“I was an only child.”
In a heavy atmosphere, the Fifth had begun.
In the Jewel, the Second through the rest sat listening. Only the Fourth, awkward, was fidgeting his glasses with his fingers.
The Second —
“Nope. Nope, that’s a no.”
Face twisted, looking at the Fourth.
The Third too:
“I was the second son, but my brother died so I became head. — That, I’ve explained, yes?”
All eyes on the Fourth.
Unable to bear it, the Fourth opened his mouth:
“M-my wife was young. When she was introduced she was still in her early teens. I was in my thirties… a parent-child age gap…”
To the Fourth’s excuse, the Sixth answered back.
“So?”
The Seventh too.
“And?”
The age-gap-doesn’t-matter assembly began grilling the Fourth.
The Second, especially serious — his eldest son had died.
“More importantly — did you not consider the possibility that the Fifth might die before growing safely up? Skirmishes alone can take a life.”
The Fourth, weakly:
“No, I’m sorry, but the Third was killed in battle and His Majesty was concerned about us…”
According to the Fourth, the Third’s deeds had earned them favor in many ways. No one would have crossed House Walt frontally then, with the king’s gratitude on it.
And in the Fourth’s era, by merit, they’d been promoted to baron.
Thanks to the Third risking his life protecting His Majesty and contributing to victory, House Walt had become a hub for the surrounding lesser nobles.
The Seventh:
“Since the Third was killed, that the Fourth had no siblings can’t be helped. But that the Fifth was an only child…”
It wasn’t quite marriage-diplomacy, but with the surrounding politics, brothers and sisters would have helped. Branch families to support the newly-raised House Walt might have eased the Fifth’s situation.
“So. People called you lecherous, but in fact it was for the family.”
When I said it, the Fifth nodded.
“That’s right. I would have preferred a single wife. Easier. — Also… when your children pass thirty, can you love them all equally? Some sons I sent to harsh environments. Daughters sent as substitutes for hostages.”
The Fourth’s era had been the easy one.
The fact of His Majesty’s favor had protected House Walt.
Seeing the Fourth struggling, His Majesty had personally arranged the introduction of his wife.
But after His Majesty retired — before the Fourth’s retirement — things had gotten rough, apparently.
“Couldn’t trust a single one of them. Surrounding nobles needled us. Villages burned by bandits — or so they claimed.”
Veins stood out on the Second’s forehead.
“And you struck back, surely? Or did you let yourselves be walked over?”
The Sixth:
“In my generation we got the surroundings in order, and from there we went on the offensive.”
The Fifth’s era —
No — from the Third to the Fourth’s era, reliable retainers had been few. Even then House Fuchs had not betrayed — call it loyalty — we’ll never repay them.
The Fourth’s excuse —
“No, look… on our side there was that strange family precept and no wife to find…”
Having been bumped in rank, House Walt had needed brides from same-or-higher viscount families.
After the Fourth retired, the distance from that viscount house had grown too, apparently.
“If I’d had siblings — would have been a little different.”
Faced with the Fifth’s flat stare, the Fourth closed his mouth.
The Third:
“Unbelievable. There was still time, no? Or — was a concubine not an option? You’re a baron house, you know. Taking a second wife from a retainer family — wasn’t that on the table?”
The Fourth:
“Well — my wife would cry…”
“Don’t mess with me, you BASTARD!!”
The Fifth lunged at the Fourth. No one moved to stop it. If anything, they all seemed to think deserved it.
I knew this kind of thing only as knowledge. In my own case, when an engagement was decided, the situation had been preposterous: she’s of age, pick one from the retainers.
I’d been in no place to think about marriage anyway.
How to get my parents to look my way… that was all I’d thought about.
The Second took the floor.
“Setting aside the Fifth pummeling the Fourth — so in that generation you built ties with surrounding families. Marrying your own kin out to the neighbors, sending sons and daughters as adoptees or husbands… if the bloodline is sound, the receiving end’s pleased.”
A bride or husband of good blood, well-educated — for the surrounding retainers, that had to be welcome. Not without problems, but a real base of allies had formed, apparently.
The Sixth:
“All of them were of fine pedigree. The problem was: women from houses that had wavered, or been formally extinguished — women without personal fault. They had to be investigated and brought in… money never lasted.”
Money was spent freely, but the contents of the Fourth’s strongbox apparently endured it. How much had he hoarded.
Out of breath, the Fifth sat down. The Fourth re-set his glasses and sat down. His clothes were tattered, but he didn’t appear injured.
(Not actually corporeal, then.)
Inside the Jewel — I was here in consciousness only.
