On an afternoon bathed in drowsy sunlight, Najin strolled through the marquis's garden. The immediate crisis had passed, and what came next was no longer his stage. He knew that bringing Dieta here had fulfilled his part.

What followed would be a battle of politics and justification—a struggle between politicians who pored over the convoluted clauses of imperial law to plunge daggers into their opponents... fighting with glib tongues and a few lines of text. Najin knew nothing of such matters and had no particular intention of getting involved.

'There's someone else who specializes in that, anyway...'

Dieta, the Snake That Swallows Gold.

Already back to her coolheaded merchant self, she was preparing a counterattack with Marquis Edelmar's help. She said it would not take long to reclaim her trading company.

「Don't worry. This is my stage.」

「I'll be sure to repay you once we're back in Cambria.」

A fight did not have to involve swinging blades and drawing blood. Dieta had her own battlefield. To avoid disturbing her as she busied herself, Najin often took walks around the marquis's estate.

As long as he carried the medal the marquis had given him, he received good treatment wherever he went, so he encountered no difficulties.

Pausing during one such walk, Najin sat on a bench and glanced ahead. A tall tree stood before him. Though it was not a thorn tree, its height brought the battle from a few days ago back to mind.

Griffin, wielding the sword aura of a red thorn tree.

He had been an overwhelmingly powerful opponent, one who had driven Najin to the brink of death again and again. He was also the knight who had impressed upon Najin exactly what a Sword Seeker was. Sword Seeker, mental image, inner landscape. Najin mulled those words over.

Then, with a blink, he closed his eyes.

With his eyes closed and his attention turned inward, he found the mental image that had barely begun to sprout during his battle with Griffin. For now, it was a space only a few paces across.

The landscape of the underground city of Atman lay within that pitch-black space.

Two stars occupied it, one in the sky and one on the ground, while a girl sat atop a wall, gazing at the star overhead. Najin walked through the landscape within him.

One step, then another.

The girl sitting on the wall, swinging her legs, turned to look at him. Her blue-white hair cascaded like rippling water. Her vivid blue eyes were like a tranquil lake. When their eyes met, hers curved into a smile.

"Oh, you're here?"

Merlin, the Mage of the Lake.

From her place within him, she welcomed Najin.

2.

"It feels like it's been a while since I last saw you."

"Well, it has been a while since we've met face-to-face. Four months or so? Or was it three?"

"That sounds about right."

Merlin patted the spot beside her with her palm. Najin climbed onto the wall and sat next to her. It was the place with the clearest view of the star high overhead.

"Can we meet like this now?"

"Not often, but it should be possible if you close your eyes and concentrate," Merlin replied.

"My consciousness resides in your mental image. The clearer and more concrete the image you form becomes, the more distinct I'll be. I'm still a little blurry, aren't I?"

She leaned her face toward him.

Indeed, Merlin still looked indistinct, like a reflection on water. It was different from when he had met her in her stellar domain.

"Anyway..."

Merlin turned to look around Najin's inner world, where she now resided. Surveying the landscape most deeply impressed upon his mind, she let out a short breath.

"What a bleak landscape."

"Is it?"

"Yes. No forests, no lakes, no sunlight. It's dark and dreary. This must be the underground city you said you lived in?"

"More or less. It's actually a little brighter than this."

Najin smiled bitterly.

"There are lots of sunset-colored mineral lamps hanging outside that tavern. Ipoly comes out every day to clean the sign and check the lamps."

In a flicker, mineral lamps appeared around the tavern, spreading a faint wash of dusky sunset light over its surroundings.

"That road leads to the counter. It seems I haven't formed that part yet... but it's a little more colorful beyond that road. It's the brightest place in the underground city."

Light spilled from the road leading into the darkness. He could not yet manifest what lay beyond it, but he could at least imagine the light spilling out.

"Really?"

"Yes. And over there..."

"You even have something like that?"

"The people here long for the world above. I suppose they wanted to create a scene that resembled it, even a little. Though I don't really know."

As he talked with Merlin, Najin looked around the landscape. Lamps large and small now hung throughout the once pitch-black city, rendering it a little more detailed.

