Ashok turned his head, eyes scanning the crowd of muscle-bound students, when—finally—Hamiel emerged from between them.
The old dwarf stepped forward, bare-chested like the rest, revealing a frame packed with well-defined muscles beneath a thick coat of coarse hair.
A sight Ashok could have gone his entire life without seeing.
His thoughts churned as he forced himself to remain composed, resisting the overwhelming urge to turn around and retreat to his dorm.
'Wear some damn clothes. My eyes are suffering looking at an old man's bulging muscles.'
The suffocating heat of the forge, the pungent scent of sweat clinging to the air, and now this—he was dangerously close to his limit.
Hamiel barely spared Ashok a glance before barking a command at the nearest student—
"HEY! What are you standing around for? Go bring me a registration form for the Blacksm—"
