For all her interest in Crests and the abilities they bestowed, and despite her vow to make Clary proud by being focused for once, Imogen's attention span could only last so long. Professor Mal had given them too much information in too short a class—way too many Crest categories for her to keep track of—and Imogen's biggest takeaway was that Dogberry was a muscle that she needed to exercise. It made sense, kind of. Just like how she got stronger and faster by running up and down the mountains back home nearly every day, she would have to train so Dogberry would come more naturally to her.

But how do you go about training an imaginary little guy on her shoulder telling her what to watch out for? She can't just imagine him doing pushups and running laps, can she? The thought made her giggle and while she knew that didn't make any sense at all, part of her wished that was how it worked. She entertained the thought for a few moments before waving her hand by her head, as though it would physically shoo her distractions away.

Crest training was fun, but also super important, she had to remind herself. Imogen couldn't wait until the next class to get started. With these disappearances happening, honing her abilities could mean saving a fellow student's life! She was planning on going out to investigate again tonight; how helpful would it be if she could just know right away when someone's getting kidnapped?

Class concluded with Imogen in a daze, eyes glazed over and staring vacantly at the drawings on the board. In the end, the most viable training scenario in the hundreds that she came up with as Professor Mal rambled on was the simplest one: she has to be in danger.

Imogen packed her things automatically as everyone else started filing out the door, now stumped by an entirely new dilemma. How could she put herself in danger? Preferably without injuring herself too much. It's not like she could just climb a tower and jump off—she didn't need Dogberry to tell her that was dangerous. She would have to not know danger was coming so that she could... know it was coming? Uh, it was better not to think too hard about it. She swears it makes sense.

"Oh! Iz, wait up a sec," Imogen called out as she spotted the blonde quietly slipping away as usual. She missed when Clary came back, but as she rushed past her and Jory, she gave her two thumbs up in encouragement. Her way of saying she didn't know what was happening with her, but she had no doubt Clary got this. Look at her, she even looked like she was ready to kick some ass right then and there!

As soon as Imogen caught up to Iz, she rummaged through her satchel and handed her a wadded piece of paper. "Can you throw this at me? I'm trying something out."

---

@Achronum@Scribe of Thoth@Hero

---

Kayden crossed his arms, raising a princely eyebrow at his betrothed. Well, she wasn't laying it on too thick, he lied to himself. He felt the Eagles were some sort of diabolical triangle, with Rudolph in the meek corner and Veronica on the complete opposite end of the spectrum while Kayden desperately yanked upwards to keep the team afloat. Even with the drama of the Golden Deer and the Blue Lions, he still felt the Eagles had to keep on their toes. “When was the last time you could relate to anyone?” he asked her, a sardonic edge to his voice. If the Archbishop himself waltzed up and told her she was the Goddess incarnate, Veronica would believe it without a second thought.

Kayden then made a willful reminder to himself to gaze at Rudolph, and he saw the very unnoticeable youth fidgeting and strangely nervous. Well, differently nervous somehow, and something else he couldn't quite pinpoint. He kept himself from sighing and tried to seem supportive with a raised brow, awaiting a response. Rudolph wouldn't become more confident if he was scolded constantly, not that Kayden generally did that unless pressed. Unfortunately, this seemed one of those times.

"You're not opting out." Kayden told him, his voice as irrefutable as if it were etched in stone. Kayden wasn't mad, but he wasn't going to allow an argument, either. "You won't know how to use your crest unless you take the class, even if it works without your current understanding or will. If Tomai thinks you don't need it, then that's another story. But otherwise I expect you to be here next time. An-"

“Professor Roland, you disingenuous boor!"

He blinked, turning his head like a hawk that had caught movement. Though he looked less predatory and more bemused at the shout that had reached their position. He walked over to the doorway and peered out into the courtyard, watching as Clarissa of the Golden Deer began to utterly lecture Professor Lysander like he answered to her. "What the fuck?" He breathed quietly as he listened, completely confused as to what was the matter. Kayden chuckled incredulously. He wasn't offended on behalf of the professors, nor was he even glad another rival guild was causing a scene. Truth be told, he was impressed with the deer for her sheer audacity.

You literally challenged the head of the knightly order to weekly duels because you want to seduce her, a voice in his head reminded him.[/i]

Yeah, but I didn't yell at her, he thought back to the void of his brain.

