Volume 3: Seeds of Rebellion

How did things end up this way? Only a few short weeks ago, we stood at the gates of our futures, stable careers ahead of us, some had romances bearing fruit too. We were confident, strong, determined. Life wouldn't have been easy, but it was going to be easier than…this. For the past month and a half, things have continued racing downhill at a pace so feverish it feels like a nightmare. I find myself trying often to keep stock of what we've lost in this short time, names and details that I can recall. That's proven to be a tall order. A trail of death and destruction has chased us all over the country, with the body count climbing ever higher. Not least of which because several of our close companions turned out to have been titans in disguise.

On top of that, we're being hounded by God knows who. Rumor is, certain factions in the government have become wary of the regiment's activities and want us…expunged. For decades, there's been screeching that the Survey Corps is a waste of tax money, sure, but stingy bureaucrats are hardly nagging at the minds of Erwin, Hange, or Levi. Not that shared their thoughts about what was happening. General consensus is that it goes beyond Eren, whatever is going on. Some are saying it's the MPs, others speculate it's hired guns working for the merchant association, others still, parliament itself. I can't say which makes most sense to me. At the end of the day, regardless of who, there's not a shred of evidence as to why.

Investigations into Ragako village have yielded disturbing revelations, that regular people can be turned into titans. A theory for now, but the only one that's holding water. Then, there's the question of the titan inside Wall Sina and that priest who knew of it. Nobody has managed to get any answers from him yet. There's the matter of Christa…sorry, Historia and her familial ties. Perhaps most pressingly, why did Bertolt and Reiner come to destroy the walls? Who wanted them to kidnap Eren and Ymir? Where or what was this Hometown of theirs? I can't help but wonder what this means for Annie… God, there's so much we don't know. And in these dark and mysterious times, we've found ourselves increasingly on our own.

Too many things are happening all at once.

It is the year 850. Humanity's struggle against the titans grows evermore desperate. Friends and comrades have been revealed as the most terrible of foes, leaving many to wonder who can be trusted. Erwin Smith is detained in the Capital, awaiting trial for the Stohess incident. His subordinates remain steadfastly devoted to him, but attrition has worn down their numbers. Allies have mostly gone silent. Thus, the Scout Regiment is isolated, all others crawling back into the safety of the shadows. Fear is pungent on the winds these days, and who could blame anyone who chose to hide? The scouts seek answers to questions better left unasked.

At the heart of it all, lies the road trodden by Eren Jaeger. Somehow, he will prove the key to all of this. At least, that is the hope. So much time, so many resources and lives have been invested in this gamble. Made on a child with the powers of a demon…they must be mad to go all in on such a hand. Mad, or desperate. Decades have passed with only the most meager of gains for humanity. A reckless bet is the best path forward they can find.

But enemies abound, and at least one player is holding a pistol under the table, pointed directly into their gut. Whoever it is betrays no emotion as the time to show the cards draws nearer.

Far away from the gambling table, the remaining recruits from the 104th Cadet Corps once more find themselves wondering where they fit into this whole mess.

(***)

Giselle Delacroix placed her broom against the wall and wiped at her brow. She'd been at it for a good while, but things looked like they'd finally pass muster with Captain Levi. That was no mean feat considering that he could find a speck of dust across the room with the naked eye. His attitude made her think back and wonder if she'd ever been too harsh on any of the maids at her family estate. Certainly, they'd worked so very hard if this was anything to go by.

"Hey, did you finish up in here?" Connie popped his head out from around the corner. Giselle looked around once more before answering with a contented nod. "Perfect." Connie smiled. "Now maybe we can relax for a couple of hours until dinner."

"Relax, we can't relax yet!" Eren came into the room, an apron tied around his torso. "If he finds anything wrong, we'll be at this until nightfall!"

"Why are you still wearing that? It was funny for a little while, but you keep putting it on and it's getting weird." Especially considering what he was.

"Not taking any chances." Because he would be the one to take the beating if Levi got angry. The captain's wrath could be quite easily brought down with the slightest provocation.

"Quit being so tight-assed, Jaeger," Aline said from the couch. "You'll break out in a rash."

"You won't be the one he takes his anger out on!" Eren was possibly the most high-strung person alive. With the overall state of the world, that was quite the achievement. Through the years, he'd hardly exhibited a calm demeanor for any substantial length of time, and almost not at all since they'd been inducted into the Survey Corps. One would be forgiven for thinking he had something come loose in his head. Suppressed childhood trauma also might explain his compulsion. He didn't talk over much about his relationship with his parents, but much mystery surrounded his father, so one had to wonder. A shrink would make a killing in the time it'd take to pick Eren's brain.

"It's fine. After all, we've been working all morning." Armin tried to stay his friend's agitation. "The past couple of days haven't been so bad." Eren ignored him, scanning every surface for further dust or grime. Left to his own devices, he'd take a toothbrush to each nook and cranny. A creature of obsession if ever there was one. That sort of mania is what led Armin to worry for his friend so often. Even going as far as tying him down wouldn't get him to settle.

"We're back!" Sasha jubilantly exclaimed as she pushed the front door open, breaking the moment, the others entered in her wake.

"And by the tone of your voice, you fared quite well on your excursion," Giselle remarked.

"Oh, we'll be eating like nobles for the next couple nights." Erik opened his sack to once more display the generous amount of game they'd acquired. "Maybe something a bit more like you're used to at that mansion you grew up in?"

"Perhaps with a might less…don't say class or finesse…refinement?" Imbecile, that's the same as saying the former! You make yourself apart from your compatriots by such speaking; class distinctions are alienating! "It's a fine bird, make no mistake and you're a fine cook, Sasha! One or two sets of hands could hardly be able to prepare the spread of an aristocrat's household." Although I'd admit there's a charm to eating a home-cooked meal that dinners at the family schloss lacked.

"We could all speak in those thick, uppity accents; that might add to the atmosphere?" Connie snorted.

"Beg your pardon?"

"Come on, you know…" he cleared his throat. "Oh, madaammm, you look most assuredly ravishing this evening, and this wine is positively heavonnly." He added an obnoxious, nasal laugh for effect.

Giselle flushed. "Sir, what sort of people do you take me for?! There's not a person on earth, rich or poor who speaks like that. Such ridiculous pomposity would be most improper!" Well, that's mostly true. Get rid of the accent, but there were certainly families who brought that level of pompousness to the table. Still, that regular folk had that impression of the aristocrats and nobility meant the rift between classes was far deeper than the elites knew. Mockery was a sign of contempt, enviousness, or outright hatred depending on the individual speaking. With all the inequities faced by the common man of the kingdom, especially compared to the scions of the merchant guilds, she couldn't fault such opinions. People were starving and penniless, while those like Lord Vauld, an incredibly fat man who owned a massive chateau north of Trost, gorged on enough for ten. Not to mention his garish clothing that was hand-tailored for a sum greater than two-years earnings for your average layman.

