Chapter 3: The Insufferable In Good Health And Wailing
A child. It was the mangy eyed stare of an unrecognizable dark haired boy of foreign features with black lidded eyes, and of dirt grimed pale and sunken cheeks.
That was what had been peering back to me through the half-clear reflection of the water of the canal, for the current minute. And the next minute. And it sure seemed that way, and not any another way.
I kinda wish there were some more silence in this moment realizing that I've been aged back to a fucking child,
or rather put inside the body of some kid, but the heavy thuds in the far distance above and the dripping of the canal water still wholly went on and on. And it's not stopping.
In truth, I've known this fact of this changed body of mine already a few moments before, but god knows that I felt as if my eyes needed confirmation.
It began first with the feeling of being smaller, things that feel so out of reach from my arms, brain scrambling in some thick fog struggling for more complex and more structured thoughts, all processing in a way that's not the way it used to be. A non-latent sensation of incompleteness. Jarring.
Scrawniness seeped into my small limbs like it was almost tangible, but it was one of the few things familiar.
...
Here for a reason.
Transmigrated.
Reincarnated.
Switch.
Possession. Possessing.
Here for a reason.
And what was the other one? Handed a new "chance", was it?
That's just corny. And it couldn't feel any further from what the truth could be.
This wouldn't be in my worst self-absorbed fantasies, I swear.
Then what were the right words for it, in the ocean of the English language? What could possibly be the right arrangement of the structure of words to this shtick?
But I didn't speak English. Anything that came out of my mouth was some sort of a low warble that was of a german origin, due to its loudness and the low pitch of the each word uttered, and followed suit by some quick but grandiose elongation of the sentences itself.
And any written word that I had a passing glance of was also in some other tongue, another language. But somehow, I could understand it all. Instant translation, poof, just like that.
And oh, I was currently in this world of Large Humanoids, of eerily similar countries warring and of inexplicable powers that's just "are", and now put forth here in the aftermath of the fall of Wall Maria.
I ran a meek hand through and across the water underneath me. A ripple conjured its course and thin little waves followed suit, the reflection of me distorted and disfigured, but reconstructed itself back only a second later.
I felt my lips twitch, a frown making its arrival on my face.
Just a while ago, I was awakened from an involuntary nap, along the stretch of this canal's narrow walkways. A nap that came after limping and groping around for god knows how long.
And just a long moment before that, was my arrival here. And where I almost died. God...
A enveloping dark was making its rounds around here, and that was the sole indicator I had of time. Bringing myself off my kneeling form and onto my feet, I switched to the pace of a slow trek.
The aching all over had numbed, and I now felt a little more dry. But i found myself retching, my nostrils tingling at a pungent smell that I had all over me through to the thin fabric I adorned.
In the near distance, where I plan to make my current destination, was a stairway studded of weary stone that looked like it led up-hopefully into the city- with just near it a wooden pier of protruding walkways, with its supports supplanting into the water itself.
And through it, remained the canal rendered in filth across its stretch, with either bends or turns that seemed to lead and disappear off somewhere seemingly nowhere, into what was a thickening fold of that black smog.
In a short trek, I've made it to the path, and low and behold, steps that lead upwards, and the visage of these stacked clusters of smoldering wrecks, and extinguished light posts fixed here and there strewn across.
Continuing on, I ascended. And I found myself feeling some of acute sickness to my gut the whole way.
Maybe it's the still remaining black smog, or the skeletal ruins of these unfamiliar buildings laid bare around here, but my senses were telling me that the sky above was in that constant swirl of gray and yellow. It was like some vignette always hung like a curtain boldly around to the far corners of my vision.
The clouds seemed as if it were being spun, like in a repeat of a eerily slow-as-a-snail-like locomotion. And the cast of pitch blackness from the huge wall across the whole stretch of the city didn't help.
Maybe it was a kind of an arid delirium talking to me. And when have I ever had a use for my senses before?
After long walks through confusing streets with sore and aching feet, I had now entered in some of sort of wide and spacious warehouse of brick and stone.
And I was here in wanting of a little rest. A small breather. Or two. My guess is that this place's a warehouse of some sorts.
Some crates, barrels, boxes and any form of storage item imaginable in this type of place were either stacked or sprawled around here.
