The Simulacrum

New Camelot (or Haven, depending on preferences) had greatly transformed since the days when Leonard S. Dunning decided that he required a secret base. In its initial form, the decommissioned old bomb shelter had little in terms of creature comforts and was only meant to house the handful of Faun foot soldiers that pledged their allegiance to Neige Liliam Inanna-Dunning, but over time, the complex grew beyond its inhabitants' wildest dreams.

As of this moment, it was not only the official headquarters of the Ordo Draconis, but also housed history's greatest congregation of Non-causative Science Research Society members in their own dedicated research centre, as well as the only stable gateway linking the outside world to the Abyss. Training grounds, barracks, officer lodgings, administrative offices, as well as the service infrastructure to maintain them all and meet the needs of the people working here.

In size and scope, the underground stronghold of the Ordo Draconis was already on par with, and in some regards had completely eclipsed, the similarly subterranean Critias School of Conjuration, though no Magi would dare invite such comparisons in the company of the arch-mages. The Assembly and the Draconic Federation might have been allies on paper, but pride (professional or otherwise) was a potent force hard to overcome.

While the expansion of the stronghold, along with the swell of its personnel, was certainly impressive on the surface, few had dared to look below and behold the true bedrock holding the facility and its many endeavours afloat. It wasn't Leonard S. Dunning, nor was it the generous funding provided by the Draconic Federation, although neither of those was a negligible factor.

No.

The thing that kept the base's and, consequently, the Ordo Draconis's operations smooth and without friction was the unseen, and sometimes under-appreciated bureaucratic and administrative apparatus churning in the background like cogs of a giant machine. The paperwork needed to secure the funding, the logistics required to keep the larders stocked, the human resources management to keep everyone from killing each other over the last slice of pepperoni pizza, and all other jobs of a similarly unglamorous nature.

In other words, the unthanked labour that made sure the Ordo Draconis's knights, ninjas, mad scientists, and other assorted oddballs could focus on their respective jobs with peace of mind.

It just so happened that the person shouldering the largest share of that burden was one Sir Agrawain Dumas, one of the (comparatively less) famous Entitled Knights bearing the mantle of the Raven. A young man of average height, short black hair, and a trained physique that, nevertheless, often made him look small and lean amongst the likes of Sir Duncan and Androcles of the Praetorian Guard, and the less said about the many new Draconian volunteers, the better.

As a matter of fact, Agrawain always had a relatively weak presence. It was one of the chief reasons behind his claim for the Mantle of the Raven. In the original Knightly Brotherhood of the Most Heroic Bloodlines, the precursor organisation of the Ordo Draconis, the role of the Raven Knight was one of espionage, intelligence gathering, and other behind-the-scenes work related to mission logistics and planning.

Agrawain was always good with details, flexible enough to adapt to the many shifting demands of an ever-expanding and ever-changing organisation, and had, most importantly, a dumbfoundingamount of patience. All of which made him the perfect person to serve as the Ordo Draconis's de facto Chief of Staff, and while nobody had ever nominated him, or even discussed the matter, he'd been carrying out the duties for months.

Yet, the thing that made him especially efficient at his work was the uncanny ability to stay inconspicuous and listen to everything happening around him without drawing any attention. As the knights and staff of the Ordo Draconis bustled about the grand hall of the headquarters, Agrawain casually walked by, clipboard in hand, appearing to be simply making his daily rounds. In reality, he was absorbing every conversation, every nuance, and every potential problem with a keen ear and an even sharper mind.

What he was doing could be technically called routine inspection, but Agrawain would call it troubleshooting. He didn't just check for compliance and adherence to protocol; he looked for the small cracks that could widen into chasms if left unattended. The simmering resentment of the old conflict between the Knights and their Draconian allies, mortal enemies until but a year ago. The subtle rivalry brewing in the research labs over whose pet project would get priority funding. The mild mistrust directed towards the Praetorian Guards and other Celestials in charge of the base's Portalport. All these were potential tinder for future fires, and Agrawain's job was to identify them before they ever sparked.

Or rather, it wasn't quite his job, as he was doing it of his own volition. As a matter of fact, while he was part of the Ordo Draconis hierarchy, he had few official duties while also being given considerable free time. Early on, the rumour-mill proposed that Leonard S. Dunning simply didn't trust Agrawain and thus didn't want to give him any real responsibilities. Later, it was rumoured that he was given free rein due to his newfound family relations with the King of Knights through her aunt, Dame Morgana.

