As soon as I was awake, I reached out to Zelphy.
We met at the same cafe and I told her I’d be accepting Rockward’s request.
“You hit your head or something? A former heir of a noble house, taking on a bandit gang. You sure can say it. Admirable, but I wouldn’t call it sound judgment.”
Zelphy looked exasperated.
Internally, she was probably thinking it was no surprise I’d been thrown out. Fine for now.
Zelphy ordered something sweet and ate it neatly. So — well brought up. Just as Novem had noticed.
(Knight, sure enough. Fighting style, and the manners too — her father’s influence.)
“This is my decision. Worst case, you can withdraw, Zelphy. I’ll tell Hawkins.”
She sighed and looked at Novem.
“Novem, I thought you had a good head on your shoulders.”
“It’s Lord Lyle’s decision. And—”
“And?”
“Lord Lyle said he can do it. No problem.”
Novem’s faith in me ran high. But I had a winning hand.
The ancestors had agreed too.
”…House Rockward is in decline right now. No reward to expect. You saw the ojou-sama’s outfit? The current head’s no good. Up to the previous one they were serious — proper viscount, proper post in the capital, robe-noble.”
House Rockward was on the way down.
But the reward wasn’t coming from them. We were going to pay.
The funder was the lord of Darion.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m planning to cover the cost myself.”
“Hah? Hold on. What are you saying? If you actually did hit your head, I can introduce a good doctor.”
I gave a wry smile and pivoted.
“Could you introduce someone with information? Someone informed about the bandit gang, and about Darion’s lord.”
“Bandits I get, but the lord?”
I’d expected her to look troubled. Instead, her eyes sharpened.
(Looks like the ancestors — the Third and the Fifth — may have called it right.)
“Yes.”
I said it with a smile. Internally, I knew there was a real probability of failure. But you couldn’t let it show.
You projected confidence. Otherwise no one followed.
“We can win. It’s in my wheelhouse, in fact. Oh — could I add a request?”
A lie. My wheelhouse.
I’d never fought bandits. The ones with experience were the ancestors inside the Jewel.
”…What?”
“Easy job. But one I think you can do. Someone the Guild also trusts — that’s you, Zelphy. I want to ask you specifically.”
I could feel the situation rolling forward exactly as the ancestors had predicted.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
We arrived at the lord’s mansion in Darion.
From the information broker Zelphy had introduced, I’d learned what kind of man the lord was.
And the present state of Darion as a town.
【Bentler Rodonia】 — a man “solid” suited as a description. By the standard of lords, he was a fine one.
Close to the royal capital, location-wise, came with the downside that residents tended to migrate to the big city.
Even if you focused on developing your land, with the capital next door you got compared.
Over time, House Rodonia had grown Darion piece by piece.
I straightened the collar of the clothes I’d bought.
“Been a long time since I wore something like this… feels distant.”
“It suits you, Lord Lyle.”
Novem too — clothes proper for a baron’s daughter — not quite that, but a clean dress. With her natural bearing, she looked striking.
(She’s always had that air, hasn’t she — Novem.)
By contrast, I was no longer in the traveler clothes I’d been wearing. I had on a piece of expensive secondhand clothing from a Darion tailor.
It had taken most of what I’d earned. There was a reason.
Today’s duty ancestor, the Sixth, spoke up from the Jewel.
“Good. Looking fine. Now, Lyle… ready to play the clown?”
I touched the Jewel — yes.
“Splendid. Off we go. Time for House Walt’s disowned idiot heir to call on Darion’s lord.”
I looked at the wary gatekeeper.
Not “wary” so much as figuring, from our outfits, that we were noble youngsters.
No move to bring weapons up.
I approached and asked to see the lord.
“I am called Lyle Walt. I would like an audience with the lord — could you confirm with him?”
The gatekeeper’s eyes widened slightly.
(He knew. Zelphy did too — confirms it.)
“Please wait a moment. I will confirm.”
He sent word in via one of the soldiers.
Novem and I kept smiling at him.
After a while, a suited man — not a soldier — walked out from inside. Audience granted.
“Lord Lyle Walt? Lord Bentler will see you. He is currently engaged. Please wait inside the mansion.”
A polite reception. I nodded.
“Yes, of course. I came unannounced — I’m uncomfortable about it. The lord is generous.”
Novem made a silent bow.
“This way, please…”
We were guided into the lord’s mansion.
For the size of the territory, the mansion felt small.
“As predicted.”
The Sixth’s read. Mine too — so far, easy ground.
The information broker had described the lord as a benign-looking man in his forties, short and slightly plump. The town’s evaluation of him: satisfying as a lord.
In other words: from the townspeople’s point of view, a good lord.
But his very gentleness was perceived as a reliability gap.
A lord with a hint of unreliability about him — that was the read. The ancestors and I disagreed.
“Gatekeeper and suited servant both, perfectly loyal. Praise doesn’t slacken them — though the attitude has softened slightly. Solid, and the fact that the territory has grown this much is unmistakable evidence that the lord is competent. Splendid!”
