294 - Broad and Maisel
It was the memory of the eighth generation—Maisel, the son of the seventh generation and my father.
The eighth generation, the child of Grandma Zenoa, was exceptionally talented. Broad had chosen a gun and decided to fight in his own style, rather than choosing his father's halberd. This stemmed from a desire not to be compared to his father, the sixth generation.
In the Walt estate, which was closest to my memories, Broad says to Maisel
"Guns are great, Maisel. You can target enemies from afar just by pulling a trigger. Besides, unlike bows, recently the power—"
Maisel, a young boy, tilted his head at Broad, who was speaking of the charms of guns.
"Is that so? In addition to the limited ammunition, replenishing shells is very expensive. Furthermore, they can be easily defended against. While they may work against soldiers, I believe their effectiveness is low against knights. In that case, it would be better to have a crossbow."
"...Eh?"
Broad had bought a gun for Maisel, but having been told such a thing, he seemed unable to hand over the present. He hid it behind his back, looking troubled.
Broad laughed with a slightly perplexed expression and began to gesture with one hand.
"I-is that so? But the design is good these days. You should have at least one—"
Maisel was likely not yet ten years old. He was around that age, but even so, he was composed. He looked up at his father, Broad.
"No, I am fine. I have already chosen a weapon that suits me. After consulting with my martial arts teacher, I have decided to choose a saber. Since I am proficient in magic, my means of attacking from a distance are already sufficient."
Feeling an unbearable sense of awkwardness, I turned my gaze to the seventh generation standing beside me. In the memory, Broad's shoulders also slumped.
"...I-I see. Then, please get a good saber."
"No, I have already requested its production. It is a bit expensive, but Mother told me that a slightly better one would last longer."
I looked at the seventh generation. Unlike before, he had an indescribable look in his eyes.
Then, the seventh generation covered his face with one hand.
"Y-yes. He was truly exceptional. I don't think Maisel himself was looking down on me. No, I want to believe that. In fact, his manners were impeccable. But for my part, I wanted him to depend on me more, or perhaps that he didn't need to be this exceptional... I have various thoughts on the matter."
The seventh generation, who had struggled in his own childhood over whether he was fit to be the head of the family, had tried to ensure his son would not experience the same. He had missed the mark completely.
I looked at my father in his childhood form.
"Now that I think about it, that makes sense. Father also carries the blood of Septem."
The seventh generation let out a sigh. He was undoubtedly thinking that it would have been nice if the boy were a bit more endearing. Because he was too exceptional, the pressure might have actually increased from the seventh generation's perspective.
"I know it is a luxury to complain. But even without me teaching him various things, Maisel learned well. Even the tutors praised him. Well, it seems he didn't inherit the memories of Septem, though."
My father was exceptional. I believed I understood that, but I hadn't been able to recall clearly what kind of person he was.
As the surrounding scenery changed, Broad was sitting on the bed in his room with his shoulders slumped. In his hand, he held the box containing the gun he had intended to give as a present.
The one looking at Broad with exasperation was—
"Grandma Zenoa."
—The wife of the seventh generation, Grandma Zenoa, who had passed the blood of Septem to the Walt family. Wearing a red dress, she looked at Broad with exasperation.
"What is this, being so depressed? How pathetic for the head of the Walt family."
"Y-you say that, but I have only just returned from Central. This time, I stayed away from the territory for a bit too long. So, I thought I had made Maisel feel lonely."
Just as he thought that and prepared a present, he faced an unexpected refusal... no, the boy genuinely seemed not to want it. Broad had been unable to give it to him, naturally.
Grandma Zenoa said
"You should have just given it to him immediately. If you had, you wouldn't have been unable to give it because you were worrying too much. Besides, it's your fault for spending all your time in Central. It's not that Maisel dislikes you. He simply has a strong admiration for you. Because you became the advisor to His Majesty."
At the mention of "His Majesty," Grandma Zenoa's tone felt slightly resentful. Grandma Zenoa also had various issues with the Banseime royal family, and it seemed she had many thoughts on the matter.
Broad, with his shoulders still slumped, said
"Is that so? He admires me? Then, I must work harder."
"You! Enough already. Devoting such loyalty to a royal family like that... If the Walt family had cooperated with my family, we would be in a fitting position by now."
Looking up at Grandma Zenoa as she said such things, Broad spoke.
"...No, we hadn't met back then, right? Besides, I'm already overwhelmed by my current position. To be honest, I think it would be fine if Maisel's child or grandchild became a Marquis or a Duke."
Broad, who usually acted dignified in public, seemed exhausted internally. Grandma Zenoa said
"Have more ambition! If you were serious, Banseime would be in the hands of the Walt family by now! Indeed, by the generation of Maisel or Maisel's child, the reunification of the continent would be possible!"
Broad was laughing.
"Zenoa, to be honest... I have no interest in such things! As long as you are by my side, that is enough."
It was a very wonderful smile. When told with such a smile that he had no interest in the reunification of the continent, Grandma Zenoa began to scream.
"It is my family's dream! Why on earth... When you speak of the Walt family, aren't they the strongest in Banseime! Have more confidence! I want to kick that scoundrel of a Banseime off the throne, yet you accept a role as an advisor!!"
The seventh generation watched the scene with his hand on his chin. He had a soft expression and looked nostalgic as he watched Grandma Zenoa.
Then, he spoke a single word.
