The second years weren't altogether that good. Sixteen of them - and only seven won their tournaments against Alexandra's year.
Even before the tournament had started and she and Fred, who was a fifth year - had taken their seats in the commentary box, Master George had warned them. Especially Alexandra,
'They are NOT as good as you people were, which is why I want you all go easy on them. Think there's an easy level, then a medium level, then a hard level and after hard is when you start fighting as yourselves- stay on medium. If they are doing good, go to hard. If they are very good, you can push them. Is that clear to you all, Fourth Years?'
'Yes, Sir,' They said, looking at each other and then at him. She personally was very glad at being asked not to push herself completely. Since they had had no breakfast earlier in the day, she wasn't feeling completely herself. The reason behind no breakfast was simple - they were supposed to slowly increase their capacity to bear hunger. Today, no breakfast. The next day, no breakfast, no lunch. After that, a twenty four hour fast. Then a forty eight hour fast. And then a seventy two hour fast (at this point certain people were bound to have degenerated). If they survived the seventy two hour fast - that was a minimum. In case they could continue ... they could do so. But Alexandra was very sure she was not going to continue - in fact, she would be very lucky to not degenerate on the third day.
Master George, oblivious to the lengthy calculations and speculations of survival going on in her mind, nodded and gave Hans a wave - it was his turn first.
But all in all, her opponent was so incompetent - that she felt angry with herself. She had taught these people. And the particular second year she dueled, seemed to be suffering from a bad case of constipation - his moves were so inflexible - he was so sluggish.
Halfway through her duel, she turned her face to Master George in a clearly exasperated manner, and mouthed, this is not good. He seemed to agree, because he rested his hand on his chin and mouthed back, end it - show me the flip.
So, she pulled the second year off his feet and flipped him over - it was easier than flipping Henry, who had given much resistance and had a much better posture, anyhow. The teacher raised his Red flag and nodded to her - good, he said.
Alexandra only shrugged. She wasn't good, the second years were bad.
In the lunch that followed, everyone seemed to have similar opinions. 'Our seniors, none of them are like that. Even the first years - they are better. The second year - I can't really understand what's going on.' Owen declared, as she wolfed down whatever she could find, coming around once in a while to make a comment or to wave to a familiar face (of which, there were many).
'I've heard,' Paul added, resting his elbows on the table, 'that a whole year can be dismissed in special cases.'
'We ourselves came pretty close to it.' Venly agreed. But unknowingly (or perhaps knowingly), he had touched a raw spot. Rubbed salt on a fresh wound: the tipping off and the subsequent mass expulsion that could have happened.
Awkward silence. A silence punctured only by the sound of Alexandra pushing away her plate, her ravenous appetite fizzling out.
'Come on, it was our fault,' Paul pointed out - which was a little surprising, since he was the one who would normally have been the most uncomfortable about it.
'And it's no big deal. Daniel said that his year was once almost expelled too, because they lodged fireworks into Master George's chandelier - and that was a very serious thing - because it could have blown up the entire Office along with the Supervisory Centre that's next to it,' Alexandra informed, trying her best to break the frost that had gathered around them. 'And you know, then there's Kane - who set Master George's beard on fire!' She added, getting the sudden brainwave.
'He did what?' Watson asked, suddenly very interested - and gratefully forgetting about the second year scandal. The mingled disbelief and wonder defrosted their surroundings at once, though she suspected the frost had been half-hearted, in the first place.
'Set fire to Master George's beard,' she repeated, calmly, though internally bursting to tell the tale.
'How...?!' Asked Hans, with evident longing - evident desire to repeat the feat, in his voice.
'Oh, it's a nice story - so he was in his third year,' she began, with a smirk. 'And he got late to a class - he won't tell why - but he got late to a class and so he got this detention to reorder the library books.'
'The library is seven floors long.' Gergs reminded.
'Which was why he was so displeased and furious and vengeful. Master George did go overboard with the punishment, just for one late arrival ... anyhow, so while he was reordering the fourth floor, Kane found something useful for his revenge. Any guesses what he found?' She asked, putting Moira on the table. The blade shone silently as all the humans surrounding it frowned - all the humans except the one with long, chestnut brown hair - she grinned expectantly.
