Garrick was gone before sunrise. Sacha only noticed because his chores hadn't been done, and the house was deprived of Garrick's usual morning teasing.

Garrick had a way of somehow making the chores they shared somewhat bearable, lightening the atmosphere and the seemingly impossible amount of dirty dishes. Sacha would admit, maybe they missed the Posur part of Garrick more. After all, it was simply easier to do chores that way, with someone controlling the water.

But still, Sacha couldn't quite seem to shake the feeling that it was Garrick, not a Posur, that they missed.

Sacha starts slowly and carefully washing the dishes by hand, the sun peeking out just barely from beneath the horizon and filtering through the cracked windows. Their father would be up soon, making a breakfast that he would insist was no good but always tasted far better than anything else Sacha had ever eaten.

They wondered what Garrick had done before he left.

Had he looked around at home, trying to cement in his memory before he left? Had he thought of their older cousins, who had yet to return from the battlefields, and yet to be heard from? Had he thought of Sacha, who was going to join him soon, in a dull brown uniform, with green stripes on the shoulders indicating them as a Gaiur? Had he thought of his duty to move the war along? Was he eager? Nervous? Something in between?

Or maybe he thought of nothing at all. Maybe Garrick had walked out, a perfect soldier, and nothing more, ready for his number.

Sacha chafed at the idea of becoming that soldier. They hated to think they could become so forgettable, so ordinary. But...it was duty.

"Those dishes better be clean Sacha," Cahir shouts from the small bedroom that belongs to him and Armand, down the hall past the living room and kitchen. "I'm not making trash on trash."

"Your breakfast is always perfectly lovely Cahir," Armand scolds from the other room, walking in pace with the wheelchair, Cahir scowling as Armand presses a kiss to his cheek. Sacha looked up at the two, just outside the kitchen. "Good morning Sacha."

"Morning dad," Sacha acknowledged, drying the last of the dishes. Cahir cleared his throat. "I'm almost done with the dishes father, relax. You won't be making "garbage on garbage" or whatever it is you say."

"Don't mock me," Cahir says, eyes narrowed in a scolding manner. "I can make you run more laps after breakfast."

"Alright, that's hardly necessary Cahir," Armand cuts in. "We're all tired, I'll start making us all coffee and then we can visit Tesha and Andra for lunch, they wanted us to come over today."

"Sacha has to go to the recruitment center today," Cahir reminds sternly, starting to cook eggs. "We'll visit your sister after."

"Father-" Sacha complains, putting the dishes away in the cabinets. "Do I have to go today?"

"Yes," Cahir says, glancing back in annoyance at his teenage child. "It is imperative that you enlist today. Now, when you go to the recruitment officer, be polite, respectful, refer to them by their title."

"I know father," Sacha sighs. "You've gone over this a thousand times already."

"Don't get an attitude with me, what would your commanding officer say to-"

"I finished making coffee!" Armand interrupts, shoving two coffee cups into his child and husband's hands, glaring at Cahir when he dared try to continue. Cahir grumbled, taking a sip of his coffee and pulling the eggs out of the frying pan. "Sacha, set the table will you?"

"You got it dad," Sacha nods, grabbing the just cleaned plates and utensils out of the cabinet, carrying it into the small adjacent dining room.

Their parents' voices carry from the room as they do.

"Honestly Cahir, they don't need to see you as their commanding officer," Armand's voice scolds. "You're their father, those are different people."

"They need to learn discipline! Could you imagine the shame our family would receive if we find our child died because of insubordination?!"

"I'm sure that won't happen," Armand says, voice soft. "Sacha's clever, they won't just end up dead because of something as foolish as insubordination."

"No children of mine will die because of insubordination." There's a heavy silence, weighing down the room with suffocating quiet. "Not again."

—---------------------------------

The recruiting center was the nicest building in town, which wasn't saying much. It was a neat, nice and organized old office building, plain greyish-white, unassuming except for the sign out front. "Recruitment Center", was all it read. Outside, there was a line of teenagers, none accompanied by their parents, of varying ages. Sacha swore they saw a thirteen year old.

