“What is your dream, Commander?”

One day, while marching through the Outer Lands, Alderan paused to consider his subordinate’s question. A dream. His dream... He searched his old memories and chuckled. There had been one dream he’d cherished when he was very young.

“To become a hero like King Arthur.”

When Alderan had said that as a boy, the adults had laughed. They dismissed his dream as a young boy’s fanciful ambition, something he would soon forget once he learned how the world really worked.

But time had passed, and now that he was the Empire’s foremost warrior and its Sword Master, no one laughed at Alderan’s dream. It was no longer an idle fantasy.

The members of the Order of the Golden Horn laughed when they heard his answer, saying things like, “We expected no less of you, Commander.” Their laughter was hearty, not mocking. It said that the commander of the Order of the Golden Horn ought to aspire to at least that much.

“Heh. That’s our commander. Couldn’t you draw Excalibur by now? I heard you pulled it nearly halfway out when you were young.”

Alderan laughed off his subordinates’ remarks.

He knew the truth.

Though he was far stronger than he had been back then, he still would not be able to draw Excalibur. Strength was not what it took to draw that sword. Excalibur demanded something fierce, something that could not be expressed by so lofty a word as aptitude.

Alderan wanted to become a hero like Arthur.

But Excalibur wanted more.

It awaited someone whose dream was grander than that of the Great Hero hanging at the highest point in the heavens. Someone who would surpass Arthur and go farther still. Someone with the conviction and aptitude to do so.

Not someone who sought to become a hero like Arthur.

Someone who sought to surpass Arthur and rise even higher.

The moment Alderan sensed that, he knew he could never be that person.

“I won’t be able to draw Excalibur.”

“If you can’t draw it, Commander, who can?”

“Who knows? I wonder that myself.”

Alderan rose to his feet.

“I don’t know when Excalibur will be drawn, or who will draw it, but there is one thing I can say for certain.”

He smiled as he put on the horned helmet he had taken off.

“Whoever draws that thing is going to be one hell of an ill-mannered bastard. Exactly the sort I’d least want as a pupil. Whoever he is, I pity the person who ends up teaching him. They’ll probably have a rough time of it.”

Someone who not only intended to surpass King Arthur, but possessed the aptitude to do it. Naturally, such a person would be an absurdly arrogant genius. Whoever became that genius’s teacher would have endless headaches.

As his subordinates burst into laughter, Alderan shrugged and added one more thing.

“I, for one, absolutely refuse.”

2.

Najin slowly blinked.

The ceiling was unfamiliar.

Turning his head slightly, he saw warm sunlight streaming through a window. Natural sunlight, a rare sight in the Outer Lands, where there was nothing but starlight. He frowned.

His memories were hazy.

Searching through them, the last thing he could recall was Yuel’s back. He had strained to keep his eyes open and hold on, but apparently he had passed out in the end.

What had happened after that? And where was he?

It looked like a hospital room, but he had no idea exactly where it was.

“Ugh...”

Najin tried to sit up, but failed.

His whole body throbbed. As he frowned, a curt voice sounded in his ear.

“That’s what you get for pushing yourself so hard.”

Moving only his eyes, Najin looked toward the voice. Merlin sat perched at his bedside.

“Your arm was about to fall off at the shoulder, you know? Does it make any sense to imitate a transcendent being’s ultimate technique in that condition? I swear, I... Haah...”

She repeatedly sighed and ran a hand down her face.

Najin could hear relief mingled with those sighs. For all her grumbling, Merlin was relieved that he had opened his eyes. He gave a rueful smile.

‘I’m sorry.’

“You’re certainly good at saying that, aren’t you? And it’s not as though I can just smack you.”

Muttering, Merlin shook her head. Then she narrowed her eyes and looked down at him.

“You were going to draw Excalibur, weren’t you?”

‘...’

Najin remained silent.

“And you must have known that even if you’d drawn Excalibur there, you wouldn’t have been able to defeat the Emperor of Revelry.”

‘I knew.’

