Sentimental

The sound of horseshoes clapping against stone reverberates throughout the capital as new recruits pour out from their homes, tearful eyes holding both pride and trepidation. Tia's face is unsteady, observing as they pass by from her window with an amalgamation of her own emotions stirring. Her eyes graze the room she had let herself believe would be her home, seeming hollow now that most of her things have been packed away. Tia questions if it would be a home to her again when she returns or if she would return at all.

"This is the second time I'm leaving my home," Tia comments to Duff, settled on the windowsill. He scans the passerby himself and Tia continues, "All in one year. But this time I'm doing it alone."

'Not completely alone,' Duff reminds her, locking eyes with Tia.

"It's hard to imagine I won't see dad again… for years," Tia continues, her voice cracking as she speaks. Duff holds her eyes before glancing back outside, his tail flicking at the end. "What if I never see him again...?" Tia squeaks, "I-I already lost mom I-"

'You will see him again,' Duff insists and she wipes at her eyes.

He can feel the crushing sense of loneliness looming in her mind and her fear of it threatening to crash into her with its full weight. Duff meows suddenly, catching Tia by surprise. He stares pointedly at the recruits passing in front of the manner gates. Tia searches their faces, seeing the same uncertainty she was wrestling with. She remains silent, watching until a knock stirs her from contemplation. Duff leaps onto her shoulder as she makes her way to the door.

Evelyn paces in the great hall, pale and tense until Tia and Allen descend. She draws in a breath and offers a steady smile to her granddaughter, trying to put them both at ease.

"Come here, Tia," Evelyn asks holding Tia by the shoulders, looking her over and straightening out her clothing, "I've triple checked your belongings and have them prepared out front—everything is ready!" Evelyn chirps, searching Tia's eyes and feeling her tremble slightly.

"I-I don't know if I'm ready…" Tia peeps, her voice discordant. Evelyn opens her mouth to reassure her but pauses as Allen places a hand on Tia's empty shoulder.

"You don't have to be," Allen consoles softly.

Both of their eyes tear up and, as her face trembles, Allen spreads his arms out to her. Tia embraces her father, Duff hopping to a nearby table, and Allen holds her tight. He holds her as if releasing Tia would be the end of him.

"Listen to me," Allen's voice is firm as Tia pulls away, cupping her face, "You do everything you can to keep yourself safe. I don't care what they say or do, whatever pressure they put on you—you focus on staying alive!"

"Ok," Tia agrees, her breath catching. She places her hands over his, squeezing them once before letting them drop. Allen turns to Duff and gives him a stern expression.

"I expect you to look after my daughter!" Allen addresses him in a grim tone. Duff nods to him, a strange sight despite their knowledge, and Allen looks back to Tia, "And I expect you to write us, even when you're busy." Tia offers him a slight smile then, followed by a deep breath to steady herself.

"Now then," Evelyn cuts in, catching everyone's attention, "Let's repeat the rules one more time before you go!"

"Ok," Tia puffs, "One, no changing my appearance. Two, no changing forms—only use Dad's magic. Three, keep Duff concealed and don't be seen together. Four, tell no one."

'We both know you're going to break every single rule,' Duff drones, 'Probably today.'

"Hush!" Tia bites with a scowl. 

"Aaaand," Allen chimes in when she finishes, "Number five: no boys!"

"Oh, Allen!" Evelyn admonishes him as he and Tia giggle, "There is one last thing then, a family tradition…" Evelyn leads them to the mantle of the fireplace.

A polished box creaks open under Evelyn's hand and she produces a knife with the family crest on its pommel. She then gestures to a glass case Tia hadn't stopped to observe before. Her fingers graze the glass, delicate as a feather, and her eyes brim with memories. Inside, many locks of hair are braided and pinned to a satin backing—fifteen in total.

"When a Minx child leaves for service, we cut a lock of their hair and pin it here," Evelyn explains, her voice a pitch higher than usual, "So a piece of you is still here, no matter where you go, and when you return you cast it into the fire to celebrate the person you've become!"

"Then these…?" Tia asks, studying the locks still pinned in place. Evelyn's lips tremble as peers at them.

"If they… can't return," Evelyn responds with a wavering voice, "We keep these here so that they are never forgotten and this piece of them is still with us." A heavy silence looms over them until Evelyn turns to Tia, offering her the blade. Tia runs her fingers through her hair as she eyes it.

"Do you think..." Tia's question is timorous, "I'd like to use my real hair… if that's okay?" Evelyn blinks, not having considered the difference. She seems about to rebuff Tia's request until Allen speaks up.

"I don't see any harm in it," Allen reasons, causing Evelyn to release the breath of her unspoken protest.

Evelyn nods, despite a tight frown, and Tia takes hold of the knife as snowy hair rolls down her shoulders. She selects a lock near the nape of her neck, severing it and passing it to her grandmother.

"Ordinarily," Evelyn speaks as she weaves a practiced braid, "We start a new board for a new generation and these would be displayed in the library or study. But… I can't bring myself to take them down," Evelyn admits quickly.

"That’s fine," Tia reassures her, "I like this better anyways."

Evelyn gives her a starkly grateful smile in return. Tia's braid is secured and Evelyn carefully pins it at the end, the clear white popping compared to the brown and black lockes. Allen's eyes fill with tears as she closes the case and he swipes them away quickly before Tia can see. As a bell tolls throughout the town, Tia reverts to her disguise and Duff disappears into her cloak, settling into a pocket Evelyn had prepared. Much of Tia's clothing now had these little hideaways. They make their way outside and, pausing to embrace them both a final time, Tia mounts her horse in silence.

Allen watches as she rides through the manor gates, lost. The moment she is out of sight, Evelyn retreats into the manor, crashing into a nearby sofa like a bundle of firewood set loose. She covers her face with one hand, otherwise seeming like a limp doll in the seat. Allen follows her inside with tenuous steps, surprised by the sudden shift.

"I never…" Evelyn speaks with a wisp of a voice, "I had hoped I'd never do this again..."

