As soon as I woke up, I contacted Zelphy.
We arranged to meet at the same café as before, and I offered to take on Lockwood's request.
"Have you hit your head or something? A former noble heir taking on a bandit gang—credit where it's due, but that's hardly a sound judgment."
Zelphy stared at me, dumbfounded.
She probably thought, deep down, that there were good reasons I'd been expelled from my family. But that was fine for now.
Zelphy had ordered some sweets and was eating them delicately. As Novem had noticed, she clearly had refined manners.
(She really does carry herself like a knight. Her fighting style, sure, but her demeanor too—must be her father's influence.)
"This is my call. At worst, you can step out of it, Zelphy. I'll let Hawkins know myself."
Upon hearing this, Zelphy let out a sigh and turned her gaze toward Novem.
"I always thought Novem was the smart one."
"It was Lyle's decision. Besides—"
"Besides?"
"Lyle said he could handle it. There's no problem."
Novem's trust in me felt almost excessive, but I did have a plan.
The ancestors had approved of it too.
"...The Lockwoods have fallen on hard times—there won't be any reward. You saw how the daughter was dressed, didn't you? And the current head is hopeless. Up until the previous generation, they were decent people—proper court nobles with a viscount title and position in the Royal Capital."
The Lockwoods were clearly in decline.
But the Lockwoods weren't the ones who'd be paying. We were.
And the one footing the bill would be the lord of Darion.
"That's fine. We'll be the ones paying."
"Huh? Wait a minute. What exactly are you saying? If you really did hit your head, I know a good doctor."
I gave a wry smile and said, "In that case," before making a request of Zelphy.
"Could you introduce me to someone with information? Someone who knows about both the bandit gang and the lord of Darion."
"The bandits I understand, but the lord?"
I expected Zelphy to look troubled. Instead, her gaze sharpened.
(Looks like the ancestors—the Third and Fifth Generations—might have been right after all.)
"Yes," I said with a smile. I knew there was a real chance of failure, but I couldn't show that.
I had to project confidence. Otherwise, no one would follow me.
"Well, I can win. Besides, it's my specialty. Oh, while you're at it—could I ask you one more thing?"
A lie about it being my specialty.
In truth, I'd never even fought bandits. The ones with that experience were the ancestors inside the Jewel.
"...What is it?"
"Nothing major—just a simple job. But I think Zelphy would be the right person for it. I'd like to commission someone who's trusted by the Guild as well."
I could feel things gradually falling into place just as the ancestors had predicted.
We had arrived in front of the estate where Darion's lord resided.
Through an information broker Zelphy had introduced, I'd learned about the lord's character.
I'd also learned about the current state of the town of Darion.
The name Ventler Rodonia fit the word "dependable"—he would fall into the category of a fine lord.
The proximity to the Royal Capital was a double-edged sword—done poorly, it could lead the populace to migrate toward the metropolis.
Even with active development efforts, the nearby capital inevitably drew comparisons.
The Rodonia clan had spent generations slowly growing Darion into what it was today.
I straightened the collar of my newly purchased clothes.
"It's been a while since I wore anything like this... Feels like it was forever ago."
"It suits you, Lyle."
Novem wore a dress—not quite befitting a baron's daughter, but a lovely one nonetheless. Though perhaps it was just her natural grace that made her look so elegant.
(She's always been like this, but Novem really has a certain aura about her.)
Meanwhile, I wasn't wearing the traveler's clothes I usually wore. I had on expensive garments—secondhand, mind you—purchased from a Darion clothier.
I'd spent nearly all the money I'd earned, but there was a good reason for that.
The Sixth Generation, today's designated spokesperson, spoke from within the Jewel.
"Good—your appearance is satisfactory. Now then, Lyle... Are you ready to play the clown?"
I touched the Jewel and gave an affirmative response.
"Excellent! Then let's go—it's time for the idiot son who was kicked out of his family to have an audience with the lord of Darion."
At the Sixth Generation's words, I looked toward the gate guard, who was eyeing us warily.
Rather than being wary, he'd probably taken one look at our clothes and assumed we were young nobles or something.
There was no sense of him reaching for a weapon.
I approached the guard and said I wished to meet the lord.
