Lucien returned his focus to his own project.
His hands were caked with clay, the mess creeping up to his elbows, like a child who'd tried to help in the kitchen and only managed to make a mess.
He shaped with care. In the end, the limbs of his golem were too thick, and the torso was blocky and compact.
But it stood upright, standing about three-quarters of his height. Solid. Balanced. No sagging joints. No collapsed chest cavity or warped center of gravity.
The surface was crude, fingerprinted, and uneven, but there was something in its posture that felt right to Lucien.
He sat back for a moment, wiping a line of sweat from his brow with a dirty sleeve of his expensive robe, and let out a slow breath.
Strangely, he was proud of it.
Then, across the aisle, movement caught his eye.
Sitting at her own bench, mostly unnoticed by the others, was the Dread Mage's daughter.
She was a small girl, very young and less composed than the other students, with raven hair and skin as pale as the mage himself.
Her work sat before her on a clean square of slate, no larger than a doll.
The figure she'd made was delicate. With thin arms and even fingers, a simple face with two holes for eyes. It wasn't a full-sized golem. It was a figurine.
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
Was that allowed?
She didn't seem concerned. In fact, her face was serene as she worked on it.
He wondered what Vellichor would think.
As if summoned, the Dread Mage raised his voice from the front of the room.
"That will be all for today."
A few startled students dropped their tools or scrambled to hide half-finished efforts, embarrassed by shoddy work.
"Leave your shells on the tables. They will be transferred to the drying racks and properly hardened. Next lesson, we'll begin discussing animation. How to bring your construct to life. What makes it move? What makes it obey? And so on. If you're interested in reading ahead, I recommend chapters three and six from Binding Clay: A Foundational Treatise on Golemancy." He paused. "Not required. But useful."
A few students jotted the title down. Others were already stepping back from their tables, stretching sore hands or whispering to one another about whose construct had stood tallest or collapsed fastest.
Lucien stayed where he was for a beat longer, eyes flicking again to his golem.
Sturdy, squat, dependable.
If he had to grade it, honestly, it would only have been a B.