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This man appeared to be more like him than he imagined. 

[color=bf00ff]"A fellow sapper, yes? Then I imagine a history of cooperation together."[/color] Michael replied with a friendly smile. [color=bf00ff]"I'm Michael Daunte, son of 2nd Viscount Daunte. I'm from Tyrelia, Edinburgh."[/color] 

He didn't really expect anyone to recognize him though. It was a rather fancy looking title that held no power at all in the military ranks. Here, everybody was equal. And it was also a little known branch of the Edinburghian nobility, but his family was still comparatively more well-off than most of society. Sometimes unfairly as well. But this inequality wasn't anything new per say. Every cities, every nations had it. Every generations had it. 

Before Diana approached the Tyrelian sapper, he must notice the other recruit in question. He did seem nothing different from the typical freshmen that he knew at the beginning of the war. His voice was high and mighty, as if it could crush a man under its swept. But just like Hill 58, it was going to go down either ways, it falling apart or disintegrating as the man fell along with him. He never hoped for any though. He did want a scenario where he could still keep such spirits yet continue to survive time and time again. But we feasted on each other. Either misery or happiness. One winner is the other's loser. It would never happen.

Nevertheless, the guy was asking for NCOs, to which Isaac had replied pretty much everything. Michael only had little to add. [color=bf00ff]"There's Staff Sergeant Baker over there in that cabin. And of course Captain Middleton in the other cabin, our real 'sweetheart'."[/color] 

Yeah, sweetheart indeed. To the point where he sweetly handed Lucia the gun to give a friendly tag to the soldiers to keep pushing forward. Or the fact that he mercifully euthanized the Imperials whom he knew wouldn't make it and give them an open-top grave that looked up to the heavens. Yep, we all 'love' him. 

[color=bf00ff]"For your question."[/color] Then he finally turned over to Diana. She was probably dying to know. How could this man with a very cute and childish face be so maturely voiced? How could this small dude capable of carrying so many material and tools around like that? He was dying to know too. What in the name of science would give him such a small convergence point in terms of height, and such a perfect proportion for facial features. It did make him feel less impacted by the marching of time, but in turns, people like Diana caused him the burden of having to explain it to them. 

[color=bf00ff]"I should be in first year of Ridge University, if it wasn't for this war."[/color] He replied to the Vastergoth member. [color=bf00ff]"Eighteen in particular. How about you, if you don't mind such a question."[/color] 
[@Brithwyr][@Landaus Five-One]