THE DEBATE - PART IV

The grand doors of the royal palace swung open with a slow, deliberate creak, revealing the sight within.

Kael almost gasped as his gaze climbed upward, taking in the enormity of Valeran Palace. Rising above him was royalty, resplendent in polished gold that glowed even under the diffuse daylight, as if radiating a warmth all its own. Every detail, from the gilded balconies to the ornate carvings, exuded a striking blend of luxury and regality.

This place wasn't just a palace — it was a fortress of history, strength, and legacy.

They moved forward as their car approached the palace gates, where, at the center of an expansive fountain, House Valeran's sigil commanded attention.

Kael's eyes were drawn to it: the lion stood roaring, majestic and fierce, one paw pressed firmly on a glistening red stone, its mouth open in an eternal roar, facing the gates as if guarding the palace grounds. Water spilled from beneath the stone, pooling around the lion's base before flowing outward in delicate rivulets that reflected the blood-red hue. The water's soft trickle was a quiet, stark contrast to the lion's fierce posture, a reminder of both tranquility and raw power within these walls.

As the car circled the fountain and stopped before the main staircase, Kael braced himself, feeling an unmistakable sense of grandeur radiate from every marble step leading up to the vast entrance.

The car door opened, and before he could take a full breath, flashes exploded around him. Journalists shouted his name, vying for his attention, their cameras raised high, the lenses eager for a piece of his expression.

Stepping out, Kael straightened his coat and took in the chaos with an odd sense of satisfaction. "Mr. Arden! Over here!" one of the journalists called, waving to get his attention. Microphones stretched toward him like metal spears, eager to capture any word he might let slip.

Though the flashing irritated him, he felt a quiet satisfaction in the barrier that kept them neatly separated from his path — a defined line that allowed the dignitaries and guests a dignified entrance. People milled in and out of the entrance, officials and dignitaries mixing with the occasional civilian invited for the event.

A tall figure in a crisp white uniform approached, his green eyes intense as they studied Kael and Professor Aldwin. His voice, deep and steady, greeted them. "Welcome, Mr. Arden and Miss Aldwin," he said, offering a firm handshake. "Lieutenant Vincent Snoul, Army Wing of House Valeran. It's an honor."

Kael took his hand, noting the weight behind the lieutenant's grip, the three stars glinting on his shoulder. "Thank you, Lieutenant," he replied.

Lieutenant's eyes lingered on him thoughtfully. "Would you like to give them a quick interview?" He nodded toward the press, his expression unreadable.

Kael's answer was immediate, a firm, "No." The lieutenant's brows lifted slightly, surprise flitting across his face, but he only nodded, a faint smile betraying his amusement as he gestured toward the palace. Together, they made their way up the grand staircase and into the heart of Valeran's royalty.

Inside, Kael's awe only grew.

Massive, three stories high, the entrance hall was lined with marble columns, each capped with golden detailing that spiraled elegantly toward the ceiling, where a massive chandelier hung like a constellation of stars. Gilded archways framed the hall, leading to rooms he could only imagine, each detail more impressive than the last.

They were guided by the Lieutenant to the palace museum first, where artifacts from Valeran's history sat encased in glass, glowing softly under lights that brought every detail to life. There were ancient swords and shields, their hilts embedded with jewels that glittered in the low light, each weapon etched with marks of battles long fought and victories hard-won.

Kael paused in front of one — a dagger with a ruby-studded hilt, its blade inscribed with ancient runes, fierce and ominous in its beauty. Each piece here spoke of power, sacrifice, and unyielding resilience, and Kael felt the weight of history as they moved through the rows of art and weaponry, the pulse of Valeran's past into every inch.

They passed through the state rooms next, grand chambers with high, vaulted ceilings and floors polished to a mirror's sheen. The grand hall in particular left him breathless — its walls painted with scenes of past victories, tales of unity and strength, all carefully preserved. The ballrooms seemed endless, a place where only the most important gatherings were held.

The lieutenant took them to the first floor, where art galleries stretched out in elaborate rooms, showcasing portraits, landscapes, and legends that shaped Valeran. Next was the library — an architectural wonder. Rows of towering shelves held endless volumes, their spines lined with gold and embossed in leather. The smell of old parchment mixed with polished wood lent the space an air of wisdom.

