Throughout the journey, the department head remained silent; both men silently made their way to the Academic Affairs District’s Court Castle in the academy.
Miller brought him into the grand hall situated at the center of the castle, where Rod encountered three heads of sub-academies — Vera, Bag, and Bain — as well as the Dean, Theodore.
The atmosphere was very serious, seemingly not indicating anything good.
Had the matter of purchasing the Hunter’s License been discovered?
Rod was somewhat nervous; getting docked fifty points for Team Ten was one thing, ending up at the bottom again.
If the Hunter’s License were to be confiscated, wouldn’t all his subsequent plans be destroyed?
"Your Excellency Dean, Rod has been brought here," said Miller with a slight bow, his expression impassive.
"You’ve worked hard, little Miller, have a seat."
Theodore lifted his azure eyes, speaking in a light tone, but the iron-hard expressions of the three sub-academy heads prevented the atmosphere from easing.
"And Rod, don’t be nervous, take a seat as well."
He pulled a document from his chest; its cover was black, adorned with the words ’Internal Affairs Court.’
"You went to the Defense Department in the Iron Cross District this morning and participated in a high-threat hunting mission, correct?"
"The hunt was a success, yes?"
"No team member died or suffered irrecoverable injuries because of you, and you made no principled mistakes, right?"
"Your Excellency Dean," Vera, the head of the first sub-academy, interrupted, "You shouldn’t ask him that, that’s not the point."
Beneath his silver-framed glasses, Theodore’s azure eyes fixed on Vera, "I believe that is exactly the point."
"No! This has nothing to do with Royal City’s combat rules, nor does it concern the laws engraved on the Holy Grail."
Vera was a middle-aged man with a squared face and hard lines; each wrinkle was as if forged by blade and axe, and his voice was as steel.
He turned his head, looking sternly at Rod.
"Are you a formal combatant? Do you possess combat qualifications issued by Heidler’s Training Ground? Do you have a combat directive from the academy, Military War Department, or Supreme Council?"
Rod’s heart stirred; wanting to explain, but Vera cut him off sharply.
Rod was silent for a few seconds.
Vera shifted his expressionless gaze towards the Dean:
"See, the matter is clear; Rod disregarded Royal City’s combat regulations, treating dangerous missions as a game, endangering his teammates in the perilous Dead Land. By the rules of punishment, he should rightfully be expelled from the academy and handed over to the Internal Affairs Court for disposal."
"Vera, isn’t that a bit too harsh?" hesitated Bain, the third sub-academy head. "There’s no need for that."
Vera said coldly, "The correspondence from the Internal Affairs Court has already arrived. Acting by the law, there’s no procedural issue. Otherwise, we would be the ones with a problem. Do you still want to carry on with your teaching system?"
Bag, the second sub-academy head, frowned, "But it’s clearly unreasonable; cases that are successful without grave outcomes are generally not pursued."
Vera spoke indifferently, "There is no ’generally.’ This can’t be inferred from the outcome; what if he’s lucky this time but not the next, or the time after that? If everyone acted as he did, a catastrophe would eventually occur. This matter falls within the jurisdiction of the Internal Affairs Court. The academy is already under enough pressure; we can’t afford more criticism."
Rod felt a chill creeping up his spine and settling in his head; he knew right away that it must be that Iron Mask Manolo Bana’s doing, framing him with something factually sensible but against the rules.
This was typical of power-wielding bureaucrats, brandishing the big stick of rules, looking for your gaps like flies, leaving you only capable of passive defense, unable to counterattack because they cleverly shelter behind the main body of the rules, like foxes under a tiger’s might.
The only way to deal with such people was with higher, greater authority.
Rod had understood this long ago.
But why? Didn’t he have the support of the other three Great Judges?
Doubt echoed in his mind, Rod was extremely nervous; if he were handed over , it would be disastrous.
"I recall, Rod is a special student."
Vera said coldly, "Special students don’t have regulatory support in this regard."
Miller met his gaze expressionlessly.
Their mutual indifference added a chill to the air.
Dean Theodore’s azure eyes glanced over, hinting at a touch of admiration.
"There is, Vera," he said gently, his silver beard trembling lightly, revealing his pleasant mood.
"The ’Voice Beyond Human’ partnership with our academy and a secretive branch among the special students do have operational authorization."
Vera’s face remained as cold as ice, unchanged: "But the final roster has not yet been decided."
Through his silver beard, Theodore’s blue gaze twinkled with a hint of a smile:
"I decided this morning."
Only then did Bain and Bag realize what was happening, exchanging glances before smiling together, "Yes, we have decided. They are the most special, precocious students and have operational authorization from Calier’s secret forces."
"Good," said Vera coldly.
"I will respond to the Internal Affairs Court in that way."
He stood up and left the room.
As if winter had passed, the temperature in the room visibly rose.