“Have you learned nothing from what happened back at your home?” Aeron asked, somewhat incredulously.

“Only that I should adhere to courtesans from now on. No one cares if you fuck them or not. That’s what they are for, after all...”

A group of female students strolled past Jon and the others, among them the raven-haired woman who beat Jon at the Squire’s Tourney. Elina, if he recalled the name correctly. She took a quick glance at Deon and continued on her way, a playful smirk on her face.

“...but I can always make an exception for a lowborn,” he said, eyes lingering on Elina’s figure as she and her companions entered the hall.

“Unbelievable. You, me, and Jon. All of our problems have to do with someone, somewhere in time, putting their cocks where they weren’t supposed to. And you choose to ignore that fact. At least Bella will have her wish granted, then. You’ll be expelled before long.”

Deon waved a dismissive hand after adjusting his clothes. “Stop being dramatic, I simply needed to unwind a little.” He then led the way into the hall.

Shining like a midday sun, countless lightstones at the ceiling lit up the place. Thousands of students were separated into seven long tables, each one decorated in accordance with the dormitory colors. Goblets, plates, and utensils were all colored red at the leftmost table followed by orange, yellow, green, cyan, blue, and finally violet at the rightmost table.

From a simple glance, it was possible to notice the segregation among the students. While there weren’t any explicit rules ordering so, the nobles were all located close to the high table at the end of the hall. The rest, meaning the commoners, were all further away, a noticeable gap at each table between the two groups.

The teaching staff sat at the high table, all of them facing towards the students. Some of them looked to be as young as the student themselves while others had heads full of thining white hair. One woman, in particular, her face filled with wrinkles, sat perfectly still with both eyes closed, and Jon wondered if she had died.

To his surprise, sitting together at the teacher’s table were two familiar faces. Dressed in a black robe, the man had dark brown hair that reached up to his ears. The woman, on the other hand, had long blonde hair and was donning a white robe. Jon immediately recognized them as the duo from the arena’s entrance, the same ones who measured his age and cultivation.

Deon was the first of the group to take a seat. To his right, Jon settled the book he had been carrying atop the table, a hardcover tome on the history of modern cultivation. If he had no choice but to attend this event, then he might as well make some use of the time. Aeron sat to Deon’s left, followed by Nevil and Bella, who wanted to keep her distance from the foreign nobleman.

They had barely settled down on their chairs when a servant came along with a bottle of wine, filling up their goblets. Another servant served them all sorts of appetizers ranging from pastries and caramel-dipped fruits to spicy rolls and chicken cubes, all of them delicious. It had been years since the last time Jon ate something he hadn’t both hunted and cooked.

Deon and Aeron were more interested in the wine, with the first one downing a full goblet in an instant. Nevil and Bella were much more restrained by comparison, only taking a sip from their drinks.

“How did you even pay for it?” Aeron asked while a servant replenished Deon’s goblet. “I thought you said your mother left you penniless in the streets.”

“No, I said she would have done so if not for my grandfather. In the same way that he arranged to have me studying here, he’s also providing me with a monthly stipend for my living expenses.”

“And you chose to spend it on a whorehouse.”

“Brothel,” Deon corrected, “and yes I did. What’s the point of living without some entertainment after all? I can even pay for you guys if you want.” Holding the goblet, he nudged Jon’s arm, almost spilling the wine onto the open book. “What do you say, Jon? They even have this pretty black woman who I’m sure you’ll love.”

Jon immediately refused the invitation. First, because he planned on making the most out of his time in the academy, which meant training and studying. But second, because the southerners were brought to the northern kingdoms to serve as slaves. If this woman Deon talked about was at a brothel… He’d rather not think about it.

So instead, he turned his attention back to the book, particularly to the chapters about spell cultivation. He had been stuck as a 10th level mage for years now, and he needed to advance soon, before the start of the next academic year.

The war academies provided training on both body and spell cultivation. With caveats. For starters, the students were graded on their performances, and any commoner with poor grades could be dropped. Although not a common occurrence from what he gathered, this was far from being an impossibility, especially if he ever got on the bad side of any of the teachers. That was cause for concern if the treatment he received from the headmaster, before he even set a foot on the academy, was anything to go by.

But even more concerning was the fact that, according to the academy’s rules, some of the classes had a cultivation requirement. Starting from the second year, students were required to be a Crusader to attend combat classes or an Archmage to attend spell classes. He had a one-year time limit to advance.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe that was Deon’s usual behavior when not sulking in the corner, but he wasn’t dissuaded. “Aeron and Nevil, what do you say? You too, Bella. They also have a few men in there. Consider it an apology from me.”

“I’d rather not.”

“No, thank you.”

“You can shove that apology up your—”

A sharp clink echoed throughout the hall, promptly silencing all the students.