Chapter 206 - The Romanticist (1)

"What is love?"

At Najin's murmured question, Merlin gave a strangled cough. Spluttering as though she had choked on something, she repeatedly thumped her chest. Once she could breathe again, she let out a long sigh and looked at him.

"Where did that come from? Why do you ask?"

It truly was an abrupt change of subject. The question, posed without warning or context, left Merlin quite flustered, but she shrugged, doing her best to look composed.

"What is love? That's a very... um, a very philosophical question. What makes you curious?"

"Oh, nothing in particular."

Najin looked at the ring in his hand. It was the ring Dieta had given him, one that felt warm when he held it. Lately, he had taken to touching it out of habit. The Outer Lands were generally cold, bleak, and dry, and he sometimes missed the warmth of another person. Whenever he did, this ring offered just the right warmth.

"You know, I..."

"Yes?"

"Someone confessed her feelings to me, remember? When she gave me this ring."

"..."

Merlin's face twisted into a scowl.

"She did. And?"

"I realized how admirable that was."

Without pretense, confidently, honestly. Najin had admired the way Dieta faced him head-on. How much courage did it take to express one's feelings so honestly?

"Doesn't it make you wonder, when you think about it?"

"W-what? Wonder about what?"

"Does love give people that much courage? You see it in heroic tales, too. People give up everything for their lovers, even risk their lives... I've never really been able to relate to those parts."

"R-really?"

"Why do they do that? What is love, exactly?"

He asked out of pure curiosity. Had someone who had been in a relationship, or even married, been present, they might have offered him a plausible answer.

"Hmm, um. Hmm..."

Unfortunately, the only person here was a thousand-year-old girl who had spent all thousand of those years having nothing to do with romance—in other words, she had never once been in a relationship. And to that girl, Najin's question was as baffling as it was embarrassing.

Merlin worked her lips. What was love? What on earth was this boy asking? Didn't he find that sort of topic embarrassing? Still, since he had asked, she ought to give him an answer.

"Love, you see? It's really radiant, and beautiful, and noble, and, um..."

Like anyone who had never been in a relationship, Merlin had her fantasies about romance. She had preserved those fantasies for a full thousand years, and the words spilling from her mouth were so embarrassing that a listener might have cringed on her behalf. Unfortunately, no one present could point that out.

"Anyway, that's what it is."

By the time she finished, Merlin's face was scarlet. Najin nodded, mulling over her words.

"Hmm. I don't understand any of it."

"So," Najin said, "shall we ask?"

"Ask who?"

"Who else? That man over there."

Najin pointed at the knight tending a flower bed. A knight said to live and die for romance. Even in the Outer Lands, a place full of eccentrics of every kind, he was widely considered the strangest of them all: a Romanticist.

Anton Quijano the Eccentric.

He was the man who held a clue to La Mancha, the place Najin had been searching for.

2.

A few days earlier, after completing Blue Spear's funeral rites, Najin had gone to see Kirchhoff to deliver his final words and belongings. When Kirchhoff saw Najin arrive carrying the blue spear, his eyes widened. Then he gave a bitter smile.

"I see," he murmured. "So that is how he met his end."

After hearing Najin's account, Kirchhoff pressed firmly between his brows. He looked at the blue spear Najin offered him and shook his head.

"Shouldn't that go to you, his disciple? It isn't something I ought to accept."

"I already have a spear. Besides, I've received something else from him. That's enough for me."

"Received what?"

"The spear arts of Londinel."

Kirchhoff blinked, then burst out laughing.

"I see. In that case, would you show me?"

And so he did. Najin wielded his spear before Kirchhoff, who gave him a standing ovation when the demonstration ended.

"To think the day would come when I could see this again."

A good story deserved good liquor. Muttering those words, Kirchhoff fetched a bottle he had been saving and pulled out the cork, accompanying Najin's account with a drink.

"So he was like that right to the very end."

Smiling contentedly, Kirchhoff suddenly looked at the blue spear. His eyes grew somber as he gazed at the weapon Najin had brought.

"Only Londinel's noblest and strongest knights may wield that spear. I don't know whether I'm worthy of it."

"Surely it's all right? That's what you are, after all."

"Haha, well. You're not wrong. I'm the only knight Londinel has left. In that case, I'll keep it for the time being."

Kirchhoff let out a long breath and said, "You said you were looking for La Mancha?"

"Yes."

"To kill Quixote, I assume."

"That's right. And beyond that, to kill the Emperor of Revelry."

"Then we share the same goal."

Kirchhoff emptied his glass.

"I don't know much about La Mancha myself. But I do know someone who might."

"Who is that?"

"Anton Quijano."

Anton Quijano the Eccentric. Kirchhoff explained about the man who went by that name.

"Anton Quijano belongs to the same family as Quixote, and he knows about Quixote's past. I tried extracting information from him once... but, well, that was a spectacular failure."

"A failure...? Why?"

"Anton is an eccentric among eccentrics. You can't negotiate with him by ordinary means. Nor is he the sort to talk under threat. When I asked about Quixote, all he gave me were cryptic remarks."

"But," Kirchhoff said, pointing at Najin, "with you, it might be different."

"Is there a reason it would be different for me?"

"Not so much a reason as a feeling. Intuition. I trust mine quite a bit. I'll tell you where Anton lives. Why not pay him a visit?"

