His consciousness sank beneath the water.

It was the backlash from drawing on mana to his limit, the price of recklessly wielding a fragment of his mental image when he had only just grasped it. Feeling as though his body were sinking beneath the surface, Najin closed his eyes.

How much time passed like that?

CHIRP, CHIRP.

Najin opened his eyes in a bed bathed in sunlight, with sparrows chirping outside. The servant cleaning the room met his gaze, gave a startled bow, then rushed out.

Before long, a knight opened the door and entered.

"Awake, are you?"

It was Wolfhild, commander of the marquisal House Trevache's knights.

2.

"How long was I asleep?"

"About one night."

Najin blinked a couple more times, then tried lifting his arm. His shoulder was bandaged, and nearly all the minor wounds on his body had healed. Excalibur's regenerative power alone could not have accomplished that.

"Be grateful for Marquis Edelmar's kindness."

Wolfhild briefly explained how his lord had shown Najin kindness by gathering the territory's priests and physicians to help him recover.

"Thank you."

"Thank the marquis himself, not me."

"I will."

"Good."

Wolfhild smiled in satisfaction. Then his smile faded, and he absently stroked his chin.

"That aside, you recover abnormally quickly, don't you? The physicians and priests examining you were bewildered. They said your wounds were closing after nothing more than first aid."

Najin remained silent at Wolfhild's remark. He could hardly say that it was thanks to Excalibur's healing power.

"They said those injuries would keep you bedridden for at least ten days, yet here you are, awake and well after just one. It certainly is remarkable. They weren't minor injuries..."

"I've always had a rather sturdy body."

"Always, you say?"

Wolfhild narrowed his eyes, but soon chuckled and shrugged.

"Well, I suppose you have an unusual constitution. It's not my place to pry. I have a rather unusual constitution myself."

He tapped the area around his eyes. There were people in the world born with unusual constitutions, just as he had been. Wolfhild explained that he would consider Najin's abnormal healing ability another such case.

"In any event, I've ordered everyone who examined you to keep quiet, so don't worry."

"For that... I'm grateful."

"You're the marquis's guest. This is only the treatment you deserve. Trevache would never do anything to harm a guest."

Wolfhild smiled, proudly pointing to the Trevache crest embroidered on his uniform.

"Go see the marquis once you're steady on your feet. The servants will show you the way."

"Ah," Wolfhild breathed. As though this was something he simply had to mention, he raised a hand beside his mouth and whispered with a playful expression.

"Your lady is in the guest room right next door. Go show her your face. She must be worried sick."

"Pardon? My lady?"

"Oh, are you not at that stage yet? You seemed so close that I assumed you were involved."

What did he mean, involved?

As Najin tilted his head in puzzlement, Wolfhild murmured under his breath, "Lady Dieta has her work cut out for her."

"In any case, Lady Dieta was very worried about you."

"Was she?"

"Indeed. She wept so bitterly after you collapsed. She buried her face in your chest, crying, 'Don't die, don't die'..."

Wolfhild scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"In that situation, it hardly felt right to say, 'He seems to have merely lost consciousness,' did it? It left us sweating, too."

What else had Lady Dieta said?

He was murmuring to himself and about to continue when someone knocked at the door.

KNOCK, KNOCK.

Before permission could be given, the door opened with a creak.

Dieta stood there with her face bright red, looking as though she had overheard their conversation through the door.

"Sir Wolfhild."

Her voice trembled slightly. Her ears scarlet, she glared at Wolfhild reproachfully.

"You distinctly said you would keep it a secret—"

"Oh, dear."

Wolfhild sprang to his feet.

"I mustn't interrupt your conversation. Please, do talk. I'll go on ahead and wait."

He gave Dieta a brief bow and swiftly left the room. However fierce the glare of a girl flushed with embarrassment, it could hardly keep pace with a knight whose abilities rivaled a Sword Seeker's.

By the time they gathered their wits, only Najin and Dieta remained. An awkward silence lingered for a long while.

