Inside the Jewel.
When I opened my eyes, a circular room spread out before me, and I was sitting in a chair.
I raised my head and looked around to see the Third Generation perched on a table, gazing at the Silver Bow.
Where the Second Generation had been sitting.
The chair was gone, and the door behind it had vanished as well.
The great silver sword was what the First Generation had left behind.
And the Second Generation had left me the Silver Bow.
Only the Third Generation and I were in the room; the other ancestors did not appear.
"……Looks a lot like Father's bow, doesn't it? Was it ever this big? No wait, does the size change? That's pretty interesting."
I couldn't bring myself to respond to the Third Generation, who was smiling at me as he spoke.
I looked down. The Third Generation was still smiling.
"What? Something on your mind?"
I let my feelings spill out, one by one.
"……I couldn't even properly say goodbye. I had the Skills too, and yet—"
Would he be angry at me?
Would he think less of me?
But even so, the Third Generation kept his smile, and his voice remained bright.
"You're overthinking it. They were happy at the end, you know. And honestly, I'm grateful to Laiel too. Getting to see what was basically my brother being saved — that made me happy."
When I looked up, the Third Generation hopped down from the table.
"I was the second son, you see. I always thought that as long as my earnest older brother put in the effort, I could do what I liked. But he went out on a rainy day... and tried to protect me with the bow he'd learned."
As a knight, a bow isn't exactly what you'd call a fitting weapon.
In a world where nobility is defined by the ability to use magic, ranged attacks are typically reserved for spells.
Relying on anything else is seen as a sign of inadequacy.
"What did you think of the Second Generation, Third Generation?"
When I asked that, the Third Generation kept his smile.
" meddlesome, maybe? He went as far as arranging my marriage and drafting development plans for my territory. That's because he thought I was unreliable, you know."
He seemed to have complicated feelings, but the Third Generation began with "However."
"But you know, even if my brother had died because of me, he absolutely never blamed me. He said *I* should have been the one to inherit it, that it was his fault... that man, he was probably the worrisome sort. I laughed when I heard later that he was the plainest of us all. After all that hard work laying the foundations."
Unpopular among the citizens, possessing a weapon that wasn't befitting of nobility, and subsequently never evaluated, forever overshadowed between the First and Third Generations—that was the Second Generation.
"I will not forget the Second Generation."
"Ha ha ha. If descendants evaluate him favorably across the ages, I'm sure he'd be delighted."
For a moment, I felt a little lighter.
(...My apologies, Second Generation. I caused you trouble right up until the end.)
As I offered that silent apology in my heart, my gaze lifted slightly above the table.
I looked at the bow.
The bow that gleamed with a silvery light and fired arrows of luminescence floated above the table.
The First Generation wielded a greatsword, but the Second Generation used a bow—
It seemed the two of them hadn't spoken for a very long time.
The weapons they each used felt like a reflection of their relationship.
"So the Second Generation chose the bow because he was rebelling against the First Generation?"
When I said that, the Third Generation tilted his head.
Then, once he understood what I was getting at, he broke into a laugh.
"No, that's not it. Besides, parents and children are still human, you know. Nobody's perfect—there are bound to be grievances, things that get under your skin. That was probably especially strong between the First and Second Generations. But..."
What the Third Generation went on to tell me was the reason the Second Generation had chosen the bow.
"I chose the sword, but Father didn't say a word about it. I thought he might try to steer me toward the bow, but he never pushed it that hard. So I asked him about it."
"The Second Generation said that the Third Generation doesn't meddle in unnecessary matters, didn't he?"
At that, the Third Generation nodded.
"Well, that's because it eats into my free time. I don't want to put in any extra effort, you know. Oh, but about why the Second Generation took up the bow—apparently she chose it so she could follow in the First Generation's footsteps."
(Then wouldn't choosing a sword make more sense?)
It seemed he could tell what I was thinking, because the Third Generation continued.
"Confusing, right? But see, at first she just wanted to catch up to him, and when that didn't work... she decided to provide support from behind. I think she admired him."
The First Generation, swinging his greatsword and cutting down Monsters, had certainly been something to see.
