Three things happened every day.
Morning: the arena, Vane, the doctrine. Afternoon: doctrine sessions in a windowless room on the second floor, Brother Edric's even voice moving through Church history and the theology of the Seals and the organisational structure of the Orders with the thoroughness of someone who had resolved the material into its most efficient form and was now simply delivering it. Evening: whatever Nero decided to do with the remaining hours, which was usually some version of reading, or lying on the bed thinking, or both.
The routine had a weight to it that was not unpleasant. He had lived without routine for long enough that having one felt like a kind of structure he could push against, and pushing against structure was more useful than pushing against nothing.
