Cayden's Enlistment Interview (Attn: Craig)

[Teddy]

Cayden walked along the hallway, unable to keep the awe at the magnificence of this place from his face. His family's castle had been nice, and definitely not small, but this city, and this Tower, rivaled the splendor of Caemlyn, the greatest city in the world. Even the simplest corridor was lavishly decorated in a way that managed to look humble and superior at the same time. He barely listened to anything the guard -Mordjen- said. Not that he was bad company, far from it, but Cayden had traveled long to get here, and all the focus he had left was spent on admiring what he hoped would be his new home.

The man was kind, in fact, he reminded Cayden of some of the guards back home. His father hadn't liked it, and Cayden had gotten several beatings for it, but he enjoyed spending time with the guards. They were the closest thing to common folk he ever managed to exchange words with, especially after his father had turned into a monster. Cayden shivered, but forced himself not to think about his father. No, this was the first day of his new life. It was a moment of celebration, of looking at the future, not being depressed by dwindling on the past. He touched the ring on his left hand, the ring with the anvil. He had been unsure if he should leave it on, but it felt right. As much as he hated his father, he would not deny his heritage, and he was proud of his house. Mantear had done great things.

Mordjen continued his seemingly ceaseless chatter as they moved into a yard. Cayden tried to focus on what he was talking about. Apparently, he was describing the Master of Training, the person in charge of people like Cayden. That peeked his interest. He had learned some things at court, and one of them was how valuable it was to know your superiors. Instead of engaging Mordjen in conversation, Cayden just listened, nodding when he thought it would fit. Apparently, the man was harsh, but fair. Good, that was how Cayden saw himself as well. It was how a good leader had to be.

Apparently, they had finally reached their destination. Cayden thanked Mordjen and moved to where the latter had pointed. His stomach started to flutter, but he managed to suppress it. It didn't feel good to submit himself to the power of another human being, it reminded him far too much of his father. The only way to get through this, was to try and get rid of all of his emotions. If he allowed one of them through, perhaps the rest would follow, and he couldn't have that. He really didn't want to be turned away. Cayden took a deep sigh, and knocked on the door two times. The door was open, but Cayden didn't want his first action to be one of disrespect. He probably looked shady enough, having traveled for over a month now, and he wanted to make a good first impression.

[Craig]

Ferran

"Come." It was a clear command, said in a voice that held no accent. Ferran had worked hard to rid himself of his native Illianer tongue; it made a life of travel easier, when no-one assumed allegiances you didn't hold to be true in your heart.

The man that entered hadn't rid himself of that sense of identity like Ferran had. He marked the blonde-haired man as a noble, simply from his way he held himself as he walked in. There were other indications too, but Ferran didn't acquire a thorough backstory from his observations along. That was what questions were for.

The office was simply furnished, its current occupant not having gone out of his way to personalise it. Ferran sat in a tall, leather-backed chair, all hard angles and dark wood. The desk was of a similar design, covered in papers and reports. He opened a ledger, and moved a quill and inkwell close preemptively. Ferran gestured for the newcomer to take one of the two chairs that sat opposite. They were a matching pair of ladder-backed seats, but the light wood and curving backs stood in contrast to the desk.

"Take a seat. You look like you can be doing with a rest." Ferran waiting for the lad to take a chair before continuing. "I am Ferran Carbern, the Master of Training here. Your name, boy?" Once he got his answer, he had no need to ask where the lad had come from with that accent, or that name. "That sword on you, you know how to use it?" It wasn't surprising to find new recruits with their own weapons, but from the style and quality of the hilt, it may not need to be replaced by one of the Tower-forged blades.

"Then I've three more questions for you, Cayden, and I don't want one word answers." He settled himself back in an imperious posture. "What brings you to the Grey Tower for training? Why no settle for the White Tower, especially being Andoran, or joining up with an army? And do you plan to be a Warder, bonded to a channeller and all that entails?" He started to take notes as Cayden talked, written in a shorthand familiar to dockworkers and southern merchants.

OOC: Please make sure that you answer the questions posed above. Principally, make sure to state Cayden's weapon of choice, his reasons for coming to the Grey Tower, and whether and why he intends to be an unbounded Gaidin or a Warder. If you have any questions for Ferran, feel free to ask in your response.

