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The sound of the professor slamming down on his desk brought Sekhandur hurtling back to awareness. He had apparently dozed, despite the noise of the argument that had broken out shortly after his introduction. Or perhaps he had simple shouted over it as it was ongoing. His head hurt too much for him to care, really. The class seemed to be filing back into the hall after the announcement, whatever it was about. While Sekhandur had studied the language of this region since his earliest lessons in his father's palace, he was still not fluent enough to understand it being spoken if he was not paying attention.

Slowly lurching to his feet, Sekhandur grumbled, "[color=aba000]A coffee would be nice, before we go marching off somewhere.[/color]" As he descended the lecture hall, he continued to murmur to himself, mostly in untranslatable Kemeti vulgarities.

Even so, his ears pricked at a short exchange that took place just as he was passing out of the classroom door. Kiara had just been designated their class representative. He wasn't sure what that position entailed, but he took a mental note none the less. This girl was one of his two roommates, along with another girl that appeared to come from the steppes. He hadn't really interacted with her in any meaningful fashion, besides some bleary pleasantries as he stumbled into his room blind drunk late last night. Perhaps it would be worth his time for them to become better acquainted. A shooting pain behind Sekhandur's eyes made him reconsider that idea. Later, perhaps.

The procession to the courtyard was grueling, with the constant chatter of his classmates and the smell of their bodies in the academy's hallways. Had these western savages never heard of deodorant? They probably didn't even shave their body hair, the beasts. He leaned heavily on his Was staff, the hefty scroll that was his grimoire knocking into his thigh as he limped along. When his class finally found their seats, Sekhandur dropped into his like a stone, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. The sunlight was still irritating, but the open air was refreshing. While the smell of the people in this land was foul, the air here was surprisingly pleasant. It did not dry out the membranes of the mouth and nose, nor cause you to spit up sand if you breathed too deeply. If he could get used to the cold and the people, perhaps Sekhandur could enjoy this place.

Breathing deeply and trying to clear his head, Sekhandur paid maybe half of his attention to the ongoing ceremony, as he continued to drain his wineskin. Being royalty, he had sat through his fair share of overlong ceremonies, and he knew worthless pomp when he saw it. Eventually a small band of people were led on stage, and the crowd went wild for them. Sekhandur had no clue what was going on, as he had never seen any of them before. Was this whole ceremony just for them? He was honestly confused, and slightly embarrassed by that fact. Perhaps he knew less about these people than he thought, and he made another mental note to rectify that issue. It shouldn't be difficult to find out what the deal was with these "miracle" people if they were so popular.

The ceremony concluded and Sekhandur found himself lucid, though still with a throbbing headache and an empty wineskin. He quickly parted from the bulk of the crowd to peruse the food stands, and found himself gravitating toward the most fragrant stand, where a young woman in a wide-brimmed hat seemed to grinding ingredients in a mortar, before dumping them into a bubbling brew. He dared to catch a whiff of whatever she was brewing, and the smell of it made his nostrils burn. He blinked the tears out of his eyes, making his already rushed and uneven eyeliner smear even further and took a step backward.

"[color=aba000]Tinctures?[/color]" He asked the young lady, angling his head away from the brew. "[color=aba000]You are a student of the [i]khemia[/i]?[/color]" He paused to remember what the word was, before adding, "[color=aba000]An alchemist?[/color]"

The girl smiled, replying, "Nothing as fancy as that. This is just cinnamon tea. Though tea can be just as restorative as any potion. Care to try some?"

Sekhandur eyed the cinnamon brew warily, and said, "[color=aba000]Something more soothing, if you would please. I have something of the [i]kraipale[/i].[/color]" Seeing her confused reaction to his description of his condition, he searched again for the correct translation. "[color=aba000]Pounding in the head.[/color]"

The girl nodded, saying, "Ah, of course. Just a moment." And set about heating more water. After a minute of brisk work and the whistle of a boiling kettle, she handed Sekhandur a ceramic cup and filled it with tea.

Sekhandur nodded back graciously, and took a sip of tea. He savored it for a moment, and thought aloud. "[color=aba000]Hmm... Lemon... Peppermint... Ginger... Delicious.[/color]" He took another sip, and smiled at the lady. "[color=aba000]This will do nicely. You have the thanks of a king.[/color]" He set the cup down momentarily, and pried a gold ring off his smallest finger. It was adorned with black jet, and the metal was pure and lustrous. He left it on the counter, picked his cup back up, and returned to the courtyard, eyeing the other food stands.