Stacy looked over the crowd. This semester had a grand total of thirty-two students. A little small by their standards, but it meant they would have more one on one teaching. That would allow for higher quality soldiers which increased the value of their contracts at the end of their training.
Their prices were already exuberant. Most of their clients thought the money went directly to their pockets. In actuality running a school in the middle of the desert was highly expensive. Importing food and water alone went to over half of it.
It had one major benefit that made the cost worthwhile. There was literally miles of usable training grounds with no need to worry about either civilian casualties or chimera interference. Using that space they made facilities that imitated every environment you could find on the continent. Urban enviroments was their largest, naturally. There was also forests, planes, mountains, and of course desert. All of it was artificial except the mountains and the desert.
Her students would be competent in any situation, and both businesses and cities were well aware of that fact. They griped, but they paid.
That was the pragmatic side of her mind. As headmistress that part was a necessary evil to have. It wasn't the only necessary evil. It was far from the only one.
The side of herself she nurtured daily was happy for the more personal training for a different reason. It would mean they had a better chance of surviving. She kept a record of each student who went through these doors. When they died she put that date under them, when it happened, and how. It was a depressing photo album, but it kept her humanity and in touch with the price her students were willing to pay. The cost of their schooling paled in comparison.
Their testing was going to start immediately after her speech. The bottom two are guaranteed to fail. If more failed then the number failed would still allow for even teams of five.
Of course if a certain blonde forced Stacy to fail her out during the field trials, again, then the best of the dropped would find themselves passing after all. She both hoped she washed out and wanted her to pass. She didn't want to see her death in her album later, but she was one of the best. Alisha would have a better chance of surviving her profession than whoever would take her spot.
The headmistress had a shrewd guess that Alisha's past failures had motivated her to improve her control over that temper of hers. She was going to pass this year. She knew it.
Well, however the dice rolled she couldn't put off welcoming this year's students any longer. Stepping forward she touched the mic, instantly powering it.
Stacy knew full well her speeches were nothing spectacular. It was much harder to work a crowd than it was to read a single individual, and a crowd negated the bonus she had from having more information on the student than they had on her. There were advantages to having students in almost every major city she knew of.
She would hide her nerves as well as she could. Second impressions were possibly more important than the first in some situations.
There was a feeling of hope suffusing Ana as she listened to the headmistress's speech. It wasn't that what she said was bad. There really wasn't much to say right now, just the usual tripe: welcome to the school, hope you enjoy as you learn, and good luck on the test. She'd heard it all from her previous schools, and frankly it bored her the first time. It had only gotten worse since then.
No, what was raising her spirits was how it was delivered. There was a sound of nervousness in her monotone droning voice that had not been there before.
It gave Ana hope that her activities wouldn't be as severely curtailed as she feared. Ms. Gallows was not the impregnable woman she wanted the world to see. It didn't mean she was going to be a push over. She would have to watch her moves carefully.
Well, that was not of importance at the moment. What was of importance was the test before her. If anything was going to trip her up the next five double sided pages of questions would be it.
She was surprised by the first four pages. They were more of a psychological workup than a test of knowledge. That purpose wasn't exactly obvious on some questions. "How would you handle this tactical situation" was used a lot, for example. Some were extremely obvious. "How would you get information out of a prisoner?"
The headmistress had mentioned that the field exercise was more about finding out what track they were going to put each student. It occurred to her that this test was much the same thing. Possibly more so.
So, should she tell the truth, or lie? Telling the truth made her nervous for several reasons, not the least of which was her enjoyment of taking a life. Lying, on the other hand, could mean she would be put on a track away from her objective: a legal way to have her fun.
What the hell. The headmistress probably already knew the answers given how much she demonstrated her knowledge. The truth it was.
Simon stared blankly at the paper. Even if his hands would allow for him to use a pencil, there was no point. He couldn't read. All he saw was squiggles on the paper with a few diagrams of troop placements. Those he understood.
