MDL | Chapter 2.1

Episode 2. The Promise of the Nameless

Crackle, crackle… A campfire was burning.

The dry branches of winter and the brittle leaves that crumbled at the slightest touch sparked and crackled as they burned. The fire was just enough to keep the four people and three horses huddled around it from freezing.

They had to be content with even this modest fire. It was proof that the sudden cracks in the world and the monsters that had emerged from them hadn’t caught up to them yet.

But the calamity would soon catch up. Anyone could predict that, even without being a prophet. No matter how fast humans run, plagues and great disasters always overtake them, mocking their two legs. It’s a truth humanity has learned repeatedly throughout history.

When the cracks finally catch up to them, even this crude campfire will become a luxury.

Knowing this, the Prince, who was on watch tonight, as well as the wizard, the Princess, and Knight Zig, couldn’t shake their gloomy moods and found it hard to sleep.

……

Yes……

Somehow, the four of them ended up traveling together. Originally, the wizard had wanted to save the world alone with the Prince… but yes, it turned out this way.

“I must return to my kingdom. I can’t stay here any longer with the Prince cursed to sleep for a hundred years gone. So I’ll join you.”

The Princess said this and asked to accompany them on their journey.

“Your Highness is embarking on a dangerous journey, and as a knight of the royal family, I cannot sit idly by. I, too, will go with you! I will protect Your Highness with my life!”

Knight Zig, in an uncharacteristically dignified manner, volunteered to guard the Prince. Considering his past exploits, it almost seems like the Prince should be protecting him instead. Why did Zig insist on tagging along? It’s truly baffling. Even as he spoke those words, supposedly about loyalty and reliability, his eyes kept darting toward the Princess…

Huh? Toward the Princess?

…Hmm…

Ah, I see…

I take back what I said about not understanding Zig. I think I understand his motivation for joining this journey very well…

Anyway, as the narrator of this story and your faithful eyes and ears, I can’t help but doubt whether the Princess and Knight Zig will achieve their goals on this journey. Will the Princess ever return to her kingdom? Will Zig be able to express his feelings to the Princess?

“I am Briar Rose.”

Last night, the Princess gained a name. Since they weren’t close enough for casual conversation, she suddenly spoke up while they sat awkwardly around the campfire after dinner. She seemed unsure, as if she had just remembered her name.

“That’s what people called me. I can’t be sure if it’s my real name, though.”

It might be a nickname. But what does it matter? What’s important is that she now has a name to call her by. “Briar Rose” is too long, so from now on, I’ll refer to her as “Rose.”

“Please call me Zig.”

Knight Zig said. You already know his name, of course.

After these simple introductions, Rose and Zig naturally turned their gazes to the Prince and the wizard.

“…The Prince.”

The Prince reluctantly spoke.

“…I’m the wizard. Hahaha.”

The wizard also spoke.

Needless to say, the already awkward atmosphere became even more awkward.

It’s only been five days since they set out on their journey to Omphalos. It hasn’t been smooth sailing from the start. Everyone… knows very little. About the world, and even about themselves.

What they like, what they dislike, their habits, who their closest childhood friend was, the most heartbreaking experience of their lives, the most embarrassing or proud moment they’ve had.

Not even their own names.

So how could a journey with these four people be pleasant? Small talk and icebreakers are only possible among people who know something about themselves. If you asked four amnesiacs to have a fun chat, wouldn’t silence be the only result? There’s nothing to talk about. Ah… my choice of words is too ahead of its time. Haha. I hope you, dear readers, will forgive me.

Regardless of my word choice, the important fact is that these four people all have patchy memories, like clothes burned full of holes, right?

Even Knight Zig, who had a name from the very beginning, couldn’t give a proper answer when Rose or the wizard asked him about himself during the journey.

“Well… I… uh… Huh? I really don’t know. When I came to my senses, I was already a knight. It wasn’t a childhood dream or a family tradition… I don’t think so. My mother was an ordinary noblewoman, and my father… hmm, well? An ordinary nobleman. Yes, neither of them were knights, I think? Uh, uh… probably?”

He stumbled even over the simplest question: why he became a knight.

Is it any wonder? Zig was an extra among extras. If the Prince hadn’t run away from the castle to avoid the curse, Zig would have been lumped together with “the knights guarding the Prince’s birthday banquet” and forgotten. The author impulsively, capriciously, and for no reason at all, picked a name from A to Z in a name dictionary and slapped it on him. He has no real personality or quirks. As he himself put it, he “came to his senses” and found himself caught up in all this. True to the fate of an extra, neither you nor I even know what he looks like, do we?

Well… let’s decide that right now. Since he’s part of the Prince’s party and will keep appearing, we should know what he looks like.