And who knows what's in them, but all of them looked near untouched. The thin spread of a grayish dust had gathered all over them too.
And on the ceiling penetrating down through was a large hole, along with a ray of moonlight peering into the whole scope of this place. And it seem as though the only source of light illuminating the place.
Seating my form between some crates with a wall behind to me, I felt more shivers.I huddled close to my myself, my knees gripped and locked behind my arms.
Sitting on the floor, there was that quick flicker of a windchill slowly coalescing up my spine like some icy coldness. I leaned my head back on the wall behind me, slouching against the wall, my eyes now mounted to the view of that hole in the ceiling shining down.
There was that night blue there reflecting down.
...
What now?
It was survival first. That was the most basic of it. That was the forefront .Then, there was the case of planning on what the hell I should do.
Then questions, questions that needed answering. That was what I had in mind.
Was, but from what I could see I was in a warehouse full of goods. Aside from those titans out there, I might be set on that first one.
And the other one. I'm here. I planned on getting here. A place to rest. There's never enough planning in any situation ever, but that's enough for this day. Enough.
And, for the last one.
...
I need some shuteye.
How the hell could anything here be that flammable for that long?
Flames were still sputtering about wildly and tall in the distance through and past the buildings , far into the morning, and into the noon. And into the next naked noon too. At night that a light and it's shadow fell on, there was the hue of the flames caressing every inch of dark I saw.
I'm sure I've seen two sunsets pass through here now, but my view of that hot orange ball was always blockaded by the wall in like just an hour as it soon hits noon.
Being some urbanite, I had the belief that the constant blockage of the sun was a phenomenon that I could bare just fine on the fine thread of a bare minimum. But here I was, wrong again.
The last two mornings I found myself snapping awake at the first view of morning, through the wall of all that smoke and jumping for the feel of the brief but flickering rays of sunlight for a while.
And what year was it here, huh? 845,was it?
What would be happening that year in my world? The Byzantines fighting the Arabs, and the Viking invasions? It's not some Titan attack happening there, that's for sure. I'm sure it's real cosy there. Probably more so than here.
Fuck, I'm sure it'd be easier facing head to head against your fellow man than some huge humanoid, or so I believed. Even if said humanoid used to be human.
I...I don't want think of my world right now.
It was the peak of what the afternoon offered right now, and I now was trekking through these empty streets of some drab looking color palette.
On some of the buildings only a hint of brown and red remained on the roofings there, but now all deeply caked and layered out by the smog and dust as if any other color existing was a violation of a great law.
A brown sack tied tight against some durable looking rope rattled and clattered against my back in repeat, as I went and walked along my way. It carried all what I believed were essentials and a little more.
All of It I swiped from that warehouse without much of a second thought from me. The dead don't need it and the people who ran won't probably care for it.
And Thus, I was now in the middle of doing this idea I had popping in my head last night, which was to get off my idle ass and find maybe a garrison headquarters and acquire a map or something there. That of which may help me with navigating this maze of a city, and through the other walls maybe.
At the slightest signal of a red sunrise, I had already headed out. But here I still was, going long in the heated noon not finding even a trace of some place that looked remotely like some military headquarters.
But at least now, after having pools of sweat trickling down on this cloth shirt I had on me, it started to feel as if I was getting closer.
My legs were starting to get sore, but there it was in the distance.
I squinted my eyes; and there I saw some sort of barricade through the streets over there.
By the barricades down the streets laid what looked like cannons, spaced sparsely next to each other. But a few of them seemed all smashed up, and tossed apart around the scape of the whole place.
But anyhow, it was military presence. Or rather, the remains of it.
Alright,
there's gotta be a headquarters nearby, and what I needed could be there. Maybe a compass or something too.
I approached with carefully paced steps, letting my posture hunch in a slight, so as to be able to break into a hurried sprint at any moment.
As the distance lessened, and some of my other senses began to be startled.
There was this stench of gunpowder and sulfur perforating and piercing through the thin air ; and I was past the barricades.
Soaking in the surrounding space, there was the sight of the cannon pieces of which on closer inspection, looked a lot similar to culverins or maybe 12 pounders. Considering where I am, I guess there's no anachronism to be miffed of there.
And There were these large cartridges of gunpowder-of which were full of holes- pouring the powder itself out, littering it all over the nooks of the street under.
