This is for Fledge, with a guarantee that it will be completed. WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS SEX AND FEMSLASH. IF YOU'RE TOO YOUNG OR NOT AT HOME WITH SEX, STOP READING NOW.

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As the celebrations of the morning faded and receded, many families were going home or going off for personal celebrations together, Alice having posed for several iconographs of Tump girls' graduation and even having rounded up as many of her graduates as possible for a semi-formal Tump House group picture. She found her footsteps moving back towards the Chapel, where her preparations for the night had begun, what felt like half a lifetime before. She remembered the greaseproof bag she'd acquired at the Guild kitchen, and secreted in an inner pocket.

I'd better do this before it starts to stink, she thought, and Oh alright then, they're all alive this morning, so I suppose I owe you!

In the gloom of the Chapel, she discovered she wasn't alone.

Emmanuelle and Johanna had retreated there too, and they answered each others' unspoken questions.

"One in traction at the Lady Sybil, thanks to Sir Samuel. The rest got home alright. " she said.

"You know, Sam Vimes is perhaps not the complete bastard and enemy of Assassins he would like to be seen as.". Emmanuelle mused. "For myself, I lose two." She shrugged, expressively. "I wish I could say c'est la vie. Or even c'est le morte. But spare a thought for poor Joan. Of her Scholarship class, she has lost six."

Johanna looked glum.

"Three, from Raven. End one on a long period of study leave, on her way to Howondalaand. I hope she hes the wit to cross the border to the Boor country!"

"Lucinda Rust? I do not believe she could find her bottom with both hands and an anatomy book!" Emmanuelle said, unkindly.

Alice coughed.

"I've got a little ritual of thanks to make" she said. "Would you both care to join in and chant the response?"

Alice turned out the butchers' bag onto the altar slab dedicate to Blind Io.. The two unpleasantly globular sheeps' eyes plopped out onto it.

To who he is blind yet sees all…. We offer praise unto the Harvester of Eyes, the all-blind and yet the unseeing…

Her father had led this chant a thousand times if he'd done it once. Alice sung the line, the others the response:

Harvester of eyes, that's He... (.Harvester of eyes)
And He sees all there is to see...(Harvester of eyes)
When He looks inside your head....(Harvester of eyes!)
Right up front to the back of your skull....(Harvester of eyes!)(1)

Alice raised the knife to Heaven, showed it briefly in the direction of Dunmanifestin and the Hub, then brought the tip down just hard enough to perforate both eyeballs.

"I thank you" she said, stepping back. The three paused for a few moments to reflect on the night past and give thanks. Alice waited to allow the spiritual essence and eyeballosity of the offering to rise to Blind Io in Heaven, then gingerly took up the empty charnel remains of the eyeballs and went outside. Yes, there it was. She wasn't surprised. A raven. She set the unexpected treat down where the bird could find it, then nodded and turned towards a sink to wash her hands.

"I don't know about you two, but I could use some sleep." she said. Then she turned, frowned, and looked at the raven again. No, probably just tiredness. But she could have sworn it was wearing a saddle…

Behind them, the Death of Rats, unheeded, leant indulgently against a wall and said SQUEAK! with great smugness.

"Thanks, buddy" Quoth said, indistinctly. "When I next see Blind Io, I'll mention to him that the Bishop of Quirm's daughter believes just enough to perform the old rite!"

Alice threw off her clothes, glad to be out of the clinging second skin of leather, and dropped into bed, for once without washing.

Before sleep, memories stirred…

Alice and Johanna had been sleeping together, in a platonic sense, for a few weeks. Alice tried to convince herself that it made sense, in an otherwise cold upper room, as winter drew on. Two bodies together kept each other warm, and it made good sense. And after all, Johanna was from an all-year-round-warm country: she wasn't used to Ankh-Morpork winters. This was only a kindness, Alice tried to convince herself. Even so, it was the sort of kindness that could drive Alice to distraction: after a night of snuggled closeness to a perfectly-formed female body but with nothing she could do about it. Her only remedy in the morning was to lock the bathroom door and find five minutes to go solo, biting her lip to censor herself against making excessive noise when she climaxed.

And that was the other thing.

Whenever two young healthy people are forced by inclination or circumstances to share a room, there is a particular issue of room-sharing etiquette which is never, ever, spoken about in the books of manners and courtesy. Everybody who has been in this position knows about it, but nobody really wants to ever talk about it. It can have otherwise rational people, who could cheerfully discuss anything else under the sun but this, tied up in knots of squirming embarrassment.

