WECO Director-General Election [IC/Aeia Only]

[Midrasia]

World Educational and Cultural Organization

Verden Uddannelsesmæssige og Kulturelle Organisation

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With the conclusion of Anna de Ouserad's two-year term as the Director-General of the World Educational and Cultural Organization, it is now time for the group's members and board to elect a new leader who will hold office until 2022. Who the 23rd official WECO Director-General will be, and what direction they will take the organization in remains to be seen. Whilst the sitting Director-General may campaign for a second term, they are usually challenged in their pursuit of another mandate. Only one Director-General of the group, Silas Lund, has served more than one term.

Delegates from each of the regional offices of the World Educational and Cultural Organization will now have the opportunity to submit their nominations for the new Director-General. These individuals will be cordially invited to participate in a number of events in which they may put their case forward to the various members of the organization.

With the conclusion of campaigning each national delegation to the World Educational and Cultural Organization will be empowered to submit their votes for their preferred candidate. The organization operates a two-round voting system which will see the two most popular candidates from the first round go head-to-head in a final vote to decide who will govern the organization for the coming years.

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List of candidates:

• Kévin Dubois - Midrasia
• Kirsikka Huomalainen - Crylante
• Anton Kaveter - Aleia
• Herman Lund - Navack
• Arabel Moreno - Vidoria
• Martin ú Brian - Cuirpthe
• Apollo Verdi - Atresca

Sign-up thread

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Location:

This year's World Educational and Cultural Organization Congress will take place in the Gwennpalez in Vaellenia, Midrasia. The refurbished 16th century palace was the holiday retreat of the old Midrasian royal family. Nestled in the hills of the Vaellenian forests near lake Baud, this palace is sure to provide the peace and quiet necessary for the various candidates to gather their notes and organise their campaign platforms.

Candidates and their entourages will be provided with rooms within the palace and are free to roam its grounds for the duration of their stay. Meals will be provided between 6:00-10:00 for breakfast, 12:00-14:00 for lunch, and 17:00-19:00 for dinner. During lunch and evenings, rooms within the palace will be provided for guests to socialise though they are also free to roam the palace grounds.

Members of the media will not be permitted to stay within the palace, though will be provided entry for official speeches and media events from 10:00. Media personnel will be required to leave the property by 17:00. Other than officially designated attendees, public access to the site will be prohibited for the duration of the congress.

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Event Timeline:

Day One

• Arrival & Greetings

Day Two

• Main hustings
• First round voting

Day Three

• First round results
• Lunch Break
• Final Speeches
• Final vote

Day Four

• Final results
• Inaugeration ceremony

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OOC:

Participants are now encouraged to post outlining their candidate's arrival at the WECO congress. Members of the region may participate either as their pre-applied candidate for the position of WECO Director-General, as a member of their entourage, and/or as a member of the media who will be participating at public events at the congress. News articles providing coverage of the events taking place at the congress are also welcome to provide an outline of events, and different national perspectives on the election. Participants are also encouraged to collaborate and strike deals, such as endorsements or drop-outs with other participants in an attempt to get their chosen candidate to be elected as Director-General. These deals do not have to be cleared with the thread host beforehand, though god-modding such as killing off other candidates is prohibited.

There is no set time-limit on how the timeline will progress, though every effort will be made to ensure a swift movement of events that accommodates each participant's ability to post. Short timeline update posts will indicate when each event during the schedule will take place. Efforts will be made on discord to ensure each participant is kept up to date on the timeline, and consent will be sought among participants before moving to the next item on the agenda. It is advised that if a participant misses a specific event through inactivity that they either provide a post addressing it after the fact, or remove their candidate from the election depending on their ability to continue participating.

Happy posting!

[Midrasia]

TIMELINE UPDATE

Day One

• Arrival & Greetings

[Midrasia]

A thick fog hung over the air, caking the sweeping Vaellenian hills in a deep grey almost impassible haze. Through this blanket of fog drove a jet black Âge Estrat, its back three windows tinted so as to obstruct the outside world's view to at least half its contents. Diverting off the main road the car took a turn into a security checkpoint flanked on both sides by immense spruce trees which dominated the various hills and valleys of the Vaellenian countryside. After a short delay involving the transfer of various paperwork and a thorough sniffing from the local guard dog, the car was finally allowed to make its way up the gravel road leading up the hill. After passing through an empty parking lot the car arrived at a beige timber-framed building which dominated the hilltop along with its vast gardens and private grounds. As the car pulled up to the entrance of this building, two men dressed in black suits exited the vehicle. The driver moved to open the rear door, whilst the second man, presumably a security official, scowled off into the distance as if the trees themselves had done him a personal disservice.

