Even though he was displeased with Adrian Moonstone, Tristan maintained his broad grin, determined to uphold politeness. Deep within him, he sensed that this antipathy toward Adrian stemmed from the true feelings of Tristan Moonstone himself.
While Adrian persisted in displaying his authoritative nature, the King merely observed Tristan, a smile gracing his lips as if assessing his reaction. However, before Adrian could continue his speech, the King intervened.
"Enough, Adrian. Let your other Prince have a chance to speak. We mustn't linger here for too long. Tristan needs his rest."
"Now Tristan, please excuse your older brother, Adrian," the King called out softly, directing his attention to his first son.
The King looks at his firstborn son sharply before speaking, "Please pardon Adrian. Once you regain your memories, you'll come to understand that my firstborn son, the Crown Prince, has always possessed such traits. But deep down, he is kind-hearted and protective towards his younger brothers, especially you," he conveyed with a warm smile.
Tristan didn't utter a word; he simply listened attentively to The King's words.
The King, Queen, and Leylla's faces are all beaming with gratitude and excitement.
Except for Adrian, who wore a frown, visibly perturbed by The King's words.
"Well, allow me to continue," The King interjected, his laughter subsiding and his expression changed. "all your other brothers are currently undergoing their final test as Gatekeepers, out there in the realm," he informed Tristan and the others, his voice carrying a solemn tone.
The King's words cast a somber shadow over Queen Thalia and Leylla, whose expressions turned pensive. The King's restlessness was evident, his anxiety permeating the air like an electric charge.
Silence enveloped the room for a moment, and Tristan mustered the courage to utter a few words. "Father, sir... my King, sir... Thank you." His remarks elicited laughter from the King.
"Dear son, when we're among family with no one else present, you may call me Father," then the King rose from his seat and spoke, "Alright, it's almost lunchtime. Tristan, we'll leave you to rest. The Palace Kitchen will deliver your lunch shortly. So get some rest, alright? My Queen... shall we?" He gently touched the Queen's shoulder, prompting her to stand.
Without further words, the King and Queen of Cresentia exited Tristan's room. However, before they could leave, Leylla intercepted them. "Father and Mother, may I accompany Tristan? I can eat later. I'm not hungry yet. Please..." She pleaded earnestly, her round eyes fixed on her parents, desperately seeking a favorable answer.
"I'm sorry, Leylla, but your brother Tristan needs more rest. If you stay, it might disrupt his recovery. Come with us, dear. You can visit Tristan again tomorrow morning when he's even more refreshed. What do you say?"
The Queen's gentle and melodious voice and her kind and persuasive words left Leylla with no choice but to concede. "Okay, Mother. You're right."
As everyone bid Tristan farewell and urged him to rest, he felt a wave of relief wash over him. He needed time to process all the information he had just received. There was much to contemplate and strategize, including inhabiting Tristan Moonstone's body without arousing suspicion or discovery.
****
Tristan carefully recollects the details from his initial encounter with the Moonstone Family, making mental notes of anything significant.
He restrains his curiosity, focusing solely on his current whereabouts, identity, and role within the family, as those were the only pieces of information he gained from the meeting.
"I wish they had a computer and internet here," Tristan mumbles under his breath really needs to ask Google for information that he needs to know.
Suddenly, a wave of dizziness overtakes him. Images flash in his mind, revealing the mirror in the corner of his room, accompanied by a voice that exclaims, "Dagger!" The sound is so deafening that it causes his ears to buzz, compelling him to instinctively cover them with both hands until the noise subsides.
"Dagger?" Tristan whispers softly once the dizziness and ringing in his ears dissipate. Before he can delve into his confusion further, the mirror in his room radiates a bright light akin to an LED TV, and a voice calls out his name.
"Master Tristan. Good day, sir. How are you today? Dagger at your service," a cheerful young man's voice emanates from the mirror.
