The Headmaster rose from his seat, his expression unmistakably impressed as he looked down at Reese Lysander. With a steady hand raised, he announced, "I declare Reese Lysander the winner of this duel."
A wave of applause and cheers swept through the arena, but among the onlookers, there were those who remained frozen in shock, still processing what they had witnessed. Some gazed at Reese as though they were seeing her for the very first time, astonishment clear on their faces. Even the faculty members exchanged bewildered glances, silently acknowledging the unexpected turn of events. Among the third-year students, particularly those who hadn't participated, there was an eerie silence, while members of the Crimson Claws sat speechless, grappling with the outcome.
Yet, despite the uproar, Reese remained unruffled, her expression impassive as she sheathed her sword. There was no hint of pride or satisfaction in her eyes. She didn't bask in the admiration or the shock she had stirred in the crowd. Instead, she walked with composed strides towards the Headmaster, her face reflected no emotion as though the duel had been nothing more than a routine practice session.
Upon reaching the Headmaster, she bowed respectfully, and said with quiet formality, "Thank you Headmaster."
The Headmaster nodded approvingly, his eyes lingering on her for a moment longer before he addressed her once more. "You now have every right to join the third-year students in swordsmanship and combat classes. In truth, I'd prefer to place you at a higher level, considering your remarkable skills. However, Aetherium's rules are strict—no student may attend classes higher than two grades above their own. I trust you understand."
"Of course, Headmaster. I'm honored you would consider me at all," Reese replied, her voice calm and measured, with a polite nod.
At that moment, a tall well-polished figure stirred among the faculty. Professor Castellanor, the head of the combat and swordsmanship department, stood and approached. His presence immediately commanded attention—he was, after all, known as the finest swordmaster within the academy, and his opinion carried considerable weight. His eyes, sharp and penetrating, fixed on Reese as he spoke.
"Child, I've been observing you closely. There's something I must ask," he began, his tone direct but not unkind. "Where did you learn those techniques? Especially your final move."
Reese met his gaze without hesitation. "It's Dame Natasha Valoris. She is my mentor who taught me personally."
A ripple of surprise spread through the crowd. Many were taken aback by the revelation, though the Headmaster's face remained calm—he had known all along, as he was already aware of this, having reviewed Reese's background before she enrolled.
Professor Castellanor's expression softened slightly as he nodded in recognition. "Ah, yes. That makes sense now. Now I recall them well. There are definitely techniques developed by Dame Natasha. So, you're one of her apprentices."
"Yes, Professor," Reese replied, her tone respectful.
"You've done well. You have potential, great potential," Professor Castellanor remarked. "I expect to see even more from you in the future. In case you weren't aware, I'm Roald Castellanor, head of the combat and swordsmanship department. We'll be seeing each other soon."
"I look forward to it, Professor," Reese answered, her voice steady but polite.
One of the professors nearby leaned over to his colleague, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Looks like Professor Castellanor has finally found a student to his liking."
Afterall, it was no small feat to impress Professor Castellanor—he was notoriously difficult to please. A compliment from him was rare, and for a first-year student like Reese to receive praise from him on her first day? It was nothing short of extraordinary. The professors murmured among themselves, clearly impressed by this young lady.
But Reese's attention wasn't on their chatter. Her gaze shifted to her fallen opponents, still groaning in pain from the injuries sustained during the duel. She turned back to the Headmaster. "Headmaster, I believe my seniors could use some immediate medical attention."
The Headmaster, startled by the reminder, quickly nodded. "You're right." He motioned for the attendants, who rushed to transport the injured students to the healing chamber. Julius immediately stood and followed, prepared to fulfil his duties as the emergency healer. Before leaving, he glanced back at Reese, though she remained focused elsewhere, not noticing his gaze.
As the Headmaster prepared to leave, he offered one final instruction. "Miss Lysander, take the rest of the day to familiarize yourself with the academy grounds. And don't forget to visit the infirmary yourself if you have received any injuries."
With that, the professors rose to leave, and the crowd began to disperse. But Reese wasn't quite done yet. Her eyes found another target—Liam Rosedale. The instigator of the entire ordeal stood with Dorian at his side, watching her with narrowed eyes. Though his expression remained composed, there was no mistaking the subtle tension in his posture.
Reese approached Liam, her steps measured and confident. With a smile that carried more sharpness than warmth, she addressed him. "Senior Rosedale, I want to thank you sincerely for this incredible opportunity to showcase my abilities before the professors and such a large audience."
Liam's smile matched hers in cold politeness. "Congratulations, Miss Lysander. You put on quite the performance. I can't deny your talent."
Though the words exchanged were cordial, anyone observing could sense the underlying tension, veiled beneath their pleasantries.
