Straight blonde hair framed the soon-to-be dame’s face. She was one of the youngest apprentices to ever be knighted as one of the Royal Arcadian Knights. Her head hung low as metallic footsteps approached.


    “Priscilla Avellion.” One knight of silver gray hair and crimson eyes carried a steel longsword within his grasp. He stepped down from beside the regal marble throne and positioned the sword parallel to his straight posture. “I, Leonnard Krieg. Knight commander of the Royal Guards, dub thee Dame Priscilla Avellion, spellblade of Arcadia.”


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    The flat surface of the blade gently tapped her right shoulder before passing over her head to her left shoulder.


    Yet, the ceremony itself was but a formality. The Queen had already acknowledged Priscilla’s talent back when she was just a simple student in the Grand Academy.


    Her heart fluttered but her excitement was hidden behind the sharp set of red eyes as she opened them.


    “What are your orders, my lord?”