Chapter Seven: A Reasonable Sacrifice
(Krolva District)
The marketplace. Nestled in the center of town, it served as a hub bringing all variety of people together for a common goal. Within the Interior, such places would be brilliantly decorated with bright colors on the umbrellas and awnings, signaling the wealth of those who lived and worked here, enticing people to linger.
Here, however, the only illumination was sunlight reflecting off the dingy cobblestones, casting an eerie tinge to what would otherwise be a beautiful midmorning. Coarse cotton, and in some cases, even burlap served as coverings for the vendors that catered to the Western Wall. Peeling paint, rickety buildings, and improper waste management all contributed to the overall feeling that the glory days of Krolva were a thing of the distant past. Ordinarily all of this would be overlooked as the residents kept their heads down, focused on their own goals. Unfortunately, this was no longer the case. Not today.
"Take cover!"
The Garrison troops jumped aside as a crate full of rotten fruits crashed where they were previously standing.
"You expect us to be grateful?! Not even pigs would eat that slop!"
The trio of soldiers covered their heads as food was flung at them from the surrounding rooftops. The deteriorating produce softened the blows, but not by much. Bruises were already starting to form on their arms as they ran through the narrow streets.
"What the hell do we do, Sergeant?" one of the soldiers asked while on the verge of panicking.
The sergeant of the squad looked back to see the angry mob of civilians chasing after them, armed with pitchforks, clubs, knives, and all sorts of improvised weapons. "Get to the Wall before these assholes rip us limb from limb."
Normally, soldiers would be outfitted with ODM gear, but this squad was recently transferred from the Interior. The gear wasn't really required in that territory. Now, they were paying for it when the riot broke out over the Garrison delivering rotten food to the people. Already, four soldiers from their squad had been killed.
Unfortunately, as the remaining trio nearly reached the Wall, a soldier's foot landed inside a crack in the road. He tripped and fell, his foot stuck.
"Will!" The other private turned to help his friend, but the sergeant grabbed onto his arm.
"Leave him," he ordered, dragging him away. "He'll slow them down."
The private watched in horror as Will's screams for help was drowned out by the angry shouts. The civilians started beating his body with their weapons and impaling him with whatever sharp objects they had. There was no saving him.
The last two soldiers made a break for the Wall, the mob right on their tails. Then, the ground exploded around them as cannonfire littered the area. The civilians came to a halt, allowing the Garrison soldiers to escape by the skin of their teeth.
"Now, my fine people, do I have your attention?" a grizzled voice asked.
The crowd stared at the top of the Wall to see a grey-haired, slightly-bald man, ordained with many medals on his uniform. Flanking either side of him were two cannons that had smoke coming out of them.
"These weapons do good against Titans," he said, patting the left cannon. "I'd hate to waste their power on you."
"You'd rather kill us than give us clean food!?" one of the civilians shouted.
"We might as well start eating each other at this rate!" a woman added.
The high-ranking soldier chuckled. "Now, now, I'm sure we can work this out. We just received a new shipment of bread. Plenty for everyone in this District. Now, you can go home and put your trust in me, or I give the order to fire. Your choice."
Grumbling amongst themselves, the mob began to slowly disperse until all that remained were the trampled, broken bodies of the soldiers.
"That was close, Captain," one of the cannoneers said, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Well, 'plenty' might have been exaggerating," the captain admitted. "We can still feed this District before they take a leaf out of the Titans' book."
The soldiers visibly shuddered at the thought.
"Captain Pixis." The sergeant finally arrived, out of breath. "Davos and I… we're all that's left."
Pixis let out an exhausted sigh. "Should've known our 'gift' from the Interior was too good to be true." He stared out into the District, the smell of blood filling the air. "At this rate, we'll have a civil war on our hands and this entire country will collapse." He chuckled. "Well, boys, it was nice knowing you."
The soldiers were stunned to silence as the captain walked off.
Meditation was always essential when trying to obtain peace of mind. In these stressful times, having a cool head was vital for such situations. This is why Frieda devoted time daily to centering herself to achieve this serenity. It was really hard when her mind was plaguing her with the curse that would never leave her family be.
Four years and you're still resisting.
Frieda shivered visibly. The voice was her own yet not. And I will keep resisting your twisted ways.
But you didn't, remember? You knew what had to be done.
That was different. I did what I had to, to protect my family. She protested.
So, these so-called twisted ways enabled you to make the only call you could.
