The elf graciously accepts the offer of the oat flour - there's enough apples to fry in butter, and more to fold into a kind of cobbler with a little extra work.

"Well, if my accent does not give it away, I can only explain that I am not from here."  He motions with little humor to his appearance - ash elves, historically, are most common in the southern regions of the Continent, especially in the Mandrarchy.  "I was nervous, out of my depth, and just followed the largest group for the best chance of, eh..." he frowns, puzzling something.  "...no, not staying hidden, more like...not being pointed out, I guess."

After a minute, he stands up straight as if he's forgotten something.  He turns and offers a hand sticky with cobbler dough.  "I am Amal, by the way.  Amal Dhenin of Therminadal."

Vaulda let out a low whistle of appreciation, looking back over to the mangled corpse. “Impressive. Anyone can shoot a bow with proper training. But grappling one on their own, impressive. Add that to the three boar we got and we can probably feed everyone.”

She looked to Xander, ”Have you seen him hunt before? How can you calculate on an unknown variable?” She was honestly curious, figuring odds was something she had no skill at but could be useful. She scratched at one of the welts on her leg before tugging te skit down in annoyance. Again.

Looking back to see Cal talking to other students, she continued with a nod to pantherakin. ”If they allow hunting and you’d like a second pair of eyes, I’d love to join you. Can’t tackle one of them but I’m not too bad a tracker and could probably learn a thing or two from you.”

Rion frowns at the carcass on the table, leaking some fluids onto the top and down on the floor.  "Well, yours is already cooked..." He glances up hopefully at Xander.  "Maybe Teach will still count it?  I mean, we could always use it for, like, later."  He scratches his head with a large hand.

"We'll have to see.  Even if the Instructor doesn't give us full credit, we still have the rest of the school year to catch up."  Xander closes one eye, looks up.  "An A is probably still within reach, assuming consistent on-time delivery of assignments moving forward and extra study time every week."

"Every week!" Rion stands and opens up the top buttons of his uniform in frustration.  "I'm too hungry to think about all that now."  As he says it, the connective hallway starts to trickle in the students of the upper classes.  Some peek in, grinning - perhaps they see themselves in your position, scrabbling to get a banquet ready in time for everyone.

You continue to put the finishing touches on the prep; most of Class Nine hurries in the kitchen, working in lines of food prep and finish for the meal (save Rellka, who since delivering the ox carcass with Rion and Xander, is no where to be seen). Xander clears his throat.  "To your question - I haven't seen Rion hunt previous to today, so I'll admit there's some fuzzy guesstimating on my part. But part of my training previous to this was situational and tactical assessments in addition to marksmanship. You won't always have the best information, but you have to assign the best number you can even when time is short."  He grips the handle of a pan and swishes the mixture of onions and spiced berries inside.  "Where I come from, it's all about the numbers."

"And hey, I'm game to hunt anytime!" Rion brought a cleaver down on a pumpkin, chopping it clean in half.  "Beats weekly extra study!"  He grins with large teeth.

"Howdy Amal," Cal responds, accepting the doughy hand with one of his own. "Th' name's Callicus Q. Thump, but you kin call me Cal."

There's a moment of silence as they're cleaning up (Cal would, of course, help with that extra work), but the Lapinkin finally speaks up again.

"All Ah know," Cal will say, at length, "Is that, from what Ah've seen? When folks come up to ya an' start makin' demands, ain't never gonna be a final demand 'til it's you sayin' there is, know what Ah mean?"

Cal locks sight with Amal for a brief moment, or at least as much as one can with Cal's heavy lidded gaze. Any slight moment of earnestness is quickly broken by a goofy grin and a pat on Amal's shoulder.

"Nice meetin' ya, pardner!"

Sylara had been quietly listening to the conversations going on, silently delegating the task of checking on the boar meat to Sapphire.

"Do you need help preparing the ox? I'd offer some of my spices, but I seem to have used them all up on the boar... I may have used too much. Either way, it should be edible. Probably. I'm Sylara Gimbel"

Sylara pauses for a second, searching her brain for the proper etiquette to the situation, but ultimately abandoning the futile task and speaking out her mind.