It happened to Alice on those nights where Johanna slept in her own bed, generally furtively at around one in the morning. Alice appreciated that Johanna was waiting until when she thought Alice to be deeply asleep, and would therefore neither be listening nor, presumably, embarrassed.

Well, I am! Alice thought, listening to the furtive manipulation going on in the next bed, noises betraying that her room-mate was trying to masturbate without making the springs rattle too much and too suspiciously regularly, nor wriggle about too much, nor make too much noise, lest her room-mate be awoken and realize, thus bringing shame down on her head.

Alice wondered whether to join in, but thought better of it as this might really embarrass the poor girl. She never went to a boarding school, Alice thought, After lights-out at QCYL, it was thought to be perfectly natural. We all did it. Just so long as you were careful to fantasise only about boys and didn't make the mistake of offering to lend a hand to the pretty girl in the next bed. There could be as many as thirty of you all going at it in unison after lights-out!

Alice, feigning sleep, was careful to build an imaginative picture in her head as to how a sexually hung-up Boor girl might go about surreptitiously gaining necessary sexual relief. Sometimes, mischief made her stir in her "sleep", to hear all noise from the next bed suddenly cease to un-natural still dead silence… then she'd pretend to drop off again and allow Johanna to build to a vocally repressed final climax.

And never more than once? She needs educating! Alice decided, wondering about the right circumstances in which she could raise the issue, without undue embarrassment.

Alice herself saved her personal needs for the bathroom, preferring to go solo in the private luxury of the hot tub. This was just as well: Johanna, under Alice's tutelage, was beginning to shed some inhibitions and could at least come from bathroom to bedroom wrapped in a single damp towel. She was even allowing Alice the physical closeness of letting her brush and style that glorious red-gold hair. Alice appreciated these moments of getting up close to her bath-fresh room-mate, making them into sessions of mutual grooming that Johanna accepted were wholly proper, appropriate and delightful as between friends. As yet, Johanna was innocent that Alice's thoughts were straying towards less innocent matters, like seduction, but Alice reasoned that allowing herself a hobby – of working towards one day properly bedding her thick, naïve, gloriously attractive room-mate – was keeping her sane in difficult circumstances. But how she'd achieve that final step with somebody who was hung up on all things sexual, especially lesbian, and particularly with somebody who like her was being trained to kill (and might well manifest this if threatened, affronted or betrayed) was for the moment beyond her.

Ah well. Let's be platonic, for the moment…

Alice was also noticing other things about her friend. One day, the genial Reverend Clement was talking to them about lifestyle and marriage customs back home in Kwa'Zululand. Emmannuelle was mischievously encouraging him to talk about attitudes to sexuality among the Zulu peoples, and, with a nod to Johanna, he was obliging, in some detail and frankness.

"We don't properly finalise the marital vows until we are forty, but that doesn't mean we have to live like monks and nuns beforehand, oh dear me, no." he said. For marriage to be withheld for so long makes it more likely that we have found the right person, for one thing, which means divorce or marital breakdown is unknown among us."

Joan nodded, approvingly. "Jolly good idea!" she said "But surely women start to have children before that?"

"We have a kind of conditional marriage" Clement said, "which allows for the making of children. As traditionally our children are raised by the tribe as well as the family, it matters less of the parents choose to separate or make final marriages with other people. All our children are loved and treated fairly and equally within the clan's kraal. Men generally do not become fathers until their thirties. Before then, younger men and women in their twenties and teens are encourages to have limited sexual contact, but not of the sort that makes children. With that one taboo, we may have sexual contact with whom we like, as often as we like, regardless of gender. Sometimes a male Zulu may wish, as his preference, contact with other males. Fine, so long as eventually he marries and fathers a child as his duty to the tribe. The same applies to women. As long as she has at least one child, she may love as she pleases, discreetly. I see you approve, Miss Band? Miss Smith-Rhodes, you appear distracted?"

Clement smiled, and carried on. "Do you know, I found the manners and morals of Ankh-Morpork, especially in the sexual sphere of human experience, to be strange and irrational. I find it hard to understand that your young people are constrained by a social expectation that they do not and should not masturbate. That is rather akin to telling young people not to breathe air or drink water. No wonder you grow up into adults with nervous tics! " He paused.

