The Exiled Gem

Second Year Test

337 B.C. - Idgard

If everybody loves you, something is wrong. Find at least one enemy to keep you alert.

-Paulo Coelho

Five months.

Five, long months. That much time had passed since the Second Years had started learning law. Alexandra was as good as any barrister, but her head felt strangely conceited and thick with all of that. Her eyes stung in the mornings, when she was supposed to wake at three, as she spent the nights reading. There were huge dark circles under everyone's eyes. Only for Master George it seemed like everything was going good.

In a way, it was good that she was acquainted with Kane. Otherwise, the Council would become unbearably dull when Mark Fannel left for trials. Like now. But Kane, was more than he let on. He was a seasoned teacher and had apparently taught law to his whole year, too. Everybody seemed to like him - even the newest first years couldn't help warming up. And he was the Spy of the Espionage - because he agreed to spy for anybody who did his detention in his place. As a result, sometimes, they didn't have to sit in the burning weaponry and read law. All this happened right under Master George's nose - and the best part was that Alexandra got clients to Kane.

They were running a corrupt business inside the Council. 

But what was life without a little risk? Alexandra was sure Liam wouldn't have minded - and if the emperor himself didn't mind, there wasn't much need to worry. Kane had once suggested that they "clean the dormitories for anybody who pays for it". Alexandra had humbly asked who would do the cleaning. When he had replied that she would, of course, he had received a near-fatal whack on the face with the stout law book.

She was very sure nobody would pay for her cleaning. In fact, those poor souls would have to demand money from them for their destroyed rooms. But because Mark Fannel and Kane Alden were two of the most sensible and skilled people of the Espionage, their acceptance had helped Alexandra's position. When Alden invited her to the fifth year table, nobody gawked any longer. In fact, they asked her if she liked dagger combat. To which the answer was always "yes", indubitably. She knew there was no looking back now - she would earn all their acceptance. Even their stern teacher's, because there was a soft interior to him somewhere beyond the hard crust.

She wondered how Liam had got the idea to put her in this place. Whatever the reason behind that maybe, one thing was crystal clear: his split second decision had set Alexandra into the life of her dreams. A place where nobody cared if boots were muddy or hair was undone, where all that mattered was skill and knowledge, where everybody was a warrior and where almost all "important" things happened. Equal parts of terror and calm - tests and parties - bullies and friends.

Maybe the bullies were not a part of her dream ... but she couldn't possibly have everything.  And now, after Watson's outrageous comment about her, they had severed all communication links. If she passed any of her year-mates, even if they smiled tentatively, Alexandra looked away. Maybe it was a little harsh, but Watson hadn't even apologized. Unless he did, none of them existed for her. 

Alexandra knew Watson would strike back. Definitely - and that was why she was taut as a bowstring in their last class.

It was two weeks before the term ended, and the last class was when their exams were announced. Alexandra had absolutely no idea what the test would be. If it was something like combat ... well, that would then be fine. But some part of her knew it wasn't. It was something much bigger.

Master George looked strangely serious. Meaning, even more serious than usual, which was quite unnerving. He frowned at them as they assembled for the class. It seemed as if he was wondering whether they would live another week or not. Beside him was a bowl with folded bits of paper. Alexandra didn't like the sight of it. Her instincts said that there was something dangerous written in those chits. The seven of them stood around him, their hands crossed as they gazed intently either at the teacher or the bowl.