Of course, the slightest lapse in his concentration would make them all disappear. They had yet to take firm root in his mental image. He gazed at the landscape within him with a feeling of bitterness and a little longing.

"This feels strange," Najin murmured.

"I thought it was a shitty place. Somewhere I didn't even want to remember. But looking at it like this, I feel like I miss it a little."

"That's what home is like."

"Do you feel that way too, Merlin?"

"My hometown was a shitty place too, but after a witch burned it to ashes, I did start to miss it a little."

Merlin smiled bitterly.

"Anyway, you should refine your mental image in your mind like this from time to time. If you don't keep it in your awareness, it'll wear away little by little until it crumbles."

She let out a long breath.

"What you should fear most is forgetting and erosion. So treasure this first landscape you've created."

Resting her chin on her hand, Merlin gazed wistfully at the underground city of Atman. Her eyes seemed to be recalling something, reminiscing about something.

"Once you've lost it, you can't even regret it. Because you can't remember it."

"My memory isn't that bad."

"What are you talking about? This isn't about how good your memory is."

Merlin laughed in disbelief.

"There are always people who try to defile mental images. Shitty bastards who ruin memories and stir their fingers around inside your head. I was telling you to be careful."

"That still feels like a distant concern."

"You never know. It might be closer than you think."

"Well..." Merlin hopped down from the wall. Walking along the streets of the underground city of Atman, she said, "Your landscape isn't bad either. It feels cozy."

She looked back at Najin with her hands clasped behind her back.

"Though I'd like it better with a lake. Make me one sometime."

"I'll try."

Najin chuckled and blinked a couple of times.

The underground city vanished, and the marquis's garden came into view. After watching the tall tree for a while, he resumed his walk.

3.

In Marquis Edelmar's study, Wolfhild, the knight commander, concluded his report to his lord with his own assessment.

"In my judgment, he is close to becoming a Sword Seeker."

"... Is that true?"

"Yes. By any objective measure, Sir Griffin, commander of the ducal House Arbenia's knights, is a powerful man. Wielding sword aura that can extend beyond five meters at its maximum, he employs Arta Trigardian's swordsmanship. He is by no means an easy opponent."

Wolfhild continued.

"At close range, I would certainly lose. Even at a distance, I could not guarantee victory on my own. Sir Griffin isn't called the ducal house's First Sword for nothing."

Griffin was powerful. He was not a Sword Seeker who had only just awakened his mental image, but a seasoned swordsman who knew how to wield it fully.

"That young man withstood the blade of such an opponent. He even cut through a fragment of his sword aura. He performed a feat that should be impossible at the Sword Expert level."

"That is..."

"He must either be close to becoming a Sword Seeker or have grasped a fragment of his mental image. His physical capabilities in those brief bursts seemed to have already reached a Seeker's level."

Wolfhild had witnessed Griffin and Najin clash. A knight who wielded a greatbow, he had spent more than a decade honing the powers of observation and insight required of an archer.

The marquis trusted his eyes.

And because he trusted them, Marquis Edelmar could not conceal his bewilderment. He let out a long, astonished breath.

"Remarkable. To have reached such a level at his age?"

"Officially, he is twenty-eight, but..."

"Even at that age, he would be the youngest Sword Seeker. His talent calls to mind Sir Karon, the Sword Saint."

Or perhaps his talent surpassed Sir Karon's.

If word reached the wider world, the repercussions would certainly be immense. For now, stories of the young man circulated only within Cambria, but...

"He'll soon distinguish himself beyond the city as well."

He was not someone who would remain confined to Cambria. Soon, he would advance onto a broader stage. Someone with that much talent could not stay bound to a single stage for long. Marquis Edelmar laughed incredulously.

"Where on earth did someone like him come from? Honestly."

His birthplace, his true name, his actual age—all of it was concealed. Even digging into his background turned up no information whatsoever. Could he truly be the scion of a house whose records had been erased? Surely no one's background could have been wiped this clean.

"A young man of unknown identity, who values chivalry and possesses an exceptional talent for the sword..."

Turning those facts over in his mind, the marquis laughed without thinking. At his lord's audible laughter, Wolfhild tilted his head and asked a question.

