"Huh? Again? Aren’t you a bit young to be sending letters to someone on the battlefield?" The shopkeeper eyed the envelope critically.

"She must have read about one of them in the newspaper and fallen head over heels," another shopkeeper scoffed, smirking at her.

Vivienne’s expression darkened, a tight, burning sensation rising in her chest. She slammed the money onto the counter and left without another word. She had to endure comments like this every time. This was the third time in two weeks she had come here to post a letter.

Normally, she was patient—she understood that whatever her uncle's mission, it might take longer for a reply to reach her. But it had been over a month. Vivienne lowered her gaze, her emerald eyes dim with worry.

Maybe she should have expected this. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised.

She unlocked the front door and hung up her coat.

"To what do I owe the honour of the Commander of the Survey Corps visiting me in person?"

Father?

"Indeed. I don’t usually make house calls, but in this case, I’ll make an exception."

Vivienne peered through the small gap in the slightly ajar door. A man stood opposite her father. He was well-built, with neatly parted blond hair and piercing ice-blue eyes. For a brief moment, it seemed as though his gaze locked onto hers, but then he turned back to her father.

"Ètienne D'Aubigne has been found dead."

Vivienne’s breath caught. The bag slipped from her hand, hitting the floor with a dull thud. She stepped into the room.

"Lies… No… It can’t be. Uncle, he’s…" Her hands trembled violently.

The Commander regarded her carefully, as if trying to decipher something in her. Then she turned to her father, whose face was unreadable. Edmond’s expression shifted slightly—just a flicker of something bitter before he looked away.

"I see."

"I see?" Vivienne repeated, her voice rising in disbelief. "That’s all you have to say?" She sucked in a sharp breath. "Your brother has just been pronounced dead, and all you can do is… understand?"

She couldn’t stay. She couldn’t look at them anymore. The young girl snatched up her bag and ran.

The streets blurred past her as she sprinted, head down. Parents played with their children, lovers strolled arm in arm, drunken gentlemen laughed loudly. How could they? How could they all smile? How could they carry on with their lives when outside, people were dying for them?

Vivienne clenched her fists as a tear slipped down her cheek. The weight of this utopian world pressed heavily on her shoulders.

She stopped at the fence beside the river, her breath unsteady. She should have seen this coming. She should have known. There were rarely happy endings for those who joined the Scouts.

Loud, drunken laughter echoed behind her. A group of Military Police officers staggered past, careless and carefree. Her grip on the fence tightened. Why? Why did they get to drink and laugh while real soldiers—

More tears spilled over as a quiet sob escaped her lips. She closed her eyes.

Uncle Ètienne had been the only one in her family who understood her. He knew why a little girl dreamed of adventure. He never dismissed her curiosity or her yearning to explore. The world had never felt so cruel as it did in that moment.

She opened her eyes when a handkerchief was suddenly offered to her. Startled, she turned her head.

The Commander of the Survey Corps stood beside her.

"A lady shouldn’t be left to cry," he said, his gaze drifting towards the river.

Vivienne hesitated before taking the handkerchief, dabbing at her tears. She stared at the fabric for a moment, fingers curling around it.

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"How… how did my uncle die?"

Maybe she wasn’t meant to know. No one wanted to hear how their loved one had been crushed between a Titan’s teeth, swallowed whole, lost forever. But she had to ask. She had to know why she would never laugh with her uncle again.

"That depends," Erwin said, reaching into his coat. He held out a piece of fabric—worn, but unmistakable.

The symbol of the Survey Corps. A pair of wings, one blue, one white. The Wings of Freedom.

Confused, she took it from him. Erwin’s ice-blue eyes studied her, measuring something unseen.

"How far would you go to uncover the truth?"

"You there!"

Keith Shadis' voice sliced through the air like a blade. The cadets stiffened as he pointed at a blond-haired, blue-eyed boy.

"Who are you?"

"Armin Arlert, from Shiganshina!"

"Yeah? That’s a stupid name."

Shadis barely waited for a reaction before continuing. His sharp gaze scrutinised Armin, then he scoffed. "Did your parents actually give you that name?" His tone was filled with mockery. It was clear—this man wasn’t going to go easy on anyone.

After a moment, he moved on. His piercing stare landed on someone else.

"Who are you?!"

Vivienne’s breath hitched. She hadn’t expected to be called out so soon, but she quickly straightened, raising her arm across her chest in a firm military salute.

"Vivienne D'Aubigne, from Mitras!"

The silence that followed was heavy. She could feel the weight of dozens of eyes on her. Of course, she was probably the only recruit here from the capital.

Shadis scoffed. "I see. A noble from the interior who wants to be a hero, is that it?"

Before she could even attempt a response, his voice rose to a bark.

"Listen up! You’ll get no special treatment just because your family has money!"

Vivienne clenched her jaw but kept quiet. She had expected this. Her background would always be a target, but she wasn't here for privilege—she was here to prove herself.

Shadis had already turned to the next person.

"Who are you?"

"Jean Kirschtein, from Trost!"

Jean had spiky brown hair, shaved in an undercut with the shorter parts a darker shade. Another boy from Trost. When Shadis demanded to know why he was here, Jean hesitated only slightly before answering.

"To join the Military Police and live a comfortable life in the interior."

Vivienne’s eyes flickered towards him. One of them.

Should she judge him for it? Her uncle had been mocked for joining the Survey Corps. Yet, as someone who had grown up in safety, it felt hypocritical to condemn those who sought the same security.

"Oh, I see," Shadis sneered. "You want access to the interior?"

Jean’s mouth curled into a confident smile. "Yes."

Shadis responded with a headbutt.

Jean crumpled to his knees.

Vivienne wasn’t sure whether to find his honesty impressive or ridiculous.

"Who said you could sit down?! If you can’t handle that, you’ll never make it to the Military Police!"

She wasn't sure she agreed with those words. From what she had seen, it didn’t take much to become one of those officers. The way some of them strutted around, drunk on authority, made her doubt their competence entirely.

Shadis continued. Another cadet stepped forward—Marco, another who wanted to join the Military Police.

Then came Connie, a boy from Wall Rose. Vivienne barely had time to process how easily Shadis lifted him clean off the ground by his head.

His voice thundered across the field. "This salute shows your determination to give your whole heart to the people!"

All eyes shifted to the side.

A girl was biting into a potato.

Vivienne blinked. Is she… seriously eating?

For a moment, she could only stare. She had expected the others to see her as a spoiled brat, the privileged girl from Mitras. But even she knew that eating at a moment like this was beyond inappropriate.

The girl, however, continued to chew, completely unfazed.

It didn’t take long for Shadis to storm over.

"You! Who are you?" he bellowed.

The girl swallowed, snapped to attention and saluted—with the potato still in her hand.

"Sasha Blouse, from Dauper, sir!"

Shadis’ eyes narrowed. "And what are you holding in your right hand?"

"A boiled potato!" she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "The kitchen had a fresh batch, and I couldn’t resist."

Vivienne exchanged a look with the cadets beside her. Is she serious?

Nobody spoke. The silence stretched on.

Then, as if to break the tension, Sasha tore off a piece of the potato and offered it to Shadis.

He took it. Stared at it.

And as punishment, made her run laps.

A lot of them.

Vivienne exhaled slightly.

What could possibly go wrong?