Let’s see, hmm, how should I describe him? First, his age. Zig is around the same age as the Prince, not yet past his twenty-sixth birthday… Thanks to swordsmanship training, he has a sturdy, robust build and healthy skin, with a few freckles on his face. And, uh… his hair is reddish-brown, and his eyes are deep blue. That should do, right? Overall, he has a simple, honest appearance. Nothing particularly striking, and he has the kind of eyebrows that make him look like he’d immediately take off his cloak to cover a beggar on the street. His actual personality probably isn’t far off.

Yes, so Knight Zig, Princess Rose, and the still nameless Prince and wizard.

The four of them had been traveling for five days now. Their journey was to Omphalos, the center of the world. In this world, everything—literally everything, the seasons, the land, the sea, day and night—revolves like stars following their orbits, but Omphalos, the central axis, remains fixed in place. True to its name, it is the world’s navel, the one unchanging point. So even if they don’t know the way, even without a compass or a map, they will surely reach it if they have enough time. Inward, inward, deep into the continent, deeper still… They just have to keep moving forward. Whether Rose can return to her kingdom in this lifetime is uncertain, but there’s no way they won’t reach Omphalos.

…What a relief.

Not that their journey has been comfortable, of course. Yes, as I mentioned earlier, it hasn’t been smooth from the start.

“Huh? Doesn’t the tableware clean itself up after meals?”

That was Rose.

“What? By itself? Do the plates have feet?”

The wizard retorted, dumbfounded.

“Princess… How can you think something so absurd? Of course, someone cleans it up.”

The Prince said, crossing his arms.

“Of course, of course! There are people who clean up! It’s usually the kitchen servants’ job. The servants in the knights’ quarters are a bit sloppy, so sometimes there were water stains on the forks… I think. I don’t remember well, but, uh, probably?”

That was Zig.

The wizard exchanged glances with the three of them—and Zig—while empty cups and dishes lay scattered around the campfire. But they just stared blankly at the wizard, as if they had no idea what the problem was.

“Zig, have you never done the dishes? Aren’t you supposed to go on knightly expeditions through rough terrain?”

The wizard sighed as he asked.

“Huh? Well, I have a squire for that…? And the squire doesn’t do things like dishes either. A squire learns proper conduct by tidying up the knight’s armor or cleaning the room, not by doing menial tasks. Servants? There are… servants, right?”

Tilting his head, Zig answered with an innocent expression, and the wizard felt like his patience was about to snap.

The journey hadn’t been smooth. Especially for the wizard.

…Damn it. This is why you shouldn’t travel with princes, princesses, and lords. What do these pampered people who’ve never done their own laundry know? Damn it!

“Uh, everyone, well… Ha, no, never mind.”

The wizard gathered the four empty dishes in his arms.

“Are you going to clean up? You could use magic! Now that I think about it, you don’t use magic often. You could solve everything with magic—cooking, cleaning, lighting the fire. Oh, and shelter! Instead of looking for a place to sleep, you could just magic up a house for the night. Why don’t you do that?”

That was the Princess’s innocent question.

“Ha, Princess Rose. Magic isn’t some special key that can solve everything with a snap.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s… a little, just a little… convenience.”

“Then add some convenience now. Use magic to clean up.”

“Sigh, and magic isn’t something you can just pull out and use whenever you want.”

“Then what is it?”

“Magic isn’t something you can just snap your fingers and make gold or silver appear… If it were, how would the world function? The world has something called balance. A kind of homeostasis… Magic is about using the loopholes in the world and natural laws without disrupting that balance. So you can’t use it anytime, anywhere. Using magic requires thorough preparation. What do you think I’m doing when I close my eyes before sleeping? Do you think I’m just sitting there with my eyes closed? It’s meditation! Meditation! It’s the process of stabilizing the flow of energy and restoring divine power. If I don’t do that, I can’t use magic the next day. There’s a limit to how many times I can use it in a day, and the type of magic I can use depends on which god I serve…”

The wizard ranted on. Rose seemed to be trying to understand, but by the time he got to “thorough preparation,” her eyelids started drooping slowly.

“Uh, sorry… I didn’t get it.”

Zig, who had been subtly sitting close to Rose, cluelessly chimed in.

“But why can’t you use magic to do the dishes? I really don’t get it.”

“No, what I’m saying is… magic is… Sigh, never mind.”

The wizard gave up and started gathering the dishes again. Watching this, the Prince muttered quietly, sounding a bit apologetic.

“So, you can’t do this kind of thing with magic.”

“No, it’s not that I can’t. I can, but… no, yes, I can’t. I can’t do it.”

Instead of comforting him, it only made the wizard sigh even more deeply.

And it wasn’t just the dishes. This was just a small, trivial example.

