The classroom was quiet.
Not the expectant silence of a class hanging onto their instructor's every word—but the sluggish, dull kind that came from boredom. From students who had already decided this was going to be another long, uneventful lecture.
Lindarion wasn't one of them.
Unlike the others, who were half-slumped in their seats or fighting back yawns, he sat still—eyes fixed on the massive, aged map spread across the front of the room.
He didn't know much about human geography here…
And if there was one thing Lindarion cared about as much as magic, it was understanding the world he lived in.
Power wasn't just about magic—it was about knowing where power was held.
At the front of the room, an older man adjusted his glasses, stacking a few dusty scrolls on his desk before looking up at the class.
He wasn't particularly intimidating.
His robes were simple, practical, without the unnecessary details of nobles who wanted to look important.
But his eyes?
