Private Tales Old Reunions

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
That earned him a rueful chuckle from the Lieutenant, "Save it for the pretty noble ladies that need a husband."

Reaching the front entrance she tested the handle to find it open and let herself in.

"Black!" Sam called as she stepped aside to let Alistair in.

From various directions within the house:

"Green!"
"Red."
"Copper!"
"Bloo-hooooooo."

Each one grew the grin on her face a bit wider. She looked to Al as she kicked off her boots and shuffled them with a foot into an open area beneath the bench, "Now we know who's home. Leave your boots or you'll be cleanin' these floors on your hands and knees, Lord Krixus."

Sam kept a clean house.

"We have a guest!" she called again, "Cookie, what's for dinner?!"

Not even an hour past lunch and already her mind was on her next meal. It took a lot of food to keep her strong and stout. A chuckle sounded from somewhere past the foyer, "Rabbit stew... potatoes and bread and ohmmm-" the voice dwindle into a din of chatter as Sam left the foyer to enter the lounge where, presumably, her housemates could be found.
 
As soon as his feet stepped through the doorway Alistair had to fight from a large grin spreading onto his face. It was that infectious feeling of camaraderie that came with fighting with your fellow soldiers, with that unit that would step into hell and back for you. The last time he had felt it was when he was in the Academy, ever since, well espionage did not have a lot of camaraderie.

The quick lack of formalities was a nice change of pace, compared to the usual stuffy air of bureaucracy and aristocracy that Alistair was often surrounded by. Oh, well almost completely no formalities as he smoothly took off his boots.

"You color-coded the squad?" Alistair was so proud.

As much as he wanted to laugh at the light threat tossed his way, he knew it was one hundred percent real, so Al had no intentions of testing that.

"Do I get to guess who the colors are?" he asked jokingly.

Samantha Black
 
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A laugh sounded in response, potentially from Bloo-hooo.

He'd find Sam in the lounge having plopped herself down into a leather overstuff armchair. Sitting on a matching chair opposite her was another woman, older in her years with streaks of gray in her fading brown hair. Sam looked pensive for a moment then gave a facial shrug, "Yeah, I guess we have."

"More of an inside joke that took on a life of its own," said the woman to Alistair, standing from where she'd been reading to greet him, "but I don't think it will be hard to guess. We're not a full Hall today."

No one else presently in the hall was a mage, so Alistair would need to make his eyes glimmer some more if he wished to see them.

"This is Fern," Sam introduced the woman, "or as some of us like to call her, Squad-mom."

Fern smiled good naturedly, "Did I hear her call you Lord? Should I curtsy?"

Sam snorted.
 
"Pleasure to meet you Fern, and no need for any title. A friend to Sam is a friend to me and friends only laugh when they have to use my title." He offered jokingly before taking a seat in an open chair.

It was only when Alistair felt himself into a chair that he reactivated his eyes once again to get a quick look at Fern and the entire room once again.

Alistair would be lying if he said he had expected to find someone like Fern in Sam's unit. He had expected for the group to largely be made of young talents that were quickly on the rise. Not that it did not make sense, but every squad needed a little bit of experience to look after young mavericks so maybe that was Fern's role.

"I take it a few of you must have a little bit of time off then."

Samantha Black
 
"No need for titles in informal settings," Sam added easily to the conversation. They all knew the drill, of course. Here they were family and friends but out there? Titles mattered.

Fern smiled warmly to the young man, noting with a keen eye the various sigils and runes littered on various areas of his body and wardrobe. "You must be a good friend then," she said as she took her seat once more, "to be welcomed to our home."

"Alistair is good people," Sam said in earnest, "I would trust him with my life, like I do the rest of you." She glanced around, hearing the footsteps of another joining them, "The whole Squadron goes on Mission rotation. There's always a handful at home at a time for rest, training, and drill duties. Davi and Elias are out on their own missions right now, so you probably won't see them until the wedding."

"Alistair, huh?" the voice of Bloo-hoo arrived from a side doorway. A taller man built similarly to Al but with a bit more meat on his bones. He had a wry, mischievous look about him and short, sandy hair.

"This is Mizer," Sam introduced.

"Another Dreadlord," Mizer leaned against the door jamb and folded his arms as he gave the younger man a look-over where he sat, "I swear you lot got a smell about you."