Allen settles into the matching armchair and he still feels a tingling in his limbs. It hadn't left him once all morning and now seems to expand. He flexes his fingers slowly, his mind still racing with potential alternatives or solutions which he knew were all futile. Allen wanted nothing more than to race after his daughter and leave this place with her. This thought, among many others, had been repeating endlessly in his mind since the day Ambrose had refused his request but today it was overwhelming. He gestures over a staff.

"Bring me our reserve of Shadow Tongue Mead—the whole bottle," Allen requests and Evelyn scoffs.

"I understand it's been a hard day," Evelyn gripes in a tired voice, "But-"

"Do you?" Allen snaps too harshly.

"I am not having this argument with you today," Evelyn denies with a firm wave, "And I won't see you touch a drop of that brew ever again! Just... fetch him whisky," Evelyn instructs before the servant bows and trails off, "Besides, we still have important matters to discuss."

"I'm sure any House business," Allen grumbles, wearing a scowl and propping his head up with one hand, "Can wait until tomorrow."

"I'm fully capable of managing those matters on my own—something you'll need to learn to do now that you've returned," Evelyn answers, ignoring Allen's sigh, "There is a distressing rumor circulating. It-"

"Mother," Allen interrupts in a firm voice, "Gossip is the last thing I will tolerate today."

"You will stop interrupting me!" Evelyn snaps, leaving Allen blinking, "This isn't gossip, it has to do with your daughter!"

Allen blinks and leans back into his seat, lips pressed together. The servant returns with a bottle and a cup on a tray, placing it on the table between them before stepping away. As Allen pours himself a glass, Evelyn dismisses all of the staff and waits until they are alone to continue.

"From what I've heard," Evelyn explains, speaking slowly, "Ghislaine, under direction from the king, is trying to find and capture shape shifter spies." Evelyn holds Allen's eyes with her own, his already pale face losing more color.

"Spies…?" Allen husks.

"Yes," Evelyn confirms tersely, frowning, "From the Continent Beyond according to what's been circulating."

"That's preposterous!" Allen derides, spinning his liquor in the cup before sipping at it, "Ambrose would never believe baseless fear-mongering! There's something more to this..." Evelyn hums her agreement while Allen mulls over his options.

"There is... one more thing," Evelyn continues, her dire mood recapturing his attention, "He's looking for something called a 'dark' shape shifter." 

"Darkness..." Allen denotes carefully, holding Evelyn's gaze, "Have you seen them too, her shadows?"

Ambrose looms on the easternmost balcony of the castle, overlooking the uniform streets and watching the annual pilgrimage. His son had departed earlier this morning, tradition dictating he be the first to leave, but Aldric is far from Ambrose's thoughts as his eyes scathe the children below. Any one of them could be the girl who holds all of his hopes and ambitions, the future of the kingdom, just out of reach. He knows she's likely an unwitting player in this game and yet he struggles against the accumulation of animosity for her—this clueless, weak-willed child who had snared his greatest desire so effortlessly and threatens to trample sacrifices the likes she could never comprehend. Despite Ghislaine's assurances, Ambrose feels as if she's slipping through his fingers. The door behind him swings open and Ghislaine emerges, squinting into the glaring sunlight reflecting off of white stone.

"What is it?" Ambrose bites, making no effort to hide his aggravation as his eyes still linger on those below.

"It's Allen, sire," Ghislaine answers, continuing to blink and squint, "He's here asking for an audience with you."

"Allen?" Ambrose echoes and swivels around fully, "Here now?" Ghislaine nods as Ambrose pauses to work out why.

"Should I dismiss him?" Ghislaine asks, poorly masking his desire to do so.

"No," Ambrose denies him, looking back once at the children, "I'll see him."

Ghislaine follows Ambrose back into the castle, grateful for the dim atmosphere as they make their way to the great hall. Allen waits there, speaking with Martin and seeming to poke fun at and ruffle him. The sight brings a sense of nostalgia to Ambrose despite the reversal in their habits and a smile touches his face.

"Allen, what a surprise," Ambrose greets him and Martin grimaces at his choice of words, "Still your specialty I see."

"Good morning, sire," Allen answers, surprisingly cheerful, "I hope I'm not intruding, dropping in so suddenly." Ambrose hums a laugh in response but it doesn't affect his expression.

"I certainly didn't expect to see you today, of all days," Ambrose admits, "A solemn occasion for most." Allen's smile strains in response, pulling at the aged lines on his face.

"Well," Allen answers thoughtfully, "I've never been able to sit idle in difficult times."

"You’re here on business then?" Ambrose asks, inclining his head.

"Yes," Allen responds with a simple nod, "I'll try to get right to the heart of it and not waste your time."

"Even when you're serious you're slipping in jokes!" Martin jests, referring to Allen's technique, and Ambrose can't help but join in on the laughter. Ghislaine frowns, the joke completely lost on him. Allen clears his throat and tries to be more serious.

"Now that I've returned and seen off my daughter," Allen begins, "It would be… irresponsible for me to sit in my manor twiddling my thumbs. I came here today hoping to play a more active role again," Allen states solemnly, "To offer my skills to you and the kingdom." Eyebrows raise on all of their faces, Ghislaine and Martin locking eyes before looking back to Ambrose.

"That is a very appealing offer, Allen," Ambrose responds carefully, "But I am not without skepticism hearing this from you now." Ghislaine nods into Ambrose's words and Allen can see a similar doubt on Martin's face.

"And I understand that skepticism," Allen is unfazed as he agrees, having anticipated this response, "I won't deny that I have been an absent member of your court for some time now."

"Absent?" Ghislaine derides with a sneer, "Absent doesn't begin to cover it, you ran away for two decades!"

"That is hardly-" Martin snaps at Ghislaine.

"No, he's right," Allen interrupts him, throwing them both off, "All of you know I was lost after that battle," Allen reminds them, pausing to rapidly construct a somber and almost uncomfortable atmosphere, "And I did run away from many things in my grief. My family, my duties, myself and yes, the kingdom and all of you."

