The Academy had a rhythm to it that became familiar faster than Raze expected.
Wake before the sun fully cleared the mountains. Cultivation session in the quiet before the territory came alive. Morning meal with his kingdom, the thirty delegates gradually losing the shell-shocked quality they'd carried back from the trial and replacing it with something more settled. Classes through the midday hours. Training in the afternoon. Evening review. Sleep. Repeat.
It was the kind of structure that made days blur into each other, which was either a problem or a feature depending on how you looked at it. Raze had decided it was a feature. Blurred days meant progress happening too consistently to track individual moments, which was exactly what a month before the next major evaluation needed to look like.
The morning was ordinary in every way that mattered.