Finally, they reached the council chamber. Enormous but not overwhelming, the chamber was designed with a restrained elegance that still managed to impose. The layout was clear: circular tables in between of four chairs, directly across from the stage with five chairs, each stately and slightly raised, clearly intended to command respect and authority.

Lieutenant led them to their seats, nodding to the black-and-gold name card bearing the university's insignia. Kael slid into his seat, taking in the crowd filling the chamber, dignitaries and representatives whispering among themselves as they waited for the event to begin.

Just then, a familiar figure strode onto the stage: Adhira Shwen Parsicut, a man Kael recognized well. His rank was just below the Simhika and his voice, smooth and authoritative, rose above the low hum of voices.

"Welcome, esteemed guests and participants." his voice rang through the chamber, carrying a solemn weight. The room stilled, the hum of anticipation melting into silence as every gaze turned toward him. "Today, we gather not simply to listen but to understand — to learn from the voices of our future leaders." His tone was warm yet assertive, an invitation and a command.

Adhira's gaze swept across the room, lingering young representatives, each dressed in the formal attire of their respective institutions, eyes bright with ambition. He took a measured breath, letting the room settle even further into silence.

"House Valeran," he continued, his voice resonating with a blend of pride and conviction, "upholds a legacy that spans centuries. This competition, however, is not just tradition; it is our investment in the future." His words were calm but sharp, each syllable intentional, as if shaping stones that would later become foundations. "The perspectives shared in this hall — your thoughts, your courage to stand and question, to challenge — are what keep our policies alive, pulsing, in touch with the pulse of the world beyond these walls."

"Each voice here matters," he said, gesturing subtly to the rows of young faces. "When you debate, you don't simply exchange words. You sharpen them, refine them, shaping each phrase like a blade to cut through the complacency that can creep into governance. We hold this competition not to applaud practiced speech, but to celebrate the birth of new ideas, to put forth questions that have gone unanswered for far too long."

A murmur rippled across the crowd, admiration mingling with awe.

"The world changes constantly," Adhira continued, his voice now softer, as if inviting the participants closer. "Policies must evolve with it. This debate competition is held after every five years and is a lifeline — a tether to your perspectives, your courage, your conviction. In this chamber, we have brought together minds from across Altara not merely to compete, but to build something greater, something enduring."

His gaze sharpened, landing on Kael for a moment, then sweeping across the room. Kael's heart skipped a beat. "This moment," he said, pausing to let each word resonate, "is not only for you. It is for all who will come after you, for every citizen in Altara whose life may be touched by what you shared today."

Applause rang out and Kael calmed his furiously beating heart. Those words felt personal.

His gaze sharpened, landing on Kael for a moment, then sweeping across the room. "This moment," he said, pausing to let each word resonate, "is not only for you. It is for all who will come after you, for every citizen in Altara whose life may be touched by what you share today."

"Please welcome our distinguished leaders," Adhira announced, voice rising to a reverent tone. "These are the people who have dedicated themselves to shaping Valeran's legacy."

The grand doors swung open, and everyone stood up.

"Lieutenant Vincent Snoul," Adhira introduced with a subtle nod, his voice deepening with respect. "Head of the Army Wing of House Valeran, Vincent Snoul has dedicated over twenty years to the defense and strategic fortification of our lands."

Vincent Snoul stepped forward, cutting a striking figure in his pristine white uniform. There was no sign of warmth that he had shown Kael while taking him to places.

Instead his sharp green eyes surveyed the crowd as if measuring each individual in attendance, his stride steady, deliberate. He reached the stage, offering a crisp, dignified salute, and took his seat, his posture one of unyielding authority. The room responded with a polite but firm round of applause.

Adhira waited a beat, then continued. "Next, we have Amanah Viotto, Chief of the Navy Wing." He tilted his head slightly, as if to honor the woman who was entering.

Amanah Viotto entered with a grace that belied the power she wielded. Her sharp blue eyes held an intensity that matched the cold depths of the ocean she commanded. Her uniform was tailored and understated, a dark shade that contrasted with her red hair, pinned back in a severe twist that added to her air of command.

Adhira's introduction lingered as he smiled faintly. "She has led our navy with an iron will and strategic brilliance, ensuring Valeran's seas remain steadfastly defended."

Amanah nodded to Adhira, then cast her gaze over the crowd, her eyes lingering a moment on the young representatives, assessing them with a sharp, appraising look. With a calm authority, she took her seat beside Vincent, her presence grounded, like a lighthouse unmoved by storm.

