11 | His Slanting Gaze, Pt. 1

slant asymptote (n.): an asymptote that is neither horizontal nor vertical.

Night had already fallen when they returned to the 2nd Brigade's bivouac on the Ister. About a third of the refugees still remained on the riverside, waiting for the boat to make a return trip and eventually ferry them into the safety of Wall Rose; Roebling was the first to find them, lantern in hand.

"Another one joins the club, eh?" the Combat Engineers captain clicked her tongue when she shined her lantern on the two of them riding atop Camille's horse. "How many Garrison lives has that got to be now, Captain Levi?"

Levi's voice was unamused. "You lose count after the tenth idiot who shit their pants."

Roebling barked a laugh as Camille attempted to swing herself off the horse. "Friendly as always, Captai – !"

Levi's grip was iron on her shoulders. Camille felt too conscious of how quick his reaction had been, how he'd instantly let go of the reins and caught her weight when she lost her footing on the stirrup.

"I'll have to give you my thanks," Roebling commented as Camille steadied herself on her feet. Very graceful, Camille. "That's Pixis's aide's life you just saved. The big boss would've had my hide if he found out I sent his pretty young thing to die after she helped salvage our operation on the Ister."

Camille cleared her throat, resisting the insubordinate urge to say I'm right here. "Captain – did my squad make it back safe?"

Roebling jabbed a thumb behind her. "Over there. Worried sick about you; refused to get on the first boat out of here until you made it back." She turned back to Levi, who dismounted without a problem. "The rest of your squad's already resupplied, Captain. The Colonel wants to debrief before you head out again."

Camille caught the short sigh Levi made at the word debrief. He nodded once. "I'll report in a minute – thanks for the help… Captain."

Roebling, however, looked quite used to Levi's brusque demeanor. She flicked her wrist dismissively. "It's nothing compared to what we owe you and the Scouts." She caught Camille's eye – "Pack it up Specialist, we're catching the last ride to Trost. Thanks to you the brigade can pull out of the region. You and your squad did some good work."

That was as good as it got when it came to a superior officer commending you – though it was the first time Camille had ever heard anything of the sort while on active duty. And sincerely, no less. Pixis liked mixing praise with mockery. "Of course, ma'am. We'll be ready to leave in fifteen."

And off Roebling went; Camille turned to Levi, intending to collect her horse from him.

Shadows played in his face. Only then did Camille notice how pale his skin was – under the moonlight, she could've mistaken him for one of the smooth marble statues in Mitras. She blinked when she thought she saw shadows under his eyes.

Her throat was dry from disuse. Neither of them had spoken a word on the way back – the wind had been too loud in her ears, and he seemed determined on getting them to the Garrison encampment as fast as he could.

Looking at him after all that felt like looking at him for the first time.

Turns out, Camille held out her hand, a tentative smile on her mouth, you can't recognize a hero by sight alone.

"I'd like that back, please," She gestured at the reins to her horse. "Poor thing. You've mistreated her long enough."

Levi grunted but complied. Then he stared openly at her, grey eyes boring into her face, brows slightly furrowed, mouth a thin line.

"Are you still hurt?"

She wasn't sure if she was relieved or embarrassed that that was what he wanted to talk about. Garrison idiots, he'd yelled to his squad when he pulled her up into the saddle of his horse. Stupid, she told herself, that could've gone much worse.

Camille swallowed the thought, looking off to the side. "Yeah," She uttered. "But I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. I'll live," thanks to you.

Levi snorted. "You needed help getting off your own horse."

"Better that than a corpse you needed to haul back instead," Camille added dryly. She took a breath at how he frowned. "I apologize. I didn't mean to argue – I'm just happy I'm alive, alright?"

She placed a light hand on his shoulder. It was a gesture she learned from Pastor Kircher, who always seemed to have the right words for any situation, though she likely didn't have the same gift.

"You really aren't good at gratitude, huh," Camille chuckled at how he began to scowl. "Hey! Erwin's words, not mine, remember? He said that the first time we met," She stepped back, dropping her hand and smirking slightly. "Think I might just agree with him."

Levi turned on his heel. "You both talk too much," He muttered as he strode away. Rather angrily, she thought with panic. "There's no use in trying to talk to either of you. I don't have time for this."

Stupid, she told herself again, why did I say that? She hurried to catch up to him. "W-Wait! Levi, I – " He turned to gaze back at her just as she lost her balance again and tripped over her own feet.

Unsurprisingly, he caught her before she could land flat on her face.

