It was a bright morning in Mitras. The sunlight gleamed off the rooftops, but it did little to hide the ever-growing pillars of black smoke rising from the chimneys. The newly built factories—acquired with aid from Hizuru in their recent trade deal—hummed like titans of steel, churning out machinery, textiles, and weapons for a nation that had only recently stepped into the modern world.

The once-clear skies of Paradis were now stained with the soot of progress.

Down in the factory districts, laborers marched to their posts, hands calloused from months of work, faces tired but determined. Foremen with clipboards barked instructions and checked their pocket watches—efficiency was now a patriotic duty. After all, progress doesn't wait for the lazy.

In the town square, the heartbeat of Mitras thumped steadily. Market stalls overflowed with fresh produce from the spring harvest, and tailors proudly displayed Paradis-made clothing stitched with newfound pride. But what truly caught the eye of every passerby was the morning paper. Printed bold across the front page:

"Civil War in Andalusia Escalates — Marley Pledges More Aid!"

For the last three years, the people of Paradis had watched the outside world with a mix of awe and caution. They had opened the gate to that world—and in doing so, discovered enemies old and new. Despite the war being in a distant, foreign land, the name Marley alarms the people. Marley, once a distant threat across the sea, had become a looming shadow once more. A nation that treated Eldians as dogs, now seeking to mold the world in its image.

Across the plaza, a young man walked with purpose. Military boots clicked against cobblestone. A folded newspaper was tucked beneath one arm.

He moved with discipline—shoulders squared, eyes sharp, stride steady. As if the world moved for him.

His green coat fluttered in the breeze, and on his shoulder: the Wings of Freedom. The emblem of the Survey Corps—the vanguard of Paradis' ambitions beyond the sea. The words stitched beneath the insignia read:

Captain Floch Forster.

Making his way through the Parliament building, Floch took in the buzz of activity.

Before the revelations from Eren's basement and the trade deals with Hizuru, the building had been eerily quiet. There wasn't much to legislate; the halls were mostly empty, and the sound of one's footsteps echoed like a reminder of political stagnation.

Now, it was alive.
Clerks hunched over desks, drafting regulations for factories and tariffs. Secretaries moved briskly from office to office, delivering armfuls of documents. Politicians gathered in corners with their aides, whispering over newly proposed policies. The once-hollow corridors now pulsed with movement and intent.

The clack of typewriter keys filled the air, mixing with muffled conversations and hurried footsteps. The rise of industry had breathed life into this place, and with it, a sense of purpose. A legislative body had finally emerged—an answer to the people's demands in this transformative age.

Floch ascended the stairs to the second floor, heading toward the designated conference room.

Two members of the Military Police flanked the door. This meeting was off the books.

The MP on the right gave a short nod.
"Afternoon, Captain."
Floch nodded back without a word.

Then, he pushed open the door and stepped inside. The room itself was nothing atypical for backroom politics—just a long wooden table, modest chairs, and a small chalkboard at the front. What made the room interesting, however, were the people inside. Gathered across the room were the members of Squad Levi, the elite soldiers of the Survey Corps. Standing near the front of the room was Zoe Hange, the commander who had taken up Erwin Smith's mantle. And seated beside her, a surprising yet significant presence: Queen Historia Reiss. Floch also predicted her Majesty's attendance: it was more than a military affair but a matter of state.

Floch walked to the front of the room. Levi didn't even look up as he muttered, "Late to your own meeting. Impressive. So—did you actually call us here for a reason, or was it just to ruin our day too?"

Floch, still confident and carefree, replied "Sorry everyone, the trains weren't running on time. I suppose that's just us playing catchup with the world. Anyways, has anybody seen today's issue yet?"

Floch tosses the newspaper in his hand on the table for everyone to see. It is the same newspaper as the one being shown in the town square.

"Civil War in Andalusia Escalates — Marley Pledges More Aid!"

Jean Kirschtein, seated in the corner of the long table, caught a glimpse of the headline and raised an eyebrow.
"And what does this have to do with us, exactly?"

Floch didn't miss a beat. "We have an opportunity here, my fellow soldiers. A chance to strike at Marley where they least expect it. I'm proposing an expedition to Andalusia—to support the National Front against the Marley-backed Popular Coalition."

