Year 847, Fall

"You seem to be in a sour mood," Hange said. She scooped a screwdriver off Celine's workbench and began to spin it between her fingers.

"When am I not?" Celine said.

Celine was sitting on the floor of her office – a supply closet which hadn't seen much use since the Engineering Corps of Trost finished construction on the underground warehouse a few years back. She had spent much of her time napping here until she came across a rather intriguing side project. Said side project had been broken, forgotten, and shoved behind a crate of buckles in the corner of the room. There was no suggestion of how long it had been there, but the dust on the tarp it was shrouded in was an indication Celine could toy with the object without it being missed.

"Huh," Hange said, leaning over Celine's shoulder as the other woman carefully lifted a coil from a bundle of gears and interlocking plates. "Is your branch allowed to open up ODM gear like that?"

"No," Celine said, inspecting the coil. "No one outside the Tech Department is allowed to mess with the inner workings. We only have clearance to do basic maintenance and inspections just like every other branch."

Hange tilted her head. "So, is this a reportable offense?"

Celine set the coil aside and picked up a rag to wipe the grease from her fingers. "The regulation states we're not allowed to inspect the inner chambers of our assigned standard issue ODM gear," she said. "I checked the manufacturing code; the owner of this equipment had the upper half of his body horrifically separated from the lower half on his first scouting excursion outside the walls. The gear was recovered and removed from his assignment, but got overlooked to be filed for repair. It also has an outdated hook design."

A pool of cables on top of a box was indicated with a lazy wave. "I'm not breaking the regulation – this gear is neither assigned to anyone, or standard issue."

Celine hopped to her feet. She rubbed her neck as she tilted her head from side-to-side.

"Well …"

Hange put her chin in her hand in contemplation. "Your file said you failed all your tests to pilot the gear anyway, so I don't see the harm considering you can't do anything with it."

Celine flinched. She received a hearty pat on the back alongside a laugh.

"Let's head out!" Hange said as she crossed the room to open the door. She turned to regard Celine with a wide grin. "Maybe on the ride you can tell me what's got you down. We can work to get you on your A-game and give those cannons a thorough analysis!"

The scenery hadn't been much more than grass spotted with the occasional pine tree for some time. It was nearly noon, the sun well above Wall Rose as Hange and Celine rode side-by-side over the dirt path at its base. Their destination was a section of the wall around an hour's ride west of Trost. It was a spot favorable for testing equipment and training new soldiers since the flat plains on the other side provided nearly unbroken visibility across the horizon.

Today, the Scout Regiment was conducting training for new soldiers to become familiar with operating the cannons. Members of the Engineering Corps weren't normally involved in such efforts, but Hange had enough sway to grant Celine access.

"... so that's when I realized that kid Marco was my father's bastard," Celine said, raising her voice to accommodate for the wind rushing past. "I left dinner, helped myself to a bottle of ale, and raced gas canisters in the warehouse until about 4 a.m."

Hange remained silent for a moment. She turned her head toward Celine. "Explain gas canister racing."

"I secure gas canisters to the dollies and see which one makes it to the other end of the warehouse first," Celine said. "I started clipping the dollies to a rope I tied across the room to act as a lead after the time I hit a table and bruised my femur."

"You ride the dollies?"

A line formed between Celine's brows, "What would be the point if I didn't?"

Hange mirrored Celine's concerned expression for a different reason. "Isn't the warehouse where you store the ignition powder for the cannons?"

Celine waved away the apprehension. "Impact alone doesn't make them explode," she said. "It's fine as long as a torch doesn't hit the crates, and that only got close to happening once."

An exasperated sound escaped Hange as she lifted her head. "Geez, you're a walking liability," she said. "I'm going to have to keep an eye on you to make sure you don't get court-martialed before submitting our reports."

This resulted in a scoff. "No one cares," Celine said. "Nothing I do in the Engineering Corps makes any difference."