Reese's eyes sparkled with mischief as she replied, "It's all thanks to your well wishes. I'm certain that coming from someone of your status, those wishes had an immediate effect. But senior, perhaps next time, you won't forget to wish the same for your friends."
Dorian, standing beside Liam, bristled at the remark, his face flushing with anger. "You—!"
But before he could finish, Liam's hand gripped his arm, stopping him. Liam's smile never wavered, his calm facade unbroken. "Of course, Miss Lysander. I'll remember that."
Reese gave a polite bow and turned, walking away from the field with steady, confident steps.
..
After leaving the arena, Reese wandered through the campus with aimless steps. She could feel many eyes following her, whispers floating in the air as she passed groups of students. It was no surprise since she was currently the center of all the gossip. But none of it actually mattered much to her. Reese had always been the type to ignore things that seemed unnecessary to her, especially ones that offered no benefit. Her mindset was simple: use your brain for what mattered, and avoid the trivial.
Right now, the only thing on her mind was—Valentine. Where was she? Reese hadn't seen her at the arena earlier, which stung more than she wanted to admit. It would be a lie to say she wasn't a little upset that Valentine had missed her fight—especially the part where she had rubbed mud in the nose of the Crimson Claws in front of everyone. Valentine were supposed to see that, so why wasn't she there?
Maybe Valentine was swamped with her duties as the student council president. Reese tried to console herself with this thought.
As she meandered, lost in her thoughts, an unfamiliar voice called out from behind her.
"Miss Lysander! Miss Lysander! Wait..."
Reese stopped and turned to see a young man nearly running toward her, his breath coming in short gasps. He finally reached her, bending over slightly, panting heavily from the exertion.
"I've been looking for you all around the arena... so here you are," he said, wiping sweat from his forehead as he straightened up.
Reese blinked, slightly confused. She didn't recognize him. "And you are?"
The handsome young man smiled, catching his breath. "Oh, right, apologies. Let me introduce myself. I'm Frederick Elmsworth, the vice president of the academy's student council."
Reese's demeanor shifted slightly as she heard the name. While she didn't recognize his face, she definitely knew who he was—The fourth prince of Herira, the neighboring kingdom of empire Astralis. He was also Valentine Rosedale's fiancé and a member of the Azure Wings, a faction led by Valentine.
"My apologies for not recognizing you, Your Highness," Reese said politely, bowing her head slightly in respect. "Please forgive my rudeness."
Frederick waved it off with a smile. "No, no, it's fine. You weren't rude at all. Congratulations on your win, by the way. I wasn't able to attend myself, buried under mountains of paperwork, but I heard the news."
"Thank you," Reese responded graciously. "Um...Is sister...I mean Lady Valentine also busy? I didn't see her at the arena."
Frederick nodded. "Yes, she's been quite busy, but trust me, she has been only thinking of you for all this time. I believe no one is more excited to have you here than her. In fact," he added with a warm smile, "she's eagerly waiting to see you in the council room. She sent me to escort you there."
Reese's heart lightened slightly at the thought. "I see, then let's go," she agreed, falling into step beside Frederick as they made their way down the corridor.
"Your highness had to come all the way here to look for me himself. If I knew Valentine was there, then I would have visited the student council room myself," Reese said apologising."I'm really sorry for the trouble."
" It wasn't trouble at all. It gave me a chance to have some fresh, being trapped in the council room for so long with all that work was so suffocating. In that sense, you actually saved me." Frederick chuckled.
As they walked, Frederick spoke again. "And really, there's no need to call me 'Your Highness.'"
Reese glanced at him, puzzled. "Then what should I call you?"
He chuckled. "Just Fred is fine."
Reese's shook her head in disagreement . "I can't do that! You're royalty and older than as well!"
Frederick laughed lightly. "How about 'Senior Fred,' then?."
Reese smiled, a little reluctantly. "Alright, Senior Fred it is."
Surprisingly it was really easy to talk to Frederick even though he was a royal prine where Reese was just from a fallen noble family, currently a commoner. Their conversation flowed easily as they approached the large, imposing doors of the student council room. Frederick knocked briefly before opening the door. Inside, the atmosphere was calm, the room spacious and organized, with a few students scattered around working on various tasks.
Valentine sat at a large oak desk near the window, her head bent over a pile of papers, her pen moving swiftly across the page. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn't notice their arrival. The room itself was elegant, filled with bookshelves lined with important documents and a large, central table where meetings were likely held. The sunlight streamed in through the tall windows, casting a warm glow over the polished floor.
"Val, Reese is here," Frederick said softly, his voice cutting through the silence.
Valentine's head snapped up at the sound of his voice. The moment her eyes landed on Reese, a smile broke across her face, warm and filled with affection.
"Reese!," she said, her voice light with happiness as she rose from her chair, her eyes shining."Welcome! I have been waiting for you!"
___