[IC] ~ Attack on Titan: The Western Siege ~ [OPEN]

[Jeep Wrangler]

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Throughout the decades of misery, only two things had been keeping humanity alive, well and breathing: the desire to preserve oneself, ones culture and pride, and the acceptance of fear. Fear ruled every decision made in the daily lives of millions. Every small choice, sold product, robbed market stall, fired gunshot and day of patrol was riddled with anxiety, torment and the brutal reality of the world's true face. Under a shadow of darkness, humanity was but a rat's den in the monstrous sea of titanic wolves, beasts beyond human scale and comprehension. Even in social dismay, where the crumbling decades of society would fall apart into anarchy, it was driven as it always was - by the acceptance of fear. Scared of dying, withering out like a candle inside a jar, the light of man's own destiny was already breathing its last loads of air. Humanity was dying; no, it was already dead. Come the inevitable, the walls could and would not protect them forever. Even with swords and shields braced for the charge, at the end of it all survival was always a lit fuse of dynamite. Death speaks in all eras, in all languages, and suffering is its tongue.

The year is 846 and the autumn has begun. In search of solidarity, financial stability, prestige, purpose and a plethora of excuses, droves of boys, girls, men and women approached the recruitment halls. A promise of a better life, a promise of a chance to save humanity - many banked on making a difference. For as long as millions could remember, the walls had kept out the terrifying threat lurking on their doorstep. Beasts mimicking, parodying and defacing the human identity stormed in hordes. Selected individuals had faced them, especially along the exterior Wall Rose. Stationary Guardsmen were tasked with cleansing the wall's foundation of stray beasts whilst the infamous Scouting Legion ventured out into the unknown, returning only with disappointment and death. However, with the walls standing tall and strong, unable to be penetrated by the relatively thin waves of Titans that approached its base, humanity could breathe a little easier. Those complacent to their lurk retained little regard for their discomfort, lavishing themselves in a rich lifestyle within the interior. Many trusted the military to hold the line forever. Many trusted the military to break humanity out of its shell. Thus, many joined them, becoming soldiers only two years before the world they knew came crashing down in fire and flame, blood and anguish.

---

_{Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria}

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"A man sometimes does unspeakable things for the ones he loves; he shapes himself, moulds those around him and kills for them. To hell and back, he walks barefooted, stripped down of all clothing whilst heated metal prods are stabbed into his backside, all for the people he adores. He spends years in the service of all, learning the ins and outs of the world through violence, terror and blood. He loses comrades and he loses lovers. Most importantly, a man is sometimes willing to lose himself for those he loves. Yet in those sacrifices, he sometimes goes too far and loses the ones he loves. What is he then? A shell? A husk? No, he becomes a teacher.

So what does a man sometimes do when he has lost those he loves? He forges new ones, new children, breathes new life and begins to take the mould of himself as a template. Those he leads become him, only to be improved over his own shortcomings. A new generation. A new breath of life. We become stronger because the current man has failed. The next one will rise up, but even if he fails he will give birth to yet another improvement. The man lives on by this. He creates people to love, and in turn they may love him back, or despise him. He may become their enemy, but if he's fulfilled his eternal duty to the ones he loves, then he is ready to pass the torch onward. When you've given your life, your world and your everything for the things you believe in, you stand in these fields today and you ready yourself. Until they are ready, they shall be prepared."

Silence. The early morning sunlight beamed down upon the deforested plains the recruits stood upon. Some whispered amongst themselves, avoiding the eye contact of the instructors pacing around them. Many weren't sure of what was to come. In a hut, some two to three hundred metres from their formation, Philip Maurer enclosed his musings in the seal and placed it upon his shelf. The 122nd. They were assembled, readied by reasons he would drag from their lungs. Upon his wall, he nodded to the familiar face of one subordinate, one who gave him the leverage and comfort to train and teach. Every morning, he looked upon the portrait before making his way outside. The door creaked open gently, and two musket-wielding sentries stood to attention, turning to the left and preparing to escort him across the dusty bowl to the front of the group. For the first twenty seconds, he could still hear the noise of chatter spreading through the Cadets, all of which were unaware of his rearward approach. His body came into view, and so Maurer's attendees were snapped to attention by the violent call of an instructor.

"Corps, 'shun!" A hesitant synchronisation of boots stomping against the ground and arms tightly clasping behind their backs quickly brought the ranks to his attention. For a few seconds, there was no other noise, just the sounds of Maurer's boots scraping across the stones beneath him. Making his way to the front, he daunted with slow movement, his eyes scanning over the hundreds of new recruits stood before his very eyes. Whilst the 122nd Trainee Corps would be spread all over the walls, this was going to be his unit, his class and his chance to create genuine fighters, ones who could excel. He didn't know it, but making the best breed of soldiers possible was needed now more than ever, with a looming threat slowly making its way across the world to the wall's doorstep.

Maurer's eyes rest upon the Cadets. They were small and young. Some were spirited in their glances of honour, others looked drained of life and colour. Some looked tired and some looked healthy. Some were weak and some were strong. Like any class, his first duty was to inspect them as individuals, singling them out and breaking them down until they would realise their own shortcomings, before it was too late. Root out those who were complete, already defined as uninspired individuals - there he would find the incomplete and turn them into soldiers. He waited. In silence, he stood, watching them from afar. For a while no one responded to his silence, unsure of if he was ignoring or had forgotten protocol. Speeches were usually the defining introduction, the thing that brought the cadets comfortably into the new world. Many of his underlings and other instructors hadn't worked alongside Maurer however. Things were different in his presence.

And with a bellowing voice, he finally spoke his first words, yet not all of them. He walked forward to the back left of the formation, starting where the sun barely shone on them. In his mind he singled out a voice, one that chattered in the now fifteen minutes of silent inspection. Once it was heard, he honed in on the prey, moving in and out of the recruits slowly, his head poking over most of them. Maurer's 6'2" stature towered over most of the recruits, especially at their early ages. His demeanour was one of fear, one of superiority. He was the master and the commander, the writer and the speaker, the king and the deity. A smirk crawled onto his face as the first cadet had slipped, initiating his shakedown of the recruits mentality.

"Congratulations, Cadet. You've become the catalyst to a world you'll wish your sorry arse was far away from. Speak! GIVE ME YOUR NAME." His address was...different. He didn't completely shout, more talk down to them aloud. His voice was booming, fuelled by bass and complimented by their outdoor environment. Maurer's tone was reliant on rooting out their problems right away, and so he did.

"R-Roger Martirou, Sir!" The identified cadet could feel the sweat pouring from his brow as Maurer approached him, closing the void between them by mere centimetres. He smiled to himself, chuckling at his anxiety and turning around to the rest of the formation.

"Cadets of the 122nd Trainee Corps, to me you are all the same. You are all a 'Roger', a nobody. I don't care about your names until you prove to me you aren't just a failed copy of this mindless, frail child." He turned back to Roger, looking at him with glaring inquisition. Every soldier had their weakness. He wanted to know it, there and then, without them explicitly telling him. If they admitted their fears on the spot, then it wouldn't be genuine. If they were to survive, the only thing they should have feared was himself. "Why are you here, boy? Why have you desecrated my training ground with your filthy presence?"

"I...I..."

"You what? Spit if out, go make mummy proud and answer what I fuckin' asked." Roger seemed struck by his comment, and yet Maurer didn't seem to bat an eye or any ounce of care towards the comment. Deep down, his comments were spoken with meaning, with intent, but who could see that. They were essentially children and teenagers. And they would remain that until they alleviated their disobedience.

"I want to serve humanity as a soldier, Sir!" Of course it was. It was an admirable, common goal that the majority of cadets had. They weren't the interesting ones, really. They could be promising, obedient but also creative. However, he really preferred the ones with flair, with something to say. It gave him more fuel to add to the fire of his verbal barrage.

"Congratulations, you're as interesting as a fucking brick wall, son. I'll have my eye on you, shitstain. Maybe you'll also have a chance at proving you're not some boring 'Roger Maritrou'." Even though his introductory barrage was light compared to what he usually did, he moved down the line, starting to hassle the cadets one by one. Each one he encountered, his aggression would grow. One spoke back, taking an elbow to the gut and crumbling to the floor. Once he'd fallen, Maurer saw the fear of the younger cadet's eyes spark up. He had their undivided attention, at least some of them. Finally, he turned up to a meagre, average height girl with auburn hair and emerald eyes. Even with a shiny complexion, he felt no brightness glisten upon his own face. He stood before Lauren, following his chain of not asking for any more of their names. "Holy shit, I'm bewildered at just how innately boring you all are. Look at yourself, Cadet, and tell me I'm looking at a soldier! I want to hear you tell me you're worth more than the shits I leave in the morning, or if you're worth anything at all!"

