6 | The Polynomial Property of Choice

polynomial (n.): the sum of finitely many combinations of power functions.

All things considered, putting on the cadet uniform didn't feel half as strange as it might've been. She was wearing one of her better white shirts as she threaded her arms through the sleeves of the khaki jacket with the emblem of the Training Corps; the fabric was itchy, but she supposed she'd just have to get used to it if she didn't want to go crazy from three years of wearing cheap khaki.

There you go again, Camille sighed as she scrambled to form up with the rest of the recruits outside the barracks. Revealing you aren't actually supposed to be here.

She'd placed one careful question about the intake of recruits in the Training Corps while chatting with her recruiter; it might've been her conversational skills or the fact that he'd been entranced because a woman like her had deigned to make some small talk, but he'd easily admitted recruitment was at a low, and the military was taking all they could get at that point.

It seems I won't be taking anyone's spot by being here, she'd written in her letter to Erwin.

"And who the hell are you!?"

Camille knew the drill. She'd been placed in a squad toward the middle of the pack, luckily. She raised a fist to her heart, "Camille Leto from Belcastle, sir!"

"I can't hear you!"

Fuck.

"Camille Leto from Belcastle in Wall Rose's Eastern District, sir!"

"Belcastle, eh?" The training instructor peered into her face, a sardonic sneer twisting his lips, "And why did you leave your backwater hill town to show your sorry face here today!?"

"I want to pledge myself in service to the people! Sir!"

"To the people, huh? Today you fucking serve me! Give me twenty push-ups, Leto!"

She gulped, but got down as commanded.

"Begin! One, two, three, four, five, six – I didn't say you could stop, Leto!"

Her arms ached. Her muscles were screaming. But she pushed herself – it wouldn't do to give up on the first day. Her mother would howl with laughter. I told you so, she'd say with a sneer.

"…Twenty!"

Camille held her position on the ground, sweat already dripping past her temples and pooling on the ground in front of her. They were all about control in the military, weren't they? She wasn't sure if this was worse than the time she'd taken mathematics under Pastor Kircher.

"As you were, recruit! Fourth Squad, about face!"

If this was an experiment into pain, she knew it was too early to tell. But it sure as hell felt like the misery was only beginning.

Dinner that night was a noisy affair; everyone was excited to finally get into training, she figured. She'd changed out into another white shirt and her usual long skirt before heading into the mess hall where everyone else already was.

There were snickers already directed at her, a few other recruits nudging each other as she walked past. Oh well. Today had been the most physically demanding day she'd ever had in her life, which was really saying something, considering the training instructors only had them march until sundown. Camille could barely keep up despite her will to not keel over and embarrass herself even further on the first day, but the other recruits looked like they'd barely broken a sweat.

She chose a table toward the corner, since nobody in particular seemed to want her at their table. Not a problem: she'd been treated worse at Sophia College's dining hall, and the ridicule was at least somewhat deserved.

Just as she was resigned to spending her first dinner at the Training Corps alone and ruminating on her seeming utter lack of any physical prowess, another recruit stopped in front of her.

"You," The girl said. She had silver hair and glasses perched on her nose, though if Camille recalled, she'd strapped on a pair of goggles during the day's marching drills. "Leto, correct?"

"It's Camille," She twitched a smile, putting her spoon down. "You're Rico Brzenska. Eastern District in Wall Rose, right?"

She was another squad member who'd marched down the line from Camille; was it that time already to get chummy with your squadmates?

Apparently not. "You need to work on your endurance. You'll be a burden on the squad, I know you were struggling today."

Camille blew a strand of her hair away from her face. The comment was helpful, at least. "Ah, was it that obvious?" She scooted to the side, knowing Rico was also carrying her meal tray in her hands. "Do you have any ideas on how to fix that?"

To her surprise, the girl actually did sit down. Her tone was businesslike, and the wooden way she moved while eating reminded Camille of an automaton. "Exercise. Forgive me, but you don't seem suited to the physical labor that's expected of us here."

It was a surprisingly tactful way of saying you don't belong here.

Camille nodded in agreement. "You're right, I'm not. I hope to work on it, though. I do want to stick around for the entire three years I signed up for."

"Eight years," Rico corrected, not unkindly. She was simply very matter-of-fact. "You don't get an honorable discharge until you've served at least five years."

"You're very insightful."

A curious thing. The conversation wasn't half as horrible as Camille expected it to be, especially with the way it had begun. "Say, Rico – if you don't mind me calling you that – how old are you?"

Her squadmate didn't seem surprised at the question. Dimly, Camille wondered if she was capable of any other expression other than… well. Stiff would only begin to describe it. "I'm sixteen. And you?" Rico lifted her eyes to her, and she noted they were a shade of the brightest molten silver. "You look older than most of us here."

"'Us,' Rico?" Camille feigned affront. "I know I'm old, but I promise I'm not that old compared to you lot."

"You brought it up."

Against herself, Camille's lips twitched. Touché. "Twenty. Twenty-one next month, assuming I'll still be here."

"You should stop joking about that," Rico muttered. "The attrition rate is bigger than everyone expects. Half of us won't be here by next year."

"…You know this how?"

"I have a cousin in the Garrison."

"I see," Camille nodded. "I'm sure you already know, but don't let anyone hear that."

"I'm aware."

They continued their meal in silence for a few minutes.

"So…" She swirled the watery broth in her tray. It was good despite the texture, and soup had always been one of her favorite meals. "Exercise. Every day, I expect. Laps, push-ups… sit-ups?"

The girl beside her nodded.

"And increasing in severity too? To build endurance?"

"Yes. Add more exercises as you go to build different muscles."

Camille twirled another lock of her hair away from her face with a sigh. "Alright. Thank you, that was advice I sorely needed."

"Make sure you take it."

She stifled the urge to stick her tongue out in reply.

