Inside the washroom, Jon stared at his own reflection. His body was bare save for a towel wrapped around his waist. Soaked, his tangled hair and beard dripped bathwater.

In front of the mirror lay a gleaming granite countertop with a bar of scented soap, a bowl of shaving utensils, and sticks of polished wood with clustered bristles on one end which served as toothbrushes. There was even a sink with a concave basin and copper faucet.

While most commoners lived in conditions akin to medieval times, the rich and powerful had access to more modern amenities.

Jon grabbed the bowl of shaving cream on one hand and the shaving brush on the other. He applied the cream to his beard, entirely covering it in white foam before taking a sharp razor. The work was tedious and slow so as to avoid any nicks and scrapes. First the cheeks, above and under the lips, the chin, and finally under the jaw. Done with that, he used another towel to wipe his face clean of any leftover foam and loose strands of hair.

Face clean and smooth, his defined jawline in full display, Jon looked a bit more presentable now. There were still some faint dark circles under his hazel eyes, but there was nothing he could do about that. He would end up doing more harm than good by trying to cover it up with make-up.

What he could do something about, though, was his matted hair. Trimming it close to the scalp with a pair of scissors would take way too long if he hoped to not make it uneven. Barbers were also an option, but he couldn’t afford to spend the little coin he had on something this trivial. So he settled for shaving it off completely as well.

When finally done, Jon still had the work of cleaning out all the hair from over the countertop.

He came out of the washroom donning a pair of beige breeches that reached down to his ankles, brown leather boots, and a black waistcoat over a white tunic.

Lazing around in one of the armchairs, Aeron was the only one in the room. He turned around to look. “By the lord, you probably lost weight after that shaving,” he commented with a laugh. “Congratulations, though. You no longer look like a wild man.”

“Thanks. Where are the other two, by the way?”

“Nevil said he’d be waiting for us down at the entrance hall. As for our foreign friend, I haven’t seen him all day. At this point, I’m inclined to believe that Bella finally murdered him. Or at least kicked some sense into his head. Lord knows he needs it.”

Jon nodded in agreement. It had been almost a week since he arrived at the academy, time which he spent mostly reading about the academy’s rules as well as getting acquainted with his roommates. Aeron was friendly enough while Nevil, who somehow managed to get assigned to their room, was way too friendly.

As for Deon, Jon had come across his fair share of racist and elitist people, but the foreigner was the first misogynist he had met in this world. It felt refreshing to see a prejudice that didn’t target him for a change.

Aeron stood up with a yawn. “So, are you ready to go?”

“Yes.” Jon reached inside his wardrobe for a black robe, the academy’s uniform. On the chest, over the heart, was embroidered the academy’s sigil. Both the lapel and trims were colored red, representing not only his dormitory but also the year he enrolled. The right sleeve had a badge with two blades clashing while the other had a badge with the seven branches of elemental magic.

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Both badges were supposed to be at shoulder height, but Jon’s robes were so large that they were closer to the elbows. The piece of clothing was obviously meant for someone much larger than him. The clerk responsible for handing out the uniforms told him that there were no robes that would fit his proportions.

Jon had no doubt that it was a lie. The clerk simply didn’t want to bother getting someone to tailor a proper uniform for him. Even though he knew it, Jon said nothing. Better to accept this little bit of indignity than to risk his whole future at the academy by complaining.

After putting on the robe, his hands disappearing inside the sleeves, he picked up a book he left on his bed and headed for the door. Aeron followed closely behind him. The two soon arrived at the entrance hall where Nevil and Bella waited for them, both sitting at the edge of the fountain.

With one hand on Jon’s shoulder, Aeron called out to the other two, “Hey guys, I bet you a penny you can’t figure who this is.”

Nevil’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow, you look great, Jon. Just like a Tarsurian monk. I don’t think they accept half-breds, though. Besides, you’re already a knight-in-training, and I think that’s a much better position... ”

Even Bella had something to say, “I’m impressed, you look much better.”

“Thanks. Shall we go to the feasting hall?” he asked, avoiding Nevil as the nobleman tried to pat his bald head.

“Sure, but what about Deon?” Aeron asked. “There’s still been no signs of him today.”

“Good. Hopefully, he has already been expelled from the academy,” said Bella.

The group walked out into the academy grounds. The last bit of sunlight had already gone away, the streets were illuminated by a series of lightstones placed alongside the curbs. The trees and grass were perfectly trimmed while some of the benches and buildings still exuded a faint smell of fresh paint.

Nevil had been right when he claimed that things would settle down as the beginning of the school year approached. Compared to when he arrived, the place was now much calmer. There were barely any servants to be seen in the streets while most of the guards were already around the feasting hall.

The First Feast, according to Nevil’s unrequested explanation, was a yearly tradition to welcome the new students and formally introduce them to the teaching staff. It was always held the night before the start of classes, and students were obligated to attend.

The feasting hall itself was located at the center of the academy, and could very well be considered its most important location. While the teaching staff was certainly important, what made the war academies invaluable were the cultivation resources that were distributed among their students. And this took place at the hall where students had breakfast, lunch, and dinner every day of the school year.

The building itself was as large as the arena. Rather than walls, it had long panels of glass that reached from the floor all the way to the ceiling. The panoramic view from inside was only blocked by the occasional marble column.

Guards were placed at each of its entrances, and Jon even spied a few Ashen inside. After the duke’s castle, he wagered this was the most secure place in the whole city.

As the group approached the entrance, a familiar voice called out, “Wait!” With tousled hair and disheveled clothing under his fluttering robe, Deon ran towards them.

Bella groaned in frustration. She actually hoped that he had been expelled.

“Sorry, lost track of time,” he said with an apologetic smile that Jon had never seen before on the foreign nobleman’s face. Another surprise was that his breath smelled of alcohol and his clothes of cheap perfume.

“Where were you the whole day?”

“Taking care of myself, which I should have done much earlier.” Deon tucked his tunic into his breeches and tried to straighten out his raven hair. “Everything that happened back home took its toll on me. So I went to the city looking for a place where I could get professional help. You know, to get the poison sucked out.”

Bella groaned even louder.