To his surprise, he didn't actually get a response. She stood there, staring at him with a tightened throat. Ten seconds passed, nothing. Eyes of cadets around her tried to roll in their sockets to get a glimpse at her, as if to mouth for her to say at least something. No matter how many pairs rested onto her, she didn't say anything. Was it reluctance? Was it intimidation? Maurer couldn't specifically narrow it down, but what he could take from it was who she was as a person, and so he started laughing aloud. He turned, bellowing out his chants of jovial mockery. His laugh lasted for thirty straight seconds, some of the other instructors joining in. Any cadet who joined in the laughter beyond anything of a visible smirk was immediately shot down by the other advisers.

Maurer turned back to the insignificant girl and cracked yet another smile, amused by her lack of a response. Fear, he finally deduced. She was plucked out from the rest by virtue of shock, the first of a few individuals he'd come to see as genuine from the start. It wasn't exactly a trait he liked, but he had a lot to work with now.

"You're already pathetic. Perhaps actions will speak louder than words. When I fall the entire formation out you will do three laps of the parade grounds to prove that you're a soldier. And you will do it without question? Do I make myself clear?"

_@Jinxer

[Jinxer]

Lauren Jones

By all that was good, it was hot. Standing at attention in the thick, uncomfortable material of her uniform with the sun blazing mercilessly down on her for so long was proving a challenge. There was something unreasonably difficult about holding a single, solitary post for as long as they had all been on that field. Statuesque. Sweat trickled down the back of her neck, she was thankful for her foresight in tying her hair up into a ponytail like she did at Pa's clinic, and then ran down to join the drops on her back. The wool of the uniform did nothing to soak it up, simply adding to the oppressive heat.

The approach of their brutal instructor, with his seemingly endless well of spiteful insults, was not helping her to keep cool either. One of the other cadets had been physical hit and she had had to resist her urge to go out and see to them. It would not have been a hard hit, no injures to tend to, she told herself. Maybe she would search them out afterwards and double check? That sounded like the right sort of plan - it would only make matters worse if she dashed out to see to them now.

"Holy shit, I'm bewildered at just how innately boring you all are. Look at yourself, Cadet, and tell me I'm looking at a soldier! I want to hear you tell me you're worth more than the shits I leave in the morning, or if you're worth anything at all!"

So focused had she been on restraining her natural instincts that Lauren had failed to notice that it was her turn to face the music. The unending torrent of abuse being piled on her peers had been relentless and shocking but also consistent. So much so that she had ended up tuning it out and what a mistake that had been. She now found herself staring up into the instructor's face, her mind blank of any sort of response, let alone a reasonable retort. Rising panic threatened to overtake her as her mind raced and it took all her nerve to bury it, freezing at attention and awaiting what was surely a more personalised assault on her character.

"You're already pathetic. Perhaps actions will speak louder than words. When I fall the entire formation out you will do three laps of the parade grounds to prove that you're a soldier. And you will do it without question? Do I make myself clear?"

Maurer moved on, his oppressive presence allowing what felt like a cool wind in to caress her brow but she resisted the urge to relax. Three laps as a punishment for her inaction was not much to someone of her fitness but she dared not make it worse. Unlike some of the other cadets she came from a relatively well off, if still poor, background and so was well fed and strong. She looked out of the corner of her eye, following Maurer's progress down the line. This time she would not let herself zone out, lest she miss something important.

He had paused in front of two blonde cadets, a boy and a girl who bore a striking resemblance to one another although the lad was significantly taller than his female counterpart. Maurer stood before them, leering down from his greater height and casting them into shadow which would have been blessed in this heat under almost any other circumstance, and cast his demeaning gaze from one to the other. As it had been with each of the other cadets, it seemed he did not like what he saw and the corners of his lips curled in distaste.

"What happened here? Two halves of one useless whole? What in the hells was your mother doing - spitting out two half-baked brats because it was easier than making one decent one? I assume you are twins, that fucking simpleton face being so similar! At least you'll be a better snack for the Titans than one decent soldier."

[MsMorningstar]

&

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Being tightly packed in a vast group of troops only served to add an element of heat to an uncomfortable scenario. Though it was autumn, the brilliant sun managed to wrap the wannabe soldiers in a suffocating blanket. Sweat was beginning to pool on foreheads, and dribble rapidly down backs. Sly shifting was common among the throng, as almost everyone wished to break formation, but no one wanted to be singled out for their weakness.

Ezra was no outlier.

At the very least, his readjustments were subtle. The occasional bend of the knee, and flex of his foot. He was vaguely disappointed in himself. Squirming already? He was sure he could do better...it was just difficult to prove. Slowly, his gaze moved to the right. In his periphery, he was able to catch sight of his sister. Much to his chagrin, she was readily holding her stance. As if she had sensed his stare, her eyes suddenly snapped toward him.

Elsie offered her brother an inconspicuous, encouraging grin. Without waiting for him to return the smile, she looked away, scanning the empty space in front of her. She did her best not to focus on the sweat collecting in the dip of her back, or the way her bangs clung limply to her forehead. She found strength in knowing she had made it this far without cracking, but as the troop’s common enemy, Maurer, drew near, she was unsure if she’d manage to remain solid.

Ezra and Elsie waited with bated breath as they were scrutinized. The overbearing presence before them only added to the aching heat.

"What happened here? Two halves of one useless whole? What in the hells was your mother doing - spitting out two half-baked brats because it was easier than making one decent one? I assume you are twins, that fucking simpleton face being so similar! At least you'll be a better snack for the Titans than one decent soldier."

Being twins was their biggest shared downfall. There were many individual faults they had to face, but that would require them to see themselves as individuals. Of course, that didn’t mean Elsie registered this. The words simply stung, and while she fought to find some deeper meaning, she was stuck. Her mouth gaped slightly, though she hadn’t a clue what to say.

Maurer looked her dead in the eye, part of him knowing she wouldn’t have the gall. ”Have something to say, Cadet?” His voice was gruff, expectant. Just as he had presumed, she clamped her mouth shut. Not missing a beat, he moved to stand in front of the more gangly blonde. "And what about you? Or are you just as useless as that sackless lump of shit?”

Ezra straightened, squinting but not daring to blink under the weight of Maurer’s inspection. ”N-No, Sir!” He managed, sucking in a breath as he waited.

”Ah, a piece of shit with some backbone.” Maurer rolled his eyes before turning to address Elsie. ”You’ll be proving your worth alongside that other ‘Roger’. Three laps around the parade route once I fall formation. Understood?”

Elsie nodded slightly, opening her mouth just enough to mumble a, ”Yes, Sir.” It didn’t matter much, though, as Maurer had already moved on to the next sad sap.

Elsie clenched her jaw, not bothering to look over at her brother. She felt hurt, but figured there should be no hard feelings in the long run. She’d take her laps as punishment for not speaking up first, and the situation would be over.

Ezra, on the other hand, felt quite pleased with himself. Though it had been at the expense of his sister, he hadn’t been chewed up and spat out as terribly as the others.

[mickilennial]

Location: Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria

---

Charles Dujardin had expected different from a man like Phillip Maurer.

Ever since he was a boy, he had wanted to be in the military. He dreamed of the heroes his grandfather had spoken of in the corps, how they were honorable and virtuous; the backbone of their whole society. To see such a man, a man whom was tasked with a great responsibility of training cadets to their fullest potential so they could serve dutifully and honorably, acting in such a manner made the blonde-haired noble sick to his stomach. It was improper to insult men and spit on women.

Charles certainly felt a great deal of ways as he saw Instructor Maurer go down the line. He called his countrymen pathetic, insulted their intelligence, and disregarded their upbringing. His fists clenched at the thought as he watched it happen. He knew before Maurer had spoken a word to him that he would hate the man. His intentions may have been good, to prepare them for the duty they had aspired to, but in the young man’s mind the ends did not justify the means. It was this seething dislike of the whole situation that made him loose track of his place in the line and soon enough his impulses got the better of him. In his mind he knew he had made a mistake, but it was too late.

