In which we finally have who's what and what's who explained to us. Ya'll have fun guessing who is the guy(s) who snuck into the training program for reasons. I really have no established reviewers or questions here, so, you know, that's really all I have to say. The shipping offer still stands, although for the supposedly rabid shipping fandom Hetalia is I'm surprised at the lack of requests and/or demands. Huh. Oh well, stranger things have happened.
March 17, 2017
3rd Person POV:
Antonio continued chatting happily with Francis about the virtues of the southern sun as they got off of the transport –Francis maintained it was good in small doses, while Antonio advocated for complete and constant exposure for the best benefits– and went to go find their luggage. Feliciano had bounced off with his "big brother" several minutes ago, smiling all the way. "It is a pity we're not in the same unit, mon ami." Francis said regretfully as he picked up a very shiny and top-of-the-line looking portal case, and Antonio pouted as he picked up his own, significantly less up to date.
"Well, we are allowed to choose our own rooms. You can share one with me, amigo." he said hopefully, and Francis nodded thoughtfully, a slight smile drifting across his face.
"Oui. There are supposed to be more than two people per room though, if I remember correctly." he added in afterthought, and they both blinked, then shrugged. "Well, the rulebook said to just pick a room and then report to the mess hall." Francis said dismissively, and Antonio nodded. They both slung the portal cases over their shoulders and started off into the interior of the compound, following the small stream of other young men. The transport bay only had two hallways going off of it; the largest one –with the compound's name, Imperium, stenciled above it– was for the trainees or any people who wished to visit, and the smaller, nearly invisible one, was for any Aureus servants who ran the compound.
Due to their quick exit, Antonio and Francis were able to find the first room on the dorm hallway unoccupied, and quickly claimed it as their own via thumbprint recognition. The small pad outside the door glowed once, then twice, and the blank screen below the name of the room –Unum– lit up with Antonio and Francis's names. Antonio was the first inside, and tilted his head slightly as he observed what would be his home for the next several years.
There were small vents that ran the length of the floor, creating a soft and eternal humming sound that was a somewhat eerie counterpoint to the flickering static lights on the ceiling. There were four metallic-looking bunkbeds with large storage boxes at their feet, and two identical doors that, when opened, revealed identical, utilitarian bathrooms. Everything was very functional and muted, crammed into as little space as possible to give room to the four presumably boisterous men that would later occupy it.
Francis swung his stylish portal bag onto the bottom of the left-hand bunk, chuckling at Antonio's questioning look. "I am the Battlefield Medic, mon ami. If there is an emergency call in the middle of the night, I don't want to have to climb down that ladder in a hurry." he said in amusement, nodding towards the collection of thin metal poles propped up against the edge of the top bunk. Antonio shrugged happily and accepted this, climbing up to the top bunk and tossing his own portal case there to claim it as his own.
"I wonder who will be our roommates." he said curiously as he looked at the other bunkbed, and Francis shrugged elegantly.
"We shall find out eventually, mon ami." he said complacently, and Antonio slid down the ladder as his newfound friend got up from his seat. "Well, let us go discover what our new commander wants of us, oui?" Francis said with a sigh, and they both headed for the door, Francis rolling up his sleeves as they went. Being a Battlefield Medic was usually an extraordinarily messy job.
Sixteen young men stood in a more-or-less correct line, backs ramrod straight –in theory– as they waited for the commander who would be giving them the skills that would save their life on some far-distant battlefield. This was where discipline ended –Feliciano was talking softly with his brother, Alfred was chewing loudly on some kind of edible substance, and Gilbert was whistling something oddly catchy but definitely against the rules. This all stopped as Lieutenant Cinthinum strode briskly onto the announcement platform; as soon as the sound of his booted feet clicked against the walls, the cadets knew this was not a man to be messed with. Subconsciously, they straightened.
Cinthinum was hard, and angular, his black hair smoothed back against his skull and covered by a military cap that looked mathematical in its precision. He was tall and lean, his uniform perfectly pressed, his boots so clean that they gleamed in the faint light. Women accounted him handsome and he certainly was, but he was completely, body and soul, devoted to the Empire's military training. Cadets joked that he lived and breathed the Imperium Academy's rules, and that if the building was somehow destroyed or retired the Honorable Lieutenant would spontaneously crumble into dust.
Playful banter aside, this man was not one to be crossed. You could sense it by looking at him, by reading about him, by hearing him, even. He radiated strength, discipline and cold-hearted cunning.
"So," Cinthinum began. His midwinter blue eyes scanned the nervous line of young men. "So."
Nobody dared to move.
"You are the soldiers who will attend the Imperium Academy for the next few years, yes?"
