Fort's shout sent a shockwave through the academy.
Those who had been peacefully napping jerked awake in alarm, and none more violently than old Gayle, who accidentally knocked over the cauldron he'd been using to brew fruit wine—a rare sight that spoke volumes about his panic.
"Fort, calm down and speak slowly," Blanche said, trying to keep a level head. Her face appeared composed, but her hands betrayed her—both were clenched tightly around the hilt of her Twin-Blade Scissors. The tension in her grip was so fierce, the knuckles had turned white.
Francis, in stark contrast, stretched lazily from his seat like someone rudely awakened from a pleasant dream. He gave Fort a mocking glance and drawled, "Fort, did you eat a box of nails and knock your brains loose? I mean seriously, out of everyone here, any of us might lose it and jump off a tower—but Alan? That guy's the last person I'd worry about."
Fort didn't respond.
