"...No! Because it was never my intention for them to fight! It's only because your dumb ass got in the way that my plan is now ruined."

  "Communication is a vital part of any group. And pray tell, what makes this original plan of yours so good that you think you can just ran off without telling both Karin and I first?"

  "Oh, why does it matter? Are you not satisfied with simply ruining it? Now you have to rub it in on how close I was to experiencing greatness? But fine! If you wanna know that badly, my original intent was to pit that bastard crown prince against his fiancé."

  Their argument turned petty real quick afterwards, so I tried to tune their voices out as I figure out what to do next. Picking the glasses up from my lap and expected a scolding. Though with what little I've seen from Mika, it's more likely to be some sarcastic jab at my shortcomings.

  "Look, I'm sorry—"

  [Don't be]

  "Are you saying that to make me feel better?"

  [Hell no, that's well above my paygrade]

  [I'm trying to say that you can either sit here and feel sorry for yourself, or you can watch what happens and prepare for what comes after]

  The clock kept on ticking, and I should make use of every second spent with something substantial. If I simply continued on sulking over spilled milk, then I'd be betraying the vow I made to myself before coming here.

  I stood up and walked over to the guardrails to see the duel that was about to start. It was going to take a while before the eventual fight between Zefer and Alicia, but there should be no harm in gathering more intel on my classmates. Not a point of interest, sure, but if I put myself in Mika's shoes, he'd probably say something along the lines of: *"making use of them later on."*

  However, there was nothing here that I hadn't seen earlier. Mostly just a bunch of kids who have clearly never picked up a weapon before enrolling in this academy. Not to say that I was any better without the help of the spirits, but I certainly wouldn't treat the training sword like a heavy stick used to slap my opponent into submission.

  All in all, it was a bore to watch. Occasionally, something would happen. Nothing major, multiple kids got struck a little too hard to leave a nasty bruise. In such events, instead of being sent to the infirmary, they turned to one of their classmates who seemed to be the designated healer of this batch.

  Not that it was an official role that was given to her. But healing magic was one of those special discipline which few people follow, mainly because the chance of a person having an aptitude for said magic is in the thousands. And it was also notoriously known for how stupidly forgiving it was for new initiates. So much so that it was the only discipline which allows apprentices to practice it with little to no restraint.

  Assuming that the circumstances surrounding it were the same here—and it was a strong assumption—then I wouldn't blame our class to exploit it. No, that wasn't a fair assessment, she seemed more than happy to help.

  Are we sure she's not the one who's meant to save this world?

  "Miss Fiona, need some help?"

  "Sir Bertrand," the girl then bowed at the boy who had approached her. "I do appreciate the gesture, but—"

  "But she doesn't need you sticking your mangy nose into her business, Bertrand."

  The crown prince suddenly interrupted with an off-handed remark, which solicited a gasp from the unsuspecting girl.

  "Your highness!"

  "That was uncalled for," Bertrand added in a calm demeanor as if he hadn't been demeaned earlier. "My lineage may have a history of serving as the *"mutt"* of the royal family, but it's all fair game in this academy. The headmaster said so himself, or do I need to remind you?"

  "Tch. You don't have to remind me. And your royalty lies in me alone, not my family. Or do I need to remind you?"

  Bertrand chuckled ruffled Vincent's hair affectionately, almost like how an older sibling would. And it didn't help that Bertrand was over a head taller than Vincent, which really sold the look.

  But that was beside the point. Who was this girl? She wasn't a key figure, if so she would've been mentioned in the briefing. Being the designated healer was one thing, but to have two key figures gravitate towards her like a satellite was another story that needed to be uncovered. Was it natural charm, or was there something else at play here?

  "Whore," the word came out of Evelynn's mouth unprompted. So simple and so unexpected that I almost choked on my own saliva.

  "Evelynn! That's not an appropriate word to use on a child!" Caldwell chided in response.

  "Oh please, she's hardly a child, and that bitch knows exactly what she's doing. Look at her, acting all flustered and indecisive. But people like her, I know she's secretly deciding which one to date and which one to keep on a leash."

  Her voice was laced with a venom born from some deep-seated hatred that we've now just uncovered. But I wasn't going to respond in a way that invalidated the severity of the matter, or should I say the lack of it? There was no need for arguments or even a warning, because I know what her being truly angry looked like, and this didn't even cut close.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  So, I was going to treat it as it was: a seemingly biased view on a girl Evelynn barely knew that stemmed from some bad experience which details felt a little inappropriate to discuss now.

  "Mika, do we really have no intel on her?"

  [If she was someone worth worrying about, we would've]

  [Think it's worth looking into?]

  Then a nobody before enrolling here if I had to guess. Perhaps I was overthinking it. It's not uncommon for someone to gain a sudden popularity boost in a new school. And with that demeanor and healing magic, it's only natural the spotlight would be on her.

  Yet I still hesitated to give out a proper answer.

  "I... E-even if you find nothing of worth at all, that'd be better than nothing."

  [You got it boss~]

  [Feel free to do some digging on your own, just remember...]

  [We're Zefer's exclusive cupids. Any other drama in this school that doesn't involve him or our soon-to-be heroine is none of our concern]

  Well, since I never heard any objections, I suppose that means this heroine of ours was actually going to be the crown prince's fiancé. And I have a strong feeling this was going with him was going to become our problem in the near future.

