Black Ice

Torvar was not used to being in such a place. He was accustomed to the surrounding environment being less crowded and less well-maintained. Nevertheless, he quickly began to adjust, although, in addition to the constant training sessions (during which he made quite a few acquaintances), he often simply wandered around the Order's building in thought. People looked at him strangely, but usually said nothing. And now, he was pondering a deep philosophical question. Of course, he was thinking to himself; he wasn't such a weirdo as to say everything out loud. "So, which came first: cats or whiskers? On the one hand, cats can't be without whiskers... Because that would mean someone cut their whiskers off. But knives appeared later than whiskers and cats, because..." He paused at the window and scratched his head. "Because knives were invented to cut off cats' whiskers! Exactly, that's how it was! So, therefore..." He didn't manage to finish his thought: as Torvar passed by the dining hall, someone called out to him. "David! I didn't notice you, sorry! Yes, I'll sit down. There are a lot of you here," he said, looking around the dining hall.