"Miss Smith-Rhodes, do you perhaps need to loosen your collar? You are looking rather disturbed and uncomfortable. No? Very well, then! As young people in the Kwa'Zulu lands, we are allowed masturbation, mutual masturbation, oral and anal sex as consensual ways of getting the urge out of our systems and maintaining psychological health. The one form we are forbidden is that which makes children, as we believe a mother under the age of perhaps twenty-five is too young for the responsibility."

He's doing it on purpose, Alice thought, smiling. He's winding up Johanna. But in a nice way, with good intentions behind it. And there's something else there…

"Why, at home I have two wives waiting for me. As several thousand miles currently separate us, they have my permission to seek sexual pleasure as they will, and I have theirs. This is described as a Quirmian Marriage, is it not, madame les Deux-Ėpées? A civilized concept, as no doubt you and your husband would agree!"

And he's winding up Emmanuelle too…

The Reverend N'Effabl wound up their group discussion with a smile, remarking that very soon the Guild will be taking your class out on a… well, let's just call it a soirée. Again, the intention is to test out how you behave and react in mixed social company. But I really don't think they've thought out the implications of your being the first-ever female students to go on such a trip. Ah well, they'll find out in time for when the girl pupils arrive later in the year. Now I must go to my third year Applied Vindictive Theology class. Ladies. Miss Smith-Rhodes."

He tipped his hat and left.

Emmanuelle, later on, nudged Alice in the ribs.

"I think I've worked it out, chère amie" she said. "Johanna blushes whenever our so-attractive chaplain is nearby. She has, I think, ze torch on him. Hearing him talk the shocking talk about sex, she wants him in her bed. But she is Boor, and he is black of skin. So we have a conflict, yes? She is hot for him and ashamed of the desire. Ah, your clever, clever, uncle Hughnon! This is going to be so very interesting, ma chèrie!"

In the meantime, Alice was coming to terms with the definitive awareness that if Johanna had a crush on anyone at all, it was a lot closer to home than the chaplain… in fact, it was her, Alice Band, who was the object of her attention. Johanna said as much, one night in bed:

"You're so pretty, Ellice. You're so sophisticated. You're born to this sort of life! Me, I feel like the redneck beckwerd country girl next to you!"

Alice gently soothed her friend. "Well, it's true you're from another country a long way away, but you're marking yourself down really cruelly. There's no need for it!"

"Next to you, I feel ugly!" she wailed.

Alice sighed. This was going to be tricky.

"Look. You're not just pretty. You're actually quite stunning. Your wardrobe could use some improvement and I don't think I've ever seen you use makeup, but we can work on those. And I'm human, Johanna. When I go to the privy it certainly doesn't smell of roses, and for four or five days in the month I'm impatient and bad-tempered and could quite easily accept any contract going, for the sheer pleasure of taking it out on someone. I don't want to be a goddess. I'm human, Johanna. All I can ever promise you is friendship." Alice quickly kissed her on the lips. To her surprise, the girl kissed back.

"Thenk you, Ellice" she murmured, and went to sleep.

Alice sighed. Another sexless night, then.

The Concordat of the Assassins' Guild is the official handbook governing all matters to do with Assassination and the approved way in which the Assassin conducts himself at all times. In the chapters dealing with the education a young man may be certain of receiving at the Guild School, is a promise that the school curriculum includes lessons in all those areas of social deportment that make a man of the world who can blend seamlessly and effortlessly into any social company.

While the Concordat is regularly updated to allow for emerging changes and opinions in the world outside, at this point in time, on the brink of the biggest change of all to happen to the school, some of its language and assumptions have already been proven to be inaccurate and archaic. But as the School, at this exact moment, only has four female pupils, no thought has, as yet, been given to how the Concordat should be updated, especially in terms of "conducting himself", "the thorough education a young man may expect to receive" and the rather euphemistically described "areas of social deportment".

The Guild is just about to find out, as it seeks to cram five years of education into one for the Mature Students' Class, that the Concordat desperately needs revising.

The soirée. that Clement had hinted at happened on the following Wednesday evening. The Mature Students' Class were instructed at short notice to dress as for a formal evening reception at a smart town house. Joan, Emmannuelle and Alice gathered round to dress Johanna up as best they could in a borrowed evening dress, piling and pinning up her hair in an approximation of current style, and applying minimal make-up.

