CHAPTER EIGHT

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

For Teresa, that night had been one hell of a ride.

"Oh, no," she'd breathed at the sight of Louis's body. "Oh, Lou, you idiot! I told you to come back in one piece, and this is what you do?"

With messy, uneven tears, Teresa cried. She knelt down by his head, cradling it in her hands.

"What'd you have to go and get yourself killed for, Lou?" she asked, in a shaky voice somewhere between a sob and a whisper.

And then he blinked.

Did I just see that right? Teresa thought to herself, rubbing the tears out of her eyes.

"Wait…" she said.

I swear, Lou.

She pressed her index and middle fingers up against Louis's neck, checking for a pulse. Sure enough, in his carotid vein, she felt a racing heartbeat.

"Louis."

His lips trembled.

"Louis," she repeated sternly.

There's no way you're doing this to me right now. There's actually no way.

Louis blinked again as the faintest hint of a smile appeared on his face.

"Get up, Louis," Teresa said with a sigh.

And then, springing to his feet, he burst out in laughter.

Oh my God. This asshole really faked his death as a prank?

It took him a while to settle down - a while that Teresa spent simultaneously relieved and indignant beyond words. He laughed to the point of tears. Teresa took the time to wipe her own with her coat sleeve.

"You're not funny, Lou."

"On Ymir's soul," he said, trying to catch his breath, "you looked so stupid. You should've seen the look on your face. What'd you have to go and get yourself killed for, Lou?" he said in a shrill, mocking voice, before doubling over in laughter.

Without another word, Teresa stood up and slapped him clean across the face.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"What do you mean 'what was that for?' You scared me, Lou! I honestly thought you died!"

Despite the massive red mark on his face, Louis snickered.

"I know. I'm pretty good, right?"

"Fuck you, Lou. Honestly."

"You're gonna have to wait in line for that."

Yeah, that's it. I'm done.

She turned and walked off haughtily. Louis, though, wasn't far behind her.

"Wait up!" he said, trying to catch up alongside her. "Sorry! It's just a joke!"

In that moment, Teresa could only shake her head and smile.

The two had slept that night in their tents on the hill, but one thing had stayed on their minds: Henry. They'd both thought that there was no way that he could die in battle, that he'd went through years of formal training and education at the best school in the world, and that as the heir to a Holder dynasty he'd get some kind of protection. But the fact remained that Henry wasn't up there on the hill with them. Whether Teresa was trying to rationalize how he could still be alive, or just lie to herself, she didn't know. It was one of the many things that had kept her up that night.

Every time she would close her eyes and drift into that place halfway between being awake and asleep, she saw the man she'd killed.

She saw the fragments of his skull, covered in blood and brains, scattered across the ground. The look of pure terror in his eyes right before Teresa had beaten him seemed to be ingrained on her very soul. No matter what she tried, she just couldn't get it out of her head. To the accompaniment of cannon fire and the sound of bullets flying through the air, the images of death, violence, and brutality she'd seen that day flash through her mind. Both Eldians and Marleyans died all around her in droves. She could only turn away and hide.

And then she saw Henry. She saw his long golden hair, his green eyes lifeless, and his body somewhere in the middle of the forest, blue coat stained an ugly mix of brown and blood red. After keeping him and the scenes of death she'd seen in her thoughts for that long, it had become hard not to juxtapose the two, and in the world of these half-realized dreams her worst fears had come to light. Several times that night she'd woken up with a start in a cold sweat, each time seeing a different but equally cruel fate for Henry Tybur. He'd been bayoneted in the throat; or, maybe, the leg, and was bleeding out somewhere in the middle of the woods; or he'd simply been shot. Maybe the Titan had gotten to him.

When morning broke, Teresa was in no hurry to leave her tent.

"Hey, Teresa. You wanna get something to eat?" Louis asked.

"Sure. Give me a minute," she said, yawning.

She put on her white coat - the same from the previous day, torn and bloody from where she'd been grazed and covered in dirt.

Should I try and disguise myself again? she thought, looking over at her shako. ...No. Dad'll know it's me either way, and he's the only person I'd be trying to hide from. I just have to hope we don't run into him.

"Okay," she called, stepping outside. "Let's go."

Thin rays of sunlight struggled to force their way through the gathering storm clouds above. All around, the camp bustled with activity as men finished gathering up their belongings and packing up their tents.

Are we retreating? Why? We won...

"I really got you good, huh, Teresa?" said Louis with a shit-eating grin, looking over at her as she stepped out of her tent.

"You know, Lou, I really do hate you."

"Yeah, whatever. They're serving breakfast in center camp."

