Lyra waited until the ordinary meal was finished.
The plates were being cleared, the kettle worked and nobody had arrived with a casualty packet. It seemed almost suspiciously suitable for discussing a future.
She put her proposal on the table.
“I want to open a school.”
Felix looked at the teaching notes rather than at the satchel beside them.
She was grateful for that much.
The plan already had premises she had inspected, people she had approached and a first term small enough to staff. Qi, meridians, dantian control, ward literacy and practical formation work. Difficult training. Stated service assignments. Rest, refusal and review that meant something beyond a handsome promise under a master’s crest.
No hidden lifetime debt in exchange for learning the first useful technique.