In the first five days of the journey, there had been countless moments like this that made the wizard’s patience snap. Eventually, the wizard had to accept it. Meal preparation, dishes, lighting the campfire, finding campsites, and even guiding the way. All of it, all of it, he had to take care of it himself. There was no other way.

…After a series of such experiences, the wizard firmly resolved:

He would never travel with young masters and mistresses again! At the very least, he’d travel with someone who knew how to do the dishes! Just wait and see! Hmph!

At least they had the decency to exclude him from the nightly watch rotation. Ha, really, really, thank you so much, yeah.

…Sigh.

Anyway, it was the fifth night at the campsite.

Returning to the first sentence of this episode…

Crackle, crackle… A campfire was burning.

The dry branches of winter and the brittle leaves that crumbled at the slightest touch sparked and crackled as they burned. The fire was just enough to keep the four people and three horses huddled around it from freezing.

The three horses, sensing the approaching cracks that were chasing the group, huddled close together, sharing body heat as they slept. Rose and Zig were also deep in sleep, lying side by side in their sleeping bags. On the first and second nights, Rose had been aloof, keeping her distance from the men as she laid out her bedding, and Zig, conscious of her, had tossed and turned. But after about five days, they slept tangled up near the campfire without a care. They were both too exhausted to keep up appearances.

Tonight’s watch was the Prince’s. Beside him was a bucket filled with dirt, ready to put out the fire at the first sign of the cracks. The Prince and a bucket of dirt… Quite the mismatch, isn’t it?

The red glow of the campfire danced on the Prince’s pale cheeks. The light and shadows created by the flames made the hollows of his face deeper and the sharp edges more pronounced.

And the wizard, who had been tossing and turning all night, peeked at the Prince’s handsome profile through half-closed eyes.

Unaware of this, the Prince was lost in his own thoughts.

The night sky, still untouched by the cracks, was clean and clear. Beyond the campsite, a reed field swayed in the direction of the wind, swish, swish. Beyond the reed field were a few low-roofed houses with faint light seeping through the windows. To the left was the Forbidden Forest they had escaped from. While it was clearly night where they had set up camp, beyond the forest, the red hues of sunset were just beginning to seep in.

After quietly observing this strange scene for a while, the Prince occasionally brushed back his hair as it fell into his face. Was it because of the red campfire shadows? His appearance had a tragic, solemn, and oddly sensual quality, like the face of a martyr in a painting hanging in a sacred temple.

“Can’t sleep, huh?”

The Prince spoke, his gaze fixed on the night sky. The wizard, startled, quickly shut his eyes tightly, then laughed softly to himself.

“…Yeah. Seems so.”

The wizard propped himself up weakly. His thin, limp curls had puffed up like bread dough from the friction. Embarrassed, he pressed his hands firmly against his head. But it didn’t help much. Instead, his fingers stuck to his hair, making click, click sounds and generating friction heat. The Prince casually tossed him a water bottle.

“Haha. Thanks.”

The wizard wet his fingers and smoothed down his hair, occasionally shaking his head with a puff, puff.

The Prince, observing this curiously, said,

“You’re like an animal.”

“Huh?”

Was that… an insult?

Struck by the unexpected harsh words, the wizard stared at the Prince like he’d been hit by lightning. But there was no anger in the Prince’s eyes.

“Birds preen their feathers just like you. Cats lick their fur like that too.”

“…Just my opinion, but don’t take this the wrong way. I think Your Highness’s vocabulary isn’t very rich. You’re too blunt. If you want to survive in society, you’ll need to learn how to speak more diplomatically.”

“And you’re less blunt?”

“So, Your Highness, what you’re trying to say is…”

Hmm, I wonder. Who’s more blunt and less diplomatic? The Prince? Or the wizard?

The wizard’s cheeks were flushed, perhaps from the campfire.

“So I’m like a bird or a cat?”

As he said this, the wizard crawled on his knees toward the Prince.

“So, you think I’m as cute as a bird or a cat, right? Right?”

The Prince let out an incredulous laugh at the wizard’s coquettish attitude.

“I’ve never thought birds or cats were cute.”

“Oh, come on, Your Highness! Don’t be shy!”

The wizard laughed brightly, then quickly covered his mouth, conscious of the sleeping Rose and Zig.

Rather than a bird or a cat, the wizard now resembled a puppy. A large puppy with big eyes, golden fur, and a tail that wouldn’t stop wagging.

The Prince must have thought the same, because he absentmindedly ruffled the wizard’s hair as if petting a dog. Feeling the touch, the wizard rubbed his head against the Prince’s palm, as if asking for more. As the Prince felt the fine, silky strands of hair slipping through his fingers, he was struck by a faint sense of bewilderment.

It wasn’t unfamiliar.

