about her. My, my — what a mess."
The Third Generation didn't seem to take the information obtained from the Jewel at face value.
"This time we also learned that humanity once perished and that there appears to be some kind of facility on the moon. It's a bit unfortunate there are no rabbits, but let's just let that go for now."
Did we really need to worry about that part?
He'd claimed to be a romantic, but coming from the Third Generation, that sounded awfully hollow.
"Anyway, I'm sure Novem has her own thoughts about peace. She doesn't want humanity to repeat the mistakes of the people of old. That's why aiming for peace is out of the question... A splendid stance!"
"Is that really okay!?"
I shot up from my chair in surprise, and the Third Generation just grinned.
"No, no — it's not exactly a bad opinion, you know. The ancients failed in the past. So it's important not to repeat the same mistakes. Oh, and I'm not saying it's wrong for Laiel to aim for peace, either."
"Then what exactly am I supposed to do? I need to talk this over with Novem, but..."
The Third Generation looked at me with a gentle smile.
"That's when you... pass the buck to the next generation! Leave it as a challenge for Laiel's children, and his grandchildren. It'll be fine! Someone's bound to figure it out eventually. No problem at all."
I stared at the Third Generation, my mouth opening and closing uselessly.
Then I collected myself and shouted.
"You're the worst! And besides — aren't you supposed to actually solve the problem!?"
The Third Generation tilted his head.
"Hm? Why?"
I was asked by the Third Generation, and found myself at a loss for an answer.
"Well, I mean... shouldn't we solve it now, or it'll become a problem for the next generation?"
The Third Generation looked at me and crossed his arms.
"Rael... you fool."
Being called a fool by the Third Generation, I was a little surprised. Wouldn't just dumping everything on the next generation be the worst thing you could do?
But the Third Generation's answer was this.
"I just carried out the development plan the Second Generation had prepared for me, and beyond that, I didn't really get too involved with the territory's affairs. But you know, not everything was like that. Some things were natural in the Second Generation's era. However, the situation had changed drastically in my time. Wars continued year after year, so timber prices shot through the roof. Food was sometimes difficult to purchase from outside as well. On the flip side, there were times we could sell food at premium prices."
According to the Third Generation, the conditions of his era didn't align with the plan the Second Generation had prepared. During such times, it seems the Third Generation made changes to the overall policy.
"It's not a problem if Rael is still active. But the generation after that will have its own opinions too. There will definitely be times when Rael's current way of thinking won't fit that era—no, there absolutely will be. When that happens, Rael doesn't need to worry about every little thing. What Rael should focus on is preparing a successor who can be trusted to carry the torch, even in those kinds of situations."
The Third Generation had a serious look on his face. And then he began talking about Novem's problem.
"Honestly, the peace Rael desires is the same way. What peace means in each era might change. You can't lock it down too rigidly. And Novem's issue is beyond our ability to handle. What matters right now for Rael is obtaining the continent. No—defeating Ceres. And then, securing his own safety and taking responsibility. Becoming emperor is fine. Whatever kind of governance he aims for is fine. But right now, there are things Rael can do and things he can't."
If I unified the continent, I would follow through on my declaration to become emperor.
When that time came, I would have almost no free time. It would be impossible to move about freely like I did in my adventurer days.
The Third Generation had predicted that once I unified the continent, I would be swamped just trying to establish a system of governance or hand it off to the next generation. In reality, that was probably right.
"I can't even imagine it. The ancient people had a civilization advanced enough to reach the moon, and yet they perished. It'd be overwhelming for Rael too. So, Rael should focus on what he can do. It's okay to pass things along."
Hearing that, I felt a little relieved.
"It's okay to pass things along?"
"That's right. Do what you can, and if it's still not enough, then pass it along. You can't solve it, and you can't ignore it either. So, you have to pass it along."
I looked at the Third Generation and nodded. At that, he suddenly burst out laughing.
"Well, I dumped all the troublesome stuff onto Marks—the Fourth Generation, but he ended up dying in battle. Besides, from a young person's perspective, someone spouting outdated opinions is just annoying. I myself thought the stubborn Second Generation was a doddering old fool."
"...Why'd you drop it like that after coming all the way here? Weren't we having a great conversation just a moment ago?!"
The Third Generation burst out laughing.
"That's true. People get stubborn as they get older. I get it, though. That was fine in the Second Generation's time, and it was actually correct. But in my time, it was outdated, and there was just no way it would fly. So, I ignored it and did things my own way, obviously."
The difficulties the Second Generation had came to mind. It was true they were too meddlesome, and perhaps that had made things hard for the Third Generation.
"That's why, when I leave it to someone, I don't interfere. Well, there might be times when I have to. That's a case-by-case thing. Besides..."
The Third Generation placed a hand on his chin, looking slightly downcast.
"Honestly, when I hear that all the ancient humans are extinct, from my perspective it feels like... 'So what?' Because it took them decades to catch up to the ancients, with Professor Damian and Monica around, right? Those two are honest about their own desires, and Monica would happily restrain herself if Lyle told her to. Professor Damian wouldn't have any interest in sharing technology unless he could create his perfect woman. Well, that's that—the problem of technological innovation is settled."
As I pondered whether that was really okay, the Third Generation spoke with amusement.
"Besides, humans will kill each other even if you tell them not to. They'll do it even if you say it's bad, and peace doesn't come easily. First, let's prioritize defeating Ceres. Then comes governance. It's busy. It might not even be finished in Lyle's time. There's so much to do. Something that's beyond our grasp like that... we should just push it off onto the next generation."
What was this...? The Third Generation was probably right, but I couldn't quite agree. Everything he said was correct, but he put it in such a blunt, no-nonsense way.
Then, the Third Generation smiled a little.
