"So, daughter, tell me of your companions."
Annie looked up at her father as they were sat down to dinner. He'd disappeared after first greeting her, while a group of female servants nearly dragged her to a bathing room. They'd scrubbed her and cleaned her, and then dressed her in a simple tunic.
Now she sat across a fancy table from her father, their small meals already having been cleared by servants.
Now he expects a report.
"What do you wish to know?" She said mildly, meeting his gaze.
"Tell me of the man, the one with the strange eyes," Her father said, his eyebrows raising slightly when he saw how nervous Annie was beginning to act, "Ah, I was right in my assumption."
"And what assumption would that be?"
"You favor him," He said, smiling at her, "You are relaxed around him. And not since you were very young have I seen you relaxed. So, who is he?"
Annie mulled over what she said next, then kept her father waiting for a few more moments.
"He is Ragnar," She decided to at least tell a partial truth, "A prince from a set of villages to the east of the Walls."
"A Prince? How interesting." Her father drummed his fingers on the table, locking eyes with her again, "Is he a Shifter?"
Annie nodded.
"A powerful one?"
"He helped me subdue Ere-," She caught herself, "The Coordinate."
Her father laughed.
"That isn't saying much. From what I've seen and heard, he isn't very powerful."
"Ragnar could defeat me very easily."
He looked at her, seeming to inspect her face. She'd seen that look once or twice before, when she said something her father found incredibly stupid.
"Well, I'd love to see that," He said, his voice low, "Your initiation is tomorrow night, at sundown. A Circle of Equals will be opened, so everyone can demonstrate their strength. In your honor of course."
Oh shit. I can't believe I forgot about that!
A Circle of Equals was just about the worst thing that could happen. Anyone who entered the Circle could call out another. Only Annie and the Councilor's were not allowed to be called out. And it was just about the worst thing that could have happened. Her father would know if Ragnar used the Way, he'd know it in a heartbeat.
She needed to change the subject.
"I look forward to it," She lied, sipping at the glass of wine in front of her, "Now, I was told by Bertoldt and Reiner that you capture one of my former comrades from within the Wall. Ymir?"
Her father clucked his tongue, swirling his wine around his glass.
"Ah, the she-demon." He paused for a minute, while Annie did her best not to listen raptly, "It's surprising you didn't notice she was a shifter. Or that she didn't try to steal your powers."
Steal my powers…?
Noticing her confusion, her father smirked.
"Ah, you wouldn't know about her past. This Ymir was the child of… one of our founders." He took a sip of wine, seeming to contemplate something, before pulling out a key, "Here, head down to the Black Acropolis' library. Ask for 'Tales of the Founders'."
Annie let herself out, not hearing another door crack open across the room from her. A lean woman stepped out, and Jonah turned to look at her. Her red hair was pulled back tightly against her scalp.
"Dian, what are you doing back?" He said, a hint of anger rising through his voice. She was supposed to have gone to the market to pick something for Annie. His eyes narrowed as he saw the set of her jaw, and the distaste in her eyes, "What is it?"
"There is much we have to speak about," She said, her accent becoming harsher. "Now be quiet. Not all is right with your daughter and her new friends."
"Well, it seems we aren't needed after all."
Pixis stood atop the Wall, looking down at the small gathering of soldiers, the survivors of the battle. A long line of refugees was trudging away from the city, though a few of the bolder ones were circling back as the sounds of battle died down.
He and his handful of men had been waylaid by a group of Military Police, who had diligently followed their superior's orders, and died as a consequence. He'd regretted that, some of them having just been out of their Trainee Squads by the look of it.
This war is swallowing us all, making monsters of men, and corpses of boys.
"Anka, Rico, Gustav," He called out, looking to his subordinates, "I believe it would be discourteous of us not to go and say hello."
Dropping down, he landed lightly near the now closed gate, the corpses of several Titans still fresh and steaming nearby. He recognized several of the people gathered, including three of those who had rescued himself and nearly everyone in his party.
"Commander Pixis?"
Squad Leader O'Donnell was walking towards him, while his men hung back, staring at them dubiously.
"Hello, Philip," He greeted his former deputy, "How are your men holding up?"
"Rather better than they were earlier. I lost sixty men, all dead," He took a swallow from a canteen, swishing it about to clear the dust that accumulated during any kind of fighting. "We wouldn't have held out if those folks hadn't arrived."
Pixis nodded in agreement, looking at the four men. They stood apart from the other groups, though the lanky, red haired one was surreptitiously sidling towards a group of the female troops.
Erwin mentioned that one in particular in some of his messages, Pixis thought with wonder. A man not of this time…
"All of us here owe them our lives, then," Pixis stated. Philip looked up at that, his eyes narrowing slightly, "I think it would only be fair to hear them out, would it not?"
A group of civilians arrived, mounted on horseback, and more and more were returning to the relative safety of the city. The civilians dismounted and approached.
