Walking through the narrow alley, I checked the memo in my hand.
"Here, I think."
Even though it should have been bright, the buildings blocked the sunlight, making everything feel dim.
The memo I'd gotten from Ralph had the name [Marcus Canning] written on it.
He was the man who'd caught the eye of the third daughter of House Cerclie and was being schemed over as a prospective son-in-law.
Of course, that scheme was flawed from the very premise.
"Trying to use his accomplishments to climb the ranks, and it turns out to be a personnel reshuffling... Yeah, that's definitely a bitter wake-up call."
The 'dispatch to Geoni Village' — which had accounted for a certain degree of casualties from the start — was aimed at culling the number of low-ranking nobles who, upon hearing the word 'Volunteer Soldier,' would scramble to seize even a sliver of chance.
Even among nobles, life was particularly hard for those called court knights.
Those without peerages received only a modest pension — enough for their families to scrape by.
Working might change things, but the reality of Central, the Royal Capital, was that everyone was fighting tooth and nail over those jobs.
A complaint came from inside the Jewel.
It was the Second Generation.
*"Even if they send someone and it fails, they'll just send the real deal next time and solve it clean, right? Then they'll prop up whoever ends up shining later."*
I glanced around and confirmed there was no one nearby.
I spoke up.
"Isn't it more like... the ones who fail are the ones with all the problems?"
The one who answered was the Sixth Generation.
*"All sorts of things, really. Faction disputes, fights over positions — he probably got caught up in all of that."*
There are probably too many nobles. That's the real issue.
The fact that no major wars have occurred in recent decades is also a problem, they say.
The Seventh Generation speaks.
*"Banseim has grown too large. But you see, Rael... even for a great nation like that, there's a limit to the population it can sustain. Nobles are the same. There's a cap on how many you can support."*
There probably is a limit, but when someone achieves a meritorious deed, they must be appointed a knight or else rewarded with a bounty.
The Second Generation speaks.
*"Just have them go pioneer new land! What's with that slum... with that many people, you could put together one or two villages in no time!"*
On the way here, I had a chance to see the slums of the Royal Capital.
The streets overflowed with people, beggars lining even the main roads.
The Fourth Generation speaks.
*"Beasts, bandits, and then Monsters... small villages are highly likely to be wiped out in short order. Even those considering the investment would hesitate."*
Using magic could certainly get a village up and running faster, but maintaining it afterward is the difficult part.
Keeping a mage stationed in a village indefinitely is costly.
Mages capable of developing a village tend to excel in earth or water-element magic.
They use those abilities to lay a village's foundation, but—
*(If something troublesome like a Monster shows up, as it did this time, the village is destroyed almost immediately.)*
That's why the knights are dispatched, and why adventurers and mercenaries can earn a living.
I let out a sigh, checked the number and nameplate on the door, and knocked.
*"Yoooh~"*
The door opened to reveal a delinquent-looking young man with spiky orange hair, his voice drawn-out and lazy.
He didn't look like a serious person.
He glanced my way with those droopy eyes, apparently waiting to hear what I wanted.
A tall young man with well-defined features who gave off a delinquent vibe—
"Are you Marcus?"
He scratched his head.
"Yeah, that's me? What do you want? Oh, wait—'you'?"
He must have taken one look at my clothes and decided I was some rich kid.
He was being careful about how he spoke.
Since I couldn't show up looking sloppy while staying with House Cerclie, I'd put on half-decent clothes before coming to his apartment.
"I'm an adventurer. Well, I'm here on a job from House Cerclie."
When I said that, Marcus spoke up.
"…What? If this is about the Volunteer Soldiers, count me out. I'm trying to raise my rank or at least land a steady job. That old guy probably doesn't have a clue how the bottom-rung guys feel."
The old guy was probably Ralph.
The Third Generation piped up with something completely irrelevant.
*"…Y'know, like sheltered girls, or young ladies. It's kinda funny how even guys who look delinquent fall in love, right?"*
Rank—among the court knights, even a single rank difference meant a significant change in pension.
The pension paid out every year was a precious source of income for them.
The Fourth Generation said,
*"At least he's got the motivation to try."*
The Fifth Generation agreed.
"If you ask us, we think he should stop worrying about his pride and take on other work besides the jobs from the palace."
Not knowing any of that, I turn to Marcus.
"I've accepted the request regarding the Volunteer Soldiers, but technically, I'm mainly your subordinate."
"Subordinate? What do you mean?"
