I'll share my own thoughts on Sevenths in tomorrow's activity report.
Character introductions and settings requested by readers will be posted separately.
Side stories and interludes will be compiled and posted there.
—The New Capital.
Foundation work had been completed, and the representatives of every nation — delegates from the allied countries — were gathered at a time when winter was giving way to spring.
The development plan for the New Capital was still only halfway done. However, since further delays were no longer possible, the representatives were convened so that Lyle could formally ascend the throne and declare the founding of the empire.
Governance had already begun in practice. The royal demesne of House Banseim. The territories of the lords Lyle had crushed. Then there was Rufens and Baim. Just because Lyle was busy was no excuse not to govern them.
The moment he had defeated the Kingdom of Banseim, Lyle had already assumed the burden of responsibility. All this did was make it official.
The castle at the center of the New Capital was complete, and its design was novel even for a world where fortress cities were the norm. Supported by vermilion pillars, the castle was both tall and massive. The material used for those pillars — needed to bear such tremendous weight — included the horns of legend dragons. Red horns had been employed, and those crimson-stained pillars held up the enormous structure.
The delegates gathered in the grand hall were struck breathless not merely by its size but by its grandeur. It had not been built purely as a war castle, yet the technological capability to produce something on this scale — and then there was the matter of national power to consider — made it clear that opposing this would be no small feat.
He had succeeded in making them think exactly that.
Standing in the hall as Baim's representative merchant was Fidel Trace. His daughter had become one of Lyle's concubines, which was why he had been invited to this occasion.
The ceremony had not yet begun, and the various delegates were making conversation. The atmosphere was not exactly tense, but neither was it cordial. This was where they waited for the ceremony to start.
Because those around him believed he had been backing Lyle since the man was still a nobody, this merchant had been permitted to stand shoulder to shoulder with the delegates of every nation.
(The Guild executives. And the delegates of every nation — they all look worn out, so none of them seem inclined to pick a fight with the kid. Well, given that princesses and queens from neighboring countries have all become concubines, it would be foolish to go picking fights. But wait — knowing that kid, there's a chance he's sitting back and waiting for some fool to explode! That's the kind of man who obtained Vera through underhanded means. He's definitely scheming something dirty.)
Fidel alone was harboring such thoughts without his expression changing in the slightest, but those around him believed he had offered up his daughter precisely because he had supported Lyle all along.
He was perceived as being that cooperative with Lyle. That, too, infuriated Fidel.
(Infuriating! To think they believe I handed Vera over — and the worst part is I can't even deny it! I'll get back at him. I'll make that kid's life miserable!)
Fidel, who excelled as a merchant but fell apart the moment his daughter was involved, was wishing the ceremony would just start and be over with —.
In the room where preparations for the ceremony were underway, Novem and the other women were having their outfits adjusted with the help of the Valkyries.
None of them could attend in plain clothes—today, they wore lavish, ornamented dresses tailored specifically for the occasion. But the room had become a battlefield.
Novem sat in a chair, having her hair done. Beside her, Miranda was also seated.
"I've made my share of mistakes over the years, but my greatest was adding you as Lyle's concubine. I still regret it to this day."
Miranda, idly tending to her nails in front of a mirror, paid no mind to the icy tension radiating from Novem.
"That's rich. I'm the one who should regret not abandoning you back then. I helped a fool who was screaming 'I'm gonna die~' all by herself, and I've been paying for it ever since."
Watching the two trade barbs with smiles, Shannon stood nearby looking rather anxious. She was wearing her dress, but it had gotten disheveled from moving around, and a Valkyrie was straightening it out.
"Ugh, scary. I never imagined fights between women could be this ugly."
Near Shannon, Eliza stood in her underwear, with Monica rushing to make last-minute adjustments to her dress.
"Agreed. I can't take part in this either."
"Never mind that—put this on. I'm busy, you know. I have to go find that Chicken and make sure he looks presentable. He's probably trembling in there all alone."
Shannon regarded Monica with an exasperated look.
