Jowel looked around. This was not the Northern Limit Line. It was somewhere far beyond it, deep in an unfamiliar part of the Outer Lands.

Then he looked at the Lost who had pursued him. They had indeed been following him, but that was not all. Only now did Jowel realize that he had been leading them.

'Pierce, Ollante, Vaz...'

Looking more closely, he could make out his subordinates and comrades among the Lost.

Only then did Jowel understand.

He was already dead. He had become one of the Lost he had feared so much—or something worse—and had been wandering the Outer Lands.

When he closed his eyes and opened them again, he saw rotten, decaying fingers. A festering corpse. He was a specter who should already have died, yet could not. A hollow laugh escaped his cracked lips.

"I see."

Jowel gazed at the star in Najin's hand.

The star of Funeral Rites.

As long as he looked at that star, he could remain himself. The fog in his mind lifted, and he smiled bitterly as he dwelled on the returning memories.

"I was no longer among the living."

That day, Jowel had sacrificed himself to give his comrades time to escape. But his sacrifice had been worthless. A jester wearing a grotesque mask had slaughtered his fleeing comrades.

His comrades, moving with creaking limbs. His dear friends, turned into the Lost.

His own voice, laughing in despair at the sight, echoed in his ears. His memories ended with the jester approaching him. His life, too, had probably ended then.

"How... how much time has passed?"

"Probably about half a year."

"Half a year. Six months. Hahaha, you truly are remarkable, Sir Najin. To gain three more stars in a mere six months!"

Jowel slapped his knee and laughed.

"That is some consolation. I thought at least a dozen years must have passed for you to gain another three stars... but half a year? What a relief. At least there is that."

"..."

"Do not look at me like that. I am all right."

"Can you take off the mask?"

"Of course. I was just about to remove it. It feels rather stifling."

Jowel felt along his face. The mask had seemed so tightly attached that it would never come off, yet once his memories returned, it came away with astonishing ease.

"Do you know what this mask is, Sir Najin?"

"I do."

Najin explained the mask, the Emperor of Revelry, the jesters, and the puppets. After hearing him out, Jowel released a long sigh.

"It seems I became a devil's puppet. How deeply shameful."

Jowel sighed at length and looked at Najin.

"What happens to me now?"

"There are two paths open to you, sir."

Najin held up two fingers.

"One is to continue wandering the Outer Lands as a jester. In that case, I intend to treat you as a jester and slay you."

"And the other?"

"I will perform your funeral rites, so that you may meet the end you desire."

"... Why go to the trouble of giving me a choice? Is it not obvious which I will choose?"

"Because it has value only if you choose it of your own free will."

Najin smiled.

"At the final moment, I shall ask you all."

Holding the star of Funeral Rites in one hand, Najin looked at the knight who could not die and asked,

"Were you a knight?"

No knight could fail to recognize those words.

They were words left by King Arthur.

Najin added a question of his own.

"What do you wish to be remembered as?"

"... I..."

Jowel bowed his head. He raised a hand and wiped it down his face. His shriveled hand trembled, as did every movement he made.

"I became an apprentice knight at seventeen, and lived as a knight for over a hundred years. I cannot say I was a knight in every one of those moments, but in every moment, I tried to be one."

The 122-year-old knight spoke as though sobbing.

"I wanted to be a hero. But I could not become one. Failing that, I wanted to be a capable knight, one whose presence was felt on the battlefield. Sadly, that too proved difficult. Everything was so terribly difficult. Nothing went as I wished."

That was the life he had lived.

"It grew worse still after I set foot in the Outer Lands. Nothing went according to my wishes. I was merely tossed about by the countless things here. My will had nothing to do with it."

Jowel slowly raised his head.

"But at least at the end, what I myself wish is this."

His already-dead body was shriveled in places, and the face revealed beneath the mask was hideous. Yet his eyes shone.

"I wish to die as a knight."

Jowel stood. Najin rose as well.

"I am Jowel. Jowel, knight of House Drevu."

"I am Najin. Najin, a free knight."

A brief sword salute.

Then both men drew their swords.

"Sir Jowel, do you know the saying that honor and pride are like strong liquor?"

"Of course. Is it not a well-known saying in the Outer Lands?"

A potent drink that felt good while you drank and grew drunk, but left you in agony once you sobered up.

"Then how about one last drink?"

For someone who wished to die holding on to his dream until the very end, Najin was more than willing to serve strong liquor. Seeing Najin's sword shine with the star of Funeral Rites, Jowel burst into hearty laughter.

"Hahahaha! To be served a drink by a hero such as you? What an honor. How could I possibly refuse?"

Jowel raised his sword.

His sword aura shone, scattering a gentle light. Beside Najin's, it was humble and unimpressive, yet it still shone with a color all its own.

"Here I come."

"Come."

2.

The duel did not last long.

Not only was the gap in their abilities immense, but this was closer to a rite than a duel whose exchanges held meaning in themselves.

CLANG, CLANG!

They exchanged several blows, their swords crossing. Rather than fighting a duel, they were sharing their swordsmanship, receiving each other's techniques. Before long, it was over.

SHUNK.

Najin's sword pierced Jowel's heart.

Gently, but surely. Despite his pierced heart, Jowel showed no pain. Instead, he smiled, as though he had laid down every burden.

"... Thank you."

Jowel spoke his final words.

