The dormitory had given him a brief stretch of quiet, but that did not last long. By the time Trafalgar reached Eryndor's class, the training fields were already awake. Wooden blades cracked against each other across the packed earth. Some students were stretching. Others were already trading light blows, warming their bodies before the lesson properly began. The air carried dust, sweat, and the metallic tang of practice weapons under the pale morning sun. It should have felt familiar. It did, in part. What had changed was the way people registered his presence once he stepped onto the field.
