——In Miranda's room at South Baim, two beds had been prepared.
One was Shannon's bed, and when the night grew late, Shannon would slip into it and fall asleep. In the Laiel faction, which was chronically short-staffed and held together by a ragtag assortment of people, even Shannon was a valuable pair of hands.
Her mystic eyes could read the flow of mana, which made her highly valued.
If anyone behaved suspiciously, Shannon would be the one to catch them.
Shannon possessed truly exceptional eyes, but between her personality and her lack of physical stamina, she was difficult to manage. Miranda, who had such a sister, was currently reading a letter.
She was reading by the light of a lantern placed in the room, but Miranda's expression was far from pleasant. If anything, she was showing open distaste.
"...You sure had the nerve to send this letter. In every sense of the word."
The sender was Ralph Cerclie — Miranda's father. The fact that he even had a route through which he could send letters to Laiel was surprising enough, but the contents were equally startling.
In summary, the letter proposed sending the members of House Cerclie who were currently staying in Kartafus over to him. They had apparently been on standby in Kartafus because authorization hadn't come through, and the letter stated that if Miranda gave her permission, personnel could be redeployed immediately.
Alongside that, the letter also contained information about the latest situation in Central.
It wasn't Ludmilla in Kartafus who had passed the letter along — it had been carried by a sailor and delivered to Miranda.
"Money, or some shady connection. Either way, I don't care — it's impressive how chipper he is for someone who got demoted."
But the important part came near the end.
After Laiel expanded his influence independently and further absorbed the main body of House Walt, Ralph had reached out to establish contact. He was seeking a channel of communication through Miranda.
"Fidel is still the more endearing of the two. Well, really, they're two of a kind."
Ralph was a noble. Fidel was a merchant. Both were cunning.
The internal information on Central was something she desperately wanted — she would have grasped it with both hands if she could. In fact, even with Rauno, Laiel had deemed an infiltration attempt far too dangerous and given up on it.
Instead, they had been trying to piece together the internal situation of Central based on surrounding circumstances.
"...I'll need to pass information along to Laiel while also arranging for a ship. I'd rather not rely on Ludmilla, but if that's the case, the only person I can turn to would be a merchant."
Miranda folded the letter, and then smiled.
In the lantern light, Miranda's smile looked something fierce.
"I'll give you credit for the decision to support me in hopes of elevating House Cerclie's standing, Father. But you know... you're a little late."
Currently, troops were streaming in from all over to Laiel's side—rallying against Rufence, or rather, raising the banner against the current Kingdom of Baim.
By defeating House Walt, the momentum had shifted entirely in Laiel's favor. Setting aside the existence of Ceres, Laiel was the clear winning side.
"If only you had made contact just a bit sooner. Well, reaching out to us must have been a matter of life and death, so perhaps you did your best."
There was also the possibility that Ralph had weighed Laiel and Ceres on the scales and jumped ship to Laiel. Still, in Miranda's view, receiving support this late gave her no advantage whatsoever.
"I'll make use of you. Well, since you offered your cooperation, I'll at least allow your family's survival."
As Miranda glanced at Shannon, she felt a twinge of irritation that the letter made no mention of Shannon at all.
"...I should tell them to get out of Central."
She resolved to convey the message to ensure their safety, out of familial sentiment——
——South Baim.
In the district where craftsmen had gathered, there stood a single warehouse.
Surrounding the fairly large warehouse were numerous Porter units and parts stacked high.
The craftsmen filed inside with weary expressions, where Monica waited for them in a maid outfit that seemed out of place for the setting.
"You're late. So, do you have the items?"
The craftsmen pulled the parts Monica had commissioned from the boxes. Gears, springs, and various other components whose purposes were unclear—all built to Monica's exacting specifications—were the crystallization of the craftsmen's sweat and tears.
Monica looked upon them.
"...Splendid. The time has come for the Porter to be completed as well."
When Monica turned around, there was a Porter—one of the units that had traveled with Laiel and the others—receiving its final adjustments.
The Porter, which had started as nothing more than a simple cargo hauler, had already been transformed into a giant robot through final adjustments ahead of the decisive battle. It used armor salvaged from the boss in Aramsass.
Monica had tinkered extensively with the interior and brought it to completion by having the craftsmen of South Baim procure the necessary parts.
A transforming armored vehicle. Because Monica, who never held back, had built it in collaboration with Laiel, she had poured her heart into perfecting it.
"Magnificent! Now the difference in performance between those three clunkers at Professor Damian's place and me is crystal clear. Once this is done, I've got to go report to that Chicken."
The craftsmen addressed the excited Monica.
"A-Ah, um... about our payment..."
Monica clapped her hands. Her golden twin-tails swayed gently with the motion.
"Oh right, the payment! Let me add a little extra, then."
From the gap between her skirt and apron, she produced a leather pouch containing their payment. She then took gold coins from her own purse and added them on top.
The craftsmen who received it checked the contents and visibly relaxed.
"The pay's good, huh?"
"Yeah, the pay's really good!"
"I haven't slept more than a few naps these past few days."
