She was cool.

She was so cool!

Mireille was in awe. She'd heard about The Silver Aurelia and her exploits before, but never until now did she appreciate how truly overwhelming she was in person. The distance between her and Madelane Priscelia could not be counted in steps, but in stars.

As it was, she would even consider having one of her AKELA posters make way, providing that one of the principal could be appropriated somewhere.

Mireille immediately looked to the side. She wanted to gush. To pronounce her new idol.

Around her, potential classmates and peers were trundling off in pairs and groups. They'd come together at the same time from one of the reputable lower schools attached to St. Florin's Academy. With the conclusion of the enrolment ceremony, all that remained was to enjoy the last few minutes of innocence afforded to them before they were expected in their first homeroom of the term.

They would be finding their feet today.

But as the principal suggested, they would be falling on them tomorrow.

Barely containing her alarming smile, Mireille turned to her left, to her right, and lastly behind her.

All at once, a dreadful realisation struck her. It offered no respite, no sympathy and no opportunity to hide.

She had no friends.

Zero.

Utterly alone.

“Uuah . . . uuh . . .”

The shock of her tragic situation wiped her off her feet. Not even a minute into her tenure as a knight cadet, Mireille Kloeter had collapsed back onto her seat.

She knew this would happen. Or rather, she suspected this would happen. None of her friends had even attempted the enrolment examination to St. Florin's Academy, preferring to enter an academy with entrance requirements more reasonable to the sane mind than this one. Some had enrolled at purely academic schools altogether.

This wasn't to say that Mireille was a snowflake, though.

Nobody was more surprised than herself at the letter of acceptance.

Well, except her mother. She was still trying to mend the stack of plates that had painted the kitchen floor. Mireille's pride had been deeply scarred by that scene.

Still, she'd hoped that somehow, one of them would've sneaked in. Her fragile hope was that she wasn't alone in her brave attempt at time-wasting, and that a familiar face would tap her shoulder from behind or leap out to surprise her.

But as she surveyed the emptying auditorium, the only thing which became apparent was the widening space immediately surrounding her.

Hope extinguished, Mireille leaned in and admired her shoes.

They were so squeaky clean. So pure.

Not bitter and forlorn and suddenly melodramatic like her.

“Haah . . . I suppose I'll get to class now . . .”

However, just as Mireille encouraged herself to rise from the cruel reality of her situation, she felt it.

A tap on her shoulder.

Hope ignited like a bonfire fed with a barrel of oil mixed with dry tinder.

Mireille jumped from her seat and swivelled around.

“Good morning, Miss Kloeter . . . Lively, are we?”

Principal Priscelia retracted her hand and smiled.

“Ah . . . ah . . . ?!”

She'd tapped her. She was speaking to her.

She knew her name.

Madelane Priscelia, The Silver Aurelia, knew her name.

Mireille, still reeling from the psychological blow to her friendlessness, was devastated.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry!” she said, apologising on the spot for whatever capital crime she'd doubtless committed. “I didn't mean it! It was an accident! I promise!”

“Hm?” Principal Priscelia tilted her head. “Did you do something?”

“I don't know,” said Mireille as her vision started swirling. “But whatever it was I didn't know that I did, I'm very sorry.”

Principal Priscelia laughed. It wasn't loud or boisterous, but gentle and appeasing.

A noble lady's laugh.

“As far as I know, you haven't done anything wrong . . . although if this changes, I suppose I'll have to take this exchange into account as your verbal confession.”

“I agree,” said Mireille, who having more or less lost her mind was in total failure mode. “M-My name is Mireille Kloeter. I'm pleased to meet you. Y-You can rely on me for the year ahead.”

“Is that so?” Principal Priscelia offered an amused smile. “I'm glad. It's been a while since anyone's told me to rely on them. I think I'll take you up on your offer.”

“Thank you very much,” said a distraught Mireille.

Principal Priscelia nodded, but added nothing. She apparently came to the conclusion that any further words would be in danger of overloading Mireille's brain.

“. . . Well, now that I've gathered everyone, I believe it's time for introductions.”

Allowing a few more seconds for Mireille to gather her bearings, Principal Priscelia motioned to the side. In her shadow were three students.

One, a little girl with a ribboned hair band, was standing motionless as if waiting in line. She wore an academy uniform that looked half a size too big.

One, a girl with big eyes and an even bigger rack. She was hugging a blackened staff topped with a scarlet jewel. She wore an academy uniform that looked half a size too small.

And finally, a dazzling girl with long, wavy blonde hair and sharp eyes, who at this time was not bothering to hide the lines of dissatisfaction from scrawling across her face.

Such was the principal's presence that Mireille had failed to notice this unique trio who were with her. Frankly, she wanted to immediately go see an optometrist.

The blonde girl spoke first.

“Principal Priscelia, may I now know the reason to which you've requested my being here? As you very well know, I have committee duties to fulfil before homeroom begins.”

The greatest surprise to Mireille was that the discontent wasn't aimed at her, but at Principal Priscelia. In fact, unlike the two beside her, she hadn't spared a single glance her way.

The repeated sensation of being plainly ignored jolted Mireille awake.

“Your committee duties are rescinded for today,” replied Principal Priscelia, before turning to look at each of the four students in turn. “I've gathered you all for a special reason. I apologise for the abruptness. An unfortunate issue has arisen which requires your attention.”

Bad news delivered straight from the lips of the academy principal.

Needless to say, Mireille was ready to plant herself back down onto the chair. And then onto the train home.

“Very well . . . what is this unfortunate issue?” said the blonde girl. “And why are you, the principal, personally delivering this information to us?”

“Because I'm the one most at fault for it transpiring.”

The principal broke off her smile just long enough to sigh. She sent a wistful look at the blonde girl.

“Yuela, wear a smile. After all, I'm introducing you to your new classmates.”

The girl's eyes slowly blinked, as if somehow colligating the information through them like a sieve.

Eventually, her mouth opened in a wordless scream.

An unfortunate issue, indeed.