The Romanticist (2)

Najin had a knack for finding people.

It hadn't been empty bluster when he spoke to Anton Quijano. He truly was good at this sort of work.

From the day he first came of age, what had been the job he started with a blade in his hand? Finding people. Hunting down those who took the money and ran, the ones who betrayed, the ones who went to ground—that had been Najin's first profession.

It had been limited to the underground city, true, but people lived the same way no matter where you went.

Ah, if only I had a postman's uniform.

Najin smacked his lips for no good reason.

Thinking back on his days in the underground city brought the uniform to mind—the one he had always made a point of wearing when he worked. Just as a knight put on armor or a cook donned a hat and apron, Najin would sling a postman's bag over his shoulder and tug his cap down before he got to work.

Making do, he loosened the collar of his free knight's coat and cleared his throat a few times.

"So—what sort of person are you looking for?"

First, gather information.

"Distinctive features, places they might stay—tell me as much as you can. Let's start with what you know."

"Quite professional of you."

Anton gave a short laugh and folded his arms.

"I'm looking for a woman who vanished about four hundred years ago—to be exact, four hundred twenty-seven years, seven months, and twenty-one days ago."

"What was your relationship to her?"

"A passionate one. One-sided at first, but I did get my heart run through once. Ah—I'm the one who got stabbed. She was a fiery woman."

"…Were you enemies, by any chance?"

"What kind of bloodthirsty talk is that? I told you—it was passionate. She played hard to get at first, but after I confessed a few times she finally accepted me."

"How many times did you confess?"

"Is that a necessary question?"

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

"No. Just curious."

"I like the honesty. Hmm. More than fifty, fewer than a hundred, I think."

Najin's expression turned complicated.

"At that point wasn't she just accepting to get you off her back?"

"My feelings got through to her."

"Well, anyway. So you were lovers?"

"Something like that. Though she left me the moment we'd spent one scorching night together. And let me say this on my honor and a man's pride—it wasn't because the night was unsatisfying. For both of us it was the best night of our lives."

Anton stroked his carefully trimmed beard and let out a long breath.

"There were external factors behind her leaving."

"External factors?"

"The eyes of the world… no, that doesn't quite fit. Neither of us was the type to care what people thought. In this case it would have been someone who was like a parent to her. A thoroughly overbearing mother-in-law, you might say."

Mother-in-law? Parental opposition?

Najin's face grew even more complicated. He had seen a story like this somewhere before. One of the romance novels tucked among the books Dieta had once lent him had something similar.

Y-you read that? Why is that even here?

It was mixed in with the others.

That one—look, I didn't choose it, okay? I told the staff to pick some books and they must have thrown that in too…

Dieta's face, flushed bright red as she stammered excuses, flickered briefly through Najin's mind.

"Aren't you a transcendent, Anton?"

"I am."

"And the woman?"

"She was a transcendent as well. Enough of one to put a hole through my heart."

"Do parents really interfere in the love affairs of people at that level? Is her parent a transcendent too?"

"Ah—yes, a transcendent. The strongest one in the world, in fact."

What was that supposed to mean?

Najin tilted his head.

"The strongest in the world? Is that a figure of speech? Like, a parent will become as strong as they need to for their child…"

"No. Not a metaphor. It's literal. And I doubt there was much parental affection between her and that mother-in-law anyway."

"Who on earth is she?"

"A witch."

The instant Anton Quijano spoke the word witch, Najin felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It wasn't of his own will.

……

Merlin's emotions, linked to him, had flooded in. Merlin had a few sore spots, and witches were one of them. But it lasted only a moment; she soon drew a long breath and tried to rein her feelings in.

Or rather, she tried to.

"The Witch of Camlann."

The words ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Anton added wrecked the attempt completely.

Najin's heart gave a heavy thud. The emotion pouring from Merlin was simply too intense. Unaware of any of this, Anton only shrugged.

"Every witch lives under one absolute taboo."

He clicked his tongue.

"Never entangle yourself with a human. My lover broke that rule, so the mother of all witches—the Witch of Camlann—handed down divine punishment. The damn bitch."

Anton Quijano.

"Ah. I forgot to mention this."

He called himself a romanticist, the greatest lover of the age—but others had a different name for him.

"The woman I loved was a witch. Lapis, the Witch of Distrust."

The knight who loved a witch.

The fool who broke the taboo because love had blinded him.

"She was an absolutely scorching woman."

One of only three such fools in the history of mankind stroked his beard and smiled.

Najin's expression had grown complicated.

He had dated a witch? The witches Najin knew spent their lives debating the most spectacular way to burn a human so the rumor would spread. Weren't they a race that existed solely to kill people?

"What? Strange, is it?"

"It's a little awkward to say, but… yes. It is a bit much."

"I understand. Before I met her I thought the same way you do. Witches? Just a word for pyromaniacs who get their thrills from roasting humans, right? That was the prejudice I carried. And it isn't entirely wrong."

I still think that way, even now.

Anton said so and chuckled under his breath.

"I didn't fall in love with a witch. That was only a thoroughly secondary label that came along while I was loving her. I didn't love Lapis because she was a witch—I loved her, and it turned out she was a witch."

"You didn't know she was a witch when you met her?"

"No? I knew from the first meeting."

"……"

"Listen, boy. That's how love works. When you truly love someone, every other factor becomes secondary. That's how it was for me with Lapis."

It wasn't a particularly convincing argument, but if he refused to accept it the conversation would go nowhere, so Najin nodded.