While there was a kernel of truth to both rumours, neither was entirely accurate. The reality of the matter was that Agrawain was, against his own will, made into one of Leonard S. Dunning's closest co-conspirators and one of the very few people who knew about his true connection to Bel of the Abyss. Because of that, he was always on call. He was a glorified clerk, errand boy, and confidant, all rolled into one neat, unassuming package.

Agrawain would've been lying if he said he was entirely happy with this arrangement, but he couldn't exactly complain either. At the end of the day, he was happy that, despite all the tumultuous events of the past year, he somehow still had his head attached to the rest of his body. And, if he was being completely honest with himself, he did enjoy his current assignment, even if it sometimes felt like a thankless job.

While musing on his fate, he quietly passed by the recreational area of the main hall, and his ears perked up at once when he noticed a few familiar voices.

"Ah tell ye, the lad wis the size o' a brick shithouse! Tumbled over like on', tae!"

The boisterous voice belonged to Sir Duncan, sitting at the counter of the makeshift bar with a mug of frothy brown drink in front of him. While the bar officially didn't serve alcoholic drinks, if one knew how to ask the right questions, one could get something that was definitely not root beer. Next to him sat a young woman, dressed in casual jeans and a jacket, her long, pale-blonde hair hanging freely under her retro cap. It was a very familiar look, though few would immediately recognise the esteemed matriarch of the Albion family, one of the most prominent members of the Draconic Federation.

"Yeah, sure, big guy," she dismissed him with a roll of her eyes and took a sip from her own mug. "Let me guess: you took them out with one punch, right?"

"Naw. Ah needed tae give 'im a prooper boot in th' napper. The lad wis 'ard as nails, ah tell ye. Fer an Abyssal, like."

"He couldn't have been that tough if he went down in a single hit."

"Ye've got it a wrong, lassie. Ah'm just that braw."

Yseult Albion rolled her eyes and bumped her shoulder against the man twice her size. Despite the difference in height and weight, she almost managed to knock Sir Duncan off the barstool, eliciting a hearty chuckle from her.

"Oh, cut it out. Your muttonhead is big enough as it is, no need to make it any bigger."

Sir Duncan rebalanced himself and also let out a laugh, while their bartender lightly swivelled his long ear.

"No fighting," the venerable Faun dressed in a barkeep outfit lightly chided the two, his large fingers carelessly shining a fine crystal cocktail glass. "You draw attention."

Yseult glanced over and asked, "Speaking of Abyssals, haven't you been reinstated, general?"

"Aye," Brang responded casually, and seeing that he wasn't going to elaborate, the Draconian woman tried again.

"If so, then why are you still here?"

"My place is here," he answered just as plainly, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "At little heir's side." He paused, ears twitching. "Pardon. Little Lord."

"No, I mean... Why are you here, at the bar?" Yseult asserted for the third time.

"Day off," the old Faun uttered with a shrug. "Blackcloak insists."

"Quit haverin' him, lassie. Yer a right nosy drunk."

"I'm not drunk! You're drunk!" the woman snapped at him with a glare. "And what did I tell you about calling me 'lassie' in public?"

"Bird, then?"

The two continued to bicker, making the old Faun shake his head and return to cleaning his glasses. Seeing the scene in front of him, Agrawain couldn't help but click his tongue. It seemed that the two of them were on a date, again, except when asked, they would've vehemently denied that there was anything between them. They weren't exactly subtle, at any rate, and while nobody had the audacity to say that to their faces, the rumours were already running wild.

The fact that, despite all that, Duncan had the gall to often bemoan his bachelor status was a level of delusion that Agrawain found, frankly, aggravating. Especially when, more often than not, he was the one who had to listen to his woes.

Back in the days of the Brotherhood, he didn't have the time or opportunity to pursue any romantic interests, and even if he did, maintaining a relationship while constantly on the move was practically impossible. After the Ordo Draconis was established, and the knights started living relatively sedentary lives, everyone seemed to have found someone except for Agrawain himself. He liked to tell himself that he was simply too busy, and that he was still young, but frankly speaking, the fact that nobody showed any interest in him was something he found a little vexing.