"He's probably buried in speech rehearsals and whatnot right now, isn't he? Besides, he gets really startled whenever anyone approaches him lately."
Eliza nodded in agreement. She took the dress from Monica, and the Valkyrie swarmed around her to help with fitting.
"It was the same for me back then. Maybe he's developed some kind of trauma? Oh, the size is a perfect fit."
Just then, the sound of something toppling over echoed through the room. It was Ludmilla and Gracia—they had gotten into an argument over a dress. Both were in their underwear.
"Why do we have to match colors?! I get the deep purple—you wear a different dress!"
"I want the subdued color too! You're the one who should switch!"
As the two continued their dispute, Eva watched them with a deadpan expression, her upper body bare. Her pink-blonde hair covered the important parts.
"They never get tired of it, do they, those two?"
Clara, now dressed in her gown, was reading a book since she was ready. In response to Eva's comment.
"That's not the point. Why don't you hurry up and put on your dress already? We haven't gone yet, but the delegates from every country are already in the grand hall, you know?"
Eva brushed back her hair.
"How should I know? Besides, my dress is being altered. I would've preferred something flashier…"
In a different room, May and Marina looked uncomfortable.
"This outfit is hard to move in. And it's hot."
"Why am I even here…"
Having caught the eye of the First Generation's wife, Marina had ended up becoming his concubine. Standing near her was none other than Marianne.
"I'm the one who wants to ask that. Why am I even here… I was summoned by the Trace Trading Company, and then I'm told congratulations on becoming a Guild executive, just like that."
At that moment, Selma, wearing an outfit that showed off her figure, clasped her hands together in delight.
"Well, isn't that great? …You managed to get married while you were still so carefree like that. If I hadn't snuck my way in here, I probably never would have married in my lifetime."
However, the last part came across as genuinely desperate. The one watching Selma with that expression was Aura, the Holy Maiden of Zayin.
"If Lady Selma is getting married, I don't think I need to be here?"
But Selma placed a hand on her cheek and said:
"Oh, that won't do. Because as far as Zayin is concerned, Aura is the official Holy Maiden. Since it's hereditary, Aura's children are important too. Gastone was saying how this means Zayin is now secure and all."
A group full of various problems — and the one observing them was Vera. An excessive number of Valkyries were surrounding her.
"If you don't like it, just say so properly. And Father… didn't he say he'd move things in a direction that wouldn't add more, yet look how many there are — what is he thinking? Also, why am I being surrounded by all these children?"
Even though her gown was already on, Vera was still surrounded by the Valkyries. Similarly surrounded were Novem, Miranda, and Aria.
In Aria's case, the Valkyries were carefully helping her into her dress. Aria had a troubled look on her face.
"H-Hey! Why are you being so attentive? And also, this is a little loose around the waist — could you cinch it tighter—"
"No."
"Rejected."
The Valkyries' immediate shutdown made Aria slump her shoulders. Her usually outward-flipping hair had been styled straight today. Aria, who wasn't used to wearing a dress and felt restless, had Valkyries hovering around her and nitpicking her behavior.
"Look, don't take such wide steps."
"And no sudden movements!"
Lianne, who had Valkyrie No. 71 standing beside her, was watching this scene. She seemed to have noticed something, and asked No. 71 a question.
"Hey, if I'm not mistaken, those four are—"
"That's correct. Lianne, I'd recommend you hurry."
Lianne had been sitting in a chair with a fan spread open, hiding the lower half of her face.
"That's surprising. I expected Novem and Miranda to come after me — but Aria and Vera? I suppose I should get a bit more proactive myself, then."
—Proactive in doing what? Nobody around her asked.
"Oh, you got cream on it."
"Shannon, hurry up and change. And Eliza, stop eating."
Shannon had spilled sweets and gotten her dress dirty, earning a scolding from Miranda. Eliza, who had been eating alongside her, got an earful too.
Novem turned to Aria.
"Aria, can you sit still and stay put?"
"Well... I just can't calm down. I've always wanted to try on a dress and all, but for some reason it feels really embarrassing."
May and Marina, on the other hand:
"Ah, I want to eat meat."