"But…" she ran a hand along the length of her braid, "I can't say that the attitude isn't spot on for some."

"Hey," Eren interjected. "Did all of you wipe your feet when you came in?"

Jean blinked. "You're kidding me, right? We've been out for hours picking up supplies; look at all this stuff we have. It's heavy and we're tired." Jean placed a box on the table and took the sack from his shoulders. "Checking my boots wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind."

Eren appeared struck with horror. "You idiot…"

Josh rubbed his eyes. "Oh God, here we go again."

"Do you really think that kind of excuse is going to be acceptable to Captain Levi?!" Eren started in on him. "I had to make your bed and clean your room, and this is how you thank me?!"

Jean scowled. "The captain isn't even here; and what are you, my mom?!" For a moment, it looked like the pair would come to their characteristic blows. "How neurotic can you be? Were you dropped on your head as a baby, is that it?!"

"I'll shove this broom up your ass, you horse-faced bastard!"

"So, think they'll actually thrown down this time?" Erik asked.

"Nah," Josh shook his head. "They'll just swear and yell at each other for a couple of minutes and be done with it." Round and round they'd go with neither willing to land the first punch. Still, the two boys could surprise them yet.

"I wish they'd get it over with already," Aline added. The routine had grown quite stale.

"It'd make for the most excitement I've had all day." Josh set the butt of his musket on the floor and leant on the weapon.

"Glad they forced the easy job on you or you'd have gone and done something strenuous." She glanced at the boxes and sacks they'd carried in. "You better not have lifted anything heavy."

"Or you'll kick my ass, yeah, I know. Quit worrying; I'm keeping it light." He decided to leave out the part where he'd argued to carry more of the goods. "Where's Alb?" Josh changed the subject.

"He went out to the carriage shed a while ago; said he needed to get some peace and quiet for a bit."

His brow furrowed. "He's been acting pretty withdrawn the past few days." That made two of his dearest friends.

"I think he's just worried about Elise." Although, neither of them understood that worry made up only part of his mind. Many thoughts and opinions Albrecht Johannes kept to himself. Himself, and his demons.

(***)

Broken rays of sunlight filtered through the cracks in the old wood, sparkling against drifting particles of dust. The carriage shed allowed only moderate illumination upon its interior, keeping its deepest recesses cloaked in shadow. The air was musty in here, but not altogether unpleasant. A most reasonable choice if one were seeking a place of solitude. Well, for most people…

"We going to have a conversation or what?" They'd stood across from one another for a good ten minutes now before breaking the silence.

"I didn't ask you to come."

Sergeant Tanzerin flopped down on a hay pile. "Why do you have to get so moody all the time? If you think it makes you look like a brooding intellect you've got another thing coming."

"You put me in a foul mood. I came out here to have space for contemplations, not commune with the dead."

She sighed. "If you're still bent out of shape about what I said a few days back at that house, I'm sorry. How's…uh, your neck?"

Albrecht pulled down the collar of his shirt, showing the scabbed over cut. "Lucky for you, it's fine." Sergeant Shevchenko told him it might scar slightly, but it hadn't been deep enough to cause permanent damage. It'd remain enough to serve as a reminder.

"Aren't you glad that girl stopped you from cutting your throat?" She smiled. When he returned a scowl, she groaned. "Can I talk about anything without you getting your balls in a twist?"

"If you did anything beyond torment me, possibly."

"I'd like to think I was pretty helpful the last time we saw one another."

"Might have been nice to know that you could tell those three were titans."

"Things have to come to light organically; I can't just go around being an oracle for you. And I do mean can't. There are things I don't know and there's things I'm unable to say."

"Yeah, yeah, same story as usual, I get it." Yet I keep thinking that the next time I ask, it'll be different.

"Quit being snide. I'm serious. Certain things, if I open my mouth to tell you, nothing's gonna come out. It's like there's something stopping me from talking."

"God puts a gag order on the dead, does he?" Dead men tell no tales had an existential truth to it, as it would seem.

"I don't know about God," she paced around for a moment. "Wherever I am, I don't think it's got anything to do with him. Maybe I shouldn't have been so cynical when Iryna used to evangelize."

Albrecht couldn't suppress a note of curiosity. "So, what's it like then…wherever you ended up?"

Sergeant Tanzerin thought about it a bit, scrunching up her brow as if dredging her memories for something distant. "It's…nighttime always…I think. Well, looks like that anyway. Maybe that's just because it's cold and dark? Pretty empty overall, nothing visible for kilometers in any direction except…lots of sand? Dune after freaking dune of the stuff. Certainly doesn't look like any place described in—"

"Was there a light in the sky at all?" He interrupted.

"I couldn't see the moon, if that's what you're asking. Sure was enough light for it to be up there somewhere though."

"No, no, not the moon. Like, did you see a bright streak, like a snake, moving across the sky?"

"Something weird like that? Let me…think a second. If I'm remembering right, I think there…um…" She trailed off. Sergeant Tanzerin winced, as if struck in the side of the head and quickly brought a hand up to her temple. Her eyes shut tightly and she wavered, steadying against a wooden support. "Damn, what the…what were you saying?"

"You were telling me about the place where you've been since you died."

She blinked several times, brow furrowing again. "…I was?"

Albrecht frowned. "Nighttime, lots of sand you said."

"Did I?" She appeared utterly puzzled, as if she'd been absent for the last couple of minutes and had just returned to the room. True confusion was a first in relation to any manner he'd seen her in before. Her hand remained, massaging her skull. "…I must've lost my train of thought."

Convenient that dementia would strike at just such a moment. "That figures…" he muttered.

"It's not like I forgot on purpose, kid." She sounded as annoyed with herself as with Albrecht. "What's got you asking all of a sudden anyway?"

"Just…sounded like some place I might've seen in a…dream."

"Aw, you miss me so much you're seeking me out in dreams now? Albrecht Johannes, a woman might mistake that for a desire to court her. Oh, were I about ten years younger." There it is. The sophomoric disposition that she so earnestly displayed.

"Every damn time I think we're getting somewhere, you've got to go back to innuendo and school yard humor. You must get endless joy out of screwing with my head like this."

"Hey, for all you know, I've got some sort of multiple personality thing going on." He didn't bite. He hadn't the slightest inclination to have another round of back and forth. She tried prodding him twice more, but gave up when met with continued silence. Thus, the situation went back to as it had been a few moments earlier. As with then, several minutes passed before she decided that any further exchange had to be initiated by her…again.

"How's it feel being hunted?"

"There'd be a lot less worry over it if I knew who was after us."

"Can't much help you there. Veteran's opinion though: must be close to something big if you're having to hide this far out."

He ran his fingers through his hair. "I'd love for a few months or years to pass without anything else big happening. There's been enough of that lately to last a lifetime."

"Could be worse, right? Not a lot of people get to watch history unfold from the forefront. I've gotten the sense you're pretty fond of that shit."