And Through it all was- existing as if it were some major backdrop- was a tall building of some inexplicable olden architecture no different than of any other around it, aside from the size itself. And there was the Garrison insignia planted on a space above the front entrance door.
Large cracks had made its marks all over. There was wear and tear all over the damn building, but none of the former, because wear was usually natural.
And so I approached closer, moving up the elevated steps near the entrance. There was a large double door, of which on one side there was the garrison flag which looked half torn hung on a metal pole firmly jutted out.
But on the remaining side, the sign of any flag was vacant.
Alright...time to check this place out.
Stretching my small hands outwards, I took a deep breath and pushed the door open, expending an considerable amount of strength as I did.
The large double door behind me slammed shut with a weighty creak, and a quick snap.
My eyes traveled around the place, and in front of me just a few steps away were more closed doors, along the long stretch of what was a stained white hallway.
There was a line of windows opposing the doors, and the natural light outside shone through inside of the whole hallway, and It was clear to see that dust had already made its abode here. Abandoned was the word here.
My sight chanced on a wide door, the widest amongst the rows between all the other doors, which made me think that it was of some importance somehow .
I started moving towards there, still pacing with hushed steps and flat feet through and by the row of windows and doors.
Beams and arcs of the afternoon sunlight, coalesced with dust particles hovering through the air flashed and fluttered to my sight with every few step I took.
Taking a quick glance through the windows as I walked, there was still nothing out there anywhere, but only the way I came here from in the first place.
There was this silence that stayed around long, akin to being sat still in a soundproof room. Almost wondered if I was gonna even start hearing the blood flow through my veins.
As I made it to the large door, I rested my hand on the brass handle, squeezing it tight with my fingers.
I let out a breath of fresh air so small on my lips that it felt like a whistle.
The hell was I being this tense for? Titans ain't really good at hiding, are they? Especially the mindless ones. Even the ones who got to keep some semblance of themselves. I mean How'd you miss something that large comin at ya?
...
Oh.
Thinking that and jogging my memory wasn't a good idea.
Shaking the thought away, I pushed the door open and entered.
A greeting of sprawled papers. A flipped chalkboard. Chairs turned upside and tables just on their wrong ends. And some shards and pieces of glass here and there.
My brows furrowed, examining the whole of the room itself. I brisked and heaved over everything else in the room, crossing quick and beelining for the sparse spread papers on the wooden floor.
Immediately kneeling as I got to them, I swiped a thin stack off the floor and gently slapped it against my knee, letting particles of dust roam free off the papers.
Let's see here...
Requisition forms...
A resignation letter...
A few reports on some iceburst stone refinery...
Nothing.
With a click of my tongue, I tossed the papers aside and knelt down again into the stacks of papers.
Gotta make this quick.
I dug my fingers deep into the sprawl of the papers, moving aside that which looked unnecessary with a flick of my fingers. Any piece I saw that had even a line of words written I tossed back aside. A map should looked distinct even in all that white, so it shouldn't be that damn hard.
Words. Words. More Words. Sophisticated words. Formal words. Informal words. Informally formal words. Robotic words. Pleasing words. Displeasing words.
WORDS.
And Not a nice little folded paper there showing spots and places, locations and terrain. Just not there. And not anywhere. What are they, lacking cartographers or something?
Great. Just fucking great.
I kept up the search.
...
WORDS.
"FUCK!"
The papers slammed down with a thud to the ground in a wayward motion of my little arms. A cloud dust swam through the air as it was disturbed and dispersed through into a split of gray granules.
I stood up straight again with a finicky stagger to my steps, my fingernails jutting against the thin skin of my palms in my balled up fists. Hot sweat came sweltering down a pulsating vein that I felt forming on my forehead.
Am I not supposed to be able to find what I want?
My vision started to blur, my cheeks scrunching up.
Damn it, why the hell am I tearing up?
I loosened myself up from all the tensing in my being, filching a long breath of air through my nostrils.
Looking over to the wall across me, I sauntered there with heavy steps, plopping down against the hard furnished oak with my back.
I sat there, my knees propped down, finding myself stuck to the view of the ceiling. Feeling my breathing labor hard, I slung the sack on my back over my shoulder, and dug my hands in, nabbing a canteen out from all the contents of the loose sack.
