The Simulacrum - Chapter 90~ Part 2

“Ah, ‘at hits th’ spot!” the large knight sighed and put his half-empty keg back onto the table in the middle of the Knights’ barracks.

“Drink responsibly,” I noted between two gulps of my lemonade, and Duncan looked at me like he was the one tasting something sour.

“Just let him drown his sorrows. It’s every man’s right,” Roland commented on my other side, earning him a sideways glance for his trouble.

“That’s a dangerous sentiment. I don’t want to see any drunken fights in the base,” I commented, then paused and frowned. “Also, what sorrows does he even have to drown?”

“Did you seriously have to ask that?” Roland shot back with a frown of his own, and the big guy on my other side let out a quiet yet noticeably indignant huff I completely ignored.

Long story short, after adjusting his uniform, Duncan had challenged me to a sparring match, just as expected. We were only using wooden training swords, so I didn’t bother to buckle on my full armor and fought him with only my gauntlets and boots for support. As for how it turned out, I figured the sullen look on the big guy’s face spoke more than a thousand words.

Roland came around a bit later, and after I fully finished quality checking the wards on Duncan’s Uniformer, he invited me for a drink to cool down. The rest was self-explanatory.

“Oh, come on. Somebody has to lose in a spar,” I echoed the same words I always told Josh whenever we trained together. “That’s just how they work.”

“Maybe, but losing five times in a row is still demoralizing, so I believe Duncan has every right to drink his fill.”

I locked eyes with Mr. Griffon for a while, but ultimately relented with a sigh and turned to the morose Mr. Minotaur sitting next to me.

“You’re allowed one more keg for mood-improving purposes, but no more than that.”

“Ah dinnae need yer alloweed,” the big guy grumbled, and took a noticeably smaller gulp from his beer.

As much as he wanted to deny it, Duncan was obviously salty about the outcome of our sparring match. While I joked about beating him up, it somehow really turned out like that, and while at first he was on the offensive, by the fourth round the whole thing became really one-sided.

“If ainlie ah hud mah sword…” he grumbled after wiping his mouth. “I miss mah sword.”

“Why don’t you just use your axe?” I inquired a little halfheartedly, and the big guy let out a lung-rattling groan in response.

“Tis fur ah cannae uise that while th’ toonament! th’ axe o’ th’ minotaur cuts thro’ defenses lik’ they’re made o’ soggy cludgie paper, ‘n’ ah cannae uise it fur sparring.” Duncan was a bit more verbose than usual today, probably thanks to being a little tipsy already, and after another long sigh, he continued with, “If ah accidentally lob someone’s boost, Penny-gurl wid murdurr me deid.”

“I think at that point my sister would be the least of your problems,” I pointed out, only to receive an indignant huff.

“Th’ neist time ah catch up wi` that pumpin’ Bel o’ th’ Abyss dobber, a’m aff tae git back mah sword, ur die tryin’!”

“Is that sword really that important?”

“O’ coorse it’s! ‘Tis a fowk ‘eirloom! ‘Twas mah da’s da’s da’s sword!”

“The MacCumhail family had been the bearer of the Minotaur Knight mantle for over seven generations,” Roland noted on the side and took a swing from his beer can.

“Tis a feckin’ black affront Ah wull avenge!”

“Easy there, big guy. Easy.”

Duncan glared at me, obviously worked up, but when I met his eyes, he soon deflated with a quiet ‘Bah!’

“If Ah aye hud mah sword, ye wouldn’t dare tae tell me tae tak’ it easy…”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear it.”

“… Nothin’.”

I figured that was the end of it, but then Roland of all people let out a thoughtful hum.

“Truth be told, I don’t think you could defeat Leonard, even if you used your heirloom blade.” I was just about to object, but he beat me to the punch my pointing a palm at me. “I’m serious. You fought Duncan with partial gear and won five times in a row. I sincerely doubt having a proper weapon would have made much of a difference.”

“Ah hate ‘at Ah cannae deny ‘at in guid conscience,” Duncan grumbled under his breath, but then he slammed his empty keg onto the table and exclaimed, “Jist hoo in th’ nine hells did ye gie sae strang anyway? Ye used tae be a weaklin’ jist puckle months ago! Is it coz yoo’re th’ kin’? Isnae ‘at jist cheatin’? Yer doin’ mah nut in!”

“I don’t believe the King of Knights is granted any special powers in combat,” Roland noted as he looked me over. “In fact, Leonard’s abrupt growth in speed and strength is borderline inexplicable.”

