“Executive, administrative, enforcement, and morality.” Dean Edina, as we’ve been instructed to call her, wastes no time in the morning. The lecture begins the moment she steps foot across the threshold. “These are the hallmarks of the Nordanian way.”
We’re in a new room this time, arranged to look like a classroom. Eight walnut tables, set for two occupants each, face a podium against the far wall. The floors are the same black and white marble as the institute’s grand entry, and the walls are paneled from floor to ceiling in walnut. It feels cozy and contained, but the windows behind the podium bring in so much light that it doesn’t feel like a cave.
Dean Edina points to her right and works her way around the edge of the room as we each find our assigned seats and settle into place. “The prime minister, the First Lady, and the First Son represent the executive branch. The Board of Regents and the House of Legislators represent the administrative. Our military represents enforcement, and you, ladies, will become our beacon of morality.” She casts an indulgent glance over each of us as she circles back to stand behind the podium. Her smile tightens and her eyes narrow as she focuses on the room at large. A chill rushes down my spine. It’s real now. And I am definitely out of my league.
“Now, who can tell me what the center of the star represents? What gem lies at the heart of our nation, like those pretty stones lie at the heart of your charms?” She smiles again as more than a few fingers fuss with the dainty bracelets, tracing the points of the star she’s using as reference.
“Anyone?” Dean Edina asks. Furtive, uncertain glances bounce around the room before Fiona finally raises her hand. Dean Edina gestures for her to speak.
“Trade?”
The dean nods, smiling wide as her gaze lands meaningfully on me. I sink into my chair as more eyes turn my way. Am I the reason she’s started with this particular lesson? Is this supposed to be basic information? Shame heats my cheeks as the extent of my abysmal education settles in my chest. I fiddle with the items in front of me, poking at the back of my brass nameplate with a fountain pen.
We each have a nameplate, a shared reading light, pens, notebooks, and stacks of materials to start. We’re also down two in numbers—an absence that was given only a brief explanation over breakfast:
“Two of our original candidates, as you may have noticed, are no longer with us. They behaved in a manner unbefitting candidates to the highest institute in the nation, and have been asked to leave. Let this be a sobering reminder that there is more to this experience than just books.” It’s not until later, when I hear whispers of Rosie and Mara’s names, that I know who’s gone. Rosie tested toward the top of the initial exam. I’m not sure where Mara was, but if a couple girls who couldn’t handle their champagne were dismissed, my eviction papers are likely in the works.
“Arden?” Dean Edina’s voice snaps me from my thought spiral.
“Y-yes, Dean Edina?” I stumble over my words and feel the hawkish eyes of fifteen predatory girls turn toward me, each of them eager to witness my spectacular failure.
“Did you hear the question?”
“No, ma’am. I’m sorry. Could you please repeat it?” She purses her lips into a thin line, and then nods.
“As the only representative from the peninsula, could you enlighten us as to what is the chief export of your region?” I narrow my eyes and think, trying to summon the sights and sounds of the port town I should have considered my home. Maybe I would have—in another life.
“Fruit.” Muffled laughter floats through the room. Dean Edina holds up a firm hand, stopping it.
“Fruit?” she asks, and I nod, knowing she thinks this is incorrect.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And how did you come by that conclusion?” she asks. I slump a little lower in my chair.
“Well, that’s all we shipped from our town, anyway.”
“And what town was that?” she asks.
“Peninsula City.” Dean Edina frowns.
“Is this something you were taught?” she asks, clearly trying to help me find whatever answer will stop the ridicule.
“No, it’s what I saw . . . and smelled. I went to the city every day to take things to and from the markets. I often visited the shipyards to deliver messages, and there were crates and crates of citrus fruits everywhere. Fish, too, but the fish wasn’t shipped out.”
“Citrus fruits?” someone says. I don’t see who, and Dean Edina raises her hand to again silence the pack.
“I don’t mean what product is made in the Peninsula District. I meant what product from Nordania is shipped in the country’s highest quantities from the Peninsular Port?” I narrow my eyes again, try to think of something I’ve seen more than oranges and grapefruits, but I can’t. Dean Edina’s eyes are round with pity, becoming ever more aware of my blatant lack of education.
“It’s okay, Arden. It’s the first day, and there are bound to be jitters and discrepancies. Does anyone else know what product is exported from the Peninsular Port in larger quantities than it is from anywhere else in the world?” Several hands shoot up, but Dean Edina chooses the one in the short-sleeved, clover-green dress.
“That would be copper, Dean Edina.” Fiona smiles modestly, but her eyes are triumphant.
“Yes, thank you, Fiona,” Dean Edina says. “Nordanian copper is the nation’s largest export, and over seventy-five percent of it travels through the Peninsular Port. As a point of fact, Nordanian copper was used to make the brass for the bracelets adorning each of your wrists.” As the other girls titter over their matching friendship bracelets, I try to picture anything that large going through the Peninsula City ports. All I remember are small to mid-sized wooden crates of fruit. I want to ask more about this, but the class has moved on.
“We produce so much, such quality materials, that it is important to spread our influence and share our wealth with the rest of the world. In fact, most of our alliances are predicated on the strength of our trade,” Dean Edina says. “But for as much as we produce, we still have deficits and must import many everyday items. Who can tell me what items are strictly imported? Bonus points if you can name the country they’re imported from.” I’ve never given any thought to the crates arriving off the ships.
“Espancian cotton,” one girl says.
“Sudersbergian lumber.”
“And chocolates!” someone else shouts. A chorus of appreciative giggles follows.
“Swendish gemstones!”
“And coffee!”
“Very good. Very good, ladies,” Dean Edina says, raising her arms to quell the outbursts. “This is an excellent jumping-off point.” The room is quiet, and Dean Edina seems to relish in our diligent attention.
“I told you there would be no more written exams, and there is good reason for that: in the real world, you will be tested on your words, on your ability to converse, to discuss, to quickly and competently contribute to lively and sometimes contentious debate. And of course, to do so with Nordanian interests at heart.” Several of the girls nod, as if this too should have been the most obvious thing in the world.
“From this point forward, you will be assessed primarily on your ability to debate. Trade is essential. We live here, surrounded by beautiful waters, but somewhat isolated. We are rich in many things, but require just as many essentials.
“For this first assignment, you will be split into groups of four, and each group will be assigned one of our allies to study: Espancia, Brandeissland, Sudersberg, and Swendenland. You will have the next day to learn as much as you can about our trade relationship with that nation, and then tomorrow afternoon, your groups will engage in a mock debate over a trade agreement, with two of you being chosen at random to represent the assigned country, and the other two to represent Nordania.” A wave of excitement spreads through the room, and I hear Fiona say something about Espancia. I know nothing about any of this. Or rather, I thought I knew something about what was happening at the shipyards I passed on a daily basis, but apparently, I was wrong.
“In order to level the playing field a bit, we will form groups from both the top and the bottom: meaning that the top two scorers on yesterday’s exam will be paired with the bottom two, and so on.
“So, our first group will be . . . Avery, Fiona, Molly, and Arden.” Avery turns in her seat and catches my eye, sharing a somewhat warmer smile than I would’ve expected. Fiona stares at me for a moment, too, clearly processing what to do with this information, and then smiles shrewdly as Molly, seated near me in the back of the room, grins.
Maybe this pairing’s not such a bad thing? If the only reason Molly ranked so low is because she missed a couple pages on her exam, then maybe this will stack our group a bit higher against the others? Maybe these three strangers, none of whom I trust, will be my salvation? Or maybe it’ll be my second strike, and I’ll have to cut my losses short and leave before I truly humiliate myself.