Hohenfels

The distant bells of Halden’s cathedral rang through the air as Arne made his way to Professor Nowak’s office. Sunday mornings were the optimal time for heathen lessons, as the entirety of the catholic student body left for the city, and a good chunk of the protestants was sequestered away in the dorms’ chapels.

Thankfully, he would not be missed at Hohenfels Hall’s service. It was severely under-attended anyway, and the few pious nobles who visited it regularly would know better than to spread rumors of his lack of devotion.

The main building was deserted. Even the servants were attending church or enjoying a rare moment of relaxation, which meant a convenient lack of witnesses as he drew his saber just in case before entering the office.

The first thing that hit him was the smell. It was the most disorienting odor he had ever experienced – the stench of acrid smoke mixed with indistinct herbs and various types of alcohol.

Professor Nowak, disheveled as ever, sat comfortably on a chair behind his overloaded desk, drawing on a huge pipe and smiling broadly at his student. The banesilver amulet was prominently displayed around his neck and his aura exuded nothing but excitement, so Arne sheathed his sword again and began to plow his way through stacks of tomes, scrolls, and seemingly random items of various shapes and sizes.

“Good morning, Prince Arnold,” Nowak greeted jovially. “Please, take a seat.” He pointed towards the only non-cluttered chair in the room, facing him across the desk.

“Good morning, Professor,” Arne replied, slightly overwhelmed by the sheer amount of visual and olfactory stimuli. He sat down on the chair and blinked a few times in rapid succession to rid his eyes of irritating smoke.

The scruffy man leaned back in his seat. “You wanted to learn about my… particular talent, if I recall correctly?”

“Indeed. And I would very much like to know why a shaman would consider it a good idea to take up a teaching position at the Imperial Academy, of all places.”