He saw Clarissa turn tail and offer Derec to go riding, and he thought for a moment. He turned to his group, opening his mouth to to offer that they go and ask to join as a group, but he closed his mouth and decided that was a horrible idea. Instead, he told his fellow eagles this: "I'm going to get some information. You too take the rest of the day to rest." It was halfway the truth. Relations between the guilds were important, and he wanted to learn more about Derec and Clarissa's scruples when it came to crests. Plus he hadn't ridden since he had arrived. It was long odds, considering what just happened, but he was nothing if not confident. Clearing his throat and smoothing his rakish hairstyle, he walked out of the doorway with all the class denoting his station, coupled with a respectful inclination of his head when he reached them. He did his best not to look at the professor, trying to keep his voice low enough to not be entirely heard by him.

"Excuse my intrusion. I wanted to ask if I could gain permission to ride with you," the leader of the Eagles inquired. Even his charm might not help him here, but he went in. "If I am unwelcome, no hard feelings. But I haven't ridden on a good horse in far too long and I've had it with cramped classrooms." He fully prepared himself for a quick dismissal or even his own tongue lashing, and if it happened, he would remain impassive.

Clarissa didn’t stay long, but it was just as well; she was overcome with righteous indignation as she got back up, which suited her much better than gloom in Jorah’s opinion. Class ended soon after, but Jorah was in no rush to follow – by the snippets of shouts he heard from the courtyard, he figured it was best to keep his distance for the time being. He didn’t hide his smirk, snickering a bit at the tongue-lashing he imagined Professor Lysander was getting. It served him right, for sure, but what made it even more entertaining was that Jorah himself wasn’t on the receiving end this time.

He dearly wanted to sneak a glimpse of Lysander’s face before Clarissa was done with him, but in an uncharacteristic show of restraint, Jorah refrained. This was a touchy subject for her, and although he knew more than anyone else, she still deserved her privacy.

Which of course begged the question: why was Prince Eagle over there snooping in the doorway?

Jorah quirked a brow in the Imperial prince’s direction, openly examining his cartoonish posture, peering out the door and breathing shallowly like a child who thought his hiding place was foolproof. Leaning on a pillar, Jorah watched, shocked as Kayden drank up Clarissa’s whole exchange without even a hint of shame, before telling his classmates he was going to “gather information.” What the hell was he up to? Jorah had given the Eagles the benefit of the doubt, assuming they’d manage to be normal for the duration of the year, but it seemed he was wrong. Apparently, the Empire never stopped scheming.

Following Kayden out, he caught his odd appeal to Clarissa, the Prince apparently blind to the fact that she was upset. Jorah knew other people didn’t have the sense for emotions he did, but couldn’t he tell when it was best to leave someone alone? Or had the Crown Prince of Adrestia just never had an interaction blow up in his face? “Excuse the intrusion” his ass; more like excuse the blatant eavesdropping. Besides, his proposition was just… weird. He sounded like Raimund when he first learned to speak Fódlan, all excessive formality and strange syntax. Maybe Jorah was biased, but everything about this rubbed him the wrong way.

“Well well, isn’t that polite of you!” Jorah remarked loudly, sauntering over and inserting himself into the conversation. He stepped slightly between Kayden and Clarissa. “And here I thought Imperial royalty never asked for anything. How wrong I was; your lovely fiancée must have given me the wrong impression.” He smiled jovially at Kayden, his distaste evident.

“I know what you mean, though; I’ve sorely missed riding myself lately. But I gotta say, the saddles here are not the best.” He punctuated the statement with an exaggerated stretch. “The horses are great though, Goddess bless them. Shame I can't say the same for the equipment; probably not up to royal standards.”

He shot a glance to Clarissa, one that she’d seen a hundred times back home in Derdriu that roughly translated to “please end this conversation.”

“Anyway, what’s this I hear about a ride?”

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Breathe In

A moment of silence, soon followed by the clashing of blades in rapid succession. Thrust to counter thrust, riposte into a quick assault, a deft deflection into another parting. The swordsman held his blade at the ready, electric blue eyes never leaving the imagined opponent he faced, only letting his tension ease when he heard the toll of the bell ringing out from the Monastery's clocktower. With a twirl of the wrist, he fits the tip of the blade up to the edge of his sheath and slides it closed in a single deft motion.

Breathe out.

