A Note from the Author: Originally touched on in Chapters 6 and 7 of The Jaguar. Takes place during the Battle of Trost; the Western Division are the Southern Division of the 104th Trainees' contemporaries.

The Massacre of the Western Division

Mercedes shrugged with a lazy smirk, "Go to Esme's Dad's if you want, I don't give a shit," she chuckled, feeling the depression and paranoia of the past two years continue to stay at arm's length, replaced by an old collegialness, a shred of her former self. "I think I'm just going to go to the Southerners' HQ training ground and run some laps or something to work off that breakfast."

"Carlstedt-Gaus gave us the day off! Come on. Graduation's tomorrow - surely you can afford just one day of relaxation?" Malik moaned, trying to keep his horse from blocking other foot-traffic in the street. Most of the rest of the Western Division, sill in uniform but most with their jackets slung over their saddles, were either following Esme around the corner or streaming past them.

"Who says I don't find working out relaxing? Besides, shouldn't grow complacent," she retorted good-naturedly. "I'd rather take care of my body than bog it down with a day of beer."

"Ugh, suit yourself," Henri, beside Malik, rolled his eyes. The two of them turned their horses and followed the others.

"See you later!" Malik called over his shoulder and waved. "Your loss!"

"We'll come drag you out of the ditch later when you're done!" she called back.

"Hey, we'll go with you if you don't mind the company," said Fhalz, speaking for a group of half a dozen or so of them that'd congregated behind her like leaves in a drain.

"Finally, some sensible people," Mercedes smiled. "Anybody know the way?"

Fhalz raised a hand, and they began to follow him through the streets of Trost.

As they made their way over a bridge at a leisurely pace, Mercedes used her thighs to give Sabine what little guidance she needed while she rebraided her hair; she'd been lazy with it this morning when Carlstedt-Gaus came to wake them all up and drag them out to a celebratory breakfast. Her fingers worked away behind her neck until she was far enough down to be able to bring it over her shoulder. Brighid, a taller girl with dark wide eyes that had ranked tenth out of - as she put it - sheer luck rather than concrete skill, rode up beside her with a timid smile.

"I wish I had hair like yours!" she said, pulling at the thin, short ends of her own dark bob. "It's lovely."

"Thanks," Mercedes said and tied off the end of her braid, pushing it back over her shoulder. Although she knew it'd been an attempt on Brighid's part to make conversation and that it'd be polite to respond, personally Mercedes found her tedious.

Brighid looked around awkwardly for a minute. Then, with a conspiratorial leaning-over, she said, "Hey, so do you think the real reason the Chief brought us down here wasn't because it was her favorite place to get breakfast, but because she and Chief Instructor Shadis -"

"None of our business really, is it?" Mercedes shut the thought down. She was fond of Carlstedt-Gaus and didn't want to encourage anything that might garnish her reputation.

"Oh. I suppose not," Brighid said. After another moment she said, "I sure am looking forward to a run." She stretched.

"Yeah." Mercedes looked the opposite way, at an eruption of steam from a street hawker lifting the cover of a tightly-woven basket to reveal a plate of fresh dumplings.

Yet another pause. "So what branch are you thinking about joining? Really I can see the benefits and drawbacks of both. If you think about it, the -"

The question legitimately made her uncomfortable. "I haven't decided," Mercedes said quickly and urged Sabine forward, calling ahead of them, "Hey, Fhalz, wait up."

"You're getting soft, Miranda," Shadis commented as they came onto the roof terrace of the Southern HQ office. She followed him to the edge, from where they could see not only the city of Trost beyond all the way to the gate, but the surrounding outbuildings, stables, and practice yard for the local Garrison, whose barracks were nearby.

"What does one day off hurt them?" she commented, resting her crossed arms on the sun-warmed tile of the retaining wall. "What would you have me do, coop them all up like imminent debutantes until the Ceremony? And before you say anything no I don't think buying them breakfast counts as fraternizing, or that it undermines my authority any," she passed him a knowing smile.

