Chapter 27: A Week Later
The farm received quite a lot of mail, what with helping the king and his council divide resources fairly. Notices were sent and taken, tax forms on who was working and who was slacking, and upcoming expectations for field expansion and such. So the two letters made it into Hajule's hands before being delivered to the proper readers.
To Miss Edie Cartwell, living at Cartwell farm, directly outside Ehmrich District:
"I'm afraid this is terribly unfair to you. While on long-term missions, the Scouts are able to send messages and letters back to the walls. Most of them are lists of the dead or progress reports, but I find myself with another reason to write. Unfortunately, due to low manpower and high risk, not mail returns, and one lucky Scout avoids the last half of a mission. So, you have the misfortune of reading dull letters and not being able to exact any revenge.
You mentioned last Saturday that Erwin was too eccentric for anyone's good. Granted, you were falling asleep and might not even remember the statement, or the proofs that followed. Sleep deprivation is one hell of a drug, and that's coming from someone currently on the third watch (one of my squad members refused to rest and is now babbling about how blades of grass each have souls). Your argument was that his actions were bizarre, hardly grounded in reality, and idealistic instead of practical, not suited for someone in command. I didn't have a heart to respond, since your speech was quite slurred and the honor of a debate is ability to respond, but you ought to know he's stayed awake for forty-nine hours, the duration of the mission thus far, and intends to sleep for four days. Eccentric, yes, but quite sensible, and intent on keeping his people safe. But I anticipate your rebuttal in two weeks.
You remember Captain Zoe Hange, from the wedding near Ehmrich? As it goes, she also frequents The Dragon's Jasmine and picked up a few packages for this mission. Hori mentioned seeing us last Saturday, thankfully not disclosing any conversation topics he might've overheard (opinions of any kind aren't usually welcome in military work, even higher up). But she took the liberty of sharing that information with my squad, who in turn shared that with most of the regiment. In all honesty, this mission has been more bearable. We had fifteen new recruits, six of which are already dead, who were more cheerful than any other group while still acknowledging a grim reality. I'll have to side with your parents on this one. They're kids who are throwing their lives away, who won't be talked out of it. At least these died with courage.
It was the only formatting error in the whole prose: the captain accidentally skipped two lines before making his next statement.
It's beyond understanding.
Hange and I started at the Scouts the same year, and moved through the ranks at about the same speed. You heard her prattle a little at the wedding, and it's multiplied on the field. She'd rather build zoos inside the walls than hospitals, and have little children stare at the titans while scientists experiment on their flesh. Thankfully, the Scouts aren't given that much funding, and the Church isn't eager to have people remember what lies outside the walls. This afternoon, she spun around an abnormal titan for nearly ten minutes, returning to treetops every so often to take notes on its movement, noises, posture, eyeline, and all the minute details that only she would find helpful. Someone else had to kill the titan after she ran out of gas, and even then, she wanted to hold a memorial service for it. As it stands, no one criticizes her methods to her face, just behind her back. It's the same for what they've heard about Hori's.
But the three of us—Hange, Erwin, and I—make a point to keep it above table, although Erwin encourages her endeavors. They're both eager to get to know you, so my apologies if they show up unannounced. They're not without manners, but Hange can…justify certain decisions for research purposes.
The mission itself is to recover resources from country storehouses, the ones in the middle of farms. The government owned farms, where military rejects go to work. If you haven't been to one, they're depressing and regressive spots, even without titans crawling across the dirt. They often have a noble house attached, and basements for safety. We haven't found any survivors there yet, although a few corpses still linger. One of them, becoming a skeleton, clutched a book of sketches, assumedly from beyond the wall. There was one of two rivers intersecting at a waterfall, crashing over an obtuse angle for miles and miles. Clouds and mist obscured the bottom. The artist hadn't bothered to draw any trees, rocks, or soldiers for scale. The magnitude was obvious. And yes, was. Protocol requires outside references to be turned in or burned, and firewood is scarce.
The sun rises in half an hour here, and at that time, we'll be finishing the loop and riding back to Klorva for debriefing. Should people follow the plan, we should return with more than half of who we left with—a mounting success, as of late. Morning light means we return, and returning means I live to see you again. But everyone else has held off their emotions for the time being, and I'll be the last to break.
Sincerely, Captain Levi of the Scout Regiment
Sunflower petals were scattered between the pages. His handwriting was neat and straighter than a secretary's. After reading them in the solitude of the barn loft, Edie held the pages to her nose and breathed deeply. Free air mingled with the flower's aroma, so she found a thick envelope to preserve it in. "Don't think of it too much," she reasoned aloud, in the comfort of her once-more single bedroom. "Letter writing is a great strategy to stay awake throughout the night, and you're just someone new. Plenty others probably received a letter from the captain this weekend. Family, friends, other interests…"
A letter arrived from Jamie that same day, confiscated, screened by Hajule, and delivered in nearly the same excited fashion:
"Edie—
I'm not dead.
A lot of the people here can't count to ten or take baths.
Tell father and mother I love them.
Send pine cones. We have a bet going on.
Love, Jamie."
Both were what she'd expected.
