Blaise's jaw tightens with anger. "Leave me alone," they snap, their composure cracking.
They stride into the building, nearly colliding with Mr. Griffith in the corridor. Mr. Griffith's expression is as stern as ever. He snaps his fingers at Blaise and says, "Mx. Marechal. .. You're to go to Lady Renaldt's office now."
As you walk to the Headteacher's office, Blaise says nothing, but hums a jaunty tune under their breath.
The wide bay window overlooks a sumptuous garden whose summer flowers are still blooming; between the elegantly carved furniture, the marble busts of various luminaries on the mantelpiece, and the delicate sculpture of a silver deer on her desk, it could almost be an aristocrat's parlor in their summer home. On the wall hangs a degree certificate from Gessner University, along with a host of accolades for Gallatin and a series of portraits and photographs of successful students. One photograph displays a younger Lady Renaldt curtsying to the Queen.
At the desk sits Lady Renaldt herself, wearing a coral-colored dress and pearl earrings. Though she looks less glamorous than she did at the opening address, her gray hair is still meticulously shaped into a neat puff, and her makeup is subtly immaculate.
"Pedro is trying to avoid trouble because he stole Delacroix's necklace," Blaise starts to say.
Lady Renaldt waves a hand for silence. She leans forward on steepled fingers and fixes you with a dark, steely stare.
"I want to hear from .. .—you must understand that we operate on a system of trust and honor at Gallatin. If you don't adhere to it, you're not the right fit for this college. What do you have to say for yourself?"