A New Stage
"You vanish without a word, then turn up again only to leave the moment you're back. It's almost impossible to get a proper look at you, you know?"
The first thing Najin saw upon his return to Cambria was Dieta, arms crossed, grumbling as she shot him a sidelong glance.
"You're leaving for the Outer Land tomorrow, aren't you?"
"Yes. That's the plan."
"You could rest a little first. What's the rush?"
"Those who keep moving gather more, and the bird that never stops beating its wings flies highest — isn't that so?"
"And where did you pick that up?"
"It was in the book you lent me last time."
"I never should have lent you that book."
Dieta let out a long sigh and stepped closer. She reached out and brushed the badge fastened to Najin's coat — a badge she had granted to him alone.
The badges worn by the mercenaries under her contract and by the high-ranking officers of her trading house all bore the emblem of a serpent swallowing a gold coin. Najin's was different. On his badge, a bright yellow flower was engraved.
Not a gold coin, but a golden flower.
A badge permitted only to him. Proof that she meant to treat him as someone special — and a quiet promise that, before him at least, she would stand not as the serpent but as a girl. Fingering the badge with its golden bloom, she smiled.
"Najin."
"Yes, Dieta."
"I've thought it over carefully, and words alone just aren't enough. So I thought I'd leave something more definite."
From her robes she drew a small box. It opened with a soft click, revealing a pair of rings.
A pair of rings.
Najin knew what that could mean; his eyes flickered, just a little. This woman — not again? Caught once more by her ambush and flustered for it, he watched as Dieta grinned mischievously.
"You don't actually think I'm launching another confession attack, do you? That's not what this is. These are artifacts."
"Ah."
"What's that look for? Don't tell me you're disappointed. Were you hoping for a confession? I could always still—"
"Come on, now."
Dieta laughed under her breath and held the box out to him.
"They're made from the remains of the red dragon and the white dragon you slew. Did you know? The red dragon and the white dragon were originally a single dragon. Because of that, they carry the concepts of a pair, of matching, of connection."
Something close to a Mystery in its own right.
"I had the artifacts crafted to preserve that nature. While you wear these rings, you'll be able to feel that you're connected. No matter how far apart you are, you'll at least know the other is still alive."
Dieta huffed, as if scolding him for making her say it.
"I'm worried. That's all. From the Outer Land, letters will be hard to send, contact nearly impossible — so until you come back, I'm just supposed to sit here waiting? Without even knowing whether you're dead or alive?"
"That's..."
"I don't want that. So I need to know, at least, that you're still breathing. Wear that ring. Always. Understood?"
As she spoke, Dieta extended her left hand toward him. She offered her pale, slender fingers and smiled.
"Put it on me. Wherever you like."
One hand held out to Najin, she brushed a lock of hair behind her ear with the other. It was night, and they stood in her office. Moonlight spilling through the window caught in her hair and made it gleam.
Najin went down on one knee, lowering himself, and gently took her hand. The instant his fingers touched hers, Dieta flinched and a faint color rose in her cheeks.
At that, Najin smiled. He was a little curious what she would do if he slipped the ring onto her ring finger — but approaching her with that kind of light heart would have been no courtesy to her at all.
He set the ring on her index finger. Left hand, index finger — a symbol of friendship and closeness. Looking down at the band now circling her finger, Dieta shook her head as if she had expected nothing less.
"I would have preferred the ring finger, if you'd asked me — but I suppose that can wait for later. For now, I'll be satisfied with this."
She toyed with the ring fitted snugly to her index finger and tipped her chin at him — your turn. Najin slid his own onto the matching finger.
A ring of white metal, a crimson design etched into its surface.
Dieta laid her hand over his. The moment the rings struck together with a soft tap, the red engravings flared. A signal of connection. Warmth bloomed from the metal — the warmth of another person's hand held in one's own.
"You could just keep it in a pocket, honestly. You're a swordsman. It might get in the way when you swing, or take damage in a fight."
Even so, Dieta went on.
"When you find yourself missing the warmth of a person, close your fist around the ring. It should feel a little like holding my hand."
She tightened her grip on his.
Warmth folded around Najin's fingers.
"Well? Not bad, is it?"
"It's an impressive gift."
"Right? I considered making them into pendants, but rings felt more symbolic. I was aiming for that, a little."
"I thought as much."
"So — is that a problem?"
Najin shook his head.
"Not at all. I like it."
The day Najin left Cambria, the streets thronged with adventurers and mercenaries. All of them had gathered either to see him off, or simply to look once more upon the boy who had written legend into this city.
Barely a year.
In little more than a year since setting foot in Cambria, the City of Opportunity, the boy had risen to the White Horn rank of adventurer. Youngest Sword Seeker in history, bearer of twin stars, the one who had carved out a myth of dragon-slaying against a red dragon.
If the greatest talent Cambria had ever produced was the great hero Arthur, then the boy now being named as her successor was him. After achievements of that scale in a single year, such talk was only natural.
And that boy was leaving Cambria for a greater stage — the Outer Land, the world beyond the edge of the map.