"Is something the matter...?"

"I must have been enjoying too many plays lately. An absurd thought occurred to me."

With a rueful chuckle, the marquis explained to his blinking knight. Absurd fancy though it was, the more he considered it, the more plausible it seemed.

"Doesn't that young man remind you of King Arthur?"

"... Pardon?"

"An unknown identity. Someone who suddenly appeared out of nowhere. He values chivalry and places great weight on honor and pride. He possesses an exceptional talent for the sword... and has reached a high level at a young age."

Those were the young man's traits.

"And the place where he began to distinguish himself is none other than Cambria, the City of Opportunity. Beginning his journey in this city... doesn't it bring King Arthur's life to mind?"

Taken individually, each element was commonplace. But when all of them overlapped, they made for a rare story.

"After hundreds of years, a young man resembling King Arthur appears in the City of Opportunity. Ah, what a thrilling story!"

The marquis looked at his knight with shining eyes.

"What do you think, Sir Wolfhild?"

"Forgive my presumption, but I believe you ought to spend less time watching plays."

"Hmm. Do you think so? I certainly have been visiting the theater troupe as regularly as I eat these past few months. Perhaps I should cut back..."

"You may also need to reduce your support for the troupe a little..."

"Now, now. That is out of the question."

The marquis turned serious.

"It's a venture I'm pursuing. If the troupe grows, tourism could make Trevache famous. In the long term, it will turn a profit."

"Be that as it may..."

Murmuring those words, the marquis looked down at the documents on his desk. They had come from Cambria's Central Guild. At the very top was the heading [Final Approval of Promotion Review].

Marquis Edelmar silently read through the review.

The adventurer in question had relatively few activities on record, but every one was significant. He had also earned a near-perfect score on the promotion exam overseen by experts in their respective fields.

At this point, promotion was all but assured.

It was simply that Red-rank adventurers were skilled individuals vouched for by Cambria, so approval from a representative of the Foundation was sought as a formality. The marquis smiled at the name "Ivan" on the document.

Identity unknown.

No known background.

Risk of falsified identity.

Without so much as glancing at the section listing those "risk factors," the marquis signed his name. Then he brought down the seal bearing his house's crest with a bang.

At that moment, Najin's promotion to Red rank became official.

* * *

Several days passed, and the matter was resolved.

After spending those days dancing through a tangled, clinging, filthy political mire where every little point was seized upon and dragged out, Dieta flopped limply onto her bed.

Still, the immediate crisis was over.

Her return as head of the trading company was confirmed. Once she left for Cambria in a day or two, she would be back to her everyday life. Of course, the ducal house would continue trying to hold her in check, but that was a problem she would have to navigate as best she could.

Lying sprawled on her bed, she looked out the window at the resplendent moon. Gazing at its brilliant yellow glow, Dieta suddenly smiled.

The moon was so beautiful.

The bright yellow moon she had seen while fleeing with Najin flashed through her mind. Unbidden, thoughts of his sturdy back and the arms that had lifted her into an embrace followed. Dieta twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

'Come to think of it...'

Hadn't the marquis said he would hold a banquet before they left the estate? Dieta had never particularly liked noble gatherings such as banquets and festivals. All she had ever received there was contempt.

But this banquet would be different.

The marquis was hosting it, and she would attend alongside Najin as his guest. No one would dare insult his guests in front of him.

'A banquet. Which means... dancing.'

Dieta swallowed.

Banquets and balls. And dancing.

It was a scene that often appeared in sweet romance novels. Lovers dancing beneath dazzling lights—the grand finale of the banquet. As she pictured it, she recalled the marquis giving her a knowing wink.

It had looked as though he were saying, "You know who to dance with, don't you?" A lover of theater, he had surely arranged a stage on which to conclude their moonlit escape.

His intentions were blatantly obvious, but if asked whether she disliked them, the answer would be no. Her face grew warm for no reason, and Dieta rubbed it with both hands.

"Dancing. So... me..."

With him?

Dieta's heart pounded. Burying her face in the bed, she kicked at the bedspread for no particular reason.