This time, the strange shadow in the dream never arrived since the first time it showed up. Oscar leaped from his bed and stretched his limbs, a daily necessity for his tall body. Opening the curtains and windows, he was greeted by the refreshing morning breeze and relaxed, inhaling the waking air. The sound of tiny wheels squeaked closer behind the doors. They swung open, and Eris, the cold-faced maid with blond streaks in her finely tied-back hair, strode inside, exuding well mannerisms in her straight back and lowered chin.
Eris bowed and said, "Good morning, my Lord. I will be attending to your needs today. I have brought you a light snack of lemon tarts with freshly brewed tea."
"Good morning, Eris, was it? I thought the usual time to wake me up was a few hours later. Why are you here now? I said there is no need to be up earlier than me." Oscar took the slightly damp towel from Eris to wipe the drowsiness from his face and sat down.
"Was that an order or a suggestion, my Lord? As a maid, I have to be there right when you wake to provide the finest services at a moment's notice." Eris poured out the tea and placed it gently on a saucer, not a single sound made in her delicate motions. Together with a piece of lemon tart, she set them in front of Oscar and stepped back, waiting by the sidelines.
Faced with her stalwart stance, Oscar considered ordering her to stop, and from her work ethic, she would listen to him. But it felt wrong. Since she seemed so dedicated, there was no need to rob her of her own joy and principles. Silently, he sipped the tea and ate the lemon tart, giving his wordless agreement. A quick glance showed Eris smiling slightly before she forcibly repressed it away, showing her understanding of his silence and her emotional control.
"Can I ask you something?" Oscar said, finishing the last droplets of tea, and waved for Eris not to refill.
"My Lord does not require my permission to ask. He only needs to ask, and I will answer." Eris gracefully bowed, the folds on her white headdress fluttering from the breeze.
"Have you seen anyone else in the estate?" Oscar could not let go of the image of that shadowy figure. Surely, a servant of the estate would spot some discrepancies. "To clarify, anyone other than the Pavilion Master, the guards, and the other servants."
Eris shook her head and said in her clear, monotone voice, "Other than Mrs. Bertin yesterday, I have not seen any strangers in this estate. But I'm not reliable enough to know every nook and cranny of the estate. Forgive me for not being able to provide a clear answer. I recommend speaking to Head Butler Declerd and the guards."
She provided some good suggestions, and Oscar thanked her, to which she bowed with a slight smile again. Hours still remained until the day would start for him. Oscar couldn't speak openly with Erden here, not in front of Eris, so he decided to converse with her, asking about her family background and history. As it turned out, Eris was the daughter of a fallen noble, one of the few who lost their status before the war when she was barely three. She's worked for years as a servant from place to place, earning a good reputation for her readiness and mannerisms. The war hit her former workplace hard, and she struggled to find a new opportunity when everyone was penny-pinching and unable to hire extra hands.
"Thank you for this opportunity. I will not disappoint you." Eris bowed deeply. Before Oscar could reply, the door opened, and Declerd stepped inside, his left hand properly placed behind his back and the other holding a linen towel. Eris retreated away and greeted the old mustached butler, "Greeting, Head Butler."
Declerd merely acknowledged Eris's greeting with a short nod and faced Oscar, relaying his goodwill and today's itinerary, "Good morning, my Lord. It is good to see you in fine health this morning. The Dragnar Ancestor has called for you again today, but he left a message saying there is no need to dress up like yesterday and to hurry to the Imperial Palace."
"Is that so? I wonder what he wants now…." Oscar felt his face heating up from recalling the wine he drank yesterday. No matter what, he had to reject any drinks, even if it was from a King Exalt. Rising from his seat, he asked Declerd the same question about any strangers or oddities in the estate, but to Oscar's disappointment, the old butler stroked his mustache in deep thought before shaking his head. On the way out, he asked the guards, and they answered the same. No one had seen or heard anything out of the ordinary. Was it all his imagination? Oscar frowned and strode uneasily onto the carriage, trying and failing to shuffle his body around to a comfortable position.
A few minutes later, he arrived at the same Imperial Palace, bypassing the guards due to the mark on his carriage, the authority of the Pavilion Master, who could not accompany him today. Stepping outside, Oscar relished in the brightness of the two suns, his mood improving by the second. Erden tugged him along, and he followed the same path to the main entrance where the Captain of the Drakiri, the Imperial Guard, Vostolf, waited for him. After exchanging a few greetings, the powerful captain led him into a different part of the Imperial Palace. He descended a long flight of spiraling stairs, wide enough for Oscar and Vostolf, two large and tall figures, to walk side-by-side with room to spare. Their footsteps thudded and slammed on the paved stairs, a few flakes of marbling even cracking and chipping off under their immense weight.
