Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 73 - 70: The Sword of Andrey

"Thank you, Mr. Irene," Lyle said, sitting in a chair facing the quiet gentleman, who had a book resting on his lap with his palms stacked on top of it. If not for Lyle’s interjection, he would have already been immersed in the text, "Thank you for extending your hand to me in my time of need."

"Emphasizing someone else’s assistance while neglecting your own ability is not the behavior of a wise man, Lyle."

"I stand corrected."

A man named Reed, clad in iron armor, walked over and sat down in the chair next to Mr. Irene. A lion was depicted at the center of his glossy black armor, and as the iron body sunk into the soft cushion, the lion too remained steady.

Reed started a conversation on his own, as if speaking to both of them, yet it was as if he was talking to himself.

"The same old poetry and essays, I hope their eloquence is as sharp on the battlefield."

The members of Twilight Memories gathered together, radiating their literary talents. It seemed to have become a daily activity, where the learned ones displayed themselves at the center, the lesser ones sparked discussions, others stood and admired, and the least, stayed outside the circle.

Clearly, Reed was a man of combat.

"That old fellow too, clearly a barbarian himself, yet he loves to join the crowd," Reed said, pointing toward Echel, who was at the very edge of the group, propping up his chin with his hand and gently nodding his head with the central person’s chant.

"I can hear you." Echel’s ears were surprisingly good. He stepped away from the crowd and approached Reed, "I could hear your slander even with my ears closed, Iron Bucket. You cannot appreciate the joy of poetry because you are a stableman without a shred of entertainment in you."

From their surnames, it could be gleaned that Echel and Reed were members of the Scansor Mountain Range’s Liveser and the Kingdom of Dreyar respectively, which were Lyle’s destinations for his journey—the origin of the herb Sword Dance Mandala.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Echel, Mr. Reed."

"Welcome, Lyle."

Getting straight to the point.

"May I ask you two if you know of the Sword Dance Mandala? I need this plant for my research."

"People from Cassandra, fond of using others’ treasures as a conversation opener, aren’t you? While I’m not against straightforwardness," Echel sat next to Lyle, "Liveser does have this plant, and I can indeed provide you with a way to it, as compensation for my earlier rudeness. However, this is merely an opportunity, whether or not you can seize it is up to you."

"Understood."

"Liveser is a jungle kingdom; our territories lie within a forest. Hunting is the main source of our livelihood and our youths complete their coming-of-age with a hunt. It is tradition. As a reward, the successful ones will receive a Sword Dance Mandala."

"Since it’s planted in the dens of beasts, getting one is simple – join our hunting ceremony."

It sounded acceptable if it was just about hunting animals.

"I am willing to participate in the ceremony and obtain the Sword Dance Mandala."

"Good, I shall take you to meet our queen, and she will decide if you deserve this honor."

.......

The Dean looked at the clock tower in the distance; the hands had just slid to twelve o’clock. With the toll of twelve chimes, he glanced at the shadows behind him, "The battle has begun, but you, will not fail."

"Yes, in the name of Andrei’s sword, our enemies shall wail in pain."

The Dean took the lead and entered the building behind him, made entirely of marble. Purple banners representing the Secret Pivot Council fluttered on every stone column.

The stands were filled with observers: Impostors, humans, Elves, members of the Demon Race, and many other races.

At the central round table were eighteen seats, seventeen figures seated around, leaving one spot for the Dean.

As the Dean took his seat, armed soldiers filled the aisles.

An elderly man with white in his beard, holding his half-moon glasses, picked up the scroll in his hand and stood up. His booming voice announced to all around,

"The hearing for the one thousand four hundred and fifty-eight charges against Andrei Academy now commences."

"Taking part in this meeting, on my left is the record keeper, the accused, the Dean of Andrei Academy, representatives of the fifteen accusers, and accompanying them are three..."

The judge looked puzzledly at the three shadows behind the Dean; his eyelids suddenly twitched.

The Dean lifted his hand and with a crisp snap of his fingers,

The three removed their outer black robes.

Beneath the black robes, were still black robes.

"Andrei’s professional team."

"Resolving all external disputes for Andrei."

"A remedy for the dissatisfied."

"We are the Sword of Andrei."

This was a team of lawyers.

The judge tossed the scroll onto the table and supported himself on the table with both hands, heaving a long sigh,

"Given the change in the participants for this hearing, you three should probably introduce yourselves."

"Andrei the Storm’s Fury."

"Andrei the Combat Roar."

"Andrei the Death Whisper."

"Accompanying him is the legal defense team of Andrei, Mr. Wind Fury, Mr. War Roar, and Mr. Last Words."

"Now, the first accusation. Provided by Druk, a Dwarf from Light District Two, who claims that twelve nights ago, he was attacked by a masked individual suspected to be a member of Andrei, and his treasured beard that he had grown for fifty years was... stolen."

All was silent in the courtroom.

A Dwarf with a red nose and brown hair climbed onto the table; standing as he was, his green bean-like eyes suddenly filled with tears, his nose reddened from drinking started to twitch, and his now bare chin was clean amidst his disheveled appearance.

