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For nearly another hour again, they rode through the decaying remains of Wall Rose's underbelly. Grandpa Arlet kept his distance, using every trick he'd learned across decades of survival. His horse; bless the beast; had learned to move without sound, to respond to the slightest pressure of knee or rein.
The knights rode in a loose formation, Enoch at their head. They didn't talk much. The weight of where they were going; what they were going to do; pressed down on them like a physical thing.
Grandpa Arlet watched them. Studied them. Counted weapons, assessed each individual, noted the dynamics between them. Two of them; Vance and Anya; were liabilities. Scared, desperate, looking for any excuse to flee. Some of the other knights were professionals, their faces blank, their movements economical.
Finally, the group ahead stopped at a dense thicket. One of the knights excused himself to tend to "personal business" and rode his horse into a small copse of trees near the place's edge, out of sight of the main group.
Grandpa Arlet smiled behind his hood. Bingo.
____________________
Vance was a mess.
His hands shook as he tied his horse to a low branch. His stomach churned with a nausea that had nothing to do with the jerky he'd eaten for breakfast. Every shadow seemed to hide a Titan. Every sound was the approach of death.
He was going to die out there. Beyond the Walls. In Titan territory. All because their infiltration to the damned Scout Regiment got exposed. He knew it with the cold certainty of a man who'd seen too many comrades fall.
He stumbled deeper into the trees, finding a spot with a little privacy, and began to relieve himself against a mossy rock. The sound of urine on stone was oddly loud in the quiet.
"Get it together Vance." he whispered to himself, the words a desperate mantra. "Just get it together. You're not gonna die. You're not gonna—"
"You almost done there, son?"
Vance froze. The voice was calm, friendly, and right behind him.
He didn't have time to turn. Didn't have time to scream. Something; a hand, impossibly fast; clamped over his mouth. Another hand gripped his shoulder with strength that didn't belong to any old man.
"Easy now," the voice murmured. "I let you finish your business, didn't I? Common courtesy. Now, I'm going to move my hand, and you're going to be quiet. Nod if you understand."
Vance nodded frantically.
The hand lifted. Vance spun, his back against the rock, his eyes wide with terror.
An old man stood before him. Grey cloak, hood pushed back just enough to reveal weathered features and eyes that held... something. Something that made Vance's skin crawl.
"Who—" His voice cracked. "Who are you?"
"Someone who needs your help." The old man's voice was still calm, still friendly, but there was steel beneath it. The old man stepped closer. "You're Vance, right? One of the recruits to the knights of the forever I take it?"
Vance's blood ran cold. "How do you—"
"I know a lot of things." "I know you're heading beyond the Walls. I know you're hunting a boy. And I know you don't want to be here."
Vance's mouth opened and closed. He couldn't deny it. The truth was written all over his face.
"I'm going to need you to take a nap," the old man continued, almost apologetically. "Nothing personal. Just business."
"Wha—!"
A hand moved faster than Vance's eyes could follow. There was a pressure at his neck, a brief flare of pain, and then darkness swallowed him whole.
Grandpa Arlet caught the young man as he fell, lowering him gently to the mossy ground. He worked quickly, efficiently; binding Vance's wrists and ankles with cord from his own pack, gagging him with a strip of clean cloth.
When he was done, he knelt beside the unconscious knight and studied his face. Young. Too young for this. But then, they all were.
"Sorry about this, son," he murmured. "But I need your face more than you do right now."
He placed a hand on Vance's face; his palm began glowing with faint blue circuits that raced up his arm like digital veins. Arlet's other hand touched his own face, where an ID Mask; disguised as his weathered skin; glitched briefly. For a split second, his true form peeked through: glowing blue eyes with intricate data-node symbols flickering like circuit boards, a glimpse of metallic sheen beneath the illusion, something ancient and not-quite-human staring out from the shadows. The effect was subtle at first; a shimmer, a distortion, like heat rising from summer pavement. Then the blue light from his eyes intensified, and the circuits on his skin pulsed once, twice, three times.
Then the light faded, and the ID mask stabilized, the mask reshaping. Arlet's face shifted; wrinkles smoothing, features rearranging, hair darkening. In the space of a breath, he was no longer an old man in a grey cloak.
He was Vance.
