"Lies," he hisses, "You were only an apprentice mercenary."

But already his tone is less firm than a few seconds ago.

"You see Vidarr, killing is one of the third things you learn when you decide to follow this path," I explain with an exaggerated smile. "First, there is kidnapping, then there are threats."

I stop a second to observe his tensed face, "If you are successful in those three fields then you are allowed to receive your first solo mission."

"Did you succeed in those three areas?" he asks carefully.

He is not soft enough to be scared but intelligent enough to recognize a potential threat.

"I only excelled in the third," I admit, brushing my finger against the sword hung on his belt. "How do you think I was able to save the third Prince?"

I release him, he stays silent, judging the weight of my revelation and the future trouble I will cause him.

"But now I am not a mercenary apprentice anymore," I concede. "I am a knight apprentice and also your comrade. Even if we don't appreciate each other, why don't we try at least to be civilized?"

His stubborn brown eyes seem to want to burn me on the spot.

"Dinner is at seven," he says, turning his back away from me.

He didn't give any explicit response, but the way he looks at me and his knuckles white from the tension in his hand tell me that the truce between us is not for today.

I wander in the gardens to kill time. I don't think I have enough strength to face the curious and dirty glares of the rest of the apprentices.

I catch a fruit growing on a lonely tree and peel its skin carefully. Once the soft red flesh is out, I let myself lean lazily against the black bark of the tree.

'I honestly don't know what to think.'

If everyone possesses the same state of mind as Vidarr, then I will have a very unenjoyable stay at the Sariah quarters. During training, I doubt they will try something against me when the eyes of the Royal Knights will be on us. But outside, it will be an entirely different story.

"I have to find a safe place," I mumble, looking around.

I catch my reflection on the smooth surface of a pond nearby. The image of me is far from distinguished. My hair, which I tied in a tight ponytail, is now entangled with wild greasy strands poking out everywhere. My hands are marked with the red impressions of the leather, and my skin, especially my cheekbones and nose, are reddened by the sun. Even my skin looks like it has darkened a shade or two, thanks to the layer of accumulated sand, dust, and grime from the long trip.

I cautiously smell my shoulder. I let out a grunt of disgust.

"Don't tell me I presented myself looking like a rag and smelling like a sand fox to the Royal family."

Now, I understand the look that Vidarr gave me the very first time he landed his gaze on me.

'First, let's go clean myself up.'

🗡🗡🗡

"You must be Raven Mhyrr, the student of the Commander of the Royal Knights?"

A girl with brown hair and a scar down her face diagonally is waiting for me.

"I suppose so," I respond with shaken confidence.

Now that I know what I look like right now, I am embarrassed to stand in that hall in the middle of the curious gaze of apprentices dressed in their impeccable uniforms.

"Follow me, then," she turns her heels and walks towards the right stairs.

I follow her, noticing on the way that she is a few inches smaller than I.

"By the way," she says. "My name is Arlette of Kaida. I am the daughter of the Marquess of Kaida."

"Nice to meet you, Arlette," I respond automatically.

My mind is already wandering to my future fuming bath.

"Please don't thank me, I am only doing what the Royal Knights are ordering me to do. No more and no less," she corrects.

Her words may seem harsh, but her tone is so detached that I don't take offense at what she said.

"I am going to be very honest with you, Raven. You don't seem like the monster you are supposed to be. But that doesn't mean I want to become friends with you. I don't want to be excluded from the other apprentices, but I am not going to take part in any plans they will plot against you."

I look at her, unsure of the appropriate response to her statement.

"Again, don't thank me."

The corridors are very simple compared to the splendor of the rest of the palace.

She stops in front of a door, a number is engraved in gold on the hard black wood.

"Your room is number fifteen," indicates the young Marquess. "The others will firmly deny that there isn't any form of favoritism towards any students. It isn't the truth, just look at how your room is better than almost everyone else's."

