Year 847, Spring

"You're out."

Celine smiled. The gesture was not returned by the man regarding her from the other side of his desk.

"Come on," Celine said, lifting her arms. "I've almost got it! Kicking me out now would be so unfair."

"You've taken the test four times," the man said, his hardened features revealing little empathy for Celine's plight. "You can't steer the ODM gear – you're out."

Commandant Keith Sadies of the Cadet Corps was a tough one to crack. There were others who Celine could charm with carefully targeted compliments or favors. Keith only regarded her like a turd caught in the gutter.

Celine grasped desperately for a lead.

Anything. Anything but that.

Celine dipped her head, squeezing her eyes so tight she saw stars.

"If you cry in my office, you're cleaning the latrine," Keith said.

Fuck.

"My mother," Celine said, bile crawling out her throat along with the words. "You've heard about her, right? How would it look if you kicked me out?"

A smile mixed with desperation stretched across Celine's face. "And what would it hurt sending me through, huh? Wouldn't it look good for me to follow in her footsteps? The civilians would love it! The Military Police hardly use ODM gear, anyway. No one would even care if I never used it!"

A puff of air escaped Keith's nose. It was the closest the Commandant ever came to laughing. "In what way..." he said. "... could you think a cadet who failed to master a basic requirement, along with conducting herself in such a wretched manner, could possibly qualify to be among our military elite?"

"There's other things I can do!" Celine said, waving her arms. "I know how to conduct field repairs for every piece of equipment! And no one in my class knows more protocols by heart than I do!"

"You can't keep up with the others during field training," Keith said, unmoved. "You're a burden on your squad during training excursions. You take twice as long to get assignments done than anyone else because you'd rather spend the time fucking around."

"That's not true!" Celine said. "Whoever said that is just trying to make me look bad! We all know there are only so many slots for getting into the Military Police, and some asshole is just trying to better their odds!"

"That asshole is you, Bodt," Keith said. His features sagged as he leaned his head into his hand. The man looked the very definition of fed up. "I've witnessed your behavior myself. You manipulate your peers to complete tasks you feel are beneath your abilities. Considering it's you we're talking about, that should be a very short list. Your only real use in the field are your hand-to-hand skills, but those don't do shit against a Titan."

"Who cares!" Celine said. She took a few steps forward, placing a hand on her chest. "I wouldn't be doing that anyway! The Military Police don't even fight the Titans!"

Keith finally regarded her with some interest. He stood, taking a few steps to tower over her. The shadows from the oil lamps made his features look borderline ghastly.

"Take a moment to consider what you just said."

Celine flinched. She dropped her gaze to stare at the patches along the front of Keith's jacket. She knew the meaning behind each one.

It was common for Celine to run her fingers along the strings within the embroidery machines after the workers in her father's factory went home in the evenings. Celine had been in a few buildings with stained glass windows, but their beauty couldn't compare to the rainbow of colors strung among the equipment. There weren't nearly as many machines dedicated to making the patches as there were military uniforms – the ratio of soldiers who survived long enough to earn honors for bravery or leadership were far outmatched by what the man before her liked to call 'Titan fodder.'

Celine recalled her mother's jacket had two rows more patches than Keith's. They had been sewn onto a jacket fresh from the tailors and presented to her father – what was left of the original was little more than a few blood-stained pieces of cloth lowered into a casket.

"That was …" Celine said. She looked away, taking a moment to finish her thought. "My mother was an exception."

"Your mother was in the Military Police because she earned her right to be there," Keith said. "If it had been you in her place, you would've been nothing but Titan fodder. Perhaps you would've still saved lives; a few people could probably run away while the Titans were busy ripping you in two."

Celine's hands balled into fists, "I could've–"

"Your mother is the only reason you were allowed to stay as long as you have," Keith said. "You have far better connections than what you deserve. If it wasn't for them, you wouldn't have been here two weeks, much less two years."

A sigh escaped Keith as he returned to his chair. He opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged for a moment before pulling out a document. The document was set down and pushed across the wood. Keith regarded Celine with a weary stare until she reached for the paper.

"I cannot express how much I despise people like you," Keith said. "There's no real reason for you to be here – you could've left at any time to live a cushy life within the interior. You didn't do anything to deserve what's come to you aside from being born."

Celine couldn't focus on the words. The paper creased in her hands as they shook.

"You bastard," Celine said. "I could take an old man like you. I'd love to hear you tell me I don't deserve to be here after I kick your teeth in."

"Are you threatening a superior officer, Bodt?" Keith said, his voice free of emotion. He watched as Celine struggled with the decision over risking a prison sentence for her pride. A sliver of common sense seemed to slip through when Celine clenched her jaw and looked away.

"You've been given an offer to join the Engineering Corps," Keith said. "It's a sub-branch of the Garrison. You'll technically be a member of the military, and your mother's supporters should be satisfied. You should be as well since by all accounts you're unqualified for this position."

Wide brown eyes slowly raised to meet Keith's passive stare. "I should be satisfied?" Celine whispered. "The Engineering Corps is a joke. Any idiot can refill a gas canister and pass out boots."

"And of all those idiots," Keith said, lacing his fingers as he leaned forward, "you'll be at the top. Celine Bodt will be the only member of the Engineering Corps who will not be assigned ODM gear. You'll be an outlier because every single one of those 'idiots' in your Corps aside from you actually had the skills to graduate. Congratulations, Cadet Bodt – you're at the top of the bottom."

