Arcadia's Ignoble Knight: Sorceré Investigation

Prologue

Caspian charged toward his sparring partner, swinging his blade so fast that the air itself whistled as it was cut. To the average eye, it would have looked like his blade was little more than a blur.

Unfortunately, his sparring partner was anything but average.

Clang!

Sparks flew as he and D'artagnan clashed, swords locking, steel grinding against steel. His arms shook from the force of their blades slamming together, the jolt traveling all the way to his spine, though they did not remain locked for long. Caspian leaped back when it became clear that he couldn’t overpower his opponent.

Do not move too far away from your opponent, D’artagnan instructed as he closed the distance in two short steps. Gaining too much so distance leaves you open, and your enemy can take advantage of that—like this!

D’artagnan’s blade came in faster than Caspian could have envisioned. The older Knight proved his mettle and ability. His weapon, a large broadsword unadorned by any decorations, sung as it cut the air. It was so fast even Caspian had trouble keeping up with it.

But this didn’t mean that Caspian was going to let himself be outdone. He’d already raised his sword, blocking the incoming blow, even if the force of said blow was enough to send him skidding backward along the ground. He grimaced as his arms went numb for a moment, but he did his best to ignore that minor distraction and focus. Against a man of D’artagnan’s caliber, even the slightest slip of his attention could spell disaster.

Knowing what was coming, Caspian threw himself to the side, thereby avoiding the blade that sang through the air. As D’artagnan’s weapon sank into the soft loam of earth, Caspian returned his opponent’s attack with one of his own, a diagonal cut meant to bisect his foe from the left shoulder to the groin.

His attack might have landed had he been fighting someone less experienced. D’artagnan merely leaned back to avoid his swing.

The return attack came far quicker than Caspian expected—a powerful thrust aimed for his head! He barely had a second to see the glint of steel before D’artagnan’s blade was seeking his flesh. Leaping backward, he skidded along the grass, bent his knees, and used the energy built up in his thighs and calves to shoot forward.

Clang!

Clang-clang-clang!

Over and over their blades clashed, constantly and seemingly never-ending.

To anyone watching them, Caspian imagined they would have looked like they were trying to kill each other. It was true that neither of them was holding back. Well, he wasn’t at least. He didn’t know about D’artagnan, but the man was pressing him hard, so he assumed—hoped—that he was proving to be a difficult opponent for the more experienced Knight.

Sweat drenched Caspian’s shirt as he wove through a hailstorm of lightning-fast sword swings. His red hair swayed back and forth, a violent motion as though his bangs were being jerked around by unseen hands. He shuffled along the ground, moving left and right, dodging what attacks he could and blocking those he could not. He could feel D’artagnan’s sword as it cut the air in front of him. He could hear the whistle it produced because it was moving so fast.

A left swing from over the shoulder was blocked when Caspian raised his blade, the sound reverberating around him as his hands shook. D’artagnan followed up by spinning around and swinging from the right. Caspian stepped back, feeling the air as it was cut, and then leaped back in to close the distance.

Deciding to move on the offensive for a change, Caspian countered D’artagnan’s next swing, locking their blades together and rotating his wrists. D’artagnan’s sword slid off his blade and struck the ground. Caspian took one step in and swung horizontally.

It was the perfect attack.

It should have hit.

It didn’t.

In an amazing display of incredible limberness, D’artagnan leaned backward. It wasn’t just his torso. His entire body from the thighs up appeared to lean back until he was nearly parallel with the ground, his knees bent at ninety-degree angles. As Caspian’s blade passed over him, D’artagnan planted a hand on the ground and kicked at Caspian, who blocked it with his forearm but stumbled backward due to the force behind the attack.

Shaking the pain out of his arm, Caspian took a one-handed sword stance, knees bent, sword held in his right hand as he faced his opponent head-on. He angled the tip of his blade toward the ground. As D’artagnan charged forward, he took a deep breath. Upon its release, he exploded into motion, swinging his sword quickly enough that all he saw was a glimmer.

Halkaista, he murmured.

D’artagnan must have recognized his attack. The man leaped back, avoiding injury to himself, though his sword, which had been Caspian’s aim all along, did not avoid it. A loud tearing sound like grinding metal echoed across the courtyard. The older Knight stared at his hilt, now without a blade. He soon tossed it to the ground with a sigh.

It seems you are getting much better at timing your attacks, D’artagnan said, his voice calm and his breathing even. Caspian found himself jealous. The man didn’t even look like he had worked out at all. Meanwhile, he was drenched in sweat and just breathing caused a sharp pain to pierce his chest.

D’artagnan el Melloi was a middle-aged man with angular features. His face appeared to have been chiseled from stone, further hardened by his intense demeanor. Long bangs framed his face, and a light fringe hovered over eyes of burnished steel.