"Your Honor, my beard was stolen that night, just as I was coming out of the bar. I was suddenly taken down by a binding spell. The assailant was disguised, wearing a silly mouse mask, and he... he did something unforgivable to me, he... he shaved off my beard, my pride of fifty years, we Dwarves, we’re famous for our beards, my beard was my life, my most beautiful secondary organ, and then it was gone, taken by those Andrei bastards. My youthful beauty is no longer, Andrei folk like to mask their faces, even their dean likes to wear a fake beard, everyone knows this, you must stand up for me, Your Honor."

A fifty-year-old, untidy man wept as if his heart was breaking.

Mr. Wind Fury leaned over to the dean.

"No way, Dean, did you really do this? That’s way too... "

Dean’s cane sunk into Wind Fury’s foot, and he growled at the convulsing man, "I swear to heaven I didn’t do it, or may I be ground to dust; this is a blatant slander. I brought you three here, not to make fun of me."

Mr. Last Words also came closer, "It’s confirmed, it was Mr. Breeder from the Plant Research Society. He did it for a study on plant adaptation to harsh environments. Seeing a Dwarf beard as filthy as a trash pile, he publicly shaved it off to collect material, and incidentally did a good deed by beautifying the environment."

"It was indeed our man. Leave it, settle this matter for me. We absolutely can’t let it affect Andrei’s reputation."

"Don’t worry, Dean. But can I write about this beard theft news, with you as the suspect in the Andrei News? It would be quite a read."

"No way!"

"It’s just a suspicion. A casual mention of you might ensure the truth comes out."

"Don’t even think about it. With the rhetorical tactics of your Literary Society, false appears true and true appears false. It won’t be long before my reputation is ruined, and I become a laughingstock. You now have two choices, stop or die. I’ll dig up your Literary Society!"

"Alright, alright, back to work."

Mr. War Roar was the first to speak up, "Mr. Druk, you said you were attacked after coming out of the bar. So, did you drink that night?"

"I did, why else would I go to a bar?"

"Then were you sure you were sober at that time?"

"Of course, I was sober."

"That’s what all drunk people say."

"You’re insulting a Dwarf’s capacity for alcohol, as if you’re insulting his parents!"

"I’m just being objective. You can’t provide any solid evidence, not even your own state at the time is certain. I question the fairness of your accusation."

Mr. Last Words spoke up as well.

"As I understand it, Mr. Druk has a habitual drinking problem, and therefore owes a substantial bar tab."

"Could it be possible that he deliberately cut off his own beard and, leveraging the public’s stereotypes about Andrei and its dean, sought to perpetrate a fraud to claim compensation?"

"You’re slandering me."

"Don’t get agitated, Mr. Druk. Your agitation would only be seen as embarrassed anger. However, as a Dwarf, the great resolve to cut your beard as a declaration of intent is indeed commendable. The problem is you’re making such an absurd accusation about beard theft, I can’t help but worry about the average intelligence of Dwarves."

"I (redacted)!!!" The infuriated Dwarf Druk was restrained.

The judge sighed, "Now let’s start voting. Do you believe the accusation of beard theft against Andrei holds up?"

"Not guilty, the accusation is invalid."

In the subsequent accusations, Mr. War Roar demonstrated his powerful public relations skills, twisting and exploiting the loopholes in the existing laws in ways that somehow still seemed reasonable.

Mr. Last Words showed his formidable intelligence gathering ability, using information to launch a series of personal attacks against the accusers, preventing them from taking a moral high ground from a position of vulnerability.

Mr. Wind Fury displayed his powerful psychological reading ability, seeing through the accusers’ mental fluctuations. With the assistance of Mr. War Roar and Mr. Last Words, he dismantled their psychological defenses, causing them to rage impotently and lose the crowd’s favorable impression.

"You say your house was destroyed by a dangerous experiment from Andrei? Why don’t you say it was hit by a meteorite? No meteorite fragments? I suspect you intentionally demolished your house to fraudulently claim disaster relief funds and compensation from Andrei, especially since you have no tools for the crime."

"What, you say you were taken by Andrei’s Magic Research Society for suspicious live experiments? You were originally a Gnome but got transformed into an Elf? Can you identify the participants in the experiment? Look at your Elfin ears and long legs. Are you sure about your Gnome identity? Identity proof? Judge, I want to accuse this no-identity Elf of kidnapping one of our Gnome citizens from the City of Wandering and possessing his documents!"

...

The accusations were concluded.

The judge read out the verdict, "The results for the one thousand four hundred and fifty-eight charges against Andrei are as follows. Charges upheld, the accusers, Andrei Academy, for the charge of defamation of Druk’s reputation, the charge of malicious destruction of property... ...the charge of an unidentified Elf kidnapping a Gnome citizen... of the aforementioned total one thousand four hundred and fifty-eight charges. The Secret Pivot Council will urge law enforcement agencies to closely monitor the accused and pursue the corresponding criminal penalties and property disputes, to render justice for Andrei."

"The hearing is concluded."

The Dean stepped outside, saying to the three.

"The thirty percent you’ve secured will be used as subsidy funds for the Literary Society."

"Generous Dean!"

"You’ve earned it, Swords of Andrei."