In the rear seat of the linked carriage pulling away from Central, I surveyed the nearly empty interior before turning to gaze back at Central, where the fervor had yet to subside.
Thanks to the drinks bestowed by the Royal Palace, the festival in Central showed no signs of ending.
Originally, the linked carriage was supposed to carry a great many passengers.
But the guests, swept up in Central's fervor, had chosen to extend their stays.
The result was a carriage so empty it felt privately chartered.
Gazing at Central's distant walls shrinking behind us, I tightened my grip on the Jewel.
The Royal Family of Fonbeau.
——Lianne, too, had already departed from Central.
(She was good to me. I hope she's doing well.)
When we said our goodbyes, there wasn't much conversation.
She really did look sorrowful.
The Third Generation's voice reached my ears.
"Lyle... when you return, you must——"
(I know.)
As I kept glancing back at everything behind us, Eva spoke up.
"What are you doing?"
"...I was looking at Central — the Royal Capital. Making a vow that I'd come back, you know."
With that, I settled into a nearby seat, and Eva sat down right beside me.
"Hmm, well, if that's the case, then I guess it's fine... Oh, right! Tell me about what happened before I joined you! The tales of all those people are important too — the more I know beforehand, the more feeling I can pour into the song when the time comes!"
I let out a wry smile at Eva, who was beaming with delight.
"There's really nothing that interesting to tell."
"Huh? You experienced your first growth in Darion, kissed an Automaton in Aramsass, and pulled a scam on nobles in Central? Look, I already know about all of that, so stop being stingy and just tell me!"
"Who told you all that!"
"Everyone!"
I ignored Eva, who answered with a bright grin, and looked at the party members seated up front.
Monica was waving cheerfully, and Aria's shoulders were shaking in tiny bursts.
She was laughing. She was doing her absolute best to hold it in.
Novem looked apologetic, and Clara was hiding her face behind a book.
Miranda blew me a kiss, and Shannon was grinning from ear to ear.
"You guys are the worst! Why did you tell her all that!"
At those words, Aria spoke up.
"You're so noisy. Eva said it'd be good to know all sorts of things if you're going to be part of the group. And honestly, your past actions have been so over the top, it just... slipped out."
"Slipped out" — easy for her to say! I wasn't about to let that slide!
Eva was happily scribbling away in her notebook.
"Hey, you're not going to turn any of this into a song, right?"
"Hmm? Well, you never know how it'll turn out. I'll have to see how everything plays out and judge for myself. So, with that said... how about you tell me about Laiel's story — the parts that none of the others know? Just for me!"
"Just for me," she said, shooting a sly grin toward Aria and the others.
(So if I don't play along, she's threatening to turn everything she's heard about me so far into a song...)
Everyone's faces suddenly fell in frustration, but Novem alone wore a slightly smug expression.
Novem, who was also my childhood friend, knew about my early years as well.
"You're playing dirty."
"For the sake of a song, I'll go this far. Now come on, spit it out! Quickly!"
Sighing at Eva's insistence, I gave it a moment's thought.
And then, on the condition that she would turn it into a song—
"I'll tell you, but first, promise me something."
"What? If it's 'teach me but I won't sing it,' I'm refusing."
I said no and shook my head.
"It's the opposite. There's a story I'd like you to sing."
"A story I haven't heard before? I'd like to think I know most things you know, Laiel, but—oh, or maybe a song request!"
I—
"The ancestors of House Walt. There's plenty you don't know about, right?"
At that, Eva admitted she indeed didn't know about them, nodding along. However, she seemed a bit hesitant, her interest not quite sparked.
"Stories like that are usually pretty exaggerated, you know. 'Sing the songs of the successive heads'—there's plenty of those. It's all about making your own family look impressive."
I replied with a chuckle.
"That's probably fair. But it's not all rosy, I should mention."
Eva listened and nodded.
"Really? Well then, let's hear it. So, what kind of ancestors were they?"
"There are seven of them, so... let's go in order."
And so, I began telling her the story of the First Generation.
