—The Kingdom of Jeanpear.
Having secured their promise of cooperation there, Novem and the others were in talks with Jule.
How many troops they could field was one concern, but the biggest question was whether Jeanpear's soldiers could fight on flat terrain.
Jeanpear's soldiers were accustomed to mountain warfare in their many ranges, and to naval combat at sea. They excelled in regions with unusual geography. That was precisely why Banseim had thrown in multiples of their own force when invading Jeanpear—and still lost, time and again.
They bled troops just crossing the mountains, and even after getting over them, the stark differences in climate and terrain left many soldiers in poor condition.
But this time, the arrangement was reversed—they would be sending troops out from Jeanpear.
Novem, Miranda, and Jule—who had his guard close at hand—chatted over tea.
"Sorry about that. All the back-and-forth ate up quite a bit of time. In the end, we've agreed to cooperate. That said, the maximum number of troops we can deploy is fifty thousand. Going beyond that would be tough. We simply don't have enough time."
Supplies, equipment, and training—just gathering bodies wasn't enough. Fifty thousand was likely the upper limit of what Jeanpear could effectively operate.
Novem addressed Jule.
"That's more than I expected. Forgive me, but I had estimated Jeanpear could field around thirty thousand."
In their past battles against Banseim, Jeanpear had defended with fifty to sixty thousand. So Novem had assumed the most they could spare would be thirty to forty thousand. It was a land rich in resources, if short on flat ground.
Once upon a time, even Banseim had coveted it—Jeanpear had ports and had thrived through trade. For sealess Banseim, Jeanpear was territory they desperately wanted.
And for years, Jeanpear had turned them back. That was the kingdom in a nutshell. However, in recent times they had not been the ones to initiate conflict. Jeanpear was a nation that defended but never aggressively pushed outward. Novem believed this was less about domestic satisfaction and more about anxiety over the consequences of going on the offensive.
Jule didn't try to hide anything, sipping his tea as he spoke.
"Banseim's been acting ominous, you see. We were marshaling our forces. Ideally, we'd have taken more time and assembled a hundred thousand, but…"
Miranda's gaze sharpened.
"I'm not sure that's a number you could sustain, though?"
Jule laughed and remarked something along the lines of "Quite sharp," at Miranda's assessment based on the kingdom's scale.
"We need the plains too, you know. Banseim being devastated by Ceres and the surrounding nations banding together... that much I predicted. Though I didn't expect things to move this quickly."
Novem listened to Jule's words and became convinced that by this point, they had already been marshaling their forces with the aim of carving away Banseim's territory.
"Ten thousand is certainly a large number. However, Jumpear's true objective—"
"—was territorial expansion. And securing a voice in affairs after Banseim's defeat. I'll leave the details of that to your leader. The price for our cooperation is territory and political influence going forward."
Miranda nodded.
"That makes sense. But aren't you concerned about fighting on flat ground?"
Jule nodded without hiding it.
"Of course. If we fight in the mountains, I don't believe we'd lose. I'm confident we could take on three times our numbers, even five. The mountains are a fortress to us. But on open plains, yes, there is cause for concern. That's exactly why we've been increasing our soldiers and training them. We won't be a burden."
Jumpear's soldiers, who roam freely through the mountains, possess tremendous physical endurance and strong legs. But they couldn't count on always fighting in their preferred terrain.
Moreover, because of the unique environment, horses were scarce. They had no cavalry units and relied primarily on infantry. That said, the strength of their infantry was beyond question.
Novem compiled the intelligence on their forces and addressed Jule.
"Understood. Then, next is the matter of command structure. This is one thing we cannot yield on. We need you to recognize Lord Lyle—Lyle Walt as supreme commander."
Jule nodded, but raised one finger to set a single condition.
"That's perfectly fine. We can hardly refuse when the Cartavus has already been recognized by the four-nation alliance. But would you allow me to put forward one condition?"
Miranda, still wary.
"What condition?"
Jule said with a smile—
"I'd like to have a drink with this Lyle Walt. I heard about him and became rather interested. Surely that's not too much to ask?"
Novem considered for a moment, then accepted Jule's condition—
—Novem and Miranda had been checking the luggage that May would carry.
A letter detailing the inner workings of Jampaer. And, dipping a pen into the bottle of liquid that looked like water, she proceeded to write something on the paper. The characters dried almost immediately and became unreadable.
