333 B.C. - Idgard
Although we try to control it in a million different ways, the only thing we can do to time is either enjoy it, or waste it. That's it.
- A. J. Compton
The ceremony was good. More than good: it had been wickedly splendid and pleasurable. Alexandra - or perhaps, Mabel - a fully trained Secret Agent, aged twenty one, was all prepared to leave for her first quest, her first trial.
But the ceremony had been good: the huge Arena - where she was finally not one of the spectators, rather one of them getting felicitated - felt good. All the fifth years sat in the crowds, with the rest of the Council. Fannel was there, he occupied the seat right next to her and from time to time, muttered something undeniably funny into her ear, forcing her to a snort.
'Look - there! Ah, this one looks like a boar who's lost his tusks. What say?'
Alexandra covered her eyes, shook her head and doubled over, laughing. 'Can you please stop! I won't even be able to hear my name being called!' She chided, recovering and turning to look at him reproachfully.
Had she ever been a princess? Had she ever walked through polished, narrow aisles, decked in glittery robes? Had there ever been that modest, sparkling tiara settled atop her brown mane? All of that seemed far, far away - almost non-existent. If she ever wondered where Olivia and Rose were, that curiosity was trampled down instantly by her stubborn unconcern. All in all, after six years, the toils of the Espionage had bore fruit and succeeded in making her a true spy.
As she watched Mark Fannel, she realized that over the years, he had turned out to be much more striking that her first impression of him had credited. He sometimes recounted (confidentially) the trouble that a great deal of jobless women gave him, on trials.
At least he went through that distress in trials - Alexandra was encountering it in the very Council. In her fifth year, when she had started mingling with the majority of the Spies - one thing had become clear to her: she had changed, and that change had somehow made her lovelier - or prettier - or comelier. Whichever word suited best in this scenario, could be chosen. The main point was that it made life a tad bit more difficult, because quite a few agents (seniors, to make matters worse) seemed to be keen on her. Time and again, one or the other proposal materialized - and then, she would have about two seconds to think of a way out of it.
But with experience, she had learnt about - and devised of - a three-step method to escaping any proposal, without harming feelings. She called it The Disarming Triplet:
Step 1: Look into the eyes of the person and do not speak a word - let them complete - and you will know when they are done speaking.
Step 2: Clasp the person's hand in both of yours. Beware, DO NOT break eye-contact. Make it slow and real and emotional. Do it truly, like you mean it. And give the person the brightest smile possible - let your eyes shine and your glow intensify - do not hold anything back.
Step 3: Say in the most earnest and sincere way possible, "I do love you," and then, without letting the silence stretch for too long, throw in your winning card. Address them, with a nod, and without hesitation. Repeat, and add: "I do love you, dearest brother."
Check mate.
'What am I here for then? I'll go and collect the badge on your behalf.' Mark replied. After travelling in the realms of her thoughts for so long, she had almost forgotten what they were talking about. After a bit of initial confusion, she realized he was talking about the Passing Out they were all sitting for.
'Mark, you are really brutal,' a fellow Agent reproved, leaning backwards. Alexandra recognized him as one of the numerous agents to have been treated with The Disarming Triplet. 'Who does that to their little sister? Especially since she'll be off tomorrow.'
'I haven't got a trial yet, Sir.' She reminded him.
'I'll eat all my hair if you don't get it.' The senior replied, winking to Fannel. It was fate's grace upon him that Mark Fannel didn't know of his move on Alexandra. If he did, this particular one would be either be in a coffin in the Espionage, or breathing - but out of the Espionage.
'Yes, and there will be anarchy in the council,' Watson supplied. 'If Captain doesn't get a trial, I am protesting - we can plan out a hunger strike. Except for the fact that we won't sit hungry, we'll make the staff and our dear teacher starve.'
'For once, I agree with him.' Fannel nodded. 'We can also recall Kane, and ask him to finish off the Master's beard completely.'
'Mark Fannel, will you please get your eyes off my beard?' Master George thundered - he seemed to have a magnetic attachment to everybody who dared speak of his facial hair. Tonight, he was pacing around the hall waiting for the clock to strike seven sixteen - when they officially began the ceremony. It was an old tradition: at seven sixteen, the Espionage Council's foundation stone had been laid in independent Vedessa.
