CHAPTER TWO
“Hello! Is anyone still out there?”
Rita was running between the remains of wooden structures that had burned to the ground. Fire had to be smoldering beneath the debris because it was fairly hot. The sweat was never-ending as it dripped off her. The area was filled with the tang of scorched timber and flesh.
It was nothing less than a scene from hell. Smoke billowed from charred fields in every direction. A few Titans were still there, ambling through them. The ground was peppered with holes from the bombardment. If she didn’t watch out, she could stumble and fall in.
“Hello! Anybody?”
Rita squinted through piled stacks of rubble. No sign of any survivors.
She raised her head and started to run again. Her foot caught on something as she turned past one of the collapsed structures. Seeing what it was, she only just swallowed her scream.
It had once been a soldier.
The lower body, drenched with Titan saliva, had been ejected onto the ground. The upper body was nowhere to be seen. The angle thankfully hid the cross section, but Rita could glimpse where the Titan’s teeth had most likely come down. The jawline was carved into the soldier’s flesh, leaving the trousers soaked to the thigh in blood.
“H-Hello?! Is anyone out there?” Rita called with a trembling voice.
She had been out since morning, searching with the remaining members of the Garrison Regiment and the Training Corps for any survivors they could pull out. There had been little in the way of results. All they found were corpses spat out by the Titans or corpses that had been spat out then burned to a crisp.
“Rita, above you!”
Her eyes shot up in response to the piercing female voice. A three-meter-class was crouching in towards her, its arms wide in a trap.
“One sec…”
Instinct pushed her to reach for the mechanism to fire an anchor, but she couldn’t see any solid structures nearby. She’d strayed farther from Quinta’s wall than she’d thought. If she aimed at any of the charred remains, the anchor could come right off.
The Titan began a slow, lumbering fall towards her. Its abnormally hot breath blew over Rita’s skin.
She rolled the moment before it had her, escaping off to one side. The giant frame crashed prone where she’d been only a moment earlier. Clouds of dust spewed into the air as the impact sent tremors through the ground and surrounding rubble.
The Titan’s head jerked upwards. It planted one arm on the ground to push up its torso and reached for Rita with the other.
“Yikes. Enough!”
She readied a blade in each hand.
Just then, a shadow appeared over the Titan’s frame. A female soldier landed on the Titan’s sizable back and swung the two blades in her hands. Rita heard swishes of air followed by the sound of flesh being sliced open. A great curtain of steam burst from the nape of the Titan’s neck. Moving quickly, the solider leapt into the air and dodged the vapor before coming to rest at Rita’s side.
It was Amanda, who had graduated the same year. Rita’s former classmate was tall, with straight black hair that she kept long. In terms of appearance it was fair to say she was Rita’s opposite.
“Got a death wish?”
Always cool-headed, Amanda never cut anyone any slack. In this respect, too, she was more or less Rita’s direct opposite. To tell the truth, Rita found her a little hard going.
“Sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Damned inconvenient, if you went and died on us.”
“Right. I’ll be more careful, I swear.”
“So, you noticed yet?”
Amanda’s blades were locked in her hands, her eyes set on the colossal plumes of smoke funneling out from the Titan. The creatures possessed extraordinary powers of regeneration, but slice through the nape of their neck and they leaked steam from their entire body until they evaporated.
“There’s no one left above us.”
“Hmm?” Momentarily puzzled, Rita answered with a question. “What do you mean, no one?”
“Just that. They all got eaten, either defending the evacuees to the end or because they couldn’t get back over the wall.”
“Everyone?”
“Yeah. They’re all dead.”
“But that’s…” Rita recalled the look on her commander’s face as he’d given the order to shut the gate. It was true that they had yet to find any survivors outside the wall. But was it really possible that none of the officers had made it back?
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, there’s those who went to the other side. With the evacuees. It’s what all those Military Police Brigade trash did, right?”
By “other side” she no doubt meant Fuerth. Rita turned to look down the main roadway. Scattered corpses of evacuees who hadn’t been able to break free lay there too, along with their horses and the troops who had tried to protect the column. She didn’t see a single living soldier. Instead she saw Titans, still wandering this way and that. What had become of Mathias? Of his father, Jörg?
“I just hope as many got away as possible,” Rita said.
“If I were you, I’d put my own concerns first.”
“My own concerns?” Rita cocked her head, unsure. “You mean so I don’t space out, like just now? Or do you mean food?”
“Well, that too.” Amanda snorted air through her nose. “But no. You’re gonna be busy.”
“I suppose. With fewer soldiers, we’ll all have to─”
“Still not getting it. From this point on, you’re in charge of the Regiment here.”
“In charge? The regiment?”
Did she mean the Garrison? Rita couldn’t process the information. Amanda let out an extravagant sigh.
“It’s pretty obvious. When an officer dies the next in line takes over command. As things are now, there’s no one above you.”
“Are you sure? No one?”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“But we’re the same rank.”
“I’m not team leader.”
“True…”
It was true that, as team leader, Rita had been commanding a number of her former classmates. But that didn’t mean she was any better at combat. Amanda hadn’t made the position simply because her personality was seen as a problem.
“Wait. Does that mean…”
Rita made a survey of the shantytown, now just blackened fields. Young soldiers threaded paths around the trails of smoke still spiraling into the air. Granted it was only temporary, but was she really supposed to take charge of them all?
“It kind of does.”
“You’d be much better at it than me.”
“Don’t be silly. Would I ever commit to something as tiresome as that?”
“But…”
“You should probably pray. That there’s at least one senior officer still out there.” She added, “Not that it’s likely, mind.”
“Oh, thanks.”
For there not to be a single person who ranked above her… This was only Rita’s second year with the Garrison. For her to be the highest-ranking soldier!
The commanding officers must have made some kind of miscalculation. They must have believed at least one of them─someone with the proper status─had stayed behind.
“Uh, sorry, pardon me?”
Rita and Amanda swung around toward the voice. One of the trainees had approached without their noticing─a youth with closely cropped hair. Traces of childhood innocence still played on his features. Rita seemed to remember his name was Duccio. She’d sparred with him a few times for his sake.
“We’re done tending the wounded for now. Reporting in.”
“What do you want us to do now?”
“Have you checked that key personnel are safe?” Amanda said without pause.
“Don’t think so.”
“O-Okay, then that’s next,” Rita, flustered, gave the order. “Can you do that for me?”