"From an academic standpoint, sure. Living it is taking a hell of a toll." Besides, reading through a history book, he couldn't imagine a time where so much had happened to shift the happenings of the world, except the arrival of the titans themselves. Recent events had come to throw even aspects of that into question. The source of these monsters especially was far more intriguing now.

"Not to be the one to measure trauma here, but being stuck in between the realms throughout this shit sucks a lot worse."

At this, Albrecht laughed inwardly. "How do you figure?"

Sergeant Tanzerin seemed to sense his derision and scowled. "Ever consider that maybe I'd like to be dead and moved on already? All the questions about what came afterward, I still have a ton. Old folklore talked about people…things like me, wandering along the border between this world and the next, flickering to-and-fro on the wrong side of heaven and the "righteous" side of hell." She'd liked to have known if those places truly existed, because she'd clearly visited neither. This other realm was an unsettling place. Not because of any torturous circumstances like one might find in perdition, but because of the nothingness that encompassed the whole place. When she was back, wandering the waking world, her memories of the…endless sand would fade, but the feeling of it remained in the deepest parts of her being.

"That almost makes me feel some pity."

She touched a hand to her chest. "I'm truly touched." Considering his partial responsibility for her death, some sympathy was nice. "Some more contrition might be nice though; I suffer just like anyone else."

"Tell you what, you leave me alone and later I'll have a good, solid cry in your honor."

"You know what?! Regardless of the person you think I am, I'm still a sort of human being who was ripped violently from the world and cast into the pit. I've been robbed of my chances to do anything with the life I was given. No thanks, I needn't remind, to a certain boy who couldn't muster the nerve to do his duty. Truthfully, I think we're all getting tired of your attitude.

Albrecht grit his teeth before standing up. "Yes, yes, just keep running your damn mouth. Stay up there on your decrepit, high horse. I can't believe I keep allowing myself to be lectured by some malevolent spirit who wants me in constant misery, but alive so as to continue invoking said misery. Could you be any more of a piece of shit? And another thing, what's this we…" he trailed off.

Sergeant Tanzerin put a hand up to her ear and leant forward. "What's that, kid? I couldn't hear the end of your sentence."

"I…um…" Albrecht's mouth felt suddenly quite dry.

"Something the matter?" She asked. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Just…I must've lost my…train of thought. Happens to us both, right?"

She gave him a deadpan stare. "You're able to see them right now, aren't you?" There'd been deep shadow behind her, a darkness easily attributed to the limited natural light that filtered into the barn. There's nothing really ominous about shadows, even discounting many centuries of human folklore. And yet, there was still something frightful about them. Albrecht Johannes had learned about such things from the darkness that crept in at the late hours and when he was alone. Sometimes, the shadows move.

A cold bead of sweat ran down his cheek. "I'm imagining things." He'd never hoped more for his eyes to be deceiving him.

"That a fact?"

"Wouldn't be the first time somebody hallucinated from lack of sleep." Rationalize something that defies all rationale and you're bound to drive yourself crazy. Try rationalizing something that feels like a waking nightmare and that might be the thing that preserves your fragile sanity.

"Really, you're trying to pull the hallucination card when you and I can talk plain as day? Ha! I've seen some shitty attempts at lying before, but this is just pitiful."

"Nothing to lie about, sergeant." His palms grew itchy. This was bad, really bad. He tried to determine how many in number they were and found himself unable to count them all. In fact, such efforts only made each individual more distinct to his eye.

Sergeant Tanzerin spread her arms wide. "Quite the family we've assembled here, isn't it? Any guesses as to the size of our legion of the damned? So many faces have been added to the crowd recently that I've lost track." Faces were more than some of them still possessed. "Probably a few more in here that made your acquaintance before shoving off their mortal coils I'd wager?" He didn't want to look and find out. Instead, he focused on widening the space between him and the horrors.

"Frankly, I've been paying too much attention to our conversation to notice anything else."

"It's just a little preview of what's waiting for you when the ferryman comes to collect his toll," she laughed. "Being able to see them now, I figure you'll want to get used to it sooner rather than later. Eternity is an awfully long time after all."

"You bastards stay away from me!" Albrecht hissed, abandoning all pretense of the specters' invisibility.

"What a relief! You weren't playing pretend just for the sake of my feelings. I was also worried you might've developed hysterical blindness. Still, don't you think you're being a bit rude?" Sergeant Tanzerin frowned. "They just want to talk to you…among other things." The corpse-apparitions stayed in the deeper shadows, but empty eye sockets followed his every move.

"You wouldn't let them kill me; that bluff has already been called." Although, he had no way of knowing if they couldn't do everything short of that.

"True, but I never said anything about killing you." Given the sergeant's nature, determining whether that constituted a threat or not was difficult. She had proven quite adept at intimidation. Fitting for a non-commissioned officer, a trifle more terrifying when dealing with an army of corpses. "They can also scare the shit out of you apparently." Her frown inverted itself. "You're practically quaking in your boots, Trooper Johannes."

"Feeling a little under the weather, I think. It gets rather hot in here after all." He stayed in the most well-lit spot of the barn. "I can assure you that I'd be much more willing to oblige your company if you don't bring such company with you."

She cocked her head to the side, as if confused. "Kid, I don't bring them anywhere; they're always watching you. Sure, I can come and go as I please, but I'm not some…oh what's the word for it, shaman, druid, necromancer? I don't conjure black magic or command the dead. There's no special powers or latent abilities up my sleeves." At best, she figured that perhaps they followed her around because of her seniority and rank. It seemed that at least some of them retained enough cognitive ability from their lives to recall military structure if nothing else. "Wraiths have minds of their own more often than not."

"Now who's lying?! Out of all the abominations, only you have ever maintained any lucidity or shown a human appearance! Not once have these abominations deigned to show themselves in your absence! You really think I'm that stupid?!" Irrespective of whether she was being truthful or not, the notion that these things wandered around freely and of their own will disturbed him in the extreme. Such concepts were the realm of bedtime stories and folklore. When brought into tangible realm of reality, they became engines of madness, driving men to insanity.

Sergeant Tanzerin put her hands up. "Don't have to believe me; just because you don't see them, doesn't mean they aren't there. But…if you're the kind to lose sleep easily, I wouldn't stare too hard into a dark anything for a while." There's that age-old sense of dread which comes up on a particularly dark night, or when one sits at the fireside, the sensation that eyes are upon you, just beyond reach of the light.

Albrecht swallowed hard and tried to keep his gaze fixed on the sergeant. Regardless of what she was, her outward projection of a living woman made it easier to stand his ground. Having seen her more decayed form, that proved rather comforting, as much as he hated her. Still, the fear aside, he desired to understand these creatures, their motivations, and what drew them all to him in particular. A morbid sense of curiosity had been brewing within him as time passed. So, Albrecht used all the willpower he could to steady his nerve and forced himself to keep asking questions of the deceased sergeant.

"Why?" He pushed the word out like there was an anvil on his chest.

