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The past two weeks had been a time of adjustment for Sekhandur. Life in the academy was very different to life in his father's palace. Adjusting to waking up in the [i]morning[/i] for instance, a practice Sekhandur considered barbaric. Adjusting to the flavorless slop that could be laughingly called "food" that the academy served. Adjusting to the fact that he could not call a classmate "a belligerent sow that should be fed to a crocodile" without a stern talking-to from their professor. In retrospect, he might have deserved the lecture, but in his defense, she had been responsible for them failing a group project. He was ambivalent on the matter, but overall he was beginning to feel homesick. He wouldn't quit, that was even more unconscionable, but for now the academy's idiosyncrasies were beginning to wear on him.

Like the lessons he had been through, for instance. He had the distinct feeling that they were quite redundant, as he went through the paces of them. As far as he could tell, they were aimed at beginners, people who had never been through a proper magical curriculum. Sekhandur could spot several people in his class that easily fit that bill, but he was not among them. In Kemet, he had been the star pupil of Magistrate Sharu'Um, an esteemed scholar and mage in his homeland. That was not to say that Sekhandur was already familiar with the information presented in the lectures and instruction; they seemed to be geared to teaching this distinctly western style of magic, which Sekhandur was unfamiliar with. Even the magical history they taught was the western consensus on the subject, at odds with the events described in Sekhandur's grimoire. By forcing him to re-learn the basic fundamentals the way the academy wanted him to, Sekhandur felt like he was running in place, and making the least progress of any of his classmates.

Thus one could only imagine his enthusiasm toward this alleged field trip. He genuinely failed to understand the logic at play by making students track down what he considered to be petty thieves. If whatever they stole was so important, why was it so unsecured that it was taken by thieves who could in turn be tracked down by novice magicians? The whole scenario baffled him. Not to mention the fact that he purely didn't [i]care[/i] that the whatever-it-was had been stolen. He really found the whole situation laughable. And so, as he woke up that day in the detestable morning, he took his time. Sekhandur luxuriated in bed a while after waking. He took a particularly long bath. He enjoyed some fresh fruit for breakfast. He took his time carefully choosing his outfit and applying his makeup for the day. And, long after his roommates had departed for the train station, he set off.

Sekhandur seemed to be the last arriving at the station, and their train was sat waiting for them. Their professor had demanded they bring only the essentials, and so for Sekhandur that amounted to silken robes, a bevy of golden jewelry, and his face was painted in flamboyant pigments derived from the crushed shells of rare beetles. He had his staff and grimoire as well, of course. Truthfully, the train ride was what won him over on even attending this excursion. He had never ridden a train before, as there were none in Kemet. Facilitating trade across the desert gave his kingdom much of its wealth, and the development of railroads across that expanse had been forestalled until it was ensured that the Kemeti crown would still get their cut of the profits. 

Mounting the train, he was somewhat fascinated by the machinery of it, but found the decor within the cabin wanting. Same bland western style, would it kill them to use more gold and gemstones? "[color=aba000]Right on time,[/color]" He said to the professor, not even bothering to stifle his yawn, as he covered his mouth with a hand heavy with golden rings. "[color=aba000]Perhaps I should invest in one of those little... Watchers, was it?[/color]" He pantomimed the shape of a small, handheld clock he had seen another man use before, but soon gave up and took his seat, kicking his feet up on the table in front of him.

Truthfully, he probably wouldn't have cared significantly if the train had left without him. As far as he was concerned, for this pitiful excuse for field work, he was offering the bare minimum, and that would be all. If this academy couldn't improve his skills in the classroom, he didn't see why he should offer up any extra effort on his end.