“You knew what would happen if you drew it, too?”

He had known. The moment he drew the sword there, several times as many Constellations as had gathered to kill the Emperor of Revelry would have descended upon that land. He had once found it difficult even to imagine such a sight, but now that he had witnessed the Battlefield of Stars, he could picture it, however vaguely.

A war would erupt that would literally overturn heaven and earth. And there would be nothing he could do in that war.

He had known that intellectually, but it had not occurred to him at the time. No, more precisely, he had decided that none of it mattered. Rage had turned his mind blank and stripped him of reason. It was the first time Najin had experienced anything like it.

“...”

As Najin remained silent, Merlin let out a long sigh and spoke.

“Still, given the exceptional circumstances, I’ll let it go this time. You had no way out, and it all happened so suddenly. I was preparing for a Descent myself.”

‘I’m sorry. Truly.’

“If you’re sorry, make sure you discuss it with me from now on. Do you know how hurt I was back there? A little—no, a lot.”

She tapped his forehead, looking wounded.

“I feel exactly what you feel. I can understand, too. So don’t go rushing ahead and leave me behind. I can put up with anything else, but not that.”

That was the one line she would not let him cross.

“I’m your guide and your companion. Not a subordinate you drag around, but someone who walks beside you. Understand?”

Merlin bent forward. Her water-blue hair fell like a curtain over Najin’s head, until her face was all he could see. Her eyes were such a piercing blue that he found them a little frightening.

“Answer me.”

‘Yes.’

“Swear it. Swear that from now on, we’ll act together.”

‘I swear.’

Only then did Merlin smile happily, seemingly satisfied.

“Good. Then I’ll forgive you.”

“And,” she added, “you really did nearly die over and over, and watching you was enough to drive me mad... But still...”

She whispered in his ear.

“You were magnificent. I’m saying that not as Merlin, your guide, but as a great Constellation with eleven stars.”

A human who was not yet transcendent—a young star that had only recently risen—had changed the course of the Battlefield of Stars. Merlin praised that feat. It deserved nothing less.

“Oh. It seems you’ve regained consciousness.”

While Najin was speaking with Merlin, the door opened and a familiar figure entered. A woman with snow-white hair. Yuel waved at Najin with her only hand.

Her only hand.

One of Yuel’s arms was missing.

3.

“I came to explain what happened afterward, and to ask you a few questions.”

Yuel pulled up a chair and sat beside Najin’s bed. Noticing his gaze on her missing arm, she waved her empty sleeve.

“Oh, this is nothing. I cut it off myself.”

“... What?”

“The jester knight’s lance pierced me. The lance he calls ‘Sancho’ is coated in an extremely potent poison. Unless you cut off the affected part, it spreads throughout your body. The severed arm is being purified at the Order of Starblood’s main church, so it should arrive in about a week.”

She spoke as though it were of little consequence.

“I’ll have to live with one arm until then. It hasn’t been inconvenient. Just ring the bell at your bedside and an attendant comes running immediately. Try it yourself. It’s quite convenient.”

There was indeed a bell beside Najin’s pillow.

“Where are we?”

“A church in a city near the Outer Lands. Outside the Outer Lands, to be precise.”

So he was on the continent after all.

Najin slowly sat up, leaning his back against the headboard, and exhaled at length. His body throbbed, but he wanted to sit up to listen.

“May I ask what happened afterward?”

“Of course. You were on that battlefield, and you played a central role in it. You have every right to hear the outcome.”

She could have sent someone else to relay the news, but Yuel’s coming in person was also an acknowledgment of Najin’s accomplishment. It was this boy who had drawn the Emperor of Revelry there, and who had turned the tide of battle.

“After you stripped away the Emperor of Revelry’s mask, the tide turned. Led by Sir Kirchhoff, the Constellations pressed her hard, and victory began to favor us. Perhaps realizing that, the Emperor of Revelry ultimately chose to flee.”

The Emperor of Revelry had retreated with Quixote. Yuel told him they had inflicted significant damage on her in the process.

