I was on my way back from the main building when I heard someone yelling near the Class B training ground.
Yelling, then laughing.
Mocking.
I wouldn't have cared—until I heard that voice.
"Look at you. Gods, are all of Class C this pathetic?"
Felix.
Of course it was Felix.
And of course, he'd found a new way to attract disaster before noon.
I turned on my heel.
The Class B training ground was supposed to be off-limits for my students, but clearly, someone forgot that detail—or more likely, ignored it. I arrived just in time to see Felix trying to explain something, hands flailing as he backed away from a man twice his size.
Gregor. The Class B groundskeeper.
I recognized the idiot.
He used to be a third-rate mercenary until the Academy gave him a broom and told him he was a professional.
Now he thought he owned the place.
"And what the hell are you even doing here?" Gregor barked. "You lot lose your way again? Or did your babysitter forget to leash you today?"