Frieda chose not to respond, taking a deep breath and trying to calm herself once more. Always talking, never stopping.
A knock at the door interrupted her attempt at meditation. "Hey, uh, Frieda? You there?" Of course it had to be her perverted brother.
"What the hell do you want? I'm meditating, so leave me alone!" The harsh snap came immediately.
"Oh? And how's that working-?" Dirk stopped himself with a clear of his throat. "I brought you something that might help."
Frieda sighed, realizing how rude she had sounded. "Come on in, Dirk."
Dirk opened the door into Frieda's room. She was sitting cross-legged at the foot of her queen-sized bed, in front of a small statue of the Goddess Ymir.
"I apologize for snapping. I've been a touch on edge, and my attempts to meditate and regain my balance and poise have proven inefficient. I didn't mean to take it out on you."
He shrugged. "Hey, it happens." He held a teapot and a teacup. "Green leaf tea. Hope that's still your favorite."
Frieda's eyes softened. "You have a good memory. Thank you."
You keep letting him off easy.
He's my baby brother. I can't stay mad at him forever. He's still family.
He committed incestuous actions towards you.
He was being a curious teenager, nothing more, nothing less. I did something similar, remember?
For once, her own thoughts couldn't counter that.
Dirk poured her a cup and sat down next to her. "Still hot." He handed the cup to her.
Frieda lifted an eyebrow at him. "You come to visit unannounced, bringing my favorite type of tea, and you're now seated in my bedroom beside me. Were you not my brother…" she trailed off with a teasing tone.
To her surprise, he put the tea down and stood up. "Alright, I get it! Enjoy your damn tea."
Frieda grabbed his wrist to stop him from escaping. "I was only messing with you, Dirk. I'm sorry. You don't have to leave yet."
Dirk looked back down at her and let out a sigh. "I thought you still hated me."
So, he tries to bribe you into forgiving him. Idiot.
"I already forgave you. What reason would I have to hate you?" She asked, quickly adding, "And no, you seeing me naked doesn't count as a reason. I mean, it's only fitting that you should want to properly worship your Queen."
Dirk looked aghast at that and backed up a bit. "Uh, Frieda, are you feeling alright?"
She cocked her head sideways and gave a mirthless chuckle. "Of course. I feel fine. Why would you ask me that?"
"N-No reason. I should, um, go brush a horse or two." Dirk turned and accidentally knocked over the statue with his foot. "Ow! Son of a-!"
Frieda's eyes flashed in anger, quickly standing and righting the statue. "You idiot! Watch where you're going, you clumsy dumbass! Do you have any idea how sacred the images of our great Goddess are? You're lucky that it hadn't broken, or I would've..." The words had scarcely escaped her lips when she realized what she was saying. Oh shit. "I'm sorry, Dirk. I didn't mean any of that."
Dirk's eyes were wide with fear as he was pinned to the wall. Wait, what? Looking down, she noticed that she had grabbed him by the collar.
Frieda's gaze lifted and met her brother's dark brown eyes. "I-It would probably be wise for you to leave now, Dirk. I'm sorry."
Dirk didn't need to be told twice as he fled from the room.
Closing the door behind him, she sat back heavily in front of the statue, finally taking a long sip of the now lukewarm beverage he had brought to her.
Oh, my gods. How could I have wanted him to… what was I thinking?
None of this would have happened if you would simply accept who you are, Frieda.
I have accepted who I am. I refuse to accept this nonsense you're pushing so hard!
I am you and you are me. If I am pushing this, then so are you.
Frieda shivered once again. Why can't you just let me rule without your influence?
It's the truth you are running from, not an influence.
The truth? I'm having a hard time discerning truth from a fairytale. And you're giving me a headache.
A knock on the door interrupted Frieda's thoughts and attempted mediation.
"The meeting will commence in a few minutes. Make sure you're dressed appropriately." Rod's voice carried through the door.
"Yes, Father." Frieda replied, smoothly rising to her feet. The time for serenity, or attempts thereof, was over. Now it was back to the reality of her position. Donning a navy blue dress that came to her ankles yet accentuated her figure, she tied up her hair into a snug updo, sliding sandals onto her feet. Checking the mirror briefly, she looked every bit of the ruler she was, minus the ornate crown reserved for the seated monarch. In time, that shall be mine as well, she vowed to herself. They can't maintain that puppet forever. But in the meantime, the council awaits.
Rod met her in the hallway outside the conference room. Giving her a terse once over, he nodded silently, and then opened the door for her to enter before him.
