Kael sat in the back of the lecture hall, his fingers absently drumming against the worn wood of the desk.
Professor Voss's voice floated through the room in a familiar monotone, his words blending together into an indistinct hum. Normally, Kael would tune in, appreciating the predictability of these lectures as a kind of mental reprieve, but today, his mind was restless. His thoughts tugged at him, pulling him away from the mundanity of early regional history.
The room was sparsely filled — students scattered here and there, some taking notes, others barely paying attention. Most of them had grown accustomed to Kael's absence over the past few weeks, and when he had appeared that morning, their surprised glances had been impossible to ignore.
He'd seen a few heads turn as he entered the lecture hall, whispers buzzing at the edges of his hearing. Some offered polite smiles, hesitant greetings, a few even murmured condolences — words that felt like empty gestures from people who barely knew him.
They were the same people, after all, who had whispered about his family for years. They'd labeled him cursed long before tragedy had truly struck, and now that it had, the rumors would only grow.
Kael knew how this worked. He'd seen it before. He thanked them for their kindness with a practiced smile, but inside, he felt nothing. These were the same people who would discuss his misfortune over dinner, turning his pain into another story to share.
He wasn't interested in that anymore. He wasn't interested in them.
Professor Voss continued, his lecture inching along through the history of trade routes and alliances, but Kael's thoughts drifted toward something else, something more pressing. He raised his hand, waiting for the professor to acknowledge him.
"Yes, Kael?" Professor Voss said, his tone neutral, though Kael could detect the faintest hint of curiosity. He hadn't spoken up in this class in months.
"I was wondering," Kael began, choosing his words carefully, "about the Vatsaraks. The political shifts around their time, their influence… How significant was it really? There's not much written about them, yet their impact seems—"
"Ah, the Vatsaraks," Voss interrupted, his expression tightening ever so slightly. "A minor footnote in history, Kael. They were little more than a fringe faction, not worth much of our attention. The real power dynamics were shaped by more prominent forces."
Kael frowned, sensing something off in the professor's quick dismissal. The Vatsaraks had never been mentioned but something about their story felt incomplete, as if they had been deliberately overlooked. Still, Voss's response shut the conversation down, and Kael knew better than to press the matter here.
"Right," Kael muttered, nodding as though he accepted the explanation. But he didn't.
The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. Kael's mind kept circling back to the strange evasiveness in Voss's tone, but the professor had already moved on to more familiar topics. Kael's attention wandered, the drone of the lecture fading into background noise once more.
By the time the class ended, Kael could feel the weight of the stares around him again. A few students lingered near the door, and as he made his way out, one or two offered quiet words of support, their concern genuine but distant. It didn't matter.
He smiled and thanked them, the same way he always did, but as he knew, these were the people who would soon be whispering about his cursed life once more. They always did.
By the time he reached Professor Aldwin's office, he was feeling drained, though a spark of determination still flickered within him. Aldwin had always been one of the few professors who seemed to care about more than his academic performance. She was stern but fair, a figure of authority who had guided him through some of the more difficult courses on philosophical history.
He knocked on the wooden door, and her sharp voice invited him in. Professor Aldwin sat behind her desk, her glasses perched at the end of her nose as she scribbled in a ledger. When she looked up and saw him, her expression softened ever so slightly.
"Kael, what a surprise to see you back. I heard about..." She trailed off, not finishing the sentence. Instead, she gestured to the chair opposite her desk. "Have a seat."
He sat down, grateful for her lack of platitudes. Aldwin had always been direct, and today, that was something he appreciated.
"I came to talk about the debate competition," Kael said, cutting straight to the point. "I want to participate."
She raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "It's next week, on the 22nd. That doesn't give you much time to prepare. Are you sure you're ready for something like this?"
Kael straightened, trying to mask the uncertainty he felt. "I am. I've been… thinking a lot, and I think I can handle it."
The professor studied him for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Alright," she said at last, though there was still doubt in her tone. "If you're sure, I'll help. The venue is Vyrimka Sadan. I'll accompany you so no worries about the travelling part."
She pulled a stack of papers from her desk drawer and slid them toward him. "These are some of the topics you'll need to prepare for. Politics, history, power dynamics — all critical to the debate."
Kael glanced at the list. Political Systems of Altara's Lion, House Valeran's Role in Modern Governance, The Ethics of Power Centralization, Historical Injustices in Regional Politics — each one dense, complicated, and focused on the intricacies of power, governance, and historical precedents. The kind of topics that people would debate endlessly without ever reaching a true conclusion.