“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. Sure, I have my reflexes, but it’s not like I’m superhuman without my Knight gear.” I was waiting for a response, but I only found Mr. Griffon staring at me like he was waiting for a punch line, so I uttered a confused, “What?”

“Leonard. By chance, are you really unaware of the fact that your physical abilities are obviously beyond human measure even without your equipment?”

“No, they’re not,” I denied by reflex, but when he remained steadfast, I couldn’t help but feel less certain about it. “Or are they?”

“You repeatedly parried Duncan’s strikes while he was using his Uniformer,” he noted.

“So? It’s just a matter of technique and timing, and it bruised my palm quite a bit even then. I don’t see what’s so superhuman about that.”

“If I tried the same without wearing my gear, I would most likely dislocate my wrist. Even with just the Uniformer’s reduced physical enhancements, Duncan’s strikes are no joke.”

“Yeah! Aam nae a joke!”

“Please let me finish,” Roland frowned at his obviously drunk colleague. Huh. I never expected Duncan to be such a lightweight. More importantly, Mr. Griffon focused his attention back on me and declared, “Considering your performance against Penelope during your arbitration as well, I believe you have considerably higher baseline physical abilities than a normal human.”

“… Okay then. Let’s just entertain the thought. What does that actually mean?”

“I have a theory,” Roland declared dramatically, only to then completely ruin the moment by picking up his empty beer can and tossing it into the trash bin at the other end of the room. At least it landed on point, because otherwise it would’ve been just plain awkward. “You’re an orphan.”

I blinked and my eyes snapped back to the Knight pointing at me. After a long moment, I answered with a tentative, “Yes?”

“That means you don’t know anything about your parents.”

“I wouldn’t know anyway because of my amnesia, but yes, I suppose being an orphan means that, by definition, I have no idea about my parents,” I obliged out of curiosity.

“That means we cannot be sure of your lineage either,” Roland declared with a self-satisfied smile. “I have a hunch that you might actually have some mystic ancestry that only recently manifested. It would explain your sudden growth in power, as well as gaining a second chance to pull the Kingmaker.”

“The kin—Oh, you mean Cal, right?”

He nodded, and we both winced as Duncan slammed his fist into the table.

“‘At mak’s sense! Ye mist hae lost yer auld lang syne whin ye awakened yer bloo’line!”

“Slow down, guys. You’re jumping to conclusions already.” Despite my best efforts, the two of them got really worked up over the idea, though I couldn’t tell how much of that was genuine and not just the result of an alcoholic buzz. Still, while I was pretty sure my memory loss had a more fourth-wall-breaking explanation, the topic was certainly intriguing, so I asked, “What does my amnesia have to do with this ‘bloodline awakening’ thing anyway?”

“It’s not entirely unheard of,” Roland mused with two fingers stroking his moustache. “There were many Phantasmal Species around the world who interbred with humans, and their descendants might not even be aware of their heritage. Generally speaking, the more distant the blood relation, the harder and less likely it is to awaken the bloodline. Sometimes certain triggers are required, or a traumatic event. In your case, whether your amnesia was caused by a bloodline awakening, or the other way around, is purely incidental.”

“It’s loch a chookie an’ an eeg,” Mr. Minotaur added without actually adding anything to the conversation. It didn’t stop him from looking all proud and smug though.

“So you think this happened to me, and that’s why I have higher specs than I’m supposed to have.”

“In a nutshell,” Roland confirmed my summary, and I slowly shook my head.

“Well, sorry to burst your bubble, but that’s unlikely. When I started dating Elly, Abram used a blood sample to check if I’m compatible with them, and according to him, I’m a one hundred percent certified purebred human.”

“Really? Is this test reliable?”

“I think so. The whole point is to make sure their draconic traits are inherited without a hitch, so I’m pretty sure they would’ve kicked up a fuss if I was half cerberus or something.”

“I don’t think cerberi ever interbred with humans,” Mr. Griffon noted, frowning, and I followed his example.

“That was supposed to be a joke. How even is a giant dog with three heads supposed to breed with humans anyway?”

“Hoo dae wyrms?” Duncan commented on the side, and I had to grudgingly give him a point.

Roland, on the other hand, gave the question way more thought than it really deserved, and ultimately told me, “I’m afraid I’m not an expert when it comes to the reproductive processes of phantasmal creatures. Maybe you could ask miss Rinne?” My brows shot up at once, so he clarified, “She should be more knowledgeable in the topic, considering Japan is notorious for the number and species of phantasmal creatures that lived along and readily propagated with the local population. I believe it’s one of the main reasons why there never had been much Draconian presence on the island. Too crowded.”

