Morning light slanted across the upper benches of Arcten's lecture room and caught on the buckles of half a dozen sword belts. The students filed in by twos and threes, still litigating Clubs Day, and Lucavion, having weighed the front row against the back, took a seat near the middle, the one place in any lecture hall that an instructor's eye reliably slid past.
Two students settled in the row ahead. One carried an application sheet folded down until only Alchemy Society showed above his thumb.
"I might put my name down," he said. "Learning how potions work sounds interesting."
"You said that about formations."
"Formations are interesting. The coursework isn't."
"I heard alchemists spend weeks reading before they touch a pot."
"That sounds miserable."
"That sounds like what they tell you so you don't blow up a table."
'Heh... Do they know?'
