Within the halls of the Royal Knights Academy was a large room. It contained no tables, no bookshelves, no chairs; nothing aside from four foot high steel candle stands and small iron hooks on the walls. This room never held more than a few people at a time, and rarely any spoke. Today there was a single figure in the room, standing in front of one of the walls, staring at where the stone of the wall met the hanging curtain of steel that made up over half of the room.

Draco stared at two of the Aegis Tags on the wall; the two newest ones added into the Hall of Memories. Victoria Ernhart, and Samuel Baker. The two had been all but strangers to him a month ago, but their deaths had struck him in a way that he had not expected. The reality of how quickly their lives had ended had shaken him; the knowledge that the ones to have died that night could have been himself, or one of his friends. The thought still sent shivers down his spine, and he still fought back tears of guilt every time he remembered the words he had so carelessly spoken aloud: The weak are weeded out.

That monster; a Terror, had been crippled and still been too much for him to handle. If not for the old man, Abraham, both he and Saphira would have died along with Sam and Victoria. With a shaking breath, he reached out and touched the two pieces of metal.

“You were not weak,” he said with a quivering voice, “just unlucky.” He let his hand fall, then saluted to the tags; his right fist striking over his heart as his left hand gripped his belt in the traditional spot one would sheath a sword. “Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been three weeks since the mission to Fellwood. In that time much had happened, but little had changed. Classes for the first years had been put on hold to allow bodies and minds to heal. Three weeks was deemed as enough time, and so the first years were gathered outside on the training field with Professor Sawn. She had them all standing in their squads with their Spirits present, taking notes of those who had been at Fellwood. Sawn was relieved to see that the survivors all seemed no worse for wear; only Jethro and Saphira showed signs for concern. Jethro had deep bags under his eyes, and his body was showing signs of minor malnutrition. Saphira seemed fine at first glance, but Sawn could not help but notice that the girl was not wearing elbow length black leather gloves, and was tightly gripping her right wrist every so often.

With her check of the students complete, she raised her arm up and called out her Spirit, Hermes. The giant eagle materialized on her raised forearm with a mighty beat of its wings before settling down. Sawn kept her arm raised as she looked back at the first years.

“As you all know,” she began in a clear voice, “Each and every one of your Spirits is unique to you, and you alone. There are many people who have similar Spirits, such as having the same animal or creature, but each Spirit is its own being. They have their own mind, thoughts, and will. Spirits can choose to like or dislike a person. They can make judgements and decisions. They can also choose to obey or disobey.”

The first years went silent and looked to their Spirits as the professor’s words sank in. Draco looked at the lizard resting on his arm, remembering the first day he had it. It had not wanted to appear, or share its name with him that day. Thinking back on it, he did not blame the Spirit. Draco’s eyes narrowed as he remembered the deep, rich voice that had spoken into his kind that day. ‘Hear me. Know me.’, it had said. Making eye contact with the lizard, he struggled to imagine that voice coming from the little creature; more so as it gave a throaty, gurgly yawn.

“This also means,” Sawn continued, snapping Draco out of his thoughts, “that a Spirit can choose to allow someone other than its Master to wield it. This can be crucial in combat, for obvious reasons.”

Draco nodded slowly as he took in Professor Sawn’s words. It made perfect sense. He had noticed that his Spirit definitely had a mind of its own, not to mention an attitude.

A flash of light caused him to look over at Jethro; the young man now holding his axe and looking at Roan, whose hand was resting on the shoulder of his Spirit bull. The bull took its hammer form, and the two slowly handed one another their Spirits. As though mentally counting to three together, they released their grips of their respective weapons, and found one another holding the other’s Spirit. Roan gave a bright smile as he held up Shiver, while Jethro looked down at Braun and examined it closely. Immediately the entire training ground was filled with flashes as everyone began trading Spirits, seeing who could hold them and who could not. To Draco it seemed like every squad could more or less hold the Spirits of their squad members.

A tug on his arm made him turn to see Willow staring at him, smiling expectantly; Terra already in its ring blade form. With a soft smile of his own, he willed his Spirit into the form of the long sword and handed it to the eccentric girl. She took the swing in one and held it up to her face, gazing at it as though she were seeing it for the first time. Then she raised it overhead and began tilting the blade back and forth, watching as the sunlight reflected off the metal. Draco continued to stand there with his hand out, waiting for her to pass him Terra. After a few moments passed he gave a small cough and cleared his throat. Willow seemed to subconsciously get the hint and absently handed over her ring blade; hovering her hand over Draco’s waiting palm and dropping her Spirit onto it. Draco’s arm immediately dropped, and he put all of his strength into keeping his arm up. It did nothing to stop the ring blade from dropping further, and he got his free hand under it, hefting for all he was worth. It was useless. The bottom edge of the ring bit into the ground, and then the weapon began to tilt over onto Draco, who gave a squawk of panic right before the steel ring took him to the ground; its upper curve pressing down on his chest, pinning him down under its immense weight. Draco struggled to breathe as he reached up toward Willow, desperate to tear her attention away from his sword before her weapon crushed the life out of him. His hand swatted at her calf, and she looked down at him, her face morphing from wonder to confusion to panic in under a second. Willow knelt down and lifted Terra off of Draco, allowing him to take in a deep gasp of air as Professor Sawn casually strolled towards them.

