Phantom of the Royal Capital

“A phantom had descended upon the peace so gallantly protected by the Royal Knights. Nobody knows what the so-called Celestia’s Guards and their plebian agitators intend to do in the immediate future, or what are the limits, if any, to their treasonous and insurrectionary tendencies. I have a strong admiration and regard for the Albian noblemen and my best friend, the late Lady Celestia… It is my duty however, to state before you their crimes, which include instigating the underhanded assassination of the proud knight Benjamin von Altos by his commoner subordinate two days ago…”

“That Countess Palatine is going at it again…”

George Hammersmith set down his copy of the Asturian Herald and raised his head. Outside of his thick, uneven glass window was a city under assault by dark clouds and relentless rain. As the autumn storm swept through Asturia, the Royal Capital, George’s home --- a stone-brick maisonette bound to small hill --- shuddered in fear. Countless raindrops, emboldened by violent gales, drummed up a symphony upon coarse, unassuming brown roof tiles. With harsh wind restlessly hitting the window, the thin walls were of little defence against the cold; even with a cup of freshly brewed coffee in his hand, George was unable to drive it away.

The adverse weather, however, evoked a sense of nostalgia in the stern, strict-looking man. Having lit up his fireplace, the Guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild once again stared into his plain, uneven window. Perhaps due to the wavering flames behind him, George’s reflection in the glass looked not like a man approaching his forties, but more like a man who had just left his early twenties behind. Yet younger his reflection might be, it too betrayed a regret in his eyes: a regret for a sin irredeemable, for someone lost irrecoverable.

George Hammersmith closed his eyes.

…Five years ago, on a similarly stormy day, George Hammersmith lost two of his most treasured comrades.

One was the aforementioned noblewoman --- Marguerite de Marcha, now Countess Palatine; a strong and forceful character she ever was, Marguerite had a fight with George, and broke contact after the incident.

The other person was someone more special. Ice-blue eyes, silver hair, a well-composed and elegant figure. An emerald sabre in her hand, she danced around the battlefield, monsters falling besides her. Swordsmanship, sorcery, strategy and leadership, she mastered them all. She was the greatest adventurer of her generation, many proclaimed. Few, however, knew of her true colours; few, however, knew of her hair could look like the veil of a dark night, her eyes should shine like ruby crystal.

…Few, however, learnt of the truth behind the young adventurer’s death.

In utter silence, George Hammersmith reached out his hand, but he could no longer grab her hand and keep her from going somewhere far away, somewhere out of his reach. Dejected, George took a sip of his coffee. The excessive sour and bitter taste lingered in his mouth. The coffee was overbrewed.

Just as George steeled his resolve to finish his coffee, he heard someone knocking on the door. Why someone would visit his shabby abode was beyond George’s imagination; he had left his work at the Guild for his deputy, and he did not recall any friends who would visit him in this weather.

…Ever since that day, that is.

The veteran adventurer looked at his sword, which was hanging on the wall. The safety of the Royal Capital meant it had been years since George last took up the sword. Yet, for whatever reason, he took it up after a moment of hesitation. Perhaps it was a coincidence. Perhaps, it was intuition yet unfaded.

But either way, George Hammersmith --- the usually stern-looking, strict Guildmaster of the Adventurers’ Guild was gobsmacked when he opened the door. Before him stood a girl, her silver hair flowing down her shoulders as if it was a shining waterfall, her ice-blue eyes staring into the depth of his soul.

Before George stood her, her appearance unchanged, as if she had been pulled from his memories from five years ago.

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George Hammersmith leaped backwards and placed his hand on the grip of his sword.

Now fully recovered from the shock, the veteran adventurer examined his visitor more closely. The young woman carried a large sack and what appeared to be a sheathed sword, her face strikingly similar to his comrade from five years ago. But while the clear droplets dripped from her hair like it did on that fateful day, her hair did not reach her waist but stopped above her shoulders. Her figure, still slender but well-built as it was in his memory, now appeared delicate instead of showing an overwhelming elegance that once defined it. In a cute, wavy sapphire dress under her rain-robe, she resembled an innocent noble lady more than a seasoned adventurer.

“Who are you? What do you want?” George Hammersmith asked, his right hand yet to leave the grip of his sword.

“Nice to meet you, Guildmaster Hammersmith. My name is Yuri Yuzuki, and I have some urgent business with you. The receptionist at the Guild told me to find you here.” The young woman replied, a kind smile on her face. She set down her sack on the floor and pushed open the door a little more. A spectre she is not, George Hammersmith thought to himself.

“…Cut the crap. Who are you?” The Guildmaster bent down even more while gripping his sword, posing as if he was preparing to lunge.

The smile on the young woman’s face brightened. “Who do you want me to name myself as?

“Estella Sevilla, the A-ranked adventurer who once travelled together with Marguerite and you?

“Or Celestia Inkfield, the eldest daughter of Duke Inkfield, the ex-fiancé of the now-King Enrique VI?