A man who knew Quixote's past and might hold a clue to La Mancha. Najin nodded. That seemed better than searching blindly.

"Go here. You'll see it from a distance. There's a field of bright red flowers."

And that was how he had arrived at the present situation. Najin looked ahead. Before him lay a garden of red flowers in full bloom. He knew it was no easy task to create a flower garden in the Outer Lands, where the sun rarely rose and the weather was a chaotic mess.

"..."

A man was watering the flowers. Paying no heed to Najin's arrival, he made a circuit of the flower beds. Only after finishing his watering did he turn his gaze to Najin, who stood waiting.

"What brings you to my garden, boy?"

"Are you Anton Quijano?"

"My name is Anton, yes. But that feels a little insufficient. What's your name?"

"Najin."

"Short. Such a stiff first impression has me sighing already. I'd like you to introduce yourself at as much length and in as much detail as possible. Give me something to pique my interest."

Even at first meeting, he was clearly a difficult man.

Najin spoke inwardly to Merlin. 'Shall we do it? That thing. It's been a while.' Knowing what he meant, Merlin began to scream. Najin gave a little chuckle and opened his mouth.

"The youngest Sword Seeker, having attained the rank at eighteen, the youngest free knight, the youngest..."

He recited his achievements one by one. Only when Merlin's screams had grown so loud that they cut out altogether did Najin finish his introduction.

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

"Now that's a little more interesting. Good. Very good!"

Anton clapped, the corners of his mouth curling upward.

"I am Anton Quijano. Others call me Anton the Romanticist, but I call myself a man devoted to love. The lover of the century, no less."

"The lover of the century?"

"Yes. In truth, even that description feels a little inadequate. I've been pursuing one woman for several centuries, not just one."

Anton Quijano said, "I've spent four hundred years searching for one woman. The wretched woman who stole my heart."

3.

"So you've come looking for information about Quixote. I certainly do know a thing or two about him. He's my uncle."

"Pardon?"

"Alonso Quijano. That's the real name of this Quixote you're looking for. As you can tell from the name, he comes from the same family as I do."

House Quijano. Anton shrugged as he spoke.

"My uncle was quite a character even when I was young, though that means something rather different now. He's infamous. I do find it saddening. I'd never imagined he would become what he is today."

"Then, about La Mancha..."

"Of course I know about it."

Before Najin could ask whether he would tell him, Anton raised a hand, as though to tell him to stop there.

"I know, but it's not something I can tell you so readily. Besides, I don't particularly want to."

"Why not?"

"Listen, boy. It's only been ten-odd minutes since we exchanged names. Would you tell someone everything after knowing them for a mere ten minutes?"

He had a point. Najin swallowed the questions and words he had been about to utter. Haste would only ruin things. Reminding himself that the more urgent the journey, the more important it was to take the long way around, he spoke.

"You're right. And it would be shameless of me to seek valuable information without offering anything in return."

"Now you're talking sense."

"Anton Quijano."

"Just Anton is fine."

"Very well, Anton."

Najin looked him straight in the eye. Though he appeared to be a young man not much older than Najin, he had lived for at least four hundred years. Moreover, Anton was a transcendent being. Najin didn't know how many stars he had, but the presence he exuded was unmistakable.

"I'd like to propose a deal."

"A deal? Excellent. But information about La Mancha is as precious to me as my life. That's not merely a figure of speech. It's the literal truth."

Anton snorted.

"Boy, what do you possess that could persuade me to divulge information as precious as my own life? If you're thinking of staking a star, don't bother. I have no interest in such trifles."

Go on, then.

"What can you offer me?"

The transcendent being fixed Najin with a piercing gaze. It was also a threat: offer something worthless, and things would cease to be amusing. Yet contrary to Anton's expectations, Najin showed not the slightest sign of shrinking before the force emanating from a transcendent being more than four hundred years old. He simply met that gaze with his eyes wide open.

Well, look at this boy. As Anton gave an incredulous chuckle, Najin spoke.

"You said you were looking for someone?"

"That's right."

"And that you've been searching for four hundred years, but still haven't found her."

"Sadly, yes. She's a terribly mischievous woman."

"I'll help you with that."

"... What?"

"I'll find the woman you're looking for. Would that be enough in exchange?"

Anton laughed in disbelief.

"Listen, if she were that easy to find, would I have spent four hundred years struggling? Anyone can make promises."

"You don't think I'd ask for payment in advance, do you? Naturally, you would pay afterward. I'll find her for you, and then you can give me the information."

Anton's eyes narrowed.

"You seem confident."

"I've always been quite good at finding people. I spent a fair amount of time tracking down bastards who took the money and disappeared, and beating the hell out of them."

"And," Najin added, "I have a capable guide. A guide who can find the way better than anyone."

"A capable guide?"

"Yes. Probably the finest in human history."

"That's arrogant. The finest guide in history would be Lady Merlin, the archmage of the Round Table. Are you saying you know a guide who can rival her?"

'Hear that, Merlin?' Najin said inwardly, holding back his laughter.

"Yes. Every bit as capable as she is."

"Ahahaha!"

Anton Quijano burst into irrepressible laughter.

"Indeed, better to have too much confidence than none. Good. Very good. Just hearing about it makes it sound entertaining."

He offered Najin his hand.

"I accept your proposal. If you find her for me, I'll give you all the information you want. I swear it on my honor and my name, my soul and my flesh—on everything I am."