The morning sun slanted through the tall windows of the training hall, casting faint golden lines across the stone floor.
Students filed in by the dozens, the sound of shoes scraping and hushed conversations filling the air.
Some were sharpening blades, others adjusting armor straps, but most were doing what nervous students always did, talking to kill the tension.
"What do you think it's gonna be this time?" a tall boy muttered to his friend, gripping the hilt of his longsword a little too tightly.
"Dunno," his friend shrugged. "They said teamwork, right? Probably some group sparring. Easy."
"Easy? This is Otto we're talking about," a girl nearby snorted, pushing a strand of red hair out of her face. "He doesn't know the meaning of easy."
Another boy leaned in, lowering his voice slighly.
"What if it's one of those dungeon runs? My cousin told me last year they threw people into a swamp with spirit beasts."
"That was Professor Aldric, not Otto," someone corrected quickly.
