The Exiled Gem

The Tournament Begins

That night dinner was unusually silent, all the boys were certainly pondering upon what they would do the next day. Alexandra herself wasn't feeling so good. Master George had skill, not strength. Tomorrow's opponent would have both. And she particularly didn't want to lose tomorrow, it would now be twice as humiliating as it would normally have been.

'After dinner,' Hans began, 'maybe we can all practice once again?' He offered. The rest of them nodded. Alexandra surmised they didn't mean her, so she continued to look down and eat.

But she felt their eyes on her. Looking up, Alexandra almost choked on the morsel. 'Why - are you all staring at me like that?'

'Help us practice,' Venly explained, shortly.

'What?' She asked again, raising her eyebrows. Why were they asking her now? 

'Help us practice! How did you defeat Master George?' Asked Watson, bending towards her. Alexandra felt all their expectant eyes ... alright, they had done pretty bad things to her. But now, if they wanted help... and in return, they would stop the constant nagging... maybe she could help them. 

First remind them, Mind advised.

'I can't lift a disc.' She reminded, obeying her logical half. 'I am weak. I'm employed to cook or - to clean.' She counted off, staring at them, harshly.

'Yes you cannot.' Watson replied. 'And that's a fact.'

'But - he is sorry for that night,' Paul added. Alexandra stared the two of them, her brows knit.

'He didn't say it,' she shrugged. 

Nobody said anything for a while. Whatever else his good bits might be, Watson had a huge superiority complex. So much so that he couldn't say a simple word "sorry". Alexandra just hated him all the more for it. But while that was true, not everybody was kind and accommodating. Some were like Watson - egoistic and inflexible. 

You will all help each other ... A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Master George had asked them to help each other. If so was the case ... Alexandra didn't have much problem.

Fine. She was ready to give him - and them - one final chance.

'Okay then, Kids.' She tilted her head and interlocked her fingers on the table, 'maybe in the Dormitory Hall at eight?' She offered. 

It was warming enough to see the relief on their faces.

* * *

'Wrestling - or more sophisticatedly - unarmed combat, is not a game of who is physically stronger.' She began, all her year-mates stood around her, forming a semi-circle. Alexandra didn't know what to feel about teaching as a profession ... it was too much of a headache, those constant doubts people had. But here she was, anyhow.

'It is a mind game.' She continued, 'today, when Master George was dueling me, I realized that when the combat has a time-limit, you can depend on your skill. But when it is without one, you should take your time and observe your opponent. They always fight like one or the other animal. I might be going offensive like a bull - defensive, like a tortoise raising it's shell, or I might be slithering up on your back, like a snake. And the fact is, every animal can be controlled. If only, you know it's weakness. You can win over your opponent, if you find out their weakness.

'So maybe, we should change our point of view - rather than looking at our opponents as someone we have to defeat, we can look at them as someone we have to control. And, of course we need to be fast with it.'