The Sadan fell into a still, expectant silence as the Attorney General leaned into his microphone, his gaze sweeping over the representatives. "The cross-questioning may begin."
He leaned back, casting a look across the board before calling the first university's name, signaling to Yuri from Crestmore Business Institute.
Yuri sat straighter, composed and self-assured. The first councilor, a man with a stoic face framed by glasses, addressed Yuri in a calm, deliberate tone.
The first councilor, a man with hawk-like eyes and a demeanor as unforgiving as stone, addressed Yuri in a deep, resonant voice that seemed to shake the silence.
"You stated that a leader must sometimes choose stability over the desires of the people. I'll ask you this, then: How does one gauge that moment? What gives a leader the right to override those they claim to serve?"
Yuri took a breath, her eyes locked on the councilor. "A true leader understands the balance between immediate desires and long-term necessity. Sometimes, that balance demands choices the public may not initially understand or agree with. It's not a dismissal of their voice; it's—"
Another councilor cut her off, his voice sharp. "You speak of 'balance' and 'necessity,' but are those simply veiled excuses for a leader's personal agenda? How does one draw the line between governing and tyrannizing?"
A murmur rippled through the chamber at the harshness of the question, and Yuri rallied her composure as she replied, "A leader's responsibility is accountability. Governing, not tyrannizing, means being able to justify each action not just in words but through results. If those results preserve the nation and strengthen it, the people will recognize the intention."
The councilor's gaze softened ever so slightly, though his expression remained firm. "We shall see if your actions align with your words," he remarked.
Next, the Attorney General called Ethan. Kael saw Ethan meet their eyes with a calm assurance, his expression exuding the coolness of someone who thrived under scrutiny. The screen was doing him no justice. He was evil.
"You argued that morality must sometimes yield to practicality for the good of the nation," began the Provost, an older woman with a piercing gaze and an air of seasoned skepticism. "Do you mean to suggest that any action can be justified if it serves this so-called 'greater good'? And if so, where is the line drawn?"
Without a moment's hesitation, Ethan answered, "There is a difference, Madam Provost, between moral flexibility and moral abandonment. Sometimes a leader may bend certain ideals temporarily, but only if it leads to the protection and strengthening of the society as a whole. A true leader draws the line at actions that would ultimately weaken the very foundation they seek to secure."
The Provost's eyes narrowed, her voice cool. "And how, does a leader determine when their personal perspective aligns with the nation's? If one's view of the 'greater good' is flawed, doesn't that make their actions little more than rationalized self-interest?"
A glimmer of wit sparkled in Ethan's eye as he replied, "That, Madam, is why a wise leader surrounds themselves with advisors of differing opinions and values. Diverse perspectives act as a mirror, ensuring no one's vision becomes a singular, unchecked tyranny."
The Provost's eyebrows rose, a slight smirk tugging at her mouth. She nodded, apparently impressed, a few councilors quietly whispering in approval.
As the Attorney General called Landon, he looked visibly attempting to steady his nerves.
The council secretariat of Trade and Economy, a woman with a steely voice and eyes like polished silver, fixed him with a critical gaze. "You speak of adaptation to the people's desires. Yet desires are as volatile as the wind. How can a government — meant to ensure stability — shift each time the public opinion wavers?"
Landon faltered slightly, swallowing before he answered. "Councilor, I believe a leader must remain attuned to the people's evolving expectations. In today's world, loyalty is earned by adapting to the people's needs, keeping them informed—"
She interjected, her tone slicing through his response. "Informing the people, yes, but at what cost? If leadership only mirrors the people's desires, then where does governance end, and manipulation begin?"
Landon hesitated, his confidence cracking. "Well, I—I suppose…"
The councilor's unyielding expression made it clear he was faltering, and his face was noticeably drained. The council's pointed questions had exposed the gaps in his argument, leaving Landon visibly shaken.
But Kael understood it all. There was something going on with the way Ethan smirked as Landon faltered. Is this planned? He wouldn't be surprised if it was.
Next, the Attorney General called Kaelith.
The council's Provost, a man with a narrow gaze and the rigid composure of stone, examined Kaelith with silent scrutiny before asking, "You suggest that a government rooted in morality will inspire trust. But what happens when moral principles clash with survival? Is it still the government's duty to uphold these values if doing so threatens the nation?"
Kaelith's voice was steady. "A leader must remain unwavering, even in difficult times. People look to their leaders for a sense of purpose and ethical direction. A nation will survive if its people believe in their government's morality."
A minister interrupted, his eyes narrowed. "And if the price of maintaining morality is the loss of stability? What good is virtue if it leaves a nation vulnerable?"
"Morality gives a society its strength. Without it, a nation loses its unity, its very soul."
His lips thinned, his gaze heavy with doubt. Kaelith's principled argument had earned her quiet nods from some councilors, yet others remained unconvinced, skeptical of her reliance on an unyielding code of ethics.
Nolan too found himself less fortunate. While his speech had been confident, the council's questions threw him into a whirlwind of faltering responses. Questioned on the practicality of maintaining complete transparency while making difficult decisions — a line of inquiry that left him visibly unnerved and unable to satisfy the council's probing.
Meanwhile, Ethan observed the unfolding scene with a look of quiet satisfaction, as if everything were playing out precisely as he'd intended.
When Axel took his turn, he answered with the same level-headed pragmatism he'd shown in his initial speech, parrying every question with unshakeable ease. He showed neither nerves nor hesitation, even as the board pushed him, every answer cementing the board's reluctant respect for him.