“The sad state of our military to act in such a manner.” He muttered underneath his breath.

Maurer stopped just as he was to review another cadet, instead deciding that it was time to rein in Charles.

“You look like you have something you want to say, cadet! Are you upset that I'm grilling your girlfriend over here? Is that it?”

Charles gritted his teeth before looking Maurer directly in the eye. “No, sir.”

The older man raised a brow, moving closer to the seemingly clean-cut recruit. However, to his surprise, Charles spoke again. Charles didn’t look like a troublemaker or someone who thought he was better than anything or anyone else. While looking like he did, his posture and mannerisms spoke in different ways. That much was evident.

Charles didn’t know the girl who had just gotten the instructor’s ire. She was cute and he would probably describe her as having the prettiest eyes he had ever seen, but he wasn’t just about to let the older man desecrate the corps because he got off the wrong side of the bed. It was not the smartest of most orderly of things to do in the situation, but Charles was as impulsive and independent as he was naïve and honorable. If nobody was going to tell the instructor he was out of line, he would even if it meant the man making him run until his legs fell off.

“I am upset because you are acting like a braggart and a bully.”

Charles could feel the eyes of his fellow cadets on him as he said what he said. Despite knowing he was out of line, in the end, Charles didn’t regret it.

[Jeep Wrangler]

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_{Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria}

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As the well-spoken boy raised his voice, breathing out a freshness of confidence to the Cadet Corps, Maurer couldn't help but feel a smile grow upon his face. It wasn't one of admiration nor of appreciation but one of mockery. There was a real nerve to speak up, more so to express disgraceful disdain towards the Instructor's methods, all the while being on the first meeting. Any other Head Instructor would hand him a douse of righteous authority: the back of his palm or clench of a fist slamming into their gut. Maurer, however, was composed, intrigued by the podium of opportunity Charles hadn't given himself. A strength had been found, but an openly exploitable one. He had an adviser's voice, one of reason to question the staunch leadership that seemed to unfairly portray them as useless. Unfortunately, the boy was unlikely aware of the true situation he was in, what environment he had to adjust to. It was an experience he was going to learn, one way or the other. Maurer wasn't going to be the one to tell him his position in the military. Instead, he wanted to craft a way for his peers to do it for him.

With his denouncement of his acts, describing it as that of a bully, Maurer stood back and frowned upon him with a sense of pity. No longer did he seem amused by his challenge nor did he seem threatened, only disappointed by looks alone. A minute of silence passed, where he stared at him with mute judgement.

"So you're upset, Cadet? You're upset because I am a brute, a bully and, all things considered, a braggart?" Nothing more than a heartbeat passed when the brash youngster spoke out once again.

"You're god damn right, Sir." The nerve of some. His position was solidified, he was no troublemaker, but a child of change and difference by heart. There was nothing he could do in the moment that would change that, Maurer luckily had all the time in the world to go about it. At the end of it all, Maurer wasn't going to be a concern of his if he graduated. If...

"I'm amazed by your willingness to admit to your weaknesses, Cadet. You've simultaneously shown that your sensitivity is a bit...unhinged. We aren't here to pamper you, or babysit you. At the end of it all, you're joining to serve a strict purpose, to fight, live and die for humanity against a threat you can barely comprehend." The Head Instructor leaned closer, lowering his voice for the first time to that of a mumble. Those beside Charles could hear, but anyone beyond were left in the dust to his whisper. "The Titans won't care if you're upset. And if they won't, why should I? I'm going to be the least of your worries."

Even with his conclusive language, he knew that either the boy would continue or fall back into line. The latter was simply a failure to stand for what he believed in. The former was instead leaving himself vulnerable to the scheme of training. He was tough, Maurer would give him that, by heart, but it wouldn't be likely that he'd be strongly linked in camaraderie. If he wanted to succeed, it wouldn't be handed on a glory-filled platter coated in gold dust and sprinkles of honour. It would be fed to him with a spoon of fire, a fork of agony and cut up by the knives of anguish. No soldier beneath his command would be prepared for the world ahead of them if they got what they wanted. The world wasn't about desires, only needs. Maurer may not have wanted to hurt his cadets beyond repair but he wanted to make warriors that would shine ahead of time's limitations. Names would be remembered not by virtue of riches and nobility but by the blades they held and the people they saved.

“I know that, sir. I just think there should be more honourable methods. I have prepared myself to be here, in the corps, for a very long time. Why spit on us? How will that inspire anyone?”

He was still speaking? Well, at least he was somewhat consistent with who he was as a person. The mutters of other cadets questioning whether or not the instructor would snap or if he would crumble the Cadet into dust. They were naive, just as was Charles. There was nothing to see, not from Maurer's hands. Instead the job of discipline would be left to the natural incursions of his fellow man. The hounds of hell were held on a loose chain, and Maurer had given the leash to Charles to struggle with.

"I spit on you so you won't feel the pressure of the world when it drowns you in its saliva. Honour is earned, not given. Men and women like me have gone through unimaginable things to prepare you for the Corps. You're preparation is nothing but pompous playtime." He finally stood back, raising his voice once more so that the rest of the Cadet Corps could hear his heralding. There was only one suitable punishment for Charles, and that was no punishment at all. "Cadet, please point to five cadets of your choosing."

"Sir?" He questioned.

"I want you to point to five other cadets in this formation. We'll stand here as long as it takes for you to do so."

Charles’ eyes widened, though for some reason maintained his posture in front of the instructor. His brows narrowed shortly afterward before he took a look at the cadets around him before glaring back at Maurer.

"This is a diversion tactic. But, whatever." He muttered, before pointing to five other men in the line, some of which Maurer had already had interacted with. "Those five. Are you happy, sir?"

Maurer nodded with compliance, finally satisfied that he'd managed to follow the most basic of orders given yet. The boy's fingers pointed to five specific men. Though unknown to him, Maurer mentally identified them from his own registration. The first Cadet was the boy Roger, the one who'd been picked on first by the Head Instructor's shakedown. Following on, there were four other boys, all handpicked from Charles' selection. The second was a nomadic boy just down the line, a blonde haired, hazel-eyed wanderer named Grant Valente. Silently, his throat tightened up as he felt the finger fall upon him. The following boys were the aforementioned Ezra Taffer, Miles Rockbell and Gabriel Moreau, all five of which had no real recollection of who Charles was, as far as Maurer knew. It was a perfect selection, some who'd already tasted the spite of his tongue and those who were yet to receive any sort of grilling to begin with. Unknowingly, Charles had given out a strict hammer of injustice.

"So, Cadets Martirou, Valente, Taffer, Rockbell and Moreau? Alright. When we conclude today's meeting and I fall you out of formation, you boys will be going on a three hour march and jog around the training grounds, including the forests." Though he loved the build-up the most, the execution was where the satisfaction came from. He turned back to Charles, nodding in conclusion to their avid back and forth with one another. "Fortunately for you, Cadet, you will be dismissed along with everyone else and will not join them. Thank you."

And with that, Maurer finally left Charles' view, he moved further down the line, restraining the temptation to smile again at the decision. Going down the line was rather uneventful, his mark had been made on many of the faceless 'Rogers' who came into contact with him. Many went back to cookie-cutter answers. All 'Yes, Sir' this and 'Become a soldier' that. It didn't silence them all though, those who tried to act smug still got the usual scorning from his sharp tongue.

Eventually, he reached one of the victims to Charles' trial of intense exercise. Grant. He looked stiff in his face, unwilling to show any sort of emotion in the face of his superior. It was a difficult task, one Grant was screaming at himself from within at. He didn't like what was going on and was still in shock over his damnation for the following three hours, yet he was still unprepared for the mettle that stood before him. A glare of authority rested upon him. The eyes of the behemoth ridiculed his stance, his looks, his voice that was yet to be spoken and his commitment to the cause. Unknown to Grant was that Maurer already knew who he was. He knew who every cadet actually was, their names and their ages. And simply by the happenings of an uncommon surname, it was pieced together that Grant had a relative within the Scouting Regiment. He didn't say anything in the moment. Grant couldn't even imagine him knowing it. No one knew Maurer like the instructors did, and many didn't even know what his military background was. Those versed in the recent histories of the Scouting Legion could figure out his previous position, and those who could were few in numbers.