"I told you once, all of us want to see where your path leads to. You've got a duty to see this saga through to the end. My former brothers and sisters in arms just don't want to miss anything. We're quite fond of theater on the other side." The last sentence, she delivered like a pompous aristocrat, complete with an upturned nose and an imaginary glass of wine.

"Almost sounds like you've made me a window from your realm to this one."

"How very perceptive. That's certainly one way of looking at it."

"But why gather so many of the dead to me? There are thousands of other people out there that'd show much more of what you want." Erwin, Levi, Hange, Premier Zachary, the freaking King even.

"I needn't remind that a debt is owed. As such, I don't see why there'd be an issue with additional company. It'd be rather discourteous not to share my conduit with my comrades. Surely you comprehend at least that much of the current arrangement?"

"Always, always, time and again, it circles back to what I owe you. Goddammit, I understand already! One would think you'd have grown tired of constantly bringing it up! Yes, I failed; I wavered in the decisive moment and people died as a result. I'm working at atonement as hard as I can!"

"There…is…no…atonement…" came a wet, fleshy groan from the shadows. "Only…punishment…only…burden…"

Albrecht found himself involuntarily recoiling from the sound. "They…they can talk?"

"Yes and no. It's…I don't think it's one of them in particular." She scratched her head. "Kind of one voice speaking for all of them if I had to guess."

Another surreal element to this supernatural charade. "So, what exactly did he…they mean that there's no atonement for me?"

"They're not talking about you."

He blinked, the gears turning in his head as he reassessed. "…they're talking about themselves?" To which, Sergeant Tanzerin simply nodded. "You need to start explaining some of this to me, now."

"We didn't do too bad today, but I wish we could've stayed out a while longer," came a voice from outside. Albrecht snapped his head towards the door, wary of the potential for unintended eavesdropping. "I shouldn't have gone so many days without exercising; I might be too sore to do it again tomorrow." It was Mikasa.

He dropped his tone to a whisper. "Alright, so—" Upon facing towards the sergeant again, he found himself alone. She'd vanished, along with the phantoms in the shadows. "Son of a bitch…" he muttered. How convenient of them to depart before he could get anything useful from the encounter. Whenever he was on the cusp of a breakthrough in this paranormal charade, the next piece of the puzzle was snatched away. She can deny it all she likes, but she's gotta be doing that on purpose.

Then again, these past weeks communing with the waking dead hadn't taught him much about their "rules". Unnatural though his recently acquired disturbance was, everything possesses a set of guiding principles. He would unravel these principles in time. He could only hope that his sanity would hold out long enough for his cognition to chug to the right conclusions. Maybe he'd even be able to find the key to this prison that held him within its intangible walls.

It was time that he should depart this gloomy place; he'd been apart from the others' company long enough. Best to return before someone came looking for him. And I'll be safer in the light. Attempting to find solace, even so far removed from civilization, was going to be beyond him for a while yet. All thanks be to the growing legion of restless souls that stalked him. Despite his yearning to leave, he searched the shadows once again before opening the side-door out of the barn. Nothing's there. Of course not. However, the lingering sensation of hollow sockets glaring out at him would not dispense. He was quick to seal the entrance behind him upon exiting.

Albrecht reestablished his composure, wiping beads of sweat from his brow with the cuff of his shirt. Straighten up, neutral expression, ignore every dark spot you see. Attend to your duties, soldier. Distractions, no matter how dull or tedious would help him in this regard. Place things out of sight, even if not quite out of mind.

Stepping out from under the eaves, he looked back at the shed a final time before hurrying over to Mikasa and Historia. I'm certain we'll be talking again soon.

"Let me help you guys with that."

"Thanks," Historia said flatly, allowing Albrecht to take some of the load from her arms. She was still being moody, although her outward expression showed it less than before. A word or two here and there was all anyone got out of her lately.

"…I know you might not want to right now, but we're here for anything you need."

"Thanks."

"Maybe it'll take a long while, but in time you'll move past this."

"I'm not so sure." The resignation in her voice saddened him.

"Like I said, it might take a while. You've got a strong heart, even if it's wounded right now." Historia glanced at the ground and didn't respond.

"What about yourself?" Mikasa gave Albrecht a once over. "Are you alright? You're…a bit pale."

"Oh, I'm fine, just didn't sleep well last night."

"You have a lot of trouble sleeping it seems like. Maybe you should ask the medics to prescribe something."

Who could get a good night's rest with everything going on these days? This was Mikasa, though. She didn't process stress and anxiety as a normal person might. Her perception, however, was second only to Sasha's. If she started paying closer attention to him, there'd be little he could do to conceal his troubles.

"No need to make any extra work for them on my account," he waved her suggestion away. Don't think any kind of medicine would cure this anyway. I have to do something to mitigate how I present though; a fair few of them would think I'm insane if they knew… He wished Elise was here. It'd eased his ailing mind sharing the trauma with her, but in her absence, things had worsened. Some of the others might understand, Josh, Aline, possibly Erik, but even then, he could imagine only pity.

Wracked by the horrors of war, he was losing his grip on reality; that's what they'd say. Another casualty in a long list of people broken by this endless conflict. His mental state would be in question no matter who he talked to without someone else to back him up. And nothing made him feel worse than the thought of being looked at like a beaten puppy by his closest companions. Beyond that, he dreaded the thought of having to submit to psychological evaluation. Doubtless he'd be deemed unfit for duty the moment his condition was uncovered.

"Are you sure you're alright?" She pressed. "Our combat efficiency is already reduced because some of us are wounded. Sicknesses, whether of the body or the mind would only weaken us further."

I can't tell if you're being utilitarian or if you actually care. Nonetheless, her persistence was problematic and he must assuage any need for further inquiry. "I could do with some sleep medicine, that's true enough. I'll have the officers send a request to the apothecary when they come around next." The answer seemed to satisfy her and she said nothing more of it. "Now then, how about we get these inside eh?" Albrecht ensured he would be behind both of them as they made their way to the front door. Better to watch others than to be watched. God, don't start thinking like that; you'll definitely sound like a lunatic then. …Maybe I could snag a drink from somewhere? I've tried almost everything else to steady my nerves.

(***)

"We're back," came a nonchalant voice from the doorway. Mikasa entered, arms laden with firewood, a silent Historia in tow. "Should be enough to last us another couple of days."

"Should've taken a basket with you." Albrecht was the last to enter, arms similarly loaded. "Without bundling, it must've been difficult to hold onto this much."

"I only misjudged how much I'd cut by a little," she answered.

Armin's face twisted into a look of dismay. "You were chopping firewood?! The last thing you should be doing after what happened is manual labor!" She shrugged, quipping about the importance of staying in shape. A thought occurs in that moment. One where, Armin thinks on the composition of their group and how many of them cared not for their own physical state when undertaking a task. It was almost to the point where the recruits were evenly split between rationality and recklessness. Might make for a solid case study on the old adage on the confidence of youth. Or someone could easily determine a couple of them belonged in an asylum. With that sort of outlook, small wonder that more of them hadn't died. I've got a sneaking feeling I'm not the only one here who's realized that either. Although, he simultaneously feels like it isn't intuition that informs the sensation of shared mindset.

