Chapter 14: The Uprising Part 4: The Fox's Head
The smell is probably the worst part. The entire undercity stinks of some unwholesome thing no matter where in it you are. Despite the foul smell and the dirty and grime which cover everything, the huge space is certainly impressive. The roof is at least thirty metres above us. The massive caverns that make up the six undercities of the kingdom were made in the time before the Titans. They look natural at first glance with stalactites hanging from some points on the high ceiling and a steadily curving roof. However, we know that they were at some point made by the same great engineers who built the Walls themselves. How exactly we have no idea, but we know that they're man made.
The buildings on either side of us are ramshackle things that in many cases look just about ready to fall down. Some are poorly made screens from the outside environment composed of a few boards and some sort of cloth draped over the top in an effort to block up the holes. There's no rain or strong wind down here of course but the cold is highly prevalent during the night. Right now though it feels hot and stuffy.
People turn their heads to look at us as we pass by. Most just ignore us but some take the time to spit in our general direction. "They know we're from the surface," explains Levi in a voice just about a mutter, "People down here hate that with a passion."
"But we didn't do anything to force them down here," protests Sasha.
"That's not how they see it. Besides, jealousy doesn't need to reasonable; it just needs someone to have something you don't. And we have a lot of things these people don't." Several times small children rush past us, streaming through our small huddle. Though it pains me to see them all clothed in rags and filthy, I carefully steer them away from my belt and pockets. We pass several beggars and I can tell that everyone in the group wishes we had something to give them. But we don't have any money on us, only a loaded pistol, a knife and few basic survival implements.
Our Manoeuvre Gear we had to leave behind. It's not like you can walk through the streets with it on and expect people not to notice you. People down here notice us plenty though, despite our normal civilian clothes. As Levi leads on through the winding streets and deeper into the city, the people become less destitute and more sinister. Many have visible scars and injuries and some have designs tattooed across the sides of their faces. "Gang markers," explains Levi simply.
As we round a particular corner into an even darker part of the city, a group of fifteen or so men step out from the shadows on either side of the winding lane. "All right then, that'll be far enough," says a man at their head who appears to be a leader of some kind. "I want your valuables. Do it quickly and quietly and we'll have no trouble."
"All right then," says Levi, reaching very calmly inside of his cloak and drawing out his pistol which he points at the man's head. "I can't garantee this'll be very quiet when it goes off but it should be pretty quick."
The man turns white, then red with frustration. "Th-that won't be necessary. Have a nice day sir." He and the rest of the group draw back to the alleyways and Levi puts his gun away.
"It's possible we'll be dealing with a few more encounters of that type before long," he says as we continue moving. "The important thing is to remain collected at all times. The only weapons these people are likely to have are knives or improvised equivalents. No firearms of any kind, that means we have the advantage. A quick display like that is usually enough to see them off." So it proves, as we end up being held up three more times. Each time all it takes to scatter the criminals is to display one or more of our weapons.
"All right, here we are," announces Levi with a wave of his arm. The Fox's Head is surprisingly large when compared with the one floor shacks that populate the rest of the undercity. It's two stories tall with two windows on the ground floor facing out into the street. From the outside it looks as if it could house around fifty people on both floors. An old sign board hangs outside, left to hang still by the lack of wind so far underground. I hear Sasha give slight gasp at what's on the sign board. Unlike most inns or taverns on the surface which have a painted decoration of some kind, this one has an actual fox's skull nailed to it, half on one side, half on the other.
"That's disgusting," mutters Jean.
"That's what this place is all about," says Levi. "I don't want to hear a word from any of you once we're inside. I'll handle all of the talking, got it?"
"Yes sir," we all murmur in reply.
"And no one uses the words sir or captain or anything else to do with the Military. As soon as these people find out about that we're as good as dead."
Inside the tavern seems a lot larger than it did before, at least from what my eyes tell me. My other senses say it's far smaller. I'm glad I'm not claustrophobic otherwise this place would probably send me into some kind of fit. The ground floor is composed of a single massive room filled with tables around which sit dozens of men drinking, talking and in several cases playing games of cards or dice. The odour is most certainly not pleasant. At the far end of the room is a bar where a man who looks to be in his mid forties is pouring out beer for one of his customers.
Most people look up when we enter, but lose interest almost immediately. A few watch us intently as Levi strides over to the counter. "You folks get lost at some point?" asks the Barman with a grin I don't much like the look of.