As was world-known, Cartania's Emperor Justin had had a younger brother Vitus, who supported the separation movement of the commoners heavily. Finally, after a lot of struggle that Alexandra didn't bother to know about, the Emperor Justin had to agree and divide the Empire into two and give the larger half to his brother, Vitus. And the descendants of that King Vitus were the present rulers of Vedessa. They were supposed to know the basic lineage of Vedessan Kings: Vitus, Enrique, Jasper, Oliver, Ethan and Liam.
The first letters of all their names together formed a fairly passable label - Vejoel. It was funny - but she had a conjuncture that this was not the way it should have been. The names of the first two were quite alright, but after that, the next King - should have been named with a D and the next one should have been named with an E, and the next two with an S each - and the next with an A - so that they formed the name of the country itself.
Thankfully, she kept this notion to herself.
'Sure Sir, but Kane Alden's the real threat,' Fannel meanwhile replied. Not so long after he'd finished, he found himself at knifepoint, Master George's expression was murderous. 'Come on, Sir! It's a happy day, can't a poor man even joke without having throat being slit?'
'Poor man?' Alexandra howled. 'You are no poor man. You are extremely-'
'Untrustworthy,' Watson completed, as Master George sheathed his dagger, muttered "hardened rivals, these young people!" and walked on.
'Unfortunately for you, Reginald Watson,' Fannel said turning to him. 'I am also the Trial Picker for your year. So I can send you to a desert right away.'
'You are the trial picker? Where are you sending your sister?!'
'To a certain nice place. It's called A-' But Watson didn't let him complete.
'Nepotism,' He grunted, interrupting. Mark reclined backwards and shook his head with an amused, mysterious grin.
'You'll see,' he said, without elaborating.
'A very warm welcome to all the gathered Agents as well as Agents-in-making!' Announced a senior. 'We are all pleased - as well as proud as another successful group of Agents enter into the services of Vedessa! The clock just struck Seven Sixteen! And let's go on with the felicitation ceremony! First off, our Head of Department, senior but skilled, extremely sharp, visionary and long-bearded, Master George, will talk a bit about the special case in this year!'
'Thank you, Ventocks,' Master George grunted, not appearing anywhere near grateful. 'Look, Agents, you all must stop having a go at my beard, first of all.' He informed. 'To more important matters - I'd love to recall how, five year back - the King himself, had suggested one particular joiner to me. I had then been a bit reluctant. A bit dissatisfied. Because that joiner was - a girl. Though now, I am proud to say how wrong I had been. As the years have progressed, I have watched this patronized student closely. Each year I've seen her progress. My satisfaction has grown - the girl is certainly mediocre!'
A huge cry and applause roared at the end of this line. Alexandra grinned brilliantly at everybody - she would have stood up and bowed, but perhaps more proposals would drop in because of it - so she internally vetoed the idea. And despite all of that, they all seemed like family to her, now. Those five years had passed all too quick - there had been challenges, losses and victories, tears and smiles. In the end, colossal changes. But for one thing, was very glad for the community she was with.
'Mediocre...' Watson meanwhile repeated. 'What's so nice in that?'
'Master George's mediocre means extraordinary.' A few seniors enlightened him, briefly.
'In fact, this whole year has proved to be good. They had their differences, their clashes. Yet again, I'm proud at how well they have all evolved. I am as eager as any of you to see what this year does. What they win, what they get to our council. Here, we facilitate them with their first trials. Their first postings! And the badges they have earned. The titles they have attained. Ventocks, continue.'
'Thank you, there, Master George! So, old saying, holds true: let's have the lady first!'
'Go on!' Fannel and Watson nudged her from either sides. They needn't have done that, she got up almost immediately. Her legs felt wobbly, almost like it was a dream, and time was fluid. She ascended the stone steps to the dais.
'Kneel,' Master George smiled grimly, holding the gleaming, gold badge with some inscription Alexandra would definitely read later on. For now, she went down on one leg and the Master pinned the badge to her chest's left side - right above where she could feel her heart.
