Orphelia opened her mouth to speak, but the sudden weight of a stare halted her words.  She looked over to see Lady QianHua shaking her head.  She didn’t know much firsthand about the older woman, only the stories Thea would write to her, all filled with admiration and longing.  Lady QianHua had led some famous group of all female Knights that Thea had desperately wanted to join.  Even though they’d been sharing Thea’s apartment for the last twelve days, they still hadn’t gotten to know each other that well beyond the basics needed for cohabitation.  The Zairyonian turned her attention back to her friend who was reviewing the papers in her hand: the speech for Master Guilford’s memorial.<br/><br/>She wasn’t sure when Thea had finished the speech.  All she remembered was being regaled with way too many sappy stories about how the man had changed this life, saved that one, inspired another.  Blah, blah blah.  She was probably being ungracious, but she was pregnant, it’d been four in the morning, and she missed Rhett, Lights damn it!  The reminder of her absent husband prompted a melancholy sigh of her own.  She hadn’t minded the first seven days when she’d been caring for Thea, but these past ten days had been lonely by herself. There was only so much shopping and snooping she could do before even she got bored.<br/><br/>QianHua eyed the equally morose women in front of her and resisted the urge to add her sigh to the room’s collection.<span style="font-style: italic">Men.</span><br/><br/>Lethe stared sightlessly at the papers in her hand.  She’d read them so many times, she could probably recite them in her sleep.  How odd to think they’d only been compiled less than twelve hours ago.  Thirteen years of memories and the countless wishes she’d read through early this morning were all in these pages.  Somehow, it still didn’t seem enough.  Her mind, already barely tethered to the present by lack of sleep, inevitably wandered to the past, before they’d gotten these ridiculous titles.<br/><br/><blockquote class="uncited"><div>Blue eyes looked over the courtyard nervously, hands grasping her Judgment for comfort.  This was the famous Pristine Knight Academy (or “PKA” as it was shortened inside).  Everywhere she looked, there were trainees and Knights.  Armors, Judgments, shields, countless training items were scattered throughout the area, more than she’d ever seen.  Cascadia barely warranted a full squad of Knights; half were on their way to retirement and they had only taught the kids there for lack of anything better to do.  Somehow, four of them had been nominated for the Academy and here she was.<br/><br/>There was a sudden roar of excitement from the other side of the courtyard.  A bunch of trainees had formed a ring with their bodies and more were streaming towards the spectacle.  Should she join in?  Before she could decide, a gaggle of female trainees stampeded past her and she was somehow carried along to the edge of ring.<br/><br/>“Oh my light! It’s Laaaannncceee!”  A female voice shouted out in clear admiration.  “It’s Prince Guilford!!!” Another voice yelled in her ear, prompting Lethe to jerk away in surprise, only to be assaulted from the other side as well: “PRINCE GUILFORD!!”  “LAANNCCEE!!!” There was a cacophony of girlish squeals from around her.  She could feel herself going dizzy from the overdose of screams.  Was it a Sinner attack?!  Suddenly the girls (mercifully!) fell quiet.  An easy laugh could be heard over the suddenly muted crowd.<br/>“You sure you want to spar again?” A different male voice spoke up.<br/><br/>“Hah, you’re going down Gil!”  It was the person who laughed from earlier and had prompted the blessed silence.<br/><br/>An orange-haired man suddenly stood in front of her little patch of vision.  Some type of long arm, a spear perhaps, was propped on the man’s shoulder.  Leather armor: a trainee like her?  “It’s Lance!” “He’s so handsome!” “Oh my Light!”  Whispers broke out around her.  An amused female voice pierced the crowd’s murmuring. <br/><br/>“You two idiots better put up a good fight!”  There was an envious sigh from the cluster.  “It’s Brynhildr..” a voice murmured.  The announcer continued speaking, “On three! One. Two. Three!” <br/><br/>The orange-haired trainee sprung forward, spear leaving his shoulder so quickly it prompted an involuntary gasp from her.  So fast!  There was a clang of metal meeting wood.  The grunting of two men straining against each other could be just barely heard over the sudden cheers of the crowd.  A blue eye peered curiously through the shifting bodies.  The orange-haired man was forced back and then he dodged aside to reveal intent purple eyes that tracked the movement.  A sword slashed through empty air before turning to deflect the spear thrust, strands of blue hair drifting through the air and hiding the second trainee’s (? Knight’s?) face from sight.  Training armor rushed through her vision as Lance (?) charged forward.  They were so good!  Were they about to graduate?  She watched in amazement as the two danced around, cheering with each good strike the orange-haired man landed.  She didn’t know either of the contestants, but at least he looked like he was having fun.  The other one, Guilford?, appeared more restrained.  Maybe it was because he was a prince.  There was a roar of approval when the spar finally ended.  She couldn’t see the outcome from where she was standing, but the resigned laugh told her all she needed to know.<br/><br/>“Haha, don’t worry Gil, I’ll get you next time!”