Grant knew nothing of Maurer, and whilst the truth about a certain relative were shrouded in confusion, mystery, unreliability and deceit, one could only suspect to keep a close eye on the successor to his ways. Maurer looked closely at the boy, shaking his head. Even without words, already he had caused a trainwreck of anxiety in Grant's tightened gut.

"I've seen dead horses with more life in them. Raggedy, insecure? Could I go on about you're little presentation here?" Before Grant could answer, he jumped straight into continuing, preparing his usual question. "Tell me why the hell you're here? Something to prove? Someone to chase after? Someone to love?"

"No, Sir. I'm here to join the Military." Despite his anxiety, Grant quickly uttered out his answer with a clear voice and moderate tone, holding his eyes directly forward and refusing to make eye contact for the sake of his sanity. Maurer looked both accepting and displeased with his answer. He knew that Grant was worried about the upcoming march given to him, questioning whether or not he'd survive the first hour, let alone the three total. He didn't settle into blaming Charles, not yet at least. Instead, Maurer shook his head and walked onward. And somehow, that hurt more than him saying anything at all.

_{@Inkarnate@MsMorningstar@LordVoldemort@KenjuGuy}

[mickilennial]

Location: Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria

---

Wow. What a fucking moron.

Agnes Rosenthal remained quiet in the group of would-be cadets, standing in-between one of the boys that had been paired to run for three hours due to another’s belief that he should speak up for the lot of them.

The brunette sighed as she looked over to her right where the ‘brute’ of an instructor they had gotten decided to move on to another boy. He refused to make eye contact with Maurer, which by Agnes’ calculations was a mistake. The blonde boy may have been a bit of an upstart, but he had the gall to actually meet Maurer in the eyes. She supposed it was normal for people to be nervous. She had seen many nurses stammer and look to the floor when her own father was upset in the hospital where he made his business. Agnes cherished the memories in the halls, sitting on benches reading whatever books she was allowed access to. She had been younger, but her father handed her medical diaries instead of fairytales. She learned a lot from it. He had probably hoped she would become a nurse herself, which was one of the reasons he was shocked and dismayed when she decided to leave for a more military avenue.

She crossed her arms. She could see fine at distance without her glasses, which she had concealed away in their case during orientation. She didn’t want to get called out like the rest of her fool comrades; she already had it rough enough with her height. She was pretty sure she was the smallest person in the lineup. It didn’t make her nervous. Few things did. It did make her cautious, though.

She took a light breath, as she looked at the rest of the line after noting her previous observation. The boy whom had caused all of this ruckus was now in full silence, staring down at the floor like a child caught with their hand in a cookie jar or near a broken vase. It didn’t take a fool to know he regretted getting his comrades into trouble and he was likely thinking of the consequences it would have when he was bunking with the very same men. She wondered if he would survive a week of training. She wondered that about many people in line, even herself. Her body was far less athletic and toned than some others. After all, she was training to become a medical practitioner, not a soldier, before she got the news of her mother's disappearance. There was part of her that doubted that joining the Survey Corps would even give her any answers. But she had to try. She just had to hope her body could keep up with her mind.

She supposed she would get her answer soon enough.

[ProxyInc]

---

---

<sup>Should it be this hot? The morning sun rolled across the fog streaked sky. It was just chill enough that the huff her breath clung to the dewy air. But the heat that beamed down from the bitter sun was enough to form little beads of sweat upon her brow; matting the small flyaway hairs that refused her early morning attempt to neatly comb them back into their ponytail prison. Or maybe it was the thick material of her uniform that chafed with every small movement, trapping in the excess heat pluming off her skin.

Regardless of the matter, Mora could feel the adrenaline pump through her veins. A turbulent mixture of what she assumed was nerves and thrill. This was it. This was her crew. The cadets all lined up, faces graven with fear and anxiety while they awaited their first real day. She couldn’t resist the urge to lightly bounce on balls of her feet. Her muscles screamed at her to flex, move, anything to rid the building energy that sparked between them. Though as the Head instructors voice pierced the morning veil around, Mora felt part of her reach a calm as her body moved to snap to attention.

One by one, he traipsed down the line. His words a booming cloud of brimstone that was meant to provoke. This was something she recognized from time with her brothers. It would push them, bring out the fires in them that would help forge the soldiers they had yet to become. And the corners of her lips pulled into a small smile with every taunt that fell from his mouth. The air practically shivered from her fellow unit members, their voices a steady chorus of practical answers that echoed with unease while they answered to his abuse.

It was beginning to fell like ages was passing. Her eyes straining against the harsh brightness of the blue sky, watching some bird mar it’s uniform beauty as it soared. She just wanted to move on. Past the bluffs, the gruffness of the instructor’s voice and onto what she came here to do; train. But then some boy caught her attention. His voice clean, collected as it barked back. Mora dared a slight turn of her head, resting her eyes against he who dared to speak up and against Maurer. Plucky, she thought with an emboldened smile splitting her lips. He was entirely stupid but she liked his willing defiance. He was exactly what Maurer was looking for. That unkempt fire that would bite back.

Maurer's face barely even registered the bite of the boy’s words. Calm, smooth, and as equally sour as it was when he first stepped into view. It wasn’t his first round with a spirited cadet, no doubt. And Mora would easily bet it wouldn’t be his last while she watched as he coolly berated the boy, making him point out five of their unit. That wasn’t going to earn him any favors in the future. She could imagine the flick of pointed rage and sneers that would follow. Though there was a small part of her that was disappointed at not being signaled out herself. A three hour run? In this sweltering heat? Awful, really it was. But the idea of pushing herself instead of being stuck standing at attention for God knows how long? Blessed. She rocked back and forth to shake off the notion. Right now she needed to be calm, collected, and force her smile back down to a hard line. She needed to show that she had what it meant to be a disciplined soldier.

I can do this.</sup>

---

[wolverbells]

’Don’t lock your knees, do not lock your knees.’ The repeating thoughts kept time as Jade slowly bent her knees every here and there. She had been quiet and kept her eyes straight for the majority of the time, not daring to look at the others as they were getting ripped a new one. She didn’t want to be noticed; as most of her life had gone by without major incident with others, she wanted it to stay that way throughout her time training. Following the rules and showing that she was capable of learning and applying what she learned should be good enough, right?

Her eyes remained straight until she heard an unfamiliar males voice rise up, one that differed from their dear head instructor. It also differed from the way the others would respond, which caused her to break from her own reverie. Her eyes fought against the urge to look towards the source but lost, slowly moving over to see a young man going back and forth with Maurer.’What the hell is he thinking!? she thought as her eyes widened ever so slightly. Unbelievable.

Part of her wanted to go up to the boy and hit him upside the head, but the other part of her wanted to give him kudos for speaking his mind. She was conflicted with how she felt, knowing they should be listening and following the rules, but what if there was more? The petite girl sighed, letting her eyes drift back to where they were initially staring at before the bold boy decided to speak up. She had no interest in seeing what happened next if it didn’t affect her. Her hair began to stick to her face as the sweat beads began to form, an annoying look dawning her face, hardening her soft features as she grew impatient. All she wanted to do was get this day over with and possibly shower if that was even an option. Her hair had been placed up in a ponytail but even that was failing with the head and humidity.

Once again, her own thoughts were interrupted as she heard the gravel move under the footsteps of someone growing nearer. It was Maurer, looking for yet another victim to humiliate. His eyes slowly went one from cadet to the next, falling on Jade soon enough. Her eyes steeled over as she felt his gaze on her, the blood under her cheeks beginning to form color as she felt him try to break her with his look alone. She refused; Jade would stick to her word of staying in the background. The girl forced it into happening as Maurer let out a small growl of annoyance from not being able to break her away and push her into a panic. As he walked away, she let out a long overdue exhale. One that she didn’t know she was holding.

[Hero]

---

---

"The only thing more unpredictable than life is people."

Hotaru vaguely remembered her father muttering that phrase to himself once upon a time. If she recalled correctly, he had gotten into an argument with the neighbor; they had decided to claim one of his tools as their own, and when he put up a fight, things escalated into a shouting match. Eventually, he conceded, but not until making it clear that there was no longer a camaraderie between the two. She had thought it was awfully silly to get into an argument over a wrench of all things, but it had also been unexpected. Until that point, their neighbor was someone reliable and respected, and there was no reason to think a tool would be what would ultimately crack the friendship. And thus came the saying, her father advising her to be wary of people.