Martin and Ambrose glance to each other and Martin's face grows particularly mortified at the memory of Allen during that time. Martin was there in the aftermath of that battle, Allen lingering amid the corpses of his siblings. Neither of them knew how approach Allen in the wake of his losses, their friend shutting down every approach and isolating himself.

Allen had nearly drowned himself in the hallucinogenic mead his mother had refused him this morning, reliving his past or experiencing alternate paths had he made different choices—anything but his reality at the time. He was an utterly broken man. Even Ambrose's stoic facade warps as the memories return to him, unsettling Ghislaine.

"And I will always be grateful for how you responded," Allen continues, locking eyes with Ambrose, "I'd still be lost if not for the mercy you granted me. I found myself and a new purpose because of that kindness."

"That's all… a beautiful sentiment, Allen," Ghislaine cuts in with a nearly belittling tone and Martin leers at him for it, "But it assuages none of the concerns about your loyalties to his highness."

"That is still my concern," Ambrose agrees and Ghislaine's smile widens, "While I appreciate your skills, nothing is more valuable to me right now than loyalty. How am I to trust in your loyalty, Allen?"

"I bring up the past to preface that very point," Allen's response is steady and cool headed, "You know better than most that, at every point in my life, nothing has meant more to me than my family," Allen states and Ambrose nods in agreement, "And when I lost them, I lost my faith and my purpose. But I have that family again. There is nothing I wouldn't do for my daughter," Ambrose raises a brow as he speaks but waits for Allen to make his point, "And now… her future is inextricably tied to the kingdom's future," a smile starts to grow on Ambrose's face as he grasps the connection and Martin regards Allen differently as well, "Her fate is the kingdom's fate, so my loyalty is to this kingdom's future. I would be... remiss to sit idle while that future develops."

"I see," Ambrose hums and Ghislaine fumbles witnessing his utterly satisfied tone and smile, his oldest friend finally returned before his eyes. Martin gives a single hard laugh.

"Well, that's no bluff," Martin grunts, "Every moment o' that damn escort ye were smothering th' lass."

"I see your nephew has drawn out your accent again," Allen points out with a grin and Martin grumbles at the thought of Euan, "You're not even drunk!"

Ambrose wears a faint smile watching the two of them interact, a true smile. Ghislaine sees this and puffs up before speaking.

"Loyalty to your daughter doesn't mean-" Ghislaine begins but Ambrose cuts him off with a halting gesture.

"I know first hand how passionate a Minx is when protecting their loved ones," Ambrose indicates almost somberly, a bittersweet nostalgia lingering deep in his eyes, "I do trust in that loyalty. I will consider where you might be most useful," Allen tries not to seem to relieved in hearing this, "But I still expect you to prove yourself."

"Of course," Allen agrees, bowing his head in thanks, "I'm grateful for the opportunity."

"Well," Martin sighs abruptly, cutting through the tension, "I need a drink after that!"

"Can you hold your liquor any better, after all these years?" Allen questions with a grin.

"You know I can't," Martin guffaws, "But that's never stopped me!"

Allen and Martin both bellow with laughter and Ambrose chuckles. They look to him, questioning if he would join them, and Ambrose leans achingly close to accepting. Ghislaine shuffles behind him, stewing silently, and Ambrose offers a curt denial. The two men bow politely before making their way out and Ambrose sighs once they are alone, his gentle joy falling away.

"I can feel your disapproval," Ambrose complains flatly, turning to his advisor.

"I fear he's using sentimentality to further his own goals, sire," Ghislaine answers smoothly.

"And I won't forget his motivations," Ambrose growls with an agitated leer, "But he may prove a valuable tool in flushing out this shifter… assuming complacency hasn't robbed him of the shrewd mind I remember." Ghislaine presses his lips together, biting his tongue.

AMTP

The air in the town below is melancholic and tears dust the eyes of nearly every citizen as teens pour out from every nook and cranny, all of them meandering forward like a trail of ants leaving their colony. There is an uneasy mixture of pride and sorrow. Vibrant banners and flags flutter in the morning breeze to celebrate the momentous day and many carry themselves with pride despite their tears. Even in the poorer sections of the village, teens come forward with determination to make something of themselves, to prove themselves, while others are listless and gaunt. Most make the trek on foot with nothing more than a small pack of belongings—some with nothing at all.

The capital fades behind Tia as she trails alongside her peers heading west. After an hour at a steady pace, another seeming city emerges. Stern walls grow steadily skirted by the river farther north. They pass one set of walls before continuing through a pasture. Various mounts, creatures Tia had never seen or imagined before, meander the fields alongside the horses. Soldiers are stationed above on parapets at various segments along the walls or pace behind battlements. As they approach the second set of walls, staff wait near the gates drawing in mounted recruits.

"You can leave your horse here!" an amiable woman calls to Tia, "We'll care for them and, if you give me your name, we'll have your belongings taken to where you'll be lodging?"

Tia blinks, hesitating at first before sliding off the saddle. She glances to the stable where staff were busy untacking and marking the horses before setting them loose. Tia pats Angel once before handing over the reigns.

"And your name?" the staff questions again, looking Angel over.

"Tia… Minx," Tia answers reluctantly. The woman's eyes shoot back to her, wide, and she stumbles over trying to speak.

"I-I see," she finally responds, "I'll see to your belongings myself, my Lady!"

She gives Tia a small head bow and Tia shifts uncomfortably, giving the woman an awkward, forced smile before turning to follow after her peers. Tia passes under the looming wall and portcullis. The architecture reminds her of the capital but far less eccentric and constructed of more practical materials.

Like many of those around her, Tia gawks about the compound. Far to her left, a uniform building resembling a school lies beyond three obstacle courses along the road and windows stack along these walls, rising up to three floors. The obstacle courses were much like those she encountered during assessments yet they stretch much farther than the colosseum had allowed. A number of recruits are testing themselves on it, seeming to want to show off in front of the new arrivals.

