A young boy plays around with a worn wooden staff, swinging it around before directing his attention toward a nearby training dummy. With a confident smirk inherent in the youthful, he cried out as he swung his weapon toward his foe. The sound of wood against wood rattled the area as he struck the right side, left side, and then the neck. The combo that would no doubt vanquish any enemy, a hidden technique known only by him. The finisher was a simple one, he dropped the stick entirely and body-slammed the dummy onto the ground, kicking up a sizable cloud of dust.

He coughed out as he waved it away, quickly propping the wooden dummy back up so he could practice his ultimate combo once more.

"Arno, lunchtime!" The boy could hear his mother calling out, and with a hefty sigh, he stuck the wooden staff directly into the dirt.

Behind him, his father emerged from the dunes carrying an absurd amount of wheat from the local farm. Courtesy of the oasis their farm occupied, it was fancied by many in Vacuo. ore than he'd ever seen him carrying, the young boy walked alongside his father as he passed by, offering to help carry some of the foodstuffs. The father politely declined, placing most of the food into a nearby basket.

"Isn't that for lunch?" The boy curiously asked.

"Oh no, not all of this," The father replied, closing the basket's lid as he shot a glance at the far horizon "Most of it is for some... friends of mine."

"Will I see them?"

"You don't really need to. Come inside, lunch is almost ready." He patted his son's shoulders while directing him inside their home. Again he threw a fleeting glance towards the horizon, not so eagerly awaiting the arrival of whoever was coming for that basket of food. A day and a half's work of gathering was practically thrown into the fire, even more before that. Though it was for a good cause in the father's mind. A cause which would

At the table, the boy couldn't help but notice the lessened amount of food on his dinner plate. He could feel a distinct feeling descending over the table, one that forced any family to be quiet for the duration of the meal. Something that was hanging over the table, like a hanging piano just waiting for its rope to be cut.

"Why can't we just get some of the food from the basket, Dad?" The boy asked before he was immediately rebuffed by his mother, who set her cutlery down with a sigh.

"Look, we just can't... think of it like... something we have to give away. Alright?"

The little boy stared blank-eyed at his mother, unable to comprehend their situation. Give their food away even though they earned it and worked for it? His young mind turned its cogs in an attempt to make some sense of their situation. But everything he could think of just seemed to point to another question asked. Who are they giving it to... and why?

Outside the house, the father sat on a foldable chair while awaiting the pickup. Then, over the horizon, he could see a small gang of figures on speeder bikes headed right towards him. Their swoop engines kicked up the dust of Vacuo into the air. The father got up from his foldable chair just as the speeder bikes slowed to a crawl and their occupants dismounted their ride.

"Mr. Areichs, I hope we didn't keep you waiting. Traveling the desert is just a tedious affair, I'm sure you can understand. We've been all over the place all day." The armored soldier said, stepping off of his modified desert speeder and keeping his rifle slung on his shoulder. His and his comrades' faces were covered by a full visor which protected their faces from the sand kicked up from Vacuo's deserts.

"The desert is an unkind mistress, we in Vacuo know that for sure." He said, turning around to grab the sack of food he had cultivated for the past few months. Already significant portion of their annual yield, he placed it down directly at the feet of the soldier. Patting the sack of grain with an assured hand.

The soldier looked down at the bag before picking it up and inspecting it, though his visor left no expression to be seen.

"I would thank you for your cooperation, but this is only half of what you gave us last time. I'm sure you already know this but wars aren't fought on empty stomachs." The soldier said, slinging the bag onto his back.

"I know that you men lost your kingdom, and you have my full condolences. But we have got to provide for ourselves too. That's half, yes but it's better than nothing." Mr. Areichs reasoned. Though he could barely see the faces of the men he was talking to, it was impossible to tell what they thought.

"Half isn't good enough, Mr. Areichs. That also sets a precedent, you know. Underdelivering just once can probably convince you that you can do it again and again without reprecussion..." The soldier declared.

"What could I possibly give that can equal another half of the wheat?..." Areichs asked, gesturing around him. To the barren farm, to the kilometers of desert wasteland that surrounded him. "Sand for sandbags?"

The lead soldier looked at his fellow men, the group exchanging glances between one another as they began to chuckle amongst each other, eventually erupting into contagious laughter as Mr. Areichs could only watch in perplexion.

"You have a son, don't you?..." The lead soldier asked.

Already the father clenched his fists as he eyed the soldiers in suspicion.

"No, I do not..." He replied to them straightforward as he backed away a step.

"Funny you should mention that, because that training dummy over there is racked with marks that look like it's been hit many times by a staff. Height of those marks suggest that something small made those... We are at war with a marauding force threatening to overtake and destroy all of humanity... we can ensure that your child is trained up to Nordwind standards, Mr. Areichs. In the event of a full-scale Grimm invasion of Vacuo, he will serve us well." The lead soldier's tone was polite, and professional. Though deep down it was like there was always the chance for him to become enraged, likely violent too.

"Damn you!" He yelled, attempting to throw a punch towards the lead soldier, only for him to catch it and bring him to the ground instantly, holding him down as he pulled his arm hard.

"This isn't helping you, why don't we try that again...?" The lead soldier asked once more, while the others began to approach the trailer home.

"You're not... taking... my son..." Mr. Areichs gritted his teeth as he could feel his arm being pulled. "Y-you can't"

"You don't get it do you?... Nordwind has jurisdiciton around here. Your very council outsourced security in the northern half of Sanus to us... Once you get that, maybe you can show some sliver of appreciation for us..." The soldier scolded, "Law 2-5-44.2 stipulates the enacting of a state of Total War with the increased Grimm activity going on, meaning all resource are allocated to the military, for everyone's protection. You selfish son of a bitch. In fact, we'll be lenient, you can have the wheat back, and your son recieves the training that he needs from us..."

"No! You can't just-ACK!" The soldier only pulled on the father's arm harder. His pain only increased as he heard his wife cry out, just after a whack with a rifle butt. His son could be seen being led from the house by another soldier, though he couldn't hear they they were saying to him, he could only speculate.

He watched as they gave him a pair of goggles to wear, and a white robe to help shield him from the dust that their swoop bikes kicked up. Constantly writhing to break free from the lead soldier's grip, he was finally let go and received a firm whack in the back from the soldier's electro-baton. Luckily it wasn't turned on, and he only received a nasty bruise.

"Next time, try to have enough grain with you." The soldier said, placing his demands in simple terms before holstering his baton as his cadre made their way back to their bikes.

Holding a hand to the bruise to her head, Mr. Areichs' wife scurried to his side, bringing him up to his feet as he winced. They could only watch in horror as the bikes of the mercenaries sped off, leaving behind the bag of wheat and taking their son with them.

(Law 2-5-44.2 - Due to the loss of Remnant's primary military power, The Kingdom of Atlas. A state of emergency is hereby declared for the areas under the temporary jurisdiction granted to Nordwind Paramilitary Incorporated. Resources deemed to be of strategic use to Nordwind can be handed over to any acting officer to help ensure the protection of Vacuo.)