The man stepping out of the rear of the car was a slightly portly man in his early sixties. Wrapped in a long brown overcoat, brown gloves, and a brown flat cap the man stepped out into the chilling Vaellenian air, stopping only to reposition his glasses atop his large rounded nose.

"Professor Dubois. A pleasure to meet you." Called a suited figure in the doorway, extending a hand out for a greeting.

Dubois briefly removed his flat cap revealing a head devoid of hair, besides a thick grey mane that flanked the top of his head.
"Ugghhh." He stammered, completely ignoring the greeting hand. "I'm just finally glad to be off that road. We've been travelling for damn hours I tell you."

Dubois was no stranger to conventions such as this one. Public speaking was one of his forté's and his expertise in his field aways made him an appreciated voice. The one thing he didn't like though was the travelling. Be it by car, boat, or plane; to the coldest, darkest north of Lhedwin, or the sunny shores of Vidoria, the man could not stand the journey.

"Rest assured Professor, we shall ensure your stay with us here at the Gwennpalez is to your utmost satisfaction for the duration of your stay."

"Well, what are we doing standing here then? Let's get out of this damn cold before I freeze to death!"

The two entered the building, trailed by the security officer, emerging in a large hall constructed almost entirely of dark brown wood.

"Welcome to Gwennpalez Professor Dubois," greeted a slender woman with similarly dark brown hair. "My name is Alicia de Santis and I am the curator of this site. I do hope you enjoy your stay for the duration of the convention."

"I will," replied Dubois, "provided it's at least a bit warmer in here than it was for King Henry."

"Not to worry professor, the palace has gone under numerous refurbishments since its initial construction, including the installation of central heating."

"Thank Alydian, I was beginning to think I'd need to be gathering my own wood for the fire." The Curator and Greeter both laughed at the apparent joke whilst Dubois stood there looking entirely serious about his statement. "Well, am I going to be shown to my chambers, or am I going to be standing here until my legs finally fall off?" Once again in a tone caught somewhere between sincerity and comedic.

"Of course," smiled the greeter in a manner displaying that he still wasn't quite sure if he should laugh. "Right this way sir."

The two marched off into the west wing of the building, trailed by the security official whose heavy footsteps imparted immense creaking noises upon the floorboards. The three figures entered into a large room in the south-west of the palace, overlooking two large inactive stone fountains to the rear of the building. A four-poster bed draped in purple sheets was planted in the middle of the room, flanked by two large oak bookshelves filled with the type of ancient books you're not quite sure anybody has ever read.

"This will be your room for the duration of your stay Professor Dubois. If anything is not up to your standard, please let us know," said the greeter, extending a hand in a final attempt to win a handshake.

"That will be all," smiled Dubois, once again keeping his hands to himself.

The greeter exited the room with a slightly saddened expression on his face, followed by the security official who posted himself outside the door. Several moments later a young man clambered his way into the room armed with a suitcase and a ring binder filled with papers of varying sizes and colours.

"Sorry i'm late sir." Panted the entrant. "We had a little difficulty getting through security, a mix up with the papers."

"About time boy," Dubois replied. "Put my papers on the desk and leave me in some peace."

"Of course sir, sorry sir," replied the man, exiting the room as quickly as he came in.

Dubois hung his hat and coat upon the door and brought the ring binder across to the desk that overlooked the window, which in turn, overlooked the garden. He opened it up about halfway and set about murmuring to himself as if trying to learn his upcoming speeches word for word.

[Cuirpthe]

"Big day, Mr. ú Brian, isn't it?"

Through the blinding fog of the Vaellenian morning, a single white car snaked along the winding mountain road in solitude. It's sole passenger readjusted his tie and looked out the windows towards their rapidly approaching destination. He cleared his throat, making sure his papers were in order as they pulled in towards the checkpoint. "Er, yes. Big day, big day. I just hope this won't be as tedious as the trip down." Security waved the vehicle through, and they pulled forward into the main lot. Arriving at the rustic venue, the driver rushed over and opened the door, making room for ú Brian to step out.