"Same here. Someone, bring us meat."
Vera watched the two of them.
"That's obviously not going to happen. You won't be able to eat much today until the ceremony is over. And the same goes for tonight's party, by the way."
When the two of them made genuinely stunned faces, the rest of the group—the consorts that each country had forced upon him, who had gone silent before this overwhelming gathering—lost their voices entirely.
"Are you kidding me?!"
Erhard, who usually wore tank tops, was in formal attire in my room. He came to me in tears, complaining, but when I heard his reasons, I was the one who ended up surprised.
"How the hell should I know?! I just heard about this, okay! Even I'm going to have a hard time if the numbers keep growing like this! It's already hard enough! I'm scared! Everyone... everyone... it's terrifying. If Aria hadn't consoled me, I would have..."
As I struggled to keep myself from crying, Erhard began to panic. He must have either shared the same experience, or he realized this was about to stop being someone else's problem. I was right to bring him along as a companion after all.
It was because I wanted a friend who could share these feelings that I had pushed all sorts of things onto Erhard—women, honors, and the like.
Still, I could understand why Erhard was angry. He never expected that Marianne would be shoved into becoming my consort on the very day of the ceremony.
That bastard Fidel—the reason he had flashed that smile at me was Marianne. I thought the conversation had been heading toward a refusal, and yet somehow I ended up taking a consort from the Guild too.
"S-sorry. But even so, why of all people would it be Marianne!"
Erhard still couldn't accept that the woman of his first love was becoming a consort. However, Maxim, who was in the same room, tilted his head in puzzlement. Damian did the same.
"Why is that? That Marianne never had a partner to begin with, did she? Besides, I hear there's already a perfectly fine woman who has feelings for you."
"And your confession was rejected, wasn't it? So I don't think this is really your problem to begin with."
Faced with the two of them cutting him down so bluntly, Erhard collapsed to his knees.
"Erhard!"
"I... I was rejected too. But still, Marianne should be happy... damn it!!"
At that moment, Baldoa looked at us and let out a sigh.
"What are you four doing? More importantly, Maxim, has there been any progress with Adele? I heard the confession was a success?"
At that, a flushed Maxim rubbed the space beneath his nose with his finger.
"You're an idiot. It was successful, but nothing more than kissing. See, I want to enjoy our newlywed life with just the two of us, so..."
Was that a jab at me, or at Erhard and Baldoa? Damian sipped his tea.
"I'm envious. My laboratory will be finished soon, so I can focus on creating the perfect woman."
Erhard looked at us as he said that.
"...You guys are definitely weird. Aren't you guys crazy?"
I looked at Erhard, thinking that at least he was dressed presentably today.
"...You've got some nerve. Fine. As the Free Knight who appointed you, I'll introduce a woman to this Free Knight Erhard, who's still nursing his wounds. How about Princess Anneliese? She's a cute person."
At that, Erhard stood up and pointed at me. Baldoa was saying things like "That's disrespectful," but he was a rare person who could actually complain to me. I'd let it slide. Otherwise, teasing him wouldn't be fun.
"Don't screw with me! Do you have any idea how much trouble I'm in because of this vague position of Free Knight?! I was just asked to subdue a dragon, and it was really a pain!"
Upon hearing this, it seemed he had defeated a Land Dragon. Wonderful. I thought he had talent, but as expected of Erhard.
"In reward for that, I'll give you a commendation next time. Enjoy your harem with that vague position of yours."
Erhard was holding his head in both hands at my smile. This guy, when we first met, couldn't see reality, but once he did, he got the harem he wanted.
I wanted to tell him how great it was that his wish came true.
"With such a vague position, I can't possibly handle that many people! At this rate, I'm really going to get attacked! I'm going to get attacked!"
...Please don't say that to someone who has been attacked. Rather, you should get attacked too and come over to this side. I wanted to say that. Damn, I never imagined the "healer" archetype would turn out to be some tank-top wearing guy, or that he'd become the father of a bride.
Getting irritated, I decided to tease Fidel instead.