Once she confirmed this, Novem folded the letter and placed it among the luggage.
Near May, who was in the form of a Kirin, Eva tilted her head in puzzlement.
"Hey, is that really necessary? Wouldn't it be faster to just pass a message through these children?"
The liquid was something akin to water infused with magical power. Having written invisible text with it, Novem explained to Eva.
"This is a preparatory move. Besides, I need to confirm that it actually works properly."
Valkyrie Number One, who had been accompanying Novem and the others, looked at the letter with a frustrated expression. Number One was the only one besides Monica with blonde twin-tails. The difference was that Number One's chest was considerably more modest.
"Damn it, we're far more useful than some letter..."
Miranda was also writing something with special ink on a blank sheet of paper. May tucked it into the pouch hanging around her neck.
"If it's something important, just bear with it. Also, did you tell Lyle that May would be heading there?"
Number One struck a pose, then spoke in a monotone.
"Rest assured. We have already entered Fonbeau, and it appears the hostage under the border count's watch has been secured and preparations for negotiations are complete. I have also relayed the meeting location."
May shook her head slightly.
"No, once we get close enough, I'll be able to pick up on the reaction, you know? I can just search for the reaction of the Jewel that Lyle has."
Novem lowered her gaze just a little when May mentioned the Jewel.
(Why... why do the Successive Heads keep rejecting me? I want to meet them...)
When Novem judged after a moment that there must be some meaning behind it, she raised her head and set about her preparations—.
We crossed from Banseim into Fonbeau and entered a town near the border, where we made contact with the lord overseeing the frontier.
Cartafus, the Four-Country Alliance, and several letters of introduction—all in order to request an audience with the King of Fonbeau.
Under the lord's watchful eye, we spent several days in the town, awaiting a reply.
I gazed out at the townscape visible from the lord's castle, watching from the room I'd been given, and murmured to myself.
"The Margrave's territory was like this too, but this place is somewhat similar as well."
Atmosphere — that was probably the right word for it. The Margrave's territory and this border town in Fonbeau shared a similar feel.
It was different from my hometown and from Central, yet it had that same kind of atmosphere. Many of the buildings resembled each other. Not everything was alike, but that was the impression I got.
That was when the Seventh Generation offered an explanation.
*"Because the ruler changed doesn't mean everything changes. There are many things that stay the same even over decades. Let's see... fifty years, a hundred years, and it might gradually take on the color of Banseim, though."*
The Third Generation held a similar opinion.
*"They seized the territory from Fonbeau, so of course it looks similar. Just because the ruler or the governing authority changed doesn't mean everything changes overnight. Push too hard and you'll face a lot of backlash."*
The Fifth Generation spoke in a nostalgic tone.
*"Exactly. Each land has its own customs, you might say — all sorts of unwritten rules. There are reasons you can't just force changes, and it's a difficult thing to do."*
Mireia shared her own experience.
*"When I married into my husband's family, all sorts of rules inside the estate were different, and it gave me trouble. My memories of it are hazy, but my mother-in-law told me all kinds of things. 'Country folk are always like this,' she'd say. About my appearance, too, she had plenty to say..."*
The Seventh Generation chuckled.
*"She did say things like that, didn't she? I knew how it would end, so I didn't say anything, but it concluded in a manner very befitting of my aunt. ...It really was a most fitting conclusion, though."*
I wanted to ask what that conclusion had been. But something told me I probably shouldn't, so I kept my thoughts to myself.
A knock came at my door, and Monica and the others entered the room. I had already confirmed who was approaching using my Skills, so I didn't say anything in particular.
Monica had come to deliver a report from the Valkyries.
"Chicken, it looks like May is heading this way. She's supposedly prepared a letter to confirm that other matter as well."
Every gaze in the room turned to Shannon, who was seated on the sofa. Shannon was reaching for the baked treats on the table.
Aria looked worried.
"Shannon, you can read and write, right?"
Clara looked slightly anxious.
"She has her worries, of course, but she's been incredibly diligent lately. So I think you can trust her."
It was her usual behavior that made me uneasy now. I turned my gaze to Shannon.
"Shannon, I'm counting on you. Don't let me down."
Shannon looked around at everyone in the room, then puffed out her cheeks.
"Well then, you should trust me more!"