"That might be me," Sam looked down at herself and lifted her arm to sniff. The training yards rarely sent her home smelling fresh. "It's definitely me."

"No, I've gone nose blind to your brand, Black," Mizer snickered, then nodded at Al, "you blind? What's wrong with your eyes?"

Fern heaved a terse sigh with a roll of her eyes that a mother might do for a child that clearly had no filter. Mizer was that child.
 
A good friend? Alistair would like to think so. In fact, Sam likely held the title of best friend for Alistair as she had so far been the most consistent, reasonable, and least likely to get him killed, otherwise known as the big three.

His other friends were either rogues, likely to become rogues, or just insane. The last one was becoming more common.

The young Dreadlord nodded in understanding at the rotation, just like an assembly line, it ensured that they always had someone putting in the work.

Al rose to his feet to greet the newest arrival, his eyes flashing once more to take a look at the man. Normally, such a personality was off-putting to Alistair, but he knew that every group always had one like them, the problem child and the wildcard. All that mattered was that they were kept under control and he knew Sam did not have any trouble with that.

"Nice to meet you, Mizer, my name is Alistair. I would hope the smell is soap and yes, I am blind."

Samantha Black
 
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"Nyeh," Mizer wrinkled his nose, "if soap smells like ether. All of you Dreads wreak of it." And he hadn't gone nose blind to that, apparently. The man lifted a brow at the curious flash of Alistair's eyes but didn't seem terribly put-off by it, "Got a lot of runes on ya like Black here does."

"He's a rune mage like myself," Sam smiled easily, looking over Al with appreciation and not for the first nor last time, "we've shared some ink between us. He's going to work on mine while he's here. Keep him busy between now and the wedding."

"Ohhh-" Mizer looked thoroughly intrigued, "I always wondered who worked that canvas. Weren't no way Black was reaching some of those places on her own. Ehehe-"

"So yer comin' to the weddin' are yeh?" Copper arrived - a man similar in age to Fern of stout build, the shortest of the entire Squadron, and built like an oversized dwarf with the beard to match. He was wiping down a pot with a clean rag, "Whose date?" The man smiled.

"Mine," Sam's own expression shifted into the grin of a cat with a bowl of cream, "This is Cookie," she nodded her head back toward the man.

"Squad-pops," Fern remarked with a small smirk of her own.

"You got a date?" Mizer blurted at Sam, looking at her incredulously, "that mean we'll finally see you in a dress?"

Sam snorted, "Not a chance."
 
Alistair just smirked at his introduction and then quickly offered a repeated greeting to the newest arrival Cookie. Yep, this place was turning out to be one big whole happy family.

"Yeah, well, I'm the best and Sam doesn't like just anyone working on her. For that matter, if anyone else wants some simple work done then let me know. I rarely get changes to practice these days." That first part was just a playful dig at Sam, even though she had also helped with most of the work on his own body.

The announcement that he would be Sam's date along with Mizer's reaction did make him smile as it made him feel like a rare surprise for everyone else. He knew that Sam was likely having her pick of the litter around this place, but here he was to swoop in to enjoy the big events.

"I can pull some strings with some of the other merchants in the city and find you something, whatever you want for the wedding." Alistair offered off-handedly. It didn't have to be a dress, bbbuuuutttt....

Samantha Black
 
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"As Route's commanding officer I'll be in my ceremonial armor, thank yooouuu-" Sam rubbed at her temple, eyes narrowed at Al, "of course I could always just go naked but I'd hate to steal the show..."

A bark of laughter sounded from Red in a back room.

Mizer snickered and Fern gently cleared her throat.

To the point of the wedding, though, "I do need to find someone to go with Davi. Route's expecting him to walk in the ceremony and I don't think Elias will be back from his mission in time." She looked to Alistair, "Got any strings you can pull for that? Some pretty noble girl?"
 
Alistair was pretty sure that the only one who would complain about a naked Sam would be the bride-to-be, but that was the only one that mattered. A chuckle escaped his lips at the thought as he had already assumed she would wear her armor.

"Oh no, how will I ever find someone for a young, handsome Dreadlord knight who can literally change their appearance to anything...Yeah, I think I can find someone." Al offered with an obvious slice of sarcasm.

There had been more than one merchant's daughter that had flirted with him in the caravan and he did not think they or their fathers would be that picky about their options. Well, he knew the girls would not, so Al just had to explain to the fathers that Davi was a close friend.

