Although ostensibly a grand dukedom as far as official correspondence was concerned, Berylcross was commonly acknowledged as a city-state by both its populace and its neighbours. It wasn't always like this. Its lands had been eroded over time — not by conflict, but quite literally by the tides. Built on the fingertips of a peninsula, nature had triumphed where armies had often failed, and also at times succeeded.

Such was the long, red history of Berylcross City.

Despite this, Berylcross's piecemeal territory belied its prominence. It boasted the third largest population by city in the region, and was bested only by the capitals of the two states which man-marked it from east and west.

During the day, its main streets teemed with busy crowds, and as Mireille watched the colourful city flash by from the seat of her train carriage, it was all she could do to hold her breath at the fact she was expected to help safeguard this way of life. Now as a knight cadet, she experienced that weight for the very first time.

She wondered how many times more she would feel this responsibility.

“This is the North Line Rapid Service to Market Square. The next stop is Peridot District. Please change here for the North Line Local Service.”

“Soooo . . . anything we need to worry about up there? Scary things with big teeth?”

Tabitha broke the silence in the carriage. Her question was aimed at Yuela, or more specifically, at the alarmingly lethal-looking recurve bow which rested on her lap.

Unlike Tabitha who carried her staff throughout the morning's exchanges, Mireille and Yuela had not borne their weapons until now. In Mireille's case, she'd retrieved hers from the depths of her travelling bag. They were slotted in the sheaths by her hips. Yuela had collected hers from her dormitory before boarding the train.

“There are no phantasms in Alexandrite District's mountains. The area is a public space popular with families and schools for the observatory near the highest peak.”

All the while eyeing the scenery, Yuela answered with a curt response. She made no light of her irritability. Having gathered her senses as well as her weapon, she'd converged all of her wayward emotions into that of pure discontent.

“You sure?” Tabitha continued admiring the bow. “'Cause it sorta feels like you could've brought a more practical accessory if you just wanted to look fashionable.”

“The bow is part of standard procedure when exiting the campus grounds in uniform. We are, officially, a reserve force, and are expected to defend the rule of law if necessary.”

“Seriously? So we're, like, guards?”

“A reserve force.”

Yuela broke away from the scenery. She focused her sharp gaze on Tabitha, then on the staff being hugged between her arms and knees.

“. . . I take it from your question that you simply carry that thing everywhere . . . including the enrolment ceremony—”

“Yup!”

“—Which shouldn't have been permitted.”

Tabitha's face was the opposite of apologetic.

“Hehe, we're hard to separate.”

“. . . I see.”

Yuela returned to scowling at the innocent citizens shooting past below. Not wishing for another awkward silence to fill up the gap, Mireille took the initiative to ask a very important question on her mind.

“Hmmm . . . it's not like I mind playing hide and seek, but doesn't this mean we'll end up skipping classes? Our homeroom instructor only handles core classes with us, right?”

“Ah, that's true,” said Tabitha, propping up her leg on the space between Mireille and Yuela. “We're gonna be delinquents on day one.”

Mireille didn't know how to tell her she already looked like one.

“Today's inaugural homeroom is extended until midday,” said Yuela, her answer as tired as it sounded automatic. “First classes do not begin until after lunch.”

“I see, I see . . . well, that makes sense,” hummed Tabitha. “A lot of people need to get to know each other, right?”

Yuela flinched.

“D-Don't tell me none of you looked at the schedule,” she said, filling up any hope of an awkward silence herself.

“I looked at it,” said Mireille in all honesty. “I just forgot afterwards.”

“You forgot the limited schedule of your first day at St. Florin's Academy . . .”

“Well, I had to remember other important things, too.”

My name is Mireille Kloeter. I'm pleased to meet you. You can rely on me for the year ahead.

Even now, she was still faithfully reciting it in her head. First impressions counted for everything. She couldn't get it wrong. She didn't want people to think she's an idiot, after all.

“Coco knows the schedule,” said Tabitha, with an excessively proud look at the girl sitting beside her. “Which means I'm safe. She's my diary with a perfect memory.”

Coco looked expressionlessly up at her.

“Coco advises not to refer to herself as a diary. Diaries exist to be read. Or to speak upon request concerning the events of the 23rd of Lumuria, 1037, whereupon you as an adolescent girl woke the village in the middle of the night due to your embarrassing inability to con—”

“Ahahaha! I can't wait to start searching for our instructor! It feels like a field trip, doesn't it?! I'm not too sure about hiking up a mountain, but whatever! I'm so excited that I can barely contain myself!”