  "...That's enough of your meddling, Bertrand. Fiona and I should be suffice, there's no need for you to tag along."

  "While I am proud of your confidence, your highness, this *"mutt"* insists for both your and Miss Fiona's safety. That is unless you can convince me otherwise with your swordsmanship."

  "I swear... Once I ascended the throne, I will punish you for your insolence."

  With that warning, Vincent turned and approached the instructor to slightly change the matchup so that he and Bertrand could fight it out next. He agreed, and not simply out of obligation. His expression beamed with an almost child-like excitement at the command, one that he hadn't expressed towards anyone else since this whole duel segment started.

  Like I had seen earlier, Vincent opted to use a straight sword while Bertrand preferred a greatsword. They took their positions in the ring, opposite to one another. Both putting on and fastening an extra layer of protective gear on top of their gambesons.

  Fiona who had showed little interest in any previous fight perked her head up and mindlessly stepped closer to the ring. Hands clasped over her chest as if to offer a silent prayer. But for whom exactly? Hard to tell when her gaze kept alternating between the two.

  Honestly, the sight was sickeningly sweet. Something that should've stayed in a play, but somehow this was real. And everyone was more than happy to give them the room to enact it. Taking one step away so that Fiona stood out more prominently at the front.

  Well, everyone except for two: Zefer and Alicia. The former seemed rather... out of it. Following the status quo, but it was obvious from that blank stare that he'd rather be somewhere else. And the latter was justifiably annoyed and disgusted. Teeth gritting and hands balling into fists, shaking. She wanted to lash out, but for whatever reason held herself back.

  "I won't be holding back, your highness. Know that it's nothing personal."

  "You're talking as if your victory is assured," Vincent scoffed. "But I've come a long way from the boy who couldn't hold his sword straight."

  Caldwell enjoyed the back and forth exchange before the duel, while Evelynn crossed her arms over her chest and impatiently drummed her fingers against her forearm. Mumbling under her breath for them to start the fight already.

  The instructor then stepped forward with cowbell in one hand and a stick on the other. Striking the instrument a few times to drown out the murmurs that had began to grow loud and unruly.

  "Settle down!" He shouted to the crowd before turning around to address the two fighters. "I know you two are familiar with it by now, but I still have to specify the rules out of obligation. So I'll make this quick. No roughhousing, I don't want to see either of you use your fists or kicks, and no surrendering. The round is over when either of you get disarmed, knocked to the ground, stepped off the ring, or got a clean hit to the head. Best of three, let's go!"

  With a resounding ring from the cowbell, the match officially commenced. Bertrand had the advantage when it came to range, but he was still playing it safe. Stepping sideways around the circular arena with his greatsword poised before him, mirroring Vincent's who also knew the risk of carelessly charging ahead.

  Though neither were content with playing it safe. The subtle twitch in their wrists, the way their feet would occasionally step over the imaginary line they've drawn; these two were raring to go for each other's throats. It was only a matter of time before something broke the camel's back.

  It won't be the cheers and goading of the spectators. Nor was it the boisterous encouragement from their instructor. It was silent, yet it managed to make both of them stop and turned towards... her.

  Fiona looked up intently. Her shoulders relaxed, followed by a subtle nod at Vincent. The boy still hesitated, but those purple eyes of hers were brimming with confidence as it set it sights onto him. That was all he needed to know, to have her in his corner.

  "So that's how it is..." Bertrand sighed. "But you'd still have to convince me, your highness."

  "I know. And a mutt should know his place!"

  Vincent charged forward with a roar. His sword poised for a thrust, the tip aimed at Bertrand's throat. His swung his greatsword to the left, but Vincent twisted his waist in time to block it with his blade. He then continued his push, his blade sliding against the larger chunk of metal as he ran. But Bertrand quickly pulled the greatsword back following the flow of the opposing blade.

  He held the great sword closed to him and pushed up and to the side to stop Vincent's straight sword from going anywhere near his head, but Vincent was persistent in trying to end this round early with a hit to the head.

  Both sides were locked in another stalemate. From the small head gestures they've made, there was an exchange between them that was difficult to pick up from where I was currently watching from.

  "The one with the great sword," Caldwell pointed. "He's wasting time. Don't know what he's saying, but it's effective enough keep his opponent in place. Because otherwise, he would've pulled back already."

  And I saw why moments after, as the greatsword swung upward from its downward facing position. Vincent's straight sword was pushed to the side and he had no time to pull it back and block the blow. Thus the dull edge struck his chin and knocked him into the ground.

  The cowbell then rang, signalling the end of the first round. Bertrand walked over to Vincent who lay sprawling on the ground and offered a hand. Though not without something to say.

  "You're still as irritable as ever."

  "I prefer to be called... determined."

  "Whatever your highness wants to refer to it as, if it's stopping you from seeing the bigger picture, then I suggest you drop it. Especially in front of her."

  Bertrand pulled Vincent up and dusted his shoulder. He gave it one final pat before retreating back to his corner.

  Vincent stood frozen on the spot. Clearly taking the advice to heart while mindlessly toying with the sword in his hand. Staring at himself through the reflection on the blade. And he just stayed that way for a while until the loud ring from the cowbell pierced through the haze and brought him back to the present.

  "Your highness," Fiona called out. "You got this!"

  Vincent turned towards her while adjusting his helmet and nodded. And though his face was obscured by the wire mesh and metal plates, I was certain he was smiling underneath.