Staff in yellow uniforms stand in the path leading to the center, redirecting the children along a path skirting the wall instead. As they continue, they encounter a wide-reaching field with various lines dividing it up and racks of weapons lay in between. Some fields are small and they observe sparring matches between individual recruits or pairs while larger scale matches occur in fields twice the size of these or more. Two of the largest fields are designed for aerial and aquatic battles, elaborately arranged.

Most of the way north along the circular curve of the wall they are finally directed west once more and pass alongside the northern edge of the sparring grounds. To their north, they could see an archery range with various distances marked, targets and dummies prepared for practice. Tia watches as half of those present work on their archery while others hurl various magics at the targets. Fire seemed the most common.

Finally, they arrive at a large amphitheater, dug down into the earth. The northern end of the structure is cut off by the wall where a stage emerges instead. The seats themselves are of stone and earth, damp moss pressing into the cracks, and further sets of wooden stands rise into the air intended for those with flight. This seems to be their destination, those before her descending into the seats below. Staff carefully direct recruits as they seek out seating, managing the flow of people steadily. Tia is directed to the western end before finally settling in. She glances around as the rows fill loosely, save an empty section on the east side. The capacity of the amphitheater is far from filled, the upper seats totally empty, and Tia wonders just how many people the amphitheater could accommodate.

Tia had left the capital later than many of her peers, reluctant to depart, and the sun is nearly centered in the sky. There were far more people here than she had seen in the capital and they cluster together into various groups. She is relieved to be surrounded by average people for the first time in more than a month but also feels suddenly isolated and exposed. Tia realizes she couldn't possibly find Albert amid this crowd. Her mind races with various questions. Would she see him at all in this place? Was he still her tutor? Was he really a friend or was he unable to rebuke her due to her station?

Doubts swarm as those around her call out to each other, slowly rearranging themselves near familiar faces. Tia hears them chatter and laugh and finds herself scratching Duff's head to comfort herself, still concealed in her cloak. These interactions are still so foreign to Tia, listening to them joke or chatter about their journey here. That familiar loneliness grows in her chest, buzzing as if a beehive called the cavity home.

'On the outside looking in… again,' Tia's tone is melancholic, unable to stifle her sorrow or resentment.

'Tia,' Duff states, 'You are surrounded by humans.'

'And…?' Tia questions with a scowl.

'Friends. Enemies. Lovers,' Duff lists off, 'Each human here has that potential.' 

Tia scans the crowd again, trying to glean that potential. She re-observes how they interact with each other, trying to imagine how she might insert herself, but many of these exchanges are still a mystery to her.

'I don't know how any of this works….' Tia mutters breathily.

The sun rises to the center of the sky and a loud bell tolls from the northern wall above them, droning twelve times. As the last toll fades, Tia notices all new arrivals being directed into the east section of the arena despite spaces left elsewhere. A number of staff in an array of colored uniforms begin lining up along the stage and they all begin to quiet.

One particular woman steps forward, appearing close to Allen in age as a few grey strands of hair are wrangled away neatly with the rest of her otherwise auburn curls. It is secured tightly together but let loose into a springy cascade behind her head. Her complexion has a cool olive tone, causing her stark white uniform to appear even brighter. She stands before them with impeccable posture, her eyes scanning over the waiting crowd and seeming to graze each and every one of them before she speaks.

"I will be the first today to welcome you to the Accian Military Training Program, otherwise called the procession or AMTP," she begins, her firm voice easily echoing up the amphitheater, "My name is Beatrice Schwarz but you will refer to me as the Marshal. I am immensely proud to lead and welcome you to this program," Beatrice begins pacing the stage as she speaks, "Our ancestors created this structure and this tradition more than two centuries ago to pursue a dream—a dream of unifying all people under this beloved kingdom!"

'Why do you humans always-' Duff grumbles but Tia hushes him, despite her own trepidation.

"When I say all of us I truly mean all of us," Beatrice inflects her words with excitement, "Every child deserves the wonderful opportunities this program has to offer! Now, I understand today has been an emotional and trying day for all of you," her voice drops in faux earnest sympathy, "Leaving your homes and your families behind is no small matter. This is a trial all Accian children must face. But let me assure you that this sacrifice can yield amazing opportunities for each an every one of you!"

Tia glances around, mystified to see a growing determination and aspiration on the faces of the crowd. She can sense a strange buzz in the air and shifts uncomfortably with a growing frown.

"Royal, noble or common, this program is a unifying force," Beatrice continues, "Many of you are already aware of this but for the sake of clarity I will iterate it: when one serves the kingdom, we all do so equally. If you can prove your worth, your skills, on the battlefield the kingdom will open up before you—any future is possible!"

As Beatrice continues, the buzz intensifies in a way Tia is wholly unfamiliar with. Her peers burgeon with hope and pride while Tia only experiences a rising unease.

"Many of the nobles here are a testament to that," Beatrice states, "Their mothers and fathers come from many backgrounds, Accian or otherwise, ranging from farmers, fisherman or even down to the lowliest street urchin. I can also count myself among them. My own father was a simple huntsman from Alkelbulan!" Beatrice shares proudly, "Governors, merchants, artisans. Many have propelled their careers with the skills and achievements they procured in service—with skills they gained right here in this program!"

The woman pauses to scan the crowd again, gauging their reactions. Tia finds most around her buzzing, their excitement drastically out of proportion in response to her speech, but is relieved to see a few like her standing out here and there. Beatrice seems to lock onto a few of them before continuing.

"So now, let me urge you to take your fates into your own hands," Beatrice continues, "While in this program, you will be given opportunity after opportunity to better prepare yourself for service. Every recruit here will have access to the same tools and knowledge needed to excel when your time comes, tools needed to better yourselves!"

Beatrice begins pacing the stage again, those behind her still and rigid like dolls. Standing at attention, their gazes are fixed on some invisible mark before them. Unfamiliar with military culture, Tia finds it unnatural and unsettling, running fingers through her hair with a discomfited expression equipped.