Mireille smiled at them both. She felt she should've been a bit jealous, but seeing the two of them so well acquainted with each other only made her want to be a part of their memories going forward.

That's right. It was a shame none of her past ties were with her, but she could always form new relationships.

Starting with her unique classmates.

“Scholarship, huh . . .”

Beside her, Yuela murmured into the window.

“Are you still thinking about that, Yuela?” asked Mireille, only realising a moment afterwards she wasn't supposed to have heard.

“I am.”

Yuela responded to her, irregardless. But she still didn't turn from the windows.

“I didn't even spend a moment considering before accepting it. If I knew, I wouldn't . . .”

“Now now, don't be such a slouch,” said Tabitha. “Remember what the principal said. We're outstanding. Her words, not mine. So be pleased. Don't you wanna hang around with people like us?”

Yuela faced the front. She looked vaguely apologetic. It wasn't entirely quite there yet, but Mireille readily awarded points for effort.

“I mean no disrespect,” she said. “I merely wish to be in a regular class with my peers.”

Mireille nodded. She understood how she felt. Except the bit about having peers.

Yes, Mireille was utterly alone.

“. . . Incidently, what were your scores?” asked Yuela after a short pause. “The entrance examination results are never publicly disclosed. If Principal Priscelia's assessment is true, then I should at least take up the opportunity to see how I ranked against the three of you, whom I presume make the top four along with me.”

“Oh? You wanna know who's the best of the best?” said Tabitha, quickly leaning forwards with a sparkly expression.

“. . . It is natural curiosity. Nothing more.”

So said the one who brought it up.

“The entrance examination is a poor barometer of true ability, but it has its uses. If . . . If we're each in agreement, shall we divulge our entrance scores?”

“Yup! That's fine with me.”

“Coco has no reservations.”

“Mm, let's do that!” agreed Mireille as she silently broke into a cold sweat.

“I see. Then, as the one who suggested this proposal, allow me to start.”

Yuela suddenly looked a lot more enthusiastic when it came to the prospect of imminent boasting. The dimness in her eyes had been replaced with newly lit colour.

“In the military theory examination, I received a score of ninety-six percent. In the practical arms examination, I earned a score of ninety-four percent.”

“Oooh! That's amazing!”

Not requiring any time to marvel, Tabitha broke out into light applause. Carried along by her enthusiasm, Coco and Mireille automatically joined her.

Yuela swiftly returned to the window, but she ping-ponged back a moment later. In the space of that nanosecond, she'd brought a shy, comely smile along with her.

“It's . . . It's not . . . I mean, really.”

And then she coughed.

“And, what about you . . . Tabitha. What did you score?”

“Hmm, well, the theory thing was really bad for me.”

“I see. Was it lower than ninety percent?”

A ninety percent examination score was the accepted standard for these people.

Mireille felt like the only tadpole in a pond of frogs. Very, very smart frogs.

“No, no, no,” said Tabitha, waving her hands in front of her staff. “No way. Mine was lower than that. Way lower.”

“Oh?”

Yuela displayed a small note of genuine surprise. Even so, there was a tinge of happiness to it. She was already in front.

“Mm. I'm not really that knowledgable about military history and super old tactics and things like that. I mean, I've lived outside the city all my life, and I'm a witch, so . . .”

Yuela's newly minted smile faltered. It was as though she'd forgotten the matter of her classmate's bearing. Perhaps she'd already gotten too accustomed to the sight of Tabitha hugging that great big staff as though she were permanently glued to it.

However, the courteous smile returned just as quickly as it went.

“Of course. How much lower? Below eighty-five percent?”

Tabitha waved her hands again and laughed.

“No, no. It's still too high. Sorry.”

“I see . . . Eighty percent?”

“A little lower.”

“Seventy percent?”

“Haha . . . just a bit lower.”

“. . . Sixty percent?”

“Hmm. Lower?”

Yuela's smile collapsed. She and Tabitha stared at each other.

“Fifty.”

“Lower.”

“Forty.”

“Lower.”

“Thirty.”

“Lower.”

“Twenty.”

“Lower.”

“Ten?”

“. . . Lower.”

All of a sudden, Yuela slammed her fists against her lap. Her bow jumped half an inch.