The result didn't look bad, Alice conceded, although there was still a definite Second-Hand-Rose aspect to her.

"Alright, girls, let's go." Joan said, briskly. "Where is this wretched reception, anyway? Can't be the Palace. Vetinari doesn't usually give this sort of notice. One of the Lords, maybe. That's probably it. We're going to be bored out of our wits by Selachii or Rust or Eorle, just mark my words! Word of advice, girls. According to the boys, they watch and mark you on how well you fit in and how well you circulate."

Joan frowned. She'd asked some of the older boys, and they'd "erm'ed" and shuffled and averted her eyes, as if there was something else there that they weren't at home talking to a female teacher about. Ah well, she'd find out.

"I hope it is not Rust." Emmannuelle said. "The last I had to do with that family, I punched one of the sons."

"Why?"

"I was not wearing a sword" she shrugged.

"Coaches are waiting. Let's bag one." Joan said

They went down to the yard, noting the male part of the Mature Students Class seemed to be in on a secret they had not been admitted to. Their general deportment ranged from bravado to mild embarrassment. Alice felt she was intruding on a Lads' Night Out.

The Compte de Yoyo and Grune di Nivor were part of the escort: the third senior Assassin present was Lady T'Malia, who was black of face and looked like she'd been having an argument with her male counterparts. Alice looked at Joan and the others, All their eyes said "Something is going on". But then they were hurried into the coaches, before Joan could beard T'Malia.

The procession of coaches didn't travel very far across the city. Everyone disembarked . Outside the Seamstresses' Guild on Sheer Street.

"I hope they have a good explanation for this." muttered Emmanuelle, as they were swept inside by welcoming flunkies.

There was a good explanation. Well, an explanation, anyway. Emmanuelle stormed over to Rosie Palm herself, and quietly asked "Remember me?" in a low voice.

Rosie didn't bat an eyelid. "I heard what happened to you after this Guild turned you down for membership. Believe me, I'm truly sorry. I regret that we let you down."

"Quite. Now perhaps you pay amends, hmmm? Pour commencer. What is happening here and why.."

"Didn't you know? I knew that there are female candidates for Licenced Assassin status, but I was taken aback to see you were brought here tonight, as this evening isn't really for you, to be honest. That's why T'Malia, bless her, isn't happy. Look, sit down. I'll explain. You have read the school curriculum as it appears in the Concordat? The one they are training you mature students to? And are you aware what it really means by lessons in all those areas of social deportment that make a man of the world?"

She explained. Emmanuelle's jaw dropped.

"So… fourth and fifth and sixth form male pupils at the School are brought here, at Guild expense…"

"The Guild has a contract. And many of my girls love it when a Guild class is brought here. Strong, fit, well-bodied, handsome young men are something of a contrast, compared to what they normally deal with. The young men go away having had an extra dimension added to their education, and everyone is happy."

"But…. We're employed to deal with the girl pupils who arrive here next year… surely not?"

"No," Rosie said, briskly. "I think you misunderstand. I think it is expected that you will have to do exactly the opposite for the girls. A young daughter of the upper classes is expected to be a virgin on her wedding night. You and your colleagues have been engaged to ensure that happy state of affairs continues throughout their schooldays. On the other hand, it's expected that their brothers will carry on being brought here. Their fathers pay a slightly inflated school fee in that year to pay for their sons' education in my classrooms. Up until now, it's worked. Your male colleagues in the class are getting an unexpectedly pleasant evening, as part of their training, paid for by the Guild Council. The problem is, I thought I was only getting the male pupils. I'm not at all sure what to do to accommodate you four." She sighed.

"I'll speak to T'Malia" she decided, standing. "If you or Miss Band or the… Marriage Guidance Counsellor… can think of any productive way I could offer for you to spend your evening with us, I'd be delighted to hear it!"

"And you still owe me a favour!"

"I'll let you know when you've run out of favour, my dear. Of course, you could always work for me part-time?"

Emmanuelle laughed.

"But would the Guild allow it? I would bet half the men who come here are either on our list of contracts or have paid for contracts to be taken out on others. Or both!"

"Ah, the old conflict of Guild interests again!" laughed Rosie. "But so nice to meet you again, my dear. The very best of luck in your new career!"

