A muddled melody echoes in the small church, amplified by the high arches of chiseled stone. The choir is warming up their voices to the music of an orchestra that has yet to get in tune. The setting sun is coming through the stained glass with an orange light, overpowering their original color. Felix isn't interested in architecture, even if he can appreciate a beautiful building. Actually, if tonight his eyes are so hell-bent on gazing at decoration, it's so as to spare himself the sight of Sylvain flirting with a violinist in the choir. However, he can't help shooting nervous glances his way. Sylvain's hand runs through his disheveled red hair. Felix grits his teeth, frustrated at his love for a gesture that isn't meant for him. Ingrid catches him making a face and lightly bumps his shoulder.

— Sylvain is the heir Duke of the Gautier, Felix. Talking with the inhabitants of the familial domain is his duty.

— I am the prospective Duke Fraldarius and I don't waste that much time on small talk.

           Ingrid bites her cheeks so as not to laugh out loud.

— Maybe you're the one not behaving like a good heir should, then.

           Felix sighs. She's not wrong. Unlike Sylvain, his demeanor is nothing like the friendly and benevolent manners that one would expect from the ideal lord.

— He doesn't have to speak to every single one of the most attractive people in the duchy, now, does he?

           Ingrid shrugs, lenient.

— You know him. He likes to be the center of attention. Just let him be a few minutes and then he won't leave us for the rest of the evening. I can already see you rolling your eyes at his public displays of affection once he will have a few glasses of mead in him.

           Felix shakes this embarrassing image away and stretches to alleviate the tension in his shoulders. He must admit he likes the way Sylvain catches everyone's eyes and hearts wherever he goes. His lover is a flirt and there is no changing him. As a matter of fact, they are both fine with the other one having other relationships as long as they don't trespass on their couple. Felix can't do much more than wait, even if this evening doesn't taste the same without Sylvain next to him.

           They are only a few weeks away from their departure to the Academy of Officers of the Garregh Mach monastery, the stronghold of the Church of Seiros. In that school, a few select students get the most rigorous military education you can get on the whole continent. Ingrid, Sylvain and Felix applied together and all three got accepted for the following year. Felix would have been surprised by any other outcome: What would the Church gain by doing without the instruction of the three most promising young nobles of the Kingdom? Strategically, letting them in allows the order of Seiros to weave closer alliances with the Kingdom of Faerghus.

            Even if Felix can't wait to begin classes, he's scared of what they may change in his relationship with Sylvain. He would like to make the most of their last few moments of freedom before they shoulder the burden of adulthood. With a twinge in the heart, he notices Sylvain chatting up another girl.

           Ingrid jitters on her chair, uncomfortable with Felix's glum face.

— Did you choose another class to specialize in at the Academy of Officers, in addition to swordsmanship?

           Felix gives her a grateful look. She already asked him and he doubts she forgot the answer, but he is glad she's trying to deflect.

— Wrestling.

— Are you sure you don't want to learn how to ride a pegasus? Come on, that would be another class for us to attend together! Open up to new stuff!

           They share a knowing smile. Ingrid is aware of how terrible of a horseman Felix is. The atmosphere gets softer still once Sylvain joins them in the first row benches. Silence spreads in the crowd as the first notes of a hymn to the goddess chime in the golden light. Felix closes his eyes and the world around him vanishes. Only the music and Sylvain's hand in his own remain. He is finally safe in a bubble of serenity, he feels like he is floating in the lukewarm air of this evening. That is when he senses Ingrid's hand on his thigh. He opens his eyes again and stares as her, puzzled. His friend's face is showing utmost astonishment. She pushes down on his thigh once again.

— Felix, come back down! You're levitating! She whispers.

           As a matter of fact, he is floating in the air. Noticing it breaks the spell and he falls back on the bench with a muffled thump. Sylvain squeezes his shoulder with an amazed smile as Ingrid recovers her composure. She crosses her legs and remarks, always the pragmatist:

— Maybe you should study magic at the Academy, actually.

           Felix stares at his hands in wonder: "Do I really have this in me?"