Chapter 33 #2
Lord Tremaine leaned back in his chair. “And yet, Captain Delvanir, the evidence suggests otherwise. Would you not agree that sophisticated cheating might be difficult to detect through casual observation?”
“I can only speak to what I have observed directly, my lord. Miss Allencourt’s actions in my presence have been honorable.”
The careful phrasing sent ice through Cassara’s veins.
In my presence.
Not a ringing endorsement, but a cautious statement that left room for doubt about what might have happened when he wasn’t watching.
Gideon returned to his seat without meeting her eyes.
“Instructor Nareen,” the headmistress called next.
Nareen rose with the rigid bearing of a career military officer. “Miss Allencourt has been in my combat instruction courses for the past term. Her improvement has been notable, though achieved through conventional training methods.”
“You observed no unusual advancement that might suggest artificial enhancement?” one of the alumni asked.
“Her progress was rapid but not unprecedented,” Nareen replied diplomatically. “Some students experience breakthrough periods where multiple skills converge. However, I cannot speak to the technical aspects of her equipment modifications.”
Another careful non-endorsement that felt more damaging than helpful.
Professor Thendrick was called next, his barefoot approach to the panel lending an air of otherworldly detachment to the proceedings.
“The young woman shows genuine empathic connection with her beast,” he said simply. “Such bonds cannot be artificially manufactured through equipment tampering. However, enhanced readings might mask the true depth, or limitations, of such connections.”
Even Thendrick’s mystical support came with qualifications that suggested reasonable doubt.
As the character witnesses returned to their seats, Cassara felt the weight of their carefully neutral testimonies. No one had called her a liar outright, but no one had offered the kind of unequivocal support that might counterbalance the technical evidence either.
The message was clear—she was a decent person and a dedicated student, but decent people could still make desperate choices when cornered.
The headmistress consulted her notes. “Unless there are additional witnesses or evidence to present, we will proceed to—”
“I’d like a chance to speak on behalf of my teammate.”
Cassara turned, startled. So did half the room.
Oliver stood slowly, hands clasped in front of him, expression unreadable behind his lenses. His voice, though quiet, carried easily.
The headmistress raised an eyebrow. “Mr. Straton, you are not listed as a character witness.”
“No, ma’am. I’m here as a technical expert.” Oliver set his toolkit on the table beside Cassara’s ACS unit. “I’ve been analyzing the data independently, and I believe there are… discrepancies in the evidence.”
“How can a student be a technical expert?” Lord Tremain protested.
Kalisandra studied Oliver a moment. “I think it’s prudent we hear all the information before making a decision. A student’s reputation and scholastic life is at stake. Please proceed, Mr. Straton.”
Oliver activated his own projection array, filling the air with data streams that looked far more complex than the technicians’ earlier display.
“The tampering is real,” he began, and Cassara’s brief hope plummeted. “Someone definitely modified the ACS unit. But the question isn’t whether it happened, it’s who had access to do it.”
He gestured, and the projection shifted to show a timeline marked with colored indicators. “For the past week, Cassara’s ACS has been in my possession for diagnostic work. She’s had no physical access to it during that period.”
Lord Tremaine frowned. “Are you suggesting the tampering occurred while the device was in your care?”
“Exactly.” Oliver’s voice carried the confidence of someone on familiar technical ground. “But here’s where it gets interesting. ACS units automatically log proximity to other active devices—it’s part of their synchronization protocols for team combat.”
The projection changed again, displaying a complex web of connection logs and timestamps. “According to these logs, another ACS unit was detected in close proximity to Cassara’s device while it was secured in the tech lab overnight.”
Cassara leaned forward, hope beginning to stir again.
Around the chamber, she could sense the shift in attention as people tried to follow Oliver’s technical explanation.
“The proximity signature matches…” Oliver paused, consulting his notes with theatrical precision. “ACS unit registration number 4-7-Alpha-9. Registered to…” Another pause as he double-checked his data. “Verena Montero.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Cassara’s gaze snapped to Verena, who had gone rigid in her seat.
“This is circumstantial evidence at best,” the senior technician interjected. “Proximity logs can be triggered by routine maintenance or equipment checks.”
