Silent Crown

Chapter 227 Before it Rains

At dusk, the school board’s conference room was silent. Other than some representatives, the only faculty members who had arrived on time were Sydney and Ingmar. Everyone else was absent, for some reason.

The empty seats added to the suffocating atmosphere of the room. After the representatives of the school board of directors finished reading the report, they sank into silence.

After a long time, the old housekeeper took off his monocle. He had thought for a long while, but still could not help but sigh. "The principal had restrained himself for so long. Is he finally going to act against the school board?"

"Do you still need to ask? He’d been determined to do so ever since he acted on his own accord and expelled the concertmaster we’ve chosen. But the question is, must we keep enduring it?"

"We must treat it carefully and not fall into his trap."

"No, we must show him our power!" someone said. "The Royal Academy of Music was established by our ancestors. There’s no place for an outsider like him."

"We can’t retreat this time, otherwise we’ll always act passively."

Many nodded in agreement, but someone was still worried. "But the power behind Maxwell shouldn’t be underestimated either. It’s been so many years and the royal family still supports him. If we…"

"Actually, I don’t think we need to worry about that aspect," the middle-aged advisor who acted as a representative said after pondering. "If we really have a conflict, the royal family can’t be too biased toward him. If we express our attitude, I’m sure Her Highness will remain neutral."

The old man shook his head. "But no matter what, Maxwell is still the principal."

"If we recognize that fact," someone else said coldly. "We can start a proposal of distrust and request impeachment. If more than seventy percent vote yes, he won’t be able to ride over us anymore."

With that, everyone stopped talking.

In the Royal Academy of Music’s centuries of history, the school board had never truly used this power before, although there was this rule and they would restrict things from the surface.

Through history, the principals had all been one-of-a-kind talents and important figures of the congress, especially Maxwell. This mysterious old man had always been trusted by the royal family and no one knew how many dirty secrets he held. He was a madman too. Who knew what he could do?

If they really wanted to declare war on the principal, it would not be something these representatives could decide. They instantly looked into the corner of the room involuntarily.

On the coat rack in the corner was a gray sparrow. It stared outside without a care for anyone else. It had not made a single sound this entire time. When it turned around, its eyes were humanlike. It studied everyone present, cold and confident. This was the only one who could make the decision.

When it spoke, its voice was steady and calm, as if stating a fact. "Centuries ago, our ancestors established the Royal Academy of Music and it still stands. It has been managing the cradle of future musicians for the royal family to this day. For these centuries, our families have put in so many resources and effort. The school board exists to help the school improve. All these years, the school is the school board; the school board represents the school," the sparrow stated. "If Maxwell truly wishes to cross the line, then he should be prepared to face the entire school."

Hearing its voice, all representatives seemed to let out a sigh of relief. But its next words made everyone tense up again. It looked toward Ingmar, at the far end of the long table, and said pointedly, "But there’s another problem, isn’t there?"

Someone caught his meaning and his eyes grew suspicious. "Ingmar." The old representative looked at the dazed man with a grave expression. "Is Maxwell’s accusation of plagiarism true?"

The sharp gazes instantly shot over like arrows. Ingmar’s hands trembled under the table. He sank into hesitation, but he made his decision almost instantly. If he confessed here, everything would be over! Not only would he lose the school board’s support, his reputation would also be destroyed and lose everything! This was the path of no return!

"Of course not!" Ingmar looked at everyone in mocking fury and yelled, "Do you believe those unfounded rumors too, and doubt my hard work?!"

"Then why didn’t you report to the school board when you made such accomplishments?"

Ingmar forced down the panic in his mind. His brain whirred and he ‘explained’ with all his might, "I’ve always been reporting my research to the school board. Gentlemen, please check the related documents. As for the result…I—I was just trying it and I wasn’t even sure if it was right. I found out this afternoon that it passed the Sacred City and didn’t have time to report."

His explanation was logical and the representatives exchanged glances with each other. Someone could not help but sigh.

"Maxwell really seized a good time. He’d declared war before we even processed everything…Clearly, he prepared for a long time. Now, does anyone still want to give in?" the old man said.

No one replied.

And so, the old man at the front nodded. "Then it’s Maxwell’s turn to pay for his brash actions."

"Also that brazen Eastern kid he pushed to the front." Ingmar’s eyes were vicious. "This is where the glory of Anglo’s musicians is. It’s not the place for him to play in!"

The meeting was about the end now. There were still a few details left, but the sparrow was clearly not interested. It flew from the coatrack to the window and gave them one last glance.

"If something else happens, I’ll come again. Mr. White Raven pays much attention to this. Do not disappoint the parliament."

With that, it flapped its wings and left. Even the sparrow’s gray wings had a gold tint under the sun, and seemed high and untouchable.

-

Late at night, the music history department was silent. Everyone sat in the living room and waited without speaking. Bai Xi rested on Old Phil, close to falling asleep. Old Phil and Charles stared at each other. Ye Qingxuan just hung his head and ran his fingers across Jiu Xiao Huang Pei.

Charles’s eyes finally felt sore from the staring contest. He rubbed his eyes and sighed. "It’s already ten and Professor still isn’t back. Do you think the meeting was successful?"

"No," Ye Qingxuan stated. "You know Professor’s personality. He doesn’t know how to talk. Other than music theory, he probably can’t even go grocery shopping."

"I know…" Charles’s expression grew dejected. "But this just sucks."

"Not entirely." Ye Qingxuan’s expression was composed. "People who aren’t good at talking will have two main reactions to this stuff. The first is pretending he understands, the other is not understanding no matter what you say. Which one do you think Professor is?"

Charles chuckled dryly. "Of course the latter."

"So, no matter what the school board says or brings out to pressure him, the result is still the same. The biggest possibility is that they can’t persuade Professor and he can’t persuade them. They’ll just have an awkward stalemate where both just express their stances.

"But the situation doesn’t allow Ingmar to keep things this way. This had already started brewing in the school this afternoon. Ingmar has many supporters, but as time passes, more and more will start to suspect him. He must take care of this before this event grows too large and influential." Ye Qingxuan narrowed his eyes and murmured, "Senior, get ready. The conflict will grow in the next few days."

"Will he use despicable ways to pressure us?"

"Why not? He has this ability and he knows that he can’t lose. If he does, he’ll lose everything. His old secrets would be revealed too, so he’ll definitely grow desperate…" Ye Qingxuan grabbed an apple and bit down. He chewed, producing crisp sounds, until Charles got goosebumps. Then he said, "But we might not be powerless."

Charles’s eyes lit up. "Tell me, do you have a plan A, B, and C?"

"…A, B and C? How can I have that many? Why don’t you ask me to compile one-hundred and eight strategies?!" Ye Qingxuan suddenly had the urge to chuck the apple core at Charles’s throat, but decided against it. It was not suitable to kill right now. "Actually, there are two results when somethings stays the same and both are in a stalemate. The first is that it stays like this. The second is that the problem upgrades…Now, whether it upgrades or not is up to us."

"Are you talking about…the Musician’s Union?" Charles was a bit hesitant. "Isn’t that making too big of a splash?"

"Why not?" Ye Qingxuan chuckled, but there was no warmth in the laugh. "Doesn’t Ingmar want to get famous? Then let’s satisfy his wishes. I love helping people."

-

The seconds ticked by in the stillness. Soon, heavy footsteps sounded outside. Someone was knocking on the door.

Charles jumped up and ran over. "Professor, you’re back…" His voice cut off and his eyes grew confused. "Who are you?"

"Is Ye Qingxuan here?" A large shadow stood in the dark night outside. "Tell him to come with me."