This chapter doesn't directly correspond with any of those in Mariagoner's My Second Life as an Anti-Heroine, but it seems to take place sometime after Chapter 20.

This is my interpretation of what a student council in this setting would be like: Keith is a troll, Jeord gets a few good licks in, Sirius is sleep-deprived, Maria seems to have been relegated to the role of secretary, and Nicol... uh, he's there too.

Influence (Social)

Every time she was obliged to go to a student council meeting, Maria felt a sense of weary resignation and dread, but not for the same reason as she had at the beginning of the year. Back then, she had been much too frightened to do anything but sit quietly and try to remain unnoticed, which was rather tricky because she in herself comprised a full fifth of the student council's entire membership; it wasn't as if she could vanish into a crowd. Now, thanks to Katarina's lessons, she felt confident enough that if someone asked her a direct question, she would be able to answer them, rather than uttering a startled squeak and trying to hide behind her hands. She wasn't the problem anymore.

The problem lay with two of the other members, regularly and enthusiastically, as if it were a saucy temptress who enjoyed toying with the affections of both men, inflaming their passions and watching them fight over her. It was a personification of the word "problem" she found rather amusing, which occupied her mind while she was trying to ignore the fierce disagreements going on around her, especially since she rather suspected that the root cause of their antipathy was that they were fighting over the same woman: Katarina, who was very tempting indeed. Of course, where the metaphor broke down was in accurately representing the motives of the two men: as her fiancé, Prince Jeord saw her as his rightful property; as her brother, Keith was rightfully concerned for her; neither of them held any romantic desire for her. At least, Maria hoped not. Sometimes, she thought… no, she couldn't allow herself to think like that. Katarina was hers. Now and always.

Maria had occasionally wondered why members of the student council were chosen on the basis of success in their introductory exams. Yes, it meant that they were likely to be among the most intelligent new entrants to the Magic Academy – or at least those who'd had the benefit of the best instructors when they were growing up, which made it likely that they would be scions of the highest nobility – but it was no guarantee that they'd have any useful leadership qualities or other traits such as charisma, the ability to work well together, or any desire to be the representative of hundreds of other students and to do a good job. In a sense, they were lucky that the student council this year included Prince Jeord and Keith Claes, both of them extremely popular and charismatic young men who seemed destined to be among the greatest leaders of their generation. However, because they detested each other so much, every meeting devolved into a bitter argument as both men took opposite sides in whatever debate was being held, trying to score points in an endless game of one-upmanship in which everybody else was acceptable collateral damage.

It wouldn't have been as much of a problem if the other members of the student council had acted firmly and decisively in putting a stop to their bickering, or if their president, Sirius Deek, had asserted his authority over them, or if there hadn't been a scandal during the previous year – no one seemed willing or able to explain to Maria exactly what had happened – which had led the school administration to severely curtail the authority of the student council and reduce its membership to only five, which included Sirius Deek and Nicol Ascart, two second-year students and members of the previous council who were deemed to have been uninvolved in the scandal, and only three first-year pupils: Jeord Stuart, Keith Claes, and Maria Campbell. According to rumour, Prince Jeord's brother, Alan, had been apoplectic with rage when he'd found out that he'd been beaten into fourth place by a penniless commoner.

Maria was more than willing to admit that she wasn't a good choice to represent her fellow students at the highest level. If she had been given the option, she would have cheerfully and immediately given up her seat to Prince Alan. Having considered the matter carefully, she knew that the ideal student council member would be someone who was popular and well-respected by the other students, who understood their needs, sympathized with their concerns, and was forthright in advocating for them. At their best, Keith and Prince Jeord were all of those things, whereas the other members of the student council weren't.

Although she had grown bolder and more self-confident over the course of the year, Maria was hesitant about putting herself forward and tended to get very tongue-tied when debating with someone more forceful than she was. Moreover, she was neither popular nor well-respected by the majority of students who saw her as a scheming social climber and therefore refused to talk to her unless they had no other option. Because they wouldn't talk to her, she didn't know about their concerns, which meant that she could neither understand them nor sympathize with them.

The president, Sirius Deek, was a rather insipid young man who seemed wary of contradicting either of the higher-ranking noblemen; therefore, he allowed them to run roughshod over him. Academically brilliant as he undoubtedly was, having achieved the highest grades of anyone in the school, he seemed much too diffident to make a good leader. Maria felt sorry for him, in fact. He was someone who'd been forced into a position he didn't want and was trying to make the best of it. That was a feeling she knew all too well.

The only other member, Nicol Ascart, wasn't as emotionless as he at first appeared, but he was of little help in curbing the interminable disputes between Keith and Prince Jeord. Because of his tendency to automatically agree with the prince, who was his best friend, and side with him in any debate, Maria considered him to be part of the problem. It was all too easy for Keith to dismiss him as a mindless bootlicker.

Currently, they were gathered together to discuss an appeal which had been made by the family of one Algernon Featherstonehaugh (pronounced 'Fanshaw'), who was on the verge of expulsion because he'd spent too much time drinking, gambling and indulging his many vices, and not enough time studying or attending exams. However, his family was very wealthy and influential, had made substantial donations to the upkeep and expansion of the Magical Academy in the past, and seemed to think that he should be entitled to special treatment.

"I don't see why not," Prince Jeord said dismissively. "Let him retake the exams, let him graduate with whatever low grade he manages to accomplish, and let him be parcelled off to a useless sinecure in the backend of nowhere, just like any number of other frivolous and incompetent young noblemen I could mention." At that, he gave Keith a significant glance. Then, when he was sure that his meaning had been understood, he continued, "In that sense, why should he be any different? If his family are willing to keep making donations, I don't see why the school shouldn't accommodate him, for what little good it will do him in the end."

"I agree with Prince Jeord," said Nicol.

"What a surprise," said Keith, with heavy irony, glancing at him. "Are you sure? Perhaps you should take a moment to consider."

The prime minister's son paused, then shook his head.

"Is that a 'no, I've thought about it, but I still agree with Prince Jeord' or a 'no, having thought about it, I disagree with Prince Jeord'?" asked Keith, smirking at him.

"He agrees with me, obviously," said Jeord. "There's no need to keep bothering him about it."

"Well, I disagree with you," said Keith. "I–"

"What a surprise," Jeord snapped back at him.

"–think it sets a bad precedent, that one student can be treated with such lenience because of his wealthy, influential family whereas poorer students from less illustrious backgrounds have been harshly punished for lesser offences," Keith continued as if he hadn't been interrupted. "Consider the harm this could do to the school's reputation!"

"You never seemed to care when you were the one being given special treatment because of whom your family is!" the third prince scoffed. "But I suppose we should all be aware that different rules apply to the Claes family than to the rest of us. Even royalty must bow to the whims of House Claes!"

"Whatever you think of my conduct, I haven't broken any school rules. I have as much right to be here as you," Keith replied.

"I'm not disputing that. However, considering your sordid history, I'm surprised that you don't have more sympathy for a man who spends most of his time hopping from one woman's bed to the next."

"Actually, I've never heard of Algy being a womanizer. Quite the reverse, in fact."

Maria was momentarily distracted while she tried to decipher what Keith meant by that. She would have assumed that the opposite of a womanizer was someone who was celibate, so…

"Oh, he's that type? Friend of yours, is he?" Jeord smirked. "I didn't realise that your tastes were quite that expansive, but it explains a great deal. Really, is there no limit to your depravity? Men, women, your own sister–"

"Believe of me what you will," Keith said stonily. "I know you will."

Meanwhile, Maria stared anxiously at him, hoping with every fibre of her being that what Jeord had said was untrue. When Keith had been a little boy, he hadn't understood that he couldn't grow up to marry his sister, but surely he hadn't held any incestuous desires for her since then?

"Whatever we decide, I am afraid that our recommendations will carry very little weight,' said the student council president, Sirius Deek, speaking up for the first time, rousing himself as if from a long sleep. Over the past few weeks, he had looked more and more exhausted, pasty-faced and with dark circles under his eyes. Maria supposed that maintaining his stellar academic record must take an enormous amount of effort, which was probably why he had been staying up so late at night – and why he'd spent most of the recent student council sessions looking like he was about to drift off into a doze.

A new affectation of his, which she'd only noticed over the past week or so, was that he'd started wearing a camellia pinned to his lapel. According to a book on 'the language of flowers' which she'd found in the library, camellias were supposed to signify 'desire, love and passion'. Had he recently found himself a new lover? Was she – or possibly he – keeping him up at night? Maria vaguely wondered if she should congratulate him.

Sirius went on to explain: "As well as to us, the Featherstonehaughs have sent entreaties to the headmaster, the board of governors, and even to some of the higher-ups in the Ministry of Magic. One way or another, I suspect that they'll get what they want. If we were the only ones they were trying to sway, the headmaster and other members of the school's administrative body could easily disregard anything we have to say. However, I suspect they'll find it rather more difficult to ignore a non-stop barrage of pleas, appeals, and attempts at bribery coming from all directions."

"If it doesn't matter what we decide to do, why are we wasting our breath arguing about this?" asked Jeord. "As if we didn't have better things to do with our time!"

"Such as writing incessant begging letters to my sister, pleading with her to forgive you – despite your cruelties and indifference – to take you back and never stray from you again?" asked Keith snidely.

"What you do in your own time is no business of mine, but I'm touched by your concern," Jeord replied.

"Perhaps we should put it to a vote," Nicol suggested.

"Yes, I suppose we might as well get on with it," said Sirius with a nod. "All those in favour of recommending to the headmaster that Mr. Featherstonehaugh should be allowed to retake his exams and thereby given a chance to graduate?"

Jeord and Nicol both raised their hands.

"And those against?"

Keith raised a hand. He glanced at Sirius and then Maria, as though willing them to join him. "Not going to vote, Miss Campbell?"

"I… um, I don't know anything about Mr. Featherstonehaugh," she admitted. "Does he deserve a second chance? Perhaps I would feel more charitably inclined towards him if I knew what had caused him to drink and gamble so much?"

"Apparently, he's a homosexual who couldn't handle the pressures of school combined with the almost limitless freedom which he must have felt when he was out from under his family's wing for the very first time," Jeord said in a bored tone. "And I imagine that his family has been pressuring him to marry, to produce an heir, and to be respectable. Perhaps he was unlucky in love and he started drinking to forget, trying to lose himself in mindless hedonism. Not an unfamiliar story."

"In that case, I vote to give him a second chance," said Maria. "I don't think he should be punished for being unlucky in love."

Prince Jeord smiled ruefully at that. Maria felt herself warming to him for the first time ever. She had to remind herself that this was the man who had treated Katarina so cruelly, who had turned her love for him into venomous hatred, and had even threatened to kill her. For that reason, she couldn't allow herself to like him in any way whatsoever.

Lord Reynard was incredibly handsome and very rich. Indeed, everyone agreed that he was the bravest and most gallant of all Lady Veronica's suitors, the voice of a long-dead relative reminded her. But when she travelled to the castle which he'd told her about but never allowed her to visit…

The breath caught in Maria's throat as she imagined the blood-soaked castle of Lord Reynard. She could only hope that her dark imaginings would prove false, that she had misunderstood Katarina's confusing hints, and that Prince Jeord wasn't a charming murderer like the villain of the folktale which haunted her subconscious mind.

"Do you wish to vote, Lord Deek?" asked Keith, his voice cutting through her reverie.

"No, I spoil my vote. There is no point to it," said their president, a note of bitterness in his voice. "By three votes to one, we have decided that Mr. Featherstonehaugh should be given another chance. Make a note of that, please, Miss Campbell."

Maria wasn't sure if it was unintentional sexism or the desire to give her something to do while she had been too nervous to talk which had resulted in her being made the student council's official secretary and notetaker, but she didn't complain. She did as Sirius had instructed her.

"Any other business?" he asked when she had finished writing.

"Arrangements for the grand tournament," said Maria, before anyone else had a chance to speak. "I know it's not until the end of the year, but hadn't we better make a start?"

"You make a good point," said Sirius. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as though trying not to yawn. "Very well. I should inform you that there are many aspects of the grand tournament which the student council does not have the power to change. The tournament rules, venue, and list of events will be the same as they ever were. Year after year, they change very little, and we're not the ones who will decide how. Instead, we have dominion over only a few things: decorations, catering, any extra entertainers we might hire to keep our guests amused in between stages, the opening ceremony, the awarding of prizes, and so on. Pomp and frippery, mostly."

"Our guests will be coming from all over the kingdom. Some of them will have travelled for hundreds of miles. We might even have some visiting foreign dignitaries," said Jeord. "We should have a fancy-dress ball to welcome them to the Magic Academy."

"I can't think of anything worse," said Keith.

"I think it sounds like a good idea," said Nicol. "What kind of fancy dress?"

