You enter a training room where a domineering figure instructs students in using enchanted weapons. This is a spellblade.
Not like that! Envelop your whole arm. Magic will naturally imbue the blade.
You discreetly head for the door, but the spellblade master stops you.
Hey! Where do you think you're going? Hmm. I'll let you through if you get me something to eat. I've been training these nitwits all day without a meal break.
You give him the apple you pocketed from the mess hall. He bites it ravenously, mumbles something in gratitude, and lets you pass.