The assembly was in an uproar of whispers.

Lia couldn’t blame them. Even she was staring in surprise.

The ten soldiers who would become the tutor of ten Sword Saint candidates stood in one line on the stage. Even they looked uncertainly to the side, where the focus of attention was.

In the line stood a child.

Or at least, someone who could be mistaken for a child. He was wearing a silver mask that covered the top of his face. Yet from his height itself, many postulated that it was a child.

What was a child doing in the line of soldiers? Most of them were retired soldiers and there were two ex-Sword Saint candidates, from what she could see. Furthermore, the rest of them wore their medals in pride. This child wore none, but he was dressed to the nines in a black military uniform.

Lia tried to remember which arm of the army wore black, but couldn’t turn up an answer. Green was the colour for most military personnel, while white was the colour of ex-Sword Saint candidates. Otherwise, rank is shown on the number of stars and stripes on the right shoulder.

Was he some kind of confused child they were humouring?

At any rate, the principal rose to the podium. They gave their salutations and took a seat as ordered. She began with a speech, and then introduced each of the soldiers.

When she got to the child, everyone waited with baited breath. She couldn’t see the principal’s face from where she stood, but it didn’t seem negative. “Edge Ravenbright,” she announced, and moved on to the next soldier.

That’s odd. He didn’t have a military rank? Then he’s really a child they were humouring. Perhaps he was the son of a ranked soldier who threw a tantrum. Lia felt incensed at the child. Here she was with a low chance of being chosen, and now with the child added to the ranks, she had even less of a chance.

The principal ended the introduction with a reminder that these soldiers will take a week to decide whom they would tutor.

The assembly finished then, and they returned to their classes. She knew that the soldiers were scheduled to monitor her class in the afternoon, so she would give it her all then.

She was naive.

The teacher didn’t even give her a chance. She continuously raised her hands for every question, but was ignored each time by the teacher. Behind the classroom, the ten soldiers watched on.

After another botched attempt, she became desperate. She stood up.

“Teacher, you haven’t called on me yet!”

Every pair of eyes were on her. Unfortunately, that seemed to be the chance the teacher was waiting for.

“Cecilia Havenheart! Sit down at once. You have made a mockery of military education with your outburst. What kind of soldier can’t even wait for their turn?”

Her classmates laughed.

The teacher never called on her.

She was… throughly humiliated. Right in front of the soldiers.

It was heartbreaking.

The day seemed to drag on after that. She felt… nothing. Empty. She didn’t expect even the teachers would alienate her. That left her with nothing but a gaping hole in her chest. Everything became mechanical. Her movements, her expression, her actions held no meaning.

What she thought about instead was her dream. The one that was just crushed underfoot.

Her dream of becoming the next Sword Saint.

The reason was nothing special, but it consumed her entire being. Sure her childhood was only filled with lessons on how to become a wife of a high ranking person, but that didn’t make her useless in battle, right?

Those kind of thoughts fired her up. She wouldn’t give up. If performing well in the classroom under their supervision was not successful, then she would approach the soldiers themselves.

Unfortunately finding them alone was hard. They were constantly surrounded by other students fighting for their attention. In fact, only the child was left to himself most of the time.

To manipulate a child though… it didn’t sit well with her.

But perhaps she would start talking to him first?

“Hello,” she greeted the child. He looked up. “Are you waiting for your parents?”

“Certainly not.” He seemed annoyed. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? It’s insulting.”

Okay, so he didn’t like being treated like a child. He reminded her of her baby brothers at home. Well they were fourteen now, but they would always be her baby brothers.

“How old are you?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“About fourteen,” he shrugged.

“Oh, that’s the same age as my brothers!” she smiled.

Instead of returning it, he sighed. Then he patted at the space next to him. Was he inviting her to stay?

“I’m bored, so I’ll humour you,” he said.

She took his invitation and sat down. “So you’re the son of the Ravenbrights? Forgive me, but I’ve never heard of that family before.”

“No wonder. I don’t have any lands. It’s just a name forced on me because they wanted to reward me. I just let them do what they want.” He turned to look at her. “Unlike you. Cecilia Havenheart, right?”

She was surprised that he knew her name, and then embarrassed when she figured out why. It must have been when the teacher had called out her name in class. Nevertheless, she answered: “Yes. My father is Duke Albert Havenheart.”

“I know your father. He runs his lands well, and treats us soldiers kindly as well. I see that his children have inherited his spirit.” Lia honestly didn’t know what he was talking about at the end, though she did huff with pride a little at his praise of her father. Even if it was from a delusional child.

“Are your parents soldiers?” she asked.

“No, they’re wheat farmers. I’m the only one from my family who became a soldier.”

Hmm? She thought, as a delusional child, he would eat up the narrative of being a soldier. Yet here he was, saying that his parents were wheat farmers of all things. She didn’t expect it at all. Additionally, the way he spoke was… familiar. Like she had heard his way of speaking somewhere else before. Even his voice now sounded familiar.

“Forgive me, but you sound familiar. Like I have met you before.”

“… I see. It’s the mask, is it, that confused you.” His hand reached up to his mask as if to remove it, but before he could they were accosted.

It was Kevin Darkholm, one of the ex-Sword Saint candidates. He was known to be poised and refined, his silver hair going well with his white uniform. Yet he looked a little out of breath, and interrupting their conversation.

She immediately stood up to greet him. “Sir Darkholm!”

“At ease,” he said almost automatically. “I see you are enjoying your conversation with Ravenbright. That is good. He’s is… a little strange, so I am happy that someone had finally made his acquaintance.”

“I happen to enjoy my peace, Darkholm,” he groused back.

“At any rate, I was thinking of inviting you to drink tea at the pavilion. Would you like to join us as well, miss…?”

Her heart jumped. A chance! “Cecilia Havenheart, sir!”

He nodded. “Miss Cecilia.” He offered his arm to her, and she took it just like any lady would. Finally, she would be able to show off her knowledge!