When Walter pulled up in front of the building, and George saw all the little girls in pretty frilly dresses and tights with curls and ribbons, she already knew she was going to hate it here.

'Oh no, God please, if you would just kill me now.'

Maybe, even more than she hated having to go to the Academy, was the thought of having to go here. She was supposed to learn to be a lady; she was supposed to be composed, commanding, and noble, just like Integra. She was supposed to learn to become a leader, both inside and out. But to George, it just seemed like another punishment to be endured.

Madame Collins greeted George warmly. George was impressed. She was expecting some ancient hag with a mean disposition telling her how unlady-like she was. But this Madame Collins was a young woman, probably no older than her early forties. She warm and cheerful and her high cheekbones gave her the look of a fashion model. She wore a bright lavender Jersey Dress and matching shoes. She seemed to dance as she walked while she escorted George and Walter to her new class.

The classroom was bright and cheerful and girly and fluffy. It was beautifully painted in pink and white. It had two wall length mural mirrors and pretty little pink chairs. The dainty little tables were adorned with the frilly white lace cloths draped on them just so, and finally the short wooden runway in the center of the room; George hated it all.

'Yup, definitely more than the academy.' she mentally huffed, as they were greeted by the teacher.

"Good afternoon, Miss Hellsing." smiled Madame Collins.

"Hello." said George, politely, even though she really didn't want to be here.

"Now, now, George, give it a chance. Who knows, you might like it." stated Walter, in his usual fatherly tone.

George's displeasure was obvious. "Yeah, and I might start liking vegetables too." commented George smartly huffing, as the other little girls giggled at her strange attire.

Unlike the other "young ladies" she was wearing black cargo pants, a red rugby shirt, and her favorite little combat boots.

Madame Collins just chuckled at George. "She takes after her father, doesn't she?"

"She does." confirmed Walter.

"Tomboys always have the hardest time adjusting to lady-like behavior. They're like wild little stallions..."

"I like being a wild little stallion." smiled George proudly.

"I'm sure you do. But the trouble will come when you are required to take your place in society. Society is like a game with very strict rules. And how can you possibly win a game if you don't know the rules." explained Madame Collins.

"What if I don't want to play?" asked George.

"George, how will you engage your enemies in battle if you don't know the rules of war? You would not fight the Clans of the North, who use steel and iron, like you would the Tribes of the South, who use leather and wood. You must know your weapons of war like you know your enemies."

"And she will teach me these weapons of war?" asked George, now most interested to learn.

"Not exactly. These will be lessons of stealth, camouflage and infiltration. In order for you to infiltrate high society, you must become a lady of high society. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I will do my best to complete my mission." George saluted her Uncle Walter.

"Mission? Infiltration and camouflage?" questioned Madame Collins, her interest now most certainly piqued.

"George's parents are soldiers. Her mother is a strategist and her father is a...Battalion Commander. All she knows is the military. You may have better success with her if you keep this in mind." offered Walter.

"Duly noted. Thank you, sir." smiled Madame Collins, fully intending to take advantage of his advice. She had learned that parents knew their children best.

Walter bowed to her, took her hand, and kissed it. Then he knelt before George and looked her in the eye with a cheerful grin. "Be a good girl, OK?"

"Yes, sir, Uncle Walter."

With that, Walter left George to her fate with Madam Collins.

"Your Uncle Walter is a true gentleman." praised Madam Collins.

"My Uncle Walter is a noble man." smiled George.

"Come along now, George, time to meet the rest of your classmates."

Today, the little girls were learning to walk properly and to greet people. George just watched as each girl sauntered down the runway turned and continued back, their little hips swaying. Madam Collins noticed George's boredom and nearly sympathetic stare.

"Is there something wrong, George?"

"They look like kittens walking on broken glass." commented George.

"George, men and women are made differently."

"I know." George smiled brightly and proudly. "My master told me. He told me that men have penises and women don't. But they are made that way to fit together like puzzle pieces."

Madam Collins blanched; her eyes wide with surprise. Then she hid a smile, stifled a laugh, and cleared her throat. "That's right George; but there are other...structural differences as well."

"Structural differences?" George gave her a puzzled look.

"Yes, George. Have you ever watched the way men walk? They have a tendency to walk in an "Up and Down" manner, while women have a "Side to Side" manner. That's why they say women sway when the walk. The difference is in our skeletons and how our hip joints function." Madam Collins tried to explain simply.