The professor of 49 years old was in stark contrast to Dubois, in terms of appearance. Thin and fit, he wore a thin trench coat over a respectable suit and tie, his thinning hair covered by a grey fedora. He approached Gwennpalez, holding his handkerchief to his mouth as a coughing fit hit him. As he went up the front steps, the greeter extended a hand. "Professor ú Brian. A pleasure."

He took the hand, clearing his throat once again. "Yes, indeed. Is Madame de Santis around? I believe she is still the caretaker here, correct?" ú Brian rambled a bit as the man led him towards the door.

"Right this way, Professor. The caretaker is waiting in the main foyer to greet the guests as they arrive." He pulled the heavy door open and ushered the candidate inside.

"Professor ú Brian! Welcome, old friend." The caretaker approached the door to shake Martin's hand. "It has been so long since your last trip to Vaellenia, has it not? Are you still giving your historical lectures?"

This wasn't the first time that ú Brian had visited Gwennpalez. His studies in Thiaric history had sent him all across Cuirpthe, Vaellenia and Wradhia, and this was one of his personal favorite locales. He had given many a lecture in these very halls on the intricacies of ancient and medieval Asura.

"Of course I am, Madame. Sadly, my studies have brought me down south, to Arabekh. I simply haven't had the time to return to my studies on the Thiaric homeland. The pursuit of knowledge and all that, I'm sure you understand." The two engaged in casual banter as they walked along the halls.

"Your chambers are this way," the curator pointed along the hall that went towards the building's west wing. "Your greeter will show you the way. Mr. Dubois has already arrived, as well, if you're looking to engage with your competition before the debates begin." She chuckled, stepping out of the way. ú Brian nodded. "Thank you, Madame, you are as courteous as ever." With one last parting handshake, Martin and the caretaker parted ways, and the greeter led the way to the professor's room. "You'll find that everything is in order, aside from your unpacking, of course. Once everyone has arrived, we will begin the opening ceremonies."

"Thank you, that will be all." The greeter closed the door behind him, and ú Brian was left alone. He set his suitcase down and pulled out his notes, coughing slightly as he studied his illegible handwriting.

[Navack]

Sitting in the back of a black Luksus G4, Herman Lund, current Minister of Culture and Education heads to Richard Whalberg International airport in Berke. It’s a snowy early morning in the Navish capital; streets are covered in white, while people shiver walking on the street. The airport is right across the Republic bridge, that connects Rødhalvøy to Gylnebyen. It’s a 40 minutes’ drive from the minister’s house to the airport.
While sitting in the car chatting with the driver, Mr. Lund’s phone ring; President Helle Schanke is calling:

“Good morning, Professor! Ready for your trip?” Herman Lund was Schanke’s professor years ago when she attended the Institute in Brestrand. They grew a personal friendship during those years.

“Helle! It’s all ready to roll, I’d say” He giggled “You know me, I love a little travel.”

“Indeed, Professor, you are the only person I know that would go from the Vanir Islands to Vidoria without complaining!” Both laughed “All good in the car so far? How’s traffic?”

“Well, how good can the Independence Avenue be at 7:30 a.m.?”

“True,” said Helle “Well, have a safe trip, Professor. We will be here waiting for the latest from the meeting, ok?”

“Alright, Helle, take care!”

With his phone down now, he turns back to talk to the driver for the remainder of the drive. Once at the airport, he is taken to a special lounge, where some government aircraft are landed. He walks in and is greeted by a NAVair receptionist.

“Good morning, Professor Lund! How was the drive?”

“Good morning, Hertha!” As said before, Lund is an avid traveler, and since he assumed a government position, his constant flights in the airport got him to know at least half of the employees there “Traffic is a bit crazy, you know?”

“Indeed, crossing that bridge is a nightmare” Hertha chuckled “So, your flight will depart in about 40 minutes,” she said while printing his ticket and dispatching his luggage “Here is your ticket, sir.”

“Great, thanks!” said Lund with a big smile “Do I still have time for a good hot Mælkeagtig?”

“For sure! Your gate is number 4, sir!” exclaimed Hertha “Have a nice flight!”
. . .
Once in Berghelling, a man in a black suit was waiting for Professor Lund to arrive. He was his designated driver.