"That would be. . . sixth bell, I think?" Ezekial mutters to himself as he looks around the training room. Proffessor Lavender had given their class a bit of a free period for the day. . . except for him and a few others, much to the young Gloucester's slight irritation to have his studies interrupted so. But such are his duties, both as a noble and as a student, and so he cuts his training short.

Gathering up his belongings, Ezekial walks outside into the open courtyard as he heads for the classrooms wondering what errand thneir proffessor had for them now.

---

Ezekial came in shortly after Albrecht had arrived, having taken the time to wash the sweat and grime of training off him.

"Good Morning, Professor Lavender." The young Gloucester walked in with his finest smile, giving a small salute to the woman before moving to the other teachers in turn. "Same for you both as well Professor Tomai, Professor Michail."

Some form of soecial training exercise with another class? Odd, but not unheard of. Ezekial pondered the presence of the other faculty but didn't say much on it as he moved to a seat towards the front of the class as well nodding to Albrecht even if he wished he could afford some distance from the young man. Not out of any true distaste but just. . . something about the sincerity of the Adrestrian's manner felt so unbelivable to him every time he talked to them. Still, a distrust for sincerity was no reason to be rude or hostile, so he offered his fellow student a smile as he settled in. Besides, better to stick to someone familiar for now, rather than potentially drawing attention by avoiding him.

"Good Morning to you as well, Albrecht. Any thoughts on why Proffessor Lavender called us here today? A Mission? Maybe Training?" Perhaps roping her students into a plan to help her find a decent man for once. Ezekial chuckled to himself at the last thought, being somewhat aware that their professor's. . . assertive attitude had thrown off a few suitors. Then again, most of the suitors she tended to attracted were less than desirable so he really couldn't blame her for the poor luck. . . even if he wanted to tease her about it every now and then.

Before he'd gotten a reply, however, another familiar face walked into the room.

Ah, the busy body from Farghus is here as well, with the typical mouthful salute. Ezekial offered the girl a small polite wave as she moved to the middle of the room, wondering idly if that was her second danish, or her 22nd. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought the girl was a starving peasant the way she horfed down anything resembling food. Honestly, he found it a wonder she managed to keep a figure with all she ate, but given the amount of work she always seems to be doing, the stress and constant momvement probaly had a hand in that.

In any case, if she didn't want to engage with him than ezekial was fine with keeping to himself as well, having done his due dilligence to at least acknowledge her.

---

Auberon had no objections to an earlier class. He had to keep his bedside prayers brief and his breakfast briefer, but an earlier start might mean an earlier finish, and that meant he'd have more time to devote to training later in the day, or at least reviewing his performance if the class itself was particularly physically demanding. At least, under normal circumstances; with all the talk of abductions and conspiracies, changes in schedule boded ill, at least on the surface.

Goddess above, what if one of his classmates had gone missing? Would they have called such a somber meeting in a classroom, or hosted it in the cathedral under the watchful eye of the clergy? Professor Roland seemed to be in everyone's poor graces lately for... some reason, and Michail and Professor Malathice certainly didn't seem up to the task of comforting everyone.

Auberon strolled down the dormitory hallway, giving each of his Lions' doors that he passed a pensive glance and a light rap of his knuckles against the wood. Saints know, they probably needed the wake up call. Still, he lingered in front of each door for a moment after knocking, silent with the hopes that they would open the door and reassure him that they were indeed still alive with a morning greeting or at least a dismissive grumble. As to be expected from such an unenthusiastic knock, he didn't have much luck, at least until his last stop, where the door gave way underneath his gentle knocking to reveal a half-asleep Derec. The blond blinked a few times at the scene, stupefied, but quickly recovered his composed neutrality.

"Uh... what's going on?" Derec mumbled, clearly still groggy.

"Just, erm, making sure everyone's awake on time," He replied quietly, "I can wait if you'd like to walk to class together. Otherwise, good morning, I suppose." The offer came out almost as an afterthought. Derec didn't look like he'd be going anywhere in a timely manner, but Auberon wouldn't spurn the companionship if he could get it. It was small comfort, but it was comfort nonetheless. It beat internally praying for his friends' safety until class started, anyway.

---

@Hero

---

"A strong enough guess, I'd say. I wonder if it's that time of year." Ezekial glances towards the map with a scanning eye, recognizing the terrain from his studies. "Magdred way, known for it's dense forestry and occasionally even denser fogs. I don't know terribly much about the area, but it would make a suitable place to train for fighting at a disadvantage if the fogs are up."

