It was a month of that day. A whole month and a lot of big things had happened.
No one had failed.
Good.
The Elf and Exiled Princess had become Exclusives.
Very good.
Fourth year was about living as a spy.
Master George had begun rather seriously on the first day. 'What I will now say, is mainly for the men here. Spies, naturally are mysterious. And women, are drawn to mysterious men. It's a fact. As for the young lady among us,' He had then looked right as Alexandra. 'She has been blessed with striking beauty and charm.' She had lifted her brows and curtsied - not having been able to believe Master George was telling she had "beauty" and "charm".
'It's true.' He had maintained, watching Alexandra bow. 'Add that to mystery and courage, it forms a dangerously desirable personality. Unfortunately, it can make your work as spies, much more difficult.
'And not only that, all of you here have relations outside the four walls of our Council. Questions and interactions are inevitable. You all know everything you need to be a spy, and this year, you shall practice those skills, along with learning how exactly a spy, is supposed to live.
'Your tongue, however, my students, is the most difficult organ to control. I'll give you something to do. From now on: you all shall switch to pure vegetarian - no spice, no meat, no bread. Yes, no bread either. You get it?' He had asked, hands on hip. It was a rare gesture from their teacher to have his hands on his hips because in order to appear serious or intimidating, he very well knew, that he didn't have to adopt any posture. They had all frowned at him - expecting him to shake his head once and say - "oh wait, I think that was for the fifth years," or something close to it, at least. But when he hadn't, Paul had gathered up enough courage to bite.
'Yes, sir ... but why?' He had asked, as everybody else had finally exchanged looks of, this old man has lost his marbles.
'I'll reveal that soon.' He waved off, shaking his head. For now, you must do as I tell you to. One month hence, I will enlighten you fourth years with the reasons behind this. But if I get a word of a single toe being put beyond the line...'
'We'll be hanging upside-down with our faces buried in the smoke from burning red chilies,' Watson had suggested, reclining. He hadn't seemed to possess any problem with the vegetarian scheme. Alexandra, meanwhile, had had a lot. Nobody consumed much of meat anyhow, but she loved food - and there had to some taste! No salted fish? No hard bread dipped in smooth, raspberry syrup? No sweet, white porridge? No spicy, pickled olives? No honey-cakes?
That was like grazing grass. How were they supposed to have only raw, bitter vegetables - mostly legumes - for a whole month? Her taste buds would all commit mass suicide, halfway through.
'Yes, that will be a worthy punishment.' Master George had meanwhile agreed. Scared of the harsh penalty, she had made a mental note to give the scheme a sincere try. The teacher had then given them a lot of tips and words of advice - ones which stoutly bounced of her worried head. Class had been dismissed. They then had had to go and help the second years learn combat.
However,
'Watson, Mabel. Stay back.' Master George had ordered, at the end of the class. They both had looked at each other. As for the rest looking at them. Then slowly, everybody else had filed out. The Master had waited patiently for them to do so.
'Yes, Sir?' They had then queried, together, approaching the long-bearded teacher.
'You both must know what Exclusive Agents are.' He had said - more like a statement than a question. And they had nodded - because they did. 'That is good. Because you two, have the choice to be one.'
They had again exchanged looks. Watson with his brow raised, and Alexandra giving him a you, too? look.
'Would you like to?' Their teacher had asked.
'Yes, Sir.' They had said, Alexandra had been a little surprised. No big celebration, ceremony? No huge crowns and badges? Just a verbal "Yes" or "No"? But she hadn't been much surprised - at least not as much as usual - because finally, the ways of the Espionage had started seeping into her. As much as possible, things had to be kept sober and quiet. Maturity was expected at every turn and from firsthand experience, she knew that they were supposed to treat a king and a beggar equally.
It was all in order - since she had lived as a princess and a pauper in a single day - and realized that there was no fundamental difference between the two other than of upbringing. She had still been Alexandra, she had still felt sorrow and fright, she had still breathed the same air and she had still walked on two legs.
'Good.' The teacher had nodded, 'a month from today, full moon night. Meet me outside the Head Office.'
And that night was today.
Alexandra and Watson, their cloaks on and their daggers fastened to their waists, met outside the Head Office. The lamps were all off, the whole area was dipped in darkness and Master George didn't seem awake to Alexandra. Beyond the grounds and the lake, in the party hall, there seemed to be an untimely gathering in process. Watson picked up a stone and tossed it into the Hall through the open window.
'Ouch!' Somebody cried from inside. She turned to glare at him, but Watson was grinning ear to ear.
'You can kill someone with that.' She reprimanded. He just shook his head with and chuckled.
