I felt honored. Really. Being the first from my village selected to become a Scholar was… life-changing. Who would’ve expected such a feat from me, a mere lumberjack's son? From a village as sluggish and tumbledown as a soured lake, no less! I wear the Scholar's uniform with pride. I’m getting used to the stares, the whispers, the bowing populace. Still, some aspects of my vocation continue to stir me. The corridors of the Night Sanctums are relentlessly trapped. When the Empyrean Ancients instructed me how to turn the traps off, I made sure to memorize every detail — and when attempting the deactivation for the first time, I rigorously tested each spike and swinging blade, meticulously weaving my path through the machinery as I went. I can’t imagine passing these corridors any other way. One thing is for certain: the contraptions keep out whoever isn’t valiant or foolish enough to press on.