Her face must have been red. She felt the burning even in her ears when he set her down on the ground this time. Camille held her face in her hands, unsure of why she was acting like this. "I'm – I'm sorry. I really am. And I'm beyond grateful, I…" She let out a breath. Had she always been this bad at words? Had she always felt so clumsy and tongue-tied? "I didn't mean to anger you."

You're lucky I put up with you, Rico had told her once when they were in the Training Corps. You're pretty smart until you open your mouth.

I only do it around you, promise, Camille had replied all too cheekily.

She peeked at him in the spaces between her fingers. Levi was crouched in front of her, stone-faced and eyes razor-sharp as if to say, what now?

"You reminded me of someone I know for a moment," Babbling. She was babbling. Stop it! "Someone who's too easy to tease. Which was wrong of me because you aren't her. You're not even my friend. You aren't like anyone I've ever met, if today was any indication."

We would never have stood a chance against that titan. We would have died because of me.

What do you say to the person who saved you and your squad's life? What do you say when he refuses to even be thanked?

Camille breathed deeply, chest constricting, the unreality of that day only truly beginning to sink in.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

"Hey."

Her gaze snapped up, I'm sorry already on her tongue when – "Listen. We make choices when we're out there on the field."

She looked at him with wide eyes, having not expected him to speak.

"You make your choices. I make my mine," Levi uttered, his words quick and his voice low. "The difference is I don't regret mine. There's too much work to be done to regret anything we do. Remember that the next time you have to make a choice. Always make it count. Make the decision you can live with."

Then he got up, patting the dust off his trousers. The white of his pants had long been soiled by mud and grass stains, evidence of the tangle they'd gotten into together. Levi pointed at the patch over her left breast. "You're an officer. The advice goes double."

The words washed over her. It was nothing like the soothing wisdom of Pastor Kircher, nor even the valuable insight Pixis always couched in jokes and humor. There was nothing so fanciful about Levi – it was sober advice from a fellow soldier who had seen things.

Camille nodded once. "You're right." She ducked her head, cradling it with her hand, her head throbbing. "You're right."

She quickly got up without his help, even as her left side complained. When he bundled up his horse's reins in his hand and began to leave without another word, she felt a tiny pang in her heart.

Don't just leave like this! her voice didn't say, even as her throat welled and her brows furrowed. Instead, she lifted a hand at his retreating back in goodbye, knowing it was the right thing.

"Safe travels, Captain."

Relief struck her the moment she saw Ian and Rico unharmed. Regret for what happened took away what was left of her ability to speak. Her heart ached along with her head, and she had to struggle to get any words out again.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more vigilant – you put your lives on the line to go with me, and I repaid it by almost getting us killed, Ian. As your friend… as your officer, I should've – "

"Shut up," Ian muttered, crushing her in a hug. "Just don't ever do that again."

Camille fought to breathe in his grip and her face being shoved to his tall shoulder. Her left side, still aching and sore from being thrown off the horse, protested mightily against the treatment. But she said nothing and closed her eyes, returning the hug.

"God. God. I thought I'd never see you again. I should've warned you sooner – if you died because of me, Camille, I – "

Rico refused to look at her. But her hold on Camille's shoulder was equally as unrelenting.

They rode the last boat to Trost sometime near midnight. It was filled with the supplies and remaining men that couldn't advance north on horseback; all of the refugees had finally been evacuated. And so the trip was almost unnaturally quiet, made under the cover of the stars, the Ister's current practically tranquil at that hour.

Most of the 2nd Brigade's soldiers were asleep save for the night's watch. But she, Ian, and Rico struggled to find any such rest, and sat together near the bow of the ship, huddled against the gentle curve of its hull. Julian had ridden to Trost with the brigade's command squad at Colonel Winters's request.

"I wouldn't have thought Camille would be the first among us to die," Rico said quietly from her shoulder. They'd scrounged a blanket, probably left by one of the refugees that had ridden the boat before them, and had wrapped it around their joined shoulders.

On her other side, Ian tellingly said nothing. He laid his head against the boat, slouching in place. He'd been fidgeting restlessly ever since they'd settled down on the deck. No one voiced out loud the foreign notion that any of them was even capable of dying – this young, and so soon after graduation – much less the idea that someone would have to be the first to die among them.

It had never occurred to Camille that she would one day have to live without either Ian or Rico in her life. It was a grim thought. After all, the titan invasion proved that dying young wasn't so distant and impossible.

Instead it was all too real. She'd been a hair's breadth from being eaten by a titan. One of the grisliest ways to die.

Kostya's smiling face danced before her eyes. Had he been eaten too?

Camille spoke. "Someone will have to be the first. I've had my life saved too many times already since the invasion began."