The sun hadn't risen yet when Camille stepped out in her loosest pair of pants and a buttoned up cardigan. Admittedly, she'd never had much in the way of exercise in her entire life – she walked everywhere in her village with her mother and at Wodan, yes, but that did little to prepare her for the demands of being in the Training Corps.

To her surprise, Rico was also in the dark outside, stretching. She looked better prepared for exercising as well, wearing a matching set of cotton pants and a sweater.

"Good morning," Camille greeted smoothly. She smirked. "Couldn't get enough of me yesterday, could you?"

She laughed at Rico's indignant squawk. "Relax! Just another joke," She joined her at the foot of the steps to the women's barracks, miming her stretches. Truthfully she had no idea exactly which muscles she should be stretching, but if Rico was doing it, she probably should be too.

"Yes," The younger girl mumbled. "You seem to be fond of those."

Camille only offered a wink in reply, which flustered the girl even further.

"You should stretch more. Your legs in particular," Rico uttered, not meeting her eyes.

"Yes ma'am," She pushed further into her lunges.

The girl waited for her to finish stretching. She had a question about how this so called exercise was going to play out, too, until Rico gave her a single nod and burst into a jog.

That would set the tenor for the rest of their exercising apparently: Rico starting, Camille lumbering to catch up, Rico waiting for her to finish, before breaking off into a different exercise.

"You're really clumsy on your feet," Rico commented with a frown as they finished their laps.

"It's not the story with my hands, I promise you," Camille panted as she held her knees in her hands. "I spent most of my life working with my hands, not… the rest of my body."

"Is that so?"

"Mm," Camille straightened. "I helped fix machines before I came here."

"A mechanic, then?"

She smiled. Of sorts. Though what she outwardly showed was a nod. "My mother fixed machines, so I was one too. What about you?"

A muscle twitched in Rico's jaw, her gaze hardening as she got into push-up position. "…We farm some land near Karanes."

"Okay," She nodded, treading lightly now, but also getting down to push-up position. Hopefully practicing on these push-ups would help them the next time she came across a sadistic training instructor like yesterday. "Do you have any siblings?"

"Quite a few of them. I'm the eldest."

"Oh, I've always wanted a sibling. Lend me one of yours?"

Rico snorted, which made her grin, despite her face being inches away from the ground. "You can have all of them."

They commenced their push-ups on the count of three. With her arms being if not familiar to the notion of push-ups, they were now at least acquainted with it; she made the twenty push-ups with considerably less difficulty than yesterday, and even pushed herself to make another three push-ups until it felt like her arms would shatter into pieces.

She couldn't help collapsing on her side.

Rico was still going at it in a pace that looked crazy to Camille. "…Thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five…" The girl counted, controlling her breathing as she went.

She stopped at fifty, though she immediately grasped Camille's knees and raised them from the dirt when she finished. "Oi. Sit-ups, now."

Camille groaned but got into position, moving her hands to rest behind her ears. "How many?"

"Twenty for now. Then you do the same for me."

"Fine."

The push-ups were a breeze compared to this. Sitting up using only the strength of her core muscles? Torture. The entire region surrounding her stomach burned. Her back ached from every time she dropped herself back onto the ground from struggling to pull herself up. Her head was starting to get banged up too.

"You need to control how you go down! Use your core! Stop slamming yourself!"

"I'm trying! I'm trying!" Camille cried as she struggled to make her fifth sit-up. "I'm not used to this!"

"Try harder! You need to be stronger if you even want to think of being able to use the ODM gear! Every single part of you needs to be strong!"

Camille breathed out. She'd never seen the ODM gear in use – she'd never even seen a soldier with the supposed ultra-hard steel blades sheathed at their sides, carried in those boxes with the gas canisters attached. She'd lived her entire life within the confines of Wall Rose and Wall Sina, never having once met a uniformed soldier that didn't have anything more than a rifle strapped on.

But she remembered her mother explaining it to her, years ago: how they'd be wrapped in straps on straps on straps – to shift the weight around while flying in mid-air, the motion not even half as graceful as a bird on wings, but graceful all the same, because of what could be wrought by sheer human resourcefulness.

She felt herself gain a second wind. She didn't want to be the mechanic who couldn't even use the machines they repaired. Rico's grasp on her knees tightened, but Camille thought she could see the girl nodding encouragingly. "Seven… eight… nine… ten…"

Rico was patient when she took a few seconds in between sit-ups to gather her strength again. Camille was extremely grateful for all of this – so when she finished, she didn't hesitate in getting up and holding the girl's knees down as well.

"Thanks," Camille breathed, wiping away the sweat on her face, fingers feeling the burn in her cheeks from all the exertion. "Thank you, I mean. For doing all this. You could've just left me struggling, but you didn't, even though it's only the second day. I swear to you, I'll make it up somehow."

Rico gave a shallow nod, though she could see her cheeks going pink too. "This is only the beginning. It's only going to get harder from here."

Camille smiled even as she steeled her heart. "I promise to continue working hard. You start now. How many are you doing?"

"Forty," Rico said without breaking concentration. Camille counted for her, "Nine, ten, eleven, twelve – "

From then on it seemed that they reached an unspoken agreement of sticking to each other: Rico's blunt and honest approach to their training didn't endear a lot of their fellow recruits to her. Most seemed to take offense at a young girl of Rico's (admittedly tiny) size critiquing their efforts.

"Who died and made you squad leader, brat?"

"I'm only being objective – "

" – you're one to talk, you wouldn't even get halfway through with those arms. I should be the one stationed near the waterfall."

The two remaining members of their squad were equally too amused and terrified to do anything about the ongoing argument between the two leading personalities in their squad. The tension which had always been present because of Rico's perfectionism and Ian Dietrich's self-assuredness needed to boil over at some point, Camille conceded. But this was getting unproductive – and they were running out of time.

