“Students of the 279th intake. Allow me to lastly offer you my congratulations and my warnings. In entering St. Florin's Academy, you have achieved a feat both your families and yourselves can be proud of. As prospective knights and witches—”

At the word 'witches', an unerring silence resounded throughout the grand auditorium. In that instant, not one of the students sitting the enrolment ceremony let out a breath.

“—of the Carnelian Chapter, you will be entrusted to repay the faith we have placed in you by demonstrating your resolve, your commitment, and your dedication to the teachings of this esteemed academy.”

Nobody had flinched, as far as Mireille could tell. The tension was present, but there was no murmur of dissent, nor shifting of any seats during the pause in speech. In the end, the uncertainty and unfamiliarity in the air was just enough to cause a single goosebump.

For now.

Maybe it was because everyone was starting from the same page. Or maybe it was because the aura of command emitted by the principal invited no reply, even in assent. Her diction was crisp and formal. Her posture straight and unbending.

Her sword gleaming and unconquered.

Principal Madelane Priscelia.

Former captain of the Carnelian Knights.

The Silver Aurelia.

“Should you succeed in your studies at St. Florin's Academy, you will be invited to take the oath of allegiance to the patron of this institution, Her Royal Majesty, Grand Duchess Velia the Fifth, and so bind yourself in service to the city-state of Berylcross.”

Principal Priscelia allowed a further moment of silence to pass.

“Those of you wishing to pursue other paths will have the knowledge and the foundations to excel in delivering the ideals and values of this academy. But for those of you who wish to pledge yourselves in the First Chamber of the Imperial Palace, make no mistake. The trials and tribulations you would face as knights and witches of the Carnelian Order will pale in comparison to the tasks you will complete in your training. Once you take that vow, only blood will release you from your obligation.”

A smattering of gulps could be heard.

Principal Priscelia smiled.

“. . . Or a retirement to teach at a school.”

And . . . breathe.

A low chorus of giggles faithfully answered her. Mireille saw more than a few shoulders drop in relief, as if they were finally permitted to enjoy the benefits of oxygen.

Mireille felt her admiration for the principal rise. Even for a famous knight, smiling and making jokes looked natural to her.

“In closing, I would say this—”

Principal Priscelia stepped to the side, away from the podium shielding her figure. Even now, she still wore the shining cuirass over her faculty uniform. The one which had protected her during the War of Ascension.

“—We are privileged to be in a time of great change. But it is not merely vigilance we must display, but understanding. Many unknowns have permeated into our lives, but this is how the world has always been, and this is how it shall always continue to be. Whatever path you choose at the end of your studies, commit to your footsteps in the knowledge that you carry the expectations and the belief of every man and woman to have walked before you.”

A pause. Everyone, including the instructors watching on from the sides, had matched their posture with The Silver Aurelia, whose hand had crept to the hilt of her sword.

“But until that time, you will be expected to fulfil the role of a student.”

Principal Priscelia drew forth her sword.

At once, a faint mist formed, beginning at her hips and rising to encompass her outstretched arm. Her eyes penetrated the watchful, waiting crowd.

“Knight cadets and witch adepts of the 279th intake. Students of St. Florin's Academy. Remember my words. Learn. Fall. And triumph.”