More important than any of that, he raised his clipboard to make a note. Access to alcoholic drinks down here in the base was limited to a few insiders, and so long as they kept a low profile about it, it was generally overlooked. However, having a knight as boisterous as Sir Duncan drinking with one of the heads of the Draconic Federation was not exactly a 'low-profile' activity. He knew it, Yseult knew it, even Brang knew it, and yet it was happening anyway. This would have to be addressed later, maybe with a little suggestion that the two of them take their dates elsewhere.

However, just as he was about to take a note, he noticed that something was missing.

"Where's my pen?"

The whispered question barely even left his mouth when a nearby shadow abruptly shimmered and flickered as the upper body of a green-haired young woman emerged from it. She was wearing a loose green outfit, her arms and neck covered with something that looked like black fishnet body-stocking underneath, and her face under the eyes was covered with a black cloth.

She also had a headband with a metal plaque on her forehead, which completed the stereotypical attire of a Japanese kunoichi, a female ninja. She locked eyes with Agrawain and, after several seconds of a long, silent beat, she extended a hand holding a familiar-looking ballpoint pen.

Agrawain blinked at her, then accepted it with the words, "Thank you, Midori. You're a lifesaver."

While it was hard to see her expression behind her face covering, it was obvious she was delighted by the praise, and after making a few finger seals with her hands, she sank back into the shadows without saying a word. Agrawain looked at the spot where she disappeared with a wry smile.

That was Midori, one of the four members of the Kage clan's Danzo Squad. They were originally their backup combat force for supporting the wielder of the cursed blade Onikiri, and to take up the responsibility were she to fall. However, they quickly lost most of their original purpose after coming under the banner of the Ordo Draconis. Between the Knights and the Draconians, there wasn't much need for their fighting prowess, and unlike the 'normal' Kage ninjas, they weren't particularly adept at infiltration and espionage, leaving them in a rather awkward position.

Maybe it was for this reason that they ended up drawn to Agrawain's side. As they say, birds of a feather flock together, and the Raven Knight didn't mind their support.

He tapped the pen against the clipboard and made a few notes about the rules related to alcoholic beverages before he continued with his patrol. As he walked, his mind wandered back to his previous qualms about all the romantic developments around him. Sir Duncan was evident, as much as he tried to deny it, but he wasn't the only one. Sir Arnwald and Dame Morgana, the two most senior members of the Knights and the de facto leaders of the organisation before Leonard S. Dunning came into power, were not only romantically involved, but they have outright married.

At least on paper, and while the circumstances of their union were somewhat unusual, there was no denying that the two of them were definitely a stable and healthy couple. The same couldn't necessarily be said about Sir Roland, and thinking of him made Agrawain steer towards the officer's quarters. In terms of influence, the man was essentially Leonard'ssecond in command, if only because he was the one of the few people whowere both capable and willing to deal with the labyrinthine nature of politics in the World of Mystics in his stead.

Because of this, he was considered a VIP by the Federation, and while that normally would've been considered a good thing, it also meant his personal life was often scrutinised. And in that personal life, he was engaged in a tempestuous relationship with a certain young Abyssal spymaster of all people. Of course, nobody dared to openly criticise the relationship to their face (if they even admitted to it at all), but there were always whispers.

On the way, Agrawain passed by a couple of Fauns on patrol. Not that there was much to patrol inside, but the Fauns were a disciplined lot, and they considered even a simple security detail as a matter of great importance. They saluted him as he passed by, and he returned the gesture with a nod. However, as he passed by them, he caught some of their grumbling.

It was in the Faun language, which to the uninitiated sounded like a series of guttural growls, but Agrawain had spent enough time around them to have a rudimentary understanding of it. It wasn't enough to hold a conversation, but he could understand a few snippets here and there.

"A ghost?" he whispered under his breath as he watched the Fauns round a corridor.

Something about flashes of white, and things being displaced. Nothing concrete. He never figured the Fauns to be particularly superstitious, so he made a literal note to follow up on that. Maybe later. For now, he had more pressing matters to attend to.

Then, just as he stepped onto the corridor leading to the officers' quarters, he reeled back when he almost stepped on something. Or rather, someone.

"Nyuuu!"

The high-pitched noise was coming from the basketball-sized, flesh-coloured creature on the floor. Its one eye glared at Agrawain for the moment, but then it looked left and right, seemingly frustrated.

