When I am weaker than you, I ask you for freedom because that is according to your principles; when I am stronger than you, I take away your freedom because that is according to my principles.

-Frank Herbert

Civil grievances are really damn hard to forget, ain't they? Even to the people that never actually knew them firsthand. Taught by one bitter old dude to another to more bitter people, and the line just keeps going on and on again.

And it just takes one guy who's bitter but also restrained, and also just a little more articulate in expressing bitterness, synthesizing them all together to create…something. Something colossal. A colossal synthesis. It's a hot stirring pot of stew….and it really doesn't matter what kind of ingredients are put into it.

Misinformation, fearmongering, downright shit stirring slander, etcetera etcetera…..They're all still ingredients. No one will notice or maybe even not care to notice what you put in the pot…only if it's stirred properly. And all of it'll just be mixed with all the others- and it'll just be another ingredient- which it is.

But enough of that stuff for now, because as of current almost everyone in these damned walls are in a state of collective confusion.

My eyes peered over to an article on some newspaper that was laid out on a table I was currently "working" on.

The article was about how the breach at Trost was sealed by a Titan, and some other stuff like how the titan remnants are still being hunted before the evac could disperse. It was a few days old but I know it's still extremely fresh in lot of the interior civilian minds.

There's nothing much I can do with this aside from waiting. But I didn't really sit idle either. There wasn't much active duties to do after the cleanup of the corpses, so I had the time to collect packages dropped off at random locations in the district containing ingredients. Chemical ingredients.

In which I was currently making use of.

I poured the powder grinded off a pestle from the little pellets of ammonium nitrate fertilizer into a large metal bucket which contained a specific amount of fuel.

Putting the pestle away, I then picked up a wooden rod and carefully started to mix the oil/powder together. After a few dozen seconds of stirring, I put the rod away and took out two metal caps and one ultrahard steel pipe that was sawed off.

Both ends of the pipe were threaded, so that it would be pretty easier for me to screw the caps on.

Putting one of the caps down on the table, I started to screw one of the caps on one end of the pipe using my fingers. Screwing it on, I propped it on the table as I went down to pick up the bucket full of the powder mixture.

Picking up the bucket, I quickly stood up from my chair and positioned it to let it pour into the capped steel pipe propped up from its uncapped side on the table. Pouring the mixture in down to the last drop, I promptly put the bucket down and sat down again.

Rummaging into my shirt's left pocket, I quickly took out a fuse that was mostly intended for use in mining. But this ain't really for mining.

I quickly planted the blasting cap inside the middle of the pipe which housed a potentially deadly mixture. It was almost done. Just one more step.

I picked up the other metal cap, which had a hole drilled in the middle more or less matching the long fuse. Putting the fuse through the cap's hole, I swiftly put the cap for the other end on. It was finished.

Picking the finished product up, I felt a little twinge of pride on what I had created. It was a goddamn pipe bomb. I then quickly put it away, inside a bag next to my table with the other five of them which I previously made.

Can't really bring myself to call them weapons, I would rather call them "solutions". An expression, if you will. Although they're not something like IEDs or anything more complicated, they're still something I feel some form of pride from.

And the ingredients were from the scouts, which means that I now have a sort of a partnership with them.

And I'm aware that these materials are not just given away. It's always an exchange for something I have. It has to be. Should given has no value.

Sliding the bag of handmade explosives under the bunkbed to my left, I then started to clean up everything on the table. Didn't really want my bunkmate see that a fellow scout was making bombs.

I was really lucky after the solicitation ceremony to have been assigned with a bunkmate who mostly minded his own business, and isn't mostly around anyways. But he's probably doing what everyone else was currently doing after that whole shindig at Trost, either grieving or grieving while drinking.

The solicitation ceremony went along as it was supposed to. But I spotted a few irregularities-which I already suspect would happen- one of which being that Erwin's eyes lingering on Historia and then scanning them across to everyone in the ceremony. I'm sure that he was just looking for the traitor, but it felt too long for my tastes. It's just a…..tingling feeling. Don't know if it's instinctual or not.

And the inspection that had to be done after two titan test subjects were killed went well. No slip ups. Nothing. I'm sure that I was able to stave off any suspicion from it.

I got up from my seat and straightened my jacket, intending to go outside and do…something. I don't have any immediate plans until the expedition. And there's not much of a base to cause some civil unrest on yet. Although, there is some "distrust" going on I might be able to take advantage of.

I opened the door out and was greeted to the sight of a narrow hallway, just about wide enough for two people walk alongside.