"If she's so keen on breaking her body, I say let her. No sense in wasting your breath, Arlert." Aline folded her arms.

"I'm not so injured that I couldn't fight if things came to it," she looked directly into Aline's eyes during the point of emphasis.

"You have something you want to say to me, huh?"

Her expression didn't change, but her voice became cold. "I have nothing I want to say to you, yet you never seem to run out of things you wish to say. What is it that you want from me, Aline?"

She stifled a malicious laugh. "Oh, where do I even begin?"

Armin stepped between the two. "Understanding that you two aren't particularly fond of each—"

"That's one way of putting it," Mikasa folded her arms as well, matching Aline's stance.

He held up his hands, calmly starting again. "Understanding that you two aren't very fond of each other, can we not do this, please?"

"Butt out, would you? She deserves a world-class ass kicking, but I've been able to content myself with a jab here and there." It hadn't even been a month since the expedition and the deaths of Freja and Alex were still fresh in her mind, not to mention her still-healing nose. Stohess, the battle on the wall, even during the operation to rescue humanity's supposed savior, Mikasa had nearly cost them everything. And at each juncture, Aline had been denied proper leeway to visit her wrath upon the Ackermann witch. Moreover, the girl showed no remorse for the deaths she'd caused. Like as not, she'd already forgotten those who died, and the myriad screwups related to the actions of her and her little plaything, Eren. Mikasa fought to puppy-guard him and scant else occupied her head. Girl might as well be hypnotized or possessed. A puppet, dancing unwittingly on her strings. That sort of thoughtlessness was unconscionable to someone who valued the lives of those around them.

Mikasa took a step forward. "You couldn't take me when I wasn't injured and you couldn't do it now."

Aline balled her fist. Just looking at Mikasa's arrogant mug was almost enough to sned her over the edge, but she bit back the urge to break the other girl's nose. For now. "One day soon, we'll hash things out, you and me," she finished before backing off.

Giselle leaned in as she withdrew. "I don't think we're in the best place to be fighting amongst ourselves. Things…being as they are lately."

"We're going to the barn to spar later; I need something to let off steam," Aline grumbled.

"Is this vendetta of yours truly worth it?" She asked, already dreading the prospect of another round of such training. "Attempting to engage at every opportunity seems hardly productive."

"What it's worth, doesn't matter, blondie. She's gonna get what's coming to her eventually."

Albrecht stopped her for a second, "And I'm certain that she gets it, so let it lie while we've got bigger problems to deal with."

She sighed, suddenly looking very tired. "Being cooped up in this little hovel is killing me, Alb," she whispered. "I'm sharing a room with her for God's sake. Smothering the bitch in her sleep has crossed my mind more than once." Mikasa wasn't the source of her stresses, merely an additional part of them. She did serve as a focal point however. Controlled lashing-out, a convenient tool for Aline to keep herself in check mentally. Mikasa made an excellent target for pressure release. Surely the others developed their own coping mechanisms as well? Anxiety and unease had its' fingers around all of them to a degree.

"We won't be here forever; Lord knows I'm about as fond of the isolation as anyone." Isolated places tended to bring her out more often with her friends. Fortunately, the house was small enough that the barn might be the only place on the property for the ghosts to manifest out of sight. Not that it would matter overmuch when they moved bases of operations and he'd again need to find the best method of avoiding his cursed shadow.

(***)

Just beyond the window, a shrouded figure waited and listened. Their observations from within the tree line proved accurate; not the slightest hint of situational awareness with any of these kids. Arrogant fools, all of them and so very loud. The entire cohort could've waltzed up to this place and they wouldn't have been heard over the commotion. A few judiciously placed marksmen could drop everyone in the house in two seconds. Not even a chance for the young ones to realize they'd just been executed. That, however would not be so instructive. The hooded figure wanted them all to know just how great their misstep was, and their chosen method was much more satisfying to achieve that end.

The front door lay a few meters to the left and was slightly ajar. Couldn't even close the door all the way. Far too easy. Silently, with the ease and skill of a practiced killer, they crept to the portal. The gap between door and frame was wide enough for their whole hand to enter, allowing their fingers to find a firm hold. All it'd take was a swift flick of the wrist to fling it open. From there, they'd be inside and upon the hapless children within two seconds. More unfortunate still, they'd clustered together enough that a single swing of the blade would catch more than one of them. Guts and heads would be on the floor in an instant. But there was the mission to consider, thus they could only inflict as much damage as necessary to get the point across.

Hood quietly removed their blade from its scabbard. Then, clenching their hand just a bit tighter around the door handle, stormed into the dwelling like a mighty gust of wind. First, the young soldier nearest the door. From their low stance they easily knocked the boy to the ground. The others had only just begun to act as his head hit the boards. People die when you're this slow, kiddos.

Next, another boy with a musket slung over his shoulder. The way he was shifting to ready his weapon belied that he was recovering from an injury, an easily exploitable handicap. Hood ducked and rolled forward, swiftly rising to strike him in the side, which immediately doubled him over. Hood kicked the musket away as it fell towards the floor. Two down.

Nearest to Hood was a slight girl. Blonde of hair, fair complexion. She didn't even move, paralyzed by surprise and terror as she most certainly was. Hood didn't require any strategizing here. A simple kick to the abdomen knocked the girl back and out of commission for the next few moments. That's three. C'mon, is this the best defense you can muster?

Hood was disappointed. The rest of them were still reeling from the vicious assault, with multiple comrades laid out on the floor. I am but a single assailant, and I will drop the lot of you before you can raise a hand against me. To the right, Hood saw a boy with closely-trimmed hair diving for cover beneath the table. No chance he would make it. Hood grabbed him by the collar and dragged him close. One hand grabbed his chin, the other brought hardened steel within millimeters of his jugular. The other youths froze.

Are you paying attention now?

Scanning their faces, Hood sought any sign of action, any twitch of the hand or eye that might betray action. Even with a hostage, a golden opportunity to turn the tables was before them. All that was needed was for them to have the wherewithal to think and realize it.

(***)

Connie tried to struggle against the assailant, but he was very limited in how much he could move. The blade was so close to his neck, he feared that even swallowing might get him cut. Although they were shorter than him, the hooded rogue's strength was also far above his own. The grip fastened to his jaw wasn't unlike a vise. He looked to his comrades for assistance.

"What are we doing?" Erik asked.

"I'm thinking…" Albrecht said without taking his eyes off their attacker. If only the veterans were here. Veterans could match the skill this shrouded figure clearly possessed.