Year 847, Summer

"Celine."

The woman at the table didn't answer. Her head was against the dark wood, wavy hair falling over her face to create a natural barrier against the sunlight peeking through the seemingly endless rows of gas canisters shelved around the room.

The man at her side scratched his short blond hair with a sigh. "What did I ever do to you, huh? Captain Woermann is gonna chew me out again if he sees you like this."

There was a small shift in the clump of hair on the table. "I'm being as useful as I can be at the moment," it said.

"You lazy ass," the man said, giving Celine's boot a nudge. "At least get your inventory count done for today."

"I've finished my damn inventory count for the week," Celine said, now turning her head so a pair of narrowed eyes were visible. Her hand shot up to slam down on a stack of papers at her side, causing her companion to flinch. "It's just counting canisters and signing forms, anyone with half a brain could finish in a morning."

Celine Bodt had only been a member of the Engineering Corp for around three weeks when the first transfer request was submitted by her unit captain – one Norman Planchet. He'd quickly found Celine to not quite be a good fit. She completed her assignments, but brought the overall moral of the squad down through frequent napping or nitpicking every little thing. This led to Norman staggering Celine's shifts in a manner where she would work alone for the majority of her assignments.

A certain balance had been struck – Celine being able to complete her projects then laze about at her leisure while Norman tucked her away in a corner and forgot she existed. Things would only grow increasingly problematic when Celine would decide, for one reason or another, to take her naps in fairly populated areas.

Norman's expression turned uneasy as he crossed his arms. "How about the stress test on the harness straps?" he asked.

"Done, with three crates returned for replacement," Celine said. "The tanner was trying to fuck us over with an ill-cut batch."

"And the blade inspection?"

Celine sat up with a weary expression, "Paid Alex to handle it."

Norman looked like she'd spit in his tea. "Celine, I told you – you can't do that."

"The compensation for our transaction was a loaf of bread, three apples, and some cheese," Celine said. "It's not against the rules if it isn't legal tender."

A beat of silence passed. Norman was being watched with a bored expression which conveyed loud and clear Celine was going to get her way and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Four transfer requests concerning Celine had already been submitted – Norman wondered if it would come off as asinine to submit a fifth.

"Hey, Norman!"

Norman turned to the open doorway, grateful to have an excuse to leave Celine's presence as fast as possible. The squeak of a chair as he turned his back indicated Celine had already laid her head down to continue her nap. A swift puff of air from his nose was all Norman revealed of his feelings on the matter.

"That Scout officer is back again," the newcomer – one of Norman's far more likable subordinates, officer Jansden, – said. "Seriously, this is the fifth day in a row. You headed over again?"

"Ugh, no," Norman said, covering his eyes with one hand. "I can't believe this. We can't even help the Scouts with what they're looking for. And the last time I made the mistake of agreeing to a meeting, it took up nearly half my day because–"

Norman paused. He had a rather ingenious idea of how to kill two Titans with one stone.

"Celine," he said, turning to gaze back into the storeroom with a steady expression. "Since you've completed your other assignments, you can meet with the Scout Regiment representative in the …"

Norman looked to Jansden, who perked up under the attention.

"The records room!" Jansden said.

The records room had the appearance of a quaint library – floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lining three walls to leave the fourth unobstructed so the wide windows could provide plenty of natural lighting. Its new mahogany furniture and cozy charm made it a popular spot for any superior officers in the area to conduct meetings and status reports. For the Engineering Corps, this was never higher than a Garrison Regiment Captain – usually ones without much renown, at that.

"Right, the record's room," Norman continued. "Grab what you need for notes and take documentation of any concerns – I'll expect a summary on my desk by tomorrow."

At first it was unclear if Celine heard him. Soon enough, the woman lifted her head and shook the hair away from her face. She glanced at Norman as she began to tidy her appearance by braiding her hair over one shoulder.

"Look at you, dumping undesirable tasks on your underlings," she said with a smile. "You make me so proud."

Definitely filing that fifth transfer request, Norman thought. With a tilt to his head, he and Jansden left without another word.

"Ah, there you are!" a voice shouted the second Celine stepped into the records room. At first Celine was surprised to see it was empty but for one occupant. It took her around two seconds to figure out why everyone else had cleared out.

"You must be the Commander, right?" the woman said as she barreled across the room. She was nearly a head taller than Celine, making it easy to identify her as the Scout Regiment contact from the winged shield symbol above her breast pocket now at eye level. She snatched Celine's hands, warm brown eyes behind square lenses glittering as she beamed. "It's been a while since someone came by. I made it very clear to the past few soldiers I wouldn't speak to anyone below a Commander. Planchet is fine at his job, don't get me wrong, but he's not quite able to measure up to the scope of what we need."

Dog.

The woman was the embodiment of a high-strung puppy brimming with enough unbridled energy to fetch a stick a thousand times over and never have the wherewithal to ask if the task was really worth the effort. It made Celine sick.

"Are you stupid?"

The woman froze. Her goofy grin shifted to a confused frown as she tilted her head; this only helped to remind Celine more of an animal.

"We're part of the Garrison," Celine continued. She yanked her hand out of the woman's grip. "Our only Commander on the southern side is Pyxis. I've never even seen the guy because I assume he has much better things to do than come here. Even so, you'd have to be a total idiot to think I was some ancient geezer of a Commander."

Celine flinched as she suddenly found the woman's face inches from hers. She was being inspected as if the woman couldn't quite make out what she was looking at.

