Inspired by Taywen's Ascendant, this is a re-write of events from the fourth book on, which will later implement some things I felt Nix should have in his original series. NOTE: Unlike Ascendant, this is NOT a Thursday/Arthur fic. Some mild Arthur/Suzy, and Marshall Dawn/Thursday.

CHAPTER ONE- RECRUIT PENHALIGON

"You're not serious."

The sergeant gulped and tried not to squirm under Sir Thursday's venom-laced gaze, already regretting requesting to see the Day directly instead of telling his more mild-tempered Noon, Dusk, or even the- so he heard- friendly Dawn. "I'm afraid not, sir. I'm, um, perfectly serious," he said, voice so soft he could barely hear it, but Thursday must have had much better hearing than the average Denizen.

He uttered a low, feral growl, and the sergeant ducked as Thursday punched a vase. "THAT SLIPPERY, VILE, NEAR-CREATION SPAWN OF A NOTHING-ROTTED NITHLING! SCREW THAT WOMAN AND HER RIDICULOUS NAGGING, INTERFERENCE, AND MEDDLING! IF I EVER SEE HER FOR THE NEXT MILLION YEARS, I'LL SLOWLY DIP HER INTO A POOL OF NOTHING AND THEN SPIT ON HER GRAVE!"

There was a lull as he finished. Thursday panted, and then scowled as he heard running feet immediately change direction and run away. "What was that?" he hissed.

"Marshall Dawn was about to deliver her report but heard your… so she decided she'd rather not be dipped into a pool of Nothing, sir," Marshall Noon quipped, stepping in. "Shall I deliver the report in her stead?"

Sir Thursday glared at him. "Why in the entire House would she think I was talking about her? I was referring to that Superior Snake and this… this… this nightmare!" He waved a paper in his face. "I have to go about drafting Lord Arthur! I don't want him here! I'm busy with the Campaign as it is!"

"Is this politics, sir?" Marshall Noon ventured.

"No, you pussycat, it's all a scheme to get us together for tea," Thursday snapped. "YES, IT'S POLITICS! Use your brain, you half-wit! I hate politics," he spat, "but that Upper House witch loves it. If I ever get my hands on that sorry excuse for a Denizen…"

"Sir, perhaps we'd best focus on what to do with Lord Arthur," Marshall Noon suggested.

Thursday sighed. "Yes, you're right. Tell the recruiting officer to skip any of the training forts and bring him here right away. I suppose I'll put him on an accelerated officer's track and keep him in the Star Fort."

"Um, sir, why?" Noon asked. "Wouldn't it suit us to ship him off to the Boundary Fort in a year after he's finished his training?"

"That's probably what she wants," Thursday scowled.

"What if it isn't? You don't know that," he argued.

"Do not degrade me by implying I do not know what I'm talking about!" Thursday seethed, his short fuse lit. "Keeping him here will help us find out what she does want. Someone go fetch Marshall Dawn and bring Lord Arthur here as quickly as possible. You're all dismissed!"

After the sergeant and Marshall Noon filed out, Thursday sat down in his plush leather chair and gazed out of the window, watching the soldiers scuttle around the Star Fort. Here, in his study, it was almost easy to forget what his lovely, magnificent maze was truly for- war. Every inch had seen blood at least once, as the land had been lost, bought, but always, always, fought for.

Thursday lived for war. It wasn't that he enjoyed the thrill of battle, that he was a creature of bloodlust. It was simply an instinct, everything an ongoing battlefield to him, since the Architect had made him solely for that purpose. This affected his temperament, he supposed, making him extremely volatile and violent, since any difference of opinion was seen as insubordination. He did not seek out violence, but he did not flee from it either. He was a soldier by nature.

A knock on the door brought his attention back to the interior of the fort. "Enter," he barked.

Marshall Dawn tentatively poked her head in. "Sir, I apologize for fleeing and giving Marshall Noon the report."

