A Daughter's Duty

Chapter 4

"What does the book mean?" I asked.

"It's for learning Latin – although that will be easy for you, since you know Latin. The gun represents weapons, the clothes represent disguises, and the speech bubble represents speech and debates."

"How long will all of that take?"

"Well, I took around four weeks. Your parents took three weeks each – but most people take much more – around five or six. Most of that is for Latin – they aren't able to learn the language, so they give up and never learn. Three years ago, the only people who could speak Latin were Mr. I, your parents and me."

"How long do you think I would take?"

She scrutinized me. "Well, I'd say four weeks for you too, but let's see - may take longer." She turned and left.

"Four weeks." I said. "I'll show you."

The next morning, I was fitted in safety gear. Goggles, gloves, helmet, bullet-proof vest, arm pads, thigh pads, etc. I could hardly move when they took me to the shooting range, another warehouse.

"Alright, Ms. R," said the instructor, Mrs. N, a lean, bespectacled lady. "Our objective is for you to hit that target," she pointed to a red target on the wall, "with your pistol." She was wearing safety gear too. It made me wonder if they trusted me at all. Then I realized I didn't trust myself enough to do this.

"I don't know if I can, ma'am," I said. "What if I hit you, or anybody else?"

"There is nobody here, child." She said. "Other than me, and I have all my safety gear on. You try your best."

I leveled my shoulders and raised my tiny pistol parallel to the target. I clicked off the safety lock and pulled the trigger.

I managed to shoot a meter away from the actual target.

Mrs. N didn't even look surprised. "Ms. R, did you shut your eyes when you pulled the trigger?" she asked.

"Y-yes, ma'am."

"Hmm." She said. "I understand. The pistol must have given you a jolt when you shot the bullet. Do not worry, my child – you are only seventeen. You will need some practice with this."

It took me five tries, but I managed to hit the target, much to Mrs. N's satisfaction. "Very impressive, Ms. R. Now, let's try a handgun."

After trying three others kinds of guns (all of which I mastered, thank you very much), we came across the rifles.

"The Accuracy International L96." Said Mrs. N, showing it to me. It was a meter long, dangerous looking weapon. The barrel of the gun was thin and long. A telescope-like thing was attached to it above the trigger. From what I could understand, it had a detachable stand with which you could place the gun on the ground and shoot.

"There are two other rifles which we will be working with – the Accuracy International AWM and the Accuracy International AX. All three are very common in the Royal Military." She said.

"How hard will it be?" I asked.

She repeated, "How hard? I'm not sure. To each his own, actually. You see, it depends on the person. Rifles require concentration and focus, also a clear mind and steady breath –"

I tried not to laugh as I thought about the parallel she was drawing to practicing yoga.

" – and it might cause strain on your arms." she continued. "It was a little tough for me, but I was able to master it in less than a couple of hours."

"So, that will take me at least four or five hours?" I asked.

"Let's see, now shall we?

After around two more weeks (just two weeks!) of training, I was officially a member of the organization. I even met the Queen, who looked so royal and matronly in her purple gown and red cloak, the wrinkles on her head covered with her white puffy hair, on with her crown was fitted. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to talk to her. My aunt just took me to her, showed me off like a piece of jewelry and whisked me away.