From one castle to the other was a solid twenty-minute walk, at least, depending on where you were. And then from one of the coloured castles to the Central Castle – the castle in which the dining hall was housed – was fifteen minutes.


    That Central Castle stood, as its name indicated, in the centre of the other four, like a magnificent keep, three times as tall as the rest of them, and just as wide. A castle within four castles, with tall stone walls protecting all of it. It would have made for a terrifying fortress to conquer, and yet here it was, being devoted entirely to schooling.


    There was much to learn, and much that simply looking would teach him. This was not the ce that he had assumed it to be. When they named it an Academy, and told him that he was to be taught there, he''d imagined in his head a sword school of the type he would have dreamed of attending as a child, back in the vige, as he discussed such things with his friends.


    He imagined something like a temple, back then, arge space, hidden away on the top of the mountain, about the size of Greeves'' house, clean and simple, honed with the de.


    This was entirely different.


    This was like a small town.


    "YOU BASTARD!"


    And it came with all the instances of petnce that one would expect from a small town. Oliver had seen numerous such scuffles during his many little excursions – he still had yet to fully map out the entire Academy, forck of time – though this was the first time it was happening directly upon the path that he was walking.


    The professors seemed loath to interfere with such disputes. In fact, they seemed to encourage them. Oliver had a feeling that there was far more going on at this Academy than simply sses, though he had not yet been able to put his finger on quite what that was.


    Ahead of Oliver, two yellow-shirted students were grasping at each other, as though grappling. Beyond them, a group of more than twenty other yellow shirts stood, shouting towards the two arguing boys in some form or another.


    It was mid-day, and Oliver had his sword sheathed at his hip. It would be his first weapons training practice that afternoon, and he hadn''t known whether he would need his de or not, but he''d decided to bring it anyway.


    Oliver was forced toe to a stop, as the crowd – and the two arguing boys – took up the rest of the path that he''d been walking down. Oliver paused, resting his hand on his sword, merely observing. He still had plenty of time until his next ss, and he was curious about what they were up to.


    Behind them, he saw a wooden A frame, with hammers and discarded nails near it. It looked like the beginnings of a wall to a house. Maybe that''s exactly what it was.


    "Hey! Gras!" One of the yellow-shirted boys noticed Oliver, and pointed at therger boy – the one who seemed to be winning their little grappling match – in something that approached dismay.


    With a swift final pull, therger boy - he wasn''t particrlyrge, justrge enough to berger than the boy that he was fighting with – pulled swiftly on his opponents hands, dragging him towards him, then swiftly stepped out of his way, standing to attention, as he bowed to Oliver.


    The other boynded with a pained cry on the cold paving stones, with their sprinklings of light snow. Stay tuned for updates on empire


    Oliver continued to stare, despite the bow. The collection of yellow shirts beyond this lot were bowing as well. It seemed to finally rm Gras that Oliver remained there.


    Oliver continued to watch calmly, as the boy dragged himself up off the floor, cursing, before noticing Oliver, and forcing himself into a strict bow. "S-sorry, ser!"


    Ignoring him, Oliver asked a question of therger – and likely older – Gras. "What are you doing?"


    Gras shot a nce at the boy he''d been wrestling, noticing the scrape on his head with rm.


    "Oh… apologies, ser. It was just a minor disagreement."


    "Not that," Oliver said, pointing with a finger towards the building. "What''re you building?"


    The question washed away Gras'' growing panic, and reced it with puzzlement. "We''re setting up our store… We''ve already received permission from the professors, ser."


    "A store?" Oliver repeated thoughtfully. It really was like a town. Though he didn''t expect members of the Serving ss to be the type to run shops. "I wasn''t aware that the Academy had shops."


    That confused the boy even more. "Of course it does, ser… Most of them are concentrated around the Green Castle, but as long as we have permission we can put them up wherever."


    "And what type of things do these stores sell?" Oliver asked. He didn''t expect the students to be capable of making anything, not beyond baking, and the like. His experience of mechanisms was entirely through Greeves. Greeves bought things, and he resold them.


    The king of raw production – like gathering meat, and monster parts – that he had N had engaged in should have been impossible on Academy grounds.


    "Meat, monster parts…"


    And then those first words came out of Gras'' mouth, as though he was reading Oliver''s mind.


    "…gathered from the Academy''s forest. But then there''s also the armour and weaponry crafted by those in the smithing sses, and then potions by the alchemists, clothes by girls in fabrics sses... but surely you have heard such things before?"n/?/vel/b//jn dot c//om


    "I have not," Oliver said. "I have been here for a day and a half now, so I know entirely too little about everything. Your information has been useful, thank you, Gras."


    The boy stiffened when Oliver mentioned his name. Oliver smiled knowingly. There was more than one way to get a name, after all – one had merely need listen. "What type of shop are you and your friends constructing?"


    "We''ve amission from Lord Gargon for a tea house, ser… Though it was said to be a bookshop just a week ago, so it''s possible that he''ll change his mind once again."