That said, the unpredictability of the lord's son was definitely something Hotaru had underestimated.

Having to hold in her initial shock when she had laid eyes on her former master's son was more difficult than keeping her calm in general. Her head was buzzing with questions, the primary "why?" being at the forefront. She hadn't expected to see anyone who she recognized, much less him. And of course, he was doing what he always did: standing up for people. But he didn't belong here, he had a life ready for him! It was actually frustrating her the more she thought about it, and watching the instructor speak to him was more painful than she considered.

Of course, outwardly she couldn't bring herself to worry or to let her expression show she cared at all. Her plan was to keep her head low, get through training, and hopefully come out on top so she could choose to be in the Military Police. Then she could live out her life in peace and with the freedom she wanted. Easier said than done, of course, and she had no idea what her prowess would end up being, but it was worth a shot. Having some sort of goal was better than being aimless, anyway.

---

[Bartimaeus]

Revel Belrose

With: Everyone
Location: Training Ground

---

---

Revel stood almost stock still as the instructor advanced down the line of would-be soldiers, fresh recruits, most of whom were shaking in their boots as they listened to Maurer’s voice boom out over them. In all honesty, she was having a little trouble containing herself -- more trouble than she’d had in quite a while. Not because of what was going on around her, but because she was...kinda excited. It was the first time she’d been so distanced from her stepfather since he’d become.. well, a deadbeat. It felt freeing.

Even so, this wasn’t exactly the best environment to be celebrating the new sense of freedom. Out of the frying pan into the fire, as they say. Her eyes drifted over to the movement off to her right, falling on the instructor as he seemed to be roasting away at the cadets in rows ahead of her. He seemed tough. Real tough. She’d grown used to being chastised at home at almost every turn - but she wasn’t sure if that built up tolerance would even help her were this man to confront her directly. He seemed much more intrusive than her stepfather.

She tried to pay little mind to loud, jarring methods, telling herself that it’s just a form of intimidation -- he wouldn’t actually do anything besides talk...right? Soon her question was answered and the thought dashed from her mind as the conversation unfolded between the man and a seemingly rather brave cadet. A conversation that ended in laps being handed out to uninvolved recruits at random, chosen by the cadet. Revel mentally paused for a moment - somewhat confused, before realizing that it’d probably be a better long-term punishment for his outbreak than making him do the PT himself. The instructor was obviously rather experienced in his field, which honestly, was to be expected.

She turned her eyes forward as Maurer continued on after the engagement finished, continuing to apply his methods to the rest of the anticipation-soaked students. Eventually he reached her area and she felt her heart besting a little faster. She was probably feeling a bit more calm than a majority of the recruits, but that didn’t mean she wasn't nervous - the thought of being being verbally grilled by a man she didn’t know was all too familiar yet all two nerve-racking for her to just steel herself against. She resisted the urge to tighten or muscles as he passed in front of her. Her eyes remained forward, staring into something that wasn’t there - something she’d come to do often when she was trying to ignore something or stem her reactions.

After some moments of anticipation and waiting for him to leave the area without turning her head to look, she heard his voice boom out from some meters away as he addressed someone. She relaxed her muscles, trying to wash the measures of anxiety from her head as she told herself it was over. Except - it wasn’t over. No, this was just the beginning of their training. And if the lot of them were this twitchy right from the get-go, they had a lot of shaping to undergo. But it didn’t matter to her. She was ready for it. Whatever ‘it’ entailed.

[KenjuGuy]

Miles Rockbell

Training Grounds
----------

Miles assumed the same position as everyone else within his class. Well, at first anyways. Every so often he would make small movements here and there. At times he needed to scratch something, or maybe straighten out his foot inside his boot. Oh and there was a creek in his neck that he absolutely needed to stretch out. And who could blame him for chuckling a bit at Roger getting teased?

Well that would be the advisers who's unpleasant glares we're almost burning a hole into Miles. Perhaps he didn't notice them considering how humid it was. All this stiffness just wasn't for this young lad. Going into the military was his plan but actually going through the academy was a thing he dreaded. So just like with life in general, he decided not to stress about it too much.

Although, that may have bitten him in the butt. As perhaps it was because of his small movements that he caught the wondering eye and finger of Charles. In other words, he was going to have to do some extra exercises after all of this. 'Ah well, that's the way the cookie crumbles. I don't know if I'll be able to take it easy here if guys like those two (Charles and Maurer) are around', Miles thought to himself, his demeanor still relaxed while holding onto his posture. There was nothing personal he felt about the matter, that was just the way misfortune worked.

He had figured to himself that the point of all this was to test the waters with each of these potential soldiers. That may be the case but he did find their instructor's verbal decimation of his fellow cadets rather amusing. So much so that a smirk slid across his face as he waited.

[LordVoldemort]

The Lad

---

---

The clicking that came from the heel of his boots were as sharp as his movements from the call to attention. Gabriel had practiced the formations more times than he could count having a decent meal, or the amount of friends he knocked out during 'play boxing' behind the local pub. To him, it came almost as naturally as breathing. What he wasn't prepared for however was the heat that beat down on them that morning. It seemed to hit harder than any other day, strangely enough; perhaps it was just because of the climate he was used to back in Falkran. The first thought that struck him when he was reminded of home was his little brothers and how they begged him to stay. Then, it shifted to his mother... his sweet, doting mother. As proud as she was of him turning his life around, he knew just how much it hurt her to see him go, and how she wished for him to join the Garrison.

His thought was, of course, interrupted by the sudden yelling of Head Instructor, and how he had been grilling each of the Cadets in a test of their strengths and weaknesses. At first, Gabriel wondered more on Maurer's service than what was going on, but his thoughts shifted to his father. Recalling the past was always painful, but it wasn't something he could control, especially when his father used to do the exact same thing; every failed push up, every trip during a march, and every single tear was met with criticism and a demand for improvement. In a way, this caused the young man to smile. It was familiar to him, and almost felt like home. Of course, the smile was quick to dissipate at the calling of his name, along with a few other recruits.

Gabriel was completely taken off-guard by the sudden punishment that he and a few others would be facing; was this really what they were to be receiving from someone who didn't understand the complexities of basic training? In a way, this ticked Gabriel off - at least it did, until he realized something. He wasn't much of a social bird, but it would perhaps give him a good chance to understand the motives of others joining the military; perhaps there were other patriots just like himself that he had yet to meet? Even with the pompous attitude and rude remarks, there certainly had to be some diamonds in the rough. After all, his father always told him: "Camaraderie is the most important thing for a soldier. If you don't have someone to watch your back, you'll soon find yourself without one."

[Jeep Wrangler]

---

Head Instructor Maurer continued his rounds unopposed by most. Some tried to replicate the hopeless continuation of the uppity-Cadet's moral crusade but failed to even get the first sentence out, relapsing back into line just as they were supposed to. Grant felt a small pain in his chest, a tightness of unrelenting sadness intoxicating his lungs. He was to march onward with people he never knew, as a result of someone else's interruption. It didn't matter if the boy was right or wrong anymore. Either way, the Head Instructor was likely prepared for such deliberations from the moment he thought of taking the position. Grant had already grown weary in his head and heart, a deeper personality whispering to him about hanging the coat whilst he still had the chance. After the first day, some of the cadets who'd entered service blindly would leave on the whim, but those who stayed beyond then were doomed to its struggles for life. For as long as he'd been alive, the moment that solidified his future was now. Here. Being sent to the punishing ring of someone else's guilt, Grant could at least taste some of the lowest of lows that training could dish out before he grew too complacent or too snug. And with him, four other cadets would experience it. They were all boys, just like himself, so he didn't have to withstand that additional awkwardness that naturally came from conversation. In addition, he didn't have to dream up profound absurdities such as attraction and all manners of experiences he wasn't fluent in. With the group, he could focus on two possibilities - friendship or hatred, no third option or inbetweens.

Of course, Grant was overthinking any possibilities on either cadets he'd interact with. He always did. Letting himself loose and flowing without a sense of direction was only possible in physical practice, not in conversation. He could travel from town to town, never develop a sense of a homely life. It was easy when you were used to it. Grant wasn't particularly used to out-of-familial friendships. He wasn't nervous, not at least in an uncontrollable, stuttering sense. Words could be strewn together and sentences could eventually formulate into great discussions and debates. It was initiating them that gave him a slight tick of responsibility, something he hoped to expand upon before he'd enter an unforeseeable depth.

