Amphere Harrison
Three days ago...
The air in the mini-hall was filled with the sound of my labored breaths, echoing as the sole noise in the room. Amidst the silence, the occasional drip of my sweat mingled with Estoff's amused chuckle, resembling the grunt of a rebellious teenager. The wooden floor beneath us bore witness to the result of our intense two-hour sword spar—soaked with our combined perspiration. Well, to be precise, it was only me drenched in sweat. Estoff, on the other hand, maintained an air of nonchalance, never fully committing himself. It was as though he was playfully toying with me.
My right shoulder throbbed with discomfort, mirroring the ache in my left leg. Even my abdominal area seemed to protest (well, in jest, since I lacked any significant abs to speak of). Despite the fact that our practice involved wooden swords, Estoff never afforded me the opportunity to escape. He relentlessly pressed on, striking me relentlessly, leaving me feeling battered and defeated, akin to a hapless dog.
"You're growing rusty," Estoff remarked, his chuckles persisting. "Seems like you're putting more effort into refining your 'other' skill rather than your swordplay. Perhaps that's why you nearly faltered."
"Well, my 'other' skill will prove invaluable in battle," I responded with a weary smile.
"That's precisely why you should employ it in the next encounter. Remember, Airi won't always be there to shield you. You can rely on her, but not indefinitely."
Estoff's assessment is accurate. Continually depending on my dragonoid during battles would inevitably lead to my defeat in the tournament. I have yet to grasp proper control over her powers, and I remain clueless about harnessing the potential of the "Dragonoid Eyes" once more. It is imperative that I refine my existing skills. I must acknowledge the truth—I am lackluster and imprecise when it comes to swordplay of this nature.
"Let's conclude our session for today. Merely engaging in sparring isn't the sole purpose of my presence here," Estoff declared, lowering his sword and pivoting away from me, signifying the conclusion of our practice.
Once we had showered and changed in Estoff's office, we promptly rendezvoused with Airi and Duchess Corasell. Boarding Estoff's luxurious limousine, chauffeured as always by Gilliard (his dragonoid, of course), we embarked on a two-hour journey.
The familiar scene unfolded inside the limousine: Airi nestled against my shoulder, peacefully asleep and occasionally drooling, while Duchess Corasell engaged in lively conversation with the charming Estoff. Gilliard remained his usual silent self throughout the entire ride.
Throughout the journey, the duchess purposefully avoided any interaction with me. She refused to meet my gaze, her disdain for me evident and unrelenting. Though my cheek had healed from the slap she delivered, the pain lingered in my heart. It is disheartening to be despised by someone. Let it be known, if she harbors hatred towards me, I reciprocate the sentiment. She displays a despicable attitude towards Dragon Knights and exhibits a complete lack of respect for her elders. I, too, am the son of a duke, you arrogant and self-righteous woman!
Our journey culminated in a garden adorned with enchanting fairy bushes. These miniature plants resembled bonsais, adorned with delicate white flowers resembling fairy wings. Dragonoid maids bustled about, meticulously tending to the bushes, ensuring their health and beauty. It was reminiscent of the Duchess's own garden back at her manor.
At the heart of the garden stood a modestly-sized manor, featuring a peculiar addition—a clock tower reminiscent of Big Ben perched atop its roof. The time displayed on the clock indicated that it was already past eleven in the morning, which explained Airi's grumbling hunger. How many stomachs does a female dragonoid possess?
As I approached the manor's entrance, ready to knock on the door, Airi swiftly pulled me back, redirecting my attention towards the blushing Duchess. It was evident that she felt a certain degree of embarrassment in my presence.
"Come on, say it totally!" Airi urged the duchess, her voice filled with determination. With a gentle but firm grip, she intertwined our hands and compelled us to shake them. "We need to reconcile!"
The atmosphere hung with anticipation as Airi, acting as the catalyst for reconciliation, encouraged us to address the animosity between us.
"Um..." The duchess hesitated, her voice trembling slightly. Taking a deep breath, she mustered the courage to meet my gaze directly. "I-I apologize for how I've treated you these past few days..."
"N-No worries, milady," I stammered, feeling a mixture of relief and embarrassment. I scratched my head, unable to maintain eye contact. "It's partly my fault as well. I probably deserved it."
"Hooray! Arcadia is reunited! Totally!" Airi exclaimed joyfully, her enthusiasm contagious. In the background, Gilliard and Estoff joined in laughter, the tension of the situation dissipating.
As the door swung open, revealing a man with snow-white hair, a fair complexion, and a flowing white beard, dressed impeccably in a white tuxedo, our eyes met. He appeared to be in his sixties or seventies, exuding an air of elegance. By his side stood a rather unremarkable teenager, lacking any distinctive features. It seemed that the peculiarity of this individual lay in his ordinariness.