The room is indeed beautiful. Nothing compared to the luxurious quarters that I occupied back in Svenja, but the well-crafted bed, the private bathroom, and the beautiful desk can rival with the room of the child of a baron.

"Oh, and one last piece of advice, Raven," says Arlette, taking a step back into my room. "You should cut your hair."

"Why is that?" I ask. "Yours are very long."

The ends of her hair are freshly cut, reaching to the very end of her well-built back.

"That is because I am talented enough to fight without being burdened by my hair," she simply responds.

"What tells you I am not talented enough to fight without cutting my hair?" I reply, raising my chin.

She lets out a little laugh, "This is exactly why you should cut it."

Arlette walks towards me until I can feel her breath.

"You are arrogant and weak, exactly like a spoiled noble woman. First of all, cutting your hair will help you improve much faster, and the other reason is that it will make you look good in front of others. It will send a message: I am admitting my weakness. And that is what will make people respect you."

She stops for a few seconds to let me process her advice.

"And again, don't thank me."

She closes the door to leave me alone. At the very moment the door hits the frame, I run towards the mirror and untie the shabby ribbon, my hair falling on my shoulders until the middle of my back.

My hair brushes against the dirty red locks. Even if it is ridiculous, I don't have the strength to cut them. It is enough change for a day.

Instead, I hurriedly take off my clothes and let them fall on the floor. I walk towards the bathroom. The water isn't hot anymore, but I immerse myself without any hesitation.

I grab the piece of soap lying on the side of the bathtub and start rubbing my skin. I close my eyes in delight, feeling the dirt detaching itself from my skin, and massage my oily hair.

I would like to stay a bit longer, but the clear water is slowly turning brown. I pick up a fluffy towel hung at the entrance of the bathroom. My entangled hair is forming impossible knots, and its dampness makes it stick to my skin.

I carefully start brushing the ends before moving more and more up. Little by little, my hair goes back to its initial shape. I take a glance at the clock before noticing in horror that detangling my hair cost me an hour and a half of rest. I have less than ten minutes to go to the lunchroom.

I unfold the white shirt and the black pants before putting on the buttoned straight silver vest.

Six minutes.

I tie my shoelaces and glance at myself in the mirror. My hair is still wet and wrapped in a towel. I grab the brush and decide to style a simple, neat bun. It takes me three frustrating tries to achieve a satisfying result.

One minute.

I rush out the door and run down the stairs and the hall. I arrive slightly panting in front of a small line of apprentices. I put myself at the end, relieved not to be late on the first day.

"Name?" asks an old man with gray, puffy hair.

"Raven Mhyrr."

He quickly raises his eyes and carefully observes me. I maintain his eye contact, my back as straight as a stone column.

"You can enter."

I let out a quick sigh and enter the lunchroom. I grab a plate and serve myself various salads and a grilled fish whose scent makes me think of the one Marianna often prepared.

I look around and constate with horror that the tables are similar to the banquet ones. One end is almost empty, I walk towards it, ignoring the curious looks, and sit down.

During the entire lunch, no one bothers to engage in conversation with me.

When I finish, I put my empty plate in a filled dirty dishes sink and walk away.

"You took some time."

I turn around to face Vidarr, his eyes are slightly squinted, and the corners of his lips are moving up.

"Follow me, I have something to show you."

He disappears into the shadows infesting the corridors. I only take a step outside that four additional students join him, blocking every way of exit.

"Let's see what kind of stray dog Eiran brought ."

Pinned against the wall, I stare at Vidarr, hiding a venomous smile that threatens to curl up my lips.

"A mad one," I respond, taking a metal device out of my pocket.

They frown, surprised by the unexpected reaction I give them.

'Sorry, but tonight I won't be entertainment for you.'

My thumb presses against the sharpened edge of the cube. A drop of blood falls on the cube, as small as a die. Immediately, a black glow emits from it before a small cloud blocks their vision.

"You really thought I would come here unprepared?" I ask, raising my swords.