“Or perhaps some demon or ghost, possessing the dead body of your old comrade, returning to deceive and haunt you? Ah, but last time I called myself a vengeful spirit, other people tried to kill me. I would rather not do that again.”

The veteran adventurer stared into his visitor’s eyes, but her smiling eyes would not look away. For the next few minutes, they remained in the same postures in silence; only the howling wind and the waving flames darked to make a sound.

“Hah. Lady Yuri, was it? Let’s leave it at that. Sorry for being impolite there. Please come in and sit wherever you want. I will pour you a coffee, if that is OK.” The Guildmaster gave in and stood up. “What business does such a young noble lady have for this wreck of an old man? Don’t tell me, it is a confession of love?”

“Thanks… but I am not here for romance. I have no intention of butting in when I know where your heart is.” The young lady replied calmly as she sat down. “But Mr. Hammersmith, you certainly gave up very quickly. Weren’t you about to cut me down for impersonating your late friend?”

“Well, I am sure I can’t win. Estella --- Celestia was a monster herself and I never won against her even during my prime.” George turned around and took out a mug for guests from a cabinet. “But you are something worse. A cold-blooded killer. A skilled one at that. If you are anywhere close to Estella in skill, I would be dead the moment you willed it.”

“You can tell? …I suppose battlefield experience is invaluable everywhere.”

“I was a sellsword for most of my life, after all. I’ve never seen so much killing intent behind a smile, though, young Miss.”

George glanced at the visitor as he poured her a cup of coffee; the silver-haired girl seemed genuinely confused. He genuinely mistook her for an innocent lady for a moment; when he realised it a second later, George Hammersmith felt a renewed terror from his heart. To distract himself from his hands shaking, he shifted his eyes away from his guest, his gaze landing on the copy of Asturian Herald he was reading.

Two men’s portraits were shown; a young, arrogant looking knight, and a seasoned veteran that was supposedly the knight’s killer. They were both killed a few days ago.

“Was that you?” Pointing at the portraits, George asked out of curiosity. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, the girl nodded. “They attacked me with the intention to kill when I just woke up. I interrogated the arrogant guy, and apparently the royalties will come for me if they know I was alive. So, I neutralised them.”

“Was I wrong back then?” The girl threw out a question without a hint of malice.

George looked again at the portraits; he saw a promising youngster and a father. He then looked at the delicate noble lady. “They attacked you and you acted in self-defence. If you didn’t kill them, you would die. I would have done the same.” Hiding his discomfort, George nevertheless felt his words were sincere. “But please keep this in mind. Every life you take will have consequences. Think of it as an old man’s rambling.”

The girl’s energy dimmed for the first time since she arrived. “I know. I thought I know, at least.”

Sorrow now overtaking her face silently, the girl slumped in her chair. Her crystal-clear eyes had become

watery, as if it was a glacier melting. Up until now, George thought she was a monster beyond saving. But she no longer felt like an abnormal, cold-blooded killer; she felt like a human, like that treasured companion George once had --- Estella, Celestia, whatever her name. His friend, comrade, who he --- and Marguerite --- treasured almost like a little sister.

“If it’s fine with you, do you want to have a chat with big brother George here?” George said.

“You’ve grown too old for that, Uncle George.” The girl tried squeezed out of a smile with all her energy, her tears still flowing. “What are you thinking, approaching a young, unmarried noblewoman with impure intentions? You will get caught and thrown in jail, you know? If that happens Marguerite won’t ever forgive you…”

“That’s some great acting. I almost thought you were Estella.” George said half-jokingly.

“What if I say I am? That’s not exactly a lie. If I say I am, will you help me again?”

The still teary young noblewoman looked up to the veteran adventurer and smiled. Was she acting to gain his sympathy? Will she strike once he drops his guard? George didn’t know anymore. Nor did he care anymore.

“Then, I will listen to your story and help you to the best of my ability. I swear.”

…and I shall accept you, whoever you are, and whatever you have become. Even if you are a phantom haunting the Royal Capital, I will accept you and support you to the very end. 

...I won't fail you again, like I did five years ago.

The veteran adventurer swore in his heart. If Estella has truly returned, then it was a miracle by the goddess; even if not, he just wanted a chance at redemption. With his mind now clear, he opened his mouth.

“But before that. Welcome back, Estella.”

The silver-haired girl hesitated for a moment, but she, too, steeled her resolve. She wiped her tears off and faced George head on, this time without any deceit, malice, or guard.

“I am back, George.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks for reading! This chapter ended up being much longer than I thought it would be, as George turned up to be quite an interesting character and I really spent a lot of effort into it. Please look forward to his exploits and the future developments!

The next chapters will continue George and Yuri Yuzuki’s conversation, and explore the world of the Kingdom a bit more. After day, we will be going back to Elysium and see how Celestia adapted to that familiar, but still somewhat strange world.