“Would be happy to. Only, I don’t know what they look like.”
“Nor do I.”
“Even then, that should be your job.”
“You can’t have a trainee deal with the bigwigs all by himself.”
“Ah… Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Again the thought hit Rita that Amanda was better suited for command.
Amanda only floated a sly grin, whispering as she turned away, “Don’t forget your manners, madam acting commander.”
“…Meanie.”
Rita felt ready to cry. Instead, she ran her fingers over the Vertical Maneuvering Equipment on her back.
Then she said to Trainee Duccio, who still looked like a kid, “Let’s go. With some more people.”
The district hall was completely deserted.
The stone structure, possibly the grandest in the whole of Quinta, was as silent as a graveyard. A day and a half had passed since the evacuation, or one day since they’d closed the gate. It was immediately obvious that no one had come in to work for the duration.
“It’s weird though, isn’t it? You’d think they’d be really busy,” Duccio remarked.
A couple more trainees stood next to him. In the end Amanda had refused to join them.
“Oh?” Rita inquired.
“Absolutely. We’re not going to be leaving Quinta for a while, right? There’s counting how many people are still here, taking stock of how much food we’ve got, buying up more from people with too much. No end to what they could be doing.”
“Y-Yes, of course.”
Rita was still failing to appreciate the big picture. Not for the first time, she reflected on how poorly suited she was for command. Sighing, she led the three trainees up the marble staircase.
It was the first time she’d set foot in the building. There was a desk for general requests on the first floor, but Rita’s mother, Doris, had always handled tasks that involved dealing with civil servants. Everywhere above the second floor appeared to be office space for staff to complete their clerical duties. Rita doubted she would ever have come up here had circumstances been normal.
Even though the building was empty, there were no signs of it having been ransacked. Discounting the attack of the Titans, there was nothing that attested to any kind of accident or incident having taken place. Purely and simply, no one was there.
They continued down a tall-ceilinged hallway, pushed open a solid set of doors, and walked into what looked to be the district mayor’s office.
It was, as expected, unmanned.
The space was fitted with a large desk and chair, along with some bookshelves, but there was no sign of the occupant. Rita recognized the faint smell of parchment.
“Think they’re all at home?” Duccio wondered. “Like, maybe someone in the family got hurt.”
One of the other trainees slapped the back of his head. “Yeah, right. These are the guys who gave the go-ahead for the evacuation. There’s no question they were the first to hightail it out of here.”
“Really?!”
“Look, we don’t know that yet…” Rita tried to argue the point, but her voice tapered out. The trainee’s speculation was probably accurate. It was something she hadn’t even thought to consider. Noting again that she was missing the big picture, Rita felt a fresh wave of discouragement.
“But!” Duccio piped up. “If that’s true, who’s in charge? Of the town, and of the military? The bigwigs are all gone, right?”
“How should I know?” The other trainee folded his arms over his chest.
The third of them said, “I’m sure they’re here somewhere. Just not in here.”
“I hope so.”
“Wait, I see,” Duccio clapped his hands as though he’d just remembered something. “It’ll probably be Rita, right? I mean the commander, and the person in charge of the district.”
“Huh?” Rita blurted, this catching her by surprise. “D-Don’t be silly. You shouldn’t just say whatever comes into your head.”
“But what about earlier? Ah, sorry, I kind of overheard. But that’s what Amanda was saying. That Rita should be acting commander.”
“For reals?”
“Ah, since all our superiors are gone…”
The trainees all looked towards Rita, their eyes full of expectation. The prospect of someone close to them becoming highly influential was, it seemed, an exciting one. All Rita wanted, meanwhile, was to be liberated from the role.
“Nothing’s been decided yet. And that was just something Amanda said, with nothing to back it up.”
“Maybe, but I hope it’s true. You’re tough as nails! I was up there, manning the cannons. I saw you out there.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“It was amazing. If you hadn’t relayed that order, we wouldn’t have gotten the gate shut in time. I bet you a few of those Titans would’ve gotten through.”
“For sure.”
The trainees nodded among themselves.
Rita felt a cold sweat creeping under her clothes. “That was just…luck. You just happened to see the best bits.”
“She’s modest, too!”
“Really, I can’t do it. Besides, you can’t decide who’s acting commander based off of rank alone. There’s things like experience to consider, and demeanor. It has to be someone with the right amount of gravitas.”
“Come on, you’ve got all of that! Doesn’t she, guys.”
“Yup.”
“We’d back you.”
The three of them swapped looks, then turned to her again.
“W-We can discuss this later. First we need to check the other rooms.” Thus forcing the topic to a close, Rita swiveled to face the door. She prayed to herself, Please let there be a royal government official or a surviving Garrison officer─even just one.
Her steps couldn’t have felt heavier, but Rita started walking towards the door, somehow taking the lead. As she was about to exit into the hallway, another soldier came charging in.
“Aie, watch it!”
“Sorry!”
He was a youth, also from the Training Corps. He seemed even younger than Duccio─probably a fresh recruit, likely with next to no training. He apologized for almost crashing into her, then stood to attention, saluting with a hand over the crest adorning his chest.
“Looting?!”
Incredible. It was true that the Military Police Brigade was gone, and that the Garrison had suffered devastating losses; still, could civil order break down so completely in the space of just one day?
Duccio and the others looked shaken too.
“Businesses…the ones evacuees left behind!”
“They’ll have left stuff there.”
Whatever her title, it was her duty to protect the district.
She feared for her parents.
Neither her father Henning nor her mother Doris had been part of the evacuation. They had stayed in Quinta and were keeping the apothecary open. There was no guarantee that they wouldn’t be raided.
For the time being, the looting was taking place in an area that was removed from the family business. Otherwise Rita might have deployed the Vertical Maneuvering Equipment and left the trainees standing.
The disturbance had already spread over several blocks. A violent mob was sacking the many businesses lining the street. Most of the targets were, as suspected, shops whose proprietors had evacuated, but even those whose owners had stayed were being looted. On top of that, a steady influx of onlookers meant the mob was rapidly growing in size.
“That’s enough! This is the Garrison Regiment. Stand back!”
Rita pushed her way past the rubberneckers. A group of men were emerging from a butchers up ahead, arms laden with rings of sausages and clumps of raw and cured meat.
“Wait!”