"Your time here will be difficult," Beatrice admits, "Many expectations and rules must be respected but if you work to better yourselves, you will serve this kingdom as well as your own futures!" 

'Why is everyone so excited?' Tia finally decides to question, glancing at the peers around her.

'Mental magic,' Duff's tone is curt, 'She can alter the aspiration of those around her.' 

Tia squints at Beatrice, her eyes catching on the woman's gloves and how she conceals them behind her back. None in the crowd would notice her form being activated.

'Why isn't it affecting me?' Tia asks.

'Can't alter what isn't there,' Duff teases, his enigmatic laughter perplexing Tia further.

"In this program, beginning immediately, we have a system set in place to reward your efforts," Beatrice continues her speech, "Those who excel and achieve may earn credits within the program. These credits can be used to procure an array of equipment, goods, tools and even food both within our compound as well as within many of the larger cities we will pass through. Each of you who arrived by he appointed time today will be awarded two hundred credits!"

A wave of excited and astounded whispers wash over the crowd. The the marshal pivots to the portion of the crowd set aside for late arrivals next and her face morphs into a cold expression.

"And as for those who choose to squander these opportunities or rebel against the structures and practices we have in place," Beatrice continues in a distasteful tone, "There will be various consequences."

A tense hush lingers over the amphitheater in anticipation. The crowd seems to hold their breath as she leers at these unfortunate cohorts, frozen in unexpected fright.

"But these consequences are reasonable," Beatrice congratulates them in a high tone, as if granting them mercy, "Those who have arrived late today will earn no credits during their first week here," Beatrice turns to the rest of the crowd again while those penalized let their loss sink in, "I expect all rules and instructions to be followed to the letter. If you desire respect, you must illustrate the same to our staff, to your peers and to yourself. With all of this in mind, I leave you in the capable hands of Mr. Casimiro Vela, head of the Administration Department."

Beatrice recedes to a back corner of the stage, receiving a polite applause. Casimiro steps forward in her place, bowing his head once into their clapping and waiting for the amphitheater to quiet down before speaking. Casimiro is leggy and skeletal, his eyes shielded behind round glasses. He clears his throat before speaking.

"Good afternoon all!" Casimiro greets them, little emotion in his voice, "And welcome to the program. Many of you are already familiar with the purposes of this program and perhaps have a general idea of what to expect. However, in the interest of equity, I will go over some details and structures of the program now. As the Marshall has stated," he pauses to readjust his glasses, "This program is designed to train and prepare recruits for their eventual service, as efficiently as possible, over the course of two years. In addition to training, all of us will be travelling from compound to compound throughout the various reaches of our kingdom. Each individuals training program will be tailored to your unique skills and potential but the base requirements of these programs can be divided up similarly to the ten divisions within the Accian military: infantry, aerial, aquatic, ranged, mobile, enhancement, control, communications, special and medical. Mages will train separately within their own system."

'Why is it always ten,' Duff hisses, unexpectedly spiteful.

"Each of these have different requirements and some of you can or will fall under more than one division depending on circumstance," Casimiro continues, his tone ever dry, "Your individual schedules will reflect this and leave opportunity to focus on more specialized alternate courses. At some point today or tomorrow morning, each of you will be called to the administration office to discuss and solidify this schedule and it can be adapted throughout your time with us based on your performance. Another mainstay during your time here will be the ten man units you have been divided into. We will announce these at the conclusion of this orientation."

'You're right,' Tia marvels, giving a sniff of laughter, 'Ten again.'

"You will train with, live with and learn to fight and work co-operatively with this unit both during your time with us and likely during your military service. These units have already been formed, based on your performances during assessment, and are carefully designed so that your skills and magic balance or even enhance each other," unlike Beatrice, Casimiro is immobile and rigid as he speaks, "While these units can be subject to change, we do not make these changes lightly or according to whim. If you have any valid concerns," Casimiro sounds, his brows popping over his lenses, "You can speak with your administrator when necessary; but let me state it for you all once—do not waste their time or your own!" he pauses to give the crowd a stern leer, "While training with us, you will gain many skills. Our goal is to maximize your potential. I look forward to seeing the results of that potential!"

Like the Marshall, Casimiro steps backwards as the amphitheater echoes with polite applause and the next staff steps forward. The woman is taller than average and has a thick figure. Her light blue eyes scan the crowd contrasted by raven hair which is secured into a tight bun.

"I am Modeste Aydem, head of security," the woman is naturally curt, "And I will keep this simple. There are a number of actions which will not be tolerated within the program. Unsanctioned fights, sexual encounters, pregnancy, insubordination and desertion," Tia blinks into the woman's bluntness, "When we travel through other lands, you will respect the local laws! Finally, while we allow recruits to come and go from the compound, you must follow the proper procedure. You must be marked with an imprint before-"

'What's an imprint?' Tia questions quickly.

'A mark placed by racial magic,' Duff answers, 'The caster can track those marked regardless of distance and some allow them to communicate as we do.'

"If you miss any scheduled courses while outside the compound, you will be tracked and penalized. If you resist, we won't hesitate to use lethal force!" Modeste emphasizes and Tia shivers with her own familiarity with such treatment. 

'Shit,' Tia gripes, having missed the full explanation.

"Penalties range from lost credits," Modeste continues, her tone grave, "Service as General staff, extra exercises or even more severe consequences such as confinement, physical discipline and in worst cases, execution," a terrible silence hangs in the air, leaving them all feeling heavy before Modeste continues, "As the Marshall stated, we expect these rules to be followed to the letter!" she offers a stern expression to the the audience before stepping back. 

'That took a serious turn,' Duff comments, garnering a slow nod from Tia as the next staff comes forward. A rather small man stands before them in a brown uniform. He clears his voice before speaking and his expression leaves an amiable impression.

"Good afternoon!" he greets them cheerfully, "My name is Ezra Freidman and I head the General Staff and Aides. I know all of you have had a long journey and already have a lot to digest," he chirps with as much empathy as he can express, "So I'm just going to cover a few small tidbits that may help you understand your new home a little better!"