"If Zenoa were here, she would have danced with joy upon hearing that Lariel aimed for the reunification of the continent. Or rather, she's cute even now."
The screaming Grandma Zenoa was a woman who fit the Walt family's house rules perfectly. Her appearance was refined, and she was certainly a beauty. But is it right to call a screaming woman cute? If the members of my harem started screaming, I would act with only the thought of escaping from the scene.
With all my might. I would run away with all my might.
Then, the seventh generation's smile became slightly sad.
"No, if she were here, I would see the sight of Lariel fighting Maisel, huh. That would indeed be unacceptable."
As expected, he seemed concerned about me fighting my father. Therefore, I said to the seventh generation
"Seventh generation. No, Grandfather—"
When I woke up, the porter's cargo bed was dark.
The reason I felt a bit chilly was likely because Monica, who had woken up before me, had opened the porter's window for ventilation. It suddenly became cold, and I felt the chilly air touching the outside of the blanket.
Feeling as if the warmth on the inside was being stolen, I raised my upper body and saw Clara curled up in her blanket, shivering from the cold.
I thought she was adorable.
"Oh, you're already awake. You've robbed me of the job of waking up my chicken coward, so it is unforgivable that you're making such a sleepy face. Now, lie back down. I will sleep beside you, and we'll start from the moment the awakened chicken coward is surprised!"
"What's with that tedious way of waking someone up? A more normal way is fine. Every single one of you... learn something from Damian's automatons."
Then, Monica turned toward me, brushed up one of her twin-tails, put her hand on her hip, and struck a pose. It's irritating because she looks surprisingly poised.
"You're being deceived. If you think those things are normal, you're dead wrong. Just like other inferior products, they are incredibly ruthless. The only one serving the chicken coward with such sincerity is this Monica."
"That's definitely not true."
While having a pointless morning conversation with Monica, a tear spilled over, so I wiped it with the back of my left hand.
"Tears, even though you haven't yawned?"
When asked, I simply nodded.
"That's right. ...It was a yawn."
—A subordinate arrived on horseback to see Maisel, who was on the march.
He was a messenger, likely bringing some important news. Maisel called him close and listened to the report.
"What is it?"
Without breaking his posture on horseback and without panicking, Maisel waited for the subordinate's report.
"Sir! The scouting unit has discovered a rebel army near the border. Their number is seventy thousand. It is reported that they outnumber us. They are already lying in wait, and the terrain makes it difficult to flank them."
Hearing the report, Maisel nodded.
"So they chose to strike out rather than hole up in a castle. Well, it seems that person had at least some knowledge of being a lord. But to challenge us to a field battle... it was indeed the right decision to cast them out."
The one riding a horse next to Maisel was Bale. He was wearing armor, but his helmet was off.
"Maisel-sama, do you intend to fight them head-on as we are?"
Then, without changing his expression, Maisel spoke.
"If we cannot flank them, the main force shall proceed as is. It is easier than having them hole up in a castle."
However, it was only the main force that could not flank; a small unit could still do so. Maisel told the knight who was the messenger
"Send the strike force to flank them. The enemy may be on guard, but if they are careless, a surprise attack will be possible. From the elites of the Walt family—"
"—Maisel-sama, would you not leave that role to this Gerard?"
The one who interrupted Maisel's words was the Baron. Bale showed his displeasure and glared at the old man, Gerard Foxus. The man with long hair and a beard mixed with white was the current head of the Foxus family.
Maisel stopped Bale with his hand as the latter looked like he wanted to say something.
"This is rare, Lord Gerard. As far as I remember, this is the first time you have said such a thing. Is there something on your mind?"
Then, Bale, unable to endure it, ignored Maisel's restraint and interjected.
"Maisel-sama, that man's daughter is following Lariel. He may be intending to deceive us."
Normally, Bale was a vassal of the Walt family. And Gerard was a Baron, a lord who was a direct vassal of the Banseime Kingdom. In terms of status, Gerard was higher. However, Gerard did not care about such things.
This was the reason he was called the dog of the Walt family, as Gerard treated Maisel like his own lord. Normally, this would have been a quite disrespectful attitude toward the Banseime Kingdom.
"That is precisely why. My daughter, Novem, possesses a natural talent for magic that is peerless even within the clan. I believe it would be best for a member of the Foxus family to handle her."
Then, Maisel kept his face forward for a while before answering.
"...I do not know where Novem is. Nor whether she is even on the battlefield. Once she is discovered, I will have you head toward her."
"Yes."
As Gerard bowed his head and followed Maisel's instructions, Bale looked dissatisfied. To such a Bale, Maisel gave a small smile.
"Do not be so angry. It is a magical talent recognized by the Foxus family. She is undoubtedly a threat. However, in that case, it was a waste to make her that person's fiancée. Lord Gerard, if you can capture her alive, you may do so. There is no need to necessarily kill her."
Maisel likely tried to be considerate in his own way, but Gerard replied to him.
"No, your consideration is unnecessary. If I am to fight my daughter—Novem—I cannot hold back. I recommend fighting with the intent to kill."
The surrounding knights were slightly surprised, but Maisel spoke to Gerard on their behalf.
"To that extent? Still, I wonder why such a talented woman followed that person. I also bear responsibility for recognizing her as that person's fiancée. Once discovered, I will have it reported to Lord Gerard."
Novem, who was being heavily guarded against by her own father.
And the clash between the two armies was drawing near.