It wasn't that uncommon, though. It was easy enough to pretend to be seventeen. The officers hardly checked to see if their ages matched up with the age they claimed to have, though it was hard to tell if it was because they didn't care, or if they wanted to send out as many teens as possible, to meet the quota the High Commander demanded every year to continue fighting the war.

The war. Sacha didn't really know how to describe it. It wasn't talked about much, by veterans, but it was by the High Commander, and other highly ranked government officials. They called it "The Great War", for the bounty it was reaping them each year. But for everyone else, it was simply, "The War". And to others, the most disloyal and traitorous, it was "The Bloody War".

"Next!" A recruiter shouted, and the line jolted forwards. He looked at Sacha boredly, not raising so much as an eyebrow as he hands them a plastic badge with a number. "Cadet 2895693. Ability?"

"Gaiur, sir," Sacha says clearly.

"Training starts daily with Captain Alessia and Lieutenant General Griselda 3:00 sharp for the next three weeks. Belladonna training ground," The recruiter says, handing a paper to them with more information. Sacha doesn't move for a second, starting to read it. The recruiter groans and rolls his eyes, pulling it back before Sacha could finish. "Caedes, I forgot how illiterate they are down here," He mutters, before slowly and loudly asking. "Can you read, 2895693?"

"Yes, I can read-"

"Read the paper," The recruiter cuts them off, shoving it back against their chest. "Be on your way. Next!"

Sacha found themselves pushed away from the recruiter's desk, stumbling into the wall, and squeezing out the small exit door, reading and walking.

The first things their dad had make sure to teach them and Garrick was reading and writing, and just the basics of mathematics. Sacha hadn't taken to it well, unable to focus on the complex and dull words with much interest. Garrick was the one who loved it, borrowing one their dad's old history books and reading them in a night. Still, Sacha could read passably well.

Their brow furrowed when they realized how far away the training ground was from Sarthet, sighing as Sacha started walking towards Belladonna Training Ground, just inside the nearby capital city of Lurcian.

Belladonna had been the mother of the current High Commander, and she wore blood red, so her armies did too.

Belladonna's red footprints. Thousands of dead bodies, all clothed in deep bloody red on her battlefields. That was her signature.

"Hey, 2895693!" A voice calls behind them, the sound of running feet catching up to them. "You heading to Belladonna too?"

Sacha turned around to see a short boy with messy black hair and slanted brown eyes, a mischievous smile on his face as he quickly catches up to their slow pace.

"Yeah," Sacha nods as he arrives beside them. "I'm Sacha Zurgeeste." The boy grinned as he slowed, walking next to them.

"Nice to meet you Sacha," he says, grinning. "Name's Gunner Liu, or 2895692, whichever you prefer."

"We'll be in the same regiment," Sacha comments, feet feeling the plants reach up to their ankles. "I'm a Gaiur. You?"

"Hepurth," Gunner says, grinning. "Mama was an Apolor, mom was a Hephur, and then they made me."

"Never met a Hepurth before," Sacha says, looking over at him. "Isn't it rare?"

"Nah, Aclur's are more rare," Gunner shrugs. "And there's a lot of them."

"I've never seen you around Sarthet," Sacha comments, brow furrowed.

"I keep to myself," Gunner says, smiling. "Mom is working in the factory, at the edge of town. I've seen you before. You're the one who runs around the town."

"Yeah, that was my father's idea," Sacha rolls their eyes. "Training and all that. He made me run drills we'll do in training. Push-ups, sit-ups, suicides-"

"Eugh, is that really what we have to do at Belladonna?" Gunner makes a dramatic face of misery. "I guess I'll have to depend on you to show me how to do it all, huh?" He says, winking. Sacha's face just barely reddened.

"Yeah, I think I can show you how," they say, clearing their throat, nodding a bit awkwardly. "We could meet up after training, some days, down by the bridge?"

"Sounds like a date," Gunner grins, slinging an arm up around Sacha's shoulder. Sacha nods again, just as awkward as ever. "Any siblings? I've got a few sisters."

"An older brother," Sacha says, awkwardly struggling with eye contact. "He's the only one I remember anyway."

"What'd you mean?" Gunner asks.

"I...I think I had an older sister, when I was a baby," Sacha says. "But she never came back, you know? No one talks about her at home."

