<h4>Chapter 219: General Maximilian Veers</h4>


    On the high table, the middle-aged man in a ck uniform looked down at the cadets seated below. Four golden stars gleamed on each epaulette, while a ming red heart was disyed on the cor 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 seemed 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 moment it seemed as though everyone forgot how to breathe.


    Then the man spoke. His voice boomed and echoed through the hall. "I am General Maximilian Veers,manding 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 time."


    Turning his head slightly, he gestured to the three officials in white robes. "On my left are Dr. Simin Meydani, Dr. Manuel Vicorta, and Dr. n Aragon. They are responsible for providing your meals throughout the term. Their offices are adjacent to the kitchen here, essible from outside. Any requests orints 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 memory. After a measured pause, General Veers resumed, his voice carrying effortlessly to the farthest corners of the hall... resonant, controlled, the voice of a man forged inmand.


    "Cadets," he said, "this hall is more than a ce to eat. It is a ce of order, of dignity, of representation. Here you do not dine as individuals, but as cadets... as representatives of your race, and as members 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 meal. When the meal 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 meals, and ten minutes for each of the two snack times. Conduct yourselves with restraint, with precision, and with decorum."


    At a signal from his gloved hand, a projection shimmered into being above his head. A pair of stewards stepped forward to demonstrate,ying down tes and cutlery with perfect precision. The General moved aside, indicating the disy behind him.


    "Observe," hemanded. "The utensils are ced for reason, not ornament. 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 immediately."


    His words were clipped but never harsh; it was the voice of a man for whom discipline was anguage, and etiquette its dialect.


    When the projection faded, the General returned to his former ce, hands sped, 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 someone at a distance, you will wait until after the meal. 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 Meydani, the floor is yours."


    General Maximilian Veers lowered himself onto the central chair at the high table. Dr. Simin Meydani remained standing while the others took their seats.


    As if on cue, servers entered in silence, bearing bowls and trays heaped with food. They ced the dishes at the centre of each table and withdrew, only to return momentster with more. Within minutes the tables wereden with a vast array of dishes, the servers departing as quietly as they hade.


    Dr. Meydani 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 meal together."


    He then took his seat. The General and the officials at the high table began their meal 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 sped behind his back, posture rigid as a de. The hall fell into immediate silence. Only the faint scraping of cutlery remained... and even that seemed 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 punishment will be awarded ten points. Remember this lesson well. I will return to this hall whenever I choose, and on those asions the penalties will be far harsher."


    Dr. Meydani 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 herpanions, including the two members of the Amazon n. Nora reported that Eleanor had been granted ten points. At Eleanor’s urging, the others checked and found the same. 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 punishment once, and might do so again.


    ***


    Early the next morning, Eleanor was woken by the shrill sound of thepulsory rm. 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 clothingid out on her bed. On trying them, she had found every piece fitted her perfectly... even the undergarments, which clung to her like a second skin.


    The tracksuit came with a hood, which she drew over her head before leaving her room. Hearing movement 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 groundy just across the road from the dormitory. By the time she arrived, several cadets were already standing in three lines. Five middle-aged men in ck 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 d in ck, 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 time, and then formed 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 measures two kilometres per round. Today, you willplete six kilometres. 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 immediately. 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 measured rhythm.