Chapter 1 – Year 833

The 87th Cadet Corps

"On your feet, Wagner! Is this drill a joke to you?!"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Well, I'm delighted to hear it! Why the hell are you on the ground, cadet?"

"Sir, I tripped, sir!"

"Do you think Titans will give you a pass if you trip on the front lines?!"

"Sir, no sir!"

"Damn right! Now tie those fucking laces before I string you up the flagpole!"

Mikhail Vogt was one of the toughest instructors in the Corps; in fact, he held the record for discharging cadets. Those who were unfit (or unwilling) to finish basic training were carted off to the fields beyond Wall Rose. His philosophy toward trainees was a simple one: the more they hated him, the more they would learn.

He stood resolute as the girl hauled herself from the dirt. His cold, grey eyes followed her as she tried to catch up with the rest of the 87th regiment. Vogt had been so focused on his charge that he failed to notice the men beside him.

"Good morning, Commandant." The voice belonged to Keith Shadis, 12th Commander of the Survey Corps.

Vogt saluted the men immediately. "Good morning," he said. "I apologize for the oversight, Commander; we did not expect you until this evening."

There were two other men in attendance, the taller of who had windswept locks and a sparse goatee. The other, pressed-and-dressed to perfection, wore his blond hair in a side part.

"No harm done," Shadis replied. "In any case, allow me to introduce Mike Zacharias and Erwin Smith – our newest squad leaders."

"We've met," Vogt affirmed. "81st Cadet Corps if I remember correctly…" His gaze softened as he beheld them. It had been six years since their platoon disbanded.

Erwin nodded. "Yes, sir."

"So," Shadis began, "who were you berating when we arrived?"

"Jonas Wagner's daughter," Mikhail said. "Remember him? He served in the 59th with us. Stubborn son of a bitch…if she's anything like him, she'll be a spitfire."

Erwin raised a brow. "Any relation to Frederick Wagner?"

"Her brother." Vogt clasped his hands behind his back. "A model soldier. Iris, on the other hand…" He glanced across the barren field to ensure that she had rejoined the group. "Is nowhere near his caliber."

"Take it she won't be in the top 10, then," Mike muttered.

Shadis cast a sideways glance in his direction. Ordinarily, he valued Mike's candor; it was one of his best qualities. That notwithstanding, his comment was inappropriate and somewhat impolite. "Mike," he warned, "hold your tongue." His tone left no room for argument.

"Yes sir." Mike glanced at their mounts. Each wore a saddle that was loaded with goods and personal effects. It had been a long journey – especially for the horses. "I'll get them fed and watered, Commander," he said. Before leaving the group, he nudged Erwin with his elbow. "Coming?"

"Hm," he agreed, nodding. "Should we meet you in the officers' quarters, Commander Shadis?"

"See that you do. Dismissed." When Mike and Erwin took their leave, Shadis glanced at the grizzled man beside him. "So, Mikhail," he began, "what's on the agenda today?"

"There isn't one." A wry grin appeared on his face. "It's graduation day; they'll do PT 'til sunset." Vogt crossed his arms as he beheld the them. "One last attempt to thin the herd," he said absently.

Stars twinkled in the gloaming. At long last, the day was over.

The moment Iris hit the mattress, Hange Zoë – her friend and bunk mate – draped themselves over the railing of the top bunk. "There you are!" they said cheerfully. "Tough day?"

Iris buried her face in a pillow. "Mhm," she replied. "Vogt kicked my ass this morning."

"He has a habit of doing that, doesn't he?"

"Mhm," she repeated. Words did not come easily at the end of the day. "What did you do with Keller?"

"More ODM training!" Hange grinned widely as they hung upside down. If the railing gave way, they'd surely end up on the floor. "He taught us a new maneuver. Wanna see? It goes like this!"

Iris hesitated. "Hange, I don't think that's a good idea-"

Crash!

As expected, the iron bar came unhinged from the bedframe. Hange tumbled from the bunk and landed flat on their back. "Ow," they wheezed.

Iris peeled herself from the scratchy blanket and slid onto the floor. "Hange," she murmured, "are you alright?" Serves you right, she thought.

Fortunately, Hange seemed no worse for wear. They blinked a few times, coughed, and stared at the ceiling. "I think so," Hange said, turning their head. "Iris…? Why are there two of you?"

The girl balked. "Two?!"

"Ha! You should've seen your face!" Hange cackled and rolled onto their side.

"…Hilarious."

"Ah, well," they sniggered, wiping their eyes. "You should probably get changed. They'll call roll soon."

While Hange climbed to their feet, Iris opened her footlocker and dug through its contents. "Our last," she said. There was a note of apathy in her voice. "Three years to decide…and I'm no closer to a decision now than I was on day one." She selected a fresh pair of fatigues before closing the chest. "What about you?"

"Haven't I told you already?"

Yes, you have. Nevertheless, Iris hoped that Hange might provide some insight. Her father, she knew, expected her to graduate in the top 10; but she did not share his optimism. "Maybe? I don't remember."

Hange stood and rolled their shoulders. "I'm going to join the Survey Corps!" they exclaimed. "Titans are so interesting, aren't they?!"

You'll get yourself killed, Hange. She sighed and started to undress. "You're not…scared?"

"Of course, I am! But what's the point of being scared when you can do something about it? There's so much we don't know about them," they said. "When I sign on, the Corps will get another scout, and I'll get to see Titans up close; it's a win-win!"

