Sefton's Politics Class
Who: Sefton, Bailie, Penny, G'thon, E'sere, B'ren, Diya
When: Day 26, month 10, turn 200
Where: Classroom, High Reaches Weyr
What: Caucus students attend a somewhat unusual class to which many of the Weyr's ranking members have been invited. Instructor Sefton explains the class' first assignment to mixed reactions on behalf of students and observers.
Classroom
One of several classrooms used by the Weyr, this is the largest and most versatile. The walls adjacent to the bowl are lined with sandtables and high shelves that neatly store a variety of writing implements. Rather than the typical arrangement of student desks and benches lined up to face the front of the room, that furniture has been arranged in a broad semi-circle surrounding a bare work area. A single desk occupies the corner nearest the door exiting into the records room, providing a place for the current instructor to store their materials.
Contents:
E'sere
Penny
Sefton
Bailie
Caucus Office (CO) Records Room (RR) Bowl (B)
Students mill about, selecting places to sit according to their interest in the subject -- some are up the front, perched ready to take notes, others are scuffling for the seats in the middle rows -- after all, with dignitaries down the back, it's no longer the traditionally safe haven of other classes. Sefton enters as the noise subsides -- apparently he intends to teach the class without books, for he strides over to the instructor's desk, and plonks down on top of it, observing the class and, one would assume, awaiting something moderately close to silence.
Bailie is on time, and has chosen herself a seat up the front, she has - more than we can say for the pretty holder in /other/ classes. Her clothes are Fort's rich brown, with yellow accents, including a pair of beautifully beaded yellow heels. She sets her books primly on her chosen desk, and casts a cursory glance about the room before she sits; after tucking her perfectly-set curls behind her ears, she shifts her undivided attention to ogling the instructor. Erm - ignore 'ogling'. She's just really interested in his lessons, that's all.
G'thon would be, apparently, one of those back-row dignitaries. Less than back-row, in fact; he's drawn back a chair a bit farther from the rest and settled into it, legs crossed, every part the pose of the uninvolved observer. A hint of curiosity makes the corners of his eyes seem to smile.
Also up the back is Harper Sykarin, an older-looking man with nerdy glasses. He's sitting not far from the weyrleader, though he's got a book in his lap; possibly to ensure he's got an excuse for ignorance should the instructor call on him for anything.
E'sere is one of those dignitaries, sauntering easily into the room with a friendly smile. He pauses to greet a few of the older students, a brief 'hello, how are you' as he continues weaving toward a particular seat in the back. The young wingleader sinks into the chair as Sefton takes the lecture stand, and E'sere leans back to appraise the teacher, arms folding over his chest. When he's finished surveying Sefton, he moves on to the students--Bailie, Penny, others--and finally to those sitting along the back with him. G'thon in particular is regarded, E'sere's eyes flickering toward and away from him a couple of times before he's really satisfied and can turn attention back to the instructor.
Usually one of the more prompt students in the caucus, Penny arrives somewhat later than the others. She takes one of the seats in the front row, left vacant by students too nervous to sit that close to the instructor. She slides onto the bench next to Bailie, flashing the girl a quick, sweet smile, before taking out hide and her inkpen for note-taking. Once settled in, she turns a wide-eyed, expectant, and uncharacteristically vapid stare upon Sefton, no doubt trying to make him uncomfortable.
Sefton seems to feel that he's secured about as much attention as is likely, and offres a nod to the bigwigs down the back. The students themselves are examined for a moment, and his lips quirk as his gaze comes to rest on Penny. He sounds amused, as he begins. "Penny, you can start us off. Tell us, what do you think power is? What does it mean to have it, how do people know that you do?"
Oh, not good. The vapid look abruptly leaves Penny's face, and she glances behind her briefly as if half-hoping to see someone else responding to the name 'Penny'. No such luck, however, and she turns back around to regard Sefton coolly. "Power, sir?" She lays down her pen and leans forward a little. "Power is... connections," she says simply. "It's who you know, and who knows you, and how much they're willing to do for you. It's about having the right kind of leverage."
Bailie looks vaguely hurt that Penny's getting attention instead of her lovely self, especially with her curls so bouncy today. Miss Fort adjusts them, and checks her nails, and opens her notebook, having returned the smith's smile with a certain lack of warmth.
"Do you think so?" Sefton brings one hand up to indicate the senior riders at the back of the room. "So if the Weyrleader wields power, he has to hope people are willing to do things for him? Does he not have the right to simply order it so? Thoughts, Bailie?"
If Penny notices the coolness of Bailie's greeting, she doesn't let on. In fact, she completely ignores Bailie, frowning ever-so-slightly when her statement is questioned. Her hand shoots into the air, demanding the instructor's attention, and her dark eyes fix on Sefton's face, narrowed in thought. Penny in class is certainly a different animal from Penny at lunch sipping klah.
G'thon's pale brows slide up, setting wrinkles into the long expanse of his forehead, and the smile promised by the creases at the corners of his eyes finds promise in a sloping of his mouth. If startled and bemused to be put on display, at least Exhibit A manages not to chuckle - audibly.
Bailie. Who's this Bailie girl, and why isn't Bai - oh, wait! The girl looks up, fixing her instructor with a ridiculously bright smile. "Of course he has the right to simply order it, he's the weyrleader. But it doesn't mean people will like to do what he asks, or necessarily agree with it. You need to have tact, right? So people will like you?"
"Indeed. I imagine the Weyrleader strives for tact with every interaction." Sefton concedes that much with a grin, turning his attention to where E'sere sits down the back. "Perhaps the Wingleader will help us out, if he doesn't mind. Is it more important that people enjoy doing what the Weyrleader asks, or that they do it?" Penny's waving hand is noticed, and acknowledged with a wait-a-moment sort of nod.
Bailie practically beams - Sefton grinned. She takes a moment to scribe a large heart at the top of her page, with as much care as she can to make sure her lines are neat. There.
Penny glances from Bailie to Sefton and then back again, and then lowers her hand with a sigh. Never mind. Picking up her pen again, she scratches it across the hide and then writes a few lines on the scrap hide she's using for notes.
There's acreage yet on that forehead for G'thon's brows to explore, and a good thing too - they creep up a bit more still, and with blatantly merry slanted smile he slides a sidelong glance toward E'sere. There's no help offered in that look - just waiting, and maybe a little relief to share the spotlight with Exhibit B.
E'sere's eyes flicker between instructor and pupils, his expression benign. His mouth hints at an amused smile as Bailie and Penny's answers, and his brows shoot up in momentarily surprise as he finds himself called upon. "There must a balance," he answers promptly, with a broadening grin. "Obviously, the people must obey the Weyrleader--" he inclines his head toward G'thon respectfully "--but if possible, they should also enjoy what they have to do. There's better results to be had from happy, agreeable workers."
Sykarin shifts uncomfortably, nursing his book with as much attention as he can. Look busy, look busy... the harper adjusts his glasses. Vtol on the wall, people!
B'ren enters from the bowl.
B'ren has arrived.
"So, obedience is our primary concern, but ideally we're striving to create an atmosphere in which people also enjoy the work they do, or at least agree with it." Sefton is seated up the front, on top of the instructor's desk rather than behind it, the class ranged out in various attitudes of interest. "Thank you very much, Wingleader." And now, his grin turns to Penny. Sefton is having fun. "You had your hand up, Penny. What else can you add?"
B'ren slips in quietly to the back of the classroom, tugging off his gloves and shoving them into his back pocket. Wind tossed, it's clear he just arrived back from some duty. No doubt saving all of Pern, and he still has time to attend a class. He sits and flashes G'thon and E'sere a smile before giving Sefton a little wave and leaning back in his chair.
Penny shakes her head, the barest hint of a flush darkening her cheeks. "No, sir. I mean, I did, but the moment's passed. I was merely going to repeat what I said about leverage. The Weyrleader doesn't have to hope people will do as he says, because he's got leverage as the head of the Weyr. It's in people's best interests to obey him."
For some reason, G'thon's already grinning his high-on-one-side grin when B'ren arrives, and it takes a split-second for the older man to rearrange his features into something approaching solemn approval so he can tip a nod of acknowledgement to the greenrider.
Penny is favoured with another grin; oh, the agony! Bailie decorates her page with a little more gusto, colouring her heart and adding a flower next to it, complete with attending cartoon-cute insects. She pauses, to inspect her nails and steal a wistful look at Sefton.
Sefton nods, one hand coming up to rake his hair back from his eyes. "So then. We've got situations in which people will obey someone, because they have the leverage to bring down consequences if they don't. We've also mentioned the idea that sometimes it's nice if people actually enjoy what they do. That they might do it better, if that's the case." Sefton pauses to nod a greeting in B'ren's direction, before turning his attention to Bailie. "Bailie. What's the difference between the idea of power, and the idea of influence?"
E'sere indulges in a moment of smug satisfaction as Sefton accepts his answer, then deflates his ego once more to listen. He leans forward and props his chin in one hand, elbow on knee, as he absorbs Sefton's talk. Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, he straightens to offer B'ren a quick nod and a smile before turning attention back to the lecture.
