Os Alta, Ravka

Proud home to the Ravkan Second Army and its academy, the Little Palace boasts a modesty and studiousness its otkazat'sya counterpart can only dream of. The hallways are never quite at rest at all hours, swaths of blue, red, and purple keftas brushing past, all on urgent business; though never too busy to accept a cup of tea from a samovar.
Younger students are often found hard at work in the library poring over Grisha theory, wide eyed. The older ones can be heard on occasion on the grounds behind the palace, raising all kinds of hell. The summoners are known to set fire to the forest or conjure up all sorts of storms of a remarkably destructive degree (though you'd better hope not simultaneously). The fabrikators are usually blowing something or another up in a lab. This, of course, is usual, and nothing can be good if all has fallen quiet on that particular front. Conversely, you only know something's wrong with the heartrenders and healers when you hear screaming down the hall. Now you realize why their instructors drink so much kvas after daily lessons.
The Triumvirate can sometimes be found ghosting about the main chambers, speaking in hushed tones--pray to the merciful Saints that Commander Nazyalensky doesn't favor you with one of her signature death glares when you inevitably trip over the hem of your kefta while distracted by her beauty. It is rare that David graces their presence, usually off tinkering in his lab unless Genya pulls him away long enough--and with the smile that she flashes to passerby, it is little wonder he finds it difficult to resist. At times, the young king himself will be among them, flanked by his terrifying Shu twin bodyguards and pretends not to notice when the smaller of the two slips away; you usually find a certain Squaller curiously unaccounted for when this occurs.

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