"It is futile" Duke Allen spoke, his amber eyes glinting with unwavering arrogance. 

"How dare you!?" the crude looking bandit growled as he took another spare dagger. 

"Don't bother" a sharp, clear-cut voice slashed his thoughts. 

"My my Edgar, you are frightening the poor soul. Look, he is not bothering to attack with his dagger" Duke chuckled, lacing his words with superiority. 

It only took a slash to paint the gravel and the ground with bright red. The ground also witnessed a 'thump' and a rolling head. 

"Wipe that cocky smirk off. It's repulsive" the knight spat out, his eyes were filled with fury at the aloofness exhibited by his master. What would have happened if I were late? 

"That's not how you speak with your Master, but that's okay.." Duke said, closing the distance between him and his knight.

 "After all, you are" he slightly bent himself to whisper in the ear of his knight "my one-and-only Edgar Radford" his hiss sent sharp tingles through the knight's body. A rush of rosy hue brightened his white cheeks accompanied by a slight throbbing. 
*****
Aristocracy, a privileged class holding hereditary titles. The class of the most powerful members of society. The ton or rather the Aristocracy retains notable title-holders. Among them is Allen Barnhart Ferdinand, the Duke of Alterimers. Commonly called "The Rapacious Eagle". When this Eagle decides to deracinate the rats, he rules out a need for a knight. When Edgar Radford proves to be potential knight, Allen chooses him. 

Mireille Isabelle Martin, the youngest daughter of Count Martin, witnesses her mother's murder at a young age, sworn to retaliate- Mireille bequeaths her old self to become Edgar Radford. 
Will being chosen by the Rapacious Eagle help her in her path? Or will she become a prey to the Eagle? When fate entangled their past, will they solve the mysteries it evokes?

Disclaimer: This story is a pure work of fiction and any resemblance to reality is pure coincidence or vain expectatin.

His Masked Knight

"A human's perspective limits his vision" Duke Allen says with a wise attitude. No, it doesn't suit him. That attitude. It doesn't. 


"No matter how beautiful you are, my gaze only falls at the seemingly flat board chest..." he whispers with his flirtatious tone. 


"Huh!?" I yell, questioning his answer. My hand is itching to punch that drop-dead handsome face, yet, I must resist. 


But that's too much to ask for. I power my legs, aiming at his handsome face, I thrust my kick with full strength at him. If everything goes according to my plan, his radiant face should be having a fresh bruise on his face. 


But my plan fails miserably when he effortlessly thwarts my kick and shoves it away with strength. It catches me off-guard, making me stagger in my stance. Losing my balance, I trip and fall on my behind. 


"Ughh" I groan, annoyed at my failed attempt. 


Festival