"You speak pretty freely for someone of your rank," the woman said.

The statement was made as a fact. It almost would've been better if the woman had spun it as an insult since it would be easier for Celine to brush off.

"Got a problem?" Celine said, lifting her chin. "Want to go toe-to-toe with this Garrison scum and see how superior you're feeling by the end of it?"

"Ah." The woman raised her brows. She took a step back and placed her hand on her chin. The thoughtful expression on her face was quickly bringing Celine's blood to a boil.

"They must've sent you here to get rid of me," the woman said. She closed her eyes with a sigh. "Really … if I'm being honest, I wanted to talk with someone in the Technical Department, but I was told they wouldn't meet with anyone shy of a Commander. For everything Erwin is, no matter how hard I try, I can't convince him my proposals for Titan-catching equipment deserves the ear of the head of the Tech Department.

"It's outrageous! By capturing more Titans, we can vastly utilize the opportunity to conduct thorough research into what they are, who they are, where they're from … I put all of this down in the letters I sent to the Tech Department, yet they remain insistent on following the chain of command. Ah … I was really hoping the Engineering Corps had their own Commander. If I have to track down Pyxis … I don't even know where he's stationed right now."

The woman opened her eyes with a frustrated groan. She found Celine's demeanor had shifted drastically as her features had smoothed into a pensive expression.

"You're serious?" Celine said. "You're talking about capturing Titans; the monsters that go around killing us whenever they get the chance."

"But that's the thing!" the woman said, exasperated. "We have no idea why they eat us! They don't have digestive tracts! They'll even spit out corpses if their stomachs get too full! How is it they're able to sustain themselves and avoid starvation? If they do eat anything for energy, what is it? Titans haven't been observed to hunt in any form aside from humans, but there must be some vital piece of their nutriment cycle we're missing, right?! Are they herbivores? Do they eat humans as a means to help with digestion much like birds do with stones? Perhaps humans are a vessel for hydration … Wait – I never thought of that."

The woman darted across the room, flipped open a notebook, and pulled a pencil from where it had been tucked behind her ear. A moment passed of the woman writing in a frantic fashion.

Celine watched this unfold without a word. She took a few steps to a nearby table and pulled up a chair. When the woman closed her notebook, Celine indicated for her companion to join her by tapping the table with her finger.

"You're insane," Celine said. "Take a seat – listening to you beats any of the shit they have me doing here by far."

"Oh?" the woman said. A grin spread across her face. "Dropping the 'tough guy' façade, huh?"

The woman snatched a number of bulging folders from another table before plopping them down across from Celine. "It's natural you're curious," the woman said with a gleam to her eye. "Anyone would be fascinated by the mystery behind the Titans."

"The Titans are simple," Celine said. She rested her elbow on the table as she extended her hand. "You're a bit more of a challenge to understand. I'm Celine Bodt."

Celine's hand was clasped with gusto. "Hange Zoe," Hange said. "And I can't say anyone has taken more interest in me than the Titans. I think I'll change your perspective on the matter soon enough."

"I've got all day," Celine said, opening her own notebook.

Celine still couldn't quite pin Hange Zoe down by the end of the day. Or by the end of the second. It wasn't even until the sixth day did Hange mention anything about herself that didn't have to do with Titans. This tidbit was that Hange's father was a florist … whose business had taken a hit when the Titans coming through Wall Maria lost him more than half his suppliers. Celine tried to follow up with how Hange's father was fairing now, but was promptly ignored over speculations if Titans had a concept for beauty and the list of things Hange believed Titans found visually pleasing (horses being one, since Titans never seemed to consume those).

By the seventh full day of lecture, Celine felt she could now be considered an expert on the subject of Titans. This was taking into consideration she'd only retained roughly a quarter of anything Hange had said. If one were to also account for the fact most of Hange's theories were nothing more than just that, Celine may very well have had a worse understanding of the true nature of Titans than she did before.

Celine cared little either way; listening to Hange's ramblings was leagues more entertaining than filling gas canisters or doing equipment stress tests. The added bonus of Norman accepting curt reports before dismissing Celine to the records room for another day of lectures left both parties happy to keep the other preoccupied. This state of affairs went on for nine days before Hange lifted her hands in a grand fashion.

"So that leads me to wanting to capture them for research," Hange said. She put her hands in her lap and stared with a hopeful expression.

"What?" Celine said, lifting her head from where it'd been leaning in her hand. "You want me to talk now?"

Hange nodded. This led to Celine leaning back in her chair, tapping her pencil against the wood in a rhythmic pattern.

"Right now, you use these restraints," Celine eventually said as she turned a few pages in her journal. Each page had little in terms of writing, but were filled with various diagrams of ODM gear, cannons, grappling hooks, and other equipment Hange had mentioned throughout her long-winded tales. Celine stopped flipping pages when she reached a sketch of wooden poles topped with a loop of metal wire. It was a similar design to what farmers used to restrain rowdy livestock; a scaled-up version had worked with varying success for Titans.

"Ooh!" Hange said, standing to get a better look. "Those are great! When did you do that?"

"This is literally all I've been doing for the past week," Celine said, feeling unsurprised her overly zealous companion didn't notice.

"You drew that just based on description," Hange said. She circled around the table, leaning over Celine's shoulder as she flipped through the pages. "Most of these look like the real thing."