Marcus bites, and I hand him the letter.
It's a letter from Ralph.
It explains that he has commissioned me, an adventurer, for the task.
Marcus's face breaks into a smile.
"You're really going to do it, Viscount! This way, it won't just be an individual participation, and I can stand out a bit too!"
Seeing Marcus so happy, I smile wryly to play it off.
I don't quite get it, but if they don't have the manpower, can't they just hire people?
There are all sorts of methods, like reaching out to acquaintances, I think.
Then the Seventh Generation speaks up.
"Hmm, this request from that rat scoundrel might also be beneficial for Lyle."
The Fifth Generation agrees.
"Those who have, and those who don't, huh? Well, it's a bit different in this case. But yes, it's probably necessary for Lyle right now."
Just as I'm wondering if I'm lacking something, I get slapped on the back.
"What's this, a seven-person party? If so, we'd be more than happy to have you at a squad level!"
The letter also mentions me, so I came for a formal meeting today as a courtesy.
We're departing in five days, so we're busy with preparations and the like.
"Um, that hurts."
"Whoops, sorry about that. So, did you come by to say hello today?"
"No, I wanted to ask about tomorrow's schedule. You'll need to bring your equipment to House Cerclie's mansion. There are various things we need to check there."
Marcus's expression turned sour.
"The mansion? If that's the case, then that guy Bread will be there too..."
The person Marcus was referring to, Bread Bumper, worked as a servant—or rather, a handyman—doing manual labor for House Cerclie.
His father had held a court knight position, a title that lasted only one generation. It seemed Bread was the third son and couldn't inherit it, so he ended up working as a servant.
I asked him.
"Do you not get along with him?"
Marcus nodded.
"It's like... he gets in my face, you could say? He's probably jealous of me. I'm a hereditary noble, so I'm sure he has all sorts of feelings about that."
I had met Bread before, but we hadn't really talked much at the time.
(...I don't think there's really any need to be hung up on the whole noble thing, though.)
Marcus spoke up.
"Does that mean... what I think it does? That Bread is joining the expedition too?"
I nodded.
"Yes, that's what I heard. That's why I wanted to set up a meeting."
Honestly, if we didn't get everything sorted out now, this expedition was going to go very poorly.
If I wanted even the slightest chance of both of them coming back safely, we needed to have all the preparations done.
"Got it. It's not like I'm in a position to complain. So, your name is..."
"I'm Rael."
He didn't give his surname.
"I see. Nice to meet you, then."
He looked like a delinquent, but I thought he was actually a pretty easygoing person.
——The Cerclie estate.
Miranda was walking down the corridor, but she was in a foul mood.
"That bastard old man..."
The cause was Miranda's father.
She was furious about the way he'd tested Rael.
Shannon, walking beside her, was equally fed up.
"Why do I have to join the expedition too? I wanted to relax at home."
Miranda said.
"If you leave one of us behind, those two will just keep needling you about it. They might even get physical at this rate."
Miranda said it like a threat, but she knew it wasn't unlikely.
She understood that her sisters hadn't welcomed them back home.
"Both options are awful. I wanted to live a more elegant life."
Miranda sighed and glanced toward a window in the corridor.
There, Doris was talking with a tall, dark-haired young man.
The earnest-looking young man was Bread Bumper.
Bread had arrived at the estate just as they were leaving — a third son who wasn't even a noble.
She could read, write, and do arithmetic, and with her sword skills, she worked as a live-in employee at the estate.
"What's the matter? Oh, you mean big sister Doris. How rare for her to leave her room."
Shannon laughed mockingly, and Miranda agreed. She agreed, but...
(She's one to talk—she hardly ever left her room either.)
"That's true. It's a good trend."
Then, as the two parted ways, Shannon looked at him and said:
"...That man, he seems to be trying to use Doris somehow. Like there's not much genuine feeling behind it. He doesn't look like a lover."
Miranda had sensed that too.
Noticing their gazes from the window, Bread turned toward them with a smile, gave a slight bow, and then left the area.
He was tall and not bad-looking.
But Miranda also noticed.
"He has the face of someone with strong ambition. Did he get close to Doris just to become a noble?"
Shannon said.
"He seems somewhat capable, but if his skills are below Lyle's... wouldn't it be impossible for him to make a name for himself?"
Miranda sighed.
"Don't compare him to Lyle. They're in different leagues."