Dieta hesitantly approached Najin and sank into the chair beside his bed. Her lowered head hid her face, but the ears visible through her fallen hair were bright red.

"Um, are you... feeling any better?"

Her voice sounded awkward. For now, Najin nodded.

"I'm fine. I can move without any trouble, too."

"That's such a relief."

"Are you feeling better yourself?"

Najin glanced at Dieta's ankles. They were bandaged, but judging by how naturally she had walked earlier, they seemed to have healed somewhat.

"I can walk around now, too. They say that in a week at most, there won't even be any scars left."

"That's good to hear."

Najin smiled.

Dieta lifted her head slightly, only for her ears to grow still redder when she saw his smile. Her gaze wandered elsewhere, as though she simply couldn't meet his eyes.

"About what you heard from Sir Wolfhild..."

Still, she had to say what needed saying. Fighting down her embarrassment, Dieta continued.

"Forget it. Forget all of it. Right now."

"Pardon? Forget what?"

"What he said I told you. Forget it. Right now. It's embarrassing."

Was that something to be embarrassed about? And why was her face so red? Najin had no idea what was going on, but nodded anyway.

2.

The manor's reception room.

When Najin and Dieta entered the room adorned with the crest of the marquisal House Trevache, they found a man who looked to be in his early thirties waiting for them.

Marquis Edelmar, lord of Trevache.

Having lost his father and inherited his position at a young age, this accomplished politician and powerful figure had further strengthened Trevache's reputation over the past decade or so. He smiled at his guests.

"Welcome, Miss Dieta. And Ivan."

Gesturing for them to sit, Edelmar began to speak.

"The knights and Sir Wolfhild have given me the broad outline. What an utterly..."

Edelmar sipped his tea and let out a long breath. Was he about to express anger at the ducal house's high-handed takeover, or lament it? Just as Dieta was watching for his reaction, he finished.

"...romantic tale."

It was entirely unexpected. Dieta barely restrained herself from reflexively blurting out, "Pardon?"

"A daring rescue, sneaking into the villa alone to save a woman abducted by the ducal house!"

The marquis exclaimed with an extravagant gesture.

"You must surely have carried the young lady on your back when she could no longer walk. An escape beneath the moonlight, undaunted by the knights in pursuit!"

His exaggerated words and gestures resembled those of an actor introducing a play. His eyes sparkled as he looked at Dieta and Najin.

"And then, the final trial. A duel with a life at stake, and a will that never yielded. Yet the hero ultimately collapses, leaving the woman in tears. A tale that nearly ended in tragedy, but fortunately..."

The marquis smiled.

"This story will not have a tragic ending. I'm glad you seem to have recovered, Ivan. And you as well, Miss Dieta."

"Thank you for your consideration."

"Thank... you."

Najin spoke with proper courtesy, while Dieta's voice trembled as though she could hardly bear her embarrassment. Seeing her like that, Edelmar whistled.

"Now, to the matter at hand."

He clapped his hands.

"I have a fair idea why you've come to me. I've confirmed both that the ducal House Arbenia intends to forcibly seize the Dieta Trading Company, and that they attempted to take Miss Dieta into custody in the process."

Edelmar had sent his knights to verify the information.

"This is not justified. It is unjust. Of course, countless injustices occur in this world because of disparities in power and status..."

He narrowed his eyes.

"But such things must not happen in Cambria, the City of Opportunity. In the city where the great King Arthur began his journey, at least, fairness and equality must be guaranteed. That is precisely why the Cambria Foundation exists."

Three houses stood at the heart of the Cambria Foundation. The lord of House Trevache, the most influential among them, spoke.

"Neither I, Edelmar, nor the Cambria Foundation intend to stand idly by. Had you drawn on the ducal house's power to build your company, they would have grounds for their claim. But I know that you did no such thing, Miss Dieta."

The ducal house's abandoned child. A stain on the ducal house left by a whore.

Dieta Arbenia was the woman who had built her trading company from nothing while bearing those stigmas.

"Of course, it would have been difficult for me to intervene had you not come to my territory. But as long as you're here, the justification is on our side. I will help you reclaim your company."