"You know what we do here, right?" Celine said. "I've done maintenance on most of your field equipment. Aside from the ODM gear, nothing is overly complex. Sketching diagrams for this stuff isn't nearly as complicated as the power looms I used to work on."

"It's impressive!"

For the first time since they'd met, the corner of Celine's mouth turned up in a smile. She nudged the journal to the side so Hange could get a better look. "Have you thought about weight restraints?"

Hange lifted her head to meet Celine's gaze. "Weight restraints?"

"When you were talking about the collar restraints, I thought about what we use for people," Celine said. She flipped the journal to the next page. "Specifically, what we do with prisoners when they're taken outside their cells. The shortage of iron left the majority of them being melted down, but when I was a kid, I remember I used to see criminals coming in and out of the courthouse with weights attached to their ankles via a chain – like this."

Celine tapped the corresponding image in her book. "The problem is commissioning that much iron for the size of a Titan would be impossible. However, you mentioned Titans tend to be light – at least far lighter than they should be considering their size. That means the weight proportion of the restraint doesn't need to be a one-to-one scale of what we had for humans. It'll still be heavy – probably around two to three hundred kilograms. But that should be manageable enough to be cut from stone. In theory it can be transported via horse without too much trouble if you use a detachable cart. The snag may come with getting it into a viable position to secure the clamp around a Titan's ankle, but then its mobility should be limited enough to make looping on the neck restraints easier. The restraints could then be detached, and resecured when–"

Celine let out a gasp as she was nearly knocked free from her chair. Hange had gripped her by both shoulders and was shaking her back and forth like a ragdoll.

"This is brilliant! Celine, you can make an official write up of this and submit it to the Technical Department, right?! No, actually – these diagrams should be enough. I'll just take the whole book and deliver it myself. This is better than I imagined! Having new equipment to condu–"

"Oi!" Celine threw up her hands, knocking away Hange's grip. "Are you crazy? The Tech Department would use this book for toilet paper if you sent it their way. They don't consider design suggestions from anyone outside the Military Police."

"Nonsense! If we just–"

"It would be no skin off your nose," Celine said, her chair scraping across the wood as she got to her feet, "but I have better things to do than to be made a joke."

Hange's shoulders fell. Concern etched her face as she studied Celine's dejected expression. "It shouldn't be," she said. "I shouldn't have to fight nearly as hard as I do to get approval for my research. I just … don't understand it. This is part of our survival, of our growth. It's far too hard to find others who will listen. You don't know how nice it was having someone make me feel heard."

Celine's features shifted as if she smelled something repugnant. "Good for you, but this wasn't anything more than a way for me to kill time. I'm not going to have my name drug through the mud just to make you feel special."

Celine closed the journal with a snap. She snatched it up and left Hange behind without another word.

"You're a poor liar, Celine Bodt," Hange said.

"Eh?! You wanna go, Four-eyes?" Celine said. Elbows rested on her spread knees as Celine leaned forward. She looked every bit like she was trying to emulate a street thug without having actually ever seen one in her life.

Celine was sitting atop a crate of food rations which was among hundreds of others in the vast underground portion of the Trost warehouse. It was the day after their last meeting, Hange having searched high and low for nearly an hour before finally coming across Celine.

"You said you weren't serious about my ideas," Hange said. The crate shuddered when she slammed her boot down next to Celine, leaning in to hit her with a sneer. "But no one would put in that amount of effort if it was only an excuse to kill time. You're just putting on that 'tough guy' act again. And while it's adorable seeing a little thing like yourself try to look threatening, I haven't been fooled."

"You ass!" Celine said, bounding to her feet. "I'm not about to be drug down into your demented freak show! I bet you're a joke among the higher ups, and I don't want any part of that!"

"You're right," Hange said. She crossed her arms and lifted her chin. "I can count the number of people who take me seriously on one hand. That still isn't going to stop me from following my passion. Tell me, Celine – what's stopping you?"

Celine froze. She dropped her gaze, her lips pursing.

"Is it about your mother?" Hange asked, her tone turning somber.

There was a flash of something genuinely unsettling behind Celine's eyes. Hange frowned.

"You're not your mother," Hange said. "I don't even think your mother was your mother unless she was carved from diamonds and sprouted wings. I've spent enough time with you to see you have the potential to stand in greatness on your own. All I'm asking is if you're willing to take that first step."

Celine's eyes narrowed. "You're just saying what you need to in order to get my help."

"Partially," Hange said. "But I mean what I said. You called me interesting, Celine, and I can say I have the same curiosity about you. I think the two of us can work together to lift each other up if you'll give it a shot."

Hange extended her hand. It was eyed in a wary fashion as Celine contemplated the offer. There was a gamble she wouldn't bite. However, the proposition Hange had placed on the table was a well-thought-out one: status. The ability to advance.

It was clear as day Celine Bodt couldn't be bought with money, information, or the assurance her work would help to benefit humanity as a whole. She wanted recognition. Alongside someone who demanded attention regardless of others' interests, Hange would act as the perfect platform to raise her into the spotlight. Celine advancing would open desired avenues for Hange as well. This was far from an act of altruism – which, if anything, Hange was sure, would make Celine less suspicious of the deal.

"You can't submit anything without my approval," Celine said as she took Hange's hand. Her companion beamed.

"And the first proposal won't be Titan-capturing equipment," Celine continued. She slapped a hand over Hange's mouth to muffle any protest. "We have to start with something more practical. Based on what you said, it sounds like the cannons have a couple factors that can be improved. After some field research we may actually be able to submit something that will get our foot in the door."

