"You know," Hange said. "When you get kicked out of the Garrison, I can hire you as an independent contractor. You have a practiced eye for detail … we could make tremendous strides in studying Sonny and Bean! They're very expressive for Titans – I'm sure your heart will melt for them just as mine has. Just think of the experiments we can do!"

The cart Hange was driving came to stop before the courthouse. She'd volunteered to transport some supplies for her unit since it gave her an excuse to also transport another piece of cargo to a nearby destination. Said cargo was wearing a Garrison cape with the hood raised to obscure her face from onlookers. Celine's expression was only fully visible by Hange, who glowed as her companion hit her with a hollow-eyed stare.

"Not a single word of comfort," Celine said. "All you can talk about are your murderous pets."

"Come on, Celine," Hange said, giving Celine a pat on the shoulder. "All I'm trying to say is– look on the bright side! Things will work out no matter what if you just keep your head up!"

"I don't know why we're friends," Celine said. She rose and hopped from the cart to the cobblestone.

Hange tilted her head with a grin. "I'd figure because your crabby attitude doesn't leave you a lot of options!"

A glare was shot in Hange's direction before Celine turned on her heel. Hange watched as Celine lifted her arms, hesitated, then brought them up to push back her hood.

Alright," Celine said, regarding the impending structure of the courthouse. She took a deep breath and began her ascent up the stairs. "Let's hope the arbitrator likes cute girls."

Hange snickered. "Best of luck." She flicked the reins in hand, urging the horse leading her cart into a trot.

Captain Woermann was normally the very definition of 'dour.' Today, he sat at the tall bench looking down at Celine while doing a poor job of hiding his glee. She had a suspicion the only reason this trial was taking place in the large courtroom in the first place was for his own amusement more than anything else.

Celine felt like an islet surrounded on all sides by a river of green marble. The rows of long wooden benches stretching up on either side of the room seemed almost comically far away as she glanced at them from the corner of her eye. They sported a handful of spectators, most of which being Captain Woermann's personal unit.

Minutes ticked by on the large clock hanging above the doors at Celine's back. The only other sound was of Woermann shuffling through papers. A show was being made as if he were actually considering declaring Celine's innocence.

Woermann cleared his throat.

"Well."

His voice reverberated through the room. There was a pause to allow an appropriate amount of squirming on the accused's part. Celine didn't give Woermann the pleasure; she crossed her arms, sitting back in her chair as she propped the heel of her boot against the table before her. She was a hair's-width away from anxiety vomiting, but he didn't need to know that.

"I have eight statements here of eye witness accounts of you very openly performing illegal maintenance measures on ODM gear. You've already claimed you do not deny this."

"Technically," Celine said. "The regulation states a soldier can't make modifications to their own equipment, and I was–"

"I can assure you, Private Bodt," Woermann said. "No instance exists where you can deny accountability based on a technicality."

Celine took a moment to organize her thoughts before making a pivot. "I don't deny trying to save their lives. I was just trying to help any way I could."

Woermann lifted one of the papers. "This statement says you told a soldier the equipment was more valuable than his life by a long shot."

Celine flinched. Her eyes narrowed as Woermann regarded her with a smirk.

"That's not an uncommon outlook," Celine said, holding his gaze. "I recall being told by a superior officer I'd face a swift execution if I abandoned the equipment I was assigned to manage. I almost lost my life over a bunch of belt clips and gas canisters … I knew a cadet who did."

The smirk fell from Woermann's face. "There are factors during times of duress which lead to certain actions being overlooked." He matched Celine's stern expression, being much better at it from years of practice. "However, if you'd like to further address what you wrote about the incident in your report, then we can schedule another trial. I can assure you the sentence for mutiny and desertion isn't nearly as lenient as what you'll be given here for breaking regulation seventy-eight."

That's the worst bluff I ever heard, Celine thought. He's trying to sweep the incident where he abandoned his post under the rug because he doesn't want his own actions under scrutiny.

Celine gripped the edge of the table as she rose to her feet. "You coward! You left us to die! You're telling me I committed mutiny when you abandoned your duty to–"

"Celine!"

Heads turned to regard the man among the spectators who'd jumped to his feet.

Norman looked in far better health; the color having returned to his face and a bandage tied over his ear as opposed to a blood-soaked sleeve. He was staring Celine down with an intensity she never thought him capable of. The look caused her to slowly release her grip on the table and lower herself into her seat.

"Thank you, Unit Captain," Woermann said. He failed to notice the look of malice Norman shot his way which implied his outburst hadn't been for Woermann's benefit.

"In the case of your defense," Woermann continued. "A report was submitted by someone who's sense far outweighs your own – your commanding officer here, Unit Captain Norman Planchet. This report speaks of your character, but cannot be considered in this trial since Unit Captain Norman was not a witness to the events of you tampering with ODM gear in Rosewall Borough. In the case that this was the only report submitted, we will skip to a verbal testimony being made by any members present who witnessed these events and wish to speak on your behalf."

