8.2 Advancement

The next couple of weeks pass by apprehensively as the time of election approaches. When the day finally arrives you find yourself full of nerves and anticipation. Attempting to quell these feelings, you distract yourself with preparation. Inevitably, it is time to depart for the debate that is held prior to the vote. Upon entrance to the center of the city, its majority have already gathered. Though this only causes your anxiety to increase, your expression remains neutral as you make your way through the crowd, wholly aware of the sea of eyes on you. Strangely, as you continue onward your confidence begins increasing with each passing step. Holding your head high, you reach your hands out to allow those near enough to briefly touch or hold your hands and garments. This seems to only bolster their excitement as it is likely the closest they will ever be to one of royalty.

Slowing your pace, you take time to nod at and acknowledge as many in the group as you're able. Regardless of your arrangement with Damasus, it is imperative to win the majority's favor. Once you have reached the main area you finally have the opportunity to look over your opposition. The two men are strikingly different, yet equally imposing in their own manner. The first to catch your attention is the large man donned in some sort of militaristic uniform. His dark eyes quickly return your gaze, appearing rather cold and distant. Ignoring this you continue glancing over his broad form, taking in his chiseled features. His hair has been closely cropped and his face clean shaven. Seeming unimpressed with his own assessment the man eventually looks away. Frowning, you turn your attention to the younger man standing a few feet away.

Sandy brown curls hang around his slightly tan, angular, face. You catch a glimpse of bright green eyes when he briefly looks in your direction. His lean frame turns away from you when it appears time to commence with the first addressal. You find it hardly surprising that the men are allowed first turn to address to the gathered crowd. You're hardly aware of the words they speak, distracted by your own thoughts. Some time later you find yourself returned to reality as it is time for your own speech. Inhaling deeply, you take your place at the end of the large stage built specifically for this occasion. Straightening your back, you **** a warm smile to your face as you look over your subjects. In a bold or perhaps reckless move, you refrain from mentioning your opponents and merely dance around the subject of election.

Instead, you focus your words and sentiment on your admiration and respect for the land and its people. Sensing confusion from the other politicians and higher ranking officials, you scoff inwardly. During your moment of thought you had taken notice of the equally distracted look in many of those in the crowd. It seems as if lengthy political discourse does not hold captive interest. Your strategy to address the group in a less formal manner at least seems to hold the majority of the crowd's interest. By the time you have finished, they seem completely enraptured with you. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, you throw a somewhat satisfied look in your opposition's direction. While the younger man seems somewhat amused, the other appears completely livid. While his angry gaze puts you at slight unease, you're far too hopeful to let it seep under your skin.

Returning to your guards side, you spend the rest of the day mingling amongst the commoners. Though your guard seems mildly annoyed by this, you resolve to meet with as many of your subjects as possible. The sun has long since set by the time you make your way back to your estate. Completely exhausted, you debate your next course of action. Though you feel as if rest is the best decision, it has not escaped you how grimy you have become since the days start. Pausing, you glance over in the direction of the bathhouse somewhat longingly. A long yawn that follows momentarily breaks the silence currently surrounding you. Sighing deeply, you wearily run a hand through your messy locks of hair. With the night only growing later, you shake your head slightly and begin walking down the narrow hallway.