Whispers in the Academy
Back in the Knight Academy, Videl was pointed toward her room in the dormitory provided for her.
The corridor stretched long and quiet beneath high stone arches, lantern light flickering against polished floors. Outside the tall windows, the evening sky was deepening into indigo, and somewhere beyond the walls, the training grounds still carried faint echoes of clashing steel.
She was tired.
Not the kind of tired that came from swinging a sword.
This was the tired that came from being watched.
Her first day had been overwhelming.
From the moment her swordsmanship had been ranked—three Saint-ranked swordsmen observing her every movement, their sharp eyes dissecting each step—her name had begun to circulate like wildfire.
Master rank.
Swordmaiden.
Miraculous talent.
The whispers followed her down every hallway.
Students stared openly. Some did not even pretend to look away when her blue sapphire eyes met theirs.
The young masters came first.