Bailie is looking straight at Sefton, her deep brown eyes a little unfocussed as she daydreams many extremely inappropriate things. Head canted to one side, she shakes a little as his attention startles her back to reality. "Sorry, sir?"
Sefton shakes his head, scanning the class. "B'ren, what do you think? Is there a difference between what it means to wield power, and what it means to wield influence?"
B'ren draws his gaze from the back of a student's head up to the instructor and gives a grin, "Sure," he says with a shrug, propping his feet on the chair in front of him. "Influence means the person you're directing wants to do what you say and wants to please you, because you've got their respect. Power just means you have to do what they say, or else. With influence you can guide, and if you have influence over someone it's better, 'cause they think it was their idea in the first place, so they'll do it and better."
"Ah. Very well done, B'ren." Sefton doles out the first praise of the lesson with a grin. "I'm sure the Weyrleader has experience with this sort of thing. Is it possible, sir, to wield influence without actually holding power? Can someone in that position achieve as much as someone who's visibly in charge?"
Bailie blushes, and ducks her head back down to her notes. Pictures. Whatever. Stupid smart people who aren't enamoured with the instructor, psh!
E'sere's smile brightens at B'ren's answer, and he nods a couple of times to express his agreement with the greenrider. He does glance briefly at Bailie, eyes narrowing as he notes her manner of dress, Fort's colors displayed thus. Then, with a roll of his shoulders, he glances slyly sideways, expectant gaze directed at G'thon.
Penny remains quiet throughout all this, now and then adding a few words to her notes; at the sound of B'ren's voice, she turns in her chair to regard the man somewhat owlishly. Then, after a moment, she quirks her lips and flashes him a shy, sweet sort of smile by way of greeting before shifting her gaze toward the Weyrleader.
G'thon's brows go back up, the subtle but not uncommon expression of startlement finding its place on his countenance again. After a moment to stifle a chuckle he narrows his eyes a bit and offers, "Possible? I'd say it's most common, actually, for influence to come without power. Power has the advantage of allowing its wielder to accomplish things directly and often immediately - but it comes with the backlash of accountability. Those who lack power but wield influence, or prefer to use influence, have access to the power of others - an almost unlimited supply - without the same level of direct responsibility on a public level." A pause; the Weyrleader's eyes sparkle a bit. "On a moral level is another matter."
B'ren smiles back at Penny and nods at G'thon, "Yeah, with influence you can manipulate, so I don't know which is better, morally speaking."
Of course, Bailie is only wearing Fort's colours today because she looks particularly good dressed so; that she reflects badly on her hold for her wandering attention is the least of -her- concerns. There's a quick look over her shoulder, aimed at G'thon, before she turns to start writing again. Her name, this time. Accompanied by words like 'pretty', and 'nice shoes'. She 'mmms' softly after the weyrleader's answer, to sound intelligent.
Sefton is grins again, nodding what might be agreement. "There you have it then, from no less a person than the Weyrleader. There will be situations -- perhaps many of them -- when you can achieve more with influence than with power. Penny, how does one achieve influence?"
Bailie perks. She knows the answer to this one, and shoots her hand up enthusiastically!
Penny's head lifts at the sound of her name, and she blinks once. She was paying attention, really. "How one achieves influence," she repeats, blankly, thinking for a moment before animation returns. "It depends on the person. You have to play to your strengths." She glances to the side, at Bailie's straining hand, and back. "For example, a pretty young girl might win over her elders with charm and appeal, and earn their respect through friendship."
E'sere hides a smile behind his hand at Bailie's abrupt gesticulation, shaking his head slowly in wry bemusement.
"Good looks, then." Sefton nods, again pushing his hair back from his eyes. "Any other ways to influence people? Bailie," before she strains something, "and then B'ren, after her please."
G'thon's expression becomes a bit milder and, after a moment, he shakes his head with slow rue. He glances sidelong at E'sere and his mouth forms a syllable, but as soon as it comes to his lips the Weyrleader thinks better of it and shuts it off. Turning to face Sefton and the class again, the man's expression is strangely tickled, moderated with much-practiced but still-forced patience.
Bailie's eyes shift for the briefest moment to Penny, whom she flashes a very appreciative smile towards. She -is- pretty and young, isn't she? "If you have something the person you wish to influence wants, sir, like a trade-off? Or by making them feel important?"
B'ren's brows arch just slightly at being called on yet again. "I agree with Penny," he says with a shrug and a grin, eying the instructor to see if he caught that. "You give them what they want, or tell them what they want to hear. If someone wants something, and you give it to them, they'll be grateful and you can now ask them for something back." He nods at Bailie and gives her a wink.
Sefton laughs. "Simple as that? What do the Weyrleader and the Wingleader say? If we find out what it is you want, and send the prettiest girl in the class to give it to you, that's enough?"
B'ren grins and shrugs at Sefton, "Not for -me-. Sir."
G'thon's been on the verge of laughter since first being put in the spotlight, and here he at last can't help an audible chortle. "I think you've a student already who could point out flaws in that plan, instructor." But he won't quite name names, and turns his grin on E'sere in anticipation of, surely, a much richer answer still.
Briefly knitting his brows, E'sere frowns and leans back, eyes cutting sharply sideways as he directs a gaze at G'thon without turning his head. Sharp eyes have noted the beginning of a remark, but when it doesn't come, he relaxes slightly and returns at least the appearance of attention to Sefton and the three students he names in turn. "Your students are on the right track, instructor," he comments after a moment, nodding slowly. "Influence is about being able to persuade people to your cause. It really is a trade-off: if you do something for someone else that they like--a favor, offering support or respect, or doing something they'll admire--then they'll generally be more willing to help you out. Of course, it does require a certain amount of subtlety and patience, as building influence takes time--months, turns--and people do not often go play along when they know they're being manipulated or used."
Bailie is looking at B'ren for the greenrider's answer, and catches his wink. She returns a coy smile, and shifts her attention back to the instructor, tilting her head and leaning forward to prop herself up on an arm. 'Ahhh, so dreamy', her wistful expression seems to say silently for her, and she ignores the next few responses in favour of checking out Sefton. A few other girls in the class seem to share her idea, and a note is passed along near the middle of the room to that effect.
Penny is, needless to say, not one of those other girls checking Sefton out. If anything, her expression grows even blanker as she watches the instructor speak. She doesn't seem impressed, but she is listening -- at least, she bends her head every few minutes to note something down.
Sefton seems pleased with this response, grin switching up to a new level -- whatever's coming next, he's looking forward to it. "So where are we now? Power brings with it the ability to issue orders and have them obeyed, barring rebellion. Influence is far more tricky. There are many different ways to achieve it, and many require great thought and subtlety. It is on the idea of influence that we're going to concentrate for some time now. You will be pleased to know, though, that I will not be grading you for the next month's work." A pause here, to allow the foolish to relax, register the idea that slacking off will not be punished by a bad grade, and then he continues. "Someone in this class will mark you."
Suddenly, Bailie is not so bright/smiley/wistful. She is still checking out Sefton, of course, but with a -very- disappointed parting of her lips and crinkling of her brows. She tosses a quick look Penny-ward, to gauge the other girl's reaction.
B'ren isn't paying much attention at this point. He assumes he'll be asked to do the assignments, but he doesn't plan on it, so he lets his gaze wander around the room while keeping half an ear open to the general thread of lecture, so he can respond if called on. It's a skill honed over many harper lessons as a child.
Penny frowns slightly at the news that Sefton will not be handing out grades -- but then, as he finishes speaking, the frown fades into a thoughtful curve of the lip. She stares at her notes, not at the instructor, her pen now motionless. Then, her lips twitch, and she looks back up at the instructor with a positively feline smile. Bailie is, for the moment, ignored completely.
Diya enters from the bowl.
Diya has arrived.
E'sere's brows arch at Sefton's notes on grading, and he allows a slow, thoughtful smile to curve his mouth. Plainly intrigued by the idea, he skims the class for their reactions.
A good number of the girls who -were- adoring Sefton seem to stop now, and that note being passed is passed no further. Actually, one or two of the more lax-looking fellows in the class look disappointed as well. Frowning seems to be the general facial expression of the moment, whether thoughtful or otherwise.
"In one month's time, we'll be holding a secret ballot in class." Sefton's speaking from the front of the room, where he's perched on the desk addressing the class, and the dignitaries down the back. "Each of you will cast one vote, and the student who wins the ballot will assign grades to the rest of the class. They will have a set number of each grade to hand out, so awarding a top mark across the board will be impossible. If you think you can win the ballot, now is the time to start accumulating promises of votes. If you do not, now is the time to offer your vote up to someone in exchange for whatever mark you can secure. Perhaps that mark will be higher if you can guarantee someone else's support. This is about the influence we've been discussing. Who can you persuade to act in your favour?"
Frowning, but for some of those back-row sitters. Like his Wingleader, G'thon wears a thoughtful smile - one which eventually twinkles into the realm of plain delight. Slowly, the Weyrleader nods, general approval for the general situation.
B'ren actually laughs out loud at that.