He stood, flexing his new jaw, testing the fit of the unfamiliar face. It felt strange; it always did; but functional. He bent down and checked Vance's bonds one last time, then dragged the unconscious body deeper into the bushes, out of sight in a small hollow shielded by roots and ferns. Before leaving, he placed a small bundle beside him; dried jerky and a water skin from his own sack.
"Can't leave you starving," he murmured. "That's not how this works."
Arlet; now 'Vance'; straightened, adopting the knight's slouched posture and nervous tic of cracking his knuckles, he took one last glance at Vance's horse but opted to leave it there, kid's gonna need a means of transport when he wakes up. He went for his horse waiting faithfully for him and returned to the group, who were waiting impatiently.
"What took you so long?" Anya's voice was sharp with nerves, her eyes darting to the treeline as if expecting Titans to emerge at any moment. "Thought you might've bolted."
'Vance' met her gaze, his expression carefully neutral. "Nah. Just nerves. Bladder decided to throw a tantrum. Nothing to worry about."
Anya frowned, sensing something off in his demeanor; the usual jittery edge was gone, replaced by a steady, almost unnerving calm. "You seem... different. Calmer."
'Vance' shrugged, letting a hint of Vance's nervous energy flicker back into his posture. "Figured panicking won't help. We're in this now. Might as well see it through."
Anya studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly, though her eyes still held a flicker of doubt. "Right. Let's get this over with."
Enoch glanced back, his golden mask inscrutable. For a heartbeat, Arlet felt that probing stare again, like a scalpel against his skin. But Enoch said nothing, turning forward as they resumed the ride. Arlet exhaled silently, that was close.
They passed through a small tunnel and emerged into a small valley, hidden from the Wall by a ridge of ancient rock. And there, spread before them, was an iron-bound gate set into a sheer rock face; the entrance to the industrial city. It was a fortress of stone and steel, flanked by towering walls that blended seamlessly with the natural cliffs. And everywhere, guarding every entrance, were soldiers. Some of the Interior MPs in polished uniforms, but not just MPs. Forever Knights, in their dark armor, standing sentinel over the secrets beneath.
Enoch approached the main gate without hesitation. A knight in full armor stepped forward, hand on sword.
"Halt. State your—" The knight's eyes fell on Enoch's golden mask, and his posture changed instantly. "Lord Enoch," the knight said, bowing slightly. "We were not informed of your arrival."
"Operational security," Enoch replied curtly. " These are my associates. We require access to the lower levels. The closed ones."
One of the older knight produced something from beneath his cloak. A symbol. The Forever Knights' crest, worked in dark metal.
The guards examined it, nodded, and stepped aside opening the gates. "Passage granted. Watch for unstable pockets. The lower levels haven't been maintained."
"We'll be careful." Enoch's voice held a hint of amusement, as if the warning were quaint. "Come."
The group entered, leading their horses. Arlet; Vance'; trailed at the rear, his borrowed eyes wide with genuine awe beneath the performance. The industrial city was a marvel and a monstrosity: Not a single mine shaft, but a complex of forges, refineries and warehouses built into the vast areas and hillsides; some clearly recent, others ancient beyond counting. Chimneys rose against the sky, though no smoke issued from them. Cranes and pulleys stood silent, their ropes long rotted away. Massive bellows pumped by teams of workers filled the air with rhythmic whooshes. Molten metal poured into molds for blades, cannons, and ODM gear components. Miners, soot-blackened and weary, hauled carts of glittering iceburst stones; crystalline minerals that powered the gear's gas propulsion.
They rode deeper into the industrial complex, past guards who saluted or nodded, past workers who didn't look up from their tasks. The scale of the place was staggering; forges that could have built an army, warehouses stuffed with crates, tunnels branching off in a dozen directions. All this, an entire hidden economy thrumming in Wall Rose, guarded by the elite and fueled by secrets.
The older knights; the professionals; took it in with calm assessment. The younger ones stared with wide eyes.
"So this is where they make the weapons." one murmured.
"And the artileries," another added. "And everything else."
"Focus," Enoch snapped, striding ahead without looking back. "This is not a tour. You will have time to marvel when our mission is complete."
They followed him through the complex, deeper and deeper, until they reached an opening in the rock face; a tunnel mouth guarded by two knights in full armor, their swords drawn but lowered as Enoch approached.
"The lower levels," one of the guards said. It wasn't a question.
"The lower levels," Enoch confirmed. "We have authorization."