"Did you know Relka before coming here? Are you friends with her?"

Rion and Xander exchange glances before answering.  The pantherakin puts down his cleaver and stretches before planting his big hands on his hips as if posing as some sort of hero.

"Sylara Gimbel?  You the one cooking that boar? Gotta say, it's already got my mouth watering!" He grins. "Rion Does-Not-Fear - nice to meet ya!  As for the ox...well, not sure we're gonna be able to cook it in time."  He glances at it over his shoulder.

"Xander Morristand." The thrynn in glasses introduces himself.  "And Rion's correct.  The ox's current mass would require at least another three hours to prepare, which would put us well past the deadline in thirty minutes."  He stops, considers.  "I suppose we could store in the cave under here...cold enough in there to keep, especially with some salt."

He shakes his head, as if coming out from a daze.  "As for Rellka - I only know her family by reputation.  Even in the East, the Melfisse name carries weight."

Rion nods.  "Same for me.  We don't have all that many Houses in the Golden Plains, but even out in the sticks, we've heard the tales of Zell Melfisse."  He goes back to chopping up pumpkin flesh.  "The knight in black armor hurling magic and summoning devils - great stories, some of my favorites! Can't say I know his kids all that well.  Rellka included, even after this afternoon."

Xander seems to consider this, but doesn't comment.

A final rush of cut, sizzle, and roar of the hearth fire puts the finishing touches on the banquet, though still most of your classmates worry themselves as to whether it will be enough.  The clamor outside the kitchen has increased - indeed, when you poke your head into the cafeteria hall, all three classes have taken their seats, and the instructor table at the head of the room is fully attended as well.  Sapphire still rushes around the room putting finishing touches on the decorations, but to her credit she's managed to do a good job - rustic, if minimal, but the bright splash of the colors does much to brighten the room, and the charming decor on each table will set well the scene to come for the approaching meal.  Talk fills the hall to volume - old friends catching each other up on their weeks spent back home.  Rellka, still, is no where to be seen.

Class Nine concludes its assignment by walking out the dishes to the serving buffet.  Jesting whistles and applause welcomes the class as the plates of roasted boar, oat flour biscuits, boar and carrot stew, fried apples, drum and onion dumplings (some of the students managed to hook some fish from the coastline), and spiced apple cobbler come out in sequence next to the stacks of dishes and flatware.  As you finish setting up the food, Instructor Oren walks down from the teacher's table.  An easy smile graces his face.

"Well done, everyone!" He scans the class; if he notices the absence of one student, he doesn't betray it. "Now, please stand in a line at the back of the hall - Principal Stellan will let you know when you can sit."  He looks over the food and gives a quick thumbs up before jogging back to the other instructors.  "Looks delicious!"

Rion squirms in his uniform as he sidles up next to Xander in line.  "Aww, man, we gotta wait even longer now? I'm starving!"
The nyctikin huffs and poofs her feathers out in frustration.  "Do you think the Instructor noticed?  I mean, he has to know how many of us are in his class, right?"
"I-I tried my best with the decorations!" Sapphire's ears wiggle.
"I'm not talking about that." The scorn from the nyctikin's voice makes the gold elf wince.
The thrynn with the green bandana cracks his neck.  "Would you quit complaining? Let's all try to get through the first day, okay? Gods."
The nightjar audibly scoffs, but doesn't answer.  Amal shifts uncomfortably.

At the center of the instructor table, an aged man in a navy blue uniform adorned with hanging medals stands up from his seat.  His hair and beard are the color of steel, his features sharp.  The room gradually quiets without his asking - the mantle of authority fits him perfectly.  Without clearing his throat, he speaks.  His voice fills the room with little effort.

"Good afternoon.  If I have not yet introduced myself to you, I am Principal Walder Stellan. It is my distinct pleasure to welcome you, new students, returning students, and staff, to another year at Spearpoint."  A round of applause answers, then quickly subsides.  "I understand that we are all weary from our travels and eager to see what our newest arrivals, Class Nine, have made for our introductory banquet ceremony.  I hope you will indulge me a few announcements, and some advice as we head into our coming year.