Diya, held up by something or other, arrives towards the end of the class with Miniyal in tow. Slipping into the back, her arms crossing over her chest, she catches Sefton's remarks and lifts a brow before glancing about to seek reactions as well as more familiar faces midst the youth.
Bailie is... horrified, her eyes desperately wide. She straightens, only to duck her head a moment later and pencil something actually relevant on her page, amongst the hearts and flowers. When she looks up it's with a touch more relief, though the pretty girl is still frowning just for Sefton.
Penny is still staring at Sefton, smiling faintly, but she doesn't appear to be listening. She's certainly not taking notes, and to judge from the slightly vacant look in her eyes, she's probably already lost in thought. Bailie's reaction of utter horror breaks through her contemplation, however, and she turns to look blankly at the Fortian girl sitting next to her for a moment. Then she smiles, that shy, sweet sort of smile, and gives a queer little toss of her head, a shrug as if to say 'Might as well humor the crazy man.'
"Some of you, no doubt, are going to be lied to this month." And Sefton also finds this amusing. "The vote will, for many of you, determine the first grade that goes home to your parents, Weyrleaders or Masters." Sefton's grinning at G'thon -- easy enough for these two to smile, quite safe from the vote. "Are there any questions on your project, before I explain the second part?"
E'sere, noting Diya's arrival with her assistant, watches the pair a moment and finally inclines his head just barely toward the pair. That's all the acknowledgement he gives them, however, as he turns back to Sefton with renewed interest. Absolutely fascinating lecture, isn't it? So he seems to think.
B'ren asks, "Yeah, what if we refuse to do it?"
"If you refuse to participate, then I suppose you accept the mark that the vote-winner assigns to you." Sefton's response comes with a shrug, and no smaller a grin. "Perhaps they will admire your principle, and grade you highly. Perhaps they will think you're foolish, and spend one of their failing grades on you." A nod, then, indicates the crowd at the back of the room. "What your superiors will do, I cannot say."
Bailie hisses something to the also fashionably-dressed girl on her other side, prompting a nod. She raises her hand, and politely asks, "Are there any limitations for securing votes, sir?"
Second part? Penny sits up a little straighter, rousing herself a bit. Her attempt at a reassuring smile towards Bailie going unnoticed, she goes back to ignoring the girl in favor of watching the instructor intently. She wants to hear about this second part.
G'thon is far too tickled, grinning his sloped grin right back at the instructor, to notice Diya's entrance until the weyrwoman and her assistant are finding seats. Though the tip of his head for her is probably too late for her to see, her presence seems to make him only more bright-eyed. He does manage to get a somewhat more somber expression on by the time Sefton's done explaining B'ren's options to the greenrider, and for his own part, the Weyrleader only clears his throat. Presumably that's answer enough for the middle of class. For now.
B'ren shrugs at Sefton and looks around at the class, "I say we exercise our influence on ourselves - it's called using our brains - and not vote. I told the Weyrleader just yesterday that I can follow orders, but if someone told me to jump off a cliff I wouldn't do it." He looks back at the instructor, "You're telling me to make enemies and I refuse." And then he's quiet.
E'sere glances sideways at B'ren and almost imperceptibly shakes his head, unspoken warning in the gesture. He raises eyes to the ceiling, a Faranth-help-me expression, as the greenrider continues, however.
G'thon's brows creep up again, creasing his forehead clear up to where it can't legitimately be considered forehead anymore. Still, he says nothing - nothing but a sidelong glance at E'sere, followed by a very quiet, half-stifled cough. Or laugh. When suppressed so, it can be hard to tell.
Getting the gist of the dilemma that causes Fort's daughter to look troubled, Diya spares a few quiet words for the chubby girl at her side, pausing only in the hushed remarks to glance at B'ren. Age lines deepen, a certain knit to her brown in regards to the greenrider, and a spark of interest flashes faintly beneath those clear eyes. Giving Miniyal more words, on which the girl sits and begins to take notes, borrowing them from whoever is nearest, Diya moves silently across the back to where E'sere is situated.
Penny turns round in her seat to regard B'ren curiously for a few moments, as if he were a mysteriously large puppy chewing on her slippers. Then she addresses him, her voice just loud enough to carry to where he stands. "It's a game, B'ren," she murmurs, flashing him a sweet smile. "You may as well play, because everybody else is certainly going to."
Sefton laughs, shaking his head at Bailie's question. "Don't break Caucus rules, I think that's about your only limitation. I expect you to demonstrate common sense." He seems supremely unruffled by B'ren's suggestion, grin not fading at all. "Perhaps you'll make allies instead, B'ren? Perhaps a majority of votes can be secured without any underhanded behaviour? I'd suggest you make that your approach, if you have moral objections to wheeling and dealing. Or, as you say, refrain entirely, and take your chances. Now, the second part of your assignment will unfold in a vote to be taken the day after the initial vote. This vote will be held in the open, by raising your hands."
B'ren gives Penny a very warm smile and just shakes his head slightly.
Bailie nods some agreement at Penny's comment to B'ren, though she's still unable to form a smile. And since she didn't catch that reassurance from the smith, she doesn't bother trying any harder to put one on. She jots a note, adding a frowny after it.
Sefton continues, surveying the class as he does so. "I cannot say, of course, but I imagine that the outcome of the previous day's vote will probably influence the open vote. Particularly for those who have either voted in a matter other than the way they suggested they might, or" and a pause here, for emphasis, "for those who are believed to have done so. The winner of the second, open vote will be awarded privileges. I imagine each of you have a different idea as to what sort of thing would constitute a reward worth winning, and I will speak to the Headmaster and the Weyrleader about the sorts of things we might be able to provide. Further questions?"
E'sere adopts a frown, still staring at B'ren's back. However, his expression lightens at G'thon's noise, and the wingleader fixes his Weyrleader with a mild smirk. A small smile is next directed at Diya as he finds her approaching, before E'sere slides his eyes away, back to the front of the room and the ongoing class.
Ah, see... /now/ Bailie can smile, as visions of rewards dance in her head. The Fortian girl sets her pencil down, and leans back a little in her seat - yup, back to admiring the scenery that the front of the room provides. No further questions here; not appropriate ones, anyway.
Penny turns back around as Sefton begins speaking again. She looks a bit puzzled when he mentions a second vote, her fingers tapping lightly on her notes as she considers this new development. Obviously turning this over in her mind, she writes a brief line on her notes, drawing an emphatic box around it. Then, thoughtfully, she raises her hand. "Do we learn our grades before the second vote, or after?" The polite 'sir' seems to have been forgotten for the moment.
Now G'thon has the chance to tip a nod to Diya which she might see. Again he seems about to speak, to trade whispers in class - not -his- class, so he could afford it, perhaps - and again, the syllable is formed but not voiced and shut off by a smile. In a moment, Penny's question refixes his attention on the instructor anyway.
"Good question Penny," and Sefton inserts an approving grin. "Grades are handed out before the second vote. I should also note that while you're voting for the person you'd like to see receive a reward, you cannot vote for yourself." Lest the vote, no doubt, be tied at 1-1-1-1-1. "For those of you wondering why we're pursuing a second vote, I would direct your attention to the idea of a Conclave, a Crafter's meeting, a Weyrleaders' meeting, or any similar event. Does anyone have an opinion to venture on how one's conduct in relation to other issues might influence open votes on different questions at a Conclave, or similar?"
"Would it be wise," Diya queries so quietly, that those nearest her, E'sere, a few students, perhaps G'thon, can overhear. Her gaze rests on G'thon as she speaks, a small smile playing on her lips in response to his nod. "To tell them how many of each grade can be allocated beforehand?" Dark eyes consider Sefton a beat, and then flick back to B'ren, interest for the greenrider's response to this new question posed.
Bailie certainly doesn't, oh no! She's still busy daydreaming, no doubt lost in some secret (or not so secret, perhaps) scandal involving the instructor she's so openly staring at. A few other heads duck down about the room, illustrating their unwillingness to share opinions, and a few others turn to look at Diya as she speaks.
B'ren has his arms crossed and holds his silence. He does smirk though.
Penny listens to the answer to her question; and, for whatever reason, it seems to please her. Her lips quirk again, and she bends her head and starts making a few additional notes. She appears to have lost all interest in what Sefton's talking about now, and certainly makes no attempt to answer his question.
"Lost for words? I can see why they thought you all needed a class, in that case." Sefton's gaze turns to the back of the room once more. "We may need some senior riders to help us out more often, if they're silenced by so simple a question. Perhaps one of our ranking guests can oblige with an explanation?" When directed at the riders, his tone is more courteous than the amused drawl he treats the students to.
E'sere shifts in his seat, angling his body slightly toward Diya as she speaks. He quirks a fresh smile for her benefit, knitting brows and rolling his shoulders in answer and turning pointedly back to Sefton. The message is subtle but still clear: pay attention. He certainly is, for he volunteers an unbothered response to the instructor. "In such a meeting, among equals, I imagine there's a good deal of... bargaining, behind the scenes--deals to vote this way for one person's pet project if they vote a certain way on another issue."
B'ren has disconnected.
"I think some of it also has to do with accountability, not to bore anyone's ear with that word over again," G'thon muses on the tail of E'sere's remarks, nodding to Diya but otherwise unable to address her thought. "Essentially, if you support unpopular acts - or if people think you do - you may find that when a popular vote affects you directly, it happens not to go in a way which would benefit you. Even, sometimes, if the benefit to the group as a whole, or those they represent, would be greater if they voted in your favor." Somber now, the Weyrleader's broad mouth presses thin for a moment. "Retribution, simply put."
"And how do you trust the vote counter to count... correctly." But these insinuations are all just aimless questions, not spoken loudly enough to disrupt the class, and perhaps, maybe just a little bit, for the express amusement of those seated near her. In either case, whether they're seriously posed or not, Diya tilts her head, listening to E'sere, unbetraying of whether she agrees with his answer or not. "Accountability," is her brief answer.
Penny looks up from her page of notes, now covered with scrawled handwriting and quite possibly illegible to anyone but Penny. Her lips twitch once more into a smile at Sefton's words. She listens patiently while the riders give their explanations, glancing over her shoulder at them now and then. Then, regarding the instructor once more with a certain glint in her eye, she remarks with a tone fairly dripping with sincere helpfulness, "Perhaps, if you wanted us to pay attention and reply to your questions, you should've asked them all before handing us this rather remarkable assignment to think about."
B'ren has connected.
Bailie sighs softly, nodding to whatever it is that the rankers from the back have ventured. Not that she's listening, at all. Even Penny's remark, from right by her side, draws nothing more than a short nod and a blank smile. Ahh... Instructor Sefton.
Sefton laughs at Penny's response, shaking his head -- then promptly raking his hair back from his eyes. "Or perhaps, Penny, continuing to pay attention will demonstrate foresight. After all, your peers won't be marking all your work." And with that, he pushes up to his feet, to lean back against his desk. "And with that, we're done. Half your classes with me will be discussions on various subjects. I will note, in the spirit of helpfulness, that attending to them would certainly demonstrate foresight. The other half you'll have the time available to spend as you wish. You can talk to your fellow students, negotiate, finish your homework for other classes," a quick glance down at Bailie, now, "or waste your time drawing pictures. Should any of you feel overwhelmed by the need to learn, I will certainly be available to answer questions."
B'ren rolls his eyes just slightly, but really, this is good behavior. For B'ren. He glances around to see if he can stand up yet.
Again, E'sere cuts his eyes toward Diya, and this time his smile is less sincere. However, he does incline his head slightly toward her, acceptance of her own answer.
You post your note about 'Odd Student in Caucus' in group 3 (Area News) as message #1
Bailie frowns again, though more annoyed than she is embarrassed for being referenced so pointedly. She leans forward to close her notebook. "Demonstrate foresight... Penny? Can I borrow your notes sometime, please?" Perhaps not the smartest of times to ask such a question of her classmate, but Bailie's mouth creases an unpeturbed friendly smile regardless. Or maybe she's just clueless.
"Dismissed, then." As the students begin to murmur to each other, Sefton takes the chance to make his escape. With a polite nod to the ranking posse down the back of the classroom, he pushes away from the desk, and is out the door.
Penny's answering grin is broad, and she actually chuckles a little bit at Sefton before she sets about packing away her things into her satchel. She turns towards Bailie, still smiling. "Of course, Bailie... any time. I'll need to translate for you while you copy 'em, though. I need to grab some food, I'm starving -- maybe we can meet up in a bit? D'you have anymore classes today?" She turns her head a bit to watch as Sefton makes good his escape, and then refocuses on Bailie, looking at her through her lashes, her smile a bit shy.
B'ren gets to his feet and gives a long, lazy, luxurious stretch before he begins to move forward through the rows, towards Penny and Bailie. "This is rediculous," he greets them with a grin. "Lesson one - how to make enemies."
"I think he'll have to," G'thon immediately answers Diya, and almost as immediately stretches up from his chair to pace a short circle of three leg-uncramping steps. That brings him around to face E'sere as well, at whom he grins. "They're getting their marks' worth out of this one, I have to say. Though I didn't expect to be a student, Wingleader; did you?"
Diya has nothing to pack, and instead rises gracefully. Knowing sets her smile thin, and a nod is sent over the tops of students' heads to dismiss Miniyal, who looks all too relieved to take her notes to recopy in peace elsewhere, and then the statuesque woman moves closer to E'sere and G'thon. Over the din, B'ren's words, it's as if she's become highly tuned to them since his comment on their assignment, are heard, a ready quip sent over dryly, "Lesson one - how to become popular." - "Weyrleader, Wingleader," she greets. "I feel like I've missed the opportunity of a lifetime by only hearing the assignment portion."
"Nothing scheduled, no... Sykarin wanted to go over some etiquette homework, but if you catch me in the common area, I can ditch him when you're ready?" Her eyes trail longingly after Sefton as he leaves the room. With the instructor gone, she moves her glance back to her classmate for a brief moment, to smile. "Is that alright?" And to B'ren, "It's not so bad. If you two'll excuse me..." The harper from the back idly shuffle up, ready to claim his charge back for afternoon studies.
Penny turns on the bench, satchel in her lap. She looks up at B'ren as he speaks, smiling almost fondly at him. "Don't be ridiculous, B'ren. The assignment is to -avoid- making enemies. I'm perfectly confident that one can do well just by being nice." Uh-huh -- because 'nice' explained that quick look of feline slyness when Sefton laid out the assignment. Bailie gets a nod and another smile. "Sure thing," she promises. And that look that follows the instructor out doesn't go unnoticed.
B'ren chuckles as he offers Penny an arm, "I'd be happy to escort you to the Living Caverns," he says quietly and with a smile. "That may be, but I'm still not going to participate. I think the point of the caucus is to promote cooperation, not underhanded politics."
Bailie goes home.
Bailie has left.
Sefton has disconnected.
E'sere stands slowly, glancing around the classroom before settling his eyes on G'thon and Diya. "No, I didn't, sir," he admits to the Weyrleader, while he directs a brief glance at B'ren as Diya directs a comment at him. A moment of silence, and he returns attention to his two nearest companions. "Though, I can't say I minded, at least: it brings back lots of memories of my glory days in the Caucus," he continues smoothly, with a wry smirk. "And yes, it was quite... enlightening. Interesting, weyrwoman. If only some of my own classes had been as enjoyable..." With a shrug, he dismisses such thoughts.
Penny accepts the proffered arm gracefully enough, getting to her feet and slinging her satchel over her other shoulder. "Why... thank you, B'ren," she says, that shy smile that becomes her so well returning as she regards the man through her lashes. It seems genuine enough, though; a slight flush actually darkens her olive-tinged cheeks. The senior riders by the back of the classroom get a somewhat wary look, and she murmurs, "I had no idea so many of the higher-ups were coming to this lesson... I guess Sefton's gotten a reputation by now?"
"Oh, this has been priceless," G'thon assures Diya, bending his head to squint a moment, as if he could press out the sparkling delight from his eyes. "The moment in which he first explained the lesson. You could have heard a pin drop - " He turns on E'sere with far too bright a grin. "Ah, but would you have found this lesson so enjoyable if you were graded, too, Wingleader?" The Weyrleader tips his head toward a cluster of girls who earlier passed notes, and stopped passing notes, before Sefton's eyes. "I hardly think one rival could reduce your inherent attraction to the process." Of course, it could so, but that's not the point just now. For G'thon, anyway. " - If you will both excuse me? I want to track him down and see about what he has planned next."
B'ren chuckles darkly as he begins to lead her to the door, "Oh he's got a reputation all right." He then grins and gives the girl a smile, patting her arm. He nods a bit at the ranking riders as they pass.
B'ren follows the short tunnel that leads to the bowl.
B'ren has left.
"I have no doubt you would have managed to win both votes, E'sere." In this, Diya's inflection is genuine, unruffled by the fact that her comment to B'ren has gone unacknowledged, and favoring the bronzerider at her side with a dryly reflect look. There's pretty girls to be had, it's the nature of things. "You've ideas on what that second vote is, wingleader?" For G'thon, a smile is offered, and a nod.
"Obviously he does with -you-," Penny says drily to B'ren, elbowing him slightly with the arm linked through his. "I meant with all of them; that they all knew that this would be one lesson not to miss." She follows B'ren's example, inclining her head at the riders somewhat awkwardly, her eyes passing over each of them in the limited time before she's out the door.
Penny follows the short tunnel that leads to the bowl.
Penny has left.
E'sere nods easily to G'thon. "Of course, sir. I can only speculate, of course, about what would have happened in my own class of students, but." He glances toward Diya for a moment, then tells G'thon, "Of course, sir. Don't let me keep you. And--" He turns to regard Diya again, brows arching. "Do you think so? I'm less certain myself--there were some formidable people in my own class, and I imagine at the least S'lien could have defeated me. It would certainly have become vicious, among some of them. Of course..." He trails off pointedly, shaking his head. "I doubt that will be any different now."
"An accurate speculation I'm sure it would be," G'thon affords E'sere, a bit more somberly than the words should merit, then nods a smile to the weyrwoman before striding off for the bowl.
When: Day 26, month 10, turn 200
Where: Classroom, High Reaches Weyr
What: Caucus students attend a somewhat unusual class to which many of the Weyr's ranking members have been invited. Instructor Sefton explains the class' first assignment to mixed reactions on behalf of students and observers.
Classroom
One of several classrooms used by the Weyr, this is the largest and most versatile. The walls adjacent to the bowl are lined with sandtables and high shelves that neatly store a variety of writing implements. Rather than the typical arrangement of student desks and benches lined up to face the front of the room, that furniture has been arranged in a broad semi-circle surrounding a bare work area. A single desk occupies the corner nearest the door exiting into the records room, providing a place for the current instructor to store their materials.
Contents:
E'sere
Penny
Sefton
Bailie
Caucus Office (CO) Records Room (RR) Bowl (B)
Students mill about, selecting places to sit according to their interest in the subject -- some are up the front, perched ready to take notes, others are scuffling for the seats in the middle rows -- after all, with dignitaries down the back, it's no longer the traditionally safe haven of other classes. Sefton enters as the noise subsides -- apparently he intends to teach the class without books, for he strides over to the instructor's desk, and plonks down on top of it, observing the class and, one would assume, awaiting something moderately close to silence.
Bailie is on time, and has chosen herself a seat up the front, she has - more than we can say for the pretty holder in /other/ classes. Her clothes are Fort's rich brown, with yellow accents, including a pair of beautifully beaded yellow heels. She sets her books primly on her chosen desk, and casts a cursory glance about the room before she sits; after tucking her perfectly-set curls behind her ears, she shifts her undivided attention to ogling the instructor. Erm - ignore 'ogling'. She's just really interested in his lessons, that's all.
G'thon would be, apparently, one of those back-row dignitaries. Less than back-row, in fact; he's drawn back a chair a bit farther from the rest and settled into it, legs crossed, every part the pose of the uninvolved observer. A hint of curiosity makes the corners of his eyes seem to smile.
Also up the back is Harper Sykarin, an older-looking man with nerdy glasses. He's sitting not far from the weyrleader, though he's got a book in his lap; possibly to ensure he's got an excuse for ignorance should the instructor call on him for anything.
E'sere is one of those dignitaries, sauntering easily into the room with a friendly smile. He pauses to greet a few of the older students, a brief 'hello, how are you' as he continues weaving toward a particular seat in the back. The young wingleader sinks into the chair as Sefton takes the lecture stand, and E'sere leans back to appraise the teacher, arms folding over his chest. When he's finished surveying Sefton, he moves on to the students--Bailie, Penny, others--and finally to those sitting along the back with him. G'thon in particular is regarded, E'sere's eyes flickering toward and away from him a couple of times before he's really satisfied and can turn attention back to the instructor.
Usually one of the more prompt students in the caucus, Penny arrives somewhat later than the others. She takes one of the seats in the front row, left vacant by students too nervous to sit that close to the instructor. She slides onto the bench next to Bailie, flashing the girl a quick, sweet smile, before taking out hide and her inkpen for note-taking. Once settled in, she turns a wide-eyed, expectant, and uncharacteristically vapid stare upon Sefton, no doubt trying to make him uncomfortable.
Sefton seems to feel that he's secured about as much attention as is likely, and offres a nod to the bigwigs down the back. The students themselves are examined for a moment, and his lips quirk as his gaze comes to rest on Penny. He sounds amused, as he begins. "Penny, you can start us off. Tell us, what do you think power is? What does it mean to have it, how do people know that you do?"
Oh, not good. The vapid look abruptly leaves Penny's face, and she glances behind her briefly as if half-hoping to see someone else responding to the name 'Penny'. No such luck, however, and she turns back around to regard Sefton coolly. "Power, sir?" She lays down her pen and leans forward a little. "Power is... connections," she says simply. "It's who you know, and who knows you, and how much they're willing to do for you. It's about having the right kind of leverage."
Bailie looks vaguely hurt that Penny's getting attention instead of her lovely self, especially with her curls so bouncy today. Miss Fort adjusts them, and checks her nails, and opens her notebook, having returned the smith's smile with a certain lack of warmth.
"Do you think so?" Sefton brings one hand up to indicate the senior riders at the back of the room. "So if the Weyrleader wields power, he has to hope people are willing to do things for him? Does he not have the right to simply order it so? Thoughts, Bailie?"
If Penny notices the coolness of Bailie's greeting, she doesn't let on. In fact, she completely ignores Bailie, frowning ever-so-slightly when her statement is questioned. Her hand shoots into the air, demanding the instructor's attention, and her dark eyes fix on Sefton's face, narrowed in thought. Penny in class is certainly a different animal from Penny at lunch sipping klah.
G'thon's pale brows slide up, setting wrinkles into the long expanse of his forehead, and the smile promised by the creases at the corners of his eyes finds promise in a sloping of his mouth. If startled and bemused to be put on display, at least Exhibit A manages not to chuckle - audibly.
Bailie. Who's this Bailie girl, and why isn't Bai - oh, wait! The girl looks up, fixing her instructor with a ridiculously bright smile. "Of course he has the right to simply order it, he's the weyrleader. But it doesn't mean people will like to do what he asks, or necessarily agree with it. You need to have tact, right? So people will like you?"
"Indeed. I imagine the Weyrleader strives for tact with every interaction." Sefton concedes that much with a grin, turning his attention to where E'sere sits down the back. "Perhaps the Wingleader will help us out, if he doesn't mind. Is it more important that people enjoy doing what the Weyrleader asks, or that they do it?" Penny's waving hand is noticed, and acknowledged with a wait-a-moment sort of nod.
Bailie practically beams - Sefton grinned. She takes a moment to scribe a large heart at the top of her page, with as much care as she can to make sure her lines are neat. There.
Penny glances from Bailie to Sefton and then back again, and then lowers her hand with a sigh. Never mind. Picking up her pen again, she scratches it across the hide and then writes a few lines on the scrap hide she's using for notes.
There's acreage yet on that forehead for G'thon's brows to explore, and a good thing too - they creep up a bit more still, and with blatantly merry slanted smile he slides a sidelong glance toward E'sere. There's no help offered in that look - just waiting, and maybe a little relief to share the spotlight with Exhibit B.
E'sere's eyes flicker between instructor and pupils, his expression benign. His mouth hints at an amused smile as Bailie and Penny's answers, and his brows shoot up in momentarily surprise as he finds himself called upon. "There must a balance," he answers promptly, with a broadening grin. "Obviously, the people must obey the Weyrleader--" he inclines his head toward G'thon respectfully "--but if possible, they should also enjoy what they have to do. There's better results to be had from happy, agreeable workers."
Sykarin shifts uncomfortably, nursing his book with as much attention as he can. Look busy, look busy... the harper adjusts his glasses. Vtol on the wall, people!
B'ren enters from the bowl.
B'ren has arrived.
"So, obedience is our primary concern, but ideally we're striving to create an atmosphere in which people also enjoy the work they do, or at least agree with it." Sefton is seated up the front, on top of the instructor's desk rather than behind it, the class ranged out in various attitudes of interest. "Thank you very much, Wingleader." And now, his grin turns to Penny. Sefton is having fun. "You had your hand up, Penny. What else can you add?"
B'ren slips in quietly to the back of the classroom, tugging off his gloves and shoving them into his back pocket. Wind tossed, it's clear he just arrived back from some duty. No doubt saving all of Pern, and he still has time to attend a class. He sits and flashes G'thon and E'sere a smile before giving Sefton a little wave and leaning back in his chair.
Penny shakes her head, the barest hint of a flush darkening her cheeks. "No, sir. I mean, I did, but the moment's passed. I was merely going to repeat what I said about leverage. The Weyrleader doesn't have to hope people will do as he says, because he's got leverage as the head of the Weyr. It's in people's best interests to obey him."
For some reason, G'thon's already grinning his high-on-one-side grin when B'ren arrives, and it takes a split-second for the older man to rearrange his features into something approaching solemn approval so he can tip a nod of acknowledgement to the greenrider.
Penny is favoured with another grin; oh, the agony! Bailie decorates her page with a little more gusto, colouring her heart and adding a flower next to it, complete with attending cartoon-cute insects. She pauses, to inspect her nails and steal a wistful look at Sefton.
Sefton nods, one hand coming up to rake his hair back from his eyes. "So then. We've got situations in which people will obey someone, because they have the leverage to bring down consequences if they don't. We've also mentioned the idea that sometimes it's nice if people actually enjoy what they do. That they might do it better, if that's the case." Sefton pauses to nod a greeting in B'ren's direction, before turning his attention to Bailie. "Bailie. What's the difference between the idea of power, and the idea of influence?"
E'sere indulges in a moment of smug satisfaction as Sefton accepts his answer, then deflates his ego once more to listen. He leans forward and props his chin in one hand, elbow on knee, as he absorbs Sefton's talk. Catching a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye, he straightens to offer B'ren a quick nod and a smile before turning attention back to the lecture.
