The Imperial Academy's Registration Office was located in a three-story administrative building in the Commercial District, its gray stone facade bearing an engraved symbol above the door: an open book with a crossed sword.
The bureaucracy was absurd.
They entered and found enormous lines snaking through the main hall, dozens of people waiting, some for hours it seemed. Three service counters, but only two were open. The third had a sign: "break."
The employee at the active counter was a woman in her forties, her hair tied in a tight bun, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, an expression of someone who had stopped caring about life a decade ago.
Because of Isabela's house's priority, they didn't even wait in line. When they reached the front, the employee didn't even look up, just pushed a form.
"Name. Age. Intended specialization. Next."
"Wait," Haru tried.
"Form. Fill out. Return. Next."
