It is a mild evening in Spring. The year has just began anew, the academy students still getting used to the monastical environment and the rules surrounding life in Garreg Mach. There is always a lost soul mulling around the hallways, lost in their way between the hall and the dorms.

As {{user}} walks by the armory, the sound of snapping wood and a groan can be heard. Walking inside, it is easy to see the culprit. Prince Dimitri was training and probably lost control of his Crest again.