"Alright, bar those who were exempt from such luxuries, you may now return to your cabins and prepare for some meals later in the day. True training starts tomorrow. Formation, dismissed!" Once again, in unison, the ranks and files of cadets moved as accordingly, before dispersing and spreading around. Those who already knew one another generally gravitated towards their fellow compatriots, whereas many simple wandered in isolation. Either they were swept up in conversation by the snide remark of Maurer's lack of physical hostility or they remained alone, right up until they reached their cabins. However, Grant was not one of those people, as he had to stand in place, waiting for the punished to be singled out.

A certain Roger, and three other cadets he'd yet to identify were left to their own devices, before a booming voice commanded that they move to the side, preparing for their upcoming march. Grant was the closest to their rendezvous point, immediately being handed a flask of water whilst a few instructors began hooking themselves up with the fabled ODM gear that everyone so gloriously admired. They could get practice of their own whilst simultaneously watching over their collective jog around the entire training vicinity. Grant simply held his head down and kept quiet, nodding whenever the instructors spoke to him. They asked questions about if they'd done anything like this before, to which Grant shrugged. He had done long treks for hours longer, but it wasn't like he enjoyed them. It was a comforting thought to know he'd be able to complete it, just not that it'd do him well for the rest of the day.

Eventually, the rest arrived in their own due times. And once they'd been given their own flasks, one of the instructors led them ahead first, and no questions were asked by the blonde boy. He didn't listen out for the other four. Not at first. Not until they'd actually been separated from the instructors, who kept an eye on them from afar whilst twirling around on their incredible pieces of machinery.

The first and majority of their march took place in a daunting forest, with trees scaling higher than most buildings Grant had seen on the exterior walls. If he wasn't one for perspective, he'd have thought they were taller than the walls themselves. Forests like those were perfect for training with gear once trainees and soldiers got their balance perfected. Though there were mock towns to simulate urban usage of the gear itself, the forests were just as important for both the future Stationary Guardsmen and Scouts. The latter obviously were more used to environments like them, but their principles were sometimes interchangeable, mimicking the same size and statures as bell towers. In practice, they were a different basket entirely, all bunched in an unfair manner that made the cities feel like open plains by comparison. Grant watched as the instructors appeared and disappeared every now and then between the branches, sighing and panting as their jog had reached its twentieth minute. He'd remained silent for the whole thing, unaware if those behind him were talking or discussing their lives. If they were, he thought about whether getting involved was particularly important. Then, he plunged himself in unknowingly, uncontrollably turning and talking to a tall, scruffy individual first before anyone else - Gabriel.

"So, hey..." Grant started, trying his hardest to minimise his tone of awkwardness and instead flowing naturally as a conversationalist. "Not exactly the best start to our training, huh? You'd think there'd be a sixth person with us."

_{@LordVoldemort@KenjuGuy@MsMorningstar}

[wolverbells]

A wave of relief washed over Jade as Maurer dismissed the frightened cadets, leaving them to their own misery while they figured out how this whole ‘on your own’ deal worked. The entire point, in Jade’s opinion, of training was to be told what to do each minute of the day. She was not opposed to doing things on her own; in fact, she thrived on it. Her eyes slowly looked around as she broke from her thoughts to observe everyone breaking formation to go about their way. No one really looked familiar, at least no one that she could see at that moment.

Sighing, Jade pushed some strands of hair out of her face and began to walk. She tried her best to look at everyone that was within sight so that she could begin remembering faces, this way later on she could tie them to their actual names. ’I wonder what made them join,’ she thought to herself as she crossed her arms, flexing a little to make the tightness of her jacket go away. She was right in between sizes, the one up fitting her too bit and the one down fitting her a little snug. Unfortunately, those that fitted them chose the smaller one. She guessed she’d have to lose a little more weight in order to be perfect for it.

As the girl walked, her head turned to the left as she looked at a cabin she was passing, she came to an abrupt halt when she felt herself hit someone else. ’God damn it dumbass, you ran into someone,’ her mind scolded her as she turned to look up, her eyes immediately showing her apology before she could even get it out of her mouth. “I am so, so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention…” She didn’t know what to say as she tried to find the words to show how sorry she was. Her eyes locked onto the other girls’ emerald eyes and her mouth fell open slightly. “Wow! You’re so pretty.” She hadn’t meant to say it out loud, yet here they were. “Oh, I’m sorry for that too.” Jade could feel the rush of blood riding to her cheeks, giving away how embarrassed she was. “I’m Jade. This whole thing is a bit awkward.” She let out a nervous laugh as she looked back up to the girl, hoping that she would take it lightly and not be yet another bitch like the ones Jade had already come across.

@HecateProxy

[MsMorningstar]

Location: Training Grounds —> Parade Route
Interactions: Ezra Taffer, Charles Dujardin (Briefly) - @inkarnate

---

"Formation, dismissed!”

All at once, the tense silence was broken. A cacophony of grunts and speech filled the air as soldiers began to stretch their aching limbs and talk among themselves. Elsie remained frozen for longer than she would have liked, her naturally tense extremities refusing to release the position they had been holding for so long. Slowly, her arms dropped to her sides, and she lifted a hand to rub at her bicep.

”You good, Elz?” The familiar voice to her left alarmed her. Methodically, she twisted her neck to face her twin, scanning his visage. For what? She wasn’t sure. Hurt, perhaps? Fear that he wouldn’t make it through his PT?

There was nothing but a broad grin and glimmering emerald eyes. He was lifting his legs and twisting his core in some quick stretches, but stopped as he caught onto her scrutiny. ”What, Elz?” He asked, dropping his knee and putting a hand to his face. ”Got something on my face?”

Elsie quickly shook her head. ”No...I just...aren’t you upset?”

Ezra laughed heartily, shaking his head. ”That asshole’ll get his licks. He’s all talk, probably won’t last a day.” Shrugging, Ezra’s gaze followed after the other boys he was supposed to be running with.

”Gotta go,” Ezra began to jog off, twisting to wave at his sister. ”See ya in three!” With that, he turned away, leaving her to fend for herself.

Elsie’s gaze wandered the training grounds for a moment, stopping to linger on the ‘asshole’ in question. She pursed her lips, wondering if his licks would ever come. People had tried to imitate what he had done so fluently. It was evident that a majority of the troops looked up to him already. Just like that, his uppity lifestyle was returning to him. It wasn’t right.

Elsie started on a beeline toward him with little to no thought in her actions. At the last second, she stepped into his bubble, using her narrow shoulder to knock harshly into him. Narrowing her eyes, she didn’t miss a step as she suddenly began to pick up her pace. Moving into a steady jog, she found the parade route and began her laps.

As she went, she challenged herself to stay at pace with the girl who was running alongside her. Her auburn hair was what made her stand out to Elsie, as she was otherwise plain. Elsie considered making small talk, but in the end opted out. She wasn’t interested in being a social butterfly while she did her laps.

[Jinxer]

Lauren Jones

@MsMorningstar@Inkarnate

Released by the Maurer's barked orders, the cadets all breathed a sigh of relief and shoulder slumped in relaxation. For most, they had escaped with naught but a spiteful word. At the other end of the spectrum, some were to spend the next three hours running under supervision from instructors; Lauren was grateful that her punishment was merely a few laps of the parade ground.

She wanted to start immediately so as not to draw the ire of any watching instructors but there was something she wanted to do first. After much thought she had decided on her course, reasoning that talking to this individual would not bring any punishment on either of them; at least, not after the others' existing public dressing down. With frustration she sought through the dispersing formation, her short height stopping her from finding her quarry easily but, unsurprisingly, her target was being given a wide berth by those immediately around them.

Jogging up to Charles, she looked up into his face and bit back her instant feelings of inferiority. There was an air about him, something in the way he carried himself and surveyed his surroundings, a quiet self-assurance; which thrust her own insufficiencies to the surface. He might have only been a boy but he stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the cadets as an individual with the upbringing of the upper classes. What on earth had drawn the lad here she could not reason out but there was no time for such musings; she would have plenty of that while running.