At that moment, Baldoa checked the time on his pocket watch. It seemed time was running out.
"Lord Raierl—no, Your Majesty. It's almost time."
I took a light deep breath and shifted my consciousness.
"Understood. I'm heading to the hall."
When Maxim and Damian stood up, Erhard followed along, grumbling something about "the atmosphere's changed way too much." The five of us rounded to the back of the hall, where Rauno, who had been on guard duty, was standing.
"Everything is prepared, Your Majesty."
He wasn't unshaven, and his attire was properly put together today as well. I nodded at my vassal's words and headed for the hall.
The position from which I would look down upon the lined-up representatives of each nation and the heads of various organizations.
At the far end of the hall, an elevated platform had been prepared, with a staircase leading up to it. A throne sat atop it, built with lavish grandeur to project authority.
When I appeared, the orchestra that had been standing by began to play. In the solemn atmosphere, everyone bowed their heads as I ascended the staircase to take my seat on the throne.
One step. One step—and the staircase leading up to the throne was lined with a red carpet.
I could see the throne sitting atop a mountain of corpses.
The red carpet looked like blood.
Climbing to such a place, I must look like the worst kind of villain. From the world's perspective, it wouldn't be strange at all to see it as me having used Ceres to bring down the Kingdom of Banseim.
All I did was clean up the mess caused by someone else from House Walt—someone of the same blood.
Ideally, it would have looked much cooler to leave after everything was over, like a proper hero.
But I couldn't do that.
There was the promise, too.
And I couldn't run away from the responsibility of all the killing I'd done.
I had killed countless people to climb this far.
There is a minimum level of responsibility one must bear.
Having climbed all the way up, I could see the chair. The throne. I walked to it and, before sitting, turned around—now I was looking down on everyone.
I would probably dedicate the rest of my life to governance. Even I myself thought it was quite the decision to have made.
I felt like the weight of it was about to crush me, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I sensed the Successive Heads watching over me. And if that was the case, I couldn't afford to do anything shameful.
Once everyone had taken their seats and raised their faces toward me, I officially declared my ascension to the throne. At the same time, I declared the unification of the continent. Most nations had already agreed to fall under the Empire's rule. Besides, the entire continent was exhausted.
The Kingdom of Banseim in particular — the central region of the continent had been devastated the most, but even so, the Empire had demonstrated its military might through war.
Things would probably hold together for a while. From here on, I'd just have to do my best with domestic policy and diplomacy. Well, it had to be better than waging war.
Even now, I occasionally found myself wondering if some hero sent by the gods might appear. If that had happened, I wouldn't have felt the need to take matters into my own hands. But there was no one. There wasn't a single person willing to step forward.
And even if there had been, whether they could have stood against Ceres…
That was why I decided to do it myself.
As the ceremony progressed, I played the part of the ideal emperor. What came to mind were the Successive Heads.
The First Generation would probably hear "emperor" and just respond with a casual "Oh, really."
The Second Generation might look a little troubled.
The Third Generation would likely find it amusing that his descendant had become emperor.
The Fourth Generation would probably grumble about methods of governance and finances.
The Fifth Generation… he wasn't much of a talker, but he'd probably say something like "Don't push yourself too hard."
The Sixth Generation — yeah, he'd definitely worry about how many wives I had.
The Seventh Generation might tear up with joy.
The Eighth Generation — Father. What words would he have for me? I had few memories of him before I was ten, and after that, all I could recall was his cold demeanor. The last thing he'd done was apologize, but I still didn't know what to make of it.
It had been intense. An incredibly intense two years. Kicked out of my home, I became an adventurer. I'd become an adventurer with no real goal, met Aria, and then Miranda and the rest…
Perhaps the real beginning was when I reunited with Ceres. From the moment I saw her, defeated in snow-covered Central, presiding over a capital consumed by madness — that was when I truly found my purpose.
And so, here I was.
Puffing myself up in a place like this.
Just as Mireia had said. I had piled up mountains of corpses and seated myself upon a throne.
The ceremony progressed, and representatives from every nation spoke their loyalty to me.