Bailie is looking straight at Sefton, her deep brown eyes a little unfocussed as she daydreams many extremely inappropriate things. Head canted to one side, she shakes a little as his attention startles her back to reality. "Sorry, sir?"
Sefton shakes his head, scanning the class. "B'ren, what do you think? Is there a difference between what it means to wield power, and what it means to wield influence?"
B'ren draws his gaze from the back of a student's head up to the instructor and gives a grin, "Sure," he says with a shrug, propping his feet on the chair in front of him. "Influence means the person you're directing wants to do what you say and wants to please you, because you've got their respect. Power just means you have to do what they say, or else. With influence you can guide, and if you have influence over someone it's better, 'cause they think it was their idea in the first place, so they'll do it and better."
"Ah. Very well done, B'ren." Sefton doles out the first praise of the lesson with a grin. "I'm sure the Weyrleader has experience with this sort of thing. Is it possible, sir, to wield influence without actually holding power? Can someone in that position achieve as much as someone who's visibly in charge?"
Bailie blushes, and ducks her head back down to her notes. Pictures. Whatever. Stupid smart people who aren't enamoured with the instructor, psh!
E'sere's smile brightens at B'ren's answer, and he nods a couple of times to express his agreement with the greenrider. He does glance briefly at Bailie, eyes narrowing as he notes her manner of dress, Fort's colors displayed thus. Then, with a roll of his shoulders, he glances slyly sideways, expectant gaze directed at G'thon.
Penny remains quiet throughout all this, now and then adding a few words to her notes; at the sound of B'ren's voice, she turns in her chair to regard the man somewhat owlishly. Then, after a moment, she quirks her lips and flashes him a shy, sweet sort of smile by way of greeting before shifting her gaze toward the Weyrleader.
G'thon's brows go back up, the subtle but not uncommon expression of startlement finding its place on his countenance again. After a moment to stifle a chuckle he narrows his eyes a bit and offers, "Possible? I'd say it's most common, actually, for influence to come without power. Power has the advantage of allowing its wielder to accomplish things directly and often immediately - but it comes with the backlash of accountability. Those who lack power but wield influence, or prefer to use influence, have access to the power of others - an almost unlimited supply - without the same level of direct responsibility on a public level." A pause; the Weyrleader's eyes sparkle a bit. "On a moral level is another matter."
B'ren smiles back at Penny and nods at G'thon, "Yeah, with influence you can manipulate, so I don't know which is better, morally speaking."
Of course, Bailie is only wearing Fort's colours today because she looks particularly good dressed so; that she reflects badly on her hold for her wandering attention is the least of -her- concerns. There's a quick look over her shoulder, aimed at G'thon, before she turns to start writing again. Her name, this time. Accompanied by words like 'pretty', and 'nice shoes'. She 'mmms' softly after the weyrleader's answer, to sound intelligent.
Sefton is grins again, nodding what might be agreement. "There you have it then, from no less a person than the Weyrleader. There will be situations -- perhaps many of them -- when you can achieve more with influence than with power. Penny, how does one achieve influence?"
Bailie perks. She knows the answer to this one, and shoots her hand up enthusiastically!
Penny's head lifts at the sound of her name, and she blinks once. She was paying attention, really. "How one achieves influence," she repeats, blankly, thinking for a moment before animation returns. "It depends on the person. You have to play to your strengths." She glances to the side, at Bailie's straining hand, and back. "For example, a pretty young girl might win over her elders with charm and appeal, and earn their respect through friendship."
E'sere hides a smile behind his hand at Bailie's abrupt gesticulation, shaking his head slowly in wry bemusement.
"Good looks, then." Sefton nods, again pushing his hair back from his eyes. "Any other ways to influence people? Bailie," before she strains something, "and then B'ren, after her please."
G'thon's expression becomes a bit milder and, after a moment, he shakes his head with slow rue. He glances sidelong at E'sere and his mouth forms a syllable, but as soon as it comes to his lips the Weyrleader thinks better of it and shuts it off. Turning to face Sefton and the class again, the man's expression is strangely tickled, moderated with much-practiced but still-forced patience.
Bailie's eyes shift for the briefest moment to Penny, whom she flashes a very appreciative smile towards. She -is- pretty and young, isn't she? "If you have something the person you wish to influence wants, sir, like a trade-off? Or by making them feel important?"
B'ren's brows arch just slightly at being called on yet again. "I agree with Penny," he says with a shrug and a grin, eying the instructor to see if he caught that. "You give them what they want, or tell them what they want to hear. If someone wants something, and you give it to them, they'll be grateful and you can now ask them for something back." He nods at Bailie and gives her a wink.
Sefton laughs. "Simple as that? What do the Weyrleader and the Wingleader say? If we find out what it is you want, and send the prettiest girl in the class to give it to you, that's enough?"
B'ren grins and shrugs at Sefton, "Not for -me-. Sir."
G'thon's been on the verge of laughter since first being put in the spotlight, and here he at last can't help an audible chortle. "I think you've a student already who could point out flaws in that plan, instructor." But he won't quite name names, and turns his grin on E'sere in anticipation of, surely, a much richer answer still.
Briefly knitting his brows, E'sere frowns and leans back, eyes cutting sharply sideways as he directs a gaze at G'thon without turning his head. Sharp eyes have noted the beginning of a remark, but when it doesn't come, he relaxes slightly and returns at least the appearance of attention to Sefton and the three students he names in turn. "Your students are on the right track, instructor," he comments after a moment, nodding slowly. "Influence is about being able to persuade people to your cause. It really is a trade-off: if you do something for someone else that they like--a favor, offering support or respect, or doing something they'll admire--then they'll generally be more willing to help you out. Of course, it does require a certain amount of subtlety and patience, as building influence takes time--months, turns--and people do not often go play along when they know they're being manipulated or used."
Bailie is looking at B'ren for the greenrider's answer, and catches his wink. She returns a coy smile, and shifts her attention back to the instructor, tilting her head and leaning forward to prop herself up on an arm. 'Ahhh, so dreamy', her wistful expression seems to say silently for her, and she ignores the next few responses in favour of checking out Sefton. A few other girls in the class seem to share her idea, and a note is passed along near the middle of the room to that effect.
Penny is, needless to say, not one of those other girls checking Sefton out. If anything, her expression grows even blanker as she watches the instructor speak. She doesn't seem impressed, but she is listening -- at least, she bends her head every few minutes to note something down.
Sefton seems pleased with this response, grin switching up to a new level -- whatever's coming next, he's looking forward to it. "So where are we now? Power brings with it the ability to issue orders and have them obeyed, barring rebellion. Influence is far more tricky. There are many different ways to achieve it, and many require great thought and subtlety. It is on the idea of influence that we're going to concentrate for some time now. You will be pleased to know, though, that I will not be grading you for the next month's work." A pause here, to allow the foolish to relax, register the idea that slacking off will not be punished by a bad grade, and then he continues. "Someone in this class will mark you."
Suddenly, Bailie is not so bright/smiley/wistful. She is still checking out Sefton, of course, but with a -very- disappointed parting of her lips and crinkling of her brows. She tosses a quick look Penny-ward, to gauge the other girl's reaction.
B'ren isn't paying much attention at this point. He assumes he'll be asked to do the assignments, but he doesn't plan on it, so he lets his gaze wander around the room while keeping half an ear open to the general thread of lecture, so he can respond if called on. It's a skill honed over many harper lessons as a child.
Penny frowns slightly at the news that Sefton will not be handing out grades -- but then, as he finishes speaking, the frown fades into a thoughtful curve of the lip. She stares at her notes, not at the instructor, her pen now motionless. Then, her lips twitch, and she looks back up at the instructor with a positively feline smile. Bailie is, for the moment, ignored completely.
Diya enters from the bowl.
Diya has arrived.
E'sere's brows arch at Sefton's notes on grading, and he allows a slow, thoughtful smile to curve his mouth. Plainly intrigued by the idea, he skims the class for their reactions.
A good number of the girls who -were- adoring Sefton seem to stop now, and that note being passed is passed no further. Actually, one or two of the more lax-looking fellows in the class look disappointed as well. Frowning seems to be the general facial expression of the moment, whether thoughtful or otherwise.
"In one month's time, we'll be holding a secret ballot in class." Sefton's speaking from the front of the room, where he's perched on the desk addressing the class, and the dignitaries down the back. "Each of you will cast one vote, and the student who wins the ballot will assign grades to the rest of the class. They will have a set number of each grade to hand out, so awarding a top mark across the board will be impossible. If you think you can win the ballot, now is the time to start accumulating promises of votes. If you do not, now is the time to offer your vote up to someone in exchange for whatever mark you can secure. Perhaps that mark will be higher if you can guarantee someone else's support. This is about the influence we've been discussing. Who can you persuade to act in your favour?"
Frowning, but for some of those back-row sitters. Like his Wingleader, G'thon wears a thoughtful smile - one which eventually twinkles into the realm of plain delight. Slowly, the Weyrleader nods, general approval for the general situation.
B'ren actually laughs out loud at that.