Rita stood blocking their way. One of the men tried to shove her aside. She tripped his leg to send him tumbling then twisted his arm in a lock. She then unsheathed one of her blades and extended it smoothly towards one of the other men.
“Put it back! Everything you’ve got. It’s not yours to take!”
“Huh? Everyone else’s doing it. It’s not like they’re coming back.”
“That may be the case, but it doesn’t mean you─hey!” She caught another man with armfuls of meat sneaking out of the entrance. “Don’t just stand there, go after him!”
“Y-Yes!”
“Sorry!”
The trainees scampered after the looter.
Rita was clenching her teeth. There’s too many…
The looting was wholesale─at the cheese mongers next door, the greengrocers on the other side, the hardware and clothing merchants farther up. The crowd was doing nothing to stop it. If anything they looked hopeful of getting leftovers once the rough types were gone. Mixed in with the crowd, Rita caught glimpses of uniforms she recognized. Most likely they were trainees who had reached the scene before her. The looting was taking place in open view, but the recruits appeared at a loss.
“Let go of me!”
The man whose arm Rita still had in a lock began to thrash. One of the onlookers snapped up some of the meat he’d dropped. Someone else reached for him. The crowd broke into a scuffle for the meat.
“We’re the Garrison Regiment! You do realize we’re armed?!”
The civilians weren’t listening. In fact, they seemed to have forgotten she was even there. Taking advantage of the commotion, the man broke free from under her and launched himself into the crowd. There, more fights started to get the remaining meat.
“Hey, that’s enough!”
Duccio moved in to break them up but ended up getting surrounded. Elbowed in on all sides, he was about to lose his equipment.
It was hardly surprising. A recruit in his first month was little more than a novice. No one could expect him to hold his own against strong grown men.
“Don’t take on more than you can handle!”
Just in the nick of time, Rita took his collar and yanked him out from the crowd.
He turned to face her, gasping for air, and asked for advice. “What now?”
“I, I think…” The odds were stacked against them. She couldn’t think of a way to end the disorder without injuring any civilians.
Or maybe…that isn’t true?
“Duccio, can you go and fetch guns for everyone? As many as you can carry.”
“We’re gonna shoot them?”
“No, we’re not. The reports will do!” If they threatened the use of firepower, they might be able to disperse the mob.
“A-ha, I see!” He seemed to catch Rita’s meaning. “Roger!”
“Summon everyone who’s free.”
“I’ll just have to do what I can here.”
She was outside the butchers with a drawn blade; as could be expected, people had stopped trying to get in. She turned and took aim at a building across the street. Careful to avoid the crowd, she fired both anchors. They punctured the surface between the second and third floors. The impact vibrated down to Rita’s waist.
She kicked off the ground and started to reel in the wires. The belt around her body tightened and she began to rise. Her feet took to the air.
She sailed up above the crowd. They glided past the corner of her vision.
The wall was pulling closer, and fast.
She adjusted the rewinding speed. Shifting her weight, she swung her feet up towards the wall. At the moment of impact, she curved her knees and torso to absorb the tremendous force. She kicked straight back off the wall, for the moment leaving the anchors embedded in the surface. This time, she let the wires unwind slowly, thereby regulating the speed of her descent.
Below her, looters of all kinds were making their getaway, shouldering boxes and sacks filled to the brim with vegetables. Rita adjusted her posture midair and pointed her feet at the ground.
She landed right in their midst. Using both hands she held out her blades.
“This is the Garrison. Please desist from any further criminal activity.”
“What?”
One of the men casually turned around.
Rita dropped into a crouch, kicking off the ground to instantly close the gap between them. Turning her wrist she drove the hilt of one of her blades into the man’s solar plexus. He coughed up froth, then collapsed. His cloth sack hit the ground, scattering beans everywhere.
“Why, you little…”
One of the other men began to approach her. But he wasn’t thinking straight. He was still carrying a wooden box on his shoulder.
How does he expect to fight like that?
Rita tripped his legs and he fell backwards in apparent slow motion, a bemused look on his face. His box crashed into the ground, tipping to spill potatoes.
“Holy…”
“Shit, she really is Garrison.”
Some of them started to run.
Right decision.
Others had put down their loads and were making their approach.
Wrong decision.
One of them had a poker clasped in his hands. Probably something he’d used to pry open a door or a window. The bearded man brandished it upwards, then swung.
“You asked for it,” Rita muttered.
She thrust her blade but pulled it back at the last moment. She wasn’t out to kill anyone. The Garrison’s duty was to protect all citizens.
She judged the trajectory of the poker and stepped to one side. She rammed the hilt of her blade into the side of the man’s head as part of the same movement.
There was a sudden impact in the small of her back. She’d taken a kick from behind.
“Ow…”
She found herself stumbling forwards, but managed to keep her footing. She turned to see another man moving in, hands up before his face. He was almost in reach.
“You get special treatment!”
Without hesitation Rita fired an anchor from the mechanism around her waist. Startled, the man swayed to evade it. This much Rita had anticipated. It wasn’t her intention to skewer him.
The anchor zipped through the air and stabbed into the building to his rear. Rita set the wire to rewind. A brutal force took hold of her, and she took flight at a staggering pace.
The man’s eyes opened wide.
Riding the momentum of the wire Rita raised her knee, connecting it with his chin. The man flailed backwards, spurting blood from his nose as he staggered to the ground. With the attacking knee as a fulcrum, Rita executed a half front somersault to land both feet on the wall.
The rest of the men stared up at her, dumbfounded. But Rita suspected it wouldn’t be long before they regained their cool. It was time to end this.
“Go home!”
She couldn’t stay there on the wall forever.
As she started to fall she looked up, adjusted the angle of the firing mechanism, and fired an anchor towards another building across the street, which housed an ironmongers. She pulled the first anchor out from the wall at the same time. Yet again she sailed over the crowd below, cutting a beeline across the street.
They were becoming increasingly wary of her presence. She landed on both feet between two windows where the anchor had speared the wall. Standing perpendicular to it, she gazed down at the mob below.
“Looting is forbidden! Please desist from further criminal activity!”
She kicked off the wall again and swung into the air. She plummeted down towards a man carrying a bundle of what looked like cookery tools. Timing the blow to connect when he turned, she drove the hilt of her blade into him. He took flight, spinning multiple times before finally landing sprawled across the cobbled street.
