(This person… what kind of person is Aria?)
I was facing Aria — tears running, spear raised.
What I knew: she was the daughter of the head of House Rockward. Lived in Darion with her father, just the two of them. She’d thought their heirloom red Gem stolen and reached out to her family’s former retainer, Zelphy.
I’d been so spectacularly ignorant of her.
I hadn’t actively talked.
With Novem around, I’d naturally kept distance even at home.
I’d been avoiding her, maybe.
“Mocking me… I… I too…”
She had things to say. She had to.
I — hadn’t even—.
I raised the sabre and breathed once, deep.
I looked at the girl in front of me, sword ready.
She was tired. Openings everywhere. Sweating heavily. From Skill over-use, both her stamina and mana were at the line.
(Why did I… do to Aria what was done to me?)
I’d wanted someone to look at me.
I’d wanted someone to listen.
And yet I’d treated Aria as something pushed on me, and avoided her. She must have had things she wanted to say too.
(That’s why the ancestors wanted me to notice.)
I hadn’t been able to see why they’d defended her.
I had a small piece of it now.
I — I myself — was on the verge of becoming Ceres to Aria.
”…This time I’m going for real.”
She looked surprised. Then, tears flowing, serious face, she nodded once.
Novem and Zelphy watching looked slightly relieved.
(Knowing she can’t win, she still comes at it. Wanting to be acknowledged… unable to forgive, frustrated.)
I waited for her breathing to settle, then stepped in.
I closed distance. To prevent her spear being grabbed, she swept it horizontally.
I kicked the ground and rose; her swing carried through, she looked up at me. I brought the sabre down. She caught it across the spear shaft.
But the strength gap forced her to one knee on the ground.
Steel grinding. I bore down harder.
“You have a strength gap; why aren’t you using the Skill that closes it?”
Her face twisted in frustration.
That was the answer.
“You can’t use it? Even the bandit boss handled it better.”
I pulled the sabre back, kicked the spear; she rolled across the ground. Got back up — dirty.
Freed, she reset her stance and thrust at me again. Slower now than even at the fight’s start.
I dodged the thrust, closed, tapped her stomach with the sabre’s pommel — light.
A real strike would’ve been dangerous.
She doubled over, breath forced out, staggered away.
”…Why not magic? I’m not using mine.”
I provoked. Aria was past that — pale, sweating.
But the eyes still had light.
(She’s decided something.)
The skill gap was obvious. Still, Aria didn’t drop the spear.
Watching, the ancestors — silent up to now — spoke up.
Not advice, exactly.
The First.
“Watch this, Lyle. This is the moment a Skill is born. Born from strong will, talent, feelings — humanity’s gift, a weapon.”
Skills had their lore.
To humanity — weak, lacking the means to fight monsters — a god’s gift.
The Skill manifesting differed person to person.
A possibility, granted by the divine, for fighting monsters.
That was what a Skill was — supposedly.
The red Gem at Aria’s chest began to shine.
”…A Skill’s birth, then.”
Aria’s red Gem favored direct-combat Skills.
The blue Jewel’s heads of House Walt had borne support-type Skills; Aria’s line bore front-line Skills.
“With THIS!”
She drove forward — speed beyond what I’d seen.
I dodged the thrust; the spear came at me sideways instantly.
The Fourth.
“Similar to my Skill. But this one is temporary, in-combat acceleration.”
Similar but distinct. Instantaneous bursts, more attacks per second than before.
I couldn’t dodge in time; I drew the spare sabre and parried.
Metal on metal, sparks.
But her assault didn’t stop.
“Not yet!”
Thrust, sweep, slash.
I evaded, parried, defending only. One mistake and I lost — that switch had flipped in a heartbeat.
The Second.
“Front-line Skills tend to be explosive like this. Genuinely a problem.”
A spear came from the right; I dodged. Immediately, one from the left. Continuous; I went dual-blade defense.
Sparks. My new sabres were chipping.
But at the same time, I was sure the match was decided.
“It’s over.”
I dropped my stance and looked down at Aria, panting in front of me.
She’d dropped to the ground. Spear stuck into the dirt, leaning on it as a cane to stay up.
Every recent attack had been light on impact.
A temporary speed boost, continuous attack — that was the Skill. Aria’s Skill.
Her legs wouldn’t hold; her body trembled. She’d over-used her freshly born Skill.
I lifted the sabre — the edge was ruined.
(Repair or buy again.)
I stuck it in the ground and walked over to her. The ground around us, leveled before, was torn up.
Overdid it. I’d come back later with tools.
But right now—
“That was an incredible Skill. I was surprised.”
