Chapter 42: Her Last Defender
Deliver to the Scout Office in Karanese.
To Captain Levi of the Scout Regiment:
Although this initial sentiment assumes you haven't burned this letter already due to the sender's surname, let me make my stance clear. I haven't written to my sister since hearing the news and am not privy to any details. These sentiments are based purely on what I know of the two of you as individuals and what I've observed of your interactions, and if recent developments have proved any of these false, please disregard. Tear this into shreds. I'm no poet. I don't mean for this to be beautiful.
In a mere sixteen months of training, I've learned innumerable lessons about the nature of humanity, the kind of people which populate each square of our cities, and what might very well be the destruction of us all. People are far more different than I was taught in childhood. We all have commonalities, of course, such as basic needs and some universal desires. Everyone has stubbed their toe, most people have broken a bone, and everyone has some sort of grudge against their parents, as forgiven as it is. Despite all we share, people are infinitely different, in childhoods and beliefs and visions and reasons. My squad, for example, is composed of people who have joined the Cadets for money, glory, power, fame, pride, family, or to make ends meet. Each sees our training exercises as tests, or tribulations, either for or against them. Our childhoods prepared us for entirely different futures. Mine, for one where people are inherently good, where people struggle to make good decisions because circumstances force that upon them. This was first challenged when Edie joined our family, and again when I got to know Commander Erwin, and then yourself. The Commander, for example (pardon the amateur analysis) knows people will make selfish decisions yet expects the highest of everyone in his regiment. He expects nothing less than complete dedication yet has already accepted that no one can truly give that much of themselves. Perhaps our differences outweigh our commonalities, and selfishness overtakes what we can share.
Edie has accepted this of people. I realized, upon joining the Scouts, that she put up with a lot of foolishness, when I was younger. I tried to tell her all this when she came to the camp, but I'm afraid all I did was babble senselessly. She knew all the good intentions in the world wouldn't make me a decent Scout, and that I had to realize more people would refuse the call and choose safety, a cage, above helping others in this huge and powerful way. It's difficult, to see so many bright cadets, decide to take an easy way out. No one wastes their talents, in my opinion, but how much better the world would be if they took a risk. All that aside, Edie doesn't ascribe to covering reasons for why people do what they do. She sees the world for how it is and quietly accepts it, going on to help however she can.
I don't know if the two of you talked about the titan attack, the one where you both met. No one knows where that titan came from; I suppose we'll never know, given how secretive things must be. But she didn't jump on a horse and guide that titan away for no reason; we'd cleared most of the village. She did it to make sure I was safe. Even though I was hidden, that titan was clawing apart rooves and searching alleyways for flesh, and she ensured that I would never be found, at the risk of her safety. That day, a split was born, between my devotion to humanity and to her. I'll risk my life and liberty to move humanity forward, to protect, but not at the cost of her pride. In it all, I want Edie to be proud of me. You must feel it, too.
When that titan ran through our village, we had three refugees staying at the farm. They were horrible, really, stuck-up and of some high breed. Edie and I shared a bedroom for several months, and I found out how restlessly she sleeps. It's hardly more than an hour at a time, but she never complains about being tired. One night, she woke up with a start, in a cold sweat. She didn't tell me much about the nightmare, but I could tell it was waking, how she eyed the shadows for some figure. It sounded terrifying, of drowning in a lake with a leering figure perched on the shore, clawing for some kind of salvation and getting nothing but a knowing smile.
My apologies. This isn't meant to be a pretty letter, but it should be a coherent one. I'll get to the point.
Edie never told me where she came from. If she's told you, then congratulations, you know more than her own family. Another man at our farm, Corini, came to us for the same reasons. Lost in the mountains, no memory, stumbling down the side with no family. No one came, so he joined ours. I can hear the dreariness in his voice, that he wishes he'd been found by some easygoing bankers, while he's still happy to be alive. He's still figuring out who he is, after all these years. But Edie never wondered who she was or took any of it for granted. She always threw herself into whatever work it was, whether shoveling manure or planting prickly seeds. She never brushed off my stupid questions or found anything trivial. Whatever she escaped from, she still carries it with her, and it brings a sort of melancholy life to whatever she does.
I don't know why the two of you broke up, but if you're still reading, I have only one prediction. You asked her to marry you, and she panicked. Something woke up and dragged her back to the shadows. Actually, it seems like the only plausible reason, given the brevity of her last letter. Usually she writes a few paragraphs, but here, it was just a brief line, probably so I wouldn't find out through a secondary source.
All that to say, I've noticed you and Edie with one another. She doesn't stare at the shadows in your company, and she has the luxury of getting annoyed from time to time. Mother and Father could never give her that kind of security, but you did, for a time. Please, if there is any hope at all, talk to her. If you can't find her, check the woods. We've got a hidden spot tucked away in the trees. Just look for the lake. I used to go there when I was upset about some stupid thing, and she was the only person who would climb that high.
No one deserves her, really. She's stuck by the farm through thick and thin, as the government's gone to hell. She helps Father in the fields and Mother in the kitchen with a smile on her face. She doesn't speak badly about anyone, even idiots who need no helping. Men have tried, trust me, but no one's gotten past her barriers. But you did. If it's all for naught, then all the best to you. I'll be joining the Scouts in a year and a half and won't say a word. But, if you can, please, talk to her.
All the best.
Jamison Cartwell, 103rd Cadet Corp