'Rise, Mabel, Patronized Exclusive Secret Agent and full-time member of the Espionage council!' He proclaimed, and she grinned as she did. Master George handed her a scroll.
'Trial allotted,' he announced. 'Posting: Akwanda Palace,'
Akwanda?
After a preliminary bout of excitement, Alexandra realized the enormity of what had the teacher had pronounced. Heavy sacks seemed to settle down on her shoulders, but this time - with an exception - that she was prepared to carry them.
Returning to Akwanda - was not that a country which was Vedessa's sworn enemy? Didn't they imprison Vedessans upon identification? And if they discovered a secret agent there ... it would be the worst things could go. Perhaps that explained her teacher's grim smile. The expression of joy dampened with trepidation.
Being an Exclusive is like signing the deal for more dangerous quests.
Kane's words made her realize, despite all apprehension and enthusiasm, that this was no longer a simple class or combat lesson. This was very real danger. The third - and the final rite of passage. This was the moment to prove something. To show her worth - her talents - her value. The fire that had always been burning in Alexandra, the fire that had made her say and believe that she would earn a name for herself without any title - that fire roared higher. She felt an invisible force raise her head high - she was finally here.
She was finally in the real world. Where nothing was covered up from her. Nobody shielded her. Nothing would be like it was for a Princess. Everything would be crude - real and wider, with the thinnest possibilities to the thickest mistakes. Everything would be one huge battleground.
Alexandra stepped down. She felt nervous - at the same time, exhilarated, as she took her seat between Watson and Fannel. 'So, sister, how are you feeling?' Fannel asked, grasping her hand. Against his warm touch, she realized her fingers had gone cold.
'Exhilarated. Rebellious. I want to go!' She replied, internally registering that it was a lie. She was exhilarated, and she was rebellious. But she didn't want to go - to leave - for a hostile Palace. A palace again. For six years she had lived here - not setting foot into any castle. And she was very sure that if she had a choice, she would turn her head and march into the Vedessan Palace - choose it before any other. It was like a favorite weapon, or a favorite dress - while others would do, the first choice would always be Idgard. And Idgardians, for that matter.
But Fannel laughed, throwing his head back. 'That's the way they all feel. Exhilarated, rebellious. Then, you return and it becomes routine.'
'Don't you dare ruin the fun,' another senior commented.
'Apologies, Desdane.' Fannel rolled his eyes, raising his hands in an I accept defeat way.
'The trial - you picked Akwanda. For her?' Watson finally asked, finding his voice. 'Do you have the guts to go their yourself?'
'The reason I picked it for her,' Mark clarified, quite relaxed about it, 'is that she is braver than I. And we need good spies in Akwanda. It has got a new Queen, a year back. And the new queen is very influential. She is stunning - and assertive - and has got a mind. The King is quite charmed - he might give in to whatever she says which is why - she can be dangerous.'
'Leave that stupid queen - what have you picked for me?' Watson asked, his expression stuck somewhere between dread and excitement. The very same sticky point where Alexandra's whole life was stuck.
'What gives you the idea that you are getting a trial?' Fannel asked, reclining once again with arms folded and giving Alexandra a let's have some fun stare.
'Wait - I'm not?'
'Of course not!' She agreed. 'You are too fickle for a trial.' She added, in a shrug.
'Mabel? You too?'
'Of course, she too,' Fannel replied, 'there's a choice between me and you - who do you think will choose you? Mabel's a wise girl, anyhow.'
'Yes,' Alexandra crossed her arms, 'I'm on my brother's side!'
'Ultimate betrayal,' Watson grunted, making a face. 'What can I sa-'
'You seem to have got ultimate deafness, Agent, because they are calling you.' Fannel told him, interrupting.
The Elf got up to run - but he didn't look too excited about it. And when he got a trial, he looked over to them, as though he'd throttle both the brother and sister alive. But Mark Fannel didn't seemed the slightest perturbed. He simply passed a hand through his hair, ruffling it - in a slightly annoying habit that he had incorporated a hundred times each day, into his routine.