"Listen, my Ma is in the Garrison and she taught me a few things about military life. You were brave to speak out and all that. Braver than me and..." This was not like her to approach someone but, for some reason, she felt like she owed Charles for doing what he did, as if it had been in her place. It was stupid and a mistake but he had still done what she was sure many had wanted someone to. "Thanks. I was too anxious to say anything, not in my nature and all that. Anyways, it was a stupid thing to do and you're probably going to get a drubbing later so come find me. I've learned a few things from my Pa's clinic so I can take the edge off it." A few looks were being thrown their way now. She had lingered too long. "I've got to go, do my run. Remember and thanks!"

She dashed off, trying to dampen the rising redness in her cheeks. The last thing she wanted was to be associated with someone destined to either become a hero or a leper to the cadets but she would not have felt right if she had not offered to help. A weight lifted from her chest, Lauren slowed into an easy jog and found her way to the edge of the parade ground. After a moment's indecision she turned left and began her first circuit. It was not long before her stifling uniform began to make its thick weight felt and sweat dripped down the sides of her face but this felt good; a release from the tense attention they had been forced to stand at for hours, braced emotionally and physically for abuse heading their way. Her muscles relaxed, stretching out their stiffness and she found her rhythm, letting her mind drift off as she ate up the assigned distance.

So distracted in her own drifting consciousness was she that Lauren failed to take note of the blonde girl who had fallen into stride next to her. After nearly a minute she clocked the girl's presence and recalled Maurer's assault on the twins nearly immediately after her own punishment had been meted out. It did not feel uncomfortable, running in silence, and the other girl had a clearly focused expression on her face, much like the one Lauren had most likely been wearing earlier, indicating that she was also not wildly interested in talking.

"Lauren." She introduced herself before returning to her jogging-induced daydreaming.

They jogged on in silence, enjoying each others' undemanding company while their colleagues filtered across to the cabins. A few stayed on the field, talking, but most seemed keen to find their bunks and grab a meal. The thought of food dragged Lauren from her exercise-induced euphoria and rumbled her belly discreetly; she was used to missing meals what with the unpredictable and sometimes demanding business of Pa's clinic but after today a filling supper was exactly what she needed.

Having stumbled onto an easy conversation, the words began to tumble out of her mouth as her social anxiety drifted away. "I'm looking forwards to some grub after this - I reckon they'll probably just serve us gruel or something what with it being the first day and all. Another punishment, like this one, right? Ma told me the first week would be the hardest but at least we're not one of those five poor sods or the rich-sounding boy!"

They started on their final designated lap of the parade grounds, the majority of the other cadets still mulling around by the cabins.

"Let's make this interesting - I bet you half a stale bread roll I can beat you back to the cabins?" She laughed, a light and almost sing-song sound. The action itself released the stress she had been holding in from the moment she had arrived at the site and she felt a fresh burst of energy flood her weary muscles. With a burst of speed she started eating up the remaining distance back to the cabins, a small grin on her face.

[mickilennial]

_{Location: Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria]
Featuring: Revel Belrose @Bartimaeus}

---

Charles had remained in the line, quiet and obedient. The instructor tasked with vetting the cadets had decided that the consequences of the blonde-haired boy’s argument would be clear.

Charles knew he had made a mistake when Maurer asked him to pick five other cadets. Five other cadets who would be tasked to run while Charles himself was offered to stand and think about what he had just done. The young man had expected to join the five cadets he had picked for whatever punishment the instructor devised, so when Maurer instead told him that he would not in fact be joining them on their three hour march a deep sense of regret overwhelmed him. At the very least he was glad he picked what looked like five able-bodied, athletic men. There was no version of Charles that would have picked a woman or meek boy who didn't look like they couldn't handle whatever punishment Maurer could invent. He had no doubt already created division between himself and the five other men. In time, he hoped they would understand that him standing up to Maurer was the right thing to do even if it may not have been the smartest. He contemplated all of the ways he could apologize and make it up to them when they returned.

As the other cadets were commanded to disperse Charles remained in line, looking at the ground as if he was deep in thought. Evidently, this contemplation turned out to be a mistake as almost immediately as he heard the footsteps of other cadets moving away from him he felt a strong force collide with his body which sent him tumbling to the ground. He hadn’t expected consequences from his actions this quickly, but as his butt hit the muddied ground he supposed it wasn’t entirely surprising.

A few cadets bust out in quick laughter, obviously witnessing the event on their way back to the cabins. A sentiment he knew he deserved. If he were them he'd have a laugh at his expense as well, it was only fair.

Gripping his gloved hands into the dirt and mud he sighed as he tried to get his bearings. He figured he would be left this own, even despite some cadets trying to replicate him during Maurer’s run-down. After all, everyone was unpolished raw cadets here. Very few had the privileged that Charles had and it wasn't like Charles was trying to hide the way he talked, how he presented himself, or how he came off. It would have been inauthentic to lie and such inauthentic traits were beneath him in his mind. He would always be true to his morals no matter what. That's how he turned out nothing like his parents, after all.

As he was about to stand up, a female voice spoke out as another cadet outstretched their hand to help him to his feet. He was surprised.

“Hey.”

The girl in front of him was tall, taller than he was, with long black hair strewn in some kind of ponytail. Her grip on his hand was firm and when she let go of Charles’ hand he couldn’t help but think she had been training long before applying to be a cadet. Most importantly were her eyes, which reminded him of his mother’s collection of amethysts that she kept in a display case alongside various other gemstones. It almost made her imposing, but Charles wasn’t one to be intimidated by someone for their appearance, even if they were several inches ahead of him. In Charles’ mind the gesture was a lot friendlier than it actually was. The woman’s tone was neutral and her expression was blank.

Charles smiled, albeit a little awkwardly as he took their hand, mud and dirt and all. “Thank you, miss. Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Yeah, well, you probably should.” She uttered as she helped Charles to his feet, though he couldn't help but feel partially smitten.

He sighed, “Can’t say I blame anyone for being upset.”

The blonde-haired boy looked in the direction one of the women who had been tasked with a few laps had gone in. She had expressed concern about his mistake and offered thanks for standing up for the group of cadets. He hadn’t caught her name, but he supposed if his fellow cadets had a problem with him and assaulted him as a result then he might have to take her up on her offer.

“I get ahead of myself sometimes, but I still think I did the right thing.” He straightened the collar of his shirt before looking back at her. “My name’s Charles. Charles Dujardin. It’s nice to meet you. Do you have a name?”

[Bartimaeus]

Revel Belrose

With: Everyone, Charles Dujardin (@Inkarnate)
Location: Training Ground || Within Wall Maria

---

---

The remainder of the instructor’s inquisition saw Revel remaining quiet in place, muscles relaxed but still at attention. Despite her rather composed visage, a small part of her was hoping Maurer wouldn’t loop back around through the formation and target her. She recognized that the instructor’s methods were probably supposed to be some sort of toughening routine, but she felt she’d had enough of that back home. Regardless, when she heard the call for dismissal she released a quiet sigh and let her arms fall to her sides before giving her extremities a few quick stretches and wiping some small drops of sweat off her brow.

She scanned the group of cadets who were all heading whichever way they pleased for whichever affairs they needed to attend to. They, understandably, seemed much more relaxed now that they weren’t within range of the instructor’s ire. As was she, as she left the spot she’d been standing and started to stroll towards what stood as a track. Her gaze floated over the rows of cabins that the cadets were expected to lodge in; she didn’t really fancy the idea of sharing a living area with multiple other people, but she supposed she didn’t really have a choice. Though in all honesty, she had no clue what it’d be like - she’d always been an only child, and sleep overs weren’t really her thing. Whether it ending up being a nuisance or not, something so trivial wasn’t going to stop from her accomplishing her goals.

As she stepped aside to avoid another cadet, her eyes were drawn to the few individuals who weren’t moving from their places. Poor lads, they were; punished for something they didn’t even do. It wasn’t like it’d kill them, in fact it would likely be good for them, but she doubted they would be grateful to the one who’d earned them the run. It wasn’t really her place to worry, though, as she was about to make her own run-

Revel paused as she witnessed someone shoulder-check a daydreaming cadet to the ground, painting his bottom with mud and dirt. Her eyes followed the perpetrator - a girl with long, blond hair who seemed rather unconcerned with the response she’d earn as she trotted away. She turned her head back to fallen cadet, looking more closely before realizing he was the one who’d caused the trouble in the formation moments before.

Ah. She thought with a hint of realization.