“Good morning, Professor. I hope you had a nice flight?”

“Good morning, good sir!” Said the professor with his normal big smile “It was as good as a 2 hours flight can be! Now, onto the hotel, I suppose?”

“Of course, sir. Follow me this way”
. . .
Arriving at the Gwennpalez, the fog was blinding. Not a palm was visible. The car stopped right at the entrance of the great refurbished 16th-century palace and stood there long enough for Lund to grasp at the sight of such a historical place. He fixed his dark blue suit before walking out of the car. Professor Lund was way fitter than men his age. He wore a dark blue suit with a brown tie. His overcoat was a nice brand new Bridgitte Aagaard brown coat, matching his tie, belt and shoes. On his head, a nice B. Aagaard round hat in the same blue of his suit. He walked out of the car carrying his leather case, while the driver brought his luggage right behind him.

"Professor Lund. A pleasure to meet you." Called a suited figure in the doorway, extending a hand out for a greeting. “Hope the cold is not too bad for you.” He laughed.

“The pleasure is mine, kid.” Said the Professor while shaking the greeter’s hand back. “This is no cold for me. Where I am from, we walk half-naked in weather like this.”

The greeter said nothing and looked rather scared.

“You should see your face!” The Professor laughed out loud. “You have a strong shake, kid, let’s go inside.”

While walking inside the dark brow wood structure inside the palace, a slender dark-haired woman appeared.

"Welcome to Gwennpalez Professor Lund," greeted the woman. "My name is Alicia de Santis and I am the curator of this site. I do hope you enjoy your stay for the duration of the convention."

“Good morning, madame!” Answered Lund extending his hand out for a shake. “This building is amazing! I can’t wait to walk around and drink some good coffee around here.”

“Thank you, Professor.” Said De Santis while shaking the professor’s hand back. “Follow this way and this gentleman will show you your room.”

The Professor followed a man in a hotel suit down to the west wing. His room was rather cozy. It smelled like clean linens and old wood. A bed stood in the middle of the room, with brand new purple sheets over it. Lund walked in and threw his case over the dark brown desk on the corner of the room. His luggage was placed on the right side of his bed.

“By the way,” added the man who walked the Professor to his room “We have a Mælkeagtig coffee isle down in the cafeteria. We can bring you some if you want.”

“No worries, kid, I will go there myself and then find some good old chair in this place to sit down and read. Many thanks!” Said the professor while taking his coat and suit off. “By the way, before I forget, here it is” Lund extended his hand with a Ð20 bill “Go get yourself a little something to eat too. Now, where is the cafeteria again?”

[Aleia]

Kaveter hoped he could have enjoyed his first time in Vaellenia on a fogless day. On the flight to Berghelling, he imagined the white and proud mountains casting a bright look on him. He looked in his mind at the forests that always seemed to hide a mythical creature in them, and he thought that on the way to Gwennpalez, the only sign of civilization would be the lone asphalt road stretching for miles before the next little town and the next. He even made a point of enjoying the rustic landscape by ordering a taxi to wait for him at Berghelling.

On the day Kaveter arrived, the fog was like usual. He sat in the taxi and stared at miles upon miles of fog, trying to induce a fascinated mood over the weather, but the fog seemed to keep conveying the argument he tried to fend off; this arrival was a disappointment. Instead, Kaveter focused on the documents he needed to present in one way or the other during the conference; his opening speech, his list of arguments and campaign promises, a ten year-long statistical measurement of the concentration of sulfuric acid in the rainwater that fell over Laterna's Fiorentine ruins 1990-2000 and so on.

The taxi wheeled past the gates that marked the entrance to the Gwennpalez and stopped a few paces past, as Kaveter had made a point to the driver for him to do at Berghelling Airport. The Vaellenian taxi driver yanked the gearstick and spoke in Vaellenian, "150 Ducats, mister."

Kaveter took out 200 Ducats and told the man to keep the change and hoping to avoid further discussions, because his skills in Vaellenian language did indeed not extend much further than how to say "keep the change.".

The Aleian stepped out of the car and took in the first sights of the Gwennpalez. Kaveter remembered the old advice that went told in Aleia during the 20th century, that any person suffering from psychological deviations could get an itinerary booked to Vaellenia. It was said the 16th century architecture and the hundredth century BCE landscape could cure any mind, as long as they stayed long enough. Some patients stayed in Vaellenia for the rest of their lives. Kaveter thought he could settle for "some time", finding his own impression of the house a good contrast to the weather.