That, and provide a perfectly reasonable excuse for a little 'training accident' if one was so inclined to cause one. Anything could happen in the fog, after all. The young gloucester didn't let the sour thought show on his face, though one might notice a slight shift in his eyes as he gaze lingers on the professors. Before another moment passes, however, Ezekial merely shakes his head as he turns his attention towards the Adrestian boy's attempt at small talk.

"Ah yes. I will admit that having a chance to properly how my swordsmanship gives me a bit of exciement, even if it might not be what my family had wished for me to learn. The Leicester Alliance is known for it's bowmanship, after all, but it never really appealed to me when I was younger. Besides, by the time I grew into my title, I had already become too attached to the blade to really give it up. That said," He raises a hand to conjure a small sigil of Thunder between his fingers, letting arcs of electric energy dance between them a bit before he letting it dissipate harmlessly. "Never hurts to cover your bases if you come across a foe that you can't easily reach on foot."

"But enough about me, what kind of things have you been studying, Albrecht? You always seem to fly by most of our classes, I assume you have a free hour or two to spare for your own side interests?" Ezekial smiles as he returns the idle chatter back to Albrecht, though truthfully he didn't think the boy would have much of interest to say. While undoubtably skilled, Ezekial was certain that anything the Adrestian would dean to share with him would be very droll and typical of such a diehard devotee of Seiros. He'd met dozens of such characters before and he'd not doubt meet dozens more that would bore him to tears about praise and worship and other such things. While he did hold a grateful spirit towards the Goddess, her followers tended to be some of the most long-winded speakers he'd ever met.

---

Interacting with: @Asura@Raijinslayer

Clarissa murmured the last of her morning prayers before turning on her heel. Her usual route typically kept her there a while longer, content to bask in the rising sun filtering into the holy sanctum, but the Academy adjusted their morning schedule and the stolen time left little opportunity for idleness. A minor inconvenience at worst but in light of their newest class, she felt the loss of the time for contemplation sharply. Especially since the last time their schedule was disrupted, it ended poorly.

Crest abilities. She scoffed as she marched across the bridge. As if she, an Edmond, needed education in Crest Abilities. Even babies barely taller than their mother’s knee knew what her Crest could do. The Crest of the Beast was a warning, a threat, and a responsibility all wrapped into one damned bloodline. She’d been dealing with it her entire life, drowning in the misery and demands that came with its curse. And thanks to the ignorance and disregard of Roland, it was more difficult to keep it under wraps. All it would take was one person pulling at the right thread and all her hard work would crumble to the ground.

Clarissa bid her good mornings to the few people in the dining hall at this hour but in another break from her routine, she took a simple breakfast, nothing that couldn’t fit in one hand easily, and continued out to the small fishing pond near the greenhouse. It was no ocean but it was comforting to be near the water nonetheless. She’d left herself time to eat a proper breakfast but found the confines of the dining hall stifling after four lessons on the crest that she’d had to grit her teeth to keep from berating the Professors again.

In reality, she knew she was being foolish. Imogen wouldn’t think any different of her if she knew. In all honesty, Imogen probably wouldn’t even understand the implications of her Crest. Jorah already knew and he’d been her best friend since they could walk. Isolde seemed like she just wanted to stay out of everything as best she could and that wouldn’t change. Auberon was a toss up; either he’d decide he was here to cut her down or she was part of the Goddess’ plan for the Unit. She’d like to think Lienna wouldn't really care so long as it didn’t directly affect her but the rest of them, she didn’t know. Even Kayden, who she tolerated far more now that she knew him beyond a reckless fool who endangered his friends, she barely knew. But the fear of the truth was a part of her now and it’d take more than some logic and hopeful thinking to change that.

Too soon, she finished off her small breakfast and found herself on the way to the Blue Lion’s classroom. It took a deep breath and a quick head shake to get herself focused, but she drew her shoulders back, kept her chin up, and decided that whatever she found waiting in that classroom wouldn’t be enough to drag her day down.

She swept through the threshold with her usual confidence, continuing to the front as she surveyed the assembled parties. Professor Tomai and Michail were there, not an unusual sight, but the sight of Professor Lavender drawing a map on the chalkboard was an unexpected surprise. However, it was one particular Deer that caught her eye. Ezekiel Gloucester sat at the front of the room, casually chatting with another student, someone she vaguely recognized as part of the Black Eagles, and her interest was piqued. He’d found himself in another Unit so even though they shared a House, their social circles had drifted as soon as they were separated.