This was before an important plan. Shannon's abilities would be absolutely essential. Just then, the lord himself paid a visit to the room. The way he looked at me was rather complicated. I suppose that was inevitable, given I was a member of House Walt, the archenemy of Fonbeau.
"I've made contact with the envoys. They'll see you right away. I can have a carriage prepared, but... shall I?"
Since we didn't own any cargo wagons or carriages, the lord was being considerate. However, he also seemed wary of the fact that our luggage was suspiciously light for people who supposedly had none of those things.
I declined with a smile.
"Thank you very much. Your thoughtfulness alone is enough. Just having the travel permits and documents prepared would be plenty."
The lord nodded.
"...Very well. I'll have them prepared at once."
Perhaps he didn't much want to converse with me, because the lord left the room shortly after.
Inside the Jewel.
Traveling toward Fonbeau's capital city.
Moving along the highway in a Porter inevitably drew attention. Word of the Porter had spread at least to the level of rumors even within Fonbeau. But no one had ever seen the real thing — much like in Banseim.
While dozing in the Porter's cargo bed, I shifted my consciousness into the Jewel.
Today, I was viewing the memories of the Fifth Generation.
In the era when the Fifth Generation had elevated House Walt to a barony. In the mansion's study, the Fifth Generation sat in a chair, looking at four women lined up on the other side of the desk.
Standing beside the Fifth Generation was his legal wife, her back ramrod straight.
The Fifth Generation was scratching his cheek with a fingertip.
"...There's a limit to how many children one woman can bear. Ten at most, if you're lucky, but frankly, it wasn't enough. House Walt has no branch families, and no vassals bound by kinship ties either."
The solution, simply put, was to increase the number of women bearing children. The Fifth Generation's conclusion, though fraught with its own problems, was a necessary step to break through the status quo.
"I didn't have time to be sentimental. At that point, I intended to crush the surrounding lords in my own generation. I made her accept it too... Looking back now, I should have searched for a different approach."
The woman the Fifth Generation was looking at was his legal wife. She and Fredericks had met through an arranged introduction and married.
The Fifth Generation at that time seemed to have lost the person he loved and was at his wit's end in more ways than one. Having sworn vengeance, he had thrown himself into everything in order to consolidate his territory efficiently. The Fifth Generation, who laid the military foundations of House Walt, also personally fought against the forces of lords who called themselves bandits, steadily solidifying the groundwork for warfare.
In other words, he had no room to breathe. His gaze was no longer the gentle one from his childhood—it was sharp, with dark circles under his eyes. The cold impression he gave off was far stronger.
That Fifth Generation—Fredericks—opened his mouth before the four women.
"The heir will be chosen from this woman's children. What I ask of you is to bear children—it doesn't matter whether they're boys or girls. Once they're born and educated, I'll put them to use in solidifying our hold on the surrounding regions."
A terrible thing to say. If someone asked me to say something like that to Novem and the others, I'd refuse.
But the women nodded. When I turned my gaze toward the Fifth Generation, expecting him to offer some explanation, he was scratching his head vigorously. Perhaps he was embarrassed.
"...The Fourth Generation had accumulated a fortune. So I used that to seek out talented women far and wide. Thanks to that, I got branded a womanizer, but I didn't care at the time. The backgrounds of these four varied—some from Court Nobility, some from Landed Nobility—but what they had in common was a lack of money. For various reasons, I sought out families in that kind of situation and found accomplished daughters among them. Well, put bluntly, it was human trafficking."
A relationship where both sides had given up on a happy marriage—it was a lonely sight. The four women seemed to understand this too, asking for little.
However, when the scene shifted, it wasn't quite the same.
One of the concubines was showing Fredericks a letter from her family. Facing the visibly cowed woman, Fredericks read the contents of the letter.
"...They want me to attend a House Walt event as well? Our relationship is already known, isn't it? Would it be enough for the two of us to show up together?"
The woman had her head bowed, but she looked up in surprise at Fredericks' reaction.
"Y-yes! It seems my family wants to demonstrate that they have ties to House Walt. That is... they'd like to use House Walt's military force to show their strength to the other Court Nobility."
So the concubine was the daughter of a Court Noble. The letter to Fredericks, a Landed Noble, instructed him to lead troops and come to Central.
The Fifth Generation explained.