—Inside the Jewel.
The Third Generation looked frustrated.
"About Laiel trying to turn our stories into songs!"
The Fourth Generation, though exasperated,
"Isn't it fine to have them turned into songs?"
At the Fourth Generation, who clearly didn't understand, the Third Generation roared.
"Whether our stories become songs or not depends entirely on Laiel's mood! If something strange gets passed along and turned into a song, that'd be the worst! Do you have any idea how it feels to be called a 'righteous general' or whatever?!"
Holding his head in both hands, the Third Generation thrashed about while the others watched him with exasperated expressions.
Letting out a sigh, the Fourth Generation spoke up.
"Now then, are there any other opinions?"
There was no issue with Laiel choosing to fight Ceres.
However, the method for doing so remained unclear.
The Fifth Generation voiced a reasonable point.
"Well, before we can discuss countermeasures, we need to understand the current situation... What's happening in other countries, our relationship with Banseim—there are a lot of variables."
The Sixth Generation added.
"Given the current situation, our best options would be gathering intelligence, earning funds, and training Laiel and the others."
The Seventh Generation nodded.
"To fight Ceres as an individual, we'd need an elite unit composed of women who are resistant to being influenced."
Gather soldiers and assemble an army.
Or organize a massive mercenary company and challenge Banseim.
Assassination would mean that even if they won, Lyle would never be able to show her face in public again.
The Fourth Generation decided to set aside the Third Generation, who was proving useless, and continue the discussion.
"For now, all we can do is sharpen the blade that is this elite squad. The real question is what kind of victory we should be aiming for."
What would happen to Lyle after a victory?
If things went poorly, she could end up assassinated.
After all, Lyle belonged to House Walt, just like Ceres.
The Seventh Generation, who had ultimately held the highest standing among the five, offered a range of predictions.
"First, the critical question is whether Lyle stands at the forefront or not. If she does take the lead and then tries to retire after the victory, the nation would fracture and plunge into a warring states era. And even if we put someone else in charge, how do we produce a person with enough charisma to govern a great nation?"
How would Lyle be involved?
That alone would change the discussion.
The Sixth Generation spoke up.
"In the worst-case scenario, resentment builds up against Lyle even after a win, and she gets assassinated on the spot..."
The Fifth Generation, looking displeased, gazed up at the ceiling as they spoke.
"Bringing in an outsider is no easy task either. There's no guarantee they won't be charmed by Ceres. Even if you pick a woman for the role — do you really think Banseim would accept a queen after being tormented by Ceres?"
The Fourth Generation summarized the opinions.
"For now, let's focus on giving Lyle and the others enough strength to fight. Well, as things stand, we can't even prepare a battlefield for them."
Problems were piling up.
But it was Lyle who had decided all of this.
The Fifth Generation—
"We need to train Lyle properly. Just teaching her Skills the way we always have won't be enough to beat Ceres. Someone has to personally take her under their wing."
The Sixth Generation nodded.
"That's about right. In other words—"
The Third Generation suddenly cut into the conversation.
"That the strongest one here should be the one to train her. Well then—"
Everyone nodded.
"That'd be me."
"Must be me."
"Me?"
"That would be me."
"That'd be me."
In an instant, silence enveloped the room, and everyone rose from their chairs with smiles on their faces.
The Third Generation—
"Come now, how much do you think I've fought? Just how many battles did that scumbag of a king force me into?"
Adjusting his glasses with his index finger, the Fourth Generation smiled.
"I'd hate for you to think I'm just a movement-type Skills user. Forgive me for saying it, but I don't feel I'd lose to the Third Generation or any of the other Heads."
The Fifth Generation shook his head in exasperation.
"You have no idea how much I was attacked from all sides, how much I endured to build our foundation? Bandits, soldiers, mercenaries... how many did I crush?"
The Sixth Generation grinned, as if trying to intimidate those around him.
"I'm the one who expanded House Walt. Forgive me for saying it, but I don't feel I'd lose to my father, the Fifth Generation."
