Kerauna Iumatar took the sheathed saber with trembling hands. Feeling its weight, she faltered for a half-beat on the stage, enraptured. In awe of the history she held, embodied in a symbol finally her own.

Remembering herself, she spared a harried nod of gratitude to Captain Tanhkmet before descending the other side of the raised platform stage. But she couldn’t help but look back once she’d escaped from the terrifying focus of the graduation ceremony’s assembled attendees. 

The pauldron of the Captain of the Imperial Guard’s plate armor glinted in the autumn sun, as he handed the next saber to the cadet-promote next in line. 

He’d been her personal hero since before she could remember. 

But she sighed, putting regrets out of mind, as she affixed the sheath of her new saber to her belt. Savoring the new feeling of its weight there, resting on her hip.

She was at last a second lieutenant.

After the final salute to close out the ceremony and the dismantling of the raised podium, most of the former cadets nevertheless remained to intermingle on the academy quad, reluctant to depart from their moment of triumph. And though Kera intermingled with no one, in passing she overheard her comrades share fond memories of the years past, recounting stories of their favorite sergeants or theory courses or hazing rituals. Alone in the crowd after taking her saber, she withdrew to the edge of the courtyard, hoping to avoid even the sideways glances of those with friends.

Her saber’s curved blade felt balanced to her trained arm when she drew it from its sheath. The handle was wrapped in white silken fiber, over which swept the gold-inlay of the brass handGuard. The insignia of the Patrol Corps of Setet was stamped into that Guard and the pommel, the bezel shimmering as she turned it in the light. After looking over both sides of the blade, she gave it a few light strokes, and felt its blade whir, and waver.

Pride had otherwise eluded her during the day of graduation, but no longer. 

The noble history of the Empire had been made material, and awarded to her and her comrades. She’d read and re-read the many volumes of Campaigns and Conquests of Maxadin I as if they were holy scripture, and idolized their ancient champions and epic battles since her youth. But mere written word evoked only the first sparks of her passion. A weight of that legacy realer than any secondhand account was as if imparted upon her in the heft of the saber, itself. 

She vowed to herself then that she would do everything in her power to be worthy of it. 

Despite what she still struggled to overcome, she’d prove herself willing to answer the call of duty as any other officer of the Corps. 

But then she sensed a hostile gaze had fallen upon her. 

Pallas emerged between two circles of excited new officers, heading her way. Her lackeys Eophon and Theodora, followed a step behind, as they had for years. Kera sheathed the saber, resolving to appreciate it in even closer detail some other time.

“You two saw that, right? I could practically hear the rattling when she took it, she was trembling so bad,” said Pallas. “You’d think Captain Tanhkmet would know a weak link endangers everyone else.” 

She had an air of real indignation at the prospect of Kera’s achievement, as if it lessened her own promotion. 

“Why’d they really let you graduate? Were you just that good at telling some sob story? Was it pity? Or is it just because your mommy or daddy is someone important?”

The last bit stung, as Kera glared up at the taller woman. Kera’s mother had used her position to aid her acceptance into the academy. Gaining admission would have been very difficult otherwise, if not impossible, given the meager martial utility of her vis.

‘How come you never try to provoke me without those two in tow?’ she imagined spitting back. ‘Are you scared of losing a fight to me one-on-one?’

It wouldn’t have been a bad retort. And she’d seen how Pallas had responded to others who’d used even an ounce of wit to stand up to her, in the past: how her face would twist, and she would so clearly struggle to maintain her composure when her wit came up short in forming a counter-reply. How she would have to strain in exertion to keep her fists unclenched, and at her sides.

But Kera saw the other two watching her. And though she wasn’t scared of a beating, not before that crowd of witnesses, still she felt her heart race, and her own voice freeze in her throat. At Pallas’ sharp words the attention of some other new officers had been drawn to the confrontation, too, making matters worse.

Kera could only stare down at the ground, while her cheeks burned red.

Pallas snorted as she stalked off, ramming past her shoulder as she went, and leaving Kera alone again in the vastness of the crowd.