Gunner doesn't respond. He doesn't need to. They both know why she never came home. Why some people never come home. Why the both of them might never make it home themselves. Still, his arm feels more comforting around their shoulders.

"Do you know anything about Lieutenant General Griselda and Captain Alessia?" Gunner says, changing the topic, referring to the people referred to on the paper. "You think they're tough asses?"

"If they're anything like what my father said my commanding officers would be like, then yeah," Sacha nods, laughing slightly.

"There's Belladonna," Gunner says, whistling lowly under his breath. "Caedes, it's huge."

Belladonna Training Center is the blood red color of Belladonna's signature, the large bulky building a stark contrast to the shining and sleek capital of Lurcian behind it. Two outer walls surround it, firm and strong, a man in a military uniform with the black stripes of a Hadur on his shoulders standing resolutely by the door, watching each of the recruits coming in.

"Badges on," he barks, gaze scrutinizingly checking every teen for their number, Sacha hastily putting their pathetic plastic badge on their shirt. "2895693, 2895692, no fraternizing!" The man barks as they walk past each other.

Sacha and Gunner quickly pull away from each other, Sacha a bit flushed as Gunner and they continue walking forward, now an awkward distance apart. The pair of them walk to training room one, filled with the eight others in their section of the regiment. Numbers 2895690 to 28956100.

Sacha looks for 2895694, finally spotting a timid looking teenager, dyed pale blue hair, hunched over in the corner, looking over at the rest of the teenagers with an anxious look on their face. Sacha broke away from Gunner, who found 2895691 and started talking to them.

"Hey, 2895694?" Sacha asks, the timid teenager looking up at them. "I'm Sacha, 2895693."

"I'm...I'm Hilda," She says, face a bit nervous. "I'm a Plor." Sacha looks at them in amazement.

"Wow," Sacha says, holding out a hand to shake. "Cool. I'm a Gaiur."

A spark flies out of her hand as they shake Sacha's hand, Hilda turning red in panic as it goes up Sacha's arm. Sacha shakes it off easily.

"Huh, that tickles."

Hilida sighs in relief, relaxing.

"Recruits!" A voice barks from the door. The voices of the teenagers go silent as Captain Alessia and Lieutenant General Griselda step into the room, eyeing them. Alessia is a woman of short stature, blonde hair clipped to just barely under the nape of her neck, perfectly straight as the sliver lines on her shoulders.

"Let's make this quick," Alessia says, rolling her eyes. "I have other recruits and responsibilities to attend to. I'm in charge of this training facility, if you need anything, ask your Commanding officer, Lieutenant General Griselda, and she will address it to me. Otherwise, I do not expect to see you again, unless I have something specific to address to your particularly segment of this regiment."

With those stiff and cold words, Captain Alessia is out of the room. Lieutenant General Griselda stands in front of them, tanned skin and hair pulled severely back from her head in a neat bun, gaze firm as it slides across the room, shoulders marked with stripes of white.

"You," She says, addressing Hilda. Hilda looks up, stuttering.

"Wh-who, me?"

"Yes, you," Griselda says, gaze cold and stern. "What is your name?"

"Um-uh-Hild-Hilda Labren-"

"Incorrect." Griselda interrupts. She doesn't shout, and she doesn't need to. The room is dead silent, listening to each careful word. "Your is not Hilda, or Maria, or James, or Riley or whatever what was chosen. Here, you will answer to your number, and your number only, from both superiors and equals." Her gaze cuts across the room, sharp as a sword. "Now, repeat after me. Your number is your name, and your name is your number."

There's a moment of silence. No one wants to give up their name. Griselda's cold gaze cuts through them.

"This is not a cruelty of mine. This is no cruelty. This is for your benefit," Griselda says, no cruelty in her voice. "Now, I'll say so again. Your number is your name, and your name is your number."

This time, there is no silence. Everyone trips over the words, carefully saying them.

"My number is my name, and my name is my number," Sacha repeats, in an awkward unison with the remaining recruits. Griselda nods.

"Again."

"My number is my name, and my name is my number," the group says again, unison.

"Once more, and then it will be true," Griselda says.

"My number is my name, and my name is my number." Griselda nods once again.

"Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am Lieutenant General Griselda, previously known as Solider 289540. I am your commanding officer, and you will obey me at all times both after training and during it." She casts another gaze around the room. "We will be headed outside to begin training. There you will meet Captain Alessia's second in command, Major Marcel and her assistant, Colonel Lyrian. Follow me."

The group of teenagers follows Griselda outside, all shifting awkwardly and sticking next to their numbered partner. Gunner waves at Sacha, making a face behind Griselda's back. Sacha suppresses a giggle.

Without turning around, Griselda scolds.

"2895692, 2895693, I will not tolerate disrespect in my regiment." Sacha gaped at Gunner, who shrugs. "As you may have been able to tell, and I was hoping to introduce properly instead of being forced to display it in this way. I can sense mind waves, or as the undereducated call it, a mind reader."

"Woah," someone whispers lowly.

"Thank you for your input 2895697," Griselda says, voice clipped as they step out into the open air, the towering walls encasing them inside Belladonna, the training center blood red and full of clashes and shouts as shards of metal fly across the training center and assorted elements burning and soaking and distracting. Sacha watched the Gaiur's in particular, the thorny plants shooting out of the ground and wrapping around their opponent's legs.

A man is shouting orders, standing beside a woman with a scar across her face and red stripes on her sleeves, who is rapidly signing. Griselda nods, waving a hand at the woman signing. The woman stops signing rapidly, signing a quick message to the man, who nods and continues to shout orders as she walks over to Griselda.

"Hello Colonel Marcel," Griselda says, signing as she does so. Marcel inclines their head, a sneer-like smile marring her face as she looks over at the teenagers.

"New recruits?" Marcel signs, raising an eyebrow. "Alessia mentioned them. She and Lyrian are working with the rest of the recruits from the past few months."

"So I see," Griselda says dryly. Alessia's loud shouts echo across the training center, booming and explosive as she tells off a recruit for some slight insubordination, the teenager looking close to tears. "Keeping it cool and calm as always."

"Indeed," Marcel quirks a grin as they sign. "I'm eager to work with you and your regiment."

"You always are," Griselda nods. The conversation is interrupted by the sudden explosion of a bomb.

The outer wall of the training center crumbles to ash with a cloud of smoke, and the sound of a bomb exploding. Through the smoke, Sacha sees a person dressed in a blue so pale it looks nearly white.

"Peacebreakers!" Someone shouts. "Shoot them down!"

"Hepurs, aim for them, now!" Capitan Alessia snaps. "Don't fucking stand there like sitting ducks-"

Another bomb explodes, silencing her. Marcel jumps up, signing rapidly at Lyrian, who coughs and struggles to see them through the smoke, before struggling to shout her orders.

"Hepurs and Hepurths lead the front charge, hit them with everything you've got! Gaiurs try to pull them down! Plors, strike them with lighting! Apolors, blind them! Posurs, Zurs, Hadurs stay back!" His gaze snaps back to Marcel, who nods and signs again. "Griselda-"

"On it!" She says, gaze tightening and sharpening.

"Captain Alessia!" He shouts. Alessia rolls her eyes, nodding as her hands start directing the bombs away from herself and other highly ranked officers.

"They're trying to escape by going around the back!" Griselda shouts suddenly. Another bomb hits the ground, barely missing Sacha and the rest of the newest recruits, smoke blowing up in their faces. They're all bewildered by the smoke and shouting, the bombs barely missing them. This is training, not the war, isn't it?

They cough, stumbling into another teenager in the group, the ten of them huddled close together for safety. A person in pale blue stares at the group, before throwing something in the opposite direction of them, towards Marcel and Lyrian.

Alessia throws her hands out, as Hepurs and Hephurths send flames and shards of metal in the blue people's direction. The bomb, first directed at Marcel and Lyrian lands right infront of the group of new recruits, and explodes in their faces, each throwing their hands up to shield from the fire power, plants flying up in front of Sacha as a shield, the others creating subconscious shields of water, and sheets of metal, and clouds and fire.

The people in blue throw out another bomb, this one once again exploding into smoke, and they run off before Griselda can figure out how to stop them again, distracted by the frantic thoughts in everyone's minds.

"Fuck!" Griselda curses lowly, placing her hands over her ears to dull the sound.