[Teddy]

Cayden entered the room, still managing to suppress his nerves somehow. The man's voice held no warmth, but that was strangely comforting. Cayden wasn't sure if he would've trusted any kind of warm welcome; that wasn't how people were. At least this man was honest. Cayden could deal with sternness, but he hated not knowing people's intentions. His right arm moved subconciously toward the ring on his left hand, the ring with the anvil. He had to remember who he was, and why he was here.

Cayden took a seat on the simple wooden chairs opposite to the Master of Training and stated his name. He quickly took the time to look around. Even the room seemed simple, honest, and devoid of any individuality. It was strange, but not bad. It was about as difference to Cayden's room back home as it could be -that room had been rather lavish- but there was a simple, honest beauty to it. It was intriguing, but it helped Cayden convince himself that he had made the right choice. He simply nodded at the other man's question. Of course he knew how to use his sword, why else would he have brought it?

"All right, I'll try to explain. You may have recognized my name. I'm a nobleman, from one of the most powerful houses in all of Andor." Cayden didn't manage to keep the pride out of his voice entirely. A lot had happened with his family, but he was still proud of the Mantear him. "I was heir to my father's holdings. In fact, I'm a lord now, I suppose. Due to some... unfortunate incidents," Cayden felt surges of panic and anxiety rise in his chest, and tears started to well in his eyes. He pushed everything down, forced his heart into stone. He took a second to take a deep breath, and continued.

"Due to some unfortunate incidents, I was recently orphaned. I couldn't stay there anymore. Not with the memories of that place. No, I had to leave. I could've gone to the military, but I'm not a soldier. I'm a good fighter, but I prefer to fight alone. Besides, I swore to myself that I would become a weapon of the Light. My father, he was a bad man. I want to make up for that. I chose the Grey Tower for two reasons. First, because I heard that the Grey values normal fighters much more than the White Tower. Second, and most important, because I believe a combination of men and women channeling is much stronger than either can be alone. Therefore, the Grey Tower will logically be a bigger weapon against the Shadow than the White. And I felt it would be best to assist the strongest weapon."

He thought for a bit about the second question. "I must admit, I haven't given it much thought whether I want to be a Warder or not. I think, if I met the right channeler, I would prefer the be a bonded Warder. What job would be better than to protect the strongest assets of the Light? But I've heard the relationship between Warder and channeler is very close. I don't think I want to be bonded to someone I don't get along with; that would only hinder us both. So, to answer your question, yes, I would like to be a Warder, but only if I meet an Aes Sedai or Asha'man I connect with." He hoped it would be appropriate to ask a question of his own now. "Master Carbern, could you enlighten me a little on the training process of a Gaidin? I must admit I know next to nothing about it."

[Craig]

Ferran

Ferran turned the ledger around, and slid it alongside the desk towards the Andorman, proffering the quill in his other hand. He waiting until the lad had signed before answering his question.

"You've just taken the first step on the path towards the fancloak," Ferran said with some mirth, "although this step was the easiest by far. You'll learn more in the days ahead, but the training process will see you practicing under guidance in your weapons, taking daily lessons in the strategy and tactics of warfare, and acquiring skills that will help you to survive in the wilds and become self-sufficient."

The bald man started to grin, a sinuous line of white teeth set out against his dark face. "And you'll also be sharing in the chores that keep this place running. You may be a lord, Cayden Mantear, but in the walls of this building and in the halls of the Grey Tower, lords and ladies will bend and bow to commoners like myself who hold rank over them." Ferran didn't add that last in as an attack, but the lad's pride would have to be blunted somewhat if he was going to last. If the lad welled up thinking about his father, be may break cleaning pots, or he may find a healthily new outlet for his emotions in mindless manual labour.

"With your mark on this page, you have started your training here at the Warder Yards with the rank of Drin'far'ji. As Master of Training, you report to me as your superior, and shall do until you earn the fancloak, are put out of the Tower, or I vacate this office." Ferran hoped it was the latter, but he let none of that anticipation show in his features. "As I said, you will have lessons and you will train. Each activity will have their teachers, and they will be directly in charge of you for those duties."

"I can imagine that you have some set ways of thinking about how an army organises themselves, a hierarchy and all that. There do be ranks here in these halls - Drin'far'ji, Ji'alantin, and finally Gaidar - but that does not mean that you are under the command of every Ji and Gaidar. More often than not, the highest ranks shall direct you in tasks, but otherwise we act in a sort of meritocracy."

