2:06 pm. I am out of here.

Teresa was not much of a slacker when it came to achievements. She studied well in school, and earned her high marks; she had been one of the top players of the Greenhill Academy tennis team, though not many knew that; and ever since she took over her father's position as mayor - correction, as *acting mayor* - she thought she did fairly well, sealing deals and reaching excellent agreements with other cities that would benefit Greenhill to its possible fullest. Like father, like daughter, or at least she hopes so; Alec had been her role model ever since her youth, and she hoped that he would look down now and be proud of her, of everything she has done.

Not all her records, however, contained unblemished winning streaks. There were some arguments that she had lost, arguments she had to reluctantly relinquish over to the opposing team, to maintain peace, or perhaps to retain a moment of her sanity. On those occasions, she usually had no other alternative, but it ticked at her all the same. It was an illogical thought, but Teresa believed she wasn't really experienced enough not to be illogical in her job.

Many of those arguments she had lost, of course, came from those between her and the Mistress Caitlin. The more she thought about it, the more she had to concede that maybe it wasn't technically a loss. Very few people could win against the Greenhill Academy's very own mother hen. The head cook could turn you around twice as fast as she does a pizza dough, and before you even started to open your mouth at that. It was for that sole reason that up until recently, she had been confined to the prison she used to call her bed, deprived of good nourishment and the work that occupied and sharpened her mind for previous days and weeks.

It would have been an official's worst nightmare, if she hadn't been too sick at that time to know what went on.

At that time. Up until recently. All in the past tense.

And for good reason. It may be the only time Teresa would ever win against Caitlin, but it was a victory to be savored like a connoisseur of wine does a fine vintage. Yes, she was no longer sick. Yes, she would take care not to push herself hard again. No, she did *not* use those disgusting Do-re-mi Elves pajamas.

And miracle of miracles, the prison bars were released; she was free!

Now clad in her usual business suit, she pounced on the huge mound of paperwork like a long-lost friend, and quickly set to the task on hand, filing, reading, noting, processing daily reports and surveys. A monotonous task sometimes, but she missed it all the same. Coffee!...she never realized how she missed the somewhat bitter beverage until she took in a deep breath of macadamia and hazel nuts; so unlike the watery tea she had been force-fed for almost a week. Caitlin clucked her tongue and shook her head upon seeing Teresa's enthusiasm, murmured something about "cabin fever" and set off for the kitchens to search for the right potion for such a malady.

But that wasn't enough for Teresa, oh no. With almost superhuman speed, she went through the stacks of paper like wildfire, penning the last parchment with her signature a second after the first cock crowed to introduce the new day. She never once thought of sleep, she had more than her supposed share during the start of the week; and if anything else, she'd never felt more awake. It may have been the side effects of the large amount of caffeine intake in her system; the coffee pot had been emptied, then refilled, then emptied and refilled, then emptied again in the span of time it took her behind the desk. Now, giddy with her mislaid feeling of power, she wanted to do something else.

When Teresa proposed to walk around Greenhill all by herself - without any bodyguards - it threw nearly every person affiliated with the Greenhill security watch into convulsions. It was unheard of, they said. She was an important figure, and with the trouble brewing outside, it would be unwise for her person to traipse about as she pleases with no form of official protection whatsoever. Besides, there were still some things to look over within the Academy, things that needed her supervision; Emilia was still missing, Shin was still missing, and there was still no word of the Eyes-and-Ears she had sent on their undercover mission. If Teresa wanted solace and time alone to herself, she could have used the old shack located just behind the Academy; hidden by a secret panel in a corner of one of the first-floor rooms, though sprinkled with a few monsters along the way. She always went there when she was accompanied by some semblance of security; usually Shin, and Shin was protection enough for five armed men. But it wasn't solitude she was craving; she wanted to see the full Greenhill situation. Blocked with opposition from all sides, but Teresa had never let what others prohibited for finding a way around them.

So she sneaked out.