"I'll have the girls beating down the door for the young man by tomorrow."

Samantha Black
 
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"We don't need them that soon," Sam stifled a chuckle, "there's plenty of time to find one that won't balk at the title."

Dreadlords still had plenty of trouble fitting in to society. Many commoners feared them, some hated them, some strangely worshipped them. Sam had met all sorts and she knew Davi well enough to know what sort of girl would work for the occasion.

"Someone quiet," Fern noted as well, "and reserved."

"Mm," Sam agreed, "Davi won't like a gal that talks too much. Or one that flinches at his resting grump face."

"The lad's not like to like any of em," chortled Cookie, "prefers his solitude, he does."

"I'd have gone with him myself but it's not good to play favorites," Sam smirked as she stood from her chair and stretched to crack her back, "can't have the rest of the Squadron getting jealous."

"Could be a good time," Mizer mused aloud while rubbing at the stubble on his chin, "big brawling pit."

The others cracked into jokes on who would win-out on that competition. Sam took the chance of the side conversation to approach Al, striding casually to his front and lifting her hands to straighten the many layers of his hoity-toity nobleman's wardrobe, "I'm going for a soak. Feel free to stay and socialize," then leaned in closer to speak lower at the side of his face, "or come and join me."

Her smile split over the white caps of her teeth, cheek shifting against his jaw as she straightened away again. Sam gave his waistcoat a sharp tug into place for good measure, glacial blues looking pointedly at his glossy eyes before she stepped away.
 
So they wanted a girl who was quiet and reserved, but also one that was brave and tough enough to go on a date with a Dreadlord who had a pension for a grumpy face. Now, he kind of felt bad for whatever girl agreed to go with David as it felt more like he was putting her up for sacrifice.

"Sure." He offered with a bemused expression.

Alistair did not get a chance to really enjoy the jokes that came afterward as Sam came over to whisper something and he grew serious rather quickly after that. She had given him a choice, but he made the decision rather quickly.

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you all."

He vaguely remembered offering some bullshit excuse about needing to discuss with Sam the logistics of all her new tattoo work and needing to get a plan set up for it all. He already had a plan and that was all he was thinking about at the moment as he left the room only a minute or two after Sam's departure.

Samantha Black
 
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If there was anything better than a good soak, it was a good soak with good company. Sam preferred having company over not when the option was there - it saved hot water, it allowed for private conversation, and it was a great way to bond. What was there to lose or complain about?

She stepped through the next large room, a dining hall of sorts with a long table hosting a dozen seats. At the table sat the last occupant of the house that Alistair had yet to meet.

"This is Mess," Sam slowed, gesturing to the woman who presently sat at the opposite side of the table honing the edges of her many blades. "She's Mizer's sister."

"The smart sibling," Mess said. They looked alike, too. Her own sandy hair was cropped in a similar fashion to how Sam had worn her own during her days at the Academy; shaved sides, top long and draped over to one side. Mizer had the same cutting figure as her brother, tall and lean and drawn like a wildcat ready to strike.

"And better looking," Sam added, earning a rueful smile from the woman. "Mess this is-"

"I heard," the woman said distractedly, her eyes shifting up from her work to give Alistair a quick once-over, "pleasure to meet you, Lord Krixus." She then glanced at Sam who was making her way out and gave a light snort of amusement, "Enjoy your bath..."

The dining hall lead into another short hallway with doors on either side leading to the kitchen and butler's pantry, respectively. Sam strolled past them and to a door at the end that lead into the back courtyard and the bath house that sat at the bottom of a small slope. Steps of stone once more wound down through a terraced varietal garden maintained by Fern. There were flowers, shrubs, fruit trees, vegetable and herb patches, and even a small pebble garden with stands displaying bonsai surrounding a fountain.

Compared to the stark estate of the Academy, this might've been considered luxury to an Initiate.

"Watch your step," Sam called back to him before he hit the stairs, unsure of if he knew when true vision was necessary or not. She paused somewhere halfway down and turned to look back at him, curious on a great many things, "Do you only see in short glimpses?" Sam asked, "Or can you use it for longer?"
 
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"Pleasure to meet you...Mess. It's a shame you took all your brother's good looks." Alistair offered warmly, his eyes once again doing a precursor look before fading away. He was quickly being guided away but took the time to look back to Mess with a smile, "Don't worry. I will."