She raised a hand, quieting the bickering couple. Ian turned to her angrily, and Camille answered it with a questioning glance. "Ian. Do you honestly think you can handle the last leg of the relay?"

"I object!"

"Rico," She placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Let him answer."

Ian knit his brows, enhancing the frown on his face. "I can do it better than thumbellina here."

Camille nodded, ignoring the insult for now. "Alright. We'll trust you with that responsibility," Casting a glance at their other squad members, she found they had no objections. "Rico, you take the second hardest station, the forest."

Rico bit down on some retort. But she reluctantly nodded as well. "What about you, Camille?"

"I'll take the mud crawl," She replied with a faint smirk. "It's the shortest one, I'll put all those push-ups to use."

A corner of Rico's mouth twitched, though Ian still wouldn't agree. "How do we know the kid can handle the forest trail?"

"How do we know you can handle the rock climb?" Camille retorted. "Can we trust each other just this once? Now is as good time as any to test our strengths. We'll plan accordingly in our next team-building exercise."

The training instructor's whistle going off was their cue to head into their relay stations. The rest of their squad left without a second glance, though Ian's face was still etched with his scowl as he also marched off into the distance.

"Thanks," Rico muttered beside her.

"Tell me if it gets unbearable," Camille replied. "Though I'm sure you'll make him eat his words once we get to hand-to-hand training."

"We're counting on you at the mudcrawl," Rico began, the mere hint of dubiousness in her tone making Camille pout. "What? I said I was only being objective."

"I'll do my best."

"Remember to breathe."

"Yes ma'am."

Camille winked over her shoulder, which gained her a snort from Rico.

The rest of their physical conditioning, which took up a majority of their training in the first year, went by smoother. Rico finishing first on the forest trail had given Ian a considerable head start on the rock climb, and it had been enough to prove him wrong about the younger girl's capabilities.

Then he started sitting and eating with them at the mess hall as well.

Camille raised a brow at his presence. He had sandy-brown hair up to his jaw which curtained a thin face – he was also taller and seemingly older than a lot of the other recruits. She guessed the latter was what accounted for his disdain for everyone else in the Training Corps, because he had never directed that animosity toward her. Especially after the relay where their squad had placed first, he seemed more curious towards her than anything.

"Can I," Even saying the words out loud looked painful for him. "Sit?"

She met Rico's suspicious eye. She waved a hand at the empty space across her. "By all means, squadmate."

They ate their dinners quietly.

"So – "

Camille lifted her head at Ian's grimace.

" – I'd like to… apologize for what my behavior that day. I shouldn't have judged you, Rico."

Rico paused in her eating. But she nodded once. "Yes, you shouldn't have. However, thank you for apologizing. I accept it."

The brusqueness made Ian's eye twitch, but he had enough sense to swallow whatever self-importance that caused this petty fight to begin with. The apparent reconciliation made Camille smile. "Don't take it personally. She's just as rough on me."

"You – " Ian furrowed his brows. "I may have misjudged you as well. You're stronger than you look. Camille, right?"

She couldn't help it; the unexpected praise made her face split with the size of her grin. She looked to Rico in disbelief, "You heard that? I'm stronger than I look!"

"…"

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"…He's saying you look like a wimp, Camille."

"Oi! I didn't say that!"

Her mouth formed a little 'o.' "Ian, say it. You think I look like a wimp?"

"No," He bristled. Though when he met her eyes, he quickly looked away. "…I'm saying you look like a lady."

"Really? Is that the impression I give off? Am I… a pretty lady, at least?"

The heat that crawled up his tanned cheeks was the only answer she needed.

"Aww," She grinned. Was she that delicate? Some of her male classmates in Wodan had of course said the same thing, though it was meant more maliciously, as they said women lacked the hardness for the intellectual rigors of engineering. "Hey, Rico, didn't you feel the same way too when we met – ?"

"Stop spreading those lies. That was all in your head."

"Ho, alright, I'll keep your secret," She placated her by patting her elbow.

Truthfully she felt the effects of her morning exercises with Rico in the way it gradually got easier to do any sort of physical activity; she felt less tired, she could run longer, she could shoulder more weight without breaking a sweat. Getting up before dawn every single day to go run laps with Rico was starting to become enjoyable too – especially when she realized it had the concurrent effect of the training instructors looking down on her less for being a weakling.

Perhaps it was the student in her; she thrived in the validation she got from someone much more skilled than her, and enjoyed the process and inevitable reward from learning new things. She'd had many mentors in the past – her parents, Pastor Kircher, Professor Laplace, even Erwin – and she basked in the fact that someone always had something to offer in terms of knowledge.

For example:

Ian Dietrich was a complete hard ass when it came to hand-to-hand training.

She narrowly dodged another of his jabs by sidestepping at the very last moment, and then steadied herself on the balls of her feet like their instructor had told them to at the beginning of the day.

Though really, when was he not a hard ass? It made sense that he and Rico would eventually get along. They were both taking the entirety of their training very seriously. Camille also liked to think she was taking the training seriously, but – "Eek!"

She sidestepped again, almost losing her balance.

"Don't wreck my pretty face," Camille pleaded, keeping her stance – fists raised, close to the body, slightly hunched as if prepared for her own attack, just as the instructor had demonstrated – as best as she could.

"Just block it like we've been told to," Ian refused to budge with her teasing, "You're just too scared to get hit!"

That was true. They'd been practicing blocks, reversals, and take downs the entire afternoon, having practiced punches and kicks in the morning. Ian was a terrifying partner – when she pretended to be the aggressor, he'd always left her eating the dust, especially he was practicing a take down.

Now he was the aggressor – and he punched and kicked with every bit of force he could muster in his tall body.

