Disclaimer: All characters, names, places, intellectual property, etc... belong to their respective owners.

People really take the Courier Network for granted. We work day and night, every day of week, every week of the year, to make sure your mail gets to you more or less on time. We run our deliveries no matter the conditions; rain, shine, snow, wind, darkness, light. It doesn't make a difference. If you've got mail to be delivered, we're out there. Not to mention the human risk factor that accompanies the job. You've got a package some bandits really want? Ambush. You've got the proof needed to convict a corrupt businessman or noble? Ambush. You've got something the Interior MPs don't like? You bet your ass there's an ambush waiting for you behind that odd looking bush. Quite a few couriers have been killed in various ways by various people over the years, though they don't really tell you that when you sign up. Probably because if they told you that, only insane people would join up. That being said, I've occasionally entertained the idea that I've just been watching some bad dream for the last few years, so I'd say I already qualify as insane.

- An excerpt from the journal of an Eldian soldier, 847

Trost District, September 845

1 Week After the fall of Wall Maria

Trost District was in chaos. The influx of tens of thousands of refugees from the southern districts of Wall Maria had put an unsustainable strain on not only the infrastructure of the district, but also the law enforcement personnel tasked with keeping the peace within the city. Despite only 7 days having passed, crime had already become a rampant issue, as the refugees had few options for food sources. This also became an issue for the native citizens of Trost, as their food supply was now strained beyond capacity. Street fights between natives and refugees weren't uncommon, and anti- refugee sentiments were running high among the citizens of Trost. That wasn't the only concern, though. The fact that the titans had managed to overcome one of humanity's primary defenses had rattled the population of Trost to the core. A week ago, they had been part of the interior, considered one of the safest places to be. Now, they were on the fringes of human territory, next up on the chopping block should the Colossal and Armored titans reappear. This notion only served to amplify the feelings of fear and paranoia that were prevalent among the city's citizens. It was in this chaotic and dangerous environment that Skip and Lia found themselves in.

Lia watched over Skip as often as she could. However, because the survivors of the Shiganshina Garrison had been absorbed into the Trost Garrison, she found herself with less and less time to keep an eye on the boy. She wasn't exactly worried about Skip getting caught up in some sort of trouble though, she figured he was more than capable of getting himself out of it. No, she was more worried that he may resort to stealing to keep himself alive. After all, stealing was a one way ticket to trouble with the authorities, something you did not want in Trost these days. As it happened, though, Skip decided that thievery was more trouble than it was worth, so he spent his time looking for someone to work for. At least then he'd have something to be doing.

Kellsburg, December 845

27 Kilometers Northeast of Trost District

Kellsburg was a medium sized town a little less than 30 kilometers northeast of Trost District. Given its positioning along the river that flowed south to Trost, Kellsburg was a rather significant hub for trade in the southern districts of Wall Rose. It was also located on a major road nexus, with many roads from across the region converging on the town. As such, it was also a major hub for mail, with letters, packages, and other goods passing through the town on the way to their destinations. As a light snow had begun to drift down on the town, accompanied by a chilly breeze blowing down from the north, a pair of couriers rode into town, scarves wrapped firmly around their necks, and their signature brown- gray dusters flapping gently behind them. They slowed their horses to a trot, as they made their way further into Kellsburg, weaving through the townspeople as they searched for somewhere to tie their horses. Eventually, they came upon a stable, where the pair dismounted. The taller courier, a blonde man with unusually amber eyes, spoke with the stablekeeper, while the shorter of the two led the horses away to their stalls. After finishing up their respective tasks, the couriers proceeded to the inn next door, where they were to deliver a letter to the innkeeper. The taller man's eyes swept across the establishment, before settling on a shorter, rotund man behind a counter. As the two couriers approached him, the man behind the counter spoke with a distinctly accented voice.

"Welcome to the Eight Miracle Inn lads, how can I help ya this evenin'?"

The taller courier replied, "We have a letter we were instructed to deliver to a Mr. Millford. You wouldn't happen to be him, would you?"

"Aye, that's me alright. Can't say I know what this here letter's about, but thanks fer deliverin' it to me anyways. If ya two are stayin' here the night, I can give ya a room for yer troubles."

The taller courier paused for a moment, thinking the innkeeper's offer over. "Thanks, I think we'll take you up on that offer," he eventually responded, a small smile on his face.

The shorter courier raised an eyebrow at his partner, but said nothing. After receiving their room key, the pair proceeded up a flight of stairs, and down the hallway, until they arrived at the room assigned to them. Upon entering the room, the taller courier finally spoke, "Okay Skip, what's with the look. You haven't given me that look since I agreed to take you as my apprentice after Wall Maria fell."

Skip, suddenly becoming self conscious of his expression, quickly put on an impassive mask. "Sorry Jaren, it's just that we'd normally just leave and ride until we found a decent enough place to camp out for the night."