"Could you think faster then?" Ctirad asked, not going so far as to vocalize his thought that they were likely going to be slaughtered to a man. Or at least left permanently crippled… He felt a pang of embarrassment for those thoughts. They were, like a lot of that which occupied his mind lately, so utterly pessimistic. Sure, he was still trying to sort himself out, who he was, what he wanted, but he knew himself well enough that this demeanor wasn't him. Ctirad gave in to mania in recent days, allowing the events to overwhelm him. For better or worse, he'd gotten himself into the center of the war. Now, that'd either kill him in the end or it wouldn't, but he'd have to fight regardless of what fate had in store. And a person, trained hitman or not, was a hell of a lot easier to go to blows with than a titan.

Okay, screw it. "Hey Alb," he whispered. "Whatever you wanna do, I'm with you, alright?"

Albrecht blinked. "…You…never mind, I appreciate it." Any help was good.

"So, did you come up with something yet?"

"Believe me, I'm trying."

Who were they? More importantly, who had sent them? Were they some sort of mercenary, an agent of the Merchant's guild, a member of the MPs? Or maybe someone else altogether commanded their services? Of greater import still, how had they found this place? The stead was secluded a fair distance from any major roads, but it wasn't impossible that someone could've tracked them down after only a few days. Where had they gone wrong? All queries to be dealt in time, once the immediate threat was gone.

They couldn't disguise their movements at all; any attempts to close would be seen from a mile away. Yet, he could sense an opening in the attacker's defenses, subtle yet surprisingly obvious. He needed something to throw. Behind him was the kitchen. Surely at least one bowl or cup was still on the counter? He could back away slowly, although without a distraction, the intruder would notice before long.

"They're fast, but I can move faster," Mikasa whispered. The woodcutting axe was still within her reach.

Her response drew a repulsed glare from Aline. "You charge them and Connie will have his head cut off before you can swing." Not that someone like you gives a damn when other people get hurt.

"Can we please not talk about decapitation right now?!" Connie rasped.

That's as good a distraction as any.

Inching backward as cautiously as he dared, he kept one hand out-stretched behind him, fumbling for an object to fill his grasp. His fingertips touched only air. Come on, how much farther back do I need to go?! Unable to turn or shift where his eyes were directed, he fumbled around as like a blind man. Seconds went by like hours as he searched.

Hood shifted slightly, subtly turning their head left and right. The assailant might be growing impatient. They hadn't spoken, given demands, or so much as gestured since taking Connie hostage. What was their aim? If they'd wanted to slaughter all the recruits, they clearly could've done so. If their goal was to take prisoners, why come alone? Or, at the very least, why not take Connie and run? They'd have a head start with their current leverage. Say they wanted information, why hadn't they interrogated anyone? Had they come on another's behalf, why not give terms? The more Albrecht considered it, the less sense it made. That doesn't make our attacker any less dangerous. Rationalize once we're out of this situation.

At long last, his hand made contact with the countertop. Yes! Extending his limb further backwards also yielded the desired result. Albrecht's fingers slid through the handle of a cup. It was solid, stoneware, also desirably heavy and dense. It would strike like a small brick if he could land his hit. Therein lay the trick of it. Only one chance. On top of that, he couldn't aim his throw without giving his intent away; he'd have to eyeball it. If he missed, they'd have lost their best chance to overpower their attacker. Ctirad, he noticed, was casting a sidelong glance at him, waiting for a signal to act. Albrecht tightened his grip on the cup and gave a very slow nod.

"Go!" He threw his arm forward like a ballista releasing its bolt, launching the vessel at their attacker's head at remarkable velocity. If it caught Hood fully by surprise, they wouldn't see in enough time to dodge…or use Connie as a shield.

For his own part, Ctirad pushed past the others and charged at a low run. He moved fast, faster than any of them had ever seen him move. These in conjunction caused a noticeable shift in Hood's posture. Body language could speak volumes in a confrontation like this. He couldn't see their face, but they'd certainly managed to catch Hood off-guard. Not that they would know, but even Ctirad Liska would've been surprised to be vigorously charged by someone like himself. And this he did with naught but his fists. Crises might actually be a fine tool for building character, he decided.

With the momentum and the initiative, a striking blow must follow. Even if the hit didn't land, the attacker would have to loosen up enough to react to him or the cup flying toward their skull. Connie could wriggle free and the others could rally to take Hood down. Ctirad knew that'd probably mean he'd take the first hit…or stab. I could dodge that, right? Closing the distance happened as if in slow-motion, giving him what felt like an uncomfortable amount of time to think on what might happen. But in that interval of consideration, he wasn't nearly prepared for what actually happened.

Hood's arms relaxed. The grip on Connie slackened. Hood pulled back by a third of a meter and widened their stance significantly. Then, suddenly delivered a forceful kick into Connie's back, sending him crashing head on into Ctirad, taking both boys to the floor. Without missing a beat, Hood batted the cup aside, smashing it against the wall. Then, they had both swords out again, lunging forward to place them within a hair's breadth of Connie and Ctirad's jugulars. It occurred so rapidly that an onlooker would've missed it had they blinked. Now I've got two hostages you jackasses!

"Okay, okay, you've got us!" Connie shouted. "Tell us what you want, give your demands, whatever! Please just don't kill us!" If anything, the pleading seemed to incense Hood.

Armin took a step forward with his hands up. "We'll cooperate, alright? This can be resolved without more violence, surely?" He cast an anxious eye at each of the other recruits and their circumstances. Down five, three radical elements stand restrained, only just, and like as not, nobody was on the same line of thinking. "Spilling human blood seems counterproductive, given the shape the world's in, don't you agree?"

Albrecht tensed. Crushing realization set in: …He's going to try negotiating. And what in the hell are we in a position to negotiate for?! We're completely outmatched. We can't beat them, not without somebody dying. Not without significant bloodshed. Whoever this person isn't the talking type either. The true no-win situation. No amount of strategic thinking, scheming, or maneuvering would get them out of this unscathed. And they weren't exactly doing so well as things stood already. Five injured, including two the attacker had dead to rights.

Hood regarded Armin for a moment, keeping their mute-like silence. They canted their head, appearing to ponder his offer. Hood looked at the blade in their right hand for a second, then thrust the tip down into the floorboards. Their other sword moved a little further from Connie's neck.

Armin and the rest released some of their held breath. "See, we can—" No sooner had he opened his mouth did Hood produce a volley pistol from within their cloak, levelling it straight at his head. Armin's composure fell away like a wave receding from the lake shore. Eren came forward, placing himself between the pistol and his friend. "If you're going to shoot someone, then let it be me!" A noble gesture, even though nothing short of being shot by a cannon would kill Eren. Not that their assailant could know that.

Hood made a noise that sounded like a snort of derision and shrugged, promptly changing targets, to Ctirad's temple. Never assume you know what the extent of your enemy's knowledge is, kid. They might just know your trump card before it enters your hand.

"Please…d-don't do this," Ctirad muttered in a shaky voice.

Albrecht's heart was pounding. What the hell are we supposed to do?!

Sorry about this, boy. Hood brought the pistol's hammer to full cock. Examples need to be made.