“Sorry, but it’s your own fault!”
She silently touched down.
I guess I don’t need this. She re-sheathed the blade and detached the hilt, taking firm hold of the latter. Being able to fire the anchors sufficed. She didn’t want to cut anyone down.
Tipping forwards, she deftly launched herself towards another group of looters. Sidestepping punches she let loose a barrage of roundhouse kicks, accelerating her heel into the sides of their heads.
“Theft is forbidden! Reinforcements are already on their way!”
She neutralized three more outside a tannery, then two outside a private home. She repeated the process outside a tavern and a tailors. From one side to the next, one building to another, Rita crisscrossed the street with lightning speed. It wasn’t necessary to subdue the entire mob. Only to demonstrate military presence.
She fired an anchor into the third floor of a building markedly taller than the rest. She set the wire to reel in and pulled herself up, coming to rest on the upper ledge of a bay window. She pulled the anchor free.
Casting her eyes down to the street below, she found a man carrying a smallish leather bag. No doubt it was stolen, too. He was pushing roughly through the crowd, shoving people this way and that. Those who saw him coming were scurrying to get out of the way.
“Perfect…”
Rita reattached the hilt to her blade before pulling it from the sheath. She thrust it deep in between a couple of slats above the window. The jolt was enough to numb her arm a little. For the second time, she disconnected the hilt from the blade. Coming down into a crouch, she scanned the street and took careful aim. The man was almost directly below her now, just a little off to the right. She calibrated the angle of the mechanism and fired her anchor a meter ahead of him. He jumped and came to a full stop, almost keeling forwards. He craned his neck to see her, his face twitching in surprise.
It was the moment she’d been waiting for.
Now!
Rita fired again, this time using the anchor that had pulled her up to the building. The man’s eyes opened even wider. He was frozen to the spot, his reactions lacking the necessary speed to get out of the way.
The anchor impaled his right thigh.
The man let out an ear-piercing scream. He threw the leather bag away and fell to the ground, writhing in pain.
“Sorry! But I need you…”
Rita triggered the wire to reel in, letting the compressed gas shoot out at full clip. She took the same wire and looped it over the blade she’d stuck in the wall near her feet, then jumped down on the opposite side from the man. The blade became a pivot, suspending the man to the right of the window, and Rita to the left. While she was still a little higher up, Rita depressed the trigger on the hilt of the blade to stop the wire reeling in.
She drew her second blade and pointed it towards the airborne man.
“Damn you! Argh… This bloody hurts!” Suspended with his head beneath him, red trickling down his thigh, the man thrashed around like a fish on a rod. He yelled and moaned, tears and nose running together.
Unsurprisingly, the majority of the crowd was by now looking up and watching them. Entranced by what was taking place, even the looters stood still.
“Hear me…” The words caught in Rita’s throat. Hanging in midair, she sucked in a deep breath and tried again. “Hear me out. Everyone! I am…”
Right. There was no turning back now she’d come this far. She couldn’t skirt around the issue any longer.
“I am Rita Iglehaut, acting commander of the Garrison. The Military Police Brigade has left to guard and escort the evacuees to safety, leaving the maintenance of law and order under the jurisdiction of the Garrison and the Training Corps!”
The reality was that the only Garrison troops left to carry out their duties were Rita herself, Amanda, and a few others from their own year and the next. The rest were all trainees with next to no experience. Rita, of course, saw no reason to volunteer that information.
“W-We! Will respond, with zero tolerance, to theft in all forms! Disband, and go home. Please go on as though everything were…”
Half of Quinta had been evacuated. The majority of its able-bodied soldiers were gone. No one could act as though nothing had happened.
Rita took a deep breath and reprised, “Inasmuch as you are able, as though everything were normal. I guarantee help is on its way. To enable us to make a new start in a new environment, please respect the law, and help one another!”
It struck her then that this was probably the first time she’d had to speak in front of so many people. She waited nervously for the crowd to respond.
What if they just ignore me? Dismiss me as some bubble-headed girl spouting nonsense?
There was only silence.
Then, a series of explosive bangs sounded from somewhere down the street.
Gunfire.
Over twenty trainees were racing to the scene. They were firing repeatedly into the air to intimidate the crowd. Clouds of gunpowder smoke puffed upwards, giving the impression of greater numbers.
“Thank you…”
The looting wouldn’t spread any further, at least not from here. Rita felt her tension drain away. If she weren’t suspended in midair, she might have crumpled to the ground.
“You, commander? Really? I can hardly believe it.” Doris made a show of rolling her eyes.
“Not commander. Acting commander. And you’re not the only one who can’t believe it.”
That night, Rita sat with her parents at the dining table. Having failed to find a single surviving officer, she and her Garrison colleagues had held talks, and her capacity as acting commander had become official.
“It won’t be too much of a burden?”
“It will. A heavy one… Way too heavy.”
Rita was the first to agree that it felt beyond her, but without anyone to organize the soldiers, more rioting was sure to break out. That had to be avoided at any cost.
“Could you do it instead, Mom?”
“I give up.” Rita folded her arms over the table and slumped her chin into them. “I hope the reinforcements hurry up and get here.”
“I hear you.”
“Still, it’s hard to believe,” Henning said, sipping some after-dinner tea before replacing the cup to the table. “For all the officials to just flee like that.”
“Absolutely. And to think of how they always acted so important.” Doris sipped her tea too and peered at Rita over the rim. “And you’re doing their work, too? What does that entail?”
“I don’t know yet. What do you think, Dad?” Her head was spinning from just considering it.
“Right. First, I suppose, is to make sure we know who’s here. Then there’s organizing a militia…as it does appear we have fewer soldiers now. Also, households with injured persons will be wanting medical attention.”
“How about the stockpiles─money, supplies? Do you know how much we have left?”
Rita shook her head in response to Doris’ question. “The district hall was empty. It’s hard to accept, but I think─”
“The officials took them. Cretins!”
“We’re lucky though, we’ve got the supplies the military had stored. They should be enough to last us a while.”
“What about horses?” Henning asked.
“Less than twenty now.”
“Could we use them to evacuate? In smaller groups?” Doris asked, clearly assuming she’d come up with a good idea.
“We thought of that but decided against it, because we’d have a hard time choosing who would go.”
“Mmm, yes, I suppose.”