The crowd murmured in approval as the applause swelled once more.

Adhira raised his hand, drawing silence once more. "Following Chief Viotto," he said, voice turning sharp, "we welcome Levisay Whitlock, the Chief of our Air Wing."

Levisay entered with a faint smile, one corner of his mouth lifting as he stepped onto the stage. Tall, with a lean build, he moved with a catlike ease, his movements unhurried yet filled with purpose. The Air Wing uniform, with its silver accents, mirrored his composed aura, emphasizing his connection to the skies.

His blue eyes — sharp as a hawk's — seemed to capture every detail, and the slight windswept tousle to his dark hair only underscored the impression of a man who spent more time in the air than on the ground.

"Levisay Whitlock has mastered the skies for Valeran, bringing a boundless vision and an unshakable courage to his role," Adhira announced but his voice was tight and if he were allowed to roll his eyes, he undoubtedly would. Kael almost chuckled. There seemed to be drama surrounding those two.

The applause rippled through the chamber once more, even louder than before. Kael found himself clapping along, eyes keenly observing each leader's demeanor. These were Valeran's finest — people who wielded power like a second skin.

Adhira's voice dropped, drawing the room into a deeper silence. "And now," he said, every syllable heavy with reverence, "we honor the presence of Valor Ashford, Vyranth of Vyrimka Sadan."

Vyranth strode in, his dark eyes solemn. His robes were embroidered with the sigils of Valeran, each stitch denoting alliances, battles, and victories. With his neatly trimmed silver beard and commanding stature, Valor Ashford emanated coldness. His presence was regal.

"The Vyranth himself, Valor Ashford, has held the title for nearly three decades," Adhira continued, "and is the conscience of Vyrimka Sadan. Through his guidance, Valeran has flourished, its education grounded in both vision and empathy."

Valor inclined his head slightly, humbly accepting the crowd's applause before taking his seat at the center of the stage. His eyes landed on Kael and stayed on him. Kael smiled at him. Vyranth's eyes narrowed and he looked away.

Adhira paused, his eyes gleaming as he drew in a breath, letting the anticipation build. "And finally," his voice softened, reverence lacing his words, "bow for Miss Arundhati Arctura, the Simhika of House Valeran."

A powerful hush fell over the room. Every individual bowed as Simhika Arctura entered with a measured grace, her golden sari gleaming under the lights.

"Please, be seated." A collective exhale filled the room as they all returned to their chairs, the atmosphere thick. The air felt charged, as if everyone shared an unspoken understanding that they were in the presence of a force greater than themselves.

And finally, Kael saw Simhika Arctura in the flesh.

She looked... ferocious.

Lips painted red and her gaze sharp, the kohl around her eyes enhancing their piercing intensity

Her hair was pulled into a disciplined bun and a small red bindi adorned her forehead, marking her identity as the embodiment of House Valeran's legacy.

She wore a golden sari that gleamed under the lights.The fabric shimmered like sunlight on water, each fold meticulously arranged to reflect her royal stature. The embroidery on her blouse was more than decorative — it was symbolic, each pattern capturing a piece of House Valeran's history and might. The sigil, the cultural patterns.

Her jewelry was regal yet restrained, each piece casting subtle glimmers of light with her every movement. A bold necklace adorned her collarbone and gold bangles clinked softly at her wrists, the only sound in the still room. A maang tikka rested on her forehead, its delicate chain emphasizing the silent authority she commanded, glinting with each subtle shift of her head.

As her eyes scanned the room, they landed briefly on Kael. The coldness in her gaze was striking, as if she could see right through him, evaluating his worth in that single instant. His heart stuttered, caught off guard by the intensity of her stare. Then, just as swiftly, she looked away, freeing him from the spell, but leaving his pulse racing.

"Now, I request Simhika Arctura to address everyone present."

As Adhira called her name, the room rose to its feet. Simhika Arctura stood gracefully, her golden sari catching the light, casting a soft, almost ethereal glow across the room. She moved with purpose, stepping toward the podium. When she reached her place, she paused, letting the weight of her presence settle over the crowd. Adhira motioned for everyone to take their seats.

Kael noted the subtle but undeniable tension in the air, the silent weight of royal protocols that almost demanded obedience. "Weird, but strict," he thought, following suit, sinking into his chair as he kept his eyes fixed on Simhika.