Elsewhere, Johanna was the centre of interest among Seamstresses, who were admiring her complexion and her gorgeous hair and reaching out to touch it. She was giddy and flattered.

"So you ere Seamstresses." she said. "Tell me, I've never been clear ebout this. Does sewing things end stitching bring in much of a wage?"

There was an embarrassed silence. Joan stepped in. "Excuse me, girls." she said. "My friend is new to this city and Morporkian is not her first language."

"Evidently" said a Seamstress.

As Emmanuelle came back to them, shaking her head, Joan was busily explaining certain facts of life and semantics to the Howondalandian girl.

"Oh dear. She made the obvious mistake?"

"I'm afraid so. Ah, this is Mrs Battye. An old friend."

Joan made the introduction; Sandra Battye, a woman who looked indefinably out of place in this gathering, smiled and explained that she was a very old friend of Mrs Palm, and by arrangement, did the other sort of Seamstressing.

"Don't look so embarrassed, everybody makes that mistake."

Emmanuelle nodded.

"I have an idea. Mrs Battye, I know Mrs Palm is the very busy woman of afffaires, but could you arrange for her to give us a few minutes? I have the idea as to how our time here might best be spent. Where's Alice?"

They looked around. No Alice Band. Joan looked at Emmanuelle and a certain knowing expression passed between them.

"Perhaps Alice isn't finding this evening quite as much of a waste of time as we are?" Joan offered, poker-faced.

"Mais oui!" Emmanuelle said, forcing herself not to smile. "Alice would in certain respects be at home here tonight."

She looked at Johanna. Joan looked at Johanna.

"Mais – pas devante la mignonne, peut-être?"

Rosie Palm, recalled, heard Emmanuelle's proposal. Joan joined in with

"Your ladies do you credit, mrs Palm. Impeccably and tastefully dressed and made up. As you can see, our friend, through no fault of her own, comes from a remote colony, and is ill-equipped with the skills to dress and present herself to the standard the Guild requires. Perhaps your coutumier and styliste can spend a couple of hours with her? She might perhaps be able to borrow some dresses? To the value of what the Guild is prepared to pay on the entertainment of each male student here tonight?"

"But of course!" Rosie said. "Please, ladies, follow me! Wasn't there a fourth with you? Ah well, I daresay she's entertaining herself elsewhere."

The fourth had been accosted by one of the male students.

While the other men were happily mingling, drinking, weighing up and selecting from the ladies on offer , Alice, disgruntled, had been saying hello to a bottle of Zlobenian vodka. She had just started her second large glass when Graham Blakeney came up to her, looking furtive and worried. He was a quiet little man whom Alice had paid precious little attention to before then, but tonight she could see he was worried.

"Alice. Please help." He pleaded. "I can't do it! Not here! Not tonight!"

She nodded, sympathetically. Some men were more fastidious about these things. Or had opinions. Or were naturally celibate, perhaps impotent. And tonight, Clement had said, was still part of the training. They would be watched. And marked.

She got him a drink, and they sat down where they could not easily be overheard.

"How can I help you? What is there about me?" she asked.

"Don't you know?" Graham replied. "Can't you, of all people, see?"

"Who, me? Why should I be able to see?"

He gave a harsh, slightly effeminate, little laugh.

"Well, I've seen it in you since day one, luvvie" he said.

Alice nearly dropped her drink. He knows!

"And I tell you what, I see a face like yours in the mirror every morning when I shave. Somebody who's desperately trying to fit in and present a face that says 'nothing queer about me, luvvie' "

Seeing her stricken face, he patted her hand.

"It's called gaydar, my love. Takes one to spot one."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Only to another gay. And your secret's safe with me."

Alice made a decision. Seeing her three friends were all busy elsewhere, Emmanuelle talking to Rosie, Joan to Sandra Battye, and Johanna being mobbed by admiring Seamstresses, she swallowed her drink down and called a senior-looking Seamstress over.

"Is there a private room where we could wait, and Mrs Palm could come and talk to us about special requirements?" she asked.

"Of course. Come this way."

They were led out of the main salon to a private office. Drinks were brought. After an interval, Mrs Palm arrived.

"My friend here has a problem. I'm sure as a lady of great discretion you can find a solution?"

"But of course." Mrs Palm said, sizing up the two customers.

"Both of you will of course like to look at the appropriate special list?"

Alice looked dumbstruck. Rosie smiled. She had had long experience in matching clients to their needs.