She jumped back from another of his kicks, a bead of sweat rolling down her face. "I'd get ripped to pieces by any of your hits!"

"I'm being realistic! You think a real threat would pull their punches? Block it already!"

She ducked below yet another jab to her chest. She surprised him, however, when she then dove for his leg. She pushed her face into his torso as she lifted his leg up and used it as leverage to wrench him over to the side and throw him into the ground.

Ian went down with a yelp, and she could feel the motion rippling through their joined limbs: how his long, heavy body fell like a tree.

She was grinning when the dust cleared and she held her hand out. That had gone better than she thought it would. "How was that?"

"…Unexpected," He muttered, grasping her hand. "We should keep practicing like that."

In the end, both Rico and Ian were too straight-laced to deviate from that day's lessons and all out spar with each other like Camille had wanted them to. The hand-to-hand training was barely supervised as it was, but as always, they poured themselves into excelling at what they were given, and Camille followed their lead with a pout.

As their training stretched over the next few months, they occasionally still bickered, with Camille observing from the sidelines with amusement; she only interfered when a third opinion was required, and they were mature enough to at least recognize when either one was outvoted.

Neither of them ever explicitly said it, but Camille could sense their deep desire to score in the top ten of their class; it was less about the perks of being in the top ten, but rather the fact that being in the top ten was where all this patience and hard work they put into training would land them in.

She appreciated this about her squadmates, recognizing how fortunate she was to have been placed in a squad that was so highly motivated.

It thus came as a deep surprise to her when winter came and the Training Corps removed to the northern regions, where the winters were harsher; they began their survival training as a component to their physical conditioning, and their first cold weather exercise was squad-based.

"Leto," The training instructor glanced at her over his clipboard. The orange lamplight swayed overhead, and the wooden walls seemed to vibrate from the force of the snowstorm raging outside the main log house at Fort Dillinger. "You'll be the squad leader on this training exercise."

She fought to hide her surprise as she nodded, listening as the instructor went over the training objectives one final time: get from here to Fort Honig, make damn sure you all make it, you've got three and a half days, pack whatever you think you need; the exercise starts at 0600H tomorrow.

"Good luck. Leto, take responsibility for your squad."

"Yes sir!"

The instructor left.

Camille was still reeling.

Both Ian and Rico, standing on either side of her, were waiting for her reaction.

This – this wouldn't exactly be the first time she'd been saddled with a leadership role, considering there had been many collaborative projects during her tenure in university. But that was hilariously different – wrangling rich boys into contributing something to their grades was worlds away from survival training.

"So," She began with a nervous smile, glancing at the curious faces of her squad mates. There were five of them in the squad; her, Rico, Ian, and two fourteen year olds from the south named Elly and Julian. More than half the squad were practically children, and they were throwing themselves at the wilderness tomorrow. "I'm squad leader."

"You're surprised?" Rico lifted one silver brow, voice deadpan as always. "You're the oldest one in the squad."

Ian said nothing. Her forehead wrinkled – that was true.

Dwelling on it now would do them no good however, considering they had less than two hours left before lights out and they were setting out for the woods next morning. "Ah. That makes sense," She turned to Elly and Julian, "I don't think it ever came up, where exactly from the south are you two from?"

"Shiganshina," They replied at the same time. Camille blinked. That was as south as south got; it rarely snowed there, even if temperatures still dropped during the colder seasons. Worse still, Camille had been surreptitiously checking the thermometer at the mess hall every morning and night since they arrived three days ago, and the temperatures had been steadily dropping.

"I see," She tapped her chin, pondering. Her head rapidly went through a list of things she thought they might need: insulation, rifles, compasses, rations, bedrolls, rope… it was something of a trick, she knew, for them to have said pack whatever you think you need. Did they expect the recruits to get dizzied by the choice of what to pack? "Did you bring any wool clothes with you?"

The children stopped short, evidently surprised by the question. Camille smiled faintly, waving a hand. "You know, for the cold. Wool is a good insulator."

She ended up lending one of her woolen sweaters and leggings to Elly; Julian had a cardigan, but for good measure Ian had volunteered his scarf. She recommended they pack together in the mess hall, so Camille and everyone else could keep an eye on what each other brought; they cleaned their rifles together after, and planned which route they would take once they set out the next day.

Aside from taking care of their necessities, she wanted to make sure they were armed with a plan – especially for navigating the frozen wasteland outside of Fort Dillinger. They were in the northern regions of Wall Maria, just north of Utopia district, ironically enough.

In another life where she'd made a different choice, she'd still be at Utopia – probably renting a room near East of Utopia Headquarters, drafting some improvements in their machine plans, thinking of writing Erwin, working diligently into the night.

Instead here she was, unfurling a roll of paper, drafting a map of the region, thinking of how she could best protect the members of her squad.

She'd already taken a careful look of the large map of the region posted in the mess hall. Camille had paid little attention to the fact that the map had been sparse. It pointed out landmarks, at least. But most important at all, it indicated that it had been up to scale.

Her squad mates huddled around her as she brought out her slide rule from a pocket in her pack and she began drafting a rudimentary map of their route.

"What's that?" Elly pointed at the slide rule in her left hand, which she was currently using to measure distances on her map. Because of the numbers and lines painted on it, most people thought it was a thick ruler with an extendable middle.

"It's a calculator," Camille replied, finishing the sketch with a compass indicating the directions of everything on the page. "For solving math stuff. Right now though, it's going to help me rescale the map of our route. Here," And she began explaining the route they would take, devised with input from Ian and Rico: they would go down the cliff that Fort Dillinger sat on, cut through the forest via one of the known trails, trek a few kilometers upriver, and eventually go up an old wagonpath near the mountains, where they would hopefully find Fort Honig.

