VIII. Three Men and A Lady

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She readjusted her armor, her lower arms covered by vambraces which were crafted from premium leather. A simple leather breast plate covered her upper and lower torso while her legs were protected by leather graves. Underneath, she wore a simple tunic and summer travel pants. Ray insisted on her wearing clothes appropriate to her size despite her reservations.

She taken time braiding her hair and carefully placing the blades in it. Tucking the braid around her neck and with her sword at her back, she was ready. She swallowed thickly taking in the opulence of the academy that was forged on the northern side of Brineshiel.

It was momentous, significant shining in all its glory as the sun began its ascent from behind the horizon. The wealth of Brineshiel was apparent by its flourishing economy, trade, and people. The buildings were more extravagant, the people snottier, and the goods dazzling.

She longed for the city of Etherport where the safety and comfort of the inn called her. Caelia felt quiet inadequate and shabby approaching such magnificence. The city was all but quiet, except for the shop owners preparing for the day. Was she too early? She stamped her feet on the pavement, sneezing at the dust teasing her nose. Her hand unconsciously brushed against Cal—her sword resting against her back. Let's do this.

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"Every year it's the same. An influx in male candidates and the females lacking," Bastian said, boredom dripping from his words. He missed the reign of powerful females, commanding the battle fields. Even the queen of Alithura was limited in power. As one of three masters making up the trinity within the vanguard, it's imperative all characteristics were taken into consideration when reviewing an applicant. Not just physical strength. And yet, he felt no pull from any candidates.

"What about the girl—the duke's daughter. Anastasia?" Nero questioned, his eyes sliding over to focus on Bastian.

He was six foot three inches only standing an inch taller than himself with hair the color of midnight, and sharp black eyes resting dolefully on his face. Nero often wondered if the females were interested in the vanguard or their masters. His comrades weren't bad looking men. Cathair was Bastian's twin in height, with wavy sun stained blond locks sitting at his shoulders and hazel eyes to match. Nero bit back the sigh wanting to explode from his lips. He was quite different, his pale locks and blue eyes sticking out like a sore thumb compared to their darkened looks.

"She's good. A little high-strung," Cathair muttered. "There's nothing wrong with a bit of confidence if you can back it up," he chuckled, scratching at his beard.

"Confidence you call it? I call it arrogance. She would fall easily into darkness. Our prince wouldn't take kindly to such a warrior." Bastian glared at his captain. He wasn't very fond of his captain's interactions with potential candidates. The prince needed a mate.

"There is an air of entitlement. Just keep a close eye on her during this semester. You really can't deny her dedication," Nero added, his eyes drifting down toward the arena falling upon the female in question. She certainly possessed leadership characteristics, and she was graceful with her weapon. Despite these skills, it was her heart, and inner soul that matter. Could she remain untainted by darkness?

He frowned, as her eyes drifted towards the box they occupied. Was she aware of their presence? Impossible. As masters, she didn't possess the skillset to detect their presence when cloaking. What was she looking for? His brows furrowed as her eyes rested briefly on Cathair. This didn't bode well for their captain. Observing unaware students was critical to select candidates to further their education within the academy, and recruiting for the vanguard.

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