Margot scrambled out of her bed—or 'rack' as she was supposed to call it—to stand at attention at the line on the floor—'deck'. Unfortunately, not everyone was quick enough for the drill instructor's satisfaction.

The drill instructor stepped out of the room and the girls hastily got themselves back in bed as fast as they had gotten out of it. It was more of a challenge for those in the top rack, one of the main reasons Angie and Amelie had fallen behind.

About a minute passed and the door opened again, with the drill instructor shouting once more, "Get up! Get up! GET UP!"

Everyone moved quicker this time, Angie a bit too quickly, landing poorly and twisting her ankle. She let out a pathetic little yelp before trying to stand on the line, not doing so properly because she was trying to avoid putting weight on her injured leg. This highly offended the drill instructor.

The words were especially bitter. 'His Imperial Majesty's property'. That was all they were now. Not that they were truly free before, being fugitives from the law, but after they had been taken, after a long and humiliating process of being poked and prodded by white-clad ghouls, they were informed that they were being conscripted into the Imperial Army. They did not have the right to refuse. If they tried, they would have their minds worked over until they agreed. It would take a rare breed of fool to go that route.

Bernie was smart enough to see where things were going and she was able to secure an opportunity for them to be reunited so she could convince them that following along was the best thing for them. Margot did not need much convincing herself, but she was worried about Jenny or Angie doing something stupid in the state of mind they had been in.

They were to be trained as Arcanists—that was what the Empire called its mages—, but before that could happen, they first had to be inducted into the military. Part of that induction process involved breaking them down and reshaping the pieces into something more in line with what the Army wanted. They were no longer people with names but mere numbers, Supposedly they would earn the right to have names once they completed their training, but they were still on their first week. They had seven more to go in the best-case scenario, but that best-case scenario seemed rather distant if there were going be more mishaps like this one.

None of them curled their hair anyway, but even if they did, that was not a concern anymore. Another part of their induction was having their hair all cut off. Their heads were not quite shaved—but their hair was so closely cropped that there was not much left once the barbers were done with it. Apparently hair of any appreciable length was another privilege to be earned. Practically speaking, it was just as well as they were only allotted about ten minutes to bathe and that was not nearly enough time for a girl to wash her hair.

They were to assemble for the morning colors and then physical training—or PT—would follow. PT was something like gym class but less pleasant. They would alternate between what they called cardio and muscle failure days. Today would be a cardio day, which meant running. No wonder the drill instructor insisted Angie get her ankle checked out. She would probably get light duty for the next few days but extra torment from the drill instructor. That was not going to do anything good for her nerves, but it gave everyone else incentive not to injure themselves—'damage His Imperial Majesty's property'.

Margot wondered, and not for the first time, if it would have been better for them if they had just let themselves be taken in by the Witch-hunters. What happened to Netty? Did she get off the hook in exchange for informing on them or did they just arrest her anyway? Was she in jail right now? Was she worse off than them?

Margot had to push such thoughts aside. There was nothing to be gained by them. Right now, all she could do was focus on getting through the training, not being a burden to any of the others, and doing what she could to help anyone else from falling behind. With a little grim chuckle to herself, she thought that Angie was going to make that last point rather difficult for her.

Besides Margot and her friends, there were seven other girls in their squad. Three of the others were also from Bonaventure, three were from Willenkamp and one was from Dar es-Salaam. Before Margot's time as a fugitive, it would have felt strange to have twelve people crammed into a room barely large enough for them, but now she could hardly believe she once enjoyed the luxury of a bedroom all to herself. It seemed like so long ago...

To answer Willa's question, Margot replied, "Life is funny sometimes, I guess."

Margot buried her brief moment of sardonic levity so that she would not draw the drill instructor's displeasure or that of her fellow recruits when they would catch the blowback.

She kept telling herself these things over and over again. She did not have to be exceptional. She only had to not be the weakest link, and possibly help the one who was the weakest link make the grade. She could not afford to be entirely passive, but she did not want to stand out either. It was a tricky balance, but ever since the dynamic in her little circle changed, she had found herself having to take on a greater share of leadership responsibility. If only someone else could rise to the occasion now that their circle had expanded, but who would it be? So far, no one had really presented themselves as natural leaders. Their squad was divided into teams of four and each of those needed a leader in addition to the squad leader. The drill instructor would be assigning those positions today and Margot prayed she would not be one of them, but she was not confident that prayer would be answered. It was difficult enough to be responsible for herself under the circumstances. How was she supposed to be responsible for three other people or even all eleven of her squadmates?

As much as she worried about this, those worries would be a snare to her feet if she did not focus on the task at hand, which at this time was the morning PT. After the squad formed up, the drill instructor ran then through the usual warmup exercises and then marched them to the track.

Once they were brought to a halt, the drill instructor addressed them, saying, "Alright, ladies, you must be lonely without Double-Aught Eighty-Five and Double-Aught Eighty-Six. Well, I got good news for you. One a' the reintegration companies'll be joinin' us on today's little fun run. Fall in with them. There's space right there on the ass-end. Move it, ladies! Move it!"

There was a large block of over a hundred people already on the track. They were in four ranks and the fourth rank had an opening in the back that would accommodate their squad. Margot did not know what a 'reintegration company' was supposed to be, but as they were falling in, she noted that the people generally seemed to be older, adults in their twenties and thirties mostly. Also, unlike Margot's squad which was all girls, the reintegration company had a mix of men and women, or 'males' and 'females' as the Army tended to refer to them.

Margot was supposed to just be looking ahead, but her eyes drifted to the people she was lining up with and she stopped on the petite woman next to her. She had to look twice as the person seemed familiar. She was wearing the same standard-issue thick-framed glasses recruits were made to wear, which was part of the reason why Margot did not fully recognize her at first. She might have been wrong and she definitely was not supposed to be speaking in formation, but she could not help herself.

The woman turned her head toward Margot, and just as Margot had done, she had to look twice before recognizing who it was.

'Purple'? Did she not know Margot's name? The look on Gally's face indicated that she did not mean to say that part out loud.

Gally then asked, "How are you speaking Standard?"

Margot tapped her throat, even though it might have given the wrong impression that she was pointing to the collar that was supposed to prevent her from using magic.

As if on cue, one of the NCOs from the reintegration company shouted, "Cut the chatter! If you've got the energy to chitchat, you've got the energy to run! And since you've got so much energy to burn, let's make it a double! Company!"

After going a couple paces, the NCO then shouted, "Double time, march!"

And so the ill-named fun run began. There was not much fun to be had, but even less now that the lot of them were being punished with an extra helping of it. Margot feared the reprisals she would face for her hand in it, but for the time being, the run itself was going to be punishment enough.

Besides making sure to keep pace with the formation, Margot's thoughts went to wondering about the current situation. Gally was in this reintegration company, but what was she being reintegrated into? Was she just another piece of His Imperial Majesty's property? Was that all that any of them were? The questions came easily, but the answers, not so much. Margot hoped to get the chance to talk with Gally more after PT was over, but if the drill instructor had identified her as the person who was talking in formation, she was not likely to get the opportunity.

For now, all she could do was keep running. It felt like she would just keep running forever, in more ways than one.