'They are rather thick-skinned. They'll even survive eating rotten onions.' He explained. Then turned to look at the dark, looming Head Office, 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?' He asked. Since she hadn't liked the remark about "thick skin", Alexandra didn't see fit to reply honestly.
'If you are thinking what I'm thinking, I'm thinking what you are thinking,' she replied, smirking. She was as tall as Watson now, perhaps even an inch more, because she wore flats and he wore heeled boots.
'Unless you think a bit different from what I do, both of those sentences meant the same thing,' he shot back, still gazing at the office. Noticing that he was refusing to take a step back, she decided to end the "thinking" matter - unless they were left standing below a spooky building, bickering all night.
'Let's end that,' she voiced out. 'And why are you looking at the Office like you're going to break in?'
'Because I am going to,'
'No way,' she groaned.
'I wil-'
'I'm saying there's no way to do that, not that "no way" and "don't do it"' She explained, with a shrug. Her reputation was of the sort that people expected her to remain within - and force others into - the rules. But sometimes, or most of the times, breaking rules was fun. When done in moderation and without being injurious to anyone - freedom consisted of doing all that the heart wished to.
You must become the court writer, my dear. Mind suggested, or you must at least become the royal advisor.
Those jobs were good in a way that they would place her in close proximity to Liam. But apart from that, Alexandra had no inclination towards them.
'Oh,' Watson registered, meanwhile, with a little surprised expression. 'Fine, but in any case - there is a way.' He added, pulling out a rope from his cloak pocket. Attached to its one end was a small hook, a bit rusty, but very much usable. Alexandra stared at it for a second, then-
'Where did you get this from?!'
'I keep one with me always. You know Mabel, learning is not doing only what they ask you to do. That is apprenticeship. And this hook, is pretty useful - I found it in the Weaponry and Alden had no objection to me nicking it. So...' he handed the hook to her. 'Aim for the window. And I'll tie the other end around myself in the meantime.'
She took it reluctantly. Alexandra had done that before, but shooting at the head office was a little too much. Nevertheless, she squinted in the dark. The window sill - was too big ... the handle - the window could swing open if too much force was put on it. The best place were the window blinds. The aperture had no pane, it just had a blind for cover and they had small gaps in between them. Gaps big enough for the hook to settle in. She swung the hook behind her and flung it ahead - the clasp entered into one of the blind-slits and swung there, perfect for climbing.
'Bull's eyes, Captain,'
'Captain?'
'You are one,' He winked, pulling the rope once, to check if it was sound and then easily walking up the wall like it was another piece of flat land. They were all taught to do that. Still, he was fast. It only took Watson twenty seconds to scale the wall.
Once he reached the window, he knelt upon the sill and peeped inside, pushing the blinds up silently. 'He's writing something - come up.' He continued, untying the rope from around himself and throwing it down.
Alexandra followed. There was not much space for both of them, so they had to (with a lot of elbowing and threatening) put their arms around each other for support. Watson pulled the window blinds up. 'After you,' he said.
'No, after you,' she replied, fiercely. She was not going to go down there - because there was no guarantee that he would follow. Knowing Watson, she knew that there was good chance of him running away finding out there was some trouble associated with breaking into the Head Office. He could leave her stranded.
'Go on!' He exclaimed, 'you're supposed to be the leader - go lead!'
'You go first!' She declared, 'or I'll push you down.' She threatened. The party now turned out to be a blessing-in-disguise, for it covered the noise of their dispute.
'Oh, push?' He asked, 'that reminds me, I can push too.' And he prodded her in the shoulder. The force was small, but enough to propel her forwards - where she unbalanced, and really dropped inwards.
Alexandra landed on her feet in the dark Head's Office.
She was murderous for Watson's blood. But curiosity got the upper-hand once more as she looked around the Office. It was a circular room, well-furnished and mostly like Olivia's chamber - the walls were plastered with plans. But the similarities ended there. These plans were complex calculations of the enemy's moves, they were maps of inimical kingdoms, pictures of terrorists and wanted criminals, unlike Olivia's childish fancies. The roof had a crystal chandelier hung from it - Alexandra hated those things, no one could say when it could fall - and especially one in the Espionage was very risky. But obviously, their teacher liked a little pomp and show. The Head himself was sitting with his back turned to them, a faint orange glow of a dim lamp illuminating his bald silhouette. As Watson had said, he was scribbling something, but as soon as he heard her land, he turned behind.
Watson crashed (on his feet) next to her. Alexandra glared at him furiously, 'you don't push me unless you want a dagger sticking out of your gut,' she scoffed, from the corner of her mouth.
'And you better explain our way of arrival unless you want a year of detention,' he replied, looking at Master George, who's face was unreadable.