The guards exchanged a glance, then nodded. "Watch your step. The old tunnels aren't stable. And don't touch anything; especially the iceburst stone. One spark and you'll be choking on poison."
Enoch's mask seemed to smile. "Noted."
He led the knights into the darkness.
Arlet followed, his heart pounding beneath the borrowed face. The passage sloped steeply downward, the air growing cooler, damper, thick with the smell of ancient earth and minerals. The sounds of the city faded behind them; the forges, the hammers, the shouts of workers; replaced by an oppressive silence broken only by the crunch of boots on stone and the distant, rhythmic drip of water.
They were in the belly of the beast now. Literally under the walls, heading into the unknown, toward a boy who had no idea that hunters were closing in.
____________________
Stohess district: Military Police headquarters…
Erwin Smith's stomach couldn't be warmed even with the sun's golden light right outside. The carriage wheels clattered against cobblestones, each jolt a reminder that he was being transported into the lion's den with one arm tied behind his back…literally.
The interior was plush, unnecessarily so. Velvet cushions. Polished brass fixtures. A carafe of chilled wine that Erwin had no intention of touching. The Military Police knew how to travel in comfort, even when summoning a man for what amounted to a political inquisition.
Across from him, Captain Levi sat with his arms crossed, his grey eyes fixed on the passing buildings with an expression of barely contained contempt. He hadn't spoken since they'd left the military cadet corps or the survey corps headquarters. He didn't need to. His silence was a weapon, sharpened and ready.
"You don't have to be here," Erwin said quietly.
Levi's gaze didn't shift. "Like hell I don't. You think I'm letting you face those vultures alone? With one hand?" A pause. "Besides, someone needs to be there to scrape your teeth off the floor if they try anything."
Erwin allowed a faint smile. "Your faith in my diplomatic skills is touching."
"Diplomacy." Levi snorted. "That's what you call lying to people who've already decided you're guilty? Sounds more like an execution with extra steps."
The carriage slowed. Through the small window, Erwin could see the gates of the MP branch headquarters; a fortress of bureaucracy dressed in white stone and iron bars. Guards in pristine uniforms snapped to attention as the vehicle passed.
"Remember," Erwin said, adjusting the sling that held his near empty right sleeve, "we are not the enemy here. No matter what they say. No matter what they imply. We did our duty. We saved lives."
"And they'll twist that into something else by sunset," Levi muttered. "I know how this game works."
The carriage stopped. An MP guard opened the door, his face a mask of professional indifference. "Commander Erwin. Captain Levi. Please follow me."
They walked through corridors that smelled of polish and paper, past offices where clerks glanced up with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. The Survey Corps were 'celebrities' of a sort; the kind of celebrities one pointed at during parades and pitied during tax season.
The interrogation chamber was surprisingly modest. A long oak table. Six chairs on one side, two on the other. A single window high on the wall, letting in a shaft of dusty light. Portraits of former kings glared down from the walls, their painted eyes following every movement.
The reception committee was already seated.
At the center, a man Erwin recognized: Premier Zachary's undersecretary for internal affairs, a weasel-faced noble named Dorcas whose family had grown rich on grain tariffs. To his left, a stiff-backed MP Colonel with a waxed mustache and the permanent expression of someone smelling something unpleasant. To his right, a woman in the grey robes of a government magistrate, her face unreadable behind thin spectacles. Flanking them were two junior officials with stacks of papers and the hungry look of men hoping to witness a career-ending spectacle.
"Commander Erwin." Dorcas didn't rise. His smile was thin as a blade. "Thank you for coming on such short notice. Especially given your... recent difficulties." His eyes flicked to the empty sleeve's hand.
"The Survey Corps answers when summoned," Erwin replied evenly, taking his seat. Levi remained standing behind him, a shadow with attitude problems.
"Yes, well." Dorcas shuffled papers. "Let's not waste time. We're here to discuss the... incident at the 103rd Cadet Corps 2nd Quadrant. A most unfortunate affair."
"Unfortunate is one word for it," Erwin said. "I might use 'massacre.'"
The word landed like a stone in still water. The MP Colonel's mustache twitched. The magistrate's pen paused over her paper.
Dorcas's smile tightened. "Let's not be dramatic, Commander. There was an attack. Bandits, by all accounts. Protesting military expansion into their traditional hunting grounds. Most likely a tragic misunderstanding that escalated."