And the ancestors were, after all, memories. With one premise — that their minds had been recorded too.
(How was a Jewel like this made.)
If it were only Skills being recorded, this kind of contraption wasn’t needed. For me it lets me hear from successive heads, so fine — but a normal person would lose their mind.
I’d nearly lost mine more than once. The shame of being teased by family — how long since I’d last felt it.
“I had no love for any of them. Bear children, that was all I told them I wanted.”
A trace of sadness in the Fifth’s voice.
I’d thought him a cold man, but he too had his feelings.
And —
“And then the eldest turned delinquent, the siblings fought each other endlessly… my only solace was my pets.”
“Er — the Fifth just broke.”
I remembered something from Darion.
There’d been a rabbit-shaped monster.
When we’d gone to kill it, the one who’d shouted stop! and intervened was the Fifth. An unexpected taste, I’d thought.
The Sixth — the called-out delinquent — answered back.
“With thirty-plus brothers and sisters around me I was going to turn delinquent! And he doted on pets over his children… Lyle. Did you know?”
“Know what?”
“The Fifth kept a young kirin — a divine beast.”
The Fifth:
“Oi, don’t say kept. They were my family!”
The Third:
“Cherish your actual family first.”
I touched my chin and remembered.
Kirin — a horned, scaled horse. Also called a dragon-horse, but since they were unlike monsters, they were called divine beasts.
Before Magic Implements were created, divine beasts were every noble’s aspiration. The kirin, said to gallop the skies, had a legend: hold one and your line will flourish.
Knights had dueled over a kirin.
The Fifth, who’d had one —
“Wait — but if it was young, when I was at the manor it should still have been there, right? Divine beasts live long, I’d heard.”
A hundred, two hundred years — normal lifespan for a divine beast. The Fifth, who’d kept — no, raised — one, smiled.
“It was injured, so… I treated it, it recovered, and I released it back to the wild. The herd came to receive it… at the end, looking back at me, reluctant… I said go on, hurry, but it kept worrying about me.”
The Fifth had begun to cry. The whole room was dropping back from him.
The Sixth raged.
“Do you understand how I felt?! Expecting something from a father who raised a divine beast — then being told he just let it go! He could have presented it to the royal family! Even just keeping it!”
That rare a kirin. How useful for House Walt that would have been —
The Sixth’s view also made everyone drop back.
The Fourth, looking at the Fifth:
“You… you’re the worst.”
“YOU don’t get to say that!!”
“It’s YOUR fault!!”
Watching the Fourth and Sixth squabble, I whispered to the Seventh next to me.
“So — whose fault is this?”
”…Don’t want to say it, but some falls on the late Third. House Walt rose in history because of him, but his rise also abruptly raised our rank and our scale. Well — if you ask whose fault… everyone’s.”
Parents leaving problems for their children to solve.
A practice my predecessors had embodied.
Sad to watch — but also —
“That’s it. Every era has its problems.”
“That’s right. My era had plenty too. …You may be enjoying a quiet pace, but in House Walt terms, you’re in the middle of a major problem.”
To the Seventh’s words I tilted my head — am I?
The Second, exasperated by my obliviousness:
“Lyle, you’ve been merely thrown out, but House Walt itself is carrying the bomb that is Ceres… it’s a major problem.”
Put that way, fair. Some things I can’t see for myself.
(…But — can’t Ceres just be left alone? I’m leaving the country anyway.)
Was I being naive?
Going into the Aramsus dungeon, I’d brought Aria, Novem, and Clara.
To check how far four of us could push, we’d planned a three-day, two-night trip.
“Lyle-san, an adventurer group is following from behind.”
“Eh? Why?”
I listened — and, just as Clara said, footsteps from behind.
“They probably assume we’ll take the shortest route. We did clear B40 in under a week. It would be reasonable to assume we have a Skill for that.”
Not a pleasant feeling.
Tailing from behind, to start with, is a breach of etiquette.
Pressing them on it would just produce the excuse we happened to pick the same route.
And by tailing us, they avoid combat.
A behavior much resented in dungeons.
Aria:
“What do we do. Today is to check how far four of us can push, right? Tell them we’re without Skills?”
Clara shook her head.
“Best not to engage adventurers breaching etiquette. Worst case, they may attack.”
Adventurers killing adventurers in dungeons.
A familiar story. Some did lie in wait for adventurers returning with the spoils. — Though the ones who went deep often beat them back.
While I was minding the back, Novem raised her voice.
“Lord Lyle, footsteps from ahead.”
I grabbed the mace at my hip and looked forward. Clara was lighting the way, but in the distance only several moving shapes could be made out.