He wore light armor. His leather jerkin rustled whenever he shifted, dark brown and freshly polished. The shoulder pauldrons, greaves, and vambraces that he’d donned had a lacquered finish, and they shone brightly underneath the light of the afternoon sun, which streamed in through a window at their backs.

Caspian had never seen the man without his armor unless they were sharing the bath in the communal bathing room. In public, or even during periods of privacy, D’artagnan always wore the same outfit, claiming that one never knew when they might be attacked, and thus it was good to remain prepared at all times.

Thanks… Caspian took several deep breaths as he worked on slowing down his rapid heart rate.

You are welcome. Though I wish you would stop destroying my weapons, D’artagnan admitted, grabbing a towel from a nearby training rack and throwing it at him.

Caspian smiled as he caught the towel and used it to wipe his face. Sorry about that.

It’s fine. D’artagnan sighed as he grabbed a glass of water that had been placed on a table and took a swig. Sighing again, this time in relief instead of resignation, he continued, You’ve improved a lot since the tournament. Your movements are much sharper and more precise than before. I’m impressed by how quickly you’ve grown.

Thanks.

It had been six months since Caspian became Elincia’s Knight. While the first two months had been filled with excitement over his Knighthood, the pomp and fanfare from the people had eventually died down. Since he and Elincia were a newly paired Sorceress and Knight, Sylvia de Floresca had them living in her mansion for the time being, with her and D’artagnan teaching them all they needed to know about their new positions.

Caspian had settled into something of a routine. Every morning, he would wake up at the crack of dawn and spar with D’artagnan. When he finished, he’d shower and head to Elincia’s room, where he would wake her up if need be. Then he and Elincia would meet with Sylvia, who would give them several tasks to complete, which would often take most of their day. Evening was the only time that he and Elincia had to themselves.

You should probably go see if Lady Elincia is awake, D'artagnan said, looking at the morning sun as it crawled above the towering roof of Sylvia’s mansion.

Will do, Caspian responded.

He and D’artagnan parted ways. Their sparring sessions always happened in the training courtyard, which was located in the west wing of Sylvia’s manor. The manor was divided into two wings: East and west. The west wing was the residential wing. It consisted of two floors, numerous hallways, around twenty bedrooms, two bathhouses, a training courtyard, a kitchen, a dining hall, and several courtyards.

Caspian’s first destination was the men’s bathhouse; it was a large communal bath that constantly emitted clean hot water. The floor was made entirely of tiles, and the bath was big enough that it could have easily fit around fifty people inside. Caspian sometimes liked to enjoy soaking in the bath. Not today, though. Instead of the bath, he wandered over to the showers and quickly rinsed himself off with soap and water.

He’d already brought a change of clothes. Since the mansion housed numerous women, including maids who constantly wandered the halls, he knew better than to come to the bathhouse without bringing anything to wear afterward.

The first time he had used the bathhouse, Caspian had made that mistake, which had caused a huge incident when he’d run into a maid on his way back to his room. The girl had begun screaming about a naked pervert. He’d been forced to run for several hours, then was eventually caught by Elincia and Sylvia, and then he’d had to explain himself to them. By the time the whole incident was over, Caspian had wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

Since then, he always brought an extra set of clothes with him when he sparred D’artagnan.

The clothing that he wore was the same outfit he had received from Cassidy at Dorehan Tower, back when he was acting as Erica’s temporary Knight. His black pants were a comfortable fit, and his leather boots felt snug on his feet. A dark red shirt covered his torso. Meanwhile, a white tabard with red accenting the hem trailed down his front and back, which had a silver chestplate fitted over it. He only wore a single shoulder pauldron, which gleamed silver. It wasn’t really for protection. He just thought it made him look cool.

Elincia’s bedroom was located right next to his; their bedrooms were actually connected via a doorway, which was there in case Caspian needed to reach her side post haste. Lightly rapping his knuckles against the door, he waited to see if Elincia would answer.

There was no answer.

Ele? Are you awake?

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Opening the door, Caspian entered the room and shut the door behind him with a soft click. He turned toward the bed, immediately spotting the lump lying in its center. Perhaps it was his imagination, but Elincia looked bigger than he remembered from the other day. He walked up to her bed, prepared to wake her up.

He stopped with his mouth half-open.

Elincia wasn’t alone.

Wearing a white frilly nightgown, Cassidy peacefully dozed beside Elincia. Her head was nestled against Elincia’s modest bosoms. Her hand had slid underneath Elincia’s nightwear sometime during the night, and he could see from the outline that said hand was cupping Elincia’s right breast. This had also caused Elincia’s nightwear to ride up past her navel. Caspian felt his face heat up and his heart rate skyrocket as he glimpsed tantalizing amounts of Elincia’s lace panties, flat stomach, cute belly button, and hints of her under and sideboob. To complete this evocative picture, Cassidy had also hooked one of her legs around Elincia’s left leg.