The room fell silent.
Everyone looked stunned—except Levi, ever unreadable, and Eren Jaeger, brooding in the shadowed corner, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Then Hange broke the silence.
"Are you insane, Floch?" she snapped, adjusting her glasses. "We've barely had time to breathe since the trade deal with Hizuru, and you're already talking about foreign intervention?"

Floch expected the shock, but his voice carried unwavering conviction.
"Hear me out. We're not committing our full resources—because we can't. We don't yet have the industrial capacity to outproduce Marley in a proxy war."

He paused, letting the weight of that limitation settle, before pivoting.

"But we do have the same advantage that helped us take back Shiganshina and reclaim this island: our ODM gear. And our best soldiers."

His gaze shifted to Mikasa and then to Levi.

"We send a small unit—our finest—and train the Nationalists in our tactics. We form elite strike squads. Fast. Lethal. Surgical. They'll wreak havoc on Populist positions, demoralize their lines, and turn the tide—all without drawing direct attention to us. And under no circumstances are we going to use Titans. No Titans. Period."

Floch's gaze flickered briefly to Armin.

"I figured you'd want to hear that."

A brief silence came through as everyone was mulling over their concerns over this plan.

Hange says the first concern over everyone's mind.

"How exactly do we benefit from this? Wouldn't our resources be better used at home?

Floch responds with confidence. "We get to give Marley a bloody nose and knock them down a peg on the global stage. We also get to prove to the world that we are a nation that is to be respected and that we are more than devils. We also gain an ally that despises Marley and everything they stand for. This is not just a military mission, but also a diplomatic one to improve relations with other nations. I know Armin will love the sound of that."

Armin, to the immediate right of Floch, responds. "Someone's gotta work with the world peacefully and make sure that we aren't the devils they say we are. But still, won't the world hate us even more if we intervene militarily?"

Floch responds, "I thought you wanted diplomacy with other nations, Armin. Don't tell me those speeches in Parliament by you and your Integrationists are all bark and no bite. Here's my proposition. I get to display the strength of our people in battle in this expedition, while you get to write propaganda and provide relief to the locals which will let the world know that we are human too, not devils. It doesn't have to be one or the other. If anything, this is a good compromise between my Restorationists and your Integrationists. It will put the debates and fights in Parliament on freeze for a while."

"Alright, Floch. I hear you. However, wouldn't this escalate the already bad tensions between us and Marley? If Marley finds out about our plans in Andalusia, then they could very well justify a preemptive strike against us. And we certainly aren't capable of defending against a Marleyan invasion."

"Listen Armin. That's not how the game is played in this new world. If we send our own to Andalusia and one of them ends up dead, we know damn well our government will simply deny it. We'll claim that they were a mercenary or a volunteer who joined the fight in Andalusia without our orders. And the same goes for Marley. We kill one of their own, they'll just say he was a soldier of fortune as well. Truth is, as long as we have the right excuse and we aren't declaring war, we can operate in Andalusia as freely as we want. The key is discretion. We don't send too many troops or send too much equipment."

Armin leaned forward, eyes sharp, voice calm but skeptical.
"Alright, Floch. Last question from me."
He paused.
"Why would we want to support an authoritarian faction? From what I hear, the National Front is ruled by a dictator."

Floch didn't flinch. In fact, he looked like he'd been waiting for that one.
"Because at least they don't sell out their people to Marley."
He began pacing slightly, voice rising with each point.
"You know how Marley operates. They won't miss a chance to make a profit. The Tyburs control over sixty percent of international trade. Their influence is everywhere—banks, ports, factories, newspapers. They don't fight with soldiers—they fight with gold and loans. With contracts and interest rates."

He turned toward Armin.
"That's exactly why they back the liberals in the Populist camp. To them, it doesn't matter if those liberals win or lose. Either way, Marley gets its payout. Control the country and the economy, or pillage the gold reserves before they lose."

Floch leaned in, eyes intense.
"So think again. Would you rather see that nation fall into 'democratic' servitude to foreign bankers? Or stand behind a strongman who, at the very least, refuses to let his people be bought?"
He gestured toward the map on the wall.
"It's not pretty, I'll admit that. But history isn't about pretty. It's about survival. And I'd rather shake hands with a dictator than with a puppet dancing on Marley's strings."

Mikasa interjects "Floch, you didn't answer Armin's question. What happens if Marley does invade because of this? Every plan seems fine until everything falls apart. So what's your solution to that?

Eren interjects, finally saying something for the first time in this meeting,"I'll stay behind. Marley won't risk fighting a Titan Shifter in an invasion."

