— Aria Rockward was worried.
She’d become an adventurer and joined a party — but was she really contributing as she stood?
Borrowing the Sirclay garden, she swung the spear, but her impatience kept the point from landing where she’d aimed.
The grip slid in her sweat-slick hand, and she stopped to catch her breath.
“Haa, haa… left behind again — only me.”
The party members: Lyle, one year younger, Novem, the automaton-not-yet-named Poyo-Poyo, and that made four — sort of.
These days Clara, met in Aramsus, would help if asked, and so would Miranda.
In all that, Aria alone was anxious.
She thought she was doing her job as front-line, but only she had the feeling of being left behind.
Lyle ended fights badly often enough, but he had results.
Up close it was clear.
He fired multiple Skills at once and handled them well.
She held a red Gem of her own, and yet couldn’t use it the way Lyle did.
Support-line Skills and front-line Skills are different.
Even allowing for that, on handling — Aria was clearly behind Lyle.
She could use magic, but not the difficult magic Novem used.
The Rockward family had been viscounts long ago.
To live she’d thought less about magic practice and more about how to put food on the table day to day.
She’d worked side-jobs, but her father had spent it all and nothing stayed in the house.
In the end she’d seriously considered selling her body.
Nothing you do will help.
Her father’s habitual line.
Her father — high on pride alone — had hated the idea of her becoming an adventurer.
The mere word would set him off. It had always been a struggle.
”…What am I doing.”
The frustrated Aria knew her own strength.
Front-line or back-line with magic, she couldn’t beat Lyle — or even Novem.
Unlike those two, who’d worked at martial arts and magic with everything they had, she trailed by a wide margin.
She gripped the red Gem at her neck.
The Skills stored in the Gem totaled four.
Adding her own — [Quick] — made five.
[Quick], which let her move in rapid succession, was hard on the body.
A Skill she’d worked out herself; using it wasn’t a problem. But compared to the other Skills, that was the qualifier.
Strengthen the body, harden the weapon, fire a powerful strike, send a slash flying.
Looking at the others — a lineup any front-line adventurer would envy.
An adventurer she’d known in Darion had said:
“Skill combinations, huh.”
The Gem, for better or worse, only stored Skills, and storing the Skills you wanted into it was a real chore.
In that case a Skill-imbued Magic Implement was a better choice.
The combinations you needed — say, raise your attack and lower the enemy’s defense — those two together let you down a foe efficiently.
You raise your damage and reduce theirs.
The gap widens.
But the Gem had a major drawback.
“Can’t use Magic Implements, and as I am now can’t afford to buy any… in the end, this is the one I have to learn to use.”
Looking at the red Gem, Aria sighed.
Sweat had plastered her clothes to her body; resting, she felt the heat ease a bit.
But now the soaked clothes were unpleasant to wear.
The wall was high — no one could peek in from outside — so Aria took her top off.
“Even my underwear’s soaked.”
The clothes had absorbed enough sweat to wring out.
Spear in hand, she made for the room.
She walked toward the door from the garden, and Poyo-Poyo came out carrying a basket.
“My — training? Whoa, don’t come near, sweat will splatter. Master’s important laundry is in here.”
Foul-mouthed Poyo-Poyo treated Lyle as Master; with everyone else, her manner was uniform.
Novem alone was the exception.
”…Your attitude with Lyle and with the rest of us is different.”
Poyo-Poyo, deadpan:
“And? I was activated to serve Master. Sorry, Aria-san — you’re a side dish, I suppose? Ah, but… if Master tells me to give my life serving Aria-san, I’m prepared to do so. However, my loyalty is solely toward that chicken-bastard—”
Aria, exasperated by the long-winded answer, looked at her flatly:
“Enough. — Anyway, Lyle — why are there only girls around him…”
She remembered something from before Aramsus.
On a beautiful moonlit night, Lyle’s roundabout confession — “the moon’s shining” — came back, and her face went red.
To which Poyo-Poyo:
“Could you move? You’re cutting into hanging-time. — And, you reek of sweat. Take a bath.”
Aria looked at her.
”…I don’t like you.”
Poyo-Poyo returned the favor:
“What a coincidence. I have no interest in anyone but chicken-bastard. — Oh, except for that woman!”
Not a coincidence — told outright she wasn’t of interest — Aria let her pass and entered the manor behind her.
A strange automaton, but she did every bit of housework perfectly.
If asked to match her, Aria would have said impossible.
“Really — why did he activate this one… idiot.”
Watching Poyo-Poyo hang laundry outside, Aria muttered to herself.
I’d come to the library and was reading a book on adventurers.
In particular, on party formation.