"These topics are carefully chosen," Aldwin said, folding her hands on her desk. "They'll want to see how well you understand the intricacies of power. The House of Valeran has a reputation for playing the long game in politics. They value historical knowledge but, more importantly, they value your interpretation of it. They want you to be able to argue from a position of insight."
Kael nodded. He understood that in a competition like this, facts alone wouldn't be enough. Interpretation was everything — how you framed history, how you connected it to the present, how you wielded it as a tool to shape the future.
The professor continued, her tone more serious. "The library has everything you need. I recommend starting with The Rise of Valeran Dominance and The Centralization of Power: A Critique, but don't limit yourself. Explore multiple perspectives. If you go in with just one view of history, you'll lose before you even speak."
Kael thanked her and stood to leave. As he turned to go, she called out, her voice a touch softer. "Kael, I know things have been... hard. But I believe in you. You can win this."
He nodded, acknowledging her words. She cleared her throat. "You have a unique mind. Use it. The professors will see whether you are fit for it in two days. I have two more students who wish to participate but only one per university is allowed."
"I'll try my best, professor," he said, sincerely. No way in hell was he letting this opportunity slip away from his hands.
Professor Aldwin nodded, her eyes narrowed slightly. "You have two days to prepare. All the best."
He thanked her and left her office, making his way to the university library, which sat in the older part of the campus.
The grand, towering shelves loomed above him as he walked through the aisles, pulling the books Professor Aldwin had recommended. His hands moved automatically, collecting what he needed, but his mind was still turning with the need to be the best. Whatever it takes.
He scanned the shelves, picking out a few dusty books on obscure factions and hidden histories, A balance or Facade being one of them. The writer was very controversial and committed suicide just three days after this book was released. Coincidence? He didn't think so.
If the Vyrimka and the figures of House Valeran were to be his audience, then he needed to understand them, not just through the lens of politics, but through the shadows of their past. Through the path of the controversies and alleged rumours.
With a stack of books in his bag, Kael made his way home, his mind already sifting through the information he would need to absorb.
The voice in his head had been unusually quiet today, and Kael appreciated the silence. In a strange way, Sage Nagasth's words had settled some of the chaos in his mind. "What happened to the people in your life was not your fault." The words echoed in him, soothing wounds he hadn't realized were still raw.
When Kael arrived home, he was greeted by the unexpected sight of Ezra sitting on the floor in the living room, legs crossed, his face scrunched up in concentration. Across from him sat Sage Nagasth, her presence as serene as ever.
The sight of Ezra — usually loud and chaotic — trying to meditate was amusing, and Kael stifled a chuckle as he tiptoed past them, heading to his room.
After washing away the grime of the day, he gathered his books and returned downstairs. He found Ezra and the sage in the kitchen, where Ezra was laughing at something the sage had said.
Ezra spotted him first and rushed over, wrapping Kael in a tight hug. "You didn't tell me you had such a cool aunt," Ezra said with a grin, pulling away. "Cool and so intelligent."
Kael glanced at the sage, who simply shrugged as she set plates on the table. "Have your meal, Kael. You must be hungry."
They all sat down, and Kael watched as Ezra and Sage Nagasth said a quiet prayer before beginning their meal. He waited patiently, his eyes flicking between the two of them, amused at the strange but oddly harmonious scene. Once they finished, they began to eat, and the atmosphere shifted into a comfortable silence.
"How was university?" Ezra asked between bites.
"Good," Kael replied. "I've decided to take part in the debate competition next week. It's being hosted by the Vyrimka, at the Sadhan in House Valeran."
Ezra's eyes widened in surprise, but there was something else there too — a hint of unease. "That's… huge. I didn't realize our town's university was connected to something like that."
"Neither did I," Kael admitted, taking a sip of water. "But it seems like an opportunity I can't pass up. I've already started preparing."
Ezra nodded slowly, but his gaze flicked to Sage Nagasth, who had been quietly eating her meal throughout the conversation. Kael noticed the glance but said nothing, choosing to focus on his food instead.
When lunch was finished, Ezra left with a final hug, leaving Kael alone with the sage. He cleared the table, his mind already moving to the task at hand. The topics for the debate loomed large in his mind, but the sage had promised to help him, and he trusted her insight.
"The topics are all politics and history," he said.
"Politics," she began and sat on the sofa, her legs folded and hands resting on her knees. Kael sat down on the floor, mirroring her posture. "is the art of control in today's world. It is the art of shaping narratives. Of shaping perception and guiding power. What do you understand about it?"
Kael hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's about influence. About knowing who holds the power and how to align yourself with them, or against them."
The sage's eyes gleamed with approval. "Yes. But it's more than that. Power isn't just about who controls the most resources or armies. It's about who controls the narrative. History, Kael, is written by the victors, but the present is shaped by those who control what the masses believe."
