The School Board members were stunned. In their impression, Anjou, though sometimes overly eccentric, was still a model of an old-fashioned gentleman. Hearing such blunt words from the Principal made them question if he had lost his mind.
The elderly man with the prayer beads frowned and rang his bell, “Anjou, you are overstepping your authority!”
Lisa rang her bell, “Can we stop discussing this? Who should keep the Dragon Skeletons is not on today’s agenda!”
The young girl exchanged glances with her butler, then rang her bell, “I think it’s necessary to remind Principal Anjou that the wealth of the Secret Party must be entrusted to the Council of Elders! Only the School Board has the authority to dispose of the Dragon Skeletons!”
The middle-aged man who had remained silent looked left and right, then rang his bell, “Let’s not damage the harmony here…”
Frost rang his bell, “This is no longer about harmony! This is overstepping authority!”
The air at the meeting table suddenly seemed to catch fire, with everyone trying to speak and ringing their bells. The clear ringing mixed together, creating an earsplitting, uneasy clamor. The School Board members rose to their feet in two groups, arguing—Lisa was clearly on Anjou’s side, while the two elderly men looked stern, and the young girl, after each glance from her butler, would make strong arguments against Anjou. The middle-aged man, meanwhile, kept prattling on about “staying calm.”
Suddenly, an even more aggressive bell sound drowned out everyone else’s voices, filled with impatience and aggression.
Everyone turned their eyes to the one ringing the bell: Anjou. The old man had grabbed several bells from around him, holding them above his head and shaking them fiercely, cigar smoke spewing from his mouth. He looked a bit like an evil character from The Investiture of the Gods who wielded the Soul-Snatching Bell…
Anjou tossed the bells onto the table, leaned back in his chair, and let out a long breath. “Alright, I think this topic will never reach a conclusion, so we can end it. You won’t fire me just yet, because you can’t find someone to replace me.”
After a long silence, the School Board members took their seats again. Anjou had touched on their biggest concern. Both supporters and opponents admitted that in the century since Cassell was founded, no one had ever been able to replace Anjou. Behind Anjou were the heads of departments, powerful figures among the hybrids who strongly supported him.
“Next agenda item, candidate for the ‘Nibelungen Plan.’” Anjou clapped his hands, “Allow me to introduce our A-Rank student, a true elite, Caesar Gattuso.”
The door opened. Brilliant golden hair, sea-blue eyes, dressed in an all-white evening suit, with a violet silk handkerchief in his chest pocket—Caesar Gattuso appeared before the School Board, flaunting his flashy attire without the slightest restraint.
“He’s so handsome!” the young girl blurted out.
The butler promptly placed a hand on her shoulder, “Miss, maintain your composure.”
Embarrassed, the young girl resumed her solemn demeanor as a School Board member, her small face stiff.
Caesar gave everyone a slight nod and sat nonchalantly in the vacant seat at the end of the conference table.
“No student has ever been invited to a School Board meeting in all these years; you’re the first,” Anjou glanced at Caesar, then turned to the School Board members, “To briefly introduce him, he was just re-elected as Student Union President with unanimous support—something unprecedented in College history. Of course, that also has a lot to do with our Caesar Gattuso turning the Student Union into his own fan club. His GPA is 2.7, which is pretty terrible, about on par with former President George W. Bush’s performance at Yale. He has many instances of tardiness, has failed two courses… oh, and he’s one of the leaders of the brawls on Day of Liberty. He was even given a warning once for pouring a large amount of beer into the swimming pool in winter to host a lavish beer-swimming contest, which ended up cracking the pool.”
“I wanted to use champagne, but buying that much of the same brand at once was a bit difficult,” Caesar was completely indifferent to this dismal introduction, merely adding one last point.
“The main reason you’re here as a candidate is simply that you killed the Dragon King Norton,” Anjou said.
After a moment of silence, the School Board members gave polite applause. This one merit outweighed all his previous shortcomings—anyone who could kill a Dragon King deserved a hero’s respect and a seat at the School Board.
“Unfortunately, Caesar, I can’t reveal the names of the School Board members to you,” Anjou said, “Except for one—your uncle. Aren’t you going to greet your uncle?”
Caesar seemed not to hear the comment. Since entering the room, he had not looked at Frost Gattuso, his uncle, even once. He had never mentioned to anyone that he came from a School Board family.
“I wasn’t summoned here because the Gattuso family is on the School Board, was I?” Caesar looked at Anjou, “When I entered Cassell College, I said it was my personal choice and had nothing to do with the family.”
“No, it’s because of a plan—the ‘Nibelungen Plan,’” Frost Gattuso said.
“Nibelungen?” Caesar repeated the name.
“‘The Nibelungen’ refers to those gods of death. In Wagner’s famous opera The Ring of the Nibelung, the ring represents power—whoever possesses it will rule the world.” Since childhood, Caesar had been taught by family music tutors to appreciate opera, and he had a liking for heroic themes.
“Before we reveal this plan to you, we have a few questions,” Lisa said, “What is your view on slaying dragons?”
“Extremely interesting,” Caesar answered in an absurdly blunt manner.
The butler whispered a few words in the young girl’s ear, and she nodded. Her dark green, cat-like eyes fixed on Caesar. “Why slay dragons? You could enjoy a noble lifestyle without following the path of Cassell.”
“Isn’t the very purpose of existence to constantly prove oneself?” Caesar’s icy blue eyes met hers unflinchingly, “I haven’t found a better way to prove myself than this.”
“Good,” Anjou said, “Then what is your goal for the future?”
“To wait for the next Dragon King to awaken, then kill it,” Caesar spread his hands, “I just hope it doesn’t wait until I die of old age to wake up.”