The more they took this quick tour of the grounds, the more Alistair kept flashing his eyes and he began to appreciate the place more.

As a Dreadlord, and how they were raised, castles and really any fortifications were often categorized into simple defensive positions with very little need for change or add-ons. Upon getting a good look at the garden Al decided this place was made just as much for living as it was defending, which in a way made it worth more defending...He liked the place.

While Alistair still had the capability to see, he had grown more accustomed to his new life without vision. As his foot felt the arrival of a set of stairs, along with Sam's warning, he quickly shifted to his eyes once more to follow after her.

"Thanks, and no I can hold it for much longer even up to half a day, it's more just a habit as the vision does spend up my magic and I only have so much to go around. But I can keep it going for long periods of work or just when I enjoy looking at something. The magical vision without the runes isn't too bad, as I can always see someone like you, but it is a bit less...vibrant.."

Samantha Black
 
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If anyone asked her, Sam would fondly speak of the home she and her Hallmates had made for themselves here. Each corner of the stone structure had a separate touch by each of the men and women that lived here - even Davi and Elias had added a bit of their own charm since arriving. Made her wonder what Sable might bring to his own Hall, should he pass his probation and officially earn the title of Knight.

For certain, she rather liked the gardens Fern had established in the relatively short time this group had been here. It was nice to share it with someone she believed would appreciate what they'd made. Alistair was one of the few she thought would, and one of the fewer she had even wanted to share it with.

Such was the rarity of friends among Dreadlords.

"You can... see my magic?" the inflection of curiosity couldn't be missed, Sam waited further until he'd caught up and moved to walk alongside him the remainder of the way, "What does it look like?"
 
Alistair vaguely wiggled his fingers in front of his eyes with a smile, after catching up.

"I can see all of it, Sam. Most of the ambient mana is neutral and much harder to see as it comes across as almost clear, but everyone else that has their own magic...It's always different. It might tell me more about their personality, their actual magical abilities, or even just how that person uses that magic. Yours is sturdy and grey on the outside like metal or armor, but then I also see that touch of the dragon you got bubbling beneath all that like a fire in a forge. It's very poetic stuff for you. It never comes across as bulbous or large, but it is imposing. It has a presence to it."

Sometimes it creeped people out to learn that Alistair could so clearly see some innate part of them that told something about them to him. He looked down at his own hand and his lips pursed together. That was one of the few things that he couldn't see well. Correction, he could see his own aura, he just didn't like what he saw.

It was amorphous and clear, like melted glass or water, very little shape and not much of a color to tell him anything. Was he just that bland or was his mana just truly that unimpressive? It made sense since his own experiments had more than proven he had no natural inclination for magic. He probably would have been just a mundane if not for all of the tinctures his father shoved down his throat and then the runes placed on his back.

"It's hard to explain to people a sixth sense when none of them have it, but...it truly is beautiful in a way I can not describe."

Samantha Black
 
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Was that all? Goodness, Sam had never felt so naked in front of someone in her life, and that was saying something.

This was rather an alarming revelation he'd brought to her - that she carried with her the souls of dragons - and it gave the Lieutenant great pause both physically and mentally. Her mind immediately revisited that day at the cove with Elias and what had happened when he'd shared his power with her. Something within had emerged and taken over and she had lived every day since then thinking on that at least once.

Concerned it might happen again. Concerned for how it happened to begin with. Repercussions of fucking with olde magic and not truly understanding what it all meant or could do. Sometimes she considered the fact that she was a great fool for permanently marking her body with ancient symbols of the arcane ... and then empowering them with further remnants of great magic through the blood and bone of dragons.

What was she doing to herself? Was she absolutely fucking insane?

"Don't..." Sam furrowed her brow, her voice leveling an octave lower, "don't tell anyone about that ... the dragons." Because there was more than just one for certain and she had no idea how she'd managed to put them there, but she sure as shit didn't want anyone else knowing. Couldn't risk her career or her reputation.

"A woman has to have a few secrets," her smile returned, covering the concern with humor. Sam pushed on down the last of the stairway and across the stone courtyard at the bottom to the entrance of the bathhouse.

"Does every person's magic look different then?" she asked of him as she moved to the furnace that would heat the water pumped for the bath pool and began to stack it full of wood.
 
