Five days had passed since Medrauta was admitted to the academy’s infirmary.

While Medrauta’s condition had been precarious, the medical staff had managed to stabilize her. Despite being treated with the most powerful of healing Crests though, her recovery would be a slow one that would take multiple days, if not weeks.

During that time, no one would be permitted to visit her. Not even the imperial family. For that reason, Viviane had found herself seeking out Lord Levant’s company rather often.

“We must stop this, Lady Viviane.”

“Ahaha! Please don’t be so stiff, Lord Levant! I promise you, this will be the last time.”

“...My apologies, but that is what you said during our last meeting.” Levant paused to let his words sink in before continuing. Though he could see that Viviane’s smile had dropped from her face, he simply couldn’t remain silent on this matter anymore. “Lady Viviane, you know as well as I do that I am engaged. It will not do for others to see me visit the room of an unmarried woman so often.”

Viviane was clearly crestfallen as she set her teacup down, but she understood quite well what Levant was trying to say. “Y-Yes... Of course. As I thought, I have been quite the inconvenience these past few days, haven’t I? I’m sorry...”

Lord Levant pressed his lips into a thin line as he attempted to think of a proper response and solution that would both allow him to keep his dignity without sacrificing Viviane’s need for support during her time of need.

In doing so, he recalled how this situation came to be in the first place.

It had all started a day after the match that saw Medrauta bedridden. True to their word, a nurse had arrived at Viviane’s doorstep early in the morning to inform her of the treatment’s success, as well as the steps that they would have to take in order to hasten Medrauta’s recovery.

By no means had the match been a quiet affair, and neither had Medrauta’s condition nor the consequences of the princess’ victory. Before the end of the day, the entire academy was already more than aware of what Viviane’s loss had meant.

“Oh? If it isn’t the eternally useless Viviane! Knightless again, it seems! How long do you think it’ll take the Round Table to remove her from the school?”

“Ahaha! Did you see her face at the end of the match!? She was crying her eyes out, all because her knight was a little hurt! I mean, why even bother? It’s her knight’s fault for being so weak!”

“Right? Right? It’s like she doesn’t even know that you can just find a new knight if they die! Oh, I’m sorry! I forgot that there’s no one who’d ever consider being her knight!”

Without Medrauta around, the usual culprits had cornered Viviane against the wall. Isabella Rosenhall and her two stooges. Levant had seen scenes similar to this one play out many times. Though he would have liked to step in, there were various consequences that he was forced to consider.

For one, Isabella was the heir of House Rosenhall. Thanks to being the only child in her house with a semi-autonomous type Crest and a rather respectable rank in the academy, it was only natural. To make matters worse, House Rosenhall was a ducal house whereas Levant’s family, House Ordis, oversaw a mere barony.

Thanks to being blessed with a semi-autonomous type Crest, Levant was due to be wedded to Lady Maria of House Ovefeld whose father was a marquis. While far higher in station compared to his current lineage, it was still lacking in comparison to a ducal house, not to mention the fact that he wasn’t even married yet.

Levant grit his teeth in frustration. He’d seen Viviane be pushed around before, but he’d never really paid it any mind until now. He’d always thought that it wasn’t his problem and that he only needed to mind his own business.

But during those practice sessions with Medrauta and Viviane as they prepared for their match against Bastiche and his knight, Levant had gotten to know the noblewoman. She was kind and gentle. A bright, carefree sort of girl who was reminiscent of the spring, even if she was a little shy. Despite her ducal heritage, Viviane had always treated Levant as an equal.

No. More than that, she treated him with great respect, and Brigitte too. It was a novel experience for him. Thanks to his father’s lust for status, Levant had grown up in high society and had been forced to participate in a dizzying number of events once he manifested his Crest.

He had grown used to being looked down upon by those of higher station, especially around members or relatives of the four ducal houses. Those who possessed no Crest or Crests generally deemed of lower quality often treated him with contempt out of jealousy.

Yet, even when that tender smile was being shattered into pieces before his eyes, he couldn’t do anything.

“I-I don’t care if you push me around! I don’t care if you insult me, b-but don’t you ever dare call Medrauta weak!” Viviane shouted. She had gathered all her courage and shoved Isabella in the chest, causing the other noblewoman to stumble backwards in surprise.

Stolen story; please report.

“You savage! So you’ve learned to talk back to your betters, have you!?” Isabella’s eyes were wild as she nearly tripped on the hem of her dress, only barely managing to recover thanks to one of her friends catching her fall.

She reached out and grabbed a fistful of Viviane’s voluminous golden locks, yanking the girl toward her before roughly pushing her onto the floor.

Levant flinched as Viviane’s cry of pain tore through the air. His hands balled into fists.

...What am I doing? Am I really going to stand here and watch her suffer...?

