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—"