Celine took a step back. There was a standoff as Hange frowned in contemplation. The staring contest ended when Hange lifted her head in an exaggerated sigh and Celine rolled her eyes.

"The cannons have been an issue," Hange eventually said. The uncertainty in her voice became laced with resignation. "You think there's something we can do about it?"

"No," Celine said. "I think there's something I can do about it; you can get me clearance to see them in action."

"Oh ho! You sure are confident," Hange said. The familiar glint behind her eye made a reappearance. "Alright then – we'll have it your way, Celine Bodt. I'll get you to the cannons, then you can prove to me I made the right choice selecting you to assist in my research."

"Whatever," Celine said with a shrug. "But the second you refer to me as your assistant again, I'm out."

Marco lifted his hand, pausing for a moment before knocking on the deep blue door.

This wasn't the first time Marco had been invited to Samuel Bodt's home. He'd seen the house plenty of times – being in awe of the multiple, spacious bedrooms and being just as impressed with the indoor plumbing on the dozenth-or-so visit as on the first. Samuel had been happy to oblige Marco's request to explain the pipe system. The man was many years Marco's senior, but when it came to describing the inner workings of just about any mechanism, Samuel would crouch, lean, or even climb with just as much animation as a person half his age in order to give a proper explanation.

This lively nature was something Marco hadn't seen much of when Samuel used to visit out in Jinae. He surmised that being out in the country with limited technology had left Samuel a little out of his element. That was a feeling Marco could relate to. For the past year, Marco found himself within the urban environment of Laurel Town just a few kilometers outside Wall Sina. Having Samuel around to guide Marco into acclimating to city life had been a godsend.

Marco and Rosie had been classified as refugees. This had come off as confusing to Marco since they were certainly not in the same spot as the thousands who'd been forced to flee when Wall Maria fell.

Life for Marco and his mother had remained roughly unchanged for a handful of months after the disastrous hunting party. At first it was a slow transition when the streets started being occupied with new faces. Some of the strangers slept in alleyways or orchards until one resident or another offered space in a spare room. This was what Rosie and Marco did until their home and barn could no longer comfortably fit the seemingly endless string of misplaced migrants knocking on their door.

Regardless, no one was ever turned away. Marco gave up his bed to a mother and her two young sons who weren't yet tall enough to reach Marco's hip. Rosie pulled food from the root cellar to ensure every visitor would have a warm bowl of soup to fill their stomachs. Tents sewn from any spare sheets that could be found were erected about the property. There were more than enough hands to help Marco in running the farm, but the amount of food which could be harvested stayed the same while the number of mouths needing to be fed only continued to grow.

When the day came with members of the Garrison offering to purchase the property for the sake of it being converted into an official encampment … Rosie was hard pressed to find a reason to decline.

The number of times Marco had raised his voice to his mother could be counted on one hand. The day she decided to accept the offer and signed the papers was one. The government was offering far less for the farm than what it was worth. Not only that, but the farm was home. Jinae was beautiful sunrises, deer grazing in the early mornings, and children's laughter from the nearby stream. Marco wasn't ready to lose that – not yet.

"People may change," Rosie had said. She had cupped Marco's cheek, wiping a tear away with her thumb. "But the land does not. Jinae will always be here. Your home will be waiting right here for you whenever you wish to come and see it."

Papers were signed. Countless friends new and old, along with a couple of milk cows, were given tearful goodbyes. Samuel arrived from the city with a wagon for Marco and Rosie to pack with their belongings. There was little to take; mother and son leaving as much furniture as possible to be used by those unfortunate enough to have had their homes taken away under circumstances which left them with no compensation. At the very least, Marco and Rosie were being offered a place to stay in Samuel's factory. In many regards, Marco knew this was a blessing. This thought did little to dampen the ache when he'd turned back to watch the stone buildings of Jinae fade in the distance.

Things changed rapidly from there. Marco and Rosie were offered a place to stay in the form of a single bedroom home on the property of Samuel's textile factory located in Laurel Town to the north of Jinae. The house had been designed back when Samuel had to spend days on end at the factory after he first launched the business. Currently the home sat empty more often than not. The quaint space came equipped with a water pump and outhouse out the back, and a wood-burning stove of a size which put Rosie's old one to shame. To anyone from Wall Sina, and even a few within Wall Rose, the residence was nothing remarkable. To a boy like Marco, it was more than he'd ever imagined 'city life' could be.

The offered housing came hand-in-hand with an opportunity for Rosie to start working in the factory. It took a few weeks for her to become fully familiar with the new line of embroidering equipment, but she quickly became a valued member of the line of technicians and designers monitoring the machines and their output. Connections from Samuel opened up the ability for her to run a side business doing embroidery work for a handful of civilian boutiques in the interior. After only a few months, enough buzz revolved around her exquisite handiwork for custom orders to start trickling in from members of prestigious noble families.

Rosie nearly turned the offers of additional work down in concern she may not be able to give Marco the attention he'd require. She shared with Samuel one day that the last thing she wanted was for her son to feel isolated in an environment as intimidating as the bustling atmosphere of Laurel, which couldn't be any more different than the sleepy streets of Jinae.

As it turned out, Marco put his mother's worries to rest one day when he popped his head through the front door while she was preparing dinner.

"Do we have enough for more settings?" he'd asked.

"Sure!" Rosie had beamed, beside herself in joy Marco had returned from his first day at his new school with friends in tow. "How many?"