The crackling campfire sparking embers. The soft, thin strands of hair tangling around his fingers. The flushed cheeks of someone unable to hide their excitement. The voice, sitting at his feet, chattering and laughing without pause.

It was a little… dizzying. The Prince withdrew his hand from the wizard’s tangled hair and pressed his fingers to his temples.

Layer upon layer, the repeated past lives.

Being born, cursed, pricked by a thorn, falling asleep, awakened by the Princess’s kiss, and the flow of time resuming after a hundred years.

All those lives, all those past lives.

He thought he knew them all, remembered them all, but was there a gap in his memory? Could it be that in some past life, at some point, he had met this wizard like this? If so, why couldn’t he remember meeting this wizard? Why did it feel familiar if he couldn’t remember?

The unfulfilled curse, the cracks tearing through the world, the glowing white sword, the shadowy monsters crawling out of the rifts in the world, the many past lives he remembered, the mad King and the weary Queen, the Princess who arrived a hundred years early, and the sudden task—to reach Omphalos, the center of the world.

Amid all the madness that had crashed down on him in a single moment, there was one question he had momentarily forgotten.

The Prince suddenly remembered that question.

…Who is this wizard?

Twenty-seven years ago and now, the same rosy cheeks and golden curls. Lips as red as a boy’s and hands as rugged as a man’s, yet with the language of a child and the eyes of an old man.

A demon?

A god?

Or just a wizard?

A wizard who seems to know the secrets of the world alone?

“Your Highness, Your Highness. Hey, Your Highness.”

The wizard called out to the Prince again, his tone childish and drawn-out.

“Look, over there in the sky. Do you see that star that’s less bright than the others? That’s the North Star. The star that doesn’t move. If we keep going north, north, until that star looks as big as the sun, we’ll reach Omphalos. The land beneath the North Star, where it shines as large as the sun. …No? You can’t see it? Ha, well, never mind. Then do you see the ladle-shaped constellation over there? This side is the handle, and the other side is the scoop. It’s a ladle that never runs dry. There’s a very sad story about those stars. Once upon a time, long, long ago, when a great drought struck this land… a poor girl who lived with her mother…”

Pointing at the stars in the sky, the wizard chattered excitedly. The Prince wasn’t looking at the stars but at the wizard’s fingertips. His hands, worn and rough, didn’t match his youthful, soft face. The nail of the wizard’s index finger, pointing at the Big Dipper, was blunt and worn, as if it had been ground against stone. Noticing the Prince’s gaze, the wizard blushed in embarrassment and hid his unsightly fingertips under the hem of his robe.

“What, what’s wrong? Am I being too loud?”

Instead of answering, the Prince stared intently at the wizard’s face.

Who is this wizard?

No, what is he?

“Are you tired? Do you want to sleep? Should I take over the watch?”

Why does this wizard’s cheeks turn as red as spring flowers every time he looks at me?

Why do his eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings as he stumbles over his words?

And why does he smile shyly?

“Your Highness…”

…Why?

The Prince looked back and forth between the path he had taken and the path ahead. He gazed at the forest, where the red hues of sunset were just beginning to fall, and at the night sky dotted with unmoving stars. A world divided like a giant dartboard… In this surreal scene he had never imagined…

“What kind of watch would that be?”

The Prince muttered and then chuckled.

“Entrusting the fire to a frail wizard like you? I’d rather ask Sleipnir to speak human words.”

Hearing its name even in its sleep, the Prince’s white horse pricked its ears.

“Your Highness has a tendency to underestimate me too much. I’m not as frail as you think. My skin is as tough and splendid as a turtle’s shell…”

The wizard pouted like a duck and grumbled under his breath. His sulking expression felt so familiar that the Prince couldn’t help but…

Couldn’t help but…

Bang!

A sound reverberated through the air. It came from the west. Startled birds fluttered into the air. Rose and Zig also woke up in a panic.

“What’s that? Is it the monsters? Already?”

Rose grabbed her sword and looked around, dazed. But there were no cracks on this side of the dartboard world. The sky and the air were intact, without a single fissure.

“M-m-m-monsters? Monsters?”

Zig also shouted belatedly, clumsily clenching his fists.

Rustle, rustle. The sound of leaves being pushed aside could be heard. It was coming from the direction of the strange bang. It was getting closer to the Prince’s group.

Soon, emerging from the bushes was a girl wearing a red cloak with a hood.

The girl was holding a long iron rod, about the length of a man’s arm. It had a handle like a hoe or a sickle, tapering toward the end, with smoke rising from a hole at the tip…

Haha. I don’t know the name of that iron rod. I’m just the storyteller. I don’t know the names of the props in the storybooks I hold. The Prince’s group is seeing it for the first time, but… well, you probably know what it is, right?

Yes, that’s right. It’s a shotgun. Hahaha.