The way he'd carved out the future of House Walt with nothing but a single sword—that life had its share of problems, yet there was something undeniably compelling about it.
The Third Generation spoke again.
"It was a bit awkward at the end, but he got to say what he wanted to say, and we got to see that boy who resembled his son get saved. All in all, I think things turned out well—don't you?"
Hearing that made my chest constrict.
I felt a pang of guilt, too.
If only I'd been stronger back then—
If only I had delivered the finishing blow myself back then—
Suddenly, the faces of Marcus and the others came to mind.
Third Generation spoke up.
"Do you hold a grudge against Marcus and his lot, Lyle?"
I checked my own feelings. When I thought about it carefully, a rather childish reason came to mind.
"...I hate them. But some of the blame lies with me too. I don't know what should be done."
"That's fine. If anything, from our perspective as the ones employing them, they're a troublesome bunch. They can't even handle the work they're given properly, yet they're trying to climb the ranks—it's almost laughable."
Third Generation's expression turned serious.
"They're exactly the type Second Generation couldn't stand. I bet she would've been screaming at them even though they could hear her perfectly well. When I think about it, that female knight called Norma was quite exceptional. Had she served under a good superior, she would have surely become an outstanding knight."
I asked Third Generation what should be done about their situation.
"What should we do with them?"
"Their situation, huh? Well then—"
I decided to go with Third Generation's suggestion.
— Meanwhile, Novem was reviewing Norma's report.
She had Porter rewrite it multiple times while around them, people bustled about dissecting Monsters and treating the injured.
The damaged walls needed repairs as well, and Marcus and his group, having disobeyed orders, were being made to assist with the village's restoration as punishment.
Novem let out a sigh.
"This won't do. Why does your name keep popping up all over this report? Just when I think you were stationed on the east side, it says you were giving orders on the north side as well. And you've got the number of Monsters you defeated wrong."
Norma protested when told this.
"Well, I had to do something to stand out!"
Novem retorted flatly.
"This report lacks credibility. Unless you write something convincing, it will be judged as false information."
"B-But..."
A commander's job is not to fight on the front lines.
Even though Norma kept telling herself that, she continued crafting her report with her own exploits woven throughout.
Nearby, Clark, whose head was wrapped in bandages, sighed and tried to persuade Norma.
"Captain, exterminating the Griffon is undeniably an achievement. Furthermore, you protected the village and kept the damage to a minimum... To put it bluntly, the number of casualties was an exceptionally low three. Your promotion is guaranteed."
According to Clark, if the Griffon extermination here didn't lead to a promotion, it would also be disadvantageous for the royal palace's side.
If it meant that future Griffon hunts couldn't expect rewards, it would greatly dampen the motivation of knights and soldiers.
Having produced visible results, Norma was sure to be promoted.
No, Clark explained, if she wasn't promoted, it would set a problematic precedent for the future.
Then, Clark looked at Novem.
"However, it's fine to say the Griffon and Monster carcasses were bought for five hundred gold coins each, but even in the best condition, I don't think they would fetch that much?"
The money scattered during this Monster extermination would look bad if it had gone to knights or soldiers.
Delegating command authority was also an issue.
But since the money had been distributed to the village, there was no way to conceal it, even if they tried.
Therefore, Novem and the others had borrowed money from Laiel and the others, and it was arranged that the debt was repaid with the Griffon and Hippogriff carcasses.
Novem hadn't delved too deeply into those particulars, but since it was what Laiel did, she simply followed along.
"It was on Lady Laiel's instructions. Now then, Novem, I need you to write the reports for everyone."
Novem had been continuously writing the report detailing the efforts of over a hundred subordinates, as well as how bravely the deceased had fought.
Since Clark couldn't write it, Novem had been completing it under Novem's supervision.
Since the medical treatment had reached a lull, and given her expertise with paperwork, Novem had been chosen as the supervisor.
Norma grumbled under her breath.
"For everyone... those five shouldn't be included, right? They didn't finish off the Hippogriff. That's a serious mistake. I'd say they deserve a demotion, wouldn't you?"