”…To put six in combat, you need a support layer of the same size or bigger.”
To clear the Aramsus dungeon, I was thinking through methods that didn’t lean on Skills.
The first idea was the simple, most-by-the-book one: numbers.
But that required gathering trustworthy people.
I’d come to Aramsus to find companions to begin with.
Since that hadn’t been going well, this approach would take too long — easy call.
“Time’s fine, but the problem is—”
— that I couldn’t use Skills during that time.
If you don’t have Skills, fine, move like you don’t.
But if you can no longer rely on what you’d been leaning on, you need new strength.
Training myself is a given; but as a party we also need the technical skills for party operation.
“Positioning inside dungeons — scouting, trap detection and disarming, security… the Fifth’s and Sixth’s Skills are absurdly convenient.”
The moment those Skills, which had been covering all that, dropped out, things became inconvenient at once.
The Second:
“Those two paired up are extreme. Even alone they’re useful, but as a pair — manifested perfectly.”
Skills differ from person to person.
Even twins won’t necessarily manifest the same Skill.
A person’s growth and desires factor in — that’s what the books said.
Manifesting one on purpose is very hard.
“To cover that, I need specialists… and learning the skills myself is impossible.”
The learning isn’t the issue.
I think I could, given time, and I actually could — but acquiring the technique, plus the surrounding ones, would run into years.
If possible I don’t want to spend that long.
Once a party gelled in Aramsus, I’d been thinking of heading to the free city called the city of adventurers, [Beim].
Because of Ceres — the sister the First called a monster — staying long anywhere was risky.
(That whimsical Ceres — when she might turn her attention this way… no, she might have forgotten about me.)
For freewheeling Ceres, predicting her next move was impossible.
Back when I’d been on good terms with our parents…
(Wait — what kind of girl was Ceres?)
Memory begins at age ten.
I’d dealt with Ceres as her older brother. That much I was sure of. No memory of doing anything that ought to be resented.
Suddenly the house had begun to revolve around her —
I shook my head. Stopped that line of thought.
(Is it her Skill? Or something else… no, drop it for now.)
Returning my eyes to the book, I went to work imagining a new shape for the party that didn’t rely on Skills.
— Novem was reviewing the room Shannon had cleaned.
“Hmm — her eyes are genuinely good, then. Cleaned thoroughly. I’ll have to praise her later.”
She’d hate that, Novem thought. As she went to leave, a voice came.
She’d known someone was approaching with their presence concealed, so she wasn’t surprised.
— Miranda.
“Oh — Shannon?”
“She’s in the garden with Poyo-Poyo-san, bringing in the laundry. Welcome back, Miranda-san.”
Novem smiled. Miranda smiled back.
“I see. Wanted to see her at work — too bad.”
Novem had sensed Miranda was masking her presence intentionally. And she knew it wasn’t to startle Shannon.
She knew Novem was in here, and came toward her.
”…You wanted something with me?”
When Novem moved to the topic, Miranda’s expression shifted.
A serious face. Two short daggers tucked behind her hips under the academy uniform —
Wary, plenty wary. Novem treated her as usual.
“There’s something I want to ask.”
“To ask, yes? I have something too.”
A taut atmosphere built between them; both seemed indifferent to it. Either of them moving first would have started combat in Shannon’s room.
What Miranda wanted to ask: Novem herself.
“Shannon said — that you don’t seem like a human. — But it’s strange, isn’t it. You don’t seem like an automaton either. The professor at our school activated those, and that’s only just now news. And you’ve been with Lyle for a long time…”
The shift from Lyle-kun to Lyle — Novem noted Miranda’s change with pleasure.
To build Lyle a true harem, holding Miranda was something she’d absolutely wanted.
“I am Novem of House Fuchs. Nothing more, nothing less. Being feared… it’s been that way for a long time — I don’t think on it much.”
Watching Novem tilt her head, Miranda, leaning against the doorframe, just said “I see.”
(Still on guard, then.)
And Novem asked what she’d wanted to.
“My family — House Fuchs — has long ties to House Walt. Through that I knew, but — House Sirclay has connections to House Walt as well, doesn’t it? You must have met members of House Walt at Central more than once?”
Members of House Walt — Ceres.
As far as Novem knew, Lyle had been treated as next-head equivalent up until around age ten, then Ceres had been.
A beautiful daughter of House Walt — that had been a rumor in the social scene.
House Walt now held considerable power.
If they were called to Central’s gatherings, related houses making contact would be natural.
“As if you didn’t know… yes, I knew of Lyle. I was surprised he was with Aria — but it’s true, I was a little curious.”
Novem highly rated Miranda as a person who’d met Ceres and not been charmed.