Shadis folded his arms, looking all the way out into the distance at the gate where his own upcoming graduates had been pressed into interim maintenance work. "We'll see how yours and mine match up, then," he said, and had she not worked with him for several years and known him better, she wouldn't have known the buried good humor with which he'd spoken.

Miranda scanned their surroundings. It was a beautiful day, warm and blustery and full of all the good smells; Trost was more colorful to her than Klorva and she had to admit she missed her hometown. Although her visits weren't infrequent on account of conferences with the other three Chief Instructors, it was rare that she had a moment to enjoy herself.

Her hazel eyes alighted on the training yard. She grinned and nudged him with her elbow. "I don't see any of yours down there but there are some of my kids - been there for about an hour now - on their day off no less." She nodded to direct his gaze. "Lathan and Reine, Carello and Haufman, the Gergritch twins…" she craned her neck to see around the larger man, "Damson, Spiegel, and Sutter. Nine, of my thirty-two, and I'm sure the others aren't far."

Shadis scoffed. "You keep graduating such small classes… One day I fully expect you to only send up a dozen or less."

"I prefer quality over quantity," she quipped with another grin.

"And you're saying I don't?"

Miranda stood upright and waved a hand. "Oh, don't be so sour. It's too pretty a day for -"

There was a flash of lightning from behind the outer Trost gate - even the sky appeared to darken for an electrifying moment. The entire city seemed to freeze and grow silent. Then, Miranda saw something she thought she'd never see again - the head of what could only be the Colossal Titan - appear over the top of the Wall near the gate.

"Please no," she whispered. It was too soon - too soon to send her cadets, too soon to send anyone. It'd always be too soon.

Then distant, faint shouting. First one warning bell, then another, began to ring. They were nothing compared to the crash that followed - dust and rubble flew into the air from the base of the gate.

"Fuck," Shadis said under his breath. The bells rang with greater urgency. "We've been breached."

They turned and took their steps as one, running for the steps that'd take them down. The HQ and nearby barracks was coming alive, but their sounds grew muffled as the cold of indoors engulfed her, as though the stairwell was an actual well.

"Get your cadets and yourself armed - we have spares," Shadis, a couple of steps below her, said. "They can be incorporated into the Southern vanguards. I hope they're as ready as you think they are."

At the bottom of the stairwell they parted ways; Shadis barking orders faded behind Carlstedt-Gaus as she took the back exit, darting past younger Garrison soldiers headed in the opposite direction. She rounded the building and came upon the training yard, nearly running into Carello, her third.

"Sir!' Carello hammered a salute into her chest and the other eight cadets did the same. "What's happened?" Her fierce dark eyes and remarkable composure gave Carlstedt-Gaus some hope.

"We've been breached," she said and absorbed their shock, drawing her shoulders back. "Go to the barracks next door and arm yourselves, quickly. You'll be placed into the appropriate vanguards by Commander Woerman and his men - follow Southern personnel instructions as if they were my own. Where are the others?" she scanned the yard behind them.

"They went South," Carello swallowed. "Far South, to Justica's father's."

She tried to process this information but didn't know enough about Esme Justica's family to deduce whether her cadets were in true danger.

"That's near the gate," Lathan, her sixth, said. "The breach zone. There's no barracks around there."

Dread began to crawl around in her stomach, amplified by the concern of the cadets in front of her. The warning bells and shouts of the Southern forces, along with the screams of the civilians, clamoured in her ears and impressed on her how little time there was.

Carello took a step forward, her face hard and insistent. "We can run gear to them. If we -"

"No, it's too dangerous," Carlstedt-Gaus said. "I need all of you to obey the Southern officials. There's no time for you to both get down there and back, and you'll be compromised if you're carrying." As Carello's mouth opened to object, she said, "Not another word. Go arm yourselves. Go."

Like good cadets they saluted her again, and like good cadets they ran away to the barracks to obey. She knew she should be going with them but as soon as they were out of sight, Carlstedt-Gaus leant on the wall and caught her breath. Tears stung her eyes. While she hoped that somehow, her other cadets would make it out of the breach zone, she knew already what a slim possibility that was. They would be out there in the breach, and they would stay in the breach; armed or not, like good cadets they would be out there doing their duty - protecting and evacuating the civilians - and like good cadets they might even try to fight the hordes that were pouring in right now. Like good cadets, they would do what they could, even if it led to their death.

