Finally, practical combat training opened its doors for us.

Even knowing it would mostly consist of fundamentals, especially the fact that this was taking place indoors, anything that wasn’t just taking useless notes, trying not to fall asleep in class, would be greeted with a warm welcome.

It was the first class of the day, first thing in the morning. By the time I arrived, the room was already filling.

The students here bore familiar yet unknown faces. Yes, my eyes had recorded their features in quite the detail, but I didn’t know them personally. After all, anyone of the same year who chose the sword would end up here. 

Well, not all. I heard the sword class was split into several other classes, too. This class I was in was apparently called “The First Sword Class”. 

Sounds elite for a class that’s just going to be about fundamentals.

There were no desks, no chairs, just some open space with training mats, weapon racks lining the walls, and students scattered about in loose clusters. Some were testing their grips and swings on wooden swords. Others lingered near the walls and windows, having a chat.

I was standing silently in one of the corners of the room, leaning back with my head hung low. Waking up this early, despite how often I did it as Carine, never really made me feel accustomed to it.

One of the familiar faces that I actually recognized belonged to none other than Lechter. He was sitting in complete silence, facing the window. I occasionally noticed his eyes flicking towards me before turning his attention back to the skies beyond the glass.

I had hoped I wouldn’t be in the same class as him, but as long as we didn’t bother each other, things should be fine… right?

“Lady Carine!” a bright voice called out.

Lionne appeared at my side with her usual smile, as though she had been searching for me specifically… I mean, that was to be expected, to be honest.

“Good morning, Lady Carine! I see you got here early!”

“Morning to you, too, Lionne.”

“Should I find and reserve some of the better wooden swords for you?” she asked, already half-turning toward the racks as if prepared to sprint. 

“No need,” I said, lifting a long velvet cloth bag. “I brought my own.”

Her eyes lit up. “Ah, of course! Forgive me, I should have expected that.”

I opened the bag’s knots and pulled out the thing it was housing. Like many of the students back from my mansion training days, I had begun bringing my own, premium-made wooden blade. It was made with both functionality and craftsmanship in mind, and I could tell whoever carved this absolutely put it all into this piece. 

It carried enough weight to feel firm in the hand, though still lighter than the real thing, and the grip was far superior to the academy’s standard issue, which should prevent hand sores.

Lionne leaned in slightly, careful not to touch it without permission.

“It looks so beautiful,” she said. “It doesn’t even look used.”

“Well, it was a recent gift I got,” I replied.

I got this in the mail around two days ago, and alongside it came a letter written by my—Carine’s—parents.

Father’s part of the letter was along the lines of telling me to do my best, and that he would be cheering me on. He also added that if I ever needed more allowance, I should tell Leila about it. To be honest, I think I got a little bit too much allowance. It was to the point that I was actually saving up money without even trying.

Mother’s part of the letter was along the lines of don’t break it.

Tough order for a wooden sword meant for training.

It was kind of reassuring to see them still being themselves, at least. 

“Wow! It looks so expertly crafted!” She continued. “I wonder how much it costs…” she muttered to herself.

Before I could enjoy more of Lionne’s admiring comment about my sword, another voice joined us.

“Lady Carine?”

I turned to see Villius approaching, a friend trailing just behind him. He straightened slightly the moment our eyes met, as though correcting his posture mid-step.

“You’re in this sword class as well?” he asked, a hint of relief clear in his tone. It was almost like he was hoping to see me.

“I am,” I said with a small nod. “Good to see you, Villius.”

His friend glanced between us, but Villius spoke before he could.

“I thought you might be here,” he continued with a light chuckle before he immediately interrupted himself. “I mean—it’s not that I joined a sword class just to see you. I was—It felt more natural to me, is all, haha…”

What in the world are you talking about?

You train in swords, don’t you? Why come up with excuses?

As the small exchange settled, my attention drifted across the room. Most of the faces here were expected. There was a possibility that both Lionne and Villius would be placed in a different class than me, but thankfully, that didn’t come to pass.

However, there was one familiar face that I hoped to ignore. From the moment I learned which class I would be placed in, I had made a quiet effort not to think about it. But it was a wasted effort.

Right across the room stood a group of students in black uniforms, standing out from the majority of those who wore white. 

Attila was among them, gaze wandering idly, seemingly judging ones worthy of a spar.

The one who stood beside her, however, held a very familiar face.

The one leaning against the wall and hanging his head low…

…was none other than the other me.

Why?

Why am I in a class with myselves again?!

I’d take being in the same class as Lecther any day over this!

I was on the verge of crashing out the moment I received news of which sword class the both of me would be in. I thought for sure that I was reading it wrong. I was so sure this was the one thing that wouldn’t happen. After all, I never heard of a hybrid, noble-commoner class existing here in this academy!

It almost felt like the academy created this class just to torture me.

The moment Villius saw me—Feyt, I mean—his eyes widened in surprise.

But before he could give any of us a proper reaction, the doors of the class swung open.

Conversations were cut mid-sentence. Movement stopped in the air. Even the constant swinging of wooden swords came to an abrupt halt.

Echoes of measured footsteps followed.

The woman who entered carried herself with an ease that bordered on provocation. Each step was confident, almost a strut, even.

Her dark blue hair was cut clean at the shoulders, framing a face that held a hint of a smirk, something rarely seen plastered on an instructor’s face. Her eyes were sharp, but also bright in a way that made it unclear whether she was judging us or enjoying herself.

Her uniform was black, militaristic, with a coat draped loosely over her shoulders. Gold accents lined the fabric, catching the light just enough to draw the eye without being gaudy. A badge carrying Setus’s emblem was pinned proudly on her chest.

Her uniform was, on the surface, a standard-issue uniform of the academy’s instructors. A darker variant of it, at least. But yet, on her, it carried more weight than it seemed.

She walked straight to the front corner of the room, approaching the only desk.

She stopped a few steps away from the desk and turned to face us.

The silence in the room seemed to stretch into the halls.

Her gaze swept across us, her chin slightly raised. Everyone seemed to hold their breath. I, too, was the same.

There was something about her. Something I couldn’t quite place. But the one thing I was sure of was that I absolutely needed to be on my best behavior from here on out. A thought that probably echoed through everyone’s minds.

After the cold silence stretched for a moment longer, she let out a small scoff.

“Relax,” she said, her tone as playful as her smirk. “I’m not here to eat you. Loosen up!”

A few students flinched at her voice.

Her tone wasn’t as heavy as I was expecting. If anything, it was… light.

“Wow, you’re all stiff as a board, huh?” she continued, one brow lifting slightly, her hands folded. “If that’s the case, I’d at least introduce myself first.”

She leaned her body straight and placed a hand on the desk beside her. Her eyes shot forward as she raised her voice.

“I am Lissia Aes Marseid. Your sword instructor of the day! You may call me Instructor Liz for short! Let’s all get along, yeah?” she said with a bright, wide grin.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep