For anyone who needs it, here's a quick (terrible) summary of the past 10 chapters (OBVIOUSLY, SPOILERS):

Imogen has to hold a Selection not long after her breakup with her secret ex-boyfriend, actor August Hirsch. The noble houses, who form the Council, are responsible for "sponsoring" certain contestants. Dillon, the heir to House Noel, joins the Selection because he wants to escape his parents' matchmaking attempts. The first date is sushi-making with Connor. After the first history lesson, Imogen goes on a group date to a seaside lodge with Cade, Colin, and Martel. Then, she goes on an impromptu library date with Elias and convinces her father to let her choose (and plan) some of her own dates. She runs into Martel in the dance studio. Terrence (a throwaway) asks to go home after receiving a blackmail threat. She goes on a lunch date with Vikram, only to be interrupted by Vasilios with a magazine cover of August kissing another girl. Imogen eliminates Colin at a group breakfast after he's rude to Cedric, but the Council forces her to bring Colin back. She goes on a date with Quentin at the Angeles shelter he helped to found. She runs into James at night and they eat ramen. An upcoming ball for Florence's birthday is announced. On a date with Cedric, she eliminates him after they get into an argument, then changes her mind and invites him back. Asher is voted the most popular suitor and gets an individual interview on the first Report filming.

(Not including smaller convos i.e. those from the first meetings in chap 4)

Enjoy~

Chapter Eleven

Picking Fights

With a date in the afternoon, Imogen had planned to spend the day catching up on what little work she had and avoiding the other residents of the palace. But fate—and Bailey Wanewright—seemed to have other plans as she passed by the hallway and caught sight of the tall, lanky Selected.

"Sir Bailey?" she wondered out loud, before catching herself and clearing her throat. "Good morning. Are you exploring the palace?"

It was the first time she had encountered any of the Selected over on this side of the palace. This hallway was some distance away from their quarters and the Men's Room. "Yes. Well, no." He tugged at his collar sheepishly, offering the slightest of smiles. "I lost my way after breakfast."

Considering how little they had spoken since the first meetings, she had almost forgotten he had a distinctly foreign accent—Polish, she remembered now. "Oh." The palace was large, and she felt a moment of pity as she realized that not everyone might have learned to navigate it. "Do you want me to show you back to the Selected hallway?"

"That would be nice," he mumbled. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"You're welcome. The palace can be confusing." She gestured for him to follow her, setting off in the direction she had come from. Work would have to wait.

As he walked after her, she saw him nod. "Sometimes, I feel like I need a map."

The palace did not have the typical tourist-friendly maps, but Imogen knew that security had drawn up floor-plans before. "Do the others also feel the same way? I'm sure we could arrange for that, if it would help."

Bailey shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. I never asked them."

Something about his words sounded off, even though his face remained neutral. Does Bailey… not have friends? He had seemed more solitary when she was observing the entire group, and Dillon had said he was quiet around the men. Around her, he was not exactly being talkative, either.

"Ah. Well—" Imogen cleared her throat— "please don't hesitate to ask any of the security guards for help."

Bailey nodded, and their conversation drifted again into an awkward silence. It was strange. From her encounters with some of the other Selected, she had managed to gain a good sense of their personalities, whether they were as volatile as Cedric or as uptight as Colin. But from her interactions with Bailey, all she had managed to figure out was that he was quiet.

And that he had worked with the Beauforts before.

"So, last time we briefly discussed your entrepreneurial work with renewable energy," she began, falling in step with him as they neared the Selected wing. "I was wondering how you came to be interested in renewables?"

Bailey blinked at her for a few moments, then paused as if he was trying to choose his words carefully. "Your Highness. I mean no disregard…" He paused. "No, no disrespect. But I did not come here to discuss business. I came to get to know you. I would much rather learn about you."

Surprisingly, his poker face melted into another uncertain, barely-there smile after his words. While the sentiment was sweet, Imogen cringed at herself. Her question had come straight out of a conversation with random businessmen at a formal function, but if small talk wasn't going to work with him, she had no idea what else to talk about.

"What would you want to—"

"Imogen!"

They both turned to see Eden peering at them curiously from down the hall. Thank you, Eden, Imogen thought internally. Out loud, she said, "Eden. Hey."

As Eden got closer, she appeared to recognize Bailey. "Hi! Oh, and Sir Bailey!"

"Good morning, Your Highness," said Bailey, dropping into a bow.

Eden looked between the two of them rapidly, a gleam in her eye that made Imogen worried. "Everything alright here?"

"Everything's great," Imogen cut in. "Sir Bailey got lost, so I showed him back to the Selected wing."

She looked to Bailey, but he avoided her eye. "Yes. Thank you again. I'll be going now."

"Oh. It was nice speaking with you," Imogen said. "I'll see you at lunch…?"

He nodded and walked off. "Have a great day!" Eden called after his retreating form. As soon as Bailey was out of earshot, she tugged on Imogen's arm. "What were you talking about?"

"Uh… Not much. He's not the most talkative, in case you couldn't tell."

Eden winced. "From what I heard, that conversation wasn't great. Have you been speaking with all of your Selected like you need to maintain an emotional distance of five kilometers from them?"

"What?" Imogen's mouth fell open. "I didn't— Okay, he isn't a native English speaker, so it's natural that he feels less comfortable speaking. And what am I supposed to do? Bare my soul on the first date?"

"I'm just teasing," said Eden. "But I do think you haven't been forming the deepest emotional connections."

"Bold of you to assume that I want to." That earned her a sigh. "Anyways," Imogen continued, "I'll head back to work now…"

Eden blinked. "Work? What work do you even have? I thought Father took away most of your duties."

Don't remind me, Imogen thought bitterly. Though, during moments like these, she was almost grateful that she didn't have the additional stress of all of her usual responsibilities. "Yeah, but…"

"You have a date in the afternoon, too!" Eden patted Imogen's arm. "Come on. You need time to rest."

The prospect of relaxing with Eden before yet another afternoon date was too tempting. "What did you have in mind?" she said.

A few minutes later, Imogen found herself listening to one of Eden's classical music playlists as Eden showed her an online quiz she had found that would allegedly tell Imogen which of the Selected was her perfect partner. While she knew it was complete nonsense, she still dutifully clicked through the questions, rolling her eyes at some of the all-too-obvious answer choices.

"Excited for this afternoon?" Eden asked, busy filling out her own answers.

Imogen was about to speak the truth—that she was only dreading it slightly less than the others—before recalling that Eden wasn't just idly asking. After all, her little sister had been the one to suggest and plan this date after Imogen had complained about the monotony of planning one-on-one dates in rapid succession. In that regard, the Council-orchestrated dates seemed almost welcome. "Excited is a strong word," she said instead. "But I guess I'm looking forward to the blueberries. How'd you come up with that, by the way?"

Her sister tapped on the screen. "I just asked Dillon, duh, and he said Sir Faust likes blueberries."

"…Right."

"Have you not been doing that?"

"Err… I've asked Dillon about the Selected, but not for date-planning purposes, no. Why didn't I think of that?" she joked. Given Dillon's dating track-record, she doubted how effective his ideas would be. But he did have a better understanding of the Selected's potential interests. Maybe his days of being a hopeless romantic would finally become useful.

Eden was quiet for a moment, before she murmured, "Maybe because you haven't really been thinking about their side of things, as opposed to yours."

"What?" Imogen sat up straighter. "That's not true. I've been paying really close attention to how the media will portray all sides—"

Eden made a non-committal noise. "Exactly my point."

Imogen opened her mouth to protest but fell into silence as she realized Eden was right. What did she know about the men's interests other than the standard information on their forms? "Hey, Dillon said that some of the guys like McDonald's… Never mind. I can already see the headlines, and I don't like them one bit."

"Crown princess shirks duties to court commoner boyfriends at fast food establishments?"

Imogen grinned. "The Council would have a field day with that one." As she clicked on the quiz's last answer option—was "Let fate decide" even a proper question?—the screen changed to show a picture of Martel. "Seriously?"

"Huh, I got Aegon." Eden blinked rapidly, peering at her screen to read the words out loud. "Your perfect partner is Aegon Westfall. Famous for his gorgeous looks and playboy personality, this model oozes confidence and charm. No one can resist—"

"Okay, I've heard enough," Imogen interrupted, skimming over Martel's description. Apparently, he was quietly elegant and alluringly secretive. As if this random website could possibly predict her winner. "Please don't get any ideas about running off with Aegon Westfall."

"You know he's five years older than me, right?"

"Ah. Well. The point still stands."

Eden fell silent, and Imogen noticed that she was staring at herself in the mirror. "How do you think I'd look with shorter hair?" Eden asked suddenly, adjusting her dark brown locks so they framed her face.

"Great, probably." Imogen observed her sister in the mirror, seeing some of those familiar features that they shared from their father, but also the differences—Eden's from Florence, and Imogen's from some unknown woman she could never remember. "Why the sudden desire to chop off half your hair?"

"No reason. I just thought it might be nice to change things up." Eden tore her gaze away from the mirror, melting into a smile. "So, even though you're apparently destined to end up with Martel, do you have any favorites among the Selected yet?"

"Favorites is also a strong word." But Imogen took the moment to think about the dates she'd gone on so far, and the individual conversations she'd with all the Selected. While she was far from being ready to spend the rest of her life with any of them, she could admit that not all had made disastrous first impressions. "Some are more tolerable than others, but I'm really not expecting to find love."

"Not even a few friends?"

Imogen blinked. "Maybe a few… friends, if I'm lucky, but that's assuming I survive this whole ordeal." She sighed dramatically. "At least I'm getting food out of it."

"That's the spirit," said Eden cheerfully. "Just keep planning food dates, and the Selection will be over before you know it."

"Yeah, and I'll have gained fifteen pounds."

"Whatever makes you happy." Eden held up her phone. "Speaking of food, how about this quiz? Choose from Princess Imogen's suitors and we'll tell you what kind of garlic bread you are."

"…I'll pass."

The leaves on the berry bushes of Olsen Family Farms shone in the afternoon sunlight. Imogen could imagine the farm being popular with families and children, but today, it was empty—save for her, Caleb Faust, and the obligatory security team and photographer.

"It says here that strawberries are also in season right now," Caleb said, reading off of a wooden sign. "That's so cool! I've picked berries in Likely before, but it's been a while."

Imogen slung a large plastic bucket onto her arm. "I've never gone berry-picking."

"Don't worry. It's very easy." Caleb grinned. "The hardest part is trying not to eat all the berries on the spot!"

"You're a big fan of blueberries, then?"

His eyes closed. "They're my favorite food. Blueberries, blueberry jam, blueberry yogurt, blueberry muffins… Even if they make my tongue blue, I love them all! And freshly-picked blueberries are something else."

Imogen blinked. She had never heard any of her Selected discuss something so passionately, yet here was Caleb, expressing his ardent love for… blueberries. At least he had decent taste.

"By the way," Caleb added, gesturing to her bucket. "It helps to have both hands free." Sure enough, he had fastened his own bucket to his waist with an elastic band. "Do you want me to help you…?"

Imogen's cheeks nearly flushed at the suggestion. "No, thank you," she said curtly. "I'll be okay." While her outfit choice was much more practical today, with a cute shirt and overalls that hopefully would withstand dirt stains, she still didn't want photos of herself waltzing around with a massive bucket attached to her front.

"Oh." Caleb blinked. "Alright." His grin still didn't let up, though. Imogen wondered if this man always had a smile on his face. How long would it take him to realize that she wasn't able to match that, even if she tried?

They moved into the field, with the security team and photographer following a few steps away. "The best berries will be at the back," Caleb said. "The ones closer to the front have probably been picked by others."

"Lead the way."

As they walked towards the back of the field, Caleb hummed a song she didn't recognize to himself. Even though he was probably in tune, the sound was somewhat annoying. She decided to intervene. "The last time we met, you mentioned your dog, Bella—"

"Yes!" Caleb's smile widened and the humming stopped. "Four years old, a husky, the light of my life. She follows me wherever I go. Except here, of course. I miss her and my home a lot." He seemed to deflate a little at the last sentence.

"I'm sorry," Imogen said. "I've, well, never had a pet, other than the palace's horses, but I imagine it must be tough to be away from her." She had never gotten very close to the horses, either, since riding wasn't one of her natural talents.

Caleb cocked his head to the side. "Why not? Is it a palace rule?"

"Historically, other royals have owned pets, so I don't think that's the reason. My father isn't a big fan of animals, though, so he's never allowed it. Eden has certainly tried to ask." She almost smiled herself, remembering when Eden had tried to ask for everything from a puppy to a goldfish.

He nodded in understanding. "Well, if His Majesty ever changes his mind, you can call on me. Taking care of animals is a large responsibility, but it can be so rewarding! It's all about connecting with the animal and building trust."

"I'll let you know if that's the case." Privately, she wanted to tell him not to get his hopes up. But the thought of a furry companion running around the palace suddenly sounded very tempting. Maybe after this chaos was over, she would barter for the right to have a pet, in exchange for all the Selection drama she had undergone. "Do you just live with Bella?"

"Yep! But I visit my family a lot. They're very important to me."

Over the next hour, Caleb was happy to share more about his family, and his chatter filled the quiet field. She learned that his father was a news anchor, his mother was a part-time childcare worker, and his younger sibling was studying fashion design. "Sierra loves your sense of style," he had added, which nearly made Imogen blush. It was nice to hear Caleb speak so lovingly about his family, even if they sounded so supportive and close-knit that her thoughts couldn't stop drifting back to her own, complicated family.

After their buckets had been filled with some berries, they stopped to take a break and drink some water. "I could stay here all day," Caleb said longingly.

"Please don't."

He laughed, then grabbed a blueberry from his bucket to eat—definitely not for the first time that day. "You should try one, Your Highness!"

"They're not washed, though."

"Just one. They're really good."

She grudgingly allowed herself to take one from the bucket after dusting it off carefully. It was definitely the sweetest blueberry she had ever had. "Oh. Wow. That is good."

"Told you so." Caleb happily popped another handful into his mouth. She was tempted to do the same, even if they were unwashed, but stopped herself. Her willpower couldn't stop her from occasionally snacking on another berry, though, as they made their way from bush to bush.

Eventually, Imogen's arm was getting tired from carrying the bucket, and her legs were starting to tire as well. Luckily, they had picked more than enough berries—even for Caleb, who seemed to inhale blueberries as easily as if they were air—and could return to the center of the farm. After weighing the berries, they transferred the blueberries in the buckets to smaller baskets and expressed their gratitude to the farm owners. "That was really fun!" Caleb said as they entered the car for the drive back to the palace. "Thank you for inviting me on this date."

Carrying her afternoon's worth of work in her hands—beautiful baskets of freshly-picked blueberries—she had to agree with him. Maybe the blueberries had been sweeter than the date itself, but at least it hadn't gone sour. Caleb seemed quite genuine and harmless, and she doubted that he had any ulterior motives.

"I think I'm going to be sick of blueberries within a few days," she quipped as they carried their baskets into the palace. "Maybe I'll take them to the kitchen to see if the staff can whip up some blueberry muffins for breakfast."

"Oh, I was going to bring mine up to the Men's Room to share," he said, hoisting one of his three baskets higher on his arm. "I can't finish them all myself."

That was definitely a better idea. And more selfless. Of course, Caleb would think of something like that. "Good idea. I'll come with." Caleb couldn't be the only blueberry fan among the Selected, and maybe they would enjoy this more—though Imogen was still going to keep a basket for herself and Eden.

They arrived at the entrance to the Men's Room, and Caleb set his baskets down to free up a hand. He pushed the door open, and Imogen walked inside.

Just in time to see Cedric swing his fist into Colin's face.

Chaos erupted. The room filled with scared screams and angry shouts as the men surrounding them either dove away or tried to intercept the two. Imogen dropped the baskets she was holding, doing nothing but staring as Colin punched Cedric back, the impact sending him staggering backward. Things were flying through the air—Uno cards, sofa pillows, and even a vase that shattered as it hit the floor and narrowly avoided Colin's arm.

She couldn't even form words as she tried to register what was happening. "What— You— This—"

Her attempts went unheard. Cedric and Colin continued swinging blows at each other. There was a cut across Cedric's cheek, and he was balancing his weight on his right leg. Colin was clutching his bleeding nose, and the skin beneath his eye was starting to turn purple. The two were spitting loud curses at each other as others attempted to drag them apart.

"What the hell, Cedric?" Imogen heard Connor shout as he tugged at the redhead's arm. "Why?"

On the opposite side of the fight, Aegon was seemingly trying to pull Colin back. "It's not worth it, it's not worth it, it's not worth it…"

Others had stepped back. Jack had crouched beneath a table. Charlie batted away stray flying objects with a pillow from his leisurely position on the window ledge. Bailey was pressed so closely to the wall that he could have blended into it.

Nobody seemed to have noticed her and Caleb standing there, completely stunned at the scene. Some blueberries had rolled out of her overturned basket and were dangerously close to being trampled by raging Selected.

A loud voice from a very small frame sounded out over the din. "Stop fighting!" Asher yelled. He had avoided the action by climbing onto a corner-table and was now pointing at the two. "Are you guys insane? We're in the middle of the Men's Room! This is the Selection!"

Imogen finally found her voice. "He's right."

It was almost satisfying, the way more than twenty pairs of eyes snapped to her in fear. The room went silent, and Cedric and Colin finally broke apart, breathing heavily. Neither of them met her gaze.

"Does someone want to explain what just happened?" she demanded.

Colin finally looked up from where he had been glaring at the floor, restrained by Aegon and Quentin. He spat some blood out of his mouth, before jerking his head violently to Cedric. "He started it."

"He was asking for it," Cedric snapped.

Colin sneered. "You—"

"Enough!" Imogen shouted. "I don't care who started it. I want to know what was going through both your minds when you decided it was acceptable to get into a physical brawl with your fellow Selected."

This time, neither of them looked up.

"You were given the opportunity to come to the palace and compete for my hand. And this is how you behave? Like angry toddlers settling disputes on the playground with their fists? How can either of you hope to rule a country and become a king consort if this is how you deal with your issues?"

Anger and disappointment welled up inside her. "This conduct is unbefitting of a member of the Selection. It breaks the rules of the contracts you signed before coming to the palace. Most of all, it proves to me that you are far from ready for this life." She pinned her glare on Cedric and Colin again. "Look at me."

They did, two pairs of brown eyes finally meeting her own. Cedric's gaze was filled with shame; Colin's was filled with anger.

"You are both dismissed."

The room was quiet for a moment as the words set in. Cedric hung his head, not saying anything, but Colin's eyes flashed. "I did nothing wrong! I was defending myself! Was I supposed to just let this heathen attack me—"

"You caused harm to one of your fellow Selected, Sir Eaton," Imogen snapped. "Look at what your actions did to this room. Do you think you still deserve to be here?"

Looking around the room, Colin paled, as if finally realizing what he had done. He turned back to Imogen, shaking off Quentin's grip on his arm. "You can't eliminate me! My family— My parents— House T—"

Alarm rushed through Imogen's mind, and she locked eyes with Dillon whose expression of concern likely mirrored hers. What did Colin know about the Council's involvement in the Selection?

Luckily, Colin was cut off by a stern voice from behind Imogen. "I heard the commotion from two floors down. What happened here?"

Rosemary's anger was always terrifying to be on the receiving end of, and this was no different. She walked in, all warmth and smiles gone, arms crossed across her chest in anger. Imogen received the impression that she had heard everything. "It is against the rules to engage in violence against your fellow Selected. You were all aware of this."

This time, Colin didn't try to defend himself.

Rosemary looked to Imogen. She realized that Rosemary was waiting for her to dismiss them, once and for all.

"Transportation will be waiting for you before dinner." She glowered at them. "After you say your goodbyes, please go pack your bags. Consider yourselves eliminated for good. And let this be a lesson to all of you," she added to the rest of the room.

Colin shot them all glares before pushing past Imogen and leaving the room as quickly as he could. Cedric, however, lingered, looking hesitantly at the people around him. When he noticed Imogen watching, he mouthed, I'm sorry.

The worst part was that she believed him. But no matter the reason behind his actions, he had broken the rules of the Selection and endangered a fellow contestant. That wasn't the kind of person Imogen would ever trust to lead by her side.

Her heart fell. She had given him a second chance, and he had blown it to bits.

"Imogen," Rosemary said. "A word?"

Imogen allowed herself to be led outside the room, the door closing firmly behind them. She heard chatter erupt, but forced herself to ignore it, clasping her hands together and breathing deeply instead. "I'm sorry."

"What for? It's not your fault."

"I know, but—" Imogen shook her head— "I'm mad." Mad at the Council for forcing her to bring back Colin. Mad at Colin and Cedric for being idiots. Mad at herself for giving Cedric a second chance.

Of all the problems she had expected to deal with in her Selection, two of the men coming to blows had not been one of them. She knew Cedric and Colin were temperamental, but physical fights? Had she given her Selected more credit than she should have? What ridiculous quarrels would they get up to next?

"You have every right to be," Rosemary assured her gently. "It is concerning that they're unable to solve their disagreements diplomatically."

"The ball's coming up, Rosemary," Imogen realized, unable to stop her voice from rising in panic. "If they can't even behave themselves… What are we going to do?"

Rosemary was quiet for a moment. Imogen felt a moment of pity for her former governess. She had probably expected her duties would consist of merely teaching the Selected in their classes, not dealing with the aftermath of a brawl. Nobody could have predicted this. "Let's have a debate."

Imogen frowned. "A debate?"

Rosemary nodded. "Yes. An exercise in civil disagreement, if you will."

"Do you think the Selected are ready for that?" Privately, she wondered whether giving the Selected a chance to argue with each other would just exacerbate the hostilities already brewing between them.

"It could be a casual affair," Rosemary suggested. "Participation would be limited to a few volunteers, and the topic and format would be informal. We certainly don't want them to say anything too controversial."

"What incentive would they have to volunteer?"

Rosemary raised an eyebrow. "Perhaps the best speaker wins a date with you?"

Oh. Because she was still the prize of this game. "Sure," she said grudgingly. At least it meant that whoever she had to date would know how to conduct himself. And probably have at least one brain cell.

The men were considerably more subdued once they returned to the Men's Room. As Rosemary reiterated the rules of the Selection and began describing the plans for the debate, Imogen looked around at each of them, wondering who would be the next to make a mistake and leave.

"We need six people to form two teams of three," Rosemary said. "Any volunteers?"

Before anyone could raise their hand, Andres asked, "What are the rewards for winning?" His light blue gaze was cold and his eyebrows were furrowed in his usual expression of disinterest.

"The best speaker, as decided by myself and Her Highness, will win an individual date with the princess."

Ever-so-slightly, Andres's eyebrows shifted upward.

If Imogen had to go on a date with Andres, of all people… She didn't even want to think about it. But would he volunteer? He was a lawyer, so he must have been a skilled debater, but social interaction didn't seem like his favorite pastime.

If Andres did well and she picked someone else to win, would they consider her biased? She had a feeling that the scorn hiding behind Andres's eyes would become a lot fiercer.

"I volunteer," Elias said, raising his hand. That wasn't surprising. His performance in lessons had clearly been good, and he seemed like the type of person to enjoy intellectual discussions.

Connor cleared his throat. "So do I." She had almost expected that too. He was allegedly good with computers, and he seemed reasonably intelligent, so he probably had other hidden talents.

"Sounds fun. I'll join the glasses guys!" Jack stuck his hand in the air. She didn't know how well the line cook was going to perform in a debate, but at least he was enthusiastic about trying new things. Connor and Elias both made a face at that, though she couldn't tell whether they were amused or genuinely annoyed.

Cade didn't bother saying anything, simply lifting his arm. That one was somehow more surprising than Jack. Cade hadn't struck her as the talkative, debate-savvy type. Perhaps the reward for winning was more of a motivator than she had realized.

For a moment, however, the room was quiet as nobody else made a move to volunteer. Was the prospect of a date with her not enough to convince them to overcome their fears of public speaking?

Then again, considering that she would have to date all of these men at some point, the reward wasn't entirely unique.

"How about—" Imogen looked at the four men that had already volunteered— "we increase the reward? If you win, you receive the chance to plan an individual date with me. Any activity of your choice."

"Within security limitations," Rosemary added.

Charlie let out a sigh that was almost bored, crossing his arms and legs as he leaned back in his chair. "I'll debate." Imogen was surprised that it had taken him so long to volunteer. Based on their first conversation, wasn't this chance to demonstrate his intellect exactly his kind of thing?

Charlie's decision left one spot for the debate. Imogen raised an eyebrow at Dillon, who shook his head subtly. Many of the men were avoiding her eye contact.

Andres, however, was watching her intently, and his face was impossible to read.

"The prize is awarded to an individual," he said. "So does team performance matter at all?" Hearing this, Elias, who was seated across the room from Andres, seemed to stiffen. Charlie had also quirked an eyebrow, looking mildly more interested in this conversation than before.

Rosemary frowned. "Since debate is a collaborative activity, you will be expected to work with your team, Sir Porter. If there is no cohesion within the team, the effectiveness of your arguments will be weakened. But ultimately, the winner will be decided based on individual performance."

"I see." Andres gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Count me in."

Wow, the first elimination where Imogen doesn't go "lol sike!"

Massive thanks to Nikt Wazny and PhoenixBird8 for Cedric DunBroch and Colin Eaton respectively! Both were great characters and I loved the drama they stirred up. Alas, both of them were ultimately too inflammatory/confrontational to last long in this competition without attempting to destroy each other. While I may not have portrayed your characters in the best light or given them the most graceful of endings, I'm incredibly grateful for your submissions. They've definitely left an impact on this story and Imogen! Perhaps we'll see them again in the future…

Any thoughts on Bailey and Caleb? The impending Selected Debate? Possible predictions for team lineups, the debate topic, and the winner? I'm all ears!

(also, while i do love debate, i recognize that writing a full-length formal debate into a fanfiction is not going to be the most entertaining experience, so just… take all of next chapter with a grain of salt because it's not going to be super accurate teehee)

(my bad if the pacing was wack in this chapter because it was originally meant to be like 2 chapters plus a little something else, but i decided to move some things around lol)

Thanks for reading! Currently struggling big-time with school and real life, but rest assured that I'm still working on this story. Happy late 2021 to all you lovely people; may this year be full of more updates.

Until next time!

—Rysa