A Garrison soldier with shoulder-length hair got to his feet. He walked down the back row, descended the short set of stairs, and slid out the door behind Celine. The action caused dread to course through her veins.

Even that random guy knows I'm done for, Celine thought. The only person who could speak on my behalf is Isabell … and she's not even here. She's saving her own ass; I don't blame her for it.

Celine turned forward in her seat. She lifted her chin.

For some reason, I thought it wouldn't bother me if I got discharged. Father's going to be more embarrassed about it than disappointed; he'll do a poor job hiding the fact he's happy to see me return to his business. Hange is too wrapped up in her own interests to care that much. But Marco … he looks at me like I'm someone worth admiring. I don't deserve it. Not at all … but I still don't want that feeling to go away.

"Well then," Woermann said after a minute of silence passed. "In the case of no verbal testimonies, we'll proceed to the defendant's statement."

"It's moronic," Celine said. She didn't need to have a full view of Norman to know he was putting his head in his hand.

"In many cases …" Celine continued. "... ODM gear is the only thing keeping soldiers alive when facing the Titans. How fair is it no one's allowed to know how this life-saving device works? Even if they don't fully understand, at least they should be aware of what makes up the thing they've entrusted their life to. The Technical Department keeps the information under wraps in order to bestow a self-righteous sense of superiority which has little to do with helping humanity, and everything to do with making themselves feel special."

"That might be taking it a bit far."

Celine jumped in her seat. She looked up at the man standing behind her. Her brow furrowed.

He's the old guy who's gear I fixed, she thought. I figured he was one of the witnesses who filed a written testimony against me.

"I apologize for the delay," the old man said. "When they designed this place, they certainly didn't account for the distance between the courtroom and the bathroom." The man chuckled, amused at his own observation. "Ah, yes … I digress. I'm here to speak for the defense of Private Celine Bodt."

Hold on, Celine thought.

The old man's jacket was different. There were two rows of patches, which were … two rows more than what a majority of soldiers possessed. A bolo tie with a large, purple gem also hung around his neck.

Celine froze.

"For the record," the old man said. "Please document that this is Dot Pyxis, Commander of the southern unit of the Garrison Regiment forces."

The pat Pyxis gave to Celine's shoulder reminded her to breathe. He folded his hands behind his back and stepped forward.

For once Celine and Woermann were on the same page as they both stared in shock. Woermann seemed to be having trouble finding his voice.

"You …" he said. He glanced at Celine as if there was the possibility she wasn't who he thought she was. "On her behalf?"

"Yes, she is quite a talented young lady," Pyxis said. "She performed a repair to some damaged ODM gear I had in my possession. Later I had the gear inspected by the Technical Department; it turned out to be a satisfactory repair for a field job using insufficient tools and limited materials. They were under the belief the gear possessed a 75% chance of normal functionality. If anyone's life had depended on that gear, she would have provided them a fighting chance for survival."

Woermann cleared his throat. It was clear he wasn't sitting well with no longer being in total control of the proceedings. "I mean no offense, Commander, but if any soldier possessed ODM gear with enough damage to warrant such a low chance of functionality, they would undoubtedly be assigned new gear before facing any combat."

"My argument still stands," Pyxis said. He closed his eyes in a smile as a response to Woermann's dumbfounded expression.

"Private Bodt taught me something rather informative," Pyxis said, turning to look over his shoulder. "I learned there were different modifications based on operator weight for ODM gear. Backup units are designed for soldiers in the middle range, but for any lighter or heavier, they're out of luck. In a practical sense it's understandable – most soldiers fall within the middle weight range, and the instances where a soldier survives an encounter with a Titan while their gear does not is … low.

"For this reason, along with limited resources, I can't blame the Technical Department for only providing mid-range backup gear. However, one of my most trusted Section Commanders falls within the heavier weight category, and I know I would find it a relief if he were able to use his own gear as opposed to a backup. I learned soldiers in the lighter or heavier weight classes have around a 60% chance of being able to operate at normal functionality using the mid-range gear. What I'm trying to get at is that Celine Bodt would've still increased a soldier's likelihood of coming back alive by 15%, which is nothing to scoff at."

I think … Celine thought, meeting Pyxis' smile with a queasy one of her own.

… all those percentages are bullshit.

Even so, they were more than enough to throw Woermann for a loop. Celine would've felt sorry for the man being so obviously misled by a superior if she were in another position … and if Woermann wasn't a sack of shit.

"Even so," Woermann said, clenching his jaw. "Celine Bodt still broke a regulation. As her commanding officer, it falls under my jurisdiction to assign her punishment, and I believe I've come to a conclusion. Unless … you have something further to add, Commander."

"I don't," Pyxis said, causing Woermann to exhale in relief.

"I can only wish Private Bodt the best of luck in her new endeavors – whatever they may be." Pyxis turned on his heel. He gave Celine a warm smile and stopped to lean into her ear. "You have a good head on your shoulders. It would be wise in the future for you to consult it first before acting."