"The first announcement I have is a welcome to our newest instructor."  He opens his arm to his right.  At the end of the instructor table, next to your own Instructor Oren, the ophidikin you noticed earlier on the campus field stands.  Their gaze is just as intense, almost unblinking.  It's clear beneath their uniform is a landscape of muscle.  "Ibex Arrabett comes to us from Redgate. They'll be the home instructor for Class Six, and the Survival Seminar instructor.  I expect you will welcome them as warmly as anyone else on campus."  The scattering of applause suggests the contrary. The instructor sits.

"The second announcement concerns Spearpoint Town."  For this, the Principal fishes a small card from his jacket. "A tea shop, The Cozy Caravan, has opened in town and is looking forward to serving hot tea, biscuits, and cakes.  Additionally, The Split Wick will continue it's tradition of student discounts for the first semester of the new year."  A small murmur of excitement and pumped fists among the crowd.  Principal Stellan stows the card.

"Now. Some advice."  He waits for the room to fully quiet again.  "We stride into this new year amid unsteady ground.  It is no secret that King Rimer is in ill health.  We all hope for his quick recovery.  It is also well known that there's a swath of opinions on the spread of the rail lines from our eastern neighbor, Crowsend, and the effects that it has on communities large and small."  A small pause, allowed.  "We do not have the luxury of ignoring the troubles that exist in our time.  We learn and grow in the soil of these troubles.  To pretend otherwise would be worse than folly.  So, to this, I offer the following advice."

The Principal scans the room, as if trying to meet the eyes of each student.  "Listen. Watch. Absorb all the knowledge and context you can.  We work in hope that cooler heads will prevail, that peace will mortar the cracks between the Continent.  But we prepare ourselves for the possibility that the world will need the educated, the determined, the clever, and the decisive in the moment when peace fails."

"See yourself in that role. Hone yourself for that purpose.  Read the words above the arch to our campus, and rise to that challenge - upon your shoulders, the world you build. For those of you who have only just joined us, you may see yourself as individuals.  When dawn breaks tomorrow, that ends.  You will be students of Spearpoint.  Know the responsibility.  Do your best.  Be your best.  Exceed."

The Principal nods at the responding applause. As it dies, he finishes.  "Thank you.  And now, to dinner.  Welcome again, one and all, to Spearpoint Military Academy!"

After talking with Rion and Xander, Vaulda was feeling better with at least this small portion of those that followed the Melfisse woman. She’d try to keep that in mind when dealing with the rest of their class, though the Melfisse still wasn’t going to get her respect unless she earned it. She helped to the best of her ability with the finishing touches, which mainly consisted of staying out of the way or carrying things.

They settled into place in line and listened to the speeches, the distinct lack of a certain classmate was odd. Was she that ashamed of how poorly she led? She should be, big speeches but leaving everyone else to do the work. Either way, she was pulled from her thoughts by the serious tone of the headmaster. Whether it was due to the migratory nature of her people or her time with the mercenaries, the idea of war didn’t phase her, it was something for others to deal with. That she was in a school to learn to become one of the others that dealt with that was something she was still getting used to.

At the end of the speech she joined the others, helping to set up the buffet line so everyone could be fed. The boar did smell really good, so did the apple items, though she was feeling a bit petulant over those. She hoped there’d still be some left by the time class nine was allowed to eat. Even if they were made by the other team.

When she could, she made her way to stand near Sapphire. ”You did good, the hall looks nice.” Vaulda scuffed her shoe on the floor, in the back of her mind she could hear her mother telling her that wasn’t enough of an apology. ”Sorry I called you Sparkles. And sorry I was kind of rude. I thought you were going to be like that Melfisse woman. But you weren’t. You got stuff done and didn’t just yell at people.” It grated on her to apologize, because it meant she was wrong. But she was willing to admit it when she was.