“You have a theory score of lower than ten percent?! Are you even capable of human speech?!”

“Heheh. Sure I am. Look — 'Are you wearing any panties?'”

“. . . Ah?!”

Yuela could only remain frozen in horror following Tabitha's innocently voiced query. Regaining her composure, she then stole a rapid glance around the carriage via the corners of her eyes.

Tabitha watched her in those ensuing seconds with terrible amusement.

“Hmm? Not saying anything? Or maybe I'm not good at human speech, after all . . . well, I can't help it if I'm a dummy, you know? Look, you see where all the nutrients I eat go?”

“. . . How, just how did you get a scholarship . . . ?”

Utterly ignoring any line of conversation that could lead to the topic of her dress state, Yuela returned to the matter at hand. Tabitha generously assented.

“I did well in the other thing, of course.”

“There is no arms score that could save you!” said Yuela in a quiet, yet high-pitched voice. “Even a full mark couldn't get you general entry into the academy. You should have been failed . . . There is no number that could off-set a theory score of below ten percent!”

Tabitha placed a finger against her cheek and hummed.

“I guess . . . maybe that's why they didn't give me a number?”

“Excuse me?”

“I didn't get a number.”

“Of course you did. It's an examination based on a scoring percentage system. They must have written down something. What did they write down?”

“Um, they kinda just wrote down some letters.”

Yuela looked like she was about to drown in abject confusion.

“What? What letters?”

“'N/A'”

“. . . And they gave you a scholarship for that?!”

Mireille watched the bow on Yuela's lap carefully. This time, it almost broke the inch mark. Tabitha sat back and smiled away without a care in the world.

“Apparently? Well, I did see the examiners talking about it for ages.”

“You . . . You saw the examiners? Wait, their identities are supposed to remain secret! Weren't they hidden behind a veiled screen?”

“Ah, yeah, the screen wasn't there at the end.”

Tabitha sheepishly scratched her head. Yuela looked on in horror.

“I . . . I see that standards in marking have changed considerably over time. But no matter, you earned the approval of the experienced examiners, and so I can only offer you my congratulations . . .”

“Mm, looking forward to my time here!”

With the manner of someone who intended to shelve the contents of the conversation within a deep cabinet at the back of her mind, Yuela twisted away and looked at Coco instead.

“And what about you, Coco? What did—”

“One-hundred percent.”

Immediately, Yuela looked up at the roof of the carriage. After focusing intently on a single, faded blotch in the varnished panelling, she peered back at Coco.

“Come again?”

“One-hundred percent.”

Yuela hesitated, then clasped her hands neatly atop her bow. No matter what, she clearly didn't intend for it to leap again.

“One-hundred percent. Did I hear that correctly? That's . . . well, that's rather incredible. Remarkable, even. I'm not quite sure if anyone has ever received a perfect score before . . . in fact, I wasn't certain if it was even attainable. These things can be awfully subjective, after all . . . although for which examination did you receive one-hundred percent . . . ?”

“Both.”

“. . . . . .”

“Coco wishes to add that the veiled screen remained intact throughout the course of the practical arms examination.”

Yuela simply nodded.

As if all other choices of response were unavailable to her.

“May I inquire as to how you attained such a record-breaking score?”

“Coco slept well the night before.”

A short dance of tapping threatened itself against Yuela's lap, accompanied by another simple, unfeeling nod above.

“Of course . . . a good night's sleep certainly helps . . .”

And so, with the look of a girl whose every life choice to date was rapidly deteriorating of meaning, Yuela Vlinder finally turned her attention to her fellow knight cadet. Her only hope of salvation, Mireille Kloeter.

“. . . Military theory?”

There was no preamble. Yuela skipped every step of small talk and immediately sought the answer to her own personal destruction.

Mireille didn't mind. She was happy to tell it as it is — as well as put Yuela out of her misery. Her classmates might think less of her for her answers, but in the end, they would likely have found out regardless.

“Fifty percent!”

It wasn't a great score. It wasn't even a good score. It was dead average.

Not too bad. Not too good.

Just underwhelmingly, overwhelmingly ordinary.

Still, Mireille was proud of her result. Much like her sword training, she'd only been given what resources and time her older sister could spare. Much of what she learned was from her sister.

And as amazing as her sister was, she was neither a personal tutor nor an instructor in swordsmanship.

