Operation Reconnaissance

0111 En Garde

A low whistle of wind sounded beside the spies' ears. Four friends sat around a round table in the middle of the garden watched the sublime view, regardless of the curfew. The sun had just peeked over the glimmering water, leaving a golden shine on the glossy surface.

There weren't such things elsewhere, not France, not even the rest England itself. It was truly unique, serene as it was. A comfortable silence had lapsed over the whole of Karavine Institute as the last of the chatter diminished among the students as night fell.

The glitters of the sea reflected in the intelligent boy's eyes, brightening up the dark brown with sparkles of gold. Around him, a red-haired charming girl, a wanton green-eyed boy, and a meticulous brown-eyed girl sat calmly. The charming girl twiddled her thumbs, a childish habit she's never quite been able to rid herself of. Her eyes were frequently glossing over with the crushing pain of looking at her friends, wishing on a mere straw of hope that the revolution would end, and if it never did, they could at least escape.

The meticulous girl felt her heart ache at the sight of her red-haired friend, being that she always somehow understood the other girl's thoughts. Deep down, however in denial she seemed, the girl wanted the dream to come true as much as her friend did.

The wanton boy lets a small sigh escape his lips, putting his palms on the back of his head. The horizon drew a line across his green eyes. Somewhere he knew, right beyond that limited horizon, was a safe place for the four of them. How he wished, how he beseeched that the world wouldn't be so cruel.

The intelligent boy carried a burden. He felt the three friends rest upon his shoulders and he was silently and willingly crushed under their weight. There was no way he could protect all of them, even if he wanted to. It was him that dragged the charming girl into betraying their own country.

Four unified dreams reached out to the horizon. They were shot down by their chained souls.

---

A sharp poke on Lancelot's back was the telltale sign that he lost. He swung around with the metal rod that he still couldn't quite view as a practice sword in his right hand, barely missing his opponent, who ducked with a loud yelp. The fencing instructor turned towards the pair. Lancelot covered up his act by dropping the sword onto the grass, rubbing his neck and smiling. A majority of the class laughed at the wanton boy.

"Pardon me, Rowley. Swordsmanship isn't a common thing in Edinburgh," Lancelot apologized. To this, Rowley only smiled and shook his head.

"I had expected better, but I suppose it was wrong of me to have done so," returned Lancelot's opponent, picking up his metal rod and handing it back to him.

On the other edge of the practicing field, a loud clang vibrated through the grass. A rod flew out of a girl's grasp, dropping to the floor. Watchers marveled at the duel between the best female fencer in their class and the Edinburgh resident. Chatter filled up the field, followed by a loud admonition from the instructor  to the students to keep to themselves.

"Not too bad. You're not too callow, are you?" The fencer, Rosalind, commented. Jocelyn shyly looked to the blades of grass all around her.

"I suppose," replied the brown-eyed girl in a quiet voice, "I had no notion of my actions."

Rosalind chuckled lowly, holding her metal rod up in front of Jocelyn's eyes. "We'll see, friend."

---

Alexa caught sight of Tristan, beckoning him towards her just as the bell rang. With an eyebrow raised, the boy approached the girl. She pulled him around a corner into the men's restroom before realizing her actions.