[center][b][h3][color=9e0039]Conrad Friedhelm[/color][/h3][/b][/center]
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Conrad lovingly slid his worn copy of Plutarch’s [i]Selected Lives and Essays[/i] onto one of two filled bookshelves in his dorm bedroom. On either side of it sat an analysis on Sun Tzu’s [i]Art of War[/i] and [i]Daring Greatly[/i]. His books were likely his most well cared for possessions on campus, and he had read through all of them several times over, making notes in the margins and carefully underlining significant quotes. The bookshelves sat side by side in the corner of his room, lamp and a comfortable armchair-ottoman set. He truly didn’t see a need for much else for entertainment. Besides the corner devoted to reading, his room was fairly sparse. No artwork on the walls, a single rug, and the only thing residing on his nightstand was a battery powered alarm clock, classically designed. Nothing had changed much since freshman year, other than the second bookshelf. Pitiful to some, easy to clean as far as he was concerned. His desk a room over was another story.

He picked up a box piled with torn notebooks, index cards, pens, pencils, and random mathematical drawing instruments and left his room, balancing it on his hip for just a moment to cut the lights and close the door with a precise [i]click[/i]. Everyone else was likely out in the commons, fulfilling odd social rituals.

[i]Going to have to go out eventually.[/i] He sighed internally, but dropped off the box on his desk before forcing himself out of the dorm. [i]Maybe Ivan or Cain are about, they are always keen to talk.[/i] He grimaced at the thought of having to possibly deal with Cedric though. He didn’t seem to know when to back off, or rather did- but relished pushing people a bit further than comfortable. Probably would get on well with Shaw, if the two sat down and agreed not to tread on the others toes.

Out on the lawn, the standard chaos from year to year was well under way. The atmosphere was deceptive when compared to what would dwell in just a few weeks. The first years were rushing about, figuring out their schedules, some talking to each other, some trying to engage in the rougher games the sophomores held, and others awkwardly standing around- the ones who didn’t know anyone yet. He grinned at a young knight that was sprawled on a storm drain grate, shouting across the way. It was a shame his noble stepped in to offer a hand, that pink Frisbee could have been the start of a lovely duel. Conrad laughed under his breath and moved on, keeping an eye out for his own knight. Likely near some younger ladies, if he had to guess. Either that or tearing apart another poor knight in a duel.