Carlstedt-Gaus recited their names to herself as she headed for the barracks, like twenty-three prayers. She could see Commander Woerman in the distance and, closer, her armed nine running out of the barracks basement one by one, led by Carello. As they disappeared into the throng of brown leather and roses, she added their names to her rosary.

Commander Woerman's superintendent left them; Mercedes watched as the nine of them from the Western Division began to reluctantly spread out over the rooftops, looking at one another anxiously. In the rush to get everyone prepared for the Titans that came in increasing numbers through the gate, they had assigned the hastily-made squad of five of them to the forward guard, while she formed a smaller squad of four with the Gergritch twins and Fhalz in the middle guard. The group was reluctant to be split apart, and even moreso knowing that the front guard were essentially fodder.

"We can't just stay here," Fhalz, beside her, muttered. She knew his temper was barely kept in check. Her own wasn't much better after the superintendent had told her privately to fall back to the rear guard should she lose her squad. The idea seemed preposterous.

She eyed the superintendent's back, willing him to get farther away. She looked at the immense hole in the gate, the ugly shadows coming through it; at the stream of civilians being guided up the streets; at the faces of the other trainees from the Southern Division spreading out into the front guard. Every scream she heard may as well have been the rest of their Division being slaughtered in the breach zone.

Finally she heaved a breath. "Let's go," she said to Fhalz, who relayed it to the red-haired twins. They nodded and darted away to spread the word to the others. In unison, they broke rank and headed in the direction of the nearest barracks.

Mercedes heard voices shouting after them, telling them to stop, to get back in line, to wait for orders - all were ignored. She knew if they lived, they'd have to answer for this. But the thought of leaving their fellow trainees defenseless was something that trumped that - none of them were able to stomach it.

Luckily, Titans had not reached the barracks yet. They scaled down the building and opened the maw of its basement, pulling out gas cylinders and loading their arms with gear. There was only so much they could carry - many of them tried to take two sets but some could only manage one - and it was horrendous to think who would have to do without. Hands occupied, Mercedes knew they'd have to run rather than be able to use their own gear.

"There's not enough gear for all of them," Brighid said shakingly and bit her lip as she came up the basement ramp beside her.

"Stay focused," Mercedes told her and did a headcount over Brighid's shoulder. "We can carry people if we have to." She knew that that still wouldn't be enough, but couldn't afford to dwell on it. Once she counted the last member of their group she nodded to them. "Don't stop. Fhalz and I will lead."

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" came a voice.

Mercedes ignored it yet again; Fhalz bolted and the rest of them swiftly followed. They raced down the streets, the clatter of their gear and that they carried gradually becoming lost in the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears and the growing sound of buildings collapsing. She knew not all of those behind her were good runners. She knew they were nine, and grounded. They needed to get to the others before the Titans did. She could only hope they were still in the area they said they'd be in.

Fhalz, their fastest runner, was a good few meters in front of her, and he varied his pace to help stay in their sight as he scouted the way ahead. They wove through streets and alleys alike, their steps more and more unsteady due to the tremble in the ground from the Titans' own. Overhead, members of the front guard were speeding ahead toward the gate; Fhalz veered them in the same direction. Mercedes began to glimpse humanoid shadows, towers of steam, shoulders and heads above the rooftops. She glanced behind her while she still could - they were all still with her.

The tavern owned by Esme Justica's father was situated on a slight rise before the street tumbled into the poorest fringes of the Trost homes near the gate and its moats. Fhalz took them onto the wide main street and she could see the proud, well-kept building looming on the corner on the right. The street would run them all the way down to it - the fastest route, but one that led them also into the direct path of the oncoming Titans. She could see them lumbering up the rise and tried not to focus on them; rather, look for any indication of the others' whereabouts.

"Dodge!" Fhalz suddenly yelled.

The ambling steps of a five-meter class broke through a line of paddocks, scattering goats and sheep into the street. Hooves and bleats soared into the dusty air. Mercedes and the others behind her darted quickly right, into whatever alley was closest.