“Good morning, Professors.” She greeted them, offering them a brief curtsy before taking the seat next to the Gloucester. “And good morning to the both of you as well. When I finished my prayers in the cathedral this morning, I certainly hadn’t imagined you a part in this, Ezekial. Our paths rarely seem to cross; this Unit method seems to have driven a larger divide in the Houses than I thought. We should find a moment over tea to talk some time but before that,” She sent a smile at Albrecht, “I apologize for stealing your conversation partner momentarily. I am Clarissa von Edmund, heiress to the Margravate of Edmund in Leicester. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

By the time Auberon’s knock sounded on her door, Lienna was already awake, albeit wishing she wasn’t. She was no stranger to early mornings, but she’d been able to convince herself to sleep in enough times since coming to Garreg Mach that it was always a slap in the face when old habits came back to drag her out of bed even earlier than Auberon did. At least when he did it, she could blame someone else.

To add insult to injury, Auberon’s knock came even earlier today than expected; the sky was barely light when he arrived at the door, and she held her breath until she heard his footsteps resume, hoping he’d assume she was still asleep and not bother her about it. She was already irritated from waking up so early; she didn’t need the first face she saw today to be Auberon’s.

By then, her fruitless attempts at going back to sleep had succeeded only in frustrating her, and Lienna reluctantly got out of bed and went about her routine. Truth be told, she didn’t feel as bad as she expected to, and a look in the mirror showed the usual shadows under her eyes had begun to fade. Probably because, for the first time since arriving at Garreg Mach, she’d slept… relatively soundly. Normally she was hounded by confusing, distorted dreams and started awake in the dead of night with the same urgency as any Srengese raid, haunted by that ever-present feeling of being watched as she tried to lull herself back to sleep. But while her sheets were undeniably twisted from tossing and turning, she never did wake in a cold sweat, and she didn’t feel the eyes on her back with the same intensity as before. Why would that be?

The thought tumbled in her mind as she went about her morning routine. Was the increased guard presence around the Monastery finally quelling her dread? She had never found much comfort in guards before. As she pulled off her nightgown, she noticed the new smoothness of her arms, looking a little less corpselike than the sharp bones she was accustomed to. Her ribs were a bit less easily counted, too. No doubt the new abundance of food and shelter was the culprit; Hells, maybe her new lifestyle was making her softer in every respect.

That was fine by her. The sooner she could start taking survival and safety for granted, the better. Dipping her hands into her wash basin, she was distracted by a thin sheet of ice forming over the surface, blooming out from her fingertips like blood on snow. She watched with interest until the whole basin was covered, the paper thin skim of ice taking on the filigree pattern of frost on a window. She poked a few exploratory holes in the ice, her routine momentarily forgotten.

Maybe that was what had her at ease all of a sudden; these new Crest classes had her mind abuzz, not to mention her extra meetings with Tomai. More and more she found herself too busy thinking about Crest theory and sorcery techniques to worry about how many times a day a hidden assailant might jump out from the shadows to abduct her.

Honestly, it was a welcome change, if not a smart one.

Having had her fun, she finished getting ready, buttoning her bishop sleeves and tying her scarf around her waist in a limp bow, as had become her habit. She wasn’t out of her room quite as fast as some others, but the dining hall was still empty enough when she arrived that she could have a hearty breakfast in peace and make it to class without being the last one to arrive.

In fact, to her surprise, she was almost the first to arrive – or the first of the Rose Unit, anyway. Lienna initially thought she had the wrong classroom when she was greeted to three unfamiliar faces and her geography professor, and almost turned and left before she saw Tomai and Michail at the head of the room as well. Not hiding her look of offended confusion, she simply slipped past the strangers (and Clarissa, who was talking to them) and took a seat far enough away that she hoped they wouldn’t bother with her. She tossed an especially disapproving look to the girl scarfing down danishes as she walked past, giving her a wide berth as if to avoid any splashback of pastry from her churning jaw. Maybe she was just biased from growing up hungry, but it was awfully irritating to see someone go to town on their food that… excessively.