Diya, held up by something or other, arrives towards the end of the class with Miniyal in tow. Slipping into the back, her arms crossing over her chest, she catches Sefton's remarks and lifts a brow before glancing about to seek reactions as well as more familiar faces midst the youth.
Bailie is... horrified, her eyes desperately wide. She straightens, only to duck her head a moment later and pencil something actually relevant on her page, amongst the hearts and flowers. When she looks up it's with a touch more relief, though the pretty girl is still frowning just for Sefton.
Penny is still staring at Sefton, smiling faintly, but she doesn't appear to be listening. She's certainly not taking notes, and to judge from the slightly vacant look in her eyes, she's probably already lost in thought. Bailie's reaction of utter horror breaks through her contemplation, however, and she turns to look blankly at the Fortian girl sitting next to her for a moment. Then she smiles, that shy, sweet sort of smile, and gives a queer little toss of her head, a shrug as if to say 'Might as well humor the crazy man.'
"Some of you, no doubt, are going to be lied to this month." And Sefton also finds this amusing. "The vote will, for many of you, determine the first grade that goes home to your parents, Weyrleaders or Masters." Sefton's grinning at G'thon -- easy enough for these two to smile, quite safe from the vote. "Are there any questions on your project, before I explain the second part?"
E'sere, noting Diya's arrival with her assistant, watches the pair a moment and finally inclines his head just barely toward the pair. That's all the acknowledgement he gives them, however, as he turns back to Sefton with renewed interest. Absolutely fascinating lecture, isn't it? So he seems to think.
B'ren asks, "Yeah, what if we refuse to do it?"
"If you refuse to participate, then I suppose you accept the mark that the vote-winner assigns to you." Sefton's response comes with a shrug, and no smaller a grin. "Perhaps they will admire your principle, and grade you highly. Perhaps they will think you're foolish, and spend one of their failing grades on you." A nod, then, indicates the crowd at the back of the room. "What your superiors will do, I cannot say."
Bailie hisses something to the also fashionably-dressed girl on her other side, prompting a nod. She raises her hand, and politely asks, "Are there any limitations for securing votes, sir?"
Second part? Penny sits up a little straighter, rousing herself a bit. Her attempt at a reassuring smile towards Bailie going unnoticed, she goes back to ignoring the girl in favor of watching the instructor intently. She wants to hear about this second part.
G'thon is far too tickled, grinning his sloped grin right back at the instructor, to notice Diya's entrance until the weyrwoman and her assistant are finding seats. Though the tip of his head for her is probably too late for her to see, her presence seems to make him only more bright-eyed. He does manage to get a somewhat more somber expression on by the time Sefton's done explaining B'ren's options to the greenrider, and for his own part, the Weyrleader only clears his throat. Presumably that's answer enough for the middle of class. For now.
B'ren shrugs at Sefton and looks around at the class, "I say we exercise our influence on ourselves - it's called using our brains - and not vote. I told the Weyrleader just yesterday that I can follow orders, but if someone told me to jump off a cliff I wouldn't do it." He looks back at the instructor, "You're telling me to make enemies and I refuse." And then he's quiet.
E'sere glances sideways at B'ren and almost imperceptibly shakes his head, unspoken warning in the gesture. He raises eyes to the ceiling, a Faranth-help-me expression, as the greenrider continues, however.
G'thon's brows creep up again, creasing his forehead clear up to where it can't legitimately be considered forehead anymore. Still, he says nothing - nothing but a sidelong glance at E'sere, followed by a very quiet, half-stifled cough. Or laugh. When suppressed so, it can be hard to tell.
Getting the gist of the dilemma that causes Fort's daughter to look troubled, Diya spares a few quiet words for the chubby girl at her side, pausing only in the hushed remarks to glance at B'ren. Age lines deepen, a certain knit to her brown in regards to the greenrider, and a spark of interest flashes faintly beneath those clear eyes. Giving Miniyal more words, on which the girl sits and begins to take notes, borrowing them from whoever is nearest, Diya moves silently across the back to where E'sere is situated.
Penny turns round in her seat to regard B'ren curiously for a few moments, as if he were a mysteriously large puppy chewing on her slippers. Then she addresses him, her voice just loud enough to carry to where he stands. "It's a game, B'ren," she murmurs, flashing him a sweet smile. "You may as well play, because everybody else is certainly going to."
Sefton laughs, shaking his head at Bailie's question. "Don't break Caucus rules, I think that's about your only limitation. I expect you to demonstrate common sense." He seems supremely unruffled by B'ren's suggestion, grin not fading at all. "Perhaps you'll make allies instead, B'ren? Perhaps a majority of votes can be secured without any underhanded behaviour? I'd suggest you make that your approach, if you have moral objections to wheeling and dealing. Or, as you say, refrain entirely, and take your chances. Now, the second part of your assignment will unfold in a vote to be taken the day after the initial vote. This vote will be held in the open, by raising your hands."
B'ren gives Penny a very warm smile and just shakes his head slightly.
Bailie nods some agreement at Penny's comment to B'ren, though she's still unable to form a smile. And since she didn't catch that reassurance from the smith, she doesn't bother trying any harder to put one on. She jots a note, adding a frowny after it.
Sefton continues, surveying the class as he does so. "I cannot say, of course, but I imagine that the outcome of the previous day's vote will probably influence the open vote. Particularly for those who have either voted in a matter other than the way they suggested they might, or" and a pause here, for emphasis, "for those who are believed to have done so. The winner of the second, open vote will be awarded privileges. I imagine each of you have a different idea as to what sort of thing would constitute a reward worth winning, and I will speak to the Headmaster and the Weyrleader about the sorts of things we might be able to provide. Further questions?"
E'sere adopts a frown, still staring at B'ren's back. However, his expression lightens at G'thon's noise, and the wingleader fixes his Weyrleader with a mild smirk. A small smile is next directed at Diya as he finds her approaching, before E'sere slides his eyes away, back to the front of the room and the ongoing class.
Ah, see... /now/ Bailie can smile, as visions of rewards dance in her head. The Fortian girl sets her pencil down, and leans back a little in her seat - yup, back to admiring the scenery that the front of the room provides. No further questions here; not appropriate ones, anyway.
Penny turns back around as Sefton begins speaking again. She looks a bit puzzled when he mentions a second vote, her fingers tapping lightly on her notes as she considers this new development. Obviously turning this over in her mind, she writes a brief line on her notes, drawing an emphatic box around it. Then, thoughtfully, she raises her hand. "Do we learn our grades before the second vote, or after?" The polite 'sir' seems to have been forgotten for the moment.
Now G'thon has the chance to tip a nod to Diya which she might see. Again he seems about to speak, to trade whispers in class - not -his- class, so he could afford it, perhaps - and again, the syllable is formed but not voiced and shut off by a smile. In a moment, Penny's question refixes his attention on the instructor anyway.
"Good question Penny," and Sefton inserts an approving grin. "Grades are handed out before the second vote. I should also note that while you're voting for the person you'd like to see receive a reward, you cannot vote for yourself." Lest the vote, no doubt, be tied at 1-1-1-1-1. "For those of you wondering why we're pursuing a second vote, I would direct your attention to the idea of a Conclave, a Crafter's meeting, a Weyrleaders' meeting, or any similar event. Does anyone have an opinion to venture on how one's conduct in relation to other issues might influence open votes on different questions at a Conclave, or similar?"
"Would it be wise," Diya queries so quietly, that those nearest her, E'sere, a few students, perhaps G'thon, can overhear. Her gaze rests on G'thon as she speaks, a small smile playing on her lips in response to his nod. "To tell them how many of each grade can be allocated beforehand?" Dark eyes consider Sefton a beat, and then flick back to B'ren, interest for the greenrider's response to this new question posed.
Bailie certainly doesn't, oh no! She's still busy daydreaming, no doubt lost in some secret (or not so secret, perhaps) scandal involving the instructor she's so openly staring at. A few other heads duck down about the room, illustrating their unwillingness to share opinions, and a few others turn to look at Diya as she speaks.
B'ren has his arms crossed and holds his silence. He does smirk though.
Penny listens to the answer to her question; and, for whatever reason, it seems to please her. Her lips quirk again, and she bends her head and starts making a few additional notes. She appears to have lost all interest in what Sefton's talking about now, and certainly makes no attempt to answer his question.
"Lost for words? I can see why they thought you all needed a class, in that case." Sefton's gaze turns to the back of the room once more. "We may need some senior riders to help us out more often, if they're silenced by so simple a question. Perhaps one of our ranking guests can oblige with an explanation?" When directed at the riders, his tone is more courteous than the amused drawl he treats the students to.
E'sere shifts in his seat, angling his body slightly toward Diya as she speaks. He quirks a fresh smile for her benefit, knitting brows and rolling his shoulders in answer and turning pointedly back to Sefton. The message is subtle but still clear: pay attention. He certainly is, for he volunteers an unbothered response to the instructor. "In such a meeting, among equals, I imagine there's a good deal of... bargaining, behind the scenes--deals to vote this way for one person's pet project if they vote a certain way on another issue."
B'ren has disconnected.
