Lucavion walked without any particular destination.
His stomach, at least, had found purpose.
Warm bread, eggs, roasted vegetables, two portions of meat, and something Mireilla had insisted was far too sweet for breakfast had settled comfortably enough that the hunger tormenting him earlier felt like a problem belonging to another man entirely.
The Academy certainly knew how to feed its students.
Considering the amount of money flowing through the institution, anything less might have constituted theft.