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"Lord Terr, I could not speak during our last meeting. I rarely speak to one so well-regarded and a hero." Vostolf started.
"I can imagine few have the honor to speak to you, great Captain of the Drakiri." Oscar returned the respectful greeting.
"But I am curious about your fighting prowess. I hear you charge from the front and swat your foes like flies." Vostolf Rudinberg's deep, soothing voice once again echoed underneath his helmet. He peered at Oscar, throwing a burning gaze that could kill. No doubt, this man was a battle maniac who never listened to alternatives, only running from one battle to the next. "I would like to see that one day. Whether in a spar or fighting alongside in the throes of war."
"Rather than that, may we first share a meal? We can't fight on an empty stomach." Oscar smiled, not wanting to spar with this Marshal Exalt. At least, not now.
"Correct. I can't join you due to my busy schedule, but if you're going to enjoy the capital, I can recommend you to a fine place to dine." Vostolf stopped, his feet pounding on the basement stone floor, riling up a cloud of dust. "He is waiting for you inside. Until next time, Lord Terr."
"Thank you. I hope your day is uneventful." Oscar thanked Volstolf, who stomped slowly up the stairs. He turned and pushed his way past the heavy stone doors, entering a room that resembled the old training rooms in the Pavilion. A room created from a white stone floor, walls, and ceilings, all identical in size and shape, illuminated by the crystals embedded in the corner, leaving no shadow to linger in the edges. Squinting, he barely made out the figure on the opposite end of the room, a few hundred feet away.
"Welcome, Oscar. You kept me waiting. I assume Volstolf asked you to fight him." Caires gurgled his laughter while biting on his pipe. He stood up, revealing his hulking figure, the muscles restrained behind his simple black shirt, and stretched his legs, garbed in casual white pants. Removing the pipe and exhaling, he closed in, flickering to a few feet away from Oscar. "The crazy bastard tried to challenge me in the past."
"I can't imagine being that reckless….for a simple spar." Oscar jolted from the draconian golden eyes, fearing the toothy smile widening on the King Exalt's face.
"You're about to be that reckless. Now, get out your armament." Caires raised his hand and clenched it into a fist. Overtaken by instinct as the fist blurred, Oscar pulled out his diamond shield and blocked, erupting a shielding vortex of flames and encasing himself in gold for good measure. The floor sank into a crater under his feet, and a thunderous boom quaked the room, the sound of pure, overwhelming power.
"Are you serious?" Oscar strained his voice out, utilizing every fiber of his being to hold back the dropped fist. The clenched fist retracted, and he found the moment to catch his breath.
"You and your beast. Show me your capabilities." Caires tossed away his pipe and spread his arms out, exposing his front to any attack, sending a clear message to Oscar to hit him with everything head-on.
Compiling with the King Exalt's request, Oscar mounted Erden and used the Meld, his beast clad in sapphire armor, burning red flames at the antlers. The sparkling blue antler wings, wreathed in fire, extended and fused with the front antlers and Oscar's golden drills into a singular blade, long and wide. Even without the Guise, this attack failed to penetrate the hardy defense of the Lower Marshal Exalt golem. There was no indication of this spar going differently. Still, excitement burned into a raging inferno around him as Erden stomped forward. How far was the distance between him and a King Exalt? The urge to find out flared in his mind.
A condensed stream of fire burst from their combined blade, landing directly on Caires, seemingly engulfing the former emperor in flames. Shortly after, their powerful blade, forged from their combined might, laden with Eirin, and tempered in the flames of their resolve, reached their target. Rather, it should have. A wave of rubble blasted away and piled before Erden, who was halted. Every part of their body trembled, shaking uncontrollably. Erden roared and stomped his feet, failing to gain a single inch further.
"That's quite a distance," Oscar grunted. "You have to be kidding me."
Caire held Oscar's blade in place, not with a grip, three fingers, or even two fingers. A single finger stopped the tip of his blade from plunging further forward. Forget moving forward. The blade failed even to draw a drop of blood. Caires lowered Oscar's blade and forced it down to the ground with a finger flick. "Amazing. And Remulus mentioned there is still a level beyond this one. Little wonder, you won many battles. But they will counter you once the enemy figures out more of your means."
"I understand. That's why I need to hone myself more." Oscar undid the Meld, his heart thumping heavily from the exertion of nearly all of his Ein.
Caires rubbed his beard and retrieved his pipe. Reigniting the end, he kept it in his mouth and smiled, "How about I teach you?"
"Teach me?!" Oscar exclaimed but remembered Draven and replied, "But I already have a master."
"I'm not talking about being your master. Though, sticking to only one is just being stubborn." Caires crouched before Oscar. "I want to teach you a single spell. One that will help you."
"A spell?" Oscar asked.
"My self-created spell, Duality."