"Welcome," the white-haired man greeted us, his tone warm and inviting. "Please, come inside."
Curiosity piqued, I leaned towards Estoff and whispered, "Who is he?" However, to my surprise, Estoff remained silent, providing no answer. Meanwhile, I couldn't help but notice that the duchess clung tightly to my arm, trembling with apprehension. Perhaps she felt uneasy about the house or something within it. Airi, ever perceptive, caught on to the duchess's distress, promptly wrapping herself around my other arm. What in the world was happening with these girls?
The living room, while not particularly spacious, exuded a cozy atmosphere. Its walls were crafted from meticulously varnished narra wood, lending an inviting warmth to the space. It dawned on me that this house resembled more of a tranquil retreat than a permanent residence. We settled onto the plush golden sofa while the dragonoid maids busied themselves, preparing a refreshing pot of tea. It was during this serene interlude that the white-haired man introduced himself.
"I am Yuri Dragunov, a humble businessman," he stated, his voice carrying a hint of authority. He then gestured towards the unassuming figure beside him. "This is Nox, my personal bodyguard, and also the former knight of the duchess."
"I despise him," the duchess whispered to me, her grip on my arm tightening. Ouch! That hurts! Estoff had hit that spot earlier.
Without beating around the bush, Estoff addressed Duke Dragunov with a smile playing on his lips. "Let's get straight to the point, Duke Dragunov. We've come here to discuss a deal."
Dragunov nodded solemnly. "I haven't forgotten our agreement. I will deposit the funds into the Arcadia and pledge my support, voting in favor of the Dragonoid Rights Bill. In return, I expect to receive information regarding Kyle Leviticus' Chevalier Unit. Does that arrangement suffice?"
Estoff rose from his seat, extending his hand. "It certainly does." The two men met in a firm handshake, sealing their agreement.
Following their swift agreement, Duke Dragunov turned his attention towards me. "Is this the young knight you spoke of?" he inquired, his gaze fixed upon me.
Estoff beamed proudly as he introduced me. "Indeed," he affirmed. "This is Amphere Harrison, a remarkable 2nd Class Dragon Knight. He brought you quite a fortune the last time, didn't he?" His reference was undoubtedly to my performance in the elimination round.
A wave of excitement washed over Duke Dragunov as he exclaimed, "Yes! I went all-in on that bet! Your three-headed dragon was both awe-inspiring and formidable!" His enthusiasm was palpable. "What was the creature's name again?"
"Ultima Dragon," I replied, mustering a rather unimpressed smile.
However, Duke Dragunov's countenance swiftly transformed into one of solemnity. His emerald eyes locked onto mine, radiating a determined intensity. "That was the last time I laid eyes on my foster son, Alder Windstrafe," he declared, his voice tinged with a mix of nostalgia and longing.
Airi and I were on the verge of reacting, our curiosity piqued by Duke Dragunov's revelation. However, Estoff raised his hand, signaling for us to remain silent and continue listening as he continued his story.
"The Black Phantom is a revered figure in my village, renowned for being the scourge of the corrupt," Estoff began, his voice carrying a hint of gravity. "I assumed the mantle of the Black Phantom myself, carrying out just assassinations against those who had strayed from the path of righteousness. But as time passed and I grew older, I passed the mantle onto Alder, my foster son. Initially, he upheld the noble cause, targeting only the wicked. However, everything changed when he was recruited into Kyle Leviticus' Chevalier Unit."
At this point, I feel compelled to interject with a side note. It is simply not possible for an assassination to be deemed righteous, regardless of the circumstances.
"He began targeting Dragon Knights who supported the Dragonoid Rights Bill, betraying the principles of the Black Phantom," Duke Dragunov continued, his voice filled with anger and determination. "I believe his mind was corrupted by that devilish general, Kyle Leviticus, leading him to commit such heinous acts and tarnish the legacy of the Black Phantom. Now that he is gone, I am left with no choice but to hold Kyle accountable for his actions. He used my son, exploiting the name of the Black Phantom to escape from his own sins. And he will pay for it."
Nox, the bland man standing beside Duke Dragunov, opened a metal briefcase, revealing its contents. Inside lay a black cape, a platinum vest, and white long sleeves, accompanied by a pair of polished leather shoes and dark trousers. But the most significant item was the white mask.
"Your task is to investigate the Chevalier Unit, to restore honor to the mask, and to become the Black Phantom once more," Duke Dragunov declared, his eyes locked on mine, his voice filled with unwavering resolve.