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Nathaniel turned his gaze to watch his squad beginning to form together, gathered around the prince. He couldn't help but notice how unique the squad composition seemed. He had dueled many in the sword schools, but they all seemed oddly similar. Most of the boys were of a similar height and build. They shared the same unremarkable hair styles and facial shapes. He had even been to some small social gatherings among the elite, and clocked the trending hair styles and outfits. But here, in this squad... it was different. To be expected, given the seeming status of the squad. Someone up the chain had placed them all here for a reason, and Nathaniel had a sneaking suspicion of who.

Nathaniel readjusted the simple bag on his shoulders. He knew a uniform was to be provided, and so had only brought the most necessary of clothes with him. The only other thing that filled the bag were simple bound journals and ink: the necessary materials needed to begin logging the strengths and weaknesses of himself and the rest of the squadron. Nathaniel already had ideas on what to list down, but figured the opening exercises as cadets might prove a better benchmark of ability. His work as the squad's tactician could wait another day. He had today to get settled, and eventually fetch his special training sword from one of the local smiths. It had been a special commission placed by his father. They assured him that it would be ready.

As the squad lined up in the barracks and received their room assignments, Nathaniel took his key and moved silently upstairs to the squadron's common room. He paced about the room, counting out steps and measurements slowly in his head throughout. It was a comforting exercise to know how big the room was, and to mark the entrances and exits. It always helped to know how many steps were needed to make a quick exit, in the event... no, it was safe here. The clear enchantment on one of the rooms indicated an exercise of caution. Dot and Liese's room, and not the Prince... a curious choice: one that Nathaniel would have to analyze another time.

When he felt satisfied, Nathaniel finally entered his room: the last on the list. The room was more spartan than he was used to, but that was far from a complaint. Luxury would only make men soft. He stood in the doorway as he watched his roommate, Julian, walk to the window and stare out. In the moment, most would have to acknowledge the beautiful way the light caught Julian's hair. But Nathaniel only saw a spotlight on a coward, a thief of honor. He strode into the room, sliding open the lower sleeping compartment to get a good view of where he was to rest. Without even looking in Julian's direction, Nathaniel's words were monotone. [color=ed1c24]"I've sparred with a lot of people, Baker. Never once have I sparred with someone like you."[/color]

Nathaniel moved to the back of the room, removing his clothes from his bag and stuffing them into a cupboard, before stuffing his journals and ink into another with a swift intent. After that moment of pause, Nathaniel turned back towards Julian. His mouth was turned into a frown, his eyes narrowed in on the boy. [color=ed1c24]"I do not see any other means of recourse. I formally request a rematch, Julian Baker, to be held at our earliest convenience. A fair duel, between men. You stripped me of honor and dignity in our opening spar. As cadets, and future knights, I hope you have at least one honorable bone in your body to grant me a chance to win it back."[/color]

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