"Maybe not," Hange said. "But you have a chance to make one, now. That's better than before, isn't it?"

Celine didn't answer. The pair rode in silence for the remainder of the journey before Hange lifted a hand to indicate for them to slow to a stop. A few minutes were taken to get the horses situated on the side of the road before Hange craned her head to inspect what little she could make of the top of the wall.

"You have a flair or something?" Celine asked. She shaded her eyes as she joined Hange's side. "Is that how you signal the lift to come down?"

"We use mirrors," Hange said, pulling one out of an inner pocket. She tilted the object to-and-fro a few times before tucking it away. Pinpricks of light that were almost too faint for Celine to make out flashed toward the top of the wall.

"That's our signal we're clear of obstructions to go up," Hange said.

Celine nodded. She squinted as she tried to make out any other signs of movement.

"We won't be using a lift, though," Hange said.

"Huh?" Celine said, turning her head. "What did you say about the lift?"

Hange's answer was to grab Celine around the waist.

"Hey!" Celine said. "Get the hell off m–!"

The grappling hooks of Hange's ODM gear flew free with a hiss. This was followed by a rough yank as the two women were jettisoned skyward. They flew across the shining silver stone of Wall Rose in a wave of steam; taking less than twenty seconds to reach the top. Hange released her grip on Celine, landing atop the wall in a light-footed manner. Celine crumpled in a heap.

"You fucking asshole!" Celine said, her limbs shaking from the sudden shock of adrenaline.

Hange placed her hands on her hips as she looked about. Her expression brightened. "Oh, Moblit!" she said. "Have the exercises started yet?"

"Don't ignore me!" Celine shouted, fighting to keep her knees from buckling as she struggled to push herself up.

A man with short brown hair and a worried expression approached Hange. The uniform he was wearing branded him as a member of the Scouts; the look on his face branded him as someone accustomed to Hange's mannerisms.

"Not yet, Section Commander," the man, Moblit, said. His frown deepened as he watched Celine hobble in their direction. He tried to help steady her when she faltered, only to have his hand slapped for the effort.

"Huh?" Moblit said, rubbing the back of his wrist where Celine had swatted him away. "You're a member of the Garrison,"

"Wow … such keen observational skills," Celine said. She wobbled, holding out her arms for balance. "I can see why they put you in the Scouts."

"Don't mind her – she's cranky," Hange said. "And she's going to be tagging along with me today to observe the trainees and take inspections of the cannons."

Moblit's eyes widened. "She's the one from the Engineering Corps?" he asked. "I told you before - Commander Erwin was going to be here today!"

A contemplative hum escaped Hange. "Well, that's a problem."

Celine looked back and forth between the two as Hange seemed to think while Moblit sighed and shifted his weight.

"Hold on," Celine said. "What's the issue? You said you had authorization for me to be here today."

Moblit groaned and put his head in his hand. "She didn't."

"I have an idea," Hange said, hitting her open palm with a fist. "Celine will hide her jacket, and we pass her off as a Scout trainee who had a mishap with her uniform."

Brown eyes were raised so Moblit could regard Hange with a tired expression. This shifted to confusion as he watched Celine begin to nod.

"What a pain," Celine said. She shook out her hair, retying her braid over her shoulder. "I suppose that would be the simplest solution, though."

"No!" Moblit said, fighting to keep his voice from carrying. "That's a terrible idea! Why would you agree to that?!"

"If I had to go through the hell of getting up here …" Celine said and waved her arm to indicate the expanse of countryside behind them, " then I'm not going back down without something to show for it."

Moblit now appeared about as unsteady as Celine had been a moment prior. "You can't! If someone found out you weren't a–"

"Found out what?"

Moblit and Hange turned to regard the blond man standing behind them. His large blue eyes regarded them in a passive manner beneath an impressive set of eyebrows.

