Darkholm, as promised, led them to a pavilion in the centre of the academy. It was encircled by an array of flowers that complemented the colour of the large dome that shielded the visitors below it. Usually empty - the students preferred the training grounds - it was now occupied by the academy’s principal and the other soldier-tutors.

It was a tea party, complete with dainty teacups, a mix of black and fruit tea, and pastries. That is to say, it was the kind of event Lia was well acquainted with. A familiar battleground.

Subtly she took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. This was her chance and this was her battlefield. If she weren’t arm in arm with Kevin Darkholm, she would have slapped her cheeks to encourage herself.

(Let’s do this!)

A fire-haired man she recognized as Grant Lionkin, the other ex-Sword Saint candidate, waved them over. His face turned to pure delight as his eyes landed on Darkholm and Edge. “Hey Kevin, little guy! You sure took your time,” then he seemed to spot Lia between them and immediately made to stand up. “My apologies, I didn’t see you there, young lady. May I have the pleasure of knowing your name?”

Missing Edge’s eye roll behind her, Lia moved forward and made a curtsy to Grant and the rest of the party members. “Principal, soldier-tutors, Mr Lionkin. My name is Cecilia Havenheart from class 1-A.”

Lionkin’s eyes lit up. “Duke Havenheart’s daughter? I heard that one of his children was attending the academy. Please, take a seat,” he pulled out the chair next to him and gestured to it.

Darkholm poured tea for the three of them and the principal before sitting down himself. Lia watched as the principal looked over at Edge before letting out a bark of laughter. “Edge, you’re still wearing that gaudy thing?”

“You were the one who suggested I wear this mask! ‘It’ll make the students take you more seriously’,” Edge made air quotes. “Now they think I’m some edgy kid from the boondocks.”

“Which you are,” the principal reminded, sipping her tea.

“That’s the point! It’s exactly what I was not going for!” he was almost throwing a tantrum, but seemed to barely control his emotions.

“Yet you are still wearing it,” Darkholm pointed out.

Edge paused, his mouth open in surprise at that unexpected jab, then promptly sat down. He was definitely muttering something rude under his breath, but made no move to remove the mask.

Lia barely took notice of that exchange as she gathered up her courage to start a conversation with the other soldier-tutors. “Mr Melchis, Mr Tillday, you are veterans from the Goldglory-Grytheon war, correct?”

The oldest soldier-tutors who were being addressed stood up straighter at her words. “Yes, we are. I’m surprised a young lady like you would remember such an old story,” Melchis laughed.

“The Grytheon War was an important part of our military history. We would not have our fertile agricultural lands in the west if you and your compatriots did not win the war for us.” A smile of appreciation graced their features at her words.

“Colonel Kettersburg, Major Melchis, thank you too for coming to the academy as soldier-tutors. Your continued sacrifice is appreciated by all of us here at the academy. Do you think training academy cadets will be different from regular drafted soldiers?”

Kettersburg nodded. “Definitely. After all, academy cadets usually have a soldier or knight family background. Drafted soldiers however do not possess such distinguished backgrounds, so there’s more work put into raising their stamina, strength and agility than actual war strategies.”

“I see that there is a fine balance between physical training and non-physical training. I read an interesting paper concerning that very topic…”

Thus the conversations continued on, with Lia doing her best to dazzle the soldier-tutors. Using her skills developed from watching her father dealing in business and politics, Lia took hold of the flow of conversation around the table, carefully butting into topics that she could contribute to without being too rude. With every conversation, Lia’s confidence continued to grow.

That was until, while talking to Darkholm, the man nodded and said “You’ll make a great ambassador one day.”

Her heart stopped. The soldier-tutors around the table agreed with Darkholm; even Lionkin was nodding his head.

That’s when she understood what an erroneous error she had made.

She summoned up a smile and thanked Darkholm. With the shock wearing off, she knew she had to escape the table before her smile falls-

Suddenly a loud bang interrupted everyone’s thoughts as the table shook with the force of the hit. Looking over to the source of it, Lia saw that the cup in front of Edge had upended its contents into his uniform. The boy immediately stood up, his hand rubbing at the stain.

“That’s quite careless of you, little guy,” Lionkin commented.

The boy shrugged. “Please excuse me from the party, Principal Doomhound. Cadet Havenheart, show me the way to the washrooms.”

“Huh? Oh, yes sir!” She quickly collected herself to follow Edge, who was strangely taking the lead even though he had requested her to show the way.

His steps were resolute as they wound the pair through the academy hallways, certainly bypassing the nearest washrooms. Lia was greatly confused, but couldn’t gather up the mental strength to point out that fact. She was still reeling from her mistake at the tea party.

They stopped at a quiet garden in a far corner of the academy. Upon arriving, Edge suddenly turned around and held out something to her. It was a yellow handkerchief.

“Keep it. You need it for your tears.”

That’s when Lia realized she was crying. At that realization, the tears poured out like a dam bursting from its cracks. Holding the handkerchief to her chest, she collapsed to her knees and cried like a child. Her dreams were in tatters around her.

Eventually the tears subsided, and she rubbed away the tear stains and the snot from her face with the handkerchief. Lia noticed that Edge was looking away from her, certainly giving her the time she needed to collect herself.

When she finally managed to take deep breaths without descending into more tears, Edge had turned back to her, nodding at her calmer countenance.

“Did you notice your mistake during the tea party, Cadet Havenheart?”

She nodded. Somehow, she wanted to spill her thoughts to this boy who was the only one from the party to call her a cadet. “I wasn’t even acting as a soldier. I was acting as if I was the daughter of a duke.”

He nodded. “It was an opportunity for you to secure a position as a Sword Saint candidate, but you have squandered it with your carelessness.”

His brusque words pierced her heart. Her hands twisted the handkerchief, mirroring the twisting pain in her chest. She couldn’t say anything to defend herself because it was the truth.

“Consider your place in the academy. When I see you next, I will take my handkerchief back.” Edge left her alone with those words.

A week passes with Lia in a perpetual haze of emptiness. Now that she had failed to secure a place as a Sword Saint candidate, why was she still here at the military academy?

Yet still she attended her classes, though her bullies were thankfully more into impressing the soldier-tutors than in bullying her. Yet still she stayed, thought for what she wasn’t sure. For that small hope that one of the soldier-tutors would miraculously choose her? It was pure folly, but it was her stubbornness that made her stay for that week.

Therefore, it came time for her dreams to be well and truly shattered.

The announcement on who would be the Sword Saint candidates was held again at the main hall, the soldier-tutors in the same formation just like when they were introduced. Like a book-end, Lia thought to herself. The ending of her dreams.

As each candidate was announced, her head hung lower and lower in her seat. It was finally the final soldier-tutor’s turn to announce his candidate. As her head was down, she missed the small smirk that graced his features when he spotted her in the crowd.

What she didn’t miss was her name.

“I, Edge Ravenbright, will be nominating Cadet Cecilia Havenheart of class 1-A as my Sword Saint candidate.”

As a wave of confused murmurs flowed over the crowd, Lia’s eyes rose to meet his. Her own confusion and disbelief was washed away with the cocky sureness in his eyes.

When the master of ceremonies called for her to join the other candidates on stage, Lia’s heart jumped and then hammered in her chest. It was like a bird in a cage that wanted to take flight into the skies. Nonetheless, she quickly hurried up the stage and took her place behind Edge.

Indeed, that was how the fates of the reincarnation of the first Sword Saint and the last bearer of the Sword Saint title were bound together.