The training hall had no windows.
I decided this was deliberate.
Windows implied the existence of an outside, and an outside implied the possibility of leaving, and Zenith had clearly concluded that first-year students should not be encouraged in that direction.
Thirty-six mats had been laid out across the floor in even rows. One per student. Each with a small stone disc set into the ground beside it, faintly glowing.
Selene stood at the front with her hands behind her back.
"Sit."
We sat.
"Legs crossed. Back straight. Hands wherever they are comfortable, as long as they are still."
I adjusted twice, then a third time, then discovered that no position was comfortable when someone was watching to see whether you were comfortable.
Penelope, three mats away, achieved perfect posture immediately.
Of course she did.