Sylara wasn't as quick as Vaulda to dismiss the absence of Rellka Melfisse. The auburn haired student had made it a point to get acquainted with the daughter of the Melfisse family as soon as she heard they were gonna be in the same Class. After everything that had unfolded, she had a lot of mixed feelings about it. On one hand, she had to admit to herself that her motivations were purely self-serving. She was after Rellka for her family's connections to the library, and hoped that by befriending the girl she could get access to knowledge that would otherwise be far away from her reach. That plan had gone overboard as soon as Rellka started lashing out to the other students, and she couldn't in good conscience look the other way.

However, now that Rellka seemed to have driven everyone away, she couldn't help but feel a bit sorry for her, and somewhat guilty about how Sylara may be part of the problem too. She was probably used to people only reaching out to her with ulterior motives, so her distrust may be understandable, if unjustified. Of course, this was all conjecture, but didn't make Sylara's feelings any less real even if she was aware of the possibility of all that being in her own head.

Once the opportunity presented itself, Sylara tried to get the attention of Instructor Oren. If she succeeded, she would ask their instructor bluntly: "Rellka is nowhere to be seen. Is she alright?"

The gold elf listened quietly to Vaulda as they stood in line for the buffet.  She didn't yell, true - she knew well enough from Father's example how well that worked, dodging constant thunderstorms - but she didn't stand up as any kind of leader, either.  Not like the people she read about in Father's study, in the books Mother didn't like.  Had she thought it would be that easy?  That to wear a mask was to have it fit?  Her cheeks flushed.

"Thanks," she said, a little flatly.  "I'm..."  She trailed off.  What?  Sorry? Sad?  Wonderful.  Her first day at this prestigious school, and she can't even express herself properly.  If she lasts the full year, it'll be Handin's blessing.

"...glad it worked out."  Her ears twitch, and she placed a scoop of fried apples on her empty plate.

Instructor Oren, walking back from the buffet table with a plate of food, stopped as Sylara asked him about the absent student.  His expression is surprised at first - he scans the cafeteria, steps out of the way of passing students.  "Hm."

The Instructor closed his eyes.  A small crease appeared between his brows.  After a second he opened his eyes again, his expression clear.

"She's here," Instructor Oren said.  "Talking to Principal Stellan."  He nodded with his head towards the Instructor Table - indeed, Rellka looked to be in an animated, pleasant conversation with the Academy administrator.  She must have only just entered the room and made directly for him.

"I hear she lead some students in bringing in a hair ox." The smile on the Instructor's face is small, placid.  "I'm sure there's still a lot everyone can learn from each other about leadership.  Can I count on you to do your part, Sylara?"

Sylara was surprised to see Rellka already in the room. Talk about timing. At the comment from her instructor about the hunt, she couldn't completely supress a look of incredulity, but she quickly managed to replace it for a pleasant smile. Least she could do was to try and make the credit for the ox to go where it belonged.

"Rion and Xander, I heard. The two of them took it down on their own, apparently. After Rellka lead them to it, of course. I was quite impressed when I heard the tale!"

At the question, her smile only brightened. "Of course Instructor! That's what I'm here for!"

Cal stands firmly and proudly during the speech. It's a little difficult to not be fidgety, as seeing everything laid out before the banquet hall causes Cal to swell with pride for having participated in putting together such a feast. Still, he manages, listening to the so-called Principal Stellan offer words of announcement and advice for the hall and Class Nine at large.

Cal's face sets a bit more firmly at news of Rimer's illness. It was true, he had heard the rumors from passing travelers back home, but it was one of those things you just never really put too much energy towards considering at the time. They said that King Rimer was the one who united the disparate peoples of the north and pushed the Mandrarchy out of everybody's homes, which Cal, for one, was thankful for. Cal would say a quick prayer under his breath for the health of the king.

After the speech, as Vaulda finds Sapphire and gives her apology, Cal would be seen ambling by, large bowl of stew in one hand and spoon in the other. He pushes around some boar and grabs a hearty bite of carrots as he beams brightly at the two women.

