Every Day in May (grand prize winner) ✔

May 19th

Your father rules by force. Graden attracts force to him. 

Six months ago, one of my awkward sibling visits happened to coincide with the arrival of a band of Dissenters from the Western Province. This was a group of experienced fighters (every one of them considerably older than Graden). They'd come to the abandoned factory, the Dissenter's base of operations, expecting someone more experienced to lead them into battle.

Their head, a man named Jeffers, had a nasty scar stretching along his neck from ear to ear.  Jeffers could not get over the fact that it was some kid's plan the Dissent was counting on to take down the most powerful man in the world; he actually spit at my brother when he found out they'd be working under him.

Several of my brother's men moved to strike Jeffers, but my brother held up a hand to stay them.

"The Dissent is not a dictatorship." Graden calmly wiped the saliva from his nose with the sleeve of his shirt. "I didn't assume this authority, I wasn't handed it—I earned it. The Dissenters voted me in.  They didn't choose my old commander, or a crotchety spy with a grudge against anyone prettier than himself. They selected me."

He headed for the exit.  "I would gladly deselect myself if someone with a better idea of how to defeat the Leader showed up. Except, no one has."

My brother opened the door and gestured the man through. The rest of us gravitated in their direction until we found ourselves standing in a semi-circle on a platform overlooking the factory floor. "If you don't think I should be in command, if you have what it takes to lead the Dissent to a surer victory than what I've proposed, then by all means, let's call a meeting.  Here.  Tonight. You'll have a chance to state your case to all the members present and then we'll put it to a vote."

Jeffers eyes squinted with uncertainty, but finally he nodded.  If your father had been in my brother's position, he would have put a bullet through Jeffers' head before the spit had had a chance to dry.  Instead, Graden brought Jeffers up on stage with him that night and gave him a chance to make his voice heard.

Jeffers wanted to lay siege to the Tower, surrounding its grounds with every available Dissenter to show the Leader that our numbers were strong—the Dissent was now an elephant compared to the mouse it had been before the Riots.

Graden didn't laugh or scoff at his idea; he simply laid out the facts.  That tactic may have worked in the past, but not now.  We had the numbers on land, sure, but the Leader's navy was impressive and the Tower's eastside abutted the coast.  We hadn't the power at sea to blockade the cove in order to keep the Leader's soldiers from attacking from that direction.  Besides, there were ways in and out of the Tower that few knew about.  You couldn't lay siege to a place that had multiple escape routes.  It just couldn't be done.

"So, what's your solution then?"  Jeffers crossed his arms, but I could tell he'd been considering everything Graden had to say.

My brother smiled. "We infiltrate.  We take them out from the inside."

Jeffers raised an eyebrow.  "How do you expect to do that?"

"Well, Jeffers, that's where you come in."

Jeffers could have become my brother's enemy (or his murder victim).  Graden knew any man who'd had his throat slashed and lived to tell the tale could make either a formidable enemy or a powerful ally, and he knew which one he wanted Jeffers to be.

Your father makes enemies of friends; Graden makes friends of enemies.  This is a tactic the Leader can't even comprehend—it will be his downfall.