Erwin met his gaze without blinking. "Bandits who wore identical uniforms. Bandits who used advanced technology to impersonate instructors. Bandits who systematically executed cadets while a demonic creature rampaged through the grounds."
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut.
The magistrate cleared her throat. "Commander, your... colorful description aside, the preliminary investigation suggests a coordinated bandit operation. We have statements from survivors confirming an attack by armed individuals."
"Statements taken by your investigators," Erwin noted. "Not by mine."
"Because the Survey Corps has no jurisdiction in internal security matters," the MP Colonel interjected, his voice a satisfied purr. "Your mandate is Titans. Beyond the Walls. Remember?"
"I'm aware of my mandate, Colonel." Erwin's voice remained calm, but there was steel beneath it. "I'm also aware that my soldiers; Squad Leader Hange Zoë's team; arrived at the 103rd during the attack. They witnessed the perpetrators. They fought them."
The junior officials exchanged glances. Dorcas's pen tapped against the table.
"Presumed bandits," Dorcas corrected smoothly. "Who, I understand, are either dead in the fields or disappeared before they could be properly interrogated. Most unfortunate."
Levi's weight shifted behind Erwin. A subtle movement, but the MPs caught it. Good.
"Yes. Their disappearance is what the military is still investigating," Erwin said. "But their equipment; the masks they used to impersonate military instructors; that was real. That was evidence of a coordinated, sophisticated operation beyond any bandit tribe."
The magistrate adjusted her spectacles. "Commander, when my investigators arrived at the 103rd, they found extensive fire damage. Much of the site was compromised. Any equipment the 'bandits' may have used was... unfortunately...not seen, or destroyed to the brazen fire."
Erwin felt the trap snap shut. Of course. The fire. The convenient, all-consuming fire.
"The cadets saw them," he pressed. "Dozens of witnesses. They can describe—"
"Traumatized children describing 'masked men' and 'monsters'?" Dorcas waved a dismissive hand. "Hardly reliable testimony. Children see monsters in shadows, Commander. It's why we have adults to interpret reality for them."
The arrogance of it was breathtaking. Erwin felt a flicker of the rage he kept carefully banked. These people were sitting in their comfortable chamber, wiping away the blood of eighty-three children with bureaucratic language.
"Speaking of monsters," the MP Colonel said, leaning forward with predatory interest, "there's the matter of these... other entities your squad reported. A 'crystal Titan.' A 'demon dog.' A 'winged creature.'" He made air quotes with obvious relish. "Your Squad Leader Zoë has quite the imagination."
"Hange is the finest Titan researcher in the military," Erwin replied. "Her observations are precise. The crystal Titan; Obsidian; has been documented before. During the fall of Wall Maria, it fought the Armored Titan. There are civilian witnesses."
"Rumors," Dorcas said, although his voice was tight. "Whispers. Nothing concrete."
"There were crystal shards at the scene," Erwin countered. "Physical evidence. My squad collected samples."
The magistrate's pen stopped. Dorcas's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.
"Those samples," the MP Colonel said slowly, "have been transferred to MP custody. As is protocol for evidence in an internal security matter. They're being analyzed."
Erwin nodded, as if this were expected. "And the bodies of the perpetrators? The ones my men defeated at the gates and training grounds?"
Another glance between the officials. Dorcas's jaw tightened.
"Unfortunately," the magistrate said carefully, "the fire at the site was... extensive. Identifying remains has proven difficult. What bodies were recovered were too damaged to provide conclusive evidence of... non-bandit affiliation."
Convenient. So very convenient.
Erwin leaned back slightly. "So let me understand the official position. Eighty-three cadets were attacked by bandits who coincidentally wore masks allowing them to impersonate military personnel. These bandits also coincidentally had access to the training grounds during a 'demon dog' rampage that burned half the forest. The Survey Corps arrived, fought these bandits, captured two, and saved dozens of lives; all while a legendary Titan appeared, fought alongside us, and then vanished. And now all physical evidence is either destroyed, transferred, or inconclusive."
Dorcas's smile had frozen into something brittle. "That's a rather dramatic summary, Commander."
"It's an accurate one."
The magistrate set down her pen. "Commander, no one is denying that your squad acted heroically. The cadets' testimonies are clear on that point. The Survey Corps will be... appropriately recognized for their efforts."
"Recognized," Erwin repeated flatly.