<br/><br/>One of the girls sighed dreamily.  “He can get me any time he wants.  I wish I wasn’t graduating! I’m missing two years of them!”  There were girlish giggles and then the gaggle of fangirls slowly drifted away, leaving a bemused Lethe behind.  Well, this had been an interesting first day.  She glanced over at the two contestants, now surrounded by what looked like friends and admirers.  Good luck, orange-haired one!  You can do it next time!<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>It turned out that ‘The Lion Lance’ and ‘Prince Guilford’ were staples at the Academy.  The two were constantly fighting for first place (though in her uneducated opinion, it looked like Guilford wasn’t as invested in the contest as Lance appeared to be) and surrounded themselves with the best and the brightest of the class.  The Divine Flash’s daughter! A Lovell! The youngest cleric ever!  It was like reading a list of “who’s who” whenever she heard about the two of them and their friends.  (Of course, being so famous, there was constant gossip about them.) <br/><br/>Lethe had just laughed at the entire thing (because, really, who would have thought the PKA would be so gossipy?) and focused on her own studies.  She wasn’t here for such nonsense; she was here to keep running from the Sin within her.  Maybe if she pretended enough, it might come true.  Anyways, it was none of her concern what went on in the ‘popular’ group.  She was too mediocre to ever interact with any of them.</div></blockquote><br/><br/>And then she’d somehow ended up on the famous Abel d’Arques’ team.  She’d been too baffled by the odd decision to mourn her missed chance at joining the Pure Magic Squadron.  Why was she on that squad?  Surely the Divine Flash’s daughter or the shield specialist or really any of that clique would have been better choices than her.  But when she tried to point the misprint (clearly, it was a mistake) out to one of the teachers, she’d only received a scrutinizing look in response, as if she was being evaluated and found wanting.  She had flushed and stared at the ground in embarrassment, barely hearing the teacher’s response.  No, there hadn’t been a misprint.  She was on that team.  And so she’d (properly) met Guilford and now she had these seven pages to try to do his memory justice.  She closed her eyes, as if she could halt the inevitable countdown to the memorial by doing so, and images of the many letters she’d read danced through her head.  No respite awake; no respite asleep.<br/><br/>There was a commotion in the courtyard below, gathering the attention of everyone in the room.  They all came to the windows, just in time to see eight steeds gallop into the Cathedral’s front yard.  A hooded figure led the charge, Team Eight gleefully arrayed around the leader.  What had them in such a good mood?  She’d feared they wouldn’t come; no doubt they’d been invited to Gil’s funeral and would go there to pay their respects instead of being forced in front of countless eyes.  The figure pulled his horse to a halt, the black beast rearing back in a familiar gesture.  Was that Thunder? But who?  The clues were starting to paint a picture she couldn’t let herself believe.  Impossible.  Captain Abel himself had written her that—the hood fell back and familiar dark blue hair danced on the wind.  There was a gasp of surprise from her left.  “Isn’t that?”  She heard Leia’s words but comprehension couldn’t phase the shock that had taken over her mind.  But<span style="font-style: italic">Captain Abel</span>had written that—!<br/><br/>“Master Guilford! Master Guilford is back!”  Surprise and joy lifted the words to her ears, their cheer offset by the apathetic quality in QianHua’s tone as she too stated the now obvious: “Looks like he’s alive.”<br/><br/>Lethe staggered away from the window, eyes still focused on the window.  The movement drew her companions’ attention.  “Thea?”  Leia took a step forward but she just backed further away.  Wild blue eyes finally left the square of light, scanning over the nine faces arrayed in front of her.  Worry, apathy, confusion: they were all reflected back at her.  He was alive.  How was he alive? But Captain Abel himself had written that Gil was dead.  She’d killed him. She hadn’t killed him?  There was another cheer from the courtyard, the previously solemn mood overtaken by jubilation.  Master Guilford was alive!<br/><br/>The sound of crinkling paper drew her gaze downwards.  She lifted her crumpled speech to eye level, staring in incomprehension at the pages she’d so meticulously prepared.  Countless hours and emotions turned obsolete in a moment.  She watched as her fingers loosened, the now useless sheets fluttering to the ground.  That was her.  She was as meaningless as those papers.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">‘Captain Abel lied to me.’</span>A laugh, unusual in its bitterness, hacked its way out of her throat.<span style="font-style: italic">‘He lied to me.  He knew, and he himself wrote to me that Gil was dead so I wouldn’t personally examine Rosetta.’</span>She slowly lifted her head to look back at that pane of ugly truth, ignorant to the way the others drew away at the sight of her expression.  Long strides stalked back to the window where she gazed down at the now dismounted group of Knights, swarmed by overjoyed Immaculate.<span style="font-style: italic">‘I cannot close my eyes to the truth anymore.’</span><span style="color: red"><span style="font-style: italic">‘They have already forsaken you.  