Taking swigs from the canteen, I kept on with staring at the ceiling.
...
Maybe If I were more inclined to a faith, I could believe that all this was some form of divination granted to me. Some great test of mettle, maybe.
And If I were more deluded, I could affirm myself that I will brave this damn hurdle. A little "it is what it is", and keep going.
But all of that probably had the prerequisite of some carefully trained and sourced inner strength, not some instinctual feeling that flips on its switch only "when", and not anywhere I wanted it to.
And I ain't nothing else here in me, aside from getting on with it because I don't want to die.
Putting the canteen away, I stood heavy and hunched, patting myself off of any invading dust.
Then I looked to the whole scape of the room again, zeroing in on the singular door in the far front, next to the form of an upturned chalkboard. I knew it was there in the first place, but the papers had my attention first. And so I paced myself over there.
Wasting no time, I grasped the handle of the door and turned it open, leaning my form ahead as I felt the door moving to the side on the ear-gnawing creak of its hinges.
Orange Light. A shadow. Silhouette. A long room.
My vision blurred as I found myself squinting my eyes at the sudden barrage on my vision in the moment I had entered.
Rays of the late sun just perforating through thins splits of dark silhouettes, and in the center, one large silhouette laid there in its round of dark, casting a tall shadow that crept down to reach my feet.
I stepped forward, adjusting my light-disturbed double vision into a clear, vivid view of what the hell I was just looking at.
What came into view first was a wide double window with its frames, and with thick looking grey curtains draped on one side of the window, and closed down on the other.
I then set my sights down on the the large silhouette in the middle.
A large wooden desk, of which there was the seated form of a man, his head dropped on it with his cheek pressed against the table. His mouth hung open, and dried crimson oozing, and that red had dripped and dried all over the wood of the desk. His hunched back was draped all over with some sort of cloth, like a blanket.
A scrunch came up on my features, a grimace conjured.
How many decomposing cadavers have I've seen here now?
I looked to the dead man again.
There was a green satchel that was lying there too, by one end of the desk. And some papers spilled out of it too.
Sparing one more look to the corpse, I approached closer with quick steps.
I snatched the satchel off the floor as soon as I got close. And there I also got a closer look at the dead man on the desk.
What hung over him like a blanket I could finally see crystalline, and it wasn't a blanket. A big insignia stuck out even with the dark of the shade the window casted. Two red roses.
But then also came the much clearer view of the cadaver too, which was the sight of a small hole bored on the side of the dead garrison guy's head, and my eyes followed along his hand that was hung down to bottom of the table. And beneath it, just on the floor, was what looked like a small firearm. And the fingers on the man' hands was stuck affixed to a trigger hold.
I felt a quick twitch of my lips, before I loosened myself up again.
...
Alright...
Sparing one last look over, I turned to the satchel in my hands and rummaged through it.
And in just an instant, I felt my eyes widen.
Two long folded papers.
Grabbing them quick, I took one out and unfolded it.
A not-so familiar drawing of three walls, with symbols of mountains and vegetation strewn about.
I unfolded the other one out, tucking the previous between an armpit.
A layout of a city, and of which in the corner there it was etched in ink two euphoria inducing words of the day, my day. Wall Maria.
I quickly put both papers back away in the satchel, and I found myself holding the thing tight to my chest, my breath feeling hitched and hasty.
I found them.
"YEAH! FUCK YEAH!"
I blurted out over the scope of the room.
Finally...
I won't get fucking lost every few minutes now!
Alright, I need to calm myself down.
Hope I wasn't too lou-
A creak. Up above. It sounded heavy and headed.
Then on it continued. Thud.
Thud. Thud.
The thud was causing a rumble in my room that I felt my innards shaking at the thrum through the barrage of vibrations.
Then a loud crash came, and I found myself flinching at its deafening cacophonies.
...
Immediately any attempt of sound from my throat I caught and stopped, my lips suckering back forth into my mouth.
It...it sounded like it was from the room I just came from, where I've heard it.
There were more loud, repeated crashes I heard then. It sounded like stuff being thrown around.
A loud bang on the door.
Fuck!
I turned around, zeroing my sights in on the wide double window. And I had already kicked my feet off the ground, making haste as another bang on the door rang into my eardrums.
Took a little long, eh?
Until Next time.