"Publicly commended," Dorcas clarified. "Heroes of the 103rd. It'll play well in the papers. Take the edge off the... unfortunate nature of the incident."
Erwin understood immediately. They were being given a medal while the truth was buried. The Survey Corps would be celebrated as saviors, which would simultaneously silence them. Heroes don't question official narratives. Heroes accept their commendations and go back to fighting Titans.
"How generous," Erwin said. His voice betrayed nothing.
The MP Colonel leaned forward, his mustache practically vibrating with satisfaction. "Now, Commander, we do have some questions about the... let's call them 'unverified elements' of your report."
"By all means."
"This Obsidian." The Colonel consulted a paper. "A crystal Titan that supposedly fought the Armored Titan around six months ago. It appears now at the 103rd, fighting alongside your squad against these... bandits. What exactly is its relationship with the Survey Corps?"
"We have no relationship with it," Erwin said. "It appeared, intervened, and departed. My squad had no prior contact with it."
"And yet," Dorcas interjected smoothly, "Hange Zoë has been... quite enthusiastic about this entity for months. Rumors suggest she's been actively researching it. Some might say, hoping to encounter it."
"Hange Zoë researches anything unusual. That's her job."
"Her job is to research Titans." the magistrate corrected gently. "This Obsidian—whatever it is—is not a Titan. It's something else. And your squad was actively investigating its presence in the southern territories before the 103rd incident."
Erwin felt the trap shifting. They'd done their homework.
"We were investigating reports of an unusual creature," he admitted. "The same reports that led us to discover the impostors in our own ranks."
"Ah yes." Dorcas's smile returned. "The impostors. Supposed scouts 'Duran' and 'Lya.' Who, according to your report, were part of this... bandit conspiracy. Unfortunately, they escaped during the chaos at your headquarters."
"They escaped because your Military Police were too slow to respond to our summons," Levi said from behind Erwin. His voice was flat, but it cut like a blade.
The MP Colonel's face reddened. "Watch your tone, Captain. You're addressing—"
"I'm addressing people who let two murderers slip through their fingers while playing dress-up in Stohess," Levi interrupted. "Forgive me if I'm not impressed by the seating arrangements."
Dorcas held up a hand, silencing the Colonel. "Captain Levi's... passion is well-documented. Let's focus on the matter at hand." He turned back to Erwin. "These escaped impostors. Any idea where they might have gone?"
"No," Erwin said. "But given the sophistication of their operation, I'd assume they have resources. Support. Perhaps even protection."
The implication hung in the air. Dorcas's eyes flickered; just for a moment. A micro-expression that Erwin filed away.
"Speaking of which," the magistrate said, flipping through her notes, "the demon dog. The creature that reportedly caused the initial chaos at the 103rd. Your squad's reports indicate it was being...changed? Became something else. Something that fled the scene now rumored to be with a child it abducted."
"That's what my squad witnessed," Erwin said carefully. "The creature's appearance altered. Its size decreased. Its coloration changed from purple to orange. And from garrison's reports, it was seen carrying a young child away from the engagement zone."
"A child," Dorcas repeated. "Also two civilian children, present at a military training ground during a bandit attack and a monster rampage. With their... uncle that happens to be a garrison soldier himself, I believe?"
The question was pointed. They'd done their research indeed.
"The family was separated from their wagon during the chaos," Erwin said. "They took shelter near the training grounds. It's unfortunate, but not unprecedented for civilians to be caught in military incidents."
"Unfortunate indeed." Dorcas made a note. "Taking note on that. The boy is still missing. The Garrison has been searching. The MP has been... monitoring the situation."
"Monitoring," Levi muttered. "Not searching. Monitoring."
The magistrate looked up sharply. "The forests beyond Trost are vast and dangerous. Full-scale operations would endanger more lives. We're coordinating with the Garrison on appropriate response protocols."
In other words, they were doing nothing.
Erwin filed that away too.
"Now," Dorcas said, shifting gears with practiced ease, "this winged creature your squad reported. The one that supposedly chased the demon dog through Trost, causing significant property damage."
"It stopped the creature," Erwin corrected. "According to witnesses, it engaged the demon dog in combat and drove it from the city. It also helped extinguish fires and rescue civilians."
"By crashing through buildings," the MP Colonel added dryly. "Several witnesses reported the creature smashing through residential structures. One woman in the bathhouse district is still recovering from shock."