"NO!" Albrecht's body reacted independently of his will. His limbs no longer needed input from his brain. His fleetness of foot was great, but it was not nearly fast enough. Hood's pistol discharged all four of its barrels in a single pull, spewing forth a grey cloud and filling the room with the aroma of sulfur. Mid-stride, Albrecht stumbled and fell to his knees, his voice dying in his throat as he looked upon the shrouded face of Hood in utter despair.

"Bastard, I'll kill you!" Eren moved his hand towards his mouth.

"Hold on a second, you jackass!" Connie shouted to him. "Ctirad's…he's not dead!"

"What?"

The front door swung wide, smacking loudly against the outer wall at the extremity of its hinges. A silhouette manifested, backlit by the bright light of the midday sun. "So much Goddamn noise." Captain Levi stepped through the doorway, sporting a bored expression. "What are you doing?"

The recruits paused. "Captain?"

"Afternoon," he said flatly. He looked back at Hood. "Blasa, I appreciate good, physical exercises as much as any decent officer; the brats need some knocking around. However, would you kindly do it either outside or in the barn? You're going to make a mess doing that in here."

Hood let out a deep sigh, grumbling under their breath. Couldn't have just waited outside for a couple more minutes, could you? The figure drew back their hood to reveal a familiar look of displeasure and annoyance, framed by dark-blonde hair. "Congratulations everyone, Liska's brains are splattered all over the place and Springer's just had his throat slit."

"Lieutenant?" They all said in unison.

"You kids are lucky I wasn't some Goddamn assassin." Blasa replaced her pistol in its holster on and dropped the blades on the floor. "I could've slew the whole bunch of you before you even noticed I'd entered the room." The kids were being far too lax. "You're making more noise than a damn karneval to boot. A whole company could've snuck up on this place without you noticing."

"How did you—" Erik began.

"Pistol just had some powder in it. I didn't even aim directly at Liska's head." Blasa scooped up one of the discarded blades and ran it across her palm. "And these were completely blunt."

"Was that really necessary?" Connie rubbed anxiously at his jugular.

"It wouldn't have been if you'd been practicing proper situational awareness. The least I could do was scare you a bit."

"Seems to me you went a bit beyond scaring…ma'am," Aline said.

"Tread very carefully, Recruit Holde, I've not forgotten your intense episode of insubordination in Stohess. In less dire straits, you'd be spending the next couple of months in the stockade. Besides, if I'd truly wanted to hurt you, I could've done so easily."

Jean held a hand to the back of his head, where a welt had already begun to form. "Yeah, she didn't hurt you." He also gestured to Josh and Giselle.

"What was the point of that anyway?" The former winced, clutching his side as he leant on the table for support. She can't have forgotten this was my wounded side either.

"It should be obvious, Kassmeyer. That was a training exercise." And quit with the agonized expression; I didn't even hit you that hard.

"For what purpose?!" Ctirad said, incredulous, the wind still finding its way back into his lungs. The ringing had yet to leave his ears either.

"Don't take that tone with a superior officer, you little piss-ant. And it was to test your readiness, reflexes, and ability to respond to a crisis. Guess what? You shit heels failed miserably! You ought to have your noses to ground begging me not to kick the lot of you in the crotch!"

"Sorry, ma'am."

She raised an eyebrow, incredulous. "Sorry? No, I don't think you are. The first couple of days, I was told to let it go, but at this point? For the love of God, your asses should be squared away! And to put the icing on the cake, that was all the resistance you could muster?!" Lives were on the line and the recruits behaved like they were on vacation in the countryside. She'd like to take a belt to each of their rear ends. What was going through the commander's head when he sent them out here?

"Lieutenant Tanzerin," Armin began. "I assume I'm asking the obvious here, but what does an exercise like this prepare us for?"

"It is obvious, so I'll take that to mean you're throwing in your spare change just to be a smart ass?"

He cleared his throat. "Not my intention ma'am, although I didn't think we had professional hitmen coming after us."

"Oh, for God's sake. People, it prepares you for fighting people! Doesn't matter if their bandits or assassins or whatever. Do you think we passed out some muskets and have you doing sentry duty in case a wayward titan shows up?!"

"But who exactly are we expecting to have to fight?" Sasha asked. Something they'd all been losing sleep over for days. "Should we be looking sideways at the man who sells us bread in town or what?"

"For the time being, we don't know," Levi answered her. "Hange's been digging around, but she's come up empty-handed so far."

"Which is why we need you to be prepared for anything," Blasa butted in. "Threats could be all around us."

Giselle held up a finger. "We spent almost no time in training on fighting human beings, for rather apparent reasons I would think. Additionally, might I point out that we've only been out of the academy for a short while, it's hardly given us enough—"

"And in the time since, you've seen no less than three major engagements," she looked at several of them pointedly. "…some of you have four under your belt."

"Respectfully ma'am," Jean felt the need to interject. "Four battles hardly made us into veterans, regardless of their magnitude."

Blasa's face contorted strangely for a moment and she began nodding. "Well, that's a very good point, Kirstein. A true shame then that so many seasoned warriors have had to die protecting you in the interim."

"That's enough, lieutenant," Levi said. "You're in charge of training, but discipline in the unit still falls to me." Corrective instruction, like proper battle strategy, was successful when applied at the right time and in the right amount. Whether physical or verbal, it was the same. Beating the kids over the head with who'd lived or died didn't serve anyone.

"Then I leave such matters to your superior judgment, captain." She stepped to the side.

"We were like them once too; remember that."

"Yeah, yeah, no need to get on the nostalgic shit. I'll mind my temperament." Then maybe I'll mind my foot right up their asses.

He wasn't convinced she would, but at least she'd hold her tongue some. "Right…shall we get to business then?"

There came a knocking from outside and Terrelle Gerhard poked his head in the doorway. "Afternoon my little brothers and sisters in arms." He waved cheerily to the recruits. "Hey, LT, we've brought the wagon around; where do you want us to put the goods?"

"Anywhere in here off the floor is fine," Blasa jerked her thumb.

"Be careful with those, Sergeant Gerhard," Levi called to him.

"Captain, please, I always treat such fine instruments with the utmost care." He bowed with a smirk.

Several large, wooden boxes when brought into the house by Lieutenant Tanzerin's retinue. As with most things coming and going from these quarters of late, there were no markings to speak of. Further elements of secrecy. The largest of these required two people to carry, and was tightly sealed. A space was cleared for it on the dining table by Levi.

Blasa took a crowbar to the top of the box, bending it upwards until the nails came free. "God, it was a pain in the ass trying to get these out here. If we'd been searched, I'd have had to hide a body."

"What are they?" Albrecht asked.

"Some high-quality presents. The best kind of gift you can give in my opinion." Blasa grinned and reached inside. "Ah, hallo meine Freund. Three decades in a crate and you've still got that brand-new shine. If I didn't already have my kit sorted, I'd take you with me."

"Lieutenant?"

She looked back at him. "Catch." Blasa produced a longarm from the crate and tossed it to the recruit in one fluid motion.