Kael pursed his lips and nodded. "The truth doesn't matter."
"The truth," Sage Nagasth said with a slight smile, "matters less than the story people choose to believe. House Valeran, for example, has built its power on the perception of strength and wisdom. They are seen as the rightful rulers because they've controlled that narrative for centuries. But what if that narrative were challenged?"
Kael frowned. "But how do you challenge something so ingrained in people's minds?"
The sage looked at him with a hint of challenge. "By offering a new story. One that feels more true, more just. People don't seek truth in this world, Kael. They seek what makes them feel secure, what validates their fears or hopes. If you understand that, you can reshape the very foundations of power."
Kael absorbed her words. Politics wasn't just a game of influence; it was a battle over reality itself. "So," he said slowly, "it's not about being right. It's about being convincing."
Sage Nagasth smiled at him, her eyes filled with the kind of understanding that only someone who truly saw into the depths of a person could have. "Yes," she said softly. "The world is not ruled by the righteous but by those who can make others believe they are. Morality, as this society sees it, is often a veil. It is rarely the whole truth."
Kael nodded, his gaze distant. "That makes sense. People cling to what makes them feel safe, but safety doesn't always come from truth. It comes from what reinforces their beliefs, what gives them stability in a chaotic world."
"Exactly," Sage Nagasth said, watching him carefully. "You've always had a mind that doesn't quite align with conventional morality. You see the world differently. More practically. More materially. That can be your greatest strength."
She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied him. "But be careful. That perspective also makes you dangerous. The wild card that no one sees coming can upend everything — sometimes in ways that are unpredictable, even for themselves."
Kael blinked, surprised by the sharpness of her words. "Dangerous?"
"Yes," she said, her voice firm. "Most debates are about two sides arguing from the same mindset — different opinions, but within the same framework. You, Kael, are an anomaly. You don't fit into their world, and that makes you unpredictable. And everything that cannot be predicted is dangerous."
Kael's mind raced, her words unsettling but also electrifying. He had never thought of himself as dangerous, but the idea of being the wild card, the unpredictable element, was oddly empowering. He first struggled to fit into the world around him then he accepted the fact that he will always be an outsider, but maybe that was his strength.
"But if I challenge their entire framework," Kael said slowly, "won't they just reject me? People don't like being told they're wrong."
The sage's smile widened. "They don't. But they also can't resist something that feels new, something that makes them question everything they thought they knew. You don't have to convince everyone, Kael. You just have to plant doubt. Once doubt takes root, it spreads. And that's how you change the world."
Kael sat in silence for a moment, words settling over him. Now, as he looked at the books before him, at the topics of politics and power, he realized that this debate wasn't just about winning.
It was about earning the attention of the Lion of Altara.
"Not particularly about the debate but what if I don't believe in anything they're saying?" Kael asked, his voice quieter now, more introspective. "What if I don't care about their politics, their history? What if I just want… something for myself?"
The sage's gaze softened, her voice gentler now. "Then you argue for yourself, Kael. You use their game to get what you need. Power is not just about controlling others. It's about understanding what you want, and how to get it. That's the real lesson of politics."
Kael's mind buzzed with new possibilities.
He had always been morally grey, more materialistic than most.
Society's definitions of right and wrong had never fully resonated with him, and now, with the sage's guidance, he realized that might be his greatest advantage. While others debated within the bounds of what was considered acceptable, he could approach the discussion from an entirely different angle, one they wouldn't see coming.
The sage watched him closely, her eyes glinting with something that looked like pride. "Remember, Kael, most people aren't ready to question their beliefs. But when they're faced with someone who sees beyond the surface, someone who can dismantle their illusions, they have no choice but to listen."
Kael nodded. The sage's voice was filled with intensity when she continued, "Be the one who asks, 'Why do we need to pursue justice? What is it, really? Who decides what's fair and on what principles? Who decided these principles?' And when they stumble, caught in the limitations of their own perspectives, you offer something else — something sharper, more real."
Kael felt a shiver of excitement. He could almost see it now: the carefully crafted arguments of his opponents unraveling under the weight of his questions. The expressions of confusion and fear when they realized that they were fighting on the wrong battlefield, that the rules they thought governed the debate didn't apply to him.
A dark thought crept into his mind. "But what if I take it too far? What if, in showing them the flaws in their thinking, I also expose myself? My indifference to their values? What if they see me as... inhuman?"
The sage regarded him for a long moment, her gaze deep and knowing. "You walk a fine line, Kael. People want their leaders and thinkers to be strong but still human, relatable. If you show them that you are completely detached, they might reject you. But if you frame it carefully, if you present yourself as someone who is not bound by emotion, but still understands it... then you become someone they fear, yes, but also someone they trust to see things they cannot."