I said it. Aria looked up.
”…I was never going to win. I knew. I knew I was below you! But it’s frustrating, isn’t it. After finally being free, I still can’t be useful… I never wanted to go back to that life. I wanted to be able to live on my own.”
She cried. I didn’t know what to say.
I realized again how little I knew about Aria.
Novem ran up and cast a healing spell. Light wrapped Aria; her crying subsided, and she nearly fell — going unconscious. Zelphy caught her.
”…Not the cleanest method, that.”
A pointed look. I scratched my cheek and weighed how to respond. Gave up.
“Lord Lyle, could you help carry Aria-san? The toll on her body and mana is heavier than it looks. I want her resting.”
Novem, businesslike as always. I approached Aria.
Back-carry, or pick up—.
From the First on down, in order—
“Princess-carry.”
“Just back-carry.”
“Sling her over a shoulder!”
“Lift her gently and put her straight to bed.”
“She’s unconscious, it doesn’t matter.”
“Have Zelphy help. Side-by-side support.”
“You can lay her right on the bed — pick her up.”
No consensus.
These people are free, was the thought as I scooped Aria up.
Zelphy whistled, teasing.
Novem smiled.
“I’m a little jealous.”
She walked ahead of me, started preparing the house to receive Aria.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
Night.
In the yard, doing some training. The Third’s voice.
“You hear it sometimes — people end up doing the same things as those they hate, or growing similar.”
Aria was in bed. We hadn’t gone out — the day rolled into a rest day.
I swung two weighted wooden swords as I listened.
“You’re saying I was being like Ceres. I noticed during the fight.”
I swung the swords through.
“You noticed? But the thing I really wanted you to notice was the feeling.”
The feeling.
I knew what he meant. I lacked urgency.
Panic and wheel-spinning like Aria, I wouldn’t recommend. But — going through life without any feeling in it — that was a problem too.
“It’s not like being an adventurer is the only way to live, you know!”
I swung the two wooden swords, attacking an imagined opponent. The image dodged everything I had. Every angle.
My breath came up fast.
No matter how I refined the technique, the fear of pointing a blade at someone you couldn’t reach surfaced again.
I dropped the swords, put a hand to my chest to settle the breathing.
“Who were you swinging at? Want me to guess?”
”…Skip. About what you were saying.”
The Third — Right, yes! — continued.
“That’s it. Feeling. Yes. …Lyle, your Skill has manifested. With us near the blue Gem, it’s almost certainly a support type. But it’s not visible yet, possibly because of feeling.”
“My Skill.”
That it had manifested wasn’t in doubt. The ancestors said the Jewel was reacting.
But what kind of Skill was unknown.
“A Skill is heavily shaped by personal emotion. Given Lyle as you are, of course the Skill isn’t activating.”
From the typically easygoing Third. I agreed.
Today’s fight with Aria had taught me.
Strong feeling shapes a Skill.
Maybe I didn’t have enough feeling right now. Since the moment I’d learned I couldn’t have what I’d been chasing, there’d been something hollow at the center of me.
I’d tried to force that hole closed and hadn’t been able to.
“I understand the lack of drive. But right now, you carry Novem-chan and — like it or not — Aria-chan’s lives.”
Like it or not. Truer than I’d want.
I hadn’t said I’d take her in. The decision was made over my head.
Arbitrary. Genuinely arbitrary.
And yet Novem had agreed.
“Am I wrong? Wanting to live quietly with Novem — is that wrong?”
The Third answered, breezy as ever.
“That, only Lyle decides. We don’t have a vote. If you’re unhappy with the situation, and our directions decide everything from here… will Lyle be satisfied with that?”
Satisfied — perhaps.
For an instant I thought that would be easier.
The Third, as if reading me.
“Going with the flow is easy. I was the same. Called righteous general, loyal vassal, when in fact I had no such intention… troublesome, really.”
Yes — the Third’s public image and the actual person were on different planets.
I retrieved the wooden swords and sat on a nearby rock.
”…Goal not decided yet? Or — really, you and Novem off somewhere quietly?”
I was getting unsure.
After watching Aria be that desperate, could I really discard her?
I’d taken her in as a reward. Could I throw her out now and expect her to make it?
More questions piling up.
The Sixth, then.
“Plenty to brood on. Brood as much as you want. Later you’ll think — why was I worrying about that.”
Talk about your lifetime—.
I looked up. The stars were clean.
◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇
Next day.
Aria was awake but couldn’t move.
Forcing her new Skill had cost her body and mana. Novem had to nurse her.
Which meant I was the only one who could go out.
At the Guild counter, Zelphy and I picked through requests.