"Oh." George nodded, trying to understand.

"Would you care to try walking?"

"Sure."

George stood up and took her turn walking around the room. She was very careful to keep her back straight and her head up. Madam Collins assessed George's progress. Yep, she was a pure tomboy and she was going to hate charm school.

"That's fine, George; but remember you are a lady and not a gentleman. And you are not inspecting your troops." Suddenly, Madame Collins had a wicked idea. "Miss Hellsing, your mission was a failure, your cover was blown by your... inability to blend into the enemy and as a result you were captured." Madame Collins grabbed George by the shoulders and held her still.

"What!? I must not fail. I promised Uncle Walter!" George bellowed, her eyes burning with her failure. She lowered her head. 'A Hellsing must never fail their missions.'

Madame Collins had found the ticket. George had to be treated carefully. 'I better thank my husband the sergeant tonight.' She smiled as she thought of what he would say about her new student. "Would you care to retry your mission?"

"Ma'am, yes ma'am," George responded, stepping back up to the runway.

"Very well, Miss Hellsing. However, you must walk like a lady to avoid detection."

Madame Collins demonstrated the smooth sashay that she expected of George. Taking a deep breath and setting her shoulders back, George imitated Madam Collins' walk, during her turn on the model's runway, to the best of her ability.

"Mission Accomplished, Miss Hellsing," The other girls simply laughed at the strange treatment of the little tomboy.

The next lesson was formal greeting. Just to see how George would react, Madam Collins made George the Host of a party. Her job was to greet each guest that came to the house. Each young girl lined up and one by one they curtsied as they greeted George. And just as she had suspected, George greeted each little girl like a perfect gentleman.

"Bonjour,ma dame. Bienvenue chez moi." George gave them a gentlemanly bow and kissed their hands.

"Incorrect, Miss Hellsing." judged Madam Collins, shaking her head. However, she was very impressed that George knew French as well. "Your objective is to greet each enemy soldier and not arouse suspicion, so they will enter your barracks as willing POW's. I have only one question for you. Do you have the subterfuge skills necessary for this mission, Miss Hellsing?" George saluted like a soldier and grinned, her eyes sparkled with mischief at the thought of torturing her POWs. "Do you know how to curtsy?"

George curtsied the best she could. But it just didn't look right.

"That's almost right, George. But I bet it would be a lot easier to do, if you were wearing a dress."

"Like hell I will." scoffed George nearly guffawing. "How am I supposed to fight in a skirt?"

The other girls giggled and laughed at George's use of a naughty word. Madam Collins just rolled her eyes. This was going to be a very long year. But, it looked like she was on to something with her little army girl.

"George, young ladies don't swear and your commanding officer will not tolerate it during drills, am I understood?" George covered her mouth with hand as realization hit her. "And how do you expect to be able to sneak behind enemy lines if you do not wear the appropriate uniform."

George looked down at her own attire. She groaned with dismay and feared her fate of having to wear a skirt tomorrow. "Fine, I'll wear the dress Madame, but please don't tell my master I swore."

"Your master? Who is your master?"

"Mr. Alucard." announced George proudly.

"Oh, you mean your father. Why do you call your father, master?"

"Because that's what my sister Seras calls him; just like everyone calls my mother Sir."

"So you don't call your parents mum and dad, do you?"

"No ma'am, I call them Sir and Master."

"I understand why they call your mother Sir, because that is her title. But why do they call your father Master? What is his title?"

"I don't know. I've never asked."

"Well, that's enough for today." said Madame Collins. "Line up ladies. Your parents will be here to pick you up soon."

All the girls giggled and talked as they gathered their things. George just sat at the table and thought about things. Suddenly, a little girl dress in a light blue dress walked over to George and sat next to her.

"What's wrong, George?"

George looked over at her. "Nothing's wrong, Catherine, I was just thinking about my parents and how much more I have to learn about proper warfare."

"You can call me Cathy, everybody does. So...I heard your parents are servants to the queen herself. Is this true?"

George thought about that. She wasn't supposed to tell anyone what her parents did. But the queen had lots of servants and that was common knowledge so...

"Yes." admitted George.

"That must be nice. To get to see the queen every day." gushed Cathy, clearly impressed.

"Not really." groaned George, under her breath. "She's too demanding."