“I see. You could have reported to your family — why didn’t you?”
Miranda raised both hands — surrender.
“If I’d moved that way, I figured you’d kill both me and Shannon.”
Novem thought what a misunderstanding, and corrected her.
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’d simply have left. — Even so, after all she did, you cherish your little sister.”
Miranda’s gaze dropped slightly.
“Shannon, unable to see — she got pretty harsh treatment, you know… as family who knew, I want to protect her. I know she resents me — but that’s just because that woman favored me.”
That woman was surely Ceres. Novem murmured:
“You’re kind.”
“Sisters, you know. Well — the second and third sisters and I don’t get along.”
It seemed Miranda’s sisters had complicated circumstances. From the fact that the eldest, Miranda, was in a place like this, Novem had been able to faintly grasp that.
”…As long as you don’t lay a hand on Lord Lyle, I’ll do nothing. — Oh, but… I won’t stop you from becoming his lover. I heard it was love at first sight.”
Hearing that, Miranda burst out.
“Y-you were awake!”
Novem smiled placidly; Miranda’s face went red and she walked off. Whether from anger or otherwise, her strides were broader than usual, and her footsteps were deliberately loud.
More human emotion than before.
Miranda had carried something like a good-natured-only impression; Novem preferred this Miranda.
“A bit envious.”
Saying it, Novem also left Shannon’s room.
After reading at the library, I was walking down a street in Aramsus.
I’d come up with a few party-strengthening ideas. Whether they’d come together as plans was what I’d discuss with Novem, the others, and the ancestors when I got back.
My head felt heavy from too much thinking — for a refresher I was walking home on foot.
Many academy students; even ordinary citizens walking the streets gave a different impression than elsewhere.
True to academic city — knowledge and the like were valued; people seemed cultured.
That said, there was a real tendency to look down on the uneducated.
On the street —
“You don’t even know that? A child would know.”
“W-what did you say!”
The bulk of arguments were of this kind. Many were knowledge-flexing, demeaning anyone seen as less learned.
An interesting place — but if you asked whether I’d want to live here forever, I’d hesitate.
The city itself was cluttered, and if I could choose, I’d build a house and live somewhere quiet.
A wife, kids —
(Huh — can’t picture it.)
Story happy endings tended to involve the hero being celebrated, or a quiet life with a partner.
I admired the latter — but I couldn’t picture it at all.
(For now, just think about clearing B30.)
Imagination for that would come naturally in time, I told myself, and kept walking.
The good thing about Aramsus was the relative lack of rough types. The flip side: very few places to play.
No gambling venues, but bookstores and private academies and dojos were abundant — entertainment was sparse.
Street performance was banned, and aside from festivals, those pleasures were rare.
Apparently the city’s nightlife was listening to songs and drinking at the taverns. Darion had that too.
Put bluntly: a large city, but few enjoyable places.
“No wonder adventurers keep leaving. Granted, some adventurers like a place like this… no places to spend money, though.”
A paradise for those who wanted to sharpen themselves; a dull city for adventurers of some power.
That was the academic city of Aramsus.
But at the same time —
“Come to think of it, I don’t really have hobbies.”
I’d worked swordsmanship and magic because I needed them.
Books were for knowledge. Well, I liked reading — but beyond that, I noticed I had no hobbies.
A book had said: a person needs a hobby.
I muttered on the quieter side of the street.
“Maybe I should find a hobby.”
The Fourth:
“From outside, womanizing looks like your hobby. Well — having a hobby is good. I loved counting the gold I’d stored in the strongbox.”
Is that a hobby? While I was thinking it, the Fifth:
”…The Fourth’s money — I spent the lot bringing in a concubine.”
For some reason the Fifth said it like got him. Rare emotional display, but —
“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU DO!!”
Money-loving Fourth blew up.
(Used to be I’d worry about mana even with this; lately, not at all.)
Remembering the me who used to collapse instantly, I felt I’d rather not measure my growth by this.
Voices from the Jewel.
“SHUT IT!! Sorting out the mess you left took the lot! When I took the headship we had screaming matches over it too!”
The Sixth moved to settle the Fifth.
The wild-looking Sixth was, somehow, weak to the Fifth.
“Calm down, Fifth. Explain it slowly and he’ll get it.”
The Seventh:
“Ah, that matter. Yes, the Fourth’s mess, that. The Third’s involved too, but yelling at a dead man does no good.”
The Third spoke up.
”…Did I do something?”
The Fifth, low:
“You didn’t. The fact you didn’t made it the disaster it was. Because of which I had to—”
Apparently House Walt had its own inter-generational baggage.
(What happened.)
A little curious, I decided to ask once I got home.