A woman approached from the small colonnade, "Good morning, I'm Alicia de Santis, the curator of Gwennpalez. Welcome to Vaellenia!"

"Thank you, I'm Anton Kaveter," Kaveter replied and offered to shake de Santis's hand, "A pleasure."

The curator took Kaveter's hand, "Our boys will show you to your room, where you will be staying for the duration of this election. You will find a more detailed schedule in there. I hope you understand that although the building has a venerable history, it contains all the things one needs for a modern life should one ask."

"Thank you," Kaveter said, "and thank you for this welcome as well"

Kaveter let the baggage boys take his suitcase and thanked de Santis. He followed the boys up to his room, where he dismissed them without. The well-known travel strains made Kaveter sink into a chair. He opened his suitcase and picked up his prepared breakfast of two bread slices and an apple.

[Lopimina]

Verdi stared out the window of his train to the bleak scenes of a wintery Vaellenian morning rushing past his window. He had opted for a more eco-friendly method of travel, taking the 7:55 from Monte Sora to the western Midrasian region.

"You think they get weather like this all the time?" said Verdi to his accomplice. "No idea.", he responded.

Being from the southern coast of Atresca, Verdi wasn't used to the cold, snow and fog, but rather the sunny beaches of Rocca. The unfamiliar surroundings were making him feel a little uncomfortable as his shifted his tie and pulled out his speech notes to distract himself. A speech he had rehearsed hundreds of times was suddenly faltering in his mind.

The train came to a stop. The withered wheels screeched on the frosty, beige tracks of the station just outside Lake Baud. The lake was certainly mesmerising in the morning mist, and sought about calming Verdi's nerves. As he began to make his walk to the majestic Gwennpalez he recited his speech perfectly to his accomplice, who felt the need to applaud him on his recital. Verdi checked his watch as the winding driveway of the palace came into view through the early fog. 9:10am. In time for breakfast but food was not in the mind of the 40-year-old.

"Mr. Verdi?", said a figure standing on the driveway.

Somewhat startled, Verdi replied in a cheerful manner and extended a warm hand out to the suited man who had perched himself on the front lawn of the Gwennpalez.

"To whom do I owe the honour?", exclaimed Verdi, fruitfully chuckling.

"Mr. Labourd, Sir.", replied the man, embracing Verdi's outstretched hand. "But by all means, call me Gaston." Verdi beamed a smile in his direction as he walked up the stairs of the magnificent building. The door shut behind him, and as he entered the lobby he removed his hat and coat and placed them neatly on the rack waiting for him in the lobby of the building. He took a moment to appreciate the exquisite nature of the room, with a ceiling twenty-feet-high and enough precious material to fund a small country. To his left, Lund and Dubois were exchanging friendly chatter, to his right, ú Brian was frantically studying his notes. Verdi introduced himself briefly but quickly set about familiarising himself with the building.

[Crylante]

Kirsikka Huomalainen was clearing the crumbs of a croissant off the train table as an announcement came on in Midrasian announcing that the train would be arriving at the rural Vaellenian station she could not pronounce for the life of her. As an anthropologist she was meant to appreciate all cultures, and she did certainly appreciate the resilience of the Vaellenian people against all attempts to assimilate them, but she would be hard pressed to say she appreciated them enough to learn the chaotic mess that was their language.

Of course, she passed through a lot of unpronounceable villages in order to investigate Bronze Age and Neolithic cultures across the world, and most of them she could remember very little about. This village had some importance: it was the train stop second-nearest to the Gwennpalez, the building where WECO's Congress would be held this year. But it was also one of the smallest she'd ever visited. Significant parts of her childhood had been spent in tiny, remote villages in the frozen depths of Särmäki, and this was one of the few places she'd ever visited which gave those places any competition for Asura's most remote settlement.

There was another area it competed with her rural Nausikaan hinterland with; its beauty. While the steep, forest covered hills of Vaellenia were a different kind of breathtaking to the crisp, frozen plains of northern Särmäki interrupted by the odd hill or lake and intercepted at the heart with the unsightly mix of gothic and brutalist buildings that was the city of Isomuuri, it reminded her of her youth in many ways. Like her home, the mist hung thick to the ground as if it were a blanket protecting the small villages lucky to contain a supermarket or a school teaching any more than a baker's dozen of students on these winter mornings.