"Being a servant is nothing special. My mother is one of the queen's attachés. She sees the queen every day, but she doesn't waste her time shining her shoes or mopping her floors." ridiculed Stacy, as she intruded on their conversation.

"Stacy, that's not nice. Just because George's parents are servants gives you no right to mock her." defended Cathy.

George just rolled her eyes. Every private school seemed to have one of these students. Someone whose parents were wealthy or important and they gave them the right to act like assholes. Why was she plagued with these self important, grandstanding nimrods, with delusions of grandeur?

"fi tăcut şi du-te acasa" George groaned, as she tried to ignore Stacy.

"What? What did you just say?" asked Stacy, completely confused and having no idea what language George was speaking.

"fi tăcut şi du-te acasa, it means be silent and go home in Romanian." snapped George.

"Romanian? Who speaks Romanian?" asked Cathy, very impressed that George could speak three languages.

"My master does. It's his native tongue."

"No wonder your parents are servants. They're probably gypsies." taunted Stacy, laughing at George.

"My parents are not gypsies!" growled George. She stood, bawled her little fists, and faced off against Stacy. "They're royal nobles from an ancient lineage."

"Sure they are and that's why they are servants to the crown." teased Stacy, with her haughty 'I'm better than you' attitude.

George growled and was about ready to punch Stacy when she heard a familiar female voice.

"We are not gypsies, and her father is a royal noble from an ancient bloodline. A Romanian bloodline." said Integra.

"Sir!" called out George, running to her mother.

"Hello, George." said Integra. Then she raised an eyebrow at her. "Have we been good today?"

"No one's dead yet," told George, as she set a pointed burning glare on Stacy "so yes, I've been very good today."

Integra could only laugh at that statement. The other mothers collected their children; and Cathy and Stacy said their goodbyes to George. When they were all gone, Integra asked Madam Collins about George's behavior.

"I'm glad you asked that, because I did want to talk to you." Madam Collins said, as she pushed the chairs back towards the table.

'I thought you might.' mused Integra to herself.

"George is a very intelligent young girl." praised Madame Collins, as she addressed Sir. Hellsing.

"But..." pressed Integra.

"But she needs more feminine influences in her life."

"More "feminine" influences?" Integra questioned her, as she watched Madam Collins clean up the classroom.

George noticed her actions and went to help Madam Collins clean up the room. Just as her uncle Walter had always instructed her to do. 'you must keep the room clean.'

"Yes, as we went through our exercises today, she displayed all the characteristics of a perfect gentleman...and a perfect soldier. If she were a little boy, there would be nothing that I could teach her. But seeing as that she IS a little girl..."

"George spends most of her time with her father and her uncle Walter." agreed Integra.

"Do you not spend time with her?" asked Madame Collins. She stopped cleaning long enough to give Sir. Hellsing her full attention.

"Not really, I'm busy... uhm .....running my father's business."

Madam Collins nodded at her. "I realize the pressures of being a working mother must be huge, but you really should spend more time with George; not only for her social learning, but for her. They are only young once and time slips by so fast. One day you'll look up from your work and realize George to be a young woman. And then you'll wonder where the time went. I don't mean to preach at you, but please try to spend more time with her. She really is a very interesting child." said Madame Collins, as she talked with Integra.

"I think that's the nicest compliment that George has ever gotten from one of her teachers." smirked Integra, and she petted George's head, as George returned to her side. "But you are right. I will make more time for her."

Integra ushered George towards the door and prepared to leave. As they got to the door, Madam Collins called out to them.

"Oh, and Sir Hellsing, one more thing."

"Yes."

"From now on, please have George were a dress to class. It may remind her that she is a girl. And it may make class go more smoothly for her." reminded Madam Collins.

Integra nodded her understand and left with George.

That night, Integra and Alucard had a long talk about George.

"And how do you tend to rectify this?" asked Alucard, as he leaned against her office wall.

"I figured you'd have better luck." remarked Integra, as she kicked her feet up on the desk, a plume of smoke from her cigar whirling over her head. "Introduce her to your Girlycard persona."

"Ha, you just don't want to be a lady or wear a dress again."

"Fine, that too."

Alucard just laughed at her. then he gave her a wolfish smirk. "One of these days, you MUST let me make of woman of you."

Integra scoffed at him, as she understood his double entendre. "Not on your unlife."