It was a delicate balance. Kael understood that. He had to play the part of the anomaly without losing the audience entirely. He had to make them see that his perspective was not just cold, but practical. Effective. Necessary.
"So I argue against their reality?"
"No," her eyes gleamed with something she knew only Kael could do. "You argue with their beliefs."
"Let's consider a real example," the sage said, her tone calm but piercing. "Say the topic is The Ethics of Power Centralization. Most people will argue for decentralization, that too much power in one place leads to abuse, to tyranny. It's a comfortable argument — people love to think of concentrated power as inherently dangerous."
Kael nodded thoughtfully. "That's the narrative everyone accepts. It's a classic argument. The more power's spread out, the less chance for corruption, right?"
"Exactly," she continued. "But what if you didn't argue against that idea directly? What if you reframed it entirely? Instead of debating the dangers of power in one place, you argue that the real problem isn't power centralization itself, but how ill-prepared people are to manage that power when they get it. You shift the focus from structure to human nature."
Kael's eyes flickered with interest. "So, it's not the system that's flawed, but the people running it?"
"Precisely," the sage said, her voice steady, her gaze unwavering. "You challenge the assumption that decentralization inherently creates better governance. You argue that weak leadership, divided authority, and lack of direction can be just as destructive. Look at the history of fractured nations, of failing democracies. It's not always because one person or one group had too much power — it's often because no one had enough."
His mind was turning over the idea. "So instead of arguing that centralized power corrupts, I'd argue that the problem lies in the lack of accountability or wisdom of those wielding power. That power in itself isn't inherently dangerous — it's the misuse of it, the lack of responsibility. I could turn the entire discussion on its head."
The sage nodded slowly, her eyes sharp. "You'd shift the debate. Instead of arguing for or against power centralization, you'd make it about competence, about who has the ability to wield it effectively. And by doing that, you've already won half the battle because you're not playing the same game as everyone else. You've reframed the question."
Kael's mind raced. It wasn't just about offering a counter-argument, but about changing the terms of the debate entirely. While others would argue over whether power corrupts, he could argue about the nature of power itself — how it's wielded, who deserves it, and how those in power should be held accountable.
"And what about the ethics of power?" Kael asked, testing the idea out loud. "Instead of power being good or bad, it's simply a tool — a means to an end. The real question becomes: Who has the capacity to bear its weight without breaking under it?"
The sage's smile was faint, but approving. "You strip away the black-and-white morality most people cling to. Power itself is neutral, neither moral nor immoral. What matters is whether those who wield it have the strength, the wisdom, to face the consequences of their decisions. Not whether power corrupts, but whether people can rise to the challenge of power without destroying themselves or others."
Kael felt something shift inside him, as though he were seeing the world in sharper focus. It wasn't just about winning an argument. It was about understanding the very nature of control, of influence. He could step into that debate and pull the rug out from under his opponents by addressing something deeper than they were prepared for.
"And that's how you become the one they fear," Nagasth added, her voice low but full of weight. "Because you don't just challenge their arguments — you challenge their understanding of the world. You show them that the very things they cling to for security, their ideas of right and wrong, of power and corruption, are more fragile than they realize."
The gravity of her words was settling in. This wasn't just about a debate anymore. It was about shaping the conversation to his advantage, bending it to reveal deeper truths that others were too scared — or too comfortable — to confront. The idea of power as a tool, a burden to be borne responsibly, resonated with him. He had always lived in the gray areas of morality, where things were rarely clear-cut.
Now, he had the language to articulate it, to make others see the world the way he did.
"That would stir a lot of commotion" Kael mused, his mind already imagining the opposition he'd face.
"Most debates are about confirming biases, reinforcing what people already believe. You're different. You're not trying to comfort them — you're trying to make them think. It would make them uncomfortable and only then will victory be truly yours."
Kael felt a thrill of understanding, of clarity. He didn't need to play by their rules anymore. He didn't need to follow the well-trodden paths of conventional argument. He could be the outlier, the one who made people see the world through a different lens. The wild card.
"You don't win by giving them the answers they expect, but by making them question everything. You turn the debate into something they cannot control."
It was all about changing the narrative and to win, he will do anything.
Nagasth sat back, watching him closely. "You've always seen the world differently, Kael. That's your advantage. People like you are the ones who unsettle the status quo. You're not bound by their morals, by their limits. Use that. Make them see the world as you do."
Kael nodded slowly, his mind already sharpening the arguments he would make, the angles he would exploit. He wasn't just another student walking into a debate. He was going to turn the entire conversation upside down.
And they wouldn't see it coming.