"What is it?"

"Bread."

Great.

"Well, it's better than nothing, I guess. Come on," Teresa said.

The two started on their way down the little hill that they'd been set up on since they arrived in Marley. As they left, Teresa couldn't help but look back at Henry's tent.

Where are you, Henry?

The tranquility of the hill was like night and day compared to what was going on in the main camp. All around them, soldiers were either going out for breakfast or loading their things onto horse-drawn wagons as fast as they could. Orders went out left and right, barked and shouted with urgency - "clear out the last palisades," "be ready to break down the mess as soon as everyone's eaten," "finish evacuating the area near the woods," et cetera. Teresa didn't like the word "evacuate." Winners didn't evacuate - but, then again, what right did she have to call herself a winner?

The only area of the camp that wasn't being actively disassembled was the mess area, in which at least two dozen large tents had been set up, each with their own set of tables and chairs. The smell of meat wafted through the cold air. Louis grinned.

"Looks like they're going all out," he said.

"Or maybe getting rid of whatever's left of the officers' rations before they spoil on the way home."

"Yeah."

A long line of soldiers stood in front of the cooks' tents. Only a handful of them, Teresa noted with concern, were wearing the cavalry's blue coats.

How bad was it for them? There were a lot more before the battle. There would've been a quarter of them here, at least.

Louis nudged her shoulder. "Let's get in line," he said. "I'm starving."

"Okay."

With nothing else to occupy her as she waited, Teresa's attention soon turned to what the men around her were saying. There were some groups split off from the rest, each sitting at their own corner of the mess tents and whispering among each other conspiratorially - as much as she would've liked to hear what they had to say, she wasn't able to catch their conversations. She had to make do with the men in front of them.

"It's roast beef today, apparently," one of them said.

"Oh?" responded the other. "What's the occasion?"

"What do you mean? We won."

"Sure doesn't feel like it."

"You don't feel like roast beef? I've got a friend who's a cook. I can just get him to give you some bread or stew or something, instead. It'd be wasted on you, anyway. Apparently it's from the Islingtons. Finest stuff in the Empire."

"Feels like they make all our food these days."

"You said it. The bread came from the Lady's farms, too."

"Huh."

No good, Teresa thought. Should I ask them about Henry? But if they see I know Henry like that, then they'll know I'm not just any normal soldier...not that I'm a normal soldier anyway, but I can't take any chance that'll let Dad find me.

"Louis," she said. "Is there any way we could get to the front a little faster? I'm trying to eat and get out of here."

"No, sorry. We're stuck waiting."

"Damn. Also," she said, lowering her voice, "try to be careful about what you say around others. Use your head for once. I don't want us making a scene."

"Sure. Save my spot for a second," Louis said, walking up to the men in front of them.

Teresa frowned. What's he doing? Doesn't he know that Dad could find us if we just go around chatting up random soldiers? If we don't play it safe, he'll find out I'm not still at home.

...Whatever. As long as he doesn't use his real name, it's fine.

"Excuse me," he said. "My name's Louis Tybur. I'm looking for my brother Henry. Do you two have any idea where he could be?"

As they usually did when she became upset, the veins on Teresa's forehead started to bulge, although she tried to keep her expression calm.

Fuck! I'm gonna kill you, Louis!

"Hold on. Did you say Tybur?" one of them said.

Louis nodded.

"What are you doing?" said his friend in a low but exasperated voice. "Salute him!"

They both straightened up and gave the Tybur salute. To Teresa's horror, it attracted the attention of the men around them. Many looked up from their food, interested in why these line soldiers were saluting a sixteen year-old boy.

"There's no need for all that," Louis said with a dismissive wave of his hand, smiling sheepishly. "I just wanna know where my brother is."

"Uh...Do you know who he was with...sir?"

"Yeah. The 1st Household Dragoon Regiment."

The two men shared a look.

"The Dragoons…"

"They were wiped out, almost to a man," a voice said from behind them.

What?

A cavalry officer walked up to them, dressed in the customary blue coat that set him apart from the veritable sea of white in the line and the mess tents.

"Yesterday, the 1st Household Dragoon Regiment, pride of the Tybur domain, suffered the worst losses of any single regiment in Eldian history, with an eighty-seven percent casualty rate out of one thousand soldiers. The 12th Imperial Hussars, 4th and 5th Imperial Dragoon Guards, and 2nd Household Dragoons all also suffered over fifty percent casualties during General Brzenska's charge on the left flank."

Teresa gasped and Louis went white.

"You can't mean…" he said.

"Henry Tybur was not one of those casualties."

