Viktor sat on his cell bed in darkness as he awaited a verdict. Well, bed was putting it nicely. Really it was a metal cot with a comforter draped over it. It was still more than he expected or felt he even deserved. At the moment he was being held in a cell with two doors, one a gate with bars, and then a solid metal wall door past that. No windows to be seen, not that he could see in the pitch black darkness.

He was right, of course. Shavoss, that is. Viktor had long stopped caring for Avalia, only staying around to have a wife and, eventually, children. His anger was more towards Shavoss than it was Avalia, because though she may have been justified in looking for affection elsewhere, that didn’t mean he didn’t feel robbed. He felt shame that the feeling was more akin to having property stolen from him than losing a life companion.

No, Viktor without a doubt felt Shavoss had stolen his wife from him, regardless of whether or not she would’ve left him anyways. What was hurting him about the situation was that he couldn’t have been more rational. Granted, anyone who knew Viktor knew his judgement was easily clouded. Regardless, he still hurt Avalia for his own revenge, leaving her alone to raise a child without the loving father she would have otherwise had. And now Viktor would almost certainly be off to his death, one way or another.

He was roused suddenly from his wallowing as the door to his cell screeched open, letting in more light than he’d seen in hours. They raised the budget for the troops, but all of the equipment was still terrible, he noted with a pained expression. He subconsciously rubbed the wound on his wrist, which was now both scabbing and inflamed. He sincerely hoped it wasn’t infected, as the government wasn’t exactly known for treating its prisoners well.

“Morigold, step forward.” A squat overweight guard, whom he didn’t immediately recognize, stood behind a gate meant for shackling prisoners before releasing them fully.

Viktor dragged himself out of bed and shuffled his way over to the man, who clearly seemed disgusted with him. To drive home his disgust, as Viktor walked up the man spit in his face before tightening the manacles, once again ignoring the wound on his wrist. This wasn’t the first time he was treated in such a way, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

“If I was scum like you I’d have killed you in your sleep, but you aren’t worth the demerit.” The fat guard scowled as Viktor huffed in disagreement. “What, you think I’d get worse? Please, Shavoss may have been harsh, but he was a damn good Captain. Maybe if you could please your wife we wouldn-”

Without warning Viktor punched the guard in the chest, who unfortunately was standing closer to the gate than he should’ve been due to his short arms and stature. The guard doubled over in pain as he released Viktor's hands, but Viktor made no further moves.

“Son of a… Urgh.” The guard leaned on his knees as he struggled to breathe for several moments.

“I hope you’ll take me to my death with no more slander about a situation you know nothing about. If you knew just how bad it really was, then you actually might’ve killed me in my sleep. At the very least, I don’t want any better. Though I suppose that makes sense, since prison isn’t about giving us what we want.” Viktor gritted his teeth as the guard vigorously tightened the right side of the manacles, digging into the skin and drawing blood.

“I… I don’t want to hear any of your garbage. Get out.” The guard, after taking another brief moment to compose himself, opened the cell gate.

“Very well th-” It was Viktor’s turn to double over as the guard slammed the baton into his stomach then immediately followed up with a blow to the head.

“By the Cosmic, you’re an idiot. What did I just say? Move it.” The guard pointed lazily down the hall with the baton.

Viktor obediently walked down the hall, this time ensuring he stayed silent. No point in aggravating the guard any further. He’d gotten his point across.

They filed down the hall at a leisurely pace, the guard not willing to walk any faster, though that didn’t stop him from jabbing Viktor with his baton. They continued onwards, taking multiple turns until they went into a stairwell different from the one Viktor had initially come through. That didn’t mean he didn’t know where this set of stairs led. The guard reached around him and opened the door at the top, seeing as how he was currently bound.

“We will now be hearing the case of… Viktor Morigold.” The judge’s words were laced with poison as she called his name.

Viktor dared not look at the crowd around them, fully aware no friends would be found there. He walked quietly to his seat in front of the judge’s bench and waited, knowing what came next.

“All stand! Honorable Major Anja Rischtin presiding! All can be seated.” At this Viktor finally sat down, ignoring the indignant looks he was getting. He was already hated, why should he try to be polite?

It was only once he sat down that he looked to his right and dread filled his eyes. For sitting next to him was none other than Stefan, dressed in the same rags as Viktor with manacles around his wrists. His usually well kept glasses were filthy, with the right lens cracked beyond any chance of seeing through it. For the first time in roughly a week he actually felt something that wasn’t disinterest towards another person.