"My name is Lyle Walt. I'd like an audience with the lord. Could you verify that for me?"
The guard's eyes widened slightly.
(He knew who I was. Since Zelphy had known, I was sure of it.)
"Please wait a moment. I'll go verify right away."
With that, the guard relayed the message to a soldier inside the gate.
Both Novem and I kept pleasant smiles on our faces.
Before long, a man in a suit—not a soldier—walked out from inside. Seeing him, I knew the meeting would be granted.
"You must be Lyle Walt? Lord Ventler will see you. However, he's currently occupied. Please wait inside the estate for a while."
I nodded at his courteous response.
"Of course. I'm the one who should apologize for the unannounced visit. The lord of Darion is very gracious."
Novem simply bowed in silence.
"This way, please..."
Led inside, I entered the lord's estate.
For the size of the territory, the estate felt rather modest.
"Just as I thought," the Sixth Generation spoke.
Since I'd thought the same, I was relieved up to that point.
According to the information broker, the lord was a genial-looking man in his forties, short and slightly plump. His reputation among the townspeople was at a satisfactory level for a lord.
In other words, he was considered a good lord by his people.
However, precisely because he seemed so gentle, he was also perceived as somewhat unreliable.
The information painted a picture of a lord with some shortcomings in the reliability department. But the ancestors and I disagreed.
"The gate guard and the servant in the suit are both remarkably loyal. They don't let their guard down even under praise, though their attitude toward us softened slightly. Dependable, and the fact that the territory has expanded this much—it's undoubtedly because the lord is competent! Excellent!"
The Sixth Generation sounded pleased.
The reason, however, was a bit disheartening from my perspective.
Because a dependable, competent lord—one beloved by his people—
meant...
"He must be struggling with the territory's growth! Short-staffed on top of being the type who can't cut corners in governance! Perfect—there's room to exploit!"
The Sixth Generation was brimming with excitement, having fully grasped the lord's weaknesses.
A rapidly developing territory meant plenty of work flowing to adventurers. And while beloved by his people, the lord had left the bandit problem unaddressed.
I'd assumed there was a reason. That's why I'd investigated.
The ancestors were working in high spirits, scrutinizing the information and piecing together the lord's character, the territory's problems, and the current situation.
"Two Dungeons spawned within the territory, and he dispatched his knights and soldiers to subjugate them? He's breaking his back for the villages on the border... Hmm! A fine lord indeed!"
(You can praise him all you want, but we're going to use those very things against him in the negotiation...)
I'd also suspected a connection to the bandits, but I'd learned the gang had only recently drifted into Darion, so that angle was ruled out.
(I'd been suspicious because the bandits hadn't been causing trouble since arriving in Darion, but still.)
If the lord had been connected to them, I'd planned to negotiate directly and have the Jewel returned.
I was made to wait in a room of the estate, where I sat on a sofa with Novem and drank tea.
(Well then, from here on it's time to play the part of the noble's son who was cast out.)
It wasn't entirely an act, but from here on I'd need to really put on a performance. And I'd make full use of the Walt family name.
I'd already gotten the ancestors' permission, so it should be fine—I hoped.
"Ha ha ha! This is getting interesting, Lyle!"
The Sixth Generation's enthusiasm was a bit much for me.
It was an hour later that the lord, having finished some business, appeared before us.
But right now, he was staring at me with wide eyes.
"I am Lyle Walt! Though I have been expelled from my family, I swear to reclaim my territory and restore our former glory! To that end, I humbly request your aid, Lord Ventler."
The former heir of House Walt—a provincial lord's family—cast out from home.
That was the assessment of me.
I'd determined that the information reaching Darion wasn't that detailed.
At the same time, I intended to use this opportunity to cement the impression people had of me.
"An idiot son who deserved to be expelled—a dreamer will do. A former noble who's all talk and starry-eyed delusions—that's what suits Lyle right now."
This was the Fifth Generation's opinion.
Naturally, some of the other ancestors had objected.
But in my current situation, it was entirely possible that people looking to exploit me could appear at any time.
The ancestors, too, had noted that information traveled much faster now than in their era.
For that reason, they'd decided to use this incident to establish a reputation that would protect me.
House Walt—my own family—had shown no signs of making any moves regarding me.