'He found a mini dragon whom he trained to breath fire on Master George,' Watson suggested, with an I'm serious look. If she had thought that these sort of things could only be expected from Liam, she was wrong. And Watson was brazen about it - perhaps, not being a King helped.
'Elf-!' She chided, 'you don't need to travel to fantasy for it!'
'Oh,' Watson replied, still looking serious. 'I thought that was how stories went - that is how all those plays and theatricals go. Kane is the villain. He wanted to kill Master George - but a Handsome Prince saved him.'
So much for a Handsome Prince - they were best for Olivia. Alexandra would just as well pull her waistband up and retrieve Moira and give the villain a good few slashes.
'But Master George is not a damsel-in-distress,' she replied, heatedly. She had an evanescent image of a Master George as a crying damsel - it was once comical and disquieting.
'You mean Handsome Princes save only damsels, Captain? Not bald-head senior citizens?' He questioned, putting his own dagger on the table. Beside Moira, it was quite bigger, and the two blades seemed to having their own argument, much like their owners.
'Yes, only damsels in distress,' she clarified, 'because in all the Idgardian plays that I've seen - we have only damsels. That doesn't leave much space for senior citizens - let alone ones who are baldheaded!'
'Excuse us, Damsel and Distress!' Hans interrupted, banging a hand on the table to remind the two of his presence. 'What is this going on?'
'We aren't Damsel and Distress-' Alexandra began, rounding up on him - the lack of proper lunch had made her tetchy.
'Exactly - we are Elf and Captain.'
Watson seemed to derive some special pleasure by irritating her - so she chose to ignore him. He always took advantage of the moments when Mark Fannel wasn't in the Council, to get even with her.
'Anyhow - he found... camphor.' She divulged, shaking her head and giving Watson an I'll deal with you later look. 'So, he was just muttering, I'll set fire to his beard, when he found the camphor. And Kane had that idea in a flash. He abandoned the detention, took the camphor - right down to the Head's office, got in through the window. He found Master George dozing off on the table, his long beard hanging down by the side. So he powdered up the camphor, put them into his beard and light it up with a nearby lamp.'
'Goodness,' said Owen. 'That's-'
'Ingenious!' Cried Hans.
'Cunning!' Cried Watson.
'No!' Owen cried back. 'It's a crime, and it's wicked,'
'You don't know,' she shook her head. 'Before, Master George had a fifteen feet long beard. But by the time he woke up, fourteen feet of his beard were gone and there was only a note by him.'
'And the note said?' Asked Hans, turning to look at her - knowing that whatever her answer was, funny or not - would be their cue to start laughing.
'I cleaned off your Beard too, Sir - hope you like it,' Alexandra informed, with a straight face.
It happened instantly - all around her, the Fourth Years were dissolving into peals of laughter. She was silently thrilled at her own ability to change the mood of the table. She had laughed harder, she had almost impaled herself on a spear in the weaponry when Kane had told her of it. But then, she hadn't known of the Master's oath.
The true reason for his long beard - Nelson Kamryn, one of the senior-most agents, had told her of the vow. Their teacher's pledge to never cut his beard. Fifty five years ago, the woman he loved - perhaps the only woman he loved. Rose's namesake - had drew her last breath. And since then, for it had been a very deep love, Master George had sworn to never chop off his beard. All the same, Kane had burnt it. It was a loophole in the oath, but it was necessary.
'So - so,' asked Watson, panting. Alexandra knew she couldn't tell them. She knew they wouldn't understand, perhaps not yet - when they hadn't felt love. She hadn't either - but in this one place - she knew that a girl's heart was different. Perhaps it wasn't born different, perhaps it was made so. But in any case, the truth wasn't affected - the truth that her year-mates were a little insensitive. 'What happened then?!' He asked, meanwhile.
'What happened? Kane got a permanent detention to clean the Weaponry twice every week - or they would have expelled him. But Master George knew he was too valuable for that - so this punishment.' She shrugged.
'Kane's certainly not as decent and law-abiding as he appears, then. Is he?' Hans nodded. There was common consent that Alden was a sleeping dragon. And that it would be folly to poke him in the eye.
So of course, Alexandra couldn't agree more.