"Well heck, look at y'all, best friends already!" He'll raise the bowl of stew as if in a toast.

"Ta friendship!"

Valuda gave a sheepish smile at Cal’s toast. ”You know what they say, enemy of my enemy.” She muttered the reasoning, but her heart wasn’t in it. The elf really wasn’t as bad as she originally assumed. With her apology made, Vaulda focused on getting her food. Boar, stew, apples, samples of everything filled her plate. Her eyes were probably larger than her stomach but she didn’t want to miss out on anything, and she was quite hungry.

Looking around the room for a place to sit, she noticed Sylara talking to Professor Oren. Odd. But she had to come to accept everyone had their own way of doing things. She didn’t notice the nasty blonde, not at all caring about the Principal and more focused on eating. Finding a seat, she settled onto the bench among the other students, a spot with enough room for her fellow Melfisse rejects. Despite her instincts, she tried to be friendly, offering a nod to her neighbors before digging in.

Not bold or crazy enough to try to insert herself in the conversation between Rellka and the Principal, Sylara put a pin on trying to get closer to the Melfiste heir and went back to the group she had been working with, a cheery smile on her face. She reached for some of the apple-based dishes, either not planning to eat anything else or not caring particularly about eating the meal in the traditional order.

"Things turned out pretty well! Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves. Can't wait to see what training will be like"

Sapphire takes some of the spiced apples and a few of the sea oat quick bread before finding a seat among the Cal, Vaulda, and Sylara.  Iapeton and Rion soon join them, their plates piled high with steaming portions of the boar.  All around, the cafeteria seems to be in good spirits - conversation fills the hall; somewhere, a group of students start singing a song before breaking it up halfway through due to laughing themselves to tears.  A passing student from an upper class passes by your table and pats Sylara on the shoulder - "Hey, nice work, new class," before walking on with their food.

"To friendship," she replies, following Cal's call for a toast by raising a glass of cider.  Iapeton raises his mug and nods in assent.

"Ta fwendsscip!" Rion roars with a grin, his mouth stuffed with a huge bite of meat.  He swallows, washes it down with three long gulps from his drink.  "I'm lookin' forward to hittin' the sparring room.  Weights, weapons-" he smashes his fist his into his hand.  "-can't wait!  Hey, big guy, we oughta go a couple rounds - I bet we'd do great as sparring partners, whaddya say?"

Iapeton sips from his mug and gives a slow nod.  "Both strong.  Sounds good."  The Trogg motions to Sylara with a hand.  "Saw you speaking with the Instructor.  Everything okay?"

Back up at the teachers' table, Instructor Oren has returned to his seat next to Instructor Arrabett and the woman with the jeweled eye-patch.  Rellka finishes her discussion with the Principal, and with practiced grace makes her way to the buffet table to gather her dinner.  Along the way, a few of the upper class students pay her a visit, often with a quick head bow and an offered hand.  Even in the student body, other noble Houses cannot help but curry favor, it seems.  When Rellka does sit, she does so with Xander and the boy with the green bandana.  The ash elf and the nightjar are close by at another table with some of the others of Class Nine.

Sapphire's ears perk up.  "Uhm, Cal," she says.  "When you were talking to the ash elf earlier, you got this...look."  There's a struggle to find the right phrase on her face.  "Did he say something?"

Sylara doesn't say 'to friendship' when the toast is prompted, not wanting to speak with her mouth full, but raises her glass echoing the sentiment.

At Iapeton's question, she quickly responds: "Oh, yeah, everything is fine. I didn't see Rellka, and was simply asking Instructor Oren if he knew where she went. He pointed her out to me"

Vaulda's response earns her a playful shoulder-check from Cal, who smiles happily at everyone else joining in as well. As he returns to his meal, however, tipping the bowl to his mouth and slurping up the broth and carrots, the words of Rion to Iapeton cause him to smirk a little into his bowl. He glances over at Rion, getting the first good look at him since he crashed into the kitchen hauling a giant slab of freshly-slain meat.