“And you think she would know more?”

“If not her, then who else?”

“Yeah! She keeps talkin’ abit bein’ a hunter ay somethin’ ur somethin’…”

Mr. Minotaur’s mumbles were followed by an honest to goodness hiccup, forcing me to turn over and take a better look at him.

“… Duncan. Are you seriously telling me you’re drunk after only two beers?”

“Haud yer weesht! Aam nae blooter’d, yoo’re tay sober!”

I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get anything done with this guy for a while, so I faced the contemplating Mr. Griffon again. When he noticed my gaze, he let out a shallow sigh.

“Let’s return to the original topic. Are you absolutely certain this blood test you talked about could be trusted?”

“Maybe not ‘absolutely certain’, but fairly so.”

“So that’s it for my theory then… You have to admit it was a quite good theory though.”

“In more ways than one,” I answered with a reassuring smile, and I wasn’t lying.

While it probably didn’t apply to me, it could actually give me a potentially working Watsonian explanation for how Josh’s transformations are supposed to work in-universe. It’s possible that he, through genetic lottery, ended up with a mixture of all the big, important supernatural bloodlines, and him ingesting blood from the corresponding donor would only serve as a trigger to ‘awaken’ his dormant traits. Maybe we could even speculate that it’s only temporary because the different bloodlines are normally suppressing each other.

It was a lot of conjecture to draw from a stray discussion like this, but it was still gourmet food for thought, and I would’ve probably called Judy to discuss it in detail if not for her being busy at the moment with planning certain things in the company of Elly.

“Maybe we could ask Friedrich to test your blood, just in case?” Roland proposed, apparently not ready to give up on his pet theory just yet after all, but I could only muster a disinterested shrug.

“It’s not exactly high-priority, but maybe later.”

“What’s mair important than ‘at? Th’ toornament?”

“I think Leonard meant the deal with the Eastern Draconians,” Roland tried to correct him, but I shook my head.

“Sorry, but you’re both wrong. I’m mainly focusing on the school festival and the Christmas ball and everything that comes after that.”

“I don’t think that’s more pressing than either of the topics we brought up,” Mr. Griffon pointed out, earning him a soft groan.

“Sure, maybe not in the grand scheme of things, but as far as my relationship is concerned, it’s a huge freaking deal, and I can’t afford to mess it up.”

“Your relationship?” my less tipsy conversational partner repeated after me contemplatively. “True. Considering you have two girlfriends at the same time, I can only imagine how trying it could be to uphold such a relationship.”

“It’s not that difficult though, just… Well, let’s just say I set myself a very special deadline, and I’m getting a little restless because of it.”

“Whit kin’ ay…? Och? Did ye teel them ye woods pick a body ay them fur real?”

I sent the grinning oaf a sideways glare, but he didn’t seem to get the message.

“There’s no picking involved. I’m already engaged to both of them, remember? I still have no idea what the island’s legal system thinks of that arrangement, but in any case, at this point, our relationship is just one step away from being set in stone.”

“Then I honestly can’t see the problem.”

“It’s more… intimate in nature,” I told them at last, and the two guys shared a glance that said they weren’t sure they heard me right.

“Bide a minute! Dae ye pure techt… ye huvnae dain it yit?” When I remained silent, the big guy barely stifled a guffaw. “Ur ye serioos? Ye hae tois burds an’ ye huvnae dain onie pumpin’?”

“People in glass houses shouldn’t throw rocks, Duncan,” Roland commented with a sharp sense of disapproval, and Mr. Minotaur quieted down at once.

“Lae me aloyn. Ah tauld ye aam savin’ myself fur marriage.”

For a moment I had to question my ears, but before I could ask Duncan to elaborate, Roland pointedly cleared his throat to get my attention.

“Since it’s related to that, I can understand why you’re anxious. If you need any advice, feel free to ask me. While I can’t say I have experience with multiple women at the same time, I can—”

“Stop. No need to continue,” I interrupted him with outstretched palms. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve already done my research, and I doubt you can tell me anything new. I’ll just have to figure out how to apply it on the spot.”

“Very well,” he nodded, then after some consideration he added, “Just in case, let me give you a single piece of advice: don’t overthink it.”

“That’s easier said than done, but thanks.”

Roland gave me a thin-lipped smile, and I tried my best to return the gesture without it ending up too strained. Honestly, with my luck, I’ll be probably too tired to overthink anything. In fact, I could only hope we wouldn’t run into some unforeseen trouble during the school festival that would completely drain me well before the big night…