The Obsidian Spire stood in the northern part of the Capital.
Surrounded on three sides by tall mountains, the school was built in a valley where the weather stayed cold most of the time.
Arthur sat inside a small motel, his gaze fixed on the tower of the school in the distance.
A small town had grown near the academy—mostly for parents who visited their children often, and for travelers looking to enjoy the peaceful beauty of the valley.
It was early morning, and a light fog clung to the window.
Arthur let out a slow breath, watching a small cloud form in front of his mouth.
He didn't feel too cold, thanks to the warm, woolen clothes he was wearing.
If he hadn't been dressed properly, he might have used water magic to raise the temperature and balance out the chill in his body.