Solemnly, Rico nodded. "It makes you wonder how everyone else is doing." All three of them knew that she was referring to the rest of their batchmates in the 99th Training Corps, wherever they were.

"One thing we know for sure," Ian spoke up. "Those bastards who joined the MP's are safe in Sina."

Rico recited the list without hesitation: "Osmond. Mitt. Helenus. Bechard. Neufeld. Calas. Vetter."

Seven names in all. Every single person who'd ranked in the top ten had easily taken the opportunity to work for the MP's. Only the three of them had dared to think otherwise and joined the Garrison.

"Ironic, don't you think," Ian voiced bitterly. "Best in our batch but they're given a cushy life in Sina. The best of us in the Training Corps should have been out here on the frontlines, trying to make a difference."

Camille squeezed Ian's hand underneath the blanket, but said nothing.

Ian gripped her hand right back. "Who could ever have imagined something like this would happen?"

"No one," Rico answered. "No one."

Camille agreed silently.

"Why does it feel like bad things happen when we get separated?" Ian asked no one in particular.

And against herself, Camille felt the corner of her mouth twitch in amusement. She fondly pillowed her head against Rico's shoulder.

The silver-haired girl lifted a hand to steady Camille's position while she snorted. "You only say that because you want to transfer units but don't want to put in the effort to meet new people."

"…Maybe," Ian grunted. "But look back. That one time we did the forest exercise near Quinta – "

Camille hummed. "I got my head bashed into a tree trunk. Concussion. I still don't remember that exercise very well to this day."

"Second year," Rico added. "You got sorted into Osmond's squad and said he was a shit squad leader when we visited you in the infirmary."

"Or that time I got food poisoning because Sergeant Morsche thought we were too rowdy and banned mixed meal times for a week."

Camille scrunched her nose. "Some asshole spit in your soup and called you a sissy. Or was it piss? I don't think you said – "

"He – "

" – Don't say it," Rico growled.

Camille made a noise of agreement. "Makes me shudder. Men are animals."

"And now, you get sorted into Command squad. The titans invade."

"We split up in our mission," Rico added. "Camille almost never made it back."

Camille blinked slowly. There was still a weight on her shoulders from everything that happened that day. A weight that wouldn't leave, she knew, and was secretly glad for it. Years of training in Mitras told her that there was a purpose to everything. An unexplainable variable was of no use to anyone; a cog that served no purpose was superfluous, and redundancies like those only slowed down the machine, made it ineffective.

So this weight on her shoulders. She wanted to – needed to use it somehow; make herself better, smarter. More equipped to make the kinds of decisions that she couldn't regret, the kinds of decisions required of her as a soldier and an officer, as Levi said.

At the end of the day, dead weight only hindered an ODM user. And she had a feeling that skill with the ODM would only become more important in the years to come.

"It'd be better if we didn't split next time," Ian finished. He looked up at the stars, "The world made more sense when we still had each other's backs."

Camille's eyes winked again, and she burrowed her cheek deeper into Rico's blanketed shoulder. "You're that tired, huh. What about you, Rico? Got any wishes for the universe to grant?"

"I agree with him."

Camille would have gotten up in shock if she wasn't exhausted. Rico sounded musing for once: "It was… nicer when we were in the same squad."

Of course the wistfulness was gone as soon as it appeared. "3rd Brigade," Rico proposed. "Near the mountains."

"2nd Brigade," Ian countered easily. He folded his long legs. Then he tipped his head further back, settling into some kind of sleeping position. "Colonel Winters seems competent."

Camille felt her lids grow heavy. "Ha…" She murmured as her eyes closed out of their own volition. "Neither of you even mentioned Central Command."

Her friends objected in unison:

"Pixis sounds insane."

"We've had enough crazy to last a lifetime already, Camille."

She couldn't muster the effort to even chuckle.

After a moment of silence, she felt Ian nudge her side gently.

"So what do you think?"

"Sounds great," Camille humored them. She smiled a small smile to herself. "Good luck convincing the Commander to approve my transfer."

They woke hours later to the boat docking outside of Trost. They shuffled off the boat to the Garrison encampment that had sprung in Trost outskirts, where even in the wee hours of the morning evac ops were still underway. Companies of soldiers armed with torches and lanterns helped facilitate the refugee ingress through the Trost gate; there were many more soldiers on horseback flitting to and from the command post near Wall Rose, bringing news from the frontlines and heading back with new orders.

The sky was black as ever, with only a few stars to light up the night. Roebling appeared again and advised them to standby the docks – "Stay put. Be ready for new orders while the Commander wrangles out more important things in the meanwhile."