She tipped her head in silent greeting as she passed Professor Tomai, looking grumpier than usual. It would be funny if she didn’t share his frustration, albeit possibly for a different reason. He was probably put out over whatever they were doing this morning, which didn’t bode especially well, but Lienna figured some of that discontent must have been coming from their… less-than-successful meeting yesterday. It had been mercifully short, only about an hour compared to their usual three, but what it lacked in length it made up for in absolute dead-end unproductivity. Tomai had it in his mind that her lineage might be the key to her “abnormally presenting Crest”, so the evening was spent with Lienna being reminded how little she really knew about her family and Tomai being frustrated there wasn’t more information to be had. Shock and awe, turns out coming from a fractured family wasn’t super uncommon in the Faerghian region ruled over by redheaded manwhores.

Macuil’s heels, she could have told him that in five seconds and saved them both a lot of time.

Content to let that debacle live in history, Lienna turned her focus to the geography professor, already hard at work drawing a detailed map on the chalkboard. She somehow doubted that they were called in early for a special cross-unit geography lesson, so why bother with a map? The other students were speculating that it was a field training exercise. Lienna wasn’t thrilled at the prospect, but she hoped that if that was indeed the case, they’d have at least warned the newbies to give her a wide berth. With any luck, the professors wouldn’t soon forget what happened on their last little excursion.

---

Rudolf was agitated, to say the least. The disaster of a Crest class he'd been dragged to every day was bad enough, and at least he didn't have to wake up early for that. His Highness would lapse in his vigilance eventually, and there would be nothing to stop Rudolf from simply walking out of the classroom next time Professor Tomai broke into a tone-deaf tangent about invisible Hresvelg children like it was a neat case study with no consequence and not a living nightmare for that Saints-forsaken individual. For him.

He lingered outside the doorway to the classroom, first out of confusion - a couple of faces from his old unit led him to believe he'd simply wandered to the wrong place in his freshly-awakened stupor - then out of cowardice. If he was recognized even once, that insufferable cacophony of congratulations for his 'promotion' to the Rose Unit would follow, or perhaps jealous mutterings about how unfair it was that he of all people was put in the Archbishop's pet class. He could explain that the Rose Unit was looking more like a trial group for Professor Tomai's Crest research and less like a prestigious military academy unit every day, but then he'd be hounded for what made his Crest special. It wasn't; it sucked and he didn't want to talk about it. And all of that was before the grueling task the professors doubtlessly had planned for them today. Inter-class competition, surely, where the most spiteful of his former classmates could beat the crap out of him for his 'betrayal', and the nicer ones could do it just because that was their assigned objective. And then Rudolf would get a pity commendation because the rest of his class was superhuman and nobody bothered to look at him long enough to evaluate him. If they ended up marching the classes down to Gronder Field for a mock battle, he might just walk home and never come back.

Come to think of it, he didn't know why he hadn't marched back to his room already. What was the worst they could do? Kick him out of Garreg Mach? Have him return home disgraced and ashamed? He already didn't want to be here. But for some reason, his legs wouldn't move. He was such a coward.

The crimson-eyed boy trudged in to the classroom at last, barely suppressing a sigh as a cursory examination of the chalkboard revealed they were definitely not bound for Gronder. So much for his escape plan. Maybe he could just hide until it was all over, not that he knew what it was yet. Announcing his presence to the professors seemed like a bad idea, Clarissa was friendly enough to entertain his questions but she was engaged with a crowd and the less eyes that landed on Rudolf today, the better. That just left... Leena, or whatever her name was. The girl was as icy as her magic without being as disdainful as Her Future Imperial Highness, so Rudolf figured that would be his best bet at avoiding needless talk while still sating his curiosity.

"What are we doing?" Rudolf asked quietly, hoping a pointed question would get him a pointed answer and not tedious pleasantries about how weird it was that she hadn't seem him approach.

---

@Obscene Symphony

---

Auberon stared quizzically at the door as Derec closed it, still unsure as to what his half-slumbering companion meant by that nod. Was it an acknowledgment? An agreement to his offer? Derec nodding off and catching himself midway? His Lions could get mad at him for his wake up knocks all they wanted, but they were clearly warranted if this was how they intended to stumble into the classroom. At least no one had slept through a class yet, or else he might have to start barging in when his knocks were left unanswered. Or find a female volunteer to barge in, in Lienna's case.

Upon Derec's return, Auberon still found himself without an answer as to what that nod meant.