There were a few muted mumbles of assent, by the braver cadets among them, and the Honorable Lieutenant's nostrils flared. "Very well then, enough." he snapped, making all sound instantly cut out. "Soldiers, step forward one pace."
A few of the young men gulped, some in unison, but the threat of the Lieutenant's displeasure was more than enough incentive to step forward as commanded. The line split apart, with six young men stepping to the front, and ten staying behind.
"Turn around and face your peers."
The Soldiers did so, blinking, staring, or blushing at their fellow cadets according to their nature. The Honorable Lieutenant began to pace the platform, hands behind his back. He did not look at the cadets. "The Soldier is the backbone of the battlefield. Without our mighty Soldiers, we would not have become an Empire." he told the empty reaches of the room, sounding as if this was a speech he had made a thousand times before, but was still vigorously proud of. The young men in the second line began to look cautiously confident.
"Soldiers are the leaders, the commanders, and the best we have to offer. I myself am a former Soldier." Lieutenant Cinthinum said briskly, continuing to pace. "There are three soldiers in each of your two divisions. Soldiers, split apart by unit."
The second line took a moment, then the six men stepped into two lines of three. The Honorable Lieutenant stopped pacing and stood behind them. "This is Division 37564. Eventually, one of these three will become your unit leader. " he said, indicating one of the two groups. The young men in the first line looked at the Soldiers warily, especially those would who be led by them. The three Soldiers under scrutiny all reacted in different ways –Ludwig straightened, his eyes becoming nearly as unreadable as Lieutenant Cinthinum's; Antonio beamed, waving happily, and Sadiq smiled wickedly from beneath his white mask.
The Honorable Lieutenant then indicated the other group. "And one of these Soldiers will lead Division 23564." he added impartially, and Gilbert grinned, his red eyes gleaming wickedly, as Alfred subconsciously rolled his shoulders a few times and Ivan smiled innocently. "Soldiers, form a line once more and about face."
The Soldiers merged back together and turned to face Lieutenant Cinthinum. He spoke over their heads and to their faces at the same time, a practiced orator. "Soldier is the most common but the most brutal class. You will bloody your knuckles and break your bones. Every day you will face death and every day you will triumph. The highest positions in government can only be held by a Soldier-rank individual, and only a Soldier can be in control of a battlefield unit. We are the shock troops and the first ones on any chosen battlefield, besides the Scouts."
He began to pace again.
"You must be the strongest both physically and mentally. You will give no quarter and ask for no mercy."
Arthur watched as Alfred's eyes shone brighter and brighter with every sentence, and gave an exasperated mental sigh.
"Your weapons will be your guns and your own living flesh. Hand-to-hand, our Soldiers are the best fighters in the Roman Empire. After today's orientation, you will be trained to fight, and be trained to kill. You will be trained in the use of melee weapons and guns. You will be trained to drive a skiff over hostile terrain. You will be trained to protect your comrades and subordinates at all costs."
The Honorable Lieutenant stopped pacing, and indicated a AR unit, which was standing patiently at the end of the podium. "Soldiers, your assignment begins now. Follow the android, where you will receive your uniforms and have your ID tags confirmed."
The as-of-yet unmoved cadets watched mutely as the Soldiers calmly and casually filed after the robot, which whirred smoothly along the polished marble floor and into a hallway that branched off from the main eating area. The Honorable Lieutenant stood with his hands loosely clasped behind him, and waited until the last trainee had vanished behind the doors before speaking again.
"Scouts, step forward one pace."
The much-diminished line thinned again as four of the young men somewhat nervously –but not quite as nervous as they had been before– stepped forward.
"Turn around and face your peers."
The four Scouts turned around to face the six remaining cadets, standing loosely with their hands at their sides. Already there was a telling difference; the Soldier cadets had all been strong and muscular, mostly tall, with an alpha-like demeanor. The Scouts were just as athletic-looking as the Soldiers, but they were smaller, skinnier, and more agile. The Honorable Lieutenant continued in the same vein he had described Soldiers.
"Scouts are our second-most important rank. They are our eyes and ears on the battlefield, the ones who search out –and on occasion destroy– enemy encampments. The information from Scouts are often the fulcrums upon which the battle turns. They protect the supply lines and guard bases. There are two Scouts assigned to each unit. Scouts, separate."
The foursome split apart, with Yao and Lovino on one side, and Matthew and Karl on another. Yao looked inscrutable, and Lovino seemed fidgety and awkward beside him. Matthew and Karl simply blinked at the others with good-natured curiosity.
"Scouts are trained to be silent and deadly. If we are ever given the option, they are the very first on the battlefield, although not the first combatants. They will run supplies between different lines and keep those lines open, and they are the only rank to directly support Soldiers on the battlefield." Lieutenant Cinthinum said in sonorous tones, and the Scouts stood a little straighter as he directly addressed them.