Mireille was prepared for a whiff of teasing from the studious girl before her. However, Yuela showed no signs of emotion. None whatsoever. She was staring resolutely at Mireille as though quietly preparing to face the coming apocalypse.

After all, between the girl who scored rock bottom and the girl who scored highest, why not have the last girl score directly in the middle?

“I see,” she said, her voice unfeeling. “And what did you receive in the arms examination? Was your score also not applicable to human understanding?”

“Hehe, no way, no way.”

Yuela stiffened. She'd heard something similar from Tabitha.

“. . . I also scored fifty percent!”

At Mireille's proud declaration, Tabitha immediately broke into light applause. For some reason, she hadn't done so for Coco. Perhaps expecting unworldly perfection was the norm from her.

“Good job!” she said with a thumbs-up. “I'm not sure if I got higher or lower on the blow-everything-up exam, but you trounced me on the writing thing. It was super hard, wasn't it?”

“Mm, I thought so, too! It was so tough at parts! Most of what I learned in school during war classes was about phantasms, but a lot of the questions were focused on human opposition. The bit where they asked you to draw five phases of night troop movement on their diagram of an entrenched position residing on a twenty-five degree slope, two-thousand metres above sea level and in wet weather conditions was insane!”

Before she knew it, Mireille was speaking in a single, unending breath. This must have been the excitement of making new allies.

“Amazing, Mireille! I couldn't even read that question all the way through and you remembered it!”

“A-Ah? But I only remembered that one because these are advanced topics that are only covered after you enter a military academy . . .”

“What? Seriously? That's just a scam, then!”

“. . . . . .”

Compelled by an unknown force, Mireille glanced at the continually shivering girl beside her.

She was glad when she did. She was able to witness the bow finally breaking the inch barrier.

“You are average!” said Yuela, her poorly repressed emotions bursting forth like a broken dam. “You are completely average! In fact, how could you be so perfectly average?!”

Mireille attempted to tide her bafflement over with a meek smile.

“Ehehe, I know, right?”

“No! That's not something to feel good about!”

Yuela shook her head in frustration. The fringes of her long, wavy blonde hair were in danger of becoming more rebellious than Mireille's.

“Listen to me, Mireille. Two combined scores of fifty percent is not enough to earn general admission into St. Florin's Academy, either. How did you gain the scholarship? What special trait did you demonstrate? What ability?”

Recalling the day of the entrance examination, Mireille's mind was awash with memories of her own supreme mediocrity when conducting the exams. No burst of hidden talent had sallied forth from the depths of her soul to strangle fate into forcing her successful admission. Frankly, she returned home later that evening with the prevailing feeling of having done 'okay'.

And that was precisely what happened.

She'd done okay.

Okay.

It wasn't a particularly inspiring feeling.

“Hmm . . . I don't know,” she admitted thoughtfully.

“You don't know?!”

“I don't know.”

Yuela's sharp eyes bored straight through her.

“. . . Is it something you must hide in order to protect yourself?”

“No . . . um, I really don't have any special abilities . . . I think?”

“If that's the case, how did you earn a scholarship with such bad results, no, mundane results?”

“That's a good question.”

“What? Didn't you ask the academy?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Predicting her answer wouldn't result in a happy smile, Mireille decided to go all-out and inject her response with maximum enthusiasm. She had a theory that there was no news which couldn't be helped with a dilution of shameless optimism.

She gave a little fist pump.

“Hehe, because it sounds like they made an administrative mistake and I don't wanna be kicked out!”

Slam.

Incredible. At this rate, Yuela's bow could qualify for a pole vaulting competition.

“What kind of answer is that?! You wish to be a knight, don't you?! Whoever heard of someone becoming a knight from an admin mistake?! That can't be what happened! What if they question you about it?!”

Mireille emulated Tabitha's earlier peace sign.

“No worries, if they ask me about it, I'll tell them!”

“Don't be so half-hearted! You lie all the way through or tell the truth from the start! Never back down!”

So said Yuela Vlinder, knight cadet of the 279th intake, who just inadvertently made known an interesting creed not wholly befitting her personality.

“Who oversees the admission process?” she muttered, swiftly retreating to the corner of her world which was the window. “There'd be a committee. The principal also sits on it . . . no, she was certainly watching the entrance examinations from the start. What is she thinking . . . ?”

After a series of indistinguishable murmurs devolving into a slightly maddened grumble, Yuela did what anyone could only do in her situation.

Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the glass and pretended to have heard nothing.