The entire contingent of first-years from the Blue Dorm trailed behind Braydon, their expressions alight with curiosity. Like most teenagers faced with a brewing spectacle, none looked the least bit interested in intervening.
In fact, a few seemed all too eager to fan the flames amidst the turmoil.
"Shut his big mouth, Braydon!" a red-haired boy shouted.
"Yeah! Teach him a lesson!" another chimed in.
The jeers bolstered Braydon's swagger. He puffed out his chest, stepping closer to Michael with all the confidence of someone convinced he was untouchable. It was clear he was ready to throw punches—consequences be damned.
Typical nobles… Michael thought with muted pity.
For people of status, trouble often dissolved with a few smooth words or the jingle of coin in the right palm. Raised in that safety net, noble children grew up thinking themselves beyond reproach. So long as they didn't cross an invisible line, they could do as they pleased.