They look like lovers.

That thought bothered him, and, to his shame, aroused him as well.

Shaking off these thoughts, Caspian completed his journey to the bed. He reached out with a hand and touched Elincia’s shoulder. His plan was to just shake her awake. It was too bad he got more than he bargained for.

Elincia moaned as her tongue dueled with Caspian’s. The feeling of his mouth on hers, of his tongue caressing hers, drove her insane and caused heat to pool in her loins. One of his hands had snaked under her shirt and grasped her breasts. It was gentle. However, the fact that his hand was on her breast alone was enough to make her want to feel his touch more.

C-Caspian! Elincia groaned in discontent when Caspian removed his lips from hers. That changed into a higher-pitched sound when he leaned up and nibbled on her long ears. A-ahn! N-no… not the ears! Those are—oh! —those are sensitive!

But you like it, don’t you? Caspian whispered, his voice articulate, smooth, and filled with desire. Elincia couldn’t suppress her shiver. Admit it. You like this. Isn’t that why you lost our bet on purpose? Also, don’t you remember what you were supposed to call me?

M-my… apologies, M-Master, Elincia mumbled. She was embarrassed, but for reasons she couldn’t understand, calling Caspian Master also made her chest throb and caused her panties to grow damp.

Very good, Caspian murmured in a tone that could’ve made any average female swoon. He might as well have proposed to her right then. It would have had the same effect. Now, then, let’s continue your… punishment.

Elincia’s heavenly cry echoed around the halls as Caspian trailed kisses down her neck. While his mouth caused her body to tingle, one of his hands slowly trailed down her glistening stomach and slipped into wet panties, where it—

Caspian jerked his hand back. He stumbled away from the bed, trying to both cover his overheating face and adjust his now abnormally tight pants. What in the name of Tartarus was that? An erotic dream? Was Elincia having dreams like that? When had this happened? How had this happened? Why was this happening?

As Caspian tried coming to grips with the vision he had just witnessed, he nearly lost his footing when his foot landed on something that almost made him slip. He looked down. There, peeking out from underneath his left foot, was a book. It was an innocuous tome, bound in dark brown leather. The title of said book, written in golden cursive, was The Master and the Maid, Volume 3.

What is this?

Curious, he picked up the book, flipped to a random page, and began to read:

Anna’s lustful moan filled the air as her master’s calloused hand slowly spread open the petals of her—

He snapped the book shut. The heat on his face had reached entirely unheard-of temperatures. It felt hot enough that he was sure he could have easily fried eggs on it.

This… this is an erotic novel.

Looking at Cassidy and Elincia again, he quickly came to several conclusions about how this situation, and that dream of Elincia’s, had come about. Cassidy had probably come to Elincia’s room late last night. Caspian had heard their giggling through the walls, but he had ignored it because he’d believed the two were forming a sisterly bond or something to that effect. He hadn’t realized that Cassidy had decided to introduce Elincia to her stash of erotic novels.

Setting the book on a round table situated half a meter from the bed, he slowly raised his hands and covered his face with them.

I’m never going to be able to look Ele in the eyes again after this, he lamented.

Truly, maids were a dangerous species.

Chapter 1

After waking up Cassidy and Elincia, Caspian got the pleasure of watching a panicked Cassidy rush out of the room, screaming something about how the head maid was going to kill her. Elincia also seemed quite embarrassed. Her cheeks had grown a bright red, and she’d thrown the covers over her body until he agreed to leave the room. He wondered if her embarrassment came from her dream, or if it was because of the position that he had discovered her and Cassidy in.

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Caspian waited for Elincia to emerge from her room. He thought about the changes that he had experienced during his time as her Knight. Specifically, he thought about the changes that he and Elincia had undergone.

He didn’t know if he could say they were any closer. After all, how could someone become closer to the person they were the closest with? Even so, since they had become a bonded pair, Caspian felt like he was coming to know Elincia even better than before.

They did a lot together; it wouldn’t have been inaccurate to say they did everything together. For the past six months, he and Elincia had barely left each other’s sides. The only time they weren’t together was when they were sleeping or bathing. Even then, their rooms were connected, so they could see each other whenever they wanted.

Caspian? a voice called from inside of the bedroom.

He turned his head to study the door. Yes?

The door creaked open a crack and Elincia’s eyes peeked out. Um… about this morning…

You don’t need to explain yourself. Caspian turned away to hide his suddenly red cheeks. Her erotic dream still haunted his mind. You and Cassidy probably stayed up late and ended up falling asleep together. I’m not going to question you on what happened.

Truth be told, he was just glad that Cassidy had not done any sleepwalking into his room this time. It was a habit