Argento stared, horror obvious on his pink face. He swallowed heavily, sweat already accumulating across his forehead.

Argento was an engineer, a very good one at that, graduating from Cognition university with an architecture specialization. He has been working at Second Regiment for the past five years, building beautiful homes with sturdy stone and timber. He had repaired and built fine barracks for most of the lower Companies soldiers. He’d spent a good chunk of his time observing the art of war, the unforgettable lessons and cunning commanders.

What he was observing, however, was not part of the curriculum. Two mobs, one in white, the other in black, were viciously decimating one another. Already the dirt was covered with moaning bodies. Argento held a small monocular to his right eye, attempting to make sense of the chaos. "Where has the grace gone! The formations, the dance of swords and battle of tacticians? These are just kids battering each other with sticks!” Argento exclaimed.

The Captain glanced sideways, and a foot down, silencing Argento’s cry. With courage, however, Argento pushed on “I-I mean sir, most of these soldiers are adolescents! What is the purpose of this mock battle?”

The Captain sighed. And he thought he’d had enough kids to babysit. “Listen, young man, these ‘kids’ will be deployed in three weeks due. These are greenhorns, the 8th bastard sons of minor nobles, and citizens who picked a fight with the wrong guy. The most I can do is introduce them to Battlelust, lest it blinds them in battle.” His tone was purposefully insulting, as if spoken to a child. Strictly, he was not allowed to abuse non-combatant support units. That , however, did not mean the Captain will cuddle whatever pink balls the higher ups throw at him. “Better they fight like chickens without their heads here, than there.” The Captain pointed North.

“T-that’s…” Argento was at a loss for words. He was a 25-year-old man, more familiar with the charms of old totems than what makes his meals. Never had he believed that the army was this...crude.

“You will have two weeks to utilize the defeated soldiers in order to establish the new barracks. 9 other captains will each send 60 men. I received word that the Third Regiment will double in size, a thousand men increase at the very least, for the upcoming war against The Legion.” The Captain informed the unfortunate man.

Exhaustion already began to seep into Argento’s bones. “Where would those soldiers come from? I thought we had already reache-”

“Beggars, orphans, widows, anyone that can pick up a pitch-fork will be drafted, and God knows there are a ton of those rotting in the city. Those who survive will be rewarded with rice” The Captain spit to the side, making his discomfort with such tactics obvious.

“Now is the time to strike at the Legion. We will overwhelm them with numbers side by side with the Nrialians. A pincer attack will whittle their defenses down.”

Argento resigned himself. The First Regiment was the elite force of the empire, a thousand men and women trained from the day they were born. The Second Regiment consisted mainly of common blood risen from the Third Regiment, where most new blood starts. In all, this army was three thousand strong. The same goes for the rest of the Empire's cities.

“Wait!” Argento called out to the Captain as he turned away. “If the army will increase by a thousand, then why not create a Fourth Regiment?”

The Captain grimaced. He did not want to answer this question. “Because, young lad, most of whom will be departing in three weeks will not be coming back. We are unable to permanently maintain numbers sufficient enough for a Fourth Regiment throughout the war.” The Captain turned away hastily, ending the conversation. Losing a Regiment would hit morale and increase desertion. The words were left unspoken, but Argento’s pale face understood.

The purpose of this war was not just expansion. This was a war would also serve to cleanse the cities of its overpopulation problem.

***

Each step Argento took was heavier than the last. At the very least, his leather shoes bounced off the cobblestone instead of sinking in. There were no more atrocious bugs to feast on his blood either, which did wonders for his mood.

Dark times are coming.

Argento had a few days to pack his stuff and start living at the Third Regiment. The number of hours that he will have to put in raised his blood pressure. He would receive a huge amount of assistance, as well as a few full-fledged architects to orchestrate this project, yet most of the new barracks will have to be of the poorest and most degrading qualities, otherwise half of the new crop will have to sleep the night bare.

Argento looked up, his thick coat keeping him cozy. His ears and nose, however, were bright pink. Winter was getting worse. The number soldiers that will die of disease and the cold...Argento shook his head. He received a promotion! Now is not the time for grim thoughts. He was finally making headway into the world. No doubt this would lead him further up in the world, no doubt indeed.

Argento kept walking, recalling the many necessities he would require for his long extended trip. His eyes, however, picked up upon a gaunt figure to his right, staring hungrily into the Rubie’s Cafe.

Hunger is horrifying, lad, Trust me, I feel your pain.

The poor boy’s clothing was thin and worn, provoking no apt protection against the cold. The boy was a bit shorter than Argento, yet his small figure saddened Argento. It was time for a good deed, he decided. He walked up to the boy, placing his hands upon the lad’s shoulders. The lad, probably mistaking him for a Correction Officer, actually apologized and attempted to squeeze his way out.

"Now wait a moment young lad! Are you really going to leave after having a chance to dine on the food you were eying?’’ Argento smiled. See, he told himself, it will work out.