Meredith leaned on a wall with a claymore at her side in the vast, echoing training hall of the Order of Paladins' Podrian facility, her tall frame casting a long shadow across the polished stone floor. The air smelled of sweat and oiled leather, mingled with the faint incense from the altar at the far end, where ceremonial incense flickered in honor of the paladins fallen. Around her, a batch of recruits dressed in their fine tunics embroidered with family crests stood in groups, their laughter sharp and cutting as they glanced her way.
"Look at her, standing around like she owns the place," sneered one of them, a slender youth from House Everwinter, his voice dripping with that haughty tone all too familiar to Meredith. "As if a common orphan could ever grasp the true mantle of a Paladin."
