I was utterly exhausted, but I forced myself awake and endured my drowsiness to eat breakfast.
The breakfast served at the inn didn't exactly look appetizing, but it was warm, and eating it made it feel like exactly what my body needed.
Seeing me like that, Novem looked relieved.
"You seemed completely exhausted yesterday, but you seem fine today. Your color's good, too."
From the moment I woke up, Novem had been waiting on me hand and foot.
She washed my face, brushed my teeth, and even styled my hair. Several times, I heard the First Generation's voice shouting, but most of it was telling me not to rely on Novem.
For some reason, he seemed quite concerned about Novem.
And it wasn't just the First Generation.
From the Fourth Generation back—the First, Second, and Third—all seemed to have a soft spot for Novem.
From the Fifth Generation onward, since Novem's family was a retainer household, they didn't say a word even when she looked after me.
"I still feel pretty drained, but it's better than yesterday. We'll be traveling all day, so maybe we should finish our shopping and wait for the wagon at the entrance?"
"That's right. I have water bottles, but we need to buy preserved food and consumables."
Novem was prepared, but I barely had any luggage. Even for traveling, the merchant we'd met along the way had said I was too lightly equipped.
"We should buy everything we can here, and in the next town, we'll need to find a weapon as well."
Right now, I was completely unarmed.
At Zell's cabin there had been a hatchet and such, but no knife. Carrying around weapons like that was a bit much, so I'd been planning to buy one somewhere.
"Do you think they'd have a saber?"
Novem's expression soured slightly. She was probably remembering the saber I used to have.
"I'm sure they'd have non-magical ones. But whether a weapon is good or bad isn't really my area of expertise..."
Novem looked apologetic. She'd originally studied holy-attribute magic. Unlike me, she'd focused entirely on becoming a mage, so she was a complex and accomplished holy-attribute magic user.
Well, she could use other magic, too.
"Didn't you bring your staff? Wasn't the one you had a Mana Tool?"
A Mana Tool was a weapon with a Skill sealed inside it. They were used when a person wanted to employ multiple Skills despite only being able to hold one Skill at a time.
Nowadays, these had become more mainstream than Jewels.
"I'm sorry about that. I left it at House Foxes. It's something you could call a family heirloom, so it wouldn't feel right for me to take it out personally. But even so, I've learned some magic that should be useful to you, Master Lyle."
"I-I see."
The Five Greats and Two Heavens.
That was the foundation of magic.
Beyond the Five Great Attributes—Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, and Thunder—there existed two additional attributes known as the Two Heavens: Holy and Dark.
Noble mages who could wield them all were far from rare. Of course, nowadays most mages came from the upper classes, while others—particularly from Knight Baron families—had nobles who couldn't use magic at all.
Each person had different preferred attributes, but in principle, any mage could handle all of them.
Novem, however, had simply been trained as a specialist.
*'How admirable... What a wonderful girl.'*
I heard the First Generation's voice. When he learned that Novem was from House Foxes—the family they'd all received extraordinary care from—he was clearly playing favorites.
From what the ancestors had told me, House Walt had received extraordinary favors from House Foxes.
But perhaps as times changed, House Walt had come to treat House Foxes as mere retainers. The First Generation and the others couldn't forgive that.
In particular, the Second and Fourth Generations seemed to have received especially great help, and they kept pestering me to treasure Novem.
*'Lyle, can't you try a little harder on your own? You're leaning on Novem way too much.'*
The Second Generation said that, but I had no idea what I was supposed to do.
*(Actually, if our ancestors have been receiving help from them for generations, I'm hardly the only one relying on her...)*
I couldn't exactly hold a conversation with my ancestors in front of Novem, so I let it slide and continued talking.
"Today we'll stop by a nearby village and then head to the destination town, right? From there, we could just leave the territory on foot."
At my suggestion, Novem looked troubled.
"That's one option, but ideally we should depart with a merchant caravan. Just the two of us would stand out, and we'd be easy targets."
Apparently my idea wasn't great. The First Generation chimed in, too.
