“Astra Verita,” he said. “Professor Aldric, Dean of the Combat Department.”
I stared at him.
“The what department?”
“Combat.”
“Of course. Normal school thing.”
His mouth twitched toward a smirk but he said nothing.
“You have Hale now.”
“I have what now?”
“Hale. Orientation. Lower salle.”
About damn time someone gives me some direction.
“I haven’t eaten.”
“The breakfast bell rang at six.”
“And I was supposed to understand that was the breakfast bell by instinct?”
He shrugged. “Now you know for tomorrow.”
“Am I going to get a schedule or something?”
He ignored the question, strode past me, and was on his way without even bothering to tell me how to get to the lower salle.
I shook my head in disbelief.
Breakfast would have to wait.
Not because I wanted it to. My stomach was growling. Because I was apparently expected to be at a place I had no idea how to get to.
Again.
So I went looking.
I found two staircases, one locked door, a corridor full of portraits who all looked disappointed in me, and a classroom occupied by three girls who stopped talking the moment I opened the door.
“Lower salle?” I asked.
One of them pointed down withoutspeaking.
This again.
“Helpful,” I mumbled, and closed the door.
By the time I found the lower door, I was late.
Excellent.
Lost and late, all before breakfast.
I stepped inside and saw racks of practice blades lining one wall. On the other, old shields hung above a row of hooks, all empty.