Marco's head had disappeared from view for a moment to do a quick count before leaning back through the door frame.

"Twenty-five."

There were a few kids who tried to make trouble on Marco's first day of school. They waited until the instructor left for lunch and walked up to Marco's desk to get in a few snide remarks about the new student's deep tan and unusual haircut.

Then Marco got to his feet.

The insults were cut short as Marco was regarded with uncertainty. It came as a surprise when Marco extended his hand, agreeing they must find him odd for his different appearance and way of speaking. He hoped they could become friends regardless.

At first the pact was made based on the speculation Marco was capable of tearing any one of his far shorter and less physically active classmates in two. A few minutes in his presence were all that was needed to shatter this perception. Some kids grew annoyed when they discovered no matter how much they wanted to dislike the kid who knew more about goats than arithmetic, or applauded other's neat handwriting as if witnessing great works of art … they couldn't. Within a week Marco was just as integrated into the classroom dynamic as if he'd been there all along. Marco wasn't dim by any means; his grades catching up to, then exceeding, his peers. As much as Marco's heart occasionally ached for his hometown, things were going generally well.

It also didn't go unnoticed Samuel began coming around for dinner more often than not. Marco did his best to contain his glee when Samuel began gifting Rosie with flowers and his mother would take the time to style her hair in similar fashions to the ladies of Wall Sina. Almost a year after coming to Laurel Town, Rosie sat Marco down to discuss her relationship with Samuel. Marco thought there would be no surprises considering he was fully expecting the official news of their courtship. His mother proved him wrong:

"I've told you before Samuel's wife passed away a few years ago. Her death … people began treating him very differently afterwards. Not all of the attention he received was kind; it's why he's never spoken of it. And you … what happened to you when Wall Maria fell … that story would hurt him. I know you wouldn't ever hurt Samuel on purpose, but there's a reason I asked you not to mention that Victoria Bodt saved your life."

Marco had known Samuel's last name was Bodt for quite some time. The first thing he did when learning the name of his savior back when Wall Maria fell was to ask his mother if there was any relation between the two. It made sense now why his mother had taken so long to answer, and why she told him he could never tell the story to Samuel. Victoria Bodt's last moments, down to the description of the Titan who likely ended her life, wasn't something her widower deserved to hear. Marco had wept in his mother's arms the night after Victoria had saved his life – he wept into her arms again the night he learned what Samuel had lost.

That conversation had occurred two months prior. Today, Marco and Rosie had donned their formal attire and headed to Samuel's home within Stohess District for a special dinner. Marco wasn't a fan of fastening a seemingly endless row of buttons and fidgeting with cufflinks, but he adored observing the townsfolk of Stohess.

The people of the interior city were akin to characters plucked from a novel; the women wore elaborate hats, sparkling brooches, and enough layers of clothing to make it amazing they could withstand the summer heat without batting an eye. The men bustling around the town square left Marco feeling somewhat inadequate for lacking the sense of urgency and purpose they all seemed to possess. There would be occasional glimpses through windows of women playing cards, people reading in plush chairs, or parties with plates of apple cake and the sound of laughter spilling into the street. It wasn't that the people within Wall Rose didn't seem as happy, but compared to the people within the interior, they didn't seem … content.

After leaving Jinae, Marco felt those around him were always looking for more.

That wasn't the case within Stohess. Everyone had their purpose and had no qualms about it. Watching the city tick like a perfectly oiled machine left Marco and Rosie taking scenic routes to Samuel's on every occasion.

Every occasion except for today. Today, Marco urged his mother with a spring to his step as they made a straight shot for Samuel's house. There was going to be a new face at dinner that evening – Samuel's daughter and only child, Celine.

Celine was a member of the Engineering Corps. Marco's mind buzzed with no less than a dozen questions he was itching to ask her concerning her branch in the Garrison. He categorized each inquiry in terms of importance as he hung his jacket, accepted a cup of tea, and settled himself next to his mother in Samuel's parlor. The idle chatter between Samuel and his mother drifted into background noise as Marco's knee began to bounce. His teacup, printed with a pattern of yellow roses, only made it halfway to Marco's lips before something caught his eye.

Samuel's parlor had an abundance of artwork worth admiring, yet Marco chose to regard a music box sitting amid a collection of other trinkets displayed on a wide oak shelf. The music box was incomplete – no panels of wood or metal to hide away the gleaming inner gears. Samuel had told Marco during a prior visit the music box had been a project of Celine's around the time she'd been his age. Marco found it remarkable.

The sound of footsteps from the hall snapped Marco out of his stupor. Samuel and Rosie set their teacups aside and rose from their seats, Marco following suit. He took a deep breath and put on a pleasant smile as Samuel's housemaid Rebecca opened the door and stepped aside to allow the newcomer behind her to enter. The smile fell from Marco's face.

It was like seeing a ghost. A perfect copy of the woman who'd saved his life two years ago strode into the room. Her hair was the same honey blonde, even braided over one shoulder just as he remembered. The woman's outfit was also identical aside from the crest sewn on her jacket breast sporting a tangle of roses instead of a unicorn. Even the way she moved was the same – chin held high and a presence demanding notice. Marco was nearly a head taller than Celine and he still flinched when her attention moved away from greeting her father to regard Marco and Rosie.

"It's been too long, Rosie," Celine said. The pair of women clasped hands and leaned in to kiss each other on the cheek in a fashion popular among the women of Wall Sina. His mother was beaming as they pulled apart.

