The moon hung dim and pale, its light scattered by drifting clouds. The wind cut sharply and cold through the empty road, carrying only the hurried footsteps of the occasional patrol. Trees lined both sides, their silhouettes motionless in the dark, making the night feel even heavier.
Then came the rumble of wheels.
Two carriages sped forward, iron rims crunching over frozen ground. Inside one, Lock sat bundled tightly, only his eyes visible beneath layers of cloth. He stared ahead, unblinking, his breath a steady rhythm against the chill.
Rounding a bend, the forest suddenly fell away. A sheer cliff, fifty or sixty meters high, dropped into view. At its base, half-hidden among the trees, stood a cluster of wooden houses, all surrounded by high timber walls.
The Training Corps' base.
"Finally," Lock exhaled, excitement flashing in his eyes. The fatigue and biting cold seemed to ease at once. Here, at last, he could begin real training.
Ellis and the others shared his relief. Two nights of winter travel had been brutal; the thought of warmth and rest made them all giddy.
The gates creaked open, and the carriages rolled through. Inside, sheltered from the wind by walls and forest, the air felt almost merciful. Everyone let out quiet sighs.
Lock expected they would be taken straight to barracks, given how late it was. But instead, the carriages rolled past rows of wooden houses, heading toward the cliffside at the rear of the base.
"Where are you taking us?" Ellis asked, leaning forward. After two days, he'd struck up an easy rapport with the soldier driving them.
"To the training yard," the man answered without hesitation. "You're the last batch to arrive. Best be ready."
"Ready for what?" Livington frowned.
The soldier only gave them a dry smile that felt almost like pity. "You'll find out." No matter how Ellis pressed, he said nothing more.
Ellis turned to Lock. "What's he mean by that?"
In their short time together, Ellis had stopped seeing him as just a fourteen-year-old boy. Calm, steady, and frighteningly strong—Lock had taken the center of their little group without ever asking for it.
Lock only shook his head. "We'll know soon enough."
The last row of houses fell away. A broad, torch-lit square opened before them, its emptiness filled with figures. Dozens of boys and girls stood in formation, shivering in the night wind, their faces sour with cold and frustration.
The carriages drew up before them. The weight of their stares hit immediately—sharp, resentful, hostile. Lock could feel it pressing down on him and his companions the moment he stepped off.
"So they've been waiting for us." His brow tightened.
From the crowd, a familiar voice called out:
"You're finally here. Join the line."
Lock turned toward it, instinctively answering, "Understood." He guided Ellis and Livington to the front row's open space.
The speaker stepped into view. Even in dim firelight, his presence was unmistakable—Erwin Smith. The man who had overseen conscription in Shiganshina now stood before them, tall and composed, eyes calm but unreadable.
"The Deputy Commander of the Survey Corps," Lock thought grimly. "What's he doing here?"
He glanced around, searching for another face—Levi—but found nothing. Regret flickered, then passed.
Erwin's voice carried over the square, deep and commanding.
"Now that everyone has arrived, today's assembly ends here. Formal training begins tomorrow. Rest well."
He said nothing else. Just a faint smile toward Lock, then he turned and walked away.
The soldiers on the perimeter gave the order to dismiss.
But the tension did not lift.
As Lock and the others moved to leave, angry voices rose.
"Hey! You think you can just stroll in after making us stand here in the freezing wind?" The boy who stepped forward was tall, broad-shouldered, his glare cutting.
Ellis and the others hesitated, then—almost reflexively—looked toward Lock.
That only made the boy sneer. "Tch. What kind of joke is this? You let a kid decide for you?" His laughter was sharp, and soon others around him joined in, mocking.
Only a few, off to the side, stayed silent and apart.
Lock's expression didn't change. He stepped forward, head lifted, his voice level.
"Move."
The boy tilted his head, eyes narrowing with challenge. "And if I don't?"
The answer came not in words, but in the blur of a fist driving straight toward his face.