"Why would I have offered if I didn't intend to stay?" Was he not a man of his word? Would a man of dubious character have even bothered to make such a stupid lie anyway? It was certainly an early morning, but that was hardly an excuse to be outright delirious. Unless Derec was pursuing a secret training regimen at night - and Auberon certainly hoped not, what with a kidnapper on the loose (and because he hadn't received even a single invitation to spar) - the redhead really had no excuse to be this tired. Maybe he needed to hydrate better.

"Not a morning person, I take it?" He asked rhetorically as he started toward the exit. That trait seemed like it should've been a rarity among the common folk, didn't they have farms to manage or something?

When they arrived at the Blue Lions' classroom, Auberon was met with a handful of unfamiliar faces, and what seemed to be a geography lesson taking shape on the board, judging by Professor Bartels' presence. One of the newcomers he recognized - vaguely, but enough to know she was Faerghian. The orange-haired boy's identity was lost on him, but Clarissa's conversation partner appeared almost too recognizable. Why, he could've been Count Galatea's son had Auberon not known any better. He definitely wasn't a cousin the blond had ever been introduced to, and surely a bastard would've been at least gossiped about. Maybe a distantly-related Fraldarius that got all of the Galatea and none of the Kellen in the looks department.

Whatever curiosity Auberon harbored over the lesson evaporated in the face of the familiar stranger, so much that he forgot to thank the Goddess for Her minor miracle of getting Lienna to class even before he had arrived. Then again, Derec had taken a while.

"Good morning," Auberon greeted with a respectful dip of his head as he approached the group, "Clarissa, I hope you'll introduce me to what look to be our classmates for this... exercise." His gaze trailed briefly over the trio, lingering on them in order of importance. He gave the fiery-haired male only enough of his attention to adequately size him up, offered a polite smile to his Housemate, and then set to work staring holes into his would-be relative's head as blatantly as he could get away with in polite company.

---

@Hero

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Kayden got out of bed bright and early, but once he got dressed and smoothed his perfect hair, he decided to go on a jaunt rather than immediately to the room they had been summoned to. He had time, and felt like a brisk walk on the grounds would clear his head for the day. He had much to think on, though thankfully Veronica was not one of those topics. She had been...relatively tame the last few times they had been within proximity to one another. Well, he pushed her out of his mind and reflected on the horse ride they had earlier. Jorah's obsession with hating him seemed to have been lightening up slightly, and though he hadn't had the chance to speak to Derec, Clarissa was a gem. He was honored to make her acquaintance. All of those present had been grand riders too. The Eagles might have less problems than the other two Houses, but they weren't as personable either except for himself. Hopefully they would be able to change that.

Kayden stopped himself, realizing he had been so lost in thought he had forgotten to wake up his team. Not that they were expecting him to, but he felt it was his responsibility. Cursing, he raced to the classroom and stepped in a minute or two shy of them starting, right when people were taking their seats and whispering to one another. He scanned the room and counted the Eagles, pleased when he realized they were all present. He made a point of searching for Rudolph, finding the diminutive student was present whilst simultaneously looking like they wanted to leap off a bridge rather than be here.

Same old, same old, then.

He made his way to the front of the classroom and found Clarissa, Albrecht, Alyeas, and Ezekial. He had not spoken much to the latter bunch, though Albrecht had been assigned to the Eagles. “Fair weather and good morning,” he said to them in greeting, not deigning to make any more conversation so as to focus on the board. The Geography professor had a detailed map of Magdred Way. The professor did not disappoint, the curves of the terrain and the foliage was well presented, letting Kayden get a good idea of the forward tactics they would use. He struck a professional poise, hand on his chin as he listened intently.

Volunteers? Was this a training exercise? Immediately he wanted to raise his hand and be thrown into danger, but once he absorbed the information, he realized it would only be a small cog in the wheel of the plan. There were people to be kept safe, and as much as he liked running in the vanguard, he knew it was good leadership and a showing of nobility to uphold lives over glory. He also knew he was trying to convince himself he was being pragmatic, when his conscience was what was truly making the decision for him. And if Kalliope and her knights weren't where the volunteers were going to be, then he would see if they might hang around the defenders before or after their advance.

Something did not sit right, however. He hoped this wasn't going to be a rehash of the last battle. Defending people's backs on a five to one ratio had not been his idea of a sound plan, but it was all he could have done at the time. At least he would have backup, now.