"At ease!" Lyrian shouts, conveying Marcel's orders as the smoke starts to clear, the walls now crumbled bits of ash and rock, piles of brick diminished to nothing, the capital clearly in view beyond the smoke, glittering and white and red, sleek and sharp, like a white phoenix rising from the ashes.

"High Commander Armantine will not be pleased to hear of this development," Alessia says lowly.

"What are we doing with my recruits?" Griselda demands. "We have no training center, and they are to be sent out within the coming months. I need my soldiers prepared so they don't let us all die."

"We'll be reporting this to High Commander Armantine," A voice says behind them. Alessia and Griselda turn, and Marcel twists up a smile at seeing who it is. In a neat, uniform formation, officers dressed in silver and red flank their leader, standing in the front and shaking Marcel's hand firmly.

"Hello little brother," Marcel greets, hands quick and sharp. "I see you discovered our little skirmish with the Peacebreakers, haven't you Kane?"

"You forget I'm your superior, Marcel," Captain Kane responds, but there is little bite in the tone.

He turns to address Alessia and Griselda, who nod, and then gesture for Sacha's regiment to salute. There's no need. Every child, every person who has lived under the rule of the High Commanders, knows that the Red Guard, regardless of your status, is to be feared.

The Red Guard police the people, enforcing the will of the High Commander through any means necessary. The worst of it is for the suspected deserters. If the Red Guard has even the slightest inkling of possible desertion, swift and harsh punishment is inflicted upon the suspect, and if they survive, they are nearly always sent out to the front lines, the intent for them to die for their failures.

It's easy to be suspected of desertion. All you have to do is be of age without a job of importance, wandering about the streets. The only thing that could truly save you was the vouching of your employer. The plastic card with your number, status, and age was too easy to steal and unlikely to be trusted, especially if accompanied by disrespect. Sacha glanced down down at their own plastic card, keeping from making eye contact with the Red Guard.

Number: 2895693

Status: Recruit, in Training.

Age: 16

"-will be allowing you to take your recruits to train in the Mauvetrine Fortress, where she and her family currently reside," Capitan Kane says, continuing. "They will not return home, as it will be a threat to the safety of the High Commander. They will live in the barracks there."

No one dares speak their discontent aloud, but upset permeates through the crumbled arena.

"Excuse me," a voice near Sacha says. Everyone in the room sucks in their breath, and Sacha turns to see Gunner, somewhat nervously present his case, somehow making eye contact. "But...what about our families? Captain Kane, sir." Alessia looks like she wants to stab Gunner for his stupidity. But Sacha can't help but admire it.

Captain Kane turns to him, hand on his holster of his gun, a gleaming thing of order. His gaze could cut through ice, and it isn't seeming to thaw.

"Who are you?" He demands.

"Gunner Liu-"

"Your number," Captain Kane orders, correcting him. Gunner awkwardly glances down at his number card.

"2895692," Gunner says carefully, the number still yet to be ingrained in his mind.

"What about them, then, 2895692?" He asks, voice razor sharp. "Is it not an honor enough for you to train? And at Mauvetrine fortress no less. You will be living in barracks likely far more comfortable than any of you have had in your homes." He pauses, pulling out his gun, designed to shoot out an unforgiving bullet of whatever his ability was. And everyone knew his ability. "And yet you still have complaints. Explain then, why you have shown such disrespect?"

"I just...I want to know what we're going to tell our families," Gunner swallows, standing firmer and more defiant. "Will they know where we've gone?"

"They will have to use their own intelligence, little as it may be, as they are related to you, to come to such a conclusion," Captain Kane says sharply. "We cannot risk jeopardizing the High Commander and her family for the sake of making you feel more secure in your emotions."

"But my family-" A thin strip of fire sharply pressed into Gunner's face in a firm line, Gunner letting out a yelp of pain as a raw burn appears on his face.

"Will not be spoken of further," Captain Kane says icily. "You will report with your regiment to Mauvetrine fortress today. And should any further insubordination occur, you-" He now turns to Griselda. "-have my full permission to punish 289562 as you see fit."

"Yes Captain," Griselda nods. "We will meet you at Mauvetrine Fortress by dusk."