As Azelle braces himself for joining Sigurd's army, he adjusts the clasp on his cloak. The warnings of his half-brother resound in his head, reminding him of the perils that lie ahead. Azelle is aware that this is his one and possibly only opportunity to transcend his bastard blood.

To demonstrate the power of his magic to Arvis and the rest of Grannvale. As Azelle moves toward the camp, clutching his spellbook tightly, his mind is racing. His eyes are drawn to Tailtiu, who is waving enthusiastically as usual and sporting the same shock of pink hair and bright smile. Azelle tries to hide his anxiety by giving his old friend a small smile in return. Will the others see him as equal to her, as she has always done?