She found herself wandering what exactly his deal was. Apparently he felt the need to sass the instructor in some way. Was he ignorant? A troublemaker, maybe? She noted his somewhat spruce appearance, despite his now-muddied rump, pegging him as maybe an upper-class individual. Yeah...probably some pampered momma’s boy. She felt ready to wince as she imagined what sort of things he’d be subjected to that he definitely wouldn’t enjoy - were she correct about him, that was. Her brain did wonder a bit as to why he’d be joining the corps, but she felt at least a little bad for him regardless, considering how poorly it’d started for him. Before she even realized it she saw her own hand stretched out in front of her, offering to help him up.

At least he had already been in her path; she didn’t have to go out of her way.
“Hey.” She said to call his attention, her voice sounding rather flat. Soon enough, he took her hand, her grip wrapping tightly around his own hand to pull him up. The second he was on his feet, Revel withdrew her hand. She flicked off some of the mud off her as he spoke.

“Thank you, miss. Guess I wasn’t paying attention.”

Hm. Maybe she’d thought wrong. A coddled kid would probably be a bit more upset at the state of things not going his way. He didn’t seem to be, based on his admittedly awkward smile, which Revel did not return, instead keeping her usual neutral expression. She released air through her nose at his comment.

“Yeah, well, you probably should.”

He was right that he couldn’t blame anyone. He’d brought it upon himself. Even if he hadn’t know he’d have his peers turned against him, speaking out in the manner he had was sure to accrue some form of disciplining. The manner in which it was dealt here was simply more indirect - yet arguably more impactful. She followed his gaze in the direction the girl went, but he didn’t seem keen on getting back at her. Revel was a little surprised to hear him stand by what he’d done. Even though he’d misfortuned others and himself, with seemingly no good done to show for it, he seemed either too stubborn or too self-righteous to care. Not that she thought that poorly of him - he seemed rather genuine based on how he spoke.

The taller girl looked him up and down as he straightened his collar, offering his name. Charles Dujardin. She had a feeling the name would be commonplace amongst the cadets, whether he liked it or not. He’d already made some enemies, it seemed, and it didn’t look like he was all that keen on changing his behavior based on how he stood by it. She wondered if he would be able to make it through the training.

She let out another, ever-so-slightly amused breath through her nose at what she thought was a rather dumb question. “No.” She responded bluntly as her feet began to carry her away from the conversation and back on her path towards the parade route. She hadn’t really intended to talk to him much, he was just in the way, so she might as well have helped him up.

[Hero]

---

---

It looked like luck was on her side; Drill Sergeant Nasty didn't feel like picking on anyone else. Or maybe he did and she just hadn't caught it. Her focus was everywhere--no, that wasn't entirely true, she actually had the opposite problem. Hotaru was so focused on one person that nearly everyone else around her was just a blur. If she was honest, it worried her. She could usually keep her cool, but the entire situation was throwing her for a loop. At the very least, now that they were dismissed, she could properly confront him without drawing too much attention.

There had been a tiny part of her that had hoped she had been mistaken, that maybe there had been an incredibly unlikely chance that someone with the exact same name and similar looks was in his place, but she wasn't so lucky. Or he was the unlucky one? It wasn't often that she found herself so flustered, uncertainty brewing in the pit of her stomach. It was easier to be surrounded by strangers, she supposed. Not that she was looking to be antisocial, quite the opposite, but seeing Charles here was making her head do all sorts of mental gymnastics.

Hotaru lingered, hands behind her back as she gave a polite smile to anyone who looked her way, although as soon as the other girl walked away, she practically jumped at the chance. She made a beeline for Charles, stopping right before him. She tapped his shoulder with two fingers, almost bowing before catching herself and instead giving him an incredulous look.

"Young Lord--" She didn't catch herself on time, only stopping to give a quick shake of her head before pinching the bridge of her nose. Hopefully no one heard that, she was super out of her element right now. "--what in the world are you doing here?" She lowered her voice in an accusatory tone. Whatever his response was, it had better be good.

---

_@Inkarnate

[mickilennial]

_{Location: Training Grounds | 122nd Trainee Corps | Inside Wall Maria]
Featuring: Hotaru Tachibana @Hero}

---

What was he doing here?

Charles mulled over the thought as he turned to face the other woman as another walked away, apparently completely disinterested in having a proper greeting. He may have kept pace with the other woman if he hadn’t been caught completely off guard. As he raised an eyebrow, it became apparent that he had not been the only one to decide to join the military from Orvud. The girl, Hotaru Tachibana, was a little servant maid that worked at his family’s estate and while it shouldn’t have surprised him that a maid wanted to make a better life for herself, he couldn’t help but wonder how they could’ve timed this more strangely. It had been in his blood and of his greatest dream to serve in the military in defense against the threats beyond and within. He knew no such thing of the maid in front of him even as she masqueraded as a soldier. Charles had much respect for women who wished to serve, but Hotaru could barely shamble with a broom so how could she defend anyone? Perhaps it was a bias of his, but unlike the towering woman that had helped him up he did not see Hotaru as anything but the awkward maiden from his estate halls from upon when he first met her.

He still remembered her when she arrived at his estate all those years ago. When his mother knocked down the dishes she had been tasked to clean up.

“I could ask you the same thing, Ms. Tachibana.” He remarked as he looked her over. “You? The military?”

"One of us has a future that doesn't involve a life of servitude. I can't say I agree with your statement," She couldn't help but remind him of his upbringing, or at least the little she knew of his upbringing. "Why would you willingly put yourself through this?"

“It’s a proud tradition in my family. I am glad to see you, but I never imagined you in uniform. You'll look great.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, only snapping shut after a few seconds. There was a hint of embarrassment on her face as she shook her head, taking in a breath before speaking through her flustered thoughts. Her voice trailed off before she cleared her throat. "That is... I wish I could say the same, but your presence here concerns me. Is the Lord aware of your participation? I can't possibly imagine him or the Lady being alright with this."

Charles eyed people around him as she mentioned his mother and father by their proper titles. On instinct he grabbed her by the hand, as he walked his way back to the cabins. He wanted to look busy, though part of it was the whispers that would occur. Surely, Charles’ fellow cadets would know soon enough but he would not wish gossip of such a kind be spoken so soon. He didn’t consider Hotaru’s feelings or appearances as he did so, but Charles was still a noble of privilege despite having genuinely good intentions. He continued the conversation between them as he pulled them away from the spot where he had fallen only a few minutes prior, as he ran his tongue on the base of his teeth to quell his nerves.

She needed to watch her tongue just had he needed to not act with his gut.

“My mother was not fond of my decision, yes.” His tone was terse, slightly less friendly than it was previously. “My decision was to follow in the shadow of my grandfather. There has been members of my family in the military police and the garrison for generations. I know the risks. Do you? Are you that desperate? I promised you that I would support you and your family back in Orvud. Did you not believe me?”

At his words Hotaru couldn't help but roll her eyes, though the attempt to get out of his grasp was noticeable.

"I know perfectly well what I'm doing," She snapped, clearly annoyed at his behavior. He could tell that much as she tried to wrench her hand free. "And your offer was generous, but I need to stand on my own two feet. It's my life, Young—Charles, and I have nothing left to lose."

“Outside of your life.”

Charles released his grip on her wrist, sighing as he did so.

The blonde-haired young noble nearly frowned as he considered what Hotaru had said. It saddened him to learn she believed her life so worthless that she could endanger it, that she felt she had no other choice. He wondered about how little he actually knew of her home situation, though this was neither the time nor the place to inquire about such things. It would just make the young woman more upset with him. He knew that much.

“I guess this just means I’ll have to keep protecting you, Miss Tachibana.” He said as he turned to look at her now that he was further away. His eyes continued to scan the grounds for other authority figures who might lecture him about conversing and not going immediately to his bunk in the cabins. He didn't want another situation.

Crossing her arms, Hotaru let out a huff. "Judging from today, I will be the one having to keep you out of trouble. I understand someone in your position isn't used to it, but you aren't supposed to backtalk your superiors. You can't just go around saying and doing whatever you want, there are consequences to your words. Look at those cadets running because of you! Do you really think you can 'protect' anyone like that?"

“Of course. It is the responsibility of the strong and the privileged to protect the weak. Now if you excuse me, before I cause another scene, I do need to find the cabins. We will converse later. Good luck.”

Without a second word Charles placed his hand on the top of the girl's head before heading off to his place in the cabins.