Dwarves, gnomes, and human craftsmen alike were relieved that they could finally rest. Monica turned to the gathered craftsmen.
"Oh wait—before you go, I'll be commissioning spare parts—"
Before she could even finish, the craftsmen clutched their gold-filled bags and tried to bolt from the warehouse. But this was Monica, whose whole appeal was having specs that were uselessly high.
She cut them off by positioning herself at the warehouse entrance, beaming.
"Hold it right there. I'll be placing orders for replacement parts and maintenance components."
The craftsmen looked at Monica's radiant smile and despaired.
——Gracia, who had come to South Baim, was strolling through the streets in casual attire ahead of the strategy meeting for the Baim operation.
In their home country of the Duchy of Galleria, her younger brother Leold was now handling governmental affairs in place of Gracia, who served as acting prince. By now, most of her power had been transferred smoothly to Leold, and she found herself in a far more relaxed position.
With her long silver hair tied back, she walked through the streets of South Baim accompanied by several female knights who doubled as her escort. Perhaps it was because she had been freed from the heavy responsibilities she bore until now...
"Oh, I thought the scale had gotten bigger than before, but there are even more stalls now too."
She gazed excitedly at the rows of market stalls, and the female knights escorting her couldn't help but be surprised at the change in their mistress.
"Gracia, you've already had lunch today. It wouldn't do for you to eat from a street stall."
Gracia was in high spirits, now freed from her role as acting prince, with Leold's official ascension to the throne just around the corner.
"What's the harm? You all should eat too. By the way, that stall over there has skewers that are really—"
The place Gracia pointed to was already occupied.
"Erhard, this one's delicious too!"
"Hey, stop clinging to me. Oh, what you're eating looks tasty too!"
"Hey, Erhaaard~"
A man in a tank top sat hunched over on a long bench, looking deeply uncomfortable despite being surrounded by a group of female adventurers. A short distance away, a group of men watched over Erhard from afar.
"Who was it that told them where Erhard was?"
"Wasn't me!"
"Look at him—he was so happy earlier, saying he could finally relax since today's his day off... and now he's that dejected..."
Gracia and her party looked toward Erhard. He and his companions were drawing attention from the surrounding crowd, though in South Baim this was hardly an unusual sight, so few people took much notice.
Seeing Erhard like that, Gracia said—
"...Isn't a man supposed to be happy when he's surrounded by women?"
She asked the female knights around her, but they were all martial types themselves and struggled to come up with an answer. Just then, as if he had heard Gracia's voice, Erhard looked up.
"Hey, you over there—do I really look like someone you'd envy? C'mon, be honest, do I?!"
Seeing Erhard on the verge of tears, Gracia and her companions shook their heads. Then, Erhard spoke.
"This is all Rael's fault, you know. He went and dumped all sorts of things on me... Damn it. That guy deserves to get punched a few times."
Gracia's guards directed sharp glances at Erhard. When Gracia signaled with her hand, the guards released their grip on their sword hilts.
"You seem to be an acquaintance of the Alliance Leader? I'd advise against speaking so carelessly about such matters, if I were you."
Erhard seemed to realize he'd overstepped.
"Ah, sorry about that. We've known each other since our adventurer days, so I just... you know."
"Adventurer days, was it?"
Gracia wanted to learn more about Rael, so she pressed Erhard further.
"Hmm, I'd like to hear all sorts of things. How about it—won't you tell me a little, even if it's just a bit? Let's see... as payment, I'll at least cover your meal."
Upon hearing this, Erhard's companions, who were nearby, all turned toward Gracia in unison. Gracia was surprised by the group, which easily exceeded ten people.
But Erhard...
"Sorry, but today's my first day off in a while. I've been busy lately, so I just want to relax."
He politely declined and stood up from the long bench.
"Is that so? My apologies, then."
"It's nothing. Besides, it's not even an interesting story. Back in our adventurer days, I got involved and ended up getting soundly beaten. It's only a story of a connection that stemmed from that a little."
Gathering his companions, Erhard and his group headed off somewhere. Watching them go, Gracia pondered for a moment.
"...I wonder why. That tank top man's back looks smoky."
Gracia tilted her head in thought——
——While the main members were gathering in South Baim...
Shannon was out shopping, accompanied by Aria and the Valkyries, who were there as her guards.
To be precise, it was a patrol disguised as a shopping trip.
They had come outside to find intruders with Skills that Laiel alone couldn't detect — spies and the like.
While browsing the goods on display at the stalls, Shannon watched a man sitting hunched over. He looked like one of the vagrants who had drifted into the lively South Baim from somewhere.
Shannon looked at the man.
"...Aria, that man right there."
Aria, stationed at Shannon's side as her guard, glanced at the man. He looked like nothing more than a beggar sitting on the ground, but if Shannon said something was up, there had to be more to it.
He seemed to be using a Skill, so Aria informed the Valkyries. Once the information reached the other Valkyries, dealing with him became someone else's responsibility.
Aria averted her gaze from the beggar.
"A beggar, huh. Now that you mention it, they've been increasing lately."
