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Their professor's bizarre rant shouted at Sekhandur's back as he trudged to the back of the train car frustrated him, but probably not the way that the other man intended. Rather, Sekhandur felt a mounting sense of disappointment toward the person designated to reveal the mysteries of the arcane to him. He had suspected it before, but it was becoming all the clearer that this man suffered severely from pent up feelings of inadequacy. So far from Sekhandur's observation, they were well-deserved feelings at that; the man [i]was[/i] inadequate. He projected his failings as a teacher onto his students, which Sekhandur would find sad if he wasn't the one suffering for it.

As he sat fuming quietly at the rear of the car, another student approached him. Yvaine, he thought her name was. Nice enough girl, all things considered, given the extremely limited interaction the two had up to this point. She surprised him by actually offering up some knowledge she possessed about his culture, which was a refreshing change from the witless inquiries he had suffered up to that point about food or fashion or something equally trivial.

"[color=aba000][i]Shan'iatu,[/i][/color]" he gently corrected her pronunciation. "[color=aba000]You happen to be speaking to one right now. In my language the word means 'Presence of Judges.' Long ago, they were the emissaries of the Judges of Duat, the kings of the afterlife that rule over the souls of the dead. They conquered the human tribes of the ancient desert, and ruled over them as both god and king. When their numbers grew few, they mingled their blood with that of the [i]remet[/i], the mortals. Their offspring were my ancestors, and their divine blood runs through my veins.[/color]"

Remembering his heritage brought a smile to Sekhandur's face, and a certain calmness to his heart. He smirked while staring at the back of the professor's head. He could bluster all he liked. Sekhandur was still a prince, no matter how contemptuously he used the word, and he was a peasant. That's all he would ever be. Sekhandur had a throne waiting for him, and after that, immortality among the Judges.

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Their destination was thoroughly disappointing to Sekhandur. He hadn't been expecting much, but this place barely seemed habitable. There was a strange magical presence in the air, but Sekhandur was more bothered by how pathetic and run-down this village looked. One of the inhabitants stumbled into view, and Sekhandur literally recoiled from the sight of him, drawing the corner of his cloak up to cover his face.

"[color=aba000]I thought you westerners were a pale, ugly bunch, but this is just absurd.[/color]" He said, speaking to no one in particular. "[color=aba000]I was not aware that all of you were more handsome than most.[/color]"