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"Don't worry, mums the word. It would not be good for me if I made a habit of just blabbing about such a personal detail when they aren't even giving me permission to see the things I see." He inwardly reprimanded himself for once again letting slip something that he most likely was not supposed to have seen.

He had gotten into a bit of trouble the few times he had unknowingly announced magic in a noble child who was not known to have had magic at all. That had taken a lot of apologizing to make amends.

It was difficult to say if the magic he was seeing even actually had such characteristics or if his mind was just translating it so he could better understand what he was seeing. He could not exactly ask someone else to take a look at it all.

"And yes, everyone's looks different. Like snowflakes, they are all different, although there are a few conditions that make them more similar. Familial magics often share traits like colors, and then super standardized magic that is taught on a basic level to soldiers and such often have similar shapes, but they are all different."

When he had first received the injury, he had originally believed that his new disability would lead to less work for the Vigilite and result in him having more Academic work, but it had been unwarranted. He was often called in to identify magical energies, as some experts might inspect signatures. Needless to say, it had become rather difficult to slip such things past Alistair now. If he had seen the aura once then he could usually spot it again.

"Of course, there are some magics that are naturally more difficult to see. Like if I looked at Davi now, I would know there was magic being used, but shapeshifters and illusionists make it difficult to pin down what exactly is being changed about them. I have to work to get past those."

Samantha Black
 
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"Davi would not like for you to be undressing his magi-physical self with your eyes..." Sam chuckled as she stuffed kindling between the logs, "he doesn't even like it when pretty girls undress him with their eyes."

A smirk stretched across her lips at that. From a snap of her fingertips a flame was born, lit like a candlewick at the tip of her pointer. All Initiates at the Academy were taught basic college magic, though not all Initiates were capable of picking it up. Sam had a strong grasp of a variety of spells and abilities, but they were used out of necessity more than anything.

Like lighting a fire for a hot bath. Very necessary.

The flames took, quickly devouring the kindling before spreading into the logs. Sam stood and closed the furnace door then turned to a nearby lever. The lever chugged as she pulled on it and then released. Pulled and released. Pulled and released. A manual pump to get the water up from the spring and into the large bath basin.

Once it had enough suction to continuously fill she stepped away.

"Sometimes I find myself wondering if Davi is really aging and growing, of if he's simply making himself look that way..." mostly out of curiosity. She knew the muscle he'd put on was real - he'd gotten so much stronger since the day they left the Academy. But the hair? The beard? The sudden jump in height?

"Does he even have to shave or can he just... give himself a clean-shaven face whenever he wants..." an amusing thought.
 
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"And people think I am strange." Alistair chuckled as he moved inside the baths before beginning to remove his own clothes.

This whole setup was pretty nice for a hall, but Alistair had been working on a few things and maybe he could get a non-manual pump...As a housewarming gift. A hallwarming gift?

The question might have been a light conversational topic, but it was something that made Alistair think. He had never thought about it, but Davi had to be aging at least from a chronological standpoint.

"I don't know, but...maybe it's just a habit. Like for someone that can change the physical way they look so easily, it might just be nice just to wake up every morning and shave, not because he has to but because it peaceful or something."

There was also a question of where Davi changed mentally since he could also change the age at which his body looked and the biological makeup of a person affected their mental facilities as well. Alistair would be more curious about that subject, but there were actually too many Dreadlord that never mentally matured.

Samantha Black
 
"I don't think you're strange," she replied idly as she watched him remove his layers of fancy noble merchant clothes.

To his point of shaving as a ritual Sam raised her brows and tilted her head in consideration of that. "Never thought about it that way..." Shaving as an exercise of ...what, meditation? Maybe, at least until he inevitably cut himself.

"Well, either way, at least he knows he'll be good looking for as long as he cares to be," she chuckled. Alistair hadn't seen Davi in quite some time. Possibly since graduation, and Davi the young man was no longer Davi the abused boy Alistair once knew. He'd grown strong, filled out, matured. The day they left the Academy for their life with the Knights, looking back on it now Sam never would have guessed that Wolf would become... attractive.

But speaking of attractive...

Never could she be said to play coy. Now the water was running and the furnace pumping heat through metal pipework to warm the basin, she stole away from one necessary task to the next: Alistair's buttons, of which there were far too many. Sam moved to his front, close enough to smell the soap on him and smile at knowing that he was plenty willing to soak when he clearly had no need.

