The Solveig Playbook, Pt. 4

SOLVEIG

Cain walked onto the stone stage.

He was stiff, on the border of being too stiff.

The sounds of those wind instruments were blaring again, and it should’ve been signaling a momentous occasion, yet…

Other than polite claps, the crowd may as well have been crickets.

Solveig gripped her fists tightly.

Why was no one cheering him on?! This… was an injustice!

So she stood up from the front seat.

“Woot-woooooot! Go Caaaaaain!!”

The people around her seemed to rub their ears as she said. It was deafening, as it should be!

And why did Cain cringe like that? She was on his team, dumbass!

Cain cleared his throat as he stepped up on to the Sound Resonator formula that the Principal created, straightening his jacket.

“Greetings. And welcome to a new year—and a new semester at Hrafen. Principal Mackenzie has given us a lovely run-down of what to expect, so I won’t bore you with those details any longer. So to jump straight to the point: at the start of each year, two Houses earn the right to speak out against an incumbent House regarding the issues that trouble us in our current times. This is referred to as the Grand Debate.”

He paused, and for a moment, just a moment, he looked directly at Solveig before catching himself and forcing his gaze back to the crowd.

“It gives a voice to the opposition, and as our great founder Grand Sorcerer Hrafen intended, it serves to keep the current royalty honest.”

That earned a few chuckles from the crowd.

Smart play… acknowledging your weakness with humor like that; means you were at least self-aware. A little self-deprecation never hurt anybody. I could never, though. Too much to lose.

“It is, in essence, a hot seat. A contest of ideas, conducted before the entire student body, on a single issue the two challenging houses have determined mattered most.”

He lifted his chin.

“This year, that issue is trade.”

A murmur rippled through the assembled crowd.

“The consequences are… enormous. To put it lightly. Past Student Council Presidents have influenced the course of Illustrian politics for centuries, as was Hrafen's intention. You, all of you, get to vote on who presents their ideas the best after the Debate. Indeed. The Debate feeds points into the Vote.”

Shoot.

People must vote based on who is best at talking?

Thankfully, it’s not me up there…

Cain continued. “It is not a deciding vote—but it does set the tone for the remainder of the year. My House, House Cunningham, believes Illustria’s survival depends on continued negotiation with the Quadrant without abandoning our Illustrian, and indeed, Concordat values. House Blackmore, I understand, disagrees rather passionately. And House Sharplaw believes the entire question is beside the point when there is a war we should already be fighting. Whoever is the most persuasive in conveying their views will hopefully translate tonight as votes!”

Cain gestured with both arms out wide.

“Isolde Blackmore. D’Igoll Sharpclaw. Please, come and let us engage in our friendly Grand Debate.”

Like a gate closing, a gaggle of guards that once surrounded the parents and children alike enclosed upon the stage.

It looked like a ritual…

With Cain up in his little cage.

From the left wing of the stage came Isolde first, gliding rather than walking, her pale hair swept into a crown of braids.

“Wooooo!”

“Yeah!!!”

“You’re the best, Isolde!!”

Solveig's eye twitched at the children cheering her on.

Isolde, huh? I better pay close attention. She may reveal the secret of how to acquire an adoring fanbase to me.

Isolde inclined her head toward the crowd and did not so much as glance at Cain as she took her place at the opposite podium.

And lastly, from the right, came D’Igoll, and the crowd’s murmur shifted register entirely.

He was easily a head taller than Cain, shoulders wrapped in a battle-worn cloak that still smelled, even from here, of iron and dust. His ears were pinned flat and alert atop a mane of iron-grey fur.

“Go go, D’Igoll. Demihumans stick together, Beastkin forever!!”

“I saw him save like, three kittens from a tree without a sweat.”

“Yeah, same! He saved my grandpa that one time when he was having a stroke!”

Similar scenes for D’Igoll, thought notable in how it primarily came from one demographic of students.

Solveig's brain, entirely without her permission, supplied: he could probably break Cain in half with one hand.

And then, immediately after: and Cain would let him. He'd stand there being all noble and doomed about it, yet secretfully liki—

Whoa.

Solveig caught a trail of saliva the length of her torso and sucked it back up.

“A-hem.”

She was only saved from her traitorous thoughts by Isolde's coughing.

Very promptly, she used her magic to conjure her own Sound Resonator formula, much to the awe of the audience.

“Well, to start,” Isolde said, once both had settled, her voice carrying without needing to rise, “before we can even debate… I must speak up regarding the equality of this stage. The parties that represent the Grand Debate… us three should be represented by excellence, the best of all of Hrafen—such that people can respect us as a base-level.

“I am the top-ranked student. D’Igoll has strong combat and leadership expertise. What does Cain have, beyond being the brother of the greatest student Hrafen has ever seen?”

The crowd responded, and responded rather unfavorably. Solveig tried to find Cain’s eyes, but they were under a heavy shadow.

