For a while, we just sat there, listening to the music and laughter drifting across the square. I watched the crowd pass by—families, merchants, performers—until a strange feeling crept in. Some smiles lingered a moment too long. Others never quite reached the eyes.
I frowned, unsettled, then shook my head. Nothing, I told myself. Just too much sun, I figured.
"Alright," I said suddenly, standing and stretching my arms above my head. "If we sit here any longer, we'll melt into the stones."
Katherine glanced up at me. "And what exactly does that mean?"
"It means," I said, grinning, "that the day's still young."
Roland followed my gaze as it drifted past the edge of the square, toward the pale rise of stone beyond the banners. The academy stood there quietly, almost pretending it wasn't watching us.
"You're thinking about it," he said.
"I'm always thinking about it," I replied.
Katherine groaned softly. "Arthur…"
"Just to look," I insisted. "We were good all morning. Besides, when was the last time we went anywhere without a plan?"
"That's exactly the problem," she muttered, though she was already getting to her feet.
We didn't say it out loud, but we all felt the same pull—the academy sat just beyond the square, its pale stone walls half-hidden by banners and climbing ivy. Slipping back inside felt like a challenge whispered directly to us.
"Just for a minute," I said, already moving. "We won't touch anything important."
Katherine hesitated at once. "Arthur, that's not—"
"—allowed," Roland finished for her, sighing. Still, he followed, ever the loyal shadow.
We ducked through a side gate we knew too well, past the old fig tree and along the narrow corridor that smelled faintly of chalk and oiled wood. The training grounds lay quiet in the late morning sun, empty save for a rack of practice blades resting against the wall.
Wooden swords. Harmless. Perfect.
I grabbed one and turned, brandishing it with what I hoped looked like heroic flair. "Defend yourselves!"
Roland snorted but took one anyway, settling into a stance far too proper for pretend. Katherine accepted hers last, holding it awkwardly, like it might bite.
"I don't know how you always convince us into these things," she muttered, though she was smiling despite herself.
We spilled back into the streets, laughing too loudly, blades tapping and clacking as we dueled imaginary foes between alleyways. I leapt onto a low crate, declaring myself protector of the realm, while Roland played along just enough to keep me honest, parrying my swings and steering me away from startled pedestrians. Katherine lagged behind, cheeks pink, but every now and then she surprised us with a quick strike that sent us both scrambling.
It was during one of those scrambles that we nearly collided with a familiar figure.
Professor Goodwill stood in the shade of an archway, hands folded behind his back, one silver brow already raised. His eyes flicked from one wooden sword to the next.
"Well," he said mildly, "this is a sight."
We froze.
Roland straightened at once. Katherine looked ready to vanish into the stones. I opened my mouth, already rehearsing excuses that tumbled over one another.
Professor Goodwill studied me for a long moment—then his expression softened, just a touch.
"Running about the city with training blades is quite against regulation," he said. Then, after a pause, "But just on this day… I believe I can turn a blind eye."
Relief flooded through me.
He leaned closer, voice lowering conspiratorially. "You'll save me a slice of your mother's pie, won't you?"
I grinned. "The biggest one."
He chuckled and waved us on. "Off with you, then. Before I change my mind."
We didn't need telling twice.