“Viktor Morigold. Stefan Schwarz. You are brought before this court for the murder of one Captain Gunther Shavoss. How do you plead?” The Major-acting-judge sat forward with disturbing calm, belying the untold amounts of vitriol behind her eyes.

“I plead guilty, Your Honor. And may I ask, why was Private First Class Schwarz arrested for this crime? He was unrelated to its events.” Viktor looked up at her expectantly, doing his best to challenge her silent anger with his own look of defiance.

“As I am to understand, Private First Class Schwarz, while not directly involved, had both supplied the murder weapon and assisted in the planning of the murder. He turned himself in and after we checked the weapon confirmed it belonged to him. Does this satisfy your question?” The tone she ended on greatly implied no would not be a good answer.

“...Yes, Your Honor.” After a moment of disbelief at what he heard, Viktor sat back down.

“I also plead guilty, Your Honor.” Stefan quickly said his piece then sat back down without any argument.

“Am I to understand you will be defending yourselves without a lawyer?” Major Rischtin had sat back into her chair, which looked more like a throne and just as uncomfortable to Viktor.

They both nodded in approval, to which Major Rischtin sighed in response.

“Please state your assent out loud for court records.” This time the bailiff had spoken up, the Major clearly too annoyed to do so herself.

“Yes.”

“That’s correct, Your Honor.”

“Very well then. Will you be seeking any pleas?” Her tone seemed much more impatient than when they’d first begun. It was as though she couldn’t wait to send them both to their deaths, which probably was the case.

“No.”

“None, Your Honor.” Viktor looked over at Stefan when he’d said that, sadness in his eyes at the pointless imminent death of his best friend. Stefan didn’t seem to care even slightly, his eyes stoic.

“Normally such a grievous crime would result in an immediate execution sentence.” The Major then paused, most likely waiting for a response. Silence was all that left either of them.“However, due to your many years in service to the City of Zidlenberg and the Kingdom of Odenfaast, you have a second option. You can become part of a criminal platoon, normally reserved for crimes of a… lower stature than your own. What is your decision?” The way she spoke, it seemed like execution was the better choice of the two, as she sounded much more… enthusiastic about shipping them off to die in war.

Viktor was unaware he had that option as a lowly guard, though judging by Stefan’s more collected reaction he was aware. It wasn’t as if he was unaware the option existed, he’d opened the gates for such platoons in the past. Rather, he didn’t believe his crime was one that allowed the option. Such heinous acts should only be met with immediate death in his eyes, though he was thankful Stefan had the option.

“I will join a criminal platoon.”

“I will become part of a criminal platoon, Your Honor.” Viktor sighed in relief as he heard this, genuinely worried Stefan would’ve preferred execution.

“Understood. You are to return to your cells and in the morning you will be brought to your platoon. Court dismissed.” With that, Major Rischtin rapped her gavel twice, sealing their fates.

* * *

When the Major had said ‘morning’, Viktor had no idea just how early she’d meant. It was currently 4:30 a.m. if the clock tower was correct, which it usually was. The graveyard shift guards still had half an hour left until they swapped with the early morning guards. All of the other members of the ‘slatoon’, as he’d discovered was a common nickname amongst its members, were still busy blinking the sleep from their eyes. Slatoon apparently meant ‘Slave Platoon’, which seemed at least somewhat correct considering none of the men and women around him other than Stefan seemed physically fit in any way.

He and Stefan had the fortune of having been up that early as part of their job, though that didn’t stop Stefan from sleeping in a cart filled with hay when he thought no one was looking. It was because of this that Viktor currently found himself standing in front of a cart looking out for when their superior officer would arrive. They were brought out by prison guards then told to wait in a pen just outside the city walls, which he’d initially thought was for cattle but was starting to realize was an area made for this purpose. There was an abundance of hay filled carts and loose hay strewn everywhere, which he noticed were meant as beds of a sort.

They hadn’t even bothered to take their manacles off, instead adding the ankle manacles as well. It seemed to be necessary however, considering how many people were trying to climb the fences he realized more and more was designed for people.

Viktor sighed as he sat back against the cart, figuring he may as well take a quick nap as well while he waited. It’s not like any of the others in the pen were being aggressive to each other, much more focused on hopping the fence and making a run for it.

It was at this point he heard an ear-piercing whistle, much louder than he’d even thought possible, causing him to cover his ears in pain. Once the head-splitting sound stopped, he, and most other people in the pen, looked towards the source.

Standing there was an unassuming man in military fatigues with a bald man to his left and a towering tanned woman to his right. He had his left thumb and forefinger in his mouth as he took a breath and let out a quick, but equally loud, whistle and gained the last few stragglers’ attention.