Ferran waiting for understanding to cross Cayden's face, then he rose to his feet, the chair sliding back towards the fireplace. "Come." Ferran led the way out of his office, pausing only to retrieve his fancloak from behind the door. He would have easily done without, but there had been comments about looking the part from a few different people, and it was sometimes easier to accept a command you didn't like then fight against it.

Ferran led the way back down the stairs into the great foyer. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai - the black of the Dragon's Fang conjoined with the so-called Flame of Tar Valon - was inlaid in the marble flooring, a striking impression on any that entered these halls. Leaving through a set of double doors, he continued the introductions without looking to see how far Cayden was lagging behind. "As I said, I am your direct superior as Master of Training, responsible for ensuring you are trained and educated correctly. Once, if, you obtain the fancloak, the Gaidar Captain will become responsible for your ongoing training and education. Don't think this fancy piece of cloth means you are done, equivalent to a Blademaster in arms, or as fine at tracking Shadowspawn as Borderland scouts. No, your training shall continue under the command of Amayani Gaidar. Furthermore, when or if you are bonded to an Aes Sedai or Asha'man, you will be under the oversight both of the Tower and of the Mistress of Arms, Riahana Gaidar." Ferran considered whether to add in the next piece of information or not, that Riahana Gaidar was granddaughter - or do it be great-granddaughter - to the Amyrlin. No, Andor do be a nation of queens. He'll not be one to gall at the leadership of women.

Now out in the warmth of the morning sun, the sonorous percussion of wood striking wood and barked instructions filled the air. Trainees and teachers were sparring, practicing, and exercising in small groups, whilst others laboured alone out in the expansive yards. "Out there, you'll be tested. Pushed to your limits and beyond. Broken and mended to be broken again. Everything that will happen out here is to make you strong, to become that weapon of the Light you wish for, but it will be a bloody path, and a bloody hard path too." A genuine grin of amusement covered Ferran's face. "You will receive plenty of healing from the infirmary, both of the traditional sort and of the One Power. That latter you will only receive if you need it, or earned the injuries honestly." That accentless voice took on a hard tone. "If you get into some silly bar fight and break an arm in Hama Valon, I'll splint you up myself and force you to practice with quarterstaffs hard until it's mended naturally. You won't be wrapped in swaddling cloth."

With the warning firmly set down, the Master of Training turned to consider the whole of the Yards. "You've got your sword, and I do be seeing plenty of teachers out there for you to train under. But you'll also see plenty of other weapons, hammers and axes and polearms and bows. You should consider which other weapon or weapons you wish to learn. We have a Blademaster of the longbow in the yards, one of the Gaidar." At that questioning look, Ferran shook his head. "Don't ask why it's Blademaster and a bow. Maybe it's Bowmaster; you can ask Lysira herself if you desire to know more." Not that he would get a word out of Lysira, he thought ruefully. "You will also need to learn how to use our body as a weapon. If you end up disarmed or caught unaware, you still have to be able to defend yourself and your Aes Sedai. You will find postings for various classes later, but be sure to look up Unarmed Combat as one of them."

Ferran stood and watched the scenes of training before him. Not long in the role, he didn't have much personal pride in the regime that saw all of these men and women who practiced before him, but he was proud to be a part of the traditions of this place, and to be affiliated with it.

OOC: Please describe Cayden's impressions of the Yard and the trainees/trainers as they walk about. Raise anything that catches his attention, or that you have a question about. Make use of the Warder Yards Art Gallery in aiding your descriptions.

[Teddy]

With pride, Cayden wrote down his name in the ledger. His handwriting wasn't pretty, but it would have to do. He was a fighter, not a writer, and he had always left as much paperwork as possible to the clerks.

He started to get excited by the prospect of the lessons the Master of Training told him about. He had heard, before his arrival, that this Tower held the greatest experts of all kinds of weaponry and military strategy. That was one of the things that had convinced him to come here; no other place would prepare him better for battle. It seemed that hadn't been a lie. Cayden's father -Light burn the man- had taught him the basics of warfare, but there was much left for him to learn, and he was eager to do so.

Cayden almost returned the smile Ferran Gaidin threw him, but at the last second, he held back. No, it would be best not to provoke his direct superior on his first day. But the man would see. He would do those chores, however demeaning they would be. It was true, he had never done a mundane task like scrubbing the floor or cleaning pans or washing clothes, but he was a faster learner. He would get the hang of it, eventually. He would do them, without forgetting who he was. Because as much as this man denied it, he was still a lord, and nobody would take that away from him. They could order him around, but they wouldn't have his pride and dignity.