Ethan's expression darkened, clearly unsettled by Axel's performance.
Interesting.
Then, Kael's university was called.
The room fell utterly silent. Eyes lingered on him longer than they had the others, some expressions openly hostile, others merely curious. No councilor spoke. A few averted their eyes; others looked at him, thinly veiled disdain shadowing their faces.
The Attorney General repeated the name of Riveton University, his voice even, almost daring the room to respond.
When the silence persisted, the Attorney General himself leaned forward, a gleam in his eyes as he regarded Kael.
"Mr. Arden, your stance on morality and power was unique," he began, a note of warning in his tone. "You argue that morality is not a guiding force but a tool. Who do you believe should wield this tool? And what gives them the right to do so?"
Kael held the Attorney's gaze. "The authority to wield morality lies in the burden of foresight and the courage to act upon it. A true leader is one who sees beyond present limitations to safeguard the future, even if those choices are misunderstood or unpopular. This is not inherited or conferred; it is earned by understanding what lies beyond the surface of 'right' and 'wrong' — by seeing what needs to be done, even if it contradicts traditional virtues. It's a responsibility, not a right."
The Attorney General's brow raised slightly, his expression betraying a hint of approval. But before he could respond, Director Mellore, sharp-eyed and equally sharp-tongued, interjected. "You've made the people sound as if they are sheep to be led, that their will is often constructed by those in power. Is this not dangerously close to propaganda? How do you differentiate leadership from manipulation?"
Kael's reply was unwavering. "Leadership is founded on long-term goals, whereas manipulation is focused on immediate gain. The will of the people, if left entirely unchecked, often reflects fear, anger, or complacency. A leader shaping the will of the people does so to secure the nation, not to exploit it. True power lies in guiding people toward stability, even if they do not see the path. Manipulation, however, is fragile; it is a foundation of sand. Real leadership stands firm against the tides."
A flicker of intensity crossed the director's eyes.
Minister Forthright began in his deep, gravely voice. "And where did these views of yours stem from, Mr. Arden? Such a perspective does not simply emerge on its own nor is it learned in a classroom."
Kael looked her in the eye. "They emerged from observing the world as it is, not as we wish it to be. Morality, in practice, is seldom as clear as theory. Leaders are made by their choices in times of crisis — not by the ideals they espouse, but by the choices they make when forced to weigh consequence over sentiment. They are defined not by ideals alone, but by what they're willing to sacrifice to uphold stability. Stability and morality are not synonymous."
The council members exchanged glances, many nodding in reluctant respect. Yet even as the final questions seemed to be winding down, a voice cut through, halting them.
"I would like to ask a question to Mr. Arden."
The Vyranth himself had spoken, his words laced with a venom that felt tangible, as if the very air thickened around him. Kael's chest tightened as he met his eyes, his gaze steady.
The Vyranth's eyes narrowed, his voice hard. "Mr. Arden, yours is not a unique perspective, but a direct endorsement of dictatorship. A stance that goes against the very laws of this land. Would you clarify why you promote such a dangerous ideology?"
Kael felt the weight of his pulse thrumming in his ears. Sage's words echoed in his mind, and he steadied himself, allowing a small, almost defiant smile to play on his lips. "Turn the debate into something they cannot control."
"Certainly, Vyranth. Let me illustrate my position by using an example close to us all — House Valeran itself."
A few gasps and stunned silence dominated the room. The Vyranth's expression flickered, but Kael pressed on, his voice strong, resonant. "Here we are in the heart of your land, where every house, every street bears the mark of House Valeran. Even the residents, as they walk their own streets, wear badges of loyalty to this House. The council itself is appointed and re-elected at the discretion of the royals, a structure shaped solely by your influence."
A shadow flitted across the Vyranth's face, but Kael pressed on, his tone unwavering and almost casual. "Let us not forget the recent events with your Trade President. When he raised concerns about certain policies, his personal life suddenly became public spectacle — a convenient 'leak' that paved the way for re-election. That's control, Vyranth, and no one would dare call it tyranny, correct?"
A breath caught in the room, the board members' faces pale as Kael let the silence hang, daring anyone to respond.
Feigning a calm, almost conciliatory smile, he finished, "Of course, it's not tyranny. It's leadership. You, Vyranth, hold this power not out of malice but because your House has earned it. This is the foundation of authority — a duty to safeguard stability, even if it means difficult choices."
The Vyranth's face was a mask of fury, his eyes narrowed to icy slits, and for a moment, Kael thought he might lunge forward.
The tension in the room was taut, the chamber still save for the faint shuffling of council papers. Many councilors watched in stunned silence, some looking down, others unable to hide their shock. A few councilors leaned back in their chairs, faint hints of grudging respect etched onto their faces.
Finally, the Attorney General's voice broke through the silence, calm yet unmistakably shaken. "The results will be announced following the lunch break at two," he said, a tension underlying his words. "You may proceed to the dining area."
A collective breath was released as the everyone rose, the audience buzzing as they filed out, their faces filled with disbelief and murmurs following Kael as he moved toward the dining hall with the others.
Behind him, he felt the smoldering gaze of the Vyranth, eyes filled with a fury he could almost taste.
Kael's pulse pounded, but he kept his face calm, even daring a smile.
He'd done it.
His bold audacity had not only held up against the council's scrutiny but challenged the very core of their authority.