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“That right there,” the professor said as Willow shouldered her Spirit, “is what it looks like when a Spirit does not give another person consent to wield it.” She gave Draco a studious glance to ensure that the boy was not seriously injured before looking around at each student in turn. “A question to consider; some of you are wielding Spirit Weapons larger than yourselves. How do you think - “she looked pointedly at Lucretia - “you can wield such massive items with your…” She paused to pointedly look at the relatively scrawny arms of most of the girls; and a few of the boys. “Current physical strength?”

Silence followed her words, then Willow answered.

“They let us.” She said, holding both the sword and ring above her head; one in each hand. Sawn nodded.

“Exactly. If your Spirit’s deemed you unworthy, none of you would be able to lift any of them. As clearly demonstrated by Mr. Pendra just now. Never forget: your Spirit is your power, but you cannot force it to do what it feels is not right. Your Spirits are alive, no different than you or I.” Professor Sawn narrowed her eyes and stared hard at her students. “And like any living being, you cannot force them to do something that they do not want to. Not with repercussions. Be sure to keep that in mind.” Sawn took a few moments to study the face of every student, then smiled. “That will be all for today. Please be sure to reflect on today's lesson, and work hard in your afternoon training.”

With that the Professor started back towards the Academy, leaving the fist year students alone on the training field. Draco stood amongst them, his chest still sore from the weight of Terra, though he was barely aware of the pain at that moment. His mind was racing as he realized that this news should have been the most obvious in the world. He had held training swords in his youth, and again while training both under William’s guidance and at the Academy, but he had never consciously thought about the weight of his Spirit sword. The lead-filled wooden training blades were heavy to the point of being uncomfortable in combat; not too heavy to use but heavy enough that his arms were screaming in protest after a few minutes of swinging. But his long sword… it was made of some kind of steel, and yet he had never once taken notice of its weight, no matter how much he swung it. It always felt perfectly comfortable in his hand; noticeably hefty but not heavy. He reached over ad took back his sword from Willow; the blade shifting back into the lizard as he brought I up to his face, making eye contact with the Spirit. THe lizard stared back, one eye arched high as though to say ‘you’re just now realizing this?’. Draco gave a small smile and rubbed at the base of the lizard’s neck.

“Thanks buddy.” He muttered, and the lizard pressed against his fingers, wriggling happily as it let out its throaty growl.

“Well, now that we are done wasting our time, let’s get back to work.”

Draco turned with his squad to look with confusion at Lucretsia as she began to herd her squad away from the crowd and towards one of the obstacle courses.

“Lulu-“ One of her squad mates, a girl with light blonde hair and freckles, began to protest. She was cut off by a sharp glare from the white haired noble, and the squad walked off in sullen silence.

“Harsh.” Saphira stated, crossing her arms as she watched the squad walk away.

“Has Lucretsia always been like that?” Elizabeth asked, keeping her voice low as to not be heard.

“Not that I remember.” Draco said, tilting his head to side as he thought about it. “Her family and mine used to be really close when I was little. She was always loud and rowdy, but I don’t recall her being so… bossy.”

“Did no one else notice?” Willow asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Her squad mates all turned to face her. Seeing them all share the same confused look, Willow answered her own question. “Lulu… she did not offer anyone to hold her Spirit.”

“Now that you mention it,” Arius said slowly, turning to watch Lucretsia’s back, “she almost seemed to be hiding it from her squad. Like she was scared to even have them look at it.”

“Better luck hiding a cow with a handkerchief.” Sebastian said with a surprisingly irritated voice. “Her Crystal Swan is radiant enough in its base form. That behemoth of a blade it becomes is so beautiful it is almost unbearable!”

Silence followed Sebastian’s unexpected outburst, and Saphira leaned in and patted his shoulder.

“Wanna talk about it?” She asked, and he shook his head.

“T’is nothing. Just that my House of Black and the House of Solomon do not have what one would call a ‘pleasant history’.”

“Still…” Draco trailed off as he turned his eyes once more to the retreating back of the white haired girl. What had happened to make her become like that? Calling a lesson like what they had just had a waste of time? Lucretsia had always been so studious and attentive in their classes. Draco then thought of the room of Aegis Tags, and he began to form an idea.

“She’s scared.” He said, causing everyone to look at him. “She doesn’t want to lose anyone from her team.” His words fell heavy on the squad, each of them still processing how close they had been to death. Draco turned to them, wanting to say something to lighten the mood, but couldn’t. Elizabeth was facing the ground, her eyes hidden by her curtain of hair. Sebastian and Arius were refusing to face forward, and Saphira was staring down at her hands; her left hand holding her right wrist in a death grip. Willow set a hand on the girl’s shoulder, and Saphira seemed to relax a bit.

“So Draco,” Willow said, forcing a cheerful tone into her voice. “You said that you and Lulu were once close. Were you best friends?”

Draco looked away and scratched his cheek with a finger.

“Something like that.”

“Bestest best friends?” Willow pushed, and Draco sighed, closing his eyes and lowering his head.

“She was my fiancé.”

The silence that hit the training ground was so thick that Willow felt a subconscious urge to try taking a bite out of it.