*'Why don't you know something so basic?! Seriously, this guy is way too pampered! The men of House Walt are supposed to be wild!'*
But the Second Generation retorted.
*'Shut up! You weren't wild—you were just an idiot!'*
*'You! Watch your tone with your old man! Step outside and say that!'*
*'I can't step outside, you moron!'*
*(Ugh, so annoying...)*
Before setting out, I stocked up on travel supplies at the inn town.
We left the inn town, stayed overnight in a village, and arrived at the destination town the next day.
The town at the edge of House Walt's territory also served as a relay point connecting House Walt to other territories. For defensive purposes, a fortress was located nearby as well.
The number of soldiers was greater than in other towns.
We arrived in the evening, and the merchant came to thank us.
It was because we'd helped at a village along the way. Novem had been the one doing the most capable work.
I, on the other hand, had done... well, mostly just watched.
"Thank you so much for helping out at the village on the way. No monsters appeared, but please consider this payment for your troubles."
So saying, he handed over copper coins.
"Thank you."
I was the one who accepted them, but it was Novem who returned the thanks.
"You've sure caught yourself a fine young lady, brother. I'm envious."
"H-ha ha..."
As I gave a vague reply, the Fourth Generation shouted.
*'Say something that bumps up Novem's favorability! Tell him "She's too good for a guy like me" or something!'*
Then the Fifth Generation muttered.
*'You only say that because your mother made your life miserable, so you can't help yourself. Honestly.'*
*(What is wrong with these people? And are they really my ancestors?)*
I didn't want to deny it, but I certainly had one or two complaints.
"If you're heading to Darion, there should be stagecoaches from the major cities to the Royal Capital. Once you reach one of those, you'll be safer—just be careful. House Walt keeps monsters at bay well enough, but other territories have plenty of dangerous areas."
Thanking the merchant for the explanation, we parted ways, and Novem and I set about finding an inn.
We didn't have time to shop today, so we planned to stay at the inn for two or three days and get ourselves prepared.
The reason for all this was that I—or rather, the Jewel had a problem.
It seemed that because I had acquired Skills of my own, the Jewel's Skill slots had been filled. The Third Generation said that, containing eight Skills, the Jewel had become a [Jewel].
Until now, I'd only been using its Skills, but apparently the ability to speak with my ancestors—the successive users—was also an effect of the Jewel.
*(From my perspective, they're just annoying...)*
But the Jewel wasn't perfect. Conversations with the ancestors and using Skills both naturally required a power source.
It used my mana for that.
*(The reason I haven't been able to shake my fatigue lately is the unfamiliar traveling and the Jewel.)*
In other words, every time my ancestors piped up, they consumed my mana. Drop by drop, it adds up.
"Master Lyle, how about this inn? The price is reasonable for what it offers."
Novem had found us a place, so I went along with it. Honestly, I couldn't tell one from another—they all looked the same.
"It'd be nice if there was a bath."
"I'm sorry. This inn is also the type where you rent hot water in buckets."
When Novem apologized, the Fourth Generation lost it.
*'All you ever do is complain about luxury!'*
*(Cut it out. Every time you shout like that, my mana drains even faster.)*
Having someone else drain your mana was an excruciating sensation. It took a toll both mentally and physically.
After falling asleep at the inn, I found myself in the room I'd been summoned to before.
When called inside the Jewel, the room I saw was apparently a fabricated image—a mental space of sorts.
It was where I conversed with my ancestors, but it also felt like being inside a dream.
The loud group gathered to talk, and today they seemed to have something important to discuss.
*'I've been thinking about this, and actually, I believe there's a lead—'*
As the First Generation spoke, the Second Generation cut in.
Having his opinions ignored, the barbarian-style First Generation sulked.
*'Before that, shouldn't we set some ground rules for these conversations? Lyle's going to collapse at this rate.'*
Perhaps worried about my mana, the Second Generation's proposal gained support from my grandfather.
*'You lot are way too damn noisy! What are you going to do if my grandson collapses?!'*
It seemed that the ancestors were memories recorded within the Jewel, and were the Skills themselves. It wasn't a case of a portion of their souls lingering on.
