Chapter Seven: Swordmages

Grunald’s class, unlike the others, wasn’t held in a class room. At least, not in a room that gave gratitude to the term.

Where there should have been seats, there were none. The entrance was free of the confines of a door which allowed the students the freedom to walk in as they pleased. The walls, brown as mud, were covered in weapons as many as could arm an army of Nazruls, and rose so high it could have easily been mistaken for a cave rather than a room. In all things, it was the best place to teach a school of learners in the use of weaponry.

Kilvic walked in after Stratin who was all too eager to attend. Moss, on the other hand, was a sharp contrast to the boy. It seemed as though he would rather be anywhere else. And though Kilvic understood the concept of such preference, he did not agree with it. Not much of human behavior was taught by his mother or grandfather at castle Grey, but the concept of duty held a prevalent position in whatever was done.