The image of the Headmistress burned in Lancet's mind as he headed back to his classroom. Trying to figure out what she was up to was a losing game. From what he knew, she was a master of conspiracy and schemes.
What Lancet could do now was focus on the problems in front of him: the Serpent Society and the Inter-Class Competitions.
However, when he arrived at the door of the classroom, pandemonium had taken over.
Miss Maecil stood at the front of the room, stiff and panicky while the rest of the students engaged in loud conversations about what they had just heard.
For Miss Maecil, she looked like she was about to have a panic attack. She had one hand braced against the edge of her desk, the other holding a stack of papers she had clearly been rereading far too many times.
Her expression still had its usual brightness, but it was strained now, stretched over something far more serious beneath it.