"No, I know exactly where I am Highdale," says Levi, pushing back his hood enough for the man to see his face.
"Good lord," gasps the Barman, "Levi Ackerman, is that you?"
"Yes it is. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't let the entire world know that."
"It's been a long time since I saw you in the Fox's Head. Not since that last job of yours took you away to the surface for a year. Of course, even down here we hear the stories about you. Mankind's strongest warrior huh? Not a title I ever expected you to take to."
"Neither did I. I'm not here to stay for very long, but I'd like to do business with an old friend if that's at all possible."
"I'm sure that can be arranged," says Highdale with a wink. "Why don't you and your young friends take a seat. Table seven's clear right now."
"Thank you," says Levi with a curt nod before leading us over to an out of the way table in a corner. Everyone seems to be on edge except for the Captain. It's almost as if I can feel a sense of oppression and hostility in the air around me. The chairs are uncomfortable but it's better than standing up I suppose. Historia moves to look over her shoulder but Levi stops her. "Don't look," he says very severely. "Do not under any circumstances let them see your unease. They're likely to home in on it like vultures." Historia swallows nervously and nods.
After two minutes of terrible silence and waiting the Barman arrives. "All right then Levi, what sort of business are we thinking of eh?"
"The kind that takes place in private."
"I'm sure the bar will manage without me for a few minutes. Though, this had better be worth my time."
"Don't worry, I'll make sure it's worth your trouble. After all, I'm Humanity's Strongest remember. That counts for a few things here and there."
"Ah, I think I take your meaning. Step right this way." The Barman gestures towards a door at the back of the room.
"You brats wait here," instructs Levi before going, "and try not to cause any trouble while I'm gone." With that he turns on his heel and strides out.
Jean lets out a long whooshing breath. "Involved with the criminal underworld," he mutters, "This wasn't what I had in mind when I signed up three years ago."
"It'll be four years in two months time," points Sasha in an effort to be positive.
"Oh yeah that's right," replies Jean in a sarcastic tone, "it'll have been four wonderful years of running, getting yelled at and almost dying. What wonderful memories to treasure."
Sasha frowns at that but doesn't reply. I let out a slight laugh as I remember something. Armin looks at me questioningly. "Oh nothing," I say, "I just remembered that I'll be sixteen in a week's time. The most important event in a man's life they call it. It doesn't seem so significant now."
"That's right!" exclaims Armin, "I'd completely forgotten. We'll have to do something to celebrate won't we?"
"What celebration are we going to be able to pull off in our circumstances?" asks Jean with a raised eyebrow. "We're outlaws now remember. We may not all even be alive in a week's time."
"Oh come on Jean," says Sasha, "sixteen is the most important birthday in a person's life."
"I know that. I'm just saying that I doubt we'll be able to pull much off in ways of a celebration."
"Eh," I grunt with a shrug, "We can always wait until this mess is over I suppose. What's a few more days right?" The conversation gradually manages to turn to lighter topics and before long we're all chatting away about past events. Of course we're still making sure we keep our voices reasonably low to avoid attracting unwanted attention.
But, about ten minutes after Levi's departure I hear someone moving nearby and I look over. It's a group of six men, all tall with worn clothes. One of them has a dark stain on it that looks disturbingly like blood. They look like they're on their way out of the tavern when one of them notices us glancing over in their direction. He nudges one of his companions and points in our direction. 'Oh no,' I think as I suddenly feel part of me fall into a deep hole.
"Hey now, what do we 'ave here?" asks the first man, a tall thickly built individual with a shaved head. I notice to my mounting concern that he has one of the gang markers intertwined around his left ear. It's a bizarre creature that seems to be half snake half rate with a rat's head sucking on its own reptilian tail.
"Nothing that concerns you," I reply.
"Ho now Jack look here," says his companion, an equally tall but slightly skinnier man with a short beard. He nods in Historia's direction, prompting her to whirl around in her seat face the other direction. "Aw come now missy; let's not be depriving us of such a pretty image," says the man with a laugh, reaching out and grabbing Historia's hood. He pulls it down to reveal her blonde hair and spins her around.
"Aha!" laughs the bald man, "this one is something to behold to be sure."
Before I even properly understand what I'm doing I've pulled my knife and have it pointed at the second man. "Don't touch her," I snarl. Surprised the man lets go and backs off a few steps. Then he shakes himself and grins.