"Any other clues?"

"Plenty. I haven't spent four hundred years just tending flower beds."

Anton let out a short breath and began.

"Kölnel Canyon. Galid Lake. Osgal Ruins. Hormein Great Forest. Waibel Falls. Daunon Canyon. The Graveyard of Stars. The Battlefield of Stars. Bedard Great Ruins…"

Name after name of places, ruins, and canyons poured out. After reciting them for several long minutes, Anton added one final line.

"Those are the places I've scoured over four hundred years."

"……"

"I dug through every location that seemed remotely possible. Not a single trace. She's somewhere in the Outer Land—that much is certain—but I no longer have any idea where to look."

"If you've gone that far…"

Najin was about to say she might be dead when Anton cut him off.

"She is alive. That much is certain. My heart is still beating. Fair warning: do not stand in front of me and spout nonsense about her being dead."

The gaze Anton turned on him was sharp—cold enough to feel like a blade. Then the tension left the corners of his eyes and he put on that sly smile again.

"Anyway. To be honest I don't expect much from you. If I couldn't find a trace after combing the Outer Land for four hundred years, there's no way you will."

"We'll have to see about that, won't we?"

"I like the confidence. All right. Here's a clue—she used to say something like this."

Anton murmured, then spoke as if singing.

"…Hmm."

She certainly was fiery. Najin extracted the useful information from the song Anton had recited and sorted it out.

"Somewhere with a clear view of the sun, and somewhere high. Those are the clues, then."

"Right."

"On the Continent those places are endless, but in the Outer Land they'll actually narrow things down."

Places where the sun was visible were rare in the Outer Land.

The field had been narrowed, yet it still wasn't enough. Najin spoke inwardly to Merlin.

Do you know anything, Merlin?

I do. Plenty. So much I don't even know where to start.

She did not sound particularly cheerful.

You know my nickname?

Great Archmage?

Not that one.

Guide of King Arthur.

Not that either.

Merlin sighed and said,

Witch-slayer. The one who killed more witches than anyone in history. The number I personally killed or left half-crippled has to be at least three digits.

Imperial history brushed past it with a single dry sentence—"The Great Archmage Merlin abhorred witches and demons, and purged them." Merlin proceeded to unpack every story that single sentence had compressed.

There was a period when I smashed their circles, burned them alive, drowned them, cut them into pieces—every method I could think of to wipe the witch bloodline out… and I learned a fair bit about them while I was at it. The "Witch of Distrust" he mentioned rings a bell, too.

Looking as if she had bitten into something ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠foul, Merlin grumbled,

I don't remember the name, but it's probably her. Ask the man in front of you—doesn't Lapis the witch have a long scar carved across her chest?

Najin did as she said. The moment he asked, "That witch Lapis—does she have a long scar across her chest?" Anton's eyes went wide.

"How do you know that? Have you met her? Wait—hold on. That would mean you've seen my woman's chest… Now I'm torn between being glad you might have a lead and being furious that some other man has laid eyes on her—"

"I never actually saw it, so you can spare yourself the dilemma."

"Oh. That's a relief."

Najin relayed the answer; Merlin nodded.

Then it's her. I've met that witch. Long story, but she's also one of the ones I let live and sent away.

Is that so?

I really, truly don't want to, I hate the idea, but… there is a way to find out where that witch is.

What? Najin's eyes flew open.

When he had told Anton he had "an excellent guide," Najin had not pinned any great hopes on Merlin. He hadn't expected her to be of much real help.

Help, at best…

He had assumed it would amount to checking the Merlin Encyclopedia for what had happened four hundred years ago, since Anton was a man of that era.

You're thinking something extremely rude right now, aren't you?

I was simply reflecting once again on how great Merlin is.

……Is that so?

Great Archmage. The most capable guide in history. The one who always shows me the path…

Merlin, who had once looked ready to die of embarrassment when she herself listed her accomplishments, showed not the slightest shame when those same accomplishments were praised by someone else.

Heh-heh.

She grinned, pleased, and jerked her chin as if to say, Keep going. Only after Najin had heaped praise on her for a good while did she finally nod, arms crossed, as if her mood had improved a little.

Can't be helped. As the Great Archmage and the most capable guide there is, I'll show you the way—so all you have to do is follow!

"You're serious."

"I'd like to ask my guide the same thing. Are you serious?"

"Where is this guide of yours?"

"Inside me."

"You got a screw loose?"

The direction Merlin had pointed.

Najin had been striding confidently ahead, telling Anton, "Just follow me," when his feet were forced to stop. He and Anton stood still and stared at what lay before them.

"You want us to cross that?"

Anton pointed ahead.

A vast lake stretched out before them. No—could that even be called a lake? It would have been more accurate to call it a sea.

And that sea was a maelstrom of whirlpools and lightning (which, astonishingly, struck from below toward the sky rather than the other way around), of reefs that speared upward like awls only to vanish back into the depths…

Ooooooooooooooh!

Deep-sea creatures large enough to swallow an entire fortress whole swam across the surface, flaunting their bulk. Watching them, Najin turned to look at Merlin. She tilted her head ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠with the most innocent expression in the world and met his stare.

What?

We have to cross this? This?

Yeah. I think whatever we're looking for is on the other side.

Najin followed the direction Merlin's finger indicated. She was pointing beyond the sea.

"Good lord."

For fuck's sake.

Najin slapped his own forehead.