After all, Guilford already has, hasn’t he?</span></span><br/><br/>“Lethe?”  A voice, unusual in its timidity, broke her from her reverie.  She turned to face her squad, Orphelia, and QianHua.  Whatever confusion or joy that Guilford’s return had elicited were now all superseded by worry.  Lethe didn’t look.. right.  They had expected shock, confusion maybe, and joy.  Surely she’d be happy Master Guilford was still alive?  But dispassionate blue eyes stared at them from a face that was decidedly neutral.  Seraphim cringed at her next words but still voiced them: “Are you okay?”<br/><br/>Lethe’s head tilted sideways in apparent confusion.<span style="color: silver">“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?”</span><br/><br/>The pink-haired woman opened her mouth wordlessly and then closed it, glancing at Valiar next to her in bewilderment.  Why wouldn’t Lethe be?  Maybe because..<br/><br/>“Captain, what would you like us to do next?”  Adair cut in with apparent boredom, as if a Seraph returning from the apparent dead wasn’t—crazy. Out of the ordinary.  Anything that would elicit more reaction than apathy from these two!<br/><br/><span style="color: silver"> “Well, I guess there’s no point to holding a Memorial anymore.”</span>They could have been discussing the dictionary with how much emotion Lethe was showing.<span style="color: silver">“But since everyone is still here, no point letting the crowd go to waste.  Leon, Seraphim, Adair: go speak with Councilor Laith about what talking points to include in your speeches.  We should still be able to run a similar program to what was originally planned, just along the lines that despite Sin’s efforts, Master Guilford has still triumphed and returned to lead the people rather than the original ‘we must carry on his legacy’ theme.”</span><br/><br/>What?  That’s what Lethe was concerned with right now?  Seraphim was too flabbergasted to say anything when a hand clamped down on her bicep.  “Of course, Captain.” Adair acknowledged the order as he dragged her towards the door.  She saw Leon follow them after a helpful elbow jab from Cricket got the youngest Knight to move.<br/><br/><span style="color: silver">“Lady QianHua, would you oversee YunQiao’s, Cricket’s, and Deimos’s training?  Leia, you said you wanted to see the library, didn’t you?  Valiar, if you could please show her the way then fetch the most important reports for Master Guilford’s review from our squad quarters?  I’ll meet with you at the Council Chambers.  No doubt Master Guilford wishes to meet with the Council posthaste.”</span>Lethe’s lips quirked up in a smile some might call scornful, if they didn’t know Lethe better.  Of course the White Seraph wouldn’t be…<span style="color: silver">“After all, we’re so very pressed for time.”</span><br/><br/>There was one last look thrown back on the joyful scene below before Lethe was striding out of the room, boots grinding the discarded papers into the ground.<br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~</div><br/>An uncomfortable silence fell on the two remaining occupants of the room.  Valiar and Orphelia shared a concerned look before the latter moved to pick up the speech her friend had worked so hard to create.  While it was good that Guilford was alive, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for all the effort Thea had now wasted.  She tried to smooth the papers, but her attempts were futile.  The creases and footprint persisted in marring them.<br/><br/>“So.. library?”  Orphelia finally asked with forced levity.  Valiar nodded and went to hold the door open, though his worried expression didn’t vanish.  “She’ll be okay.”  The woman tried to reassure, even though the last two words were still obvious to both of them:<span style="font-style: italic">I hope.</span><br/><div style="text-align: center;">~~~~~~</div><br/><br/>A Seraph is graceful; a Seraph does not rush anywhere, unless it is to save lives.  (And even then, it must be done gracefully.)  Lethe stepped aside to let a crowd of Advocates rush past her towards the Courtyard; they were all female, of course.  The din of their squeals mixed unpleasantly with the cacophony from outside, threatening to make her headache worse.  A Seraph is polite; a Seraph is kind.  The words repeated themselves in her mind as she kept her smile plastered to her face.  There was no point.  She was invisible in the delight over Master Guilford’s return, just like she’d always been.  Still, she maintained her steady pace and pleasant demeanor; a Seraph is a personification of the Divine Light, an ideal to inspire others.  Try not to mess that up.<br/><br/>She slipped into the Council Chambers, eyes slipping closed in bliss at the quietude of the room.  A flick of her fingers and the privacy wards activated, bathing the room in blessed silence.  Stepping to the center of the room, she gazed at the empty eight Council seats, no doubt soon to all be filled.  There were four chairs on each wall for additional guests to sit.  Two of them were her and Master Guilford’s de facto seats when they weren’t presenting.  She eyed the two innocent looking chairs speculatively; Master Guilford would be presenting so it was unlikely he’d be sitting in either of them.  Still, it never hurt to be cautious.  A small tug detached the outermost chair from the others: a mere inch or two, easily dismissed as a careless servant’s work.  Lethe sat down on her chosen chair, placed her hands in her lap, and closed her eyes to wait for the inevitable meeting.