“And…this doesn’t bear thinking, but as someone pointed out, we don’t really know whether the people who left actually made it through.”
It wasn’t impossible that they’d been wiped out. If they’d run into a group of “aberrant” Titans, some that were fast on their feet, it wasn’t even all that unthinkable. Rita’s mind traveled back to the innumerable dead bodies she’d had to see earlier that day, to those clumps of meat, no longer human in form, that had been chewed on and spat out by the Titans. Again, it was something that didn’t bear thinking about, but no one could say Mathias and Jörg hadn’t been out there among them.
“We thought it best, for now, to wait for reinforcements from Fuerth.”
“Yes, you’re probably right.” Henning glanced at the window. The world outside was already shrouded in dark.
“I do hope the Kramers are okay,” Doris muttered to herself. Her thoughts seemed to be moving in the same direction as Rita’s.
“Th-They have to be. Mathias is surprisingly bullheaded, and Jörg’s the shrewdest man alive!” Rita knew she wouldn’t be able to stay on top of her work if she didn’t keep telling herself this.
Henning floated an amused smile. “Probably best you don’t say that to their faces.”
“You think so?”
“Anyhow!” Doris stood and gathered their empty cups. “You need sleep if you’re to have any energy for this. You are going to have the hardest job in the whole of Quinta.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Even as she sat there, slumped over the table, Rita felt in her heart a powerful sense of gratitude to her parents. She could hear Doris’ footsteps as she moved off to the kitchen.
“I’m sure their merchant association will commit a small fortune, buy up every last horse there is in Fuerth, and send help as soon as they can.”
“Right.”
Until then, she would do everything in her power to keep Quinta safe.
So that she could hold her head high when she saw Mathias again.
***
Mathias was having trouble sleeping. The rage burned deep in his chest.
He was angry with his father for making a pre-emptive move, for having seen through him─or maybe he was angry with himself for being so easy to read.
He tossed and turned. Fuerth was on higher ground than Quinta, meaning a cooler temperature. The heavy blanket felt oppressive.
His patience spent, Mathias sat up. He swung his feet to the floor and pushed his toes into icy slippers. Lighting a candle stand, he left for the kitchen to get some water.
Slivers of light trailed from the door to Jörg’s chamber. Was he still working at this hour?
Mathias turned for the staircase but happened to overhear his name being spoken. His father was talking to someone about him. Like Mathias, Jörg hadn’t visited the Fuerth townhouse for a long time─perhaps he’d forgotten that the walls weren’t as thick as they were at the mansion in Quinta. As though compelled, Mathias began to approach his father’s room.
“I understand that it’s hard on the boy. I would go back too, if I could.”
He had no doubt as to the identity of his father’s companion. It was Suzanne, their servant and Mathias’ home tutor.
Since losing his wife, Jörg often shared his bed with her. When Mathias had first discovered this─Jörg and Suzanne still didn’t know he had─he’d been incensed. It had felt like a betrayal of his mother. But now he simply accepted it for what it was. His father was human, too, and Suzanne was no doubt helping fill the void left after the passing of his wife. If they were both happy with the relationship as it was, then Mathias was fine with it.
“But why? Is there someone you care about?”
As suspected, the voice was Suzanne’s.
“Not really. Well…there are some friends, yes. And people are more important than anything else, that goes without saying─but I left certain items behind, too.”
“Items?”
“I showed them to you before, remember? The artworks. I couldn’t very well load them onto a wagon, not the way things were. There were so many people who couldn’t evacuate. Now, that would have earned some dark looks. But even putting that aside, there was no time to haul them all out. So I left them behind.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to go back.”
“Not for a long time.”
“Are they so valuable?”
“A significant fortune, but nothing compared to the whole. I brought everything in the way of tender. And I’ve always kept the majority of my assets here in the interior.”
“So this is a simple question of attachment?”
“Indeed.”
Mathias had, without realizing it, broken out in a sweat. He no longer felt the cold. As though he’d been sprinting at top speed, his heart was pounding hard and fast.
He’s talking about…
The numerous works of art, neatly arranged in the underground room. Jörg had left them back at the Quinta mansion.
There must be some way I can use this as leverage.
Mathias’ throat was drier than when he’d gotten up.
He tiptoed away from his father’s chamber and slinked downstairs─the whole time fearing his thumping heart might give him away.
A bribe.
What better way was there of putting such valuable artworks to use? The question was to whom to offer them, and what to ask for in return.
Mathias tried running through it in his head.
He wanted to go back to Quinta. Once there he hoped to find Rita and, if possible, to bring her back with him to Fuerth. For that, he first needed to get past the wall. And not just get past it. He would need a horse. Without one he couldn’t hope to outrun the Titans. They would devour him and he would die in vain.
He was becoming convinced that the only way to get past the wall with a steed was to join the campaign to retake Shiganshina. Yet the sections responsible for drafting volunteers had been issued orders not to accept him. In the end, it seemed to him that his only course of action was to bribe one of the soldiers signing people up.
Clearly, he couldn’t just approach the desk and say, “Sign me up and I’ll tell you where to find some treasure.” For one thing, there was no guarantee that the soldier in question would be the kind that was receptive to bribery. All of which meant that he had to find…
“A place where corrupt soldiers hang out, huh.”
The day after he’d listened in on his father’s conversation, Mathias spent the afternoon quietly at home in the townhouse. Come evening, he changed into the plainest clothes he could find. He told Suzanne he wouldn’t need dinner, then hurried out before anyone asked any questions.
He headed first in the direction of the Garrison barracks. From there he visited every store and food hall in the vicinity, plying the same made-up story to gather information on all the cheap taverns in the neighborhood: You don’t know any of the soldiers’ taverns, do you? Since my brother joined the Garrison he’s been out drinking every night. Mom’s beside herself…
He was fortunate in that everyone he spoke to was sympathetic. Some of the women even went as far as to show concern: Of course…but promise me you’ll be careful. It’s an unsavory crowd there.
For Mathias’ purposes, the more unsavory the places were, the better. That only increased his chances of finding soldiers of dubious moral character. He finally decided on one hidden deep in a complex web of back alleys, relatively far away from the barracks. By then the sky had turned completely dark.
He did hesitate outside the entrance, but this lasted only seconds. Whatever the nature of the clientele, they would be nothing compared to a gaggle of Titans. He wouldn’t be devoured head first.