“Agreed,” Oliver nodded. “Which is why I dug deeper.” His hands moved over the glyphs on his Codex, bringing up another display. “The proximity was detected at 6:47 AM, during a period when the tech lab was secured and no maintenance was scheduled.”
One of the alumni leaned forward. “Are you accusing Miss Montero of the tampering?”
“I’m presenting data,” Oliver replied carefully. “The interpretation is up to you. But the timing is… troubling. Especially since Cassara can be definitively placed elsewhere during that window.”
Verena finally found her voice, though it came out higher than usual. “This is ridiculous. Oliver could have fabricated those logs easily. He had access to both devices!”
Oliver turned to stare at her, and for a moment his usual mild expression gave way to something much sharper. The insult seemed to hit him on a level that surprised everyone in the room.
“Excuse me?” His voice was dangerously quiet. “Are you seriously suggesting that if I wanted to frame someone, I’d be sloppy enough to leave proximity logs lying around?”
The chamber went silent. Even the headmistress looked taken aback by the sudden shift in Oliver’s demeanor.
“I mean,” Oliver continued, his tone growing more offended by the second, “if I were going to orchestrate something like this, which I absolutely would not, do you really think I’d be amateur enough to leave such obvious digital fingerprints? Please. Give me some credit for basic competence.”
He gestured at his projection with something approaching indignation. “If I’d done this, there wouldn’t be any evidence to find. The logs would be clean, the timestamps would be perfect, and we’d never be having this conversation because no one would ever know anything had happened.”
Cassara found herself staring at Oliver with a mixture of gratitude and mild alarm. She’d never seen him so personally affronted.
“Not that I would do such a thing,” he added quickly, seeming to realize how his defense might sound. “I’m simply saying that your accusation is insulting to my technical abilities. If you’re going to accuse me of something, at least accuse me of being competent at it.”
Verena’s face had gone pale, her earlier confidence shaken by Oliver’s vehement response to the suggestion that he might be a sloppy criminal.
The headmistress cleared her throat. “Mr. Straton, while we appreciate your… professional pride, perhaps we could return to the evidence at hand?”
“Of course,” Oliver said, his composure returning as quickly as it had cracked. “My point is simply that proximity logs don’t lie. And whoever did this clearly didn’t understand how team synchronization protocols work.”
His gaze flicked back to Verena with barely concealed disdain. “Amateur hour, seriously.”
“This is absurd!” Verena’s voice cracked through the chamber like a whip, her careful composure finally beginning to fracture. She half-rose from her seat, green eyes blazing with desperation. “He’s lying! Oliver’s making this up to protect his precious teammate!”
The outburst drew sharp looks from the panel. Lord Tremaine raised an eyebrow at the breach of protocol, while Kalisandra frowned at the interruption.
“Miss Montero,” the headmistress said coolly, “you will have an opportunity to respond when called upon. Please remain seated.”
Verena sank back down, but her hands were clenched white-knuckled in her lap. “He could have fabricated all of this. Proximity logs, timestamps, he’s had days to manufacture whatever evidence he needed.”
One of the alumni nodded thoughtfully. “The board acknowledges that Mr. Straton’s findings are… interesting. However, as has been noted, proximity data alone is circumstantial. Without more concrete evidence—”
“Oh, I have more,” Oliver interrupted mildly, his fingers dancing over his controls. “Much more.”
The projection shifted, displaying what looked like official academy security logs. “These are the access records for Tech Lab Seven, where Cassara’s ACS was secured for overnight diagnostics. As you can see, there was only one unauthorized access during the critical timeframe.”
The data highlighted a single entry: V. MONTERO - 06:47 AM - AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL OVERRIDE
“Miss Montero used her academy credentials to access not just the lab, but specifically to unlock the diagnostic containment unit where the ACS was housed.” Oliver’s voice carried the satisfaction of someone presenting an airtight case.
“The timestamp correlates exactly with the proximity detection from her personal ACS unit.”
Cassara felt her breath catch. Around the chamber, she could see the mood shifting as the weight of real evidence settled over the proceedings.
“Furthermore,” Oliver continued, bringing up side-by-side technical readouts, “here are the before and after calibration patterns. On the left, you can see Flicker’s actual signature-erratic, unstable, constantly fluctuating. This is what I was trying to compensate for with my diagnostic work.”