"What a pleasant surprise," Rosie said. "I can't believe you remember me!"

"Of course, I do," Celine said with a chuckle. "You were the only one who'd let me play with the sewing machines when Papa wasn't around. Remember the time I stitched my sleeve to that blue and white placemat? I pretended I was a kite and sprinted around the entire floor with my arm held high and a trail of strings at my back. I'll always remember the sound of your shoes hitting the floor when you practically jumped down the stairs to scoop me up and get everything tidied before Papa could see."

Rosie closed her eyes and lifted a hand to stifle her laughter. "I will never forget!" she said. "I nearly fainted from relief when you were finally all sorted out. I was so worried those strings were going to catch in a machine and take you with them — that fright must've taken a few years off my life." She raised her eyes to match Celine's grin with her own. "In any case, I recall we pinky-swore to keep that a secret, hmm?"

"Unfortunately, we've surpassed the time limitations on that contract," Celine said with a casual wave. "It'll take more than a few candies and a handful of buttons to buy my silence now."

The adults chuckled as Samuel gave Celine's shoulder an approving pat. Celine's attention shifted to Marco. It was at this point Marco was finally able to make out a major distinction between Celine and her mother – their eyes. Celine's eyes were akin to her father's; warm brown with flecks of gold in the light. There was also something in her features that was a unique quality Marco couldn't quite put his finger on. Whatever it was reminded him of the wild boars roaming the edge of the village back in Jinae. Their monstrous tusks ripped apart tree roots in search of grubs; the area looked nothing short of a disaster whenever they migrated through. The boars were generally harmless if you let them be. If you didn't … Marco wasn't exactly sure what would happen, since no one in Jinae had been dim enough to find out.

"This is my son, Marco," Rosie said as she clasped Marco's arm. "He's been very excited to meet you! I don't think he's stopped talking about it for over a week."

"Come on, Mom," Marco said as his cheeks began to burn. He was grateful when Celine shrugged off the comment and offered her hand. A broad grin spread over his face as he clasped her hand in a firm shake.

"I've heard you haven't been in the city for very long," she said. "I'm sure so many new experiences and faces have been quite stimulating. I'm looking forward to hearing about it."

Marco was more than happy to oblige. The four of them sat at the end of Samuel's long dining table – Samuel at the head with Celine to his right and Marco and his mother to his left. Marco described his fascination with the fast-paced society within Laurel as Rebecca flitted back and forth from the kitchen bearing bowls of soup.

A conversation resulted in comparing Laurel to Celine's new stomping ground in Trost. The topic didn't appear to hold much interest for Celine, her answers to any questions growing curt as the next course was served. She would occasionally chime in with her opinion on other matters of discussion, but generally her gaze roamed over the faces at the table in a lazy inspection. Every now and again someone would catch her interest – commonly when they were silent during a lull in the conversation. Marco couldn't help but wonder what it was she was looking for.

"Celine is working on a special assignment at the moment," Samuel said as he picked out the bones from the smoked trout on his plate. "A project with the Scouts, correct?"

"Something of that nature," Celine said. She used her fork to push a small carrot on her plate back and forth. "It's still in the early stages, so nothing of note yet."

"You seem to be getting a grasp on the Scout's weaponry," Samuel said. "Some of the diagrams look very promising." He turned to regard Rosie and Marco. "I'm grateful the Engineering Corp is taking advantage of her skills. I've been worried her talent was going to waste in the Garrison."

There was a 'clink' as Celine's fork pierced her carrot. She slowly raised her eyes to hit her observers with a tired expression but made no move to speak.

"You know, this fish is delicious," Rosie said as the silence dragged on. "How did you say the chef prepared it again?"

The conversation turned to topics of lake fish and the preferred woods used for smoking their meat. Marco's attention quickly drifted to regard Celine with side glances. Her elbow had been put on the table to prop her head into her hand. The glazed look on her face indicated she was in her own world. This was countered a few minutes later as she spoke.

"Tell me, Marco," Celine said, causing him to flinch when her eyes slid to meet his, "am I really that interesting for you to stare, or was there just a severe lack of pretty girls out in whatever backwater village you're from?"

Celine didn't move an inch as her plate of half-finished fish was removed and replaced with a steaming bowl of a thick stew. She didn't even blink as Marco held her gaze. He was again reminded of staring into the eyes of an animal, his hands bunching the material of his pants in a nervous fashion.

"Celine."

Celine sat up with a sigh. There had been something stern in her father's tone she seemed to take note of as she picked up a spoon and turned her attention to the stew.

"I apologize," Marco said, finding his voice. He looked down in a sheepish manner. "I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, Miss Celine. I wasn't looking at you because I thought you were pretty. Ah! Not that you're not! I just … I've seen pretty girls before back in Jinae, so it wasn't that."

The spoon being lifted to Celine's mouth froze.

"I actually … I really admire you," Marco continued. An embarrassed flush touched his cheeks. He was brave enough to make the statement, but not brave enough to raise his eyes. "I … I want to become a member of the military myself. I've seen firsthand the good it can do. You work tirelessly to save people; to protect them. That's what I want to do. I was hoping you could tell me about what it's like. I've heard the ODM gear is–"

"Ah."

Marco lifted his head and regarded Celine in confusion as she placed her spoon aside in a delicate manner. She picked up a napkin and touched it to her lips. "So that's what this is," she said.