He guessed she was an assassin. The girl approaching from behind had the quiet steps you would expect of one. "The headmistress wanted me to help with your testing. She said you would have difficulty writing."
With a feeling of shame Simon curled his hands into fists to hide their overly extended fingers and sharp claws. His hands proved he was built for war, not peace.
The heads up display showed she was the class president. From his stay here he understood that was an elected position by the student body. Either she was elected based on popularity or by ability. That the headmistress trusted her made it clear which one it was.
Aside from being a potential assassin, she also had the comforting manner that put people at ease, much like a skilled politician. It made sense for an assassin or a spy alike. He could feel it attempting to work its magic on him, but he ignored it. Even if he could say for certain she wasn't what he expected, she was human. "Thank you."
Much like Ana had, he was surprised at the questions themselves. Unlike her he answered them honestly without hesitation. Within the first half hour it had been proven he had no secrets.
The entire time Josie read the questions without a hint of judgment. When they were done he had to ask. "Why are you treating me like one of your kind?"
"You mean human?" He nodded. "Honestly when I first started at DMA I was both scared and creeped out by even the lesser modifications. It's one of the things they teach us to get past though. At some point I'm going to count on a chimera to watch my back. If I can't do that I'm going to hesitate and likely die."
He liked her honesty. He wouldn't have believed some honey coated answer like "I just never saw a reason not to." It was much more believable to know she hadn't always been like this. "Thank you," he said sincerely.
Alisha sat back. She was the only one who didn't have a test in front of her, but she knew what would be on them. There wasn't much of a chance of her sister failing.
This was meant to wean out the ones who were the least likely to be able to handle combat. People who did not, and could not, understand what this learning was going to cost them. The people who didn't have the fortitude to see it through. The people who would not be capable of making the decisions that would mean the certain death to themselves or their friends.
Carole could fail based on those qualities if you judged her by what was on the surface, but she was deeper than that. She knew what she was signing up for. In a military family you couldn't help but know the sacrifice you make, or the cost to your loved ones when you fall.
That didn't mean she wanted Carole to succeed. It was what motivated her to want the opposite. If she failed this test she would have to return home where she would be safe. That wouldn't stop her from trying again next year, but it was something.
I must be a horrid person, she thought to herself, wanting my sister to fail like that. I should be supportive.
It wasn't a hard test Carole reflected. Some of the questions were oddly obvious, some were a bit more about thinking outside the box. She liked those. Her favorites involved doing what is morally right and likely fail the mission, forgo your humanity to succeed with absolute certainty, and all points in between.
Those she spent extra time until she came out with a third option: Absolute success without compromising her morals. Some of them were ingenious she had to admit, even by her standards. She wasn't always successful of course. Half the questions she was forced to decide. She answered those with a feeling of failure.
Despite all of her seeming joy and confidence, those answers hurt her. She knew being a soldier may require her to risk killing non-combatants, maybe even children. The question that featured a hostage situation had been particularly brutal. She estimated her solution would have a seventy percent chance of half of the hostages dying, but the orders were to capture or kill the perpetrators at any cost.
When she was put in that situation she wasn't sure how she would live with herself after. Those were the situations that her sister was the most scared of, and she knew it. Perhaps she shouldn't have put a sunny spin on it. She had hoped the cheer, which she honestly did feel on most levels, would put those fears at ease.
When she finished the first page she saw Yukiko finish her test. It really didn't bother her that the princess had finished first, but did she have to walk with that air of smug satisfaction? Carole wasn't prone to anger, but this was definitely making her lean in that direction.
When Carole had first seen her she'd been so excited. The Kimono alone told her she was Japanese in culture as well as blood. Her father had books he called manga. She wasn't sure how, but he said they came from before the cataclysm. The pages went backwards, but she got used to it. When she had time between training or hanging with friends she'd go through his library and read them. Some of the stories were very long.
