The tall professor looked at Octavius Bishop with a sharp expression.

"It is one thing for a child to speak such absurdities, but to hear it from a man such as yourself is almost laughable," Stark said, not hiding his disgust. "The decisions made regarding these three were done in accordance to Arcadia's laws—laws that have been in effect for over two millenia."

He continued, speaking in an even tone, "Arcadia academy is not a noble family, it is an organization recognized by the crown—responsible for nurturing young minds and passing the torch of knowledge onto the next generation."

"To suggest otherwise is an affront to both the headmaster, and the thousands of years of history this academy represents." Professor Stark stood up to his full height, looming over Troy and his father who were now side-by-side.

Troy shrinked back slightly, whereas Octavius stood his ground—not giving an inch.

"Just because the academy has a storied history," Lord Bishop began, "doesn't mean there aren't certain moves at play. You know as well as I do that despite being an organization, the academy requires support from both the crown and noble circles." He added.

"How can I not question your motives for expelling the heirs to the Bishop and Winston families?" the man asked, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly.

The implications were heavy, to the point where even the headmaster would have trouble navigating the consequences.

Or so everyone seemed to think.

"You have five minutes to leave the castle," a deep voice echoed within the walls of the room. "After the time is up, you will be considered as trespassing on protected grounds."

Lord Bishop's smug smile disappeared, a look of uneasiness taking its place.

In the next moment, the space beside professor Stark shimmered. A short figure walked out, his crimson robe and bushy beard giving away his identity instantly.

The short man wore an impassive expression as his gaze fell upon the father and son duo. "The punishment for trespassing, is capture—or elimination."

The words caused those present to shudder, almost at the same time.

"Bartholomew…" Octavius gritted his teeth, his anger evident. Whatever leverage he believed to have had before had now fizzled into nothingness—leaving him unable to respond.

The two shared a gaze for a while, as if an unspoken dialog was happening between them. Yet in the next moment, Lord Bishop let out a harrumph, sending a glare to his two sons.

"Randolph, Troy—we're going home." He stated coldly, turning on his heel towards the door, his robe flicking behind him.

"B-but father!" Troy called out.

A sudden pressure assaulted the room, causing the young teens to tremble in shock. Violet wisps of mana rose from Octavius's body—oppressing those below his level with ruthless efficiency.

"Now."

It was a single word, but it was weighty.

The two teen's didn't dare to disobey, practically falling over each other to run out of the room—afraid of angering the man further.

When the boys left, Melinda Winston turned to her son and let out a sigh—her disappointment evident. As she gazed at Peter, there were some complicated emotions in her eyes, but she did not voice them.

"Come along Peter," she beckoned him.

Without any resistance, the teen followed her, quickly leaving the room.

After a minute or so, professor Stark let out a sigh, rubbing his temples. "It's as you said, they tried to manipulate the situation." He said tiredly.

"Nobles will use any angle they can," the headmaster replied, his tone suggesting he knew this fact all too well. "Though I didn't expect that Troy would be the one to initiate it."

Silence stretched between them.

"Did we do the right thing, Bart?" Stark asked after a while, his worry evident.

Bartholomew raised an eyebrow, "It's unlike you to second guess yourself."

"I'm just saying… You know those guys are going to spin this whatever way they please. This might even affect your term as headmaster—you might even be the first Arcadius to not reach a full twenty year term." Peter added with worry, his gaze falling upon his old friend.

The bearded man chuckled, "I care little for my own legacy Peter, you know this. Those three deserved to be expelled—it's even written in the established laws of the academy."

"Why did it have to be one of the Elite noble families…" Peter Stark lamented, rubbing his temples with frustration.

However, Bartholomew shook his head, "Even if it was the royal family, I would have done the same thing." He added with a faint smile, patting his friend on the shoulder.

But the man just snorted in response, ignoring the statement.

"I'm also worried they might mention the spell that Michael cast… If the Bishop family gets wind that a first-year student is in possession of an ancient magic scroll, they'll do anything to secure it." He said, changing the subject.

"They have no one inside the academy anymore," the headmaster replied. "And knowing those noble families, if they found out such a thing, there's no way they would share the information and risk being double-crossed."

"As long as we watch over the kid, there won't be any issues." He assured the tall man.

Professor Stark didn't seem too convinced by these words, "The Bishop's are part of the Elite noble families—they have many resources. We can't always be watching over Michael."

"Alright, let's take a step back," the bearded man said, raising his hands. "Those three were teenagers, they barely know the difference between the different tier spells—let alone how to identify an ancient spell."

"I also doubt that any of them would admit to being beaten in a three-on-one matchup against a commoner—especially Troy and Randolph."

This time, the man's words caused Stark to nodded. The man finally showed some agreement, as if the theory seemed believable.

"So what now? Even if we don't make an announcement to the students—rumors will start to spread. It's better if we announce it first, that way we can control the narrative."

The headmaster nodded, his expression showing some signs of fatigue. "I'll leave it to you, vice-headmaster." He stated, patting the guy on the shoulder once more.

"Vice-headmaster!? What are you playing at—"

However, before he could finish his sentence, Bartholomew had already cast his spatial magic, disappearing from where he was once standing.

"Damn it…" Stark muttered, left alone once more.

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