"Thank you, Sir Najin."

At the very end, he had been able to die as a knight. Grateful to Najin for granting that wish, Jowel closed his eyes.

CRUMBLE...

His body crumbled to dust.

Ordinarily, Jowel's end as one of the Emperor of Revelry's jesters should have been miserable. Even with his heart pierced, he would not have died so easily. That was what jesters were.

But Najin's star of Funeral Rites bypassed the Emperor of Revelry's power and gave Jowel a true death. Jowel was able to find rest.

"..."

Najin silently lowered his sword.

Looking down, he saw Jowel's sword lying there. His body had turned to dust and left nothing behind, but as a knight, he had left his sword.

CRUNCH.

Najin dug into the ground with his bare hands and gathered the surrounding soil. Unconcerned by the dirt staining his clothes, he piled it into a small mound, then planted Jowel's sword atop it.

It was Jowel's grave, and a sword grave.

With a brief salute before the grave, Najin completed the funeral rites. Perhaps it was a funeral as well. Once it was over, Merlin, who had remained silent until then, spoke.

"Funeral Rites. It really does mean exactly that."

Smiling as though she saw him in a new light, Merlin poked him repeatedly in the side.

"How much do you know about free knights?"

"I know that was what they called the honorable knights who accompanied King Arthur. And that they act according to their own beliefs, without needing to serve a lord."

"Right. And to add one more thing..."

Merlin continued.

"They were also the origin of the Atanga Knight Order."

Knights among knights.

Those who upheld honor, pride, and the precepts of a knight, preserving the worth of the very word "knight."

"Did you know? Atanga was actually the name of a free knight."

'... What?'

"The name became so famous that people now use Atanga as a byword or an idiomatic expression, but originally, it was the name of one person."

'That's... the first I've heard of it.'

"Well, it isn't a widely known story."

Atanga, the first free knight.

Merlin said there had once been a knight by that name.

"The knight who made knights true knights. If Arthur was the Knight King who showed knights the path to follow, Atanga was the pillar supporting them so they could remain knights."

Merlin explained that while King Arthur charged ahead with his eyes fixed forward, Atanga looked after what he left behind.

"Atanga helped those who fell while following King Arthur back to their feet—those who gave up, those who yielded. He offered them the chance to be knights once more."

You are a knight. Rise. This place is far too humble for you to end your journey here.

"That was what he said as he helped them up. Perhaps that was why, despite not being particularly formidable in combat, Atanga was called 'the truest of knights,' ahead of even the illustrious knights of the Round Table."

Merlin gave Najin's shoulder a light tap.

"I think Atanga would be terribly proud if he saw you now. You're the very image of the 'ideal knight' he hoped for."

Najin smiled without thinking.

"I hope so."

3.

"Come to think of it, how was Sir Jowel still in his right mind? Usually, once someone turns into a jester, I thought that was the end of it."

The question had suddenly occurred to him.

Even after becoming one of the Lost and being made a jester by the mask, Jowel had spoken with Najin. Nothing in their conversation had felt out of place.

"Ordinarily, it would be, wouldn't it?"

Normally, it was impossible. But Najin wanted to know what had made it possible.

"Haven't you already guessed why?"

Najin nodded. He did have a rough idea.

"Was it because of the star of Funeral Rites?"

"Yes. It really couldn't be anything else. Your fifth star has been deeply connected to the Emperor of Revelry from the very beginning, hasn't it?"

That was true. The star of Funeral Rites had been nearly complete during his journey with the Helmeted Knight. He had completed it by granting those who had forgotten themselves the ends they desired—the wishes even they had forgotten.

"The story and meaning within that star are the Emperor of Revelry's exact opposite. The star of Funeral Rites itself all but denies her very existence."

The Emperor of Revelry mocked and insulted the ends of others, declaring that even death could not bring the play to a close, that they must become jesters and dance for all eternity.

But Najin's fifth star said otherwise.

Heroes must be granted ends befitting them. Rather than wandering the Outer Lands as the Lost, they must be buried where they rightfully belonged.

A star that opposed her, that ran counter to her.

A star that had its origins in the Helmeted Knight.

Najin knew it instinctively. The star of Funeral Rites would be his trump card for bringing down the Emperor of Revelry. He clenched his hand tightly. Holding that star, he began to walk.

"For some reason..."

Najin narrowed his eyes.

"When I hold this star, there's something I can see."

"What a coincidence. I was about to say the same thing."

Merlin shared Najin's sight. His eyes were hers, and in the world she saw through them, she could discern a faint current.

What was that current?

Both Najin and Merlin had a vague understanding of what the current visible while he held the star of Funeral Rites might be.

「Wherever a star may be, if you make a wish upon it, it will listen to your voice.」

Those words had been written in the first storybook Najin had ever read. They were half right and half wrong. Stars did not listen to human voices. They merely responded to people's wishes, to their fervent desires.

Najin had yet to become a Constellation, but his stars, now numbering five, could sense someone's wishes.

The current he could see while holding the star of Funeral Rites was created by those who longed for funeral rites. Tangled and twisted in every direction, it was difficult for Najin to follow it and find a path.

"This way."

But not for Merlin.

She knew how to catch that current. She was a guide, a mage who knew how to grasp a current and turn it into a path.

"Let's go. On to the next."

Merlin showed Najin the path he needed to take.