In that same night, a young man with a silver-colored hair and a pair of amethyst eyes staring at the dark of the night, let himself drown on the depths of his mind.
He had no staff nor was he clothed properly.
Anyone would freeze wearing only a pair of trousers and a long-sleeved shirt. The air in Magierstadt was chilly, especially in the schoolmistress' tower.
"Ezekiel."
He turned to the woman who was sitting in front of a desk. She had just finished signing documents. She then put down her quill pen and then proceeded to pay attention to her son.
"What brought you here? Make it quick. I'm a bit busy."
Ezekiel stared at his mother. They were so alike—that people would find no traces of Ezekiel's late father's appearance him.
"Why didn't you fail Anakin Disfiegro?" Ezekiel asked. "You were also the one who held to your ground and didn't fail him despite the fact that the deans all decided to."