Seated at the table already were the gentlemen that Rod had aptly described to her previously as the "Interior's ruling forces". Five gentlemen sat there, the addition of Rod and Frieda bringing the counsel total to seven in attendance, with Rod Reiss being the overseer. All rose as Frieda entered, remaining standing until she strode across the room and took her seat to the right of the head of the table. Folding her hands and setting them neatly in her lap, she looked at her father who took his cue to bring the meeting to order.
"I don't need to tell you why we've gathered this particular day," he began.
"The riot," the thinnest noble there, Henri Nach, said. "Seven soldiers and four civilians were killed today when they saw the food."
Aurille Cletus, the thorn that would never go away, snorted. "This is what happens when we try to be generous."
"In any case," Rod interrupted, "the events of the past six months have been building up to this. The famine has gotten worse than ever, and every day the number of so-called refugees pouring into the Interior Walls increases." He paused, his eyes meeting the gaze of each of the men in turn. "A clamor has arisen from the people, and it's reached our ears. A solution must be reached, and quickly, lest all of us in turn bear the struggles of the impoverished and more people are needlessly slaughtered in the streets."
"What are our options?" the oldest noble present, Mikkel Haas, asked. "Are there any additional food resources we can tap into?"
"The food we sent were the only spare resources we had," Henri pointed out. "A few organizations have formed in our Walls to help feed them, but they are too few to contend with the multitude. Not to mention the little resources they have. I worry that the downtrodden will set their fury towards them."
"Then recall them." Carl Denzel, a portly man with a balding head, broke his silence. "If our people are going to behave like savages crawling on the ground, then we shouldn't put these organizations in harm's way."
Emeric Braumhauer, a middle-aged noble with a fine beard, shook his head. "Gentlemen, I do not see an easy solution to this problem. The longer we deliberate over this matter, the more likely we risk a civil war."
"Perhaps this problem needs a woman's touch," Carl suggested, looking at the young Queen.
Frieda's eyes were glazed over as if she was in a trance. Her expressions were unreadable but every now and then, she would dig her fingernails into her hand.
"Your Highness?" Carl asked, concerned.
The use of her title snapped Frieda out of her daze. "I apologize. I haven't been sleeping well." She cleared her throat nervously. "Continue."
"We were looking for your input on the crisis at hand," Henri explained.
"And what has been proposed as practical solutions thus far? All I've heard are vague notions. Nothing concrete." She leaned back and crossed her ankles, awaiting their response.
"We don't quite have something practical," Emeric admitted. "If we did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."
Rod had not said a single word, but like the other nobles, he expected a response.
"Well then, perhaps it would be more beneficial to present any solutions, practical or otherwise, rather than running your mouth about your lack of suggestions and wasting all of our time." Frieda replied icily.
The group was taken aback by her tone and the harsh words that left her.
"Frieda," Rod said, his voice carrying a hint of warning.
"Father, why did you bring me here if there were no solutions to be had?" Frieda asked, not backing down.
"This is a plight upon your people," Rod answered sternly. "A plight you must solve."
A test. This was another test. Knowing him, the nobles had the answer, but were instructed not to give them to her. Frieda scowled at her father, but she didn't combat him further. "There are many areas within Wall Rose and Sina where we can create new fields. Let's start there."
"The fruitful soils are few and far between," Mikkel pointed out gravely. "And even if that wasn't the case, this solution would take too long and more people will starve along the way."
Frieda glared at the man, but she couldn't refute him. "Perhaps the Scout Regiment can be tasked with retrieving food from the Wall Maria territory in their expeditions."
Aurille had the audacity to roll his eyes at her. "The Scouts wouldn't last five minutes. They're Titan fodder and a waste of taxpayer money, for starters. For another, they'll probably stuff their faces and give the people the scraps."
Hypocrisy in the highest form.
Frieda stiffened. Leave me alone.
Must you go through this every single time?
Why can't you just go and let me live my own life?
You forfeited that life you desperately seek when you took the serum. And now, you have spent the last three years regretting that decision and wallowing in self-pity.
"Frieda, what's wrong?" Rod asked, concerned.
She did not listen to him, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.
You know what has to be done for the sake of your people.
Frieda shook it off, saying, "I'm fine. I'm just formulating another possibility."
You're the Queen of the Eldians. Start acting like it. Make the hard choice only the Great King could make.
A memory clouded her vision, consuming all previous thoughts of a response. No longer was she Frieda Reiss seated at the council with her father. She looked out through the eyes of Karl Fritz, the 145th King.