The children seemed reassured by how confidently she described the route. "This isn't the shortest route – in fact, it might be the most obvious. But we'll be out there, and getting lost can be easy especially with all the snow lying around. We'll be fine if we stick to the trails, but we're ready as we can be if we also need to improvise. Alright?"

Elly nodded tightly, though in her eyes Camille spied some resolution that made the corner of her lips lift in pride. "Understood."

Seeing Elly's firm expression seemed to steel something in Julian as well. "Okay. Can I say? I'm glad – " He ducked his head in embarrassment, which Ian ruffled his mop of brown curls for, " – I'm glad I'm in this squad."

It was true that she couldn't have asked for a better squad – she'd known that since the beginning of working together with Ian and Rico. In the wake of their first survival exercise just outside the Utopia district, Elly and Julian's willingness to trust them – the older squad members – as well as trust in themselves, only heightened this evaluation.

Their training exercise went as well as Camille expected.

Which was to say, everything went downhill quick.

The morning temperature, when Camille had checked it for the last time, had been the lowest out of all three mornings she'd been checking it.

Stepping out with her pack on her shoulders and her rifle strapped on, she'd found the sun trapped underneath a dark haze. Snow wasn't falling yet, but that would soon change as the instructors blew their whistles and squads began the spiraling trek down the cliff.

The sun didn't fully come out, not even around noontime. The weather in the last three days had only ever gotten bad during the night, but it had never been this overcast during the day.

Even as she was layered in wools, her uniform, and the standard issue winter coats lined with fur, the thought made a shiver run down her spine.

Then it happened: as they navigated the treacherous path on the other side of the cliff Fort Dillinger was perched on, Elly slipped.

A stiff wind had blown in their faces; the girl lost her footing on the frosted cliffside as she adjusted her fur-lined hood with a gloved hand. "O-Oh!"

Ian's quick hand saved her from falling forward. But just as he finished steadying her on her feet, she slipped again while readjusting the pack on her back.

"Elly!"

She disappeared over the cliff's edge faster than anyone could reach out.

"Shit! Elly – " Julian moved forward.

"Stay back!" Camille commanded, throwing her things to the side. She huddled over the edge, watching her squadmate slide down the jagged cliffside, her pack and rifle snagging as she went. "Elly!"

The forest obscured how she landed on the ground below, but Camille imagined it as painful. "ELLY! ELLY!"

When she received no reply, she removed herself from the cliff edge.

"Rope," She breathed. She looked back at the rest of her squad, silently praying Elly had the sense – if she could've even managed it while she was sliding off the side of a cliff – to not land on her feet and shatter them. "We need some rope to get somebody down there and help her!"

Rico had already dug through her pack for it, and Ian moved to the cliff wall to do the same. "We need to find – "

" – An anchor," Camille scanned their surroundings. She pointed at a tree just a few meters in front of them, and the roots looked deep enough. "There!"

Rico gave her the two sets of rope, which she located the ends and knotted once before tossing over the edge. She felt the vibrations in the rope as the knotted end hit the ground – or so she hoped as she jiggled the rope up and down to prove it had indeed hit the ground directly below their anchor, which was still obscured by trees.

"Put everything down and help them secure Rico! Watch the edge!" Ian said to the clueless Julian before he huddled over to the edge himself, cupping his hands over his mouth. "Elly! Elly! Elly!"

"Rico," Camille crouched in front of the silver-haired girl, helping Julian wind the rope around their designated medic. "Take off your coat, it'll only hinder you while you rappel. We'll lower it with your other things."

"We should also send Julian down," Ian muttered as he came to stand beside the rest of the squad. He inspected the ropework with a critical eye one last time, "She's not answering. We might need more people down there."

She had been thinking along similar lines, though she hadn't made her mind up yet, hyperaware of her status as squad leader.

"Can't we all go down?" Rico questioned. "We might as well, we already have one squad member down the mountain."

Camille took a deep breath.

At last, she made her decision by nodding. When she saw Ian's alarmed expression, she calmly explained, "It's past noon already, with the weather only getting worse. It'll take us at least two hours to get down the cliff and find our way to them from the forest trail, assuming we don't get lost. I don't want to separate the squad under these conditions."

Ian clenched his jaw. "How would we even find our way back to the trail?"

Her mind held the image of the map she made before her eyes. Her heart held onto it, silently hoping this was the right choice. "We skip the trail. The river should only be a few kilometers northwest. As long as we keep moving forward, we'll find it. We don't need to risk getting lost finding the trail when we could be finding the river instead."

She glanced at the rest of her squadmates. No one seemed to have anything else to add. Though everyone was starting to look a little too grim, and they were only a day into their exercise.

"Alright," She clapped her hands, taking another deep breath. "Rico, you first. Julian comes after; me and Ian will lower your packs, and you can both assist Elly. Signal if everything's clear, and Ian can go next. I'll lower both our packs after. I'll go last, because hopefully by this time someone will have made me a cushion from the bedrolls since Rico says I'm clumsy on my feet and I don't want to be the second injury on our squad."

Rico rolled her eyes. "You're not inspiring a lot of confidence right now, squad leader."

Camille peered over the edge, gazing at the tops of the pine trees. "Hey, don't we have an injured squad member down there? Why hasn't our medic lowered herself yet?"

"I was listening to you go on!"

She could hear Julian's giggle over Ian's loud sigh.

"Let's get this show on the road," Camille declared. "Elly needs our help. Julian, watch the rope with Ian. I'll go secure all our packs." She nodded at Rico. "Watch yourself, Rico. Remember to signal before Julian goes down."

As it would turn out Elly had landed on one leg, and had been too dazed from the fall to answer to any of their calls. Everyone else managed the rappel down the cliffside with no further injury to their squad – and Rico treated Elly's broken ankle with some snow wrapped in cloth and some bandages.

Rico grimaced. "It would be better if I had a splint, but all these twigs aren't durable."