And why not? All she was going to do was walk around the city. She was the people's representative after all; she wouldn't be able to function well in that position if she was alienated from Greenhill citizens just like her, now would she? But she had taken into consideration the chance she might be discovered; resolving that dilemna by slipping on horn-rimmed glasses, tied her hair into a loose braid topped with a small hat, and on second thought, donned a large grey overcoat. She doubted anyone would recognize her in such a disguise.

Everyone was probably going to kill her if they knew, though.

Her method of escape was pure genius; she took great pride in such a simple yet efficient plan. Shooing maidservants away from the room with the command not to bother her for the rest of the afternoon, whatever the cause, she waited a full ten minutes before rushing towards her window, where a stout rope had been previously tied to the sill. Taking care not to step over her plants, she edged out of the opening and slid down the few feet needed for her to reach the ground.

Pure genius.

The hard part over, Teresa hurried away from the Academy, forced herself down to a leisurely pace. No alarms, no shouts. So far, she was in the clear. She squared her shoulders, and stepped out from the gardens.

It was a nice change, looking at Greenhill through a regular person's eyes; without having to worry if that pothole or these broken cobblestones had been attended to. She watched students hurrying about, either late for class or eager to be in time before the last batch of pizza ran out. She watched children playing about, flying kites or playing crudely drawn games in the nearby sidewalk. She watched, with some amusement, a wizened old teacher wander about, wondering where he had left the glasses he had placed atop his head, an action that brought a fond smile of remembrance to her face. He was one of the oldest teachers of the school, and the most revered. Teresa could remember the classes she had taken under him; the man was truly a wizard when it came to applied mathematics and other things schematic.

She mingled; chatted with the innkeeper and his wife, bought some sweetmeats from Tenna of Tenna's Eatery (who fortunately, never gave her a second glance). It was a leisurely trip, but Teresa never strayed from what was important for so very long. Many were uncomfortable of the ongoing strife between Highland and the City-States, and many chose to publicly air their opinions as much as gossip circulating around from those who came from other cities. Teresa learned thrice as much as she would have had she remained in her room, more than she could have in two weeks at most, in that one afternoon. Many people as a whole were nervous, and for good reason; there was talk that the Highland Army had began moving again, bent on conquering the cities they could find around Toto, the city they first attacked. Ryube was thought to be the next target; still others expected a surprise attack in another part of the land, Coronet perhaps; and yet others even believed the next to be the city of Muse itself. People by nature loved to talk; but they chose their words well around authority in fear they might give offense; it was one of the reasons why Teresa had relied much on her Eyes-and-Ears network. She prayed silently that the reconaissance group she had sent out were safe.

A strange cold feeling however, as the sun began to set and as she made her way back to the Academy, permeated through the back of her mind. She had ignored it at first, but eventually the feeling became too strong, too insistent, too much of the expectation of sudden danger for her to brush it aside. She couldn't describe it much more than a tingling sensation, the way one would feel if someone was staring at her, something just out of the corner of her eye but too faint too discern from what direction and by whom.

Teresa was not a trained fighter, but she knew enough for basic combat ability. There was no mistake about it.

She was being watched.

Pausing just a few feet away from the front of the school's main entrance, she took a deep breath, and whirled around suddenly.

Save for the dear old teacher still stumbling about, still muttering about his glasses, and for a small child playing happily with his dog, there was no one else in sight.

Teresa shivered, pulling her coat closer around her. It may have been a figment of her imagination - the chance of getting caught had never been too far away from her thoughts - but she'd been doing this long enough to know what was based on feeling and what was based on fact. Someone had recognized her; someone who saw through her disguise. And someone who probably didn't like her. A chill wind picked up, and she shivered again.

Making her way back to the rope she had hidden admist the tall bushes, she tugged on it, assured that the other end was still tied to the window sill above her. Caution and tension merging into one, she easily scampered up the wall, the vines quick in aiding her ascent. Once safely in the confines of her room, she untied and coiled the rope, stashing it under the bed for more future use. She stared out at the window. She hadn't been found out, at the very least.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder if she would have been better off never being out, after all.

Firmly, hands barely shaking, Teresa shut the window tightly, drawing the curtains close.

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"Teresa" is (C) Konami This chapter was posted on March 18, 2000