"O'Donnell," The fat, short little man said, his mustache twitching in agitation, "How could you be so stupid to allow the gates to be opened! What were you thinking?" His loud voice drew the attention of all those around. "And working with those filthy Shifters and traitors! Far be it from me to complain, you've saved most of my assets, but you must arrest these traitors immediately!"
Pixis grimaced, and Rico and Anka took a step closer to him. The Scouting Legion pulled in on itself, isolating themselves away from the others. The only ones to move towards the problem were the Shifters, who made their way over, heads held high.
But it was O'Donnell who spoke out first, his voice loud enough to carry even to the men and women who were coming up behind the fat man.
"Merchant Garret, I believe you are?" The fat man nodded, his two cronies looking about dumbly, "Well, I must disabuse you of the notion that there are any traitors within this city. There are none, only heroes, who valiantly fought to save all that is within these Walls."
The Merchant looked taken aback, he looked like he was about to speak, but squealed as he was lifted off of his feet.
Pixis watched with a resigned interest as the giant man, his brown hair fall down to his shoulders, lifted the Merchant above his head with one arm. One of the Merchants cronies tried to move, but the giant backhanded him away with a lazy slap of the hand.
"I must ask you a question," He said, his deep voice gravelly, sounding like two boulders rubbing together, "Did you refer to myself and my Prince as 'filthy'?"
Eric the Strong. Erwin was particularly interested in this one's armored abilities. Pixis thought, remembering the detailed observations about the foreigners. The chief bodyguard, what the foreigners call a Guardian, of Prince Sigmund. Both are loud, arrogant and obnoxious, prone to brawls with anyone.
He turned an eye towards the others.
The one with the beard is Suttungr. The Crown Prince and nominal leader of their group. A steady presence, excellent warrior, and second most powerful within the group. A devoted family man, though, an easily exploited weakness.
"What, what do you mean to do to me?" The man sputtered. "Put me down!"
"Apologize, now."
"Do you know who I am? I'll have you shot!"
"I honestly don't care who you are." He brought a heavy hand up, and flicked the man hard in the tip of his nose. "Now, are you going to apologize?"
"Fine! I'm sorry you filthy fucking dog!"
The big man's face contorted into the caricature of a smile, then his body contorted, his arm pulling the man closer, before sending him hurtling away to land in an unmoving pile a dozen feet away.
"Apology accepted."
Ragnar hadn't seen Annie since early the day before, and had spent most of his time cooped up in their pleasantly appointed room with Eleanor. He simply stood by the window for minutes at a time, looking out at the green plains around them. During that time, though, he was also communicating with Eren, who relayed to him some of the gossip he heard the guards speaking of. That his sister was being held in the same jail he was.
We've found her! He thought, elated, before going back to his conversation.
At half past eleven, a knock sounded at the door, and a young man entered, bowing to both of them.
"Councilor Jonah Leonhardt requests your presence at the Black Acropolis for Myrmidon Leonhardt's initiation."
Ragnar nodded, grabbing his sword belt, and strapping it on. He wore the same clothes he had worn when he arrived, a simple affair with none of the flair that most of his outfits had.
But then again, I don't want to look like a Prince.
The boy led them through a set of massive gates, and into a huge courtyard. A hundred people were already stuffed in, most of them wearing purple tunics. At the far end of the courtyard stood a group of white robed Councilors, Annie's father at the front. Anna stood to the side, wearing a finely embroidered purple tunic, with a black cloth tied around her waist in lieu of a belt.
Ragnar and Eleanor were led to a position near the front, only a dozen or so meters from the raised steps where Annie and the Councilors stood.
At an unseen signal, doors to either side of the altar opened, and more men and women marched out, wearing elaborate versions of the simple tunic. Ragnar's eyes narrowed when he caught sight of Marcus Ursus, wearing the hide of a bear, its head formed onto a helmet that rested upon his head.
"Let the initiation begin!" Jonah Leonhardt called, raising his arms to the sky. "A worthy one has returned to us!"
For thirty minutes, different Councils told a rather boring tale, what it meant to be a Myrmidon, the events that transpired that allowed Annie to return to them. Annie turned and bowed to Marcus, who placed a golden Myrmidon necklace around her neck.
"A new sister has been added to our ranks!" Marcus roared. "Another Leonhardt joins our ranks!"
The crowd chanted Annie's last name, though Ragnar and Eleanor did not join in. Ragnar's eyes were busy surveying the crowd, and he was particularly interested in two female figures, wearing elaborate dresses, who wore veils over their faces…
"Let the Circle of Equals begin!" Marcus called. "Do we have any challenges?"
"Here!" A voice called from behind Ragnar. Ragnar turned, as did the rest of the crowd, to see the tall man who had professed his love for Annie with his hand raised.
"And who do you challenge?"
"The outsider, the one known as Ragnar!"
All eyes turned to him, as he stood there in total surprise. He hadn't seen this coming… Why hadn't Annie warned him of this 'Circle of Equals', and why did she not even look at him…
Marcus walked over to him, his eyes seeming to laugh at him.