'I don't think those two could be more different from each other,' Tia's words are laced with amusement, Duff humming agreement.

"First, you'll notice our uniforms!" he continues, gesturing towards his own, "Their color indicates our department. Blue for instructors, black for security, green for administrators, red for medical, yellow for aides and brown for general staff. Some of us general staff have accents on our clothes as well, indicating how we specialize."

'I wonder if we'll have uniforms,' Tia questions, smothering a yawn.

"You will be interacting with aides more than anyone else," Ezra continues, "They will summon or guide you to where you need to be, take down notes of your progress or just generally help out where needed. Otherwise, you will find us running the stables, the mess hall and the commissary. With that, I simply ask you treat our staff with respect and wish you all the best as you settle in!" 

Hierarchy

"Right then," Casimiro states, speaking to them again, "We will be announcing units now. Each unit will be assigned an admin and each admin is responsible for multiple units. These admins will be announcing their units' members next. When you hear your name, come forward and wait to speak with them. Once this process is finished, you are free to leave the amphitheater and do with the day as choose. I urge you take this opportunity to familiarize yourself with the compound and your unit-mates. Please be patient while you wait and follow all prompts."

Casimiro displays a wan smile once more before stepping away. A line of staff in green uniforms are readied just off stage and the first of them climbs the steps, producing a parchment. His eyes scan over the document before he speaks.

"Unit C210," he announces, enunciating carefully, and the whole of the amphitheater seems to hold its breath, "Unit C210: Martia Aquila, Aldric Syltharis, Wu Zetian, Eshana Chakrabarti, Baahir Ilnidhotep, Seo Yul, Karl Anker, Florio Espina, Makeda Samrawit and Faustin Aydem."

He repeats the list one more time,  those called making their way down. Recruits cheer and applaud—except for a bitter few that had hoped to make the cut. Florio beams at Aldric, clearly relieved, and they make their way down together. Aldric is equally pleased but maintains tidy composure. Zetian is far from surprised, an adroit smile exposing consummate pride from the validation she had anticipated while Eshana soaks in the applause more than anything else, sashaying her way down the steps with ample glamour.

Andrea cannot restrain a glare for Zetian, her mouth pressed into a thin frown, but Zetian doesn't spare her a glance. Peers are congratulating the flabbergasted Faustin and Karl, who hadn't expected the conspicuous placement while Yul and Baahir line themselves with the rest with dignity. Tia claps along, not quite understanding the spectacle or the reactions of those descending.

'What is all of this…?' Tia questions Duff.

'Hierarchy,' Duff answers tersely but feels her confusion is unwavering, 'They're announcing who is the most important first, who they expect the most from.'

'Ah,' Tia responds before droning with sarcasm, 'So all of that 'we're all equal here' was bullshit. Fantastic.'

'And I thought you were naïve!' Duff teases, his sonorous laugh bouncing in her skull.

"Unit C211," the admin continues, the prince and his unit waiting below and looking out over the crowd, "Unit C211: Danut Cel Tradat, Andrea Stahlmann, Shi Yang, Fiadh O'Sullivan, Bridget MacDougal, Renard Foster, Aisling Black, Euan MacFheargus, Everett Allard and Lucy Aydem."

The crowd claps, unsure at first, but then picks up to a polite level as the unit members make their way down. Euan regards his unit-mates carefully as he descends. Danut, Fiadh and Aisling appears morose, dark and reserved while Lucy, Bridget, Everett and Renard possess sunny dispositions by contrast. Andrea is put off by her placement at first but still appears happy to be on the "runner up" team as she would call it. She cuts an imposing presence among the group, matched only by Yang's aura of unbridled chaos. Despite some hesitation, Euan greets them all with his signature grin.

The first administrator continues calling out another three units, some among them including Leon, Adamantia, Grusha and Sirius—Tia is the only heir not called forward. The admin steps down and speaks with those gathered below one group at a time as the next admin makes their way forward.

Tia watches and waits as unit after unit is announced and the amphitheater empties. Tia begins to doze off as time passes by, lulled by the warmth of gentle sunlight. Finally, the last of the admins steps onto the stage and clears his voice.

"Unit Z909," the admin calls out, "Unit Z909: Tia Minx, Ifani Brandt, Orin Phillippe and Albert Monet."

Finally hearing her name, Ifani treks down the amphitheater with Albert trailing after her, already quite skeptical and concerned. Duff kicks Tia to wake her and she jumps up abruptly. The other four peer up at her, waiting. She glides down to quicken her descent but the atmosphere is already tense and uncertain as her wings fade. They eye each other, befuddled, as their admin approaches.

"What is this?" Ifani speaks first, folding her arms. The admin pauses, unnerved as Ifani refuses to meet his gaze.

"Where is the rest of our unit?" Orin softens her question with a gentler tone, "There are only four of us!"

"Yes, I understand the confusion," the admin responds thoughtfully, his voice high but steady, "But first let me introduce myself. My name is Cassius Justus and I'm excited to work with all of you!" Cassius is artificially amicable, trying too hard, and the teens meet his greeting with awkward and edgy demeanors. He clears his voice before continuing, "There are two more recruits we picked up before arriving here. An aide is fetching them now."

"That's still just six!" Ifani remarks with a shrill tone, exasperated.

"I'm afraid," Cassius grows hesitant, "We are still filling out the rest of your unit. Unfortunately, we don't always pick up enough recruits to fill out every unit at every location."

"So…" Tia cuts in, sounding peepish at first, "We're… what? Leftovers?"

"No, no of course not!" Cassius rushes to reassure them, thrown by Tia's acerbity, "As Mr. Vela said, we organize units so that your magic and skills compliment each other. We're simply... keeping the positions open until we find the best possible candidates!" Tia finds herself frowning and Ifani scoffs. 

"This is some elitist bullshit!" Ifani's tone is scouring, Cassius nearly wincing. Orin watches the interaction and, as the admin seems to puff up, he interjects.