Camille nodded.

"The brigade's already been reorganized. Looks like the 2nd's being reassigned to assist with the eastern evacuation – we'll catch a few hours of sleep here before heading out at dawn for Karanes."

Camille, who'd shaken off her grogginess the moment she spied Roebling approaching her, only grew more awake. "So soon, ma'am?"

Roebling gave a light shrug. "Most of the brigades stationed in the south are pulling out too, far as I know. But – " she gestured towards the main road leading to Trost, filled with a river of refugees that flowed slowly in the gate, " – we can't just sit around while we cram as many refugees as we can through there."

"Permission to speak, ma'am – " This time Roebling nodded, " – what about the Scouts?"

The older woman's eyes grew hard at that. "Bringing up the rear, dutifully making sure the titans don't nip too much off of our tails while everyone else vamooses north." She shook her head. "They better give them all medals when this is over."

When this is over. Not if, Camille noted, though she wholeheartedly agreed with the Captain's sentiment. Lots of Garrison men and women – including her – owed their lives to the Scouts, it seemed. "It looks like the Commander's ramping up the evacuations. There are more men here than yesterday."

"You bet," Roebling scoffed. "He's moving units around like pawns in one of his damn chess games. Henry said he reeked when they conferenced. When his head's full of the drink like that, you know the baldie's confident in his chances of winning."

Ian and Rico looked horrified at those words. Camille however nodded absently. Sounds like him. They did well enough without me on the first day. No surprise they're functioning well even when I'm not there –

"This should be the end for now, Specialist," Roebling lifted two fingers in a mock salute.

"Thank you for everything, ma'am," Camille snapped a proper salute in reply, and behind her Ian and Rico did the same. "We wouldn't have done it without the brigade's assistance."

"Let's not get carried away, Specialist," Roebling teased with a shake of her head. She turned away, "'Sides, we'll probably be seeing more of you in the future. This is bye for now."

DAY 3

(Green to signal the all clear…)

(Red to signal - - - - - . We should steer in the opposite direction in that case.)

(…and - - - - - ?)

(hmm…)

(I've)

(given it some thought)

(I thought we should use - - - - - )

(for emergencies,)

Camille.

You heard what I said

Didn't you?

(What do you think?)

Get up.

"I can't let you fight it alo – "

She jolted awake, tongue thick in her mouth, the half-remembered words dying away as the waking world flooded her senses.

Camille scrubbed a hand over her face. Her vision blurred, then focused when she blinked slowly, the motion feeling too much like shaking the dust and sand off her eyelids.

In front of her, their campfire was still burning through the last of the firewood they had scrounged hours earlier. They'd chosen to camp near the docks as Roebling had advised them to while they waited for more orders from Pixis. Ian and Rico were still sleeping with their backs supporting each other.

The timing of Camille's dream was eerily correct though, because she spied Julian standing at the edge of their makeshift camp. His eyebags didn't go away even as Camille wiped more of the sleep from her eyes.

His tone was apologetic. "They told me I'd find you guys here. Did I wake you?"

She shook her head with a faint smile.

"Someone from the 2nd Brigade came in last night and reported that you were alive," Julian plopped down beside her as if his legs gave away. His voice was shaky too – "I should've come sooner, I'm so – "

"Stop," Camille laid a firm hand on her youngest squad member. She gazed steadily into his eyes, finding it much easier now to talk about yesterday's disaster now that she'd reconciled some things. "It's me who should be apologizing. I was your officer; I was supposed to take care of everyone. We were lucky that the Scouts were there to save us yesterday."

He seemed to refuse some of what she said. Camille squeezed his shoulder, knowing Ian felt the same way. "First time for everything. We were all caught off guard, but I should have been more careful. Captain Roebling warned me about the flares."

"That titan…" Julian shook his head. "Nothing about it was normal, Cami – Captain."

Camille retracted her hand. She gazed into the dying fire, the blackened wood still cracked and glowing red-orange. "Abnormals. That's what the Scouts call them, or so I heard," She looked at Julian again and sighed tiredly. "You don't have to call me that. A little rich, no? I lectured you about being ready to leave at any moment, but I wasn't even near my horse when we were attacked yesterday."

"First time for everything," Julian repeated quietly. She cocked a brow at him, somewhat amused that he was comforting her now. He smiled at her, pale and drawn as he was. He'd probably stayed awake all night while waiting for Pixis to get back to him.

"Thanks, Julian." She patted him on the back. "I have to say, you look worse than I feel," Camille uttered lightly as she stretched in her seat. "Says something, seeing as a titan almost had me for a snack yesterday."

