--Statistics--
| Speed | ** |
| Strength | ****** |
| Technique | *** |
| Vitality | **** |
| Endurance | **** |
Name Pronounced: Duke
Age: 22
Birthday: February 3
Height: 6’2”
Weight: 180 lb
Nationality: French
What?: Human
Pocket Monster Representative: Soaring Pidgeot
Instrument: Organ
Weapon: Heavy, long, double-edged, two-handed sword called the “Dernier Vancour”
Favorite Color: Peach
Likes: Poetry; horseback riding; afternoon tea; “Ura”
Hates: Balga (from the Organization)
Dreads Above All: The thought of Ura back in the hands of her cruel masters
Most Valuable: His horse, Denial Wingcool
Friends: Uranusu, Puella, Karen, Kojirou, Satoshi
General Outlook: Life is too short to rush by.
Dreams: To defeat his rival, Balga, and secure Uranusu to himself.
Phobia: Ghosts
Favorite Food: Tea
Nitpicky Nitpicks:
—Battle Outfit: Violet shirt (?) over which is a full set of silver armor
Appearance: Has an altogether pleasant air; long, shiny, dark green hair, tied in a ponytail; thoughtful, narrow, blue eyes; beautiful face but well-built body.
Had Not the Things that Happened Happened: Duke would have followed in the path of his father and would have risen to Lord of the Manor.
~~~
History: Firstborn of a kind French noble, Duke spent his childhood on the pastoral hills, rather at ease. He was handed the Dernier Vancour, sword of the family, trained in its technique, and expected to carry on the family duties and protect it against those who sought to destroy it. He felt greatly his responsibility and was eager to live up to it.
Though very rich, he enjoyed the everyday, simple little things. He was polite and amiable, a most respected and handsome young gentleman. Usually levelheaded and warm-hearted, he was chivalrous and held honor in high regard. Because of his sense of honor, he was often driven into participating in competitive events in order to prove his worth. He was a brave soul, but also a little stubborn.
It came to pass one day as he and his two siblings rode horseback to the edge of the estate, that he found a girl with wings being dragged along most resentfully by an infamous ‘slave trader.’ Knowing the cruelty of that trader and seeking to set the beautiful girl free, he negotiated and made an agreement to buy her. He immediately enquired after her name and invited her to come back home with him and even let her ride his horse.
He quickly became fond of her and her beauty, sure that it was more than skin deep; that there had to be a heart under that mask of ice she wore. He was ever patient with her and sought to gain her trust. He diligently cared for her, confided with her, and listened to her stories—such terribly sad stories of neglect and abuse. And he promised to never take advantage of her, to always respect her, to always remain her friend. He was soon richly rewarded as she began to love him back, a deep, ardent love. She seemed an angel to him, a gift from above.
They trained together and she amazed him with her skill and her Sacred Bow. She also demonstrated her bravery once by rescuing another girl from a burning building, and her care by how she kept the girl secret from her ‘master’ whom often interrupted their lives with her visits. Together, she and Duke joined TEAM, dedicating their lives to the greater good and helping the helpless.
A year or two after they had joined, Duke received an order supposedly from the higher ups requesting him to go to Celadon immediately. His love was to stay behind and he promised he would return as soon as his business was taken care of.
It was all a trap. Balga, a Norwegian knight of a family that vowed to destroy the Ramberts, met him in the forest not to far from there. Out of jealously Balga fought with Duke, and the slave trader watched, for she greatly desired Balga to win and kill Duke. But knowing his love depended upon him, Duke utterly defeated Balga. But just as he dealt the finishing blow, a bullet ripped through him.
As he lay dying the slave trader
gloated over him and told him of how terribly his love would suffer
without him. But Duke didn’t listen to her but only remembered
the time he met the winged girl and the times they spent together. He
treasured them till the last moment.
“The cricket’s first song at dusk is hesitant, low, and harsh. He changes tone, he learns from himself and, little by little, rises to the proper pitch, as if seeking the harmony of the place and hour. Suddenly when the stars are out in the transparent green sky, the song acquires the melodious sweetness of a free-ringing bell.
“The fresh purple breezes come and go; the flowers of the night open completely and there wanders over the plain a pure, divine essence coming from the meeting of the blue fields of heaven and earth. And the song of the cricket grows rapturous, fills the whole countryside, is like the voice of shadow. No longer does it hesitate or fall silent. As if flowing out of itself, each note is a twin of the next, in a kinship of dark crystals.
“Hours pass serenely. There is no war in the world and the laborer sleeps soundly, a vision of the sky in the far reaches of his dreams. Among the creepers by a wall perhaps there are lovers in ecstasy, eyes melting into eyes.” I hesitated there and chanced a look down at her, to see that she had fallen asleep with her head resting on my shoulder and a smile on her face.
Quite contented at the pleasant sight, I felt myself just about to doze off as well when a snide laugh jolted me to my senses. A most despicable character rode into view and I immediately knew him to be of the Norwegian family, Neidlinger: rivals of my own and quite renowned for their pride, avarice, brutality, and meanness.
“Enjoy your last days with that insolent girl for the Lady and her master has sold her to me.”
I calmly shook my head, “That cannot be. I have bought her and set her free of her old master. You must be mistaken.”
He stared at me for a moment, eyes a most ghastly shade of orange, “We shall see.” A wild grin came over his face and he spurred his horse on, “We shall see, Rambert!”
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