Three days,
Three days until I sat in front of a panel of pompous robed relics who probably hadn't taught a class in decades. Three days to turn every scrap of credibility, every ounce of earned trust, and every underhanded trick I had into a case solid enough to keep my position.
Piece of cake, right?
I spent the first hour pacing like a deranged cat across my quarters. Notes were scattered across the desk, enchanted chalk etchings glowed faintly on the walls, and my tea had gone cold. Again. The Ring of Cernex pulsed subtly on my finger—an ever-present reminder that my "victory" at Black Stone Mountain had come with a higher cost: scrutiny.
I flicked open the system window again, eyes narrowing at the requirements of Courtroom Gambit. Maintain Class C's trust. Present a strong case. Navigate political agendas.