"All my customers deserve utmost discretion, Miss Band. My invoice to the Guild is not itemized and nor does it discriminate. It is paid as a matter of honour and never questioned. Mr Wimvoe knows I bill reasonably and fairly. Your special interests are safe with me."

She rang a bell. A Seamstress came to the call.

"Fetch Mr Harris's special list, would you, Chloe? Thank you so much."

She lifted a large album down from the wall.

"This is the special list for ladies such as yourself, Miss Band. Indulge yourself, as the Guild will be paying. Ah, thank you, Chloe. Mr Harris is my agent for gentlemen of taste and discernment, mr Blakeney. He will ensure complete discretion and satisfaction in your choice!"

Alice and Graham looked at each other, shared an embarrassed grin, and opened their respective albums.

Alice turned the pages slowly and methodically, taking in the iconographs, the descriptions, the personal statements from each girl, and finally made a choice.

"This one". she said.

Rosie nodded.

"Donna. An impeccable selection. Will you be so kind as to follow me? I'll have someone deal with you when your selection is made, mr Blakeney."

Alice was led to a sumptuously decorated and furnished boudoir. There was wine in an ice-bucket, and two glasses. Alice, feeling oddly self-conscious, took a seat and poured a glass. This was the first time in her life she'd been with a Seamstress. Part of her mind relished the naughtiness of it, while another part marvelled at how impersonal it all was. Still, she'd picked one who met her tastes completely. She hoped.

A little knock at the door. Then Donna was there, smiling, petite, pretty, girlish. Alice welcomed her with the other glass of wine, and they talked for a while. Then, the wine consumed, they moved to the bed and began to undress each other.

Donna shivered with every concealed weapon she discovered.

"Relax, my love. They're not meant for you" Alice soothed her, finding that being undressed and disarmed was turning her on beyond belief. If nothing else, it made up for weeks of inadvertent teasing from Johanna. Alice frantically kissed Donna's mouth and neck, running her fingers through the girlish bob of hair. The girl responded with passion and vigour, and their bodies and legs locked in ecstatic passion.

It was Donna who climaxed first, and after that she was eager to repeat the favour for Alice. It was setting in to be a far better night than Alice had expected…

Joan, leaving Johanna to the tuition of a different Guild's style counselors and professional dressers and make-up artists, nodded with satisfaction and went for another drink.

She ended her night in a social game of whist with Sandra Battye and the Guild enforcers, the Agony Aunts, who, recognizing a kindred spirit, treated her with respect and a certain admiration. In between hands, they discussed techniques for dealing with men who, regrettably, were unable to behave with respect and courtesy towards women. Joan learnt several new theoretical skills to add to her repertoire, and, in her own way, thoroughly enjoyed her night at the Seamstresses' Guild.

Alice, in a happy half-doze in Donna's arms, was awoken by Mrs Palm, who coughed and said the visiting party would be returning to the Guild in half an hour.

As they dressed, Donna sighed and wished Alice could stay all night.

"Would you ask for me when you visit again?" she asked.

Alice smiled.

"I'd like to. But I need to earn some money first. I can't go to Uncle Hughnon for a thousand-dollar sub to go to the Seamstresses Guild with. He indulges me, but I doubt he'd indulge me that far!"

"You're different. Most of the women who ask for me are older. And… plumper. And less athletic. They're nice, but it isn't often I get to see a young woman of nearer my own age. Not one who's as good in bed as you are. I wish I could see you… outside the Guild. Just for fun, no money. But there are rules about that!"

Alice kissed her again.

"I'll come back!" she said, and sincerely meant it.

They met again on the way out. Emmanuelle's face creased into a grin.

"Cherie! Where were YOU all night?"

Alice smiled, contentedly.

"Don't ask. I might tell the truth."

Graham Blakeney was one of the last to join the party. He raised an ecstatic thumbs-up to Alice. She returned his salute. Great God Io, is that Johanna? She's been transformed! Then they got in the coaches and went home, only to have to awaken at seven for pre-breakfast weapons drills, just to remind them life wasn't all about parties and earthly comforts.

This chapter ends here for now. There will be more, but it's midnight and bed is calling. Call back soon for more femslash…..

1 (1) On Roundworld, performed by Gothic hard-rockers the Blue Öyster Cult, a band not unknown to Terry Pratchett. On the Secret Treaties album of 1973.