"Something in keeping with the theme of the tournament: mighty knights, wizards, and heroes from days of yore," said Jeord, warming to his theme. "The gods and goddesses of antiquity. Vile monsters and demons. Sultry sorceresses in slinky dresses."

"Is it absolutely necessary for sorceresses to wear such revealing clothes?" asked Maria, who had seen some historical texts with illustrations of 'sorceresses' which appeared to have been shakily-drawn by an artist using only one hand.

"Yes, it's compulsory," Keith assured her. "By which I mean that it's compulsory for you to attend the ball, as a sorceress, dressed in one of those outfits, Miss Campbell."

"I thought you didn't like the idea of a fancy-dress ball," she reminded him.

"I changed my mind," he said, making a show of looking her up and down. "Gentleman's prerogative."

"You're no gentleman," she chided him. "And anyway, isn't it normally a lady's prerogative to change her mind?"

"Yes, well, you're no lady."

"A fact of which I am reminded every day," she said primly. Turning to Jeord, she said, "I think we're in agreement: your idea of a welcoming ball sounds like an excellent idea, your highness."

He acknowledged her with a nod. "Perhaps we should have another ball to mark the end of the tournament, as a way of saying farewell to our guests," he mused.

"And what role do you imagine for yourself at these fancy-dress balls, your highness?" asked Keith, making the honorific sound like a curse. "Serving drinks? Keeping the floor well-swept? Hosing down the fursuits whenever our guests get overexcited?"

Staring at him in puzzlement, Maria tried to work out what he meant by that last remark. From the way he said it, it was probably a crude joke, but she didn't know how or why.

"Someone will need to preside over these grand ballroom evenings. As the highest-ranking student at this school, third prince and presumed heir of the Stuart dynasty, I think that should be me," said Jeord. "With my beautiful fiancée by my side, I will be the most gracious host that any of our guests could ask for."

Keith raised his voice in protest. For a moment, Maria was tempted to join him in complaining vociferously, but she didn't want to attract the third prince's attention to her in that way.

Above the entrance to the keep were written the words: 'Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold.'

"My sister wants nothing to do with you! Find yourself another pretty bauble to dangle from your arm!" Keith jeered. "Perhaps our lovely secretary would be amenable, if you asked her." He gave her a sidelong glance.

Affronted, Maria glared at him. She was annoyed that he would offer her up as a sacrificial victim. Earlier, she had been considering him as a potential ally, but now she was having second thoughts.

"Miss Campbell is… very nice," said Jeord with barely concealed irritation. "However – because of a mere accident of birth, I am sure – she is a commoner. Our guests will include some of the noblest and most distinguished men and women in all of Sorcier. They would consider it a calculated insult if I were to greet them with a mere commoner by my side, rather than the woman who is to be my wife: the loveliest flower of the highest nobility."

"And who would that be?" said Keith, feigning ignorance. "She sounds wonderful, whoever she is. You must have been very busy since my sister dropped you like a spent horse. Wherever did you find her?"

"I was referring to your sister, as you well know," Jeord growled at him.

Sitting back in his chair, Keith heaved an expansive sigh. "Well, you know, I've had a lot of women, for which I am constantly criticized, as if it were a moral failing to enjoy the company of the fairer sex. And yet–"

"It is a moral failing to be as debauched as you are," Jeord tried to interrupt him.

"–I've never had an unwilling woman. Even if a woman backed out at the last moment and left me with aching blue balls, I always tried to be kind and understanding, no matter how disappointed I felt. You see, I understand that 'no' means 'no'." Keith smirked triumphantly. "Therefore, I'd be willing to give you some language lessons, your highness, if you're finding it difficult to understand such simple words."

There was a prolonged silence after that. Jeord gazed at Keith with murder in his eyes. Maria shrank back, glad that she hadn't got involved in their altercation.

"Do any of you know a Miss Camilla?" asked Sirius, apropos of nothing. For the previous several minutes, he had been gazing dazedly into space.

Maria glanced at Keith, then Jeord, and then Nicol. They all shrugged as one.

"I had a Great-Aunt Camilla," said Nicol. "She died a few years ago. But she was a proper lady, not a 'miss'. The Marchioness of Astley, Lady Camilla Fitzmaurice, she was."

"Never mind," Sirius muttered. "It was just a thought."

"Who is 'Miss Camilla'?" asked Maria, unable to resist the urge to tease him a little. "Is she the woman you've been dreaming of?"

A shadow passed over his face. "Perhaps," he said.