They apparently intended to use this as an opportunity to see what the family would do.
Would they send someone to silence me? Or would they continue to leave me be?
It seemed the plan was to use this incident as a chance to gauge the reaction of House Walt—a family now under the control of the monster called Ceres.
(If they actually sent an assassin, I'd be in real trouble...)
According to the ancestors, the First Generation's Skills would take care of that problem too.
Given that the First Generation had a barbarian style, I was a bit skeptical. But his Skills really were remarkable.
The lord before me—Ventler Rodonia—was looking at me with a slightly strained expression.
"That's it, Lyle! He looks like he can't believe what a bigger fool than he imagined! His guard is down and it's showing on his face! Gahahaha!!"
Just as the excited Sixth Generation had said.
"L-Lyle, even if you're offering assistance, this is so sudden I can't give an answer. Besides, this kind of deal wouldn't be good for you. Let's just pretend this conversation never happened, and I'll have to ask you to leave for today..."
He wanted to pretend it never happened. In other words, he wanted it to never have occurred.
House Walt was situated in the borderlands, but it was a formidable earldom. They possessed military strength and connections in the Royal Capital at the center of the kingdom.
Ventler would be thinking something along these lines about being cornered by an idiot son like me:
"Beautiful, Lyle! He looks like a bomb has just entered his territory! He wants you gone!"
The Sixth Generation was spot on.
He was probably deliberating how to handle a nuisance like me. The retainer standing beside Ventler showed no sign of unease, standing perfectly still.
Bodyguard or not, his skills were clearly considerable.
(Just standing there and radiating this kind of intimidation... He's formidable.)
Simply having a subordinate like that spoke to the lord's competence.
"Also, Lord Ventler... I've heard that a bandit gang has recently taken up residence in some abandoned mines nearby. I, Lyle, would very much like to be of service. Specifically, I'd like your permission to eliminate them."
"Permission? I heard you've become an adventurer?"
Ventler had clearly done his homework on me.
He'd probably started looking into me the moment my information began circulating after I entered Darion.
A capable man.
"Yes, but from your position as lord, you can't simply leave bandits unchecked, can you? So I'd like your permission. And don't worry—if I defeat the bandits, you can take all the credit!"
When I said this with a smile, Ventler's composure cracked and his gaze shifted.
"Y-you would personally eliminate the bandits? Not hire someone to do it?"
"Rest assured. I've hired veteran adventurers. I'll put the word out at the Guild and assemble the numbers."
I flashed a reassuring smile.
Ventler's expression turned slightly pale.
"...That's a very generous offer, but I must insist on handling matters within my own territory. I'll accept your good intentions, and—"
"Good, Lyle... Now."
At the Sixth Generation's signal, I adopted a slightly wounded expression.
"I see... Very well, I'll carry out the extermination on my own authority, then. I am still a man of House Walt, after all! A bandit gang or two will be no trouble at all. And don't worry—I won't mention Lord Ventler's name."
I switched tactics.
But Ventler still looked troubled.
"Lyle was expelled, but he's still a Walt... He probably can't make a proper judgment because the accurate information hasn't reached him. If he lets Lyle die out there, the family might use it against him. Good—this is getting fun!"
"...Lyle, let me be frank. You may have fallen on hard times, but you were once the heir of a provincial lord. I must ask you not to meddle. If you are now an adventurer, you should focus on finding your path as one. I can offer modest help with that, if you wish. But I must insist you stay out of territorial matters."
("Modest help"... Probably offering some money to send me on my way. He'd love nothing more than to get rid of me.)
Ventler's position was perfectly reasonable. But I had my own reasons, and I needed to deal with those bandits.
(I almost felt bad.)
"Oh, that reminds me—"
As I started to say something else, Ventler's brow twitched—annoyed at the conversation being steered back on course.
"Something?"
"No, it's just—this seems to be quite the flashy bandit gang. They crossed territorial borders and ended up here in Darion, supposedly having amassed a considerable fortune... The lords who let them escape must be terribly frustrated."
"...I imagine so."
Ventler's expression didn't change, but I could tell he was seething.
"Dragging in the neighboring lords would make things very complicated. And on top of that, having split his forces for the subjugation, his defenses are thin."