Tristan is taken aback by the unexpected voice addressing him directly. Despite his bewilderment, he manages to respond, "H-hi there. Is Dagger your name?" His gaze sweeps across the room in search of the source of the voice, but he finds no one present except himself. The mirror, however, remains illuminated, asserting that his name is Dagger.
"Yes, Master Tristan," the voice calmly confirms.
"W-Who are you? Can you tell me more about yourself, Dagger?" Tristan inquires, feeling somewhat foolish conversing with no one visible. If someone were to witness this, they might question his sanity.
"Yes, sir. My name is Dagger. I am an Artificial Intelligence created by your grandfather and perfected by you," the voice explains.
Tristan falls silent, grappling with the sudden upheaval in his life. Just moments ago, he discovered the creature that might have killed him, known here as Drakkarus. Furthermore, he learned that he was the Eighth Prince of the Cresentia Kingdom. And now, an AI claims to be his assistant?
'Where am I? Do I find myself in Asgard? Did Tony Stark give me an AI assistant like his own, Friday? Damn it! Is this all a dream?' Tristan muses to himself as he ruffles his hair, briefly shutting his eyes.
After spending considerable time trying to calm his racing thoughts, Tristan gradually opens his eyes and fixes his gaze upon the speaking mirror. "Can you provide me with further details about your duties?"
"Yes, Master. My primary function is to assist you with information, analysis, and support in your daily endeavors, especially when wearing your battle armor suit," Dagger explains.
"Armor suit?" Tristan questions, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes, sir. The Cresentia battle armor suit." Dagger said.
In an instant, the mirror displays an image of an iron armor suit reminiscent of the Renaissance era. It boasts a dark gray hue adorned with copper-colored plates on the shoulders, chest, and legs. The helmet features a screen that allows the user to interact with the AI.
"Cool!" Tristan exclaims, his excitement barely contained. "Can I try it on now?" he asks eagerly, returning his attention to Dagger.
"Certainly, sir. Please enter the cabinet," Dagger responds, ready to guide him further.
Suddenly, the colossal cabinet positioned next to the couch swung open. Filled with excitement, Tristan leaped from his bed, nearly stumbling in his eagerness. He swiftly regained his balance and proceeded toward the cabinet.
Taking a moment to observe its interior, Tristan discovered several robotic arms but nothing else. With a mix of anticipation and trepidation, he stepped into the cabinet. As he entered, the cabinet door closed behind him, and he sensed the robotic arms affixing something to his body. A subtle weight settled upon him, followed by a smooth sound as a helmet enveloped his head.
Once inside the helmet, the screen flickered to life, and Dagger's voice resonated with clarity.
"Good day, Master Tristan. You are now inside the Eighth Prince's Body Armour," Dagger announced, accompanied by a 360-degree view of the armor displayed on the screen.
"Okay, Dagger. Open the cabinet. I'd like to see it myself in the mirror," Tristan directed.
The cabinet door swung open again, prompting Tristan to step backward and exit the confines of the cabinet. It became evident that the body armor possessed inherent stability as Tristan maintained his equilibrium effortlessly.
Cloaked in the protective embrace of the armor, Tristan positioned himself before the mirror, where he could genuinely witness his appearance donning the magnificent armor. It embodied the essence of Renaissance-era aesthetics, complemented by a modern visor.
The armor proved to be remarkably lightweight, allowing Tristan to effortlessly leap higher than before. The weakness in his legs had vanished, and he executed rolls and handstands with grace and ease. Wearing the armor, he felt his reflexes were heightened, a formidable advantage in combat.
Within the confines of the armor, Tristan experienced a sensation of freshness and coolness, as if he could comfortably endure even the most scorching of temperatures.
Then, an idea suddenly struck Tristan's mind. "Dagger, do you record every time I use this suit?" he inquired curiously.
"Yes, sir," Dagger promptly responded.
"Show me all the footage, Dagger," Tristan commanded.
As Dagger displayed the recorded footage, Tristan was utterly astonished by what he witnessed.