Slowly closing the door behind me with a barely audible creak, I walked out of the room and looked around my surroundings along and back throughout the hallway.

There's nobody around. The sounds of the usual crowds I could still hear through the not so thick walls. Everyone else is probably outside.

Straightening myself along the way, I decided to go downstairs towards the front doors of the barracks leading toward the outside. The smell of gunpowder, chemicals and other shit wafting through my nostrils for hours is making me a little nauseous.

I need a little fresh air. Maybe I'll have more to think about and figure what the hell I'm going to do today, just to stave off the constipation I'm feeling waiting for the expedition. Don't think It'll help much either, but it's a start.

I inhaled all the air outside in with gusto, not caring if it was diluted with other, less than fragrant smells. It's still air. A military base like this was chalk full of noise and activity.

There was a lot of fixing, finetuning and maintenance happening here, but not on the scale that you would expect of a proper factory production line. But it was something that kept all the Scouts and MPs armed and refueled over the years. And that's really something.

It was also pretty nice to not be breathing all of this fine air through bandages this time.

My skin healed as far as it could now, not all but enough. And I was itchin to get those things off me, as if shedding some skin. I already looked pretty damn conspicuous before, and stood out a lot more too. I can't have that. Not now.

And now I might look slightly less suspicious, or at least acceptable. Well I hope, at least from a far distance. Maybe in some crowd. And I might get mistaken for a morbidly pale and reddish-skinned man instead of a mummified man this time at least. I don't really know which is worse.

Now, what the hell should I do on this particular day? Training only gets you so far, those so called "veterans" during Trost attested to that. And It's probably gonna be attested and reinforced by the other bunch of veterans in the expedition that's about to come soon.

Who knew that surviving one hell didn't mean that you could survive all the others? What a jolly fucking revelation. Thank you, the almighty above.

I turned my head, and faced the sun. The heat and its rays was something I was feeling on my uniform through to my bare skin. It was just about the hottest time of the day. But the heat wasn't enough to warrant taking off my jacket.

I sighed. All this damn waiting around. And no form of escapism for it either. Just have to wait around a little longer then. And when the time's right, make a move.

But now as I'm waiting here at this moment, I'll just think.

One Month Later

The metallic gears of the large bulky-looking gate leading outside the walls started to pull its chains up to allow us scouts to pass through outside and begin our expedition.

The month passed by a little painstakingly for me, its grueling wait only numbed by the fact that all us new scouts were taught a special strategy for us in the expedition, or rather drilled into us I'd say. It didn't look and sound too complicated, so I could take the information in easily.

They told us "Abide by this strategy, and you'll be in one piece." Just four words of "stay by the book" would've been quicker, but I guess they gotta reassure that in another, more flashier way.

Well, tactics like those only work so far. If things get too hairy, we'll all be in shit neck deep. I opted to bring a smoke bomb of sorts, but using a maneuver gear without hitting something at breakneck speeds and plastering your innards all over the dirt required full vision of where your body towards.

I wouldn't say "I'll be fine" or anything like that. But this time it's a military operation, not a survival or defense situation. And….I guess I have my obligations.

I looked around, and noticed that the only noise I heard from the horses and the gate of the Karanes district, but none of the scouts around me has spoken a single word.

I wonder what part of the formation will I be assigned in? I know that I won't be going to deliberately face titans head on, but instead It's probable I'll be either luring them away or scouting and looking out for them.

And I've already made some precautions for when Annie shows up, in the form of grenades and bombs. And hopefully I can talk my way out of being caught using one. I don't know what'll effect those will have on Annie's titan, but there's absolutely no intention from me to cross paths with her.

Not wanting a deathwish is already ingrained like stamped metal in my brain. I'm aware of my mortality.

Getting back onto the task at hand, I spurred my horse forwards and started to ride with the expedition that's starting to head out.

Even my own thoughts started to get drowned out as hundreds of hooves rocked against the stone streets.

I couldn't see the sun due to the wall towering over everything over here, but I bet it's pretty bright today. And I don't want to get blinded once I step out that gate.

I reached a hand around to the back of my head, pulled the soft fabric of the green hood belonging to the survey corps cloak I put over myself.

With the cloak draped over my head, I sped up my horse, ready to ride outside the walls along with the rest of the expedition. Follow orders. Survive. Hopefully no order is too outrageous, or too damn suicidal.

I know this is just a in-between kind of chapter after such a long period of time, but after a series of events I'm now definitely able to release chapters more consistently. Next chapter in 6 days.

Until Next Time.