"Oh!" Marco said, putting up his hands. "I'm sorry! We don't have to talk about your work if you don't want to! This is your day off and all."

"Hmm."

Celine got to her feet. She placed her palms on the table and leaned in until her face was inches from Marco's. Her features remained blank as Marco's shoulders stiffened.

"Celine, what in Heaven's name are you doing?" Samuel said.

"You two hated each other," Celine said, keeping her eyes locked with Marco's. "It must've been a relief when Mom died."

There was a pause. Rosie lifted a hand over her mouth. It took a moment for Marco to process what was happening.

"I'm … I'm sorry," he said. "I don't understand."

"He looks like you, Papa," Celine said. She reached out to tilt Marco's chin up. "His eyes are the same. So is his face shape. I knew there was something off about him."

Celine released Marco and straightened. Her eyes followed her father's movements as he slowly rose from the table.

"Mom told me you had another family in Jinae," Celine said. "She said your business trips were actually trips to visit the family you wanted." Celine tilted her head with a smile. "That was a pretty horrible thing to tell her child, no? She always had a habit of using up all her goodwill on others and not having any left by the time she came home. Honestly … I shouldn't be surprised you jumped on the first opportunity to bring another woman here after her death."

A pout touched Celine's lips as she looked at Rosie, "I'm a bit disappointed with you, though. Of all the women I imagined my father committing adultery with … I pictured someone of much lower caliber. On the other hand … I'm sure there's some merit in having a bastard with your boss. Getting a stipend and a nice place in the country isn't a terrible deal. I applaud you for the initiative."

"Celine!"

Samuel slammed his hands on the table. Father and daughter locked eyes as a standoff commenced.

"Whatever," Celine said. She shrugged and turned away. "What you do with your other family is none of my business. I'm the last tie to Mom I'm sure you'd be happy to live without, anyway."

Celine stepped into the hallway. There was movement to Marco's side when his mother got to her feet.

"Cel-!"

Samuel clasped Rosie's arm. He shook his head. This caused Rosie's expression to crumple and she covered her face with her hands. Samuel put an arm around her shoulders as she began to shake.

'Marco.'

Victoria Bodt had lifted his chin, looking deep within his eyes. It was the exact same motion her daughter had made over two years later.

'Of course, you're Marco. Fate wouldn't miss one last chance to laugh at my expense.'

The silverware rattled as Marco barreled out of the room. He ignored the cries of his parents as he sprinted down the hall and clasped the handle to the front door. The door opened with a bang and Marco dashed through the garden before leaping over a short fence and landing on the cobblestone street.

"Wait!"

Celine hadn't made it far. She turned to regard him like he was horse shit stuck to her shoe.

"Your mother," Marco said between gasps. "Your mother was the bravest person I've met! She saved the life of some nobody like me when Wall Maria fell. All I can do is work to catch up to her … to catch up to you. Both of you."

A shadow fell over Celine's features. She was looking at Marco now the same way her mother had regarded the Titans. It took effort for Marco to stand his ground and keep a determined expression as she stepped up to him.

"Why would you think I give a shit?" she asked.

Marco stood up straight. Despite this, he still felt small beside Celine.

"You're brave, too," he said. "You didn't have to join the military; you could've worked with Samuel and lived a safe life. But you chose to put yourself at risk and serve the people. I want … I want to be like that. I'm going to join the Military Police and serve the King and his subjects just as you are."

"You think it's easy?" Celine said, her voice laced with ice. "You think you can just show up and excel because of some stupid conviction like that? You believe they'd let some backwoods bumpkin like you join the Military Police?"

The front of Marco's shirt was grasped. With a surprising amount of strength behind Celine's grip, Marco found himself in a stoop. Celine leaned in to whisper in his ear.

"I knew cadets like you. They were the type to spit out any kind of self-righteous bullshit to make themselves seem like they were destined to be humanity's saviors … then one caught gangrene. Another got lost in the forest and fell down a ravine. More than one accidentally slit their own stomachs open or bashed their skull in when they couldn't pilot their ODM gear. That's the kind of breed you are, Marco – you're the type with your head too far up your own ass to ever succeed. You'll never be like my mother."

The cloth of Marco's dress shirt slid between Celine's fingers. She turned her back to him and took a few steps. The sound of Marco's voice brought her to a stop.

"I can't," Marco said. His voice shook as he grit his teeth.

In the quickly dimming light, Celine looked more and more like her mother. Both women were simultaneously within arm's reach and an unattainable distance away. Marco carried a piece of Victoria Bodt with him in his heart, but it would be impossible to ever truly reach her. He could never show her he was living a fruitful life and striving to become a shield for the people just as she was. There was only one way he could come close; one person he could prove himself to.

"I can't be like your mother," Marco said. "I don't believe I'm capable of anything so great. And I'm sure I'll fail many times. I might die, too. But as long as my death means something … as long as I keep moving forward … I'm going to try. I'm going to put everything I am into joining the Military Police. Watch me, Celine. I'm going to make you proud."

Celine's eyes widened marginally in surprise. She scoffed and turned away.

"I'd say without a doubt," she said, "you're the dumbest kid I've met."

Marco's breath caught in his chest. He stared in awe at the crest on the back of Celine's jacket just as he'd done with her mother's.

"I'd say without a doubt," Victoria Bodt had said, standing between Marco and certain death, "you're the dumbest kid I've met."

Marco smiled as he watched his sister disappear into the night.