Celine blushed in embarrassment. This caused Pyxis to laugh as he took up his stroll toward the door. "Thank you, Celine. It's been some time since I've had a chance to make a beautiful young woman blush."

The sound of Pyxis' laughter faded as he exited the room and the Garrison soldier Celine had spotted earlier closed the door behind him. Celine stared at the door in disbelief.

Of all the Commanders who could've testified on my behalf … I got the one who did absolutely nothing but come in and cause me embarrassment.

"Private Celine Bodt – stand."

Celine turned back to Woermann. She got to her feet, clasping her arms behind her back to stand at attention.

"I, Captain Kitz Woermann …" Woermann said. "... herby find Private Celine Bodt of the twenty-third unit of the southern Engineering Corps guilty on all charges of breaking regulation code seventy-eight concerning the illegal tampering with classified equipment. Per procedure, the defendant is hereby stripped of any rank in the Engineering Corps and formally dishonorably discharged from the Garrison Regiment. The punishment will consist of imprisonment, the length of which is determined by factors concer–"

"Excuse me!"

Heads turned toward the observational balcony. The surprised looks revealed most present had missed the new addition of three Military Police officers looking down on the proceedings. One of the officers was a man with long, auburn hair and keen eyes. He put on a sunny expression when Woermann looked his way.

"Sorry to correct you, Captain," the cheerful soldier said. "But the second Celine Bodt was discharged from the Garrison, she became a member of the Military Police Brigade. As her new commanding officer, it's now my duty to handle her punishment … which there will be none of whatsoever. Lucky her, hmm?"

The courtroom was dead silent. Everyone save for the balcony members flinched when Woermann slammed his hand on the bench.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" Woermann shouted, getting to his feet. "A soldier can't be picked up by another regiment after being dishonorably discharged!"

"Unless that ruling was overturned," the cheerful soldier said. He pulled a folded slip of paper from his military jacket and began to fan himself. "That can only be done via a formal declaration signed by the Commanders of both the soldier's previous and current regiments. I have said document here if you wish to review it, Captain."

Pyxis' warm smile flashed before Celine's eyes. It was followed by an image of Nile Dawk regarding her with a weary expression.

Both of them … Celine thought, stunned. Why …?

"Well then!" the cheerful soldier said, clapping his hands. "Since it looks like there isn't anything more to be done here …The trial's over! Everyone please go home and have a restful evening! Oh! And Private Bodt …"

The cheerful soldier's smile turned coy.

"Welcome to the Technical Department."

The cheerful soldier turned, waving in a casual manner to indicate his companions should follow. They disappeared through the door of the balcony without a second glance.

Woermann snatched up the stack of papers before him. His head whipped around so he could address the cluster of Garrison soldiers sitting near the podium. "Catch up to them and grab that document! I want a report on its authenticity!"

"Sir!" voices chorused.

The group of Garrison soldiers leapt to their feet and headed for the back door. Celine was looked over by Woermann as if the only thing distinguishing her from excrement was the color. The thud of his boots followed him retreating through the door behind the podium in a hurry. Upon his departure, any remaining spectators whispered in hushed voices and began to make their exit.

"I didn't believe the others in our unit when they said you were lucky," Norman said. He hopped over the short barrier separating the center of the courtroom from the benches. An endearing smile grew on his face as he took in Celine still reeling from what had just transpired.

"Clearly, I was just proven wrong." Norman reached into his jacket to dig within one of the pockets. "It turns out there were a few things I had wrong about you, Private Bodt. Well, more than a few – here."

Norman presented Celine with a dark blue rectangle little more than an inch long. Celine stared as if the object was something far more foreign than a simple patch likely sewn from thread in her own father's factory.

"You saved a superior officer's life," Norman said. "So, I present to you this token showing as much. Hopefully it'll help you earn some respect as the newest face in your department."

Celine got to her feet. She stared at the small object for a moment before raising her hands. The patch was placed in Norman's palm and his fingers guided into a fist.

"I can't accept this," Celine said. "The patches I earn from here on out will be for esteemed achievements – taking a gun out of the hands of a fool isn't something I want to be known for."

Norman's smile grew wistful. "You could say it was for something more exciting, if you want. What you did with the cannon also counts as saving my life."

"Joint efforts don't count," Celine said. Her usual lax nature returning seemed to put Norman at ease.

"It's not as commendable when you have to share the glory," Celine continued.

"I suppose it isn't," Norman said, tucking the patch away in his breast pocket. "Although I'd say less than a month ago you would've accepted this without a moment of hesitation."

Celine shrugged and began to walk away. "Less than a month ago, I hadn't almost died a dozen times over … or was nearly sent to prison."

"It was a lucky break," Norman said as he matched her stride. "I would've felt sorry for the other prisoners."

"So would I," Celine said. She hit Norman with a smile as she held the door for him. "All of them would still be stuck in prison after I executed my escape plan."

There was a waver to Norman's laughter.

"It worries me you're not entirely off base in that reasoning," he said with a chuckle. "You still have the potential to be a major problem. At the very least, I should be grateful you're no longer going to be my problem."