As if he suddenly remembered what he was here for, he rummaged through his flak jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper from a pocket. "That was Captain Levi yesterday, wasn't it? He saved your life?"

She took the paper, though she didn't open it because her head unexpectedly split at the mention of Levi. She cradled her head with her free hand and tried to massage whatever invisible cracks were bursting in her mind.

"C-Camille? You alright?"

She wrenched her eyes closed, her vision swirling. "Ah… yeah. Not enough sleep, but I'm sure it's more compared to what you got. Did the…" She massaged her fingers over her temple, her head pulsing in its skull. "…did the Commander make you wait all night?"

There was some grumbling. At the sound of it, Camille had to laugh. It cleared her head somewhat.

"That's the Commander for you."

"You've been dealing with that since graduation?"

Blessedly, her head finally calmed at the sheer incredulity in Julian's voice.

"Every day, every hour I'm not sleeping, seven days a week," Camille cracked her eyes open and could let herself smile at Julian again. "You get used to it. He's brilliant though, don't you think?"

Her squad member looked skeptical. She chuckled again as she opened the paper with Pixis's new orders.

"Get some rest," Camille uttered, eyes scanning the page again and again. The missive was short, though she easily recognized Pixis's slanted handwriting and the deep, royal blue ink he preferred. She traced the words on the page with her mind, steadily committing it to memory.

"Thanks, by the way," She murmured quietly, not wanting to wake Ian and Rico but also not wanting to alert any other ears nearby. She gave him a pointed glance when she looked up from the missive. "For playing messenger. It was a dangerous job each time."

Fortunately, Julian easily understood. He likewise lowered his voice. "I was only trying to do my part."

"Still. Very brave of you. And," Camille folded the paper again. "My head was starting to spin but you helped clear it."

Julian watched her hands with nervous eyes. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"Not at all," She held the paper out to the campfire. Made sure the weak flames devoured every inch of the page and turned it into ash. "We'll move out soon though. Get some sleep while you can, I'll wake everyone when it's time to leave and we'll all talk then."

When his forehead only wrinkled with worry, Camille grinned and reached across them to tap him between the brows, much like she would Erwin when they were kids. "Don't worry. It's nothing we haven't already done so far."

Julian absently rubbed the spot she touched. "Oh."

"Go on," She waved, before getting up and dusting herself off. "I'll find something for us to eat."

Dawn was barely breaking. The skies were that translucent shade of white-blue, with long cotton-thin clouds stretched over it. Camille hoped for another warm and dry day for the sake of the evacuation.

When she brought her eyes down to the earth again, she searched among the tents and Garrison soldiers sleeping in bedrolls on the ground. She noted with some approval that the ever-present river of refugees flowing into Trost had thinned somewhat. After asking around with the few soldiers that were still awake and on duty, she finally found Roebling with Colonel Winters again.

The Colonel's appearance stopped her short. Though it was partly because she'd only wanted to find Roebling, it had more to do with Winters himself: he was taller than she remembered last night. Without an urgent mission to distract her, she noticed Colonel Winters was pale and thin, though he wore the Garrison uniform well. He had short raven-black hair that was neatly arranged on his head. Icy blue eyes that spotted her approach.

"Specialist," He had an accent too – one she instantly recognized as a Mitras accent. He enunciated his l's and t's like one of her wealthy Wodan schoolmates. "This is no surprise. You've received your orders from the Commander?"

Camille snapped another salute. "Yes sir," She tried not to stare. Winters was handsome. Distractingly so. He held himself with a quiet but unmistakable pride as well – he had to be noble-born. She wondered how she could've missed such a detail yesterday. "We've been ordered to go east with the brigade."

She cast a glance around her. In comparison with the rest of the Trost encampment, the 2nd Brigade soldiers were already up and packing their tents. People were loading carts and wagons, readying horses. Nobody in particular seemed to notice this conversation was ongoing except for Roebling and Winters themselves.

Winters nodded like he understood. "Of course. We will spare whatever assistance we can. Emily – "

" – yeah, yeah." Roebling waved off the Colonel. She winked knowingly at Camille. "0730H, Specialist. You'll ride with my Engineers; grab some food around here if your squad's hungry."

Camille walked away from the brigade's camp with a tureen of soup and more rations than her arms could carry. She put the thin tin of soup over her squad's dying campfire and dumped the rations close by, trusting that the smell of the warming soup would wake up everyone in no time.