With bowl before face as it is, Cal almost doesn't recognize that Sapphire is addressing him. He sputters a bit into his bowl before setting it down with some haste and wiping his mouth.

"Hm?!" He blinks a few times and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "Oh, Amal? Nawwwwwww," Cal drawls it out, maybe a tad bit too long. He glances for a moment down at his bowl of stew, which was now devoid of broth and carrots, leaving mostly a layer of boar chunks at the bottom.

"He seems like a nice a'nough feller," he'd continue, catching Rion's attention and nudging the bowl of meat a few inches towards him in offer before turning his own focus back to Sapphire. "Ah guess 'e jus' reminded me a' some stuff Ah'd kinda came here to not hafta think 'bout no more."

Cal's quiet for just a moment, and then he shrugs and chuckles, snatching up a piece of bread he'd set nearby and taking a hearty chomp before smiling genially at Sapphire. "So whut brought you all the way out 'ere ta Spearpoint?"

Rion takes the bowl graciously and continues to dig in, plates piling up in stacks between he and Iapeton both as if they're already in some unspoken eating contest.

The brief cloud passes over the gold elf's face - ivy crawling up the dead facade of the House entrance porch all the way up to the forgotten belvedere - before she shakes it away.  A dab of bread sops up some of the spiced apple sauce before she pops it into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"My Father and Mother sent me here to-" she swallows, thinking. Hadn't she rehearsed this?. "-to, uhm.  Get a wider perspective  of the world outside of the Pale Woods."  Sapphire glances around the table, as if to check to see how her answer is being judged.

"Pahl Wuus!" Rion says loudly. He pounds his chest with a fist and clears his mouth.  "That's a far shout!  The only place I've heard of up there is Cape Candlepoint."  He bites another half of a roll and wads it into his cheek.  "Best swimmers, cadets at Candlepoint, they say.  Bet they can't fight better than us, though, am I right? Ha!"  He opens his mouth to finish off the roll, but Iapeton neatly snatches it away with two fingers and devours it.

Sapphire nods.  "That...sounds right. There's not many people left in the Woods anymore." She looks around the room.  A familiar heaviness drapes about her shoulders - the sight of those happy faces, excited, animated. Even here, around her own table as her classmates finish their plates (or fight for thirds and fourths) - she should feel some flicker of the same, shouldn't she?  Then why does she feel so distant, so alone?

The feeling threatens to overwhelm her; the chill makes her hands hurt, her chest ache.  She thinks to her very first words on the campus - that folly attempt to take charge, to be someone different, to be the person she's expected to be - and her cheeks burn.  But before she gives in, she looks about the table again.  The happy faces, her classmates eating with her, clinking glasses, asking questions.  Maybe there is still time.

"I suppose we're all in a similar situation, yes?" she asks.

Iapeton neatly arranges his used utensils and plates.  "Just about, yeah. Life on Deygradera wasn't looking much sunnier, so." The trogg shrugs.

Rion leans back, folding his large arms behind his mane. "Island life not all it's cracked up to be, huh? I hear you, pal. You'd think livin' in the Golden Plains would have some kinda shine to it, but anymore it's all House dignity this and resource acquisition that..." He mimes 'blah blah blah' with his hand.  "Gimme a break. Here's hopin' I can learn what really matters here: muscle against muscle!"

Sapphire's expressions cause Cal's own to soften somewhat as he regards her. If she looks at him, he'll offer his best attempt at a comforting smile of agreement to her question. When Rion speaks up, however, Cal can't help but chuckle anyway.

"Yer Golden Plains sounds like a whole sep'rit place from mine," he'll remark with a wry smile. "Ah can't say as Ah know who our House Lord even is!"

Sylara seems somewhat surprised to hear the hardships that seemed to have moved the others towards the academy. It's not that she was unaware that other places had troubles, but the peaceful life at her family's farm often made her forget how privileged she was. Peace seemed to be an unusual commodity these days. Not without a degree of survivor's guilt, Sylara decides that it's best if she is open and honest about her situation. Hopefully it wouldn't create any grudges.