The bandits weren't particularly clever, but the fact that they'd plundered across multiple territories had made it impossible for any single lord to act.
The fact that their base was known yet no one had acted was already suspicious. I'd looked into it and discovered some unpleasant truths.
(That said, the bandits are the priority right now. Whether they got slightly smarter or just lucky...)
Bringing soldiers into another lord's territory would be tantamount to providing a pretext for war.
The lords who had let such a rampaging bandit gang slip through their fingers must have been furious.
(Actually, I'd thought the bandit leader was somewhat shrewd, but based on what I'd learned, he'd probably just been lucky.)
If he'd been doing it knowingly, he would've been someone to watch out for. But upon investigation, that wasn't the case.
With the ancestors' input, it quickly became clear that the bandits weren't that much of a threat. They really did feel like veteran bandit-slayers' typical quarry.
A gang that had run wild across other territories was behaving itself in Darion. What would the other lords think?
"You seem quite busy, Lord Ventler. I, Lyle, would like to help resolve the troubles you're facing—however humbly. It wouldn't be pleasant if the neighboring territories got the wrong idea, would it?"
When I said this, Ventler let out a long sigh.
"Hah... What is it you want? Even if you take action, what benefit would I gain? There's nothing but downsides for me."
(Not true at all.)
I told him with a smile.
"Lend me soldiers and funds. I'll crush that bandit gang spectacularly. However—"
"However?"
I paused briefly before answering.
"You'll use my name. Naturally, the bandits' spoils go to me. You provide the soldiers and funds."
These terms overwhelmingly favored me.
But Ventler would benefit too. The bandits in his territory would be defeated—and the credit would go to me.
If I, an adventurer, defeated the bandits, the neighboring lords wouldn't be able to meddle.
The mountain of treasure the bandits had stolen would become mine, and Ventler would escape suspicion.
"A scenario where the bandits were used as cover and the lord of Darion went raiding other territories to reclaim their wealth—that's the last thing he wants people thinking! It would ruin relations with his neighbors!"
I could hear the Sixth Generation's delighted voice.
"You seem to have a rough idea of my current military strength. But allow me to say—my soldiers are my people. I cannot simply lend them out."
"Is that so? Then perhaps you could arrange the funds? (Of course. But I know better than that too.)"
I wanted them to understand what kind of person I was. That is—I deliberately made these demands so they'd see me as "Dreamer Lyle."
Lending soldiers—or military authority—was something no one would normally do.
"Very well. I'll provide fifty gold coins."
"Hmm, for the current situation, is that too little? Lyle, raise the stakes. Listen, this is just the opening move..."
At the Sixth Generation's instruction, I pushed for more funds.
"I'll eliminate the bandits and resolve this troublesome problem. How about two hundred gold coins?"
At my price hike, Ventler burst out laughing.
"Ahahaha, Lyle... You're rather underestimating me."
With that, he gestured with his finger to a servant nearby.
The servant left the room.
It was probably a smaller amount than Ventler had expected.
Given the scale of Darion, it was a sum he could produce without too much trouble, even if it wasn't pocket change.
But that was exactly what I'd aimed for.
"Good, that works. They must think you're an ignorant fool who never received a proper education."
The Sixth Generation seemed satisfied.
(It's easy enough in the sense that I just have to act like a fool, but... it's exhausting.)
When the servant returned, he was carrying a leather pouch.
Inside were two hundred gold coins.
"The bandit extermination will be carried out under Lyle Walt's name. I have provided the funds. However, we are not to be associated—is that understood?"
"Yes! Thank you very much, Lord Ventler!"
"He's probably thinking it doesn't matter if you fail. If you succeed, he won't have to deal with the neighboring lords. And if you fail, this dangerous troublemaker called Lyle disappears. The bandits might even relocate. Two hundred gold coins would be a bargain."
Novem, who had watched the entire exchange from her seat, simply sat there with a gentle smile.
Ventler must have seen me as an ignorant fool dragged along by a girl.
(Next up—)
"Lyle, time to gather some manpower!"
As I listened to the Sixth Generation's cheerful voice, I shook hands with Ventler, who was smiling as he said, "And whatever you do, do not use my name."