On the high table, the middle-aged man in a black uniform looked down at the cadets seated below. Four golden stars glead on each epaulette, while a flaming red heart was displayed on the collar tabs. He was clean-shaven, with a sharp jawline, pale skin flushed with a faint redness, and long, reddish-white hair flowing behind his neck. A powerful aura seed to radiate from him, pressing upon all around.
"Fire Dragon," Eleanor whispered under her breath.
Two protectors stood to his right and three officials to his left. His piercing gaze swept across the entire dining hall, and for a mont it seed as though everyone forgot how to breathe.
Then the man spoke. His voice bood and echoed through the hall. "I am General Maximilian Veers, commanding officer of the Academy’s security force. I will be overseeing your discipline this term. I am also the officer in charge of this dining hall. We shall be seeing one another a lot."
He paused before continuing. "On my right stand Colonel Richard Sharpe and Colonel Rudolph George. They will be in direct contact with you. Their temporary office will be located on the ground floor of your dormitory, and you may reach them at any ti."
Turning his head slightly, he gestured to the three officials in white robes. "On my left are Dr. Simin ydani, Dr. Manuel Villacorta, and Dr. Alan Aragon. They are responsible for providing your als throughout the term. Their offices are adjacent to the kitchen here, accessible from outside. Any requests or complaints regarding food are to be directed to them."
The hundred or so cadets studied the newly introduced officials in silence, trying to imprint their faces in mory. After a asured pause, General Veers resud, his voice carrying effortlessly to the farthest corners of the hall... resonant, controlled, the voice of a man forged in command.
"Cadets," he said, "this hall is more than a place to eat. It is a place of order, of dignity, of representation. Here you do not dine as individuals, but as cadets... as representatives of your race, and as mbers of this Academy."
He let the words settle before pressing on. "You will sit as instructed, in your assigned seat at your assigned table. Numbers are given to eliminate chaos... learn them, respect them. You will not lift so much as a fork until the highest-ranking officer has begun their al. When the al begins, you will not rush. You need not fear missing any dish; in this Academy, food is provided in exact proportion to the number of cadets at each table. Should you encounter any shortage, raise your hand and a server will attend to you at once. You will have thirty minutes for each of the three main als, and ten minutes for each of the two snack tis. Conduct yourselves with restraint, with precision, and with decorum."
At a signal from his gloved hand, a projection shimred into being above his head. A pair of stewards stepped forward to demonstrate, laying down plates and cutlery with perfect precision. The General moved aside, indicating the display behind him.
"Observe," he commanded. "The utensils are placed for reason, not ornant. You will use them in sequence, beginning from the outside and working inward as courses are served. A fork is not a weapon, a knife or a toy. Misconduct will be punished imdiately."
His words were clipped but never harsh; it was the voice of a man for whom discipline was a language, and etiquette its dialect.
When the projection faded, the General returned to his forr place, hands clasped, eyes fixed upon the cadets. "You will speak only in low tones at the table... never shouting across the hall. If you wish to address soone at a distance, you will wait until after the al. You will not leave your seat without permission. When addressed by a superior, you will rise and answer clearly. Respect in this hall reflects respect beyond it. If you cannot govern your tongue and manner here, you will not govern your will in life."
He allowed the silence to settle like a weight before concluding, with a curt nod, "I will be observing you from here. So, cadets... behave. Whether you are rewarded or punished depends entirely on you. Dr. Simin ydani, the floor is yours."
General Maximilian Veers lowered himself onto the central chair at the high table. Dr. Simin ydani remained standing while the others took their seats.
As if on cue, servers entered in silence, bearing bowls and trays heaped with food. They placed the dishes at the centre of each table and withdrew, only to return monts later with more. Within minutes the tables were laden with a vast array of dishes, the servers departing as quietly as they had co.
Dr. ydani drew a deep breath and spoke in a solemn voice, "We give thanks to Lord Yggdrasil, root and crown of Midgard, whose branches shield us from harm and whose roots bind us to peace. Through His strength we endure, through His shelter we prosper, and through His wisdom we glimpse a brighter tomorrow. With gratitude in our hearts and discipline in our hands, we begin this al together."
He then took his seat. The General and the officials at the high table began their al in unison, and at that signal the cadets followed.
Soon, the hall filled with the faint murmur of hushed voices and the delicate clink of cutlery. The food was exquisite... worthy of surpassing even the most decorated Michelin-starred chefs... and the cadets, despite their restraint, ate with undisguised eagerness.
Barely five minutes passed before the General’s voice cut through the air. "Cadet 622... minus five points for speaking loudly at the table. Cadet 635... minus ten points for using hands instead of utensils. Cadet 615... minus five points for shouting at a server."
Every head turned instinctively towards him. He was now standing, hands clasped behind his back, posture rigid as a blade. The hall fell into imdiate silence. Only the faint scraping of cutlery remained... and even that seed subdued. The deductions continued, sharp and relentless, though gradually they grew fewer until, after twenty minutes, they ceased altogether.
When the allotted thirty minutes had passed, the General spoke again. "Those who obeyed the instructions and incurred no punishnt will be awarded ten points. Rember this lesson well. I will return to this hall whenever I choose, and on those occasions the penalties will be far harsher."
Dr. ydani rose, announcing the end of dinner. The five officials filed out, following in the General’s wake.
Only once they had departed did the cadets rise from their seats. No one dared whisper. Intimidation clung to the air like a heavy cloak.
Outside the hall, Eleanor regrouped with her companions, including the two mbers of the Amazon Clan. Nora reported that Eleanor had been granted ten points. At Eleanor’s urging, the others checked and found the sa. Relieved, the group hurried back to their rooms. Before parting, Eleanor reminded them to finish the guidebook before sleep... it had already helped them to avoid punishnt once, and might do so again.
***
Early the next morning, Eleanor was woken by the shrill sound of the compulsory alarm. She knew it was half-past five, and with assembly on the parade ground at six, she needed to hurry.
She went to the bathroom, washed, tied her hair back into a ponytail, and dressed in the green tracksuit prescribed for morning parade. The previous night, after returning from the dining hall, she had discovered a neatly folded stack of clothing laid out on her bed. On trying them, she had found every piece fitted her perfectly... even the undergarnts, which clung to her like a second skin.
The tracksuit ca with a hood, which she drew over her head before leaving her room. Hearing movent in Maira’s room, she sensed the young girl was also preparing, but Eleanor did not wait; she went straight down the stairs.
The parade ground lay just across the road from the dormitory. By the ti she arrived, several cadets were already standing in three lines. Five middle-aged n in black tracksuits were moving along the rows, correcting stances and asking to call themselves sergeants. At the head of the ground, Eleanor spotted a familiar figure standing apart, observing the cadets... Colonel Richard Sharpe, also clad in black, identical to the sergeants’ wear.
Once the flow of cadets from the dormitory had ceased, the sergeants checked their watches, adjusted the lines one final ti, and then ford an even row of their own in front of the cadets. The central sergeant marched forward to Colonel Sharpe, saluted, and reported that all were present.
Receiving permission, he turned smartly back, faced the cadets, and shouted, "Cadets! The sergeants will lead you on a run around the track. The Academy’s running track asures two kilotres per round. Today, you will complete six kilotres. You are to keep your lines intact. Anyone who breaks formation will be punished. Should you fall ill, inform the sergeant beside you. Do not worry... the Academy healers will attend imdiately. The infirmary is located beside the track."
With that, he pivoted, jogged towards the roadside end of the line, and set the contingent in motion. The cadets began to run, three lines moving as one, running shoes striking the ground in asured rhythm.
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