"Yes, Master Carbern," Cayden said, trying to sound meek. He failed, miserably. Meek had never been his strong point. Still, he managed not to sound arrogant and brash, which was an achievement nonetheless. Perhaps it helped that he actually meant it. He had made his decision, and this would be his life. He would not try to take the easy route, and he would stand by his choice. If that meant listening to this man, than that was what he had to do.

Ferran's explanation of ranks seemed strange. They were there, but apparently, they weren't as important? Back home, rank had been everything. That had been one of Cayden's first lessons, that everybody had to listen to their superiors. Not that Cayden had ever had superiors, until now, at least. It would be interesting to see how he fared in that roll.

Cayden followed the Master of Training as the man led his newest pupil out of the office, now wearing a cloak that seemed to shift colors by the second, making Ferran difficult to look at. That was probably the fancloak he had heard so much about, a remnant from the Age of Legends now used as a symbol for the Gaidin and Gaidar. Now that Cayden looked at it, it seemed more than a symbol. This would help greatly in an ambush, or any situation in which it was better not to be noticed, really.

Cayden had forgotten the beauty of the Tower while inside the room, but when they left, it hit him again with full force. A beautifully made symbol was inlaid in the floor, a circle that was half white and half black. Cayden recognized it, although it seemed like two symbols put together. The black half was obviously the Dragon Fang, an omen of evil and chaos. What a strange thing to have here. The white half was the symbol of Tar Valon, of the Aes Sedai of the White Tower. It didn't make sense to Cayden, but it was magnificent nonetheless. He tried to divert his attention back to Ferran, but only partially succeeded. He might as well not have listened at all, because the stream of information was too much to contain anyway. He made sure to remember the names -names were power, that had been one of his mother's lessons- but he couldn't keep track of the rest. Hopefully, someone would repeat it later.

The sun kissed Cayden's skin as they walked outside, to where a group of boys and girls were training, overseen by some older, tough-looking men and women. Light, but some of them were young. The youngest looked no older than fourteen or fifteen years old. It was also a surprise to him how many women were out their fighting and getting their hands dirty along the men. Not that he had any problem with it, the Light could use any soldier who was willing to fight, but he didn't think his father's army had even accepted women. Here, however, their seemed to be about as many women as there were men. And some of them were pretty, too, not at all manly and big.

He also noticed how rough the fighting was. That wasn't a surprise, nor a disappointment, but it was something else to see it with his own eyes. Back home, they had practiced with bundles of sticks instead of swords, and they had usually stopped before people got hurt. The worst that had ever happened there had been a black eye or a bruised knee. Out here, some of them used sticks as well, but the way they handled them was completely different, and they didn't stop just because someone had a bruise. Some of them even used real swords. Well, Cayden was sure he could handle this. If there was one positive thing about his father's treatment, that Light-forsaken man, it was that Cayden had learned to deal with pain.

Cayden took Ferran's words to heart. It would be good to learn more about unarmed training, yes. What else? Perhaps he could learn something about polearms. He had seen people wield quarterstaves, and those things could be as deadly as a sword, if wielded properly. But this were all worries for later. The ages of the trainees had raised a question, however. "Master Carbern, how long does it take to become Gaidin?" Light, that sounded bad. "I'm not trying to sound impatient," he said, hurrying to correct himself. "I was just curious, as some of those trainees looked years younger than me."

[Craig]

Ferran

“Have you already spotted a girl with an ample bosom that you wish to bond?” Ferran smiled, but it didn’t touch his eyes. He tugged at the skin just above his pierced earlobe, considering the young lordling’s question. “Genuinely, it will depend on how you apply yourself; there’s no prescribed length of time.”

“Some Drin’far’ji become Ji within a year, depending on the experience and training they acquired before coming here. Others will take a few years before they are judged worthy to take the test. The same is true for Ji’dar and Ji’alantin. Some may test for the fancloak after a couple of years, but it’s normal for it to take longer.”

Ferran beckoned Cayden to follow, as the elder man set off towards one of the large barn-sized buildings that flanked the practice yards. “Come, you’ve not even been here for an hour. Let’s not get carried away in daydreams. Once you’ve got settled into the routine, you may have a better idea of how long you’ll be with us.” The Master of Training said nothing else as they crossed the space towards the first building, instead taking the time to watch how his pupils were preparing themselves.

