Having just ate lunch, [Timothy](http://www.roleplayerguild.com/topics/75166/posts/char#post-2323135) was sitting on a bench at the foot of the male students' dormitory building, apparently engrossed in a thick but still portable book upon whose spine was embossed the title: _D-Day in the Pacific: The Battle of Saipan_. Thumbing the middle of his eyeglasses further up the bridge of his nose, he finished for the third time the page describing the Smith vs. Smith rivalry.

_"You have reread this book already,"_ Cadwal's ghostly voice resonated in Timothy's mind. _"Does it interest you truly this much?"_

He flipped a page, revealing an infographic of American operations at the second week of the Battle of Saipan. _"It does,"_ he replied simply.

_"Why?"_

_"War, while terrible, is fascinating."_

_"The war you are reading about is one without honor."_

_"Well, most wars are honorless,"_ Timothy replied.

_"God's wars are full of it, however. I died in battle seeing the face of my killer. But these days, artillery has become more than just a siege weapon. Specters. You do not see the shell coming."_

_"You don't have to tell me, Cadwal. I know that much."_

_"I've told you before how we considered archery as something cowardly, but howitzers take it to a next level."_

Timothy physically smiled without knowing. _"Please, Cadwal, I'm trying to read here. Save your complaints about modern society for later."_

But the ghost's voice abruptly became solemn. _"You are going to have a difficult time. Raise your chin."_

Doing so, Timothy could not help but frown as he beheld Louise's armband-wearing posse like a national socialist marching band. He swerved his eyes left to right to find the source of their delay: a couple of freshmen, perhaps, just like him, being sized up by the runty gang leader. One was a girl who, according to Cadwal, "dressed like a witch," while the other was a boy who, still according to Cadwal, "dressed like a deviant noble," when Timothy first laid eyes on them.

_"I wonder how you could not hear the chorus of boots falling,"_ Cadwal thought into Timothy's mind.

_"I would rather not get involved here."_

Since the first day of the semester, Timothy had made effort not to let his powers be known, at Cadwal's counsel. Often seen borrowing, returning, or reading various books in the Library, he had summoned no Holy Ghosts at all in the past week, and only gives voice when he converses with Cadwal in the safety and privacy of his dorm room. Finding the student politics of the school distasteful, he wanted little to do with it all.

Especially so with Louise's "posse of fearful thugs," as Cadwal describes them, not when they look like a radial political group with their armbands and collective movement.

_"Get up and read somewhere else, then."_

_"I'll do that."_

Hoping his briskness and casualness would hide him in plain sight, Timothy promptly closed his book, sat up, began to walk away from the gathered crowd.