Simhika's voice reverberated through the chamber. Her tone held the kind of sharpened clarity that commanded attention, but it was the way she spoke — an unyielding cadence, a subtle challenge — that had us all hanging on every word.

"I am pleased to welcome you all," Her gaze was sharp, sweeping over the assembly, almost daring someone to break the silence. Her voice, cold and resolute, shattered the quiet. "To those of you who accepted our invitation, thank you. Your presence here shows an investment in knowledge, in debate, in understanding — and I don't take that lightly."

Kael watched her, enraptured by the effortless control in her voice, the understated authority that resonated with each phrase. But beneath the formal language, he sensed something more, as if her words carried a quiet warning, a reminder of the power House Valeran held.

"Though I could not attend in person," Simhika continued, her tone unyielding, "I reviewed each of your arguments and perspectives, and I am… impressed. Not merely by your convictions but by your willingness to challenge the conventions and systems that have long shaped our world." Her gaze flickered over Kael for a heartbeat before shifting onward, and he felt a faint chill run down his spine.

"These debates are not just an academic exercise. They are the seeds of future change. Your ideas, your challenges — these will resonate in the policies, strategies, and alliances we craft in the future. If you take nothing else from today, know this: every word spoken here matters, and every voice here has the potential to disrupt, to reshape. You are the future."

When she finished, the applause was fervent, each clap carrying a weight of admiration and awe. Kael felt something harden in his chest, a strange exhilaration mingled with a sense of the room's silent pride. As Simhika returned to her seat, everyone rose, waiting until she settled herself before they, too, sat back down.

Adhira returned to the podium, his tone now formal and directed. "Now, we begin with the prize distributions." He paused, his voice almost ceremonial. "First, we call upon the previous winner, who will be honored today by the Vyranth; Mr. Samuel Smith."

A man stepped onto the stage, and the room watched as he received the Vyranth's shield-shaped trophy, emblazoned with the sigil of House Valeran.

Following that, one by one, participants were called up to receive their medals, awarded by the chiefs and the lieutenant. Kael observed the ritual with a deep, thundering anticipation, his eyes flickering to his professor's. She offered him an encouraging smile, her pride clear even through her composed exterior.

"Now," Adhira's voice cut through the chamber again, a note of finality in his tone. "The time has come for the announcement of the winner, the one who captured not only our attention but our respect and regard with words and intellect." The room seemed to tighten with a palpable anticipation, every eye trained on the podium.

Kael's pulse quickened. This is it. He didn't need to look at Ethan to feel the weight of his rival's presence, the tension that hung between them.

"And the winner of the Tenth Debate Competition by Vyrimka Sadan is…" Adhira held the silence for a beat, the entire room hanging in suspense, "…Kael Arden from Riveton University."

For a heartbeat, Kael couldn't move, his mind a whirl of disbelief. He was only distantly aware of the sudden silence, the suspension that hung in the air just before the reality of his victory dawned. Then it hit him, a surge of exhilaration spreading through his veins, and almost instantly, the applause erupted around him, crashing over him like a wave — loud, genuine, thunderous.

His professor was beside him, her face breaking into a warm, proud smile. She closed the distance between them, wrapping him in a brief, tight embrace that conveyed a thousand unspoken words. He felt her hand rest on his shoulder, firm and steady. "You did it, Kael. You made us all proud."

"Thank you, Professor," he said, his voice barely more than a murmur, knowing the words would never be enough.

Swallowing down disbelief and a rush of relief, Kael straightened, his stride sure and steady as he moved toward the stage. With every step, he felt the tension, the attention of the entire hall on him. He stopped before Simhika, who stood with the trophy in her hands. Bowing respectfully, he looked up, meeting her gaze.

Simhika held out the trophy, a beautifully crafted sculpture of House Valeran's lion sigil, roaring upon a crimson base. The golden inscription on the black stand read 'Kael Arden' in bold, with his university's name below.

"Congratulations, Mr. Arden," Simhika said, her voice carrying a faint warmth that softened her otherwise steely gaze. "You've made your university proud."

Kael nodded, his voice steady. "Thank you, Simhika. It means a great deal."

A flicker of something close to approval crossed her face. "I look forward to seeing you at tonight's dinner." Her voice held a hint of an invitation, subtle but clear. Kael inclined his head respectfully.