Ferran pushed the door open, moving into the large vaulted hall. “The Weaponry Hall.” Along the entire length of the building were racks upon racks of weapons, forged from everywhere between the Aryth Ocean to beyond the Spine of the World. Swords, axes, short bows, longbows, polearms - all of those and other weapons Ferran didn’t know how to use or pronounce could be found here. A couple of Drin were amongst the weapons, polishing or cleaning or cataloguing, Ferran wasn’t sure. It had been a long time since he had had chores here.

“You have your sword, I know, but here you’ll find every weapon imaginable. The more weapons you know how to use, the less you’ll need to rely on that one particular blade.” It irked the Illianer that Cayden was yet another sword user. He preferred axes, for his sins, and always considered picking up the warhammer, eventually.

“Have a look around. It’s always good to know about what you may face off against. Not everyone in the world uses a sword. Farmers will hit you with shovels, and Aiel will pierce you with spears and arrows.” Ferran had seen odder things amongst the Atha’an Miere and in Shara. “Have a look.”

OOC: You can find the descriptions of various weapons here, as well as the different categories you can gain Weapon Skill points in. Describe Cayden’s exploration of the Weaponry Hall and its contents, and again, feel free to ask any questions of Ferran.

[Teddy]

Cayden smiled. Some of those girls had definitely been pretty enough to catch eye, but not enough to think twice about. They never were. Oh, there had been girls, back home. Still, Cayden couldn't remember the last time he had given one of those even a second of his attention after she had left his sight. True affection didn't come naturally to him.

He followed the Master of Soldiers away from the yards, as he pondered the Gaidin's answer. He was good with the sword, he knew that, but that was probably not enough to make the cut. He would have to show how much he wanted to be one of them whenever they demanded it. He had never believed it would be easier for him, as a nobleman, and that meant working hard, harder than he had ever had to do before.

Cayden's eyes almost rolled out of their sockets as he followed Ferran into the Weaponry Hall. He recognized some of the weaponry on display, but most were completely unfamiliar. There were the swords, of course, beautifully crafted and as deadly as his own. But even than, there were so many different kinds of swords... He instantly recognized the longsword, the weapon that seemed to fit him as naturally as his own clothes, and next to it was a broadsword. Next to that, however, was a one-handed sword that looked a lot lighter than Cayden's own.

On the other side of the room were stranger, more exotic weapons. Cayden saw a long pole, with a sharp blade on top of it, almost like someone had tried to merge a quarterstaff with a short blade. He noticed another weapon that looked like an immensely oversized sword, with a hilt about the same length as the blade. There were Aiel spears, enormous bows that looked like they came from the Two Rivers region, sword-breakers and maces, crossbows and throwing knives... Every weapon Cayden could imagine, and than some. Some of them seemed too unwieldy for his liking, but others peeked his interest. There was a particular bow that seemed just small enough to fire from horseback, but long enough to fire from some distance. There was a stick with a round ball attached to it by a small chain, that seemed to be a combination of a sword's cutting ability and a mace's raw power, albeit a little dangerous. Cayden tried to take it all in, resolved to try at least most of them.

"Master Carbern," Cayden said, eyes still wide with amazement. "This is incredible. Are all of these weapons taught here? That is truly beyond my wildest imagination."

[Craig]

Ferran

Ferran stifled a grimace. No doubt Cayden was having fanciful dreams of learning each and every one of these weapons. Mastery in one or two, perhaps, was the most the lad should hope for.

"There are classes for certain weapons and fighting styles, and there are teachers for many more. If you can find someone who can teach you, you can learn it. And if you can't find someone..." Ferran flashed a feral grin.

The Master of Training walked back out into the sunshine, waiting for the Drin to catch up. "Don't try everything at once. I'm sure you know that specialisation is better than generalisation. Focus at being the best at what you're good at. The rest will come." Ferran wasn't sure where that had come from, or if he believed it, but the boy would need to make some goals if he was going to last.

They crossed the yards to the opposing building, externally identical to the Weaponry Hall. They passed another Gaidin exiting the structure, donned in plate mail beneath his fancloak. "Welcome to the Armoury." Like the Weaponry Hall, the whole length of the structure was given over to racks and stands. The near end held the heaviest armour, with plate leading into leather, then onto smaller pieces and shields and other protective equipment.

