CHAPTER 264: ELECTIONS [3]

The campaign had reached its fever pitch.

What had started as orderly debates and policy discussions had devolved into something messier. The kind of political maneuvering that revealed exactly who students would become when they held real power.

Silver Crown’s common areas had become battlegrounds of influence.

Near the notice boards, campaign posters overlapped and competed for space. Someone had defaced Kaelen’s latest posting with crude annotations questioning his "leadership experience."

Veldrin’s materials kept mysteriously disappearing, only to be found crumpled in waste bins.

Verelia’s posters remained untouched. Not because people respected them, but because they were so stark and minimal that defacing them seemed pointless.

In the dining hall, students had begun self-segregating by candidate preference. Tables became territories. Conversations grew heated.

"Kaelen actually understands how the Academy functions. He’s been here long enough to—"

"Being here longer doesn’t mean he’s competent! Verelia scored higher than him in every—"

"Scores don’t matter when you have no social skills! The President has to actually talk to people!"

"At least she’s honest instead of making empty promises—"

Arguments erupted daily. Some stayed verbal. Others escalated into challenges, duels in designated areas, settling political disagreements through combat.

Professor Ashton had to break up three separate fights in one week.

Isolde Fen, the Bronze Shield candidate, withdrew from the race after her supporters faced harassment from upper-house students. She released a terse statement about "systemic bias" and "hostile environment" before disappearing from public view entirely.

That left five candidates.

And the pressure was building.

----

Alaric operated in spaces between conversations.

He sat in study groups, listened more than he spoke, and dropped carefully crafted observations that planted seeds without obvious attribution.

Never direct attacks. Never obvious bias. Just questions that made people think.

He tracked voting blocs with meticulous precision. The key demographic was the undecided middle students who saw flaws in all candidates and were waiting for someone to prove themselves definitively superior.

That’s where we win.

Alaric also monitored Aurelia’s campaign with particular attention.

She moved through campus like visiting royalty. Her supporters were organized, disciplined, well-funded. She held private meetings with influential students, offering positions in her theoretical administration, promising access to resources and opportunities.

Standard political maneuvering. But effective.

Her main advantage remained her name. The Glimor legacy opened doors, secured commitments, intimidated opposition.

But it was also her weakness.

Because every promise she made carried an implicit question: "Is this for the students, or for House Glimor?"

Alaric made sure that question circulated widely.

The tensions finally erupted publicly during an debate in the main courtyard.

It started when Kaelen gave an unscheduled speech near the fountain, drawing a crowd. He spoke about "experienced leadership" and "proven capability."

Verelia happened to walk past.

And stopped.

"Proven how?" she asked, her voice cutting through his rhetoric.

The crowd went silent. Kaelen turned, clearly not expecting direct confrontation.

"Excuse me?"

"You claim proven capability. I’m asking for evidence." Verelia stepped closer, her expression neutral. "What specific accomplishments demonstrate your ability to lead?"

Kaelen’s smile tightened. "I’ve been on the Student Council for two years. I understand how it functions—"

"Being present isn’t the same as being effective. What policies have you influenced? What improvements have you implemented?"

"I’ve contributed to numerous—"

"Name one."

The crowd was growing, drawn by the confrontation.

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. "I don’t need to justify myself to you. My record speaks for itself."

"Does it?" Verelia tilted her head slightly. "Because I reviewed Council meeting minutes from the past two years. Your name appears frequently in attendance records but rarely in policy initiatives. You talk often but accomplish little."

Murmurs rippled through the watching students.

"That’s a gross mischaracterization—"

"Is it? I can provide documentation if you’d like." Verelia’s tone remained flat, factual. "I believe voters deserve accurate information about candidates’ actual track records, not rhetoric about ’proven leadership.’"

Kaelen’s face flushed. "This is exactly your problem, Verelia. You have facts and figures but no understanding of how leadership actually works. It’s about people, not sheets."