He almost failed to take hold of the weapon before it hit the ground. Albrecht turned it over in his hands, gripping the small of the stock. He'd not seen a firearm like it before. Its overall length was notably shorter than a musket, with an octagonal barrel and a double trigger mechanism. The butt-plate was brass and the ramrod fashioned of lacquered wood with brass fittings. The locking mechanism and barrel had a blackened steel finish. Where he gripped the weapon, a checkered pattern was carved into the wood, providing a rough, but pleasant texture that held well in his palm. Just above his thumb, a metal disc was fitted into slim ladder-like frame. Like a miniaturized version of the peep sight used on wall cannons. It certainly wasn't military issue.

"It's called a Jaegerbuechse," she said, preempting the question. "Fifty-four caliber, rifled barrel, shorter overall length. Designed for portability and accuracy, the secondary trigger enables you to set it so that the round goes off with less pressure from your finger. Smooth as butter when you send lead downrange. Perfectly suited for light infantry types such as ourselves."

"Beg your pardon, ma'am, but most of us could hardly be considered marksmen worthy of such pieces," Erik told her. At the academy, there'd been time devoted to musketry and drill; it'd been a relatively low priority course however. Firearms didn't have great effect on titans, so little instruction was given in relation to the use of weapons like cannons and their swords. In fact, military muskets and pistols were only regularly used by the Military Police. That the recruits had managed to accomplish what they did in Trost with them was as much luck as anything else.

Blasa groaned. Could none of these kids just take something an officer said and roll with it? "You'll have to pick it up quickly then. Things being what they are, we all have to step a bit further outside of our comfort zones." She handed Erik the second rifle. "If it were up to me, none of you kids would've been attached to the special operations platoon. This is a place for hardened veterans, not a bunch of wet-behind-the-ears virgins, but as I've told you, a lot of our best people are dead. And they died trying to protect you bastard-reared ingrates."

"Blasa," Levi raised his voice.

"I've got a point and I'm getting to it!" She snapped at him. "Now, things being what they are, you lot can start repaying the debt you've incurred by following every Goddamn order I give you and doing it without mewling like a bunch of mentally retarded kittens." As usual, she strived for insults that stung as much as possible. They'd do well to remember the burden they must now endure.

"Are we…going to have to kill people?" Connie asked.

Blasa's expression became dour. She'd explained it using every word except that one. Despite herself, she'd danced around coming out and saying it directly; to take another person's life was a heavy matter. Mincing words didn't dissuade them, and they'd seen enough to deserve a straightforward answer. They wanted to hear it, in no uncertain terms. "If we have to take these out, yes, you will," she told him honestly.

"Um, titans are one thing," Ctirad said, "but I don't know about a human being." Fighting monsters, though terrifying, was an easy enough sell. With so few of the human race left, killing one another felt particularly wrong.

"Then let me make something abundantly clear, for all of you. I don't know what's going to happen in the near future. What I do know is that there's a group of people out there that will not have any qualms about sending a lead ball through any of our foreheads. Commander Erwin knows the type. If we meet them on the field, in the woods, in an alley, or anywhere else, they won't hesitate to wipe you off this earth. Whether men or monsters, you must end your enemy before they can end you; it's as simple as that. Jaeger, Ackermann, you've killed people before, right?"

"A trio of kidnappers when we were kids, yeah," Eren responded.

"Maybe you can impart some wisdom into the rest of them then?"

Jean half-laughed. "He's a maniac; we couldn't hope to ever look at killing like he does!"

Blasa gave him a hard, but somewhat piteous stare. "Mania is bound to have good utility for you in the near future. Get your minds right for whatever may come. I want all of you to devote free time to running drills with these and your swords."

Ctirad raised his hand. "Won't that make a lot of noise?"

"Noise won't be a problem; you'll be doing them dry. Powder, shot, and gas are at a premium. So, get the rhythm down, familiarize yourself with the weapon, bore to butt. Managing that should be enough. Like with blades, the most important part of using a gun effectively is muscle memory and technique."

"Do you think the…that the enemy will come here, ma'am?" Albrecht asked.

"God, I hope not, at least not before we're long gone," she told him with a snort. "This place gets surrounded and you're all liable to receive a hearty dose of gaping."

"A dose of what exactly?" Giselle inquired.

"Please don't ask!" Richter shouted from just outside.

Terrelle nodded his head. "I'm pretty sure they'll stick to shooting, LT."

"A gaping wound or a gaping asshole amounts to the same in the end."

"Such vulgarity, madam; Iryna would put you over her knee if she heard you just now."

"I'll gape your ass for them if you're not careful, Terrelle."

"Much as I'm enjoying this…vulgar direction the conversation has taken, Blasa, a word please?"

"What?"

Levi looked at the floor in disgust. She'd soiled the dwelling he'd worked oh-so-hard to make properly clean. "You got straw and sawdust everywhere, lieutenant."

Goddamn clean freak. "So? Have the kids clean it up; I've got shit to do."

"A fine idea. They've got no further duties until this evening," he responded. "Get to it, recruits."

"But we just spent the past few hours tidying up!" Giselle protested, having been rather pleased with her own efforts in devotion to the task.

The captain turned. "This is a perfect opportunity then to showcase how much better you've gotten over the last few days. Work yourselves up a fine appetite before dinner."

There was a collective groan. "Yes sir…"

Hello everyone, it's...it's been a hot minute. 11 Months was a really long time, but it flew by a lot faster than I realized. To everyone who has read my story, both in the interim and before, I should be forthright. It's been a rough almost year for me. I've changed jobs a couple of times, been in the hospital a bit, had to deal with some relationship struggles, among other things going on in the world these days. With all that going on, I was hit with some heavy burnout and when I could get the inspiration to write, I kept going back and changing stuff because I wasn't happy with the chapter. BUT, thankfully I got to make this a good, long one. I'm sorry it took so long.

To those of you that have been waiting for the next chapter, thank you. And to those of you who've joined us in the time since, you have my utmost gratitude:

univers123, Ilaw, industrygilbey, Rkthegreat11, javowars1171, Wikkk, SunnyLightblue, beacon1703jessiel, Maxobb, SpaceFlare, Khnemu, malpensante, CrazyFool65, grndclckwrk, H3LLF1R3IIO5, Nani999, ScolaTitanica (Always appreciate the attentions of the Emperor's god-machines), BanzEye, brooklynvb2001, bobonoz, Hakaira, severepossible, emiriosmoreira6, OzmaGale, HiroReaper, angell2000, Charlie809, Titosenpai, ULoner, Hayashi Amaya, and TheGreatGodzilla.

A Special Shoutout to DarkHelm145 and Orokin Rundas who reached out to me during these last 11 Months. It meant a lot to hear from both of you.

I WON'T be foolish enough to make any time promises for the next chapter, but I'll make sure it's worthy of your readership. There's still a lot of story to be told for the kids in the 104th. Until next time, WIR SIND DIE JAGER!