"Now, now, do we have a gallant knight here protecting the poor little damsel?" he says with a sneer.
"Shut up, and piss off," I spit back.
"Hey boys, do ya hear this? This little brat here is telling me to piss off." The group behind him bursts into a mocking laugh. "I don't feel very inclined to, oblige you." The man reaches inside of his coat and draws out what looks like an old sabre. "In fact I'd take this as a true an' proper insult. You lads know how we respond to insults don't you?" The group laughs again. Several of them have now drawn similar weapons from inside their clothes.
Armin nudges me aside. "I apologise for my friend," he says hurriedly, "He's a bit of an idiot sometimes. We don't want to cause any trouble."
"Oh really?" asks the bald man in a mock sincere tone. "Well, I'd just hate to damage such an adorable little thing. You remind me of a mouse."
"Reminds me of a squirrel," says a different one.
"Hmm, I rather like the taste of squirrel roasted," says the man with sabre. His eyes gleam slightly.
Armin turns slightly pale. He swallows and reaches inside the folds of his cloak. He presents his pistol at the man's head. "If you want trouble, we can provide that you know," he says, keeping his voice as level as possible.
"You don't want to do that boy," says the man. "You surface types don't have the stomach for that sort of thing."
Armin bites his lip. 'He's right. Armin isn't about to shoot someone under these circumstances. If it were in the thick of a combat then he might, but not like this.' The man grins and quite calmly pushes Armin's gun to the side.
"Now then, where are you kids hiding that pretty face?"
"Oh for goodness sake," says Ymir, throwing her hands into the air in exasperation. She leans over snatches Armin's pistol out of his hands and promptly shoots the man in the leg. The sound of the gunshot instantly freezes all movement in the room. The man falls to the floor grasping his bleeding limb and groaning. "Now, if the rest of you wouldn't mind minding your own business."
The men are still staring in shock, but slowly they begin to back off. They drag their injured comrade out the door and into the lane outside. Everyone else in the room is left staring at Ymir in shock. "What?" she asks looking at us in genuine confusion.
"You just shot someone and you feel the need to ask that question?" splutters Jean.
"He was threatening us; I think that justifies shooting him," says Ymir with a scowl. "Besides it was only in the leg so he'll live." She thinks about that for a moment and then adds, "Probably."
Then Levi bursts back into the room. "What the hell did I tell before I left not fifteen minutes ago?!" he roars.
"They started it," I protest.
"I don't care who started it! You're supposed to deal with it quietly. That means without a gunshot!"
"He didn't believe we'd actually shoot at him," says Ymir. "In some cases he was right," she adds with a look of disgust in Armin's direction.
"There are more ways to solve a problem than by shooting at it or cutting apart!" Levi sighs and puts a hand to his head. "Oh well it doesn't matter all that much. I've done my 'business' now so I have the information I need to make our next move. We'd best go into a backroom where no one out here can overhear us." Still clearly fuming the Captain leads us all into a small room clearly meant for storing drink as it's full of barrels.
Moving to stand at the end furthest from the door and speaking in a low voice Levi begins. "Yesterday at about this time there was a meet up here between Bruce and several others. They payed to make sure they had access to the top rooms so no one could overhear anything. However, I know that they went out the back shortly afterwards and that they had a large bundle of some kind wrapped up in the back of a cart. Highdale doesn't people to conduct any sort of business around his tavern without at least having some idea what's going on so he arranged to have them followed after they left.
"They seem to have headed for a kind of safe house at the far side of the undercity. With any luck they should still be there. On top of that when they tried to unload said bundle from the wagon and take it inside it began to put up a struggle. Of course Highdale doesn't personally have much of a problem with kidnapping, he's let worse things go through here plenty of times. Still, he doesn't seem to sit easy with some of the people Bruce has been dealing with. That along with the proper persuasion got us enough information to devise our next move."
"So, we go to this safe house place," says Jean, "and then what?"
"For now I just plan on watching. We'll go in for him either when I feel confident enough about the general situation of things, or when they try to move Eren out of there."
"Are you sure you can trust this Highdale?" asks Armin.
"I don't trust him, but I trust his old habits and his love of money. He never sells poor information; that'd put a stain on his good name as a broker of such. I want to move now, before that little ruckus you idiots just made draws unwanted attention to us."