Silent Crown

Chapter 238 I am Ashamed

In the silence of the dark room, silver light converged out of thin air. The shining silver light soon formed an old man’s face. Wrinkles covered the face that was pale and bloodless as if it had not seen the sun in years. And yet, his eyes were like the vast sea. They were awe-inspiring by themselves.

"Doctor Norton, I am Bayer, in charge of Avalon."

"Emergency line?" Norton recognized the signal and furrowed his brows. "Has sign of Leviathan awakening appeared again?"

"No, there’s something else." Bayer sighed and stammered out, "A few days ago, I submitted something related to the Voynich Manuscript’s interpretation. Do you still remember?"

"Of course! The Revelation musicians of Trinity College went crazy arguing over what you submitted. If not for Hermes’s vouch, they’d still be arguing now. What’s wrong? Is it fake?"

Seeing Norton’s seriousness, Bayer’s expression instantly grew troubled. "It’s not fake but…alright, Ingmar’s research results may possibly be plagiarized."

There was a long silence.

After a long while, Norton sucked in a cold breath and massaged his temples. "If that’s the case, then it’s a big problem. F*ck, we’ve already requested to ring the Philosopher’s Bell. Who filed the case?"

"Professor Abraham Wilson from the Royal Academy of Music."

"Abraham?" Norton thought for a bit and shook his head in doubt. "I’ve never heard of a Revelations musician skilled in deciphering ancient texts. Am I mistaken?"

"Uh, actually…he’s a musician from the School of Abstinence. His status is sensitive."

"Is he reliable?"

"That’s the problem." Bayer sighed. "I already had Nibelungenlied check the identity of the student who had come to report it. Guess what happened?"

Norton furrowed his brows. "Just f*cking say it! Stop being dramatic."

"Oh, okay." Bayer shrugged. "He doesn’t have household registration or a place of birth. He doesn’t exist in Anglo. Even though he has white hair, there is no report of Eastern Dragon bloodline entering Anglo within the past two years. Isn’t it strange? This youth seemed to have jumped out of a rock. In the end, I used the Church’s archive to find his identity…"

Norton froze. "He’s a member of the Church?"

"Not exactly. He’s not part of the clergy but his background is scarily interesting. I could not even dream it up."

"How interesting? Is he the b*stard child of some archbishop?"

"From his status, it’s pretty much like that." Bayer scratched his head. "His godfather is Bann Randle, commander of the Knights Templar. He is the manager of Heaven’s Door and the swordsman personally appointed by the pope. I can’t say anything if you still find this kid untrustworthy—if you don’t fear the Fourth Corps coming to your home with swords tonight."

Another long, long silence.

Norton also lit his pipe and inhaled sharply. After blowing out a long breath, he said, "Okay, no matter if the plagiarism is real or not, I’m just happy that we haven’t rang the Philosopher’s Bell yet."

"So this passed?"

"It passed." Norton sighed. Frustration was written in his features. He had lived long enough and seen enough to become so pessimistic. How many more arguments would happen over the Philosopher’s Bell that had not been rang in close to a century?

-

The tension was almost tangible in the large conference room in the afternoon. None of the professors present spoke. In the stiff atmosphere, they looked at Abraham in the corner. Abraham sat in his seat as always, staring at his steel hand without a word. He had no presence as if he was insignificant. But today, the eyes looking at him were filled with troubled pity.

News of Ye Qingxuan going to the Musician’s Union had spread in the morning. The school board had grown furious because this action had jumped past their zone of control and furthered the doubt of their ability to solve matters.

This would be a scandal to the academy if news spread, no matter what the result was. Before this meeting, Abraham’s duties had been halted, and the disbandment of the history department had gone into consideration.

Everyone understood that this time, the school board was really going to act. In an instant, the rising history department of yesterday was now on the verge of collapse.

"I’m sure everyone has already heard of what I will speak about today," Ingmar said coldly at the front. "These past days, I’ve been thinking of the big picture and hoping for a compromise. I’ve taken many steps back and was even willing to hand out the position of a second author to solve this mess. But I can’t believe others saw this and thought I was weak! I never thought that they would blow things up to this level for their unspeakable goal!" His voice was like nails smashing into stone with each word, creating cold echoes.

"Now, this is no longer about my personal defamation, but an unprecedented scandal for the Royal Academy of Music. Our academy has followed a glorious and serious guidance for five-hundred years, but nothing like this has ever happened! Abraham, do you bear to ruin the school for your own desires?!"

The conference room was silent.

Abraham continued to sit in silence. Though he looked forward, his eyes did not focus on anything, as if he was looking into another world. As always, he did not fit in, as if he was participating in something that did not pertain to him. He could not understand and did not want to participate—he was just standing outside the crowd, gazing in from afar.

