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Chapter 21
Chapter 21. Don Quixote Battles the Windmills
After dinner, the knights and attendants began setting up tents and bedrolls beneath the trees.
The four Royal Knights moved deftly, raising the tent frames in a few quick motions, while the three guards spread oilcloth and laid down mattresses beside them.
Fick walked over and reached out to help, but one of the knights quickly stopped him. “Mr. Fick, please rest. We will handle this.”
“Do not.” Fick waved his hand and crouched down to help pull the oilcloth into place. “I am only a novelist, not some important figure. There is no need for so much formality.”
W е b̃ n̊о v е̄l̃ Е̃ňumа̇
The guards exchanged glances and no longer refused him.
“Mr. Fick, you are quite strong,” one guard said with a smile.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“Somewhat. I have trained a little recently.” Fick glossed over it and changed the subject. “How long have you all been following Alex?”
“Three years,” one said.
“Five years,” another said.
“Eight years.” The oldest guard raised his head, a trace of reminiscence in his eyes. “Back then, when we were chasing remnant orc soldiers in the Northern Border, I was still a twenty-six-year-old young man.”
Ѐn̈ ū m̂ ǎ.і d
“The Northern Border?” Fick thought of the place Alice was heading to. “How is it now?”
“Cold. Damn cold.” The guard grinned. “But it is much better than it was more than ten years ago. Back then, every step left a bloody footprint…”
“That is enough,” a knight beside him interrupted. “Do not talk about those miserable matters.”
Fick smiled and continued helping them lay out the mattresses.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
By the campfire, Alex sat on a rock, holding the stack of Don Quixote manuscripts in his hands as he flipped through them page by page in the firelight. Occasionally, he stopped, muttered “Marvelous,” then lowered his head and continued reading.
Shulia stood beside him with her arms crossed, looking deeply displeased.
Е̊n̆u mа̀
“If you bring the manuscript out with you, it will delay the novel’s publication.” Her voice was icy. “How selfish.”
Alex did not even lift his head and kept turning the pages.
“I am not you,” he said unhurriedly. “Sheldon has a photographic memory. At this hour, he has already begun arranging for his subordinates to print the second draft he memorized.”
Shulia wanted to retort, but she could not find the words.
Fick happened to hear this and sighed inwardly. The old man truly was worthy of being a publisher who had worked for thirty years. Even his ability to memorize manuscripts had been fully developed.
By then, the tents and bedrolls had been prepared. Alex raised his head and glanced over, then closed the manuscript and stood up, patting his clothes.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“Everyone, come over.” He beckoned to the knights and guards.
The four knights, three guards, and Fick all gathered around the campfire.
Holding the manuscript, Alex swept his gaze over those six subordinates. Two night-watch knights stood guard on the perimeter, while the other two knights and three guards were all present.
“I know,” he began, his voice clear enough for even the two night-watch knights to hear, “that although you all think Mr. Fick is a decent person, you still do not quite look highly upon him. You think he is just a second-rate noble who writes damned novels, do you not?”
The air fell silent at once.
That cut rather close to home. Fick sat beside Shulia.
W̊èb̄ n оv̈ĕľ Ĕ ñům̊а
Shulia said nothing. She merely reached out and brushed the dust from Fick’s sleeve.
The thin guard who followed Shulia—Fick remembered that his name was Saller Ampel—suddenly spoke.
Baca cerita ini hanya di situs resmi Enuma.id!
“I do not think that.”
Everyone looked at him.
Ampel stood up, his posture perfectly straight. “I was standing beside them when Mr. Sheldon gave his evaluation. I know Mr. Fick must be a man of tremendous talent, the sort that even the most cultured knight I have ever met cannot compare to.”
Fick gave him a thumbs-up. This lad knew how to read the room.
Е̊_ǹů m а̄
Ampel grinned, sat back down with confidence, and even deliberately moved a little closer to Fick.
The other six men—the two knights, two guards, and two night-watch knights who had been eavesdropping—looked somewhat embarrassed, but their backs remained perfectly straight.
They were royal men, after all. Being asked to serve a second-rate ice-fiend noble who wrote novels did indeed leave them somewhat resistant.
Alex took in all their expressions.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
He smiled and sat down leisurely.
“You two on night watch, stop eavesdropping and stand guard properly.” He nodded toward the two knights on the perimeter. “The remaining four, come sit down.”
Е̂ n ŭm а̃
The two knights and two guards sat down as instructed.
Alex raised the manuscript in his hand and waved it under the firelight.
“I will host a little storytelling session for you and read from this knightly literary masterpiece that will one day be recorded in the history books of the Empire. But do not expect me to read from the beginning. I am too lazy to go back.”
The campfire crackled, and sparks flew up before falling back into the ashes.
Fick sat beside Shulia and watched as Alex opened to the first page and cleared his throat.
“Listen carefully.” Alex began to read.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“It was said that this lord Don Quixote rode his bony horse, Rocinante, and brought his attendant Sancho as they journeyed across the vast plains of La Mancha…”
Firelight flickered across every face. At first, the knights kept their expressions tense, but gradually, their eyes changed.
“Suddenly, thirty or forty windmills appeared ahead. Don Quixote glanced at them, then turned to Sancho and said, ‘Fate has arranged matters better than we could have hoped. Look over there, friend Sancho. More than thirty dreadful giants have appeared. I shall go fight them and kill them all. The spoils of victory will be our glory, and we can make a fortune as well.’
