Arne accompanied the men in white and green to the Great Passage, where they turned upwards to the Garrison walking to the lift since the distance to it would take time to traverse via stairways. At the lift, another group waited for them, a larger group. It too had men and women in similar outfits and civilians like Arne. There were nearly fifty civilians, all around the same age as him, and he didn't recognize any.
They too waited in silence till another group arrived, escorting a familiar face, a blue-eyed girl with jet black hair that was tied into a bun. Thurid was the daughter of his father's friend and comrade, another venator. Thurid and Arne used to play together when they were kids but hadn't been in contact for a long while, other than the occasional nods and waves at the Building seven's greathall. Life in a Sanctuary was a busy one with little time left for fraternizing outside of the workspace.
If Arne remembered correctly, Thurid worked at forges of the Manufacturing Quarter. He hadn't bothered asking before but her muscular frame testified that. Recognizing Arne, she waved at him. Arne waved back in response.
"The last one has arrived," said the man standing inside the lift, "Please enter the lift. We are ready to get going."
The groups entered the lift in an orderly manner. The doors then closed and the lift commenced rising. The silence in the lift was growing eerie, creating a general sense of uneasiness in the air.
"Gentlemen, and ladies," the man said, "Firstly I would like to inform you that your relatives are not confirmed dead. So you can take that worry off your mind."
"Then what is this about?" a younger man wearing a rancher's outfit asked.
"This morning, we received a distress signal from Omega Team." The man said, "The specifics of the situation are unclear but we have reasons to believe that this might lead to rescue operation."
The lift stopped and the doors creaked open, letting inside a cool gust of wind. They had reached the Garrison of Thuraiz, the fortress that separated the Sanctuary from the world outside. It was a busy place, with men and women in uniforms rushing from one place to another engaged in some kind of work. This wasn't very different from the other locations in the Sanctuary. However, the unusual thing about the place was that it was partially illuminated by sunlight. Golden streaks of rays of the sun entered through the slits and illuminated the edges of the area.
"As for the reason you are brought here," the man continued, "Is recruitment. The Council has decided to call for a Category-3 Excursion and the Governor General has decreed a writ of authorisation. However, the Garrison is running short on manpower and we are in need of greenhands."
"But aren't there volunteers for this kind of thing?" a girl asked from behind.
"Yes, there are." the man answered, leading the group to a metal stairway at the centre of the chamber, "And they have already been enlisted and commenced service. You folks, though, come from a tried and tested genepool. To put it simply, you are being drafted to be a part of the new batch of Venators."
This statement was followed by a considerable period of silence. Arne was shocked, although he had been told several times that a day like this might come, when he was drafted to the Garrison because of his above average physical aptitude. But, he hadn't expected to be drafted as a Venetor, like his father. Everyone said that he was too sentimental to go on hunting expeditions that more than often resulted in high casualties. A chill ran down his spine as the prospect of dying in recent future entered his mind.
The group stopped abruptly just before reaching the stairway, and Arne bumped into a man ahead who kindly told him to be more careful.
"Well, don't be so grim. This is not the first draft we have issued for an expedition." The man leading them said, "Fine, anyways we cannot force someone to be a Venator. Such a person will only turn out to be a liability outside. Anyone who doesn't want to go through the Trial may follow Officer Jorren," he pointed to a man wearing a fur lined military coat, "to join the Auxiliary Hunters for supporting the expedition."
More than half of them left with Jorren, and Arne would be lying to himself if he denied the urge to go with them. But Thurid had stayed behind. Arne cursed his childish sentiment, which made him choose the possibility of an early death over spending time with complete strangers. However, it wasn't as if he knew Thurid very well and was certain that he didn't feel any attraction to her other than a slight sense of familiarity.
"Impressive, quite impressive indeed." the man said, silently doing a headcount of those ready for the Trial, "This is more than I expected. Twenty two willing to undergo the Venator's Trial. Input that to the database."
A staff member standing beside the stairway nodded and pulled out an electronic tablet.
"Allow me to escort you to the Initiation centre." The man said climbing up the stairway. The remaining conscripts followed him up. The stairs led them to another lift, an open one this time.
"Hi," Thurid shifted to Arne's side, and waited awkwardly for a moment then asked, "How's your mum?"
"She's doing well, not losing sleep due to anxiety anymore." Arne answered, "How's your…" he was going to say mum but remembered that Thurid had lost her mother during childbirth, so instead he said, "work? Yeah, how are you holding up?"
"The forges are straight up hellish, literally." Thurid told, "The work is excruciating but my overseer sometimes ends the shift early. Hopefully I will be promoted to a clerical duty next year."
"There's not much chance of that happening now." Arne reminded looking down at the levels they had passed, all filled with books and different kinds of research material.
"Yes, it is relieving and terrifying at the same time." Thurid told.
The lift halted at the top level, opening into a long hallway with an enclosed door at the end. Two heavily armed guards stood on either side of the doors. The man leading them got down from the lift and gestured to the others to follow, which they did. The guards opened the door, letting in a bright burst of sunlight followed by gush of cold wind.
"Recruits," the man said, "Your trial shall begin now."