The Tale of a Great Fixer Who Once Reached for The Dream, part 15 (after battle)
To the shattered ruins of the sanguine lance descends silver-haired Don Quixote.
Ahh...
Don Quixote...
In front of him stands Sancho, about to burst into tears.
Quixote.
…!
O Don Quixote...
You spoke true.
Your adventures... continue still.
He grows more faint with every breath. His hand, reaching out toward Sancho, trembles weakly. Death is near.
Yet his voice, mournful it may be, sounds like it's coming from a happy dream.
Why don't you take my shoes with you on your adventure...
And one day, tell me all about it... no matter how many moons it takes...
Tell me how beautiful, how incandescent it was... The light of your dream, shining from the City skies...
The Dream... is ours...
Don Quixote's eyes close softly upon her reply.
As though drifting away into a gentle, pleasant dream.
... Thou mayest know my name as Quixote!
The righteous Fixer of justice, Don Quixote!
With that declaration, the lance she had so powerfully raised toward the heavens clatters to the ground.
............
Don Quixote...
Don Quixote falls to her knees and weeps sorrowfully. Red rain falls from the sky, enveloping her.
<La Manchaland... is falling apart...>
She carefully slips her feet into Rocinante.
... And they fit perfectly onto her feet, like they were made just for her.
Allow me to regale thee... that, in this... adventure of mine...
Verily, I was blessed with a family of twelve.
Together, we have braved and vanquished innumerable foes, our wills entwined as one…
We were enactors of justice who have never forsaken hope, not even for a fleeting moment.
And at last, I have come to...
... I have come to understand what thou hast dreamed.
Thus... I now set off on another adventure to seize that dream that twinkles so far, far above us.
'Tis high time I introduced myself to thee once again.
Thou mayest know me... as Quixote.
Or Don Quixote; 'Don' as a signifier of my nobility.
I am a Fixer who shall sprint for the dream side by side with thee.
After some time passed…
Good work, everyone. You certainly did not disappoint.
Not only did you successfully destroy La Manchaland...
... you also brought us the carcass of its founder.
…….
You show no wrath. No relief. Or even a look of release.
Do you feel nothing upon the demise of this man who caused the deaths of so many?
Hatred... resentment... those emotions will only grow moldy and stuffy. And they'll eventually stand between us and our goals.
If I were to make a comparison, I'd say...
... it's more like...
... I'm meeting the protagonist of a fairytale I once read as a child.
... I'm sure the family of his victims would be very pleased to hear you say that.
Oh, didn't I tell you?
Two months ago, when La Manchaland suddenly manifested here...
I lost one of my closest relatives to the phenomenon.
Our family tried all kinds of methods to get them back, but... it was all pointless.
Until, one day, I saw a footage of La Manchaland starting to manifest.
There's a tale at P Corp. that everyone who's lived here knows. The old, old tale about the Singularity created by P Corp.'s Chief Executive Director.
When I watched that video, I suddenly understood that our Singularity is surprisingly similar to La Manchaland.
... I don't suppose any further explanation is necessary.
Well, here we are anyway, I suppose.
... Huh.
Anyway... congratulations, mission accomplished. You have your Golden Bough. Let's all celebrate separately, in each of our offices.
Don Quixote may believe that they are merely collecting Don Quixote's remains, but...
<... P Corp. isn't going to just stop at collecting his body, are they?>
All further speculation is meaningless, Dante.
And perhaps, one day, should Don Quixote realize the truth behind the matter, whatever it may be... she may come to resent all those who were involved in the process.
<Do I... have to lie again?>
... No. I believe that is my weight to bear.
Just how much...
... are we sacrificing for the Golden Boughs?
But...
I don't want to give up on this adventure just yet.
…….
Don Quixote chose to remain in this stageplay.
With the knowledge that she is an actor playing a role.
Prithee, regard me not with such an expression.
<I... don't have a face, let alone an expression.>
All of existence, from the swaying flowers in the meadows to the rolling pebbles in a stream... has expressions.
What expression did she read from me, I wonder.
I beseech thee, smile.
For all of this is but a merry dream.
No one thinks about what awaits them at the end of the journey when embarking on an adventure.
But that unknown future, twinkling so tantalizingly...
... is what inevitably draws us to venture toward them.
So...
... I guess I'll smile, like Don Quixote asked me to.
Smile with anticipation for what tomorrow holds.
Thus ends the tale in which they laid claim to another Golden Bough.
Mm, it was an interesting tale.
So, did they manage to tame the bough?
They have indeed. I can't help but look forward to what kind of fruit this Golden Bough, steeped in so much struggle and bloodshed, will bear. And at what cost, too.
I intend to enjoy this play for a little longer.
For I must gaze into the far horizon...
... and shine a light for the blinded, that I may turn them away from the seas they mustn't seek...
I will spark the flame again and again should it go out.
So that the fallen nebulae's homeward journey to the star may not be veiled in shadows.
Once that is over and done with...
... I suppose I shall also become a sovereign of a star, guided to my promised, eternal respite.
Mhm. When that time comes... we'll all be able to find joy just by looking up at the skies.
I'll now wait for the sun to set into the gloaming before nightfall.
Waiting for the sheep one who fell from the skies will draw me.