"Time is ticking on. Some of us have other duties and responsibilities to attend to," said Nicol. "What have we decided? The welcoming ball at the beginning of the tournament is a good idea, yes? And the farewell ball?"

Jeord gave a nod. Sirius signalled his indifference. Keith murmured something about 'a matching pair of balls' being a good thing.

"Can we fit both of them into our budget?" asked Maria. She'd seen the student council's annual budget and had been both horrified and amazed to discover that it was more money than a peasant farmer could expect to earn in his entire lifetime. Despite the fact that it had been much reduced because of whatever scandal had taken place last year, it was still such a ludicrous amount of money that she had no idea what they could actually buy with it.

"It shouldn't be a problem," said Sirius, without much interest.

"What other things do we need to fit into our budget?" Maria persisted. "Do we need to arrange transport or accommodation for any of our guests?"

"No, because that would be ruinously expensive," Jeord scoffed at her. "They'll arrange their own."

"Oh. I suppose you'd know much more about these things than I do, your highness," Maria said faintly.

She went on, though the hall, up the stairs and into the gallery, whereupon she found a door, above which were written the words: 'Be Bold, Be Bold, But Not Too Bold, Lest Your Heart's Blood Should Run Cold.'

Lady Veronica was young and brave, still clinging to her childish belief in her own invincibility, so she opened the door...

"Just so," said Jeord. "Now, it occurs to me that an old tradition of the grand tournament, which I am keen to revive, is that of the 'Queen of Love and Beauty'."

"Who ought to be chosen by the winner of the tournament," said Keith, looking warily at his rival.

"Yes, I thinking that the winner of the tournament and his chosen Queen–"

"Or her," Keith interjected.

"I beg your pardon?" Jeord frowned at him.

"I said 'or her'. The winner of the tournament could be a woman. What if our delectable Miss Campbell were to win, for example? Perhaps she would want to choose a 'King of Love and Beauty' rather than a Queen?"

Blushing and stammering, Maria informed them that, if she were to win the tournament, she would be quite happy to select a Queen.

"Yes, well," said Jeord, looking at her as if she were something nasty and slimy which he'd scraped off the bottom of his shoe. "I had in mind that the winner of the tournament – and his or her chosen partner – would go on to take a lead role in the farewell ball. As host and hostess of the welcoming ball, Katarina and I would start off as 'King' and 'Queen', but pass on our roles to–"

"I never agreed to that!" Keith thundered, jumping to his feet. Behind him, his chair fell backwards and crashed to the floor.

"So, if not your sister, who do you think should start off in the role of 'Queen of Love and Beauty', Lord Claes?" asked Jeord.

"Obviously, Katarina should be Queen of Love and Beauty, but–"

"Excellent, I'm glad you're in agreement," said Sirius, also rising to his feet, but with rather more decorum and without knocking over his chair. "Well, gentlemen – and lady – this has been an unusually productive session; but, as Lord Ascart said, time is ticking on. I trust we'll meet again next week at the usual time. For now, I say 'meeting adjourned' and wish all of you a good evening."

He proceeded to leave the room as swiftly as politeness would allow. For a moment, Jeord and Keith looked ready to continue their latest argument, but they must have decided against it. Instead, they glared hatefully at one another, sharing a silent promise that there would be a 'next time'.

After she'd finished writing up the minutes of the meeting, Maria stood up, dropped a curtsey just as Katarina had made her practice so many times, and said, "Good evening, your highness, my lords." Then, she followed their president's example in leaving as quickly as she decently could.

When she'd first come to this school, she had been too anxious and shy to take much part in student council sessions. Now, squirming with unease, embarrassment, and frustration, she was starting to actively detest them.

Author's Note:
The idea of the 'grand tournament' was something that came out of a conversation with Mariagoner. I believe she was originally planning to include it in her fic, but I'm not sure if she still is.

Featherstonehaugh (pronounced 'Fanshaw') is a real name. I didn't make that up. The fact that it sounds like a stereotypically posh name, the kind of surname you'd expect an English public schoolboy to have, was the icing on the cake. I felt like I just had to include it.

The next chapter will involve Maria trying to have a private meeting with Keith, seeking to enlist him as an ally. It was originally supposed to be part of this chapter, but considering how angry Maria is with Keith by the end of this chapter (because of his attempts to offer her to Jeord as a virgin sacrifice), I thought it best to give her some time to cool off first.