They were truly dead.
But as records, and as Skills, they remained inside the Jewel. Moreover, they appeared as they had been in their prime, with their personalities reflected as well, so they were essentially unchanged from when they were alive.
Then the Third Generation spoke up.
*'Let's assign a moderator. Marks, you do it.'*
When he said that, the remaining six agreed—perhaps because none of them wanted the job.
*'No objections. Do your best.'*
*'Sounds good to me.'*
*'Agreed.'*
*'Y-you guys, always pushing everything onto me!'*
The Fourth Generation was furious, but he couldn't change the room's momentum. And perhaps it was in his nature to worry, but he accepted the role anyway.
After that, the rule-making continued.
*'Using personal names or "Father" and "Grandfather" will confuse Lyle. Let's settle on generational numbers instead.'*
When the Third Generation proposed this, no one objected.
*'Then, keeping in mind Lyle's limited mana, let's keep conversations to a minimum.'*
"...Could you not roast me like that?"
The Fifth Generation said it bluntly. If anything, the Fifth Generation seemed the most ruthlessly honest of them all.
*'Well, you do have less. Running out of mana after casting a few spells? That's pathetic. You'd be useless in real combat.'*
I was told by my ancestors that my mana was insufficient as the rule-making came to an end. I'd actually been training quite a bit, so being told I didn't have enough stung.
*'Hey, listen to me! I am, for better or worse, the First Generation of House Walt! I am somebody!'*
At that point, the First Generation exploded at the group for ignoring him.
Hearing that, the Second Generation scoffed. It seemed there was a grudge between the First and Second Generations.
The Fourth Generation, serving as moderator, adjusted his glasses and granted the First Generation permission to speak.
*'Since we need to be mindful of mana consumption, please keep it brief, First Generation.'*
*'...You could at least add "-sama." Oh, right—my topic is about Lyle's younger sister. She was a perfect, elegant girl, wasn't she? Lyle, I have a question.'*
"Yes."
The First Generation's more serious tone than usual made me listen more carefully.
*'Your sister—for her age, isn't she strikingly beautiful? Not just beautiful, but extraordinary. Men would be swarming around her, wouldn't they?'*
Hearing that, I thought about it for a moment. For a thirteen-year-old, my sister really did fit the word "enchanting."
Naturally, our parents wouldn't allow it, but there had been numerous proposals of engagement. Some had even come from the eldest sons of notable families.
"Now that you mention it... putting aside family bias, she was beautiful. Not just pretty, but genuinely beautiful and stunning."
*'I see. One more thing—you mentioned that the atmosphere in the estate changed. It was normal until you turned ten, right? And then it suddenly shifted.'*
I nodded in silence. It was a painful memory. I remembered desperately wanting to be acknowledged, and how that had gone unrewarded.
*'That confirms it!'*
Then, the First Generation slammed his fist on the table and boldly declared the truth about my sister.
*'Your sister—Ceres—is a monster!'*
"...Huh?"
*'Wh-what...'*
The atmosphere in the room turned instantly awkward. They'd been more serious than usual, so everyone had been listening intently—and this was the result.
The Fourth Generation declared today's meeting adjourned.
*'All right. We've set the rules for today, so that's enough. We won't meet every day, but when we want to, we'll reach out to Lyle from our side.'*
"Ah, that works for me."
I was glad that my mana consumption would be reduced, and the others, upon hearing the meeting was over, filed out of the room. I'd assumed there was a door since they were leaving, and it seemed each of them had their own room.
*'That concludes today's session. Well done, everyone.'*
*'Good work.'*
*'Good work~'*
*'Ha, and here I thought something serious was going on for once.'*
As they returned to their respective rooms, the First Generation seethed.
*'Listen to me! I'm serious! She really is a monster!'*
I also wanted to leave, and it seemed I could vanish from this place at will. I said my final goodbyes and disappeared.
"Ah, well then—good work, everyone."
*'You guys!!!'*
The First Generation's anguished shout echoed through what was apparently the conference room.