"Keep going forward!" she bellowed and adjusted her grip on the two sets of gear she carried. Her arm muscles were beginning to burn and she could only imagine what the others were feeling as a result. She heard the five-meter crash into the buildings around them in search of them, sending rubble everywhere. She had to trust that they wouldn't balk, that they'd be resourceful and not waste time and gas engaging. If more Titans came, though, she knew her faith would waver and she wouldn't blame them.

She and Fhalz curved back into the main street. Titans were closer now, on their left as well as in front of them, and she risked another glance behind her. She couldn't see everyone, but she heard them calling to one another. The five-meter was in drunken pursuit and she supposed they were lucky it was one of the slower ones. Returning her gaze front and center, she was relieved to see how close the tavern was. She could even make out the wooden sign swinging on its bracket - The Legion's Rest, painted in crisp white on blue.

Suddenly, a similar group of grounded soldiers emerged from behind the tavern, shielding a small group of civilians. The large group looked hurriedly around them and the civilians began to panic and scream. They floundered over one another despite the soldiers' best attempts to corral them, and the group splintered apart like a loaf of bread being torn. Some dashed for the tavern doors, others peeled away into the street or down an alley. As they parted Mercedes could pick out the tall figure of Esme Justica, their first, next to who could only be his father cowering in his wheelchair.

"Shit," she breathed. She raised her voice, "Justica! Here!" She wasn't sure what direction to give them - it wasn't ideal for them to arm themselves unprotected in the street but to go back in a building would corner them for good. She could see Titans converging on them.

The soldiers flowed toward her, pushing or dragging civilians with them; the two groups closed the few meter distance…

"Look out!" someone cried.

Her head turned wildly, eventually attracted by the shadow cast over her from behind. Mercedes looked over her shoulder to see another five-meter join the first and cut them off from behind. It swiped angrily at their slowest runner, Sutter, who was splattered against a building. The gear he'd held clattered into the drainage ditch that ran down the side of the street.

"Keep going!" Fhalz yelled. She saw he had reached the group and was handing over gear.

Mercedes ran into the crowd and dropped the extra gear. "We'll cover you as best we can while you get armed," she said to Malik.

Malik pushed his lank blond hair out of his face; he was shaking. "We've never killed anything -"

"We have to go, now!" Mercedes unsheathed her blades.

"You shouldn't have come!" Esme bellowed at her over the shoulders of the others. He carried his father's frail body in his arms.

A woman wailed and the tavern exploded; chaos erupted. An aberrant seven-meter with hair as lank and blond as Malik's had crashed through the tavern on its haunches and in the process, smashed a third of the group to pieces. It forced its face down at the street to devour a few who still stood too close. Simultaneously, the two five-meters were grabbing at them from behind - one had Gina Gergritch in its meaty palm but Fhalz was already in the air, rising light as a windblown leaf high above the Titan's head. His blades flashed brilliantly in the sun and he suddenly plummeted to the Titan's nape, cutting through it. It toppled; Hollis severed its hand to release his sister.

As Mercedes' gaze swept up through the cornered civilians and her fellow trainees struggling to arm themselves, they came up to rest on a fourteen-meter that strolled out of the street opposite the ruined tavern. And then another came up in front of them, and another. Everyone scattered, but they couldn't get far; the walls of limbs and teeth and grasping hands blotted out all else, surrounding them. There was nowhere else for her to go but up.

We've never killed anything before, she repeated Malik's fear, and then swallowed it.

Mercedes shot a line at the dome of flesh above her, plucking herself out of the way of the aberrant's attempted seize. Her body was jerked upward and she skimmed over the shoulder of the fourteen-meter, whipping through its dark hair. She felt teeth graze her boot. Her second line punctured the middle of its back and she curved back toward it; it turned, gaping at her. She retracted her first line, redeployed it at the nearly the same spot on the Titan next to the one reaching for her. They both turned on their heel in unison, opening up the wall of flesh to present a gap between them - she could see the carnage of the dead and the dying underneath the feet of the aberrant, which was distracted by tearing into Henri. Mercedes steeled herself.