"Then explain how you’ve led people. Specifically."

"I don’t have to stand here and—"

"Because you can’t." Verelia’s expression didn’t change. "You rely on charisma to mask incompetence. That might work in social settings, but the President’s role requires substance."

The crowd was openly watching now, some recording the exchange with memory crystals.

Kaelen stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You’re making an enemy you can’t afford, Rithvale."

"I’m stating facts. If you consider truth your enemy, that reveals more about you than me."

Before Kaelen could respond, another voice cut through.

"How entertaining."

Aurelia stepped into the circle, her eyes gleaming with amusement. "Watching you two tear each other apart almost makes me feel guilty about how easy this will be."

Both turned to face her.

"Kaelen’s right that leadership requires people skills," Aurelia continued, addressing the crowd more than the candidates. "And Verelia’s right that substance matters. The difference is, I have both."

She smiled, confident, controlled, perfectly calibrated.

"I don’t need to attack other candidates to prove my worth." She gestured gracefully. "I can work with people and deliver results. That’s why I’ll win."

The crowd murmured, some nodding in agreement.

Verelia’s expression remained unchanged. "Your family’s legacy is irrelevant to your individual capability."

"Is it?" Aurelia’s smile didn’t waver. "Or does it demonstrate exactly the kind of sustained excellence that qualifies someone for leadership?"

"It demonstrates privilege. Not merit."

"Interesting distinction, coming from a Duke’s daughter." Aurelia’s eyes glinted. "Tell me, Verelia, how much of your ’merit’ comes from resources your family provided? The tutors? The training? The opportunities?"

Verelia said nothing. Because there was no good answer to that.

Aurelia turned to address the crowd directly. "We all benefit from our circumstances. The question isn’t whether we had advantages, it’s what we did with them. I’ve used mine to excel academically, contribute to my house, and prepare for exactly this kind of responsibility."

She paused, letting that sink in.

"So when you vote, ask yourselves: who has demonstrated they can handle power? Who has the experience, the connections, the proven track record?" Her smile widened slightly. "The answer should be obvious."

With that, she turned and walked away, her supporters following.

The crowd began dispersing, conversations erupting about what they’d just witnessed.

Kaelen shot Verelia one more angry look before stalking off in the opposite direction.

Verelia stood alone for a moment, expression unreadable.

Then she noticed Alaric standing at the edge of the dispersing crowd.

Their eyes met briefly.

He gave the smallest nod.

That was good. You held your ground.

She turned and walked away without acknowledgment.

But the message had been received.

-----

That evening, inside Alaric’s Room. He sat at his desk, reviewing notes.

The confrontation had been... useful. It revealed dynamics, exposed weaknesses, showed how each candidate handled pressure.

A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.

"Come in."

Nyra entered, carrying her usual evening tea tray. She set it down silently, then spoke quietly.

"Young master, there’s something you should know."

Alaric looked up. "What is it?"

"That girl, Elena. I saw her again today. Near the Administration Building." Nyra’s eyes were serious. "She was speaking with someone. Another staff member, but... the conversation looked less like work and more like reporting."

"Reporting what?"

"I couldn’t hear specifics. But she handed over documents. Small ones, easily concealed." Nyra paused. "And the person she gave them to? They were wearing Academy staff uniform, but their essence signature was... wrong. Similar to Elena’s. Off somehow."

Alaric leaned back, processing that. "Someone’s gathering information. Using staff as cover."

"It appears so."

"Do we know what they’re after?"

"Not yet. But I’ll continue watching."

"Good." Alaric turned back to his notes. "Anything else?"

Nyra shook her head.

"You can go now."

Nyra bowed slightly and left.

Alaric sat alone, staring at his notes.

One week until the election.

Seven days to either secure Verelia’s victory or watch it slip away.

And also the new dynamics about the strange girl...

"Elena."

Alaric leaned back, rubbing his temples.

"Just great, these mysterious people just kept popping out."