With mastery of both sword and magic, and the ability to use multiple Skills simultaneously, Lyle had already approached the entry-level of mid-tier adventurers in less than a year.
Their talent was worlds apart.
It made one want to question House Walt for driving out someone like Lyle, but the fact that Ceres was there made it understandable.
(Truly... he knows this, and yet he tests them with such things.)
Miranda learned after the fact that Ralph had taken on this request, knowing full well about Lyle.
He had wanted to see how Lyle would act.
And how he would go about completing this request.
It seemed the research was thorough — Ralph apparently already knew that Lyle was an excellent adventurer.
The infuriating part was that Miranda had been in a foul mood since morning because of it.
(There's no such thing as absolute certainty in this world. And yet, he goes and issues a dangerous request like this.)
There were things she wanted to say, but Miranda had no time to waste, so she hurried on with her preparations—
—Monica was modifying the Porter in the mansion's back garden.
Watching her work was Clara.
Clara hadn't quite gotten used to the atmosphere of the mansion and was chatting with Monica in the back garden.
"Will you be using the Porter outdoors as well? It won't go very fast, you know."
In response to Clara's question, Monica said.
"You think the product of my love with that Chicken is going to lose to some random cargo wagon? If not everyone can ride horses anyway and we're going on foot, then using the Porter means we can travel safely. We can stuff our luggage in it too, and above all — look at this armor!"
Monica tapped the Porter with her fist and continued.
"There's no need to fear the fangs or claws of Monsters! And what's more, it doesn't even shake on rough terrain!"
Watching Monica proudly show off the Porter, Clara clapped her hands.
"You're right — if we're going to be traveling on foot a lot, the Porter will really come in handy. A linked horse-drawn carriage can't be used unless the roads are properly maintained, after all."
Monica nodded at Clara's words but tilted her head.
"More importantly, Clara, there's something I don't quite understand."
"What is it?"
"If the village is under attack, shouldn't knights and soldiers be sent in first? They seem awfully slow about it, don't they? There must be victims by now?"
Monica found it strange that no one was being dispatched to the scene, even as people continued to suffer while they sat here talking.
Clara took off her glasses and prefaced her reply with "I don't know the details."
"...It's a small village, so it's considered low priority. I hate putting it this way, but losing it may not be much of a blow to the Royal Capital."
Hearing that, Monica spoke.
"Sounds like a harsh world for the weak."
Monica set to work modifying Porter, driven by the need to finish within roughly four days.
Once night fell, she wouldn't be able to work, so she had to keep things on schedule within the limited time available.
That was because complaints would otherwise follow.
When Clara murmured "Ah," Monica stopped what she was doing.
"What is it?"
Striding over with long legs, her straight green hair swaying, was Lucy.
She had brought the mansion's servants along with her.
"What do you mean 'what'?! This is someone's mansion and you're making all this racket — squeaking and buzzing and being an utter nuisance!"
When Clara, who had been sitting, rose to her feet, Lucy took one look and said.
"So you bring a maid, and I'm wondering which household you're from — turns out you're the kicked-out members of House Walt, and you've even got an adventurer tagging along... That suits him perfectly."
Monica said.
"Is that so? I'm glad to hear it. However, the work being done here has already received permission from the current head of the household, Lord Ralph. If you're asking whose mansion this is — it would be Lord Ralph's, I believe? ...So, what exactly did you come here to say?"
Clara waved her hands frantically, trying to stop Monica, but fundamentally, Monica was Rael's maid-type Automaton.
She had since lost both her country and her manufacturer.
In other words, she herself was the rule.
"Can't you tell I'm telling you you're being noisy?!"
She scoffed at Lucy's words.
"Like I've been saying this whole time? We already have permission to use the place, and more importantly, isn't this for the benefit of your lover, Marcus? It would help him too, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't get in our way."
Saying the work wouldn't be finished in time, Monica resumed her tasks as she was.
When Marcus's name was brought up, Lucy gathered her servants and left the scene.
Clara said:
"Is that alright? She's the young lady of House Cerclie, you know."
Monica scoffed and said to Clara:
"Whose fault is it that we're in this situation? I'd appreciate it if she'd behave herself. It's beyond annoying when she goes out of her way to meddle."
Clara, having sat down, said to Monica:
"I've been thinking this for a while now, but Monica, you're pretty cold to everyone except Rael, aren't you?"
Monica responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:
"Hm? Is there a problem?"
"...No, it's nothing."
Clara began reading her book, and Monica continued with her work――.