Her reminiscing and attempts at comparison were brought to the halt by the deceleration of the train as it pulled into the stop. She grabbed her bags and folders as it ground to a halt and the door opened as the Midrasian-Vaellenian conductor babbled on. The platform was unbelievably short and it took her what seemed like only a few seconds to traverse from the train's door to the taxi service that would take her to Gwennpalez.

As she climbed out of the biting cold air of the village and into the jet black vehicle, the driver started to speak to her in broken Lilledic.

"I assume you had a good journey, madam?" was what she assumed he was trying to ask, although it was hard to tell when the middle of the sentence appeared to have the word for "matchstick" in it.

She responded affirmatively. Although how accurate that was was something she was unsure of; if by "good journey" one meant sleeping for three hours on the Portlaoise-Lotric sleeper train and having only had half a jam croissant from a shop she was almost certain was a front for illicit activity in the labyrinth that was Lotric station, then she had had one of the best of her life.

That was all she remembered of the drive to Gwennpalez; there was a higher-than-zero chance that she may not have been awake for the rest of it. But the next thing she remembered was opening her eyes abruptly as the taxi parked itself in the visitor car park of Gwennpalez.

She adjusted her hair and her dress before getting out of the car; the last thing she wanted was to look unkempt at the conference for the organisation that she may well be leading in a week's time.

An offensively well-dressed man calling himself Gaston Labourd welcomed her as she walked towards the entrance of the magnificent feat of architecture that was the Gwennpalez itself. It reminded her of the spectacle of University College, Lentini, but while that was an 18th-century wannabe built by one of the country's worst monarchs trying to clear his name by establishing the country's first and world's greatest educational institution and which didn't hold even a shit-scented candle to the glorious red brick facades of her alma mater of Nygaard College, this was the real deal in terms of medieval royal architecture.

The lobby was particularly impressive and single-handedly provided the points behind six paragraphs of the mental essay she was writing on how University College, Lentini was a third-rate ripoff of this building, although the long flight of steps up to the lobby itself could have very easily been avoided by any architect worth their salt. She noted she was the last candidate to arrive, but that was okay. She was too busy studying the building itself to care.

[Midrasia]

TIMELINE UPDATE

Day Two

• Main Hustings

[Midrasia]

As night began to fall over Vaellenia Dubois remained sat at the desk peering over his notes, lit only by a lamp emanating a rather dull albeit warm glow.

As he turned the page in his ring-binder a sudden hot flush appeared upon the Professor's face.

"BOY! BOY! Get in here now!" Dubois shouted.
Hearing the commotion a maid rushed into the room.

"Sir, is there something wrong?" Enquired the maid, dustpan and brush in hand.

"Oh, sorry madam," Dubois said politely, "Is my assistant around anywhere?" He enquired.

"I'm sorry sir, but all unofficial personnel were required to leave the premises over an hour ago. They should be allowed back in around 10am tomorrow."

"I see. No matter then." Dubois smiled.

As the maid left the room closing the door behind her the hot flush reappeared across the Midrasian's face. It was almost as if steam were pouring out of his ears. He slammed his fist against the oaken desk, cursing internally with every stroke of his hand.

I can't believe that boy! How could he let this happen, the incompetent fool! He thought to himself.

Sitting in front of the professor lying flat on the desk was his ring-binder of material, packed full of files, statistics, images, and most important of all the Professor's main speech for tomorrow's hustings. Slap bang in the middle of that speech lay two pages torn from the folder, leaving behind tiny paper shreds which still connected to the bindings.

When I get my hands on him...

The professor's rage suddenly turned to panic, his skin turned almost immediately from the brightest shade of red to palest white.

What am I going to do?!? The hustings are tomorrow! I'm going to make an absolute fool of myself in front of everybody!

Whilst it was true that Professor Kevin Dubois was very well known for his oratory ability and professional speeches, the man's memory had dimmed with age and he had become reliant on image cues and word-for-word regurgitations. Those famous lectures that had once been the centrepiece of Midrasian academia had now become reduced to nothing more than dull script readings repeated year-on-year with little variation. The reality was that Dubois was past his best and tomorrow may very well be the day that it is revealed to the world.