So many worlds were introduced to her through them. Things like "Science Fiction" where marvels were performed that magic would never equal. Stories that were about magic that opperated in ways completly different than reality. What excited her the most though was the 'modern' stories. The ones that told her what it was like before it all went bad for the human race.
She wasn't sure how much of it was true. She was pretty sure that they didn't have demons, for example. It was a peek though.
The rich woman might be able to help decipher that though. She could have insight in how Japanese thought that she couldn't pick up through the pictured stories. At the very least she might help her understand the portion of the books that were written in the native language.
Now she was so put out that she didn't even want to be near her. It left her feeling a bit guilty that she had such a strong emotion response that it was going to taint every interaction with her from then on.
Feeling herself starting to get upset she returned to the test and shut out the world. She lost track of time as she analyzed each question to find the best solution, especially ways that was outside of the possible answers they were trying to direct her towards.
She jumped when she felt the hand on her shoulder. Master Peal, as he was identified, stood over her. She noticed that the rest of the auditorium was empty except for them. "Time's up."
Well didn't that figure. Naturally they wouldn't give a proper amount of time to find proper solutions for every situation. There wasn't always going to be a lot of time for her to work. She was glad she had looked through the pages and answered the last two before dealing with the more interesting pages. She had only gotten to the beginning of the third page.
Looking up blankly she asked "Uh, I didn't know there was a time limit."
"There isn't, but there is a start time for the combat assessment."
Carole blinked a few times in confusion. That assessment wasn't until ten. She couldn't have been working that long. She figured a half hour, at most, had gone by. It was a bit embarrassing.
This is so unnecessary, Yukiko thought with disdain. In truth her annoyance was more associated with the heat than with the test. The test was so simple she wasn't sure if anyone could fail. However her Kimono was only serving to make the desert's heat much worse than it should be.
Ignoring that heat, she worked through the questions quickly and efficiently. Not a single question would be incorrect; especially the oddly open ended ones that could have multiple solutions. Those she gave all the possibilities, which one she would choose among them, and why. That took longer, but it would impress she thought.
Managing to finish before anyone else, despite the exaggerated length of some of her answers, she returned the test to the front of the auditorium. Accepting the need of her body she inquired as to the location of the restroom.
Despite walking at a slow dignified pace befitting her station, she got quite a few stares as she exited. It could have been because she had chosen to pull her suitcase behind her for the simple task of using the restroom, or it could be caused by the perspiration that was working on ruining her makeup and soaking though her clothes.
She received even more stares when she returned. Gone was her silk ornamental garb and elaborate makeup. In its place were clothes more suited to the desert heat, and a cleanly washed face. She had also braided her hair to keep it out of her eyes. These were the clothes she would do battle in. The clothing her sensei had specifically arranged for her to use.
Despite herself Yukiko felt self conscious. These were westerner's clothing. Only her Sensei had ever seen her dressed like this. The t-shirt fit loosely, and khaki pants were comfortable and easy to move in, and both were a light tan that closely matched the desert sands.
Surprisingly no one laughed. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising actually. This is normal dress for them. Maybe it would have been better to have come dressed like this to start with. They may have accepted her then.
What am I thinking? she scolded herself. Their impression of me is unimportant. These clothes are an insult to my culture. I only wear them as a convenience.
She thought briefly about the rude child, Carole, and wished she was more mature and understood class differences. She had said Princess as if it were an insult. It was not accurate, but the status was approximately the same. If the child could understand that perhaps she could be of use.
It didn't matter. Next was the field exam. No one could see her test to know her skill, but she knew in this she would shine. They would know that she deserved respect for more than her status and money.
A small voice, whispering so softly that it nearly didn't exist, said in the dark depths of her mind, maybe they will even like me for more than what I can do for them. It wasn't a trusted voice. Subconsciously she threw it deeper into the darkness before it could allow her to hurt again.
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