"Court Nobles also benefit from allying with us. It's about military strength. Court Nobles can live in the Royal Capital, but their income comes from the royal palace. They can hire people with that, but there's basically a limit. All families of the same rank have roughly the same power. Small differences exist, of course."
It varied depending on position too, but even so, there wasn't a major gap. The amount of money they could spend was the same. However, if they allied with a powerful Landed Noble, the story changed entirely.
"To intimidate those around you, it's simple — you just need more soldiers. Show that you can gather and move this many people, and your opponents will become wary."
"The Fifth Generation, um… the two of you went to Central together?"
"Yeah, I went with the troops. House Walt had been running its territory smoothly since the Fourth Generation's era. There were traitors, apparently, but they still grew steadily, so they could spare people. They were also cultivating talent, so they had commanders at the ready."
When I shifted my gaze back to Fredericks, he had already stood up from his chair.
"I'll make preparations. Tell my family I'll send a thousand. However, leaving the territory empty for a long stretch is a problem. The stay will be shorter."
The woman looked somewhat surprised, but she nodded repeatedly.
"That's unexpected. I thought you'd be colder about it."
The Fifth Generation shot me a flat look.
"I was reflecting on how things had gone wrong back then. But I'd already taken a concubine — would you think I'd suddenly call off a grudge now? There's also the responsibility I took on by bringing her in. I did my best to accommodate her wishes within what I could manage."
I learned that he was surprisingly devoted to his wives and concubines. Or rather, I think the Fifth Generation should have taught this devotion to the Sixth Generation.
The Fifth Generation sighed.
"…When you have over thirty children, treating them all equally is impossible. So, for these people who looked after my children, I pushed hard in various ways. She'd fulfilled her role, and yet she even pressured her family to help me with my peerage elevation. That's why I only focused on making sure my children wouldn't have to go through what I did."
What the Fifth Generation had gone through was the situation of being surrounded on all sides by enemies. He had sent sons and daughters of genuine noble blood to families that became vassals in order to increase his allies.
And to keep resentment from being directed toward Feinz — the Sixth Generation — the Fifth Generation apparently never involved himself with his children.
"Honestly, I would have been fine with just one wife. She supported me all the way. She bore sons for me, and then kept bearing children after that. I thought about stopping so many times… but I was terrified that Feinz would end up in the same situation as me. That's why I… and besides, I was scared."
Saying he was scared, the Fifth Generation hung his head.
"I was nothing but consumed with using my children for revenge. And now I'm trying to act all righteous about it, huh. My parents looked at me and cried too. It was hard. Really damn hard. Mama cried for my sake. But I just didn't know what to do."
Once the Fifth Generation started moving driven by his thirst for revenge, he found himself unable to stop. Listening to the Fifth Generation's words—full of all manner of terrible deeds—one couldn't help but wonder what they themselves would have done. Would it have been better to take their time, even if slowly, and consolidate the surrounding territories?
If Novem and the others had been killed, would he have been able to think about revenge as calmly as the Fifth Generation? He might have picked fights with everyone around him and driven the domain into ruin.
Had Mireia-san seen through the Fifth Generation's feelings? That was why… Just as he sank deep into those thoughts, the vision shifted.
The Fifth Generation's expression changed from grief to panic in an instant.
"L-Lyle! Get out of the room right now!"
"Huh? But I was just starting to remember some—"
The scenery around him changed, colors returning from grey, and there he saw a woman—the first wife—speaking with Fredericks in a room.
"My dear, if you outfit her with things that are too extravagant, it will cause problems. How many daughters do you think we have? If the first one to marry is given a lavish send-off, then the daughters who follow will inevitably feel slighted if there's a disparity in their treatment—"
The Fifth Generation, ignoring the woman's opinion, spoke to a merchant who had come to the estate.
"Get me a full set of these. I'll have the payment ready in gold coins. As for the details, just ask my daughter and this person here."
The merchant, presented with the most expensive item among the several sample goods he had brought, was overjoyed. On top of that, being told payment would be made immediately in gold coins seemed to double his delight.
"I'll go speak with the artisans right away. If you have any preferences regarding the design, please don't hesitate to let me know. Also, ma'am, I have a variety of samples here—would you mind taking a look?"
As Fredericks moved to leave immediately, the woman grabbed his arm.
"My dear, this is far too expensive, no matter how you look at it. Our household income can handle it, but when we're talking about items of this caliber, the burden—"
"It's fine. No problem at all. I'll use what I have set aside."