"Hold on," Camille lowered her pack and rummaged through it. "I've got just the thing."

She handed over the very same slide rule she'd only shown Elly last night. It had been a priceless gift from Pastor Kircher. Given right after she'd settled in at Sophia College and she met him for the very first time, it was made of ironwood and painstakingly painted with tiny numbers and lines. She'd only brought three personal items to the Training Corps, and her slide rule had easily been one of them. "Here, use this."

Rico looked skeptical until she held it in her own hands and tested its considerable durability. Elly knit her brows, her red face creasing with worry. "Are you sure we can use it – ?"

Camille squeezed the girl's shoulder with a comforting smile. "It's just a couple planks of wood with numbers on it. While I'm glad you're alright enough to worry about that, I'll just buy another one for the next time someone decides to slip off a cliff."

At her light joking, the girl turned even redder.

"Stop embarrassing her," Rico scolded as Camille moved away. "She'll freeze if she drenches her clothes with sweat."

As if to prove the point, Julian mopped the girl's shining face with care. "I'm happy we're all together again. What's next, captain?"

The title made Camille's brow twitch, but she suppressed her grin, instead going for the compass she had in the inside pocket of her coat. "We'll set out, moving northwest. We'll take turns carrying Elly, our priority for now is moving forward – "

She stopped as she watched a small speck of white drift onto her nose, and bloom into coldness.

Camille cursed underneath her breath, holding a hand out. More snowflakes fell into her gloved palm, the dark cloth making the white motes stand out all the more. A glance into the completely clouded sky and the swirl of snow only confirmed her misgivings about an impending snowstorm, or worse yet, a blizzard. "We'll keep an eye out for the weather and any shelter too."

They set out for another two hours, with visibility only worsening as both the landscape and the air around them filled with more snow. Ian had volunteered to carry Elly first, and he still had her strapped to his back as Camille signaled a cave up on their right.

It was beginning to get dark despite all the white surrounding them, and her eyes stung from the cutting cold. They couldn't move forward any further, not without squandering such obvious shelter. "Let's stop for today, let's set up camp in there!" She yelled over the whistling wind.

They all retreated into the cave. She and Rico took the liberty of scouting the inside for any threats with their rifles, while Ian watched over the children as they set up camp not too far from its mouth.

Ian already had a fire going by the time they made their way back to them. They had the tents already set up as well, though it didn't miss Camille's notice how Julian was still hovering over Elly lying down in her bedroll and both their packs were inside the tent.

"Thanks for setting up for us," Camille said quietly, taking a seat beside Ian near the fire. She shed her coat and her gloves, as well as pulled her hair free from her braids. Unsurprisingly, night had also fallen, even as the snowstorm raged in the darkness outside their cave. She caught his eye. "Those two – ?"

Ian nodded, his back resting against the wall, his rifle and coat laid over his lap. "Sharing the tent? Yup."

Rico, standing across the fire with her arms crossed, wrinkled her nose in distaste. "I should be her tent mate so I can take care of her. I'm the medic."

Camille chuckled. She looked over at the tents further inside the cave but not too far from the campfire. "Hey! Julian, you're in charge of Elly's condition, wake up anyone if she isn't feeling well! Remember we're on a training exercise, alright?"

Julian's voice when he finally replied was sheepish. "Y-Yes! Of course! I wanted nothing like that, I swear!"

At Rico's deadpan face, Camille shrugged with a grin. "What? You need to rest and it's good for their morale."

Even in the face of this explanation, Rico's dutifulness seemed reluctant to accept the extra hours of sleep. Camille knew what to do.

"We can share a tent if what you wanted was a nice, warm body to snuggle with tonight," Camille winked.

The silver-haired girl scowled. "I don't want to be anywhere near you."

And she stormed off with her pack, apparently claiming one of the tents for herself.

Ian cleared his throat beside her.

Not forgetting him, Camille offered him a faint smile. "How'd you think today went?"

Ian held a stern countenance. He was like Rico in that respect – but whereas Camille made her loosen up with her frivolous jokes, she made him loosen by talking about their tasks for the day. He always had work on his mind, and she calibrated her approach to him by playing into that and letting him talk out his thoughts about their training.

He was staring into the fire, the orange flames casting shadows that chiseled his already thin face. "You make a great captain."

Camille blinked. Of all the things he could've said, that had been the last thing she'd expected. "What makes you say that?"

He glanced at her. His narrow eyes were the color of hazel, and the firelight only accentuated how striking they were. "You handled today very well. From the cliff fall to the blizzard. You had a plan for every time we stumbled in our original one." He scrunched his face in thought. "I don't know how I would've reacted, if I was in your shoes."

Camille leaned back against the wall. "I think you would've done the same. You're pretty sharp – and you're determined. I wouldn't have had a problem with you leading the exercise."

"But we disagreed," He muttered. "I was wrong about separating the squad just after Elly fell."

"You changed your mind, didn't you?" She replied. "And we don't know for sure if it was the right choice. I thought it was the best one, given the circumstances. Right or wrong – we have to move forward." She felt her mouth twitch as she said the words: "We learn as we go. I'm sure you'll make a great squad leader on our next exercise."

He sighed. Though it was not a regretful sigh – it was one of acceptance, and perhaps even hope, because he turned to her with his brow quirked. "I was really wrong about you."

"Ugh! I seem to get that all the time," She cried out. She tilted her head at him with fake annoyance, "So what is it now?"

Ian crossed his arms, his tone turning slightly pondering. "Well… I thought you were an airhead. At first. One of those women who followed their boyfriends into the Training Corps or something."

Camille gasped. "People do that?"

"Well – " He began, suddenly stiff, " – I don't know for sure, those were just – some of the rumors I heard growing up. So yes. I'm satisfied that you weren't an airhead."

She lifted her own brow. "Otherwise we'd have an airhead leading the squad into this blizzard, right?"