Ever since Baim had been ravaged by Banseim, vagrants like these had been streaming into South Baim one after another.
Some villages were being newly developed, and there were places looking for help. But they couldn't save everyone.
Then Shannon spoke, still watching the man.
"Oh, he just stole something."
Aria looked at the man as well and saw that a small box-like object sitting in front of him now had money inside. The man was pocketing it with a smug grin.
He tucked it into his pocket, then placed the now-empty box back down and simply continued sitting there.
"So he was using a Skill to pickpocket. Well, at least he's not a spy — that's something. With that kind of ability, he could have found some more decent work... Wait?"
Aria, still looking at the man, was trying to recall someone.
Then Shannon spoke.
"Come to think of it, there was a man with a similar Skill before, wasn't there? He attacked with invisible hands... Oh, he was a knight from House Walt."
Alfred Baden — Laiel's senior fellow apprentice. Hearing that, Aria remembered.
"Could they be connected to when you met Ceres in Central?"
"I wouldn't know."
As Aria was struggling to make a judgment, the man stood up and headed off somewhere.
A back alley in South Baim.
South Baim was lined with new buildings, but there were inevitably places hard for prying eyes to reach.
What gathered in such places were men who had lost their way — former soldiers. Deserters from Baim. Villagers. Soldiers driven out of Banseim who had drifted here.
The one who brought these men together was a man from the Baden family.
He placed the day's earnings on top of a wooden box.
Not just copper coins — there were silver coins and even gold coins among them.
"As expected, boss!"
"That should keep us going for a while."
At that, the man roared.
"You idiots! We're using this money to buy weapons. Got it? When this many of us are armed and moving as a group, plenty of people will start going soft. Then we run gambling operations and take control of South Baim from the shadows."
The men looked at the Baden family man who said such things — their leader.
"B-but will that really work? They said gambling is banned for a while, and the soldiers are patrolling..."
"Just bribe them with money. Besides, my family are retainers of House Walt. I'll use our name, and before long we'll serve under the Alliance Leader directly. Once that happens, we'll have a lot more room to move."
There had once been a family that the Second Generation had put in charge of gambling operations. That was the Baden family. When the Third Generation died in battle, in the confusion they had recovered the documents exchanged at that time, and since then had wielded power in the underworld by parasitizing House Walt.
Now, a man who knew the methods of his family had started making moves in South Baim.
"You know the Alliance Leader?!"
To his subordinate's words, the leader replied.
"Never met him. I was just my brother's spare, after all. But that doesn't change the fact that the Walt boy is a sheltered fool. At best, I'll squeeze every last drop of sweetness out of the arrangement. And if that bastard actually wins — there's even a chance of seizing control of the continent's underworld —"
Before he could finish, his subordinates' heads went flying.
When the man managed to raise his head in shock, he found himself looking up at a figure who had, at some point, been standing atop a wooden crate.
A man with blue hair, looking down at him with blue eyes — it was Lyle.
"Someone from House Baden, I take it. You certainly run your mouth quite a bit."
"Y-you can't be... Lord Lyle? No, this is just a—"
As the man tried to make excuses, Lyle brought his katana down. The man's head went flying, and the remaining subordinates broke into a run through the alley, desperate to escape. However.
"Sorry, but no."
A woman's voice rang out. Despite sounding cheerful and gentle, the men who had become tangled in threads were caught all the same.
Miranda confirmed that every survivor had been restrained, then moved to Lyle's side.
"Are you okay with this?"
Miranda asked as she looked down at the man from House Baden. Lyle wiped the blood from his blade, sheathed it, and started walking.
"Sorry, but there's no mercy. They've been a thorn in our side for years."
Miranda, exasperated.
"Way to make it sound like you're the one who suffered. It was your ancestors, wasn't it?"
Lyle, walking along.
"They really know how to pile on extra work right when I'm busiest."
Miranda, walking alongside Lyle.
"Thanks to all this, I haven't even been able to meet with Novem."
She said it in a teasing, joking tone, and Lyle fell silent. Representatives from various nations were converging, and the last thing they needed was for incidents to break out. That was precisely why Lyle had taken action himself.
But it was obvious that personal reasons were at play there.
"If you'd just left it to me, it would've been fine. I handled it well, you know."
The one mainly in charge of this sort of handling was Miranda. However, she also knew that Lyle wasn't too fond of it.
Lyle himself wanted to free Miranda from her current duties. But there was no replacement. And Miranda was exploiting even that sentiment of his.
"…I didn't want to leave it all to someone else either. It's my problem too, after all. Eventually, I just have to hand it off to someone, though. You do need people willing to do the dirty work."
Miranda watched Lyle as he said such things.
"I like that part of you too, Lyle — the side that isn't all good. You're more trustworthy than some boy scout."
At that, Lyle turned toward Miranda with a complicated expression.
"…Things just ended up this way, you know? I used to be an innocent kid. Before I knew it, I'd turned into the same kind of scoundrel as Ceres."
"Aha ha ha, isn't that great? Besides, win and you're a great hero. That's just how the world works."
Miranda laughed, and then followed along behind Lyle as they walked――.