Through the press of people who had come to watch a celebrity of the city depart, Najin walked out with his head high. A roar of cheers broke from the adventurers packing the street. Applause and the chanting of his name crashed and rolled as he came face to face with the noble waiting before the carriage.
The master of House Trevache.
Marquis Edelmar was waiting for him.
"Well, well — if it isn't Trevache's eternal friend, and currently the number-one object of courtship among every young noble lady with eyes: the romanticist himself."
"...Pardon?"
"Hmm? You mean you still don't know? The young ladies who came to see the play starring you and Miss Dieta have become your most fervent admirers. A fair number of love letters must have reached you by now."
There were love letters?
Najin glanced sideways. There was one person who managed every letter that came addressed to him — a person who, quite coincidentally, had brown hair and bright yellow eyes, and who was standing right now at Marquis Edelmar's side.
"I wouldn't know anything about that..."
Dieta muttered, carefully avoiding Najin's gaze. The marquis burst out laughing.
"A man burdened with sins. Though with looks like yours, skill, and romance all stacked together, I suppose it can't be helped. A fine man is bound to steal the hearts of any number of ladies, is he not?"
Then he leaned in and whispered.
"Be careful. The blade of a lady scorned is a touch sharper than that of a Sword Master."
"...I'll keep that in mind."
Advice worth carving into bone.
After that light exchange, Marquis Edelmar cleared his throat and nodded to Najin. Najin slowly went down on one knee.
"I, Edelmar of Trevache — founder of the Cambria Foundation and patron of this city — do hereby declare, in this place and in the name of the great Empire's sun:"
He spoke to Najin, and perhaps to every adventurer in the city.
"The feats you have shown deserve praise. The merits you carved with a single blade shall be inscribed upon this city's firmest monument, and remembered for all time — just as King Arthur once was, long ago."
The monument at the city's heart.
Upon that stone were densely recorded the names of those who had passed through Cambria and the great deeds they had wrought here. Najin's name, and Najin's story, would be written there as well.
"Adventurers chase profit. They hunger for gold. But an adventurer is not that alone. An adventurer is one who, for all that hunger, never betrays loyalty — and who knows romance. You have been an excellent adventurer and mercenary."
Marquis Edelmar raised his voice.
"And now you mean to become a hero. The road you take into distant lands, beyond the edge of the world, into the Outer Land, will be hard. That is the nature of the path to heroism. Trials and adversity will fill it; hardship after hardship will fall upon you."
But — and here the marquis smiled —
"Go forward with pride. Pursue honor. Do not forget the romance you learned in this city. Honor, pride, and romance. So long as you do not forget those three, your road will always be the right one. Walk the right road, boy."
The marquis held out his hand.
"Rise — and become a hero."
Najin took the marquis's hand and stood.
"May your path ahead be thick with blessing. May you win a shining star and become a constellation."
He stepped aside.
There waited a carriage with its door flung open — a carriage bound for the Outer Land without stop. Najin bowed his head to the marquis in farewell, then smiled toward Dieta.
"Praise."
Thunderous applause rolled through the city.
The name of the boy who had come to the City of Opportunity, seized his chance, and made that name known was chanted over and over. When he first set foot here, no one had known who Najin was. When he left, everyone did.
Najin.
Dawn Star.
The star that announces the end of night.
In the midst of the praise, Najin climbed into the carriage. The coach that would carry him to the Outer Land started forward with him aboard.
As the carriage rolled on, Najin closed his eyes and turned his focus inward. His mindscape. The landscape of the subterranean city welcomed him. In a mindscape grown sharper and wider still, its first resident was already waiting.
That resident did not seem especially pleased with her landlord; she was glaring at Najin with open dissatisfaction.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"You looked like you were over the moon. Hm?"
"What?"
"The ring. Getting that ring had you practically dying of joy."
"What are you talking about now."
Ignoring Merlin as she pouted, Najin dropped down and settled beside her.
"You said you'd tell me. About the Outer Land."
"Haaah..."
Merlin let out a long breath and began.
"The Outer Land — and the part you're heading into now especially — is farther out than last time. It's the place they call the Battlefield of Stars."
"Where the constellations dwell? The place you showed me in that vision the first day we met."
"Yes. Exactly that place."
The visions Merlin had shown him on the day they first met — the weight he would one day have to bear. Najin started to summon them, then found he had no need.
Snap.
Merlin flicked her fingers, and the vision unfurled before his eyes.
Stars were born, and stars set beyond the far edge of the sky. The stars already seated in the heavens threw their weight around, and countless fledgling lights, toyed with by them, plummeted to the earth below. Fallen constellations fixed their gazes on Najin and tried to crush him under the sheer mass of their presence.
Transcendents who sought to deny the very foundation of his being.
But unlike then, Najin did not break. He simply weathered their stares. He had a star of his own now. His star was shining in the sky — too bright to be toppled by anyone else's gaze.
The vision shattered. Watching him step cleanly free of it in an instant, Merlin smiled with satisfaction.
"You understand now what it means that you have the qualifications."
"Clearly."
"That Sword Master told you not long ago — the most important thing in the Outer Land is not to waver. Not to deny yourself."
And, Merlin added,
"How to use a star."
She gestured. Starlight sprang from her fingertips.