"Do you accept?"
Ragnar paused for a moment.
"I apologize, but I am foreign to your ways," Ragnar began, speaking quietly, "What are the rules of this Circle of Equals?"
Marcus snorted, as the crowd began to move around him, opening up a circle ten meters on a side.
"You must fight without your Titan. No killing." Marcus said curtly. "As the challenged, you may choose your weapon, or lack thereof. Do you accept?"
Ragnar nodded, as the tall man, Bertoldt, walked over.
"Yes. And I choose blades." He ran his hand along the pommels of his swords, as he stepped out into the circle that had been formed.
"Excellent, Myrmidon Annie has told us of your strength." Marcus said cryptically, as Bertoldt drew his own pair of blade, long and thin like those that the soldiers of the Wall used, but these weren't disposable like theirs were. Marcus went to stand upon the steps overlooking them. "You may begin!"
Ragnar ripped his blades from their sheathes, as Bertoldt darted forward, faster than a man his size should have been able to manage. Their blades locked, and Ragnar growled as their faces came within inches of each other.
"She's mine." He heard Bertoldt whisper.
Anger swelled up inside him, and with a powerful push, he disengaged his blades from Bertoldt's, before immediately counterattacking.
His blades ran bloody furrows down the taller man's chest, and he heard the crowd murmur behind him as Bertoldt staggered backwards, steam rising from his chest.
Ragnar didn't let him rest, charging forward again, striking towards Bertoldt's heart.
Pain erupted from his own chest, as Bertoldt slipped under his strike, and plunged his own blades into Ragnar's chest, twisting them viciously. Then he released the blade, a triumphant look upon his face as Ragnar staggered away.
Must… focus! He thought, driving through the pain. The crowd began to cheer, as Bertoldt turned to look directly at Annie, but the cheers died as Ragnar dropped his own blades, and gripped the hilts of the ones buried in his chest.
The pain flared, but he didn't feel it, as the blades slid out of his chest. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, and steam burst from the wounds, taking only seconds to heal. Then he threw the blades away, so that they clanked against the first step, directly in front of Marcus.
"Nice try." He said, frowning at the blood that now stained his clothes.
Ragnar shot forward, ramming a shoulder into the shocked man's chest. The strike sent him hurtling away, to sprawl on the ground. He pushed himself up, but Ragnar was already upon him, his fingers interlaced and hurtling towards his head. Ragnar's fingers broke as they smashed Bertoldt into unconsciousness, and partially caved in one part of his skull, which began to steam almost immediately.
Holding his hands in front of him, he felt his bones popping back together, but he pushed the pain behind him as he walked over to where he'd dropped his blades, sheathing them quickly.
"Does that satisfy your Circle of Equals?" He called, stepping towards the raised dais.
"Yes, in fact it does," Jonah said, stepping to the edge of the top step, "But it does not satisfy my curiosity, Prince Ragnar... Is your father truly the Crystal King?"
Ragnar froze, a chill running down his spine as a smile crept across Jonah's face.
"Ah, well that explains much," He said, as the crowd shifted behind him, "Surrender now, young Prince, or there may be… consequences…"
Looking at Annie, who still would not make eye contact with him, his eyes were then drawn too…
Shit! He thought, as the entire rest of their team was dragged from one of the side doors, all except Captain Levi.
"Shall you surrender, or will we be forced to…"
Ragnar bit his hand, his Jotunn bursting to life around him. He stood there, towering over all those around him, his black armor glinting evilly in the torchlight. His eyes found Jonah again, who held a knife to Connie's throat.
"Remove yourself from your Titan, now!"
Indecision raged within Ragnar, as he looked down at his battered and bruised comrades, including Eleanor, who had her hands twisted behind her back by a trio of Myrmidons. But it was when he looked into Annie's eyes that he felt his heart grow cold, as cold as her eyes were now. She looked at him as she did the first time they had met, as she had when the Beast had attempted to kill her…
What happened over the last day? He thought, feeling the betrayal flowing through him, knowing that Annie was the only person who could have told her father all that he seemed to know. Does she still love me?
Ragnar let out a roar, throwing his head back, his Jotunn's fists clenched. The roar shattered windows all around, and when it ended, he saw that most of the Myrmidons had their hands clamped over their ears.
He laid down, and with a final rip, popped himself free of his Jotunn. Sliding down, he found a trio of men waiting for him, but he brushed past them, unbuckling his sword belt. He trudged up the steps, towards Annie, until he stood in front of her, their eyes at the same level because he stood on the step below hers.
Holding his sword belt out, he dropped it at her feet, seeing the stony look she gave him.
And then five men piled atop him, a thick piece of leather going into his mouth, and manacles going around his feet and hands.
But through it all, he never lost eye contact with Annie, whose blue eyes seemed empty as she stared back at him.
Hey all, sorry for the HUGE gap between this chapter and the last. A lot has happened in my life (including starting another story), but I'm not going to let this story die. I'm back!