"I didn't mean to offend you," He uttered sincerely. "Sorry I was dead wrong."

Camille waved a hand with a smile. Airhead. Her mind had flashed to Pascal College, and her first months in university. "It's alright, really. I got that a lot."

"You really could be less of an airhead. I don't even know," He released a shuddering breath, "How I would've handled packing for this exercise, let alone actually being out here with the squad."

"Don't sell yourself short," Camille nudged him lightly with her shoulder. "You would've figured it out too. And I had plenty of help from you and Rico."

"But it's true, isn't it?" Ian stared at her. "You knew exactly what we needed to do and made your decisions quickly. You even know how to keep our morale boosted. I suppose it would make sense that I was wrong about you, because you're the oldest in our squad, and I don't even know a lot about who you were and why you came to the Training Corps."

Who you were. Why you came to the Training Corps.

"If this is still about calling me an airhead – "

" – It's not," Ian shook his head. "I was curious."

She twirled a lock of her blonde hair, wondering at the turn their conversation had taken. "Well, when I was young, my parents liked to take me to Utopia district to go see everything covered in snow. We'd rent a room at an inn, but sometimes my father liked to make us camp with all the other travelers. We'd go skiing or hiking. We haven't gone in a while, but that's why I know my way around the snow, if you were curious about that."

He seemed surprised at her admission.

"Don't go around telling everyone I live in a mansion or something like that either," She chuckled, practically watching his impression of her shift from airhead to captain to possibly rich girl. "My father's a miner, he gets sent to Krolva during the mining season. My mother's a mechanic. I'm one too."

"You're a mechanic?"

She laughed at his gobsmacked face. "Close your mouth, you'll get a bug down your throat."

He snapped his jaw shut and stared dumbly into the fire. "I can't imagine it. You with your… hands streaked in grease or something. What do you fix?"

She went along with his idea of mechanics as simple repairmen. If she were being honest, that was what she and her mother mostly did anyway. "All sorts of things. Pumps, axles," ODM gear, "clocks, mostly."

"What about guns?" He glanced at the rifle beside her. "You've always been good with your rifle."

"Strangely enough, no. The first time I ever held one was in the Corps." She considered it as she stared at the pale ends of their campfire, dancing and flickering in the darkness of the cave. "But it's a machine, like any other. You learn to think in terms of parts and wholes when you're always fixing something. A gun is pretty simple."

She locked eyes with him just as another lock of her hair fell in her face, and she twirled it away with a faint smile. She didn't want to bore him with details of her past. "What about you? I don't think I've ever seen someone work half as hard as you and Rico do. You're pretty strong and you think on your feet. Not to mention you're not afraid of owning up to your mistakes."

Ian's mouth twitched at her last sentence. "It helps if you get proven wrong every time you think something."

They shared a laugh – the carefree sound bouncing off the cave walls, disappearing into the distance. "Mm, you are pretty different from that guy at the start of training. You called Rico a brat."

He shrugged blithely at her faint accusation, which made Camille chortle.

"Pipe down! Some of us here are actually busy preparing for tomorrow."

She put a hand over her giggling, acquiescing to Rico's complaint. Ian's usually somber mouth was pulled into the ghost of a smile.

They tried to talk quietly from then on – mostly him narrating how he came from a modest family of wool traders in western Wall Rose; all three sons were brought up in the family business, but being the middle son, Ian had never really been spared much attention.

"Sometimes I think the only time they really cared about me was when I told them I wanted to enlist," Ian murmured, his knees stretched out in front of him and his hands clasped over them. "When I arrived at the Southern Division, it felt like everything was just… clearer. It felt real when I unpacked my things at my bunk. I didn't know anyone else here but when I realized I was finally alone… I felt free."

His voice was soft, wondering. But when Camille looked into his face, his mouth was still stretched into his quiet smile, and she knew he didn't regret his choice at all.

"It's why I'm so serious about the training, I guess," He sighed.

She touched his knee lightly, wanting to signal that she understood. "I figured. I think you're doing pretty well so far, all things considered."

"You too," Ian glanced at her. "Are you aiming for the top ten?"

She quirked her lips in a crooked smile. "It'd be embarrassing if I said no, wouldn't it?"

He rolled his eyes. "You're too good not to be. Just admit you also get competitive like the rest of us already."

"Fine, fine," Camille placated with a grin. "If I said I was aiming for the top spot, would that make you happy?"

"Just answer the question, damn it."

"Okay, I am."

And so was Ian, and so was Rico. And so was probably a countless number of other recruits in their batch, it went without saying.

Her words seemed to confirm something in Ian's eyes. She didn't know what it was, but she hoped he wouldn't dwell on it any longer; they had their hands full with the snowstorm and the remainder of their survival training in the next two days. She patted his shoulder. "You get some rest – I'll take first watch."

And just like Rico, Ian also opened his mouth to complain. Camille tilted her head at him, amused by their combined stubbornness. "You carried Elly on your back and set up camp for us. It's the least I could do, alright?"

"Fine," He said with narrowed eyes. "But I'll take the next one."

"If you want."

Ian went off into the last unoccupied tent with his pack, which made them tent mates. Not that Camille cared – she was thankful they had a cave to pitch their tents in to begin with.

She shifted in her seat, her hands going straight to disassembling her rifle and testing how well the loading mechanism still worked after being exposed to the cold for so long.

"Good night," Came Ian's voice. She looked up, finding him standing just outside their shared tent with a pensive expression.

"Night," She returned softly, smiling.

It looked like he wanted to say something more but thought better of it, and disappeared into the tent without another word.

Alone, she breathed in deeply as she scanned her surroundings and put her rifle together again.

The cave smelled like moss, and only faintly like the cutting, odorless cold outside. She pulled closer to the fire; her hands never left her rifle but she was warmed all the same, and she could even feel her eyebrows as she wiggled them.