The Sixth was pleased.
For me, the reason was a little disheartening.
Because a solid, competent lord, beloved by the people—
Meant.
“He must be having a hard time growing the land! Short on manpower, and a personality that won’t cut corners in governance! Excellent! Gap to exploit!”
The Sixth was in full bloom. He understood the lord’s pain points too.
Significant development. A lot of adventurer work flowing. And, despite being loved by the townspeople, leaving the bandit gang alone.
There had to be a reason. So we’d investigated.
The ancestors were energetically combing the intelligence — the lord’s character, the territory’s problems, the current state.
“Two labyrinths have spawned within the territory; he’s sent house knights and soldiers to handle them. Going to bat for the villages at the borders… mm! Splendid lord!”
(All this praise, but in the negotiation we’ll attack exactly that point…)
We’d considered the line that the lord was in bed with the bandits. But the information showed the gang had only recently moved to Darion — that ruled it out.
(They’ve been quiet since arriving, which made me suspect, but.)
If he’d been colluding, the plan had been to negotiate the Jewel back directly.
I sat in a room of the mansion with Novem, on a sofa, drinking tea.
(All right — disowned noble son, starting now.)
It wasn’t entirely an act, but I’d need real performance from here. And the Walt name was getting full use.
I’d cleared it with the ancestors — should be fine. I hoped.
“Hahaha! Getting interesting, Lyle!”
The Sixth’s high tension had me leaning back slightly.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
The lord finished his work and came in. An hour after we’d been seated.
He’d come in looking ready, eyes flat. He froze, looking at me.
“I am Lyle Walt! Disowned for the moment, yes, but I will recover the territory and restore House Walt’s old glory! And to that end — I must ask Lord Bentler’s assistance!”
A disowned former heir of the country-noble Walt family.
That was my current evaluation.
Information that had reached Darion wasn’t detailed beyond that, I’d judged.
And while I had the moment, I’d also decided to fix what kind of person I was, in public.
“Suit yourself out as an idiot heir who deserved disowning — a dreamer’s fine too. A mouthy ex-noble lost in his own daydreams suits Lyle right now.”
That was the Fifth’s read.
Naturally, the rest had pushed back.
But in my current state, people looking to use me could appear at any moment.
The ancestors noted information traveled faster in this era than in theirs.
So while this matter was running, they wanted to lock in my reputation — to protect me.
House Walt had made no move regarding me since the disowning.
This was also a chance to find out what they’d do.
Send assassins for a noisy ex-heir? Or just leave me alone?
A chance to test the reaction of the Walt House, which Ceres the monster ruled.
(If they actually send assassins, that’s a problem for me, but…)
According to the ancestors, the First’s Skill solved that problem too.
Imagining the barbarian First, I had doubts. But yes — the Skill was something.
The lord in front of me — Bentler Rodonia — wore a slightly twitching smile.
“Excellent, Lyle. Face of a man troubled by an even-bigger-than-expected idiot. He’s let his guard down enough to show it on his face. BWAHAHA!!”
Exactly as the Sixth, in his fervor, was saying.
“L-Lord Lyle, sudden assistance is — I cannot immediately respond. And this kind of talk will not benefit you. I will pretend not to have heard it. Today, please—”
He wanted to pretend not to have heard it. Meaning he wanted it un-happened.
House Walt sat at the frontier but was a proper count house. Military strength, connections in the capital.
The lord, accosted by an idiot heir like me, would think:
“Good, Lyle… his face — the face of a man whose territory just got infiltrated by a bomb. He wants to push you out.”
Exactly as the Sixth was saying.
He was figuring how to handle a nuisance like me. The retainer standing next to Bentler showed no agitation.
A guard, by the look of it. The skill was real.
(Just standing — the pressure is real. That’s a serious one.)
The mere fact that he had that kind of subordinate said something about him.
“And, Lord Bentler… I hear bandits have recently moved into the old abandoned mine? This Lyle wishes to be of use. May I have permission to subjugate them?”
“Permission? I’m told Lord Lyle has become an adventurer.”
He’d done his homework.
The moment information started flowing about me hitting Darion, he’d looked into me.
Capable man.
“Indeed. But for a lord, a bandit gang isn’t something to leave standing. So I’d like permission. And — once the bandits are down, by all means take all credit yourself, Lord Bentler!”
I smiled. Bentler’s eyes flicked around.
“L-Lord Lyle is — himself — going to subjugate the bandits? Not hire someone?”
“Have no fear. I’ve engaged a veteran adventurer. I’ll put out word at the Guild and assemble numbers.”
I kept smiling — don’t worry about it.
His face went slightly pale.
”…A welcome offer. Still, internal matters I would prefer to entrust to myself. Today, I’ll take the gesture alone—”
“Good, Lyle… now.”
On the Sixth’s cue, I went slightly downcast.