Then she left again – her nose had scented the smell of tea while carrying the food back. She traced it to an old woman bent over a simmering pot. Camille looked around; the old woman was alone it seemed, as she only had a few blankets spread on the ground, a rucksack, and her small campfire to keep her company. She smiled when she saw Camille, "You soldiers are up already, I see."

"Excuse me grandmother, but what are you doing here? It's not safe – " Camille offered to take the wooden spoon from her hand and stir the pot for her, " – It would be better if you made your way inside already. The titans could reach here."

The grandmother gladly relinquished the spoon, sitting back on a rock with a sigh. "I'd get in line with the rest of them, but my bones are tired from going all this way…"

"I see. If you need help getting inside, I'm sure one of the soldiers here will get you onto a wagon."

"Don't suppose you could do that for me?"

Camille nodded absently. She could manage that, she supposed. "I'll see what I can do, grandmother."

She took a whiff of the pot – it was a cloudy white concoction that smelled of tea. The woman reached into her pack and tossed some salt into the pot. Camille stirred it dutifully, intrigued.

"It's traditional, where I'm from," The grandmother sat back with a sigh, "Can't go a morning without it. First thing I reached for when we got the news of the titans… Would you like a cup as thanks?"

"Yes," Camille grinned, "It smells wonderful."

"I lived near the mines outside Krolva," The grandmother said with another sigh as she produced two small wooden bowls from her rucksack. She dipped them in the pot, coming out with a full bowl of tea in each hand. She offered one to Camille, "It was just like any other day. Then the boys from the Garrison came calling. They were going settlement to settlement, telling everyone we had to leave or we'd be locked out of Wall Rose."

Camille balanced the spoon on the pot's rim before accepting the bowl. Then she sat down, listening to the grandmother's tale while blowing on the tea. Her brow twitched when she took a small sip – the tea was undoubtedly strong, and the creaminess of the milk complimented it. It was the salt that her mouth was unused to.

The grandmother gave a hearty laugh at the face she made. "I take it you've never had salt with your tea."

"It's… different," Camille tried diplomatically. Then she took a deeper sip, eye twitching at the salty tang combined with the milk and the taste of the tea. "I could get used to it."

"Mm. I'm told the inner district folks put honey in theirs," The grandmother tutted. She lifted a cloth bundle from her skirt pocket, and revealed some misshapen biscuits. "I've met others who put spices in their tea. Cinnamon, nutmeg. But we lived near the salt mines. Of course the salt goes in the tea."

The grandmother lifted the biscuits to her. "Have some. Makes the tea go down easier, if you can't finish your cup."

She did. Camille could tell it had been fried and puffed at one point, because it was now soggy with oil, though the grandmother's bundle didn't even look soaked in it. An oilskin bag? The thought disappeared as soon as Camille popped the biscuit in her mouth, because it dissolved into a buttery, chewy, dough that countered the salty tea. The grandmother held out the rest of the biscuits and laughed as she watched Camille scarf down everything, then drain her bowl of tea without complaint.

"I can't imagine how good those would be freshly made," Camille half-gasped, surprised at how hungry she was. She pretended to fix her hair and discreetly wiped her mouth for any crumbs. "Thank you for this, grandmother… but you should have been evacuated through the Quinta gate. Can I ask what happened?"

"There were too many of us from Krolva already. They were making us go through the Utopia gate instead. Meant a trek through the mountains… these old bones can't handle that. And," The grandmother looked into the cloudy white surface of her own tea, eyes swimming with something Camille could call regret. "My remaining family's in Trost."

Camille had wondered why she'd made such a difficult journey alone. She briefly considered if it had something to do with why she was camping out here, instead of joining the river of refugees that were in line to get into Trost – but naturally, it wasn't her place to pry. Camille got up and dusted her already dirty pants. It had been days since her last bath, though Stefan had found her a fresh shirt when she arrived at Trost with Hannes in tow.

"I'll see to it that you get on a wagon, grandmother," She massaged the back of her neck, which was still somewhat sore from sleeping in strange positions all night. "I hope it'll be soon. I wouldn't want you to end up on the back of the line, especially after the breakfast you gave me."

The grandmother nodded, "Send any other soldiers looking for tea my way, dear." She smiled crookedly. "No biscuits, though. You ate them all."

"I hope I find you again," Camille grinned, guilty as charged. "Get that recipe."

"Ulara Lange. Sister to Karl Lange in Trost. He's a… baker, or something of the sort, last I remembered."

Ulara, Camille rolled the unusual name in her mind. As if she could read it, the grandmother said, "It's traditional."