"My family's farm has been relatively spared by the current ongoing conflicts. I'm here because I believe my talents would be better honed at the academy than harvesting potatoes back at home"

"Are you sure?" The haughty voice from the end of the table is unmistakable.  "There's value in a good cook.  My compliments to your skill - it made a...decent meal.  With some practice you might rise to the level of a House chef one day."

Xander and the boy in the green bandana stand just behind her, as if waiting to exit the hall. Rellka's expression never thaws from icy disdain, her voice dipped in most imperious poison. "Rion of House Does-Not-Fear; you did well following orders. I expect you'll make something of yourself here.  As long as you keep yourself to a certain standard.

"To the rest of you, I expect more.  Three boars, apples, and oats may be an acceptable first attempt for our Instructor, but it is insufficient to me."

"Seems you ate it, all the same." A quiet anger darkens Iapeton's tone.

She scoffs.  "A great leader does not let poor rations halt the march.  I knew you would find enough to feed the campus for a single meal.  My team found enough to stock the larder for weeks."  She straightens her uniform.  "There will be improvement, or by my honor as a Melfisse I will see you cast from the academy."

Rellka turns on her heel and strides from the cafeteria, the other two students at her flanks.  From the teacher's table at the front, Instructor Oren chews thoughtfully at a golden roll, watching with eyes like the void.

Vaulda kept her ears open, even as she continued to stuff her face. She really did grab too much food but being wasteful was rude. She joined in the toast, mouth still full but the enthusiasm was there. Maybe these people weren’t so bad after all. With certain exceptions.  Rion and Iapetons agreeing to spar made her wonder just what the school policy was on betting. She could bring Xander into it, he seemed to like numbers. No, maybe best to not make trouble her first year. Next year, let her get a feel for the academy first.

It was odd, hearing them all talk about their homes. About a place rather than a people. She wasn’t sure if the idea had an appeal or not. To have the same vista greet you each day. Shrugging off the thought for another time, she began on the spiced apples. The scent had been tempting her the entire time but she wanted to save them for last.

The spiced fruit turned to ash on her tongue as she heard that voice. Her eyes narrowed at the blonde, as she forced herself to finish chewing. Damn her for ruining dessert. Her grip tightened on her fork, no, wrong balance. Setting it down she reached for her belt, letting her fingers brush across the hilt of her knife. The blonde wasn’t worth it. Vaulda had a chance here, she wasn’t going to waste it.

In the silence that followed Rellka’s exit, Valuda spoke loud enough for her companions to hear. ”Funny that. Her missing a key word there. She seems to think she’s a leader, but I have yet to see her lead. Just talk big and prance about repeating her family name like some trained bird. I don’t care who her family is, everyone at this table has proven worth with their work. Seems to me she’s jealous to find her own lacking.”

She raised a glass in toast. ”To those that prove their worth and don’t rest on the work of others.”

Cal's eyes widen at Sylara when she refers to her family's farm. He's excited to hear about the life of another farmer, even as the news of her farm's fortune hits him like a blow to the sternum. He smiles through it, almost happy for the interruption as Rellka once again makes her grand re-debut.

As the young woman struts away, Cal can't help but chuckle. Ladling a chunk of carrot, somehow missed in Iapeton and Rion's eating frenzy, into his spoon, Cal shuts an eye and tilts his head as he lifts the spoon up and begins tilting it back with his other hand, pulling back the spoon head like a catapult set to make launch of its vegetation payload. Vaulda's words catch his attention, however, causing him to lower the utensil and listen to her instead. At the conclusion of her speech, he'll raise his own mug in accord.

"Ta all bein' in this mess ta'gether!"

Sylara watches Rellka intently as she speaks. Her smile is almost unwavering, only a slight twitch that most students wouldn't even notice betraying her internal annoyance.

When Rellka gets up to leave, she calls out to her. "Thank you for the kind words. I'm happy you enjoyed my cooking. Hopefully I can show you why I came to the academy during the training sessions!"