The next few days passed in a simple routine.
In the morning, Place would train a little bit and practise casting spells with his meagre amount of mana.
Then would come breakfast and the morning classes, followed by a bit of light sparring with Malia. The victory to loss ratio against her was 1 to 4, in Malia's favour. Once she got used to Place's tactics, it became much, much harder to defeat her, but he still managed to squeeze in a victory here and there.
Then lunch, followed by afternoon classes.
Then more sparring with anyone who was available and willing, these spars a bit heavier, and usually ending with a few cuts and bruises.
Then an hour or two at the library, refreshing his spell knowledge and scanning the books for anything that could prove useful in the near future.
Then dinner, and to wrap it all up he cast one single complicated spell at the highest spell he could, just to exhaust his mana and make it easier to sleep.
By this time, all six of his friends and Prismella had picked up that he was preparing for something, and it had all of them a bit worried, but Place wasn't saying anything, so all they could do was train alongside him, and hope for the best.
On the seventh day of school, as they sat in the cafeteria for breakfast, the routine broke.
Otis and Raise were arguing about something, a common sight, and the other five were just watching them as they ate.
They sat on opposite sides of the table, and the table shook as they hit it every now and again.
Then Zandre noticed something, and gestured to them.
Their table fell silent, and so did the rest of the cafeteria.
Everyone turned towards the entrance.
Accompanied by a teacher, there was a figure dressed in plate armor, decorated with golden sigils and engravings along with paper talismans filled with mystic runes.
Chainmail flowed out from under the helm and chestplate, and was visible under the shoulders and between the elbows.
The two of them seemed to be talked about something, by they were too far to hear anything.
"Five-eyed Crown, and... Unhilted Blade." Place murmured, recognizing the large sigils carved on the chestplate of the armored figure.
"A member of the Custode Lordian." Malia continued Place's words with a gleam in her eyes, and Ange and Emilia nodded.
A soft hiss sounded as Raise sharply inhaled.
"Here?" He asked in a hurried whisper.
"A who?" Otis asked, his voice lowered as the figure ended its conversation and started looking around.
"A member of the 'Kingdom Guard'." Raise gave a hurried explanation, and Otis and Prismella understood.
Zandre didn't, but he kept to himself feeling that this wasn't the right time.
"Why is one of them here?" Raise asked again.
Place clicked his tongue as the figures armet helmet looked towards their table and paused.
"I have an idea." He stated as the armored figure started walked over to them.
"For you?" Malia asked, and Place nodded as he stood up.
He took a few steps towards the figure, and Malia stepped out of her chair to follow behind him, no way was she missing this.
All eyes were on the two of them as they met.
Place gave a bow in greeting.
"Good morning, Respected warrior."
Behind him, Malia did the same.
The helmet nodded once, then a disguised voice spoke.
"Ald-placeen Cublue, your time is required, follow me."
WIth that, the 'Respected Warrior' turned around and marched out of the cafeteria.
Place raised a hand in goodbye at the still seated, then followed, and was followed by Malia.
There was a silence for a few seconds as the four left, then noise exploded and many pairs of eyes swept over the table from which Place had risen.
"Can someone explain?" Zandre asked quietly.
"Custode Lordian." Raise spoke, looking down at his food. "Translates roughly, to 'Kingdom Guard'."
He let out a sigh.
"They are one of the kingdoms five 'High' orders, focusing on defense. Against both external and internal threats."
"So they're like highly-trained guards?" Zandre hazarded a guess, then fell quiet when the other five at the table stared at him.
"Obviously not." Emilia remarked. "Not even close."
Ange nodded as he continued.
"It would take about a thousand guards continuously swarming to maybe defeat a single Custode."
"All that just for a maybe?" Zandre asked, shocked at what he had just heard.
"When one of the applicants passes all of their tests and is accepted into the order, they get a full set of Blessed-grade armor and weapons, not to mention that they have to be the best of the best to even apply for a chance to enter the order."
"Oh..." Zandre digested all that knowledge.
"So they're super powerful... How many of them are there?"
Ange glanced at Emilia, who just gave a shrug to his silent question.
"We don't have an exact figure." Agne admitted, scratching his chin as he did so. "But we do have a guess or two."
"And?" Otis grew a bit impatient.
"Somewhere between 75 and 90."