“Hold her down! I’ll show this bitch—”

“Stop!” Levant had finally found his voice. His heartbeat accelerated as Isabella’s gaze rounded on him, but he pressed forward. If even the meek Viviane had managed to find her courage in such a trying time, then choosing to continue hiding would make him worse than a coward.

“And who the hell are you supposed to be? Haven’t your parents taught you to mind your own business?”

“Indeed they have. But they have also taught me not to ignore an honest cry for help. Do you really think that this is behavior befitting of House Rosenhall’s heir, Lady Isabella?”

Isabella laughed. “You seem to know who I am, yet you—a nobody—dares tell me to stop?” She took five swift strides toward Levant, bringing her close enough that their chests almost touched. With one quick motion, Isabella struck Levant across the face. “Get out of here, peasant. And never interrupt me again.”

Levant staggered back. Though Isabella’s slap had barely stung, he had hardly expected such a response. In retrospect, it wasn’t something that was unlike Isabella’s usual behavior. She was spoiled and treated those below her in status with utter disrespect.

“You—!”

“‘You’? You ought to refer to me with the proper respect, peasant. What do you even think you’re doing with that fist? An ant like you wouldn’t dare raise a hand against me, Levant.”

Levant’s eyes widened. His hand dropped uselessly to his side as his gaze lingered on Viviane who was still restrained on the ground.

“Oh, yes. I know very well who you are. Did you really think I was that ignorant?” Isabella smirked. “My father will be hearing about this. Though... Perhaps I might be inclined to forget this whole incident if you knelt before me and begged for forgiveness.”

Levant wrenched his eyes shut. Damn it! Can I really not do anything!? Am I really this useless!? If only I—

“Perhaps it is you who should beg for forgiveness.”

Levant whirled around. “B-Brigitte!”

“Stay out of—”

“Silence yourself, Lady Isabella. I came here wondering why my lord was taking so long to show up for our daily training routine, yet I arrived to see you strike him. And not only that, I see you’ve been up to your disgusting habits once again.” Brigitte nodded in Viviane’s direction.

“What I do is none of your business, knight. Perhaps you should tell your lord not to meddle in the affairs of others before he encounters some unforeseen consequences beyond his control.”

“Is that a challenge, Lady Isabella? In that case, I acce—”

“N-No!” Isabella shouted. For the first time during this entire exchange, a sliver of fear crept into her voice.

While she possessed a respectable ranking in the academy, Isabella knew her own limits when it came to matches. Her knight would never win against someone of Brigitte’s caliber who was capable of crossing blades with Medrauta for at least a minute, a feat that any knight would be hard-pressed to achieve.

Though a noble’s status depended not only on their ranking, but also on their pedigree, a knight did not have to worry about such things as birthright. While a noble lineage may grant a knight some degree of cachet, their ability to win matches and duels was far more important.

In other words, Isabella’s status as the heir of House Rosenhall meant little to Brigitte here at Avalyne Academy, and the Round Table would most likely side with her in case of an arbitration thanks to her rank nearly breaking through to the top hundreds.

“Then get out of my goddamn sight, and don’t ever let me catch you touching my lord or my friends again.”

After Isabella and her two companions beat a hasty retreat, the pair approached Viviane, helping her off the ground. The blonde noblewoman had spent quite a while crying into Brigitte’s chestplate, and by the time she had finished, the cold steel had become warm.

Ever since then, Levant had been a frequent visitor to Viviane’s room thanks to a sudden series of practical examinations that kept Brigitte away. Levant guessed the knight instructors had implemented them in an effort to get the knights’ mind off Medrauta’s condition and to serve as a demonstration of the academy’s exemplary instruction for the visiting imperial siblings.

Even so, that knowledge did little to help with his current conundrum.

Though he knew that Viviane preferred to stay in her room while she dealt with the anguish that came with losing her first friend and only true knight, the best he could do was promise to meet her elsewhere in places that were more public and would provoke less misunderstandings.

It left him with a bitter feeling in his mouth as he said his farewells and departed, but there was not much else he could do.

Viviane let out a sigh as Levant left the room. She looked at the empty teacup before her and then gazed out the window to the side. The sun was setting, and Viviane felt tears well up in her eyes as she recalled the times when she and Medrauta would try all sorts of things to resonate ‘til the sun set.

“...Perhaps Lord Levant is right. Perhaps it would be healthier for me to start going out again.” Viviane murmured to herself, wondering just how much work she’d missed from skipping class.

Gathering her courage, she stood up and made her way to the door. It was the weekend, and there would still be time before the sun fully set.

“...Yes. An evening stroll would be nice.”

She stepped out of her room, closing the door behind her with a click of finality.

“Are you finally finished running away?” A voice startled her from the left.

Viviane let out a yelp of surprise as she turned.

“D-Dame Amelia!?”