CHAPTER 255: ELECTIONS [1]

Morning arrived with an undercurrent of tension.

Alaric walked through the corridors toward his first class. Campaign posters had appeared overnight, clean, professional, placed in every approved location throughout the Academy.

He passed several on his way. Simple designs, each reflecting their candidate’s approach.

Students moved through the halls in clusters, some discussing the election, others focused on morning classes. The energy was different than yesterday, more charged, more purposeful.

As Alaric entered the classroom, Oliver was already there, organizing his notes.

"Morning," Oliver said, looking up. "Ready for another day?"

"As ready as I’ll ever be."

They took their assigned seats, Alaric in the front row, Oliver several rows back.

Lyria arrived shortly after, moving to her seat beside Alaric with that same tired neutrality. She set down her bag, pulled out her materials, and sat in silence.

For just a moment, as she settled in, Alaric caught something in her expression, a flicker of discomfort. Brief, quickly masked, but present.

She didn’t look at him. Just focused forward, hands folded on her desk.

What’s her problem?

Verelia entered last. She moved to her seat by the window with mechanical precision, candidate badge visible on her uniform. Her expression remained completely neutral as she sat and opened her book.

Professor Ven began the lecture promptly.

The morning passed in the usual rhythm, complex theory, practical applications, students taking notes and occasionally asking questions.

During the break between classes, Alaric noticed Verelia approach several students. Brief conversations, each lasting no more than a minute. Her tone was flat, professional, purely transactional.

She wasn’t trying to win them over with charm. She was informing them of her platform and moving on.

Efficient, if not particularly warm.

By lunch, the dining hall was buzzing with discussion, but in a more subdued way. Students talked about it, yes, but it wasn’t consuming every conversation.

The Academy had other concerns too. Classes. Practical exams coming up. House competitions. Personal dramas.

The election was important, but it was one piece among many.

Alaric and Oliver sat in their usual spot in the Silver Crown section.

"So," Oliver said after a few minutes of eating in comfortable silence. "Have you talked to Verelia yet? About strategy?"

"Not yet. She’ll reach out when she’s ready."

"Confident in that, huh?"

"She’s methodical. She’ll want to gather information first before making her approach."

Oliver nodded thoughtfully, then glanced around the dining hall. "It’s going to be interesting seeing how this plays out. A lot of strong candidates."

"It usually is."

They continued eating, the conversation drifting to other topics.

----------------

As Alaric and Oliver finished their meals, the conversation winded down naturally. Oliver was mid-story when a shadow fell across their table.

Verelia stood there, perfectly composed, her eyes fixed on Alaric.

"I need to speak with you," she said. Not a request. A statement of fact.

Oliver’s eyes widened slightly. He glanced between them, clearly debating whether to say something, then wisely chose silence.

"Now?" Alaric asked.

"Yes."

Alaric stood, gathering his things. "I’ll catch up with you later," he told Oliver.

"Uh, yeah. Sure. Good luck." Oliver’s tone suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what he was wishing luck for.

Verelia turned and walked toward the exit without waiting to see if Alaric followed. He did, maintaining a measured pace behind her.

They left the dining hall, moved through the corridors, and headed toward the Silver Crown dormitory. Students they passed gave them curious glances, the ice princess and her fiancé walking together was unusual enough to draw attention.

Verelia ignored them all.

She led him up the stairs, down the hallway to her room. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and held it open just long enough for him to enter before closing it firmly.

The space inside was immaculately organized. Minimal decoration. Desk clear except for a single stack of papers arranged at perfect right angles.

No personal touches. No warmth. Just functionality.

Verelia moved to her desk, pulling out the chair and gesturing to the small seating area by the window.

"Sit."

Alaric took one of the chairs. Verelia retrieved a folder from her desk and sat across from him, placing the folder on the table between them.

For a moment, silence hung in the air.

Then Verelia opened the folder, revealing several pages of notes, neat handwriting, bullet points, names underlined.

"I need your help," she said without preamble. "Specifically, I need you to handle two aspects of this campaign that I cannot effectively manage myself."

She looked up, meeting his eyes directly.

"First, attracting votes. I am aware that my... approach does not inspire warmth or enthusiasm. Students respect competence, but they vote based on more than that. You understand how to navigate social dynamics. I don’t."

Her tone was matter-of-fact, not ashamed. Just acknowledging reality.

"Second, eliminating competition. Not all of it, some candidates will eliminate themselves through poor performance. But the serious threats need to be... managed."

Alaric leaned back slightly. "Define ’managed.’"

"Discredited. Undermined. Made to appear less viable than they currently seem." Verelia’s expression didn’t change. "I don’t care about the methods, as long as they don’t violate Academy regulations in ways that can be traced back to us."

"Us," Alaric repeated.

"Yes. This is a partnership. Your interests align with mine. If I win, you gain influence through association and I uphold my end of our agreement." She gestured to the papers. "I did complete analysis on each major candidate."

She pulled out the first page.

"Kaelen Draveris. Fourth-year, strong tactical background, charismatic. His weakness is overconfidence and a tendency to make promises he can’t keep. If pressed on specifics during debates, he’ll falter."

Next page.

"Verin Ashcroft. Popular among lower houses, strong combat reputation. But he lacks political sophistication and can be baited into emotional responses. Use that."

Next.

"Veldrin. All connections, no substance. Easy to discredit if you can separate him from his family’s shadow."

She paused on the last page, her expression tightening almost imperceptibly.

"Aurelia Glimor."

She set the page down carefully.

"She’s the real problem."

Alaric studied the notes. Verelia had been thorough, listing Aurelia’s strengths, weaknesses, known allies, family connections.

"Third-year. Daughter of the Glimor family head. Extensive resources and connections both within the Academy and beyond. High intelligence, strong essence control, and political acumen."

Verelia’s fingers tapped once against the table.

"She has advantages I don’t. Name recognition. Automatic support from much of Silver Crown’s upper years." Her blue eyes were cold, calculating. "Eliminating her as a threat won’t be easy."

"But not impossible," Alaric said.