"What of you?" she asked as her hands lifted to casually work on the row of buttons holding his waistcoat together, "With your new eyes I've been stood more naked to you than any other person alive. You've seen all I have to bear and then some. What else has become of Alistair Krixus, hm?"
 
Alistair's own hands were soon pushed away as he let Sam take the lead on that always complicated endeavor. "Yes, I suppose he will.", Alistair had always wondered why someone with the abilities of Davi had chosen to remain in such an...unimpressive form. It seemed that the man had finally figured that out if girls were starting to swoon over him like Sam and her team had mentioned.

He couldn't stop the small smile that played on his lips from Sam's words. He did enjoy seeing her naked.

"Oh, the great Alistair Krixus is a simple, yet diverse man. A rising titan of industry with soon-to-be wealth that rivals the Great Houses. A dashing agent of espionage when he is called for. A genius mind breaking the boundaries of magical innovation. And at the end of it all, a charming nobleman with women throwing themselves at him."

Ok, the last one was a bit of a stretch, but Sam was likely going to guffaw at all of them anyways. The truth was, Alistair's life had grown rather boring in his eyes. Not that his accomplishments weren't impressive, as works like the locomotive and buying up of real estate were the talk of their respective circles, but...it just wasn't like the old days.

In the old days, of course, he was sent on dangerous missions every few weeks, and he was never sure if he would live or die. Now it had all grown...monotonous. So what would be his next steps?

"I'm thinking of buying an island."

Samantha Black
 
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Not quite a guffaw, but amusement all the same. He got a sharp prod to the ribs at the last remark for good measure. She hardly considered inviting him to share a bath throwing herself at him - this was a mutual throwing, if anything. Or soaking, as it were.

Button after button were plied open with care of battle-worn hands not to tug too hard at the stitching. She wasn't exactly used to such fine garments - Sam was hardly ever out of armor and the things that held armor together were meant to take a beating. These buttons?

Ffff, he was lucky her respect for him held the desire to rip them apart at bay.

The last of them now undone, she'd lifted her hands to push the waistcoat from his shoulders and stopped at those very last words with a level blink. "You fucking wot?" Now she laughed. The absurdity of it, truly only someone as eccentric as Al could speak of such a thing so casually.

Off went his travel cloak and the waistcoat followed, both to be draped over the back of a nearby bench.

"I suppose all the noble houses have to have their thing..." she mused, working on the straps of her own training gear so as to do a bit of catch up, "whereabouts will this island be?"
 
He was glad Sam respected him enough not to rip his clothes off because each of those buttons could by a new sword for a fresh recruit...To be the best, you had to look the best too right?

Alistair let the clothes drop to the ground as Sam finished her work, his garments quickly discarded into the corner, any thought of their price tag forgotten. Not waiting to be asked, Alistair's hand deftly moved across to help Sam remove her clothes/armor.

A small smile slipped onto his face at the thing that she found funny was his buying an island which ironically was the only thing that he had uttered which was completely true.

"Just off the Cortosi coast a little west of Viret and the Academy. A lovely spot with a unique species of seaweed and coral in its waters...Oh, and the view is lovely." His little sister had assured him that the last part was the most important.

"It will make an excellent vacation home and research facility. When you get some leave time you will have to stop by."

Samantha Black
 
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"Hm," Sam smirked to herself at the notion of leave time. Though she supposed a vacation might not be the worst thing, there simply was too much to do and not enough time to get it all done. When would she ever find time to lounge on an island and do nothing?

Likely not any time soon, if the rumor mill about Cortos was true. Routine border skirmishes were becoming borderline battles of attrition. War was brewing and it was only a matter of time before the call went out.

Until then? Training, missions, and a wedding.

"Well I suppose there really only is two things you can do with money," she rather enjoyed the feel of someone else's hands handling the various buckles, buttons, and ties of her outfit, "make it and spend it. Though the Lady Sirl might disagree. She would offer the option of investment."

The Dreadlord's brows furrowed as her mind wandered back to the very few memories of her blood father and what had awaited her at the conclusion of the bloody Graduation.

"Walter had been sending a small stipend for me to use at the Academy every month. I never touched it. By the time I was ready to leave, I had amassed a small fortune of his money."
 
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