Not wanting to trouble her further, Camille bid Ulara goodbye, her belly full and feeling more awake than ever. Her nose wrinkled though when she lifted her arm to sniff its underside.

Disgusting, she sighed inwardly. Not like I'll be getting a bath where I'm going after this.

Pixis had commanded that her squad move east with the 2nd Brigade, though his missive had been exceedingly cryptic about it. She recalled the words to herself:

An order has gone down. The gates are to be closed at dawn tomorrow.

We received no replies from the MP's but good work. Head east with the 2nd Brigade. The Tamina line has reported no problems so far but evacuation on our eastern front has slowed. The refugee flow needs massaging. Be on your guard when you get to Karanes.

Burn this when you read it.

The Tamina was the name of the river flowing out of the east – while the Ister flowed through Trost then the southwest, the Tamina flowed through the eastern districts. It had its own boat line as well, though as Pixis relayed, it didn't seem to be having problems so far.

But – the fact that the MP's hadn't replied to their repeated requests for aid on the Ister was noteworthy. That was what she inferred Pixis was talking about anyway; more worrying was the order to close the gates by the next day when eastern evacuation was only slowing down.

Given their mission yesterday, Camille guessed that her squad was being sent to Karanes to keep an eye on the Tamina line and ensure that no similar mishaps occurred to the boat. Or perhaps they were being sent to see for themselves what the situation was on the ground – or maybe even do something to the boats to help speed up evacuation. She wasn't completely sure, but she had a feeling Pixis didn't specify their mission for a reason.

Pixis' mentions of the MP's continued refusal to lend any aid with the boats and the order to close the gates only made her wary. There was the order to burn the missive – though considering the forbidden nature of interfering with the boats, she understood it. But there was also the very fact that he had decided not to disband the squad but send them elsewhere. And perhaps most telling of all: be on your guard when you get to Karanes.

Does he suspect something afoot in the east? Camille pondered. She took the reminder to stay alert well; it meant they'd have to watch out for anything, everything. It seemed Roebling and Winters were on some level aware of this suspicion, judging by how quickly they accepted her squad's presence and how willing they were to lend any help. Perhaps they'd tell her more on the way to Karanes.

An order has gone down, Camille silently repeated the phrase. Gone down.

It didn't specify from who it had come; only that the order came from above. Who would have the authority to order such a thing? The Royal Government, probably. But who specifically? The King? The House of Lords?

And to close the gates so soon – the order meant the military would have to evacuate everyone by dawn.

Everyone, she thought morbidly, or anyone who managed to get inside by then.

Would the government really shut the gates on those who couldn't make it by dawn? The line of questioning made her pause.

After everything…

The voice in her head was high and cruel, creeping from the back of her mind.

…after everything you've seen, you don't think they would do this too?

She stood still, stricken by the thought.

Then she felt the sun in her eyes.

Camille lifted a hand to shield her face, blinking at the interruption.

She looked into the horizon, surprised that the sun had already risen so high. A bright yellow mixed into the sky's cool blue tones. The sun sat above the mountains in the distance.

Such a beautiful day for bad thoughts, Camille sighed.

Beyond the mountains, she knew, lay Wall Maria, though she couldn't see it due to the curving shape of the earth. Beyond Wall Maria lay Shiganshina, the former boundary of human territory. It was hard to believe that she'd once dreamed of going there just to glimpse the titans with her own eyes.

Instead, the farthest she'd made was Colonel Reinhart's camp, and she'd gotten so close to a titan she could see the human guts tangled between its teeth.

"Everything you thought it'd be?"

Her head snapped over to the side.

It was Levi, standing a few feet away with his arms crossed. Around his shoulders was the rich, forest green cape that was so famous to the Scouts. She tried not to gape like a fish at another unexpected meeting with him in as many days. What was he doing here?

"The…" Camille cursed how stupid she sounded at that moment. "… the… uh… what, exactly?"

Levi waved his hand while he came closer. "This. Everything. Being a soldier. You said…"

She fought the urge to step backwards, knowing she'd come undone in front of him last night. She'd been overly familiar, forgetting the fact that he barely knew her, and she barely knew him. She couldn't treat him like he was one of her friends from the Cadet Corps.

She watched his forehead crease, obviously trying to remember something. It somewhat lessened how unimpressed he always looked.

"…you said you were going to be a teacher once."

She blinked at him. Rather dumbly, she felt. "I did?"

"Yes," He snapped. "You came from Mitras that day. Remember?"

The memory came to her in an instant. Erwin had been there. She went upstairs to find Levi waiting. She'd gone to Mitras to receive her marks from Pascal College, and in return she'd gotten a job offer. Two, even, if she counted her conversation with Jeremia Beintman.