Mikasa gasps, "But if you're not going, I'm not going either. I'm staying here."

but Eren replies quickly,

"No, go with Armin. Stop worrying about me all the damn time. You'll be fine Mikasa, like always. I'll still be here, waiting for you and you will see me again."

Jean asks another question "How are we gonna bring equipment and men in and out?"

Floch responds "Our volunteers will be preselected, around 100 to 150 of our best, and we will bring equipment with us. We can also make modest requests for equipment or men if we need to."

"So—teams. Let's break it down."

"I'll be handling logistics and covert ops. Supply lines, intel networks, arms shipments—leave that to me."

"Armin, you're in charge of propaganda and civilian outreach. We need hearts and minds on our side, and you're the best man for the job."

"Jean, you're leading combat training. The Nationalists need to know how to use ODM gear, and once they're ready, you'll command our elite strike squad. Take Mikasa, Sasha, and Connie. They trust you, and you're good under fire."

Jean responds with surprise, but remains calm and casual,

"Hold up a minute, Floch. Are you sure I'm the right guy for the job? Sure, I know that in times of crisis, I'm more resourceful than I take credit for, but Andalusia is very different from home. I can take the mantle for our brothers and sisters, but these people don't talk like us, don't think like us—they've got their own way of fighting, living, dying. How do you lead a people like that?"

Floch said, his words carrying a sharp edge of pragmatism.

"Everybody here has seen how you handle yourself when things get tough. I'm not expecting you to be perfect; just adaptable. You've led our squad through some of the worst fights we've had. You have the experience, even if you don't think so.

Floch continued, "We'll bring a translator with us, or we'll teach them the basics. But those men? They'll respect you for your leadership as a fellow soldier and practitioner of war. They'll follow you because you know how to get things done. You have a knack for it, whether you like it or not. This mission is bigger than any one of us—especially us, the ones who've been through the most hell. I'm putting you in charge because you're the best man for the job, Jean."

"Of course, if you don't want to do this, then I can always find someone else. I'm not gonna force you."

Jean finally responds, "I'll do it, Floch. You can count on me. Besides, it's gonna be our first venture outside the island. Might as well make it count."

"Mikasa, Connie, Sasha—look after him, alright? You're his best soldiers, and he'll need you more than ever."

Mikasa responds, "Sure thing, Floch. He'll be fine."

Floch continues, "Also, Commander Hange, I hear Spain is a testbed for the modern world's newest weapons and tech. I'm sure it'll be like a candy shop to you."

Hange responds: "You know me too well, Floch. I wouldn't pass up this chance to see what tech we are missing out on here in Paradis. It's about time we started catching up with the rest of the world."

"Great. Commander Levi, we could use your combat skills in Spain and I'm sure you'll destroy the enemy….."

"No thank you. I've already got things to do here at home. If you want to risk your life for a foreign country, be my guest. But if any of you die in combat and throw your lives away, I will be very pissed."

"Alright, all we need to do is for her Majesty to sign approval on the mission. Any concerns you want to address, your Majesty?"

Historia responds, calmly but firmly: "Just one. I want this mission to serve the Eldian people—not the pride of our military. If this war in Spain spirals into something bigger, I want guarantees that you'll all come back. I'm tired of burying heroes."

She pauses, glancing around at the group—Mikasa, Armin, Floch, Hange, and Jean. "You're not just soldiers. You're our bridge to the outside world now. Paradis is finally stepping onto the world stage—and we won't do it through bloodshed alone. If you go, go smart. Go united. From this day on, you have my official approval for this mission as your Queen."

Floch gave a nod, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Understood, your Majesty. We'll fight smart—and come back even smarter. Now, we'll need to gather our best volunteers. Around 100 to 150. Enough to stay flexible, but small enough to avoid drawing Marley's attention. I'll handle the intelligence operations and logistics. Armin, you organize your Integrationists for their part. Squad Jean, you focus on finding volunteers and advisors to train and lead the Nationalists. Commander Hange, gather your top scientists and engineers. This meeting is adjourned."

Levi muttered under his breath, "Tcch. Really, Squad Jean?"

Mikasa places a gentle hand on Armin's shoulder. Jean looks off pensively, already thinking about the war ahead. Hange is practically vibrating with excitement. And Historia watches them, like a queen seeing her knights off—not to conquest, but to history.