The center man, likely an officer, had shaggy short black hair and a decent stubble with hints of a wispy mustache. His skin was fair as were most of Odenfaast’s denizens, but nonetheless had sunspots showing off just how often he was outdoors. He was shorter than either of his assistants and yet still gave off an intimidating and commanding aura. This was even more shocking considering that with how babyish his face was, he looked like he was 16.

The man to his left was most likely from the southern kingdom of Alsharia judging by his tanned skin tone leaning towards the darker side of the spectrum. Though he was bald, he also had a respectable thick goatee on a rather chiseled jaw and more arm and chest hair than any other man in the pen. His chest hair was noticeable because the man only wore an open military jacket without any sort of undershirt to be seen.

The woman on the right towered over everyone present easily, likely around 210 cm. in height if he had to guess. She had a lighter tanned skin, though it was enough he could tell she wasn’t a Odenfaast native. Where she could be from, he had no idea, nor did he know if she was even technically a Neuman. Her brunette hair was in a ponytail that fell to just below her hips, yet another peculiarity about her Viktor couldn’t place.

“Alright, listen up, because I’m only going to say this once. I am First Lieutenant Walter Vaanz Lehma, these are Sergeants Ghian Yaslek and Evelia Yufemi. To put it bluntly, every one of us can kick your ass and it wouldn’t be a challenge. You could even come at us with weapons and it wouldn’t make a difference. Good? Good.” Lieutenant Lehma nodded in satisfaction before turning to face both Sergeants. “Take apart the fencing and assign sections as you deem appropriate.”

With that, the two Sergeants began the disturbingly quick process of taking apart the pen surrounding them: they would walk up to a section, pull the poles apart, lift them from the ground, stand someone next to it, repeat. All told, the process took about 5 minutes, resulting in neat ranks with a pile of poles in front of each person. Some had more poles, some had less.

After all that was done, Lehma walked up to each of them, unshackled them, and handed them an assortment of straps. Yufemi and Yaslek stood on opposite ends of the ranks, ensuring no one tried to run away.

“Stefan, do you know what’s going on? Also, I don’t think you need to be that serious.” Viktor looked to his right where Stefan was standing at attention, unmoving.

“I have no clue, but this is exactly the time to be this serious. If you didn’t notice, they’re all oozing power that shakes me to my core. I… I think they might be Dreamers.” Stefan whispered the last word as though it were a slur that could land him in hot water.

All of the people closest to them immediately turned to face Stefan, shock that he’d dared even utter the word. Viktor, on the other hand, was completely lost. He’d never left Zidlenberg nor did he ever feel the need to. Whatever a Dreamer was, it was clearly something that wasn’t to be messed with, so he followed Stefan’s example and faced forward. After a moment of nothing happening the people around them visibly relaxed as they returned to facing forward.

Eventually everyone was unshackled and holding straps in front of them. Reflexively Viktor looked down at his right hand, which was swollen to a terrifying degree and clearly infected. He was almost certain he was beyond saving his hand by that point, but if nothing was done he was guaranteed to die. After a moment’s hesitation he raised said infected hand, gasping when Yaslek was suddenly in front of him.

“What’s the problem?” Just as Viktor thought, a man of few words.

“If something isn’t done about my hand, I’ll almost certainly die. Is there any way I can be treated?” Viktor held his hand out for emphasis.

“Mmm.” Yaslek looked at it with a puzzled expression before waving Yufemi over.

She appeared almost as quickly as Yaslek did, bringing an odd sensation of heat with her as she did.

“Is everything alright here?” Yufemi possessed a much higher voice than Viktor expected, with an accent he couldn’t place. She looked at Yaslek before looking down at Viktor’s hand, at which point she took on a grim expression. Without any more words she simply nodded to Yaslek.

Before Viktor could ask any questions he felt a sudden slice followed by an audible wet plop. When he looked down he immediately noticed his hand was too far away from him as his world began to swim. A shoulder suddenly propped up his falling body and he looked over to notice Stefan holding him with clear horror and concern on his face.

He was then blindsided by an unimaginable searing pain as the smell of burning flesh reached his nose. He looked down with teary eyes to notice Yufemi had his arm in her hands and seemed to be burning where his hand used to be with only her hands. Not even a drop of blood had a chance to leak as she fully sealed the wound.

“Will he last until the Will Impartment tonight?” Yufemi’s voice was distant, almost inaudible as his consciousness faded.

“He should.” Yaslek’s words were the last to reach Viktor’s ears before his eyes rolled back and his body shut off.