"Oh," Camille said, nodding. "You mean I was offered a teaching position. I don't recall saying I was accepting it. If I remember it right."

It had been her second time seeing Levi – unaware that he was this near-mythic figure in the ranks of the military, and that he was precise and unsentimental when it came to cutting down titans and saving lives.

He raised a deadpan brow, "And? Everything you thought this life would be?"

"Everything and some," She felt a corner of her mouth lift playfully, and she quickly turned her head back to the horizon to hide it. "Well, if I did accept that position, I'd be making three times what I'm paid now."

Levi hissed a sigh, shaking his head. "You should've stayed put at home then. Instead you're out here, tired as hell like the rest of us and making shit pay for it."

Her shoulders trembled as she stifled a laugh. She didn't remember him having a sense of humor.

Such as it is, Camille added in her mind while she gave a light shrug of her shoulders. "It was never about the money. If I wanted that, I would've gone to the MP's. Roll with the pigs a little," She scrunched her nose, "I'd smell the same way I do now."

He gave her a very obvious once-over. "Like blood, sweat, and horseshit, you mean."

She was almost insulted. Almost. "Don't lie now, you smell exactly the same."

"I do," Levi retorted. "Your stench is just worse."

She lifted a hand to her neck as if she clutched a jeweled necklace, though now she couldn't hide her grin. "Terrible man! Don't you know it's improper to comment on a lady's stench? Even if it is of horseshit."

His mouth twitched. A smile? A scowl? He didn't say anything more.

Feeling strangely abashed, Camille didn't press him further on it. She again gazed at the horizon. At the sunlit mountains and the streaks of yellow flashing down the mountainside.

They stayed silent for another moment. But knowing she would have to leave soon, she opened her mouth again, despite her better judgement.

"I'm glad you made it back," Camille uttered, and shifted her gaze to over his shoulder, behind him. And there they suddenly were, the Scouts, back from some godforsaken mission, with their oversized horses and milling about in their green capes, their faces tired and so obviously lacking sleep.

She couldn't help the slight smile on her face. "I'm glad whoever made it back from the Scouts did."

"We'll be out again in a few hours," Levi replied, voice droll. "We're resupplying. For now. Blades and gas. Rest for the horses."

Even Levi looked gaunt and weary when she finally met his eye. He was pale as ever though, even under the bright, fresh sunlight. Maybe, if she was his friend, she would've hugged him to show how relieved she was that he was still alive.

But as it was, she just nodded at him, and gestured in the general direction of Ulara's campsite. "There's an old woman somewhere here with a pot full of tea just waiting for any thirsty soul. I could tell you exactly where she is. But," She tilted her head to the side, smirking. "Promise me you'll let her on one of your supply wagons inside Trost first."

Levi looked her dead in the eye.

Camille smiled wider. And winked. "Promise? The tea's very good."

It – wasn't strictly true, but she'd thought the tea had been good eventually, and imagined Levi as someone open-minded about their tea.

"You're part of the Garrison. Majority of the wagons lying around here are yours," He shot back, crossing his arms again. "Gripe about it to your officer."

"I would, but the brigade's already done resupplying; we'll be leaving soon. And it's not like I could just waltz up to Pixis and ask him for this," She put her hands together and stuck her lower lip out. "Pleeeeeaaaase? You'd be helping an old woman out."

He continued to stare at her.

Camille didn't relent.

His eye might have twitched in annoyance – but when he finally gave a loud sigh after what felt like minutes, Camille grinned and knew he'd given in.

Notes:

banter? yes we get banter. of a sort.

apologies for the delay. ch. 11 is labeled "part 1" because there's a "part 2" that i'll post next week. it'll be relatively short, but entirely in levi's POV. also not a lot of historical notes for this one, so i'll address two things instead:

(1) some of you have asked me to share my view about SNK's ending! it wasn't what i expected. i was also surprised that it ended so soon; many have commented about the abundancy of loose ends. which is true, though i don't take it against isayama. as the artist and author of his creation, he doesn't have to tie every little detail into a neat bow if he doesn't want to. nor should he; i, personally, am fine with not having all the answers and just letting the universe float like that. i respect his artistic decision to end it this way even if i don't entirely agree with it.

(2) thank you to the kind anons in my reviews - i hope i don't disappoint with the rest of the chapters. also, shoutout to the new readers and followers of this fic - welcome, and i'm sorry i can't provide a more stable update schedule!

thanks again to my kind readers! comments and constructive criticism, as always, are wanted and welcomed! i love reading your takes on this fic!