Sancho said, ‘What giants?’
Don Quixote said, ‘Those ones with long arms. Some of their arms must be two miles long.’
Sancho said, ‘Look carefully, sir. Those are not giants. They are windmills. Those things that look like arms are windmill sails, turning in the wind.’
Е n̂ ùma..і̇d̄
Don Quixote said, ‘It is clear that you know nothing of adventures. They are giants. If you are afraid, then stand aside and pray. I will fight them alone.’”
After reading to this point, Alex lifted his eyes and looked at his audience.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The four men were already sitting upright, their eyes fixed on the manuscript in his hands.
Alex continued reading.
“After Don Quixote finished speaking, he braced the shield against his chest, leveled his lance, and urged Rocinante forward. He charged at the nearest windmill and drove his lance into one of its sails.
The wind caught the sail, and it spun rapidly, snapping the lance into several pieces. Horse and rider were swept up together, thrown into the air, and then slammed heavily onto the ground.
Wё b̄ńôv ẽl Е̊ n̆ ŭ m̄ а
Sancho hurried over on his donkey. When he saw Don Quixote lying on the ground, unable to move, he quickly said, ‘Heavens! Did I not tell you? That was a windmill! Only someone with windmills spinning inside his own head would fail to recognize that it was a windmill!’
Don Quixote lay on the ground, covered in dust, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, yet he still said, ‘Say no more, friend Sancho. War is the most fickle of affairs. I dare say it must have been that magician, Freston, who turned the giants into windmills to rob me of the glory of victory. He bears a deep grudge against me, but in the end, his wicked arts shall never prevail against my sword.’
Sancho sighed, helped Don Quixote up, and lifted him back onto the limping Rocinante. The two continued on their way to search for the next “giant.””
After Alex finished reading that section, he closed the manuscript.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
The campfire crackled. No one spoke.
The two night-watch knights who had been eavesdropping fell silent for a while, as if they felt some sympathy.
Е n̂ um̆ а̃. і̄d
A knight in front of the campfire suddenly spoke, his voice tinged with confusion. “Did he… Did he know those were windmills?”
“He knew,” Fick said. “But to him, whether they were windmills was not important. If he believed they were giants, then they had to be giants.”
The knight furrowed his brow. “Is that not self-deception?”
“It is self-deception.” Fick nodded. “But think about it. A man lived for more than fifty years, became obsessed with reading knight novels, and suddenly decided one day to go out and become a chivalrous hero. He put on his family’s old, broken armor, rode a bony horse, and was mocked, beaten, and deceived everywhere he went. If he did not treat those windmills as giants, would he still be Don Quixote?”
The knight had no answer.
Another knight cut in. “Then what about that attendant of his, Sancho? If he clearly knew that his master was mad, why did he still follow him?”
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“That is in the earlier part of the story. Don Quixote promised him that once they conquered an island, he would make Sancho its governor.” Fick smiled. “Sancho was a simple and honest farmer, and his family was dirt poor. He was counting on that to make his fortune.”
The knights and guards all laughed. Alex noticed that even his two night-watch knight subordinates had lost focus for a brief moment.
“But that was not the whole reason,” Fick continued. “Sancho complained all the way, yet he also followed Don Quixote with genuine sincerity. Because although Don Quixote was mad, he never bullied him, and he even shared the spoils they gained on the road with him, though they were nothing but scraps. Over time, Sancho discovered that he could no longer leave that mad old man.”
The oldest guard nodded thoughtfully.
“So did that old man win in the end?” another knight asked.
Fick shook his head.
Ë ǹ û ṁ a.
“No. He was defeated, went home obediently, fell ill, and only came to his senses before he died, realizing that all those knight novels had been nothing but nonsense.”
The campfire crackled.
Baca cerita ini hanya di situs resmi Enuma.id!
“Then was that not… all for nothing?” a guard asked quietly.
“Perhaps.” Fick looked at the leaping flames. “He had lived the first half of his life honestly and quietly. If he could cast everything aside and go mad for a little while before he died, then it was worth it.”
“A madman,” the guard said.
“A madman,” another guard agreed with a nod. “But mad in a way that makes one envious.”
Ẁ е̌bn о v ël̈ Ẽ ńu.mа
The campfire reflected on every face, and the resistance in their eyes had now changed.
Alex put down the manuscript and took a sip from his wineskin.
“We still have to travel tomorrow,” he said. “All of you, rest early.”
The knights and guards stood up and headed toward their tents. But halfway there, the oldest guard turned back.
Dilarang mengopy novel dari Enuma.id.
“Mr. Fick, Young Master Alex, can you tell another section tomorrow night?”
Alex said to ask the great talent, and Fick nodded.
Ẅ eb n о̄v̊ѐl Е num̂ ȧ.
“Thank you, Mr. Fick.” The guards ducked into their tents.
Beside him, Shulia kicked Fick.
“Who did you learn that from? You are rather good at winning people over,” she said quietly.
Fick rolled his eyes. “I only told a story.”
“I thought it was very good. If these arrogant subordinates of mine did not broaden their horizons a little, I would not feel at ease about Mr. Fick’s personal safety.” Alex sat beside the campfire and opened the manuscript again.
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