"Do you, Sora Knight, solemnly swear to uphold the honor of the kingdom of Vangardia, protect its people, and wield your sword with utmost courage and justice?"
Before me stood Queen Illyana Knight herself—my aunt, her vermilion hair flowing in waves, curling around her ceremonial attire of the same color as she raised my silver blade with a straight arm overhead. Her sharp blue eyes were locked on me as I knelt before her, clad in black 'armor.' However, it was simply black garments infused with protective magic. The white cape I wore over it felt really cool, though!
"I do," I said, holding back a smile as my loud voice echoed off the ceremonial hall's walls. I may have sounded a little too obnoxious, but eh, it's fine. I inwardly shrugged.
"Do you solemnly swear to protect the weak and serve with loyalty to your sovereign even at the cost of your own life?"
"I swear."
My fist tightened a little against the red carpet beneath me. I don't really feel like dying, but who cares if I lied a little, right?
Illyana—no, sorry, QUEEN Illyana, lowered my blade and placed the flat end of it on each shoulder, pressing lightly as if I would feel the weight of my 'responsibilities', honestly, they're overreacting.
"Rise, Sir Sora Knight, first of your age to take the sacred oath of knighthood without the training of the academy"—Maybe because I'm related to you. A little chuckle of sorts escaped my lips, but thankfully, nobody heard it. It would've been a long day for me if that had happened.
—"May your blade remain sharp, your heart steadfast, and your name remembered." Her voice boomed with authority across the court, followed by lots and lots of applause.
I rose, letting the moment linger a little longer than I should've as I smiled and waved like some celebrity—because I am one. Duh. Then I turned to Auntie so I could receive my sword back with my hands gloved in white, sheathing it at my hip.
I adjusted the strap of my sword simply for the sake of wasting more time so I can bathe in people's adulation of me. Ah, I love this.
"Congratulations, Sir Sora," my father said from the front row, clapping slowly with a small smile. His eyes were sharp like our fair and wonderful queen; they were siblings after all, although he was probably thinking I'd somehow find a way to embarrass myself before the day ended. Not today, old man. Not today.
Behind him was my little clever brat of a sister—my so-called 'twin', who simply couldn't hide her disappointment. She wanted me to embarrass myself.
As the applause dwindled, a hush fell over the hall. Murmurs of nobles, visiting dignitaries, and the usual throng of overzealous courtiers began to fade away as the scent of incense and polished stone pressed down on me. Looks like I've overstayed my welcome.
I winked and waved at some beautiful young ladies in the front row as I left the stage, making my way to my family.
"Well, don't faint, sis, I made it," I told her with a playful nudge and a grin with all charm and zero subtlety.
To no surprise, she rolled her eyes at me.
It was funny, despite us being twins, we looked nothing alike, bar maybe our faces. She was more like a miniature Mom from her attitude to her emerald eyes that always sparkled with that mischievous glint, and just like Mom, she also had red hair, though it wasn't the same vermilion shade as Auntie's; it was more of a copper-looking red. Meanwhile, I inherited Dad's silver hair. My eyes, on the other hand, were unique. My right eye was a shade of dark blue—my left—the color of raw honey. Mismatched eyes that my mother always called…."Distinctive."
I looked more like Dad, really, minus the fact that he had completely blue eyes. Where did the amber come from? I always wondered.
"You piss me off," Katarina—my sister—deadpanned with flat eyes and an exaggerated groan. "Do you always have to make everything about you? Even today?"
"I don't think you understand, my sweet, beautiful sister." I leaned closer and lowered my voice to the point of conspiracy. "The world simply revolves around me."
My tone was more theatrical than anything; I could almost see the red crisscross mark on her temple, warning the world of her imminent burning rage.
"You're insufferable," she hissed, glaring at me.
She huffed, brushing a stray curl from her face, only for a few more to fall back onto her forehead and temple. Her outfit today was absurd and contradicted my sister's usual spirit—it's not that she looked bad or anything, but it went against everything her wild nature represented. She wore a fitted emerald-green gown with delicate gold embroidery along the hem and sleeves, flowing just enough to hint at elegance without restricting movement. White leather gloves, clearly uncomfortable, fit tightly from fingertips to just above her elbows. A thin golden circlet sat on her messy copper-red hair, tied in a complex braid bun I didn't understand, though some strands still escaped, framing her face in untamable wildness.
"Dear sister, you really are envious of your amazing brother's perfection, aren't you?" My voice was laced with so much condescension I almost felt guilty—almost.
"Envious?!"
"..."
"Have you lost your mind?! Envious, he said!"
Her laughter that followed suit was fueled with sheer rage. She was making fun of me. Sigh, I can't really blame her.
Tilting my head, I said, "You know, you've really grown into yourself, Kat. Those blazing emerald eyes of yours that are filled with pure anger directed at me, matching the fiery copper of your red hair. You're kind of intimidating, you know."
"...Intimidating?" She repeated, taken aback as if she couldn't decide whether I just insulted or complimented her. Honestly, I don't really know myself. Heh.
She placed one hand on her hip and the other below her chin, raising her face slightly and studying me closely while her lips twitched. "You're an idiot."
She chuckled. I chuckled. We all chuckled.
"Lady Katarina De Astra Knight."
A deep voice interrupted us—well, her, she stood frozen with her mouth agape—probably to tell me how much she despised my existence. But alas, I was saved by a middle-aged beast-folk no younger than thirty.
I slowly turned around, biting down on my cheeks to contain my laughter—that was an all too familiar voice that belonged to none other than Lord Fenrir Montfort—our family's personal beast-folk head of security.
You'd think he called out for my sister to check on her safety or something along those lines. However, that was not the case.
I almost puked from holding in my laughter, placing a gloved hand over my mouth.
"…Lord Montfort," Katarina oh so bitterly said with her fake smile and polite demeanour.
Muscular, terrifying…absolutely smitten with golden hair that had wolf-like ears sticking out through, and green eyes glimmering with every bit of admiration in existence, he bowed low—too low like he was worshipping the very ground she stood on. His golden tail swished around like some overgrown happy puppy.
"I wished to congratulate you on your brother's knighting ceremony. I remember when I was first knighted over fifteen years ago. Good times. And as always, I would like to extend my sincerest admiration to you, Lady Katarina."
I coughed, hoping to mask the small laugh that escaped my obviously lucious lips—Sis was too smart though, despite her eyes twitching with infuriation, she was still able to spare me the meanest side-eye, death glare she could possibly muster.
She then kicked me. She. Kicked. Me.
And believe me when I say, a kick to the shin from an obviously irritated young woman wearing heels…hurts.
Fenrir's posture softened despite straightening his back; then he extended a gloved hand out. His other hand, the left one, remained resting over the blade sheathed at his hip. "My lady… would you perhaps grant me the honor of sharing a dance with you this evening?"
I'm sorry, I had to turn around. There was no way I could hide my silly-looking face any longer; I was internally dying from laughter, and externally, I was barely holding in a snicker.
"Lord Fenrir. We've discussed this before," my sister politely stated… 'politely.'
Fenrir did not falter. He only blinked as he turned his sharp gaze toward...me?
"Are you alright, Sir?" He gravely asked, to which I, in response, could not answer without sounding like a dying goose.
"Y-Yes!" I burst out laughing and was met with a genuine expression of concern from old man Fenrir.
He stepped closer, tightening his grip around his sword's hilt. "Are you perhaps...sick? You appear pale, sir."
"Lord Fenrir..." my sister exasperatedly sighed. "My brother is completely fine, don't mind him, he's just an idiot."
Ouch.