"Again, have a look around. Whilst you're here in the yards, you will seldom have need for armour. However, if you do have need and you can't find anything suitable here, there are the forges. The same goes for weapons."

OOC: If you need armour descriptions, you can find them here. If you want to write about visiting the forges, you can do. They are ambiguously stated as being "past the Armoury" or "out at the forges", as it doesn't appear on the map of the Tower grounds.

[Teddy]

That answer excited Cayden. There were so many weapons to choose from... He knew he wouldn't be able to master them all, but knowing more than just his sword couldn't hurt. He had already spotted some that he couldn't wait to try out, like the two balls tied together by a chain. The havoc a trained fighter could wreak with that... It would be a perfect addition to his sword, with one good against less heavily armed fighters and the other probably providing enough force to dent even plate. And perhaps one of the ranged weapons? Cayden had noticed one of the crossbows that looked particularly brutal. Or perhaps those throwing knives?

Cayden suddenly realized he was lagging behind. Quickly, he followed the Master of Training, apologizing while walking. He cursed himself silently. It was unbecoming for someone of his stature to stand around, looking like a starstruck boy. No, he was a nobleman, and he had to act like one as much as possible, even if these people didn't care. He had to remember where he came from, even if that came with the pain of the memories.

The second building they visited seemed almost identical to the Weaponry Hall, only instead of all kinds of different weapons, this hall held the same plethora of armor, and again, Cayden didn't recognize half of what he saw. Some of the plate and mail was similar to what he had used back home, and one version of the leather armor reminded him of what peasants had used when they were forced to fight, but some of these armors looked as outlandish as some of the weapons had seemed before. There were pieces of cloth, worked in a way Cayden had never seen before, and some plate seemed heavier than he had thought possible, while still looking light enough not to be too much of a burden. Some of the pieces even seemed to be made for women.

Cayden nodded at the Master of Training. Having seen some of the training outside, it seemed hard to believe that he would have no use for armor, but if that was the consensus here, he would show them that just because he was a nobleman, didn't mean that he wasn't as tough as them. If that would sent him to the infirmary, than so be it, but he would not be treated like a spoiled child.

[Craig]

Ferran

Ferran watched Cayden with unconcealed interest. The lad was clearly weighing and considering the different pieces of equipment on show. Let him look and broaden his horizons. There were trainees from Seanchan to the Aiel Waste in the Yards, and narrow-mindedness had no place amongst them.

This time, Ferran made sure he had the Drin's attention before he left the Armoury. The Illianer led them back towards the Warder Halls. "I shall be showing you to your room now. For the meanwhile, you will have a room to yourself. Drin'far'ji normally double up, so you can expect some company in a short while. Never get too comfortable." That last was borne from years of travel, especially on boats. You often got jostled out of one cabin and into another if paying passengers had enough coin. "If you do have any questions, you can seek me out, or you can ask another Gaidin or Gaidar if they aren't already occupied."

They entered the foyer with its huge Flame and Fang mosaic. "You will hear a bell each hour of the day, denoting a change in duties. You have this day and the next to yourself, to get orientated, and so you can sign up for various classes. If you need a mentor, you can seek one yourself or I can assign you; the latter is usually best. Otherwise, you'll learn the schedule quickly enough." Instead of returning up the staircase to the first floor, Ferran led the boy through to the western halls.

Ferran regaled the new Drin with the list of rules and requirements expected of Drin'far'ji. No bonding, no relationships, no disrespect, no undue respect... It was a long list. Just long enough to lead them to Cayden's door. Producing a key, Ferran unlocked the door and pushed it wide open. Inside were two beds, although only one was made up. Several stacks of folded linens, uniforms and towelling had been left on that bed, with a good sized chest at the foot of it, and a singular desk and chair set in between. "Enjoy the solitude whilst you have it." The Master of Training produced a second key from a deep pocket, and placed both into Cayden's hand. "It's tradition or procedure for you to have two sets of keys. You may entrust the second to a friend or confidant. It will not be tolerated by myself nor this Tower if you hand that to a woman. As I stated before, whilst there are both males and females here, there will be no distracting relationships."

Ferran took a step back, so that Cayden had access into his new room. "Do you have any further questions, before I leave you to it?"

OOC: You may end this thread with a simple description of your room or you may decide to carry on this thread for as long as you need answers to your questions. If you would like to accept a mentor, we can find and introduce you to one from here as well. If you need any other assistance IC or OOC, just ask.