'Kill with one strike', she remembered her grandmother telling her. She propelled her body forward and retracted her lines as she passed through the Titan bodies, freefalling in their shadows. All sound faded except the air rushing into her lungs.

Her momentum waned and weight returned, making her feel like the full moon at the peak of its arc through the sky. Mercedes fired one line into the aberrant's neck at the last minute and shot over the remaining small distance before it could react. It tried to spin on its feet but it was too late. Mercedes held her blade to her left, parallel, and clenched all of the muscles in her upper body all the way to her fingers to brace for the strike - she carved into the back of the aberrant's neck, deep enough to where the blades almost emerged through its throat.

One of the five-meters, falling into her path under another soldier's attack, made her flinch before she was done with her strike. To avoid it, she brought her blades back a little, pivoting, and in the process pincering out the crucial segment of flesh they had been taught to seek. The aberrant guttered out a noise as it fell into the mess it had created, and Mercedes deployed her second line to swing herself out of the way.

More Titans had appeared in the area. While six of them or so were trying to fight them off, most of her comrades lay in pieces or unarmed, trying to guide what few civilians remained up the street in the direction of safety. No matter what they did, though, she knew it wasn't enough. It was a bloodbath, without order or mercy. She watched Justica, with a half-shorn leg, stumble in the street - his father toppled out of his hands, and a careless giant foot descend upon them both - that was when she knew it was time.

She dodged her way through steam and bodies to the top of the nearest stable building and called out, "To me! Let's go! Retreat!" Back in the direction they had come she could see Titans moving about the streets - other members of the front guard bounced among them - they'd be lucky if they could even retrace their steps.

Hollis landed beside her, wiping at the steaming Titan blood that made it look like his freckles were evaporating. "But the people, and our -"

"We're all going to die if we don't leave now, Hollis," she snapped. "Justica was right - we shouldn't have come. Get as many out as you can." She raised her voice again so Gina and Fhalz would hear her, "My squad to me! Form a vanguard for those below! Everyone head north!"

Her gas somewhat replenished with Marco's help, Mercedes quickly tried to get back on track and find her squad. It was hard to tell how long ago it'd been that she told them to listen to the warning bell to retreat - her orders to retreat from the massacre at the Legion's Rest felt even farther back still, amplified by how she had no way of knowing who had made it out or if it was only those of them that had made it in in the first place.

She passed the church where the remains of the Titan the twins had lured and Fhalz had taken down lay, and used it as a point of reference. She headed north over the rooftops, trying to push everything out of mind except completing her objectives and staying alive. Engaging the Titans could no longer be a priority - even from her limited, linear view as she fled she could tell that Trost was overrun.

No, it's lost, she forced herself to admit.

Up ahead there was a moderately-sized stone wier formed out of a tributary to the river, shaded by leafy elms on one side, where the locals gathered to water their horses or let their children play. Its beauty and serenity seemed out of place in many ways to her, and so it was with an obscure sort of relief that she saw a Titan rear up behind the trees in response to a failed attack from a soldier. She recognized Gina and headed for her.

Before she could reach her, Gina was swiped angrily out of the air like a butterfly and thrown into the wier; she landed in a mangled heap face-down in the shallow water flowing down the tiers, her head lower than her feet, and did not get up.

One less, was all she could think. She could see the Wall over the rooftops. One less of us and we're so close! One less of us...

"Gina!"

Hollis sailed out of a side-street, his own Titan forgotten and now in pursuit. He was trained on his sister.

"Hollis! Focus! Focus!" Mercedes shouted at him. She curved in front of Gina's ten-meter Titan and headed for Hollis'. "Focus!" she ordered again but knew it was fruitless. Everything and everyone, almost, was in shambles.

Both she and the seven-meter Titan reached him at the same time. It grabbed him by his ankles and yanked backward, stuffing him into its mouth. Hollis clutched at its meaty lips, braced his knees on its teeth, screaming. Horror made Mercedes' throat constrict but still she anchored her lines in the Titan and grabbed onto Hollis, pulling at him even as the Titan mashed both of its hands into its face, trying to push them both in. It bit down on one of Hollis' legs, gnawing, and Mercedes stabbed at its gums with her free hand and pushed back against the fingers pressing at her.

