Lucien found me while I was looking for a place to put the practice sword. The registration desk wanted both hands free for the papers. The floor was crowded. Leaning it against the wall made it slide toward the nearest student's ankle.
I caught it before anyone had a useful reason to complain.
"An unusual choice for you," a voice said.
Lucien Drakeveil stood beside the entrance with a slim folder beneath one arm. His coat sat neatly despite the warmth in the hall. He looked at the wooden blade, then at my hand, and gave me the sort of smile that made an observation sound like a greeting.
"It was available," I said.
"So are several better ones."
"Then they'll still be there when I need them."
He accepted that without agreeing. I remembered him from the game. Capable, disciplined, good at making other people's choices seem like the natural extension of his own.
His route had taught me to read the second half of an offer.
"Have you finished registering?" he asked.
"Nearly."