They both breathed a simultaneous sigh of relief.

"What happened to him, then?" Teresa asked.

"You his girlfriend or something?" the officer asked with a smile.

Damn it! I shouldn't have said anything. Now I've got people looking at me, she thought, as she heard some of the men snicker at the officer's wisecrack.

"She's just a friend," Louis said. "Answer the question, please."

"Right, right. Sorry. One of Lord Tybur's final orders before transforming was to mount an emergency search and rescue operation for his son, Henry Tybur. The operation was to involve all available cavalry reserves, which amounted to three hundred and sixty-three men cobbled together from various other regiments. We had one objective: recover Henry, dead or alive. Luckily, he was alive, although he had lost a lot of blood by the time we found him. One hundred and two men were killed or wounded during this operation, but it was a success."

"Thank God," Louis breathed. "What happened to him then?"

"He was taken to a field doctor, Elias Yeager, for emergency treatment. His injuries stemmed from a barbed caltrop that had lodged itself in his right thigh. Henry had pulled it out, which led to him passing out from blood loss. It's a small mercy that he didn't die."

"Then what?"

"Nobody knows. After he arrived at Dr. Yeager's tent, I saw a man come to pick him up. He was put on a stretcher and loaded into the back of a cart. I didn't recognize the man, but the thing that stood out to me was that the cart was making for the west, rather than due south, back to Tybur territory. That's all I can tell you."

"Okay. Thank you so much, sir."

"It's an honor to serve the Tybur family. By the way...there's someone who's been looking for you."

Oh no.

Louis glanced over at Teresa. Even his pea brain knew who it was.

"If you'd like, I can take you to him. He's been worried sick."

"Alright," Teresa said, sighing. "I guess we can't help it. Come on, Lou."

"But what about breakfast?"

"We'll get something later."

The cavalry officer walked away, gesturing for them to follow him. With all the soldiers' eyes still on them, they obliged.

Marshall Ackerman was sitting with his most senior generals around a table, every square inch of which was covered in maps or military despatches. There was much shouting and angry hand-waving as they argued among themselves - he was the only one who remained calm as he puffed on his cigar, deep in thought. After a moment, he spoke.

"Fort Acerpha," he said. "We will fall back there, fortify, and regroup. It has established anti-Titan defenses, and we will be able to evacuate by sea if need be."

The other generals looked at him like he was crazy. Brzenska opened his mouth as if to speak, but Marshall cut him off before he could get a word in.

"It's best that you stay silent, General Brzenska. After the absolute travesty that was your charge on the left, I don't think you have any room to speak."

The man grew red with anger. "I was only following orders! Orders that you approved! What happened wasn't my fault. How could we have known they had an ambush set up?"

"That's true. But the fact you're here, safe and sound, while over half of the men under your direct command became casualties of war raises some questions about your conduct...questions that I don't feel are productive to ask at this time. Furthermore, are you forgetting who was in charge of this campaign? Every order on that scale was given by Lord Tybur. I, personally, was opposed to his battle plan - I saw it as too simple. It was a plan that greatly underestimated our enemy and made the assumption that we were fighting the same Marleyans from the Eleventh Exile. However, as his second-in-command, my hands were tied. With Lord Tybur still incapacitated, I'm taking direct command over this campaign. For now, my word is just as good as his."

Brzenska stewed in anger, but said nothing.

"Now, gentlemen, as you know, the city of Acerpha is the most important on the Catswick Coast and one of West Eldia's biggest ports. It is also guarded by an Imperial garrison of seven thousand troops, which we will augment with ten thousand of our own. The remaining thirteen thousand will be split evenly among Forts Carmead, Penei-Darran, and Masdarra. We will adopt a defensive posture and await the enemy's next move. By all means, the defense of Acerpha will take priority. Unless the enemy is overly cautious, they will go on the offensive, enter Tybur territory, and attack Fort Acerpha."

One of the generals spoke up. "What about their Titan?"

Marshall took a long drag of his cigar.

"I refuse to believe that Lord Castellano abandoned his domain, wife, and children to betray Eldia and fight with the Marleyans, but it's still the most logical explanation. We have to assume that we're fighting him as well - a formidable opponent."

"But it makes no sense. Lord Castellano had his Titan for eleven years. No one who's been a Holder for that long fights like that."

"Maybe he was rusty? I have no idea. Whatever the case, that's the assumption we're operating under for the time being. Each of your respective commands -"

And then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw his daughter.

"Hi, Dad," Teresa said, giving him a little wave.

The cigar dropped out from between his fingers, spilling ash onto the grass below.