"Let him go! We're so close!" she yelled, "Let him go!" she was growling, throwing her body this way and that to try and wrench her squadmate free even though some part of her knew it was no good. Hollis had given into terror and pain and his cries echoed around the Titan's mouth, softened as its jaw readjusted and took more of him in, molars crushing his chest cavity. His blood burst over her.

"'Cee! Let go!" Mercedes just about heard Fhalz call over the pounding of blood in her ears. She heard the sing of blades and the Titan jerked, one hand drawing away to swat in the air. Mercedes used her dull blades like spikes and climbed up the Titan's face away from its mouth. She saw Fhalz make another pass and this time, bring it down.

Although she disengaged her lines and tried to redeploy them to draw her away, they were too tangled in the Titan's limbs. Together they crashed into the wier. Winded and spluttering, Mercedes heaved herself upward and crawled out from under the Titan's arm on her hands and knees. She took a moment to catch her breath and saw Fhalz use what remained of his gas on Gina's Titan, felling it.

Blood stained the water and it flowed through her hands. She caught Gina's unseeing eyes and an ache opened up in Mercedes' chest as abruptly, she remembered a conversation with her father. She'd been four, and they'd talked about what happened after you died. Somehow, although well-acquainted with death, this was different to her. It didn't seem to be in the realm of reason. It didn't leave any room for the laws of nature - how could there be anything left of anyone, after all of this horror, that could endure into heaven or be born again?

Fhalz's footsteps splashing nearer distracted her. He helped her to her feet. His face was worn and haggard, and one of the lenses of his combat glasses was broken. "I'm out of gas. Come on, we're so close!"

"I'll carry you," she uttered, swallowing and passing one last look at the twins.

Tired as they were, the sound of heavy footsteps tramping nearer spurned them on into a final sprint for the Wall, and safety.

"Let me go to them," Carlstedt-Gaus murmured. Who knew how many times she'd said that as she and Shadis stood on Wall Rose overlooking the loss of Trost. Her gaze was trained on the rough direction in which she figured her cadets had gone.

"No, Miranda," Shadis said, quietly but firmly. He'd ceased to offer explanations or reason with her; the life had gone out of them both. Tears had dried on her face and she'd made no effort to wipe away the ones that lingered in reserve.

She'd only seen five of hers come back so far. Brighid Reine, whimpering with a cowardice she struggled to sympathize with but couldn't reprimand, had been the first, and had given her a grim picture of what had likely transpired down at the Legion's Rest. After that she had counted each of them gratefully, like wishes being granted, and hoped that yet more had maybe come up a little farther away, where she couldn't see. But now there had been a lull - it'd nearly been an hour since any of hers had come up over the lip of the Wall.

Then, she heard the two chinks of lines anchoring to her right. She walked to the edge, and with relief saw a blood-soaked Carello, holding Lathan, drawing upward. She crouched and helped first Lathan, then Carello over the lip of the Wall. They collapsed on their hands and knees, breathing heavily but otherwise seeming unharmed, and then rolled over to sit down. She was alarmed by how hardened and remorseful their faces seemed - was it really only this morning that they'd all laughed together over omelettes?

Carlstedt-Gaus hovered near them and blinked rapidly. "How many?" she asked lowly, and didn't have the energy to articulate herself further.

Carello looked up, and after a moment seemed to understand what she was asking. "Eleven of us, I think. Eleven of us got out." Her lips closed and she stared apologetically up at her. Lathan was looking at her too with a similar expression, as if they felt they were to blame.

No. It's me who is to blame. Carlstedt-Gaus swallowed, tried to keep her composure. She leaned over a little and squeezed their shoulders, attempted a reassuring smile. "I'm proud of you both," she managed and hoped they couldn't detect the quaver in her voice. "I'm proud."

Standing upright, she took a few heavy steps away and rejoined Shadis, mimicking him in the placing of her hands behind her back. Under her breath, she recited her cadets' names, and waited for the day to end.