Couldn’t get a count, much less a type.
(Just losing Skills, this much anxiety.)
What magic should Novem prep, should Aria be sent ahead, or held in reserve for the finishing blow?
Even trying to decide on the fly, until the enemy closed I couldn’t.
Once the shapes resolved, I gave orders.
“Novem, blow them back with wind. Aria — once Novem casts, in! Clara, stand by.”
Orders out, but the party’s response felt slow. Each person was carrying a lot. Clara alone could only carry so much. At the same time, recovering monster materials and stones was Clara’s job.
Couldn’t have her loaded down from the start.
“W-wait!”
Aria leapt forward ahead of Novem.
“What are you doing!”
I held up a hand to stop Novem mid-cast. Sent her to guard Clara and went up front with Aria.
Aria, swinging her spear, justified herself.
“Earlier, against the same enemy, I was the one out front!”
“That was because we’d noticed too late! Just now there was time for Novem to prep magic!”
In my frustration my tone hardened. Aria’s movements slowed.
She’d felt yelled at and shrunk back. I’m not angry — no time for that — I dealt with the enemy.
If it were just fighting, fine. Fighting while issuing orders was another thing entirely.
(Planning beforehand and ordering on the spot — this different—)
Too used to it. Without Skills, the inconvenience was real.
The monster ahead carried a shield and axe that looked cut from metal plate.
A goblin — but the helmet made fighting it tedious.
I knocked it shield-and-all down the corridor with my Grown strength. Couldn’t finish it.
(A sabre would be better! But it’d be a load on a trip — left it behind… ahh, damn!)
Stifling the urge to shout, I swung the mace. — And then the spear-tip Aria swung up at an angle clipped it.
“What are you doing?!”
“Not my fault!”
She bit back, but her voice shook.
(No good. Margin gone.)
How much I’d benefited from Skills — every fight made me feel it.
We shook the tail off, found a room, and rested. We sat at oddly spaced positions.
I felt sure we used to be closer; Aria was keeping distance.
Clara approached me. The lantern’s light dimly lit the room. Novem was on watch. Aria sat with her eyes closed, tired.
“That fight just now was bad.”
”…No margin. Excuse — but my thinking was naive.”
“No, I don’t mean that. Party coordination, sure, but mainly — interpersonal.”
I tilted my head at that.
“Some problem? I apologized to Aria afterward, and since then nothing—”
I was about to say nothing, but Clara gave me a flatter look than usual.
“You don’t see it?”
”…I don’t.”
I wanted to push back, but I really didn’t see it, so I asked Clara. She looked at Novem.
“This is fundamentally a party where Lyle-san is leader.”
“Eh — that’s been the case since the start.”
She took her glasses off and began cleaning them. She continued.
“Even among ‘leader’ there are flavors. The kind that gives orders from the back. The kind that cuts in from the front. The kind that adapts mid-field. Lyle-san is the mid-field type. Can do every role; effective wherever you place him — a capable leader.”
Embarrassed by the praise, I listened. Clara continued, dry.
”…Do you understand that you do more front-line work than Aria-san? Aria-san is talented. In another two years — no, even one, with experience, she’ll grow substantially. Her dungeon movement has been improving.”
She said however, set her glasses, and looked at me seriously.
“With Lyle-san and Novem-san beside her, she feels inferior. Severely. She tries not to make mistakes and makes them anyway, and Lyle-san and Novem-san cover. — Am I needed? That’s the normal thing to think.”
“No, but that—”
“Without Lyle-san at the center, this party has already broken up. The women aren’t on good terms.”
I shook my head at that.
“Not so. They don’t even fight at the manor.”
She seemed to take that as confirmation. She told me about parties she’d worked with.
“A party I supported before — they were a say what you mean group. Where did our coordination break, how was I, let’s try a different pattern next… that was the kind of conversation during rests. Outside the dungeon they fought too. They engaged the work seriously.”
I went quiet listening to her.
A party with me at the center… yes, true. But it was also a party that didn’t function without me.
Until now, Skills had hidden that aspect. The moment I couldn’t play perfect command, the party stopped functioning.
(So the ancestors’ Skills were also blocking Aria’s growth.)
Companions who don’t decide for themselves —
Aria, used to just following my orders, had to make her own judgments now and was confused.
I’d missed it because Novem adapted.
“Lyle-san — perhaps first, talk among the group. What you can do, what you lack… seeing it from another’s view is important.”
It felt like Clara had taught me something important.
Recalling the ancestors’ last lecture, I thought this is the advice I’d wanted.