When I realized I was finally alone… I felt free.

She felt slightly guilty, knowing Ian had poured something of his heart right into her cold hands as they'd talked. And that was to say the least of the other unexpected things he'd said.

Still – part of her felt glad.

Part of it felt right.

The snowstorm was a flurry of shapes she couldn't make out in the darkness. The wind still howled, the fire still crackled, but her rifle felt solid, and she could even make out the faint sound of one of her squadmates snoring.

In the midst of it all, her heart felt perfectly calm. Only as she shifted in her seat and lifted a hand to brush her forehead, she realized her face also ached from smiling.

Maybe all of this was right – but it felt too presumptuous, too self-congratulatory, to say that her decision to join the military was correct. Ian had said something about not knowing her fully – about not knowing who she'd been before enlisting, and why she enlisted.

That was where her initial guilt had stemmed from, since he'd explained to her those two same things: he'd felt neglected in his family and had sought something different for himself.

On the other hand, she'd deflected his questions about her all night, telling him only inconsequential things about who she was. She had been deflecting from the very beginning – the recruiter had told her to list all their educational attainments, and she'd scribbled something about an elementary education and something vague about technical training in machines after that.

As she pondered this before the campfire, she imagined how upset Pastor Kircher would be if he knew she'd described the entirety of her prestigious Wodan education as technical training in machines.

Of course, she knew his reaction: he wouldn't be upset at all. Amused, if nothing else.

As the time between autumn and spring had passed with winter being buried in more repairs and studying, she'd also contemplated her future. Her path, as Erwin would probably describe it.

Staying at Pascal College felt wrong. Even if she was fond of it, a part of her couldn't look past the fact that Wodan stood testament to all that was wrong in the walls. The excess of wealth that kept it all possible, the exclusivity and covetousness with which they treated education. Kircher had the right idea – he always did – what use was all this knowledge if it was kept within the walls of Mitras? She couldn't possibly have said yes to Laplace's offer.

She would've felt equally useless if she kept her head down and worked for a company. What would she have done? Built better machines to press the juice out of grapes and bottle wine? The idea had always felt more than a little self-serving. It was what had instinctively made her dismiss Jeremia Beintman's transparent attempts at 'friendship'.

Other people might have called her mother's repair work as lowly and humble, but Camille had never thought that. She knew the way her mother found genuine joy in whatever her customers brought to her shop, her contentment in staying at Belcastle, ensconced in the two-story home she'd built with her father. She was familiar with the way everyone in the village relied on her mother, and the gratitude and relief they had when her mother fixed something.

And in all honesty, Camille would have stayed – she would've stayed even as her mother had always made it clear that she thought staying was a waste of her abilities.

But something in the past few months had shifted inside of her. She'd found a simple truth that she revealed to no one but herself.

Whenever she fixed Levi's ODM gear, something had felt right.

That a beautiful piece of engineering had been both inside the walls and out into the unknown, saving countless lives and enabling the exploration of where no other humans had been before – that was right.

She'd always derided the MP's, and she had a vague idea of what the Garrison did; she knew what the Scouts accomplished because of her one overdue conversation with Erwin.

More importantly, that Erwin had stayed so long, and had always regarded the military as his own useful tool to achieve his dream, it solidified her impression of the military as the one truly important mover and builder in their tiny world within the walls.

The more she'd thought about it, the more she felt she could be of use in their ranks. The ODM gear was only one piece of the equation. She, Camille – the mechanic's daughter, the Wodan scholar, the fledgling engineer, whatever else people liked to think of her as – she wanted to build something like that. To make things that would help people live, help people protect their world inside the walls, help humanity thrive. The military had the resources, and their goals of serving humanity broadly aligned.

Camille put her rifle down in front of her, and reached for the inside pocket of her coat. Her fingers pushed aside the compass and found the black journal and pencil easily.

I want to build something better for all of us, she thought as she flipped the journal to the latest page and her mind began the process of recounting the day's events.

Her mother had been horrified when she told her she'd intended to enlist in the spring. Lotta had a tear streaming down her cheek; her father had only asked if it was what Camille truly wanted – and she'd surprised even herself at the steel in her voice when she said yes, it is.

The rest, she supposed, was history.

The winds stopped for a moment. Camille looked up from her journal.

Somehow the moon was visible, when the sun had been gone all day and the sky had been filled with nothing but a gray haze. Now the moon glowed defiantly in the dead of night, bright for all to see even as the wind began to pick up again.

She smiled.

Idly, she wondered if Pastor Kircher had tended to his wintry garden that day, and if Lotta was relaxing by the fireplace at home. If her parents were still arguing about their furnace or they'd actually managed to put aside their egos and build it together. It was almost a full year since she'd said goodbye to them.

Where were the Scouts now? Did Levi ever get the springs she'd bought him?

Camille sighed into the winter air, admiring the brilliant crescent in the sky.

Erwin, are we looking up at the same moon?

Notes:

i hate the obligatory training interludes in OC shingeki fic as much as everyone else i promise, which is probably why i spent so much time writing this. i'd understand if some people thought of this as a filler chapter, even if in my head it isn't, just because neither levi nor erwin are in it. oddly enough i'd set out with the intention of fleshing out rico's character... but ended up going towards ian instead.

(1) slide rules: they were every mathematician and engineer's best friend until modern calculators made them obsolete, cc. the 70's. they were invented cc. the 1600's to accommodate big calculations like logarithms. can you imagine doing quadratic equations using an abacus? no. but the slide rule can do that, which is why they're seriously so cool.

since i'm a week behind, i'm uploading ch. 7! i'm also short on time right now so i'll be responding to reviews a bit late, though i'd like to thank everyone who went out and wrote me kind things on the last two chapters.