As the rest of the dignitaries joined them for a photograph, the room pulsed with flashes, each one capturing Kael's proud moment in the spotlight. He descended the stage, the trophy weighty in his hands, his gaze drifting to his professor, who looked at him with a quiet pride.

After a pause, Adhira called upon Professor Aldwin to accept the university's trophy. She made her way up the stage, met with respectful applause as the Vyranth presented her with a shield-shaped trophy, House Valeran's sigil at the center. She cast a proud smile at Kael before rejoining him at their seats.

Finally, Ethan was called to receive his participant medal, walking onto the stage with his head held high. Kael couldn't deny the thrill of satisfaction that bubbled within him as he watched.

The ceremony concluded with a final vote of thanks from the Vyranth, and the crowd began to move toward the grand hall for dinner.

The professor and Kael were escorted by the lieutenant commander and the chiefs of the navy and air force to the banquet hall for dinner with Simhika, their conversation light and cordial.

Inside the banquet hall, the atmosphere was overwhelming, the tables adorned with silver and gold cutlery, chandeliers casting a warm glow over the guests. As they settled at their table, Simhika approached, her gaze thoughtful as she appraised Kael once more before taking a seat besides him.

Camera flashes did not leave them while dinner as well but Kael was happy and that's all that mattered.

"Mr. Arden," she spoke as Kael took a bite of his food, her voice carrying a faint touch of curiosity, "I hear you have keen interests in politics and policy. Your views on Valeran's policies, I'd imagine, are intriguing."

Kael felt the last word was daunting. "Yes, Simhika," he set his spoon down, meeting her gaze directly. "I believe that policies can only progress by understanding and incorporating modern perspectives. Your government's approach has always intrigued me — there seems like there is a balance of tradition and adaptability which is indeed rare."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yet balancing tradition and innovation is a delicate game."

Kael nodded. "A challenge I think is worth pursuing, especially in times of change."

Lieutenant, who sat right in front of Kael chuckled, raising his glass. "He talks like a politician already, Simhika," he remarked, casting Kael an approving smile. "Smart boy."

Simhika looked at Kael. After a thoughtful pause, she spoke again. "Mr. Arden, I would be honored to extend an invitation for you to attend the next political session at Vyrimka Sadan. I believe your insights could lend a unique perspective to our discussions."

Kael felt a surge of cold in his stomach, though he held his face steady as he nodded politely to Simhika. "It would be an honor, Simhika. Thank you for the opportunity." The words left his mouth with practiced composure, but a prickle of uncertainty bloomed at the back of his mind.

The rest of the dinner passed mostly in silence, with his professor occasionally responding to questions about their university's curriculum. Kael's gaze wandered to his reflection in the polished silverware, to the gold accents in the walls that seemed almost to hum with history. Each second stretched out, heavier and more unsettling than the last.

Something did not feel right.

Then, unexpectedly, the voice crept into his mind, laced with a warning. "You should have refused, Kael." He felt his chest tighten, the grip on his spoon firming until his knuckles turned white. 

"I told you to stop scaring me," he muttered under his breath, forcing a calmness he didn't feel.

But the voice only grew more insistent, colder. "You should have refused." This time, its tone was sharper, as if cut with anger, and Kael's jaw tightened in response.

"Mr. Arden," Simhika called, her voice, calm yet firm, breaking through his internal turmoil. He blinked, startled, setting down his spoon as he met her scrutinizing eyes. "Are you well?"

"Yes," he replied immediately, his voice firmer than he felt. He forced a smile, hoping it was convincing, but the look Simhika gave him told him she could see right through him.

He was about to explain, to laugh off his lapse in focus, when a sudden wave of dizziness struck him. His vision blurred, the lights around him becoming blindingly bright, almost like sharp edges against his sight. The room's steady hum grew muffled, voices turning into indistinct murmurs. He could feel his heartbeat, each thud heavy and sluggish, like it was struggling to keep up.

Everything felt hot — his skin, his chest, his temples. He tried to blink away the sudden darkness creeping into his vision, to steady himself, but he could barely make out Simhika's face anymore, just a vague expression as she leaned forward. The weight of everything around him pressed down, heavy and inescapable.

And then, with no warning, the world tilted, shadows rushing in from the edges, and his vision faded entirely.

The last thing he felt was a soft thud as he slipped away, surrounded by nothing but silence.