Only to capitalize, Isolde continued: “So by far the most concerning is Cunningham’s lack of an answer on how to become a proficient user of magic. We can both agree on this, D’Igoll Sharpclaw, surely?”

D’Igoll’s ears flicked once. He was on the verge of growling, she could tell.

Even all these years later, the demonscum ones made of dog still have anger issues…

Except Penelope, she's one of the good ones.

“A leader must learn how to walk the talk. That is an age-old Illustrian saying, after all.” Isolde’s smile was thin as paper. “One that Cain would rather not know.”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the audience.

“Now, do you have a plan to address this glaring setback?” Isolde offered.

“I understand,” Cain said evenly. “This has been a talking point for most of my schooling life here. While the initiatives I introduced, such as the Smallfolk Schooling Program, the SSP as some of you know, has introduced a twenty-percent admittance rate from the commonfolk of Illustria, and indeed, all over. Beyond my martial ability, I’ve always stood by what was right for Illustria’s people. If it is a question of character, then her argument barely stands.”

“Grr…”

Solveig looked to her right.

Miriam was on the verge of it now. She knew exactly why Miriam was angry… and it had a Solveig-shaped hole in it.

Solveig could read people’s intentions very well, had plenty of experience dealing with it during her campaigns.

Solveig saw the same look in some tribesmen in the past, when she took over their tribes.

She is about to be mad enough to do something about it…!

Before Solveig could stop Miriam, introduce some sense into her, it was much too late.

Miriam stood on both feet, and— “The SSP did jack-all for me!”

Cain, understandably, was stunned. “I-I’m sorry?”

Miriam raised her voice further. “Folks, the man who’s standing on stage… he’s not what he claims to be, damn it!”

“I’m sure—I don’t recall ever having wronged—”

"That's right, you didn't," Miriam raved. "You couldn't even be man enough to look me in the eyes when you gave my scholarship room away to some... some new muse of yours!"

Solveig’s jaw hung wide.

Holy.

Shit.

The crowd went into a sort-of quiet frenzy. Whispers flew by her, left and right, top to bottom.

“You know, the last thing I expected was Coddled Cain to be a playboy” was probably her favorite one, though.

“Cain…?” Isolde smiled like a hyena. “I didn’t think you had it in you~!”

“I—I would never,” Cain countered.

Cain Anger Meter: 74%

Solveig, naturally, freaked. AAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

Meanwhile, D’Igoll looked more disappointed than ever.

“Do you even know the girl you so neglectfully screwed over?” Isolde continued.

Cain furrowed his brows. “Top of Horticulture and Potion-making classes, a prodigy in fauna-handling—of course I know Miriam Harkness.”

Isolde tilted her head. “Then how could you authorize such a thing to happen to her…?”

“I-It was clearly an administrative error made under duress—why would I—it’s… unconscionable; a mistake!"

Isolde leaned into her Resonating formula.

“But if Miriam was evicted… someone had to take her place,” she wondered. “And I reckon they’re in attendance tonight as well.”

Isolde looked deep into Cain’s eyes.

“Go on. Confess. Who here earned the right to study at Hrafen over Miss Miriam Harkness?”

“To be clear, Miriam will get a new scholarship room," Cain interrupted. "She will be compensated for the duress Hrafen has placed upon her. But to answer your question… indeed, this individual is another beneficiary of the SSP,” Cain responded. “In fact, she’s the same person who will teach me how to become a better magic caster.”

The amount of ‘ooo’s’ the crowd omitted was almost enough to make Solveig faint.

Isolde’s smile flickered, the way a candle does right before someone opens a door.

“Please, I plead. Before you all say anything... Allow me to introduce her properly. She deserves that, at least.” Cain gestured toward her row, and Solveig felt her stomach plummet somewhere around her ankles. “Meet my tutor. Solveig the Great.”

Silence.

Then, from somewhere near the back: “...As in… the goddess?”

Here goes…

Slowly but steadily, Solveig stood up from her seat.

And at the apex of her rise, she spoke.

“That’d be me! Nice to meet you all.”

Half-dozen by half-dozen, eyes flicked toward her, the creaking of the chairs and chair legs louder than the loudest sound she’s ever heard.

For a moment, there was something within Solveig that thought her fears were overblown after all. That she’d be accepted or at the very least tolerated in a world were first impressions did not affect her at all.

That was a fantasy.

“Wait… that's the girl from the papers. She must have been the one who got the lowborn kicked out!”

“R-Right, right!”

“She does match the description of a goblin a little, yeah…”

“She doesn’t even look powerful.”

“She should be eating more protein first, really…”

This whole situation, this scenario… the eyes that looked upon her from every which way, bound to watch her every move were all cast upon her fragile smallness…!

And off the back of a botched political statement too…?

SOLVEIG OVERLOAD METER: 68%

This was turning into a disaster…! One of explosive implications!!!