The din and heat seared out the moment he opened the door. It was abnormally hot inside, with enough vapor and smoke to obscure the recesses from sight. The tavern was larger than he’d expected; the seating seemed to continue beyond the wall visible up ahead. Shabby male servers were busy pushing through the crowd. Mathias couldn’t see any waitresses. Perhaps you had to be a man to handle a crowd this rough.
From what he could see, most of the seats were taken up by uniformed men. It did appear to be a hangout for soldiers. It also seemed the kind of place where barely educated characters came to blow off steam. Somewhere where the main purpose was to get drunk and make noise, not to enjoy quick-witted conversation or debate.
A lesson of sorts.
The experience might prove useful one day. Still, it wasn’t really the kind of place he’d want to visit often. He already didn’t care to breathe too much.
“Hm…” He wasn’t sure where to sit, even whether he was supposed to choose a seat. Either way, none of the servers had spared him a glance.
Mathias decided to try moving farther in. He had feared that he’d stick out, that he’d be too conspicuous, but it looked as if he needn’t have worried. No one was paying any attention to anyone else. The soldiers guzzled booze. Gnawed at cooked meat. Howled with laughter at vulgar jokes. Some of the tables were sprawled with cards, with copper and silver coins piled in front of the occupants. They seemed to be involved in some kind of gambling.
To order…it apparently sufficed to flag down a server at random and to shout out the menu item.
Mathias tried waving his hand at one of them. The server’s only response was to nod. Apparently this meant: Hold on, I’ll be right back.
That would do. He approached one of the tables where people were gambling. Four men sat glaring at the cards in their hands.
“Pardon me. May I?”
“Huh?”
One of the men looked up. The stink of booze wafted over Mathias’ face.
“Are you free to talk?”
The man frowned and clucked his tongue, then turned back to his cards as if Mathias didn’t even exist.
Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to do, Mathias admitted. He doubted anyone interrupted in the middle of a game with stakes would react well. I’ll watch for now. He took a step backwards. He took care not to bump into any of the passing servers.
Standing in their way was dangerous.
Moving to a corner of the room, he pressed his back to the wall. He heard a whistle. Looking up, he saw the server from earlier sending him an expectant look from behind one of the tables. He wanted to know Mathias’ order.
“Ale!” It wasn’t like he’d never tried the stuff before.
He thought he’d shouted, but the surrounding racket drowned him out. The skin-headed server raised a hand to his ear. Mathias assumed this meant that the man couldn’t hear him.
Friendlier than expected, Mathias happily noted.
He pointed at a nearby table then at himself, motioning that he wanted what they were having. The server returned a diligent nod then moved away, the message apparently having got across. Mathias surveyed the tavern again.
He’d been far too careless earlier. He couldn’t proposition just any soldier. It had to be someone of dubious moral character who also wielded enough clout to sneak Mathias in as a volunteer.
He looked around for soldiers who seemed high in rank. Were there any who were impressively decorated or acting self-important and bossing others around?
His eyes came to rest on one face in particular.
Someone from the volunteer desk the previous day. Not the soldier who had dealt with Mathias, but the one who had attended to the right-hand queue. The stocky one with the thin eyebrows. Mathias was sure of it.
The man was playing a game of dice. Apparently down on his luck, he had been banging copper and silver coins down on the table for some time. These were, without fail, scooped up by the rest of the soldiers. The man continued to guzzle one drink after another, firing curses at the servers and the others at the table. No one seemed to take offense. Far from it, they all gave the impression of being in high spirits. Mathias guessed the soldier with the thin eyebrows had already parted with a considerable sum of money.
Eventually, the soldier got up from his seat. Maybe to use the toilet.
Perfect. Mathias pushed forwards, weaving his way past tables. Trailing after the man, he crossed a doorless threshold into a narrow, dingy-looking corridor. “Excuse me!” he called.
“Do you have a moment to talk?”
“Ah, I remember. The spoiled brat.”
Blood surged to Mathias’ head.
Let it go. He couldn’t let himself get worked up each time someone from the laboring classes muttered something he found offensive. He took a lungful of the dingy air.
“That’s right,” Mathias said. “And the spoiled little brat has a favor he wants to ask.”
“Forget it.” The soldier with the thin eyebrows propped himself against the wall and scratched his head. The sense was returning to his eyes. He was, it seemed, already beginning to sober a little. “Get yourself home, go back to your lessons.”
“Yeah? And why’s that? It’s obvious what you’re gonna ask.”
It was that damn notice.
Still─the fact that the soldier was so quick to pick up on this meant he might be of the necessary rank to grant Mathias’ request. At the very least, the odds were high that he could. Mathias drew in another lungful of the filthy air.
“I can make it worth your while.”
“I have information. I assume you know who my father is? If you agree to help, I will tell you the location of a fortune he has hidden away. And how to steal it.”
“A-ha!” The soldier’s eyes lit up. “Come on then, let’s hear it.”
“First you give me your word. That you’ll enroll me as a volunteer. That you’ll forge whatever documents are necessary and─”
The soldier moved before Mathias could even finish. One of his beefy arms came lunging out. His hand locked around Mathias’ neck, pushed him against the wall, then lifted him bodily off the ground.
Mathias was choking from the pressure. His vision started to fade. He barely had any idea what had happened.
“W…ait…” He tried swinging an arm, but the soldier’s face and body were out of reach. Mathias writhed and kicked at the man’s knees, but he was like a stone column. “What…”
“How about you tell me where it is? That hidden fortune. Seems a pretty sweet deal,” the soldier with the thin eyebrows rasped.
“Only…in…exchange…”
“If you…kill…”
“Hmm?” The soldier flashed a false smile, cocking his head to one side. “There’d be one less idiotic kid, that’s all. It’s common knowledge you were trying to get past the wall. Who knows why? Not that it matters. Anyway, wouldn’t be no surprise if you got washed up in the river.”
Of course.
Mathias hadn’t thought about the river. It ran the length of Fuerth before passing under the wall, through to the outside. And Quinta was downstream. Forgetting a steed, assuming he could hold his breath long enough, it wouldn’t be inconceivable to dive in and leave that way.
“You understanding yet? I strangle you here, and splash! Everyone’ll assume you drowned. No skin off my nose.”
The man’s grip tightened around Mathias’ neck. No doubt the soldier meant it. The drink, combined with all the money he’d lost, had pushed him out of control. Mathias could tell the soldier wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.