It was hard to argue with that logic. At the moment, Iris only had two choices: the Survey Corps and the Garrison Regiment. Neither seemed particularly appealing, but one option was certainly safer than the other.

"Hey, wait," Hange began, "your brother's a scout, right?"

"Fred is, yeah," she replied. Iris tossed her sweat-stained shirt on the bed and reached for the fresh one. "Dad was pissed. He graduated top 10 and chose the Corps anyway. He's been lucky so far, but…" Her voice trailed off as she buttoned her shirt.

Bang, bang, bang! "Let's go, cadets! Roll call in ten!"

"That's our queue!" Hange turned their head toward the door and called to the officer on the other side. "Coming!" Formalities were lacking; after all, everyone would enlist tomorrow afternoon.

"Alright," Iris said, donning her khaki jacket. "Ready."

Commandant Vogt's farewell speech was succinct. Unlike officers Keller and Schmidt, he did not reminisce or give praise. The best he could offer was, "You are standing here today because you overcame every obstacle – physical, mental, or otherwise. Good luck, cadets; you'll need it."

None of them cheered or applauded in the wake of his words. Mikhail Vogt was a grim man who lacked good humor. As the cadets awaited their fate, he withdrew a piece of parchment from his pocket.

Hange nudged Iris with the tip of their boot. "It could still happen," they whispered. "Maybe you made it!" The two of them stayed up past curfew last night talking about the Military Police Brigade. Hange knew how important it was to Iris' father. As a senior officer, he expected at least one of his children to sign on.

The commandant's voice echoed as he addressed the 87th regiment. "Hands on your hearts!"

"Yes, sir!"

"The following cadets have earned the right to enlist in the Military Police Brigade," he said. "Number one, Elizabeth Abrams. Number two, William Jones. Number three, Taylor Dupont. Number four…"

Iris bit the inside of her cheek. Come on, she thought, say my name. While she herself had no great ambition, she did not want to disappoint her family. If her name was called, the choice would be easy. But if not…

"Number nine, Greg Symanski. Number ten, Camille Arden." Vogt crumpled the list and held it in his gloved hand. "These are the top 10 recruits of the 87th regiment."

Needless to say, Iris did not have an appetite at dinnertime. She pushed her mashed potatoes into a small anthill and topped it with peas. Meanwhile, her other bunkmates chattered excitedly about their accomplishments. How could they be so happy? None of them had made the top 10 list, either.

"Iris?" Hange had been trying to get her attention since they funneled into the mess hall. In a last-ditch effort to engage her, Hange snapped their fingers.

The gesture earned Hange a side-eyed stare. "I heard you," she said.

"Just making sure!" they replied, rubbing their neck. "C'mon…you have to eat something. You haven't even touched your steak!"

"You can have it," she offered. "I'm not hungry."

The tone was far cheerier across the room. Junior officers from the Survey Corps and the Garrison Regiment sat at the head table with the top brass. They talked amongst themselves, reminiscing about their days in the Cadet Corps. Their revelry was due, in part, to the ale in their cups.

"I've had my fair share." Mike knocked back the rest of his drink. "What about you, Erwin?"

"Fair share of what?" The blonde man cleared his throat and reached for a glass of water. He had abstained that evening.

"You weren't listening, were you?"

"Not particularly, no."

Mike rubbed the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Women," he said. "Florin here thinks that he has a shot with the brunette at the back table."

Erwin lifted his head and muttered, "Which one?" The topic was of little interest to him.

"That one," Florin said, pointing. "The one with the glasses."

"Introduce yourself, then," Mike suggested.

"I wouldn't advise it." Erwin rose from his seat, tray in hand. "We are guests, Florin; what's more, most of these recruits are between the ages of 15 and 17." He stepped away from the table and excused himself, eager to return to his quarters. The rickety cot would feel like a cloud after their long day on the road.

Much to Hange's dismay, Iris decided to call it a night. She scraped her plate clean and placed it in the dish pit before acknowledging her friend. "I'm fine, Hange," she stated. "Really."

"Want some company?"

"If you don't mind, yeah. I want to get some air." It was so loud and stuffy in the mess hall; she could barely hear herself think amidst the din.

With Hange in tow, Iris spun on her heel. She was so keen that she almost collided with a male guest. The sudden encounter made her jump. "Sorry," she mumbled. "I'll just-" When she sidestepped right, he stepped left.

"It's-"

"Here-"

The two of them could not get out of each other's way. Eventually, Iris had had enough. "Alright," she huffed, "here's the plan: I'll go left, you go left."

He smirked; though it was aimed at him, her ire was somewhat endearing. "Alright," he agreed.

Dizzy and distracted, Iris took Hange's hand and strung them through the crowd. The encounter had made her more than a little flustered. "Idiot's got two left feet," she muttered.

Mike arrived with his tray shortly thereafter. "What was that about?"

"That," he began, "was Fred's sister." His grin faded, but the gleam in his eye didn't. "We got mixed up."

"Klutz," he scoffed, looking in her direction. "What did she say?"

"She gave me orders," he mused. "Told me to go 'left' so she could leave. What do you think about that?"

"Pfft. I think she's too big for her damn boots."

Mikhail Vogt's words held true: If she was anything like her father, she'd be a spitfire.