Simon's speech was solid but conventional. He approached the topic from the angle of educational access and cited several sets of data from the history of education.
His strength was his clear organization; his weakness was the lack of anything memorable.
After listening, you would say, "That was good," but forget what he had said a few minutes later.
Phillips began his speech with the difficulties of governing the New Continent colonies.
His grandfather had been a senior official in the Colonial Affairs Department, and he could recite those administrative details with ease.
Colonial administrative regulation numbers, procedures for appointing governors, the legal jurisdiction of autonomous regions... His professional knowledge was solid, and his chain of logic was clear.
But he had turned his speech into a policy analysis report. From beginning to end, he had not made anyone in the audience's heart race even once.
The judges took notes, their pens moving at an unhurried pace.
Catherine's angle was sharper.
When she stepped onto the stage, she was clutching her manuscript. After unfolding it and glancing at it once, she turned it over and laid it facedown on the podium.
She spoke of the "cleansing" of the Gael Highlands.
Two hundred years ago, the Empire government and Gael Lowlands landowners had joined forces to drive out the Highland natives, burn their villages, and seize their pastures.
"They called it 'progress.'"
The red-haired girl's voice echoed between the stone walls, every consonant carrying the distinctive hard edge of a Highlander.
"They called driving my ancestors down from the mountains 'introducing civilization.'"
She spoke faster than she had in the first round, but without impatience.
She left precisely the right pauses between every sentence, giving anger room to breathe.
"But my ancestors had their own language, their own laws, their own