"That's hardly a sound argument," Orin reasons, nearly laughing, "Most of us here are some kind of nobility, clearly class isn't a factor. We even have a house heir on our unit!" All eyes land on Tia and she shrinks under the attention.

"Yes!" Cassius offers Orin an appreciative smile, "Exactly. Ah! Here come the others."

They swivel around as two more recruits descend the steps and approach them. The two contrast each other starkly and both possess features which remind Tia of Nippon.

The first one possesses a small frame with dark hair and eyes but a cool complexion. Their hair is secured into a knot but many strands have broken loose. Despite their effeminate face, they wear loose, masculine clothing.

The second is stout and husky with a ready smile and his face is rounded with ruddy cheeks. Most unusual, to Tia and the others, is his unfamiliar hairstyle. Portions of his scalp are shaved in a peculiar pattern, leaving the remaining hair long and braided.

"This is Zhou Longwei," Cassius explains as the two step forward, gesturing to the smaller individual, "And Bolorbataar. Now that you're all together, I can break down your roles within the unit!"

"If you can call it that," Ifani grumbles.

"Each unit consists of five combatants and five support," Cassius explains, totally ignoring her comment, "Generally, there are two close combatants, one aerial, one mid-ranged and one long ranged combatant. Support roles are broken up into enhancement, control, mobile, special and command but some still take part in battle depending on their own abilities. You'll learn more about this as you train but do you all follow so far?"

Cassius looks to each of them before continuing.

"Ifani, Tia, Orin and Bolorbataar are combatants," he explains, gesturing to each of them, "Thankfully you're only missing another close combatant. Longwei and Albert are your support, mobile and enhancement respectively. We'll fill in the special, control and command supports as we travel. Unfortunately, until then you won't be able to participate in unit sparring sessions. Are there any questions?" Cassius glances at each of them again, finding mostly blank faces, but Orin gestures for his attention.

"Is there going to be a… language barrier?" Orin asks, looking to Longwei and Bolorbataar.

"Making assumptions already," Longwei states pointedly and Orin blinks in surprise.

"Well," Cassius cuts in, clapping his hands together, "I will be calling each of you, at some point, to go over your individual schedules. For now…" he separates a number of parchments from each other, passing one to each of them, "Here are your maps of the compound. I've also marked your lodgings. If you have any other concerns, I'm more than happy to discuss them with you while solidifying your schedule."

Cassius slinks away while they look over their parchments. Tia peeks around at their group first, folding up her map and stowing it away into one of her hidden pockets. She is relieved, at the very least, to recognize most members of her unit and is excited even to have someone as impressive as Ifani in their group, even if it was incomplete. Tia readily smiles at Albert as he meets her gaze and he tries to mirror it, concern constricting the expression too tightly as his eyes drift back to Ifani. Tia realizes Ifani must be the friend he had mentioned.

"So, um…" Tia speaks up with a nervous tone, her heart pounding as the others all look to her, "It's nice to-to meet all of you!" Tia splutters synthetically.

Skeptical expressions circulate the group, sans Bolorbataar who retains a sunny expression. Ifani's face darkens with a scowl, facing Tia but still keeping her eyes averted just behind her.

"'Nice'?" Ifani blusters, "We all just got shafted into the reject unit!"

"I-I…" Tia stutters, unsure what kind of response is appropriate.

"It might not matter to someone like you," Ifani continues, her words too sharp, "But I've worked too hard to get this kind of placement!"

"Hey, now," Orin jumps in, "She's just being polite!"

Ifani twists her head and begins gesturing with a chopping motion near her face for several seconds, stimming, and Orin falls silent. A distasteful sourness washes over his expression and his eyes narrow on her. Ifani turns away and paces, counting to herself as she finds her anger swelling too rapidly, the surge unnatural.

"You all," Ifani blurts, turning and gesturing to all of them, "Can sit around and hold hands if you want but I don't accept this!" Ifani stomps through the group, the others dodging out of her way, and disregards all of them. Albert tries to trail after her.

"Ifan-" Albert calls.

"No!" Ifani cuts him off, whipping around and slashing a hand through the air, "I won't 'be reasonable' about this," Ifani hisses the words and he stops.

Ifani sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, her expression softening as she acknowledges his concern, but still continues up the amphitheater and out of sight. Albert watches her go before returning to the group.

"Are you okay?" Tia inquires lightly. His nod is faint, worry for Ifani dominating his thoughts.

"Well…" Orin plucks up everyone's attention, "Some of us know each other," his smile widens in Tia's direction, "But why don't we introduce ourselves?"

Tia's face goes hot but she doesn't acknowledge his attention. Everyone begins exchanging looks to see who would go first. Longwei elbows Bolorbataar and juts a chin to the rest of the group. His face lights up and he offers an enthusiastic smile.

"Sain uu! I am Bolorbataar," he states carefully, his accent extremely heavy as he rolls out his name, "But Bolor is also good."

Bolor holds out a hand, palm up, and looks to each of them. They all hesitate, his accent wholly unfamiliar, but Albert musters a smile and Tia follows his example. Albert moves to shake his hand and Bolor grasps his whole forearm. Bolor grins into the gesture and after pulling away, he repeats this with Tia but Orin refuses his offer outright. Despite the man's social warmth, Bolor's magic runs through Tia like a pristine glacial river choked by jagged ice.

"Bolor," Albert inquires, speaking quickly while Bolor frowns at Orin, "Can I ask where you're from? I've never heard that kind of name before!" Bolor blunders over Albert's rapid speech, only picking up bits and pieces.

"Bolor is from Menggu," Longwei answers for him, to Bolor's relief, "He's still learning Accian, you're going to need to slow down."

"Menggu!" Albert gasps, clasping his hands together in front of his face, and Longwei brings their head back, "Oh, um… I'm sorry," Albert squeaks, growing meek in the face of Longwei's reproachful gaze. 

"Albert gets really excited," Tia tries to explain despite her titter, finding it hard not to grow amused by Albert's enthusiasm, "Hearing about faraway countries."