"You will be trained on long-range weapons. You will be trained in stealth, speed, and aggression. For the chance that you are ever caught in close range, you will be trained in the use of stun rods. You will be trained to run over any and all kinds of terrain. You will be trained to climb any and all types of terrain. Dismissed. Follow the Soldiers to confirm your rank and receive your uniform." The Honorable Lieutenant said briskly, and the Scouts quickly left his line of sight, retreating through the doors that the Soldiers and robot had used previously.
Lieutenant Cinthinum looked with disfavor upon the last six cadets. Most of them had already realized that anyone not a Soldier was going to be given short shrift by this particular commanding officer, and were not too terribly perturbed. Feliciano looked slightly nervous, but that was in all likelihood because Lovino was no longer around to keep an eye on him.
"Intelligence, step forward." The Honorable Lieutenant finally snapped, and two of the remaining six stepped forward.
"Turn and face your peers."
They did so.
"Intelligence operatives are the ones to interpret what Scouts send in and advise Soldiers on what to do with said information. They are the spies and the covert operations of any and all divisions. Each unit is assigned one Intelligence rank operative; any more could be dangerous."
The two Intelligence operatives looked at each other, blinked, and looked away. Luke's face was still seemingly frozen into neutrality, while Arthur's habitual look of skepticism made him seem grumpy and cynical. Neither looked terribly intimidating, although they certainly looked suspicious.
"You are never on the active battlefield. Your place is behind the front lines, giving advice to leaders and receiving reports from Scouts. Nevertheless, you will be trained in the use of knives and hand-to-hand combat, as well as poison. You will learn the different ethnic languages that make up our glorious empire, how to write in code, and how to decipher the code of other Intelligence agents spies."
Arthur yawned internally. He already knew this; he'd been training for the Intelligence rank almost since his tenth birthday. While the lack of prestige and power generally threw most would-be Intelligence candidates, Arthur was in this for one thing and one thing only; knowledge.
And he didn't care what he had to slog through to get it.
"Dismissed. Follow the Scout and Soldier cadets to the fitting room to confirm your rank and uniform."
The two Intelligence operatives slouched out of the room, and the Honorable Lieutenant viewed the last four with disdain. "Battlefield Medics, step forward one pace." he said crisply, and Francis and Heracles stepped forward calmly. The Honorable Lieutenant did not command them to turn around, perhaps because there were only two other people in the room besides themselves.
"The Battlefield Medic is an exceedingly gruesome if not particularly rewarding rank." he began, sounding –through the iron discipline– as if he was becoming bored of this particular subject. "They are the individuals in charge of keeping wounded unit members alive until they can be helped by a Nurse. Physical examinations are always given by Battlefield Medics, and all records are jointly kept between them and the unit Nurse. This will include personal history, combat records, and all other files for any applicable parties in your unit."
He did not pace this time, perhaps again because of the small amount of people. "You will be cleaning wounds and giving a preliminary diagnosis before handing your wounded comrades off to a Nurse. You will be trained to defend yourself and your charges in case of a base attack –which, I might add, is rare to nonexistent. Your place is on the battlefield and you will rarely if ever rise far in our noble government. Dismissed. Confirm you tags and uniforms with the others."
Francis and Heracles both looked at each other, and in another situation would have probably shrugged, but in front of the Honorable Lieutenant they didn't dare, and trudged silently towards the double doors at the far end of the mess hall. Now the only two young men left were Feliciano and Kiku, both of whom straightened uncomfortably under the Honorable Lieutenant's iron gaze. He blinked once, sharply, then began.
"You two will be the Nurse for your select divisions." he said briskly, standing on the podium with the two young men standing straight and tall –or as tall as they could– before him. "Your duty is to help unit members to recover and heal from any wounds they have sustained, and give them surgery when they cannot on their own. Your place is behind the front lines with Intelligence operatives and Scouts, and you will rarely if ever see combat. Your task is messy and often painful, but it is rewarding, since you keep our brave Soldiers capable of staying on the front lines. You are to work closely with the Battlefield Medic of your unit, as well as your Intelligence officer, and maintain friendly relations with the Scouts and Soldiers. In short, you are to be useful to everyone. You are in a unique position and, under certain circumstances, can become integral parts of the government."
His midwinter eyes raked the two teens standing before him. Feliciano shivered slightly and edged closer to Kiku –under these circumstances, Kiku couldn't precisely blame him. "The two of you have a long and bloody career ahead of you. I suggest you get rid of any squeamishness."
The Honorable Lieutenant turned, his boots clicking precisely against the marble. "Dismissed. Join the rest of your units for ID confirmation and your uniforms."
11.14 AM, USA Central Time