“I see… Then I shall subjugate them on my own initiative. I am, after all, still a Walt man! One or two bandit gangs, easily handled. Of course, I won’t bring up Lord Bentler’s name — rest assured.”
Plan change.
Bentler looked troubled.
“Disowned or not, Lyle’s a Walt… without exact information he can’t make a judgment. If he stands aside and lets the boy die, House Walt could pick a pretext. Excellent… this is fun!”
”…Lord Lyle, I’ll be direct. You may be a former heir, but you were a lord-rank house’s son. Don’t extend yourself. As an adventurer now, look for your way as an adventurer — I’ll give what modest help I can in that. But please, do not extend yourself in territorial matters.”
(Modest, eh… funding me out, maybe. Wants to send me on my way, of course.)
His reasoning was sound. But I had my own reasons, and the bandits had to go.
(Honestly, I feel bad about this.)
“Speaking of which—”
I started up again. Bentler’s brow twitched, irritated at the topic shift.
“Yes?”
“No — the gang ran rampant rather grandly, didn’t it? Crossed territory lines all the way to Darion, accumulated quite a hoard of loot… the lords they slipped past must be deeply mortified.”
”…They must be.”
His face didn’t change, but I could read the irritation.
“With neighboring lords involved, it gets messy. And he’s spread his soldiers thin — the defenses are bare.”
Not a clever bandit gang, but having raided across territory lines, the lords hadn’t been able to come after them.
The hideout being known and yet untouched had been suspicious. I’d dug — and turned up other unpleasant facts.
(Anyway — focus on the bandits. A small flash of cleverness, or just luck on their side…)
Crossing into another lord’s territory with troops gave a casus belli.
The lords the bandits had ravaged were chewing their tongues, no doubt.
(Honestly, I figured the bandit chief was sharper than this. By the info, he was lucky, not smart.)
If he’d been doing it on purpose, he’d warrant caution. But the data said otherwise.
The ancestors had quickly concluded he wasn’t that kind of opponent. They had been bandit-suppressors themselves; the feel was familiar.
A gang that had run wild across other territories, now meek in Darion. What would the other lords think?
“You seem terribly busy. This Lyle, modest as he is, shall resolve Lord Bentler’s worries. After all, neighboring lords getting the wrong idea is no fun, is it?”
Bentler sighed.
“Haa… what is it you want? Even if Lord Lyle moves, what merit is there for me? Only demerit, surely?”
(That’s not so.)
I smiled.
“Lend me troops and funds. I’ll pulverize the bandits beautifully. Only—”
“Only?”
A small pause.
“You will use my name. Naturally, the bandits’ loot is mine. From you, Lord Bentler, troops and funds.”
Conditions overwhelmingly favorable to me.
But Bentler had merit too. The bandits would have been defeated by me.
As an adventurer subjugating bandits, neighboring lords couldn’t say anything.
The mountain of loot would be mine; Bentler wouldn’t be suspected.
“‘Darion’s lord used the bandits to plunder neighboring lands for the gold’ — he doesn’t want that read! That would foul up neighbor relations!”
The Sixth, cheerful from the Jewel.
“You’ve a fair grasp of the troops I currently hold. But let me say — soldiers are my territory’s people. I can hardly lend them out.”
“I see. So funds, you can arrange?” (Of course. I know that too.)
Establish what kind of person I was. So I deliberately asked. Lyle the Dreamer.
Lending out soldiers, or military authority, was simply not done.
“Yes. Fifty gold.”
“Hm. For today’s currency, light? Lyle — push the price. Listen, the planned amount was—”
On the Sixth’s prompt, I pressed.
“Bandit subjugation, plus solving a nasty diplomatic problem. Two hundred gold sounds right, doesn’t it?”
Bentler laughed.
“Hahaha, Lord Lyle… that’s a touch underestimating me.”
He gestured to the retainer beside him with a finger.
The retainer left the room.
Likely less than what Bentler had budgeted to begin with.
For Darion’s size, not pocket change, but a payable amount.
But that was the plan.
“Good. Marks you as ignorant of the world, no formal education to speak of.”
The Sixth, satisfied.
(All I have to do is look useless. Easy, in its way… but exhausting.)
The retainer came back with a leather pouch.
Contents: two hundred gold.
“In Lord Lyle’s name, the bandits will be subjugated. I have prepared the funds. With the understanding that no formal connection exists, yes?”
“Yes! Thank you, Lord Bentler!”
“He’s likely fine with us failing. Success — neighbor problem solved. Failure — the dangerous bomb that is Lyle disappears. Possibly even the bandits move on. Two hundred gold is cheap.”
Novem, seated beside me through it all, watched in silence with a small smile.
Bentler must have seen worldly girlfriend, ignorant son, idiot heir.
(Right, next—)
“Lyle, next we gather manpower!”
The Sixth, cheerful, in my ear. While Bentler smiled and said “please don’t use my name under any circumstances,” I shook his hand — also smiling.