He stood at the edge of the throne room balcony, gazing across the Walls. A pair of advisors were behind him, awaiting his response. "Sire, this war is only going to get worse. We can't delay your decision any longer." The nervous voice came from the man on the left, who had been his most trusted ally for many years, Josef Hendricks. The young man apprenticing beside him, William Reiss looked scared. Karl's eyes closed for a long moment then held a coldness as he turned to face the men.
"Bring me the people. I know how to end this war."
William shivered, fighting to keep from wetting his pants. Something was wrong. He could sense nothing but malice in the tone of his king.
"Which people do you refer to, Highness?" Josef asked, hoping for clarity.
"All of them. Bring them all before me. Immediately." Karl said sternly.
Both men bowed low before their king and quickly departed to carry out their ruler's orders.
Within the hour, the Eldians were gathered in the Interior, talking among themselves. It had been a long time since their King addressed his people, so they pondered the possibilities. Perhaps the King finally had an heir to the throne after all this time. Goddess knew they needed good news.
A bright flash of light caught their attention and the thirteen-meter, grotesque form of Karl Fritz stepped into view, causing the voices to cease. His arms were long and bony as if they could snapped off like twigs. His ribcage was sunken and exposed, though his stomach was rotund. Unlike the rest of the world, the Eldians eagerly awaited the Titan to explain himself. He fell to his knees, shaking the ground, though no one ran.
"People of Eldia," Karl began, looking at each and every one of them. His jaw was exposed, giving his voice a very raspy sound. "The war… has ended."
In the blink of an eye, the people exploded into cheers that could be heard across the country. The king stared at his people, a forlorn expression on his face. They thought this a victory for them, but they couldn't be further from the truth. Peace could only be obtained if the people took back the world the Eldians stole time and time again. The poison of his people would come to an end at last.
Karl threw his head back, his long, matted locks whipping around his face and he let out a massive, feral roar. The cheers were immediately silenced, and the eyes of the Eldians were glazed over like they were dead. Now, they would only remember what he wanted them to. Nothing else mattered except for his Will, and his Will was peace.
There is only one choice. A cold mercy, but a mercy nonetheless. Ease their suffering.
But… Frieda tried to think of a valid argument but was unable to come up with anything to refute the claim.
"Frieda!" Rod's voice once again cut into her, silencing herself again. "Are you ill? Do you need a doctor?"
"My apologies. I am not ill. I believe I now have a solution to the present circumstances." She replied resolutely.
"We are listening," Henri assured, all eyes on the Queen.
"Send people from the Wall Rose and Maria districts back to reclaim and work the land within Wall Maria. They may yet have a chance to provide additional resources for the good of all."
The group was stunned to silence, knowing exactly what she really wanted. While they had similar thoughts, they didn't know how she would respond to such a plan.
"B-But it's impossible" Mikkel protested. "You'd be sending them to their deaths. The Titans will devour them before they can make any sort of headway."
"That's the whole point," Aurille told him, condescension oozing from the words.
"I don't intend to send a minuscule team to perform this task. I'm not sending the Scouts to scour the area. We will be sending hundreds of thousands. I should think that something might be accomplished out of that great a number." Frieda's cold eyes settled on Mikkel.
The noble lowered his gaze, unable to face her.
"I concur with Queen Frieda's solution," Emeric said. "Are there any objections?"
No one spoke up, not even Mikkel. He seemed content to keep his head down. Aurille looked very pleased with idea. Henri, Carl, and Emeric remained neutral in their expressions. Rod, however, gave her a subtle, satisfied nod.
"Then it's settled," Carl said. "We'll determine how many people will be sent. No matter what happens, this is for the good of the people."
Look at them. They don't even mourn for the lives that will be lost. Even the one noble is too weak to fight for what he believes in. These are what your people are: a poison to the world. For the good of the people, a reasonable sacrifice must be made.
"For the good of the people," Frieda repeated.
Crod42: The greater good.
MickeyTaco: Not gonna lie, that repeat of "for the good of the people" sent chills up my spine.
Crod42: I aim to please.
MickeyTaco: You mean, to torment and keep people guessing, right?
Crod42: Of course. Anyone who's read A Blacksmith's Tale knows I like to torment people.
MickeyTaco: Stay tuned, there's more where that came from.
Crod42: Hope you all enjoyed this chapter. We look forward to your reviews, and we'll see you all in the next one.