Novem smiled pleasantly.
"No. I'll make sure everyone receives appropriate compensation. As for the count, we'll hunt down Monsters on the march home and add those to the tally as well."
Norma's own career advancement was on the line, so it wouldn't have been unusual for her to try to secure a solo victory here.
And so, near Norma—
"Come on, hurry up and write. I'll make sure to report to Father just how hard you worked."
Shannon sat in front of Norma, grinning from ear to ear.
She sipped her drink, clearly enjoying the sight of Norma's frustrated expression.
"...No one told me there'd be a daughter of House Cerclie here!"
"Indeed, I didn't mention it. And for the record, her older sister is also here, so should you break your word, we will be compelled to retaliate."
At Novem's threat, Norma turned back to the documents.
Her hands were stained with ink, and a growing pile of ruined papers had already accumulated.
"Fine, I'll do it! I'll do it!"
Screaming in frustration, Norma continued writing out the reports.
Watching this, Novem issued instructions.
"Don't write your own name! You were commanding at the center — why does it say you gave precise orders during the fighting on the northern flank?! That's confusing!"
Watching just how accustomed Norma was to fabricating her reports, Clark felt a pain entirely separate from the one caused by his head wound.
He watched as Luka loosed an arrow toward its mark.
He was pulling the bow with all his might, sweat streaming down his forehead.
There was something about the sight that overlapped with the Second Generation's memories in my mind.
The arrow struck the target, and Luka was overjoyed.
"I did it! Does this mean I can become just like you, Lyle?"
After watching me bring down a Hippogriff with the Silver Bow, Luka had decided he wanted to be like me and threw himself into learning archery in earnest.
It had been two days since we took down the Griffon, and I'd been putting my work in Novem's hands to focus on training Luka.
"Surpass someone like me as fast as you can. I'm no specialist... but you've got real talent."
Luka beamed when I praised him.
Nearby, Clara was preparing books using her Skills.
"Lyle, I've got everything ready."
What Clara brought over were copied books.
She'd prepared children's readers on reading, writing, and arithmetic from memory.
The paper and ink had been provided by the people at Luka's home, since I'd helped them out before.
"Th-this many?"
When Luka looked at Clara, he wore a slightly exasperated expression.
He probably wasn't great at studying, but he'd declared that if he wanted to be like me, he'd have to work hard at his lessons too.
Clara smiled as she spoke.
"The letters are large and easy to read. There are illustrations too, so I think they should be pretty straightforward. It might also help to have someone who can read go over them with you."
As Luka tried to hand me the bow and take the books, I said to him:
"I'll do that."
Huh? But...
I decided to hand the bow — its string freshly re-strung — along with the remaining arrows to Luka.
Somehow, I felt the Second Generation would be happy about that too.
"I already have my own bow. Besides, it's a little small, so even you could use it."
"Yeah!"
Seeing Luka holding the bow with such a bright smile, Clara smiled too.
And then, I asked something that had been on my mind.
"Clara, when do those books disappear?"
At that, Clara answered with a straight face.
"...Lael. There are things in this world that are better left unknown. For example, imagine you copied books infinitely. Wouldn't that cause problems for someone?"
Hearing that, I was surprised — could she also make it so the books copied by a Skill wouldn't disappear?
The Third Generation's voice came from the Jewel.
"...No way, this girl looks incredibly cute."
For the Third Generation, who loved books, Clara must have been the ideal woman.
And then Clara laughed and said, "I'm joking."
"You were joking?"
"Well, more like — the copied books disappear when the person who used the Skill dies. For example... wouldn't it be terrible if you entrusted important documents to someone with that Skill, only for them to vanish when that person passed away? Besides, this Skill generally manifests in people who love books. If a bad future for books were possible, the vast majority of those people wouldn't want that."
In this case, it seemed there was no issue from Clara's perspective.
Skills weren't omnipotent after all.
"...So the ones who truly master their Skills are the strong ones, huh."
As I murmured the words the Second Generation had once spoken, Clara tilted her head.
I looked over at Luka, who was happily raising her bow, and spoke.
"It's nothing."