"Ah, sorry, Pudding-kun."

The creature, which Leonard S. Dunning referred to as a 'mini-shoggoth', was an entirely harmless part of the headquarters's scenery, often seen scuttling about the facility, minding their own business. Agrawain wasn't entirely sure what their purpose was, but they seemed to be intelligent enough.

"Are you looking for something?" he asked, and the small creature shook its entire body, its eye still darting around. "Then... someone?"

This time it bounced up and down, as if nodding, and started making a series of high-pitched, "Nyuuu! Nyuuu!" noises.

"Calm down. You know I can't understand you."

Pudding-kun only continued to make noises, and they would've likely remained at an impasse if not for a shadow on the wall, next to Agrawain, slowly beginning to ripple. A second later, a short young woman with black pigtails and clothes, but otherwise looking the same as the previous ninja girl, jumped out into the corridor and landed right next to the flesh-creature

The kunoichi and the mini-shoggoth locked gazes, then after a long beat, she began to make a series of complex finger seals with her hands, which were accompanied by a series of chirping noises. The shoggoth responded in kind, using its stubby tentacles to mime something resembling her gestures.

It was a bizarre scene, but the gist of the exchange became evident when the ninja girl pointed towards the main hall, and Pudding-kun let out a thankful, "Nyu-nyu-nyuuu!" sound before bouncing up the stairs and down the corridor.

That left Agrawain alone with the ninja woman, and as soon as she stood up, she told her, "Thanks, Kuro."

She blinked in surprise, then she bashfully waved her hand as if saying, 'It was nothing,' before hurriedly diving back into a nearby shadow. For some reason, the members of the Danzo squad rarely spoke, and even then, only a few words at a time. It seemed to be a holdover from their training, but Agrawain didn't mind. They were helpful, and that was all that mattered.

With that minor distraction out of the way, Agrawain finally arrived at his destination. The officer's quarters, as well as the rooms of other similarly important members of the Ordo Draconis, were all located in a dedicated corridor, accessible only to those with the proper authorisation.

He knocked on the door, and after a brief moment, the familiar, deep voice of Sir Roland came from the other side.

"It's open."

Agrawain entered, and the sight that greeted him made him raise a brow. The quarterswere relatively spartan, as befitting a knight, but the living room was full of cardboard boxes, some of them open, others sealed shut. Standing in the middle of the chaos was a tall, well-built man in a plaid blue shirt and jeans, with neatly styled brown hair and a pair of sharp, intelligent grey eyes.

"I apologize for the mess," Sir Roland said, gesturing to the boxes with a sigh. "I've been trying to get this all sorted out for days, but I keep getting sidetracked."

"I can see that," Agrawain replied with a small smile, stepping over a box filled with old books. "Moving in, or moving out?"

"We haven't decided yet," Sir Roland replied a touch wearily. "With all the... developments, it's been a topic of some debate."

"Have you told Leonard yet?"

The man's face twisted imperceptibly, and he shook his head.

"No. Not yet. I just told you we haven't come to an agreement yet."

"I see," Agrawain uttered blandly, but then turned around and asked, "If you do figure it out, can you tell me first?"

Sir Roland raised a brow at that and uttered, "I never judged you as someone interested in others' private matters."

"Oh, it's nothing like that." The younger man flashed his clipboard and told him, "I just need to know if I need to add plus two to the permanent roster. And the requisition forms. Oh, and the food budget. Not to mention the possible security concerns, and..."

"Alright, alright, I get your point," the older knight cut him off with a raised palm, "I swear, you're nosier than Sir Arnwald." The jab was clearly meant to be a joke, but there was an undercurrent of something else in it. Agrawain couldn't quite put his finger on it, but he knew better than to pry.

He also knew better than to mention that, if it was up to him, he'd rather have nothing to do with the messy affairs of others. Alas, it was part of the job, and he had to do it whether he liked it or not.

"Is there anything else I can help you with, or is this one of your usual 'surprise inspections'?" Sir Roland asked next.

"Just checking in," Agrawain replied, though in reality, it was more of an excuse to see how things were going. "Things have been mostly peaceful today, so I figured I'd ask if—"

Before he could finish that sentence, they were interrupted by a commotion in the hallway. The sound of two people arguing, and one of them was a woman.