"We hereby submit to the dominion of the Empire and pledge our loyalty to His Majesty the Emperor."
At the representative's words, all of them knelt.
I couldn't help but shudder wondering how many among them were plotting my downfall behind smiles. Even knowing the Empire would eventually decline, I couldn't help thinking about how long it might last. A continent worn to the bone in just a few short years.
Surely a little more peace wouldn't be too much to ask.
They were prepared to dedicate the rest of their lives to this. It might be a paltry price in return, but even if only for a time—
"I am grateful for your loyalty. Though I am young, I shall endeavor to be a worthy sovereign to you all. I ask that you continue to support me and the Empire."
I didn't mean a single word of that—well, that would be a lie. But at the very least, I could tell them to try harder.
After all, it had taken me being backed into a corner—eyes dead as a fish's—to resolve to unify the continent. If everyone around me had put in more effort, I could have cooperated as just a soldier or an adventurer.
Well, it was too late for that now.
Someday, I would pass this position on to the next generation. And I would end up piling all manner of burdens onto them. The thought left me feeling guilty. At the very least, I needed to get done whatever I could while I had the chance.
I also worried whether, someday, I would be able to entrust something to others, the way they all had.
Even so, I would keep moving forward, one step at a time.
Walking, walking—and when I finally stopped, I wanted to be the kind of person who could push the next generation forward. Someone who could put a hand on another's back.
Like those seven had done.
Like the Successive Heads who had supported and guided me.
——The birth of an Empire that reunited a continent divided for three hundred years.
It reached its golden age roughly a century after its founding, after enduring a long period of rule. From there it weathered the tides of change and countless upheavals, governing the continent for five hundred years.
Yet it could not escape the cycle of rise and fall, and in the shifting currents of history, the Empire collapsed. What followed was the dawn of an era of warring states, and it would take a considerable stretch of time before the continent was reunited once more——.
——On the classroom blackboard, the history of the continent during the age of the Empire had been written out.
Around the neck of the boy receiving lessons in that classroom hung a silver pendant. A blue jewel was set into it — a piece of considerable age.
Standing before the lectern, the teacher gave the blackboard a light tap with his fist and spoke.
"Well, this stretch of history is more or less a prelude to the coming age of warring states. The history after this period is far more popular, after all. But knowing about the Empire of this era can be quite interesting. There are stories of clashing heroes who turned out to be descendants of the first emperor — or at least, plenty of men who claimed descent from the first emperor to legitimize themselves. That's why House Walt claims are so common. There's one sitting in this very classroom, I'd bet."
When the class's attention turned toward the boy, they snickered at him. The boy, timid by nature, looked down at his desk.
The history teacher then began to speak with a smug air. He clearly loved his subject, having researched it extensively on his own and developed his own theories.
"The thing is, this first emperor took the title 'Divine Emperor,' which is pretty dubious to begin with. And what's more — the nation that became the catalyst for continental conquest? The first emperor's younger sister had actually married into its ruling family. In my opinion, the teacher considers the whole thing a coordinated ruse by House Walt. When you look into it, it all smells incredibly fishy. She was cast out of the house and spent her days doing what you'd nowadays call a hunter's work."
The teacher rambled on fluently, and his smug tone spoke to just how much research he had done. The first emperor, he explained, had a notorious weakness for women, and he had even failed to arrive in time to save a commercial city that had been backed by his own support.
He continued to display his various tidbits of knowledge and lay out his personal interpretations. Then, after a preamble of "in conclusion, and so forth—"
"The first emperor was no Divine Emperor. He was just a freeloader. The more you dig, the more dubious it all looks. You all know Shannon, right? The one who's popular in movies and dramas? The murky harem drama that surrounds her has its roots in the first emperor himself. I'd say he was a thoroughly despicable man. The Free Knight Erhard, who was active in the same era, was far more of a true hero."
The teacher said this with a smile. The boy, whose family name bore the "Walt" claim, drew stares once more as the rougher students pointed fingers and laughed.
