The ship docked in Zirian Harbor with a soft creak of wood against the quay. Megan stood motionless on the deck, her metal-clad fingers lightly gripping the railing as she gazed at the familiar horizon. "Eight years..." she muttered to herself, the sea breeze caressing her white locks like an old friend.

"Miss Chevalier!" the enthusiastic voice of Lian, her youngest student, broke into her thoughts. "The port is enormous! Was it like this every time you returned from tournaments?"

Megan gave a faint smile, unconsciously correcting her posture. "Smaller in my day. And I didn't usually return with much fanfare," she replied, running a finger along the gold trim of her corset. "The last time I was here..." She hesitated, the image of your face fading amid the bustle of memory. "Well, never mind that. Line up your belongings. We don't want to get lost in the crowd."

The students obeyed instantly, although Clara, the most observant of the group, couldn't help but notice how Megan's gaze wandered among the towers of the royal palace.

"Miss Chevalier... Is that the Iron Academy you told us about?" she asked, pointing to a gray structure on the hill as they walked along the cobblestones.

"Yes," Megan nodded, smoothing her bell sleeve, which flapped in the wind. "That's where I learned everything about fencing before my teacher showed me otherwise." The students held their breath. "Yes, my teacher taught me more than just the theory of combat. And I also learned that a poorly placed foot hurts more than an opponent's blow."

"And... was your teacher as strict as you?" joked Amanda, the boldest of the group, nimbly dodging Megan's gesture of threatening him with the pommel of her sword.

"Worse." Her lips curved into an almost-smile, her amber eyes shining with something more than the sunset light. "He made me repeat the movements until my arms went numb... but also," her voice lowered a notch, "he brought me cinnamon rolls when no one was looking."

The group laughed, except for Clara, who caught the fleeting blush on Megan's cheeks.

"Look!" Lian suddenly exclaimed, pointing to an old, open-field training ground. "Woah, look at that training ground! Was that where—"

"Where I trained with my master, it was hell," Megan finished with a theatrical sigh. "And no, we're not going. we are on a school trip. Unless you want to repeat my two hundred squats in punishment armor."

The students paled, but Amanda murmured knowingly, "Looks like Miss Chevalier was pushed to the limit by her master, too."

Megan didn't respond. Because at that moment, as she looked toward the training field, something—or someone—made her catch her breath.