"Well, maybe I just decided that I'd had enough of camping out in the wilderness like a vagabond," the taller courier, Jaren, responded. A hint of amusement was present in his voice.

"Tch, as if. You and I both know you're literally a tree hugger who can't get enough of camping out under the stars," Skip snorted, a small smirk finding its way onto his face.

"Hey, I'm not a tree hugger," Jaren indignantly exclaimed, pretending to be offended by Skip's name- calling.

"Yeah yeah, say that all you want. You can't convince me otherwise, especially after seeing how you climb trees."

"Maybe I should start calling you a tree- dweller then, considering you always sleep in trees whenever you get the chance."

Skip lightly chuckled at that, "What can I say? It gives me a more commanding view of the area."

Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at their door. As Jaren moved to open it, Skip pulled out his journal, and began to recount the day's events on the first available empty page. As he wrote, his thoughts drifted back to how he was first introduced to his partner, how he joined the courier service, and the things he'd learned and done thus far.

About a week and a half after Wall Maria fell, Skip found himself sitting against the wall of an empty Trost District warehouse. It had been a few days since he started looking for work. Seeing as how the food supply was swiftly dwindling, Skip suspected that refugees would soon be drafted into field work to try and expand the food supply. Skip wasn't exactly keen on doing field work for the next few years, so he had decided to start searching for work within the city. So far, nobody had accepted him. He had offered his services to the local stables, two different bakeries, a shoemaker, a tailor, and even the military, offering to work as a message runner in exchange for a roof over his head. All had turned him down. It seems nobody wanted a scrappy 12 year old refugee from Shiganshina. Deciding he had sat on his ass long enough, he resumed his search for work. As he was passing the local courier waystation, his ears pricked at the sound of a familiar voice.

"He's looking for work right now, though I'm not sure where… Anywhere he can find it probably. I've been trying to help him as much as I can, but the Captain's been keeping me busy recently."

Skip turned to see Lia conversing with a tall, blonde man in a brown- gray duster. 'Probably a local courier,' Skip mused. Deciding to make his presence known, he approached them.

"Hey Lia, it's been a few days."

"Oh hey Skip, I thought you'd be out looking for work," Lia greeted him, clearly somewhat surprised to see him here.

"I guess I still am, though I'm not sure anyone's gonna take me," Skip replied evenly. He turned to the stranger, "Who's your friend here?"

"Oh, Skip, this is a friend of mine, Jaren Adalman. He works for the courier service. Jaren, this is Spike Reid, a friend of mine from Shiganshina."

The stranger spoke up, clearly intrigued by something she had said, "This is Arvel's kid, right?"

Lia nodded, "Mhm. "

"I see," The stranger knelt down to Skip's level. "I'm an old friend of your father's."

Skip felt a pang of that same strange emptiness he had felt on the boat a week and a half ago at the mention of his father late.

"We used to work together in the courier service before he decided to settle down in Shiganshina. I will say, you like a lot like him. Same brown hair, same sky blue eyes, same impassive expression…"

Skip couldn't help but snort and roll his eyes at that one.

"Similar sense of humor it seems, too. Lia said you're looking for work, yeah?"

Skip nodded, and Lia raised an eyebrow, working out where this conversation was headed.

"Tell you what, if you want to, I can take you on as my apprentice."

At that offer, Skip couldn't help but widen his eyes slightly. Lia seemed surprised too, as she exclaimed, "Wait, I thought you had to be at least 15 to join the courier service? Skip's still 12!"

Jaren shrugged, but Skip could see a mischievous glint in the man's eyes,"To join as an independent courier you need to be at least 15, sure. But they never said anything about age requirements on apprentices."

Lia still looked apprehensive. After a moment , she voiced her concern, "I don't know Jaren. Skip may not be cut out for the courier service. You know how dangerous it can be."

"True, it can be rough at times," Jaren conceded, nodding, "but I'd say it beats fieldwork almost any day."

Skip watched as Lia's gaze flicked from him to Jaren, and back to him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes.

After a moment, however, she sighed. "Skip, I'm not your mother, so I can't stop you from doing what you want to do. I just want you to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into before you take the plunge."

Jaren, again, nodded, "I won't lie kid. This job isn't easy. You're on the road almost constantly, no matter the weather conditions. Rain, shine, snow, wind, whatever. It's dangerous, too. Bandits and vagabonds are an almost constant danger out there, not to mention anyone who doesn't want a package or letter getting to its destination. That being said, there are some positives to the job. You get to see places that you would otherwise never have seen, and meet new people who you otherwise would never have met. It's a mixed bag, but chances are the experiences and connections you make will help you out later down the road."

Skip pondered Jaren's words for a moment. He didn't doubt that it would be a hard and dangerous job. But then again, so would fieldwork. Physical labor aside, they'd be out there in dangerously cold temperatures, so dying from exposure would be a real possibility. The courier service, however, at least offered him a relatively steady source of food, and even a little money. Not that Skip would mention this to anyone, but he thought the courier dusters were really cool, too. After mulling over Jaren's offer for a few moments, Skip looked back up to the older man. Skip's expression, however, had slightly brightened, with the corners of his mouth tugging up into his first small smile since the fall of Wall Maria. "I'll do it."