"Thank you for your kindness."

"There's no need to thank me."

The marquis answered Dieta's gratitude matter-of-factly.

"This is my duty, after all. Fulfilling one's duty is only natural. Wouldn't the world be far too cold a place if we expected thanks for doing what we ought?"

"More importantly..." He paused to draw breath.

"I often enjoy watching plays, but tragedy has never been to my taste. I want the characters who have overcome hardship, adversity, and trials to be able to smile at the end."

The marquis enjoyed the theater, and he had likened Najin and Dieta's escape to a play. Smiling, he said,

"I hope you'll both be smiling when all this is over. It's been some time since I heard such a fine story."

Having said that, Edelmar paused for a breath. His gaze had shifted from Dieta to Najin.

"Miss Dieta, would you excuse us for a moment? There's something I'd like to discuss with Ivan alone."

"Of course."

A little after Dieta left, Edelmar looked Najin straight in the eye. Gone were his theatrical gestures and manner of speech. His eyes and voice were calm as he spoke.

"Gilbert, a knight of Trevache."

The knight Najin had encountered during the campaign against the Demon Knight.

"You were with him at the end, I understand. He was my knight, and a companion I enjoyed talking with. I hear you honored Gilbert's final wishes."

Najin quietly nodded. After hearing Gilbert's dying words, he had pursued the Demon Knight and ultimately slain him.

"There is one thing I'd like to ask."

"Please, go ahead."

"Was Gilbert a knight to the very end?"

Was he a knight to the very end?

Those words were the closing line of the Knight King's treatise on knighthood.

「Knights, too, are ultimately human. They cannot be noble at every moment, nor can they always act according to honor and pride. At every moment, a knight must choose.」

「And so I ask.」

「What will you choose in your final moment?」

An ordinary human, swayed by desire and instinct? Or a knight guided by pride and honor?

What would you remain at the end?

In other words:

「At the very last moment of all.」

「I will ask you.」

「Were you a knight to the very end?」

Recalling that passage, Najin remembered Gilbert pointing toward the place where the Demon Knight had fled, even as he lay dying. With that image in mind, Najin answered.

"Yes."

He nodded firmly.

"Sir Gilbert was a knight to the very end."

"I see."

Marquis Edelmar gave a bittersweet smile.

"Then he must have been able to smile in his final moment."

The marquis let out a long breath and continued.

"Thank you. I'm grateful that the person with Gilbert at the end was someone who understands honor and pride."

"... Forgive me for saying so."

Najin spoke somewhat awkwardly.

"I don't yet understand honor. I haven't attained it."

"Then you mean you have attained pride."

"I'm striving to."

Marquis Edelmar laughed aloud.

"The honor and pride you speak of seem far weightier than those others talk about. Yes. They were always meant to carry a weight that forbade us from speaking of them lightly."

They had become trivial in this age. Yet before him stood someone who wished to give them their proper weight. The marquis smiled warmly at the young man, who possessed a knightly spirit rarely seen in these times.

"Helping a lady in distress. Keeping your promises. Doing what you believe is right. Respecting an honorable person's dying wishes, raising your sword against evil... and risking your life to keep an oath."

These were the things he had heard about the young man named Ivan. Reflecting on them, the marquis applauded—not in mockery, but in respect.

"You are already a fine knight."

He had simply not yet been knighted. He was already a fine knight. That was what Marquis Edelmar told him.

"I hope that someday you find a lord to whom you can pledge your loyalty and become a splendid knight. Or that you become a free knight who upholds the knightly code. I mean that sincerely."

The marquis rose from his seat. Najin rose as well. As the marquis approached him, Najin bowed his head and began to bend his knee, but Edelmar stopped him.

He held out a hand to Najin.

It was an ordinary outstretched hand, not a gesture of noble etiquette. It was an offer of friendship. Edelmar valued formality, but he had judged the young man before him worthy of setting that importance aside.

When Najin cautiously took his hand, Edelmar shook it heartily and smiled.

"Rest comfortably while you're staying in my territory."