"You have set aside… Don't tell me…"
The woman was dumbfounded. Fredericks turned back and looked slightly embarrassed.
"At—at least let me put up the money for the preparations when she sets out on her own. And don't you ever tell anyone I arranged this. Got it? Never!"
The woman watched Fredericks as he fled the scene, exasperated. But there was also a hint of happiness on her face. Then, turning to the merchant—
"Forget everything your master just said. Understood?"
"Y-yes, ma'am!"
Her sharp glare sent the merchant nodding furiously, over and over.
The woman let out a sigh, then looked down with a faint, pleased smile.
"Gonestly, he could just be honest about being happy. So hopeless, that man..."
Once Fredericks had completely left the area, the scenery around us turned grey. I turned my gaze toward the Fifth Generation, and he was covering his face with both hands.
"So, you actually did care about all that, didn't you?"
"...For a boy, it'd be weapons and a horse. For a girl, a bridal trousseau. That's important, isn't it? And hey—don't tell me you've forgotten that early on, you sold off Novem's bridal trousseau and used that money to buy all sorts of things? I may be a failure as a father sending off my daughter, but even I was pretty appalled by that."
When the Fifth Generation called me out, my eyes darted away guiltily.
"That... that was because I intended to pay it back someday... but Novem wouldn't accept it, saying it was more important right now as the next head..."
The two of us fell into an awkward silence for some reason.
"So... what are you going to do about it?"
"Do about what?"
When I tilted my head, the Fifth Generation covered his face with his right hand. Then he spoke.
"I'm asking who you're going to make your primary wife! Listen, equality in this world is impossible. Having a first is only natural. Are you going to choose Novem or Aria or Miranda, who've been with you from the start? Or maybe Eliza or Gracia, who have considerable strength of their own? I'll tell you now—looking at national power alone, Ludmilla is the only answer."
"Um... you didn't mention Clara and the others at all?"
"Are you an idiot?! Clara isn't a noble! And do you really think she could manage that bunch? Shannon is out too—she'd create friction with Miranda. Eva and May are out of the question. Vera's position as a merchant's daughter makes things difficult as well. It's not just about those girls. The families backing them, and the nations! It's not just about individuals!"
Having the vague parts laid out so bluntly left me in a bind. Who should I choose as my primary wife?
Honestly, if national power were the only consideration, it would be Ludmilla. But making that choice felt like it would keep the fighting going long after the war was over.
"Couldn't we just decide who's number one among everyone in the Jewel?"
When I joked about it, the Fifth Generation snapped in all seriousness.
"That can't possibly be fine! A harem isn't a game, you idiot!!"
The Round Table Chamber.
Mireia was peering into the Memory Room from outside.
"Goodness, both the Fifth Generation and Lyle are hopeless."
The Seventh Generation rested her chin in her hand, feeling surprised about the Fifth Generation.
"So you're saying he wasn't as cold as he made himself out to be? That makes sense — the Sixth Generation would have followed the Fifth Generation, after all."
The Third Generation was shaking his head.
"What a mess. The responsibility Marks and I bore was heavy. If only he'd had even one or two brothers or sisters, things might have been different."
Mireia watched the Fifth Generation earnestly trying to convey the importance of a harem, chuckled softly, and dismissed the projection.
"It's easy to say that in hindsight. Changing the past is impossible, so all we can do is do our best now. Well, I went through the trouble of playing the Fifth Generation's memories, and yet the conversation took a strange turn."
It seemed Mireia had been the one who triggered the playback of the Fifth Generation's memories. And the three of them were enjoying themselves.
"I can't wait to see who becomes the primary wife! I'm still betting on Novem, you know? After all, she even sold off her entire dowry to raise money!"
"No, no, the power of a great nation shouldn't be underestimated. Ludmilla is the safe choice."
"What are you talking about? Miranda is the only choice. She's my great-granddaughter. Everyone else is out of the question."
The three of them continued discussing various predictions. Then the Third Generation, with a slightly sorrowful smile, said:
"Well, since we can't see everything through to the end, I'd like Lyle to be told the results sooner rather than later. Though from the looks of things, that won't be easy."
Considering their roles, there was no way they could know every outcome. At the Third Generation's words — words spoken with full knowledge of that limitation — both the Seventh Generation and Mireia nodded with a touch of sadness.