Calaneth District, November 845

Skip sat alone at an outdoor table just outside of a Calaneth district restaurant. Jaren had gone to retrieve some lunch for both of them, while Skip was charged with finding them somewhere to sit. It was strangely warm for mid- autumn so he decided that an outdoor table would be preferable for the both of them. After claiming an empty table for the pair, Skip sat down and began reviewing his journal. As he did so, he began to think back to all of the things Jaren had taught him over the last month and a half. Skip had become a reasonably skilled horseman for his age, which was surprising considering he had fallen off his horse the first time they had tried it, nearly breaking his arm in the process (Jaren would never let Skip live that one down). Jaren had also taught Skip the basics of wilderness survival, such as finding clean water sources, hunting and foraging for food, determining a good camping location, shelter building, those sorts of things. One surprising thing that they had discovered, however, was that Skip seemed to be a naturally gifted marksman, despite Skip having never actually picked up a firearm. He hadn't even touched any ranged weapon aside from maybe a rock, now that he thought about it.

He chuckled as he remembered how Jaren's jaw had practically dropped to the ground when Skip hit the glass bottle target from 100 meters away on his first try. He also seemed to distinctly remember Jaren muttering "holy shit" under his breath. Ever since then, Jaren would occasionally call him "hawk- eyes" or "eagle- eyes" in reference to his impeccable aim. The last major skill Jaren had taught him was the use of a map and compass, which was pretty important considering couriers kind of needed to know where they were going. It was a little strange at first to grasp, but after some practice (and more than a few mishaps), Skip caught on. Before his musings could go much further, though, Skip was struck by the distinct feeling of being watched. He lifted his gaze up from his journal, only to meet the gaze of a girl about his age, a few tables away. Her eyes were gray, and she had slightly longer than shoulder length black hair, which was tied together into two loose pigtails. They held each other's gazes for a brief moment, before she looked down… was that a blush? Skip heard the other girls at her table giggle, before speaking in hushed whispers that he couldn't quite pick up. Skip shook his head, clearly not understanding what was happening, and returned to reviewing his journal. 'Where the hell is Jaren with our food, anyway?' he wondered.

Skip glanced up as Jaren closed the door, an eyebrow raised. "What was that about?"

Jaren shrugged, moving to pull something out of his satchell, "Nothing important, just the innkeeper wondering if we needed to eat."

"Ah."

"Anyways," Jaren drawled as he unfolded the map he had retrieved from his bag, "we need to figure out our route tomorrow."

"Sounds like fun. Have any scenic detours in mind?" Skip questioned, a slightly accusing undertone present.

Jaren shook his head with a small smile, "Not this time. We need to get this next message to Heichigen on time," he beckoned Skip over to where he had spread out the map. "What do you have against scenic detours, anyways?"

Skip snorted lightly, "Our last 3 'scenic detours' ended in shootouts with bandits," he deadpanned.

"True," the older courier conceded, "but it wouldn't be the courier service if we didn't get into a shootout with highway robbers every so often."

Recognising that he wouldn't be winning this argument any time soon, Skip simply sighed, making his way over to the map. "Alright. You said we're headed for Heichigen, right?"

Jaren nodded his confirmation.

Skip took a moment to re-familiarize himself with the map before speaking, spotting their destination to the north of them. "My first instinct would be to follow the Lindberg road through Reuberg all the way up, but I did some talking while you were getting lunch in the last town we were in, and apparently there have been some sightings of unusually well- armed brigands between Reuberg and Heichigen."

Jaren nodded again, "I heard the same thing when I did some asking around myself."

Skip's brow furrowed as he contemplated alternative routes. "We can probably take the Lindberg up to Reuberg safely, but after that I'd probably head east along the Redway, before turning north again along the Old North Road." Skip bobbed his head a little as he considered other travel factors. "Conditions along the Old North Road may get a little dicey, depending on how this snow turns out, but I'd still take it over running a gauntlet on the Lindberg." Satisfied with his assessment, Skip turned to glance at Jaren, who was watching him with a small, yet proud smile.

"That's exactly what I was thinking. That means you're learning well."

Skip allowed himself a small smile, "Thanks. I like to think I had a pretty good teacher. Might not be long before I start catching up to you, old man."

Jaren shrugged at the compliment, "Perhaps, but you still have a ways to go yet before you get on my level." His eyes then narrowed dangerously, "Hey, who are you calling old man, kid?"

Skip shrugged, mouth still curled into a smirk, "I'm not the one complaining about back pain."

"One day Skip, I'm going to make you eat your words."

The younger courier flopped face first onto his bed, "Maybe you will, maybe you won't." He paused before quietly adding, "Assuming I live long enough to get back pain."

Up Next: A run- in with the Ripper.