“Quixote lost one star and suffered severe damage to another. The Emperor of Revelry lost seventeen stars in total, and eighty-four of her puppets were destroyed completely.”

Her tone was matter-of-fact.

“Even from a historical perspective, this is extraordinary. The last time the Emperor of Revelry sustained significant damage was a hundred and fifty years ago. Even then, we do not know who accomplished it or how, but records state that her stars shook in the heavens.”

Najin knew who had done it.

Listening to Yuel, he spoke.

“What happened to Sir Alderan?”

“Alderan? Do you mean Alderan Basaglia? Didn’t he die long ago?”

Yuel tilted her head.

“... The helmet. I mean the knight whose helmet I cut apart.”

“Knight? Hmm. If you mean the Lost who went berserk immediately after you cut apart the helmet, he retreated with the Emperor of Revelry. They cut his entire body into small pieces and carried him away.”

Najin’s expression froze.

Reading it, Yuel asked a question.

“Was he someone you knew? Come to think of it, we suspect that the Emperor of Revelry appeared for the sake of that Lost... Considering her disposition, that is extremely surprising.”

Yuel hummed thoughtfully and rubbed her chin.

“The Emperor of Revelry never leaves her own domain. Fundamentally, she is a thorough, calculating Constellation with the disposition of a ruler rather than a warrior. In other words, she does not take risks.”

Though the Emperor of Revelry had existed for more than a thousand years, records concerning her were exceptionally limited. She seldom showed herself to begin with, and when she did reveal her true form, everyone present became a jester. As a result, no proper records survived.

Her Descent this time was therefore exceptional, an incident worthy of attention from Constellations and religious orders alike.

“For someone like her to attempt a Descent—and into forbidden ground that puts her at a disadvantage, at that—is very strange.”

A strange occurrence. Eccentric behavior at odds with the historical record.

The Order of Starblood had focused on the reason behind it.

“The Order of Starblood therefore suspects that something was there that she absolutely had to acquire, even at such risk, and that it was the Lost she retrieved.”

Yuel looked at Najin.

“Do you know anything about that Lost?”

“He wasn’t one of the Lost. He was a knight.”

Najin spoke calmly.

“And he was my master.”

“Your master?”

“Yes. His name is Alderan Basaglia. He was the previous holder of the title of the Empire’s foremost warrior, and the Emperor of Revelry erased his history.”

Yuel frowned.

“Please say that again.”

“His name is...”

After hearing him out, Yuel tilted her head.

“How strange. What I hear you saying is, ‘His name is ■■■ ■■■■■. He was the ■■ ■■■■■, and ■■■ ■ ■■■ ■■■■■■.’ Something is interfering with your words.”

Najin wrote on a piece of paper and showed it to Yuel. But once again, she only shook her head.

“I cannot see it. I suspect this is a Constellation’s authority. There are records of similar symptoms involving Londinel, the Forgotten Kingdom, and certain forgotten Constellations. In such cases, even if we find a way around it and remember, the information will be distorted. I would rather not hear it at all.”

False information could do more harm than good.

Yuel fell silent for a moment and watched Najin. His expression had not changed throughout their conversation. Neither had his breathing.

But she could sense it.

A thick, clinging murderous aura emanated from him. Flames burned behind that seemingly impassive face. Yuel felt disappointed that his intense killing intent was directed at someone other than herself.

After they spoke a little longer, Yuel gave a brief “Ah,” as though something had occurred to her.

“Please be careful when you go outside.”

“Careful? What do you mean?”

“I mean things may become rather noisy.”

Najin tilted his head.

They were on the continent, not in the Outer Lands, weren’t they? As he puzzled over her words, Yuel rang the bell she held.

She gave an instruction to the attendant who opened the door, and shortly afterward, the attendant returned with a newspaper.

Handing Najin the paper, densely packed with print, Yuel said,

“Read it, and you’ll understand.”

He would understand just where he stood in the Empire now.