"Ah! Erwin!" Hange said, offering a toothy smile. "Just the person I wanted to see! This is Celine from the Engineering Corps – she'll be here to observe the cannon tests and do some equipment inspections."

Erwin's attention turned to Celine. He lifted his arm to accept her offered handshake.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander," Celine said with a cheerful smile. "Your subordinate was reminding us I'd be in hot water if anyone here were to think I was handling equipment without the proper authorization. I can assure you I'm only here as an observer, and have no plans to lay a finger on a single object."

Erwin nodded. "Erwin Smith, nice to meet you," he said. "I recall signing off on giving you permission to perform an inspection, but I didn't receive a confirmation back from the Garrison. I'm hopeful you can find anything of note even if you're only able to observe. We all see things from different perspectives; perhaps your point of view will uncover something we missed."

"That's very insightful," Celine said, sounding delighted. "I can assure you I'll keep my eyes peeled!"

"Good to hear," Erwin said. "You can feel free to follow me – the training exercise is about to start."

Erwin turned to walk away at a brisk gate. He reminded Celine of a wind-up toy soldier, but the kind that had a slight misalignment which allowed it to break free from its identical-looking peers to travel a different path. She found the notion intriguing.

Hange placed a hand on Celine's shoulder as she leaned in. "You acted like a perfectly pleasant person back there. It was unsettling."

Celine's eyes narrowed. "You ass."

"Now that's what I'm used to!" Hange said. She led the way as the trio began to trail after Erwin. A group of around two dozen soldiers could be seen buzzing about the walkway a few yards ahead. Some were using cranks to adjust the cannon's positions; others had long poles with brushes at the end to clean out the barrels. Erwin had already reached the edge of the group and had begun issuing orders.

Moblit looked forward with a heavy expression. "That was too close," he said. "Why didn't you mention when the Commander walked right up behind us?"

"I had no idea who he was," Celine said with a scoff. "You guys wear those capes that cover all your patches. And it was no big deal – everything's fine."

"Except for the fact you can't touch anything," Hange said.

"I don't need to," Celine said. "I have an assistant who's authorized to handle the cannons. She can be my hands for me."

Hange's eyes widened. She threw back her head in a barking laugh. "See! This is why I brought you here, Celine. You have a talent for thinking on your feet."

Moblit didn't seem to find this statement half as amusing, "Section Commander, did she just refer to you as her assistant?"

"I did," Celine said. "And I assume you're Moblit Berner – Hange's Executive Officer. This makes you the assistant to my assistant."

A sinking feeling grew in Moblit's stomach as the pair of grins being thrown his way indicated Hange's new acquaintance wasn't about to make his life easier by any means.

Year 848, Winter

Dear Celine,

I hope this letter finds you well. You must forgive me if my handwriting can be troublesome to read at parts – I'm penning this message during the breaks my squad is able to take on our training excursion. My gloves are a little bulky for holding a pencil, but if I wait to write this entire letter until we get to the designated cabin, I may miss my window to have it mailed out.

I'm not going to lie and say things have been easier since my last letter. The Cadet Corps have been pushing us to the best of their ability. I wake up with more sore muscles now than I ever did when I used to live on a farm. Hand-to-hand combat is still my weakest ability, although my squad mate Mikasa has been teaching me how to sweep my opponent's legs out from under them. This has helped quite a bit with most of my skirmishes, although I still lose more often than not.

I have to be cautious practicing with my ODM gear on snow-laden branches, but I do my best to work on my exercises every day. I'm grateful for the warning you gave me about how dangerous it can be – there've sadly been some accidents with fellow cadets which could've been avoided with more caution. I try to emulate my squad mates who are more talented using the gear in hopes I can someday attain that level of skill. My friend Jean in particular has a knack for ODM gear which leaves me in amazement.