“Spit it out. The hidden fortune. Look, I’ll even consider splitting the proceeds.”
“Well, that does sound interesting. Perhaps you’d consider enlightening me,” came another male voice, this one with an odd affectation. The pitch was almost musical. “Only me, of course.”
The very next moment, the soldier with the thin eyebrows rolled his eyes backwards and collapsed to the floor, and the pressure around Mathias’ throat was abruptly gone.
Mathias followed the man to the ground and landed on all fours, retching. It wasn’t until a dozen shallow breaths later that he finally realized what had happened. Through teary eyes he peered up to see a tall soldier sporting a mustache. At least, the man was dressed like a soldier, and he had to be the source of the last utterance.
He looked around thirty. Yet Mathias would have believed he was fifty, if someone had told him so. The mustache made it hard to tell the man’s true age.
“A good evening to you. Mathias Kramer, I presume?”
Mathias had been right, the man’s speech was oddly affected. The man proffered a hand. He seemed to want to help up the junior Kramer.
For a moment, Mathias wasn’t sure if he should take it.
What if this man turned out to be like the soldier with the thin eyebrows? More to the point, how did he know who Mathias was?
“Nice work, boss. Nice and clean.”
Another soldier approached from behind. This one was old, but he was big and covered in burly muscle.
Mathias wondered for a moment if he might be hallucinating, but the more he looked at the soldier’s face, the more elderly he seemed. His cropped hair was silver and streaked with white. Mathias had never seen an old man so powerfully built.
Two more soldiers filed in behind him. They wore brand-new uniforms. One was a boy who looked no older than Mathias. The other was an even younger─no, a young woman.
Mathias was beginning to feel confused.
None of them indicated surprise at the scene before them, at finding the soldier with the thin eyebrows sprawled unconscious over the floor of the corridor. Were they all aware that he had attacked Mathias?
“That should go without saying. I am quite proficient,” the mustached soldier said in a singsong tone. “Come, to your feet!” He extended his hand even farther.
With nothing else to do, Mathias clasped hold of it and let himself be pulled up. He was still a little dizzy. He put his hand on the wall to steady himself.
“How do you know who I am?”
“How do I know you? My friends, did you hear that?”
He glanced back at the soldiers behind him. The gigantic old man wore a big grin; Mathias got the impression that the man was always smiling. The boy was looking coldly away. The woman upturned a tankard of what was probably ale and narrowed her eyes in apparent bliss. The mustached soldier turned back towards Mathias.
“How would I not know the scion of the renowned Kramer Merchant Association?”
Perhaps they had also seen Jörg’s notice, the one containing the message to turn down Mathias’ application. Perhaps they’d been there watching when he was rejected. Still, the soldier’s phrasing suggested he’d known Mathias from before the notice had gone out.
“It was clear the moment you came in. The abundant intellect! The oozing refinement! How out of place you were in a cesspool like this. An ill-match indeed!”
The others addressed the mustached soldier as “boss” but didn’t seem to be treating him in accordance with the title.
“You were watching me? The whole time?” Mathias inquired of the mustached soldier.
“Naturally.”
“Then you also overheard our exchange?” Mathias glanced at the soldier with the thin eyebrows still recumbent on the floor.
“Assuredly. Hence our decision to intervene,” the mustached soldier said. He suddenly swung his head in closer. “Which brings me to my next question. It appears you are in possession of some rather special information?”
“Ah, um…” Mathias inevitably felt cautious. He couldn’t afford to make the same mistake twice.
“Yes. But who are you all?”
They seemed awfully familiar with the way of the world.
Despite their air of having seen many battles, all four had only simple marks on their collars. It was hard to believe they exercised any influence over personnel decisions.
“Oh, we’re just a group of humble volunteers. Who have only just obtained their uniforms. Still, I can’t help but think we might be the most appropriate people to help you with your arrangements. I can assure you we’re a fair amount more pliable than regular soldiers.” He cast a look over his shoulder and exchanged a knowing smile with the gigantic old man. “And perhaps we should change venue. To some place more suitable for private discourse.”
The mustached soldier proffered his hand for a second time, forcing it into Mathias’ own. “Call me Bernhardt. It’s a good name, no? Nothing like yours, but it does have a certain dignified ring to it.”
Not in my book, Mathias felt an urge to argue, but decided to keep his mouth shut.
Who were these people? These terribly shady people?
Mathias followed the group, having resigned himself to whatever might happen. The mustached soldier─Bernhardt─flagged down a server, thrust a number of silver coins into his palm, and requested a private room.
The room was cramped, with a round table in the center and six chairs around it. Although it was only separated from the nearby hall by a flimsy wall, the outside clamor dropped away the instant the door was closed.
Mathias had finally claimed his drink from the server. Bernhardt and the others also had drinks before them.
Bernhardt raised his aloft. “To our meeting!”
Nobody followed his cue. As for the woman, she had already started imbibing a new one. Bernhardt shrugged, finished the gesture alone, then took a deep gulp of the ale.
“We should continue our introductions. The large one over there is Jarratt.”
Not knowing what else to do, Mathias took the man’s hand and shook it. “You too,” he said.
The gigantic old man, Jarratt, flashed a toothy smile. A great many creases formed next to his eyes. He seemed good-natured─rather relentlessly so.
“The sulky one is Klaus. The rose among us weeds, Nikki.”
Klaus gave Mathias a brief, moody glance, but looked away almost immediately. Mathias didn’t remember having done anything to offend him. Klaus most likely bore him a natural aversion. Maybe he was the type who considered everyone in the privileged classes his enemy.
Meanwhile, Nikki seemed utterly disinterested in him. She gazed fondly at her tankard, pouring and gulping down drink after drink.
“I…”
“I’ll need to know more than just your names.”
“Mmm. As in, what we can do. Whether we can help grant you your wish. This is what you want to know?”
“And what you do, or what you used to do, that sort of thing…”
“Let’s just say we are engaged in a rather special line of work.”
“You’re not soldiers?”
“This is but a temporary guise. The truth is─we are artists.”
Jarratt’s huge frame rocked with laughter. Bernhardt leveled the young woman with a reproachful look.
“‘Thieves’─how atrocious. Am I not always telling you to at the very least refer to ourselves as being ‘outlaws’? Add ‘glorious’ before it and all the better. Glorious outlaws.”