I'm just going to have to rewrite it tonight. There's no time. I have to do this.

As night came over the palace and the rest of the residents got some well-prepared rest, Dubois, by contrast, was still working away re-writing his missing speech from the various remaining now-mismatched images and statistics.

----

As morning dawned over Vaellenia there was no sign of Dubois at breakfast. It was 10:15 and the service had ended, leading the various journalists and staff to pour into the building in preparation for the main event later in the day.

"Professor? Are you awake? Dubois?" Shouted the assistant banging on the professor's door.

Eventually, the assistant used enough force to barge down the unlocked door, revealing the academic asleep slumped against his desk.

"Wake up professor!" Cried the assistant, "It's the hustings later today! Wake up!"

"Huh? Wha-" Dubois mumbled as he regained his senses. Opening his eyes, the first image was of his assistant's face. The rage bubbled up once more.

"What in Alydian's name have you done boy!?!?" Belted Dubois shaking the assistant by the shoulders.

"I...don't...what?" cried the assistant in shock.

"My notes! My speech! Where are they?!?! You ripped them out didn't you!"

"No! I...They...couldn't have! It must have been the wind! I didn't do anything!"

"You incompetent fool! I've had to spend all night re-writing this damned thing and you know what my memory is like these days!"

The assistant looked over at the paper covered in illegible handwriting, bumbling non-sequitur's and scrawling redactions.

"I'm sure it's fine." The assistant said.

"It will have to be! Only Alydian can help me n-" the Professor stated just as he was cut off the greeter Gaston Labourd entering the room.

"What is all this commotion!" Asked the greeter with several other guests peering over his shoulder to see what the fuss was all about. "It's time for the hustings. Are you two ready?"

"Of course young sir." beamed Dubois. "Ready as always, just getting into a competitive mood right boy?" He asked his assistant, slapping him on the back.

"Y-y-y-yes. We're ready now," replied the assistant, a false smile drawn across his face.

"Then let's get started. I will lead you to the grand hall."

As the greeter and the other guests turned their backs, Dubois' scowl reappeared.

"You will not hear the end of this boy. I will teach you a lesson for this incompetence once we are out of here," whispered the professor.

[Aleia]

In the morning, all could-be Director Generals from the WECO countries met in the conference hall of the Gwennpalez. Kaveter held the first opening speech, after he had shaken hands with Labourd.

"Honored members of the General Conference and Distinguished Board, distinguished members of the general sectors of WECO, it is my honor to hold the first speech of this election. The World Educational and Cultural Organization has come a long way since its founding in 1973. For many back then, the world was still a far away place that had no role to play in our lives. And as a result, it was a bold step when the few, who felt the allure of the value within the unknown, came forward and declared that the world could be and should be interconnected. We dedicated our time to inform of the world that exists, with its material and intrinsic values. Through the sum of our efforts, we have taken part in the establishment of a humanity aware of the world and a desire to improve it. We have established a desire to learn and to educate. For that, I give us praise. It is time further our goal.

As of 2020, it has been 30 years since my start in WECO. Since then, I have seen Aeia's monuments, its people. I have seen its countries' construction, its destruction. 30 years was enough to realize the deeper culture behind our World Heritage Sites, which exist in synergy with the people around them. Often, these peoples possess traditions that were the origin of the sites in the first place, or their traditions came from them. In order to gain a deeper understanding of them, abstract traditions must gain an equal status to sites, which I promise should I be elected.

But this does not mean that our monuments are of any lesser value, a thought that has sadly been engraved in some minds. We have seen in the wake of the war in Aramas that numbers of Heritage Sites are now nearly gone. The necessity to preserve them is self-evident and more resources must be dedicated to the restoration and preservation of Aeia's numerous sites.

On another note, Aeian cities currently develop in a way that strip them of value to future generations. I hold the belief that one of WECO's main tenets must be sustainability. Their economical development must be promoted, but urban areas serve to improve the human condition while breathing in symbiosis in nature and not be the predators. Every candidate for the position of Director-General must have this basic drive in mind.

All being said, with your vote for me, the WECO will serve its role better than ever before."

Kaveter let the applause take over the room. Inside of him, he knew everything he said would never happen were he to be elected, but he hoped to have a chance at least.