He waved his hand. Now that the anger had died down, he was a bit numb. "No, no, I understand. Put Arthur Penhaligon as a Piper's Child in the Army Records; he's not a Denizen, so we can't really put him anywhere else. About that report… I'd like to hear it."

"Of course, sir." She seemed visibly relieved. Thursday frowned. What had she been expecting? "If I may, sir… about the campaign… good luck."

Thursday smiled grimly. "I may need it."

"I'm not joining the Army!" Arthur protested, a bit weakly.

"Lord Arthur, must we really continue this fruitless discussion?" Dame Primus tapped her finger on the table, delicate Denizen features accentuating the look of mild impatience and annoyance semi-permanently plastered there, now brought to the forefront. "You have no choice! Besides, you will be relatively safe. This is actually an asset to us."

Arthur felt his cheeks burn when she said 'to us.' By that, she meant as an asset to her, the assembled parts of the Will, not Arthur and her together. He couldn't believe she was putting her own ideas first!
No, scratch that- she did it all the time. It just irked him she had to be doing it now, when he was about to disappear for a whole century into the military! Even more irritating, no one but Suzy was backing him up, and she was under a table trying to stab Dame Primus in the foot with a variety of sewing and darning needles- not exactly helpful.

"No! I might die as a mortal in the Army!"

"Then be a Denizen," Dame Primus shrugged.

"I don't want to become seven feet tall!" Arthur protested.

"Don't forget stunningly handsome," Suzy added, driving the needle home. She yelped as it melted, burning her fingers.

"Lord Arthur, I really should let the recruiting officer in now," Sneezer said.

"No," he exclaimed, "because I'm not going!"

"Just a moment, Sneezer," Dame Primus sighed. "Lord Arthur, repeat after me. 'I, Lord Arthur,'…"

Arthur mechanically repeated the words, barely thinking about them or the Third Key as it flew from his hand to Dame Primus'. She inclined her chin a quarter of an inch in acknowledgment. "Thank you, Lord Arthur."

"This way, sir," Arthur heard Sneezer say, and a moment later, he saw the black-clad butler lead a smartly-dressed recruit officer into the room.

"Hello. I'm Lieutenant Crosshaw, here for a recruit Lord Arthur Penhaligon."

"That's me," Arthur found himself saying, and he stood, automatically taking the draft notice. He shivered as it swarmed over his clothing and transformed them into a recruit's uniform. He didn't like the feeling of it crawling all over him, and was relieved when it was over.

"I'll take care of affairs in your absence and stead, Lord Arthur," Dame Primus said in what was probably meant to sound reassuring but ended up being rather condescending.

"Wait- I'm coming too!" Suzy exclaimed, dashing out from under the table. "I'm a reservist, so-"

"You're ineligible," the officer shrugged. "Calling up reservists is under the jurisdiction of the Upper House, I'm afraid." He added, "Sorry."

Suzy scowled, but Dame Primus smiled softly. It struck Arthur she probably was quite glad he was out of the way for a century. "Earn yourself glory, Arthur, as it may prove useful, but please don't do anything too rash." She gave a little wave.

Ten minutes later, Arthur found himself in the elevator with Crosshaw, heading towards a future he knew he would not like and might not even survive.

They were met by a medium-height female Denizen as they stepped off the elevator. Crosshaw's arm snapped into an instant salute, arm whipping up, the second he saw her in a speed Arthur didn't even know was possible. The woman returned the salute and turned her attention to Arthur. "Recruit Penhaligon?"

"Yes, sir." He saluted and stood at attention, suddenly nervous.

"At ease, recruit," she said with a smile.

Arthur blinked. Erazmas had mentioned the difference between 'Stand easy' and 'stand at ease,' but he couldn't remember which was which, and he didn't want to risk it. He just stood there, unmoving and feeling stupid, until the woman demonstrated. "Like this."

"Thank you, sir," Arthur said as he copied her position.

"No problem, recruit. Officer Crosshaw, dismissed. I know you have other duties to tend to."

