The regular classes and Zhao's sessions were a bit more demanding, but nothing extraordinary.
Zhao had been methodical, as always, drilling him on Arturo's written knowledge about territorial management and resource gathering. Maps spread across tables, documentation requirements, legal frameworks that made sense only when explained properly.
It was intense but straightforward. Just Zhao being Zhao.
That night, when he returned to his room, (which they had named with a poorly made sign by Min's hand "the Fancy Gray Wing" in honor of their first quarters), he found his roommates in various states of emotional trauma.
Min was lying face down on his bed, groaning dramatically. Taro looked pale, his eyes somewhat glassy, staring at nothing. Liu simply shook his head slowly while reviewing mountains of notes.
"What happened?" Ren asked, dropping his backpack. The sound seemed to startle all three of them.
