Lanen's secret method?
Drill problems.
It sounded simplistic, but in his otherworldly memories, this approach—affectionately dubbed "the ocean of exercises"—was ruthlessly effective for exam prep. By drowning in practice questions, one could internalize patterns, pinpoint weaknesses, and cement understanding faster than any other technique.
Time to initiate the squad, Lanen thought, glancing out the window where Mr. Hughes and Professor McDonnell strolled arm-in-arm (so the rumors are true). He stretched. "Almost noon. Let's hit West Street—today's the day."
Yesterday, Mrs. Linus had handed him his first wages: nine gleaming silver coins, their square holes winking as they clinked into his palm. The weight was comforting; the prospect of spending them, exhilarating.
Their destination? Zolgen's Restaurant—the upscale eatery whose illustrated menu had tantalized Lanen weeks prior.
Feast Mode
A waiter ushered them to a sunlit second-floor table draped in pink-checked linen, centered with a slender vase of white-blossomed greenery.
No one noticed the decor.
The menu demanded full attention.
At the server's urging, they started with fried Hawke Bay sturgeon—fresh chunks, skin crisped to golden perfection, piled high on a platter. Next came pea bisque (the fish's ideal partner), followed by two showstoppers:
Honey-glazed roast pork, its caramelized crust sealing juicy tenderness beneath.
Black-pepper braised lamb ribs, fall-off-the-bone soft, the spice a tongue-tingling revelation.
For starch: crusty bread batons, perfect for sopping up rich sauces. A garden salad cut the grease, and bottomless fermented bread juice (a dormitory rarity) kept thirst at bay.
They ate with disciplined gusto.
Plates cleared, bellies full, the group sagged into their chairs.
"Top-tier dining," Hale sighed, draining his drink.
"Worth every coin," Elina agreed, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "Though we're splitting the bill next time."
Sophia cradled her cup. "The bisque was sublime. They must use a high-speed blender—the pea flavor's so vibrant."
Conversation meandered from food to weather, from scenic daytrips to the Crown Mage Tower, then to recent inventions, coursework, and faculty quirks. Eventually, gossip took over.
"Those two elves in our class," Elina mused, "might as well be nocturnal. If not for the ears, I'd swear they're Drow."
"I've barely spoken to them," Hale admitted, bread juice dribbling unnoticed down his chin.
Sophia nodded. "Can't blame them. Moving countries for school? That's brave."
"Speaking of ghosts," Lanen mused, "I think two faces from orientation vanished."
Elina's voice dropped. "There's a rumor—older students know. Supposedly, two students disappear yearly. A curse."
"What? No way that'd stay quiet," Hale blurted.
"Hushed up. Investigations take time."
A collective shudder. "Creepy," Sophia whispered.
"Anyway!" Lanen pivoted to safer ground—recent headlines about logging rights in the Navia Mountains, where the Sacred Alliance and Nature's Realm were locked in diplomatic warfare.
As they prepared to leave, Sophia asked, "Lanen, when do we try your 'special study method'?"
"Give me two nights to prep materials," he said, face twitching. "We start the day after."
He paid the bill (watching the cashier tally change with glacial care), then herded his friends into the afternoon light.