When the bell signaling the end of class rang, the teacher glanced at his clock and began tidying his materials.
"Erase the blackboard for me, will you? Now, class representative."
The class representative called out "Stand, bow," and everyone rose and lowered their heads. After the teacher left the classroom, the boy sat down in his chair.
Since that had been his final class of the day, he busied himself stuffing textbooks and notebooks from his desk into his bag while waiting for the homeroom teacher to arrive.
Before long, a handful of rough-looking students came over to his desk.
"Hey, your family's the worst, huh."
"The worst! The worst!"
They jeered at him, but the boy simply hung his head in silence. He endured it until the homeroom teacher arrived, and the moment school was officially over, he bolted from the building as if fleeing.
He didn't want to be at school anymore. Because...
After confirming that not a single person was around, the boy spoke.
"Um, could you please keep it down? I've been really tired lately..."
And then, Lail's voice could be heard coming from the Jewel—from the Jewel that had regained its brilliance.
"That teacher, I'll knock his lights out! What do you mean 'lowest of the low'! What do you mean 'freeloader mentality'! The harem being a mess wasn't my fault!"
Then a rough voice spoke up. It was the First Generation.
"Hmm, so the emperor has it tough too. But the Ninth Generation being emperor, huh? Doesn't really feel real to me."
The records had been reset, and none of them had any memory of Lail. Still, from the boy's perspective, having eight people all talking at once drained his mana terribly.
"Um, please be quiet..."
The Second Generation's voice could be heard.
"Still, that teacher is unforgivable. Doing something like that to our direct descendant... That's harassment, plain and simple."
The Third Generation spoke with a laugh, but he was clearly angry. His words were terrifying.
"Wanna do something about it? I mean, murder carries a heavy sentence and all, but socially, it'd be pretty easy to ruin him. Let's make sure he never gets back on his feet again."
The Fourth Generation looked displeased. It wasn't that he was against getting revenge.
"If we did something like that, it would carry risks on our end as well. In cases like this, an anonymous report to the school? Or rather, to the organization that manages it. ...With evidence, of course."
The Fifth Generation didn't say much, but...
"Let's show those little brats who's boss. I hate that type of kid the most. First, we investigate every last one of their families."
The Sixth Generation was grinning. The boy spoke in a feeble voice.
"P-please be quiet..."
"Ahahaha! A little Skills reinforcement and a conversation with my fists, and they'll understand right away. So, let me teach you how to pick a fight. First, aim for the eyes!"
The Seventh Generation's voice dripped with exasperation.
"You could crush them without going that far. Well, it's true that teacher is insufferable. Let's make him cry and regret ever mocking House Walt!"
Rael agreed with the words of his grandfather, the Seventh Generation.
"You think I'm just gonna let some brat like that push me around? I didn't—I did nothing wrong! I'll rile him up. I'll keep provoking him just like Fidel, so he'd better remember that! ...Well, you'll be the one actually throwing the punches. Good luck. We won't hold back on our support. Not that our support amounts to much more than butting in or teaching you how to use Skills, but still."
The Successive Heads urged the boy to fight back. The boy, who had inherited the Jewel containing those Successive Heads, hung his head low.
The boy trudged along, muttering to himself. Ever since the day he had inherited the blue gem, he had been able to hear voices.
He never imagined that those voices could possibly be his own ancestors.
"I'm so done with these ancestors of mine! Monica, what should I do?"
The boy murmured the name of Monica—a servant of the house—and his eyes glistened with tears.
Cheerful laughter could be heard from within the Jewel, and the boy found himself feeling sympathy for his teacher and classmates.
"Things are getting really fun!!"
The voices only the boy could hear were as cheerful as ever today, too.
Octo: "......"
Octo: "......Huh!?"
Octo: "......So they're just going to completely ignore me, huh."
Octo: "I'll advertise this, believing that I'll appear in the book version. The Seventh Generation's first volume will be published by Hero Bunko on December 28, 2015. ...Will I even get a chance to show up?"
Hiyoko: "That's all for now! Please check out the book version, as well as the side stories and interludes!"