Mael took off almost as soon as they were out of the Travelling grounds, leaving Valentin with the Master of Soldiers. The older Akashi had been quiet all morning, and Valentin didn’t have much to say to him, either, so he wasn’t sad to see him go. What did one even say to an estranged great-grandfather? Valentin had a feeling he’d have to figure that out eventually, but right now the issue couldn’t have been much further from his mind. If Mael wanted to avoid him, that was more than fine by him.
A quick visit to the Master of Soldiers’ office later, Valentin was sent off with a Dedicated who didn’t seem much older than himself but who — as Valentin was able to pick up from the man’s incessant chatter in a thick Illianer accent — had been in the Tower for six years already. The Dedicated led him around on a brief tour of the Soldiers’ quarters and picked up a uniform for him before showing him to the room that would be his until he earned the Sword pin.
“You do be having the rest of the day to yourself,” the Dedicated said, with a smile that was entirely too knowing. Did Valentin really look that out of place? “If there be any problems, do no hesitate to ask for help.”
“Sure,” Valentin replied. “Thank you.” Not that he had any intention of calling upon the Dedicated, or the Master of Soldiers, or anyone else for that matter. He’d manage, somehow.
The Dedicated went on his way, and Valentin entered the room. There were two beds, two desks; the room was clearly and neatly divided into two near-identical halves. One of the halves was clearly occupied — there were writing appliances and… were those paints? on the desk, a book on the bed — but the occupant was nowhere in evidence. Valentin could recall the Master of Soldiers mentioning a roommate, but he hadn’t said anything more specific about the person. Valentin would just have to find out in person, he supposed.
He shrugged and set his things on the other bed. He supposed he’d better change into the uniform, now that he was one of the Soldiers. He divested himself of his coat, then sat on the bed and began to pull off his boots… and then the door opened to admit a boy no older than Valentin himself. Or at least so it appeared, he reminded himself. Bloody channellers. The newcomer was tall and almost impossibly pretty, with big brown eyes and long hair that looked silky soft— not that Valentin was in the least wondering what it would feel like to run his fingers through it.
No, he really wasn’t.
“Peace,” he eventually managed; that wasn’t quite the greeting he’d aimed for, but he supposed even swearing was better than just staring like a moonstruck calf. “I mean, uh. Hi. You must be my roommate?” He scrambled to his feet, a little comically as he was wearing one of his boots, the other lying discarded on the floor. He stuck his hand out to the newcomer, anyway. “I’m Valentin. Valentin Akashi.”