“Sorry, hold on. You’re thieves?”
“Not thieves, outlaws. Glorious outlaws!”
“Except in your case, boss, maybe ‘small-time crook’ is more like it.”
Jarratt cackled with laughter, and Klaus muttered after him, “Or ‘dingy ex-soldier.’”
“Soldier? You said those are temporary guises, but you used to be in the military?”
“Military Police Brigade? The Military Police Brigade?”
Only the highest achievers from the Training Corps were able to join them. What was a member of that elite group doing as a thief?
“Got caught, didn’t he,” Nikki divulged with a mischievous grin. “Rerouting supplies to the black market, turning a blind eye to smuggling.”
“Right… I suppose there are all those stories, of corruption in the Brigade.” Mathias examined the mustached soldier, Bernhardt, with renewed appreciation. It was the first time he’d met a true-to-life corrupt soldier.
“I do find ‘corruption’ such a distasteful word. I was a little more pliable than most, that is all.”
“Yup,” Nikki spoke up. “In exchange for the odd gift here and there, Bernhardt kindly turned a blind eye to our activities.”
“Or gave us the times and locations of new shipments,” contributed Jarratt.
They really were outlaws. The kind of people who saw fit to steal other people’s possessions and to sell on the goods for profit. It was obvious they couldn’t be trusted. They absolutely couldn’t be trusted… But Mathias was looking for troops of dubious moral character who would be open to bribery. If anyone was suitable for the task at hand, it was them.
“Is it okay for you to just…come out and tell me you’re outlaws?”
“We would have told you eventually. Let’s just say we’ve saved ourselves a little bother, shall we?” Bernhardt spread his arms wide. “At least now you’ll understand. We are experts when it comes to tiptoeing under the nose of the royal government. At the moment, we also happen to be soldiers. Can you think of anyone better qualified to serve your needs?”
“No, I suppose not. But why did people like you think to volunteer?”
“For the good of humanity, of course.”
Nikki creased up at her own words, but Bernhardt gainsaid her. “Many people had to leave their fortunes behind during the evacuation. To this side of Wall Rose. Meaning there are hordes of abandoned treasure lying unattended in towns and villages between Wall Rose and Wall Maria.”
“So we go in and reap the harvest.” Jarratt winked at Mathias. The little touch hardly suited the gigantic old man.
“I see…” This was looking better and better for Mathias. “Then I think we should be able to work together. That sounds perfect.”
“How so?” Nikki leaned in, suddenly beaming. Her behavior seemed to change profoundly depending on whether she was interested or not.
“Part of my father’s fortune, a collection of valuable artworks, is still back in Quinta.”
“Bingo!” Bernhardt slapped a hand on his thigh. “I had wondered if it was. I’ve known for quite some time that your miser of an old man… Pardon me, that he has been a collector of such things.”
“How?”
“The military police are very close with merchant associations. You don’t appear to remember, but you and I actually met some years ago.”
“We did?”
“Only in passing, of course.”
In recent years, Mathias had often accompanied Jörg on his trips away for business. If Bernhardt really had been with the military police, then there was nothing particularly surprising about them having crossed paths.
“That’s how you knew it was me the moment I came in here.”
“To new friends and continued relationships!” Bernhardt raised his tankard dramatically into the air once again.
Mathias paid this no attention. “Okay, you’ve convinced me. Going back to what I said earlier, will you be able to get me there? To Quinta.”
“Ah, you want to reach Quinta, not simply get outside of the wall.”
“Yes.”
“May I enquire as to why?”
“We’ve told you about us. Your turn,” Jarratt said, with foam from the ale stuck to his mouth.
“Well…” If he told them his real reason, would they believe him? Even if they did, they would surely just make fun of him.
“A lady, perhaps?” Bernhardt said without any warning.
Mathias’ face flushed red. He found himself swallowing hard.
“Of course, I see.” Bernhardt emptied his tankard and slammed it back onto the table. “Wonderful! It seems that our new friend here is in love!”
“No, that’s not it. Please.”
“Oh, you’ve no reason to be ashamed. No need to be shy, either. There truly is nothing as wonderful as being in love!”
“This treasure. Where in Quinta is it?” Klaus asked.
“I can’t tell you yet.” They might dispose of him if he told them now. Or at least, they would have no reason to lead him outside of the wall. “I’ll tell you once we’re there,” Mathias promised.
“You’ll slow us down.”
“That might be true, but…”
“I’m not making this up!” Mathias was on his feet before he even realized it himself. His chair capsized noisily backwards.
“That will do, you two,” Bernhardt intervened, and Nikki frowned next to him as though offended by all the commotion.
“Isn’t it worth taking a look, though?” Jarratt smiled in Klaus’ direction. “We’ll be heading out either way. And we’ll need to get supplies at some point. It shouldn’t be any great hassle to make a little diversion down to Quinta.”
“If you’re lying, you’re dead,” Klaus threatened, his voice low.
Coming out in a cold sweat, Mathias repeated, “I’m not making this up. And I won’t slow you down.”
And don’t let your guard down for an instant. Always remain suspicious, he warned himself.
***
Rita was dreaming. It was a dream she used to have regularly, but this was the first time in a while.
In it, she was standing motionless in the doorway to a room she didn’t recognize. Sunlight streamed through the windows, but the room was shockingly dark.
There was a table inside. Some chairs.
Rita began to approach. Her vantage point was low. She was still a kid, younger yet than when she and Mathias had first met.
Gently, she placed a hand on the man’s back. It felt terribly insubstantial. For some reason, it lacked any warmth.
The man must surely have noticed her. But he wouldn’t turn around.
She caught sight of his profile. It was a face she’d seen somewhere before. One she thought she knew well… Yet she couldn’t bring to mind the person it belonged to. It felt like the memory had simply chosen to abandon her.
Was it Henning as a younger man?
Or Mathias as an older one?
─Neither.
The man cradled a wooden box in his arms. More precisely, he was leaning on it. The man’s body was limp. Perhaps he was asleep.
On the wooden floor next to the man’s feet was a small vial about the size of a thumb. A few drops remained inside. A transparent liquid.
Rita picked it up. She began to scrutinize it. Then she shifted her attention back to the man and tried shaking him by the shoulder.
He didn’t wake.
Deep was his love for the wooden box─deep.
Rita caught a faint smell of decay.