'Welcome, Exclusive Agents, and I'm pleasantly surprised by your performance.' He praised - though it was not possible to be sure that it was a praise or not. The two fourth years exchanged looks, what performance?
'Sir - what?' She asked, blank. This was not his idea of sarcasm, was it? Because, as far as she knew, breaking into the Head's Office was prohibited. Still, he hadn't left them any choice - and now, he seemed to be praising them.
'Spies,' Elaborated Master George. 'Should wait for nobody. If I have seemingly forgotten about your arrival, you make me remember it rather than waiting outside for all eternity. Spies, my students, make their own way. They don't wait for anybody's invite. Or validation. Or approval. Be it even the King's. In a nation, the spies' time is the most valuable. You do not waste it. Not even if the throne commands you to do so,'
'Oh.' They registered. It was an unimpressive reaction to something so bold, but listening to him, she felt her hairs stand on end. It was finally happening. She was finally getting involved into real work. Real business.
'So you mean we should be able to decide what is right, if the Throne's order is not in favor of the Nation, we can consider ourselves free to disobey it?' Watson asked - with a good amount of anticipation in his voice. Why not, she was pretty sure he was looking forward to disobeying as much as possible. Hopefully, by the time their fifth year ended, he would have embraced a few aspects of maturity. Because otherwise, she was going to be put upon the sacrificial altar of strenuous toil.
'That,' Master George however agreed, 'is exactly what I meant. You need to find the silver lining, Agents. The lining between Right and Wrong. What is right, remains right even if it is coming from an enemy. And what is wrong, is wrong even if it is coming from your teacher.
'And when you say a lie, this is a fourth year thing in itself, but when you say a lie, even you should not know it is one. For example - come on
'Enough of that, I'll give you a real case of scenario: Suppose you have to inform Idgard about an impending attack - you have conclusive proof that a nation is going to declare war, tell me, who will you first go to? Whom will you first inform?'
'My Head,' Said Watson, at the same time,
'The king,' Said Alexandra. What use would a Head be if there was war? Most of all, the head of Espionage. She'd tell the king. And yes, Liam, if that meant him. For a second, she imagined what that could be like - such a scenario. To her mind, came a night scene: a disheveled Liam in a dark room with a single, big window opening to the starriest night possible. And the palace around them resembling the Doveland Palace, for she knew of no other one.
A formidable scenario. One she hoped didn't become the way she met Liam.
'The lady,' Master George agreed, 'has got it right. That is the silver lining. Informing your head is the normal procedure. But if the situation is so big, when every second is crucial - informing the highest person in charge, is right.'
The three of them left the Office and walked in the campus as Master George kept talking, asking questions and demonstrating things. The full moon gleamed in the distance like a pearl floating on shiny, black oil.
'Mabel, step aside,' he then, suddenly, waved her aside. She did step back, compliantly. Leaving the two men to face each other. 'This - is the most difficult - and most effective - flip,' he declared, grabbing Watson by the side and flipping him over as if he was nothing but a cardboard.
'Please, sir!' He protested, rubbing his back, as he sat up cross-legged on the ground. 'Next time, let's use a dummy,'
'Come on, young man, you have to have more endurance than this! Get up, get up.'
'I hate endurance,' he muttered under his breath as Alexandra stood there, watching and shaking with the efforts to prevent a chuckle.
'Yes, yes, laugh. Wait until you pass through that, I'll laugh then.' He added to her.
'Perks of being female,' she replied, shrugging.
The night's assignment however, made her realize that no perks existed in spy-life.
'You both - each should be able to do that flip I showed you just now. Any senior Exclusive can show it to you - not many of them are here - Fannel's leaving soon ... Julian ... no. Ryan... huh, that one is a complete blockhead. Though... ah, Henry's there. Ask him to help.'
'He's going to help is he gets time of Ashley,' Watson muttered to her, on their way back.
'Uh, actually,' Alexandra ventured, 'they broke up. Ashley discovered Henry is Idgardian. And the Gertrudans despise us. I don't like them much either. They are big-nosed, arrogant folks. And they often break into Idgard, commit arson and theft. Now, they broke somebody's heart: so, what's new in that?
'You have a point, what's new in that.' Watson agreed. He then added something about her keeping afloat with all the Espionage Gossips, which was waved aside. 'I think,' he continued, 'I agree staying away from them is a good idea... but if that means, Henry isn't in a good mood, do you think he will take out the frustration on us?' He demanded, his eyes widening in realization of the gravity of what he had said. As if he had just realized that all prospects were black.
Alexandra shrugged. 'There's good chance of it.' She confessed. And that was even worse for her, because Henry and she, had never been too fond of each other.