They could talk and he would continue on. He seemed slow but his attitude was so arrogant it made one annoyed of him involuntarily. How could someone like him be here?

"It seems that you’re determined to report to the Musician’s Union," Ingmar gritted out coldly from between his teeth. "I advise you to stop daydreaming. Do you really think they’ll care about your unfounded tomfoolery? Your two troublesome students have probably already been kicked out!" He paused, coldness flashing past his eyes. "Abraham, you can still turn back now before it’s too late! Otherwise, the school board will not overlook what you’ve done for the academy’s reputation…Don’t forget your status, Abraham! If the academy could save you from Tower Green, it can send you back too!"

Tower Green…A chilly wind seemed to suddenly blow through the conference room. Everyone felt the temperature drop and tensed involuntarily. This time, the school board was going for blood.

If anything else happened next, Abraham, a classified criminal vouched for by the principal, would be sent to the military’s jail and never see the sun again. This was a tower built four-hundred years ago on a barren island to the side of Avalon.

Countless criminal musicians had spent their last moments in this tower and had died in the gallows, or behind the bars of the underground prison. There had been no wails or howls for centuries, only the waves of the sobbing sea.

Perhaps this was his final destination.

Abraham suddenly looked up as if he had woken up from his daydream and finally reacted. Ingmar chuckled coldly as if sensing his fear.

"It’s not too late for regret now, Abraham. Your students are the same as you, but there’s no need to make them end up like you, right? The academy has given you all too much freedom. Otherwise, this wouldn’t happen! Especially that Easterner who doesn’t know good from bad and acts so evilly. He even went to the Musician’s Union to defame me…"

"Yezi is a good child," Abraham interrupted him. His voice was neither angry nor panicked; it was calm as if stating a fact.

This was his first response and Ingmar could not react quickly. Under everyone’s suspicious eyes, Abraham thought throw his words and earnestly repeated, "Yezi is a good child. He never lies."

Ingmar’s expression instantly stiffened and darkened considerably. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that if he says you plagiarized, then you most likely plagiarized." Abraham gazed at him and said slowly and earnestly, "In the end, it’s just some handwritten notes. It’s not worth my worry if someone takes them, but please do not insult my students because they all work hard."

Abraham pushed himself up from the table and gazed around the silent conference room, looking at the stunned and perplexed expressions. He spoke for the first time before them, "As you all have said, I am a quickly made non-mainstream musician. I’ve had no accomplishments in my entire life and now that I’ve aged, I can just wait for my time to be up. To be honest, the history department has survived because of my kids’ hard work. I am ashamed to be their teacher." His voice resounded heavily like a steel plate pounding into stone. It held unwavering calmness and persistence.

"They’ve put in a lot for the music history department, much more than me. Therefore, I’ll believe and support them, no matter what decision they make, even if I must be imprisoned in Tower Green again. Otherwise, I won’t even have the qualifications to be their teacher."

Finished, he nodded slightly to show his politeness and turned to leave. However, he suddenly hit his head just as he reached the door and turned back awkwardly. Coming back, he pulled a notification letter from his pocket and handed it to Ingmar. "Oh right, I actually came to the meeting to give this to you."

Ingmar froze and looked down. When he saw the wax seal and letterhead of the Musician’s Union, his expression changed as if he had seen a ghost; his face lost all color.

This was the notification from the Musician’s Union for him to attend the academic appraisal in ten days.

"You…you…" Ingmar’s arm shook as he pointed at Abraham, tongue-tied. "Why would the Musician’s Union tell…clearly…"

Abraham did not mind him. He just looked at everyone else and said quietly, "To be honest, I’m a wooden man. I don’t understand atmospheres or rules. The only thing I’m good at is the military’s straightforward way of speaking. I really don’t understand why all of you like sitting here and talking about things without meaning. But the Musician’s Union’s appraisal might be a good thing. It’ll at least be simpler and everyone will believe the result.

"If anyone still doubts the results of their appraisal after all this, why don’t we use the military’s rule and have a fight to the death?"

He said "fight to the death" as if it was something like eating and drinking, but his expression was extremely serious. Eating and drinking were things important to life as well and deserved to be treated seriously.

A fight to the death should be the same as eating and drinking—at least, that was how Abraham saw it.

Now, those people finally remembered…the wooden old man before them was once a Dragon Rider. He still contained the bloody and deathly aura of the battlefield. He did not belong here and did not know what they were good at it, so he was dull and silent, slowly getting used to their rules. Now, he did not want to play with them anymore. He was going to act seriously.

For his students, he did not even care about himself anymore. What could they do to him? It did not matter what methods they would use—bring it on!

This time, he would not step back again.

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