In my last letter I mentioned Jean had dislocated his elbow during survival training. He's doing much better now. His arm makes a 'pop!' sometimes when he moves it a certain way. Conny likes to laugh about this for some reason, and I've had to play peacekeeper a few times. It's funny, since Jean likes to resort to fighting to solve issues. I say it's funny because Jean is one of the smartest people I know. He can come up with a detailed solution to a problem before I've even had a chance to absorb everything. It's clear as day he's capable of tackling any challenge just by thinking it through. I can see behind his eyes when he's untangling a situation and cataloging all the facts. He reminds me of you in that way.

All of my squad mates leave me proud to serve beside them as soldiers. I've written to you about most of them now, but I can't remember if I mentioned Christa and Ymir. They're opposites in terms of personality – Christa being more sweet and doting while Ymir keeps herself at a bit of a distance. Ymir likes to pretend she doesn't care, but this morning she and Christa worked tirelessly to save the life of our squad mate Daz during a horrible snowstorm. Their act of bravery – and the fact so many of my squad mates volunteered to help find them – gives me hope for the future of humanity.

I've heard some rumors about the Military Police I can't say I like. They're in dire need of reform. I'm not conceited enough to think I can be a part of that change alone, but I do have good friends who are willing to stand beside me. I hope in the future we can all work together to make a difference. They've already done a great job making a difference on me.

Forgive me if this is outdated, since I don't receive letters from home too often. The last I heard you were still working alongside the Scouts in a project concerning weapon upgrades. I would wish you luck, but I know you don't need it. If you're anything like our father, then I'm positive you can take anything apart and learn how it works in an instant. It took me weeks to properly perform basic maintenance on my ODM gear and that was even with my friend Armin being kind enough to help me out. I wouldn't be able to understand much about your project, but I would be happy to hear you explain it nonetheless.

I'm sure you've heard our father and my mother are getting married in the Spring. I've already been granted leave to attend the ceremony. I hope I'll be able to see you there.

Sincerely,

Marco

"Oi."

Marco lifted the seal of a shield with two crossing swords from the hot wax. He was using one of the long tables in the trainees' canteen to finish up his letter since it was nearly empty at the moment and offered some privacy. It was a surprise one of the canteen's few occupants was leaning over his shoulder, although Marco relaxed the moment he took in who it was. His squad mate and closest friend, Jean Kirschtein, was standing over him with a frown.

"I've noticed this isn't the first letter you've sent out," Jean said, his brown eyes narrowing. "The address on the outside isn't the same as your mother's, either. What - you writing to a girl or something?"

"Oh!" Marco said, offering a toothy smile. "Yes, I am."

Jean's comment had been made in jest. He froze, mouth agape as Marco finished writing the address on the outside of the letter.

"You're kidding," Jean croaked.

"She is a girl," Marco said with a laugh. He stood, a faraway look on his face in contemplation. "Although, she's … nine years older than me, I think? So, saying she's a woman might be more accurate."

Jean could only stare ahead with a stunned expression as Marco gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder in parting.

Marco crossed the room to the letter deposit box on the other end of the canteen. A shorter boy with an even shorter haircut sat at a nearby table with some porridge. Large, hazel eyes tracked Marco as the letter was placed in the box.

"Hey, Marco," the boy said. "That a letter to your mom?"

"Good morning, Conny," Marco said. His gaze grew soft as he regarded the box. "No, this is for my sister."

"Ah," Conny said, shoveling a spoonful of porridge into his mouth. "The wa who neva writes ooh back?"

"I only have the one," Marco said. "And I hope someday she will."

Conny swallowed, pounding his chest to help the porridge go down. "I'm surprised you have the patience for someone like that. Family is family and all, but I'd say don't waste your energy."

Something catching Conny's attention prompted him to lean to the side. He used a finger to indicate the boy across the room standing motionless as he stared at the wall. "What did you say to him?"

"Oh," Marco said, snapping out of his daze. There was a hint of guilt in his chuckle as he looked back at Jean. "I didn't think he'd take my joke that seriously. I better go explain it to him."