The Seventh Generation—.
"There is no way I am weak. I have fought on the battlefield time and again to restore Banseim, and I have won every time. Of course, you ancestors simply want to believe you were the strongest — nothing more."
A dry laugh echoed through the space, and then the Fifth Generation opened his mouth, and —.
"Shut the hell up! You little runaway brat, keep your mouth shut! You could never beat me in the end, could you?!"
"I simply couldn't use my full power against an old man! Stop bringing up that stupid runaway every single time... You wanna go, you bastard?!"
"You think you can beat me? I wish you'd keep your jokes to a minimum."
"Indeed. Well, the Fourth Generation is more suited to being a civil official, so I suppose he wouldn't understand the feelings of a warrior."
"Ha ha ha! With that level, you call yourself a warrior? Do you really think I've only fought behind a desk? It's because your perception is so naive that Ceres ended up with the yellow Jewel, you know!"
"Oh, you want to keep running your mouth, you four-eyed punk?!"
"Don't mock my glasses!"
"I — I — I am the strongest among us!!"
As the uproar inside the Jewel reached its peak, Lyle appeared.
With nothing to do during transit, it seemed he had materialized inside the Jewel.
"What are you all making such a racket about? Actually, your voices could be heard from outside, you know."
Before Lyle's exasperated expression, the Third Generation held back everything he wanted to say about Eva and explained the situation.
"Look at these guys, arguing about who's the strongest. Lyle, you understand, right?"
The Seventh Generation addressed his grandson, Lyle.
"Lyle, go ahead and tell everyone about my strength. Besides, it was only from the Fifth Generation onward that magic became usable. Considering that it only truly took shape in my generation, my power should be more than obvious."
The Seventh Generation kept glancing at Lyle with an exasperated look, wanting him to show everyone who was the strongest among them.
But Lyle simply crossed his arms and —.
"How did it even turn into a conversation like this?"
The Fourth Generation cleared his throat, then began to explain.
"Well, it started because people figured it meant finding strong opponents to train Lyle. So a whole bunch of them got it into their heads that they were the ones."
He looked around with a grin, and Lyle nodded along as he watched.
The Sixth Generation did too.
"You know what I mean, Lyle... Now come on, tell us who's the strongest."
The Fifth Generation as well.
"That's right. You can tell who's the strongest, can't you, Lyle?"
Lyle nodded several times, then answered with a bright smile.
"Then I just have to beat all of you, right? See, it's a simple problem. If I fight everyone, it's settled."
The atmosphere in the room plummeted instantly as the Successive Heads exchanged glances and closed in around Lyle.
The Third Generation placed a hand on Lyle's right shoulder.
The Fourth Generation stood directly in front of Lyle.
The Fifth Generation placed a hand on Lyle's left shoulder.
The Sixth and Seventh Generations circled behind him.
"Huh? Um..."
The Third Generation smiled.
"I see. So that's how lightly you were taking it... Well, I suppose you are weaker than Ceres. But—"
The Fourth Generation said.
"You're underestimating us way too much, Lyle."
The Fifth Generation tightened his grip, and Lyle cried out in pain.
"Indeed. This is a good opportunity — we ought to teach him a lesson."
The Sixth Generation said, grinning.
"Well then, shall we go? We'll train you ourselves."
"W-wait... Seventh Generation!"
Lyle turned to his grandfather, the Seventh Generation, for help — but the old man simply smiled.
"Don't worry. Even if you're injured here, you'll heal right away. Even having your chest pierced through won't leave a mark in reality... Now then, let's train you like we used to."
He was smiling, but his eyes weren't.
"W-wait, but that's basically the same thing, isn't it! That's not wrong at all! Hey, hold on!"
As Lyle squirmed and protested, they all hoisted him up and carried him through one of the doors, the Fourth Generation leading the way.
"Don't worry about it. You'll be fighting all of us. It's sure to be fun — ahahaha!"
"N-no, I don't wanna!!"
Lyle's screams as he was dragged through the door faded into silence the moment it closed —.