"Still, we did get something out of it this time. Novem got that flustered and actually stated her opinion. Lyle, why don't you talk to Novem?"
*Novem's room.*
I dismissed the Valkyries standing outside her door, then knocked.
After a short wait, I heard Novem's reply and entered the room.
She had changed into loungewear and was sitting in the room. It didn't look like she was doing anything in particular.
When I entered, she stood up to prepare tea.
"Novem, I—"
"Lyle-sama, might I have a moment to talk about the past?"
Novem cut off my question, prepared the tea, and sat down on the sofa. I sat across from her with a low table between us and looked at her.
"A long time ago — a very long time ago. Septem and I saw things differently, and I — Novem — with Otoo..."
"Novem, stop."
"Lyle-sama?"
I decided to say what needed to be said to Novem.
"Honestly, I've been struggling lately with all this talk on such a grand scale — evil gods, goddesses. I'm going to defeat Ceres and unify the continent. Well, I'm not even sure I can make it that far. I might have to leave it to the next generation. So let's set aside the matter of peace for now."
From within the Jewel, the Third Generation's voice came through.
"That's right. But I'm not saying you shouldn't aim for it!"
Novem looked surprised, but her gaze dropped slightly.
"...Lyle-sama, I..."
"However —"
I cut off Novem's words and posed my question. This was important.
"I want to know how you truly feel. Tell me. No more hiding things."
Novem looked at my expression, and as if steeling herself, she opened her mouth to speak.
What followed was a truth far beyond anything I had imagined.
—Baldoa had come from the Lufens royal castle to South Baim.
He had been visiting as part of his duties, but upon arriving in South Baim and learning that Lyle and Novem had quarreled, he found himself nursing a headache.
The ones who invited the troubled Baldoa over for drinks were Maxim and Damian. Not at a bar — three of Damian's Automatons were bringing food and liquor into the room.
To Baldoa, who was holding his head in his hands, Maxim spoke between sips of sake.
"Lyle-dono and Novem-dono had a falling out? That's rough."
He said it like it was someone else's problem, showing not a trace of real interest. That attitude set Baldoa seething.
"This isn't a matter of 'oh, that's rough'! Do you have any idea how critical this situation is? Forget about who's going to maintain Lyle-dono's harem — I'm worried someone's going to make a move and start a bloody family feud! And yet, the firearms and related supplies I commissioned still aren't finished... We can't exactly back out now!"
Damian, meanwhile, was calmly eating the appetizers set before him.
"Old Man Ratarta's swamped too. The other craftsmen can't keep up with orders. Still, you've got it rough, Baldoa. Or rather, it's actually pretty admirable how you're handling being stuck with Lyle's leftovers. If that were me, I'd lose my mind."
"...She is my wife, so could you please stop referring to her as 'leftovers'? Her personality might have a few quirks, but she's a good person."
Maxim was in much the same state as Damian.
"If someone tried to force a marriage on me, I'd riot the moment they brought it up. You're handling this well, Baldoa."
"That's exactly why I'm asking you to stop talking about her like she's defective! She's actually quite cute, you know!"
The two of them looked at Baldoa with that sort of expression.
"Nope. The woman who's been perfected inside my head is the best."
"No one matters except Lady Adele."
The drunkards burst out laughing as they said this. Baldoa stared at them.
(Why are these people, famous for being absolute weirdos, being so nice to me? More importantly, they're obviously important figures in their own right — they really need to get their act together.)
Despite being unable to fully reconcile his feelings about these two being chummy with him, Baldoa had come to consult them about Lyle.
"Lord Maxim, Professor Damian — what are you even saying? Could you please be more serious? Normally, one or two arranged marriages would be—"
"I refuse! I have dedicated this life to Lady Adele. I may compromise on anything else, but there are things I absolutely will not yield on!"
Maxim's face flushed red as he rose from his chair and rejected the notion with an ironclad demeanor. Baldoa covered his face with his hand.
"Then go marry Lady Adele or whatever! I'm the one getting proposals from people asking me to arrange engagements on their behalf!"
At that, Maxim abruptly sat back down, his face turning a deep crimson.
"That's... well, that's fine for me, but there's the question of what Lady Adele thinks about it all. Besides, I'm a former retainer — Lady Adele is far beyond my reach. Though I find that very appeal in that, actually."
(What a hassle, this guy. Why on earth are there so many weirdos orbiting Lyle-dono?)
As Baldoa grumbled under his breath, Damian sipped the Automaton-diluted wine.
"Well, it doesn't really matter if Lyle picks a fight with one of his lovers, does it? If he has that many, there's bound to be a spare."
To Damian's words, the Automaton nearby squirmed.
"Ah, what a dry remark. But that is part of Master's charm, isn't it?"
Baldoa looked at the Automaton.
(Just like Lady Monica, the Automaton is definitely a bit off. Damn it, why is no one else noticing this crisis?)
As Baldoa drank, Maxim spoke up as if suddenly remembering.
"Oh! Come to think of it, we were making bets on who would get pregnant first. The top contenders were Lady Ludmilla or Lady Lianne, so I bet on Lady Novem!"
Damian also seemed to recall.
"That's right! I bet all my hard-earned savings too! I thought No... Novem? was a sure thing, so I went all in! It'd be a problem if she were to get into a fight."
Baldoa slammed both hands on the table and stood up from his chair.
"What are you betting on?! I'm not saying to put a stop to it, but don't go encouraging gambling! Things are already complicated enough with who belongs to which faction! Just making a suspicious move can get you labeled as being part of some faction!"
Maxim grabbed Baldoa's shoulder and forced him back into the chair. As Baldoa reluctantly sat, Maxim said.
"Relax. I'm on Lady Adele's side."
"That's not relaxing at all!"
As Baldoa shouted, the Automatons arrived with refills——.