"We aren't novelties for your entertainment!" Longwei snaps, also finding themselves oddly irritable.

"Whoa!" Orin is quick to Tia's rescue again, seeming to make a habit of it, "No one said you were! Now who's making assumptions?"

"No, no its okay," Tia assures them as Longwei realigns their glare to Orin, "She's right, I wasn't being considerate."

Tia glances to Longwei to offer an apology but her face drops at the sight of them. Longwei glowers, impossibly livid, their face markedly reddening. Bolor sucks in a breath at the sight.

"Ted medekhgüi!" Bolor quickly reminds Longwei, triggering the release of a pressured breath from them as they seem to cool off.

"I will only say this once," Longwei speaks deliberately with a firm voice, "I am a boy!"

"I'm sorry," Orin bursts into laughter, "What?"

Longwei closes the distance between them, his eyes severe and stormy as he peers into Orin's, clearly attempting to intimidate Orin despite him towering over Longwei. Orin maintains a light, unwavering smile as he readjusts his gloves, making no attempt to stifle his amusement, and leans closer to Longwei's face. 

"Does anyone actually believe that?" Orin taunts him in a low whisper so that only Longwei can hear him.

Longwei's face flashes crimson instantly, ready to explode. In fact, as he exhales, scalding steam pours from his nostrils forcing Orin back. Security staff peer down at them from the wall above.

"Longwei!" Bolor calls out to him, "No fighting, not again!"

Longwei releases the rest of his breath in response, directing his steam into an empty corner of the amphitheater, but his steely gaze remains on Orin. As the vapors clear, the whole of his face is dyed slate blue but this fades rapidly. He holds Orin's eyes for another moment before spinning on his heels, rejoining Bolor.

"Fine," Longwei grates. Bolor claps him on the back and his amicable smile returns as they both turn to leave. Longwei pauses to glance at Orin again, his demeanor terse and ruthless, "Don't expect my 'support'."

"Bayartai, daraa oolzii!" Bolor calls out to them, oblivious to Longwei's comment.

"Well," Albert's voice is fleecy, "At least Bolor seems amiable?"

"Not the little one, though," Orin snickers, "She's like a tiny teakettle!" Albert scowls at Orin as he laughs at his own disrespectful joke.

'That was dramatic,' Duff comments and Tia hums in agreement. Albert's eyes widen at her, seemingly agreeing with Orin.

"That's not funny," Albert insists, firm and irritated, catching Orin off guard and stirring Tia from distraction, "I thought you were different," he mutters to Tia, barely audible, before taking his leave as well.

"Wait," Tia gasps, "What happened?"

"Man, this group is a mess!" Orin exclaims with a popping tone, "So angry and sensitive."

"I keep saying all the wrong things," Tia mumbles, a bit lost watching Albert storm off. When she turns, she realizes its just the two of them left.

"Ehhhh," Orin shrugs, offering her a sympathetic look, "You were trying to be nice. Not your fault they take everything the wrong way!" Tia is tongue tied again, eyes skimming the empty arena. Orin watches her, shifting uncomfortably and almost sheepish. "Well, no point in standing around here," Orin chuckles, "Why don't we check out the common area?"

"That sounds great!" Tia titters, her breath pressured by relief, and they start ascending the steps.

As they walk, Tia can feel her pulse quicken and places a hand over her chest. Her eyes slide to Orin again, to his beguiling smile and piercing, arctic eyes, and her face swelters with a prompt blush.

"I'll admit," Orin sounds, breaking the silence, "I'm not too sure about the others but it was a pleasant surprise to see you again. Tia Minx."

There is a subtle lift at the edges of his lips and his eyes hold hers, attentive. Tia finds it difficult to look away and her expression cycles swiftly from surprise to embarrassment. He cushions this with a bright laugh, Tia's heart fluttering further with the sound.

"Relax, relax!" Orin chimes, throwing up his hands, "Some people get weird about these things but I know we're both more than our family names."

"I think," Tia muses, blinking hard but smiling, "You're the only person, besides my father, to say something like that!" she pauses, considering his words, "We… are you also…?"

"Yes," Orin admits before speaking more dramatically, "Though I am but a middle child of a lowly baron!" Tia chuckles at his theatrics before he continues, both of them finally emerging from the structure, "Honestly, I'm astonished we've been placed into such a messy unit."

"It's not too bad," Tia shrugs, "Albert is really smart and Ifani is crazy strong."

"Ifani…" Orin sighs and winces, "Crazy strong but also crazy unpredictable. Its best to be careful with her—she can be dangerous!"

"Dangerous?" Tia echoes, taken aback, "She can't be that bad!" Orin shrugs into her surprise.

They arrive at the common area at the center of the compound, flanked by two buildings which vent out steam. An open plaza spreads before them resembling a massive park or garden, littered with various patios, benches and niches and populated by their peers. Firepits blaze in different sections as well and recruits congregate about them like moths. A raised stage sits in the center as well and more musically inclined recruits practice and perform there, adding to the casual atmosphere. The plaza is open on the north and east sides. The west is lined by a massive building labeled "mess hall" and the south opens up into what seems like a bazaar or market. Tia feels this place was more of an actual city than a simple compound.

"Well," Orin pipes up as they arrive, Tia standing between him and the plaza as he pauses, "I can't complain too much. I get to see more of you after all!"

He peers into her eyes with an unexpected intensity, fidgeting with his gloves. Tia feels her heart racing as their eyes remain locked together and flashes her own sunny smile despite her nerves. Then his eyes glide past her and he seems to recognize someone.

"I'll see you around then!" Orin departs abruptly, walking past her and offering a small wave. He approaches Leon, Andrea and another boy, seated in a small alcove and seeming to have been waiting for him. Andrea gives Tia a cold glance before she greets Orin.

'I'm not sure about that one,' Duff chimes in as she wanders into the plaza.

'Which one?' Tia replies, earning a barking laugh from her cryptic partner.