"I asked, what are you doing here?"

"Rinne is doing Rinne's job."

"No. You aren't supposed to be in the facility"

"But Rinne is here."

"Yes. That's the problem."

Agrawain let out a sigh and turned on his heel.

"Me, and my big mouth."

He stepped outside, closely followed by Sir Roland, and they found an unlikely pair in the hallway. Rinne Feilong, formerly Rinne Yamako, naturally also had her own quarters on this floor, and it seemed that she had encountered some trouble. Or rather, it might have been better to describe the situation as her causing trouble for someone else.

Near the door of her quarters, a standoff was unfolding between her and Jaakobah Arpaschad, the Prefect of the Praetorian Guard. The two of them were, in a sense, colleagues, as they both swore to guard Leonard S. Dunning, yet at the moment, they were having a rather unexpected confrontation. The woman in the dark blue Chinese-style outfit was glaring at the Celestial blocking her path, and the tension between the two was palpable.

"Excuse me? What's happening here?" Agrawain inquired, stepping between them, though he kept a respectful distance. Jaakobah's presence was imposing, while the woman was a wild card at the best of times.

"She should be on her honeymoon," Jaakobah stated while pointing at her, his tone flat and matter-of-fact.

"Rinne will be!" she snapped at him with a glare. "Rinne just needs to take care of official business first."

"I repeat: You are supposed to be on your honeymoon. Right now."

"Yes, but Rinne also has to—"

Before she could finish, there was a sudden shift in the scene. There wasn't a shimmer, or a light, or any sound. There was simply another person standing in the hallway next to them, and he placed a hand on the asian woman's shoulder.

"Mountain Girl?"

Rinne blinked and looked over her shoulder.

"Ah, Leonard-dono? Can you tell Jaakobah-san that Rinne is—"

"Hush, you bloody workaholic." She fell silent, and Leonard S. Dunning flashed an awkward smile at the rest of the people present. "Sorry about this. Naoren just asked me to get his blockhead of a wife, because their plane departs in an hour."

Everyone nodded along like what he said was perfectly reasonable, even Agrawain. As much as he hated to admit it, Leonard S. Dunning had a sort of presence about him that made him impossible to ignore. In other words, effectively Agrawain's opposite.

"Rinne isn't a blockhead, and Rinne can easily get to the airport in time if Rinne tries," the woman fumed, but Leonard S. Dunning ignored her.

"I'll take it from here," he said and got ready to teleport away, only to pause and glance around, then up, as if searching for something.

"Is there a problem?" Sir Roland inquired with a raised brow.

"No, nothing," Leonard S. Dunning replied, though he was clearly still distracted. "Just thought I was being narrated. Must've been my imagination. Anyways, I promised the girls we'd watch a movie and chill today, so we're off!"

With that, he and the grumbling woman disappeared as abruptly as he arrived, leaving the rest of the people in the hallway in stunned silence. Seeing that the situation was adequately resolved, the stoic Celestial turned on his heel and resumed his patrol without another word, while Sir Roland only shook his head and returned to his quarters, leaving Agrawain alone.

"There's always something," the young knight griped, followed by a soft groan.

Why was it that wherever he went, there was someone who would remind him that he was still single, he wondered. Even Leonard S. Dunning couldn't help but talk about his fiancées, even though he only showed up for a minute. Why did he feel like a man dying of thirst while everyone else around him was drowning?

"I need a drink," he muttered, and once again, the shadows around him rippled as two kunoichi clad in blue and light purple, respectively, emerged from them, each holding a plastic cup.

"Coffee and... boba tea?" After a moment of hesitation, Agrawain accepted the former with a grateful, "Thank you, Murasaki."

The purple-clad young woman puffed up her chest with pride, while her blue-clad counterpart deflated slightly.

"Ah, thank you too, Aoi. Let's save that for lunch, okay?" he added, and the blue-haired ninja nodded her head vigorously.

A second later, both of them disappeared into the shadows again, leaving him alone with his thoughts and the lukewarm coffee. He took a sip of the bitter liquid, and the familiar taste helped to clear his head a little bit. He needed to focus. There were still things to do, and the day wasn't over yet.

As such, he dismissed any and all relationship concerns from his mind as he headed to the Research Centre next, seemingly ignorant of the gazes his loyal stalkers were shooting at him from the shadows.