"Yes, sir." He saluted once more and then dashed down the hall.

The woman watched him for a second, then turned back to Arthur, seeming slightly amused. "Hello, Recruit Penhaligon. I am Marshall Dawn. As of now, I'm officially in charge of your training. I have many duties to tend to within the Maze, including overseeing Piper's Children, which was why Sir Thursday preferred I be over you instead of Noon or Dusk- I have more experience with, at least, near-mortals. I won't be with you at all times, but I'll check in occasionally, and have taken the liberty of, with Sir Thursday's permission, hand-picking those who shall be with you."

"Um, where is Sir Thursday?" Arthur asked nervously.

"He is busy with the campaign of late, so I hope you'll excuse his absence. He did plan to get you himself, but Noon, Dusk and I managed to… dissuade him of the idea."

Arthur nodded. He had a feeling that meant they had done him a huge favor. "Um, thank you, sir. Where am I?"

"The Star Fort of the Citadel in the Great Maze." Marshall Dawn beckoned, and Arthur followed her down the hallway, past doors and intersections, for several minutes before they reached a dimly-lit cluster of doors. "Marshalls Noon and Dusk bunk here," she said, pointing. Indicating the next, she added, "That one's yours. The one to its right is mine, and Sir Thursday's is the last two in the row."

"Why does he have two?" Arthur asked, relieved there was at least one Denizen between him and Sir Thursday at night. He hoped Dawn was not a heavy sleeper- if she even slept at all, he thought. Perhaps Army Denizens required even less sleep than most.

Dawn shrugged. "He just… does. Go on into yours, recruit, and I'll fetch you in about an hour for dinner. Training won't start officially until tomorrow, so I recommend you rest up while you can." She glanced at her watch and scowled. "Oh, I'm late… he won't like that. See you in a bit, recruit." She saluted, winked, and then pivoted and strode away, Arthur watching her go. He instinctively warmed up to her. Unlike Monday's Dawn, who looked like she was always acting on her best behavior around him simply because he was her superior, or Wednesday's, who was only slightly less scary and fierce than Dame Primus (though far nicer), Marshall Dawn seemed more mild-mannered and gave off a sense of warm clouds and soft sunrises. All the Dawns he'd seen somehow reminded him of mornings, though Marshall Dawn seemed by far the gentlest.

Arthur entered the room, wondering if it was strange he had his own room. Most recruits probably didn't, he mused, and Dawn probably only had her own room since it wouldn't make sense to bunk a female Denizen with two males. He doubted Sir Thursday would share his room with anyone, based on what he'd seen of superior Denizens.

The room was very Spartan, having only a bed and a desk. A rack of weapons and armor hung on the wall, and a book, The Recruit's Companion, lay on the sole chair. Arthur picked up the book, sat in the chair, and cracked it open. Judging by the feel of it and the leather bindings, it was fairly new. He tried reading it, but it was extremely dull, so he just perused the pictures instead. There were many illustrations of soldiers eating, soldiers fighting, soldiers laughing, soldiers talking, soldiers sleeping… Eventually, that got boring too, so he decided to try and find names for the armor on the wall. He was in the midst of this activity when there was a light rap on the door.

"Recruit? Can I come in?"

"Yes, sir," Arthur replied, snapping into salute as Marshall Dawn opened the door.

She laughed. "Dinner's ready," she said. "You'll be sitting opposite Sir Thursday."

Arthur frowned. "I'll be having dinner with Sir Thursday?"

"Every day. He requested it, for some reason." She saw his expression and smiled. "He won't hurt you, recruit, so long as you don't give him a reason. Now, come on- we don't want to keep him waiting- that tends to irritate him a bit." He recalled she had scowled when she'd noticed she was late, and wondered just how irritated Thursday would get.

Arthur nodded and smiled, but his grin faltered when he saw something.

Marshall Dawn had a cut beneath her eye, and he was certain that wasn't there before.