Every one was manual labor. Maybe Zelphy’s idea of payback — the bench had a row of harsh-looking jobs.
“Pick whatever you like. Going to be solo work for a while.”
I’d acted unilaterally and caused Aria to be out of the party for several days. Fair.
Zelphy, smirking, lining up the worst options. I had no reply.
Hawkins threw me a rope.
“Zelphy, you’re an instructor. Picking jobs out of personal feeling is not really—”
She fired back.
“That’s harsh, sir. As if I’d pick hard jobs out of spite. I’m picking hard jobs for Lyle’s benefit.”
Theater. Hawkins looked exasperated.
I picked the harshest-looking job on the bench.
Her eyebrow ticked.
”…No grumbling today, huh.”
She’d remembered my earlier complaints about odd jobs.
I signed in silence and handed it to Hawkins.
“I have two people to keep alive. Can’t not work.”
“Listen to you. The lord’s funds are still sitting there.”
I waved and left.
◇
At the counter after Lyle had gone—.
“Quite the toughening up. When he first came in, he didn’t know up from down.”
Hawkins remembered the first day.
Zelphy leaned on the counter, chin in her hand.
“Got close as a noble brat to keep an eye on — surprised when his real backstory turned up. Either way, toughening up’s a good thing. He’s not a noble anymore.”
Hawkins processed the form, then smiled at her — a thought.
“He reminds me of someone. You complained every time you took a job.”
“Back then I was clueless! At home, housework and etiquette, the world’s just different.”
A fallen noble becoming an adventurer hits hard.
The old values and common sense didn’t transfer.
“I understand the difficulty. Sometimes adventurers get pulled into noble houses, and they have a hard time with etiquette.”
Different worlds.
”…I just hope Lady Aria does all right.”
Zelphy, the genuine line.
Hawkins, sorting papers.
“Civilians becoming adventurers have a rough time too — and lose their lives. I can’t say she’s safe. But — Lyle might be able to do something.”
A high evaluation. Zelphy looked at him with doubt.
“Lyle? His Darion reputation is at the floor.”
Lyle had done plenty of deadbeat things during the bandit subjugation. His reputation had tanked accordingly. For a Darion-based adventurer, that’s fatal.
“He did get funds out of the lord and assemble a hundred-plus people to subjugate the gang. Mind, what he was thinking, I don’t know.”
Hawkins’s confusion was fair.
No drive, leaning on Novem in the party. Yet when bandits appeared, he moved himself and resolved it.
While they chatted, a man Zelphy knew showed up at the middle-aged-woman’s adjacent counter and got processed fast. Then turned.
“Hey, Zelphy!”
A mid-aged man, scar on his face. Zelphy made a face.
“Still alive? Why don’t you retire.”
The man laughed; behind him, younger adventurers looked uncomfortable.
“You instructing too?”
He nodded.
“Yeah. Promising young ones from Darion. Heading out a little to put some experience in them.”
A more experienced adventurer than Zelphy. They’d worked together a few times. She looked envious.
“Going well, then. Good.”
He smirked.
“Heard about you, by the way. Babysitting some noble brat. Tough luck, Zelphy-chan.”
Chan — a vein popped on Zelphy’s forehead. Hawkins cleared his throat.
The man put up both hands. Zelphy clicked her tongue.
“No private fights in the Guild, please. And as adventurers, don’t trouble others. You’re both instructors — exemplary behavior, please.”
Hawkins sighed. The man laughed.
“Don’t be so stiff, sir. My bad too. Adventurers giving each other a hard time — it’s a kind of bonding.”
Zelphy glared, then left the counter. Probably to go check on Lyle.
“Honestly. Heading further out, is it? A bit early.”
He looked at the young party the veteran was instructing.
A five-person team — balanced at a glance.
Three front-liners, a back-line bow-hunter, and a sorcerer with a staff.
“I’m not built for slow-and-steady. Want to get them earning faster.”
A different type of adventurer from Zelphy, but he cared about the young ones. Instructors were generally chosen for that quality.
Zelphy too, complaints aside, was serious about the work.
“Right. Be careful. The important thing is to come back alive.”
Hawkins’s advice. The veteran led the group out.
In the empty counter area, Hawkins looked at the next one.
A long line for the young, pretty receptionist in the back.
Almost all young men.
Beside her, the mid-aged woman processed jobs at speed. Mid-tier adventurers, who liked the fast turnaround, also had a line.
Both had lines, but the flow was different.
The pretty one’s line moved slowly — you could hear complaints.
The middle-aged one’s was quiet, fast.
And yet—
“Today too, no one comes to my counter…”
— Hawkins sighed.