"I think some of it also has to do with accountability, not to bore anyone's ear with that word over again," G'thon muses on the tail of E'sere's remarks, nodding to Diya but otherwise unable to address her thought. "Essentially, if you support unpopular acts - or if people think you do - you may find that when a popular vote affects you directly, it happens not to go in a way which would benefit you. Even, sometimes, if the benefit to the group as a whole, or those they represent, would be greater if they voted in your favor." Somber now, the Weyrleader's broad mouth presses thin for a moment. "Retribution, simply put."
"And how do you trust the vote counter to count... correctly." But these insinuations are all just aimless questions, not spoken loudly enough to disrupt the class, and perhaps, maybe just a little bit, for the express amusement of those seated near her. In either case, whether they're seriously posed or not, Diya tilts her head, listening to E'sere, unbetraying of whether she agrees with his answer or not. "Accountability," is her brief answer.
Penny looks up from her page of notes, now covered with scrawled handwriting and quite possibly illegible to anyone but Penny. Her lips twitch once more into a smile at Sefton's words. She listens patiently while the riders give their explanations, glancing over her shoulder at them now and then. Then, regarding the instructor once more with a certain glint in her eye, she remarks with a tone fairly dripping with sincere helpfulness, "Perhaps, if you wanted us to pay attention and reply to your questions, you should've asked them all before handing us this rather remarkable assignment to think about."
B'ren has connected.
Bailie sighs softly, nodding to whatever it is that the rankers from the back have ventured. Not that she's listening, at all. Even Penny's remark, from right by her side, draws nothing more than a short nod and a blank smile. Ahh... Instructor Sefton.
Sefton laughs at Penny's response, shaking his head -- then promptly raking his hair back from his eyes. "Or perhaps, Penny, continuing to pay attention will demonstrate foresight. After all, your peers won't be marking all your work." And with that, he pushes up to his feet, to lean back against his desk. "And with that, we're done. Half your classes with me will be discussions on various subjects. I will note, in the spirit of helpfulness, that attending to them would certainly demonstrate foresight. The other half you'll have the time available to spend as you wish. You can talk to your fellow students, negotiate, finish your homework for other classes," a quick glance down at Bailie, now, "or waste your time drawing pictures. Should any of you feel overwhelmed by the need to learn, I will certainly be available to answer questions."
B'ren rolls his eyes just slightly, but really, this is good behavior. For B'ren. He glances around to see if he can stand up yet.
Again, E'sere cuts his eyes toward Diya, and this time his smile is less sincere. However, he does incline his head slightly toward her, acceptance of her own answer.
You post your note about 'Odd Student in Caucus' in group 3 (Area News) as message #1
Bailie frowns again, though more annoyed than she is embarrassed for being referenced so pointedly. She leans forward to close her notebook. "Demonstrate foresight... Penny? Can I borrow your notes sometime, please?" Perhaps not the smartest of times to ask such a question of her classmate, but Bailie's mouth creases an unpeturbed friendly smile regardless. Or maybe she's just clueless.
"Dismissed, then." As the students begin to murmur to each other, Sefton takes the chance to make his escape. With a polite nod to the ranking posse down the back of the classroom, he pushes away from the desk, and is out the door.
Penny's answering grin is broad, and she actually chuckles a little bit at Sefton before she sets about packing away her things into her satchel. She turns towards Bailie, still smiling. "Of course, Bailie... any time. I'll need to translate for you while you copy 'em, though. I need to grab some food, I'm starving -- maybe we can meet up in a bit? D'you have anymore classes today?" She turns her head a bit to watch as Sefton makes good his escape, and then refocuses on Bailie, looking at her through her lashes, her smile a bit shy.
B'ren gets to his feet and gives a long, lazy, luxurious stretch before he begins to move forward through the rows, towards Penny and Bailie. "This is rediculous," he greets them with a grin. "Lesson one - how to make enemies."
"I think he'll have to," G'thon immediately answers Diya, and almost as immediately stretches up from his chair to pace a short circle of three leg-uncramping steps. That brings him around to face E'sere as well, at whom he grins. "They're getting their marks' worth out of this one, I have to say. Though I didn't expect to be a student, Wingleader; did you?"
Diya has nothing to pack, and instead rises gracefully. Knowing sets her smile thin, and a nod is sent over the tops of students' heads to dismiss Miniyal, who looks all too relieved to take her notes to recopy in peace elsewhere, and then the statuesque woman moves closer to E'sere and G'thon. Over the din, B'ren's words, it's as if she's become highly tuned to them since his comment on their assignment, are heard, a ready quip sent over dryly, "Lesson one - how to become popular." - "Weyrleader, Wingleader," she greets. "I feel like I've missed the opportunity of a lifetime by only hearing the assignment portion."
"Nothing scheduled, no... Sykarin wanted to go over some etiquette homework, but if you catch me in the common area, I can ditch him when you're ready?" Her eyes trail longingly after Sefton as he leaves the room. With the instructor gone, she moves her glance back to her classmate for a brief moment, to smile. "Is that alright?" And to B'ren, "It's not so bad. If you two'll excuse me..." The harper from the back idly shuffle up, ready to claim his charge back for afternoon studies.
Penny turns on the bench, satchel in her lap. She looks up at B'ren as he speaks, smiling almost fondly at him. "Don't be ridiculous, B'ren. The assignment is to -avoid- making enemies. I'm perfectly confident that one can do well just by being nice." Uh-huh -- because 'nice' explained that quick look of feline slyness when Sefton laid out the assignment. Bailie gets a nod and another smile. "Sure thing," she promises. And that look that follows the instructor out doesn't go unnoticed.
B'ren chuckles as he offers Penny an arm, "I'd be happy to escort you to the Living Caverns," he says quietly and with a smile. "That may be, but I'm still not going to participate. I think the point of the caucus is to promote cooperation, not underhanded politics."
Bailie goes home.
Bailie has left.
Sefton has disconnected.
E'sere stands slowly, glancing around the classroom before settling his eyes on G'thon and Diya. "No, I didn't, sir," he admits to the Weyrleader, while he directs a brief glance at B'ren as Diya directs a comment at him. A moment of silence, and he returns attention to his two nearest companions. "Though, I can't say I minded, at least: it brings back lots of memories of my glory days in the Caucus," he continues smoothly, with a wry smirk. "And yes, it was quite... enlightening. Interesting, weyrwoman. If only some of my own classes had been as enjoyable..." With a shrug, he dismisses such thoughts.
Penny accepts the proffered arm gracefully enough, getting to her feet and slinging her satchel over her other shoulder. "Why... thank you, B'ren," she says, that shy smile that becomes her so well returning as she regards the man through her lashes. It seems genuine enough, though; a slight flush actually darkens her olive-tinged cheeks. The senior riders by the back of the classroom get a somewhat wary look, and she murmurs, "I had no idea so many of the higher-ups were coming to this lesson... I guess Sefton's gotten a reputation by now?"
"Oh, this has been priceless," G'thon assures Diya, bending his head to squint a moment, as if he could press out the sparkling delight from his eyes. "The moment in which he first explained the lesson. You could have heard a pin drop - " He turns on E'sere with far too bright a grin. "Ah, but would you have found this lesson so enjoyable if you were graded, too, Wingleader?" The Weyrleader tips his head toward a cluster of girls who earlier passed notes, and stopped passing notes, before Sefton's eyes. "I hardly think one rival could reduce your inherent attraction to the process." Of course, it could so, but that's not the point just now. For G'thon, anyway. " - If you will both excuse me? I want to track him down and see about what he has planned next."
B'ren chuckles darkly as he begins to lead her to the door, "Oh he's got a reputation all right." He then grins and gives the girl a smile, patting her arm. He nods a bit at the ranking riders as they pass.
B'ren follows the short tunnel that leads to the bowl.
B'ren has left.
"I have no doubt you would have managed to win both votes, E'sere." In this, Diya's inflection is genuine, unruffled by the fact that her comment to B'ren has gone unacknowledged, and favoring the bronzerider at her side with a dryly reflect look. There's pretty girls to be had, it's the nature of things. "You've ideas on what that second vote is, wingleader?" For G'thon, a smile is offered, and a nod.
"Obviously he does with -you-," Penny says drily to B'ren, elbowing him slightly with the arm linked through his. "I meant with all of them; that they all knew that this would be one lesson not to miss." She follows B'ren's example, inclining her head at the riders somewhat awkwardly, her eyes passing over each of them in the limited time before she's out the door.
Penny follows the short tunnel that leads to the bowl.
Penny has left.
E'sere nods easily to G'thon. "Of course, sir. I can only speculate, of course, about what would have happened in my own class of students, but." He glances toward Diya for a moment, then tells G'thon, "Of course, sir. Don't let me keep you. And--" He turns to regard Diya again, brows arching. "Do you think so? I'm less certain myself--there were some formidable people in my own class, and I imagine at the least S'lien could have defeated me. It would certainly have become vicious, among some of them. Of course..." He trails off pointedly, shaking his head. "I doubt that will be any different now."
"An accurate speculation I'm sure it would be," G'thon affords E'sere, a bit more somberly than the words should merit, then nods a smile to the weyrwoman before striding off for the bowl.