"The creature was learning to control its abilities," Erwin said. "It was clearly allied with Obsidian and opposed to the bandits. Its actions, however chaotic, saved lives."
"Saved lives by endangering them," Dorcas countered. "A pattern I'm noticing in your squad's reports: good intentions, catastrophic execution." His eyes drifted to Erwin's empty sleeve. "Speaking of which, Commander, your injury. During the engagement of these impostors that infiltrated your base, you lost your hand. A tragic consequence of this... bandit attack."
Erwin said nothing. The lie had already been established: a rogue encounter during the chaos. Clean. Simple. Untraceable.
"We understand you were quite heroic," the magistrate added, her tone almost sympathetic. "Leading your squad despite the injury. The government will, of course, ensure you receive proper medical care for your injury."
"How gracious."
Dorcas leaned forward, his weasel-face intensifying. "But it does raise questions, Commander. You were injured fighting these 'impostors.' Your squad was active in the southern territories despite having no official mandate there. The Survey Corps seems to be... expanding its purview."
"We responded to an emergency," Erwin said. "Hange's squad was already in the area investigating the demon dog reports. When the attack began, they intervened. That's what soldiers do."
"Soldiers follow orders," Dorcas corrected. "They don't chase rumors across the countryside without authorization."
"The authorization came from necessity. There was no time to wait for—"
"There's always time to follow protocol, Commander." The magistrate's voice was firm now. "The Military Police and the Garrison are responsible for internal security. The Survey Corps is responsible for external threats. You overstepped."
Erwin met her gaze. "If we hadn't 'overstepped,' every cadet at the 103rd would be dead. Including the eighty-three who are now recovering in Trost hospitals."
The truth of it sat in the room like an unwelcome guest. The officials shifted uncomfortably. Dorcas's pen tapped faster.
"Be that as it may," the MP Colonel said, recovering, "the fact remains that the Survey Corps was operating outside its mandate. That cannot be ignored. However..." He exchanged a glance with Dorcas. "Given the... positive outcome for the cadets, the government is prepared to be lenient."
"Lenient you say?" Erwin repeated.
"You'll be commended publicly," Dorcas said. "Heroes of the 103rd. The papers will love it. Takes the heat off everyone."
"And in exchange?"
Dorcas smiled; a thin, reptilian expression. "No exchange, Commander. Just... cooperation. The investigation into this matter is now officially under MP jurisdiction. Your squad will provide any requested statements. All evidence will be transferred. And the Survey Corps will return to its primary mandate: Titans. Beyond the Walls."
Erwin was silent for a long moment. The terms were clear. Accept the commendation, bury the truth, and step back. Or refuse, and become the enemy.
"The bandits," he said quietly. "You're certain that's what they were?"
Dorcas's eyes flickered again. That tell. "The investigation is ongoing, Commander. But yes, preliminary findings suggest a bandit operation."
"And the masks? The technology?"
"Destroyed in the fire. Tragic, but convenient for the perpetrators." Dorcas's smile didn't waver.
Erwin leaned forward slightly. "You know, it's remarkable how often 'tragic convenience' seems to benefit those who would rather not have certain questions asked."
The temperature in the room dropped.
The magistrate's pen stopped entirely. The MP Colonel's mustache seemed to stiffen. Dorcas's smile froze, then slowly melted into something harder.
"I'm not sure what you're implying, Commander."
"I'm not implying anything." Erwin's voice was calm, almost gentle. "I'm observing that the evidence against these 'bandits' is remarkably thin. Their methods were sophisticated. Their technology was advanced. Their operation was coordinated across multiple locations, including infiltration of my own headquarters. And yet, somehow, all physical proof of this has either been destroyed, transferred out of my jurisdiction, or rendered inconclusive by convenient fires."
He let that sit.
"Bandits," he continued, "don't usually have access to technology that can reshape faces. Bandits don't typically coordinate with demonic creatures. Bandits don't usually target military training grounds with the apparent goal of eliminating every witness."
Dorcas's jaw tightened. "Commander—"
"And yet," Erwin overrode him smoothly, "despite all this, the official narrative is 'bandits.' Which suggests to me that someone…or some group…is very eager for the truth not to come out."
The silence was absolute. Even the dust motes seemed to freeze in the shaft of sunlight.
The MP Colonel's face had gone from red to purple. The magistrate's pen had actually snapped in her grip. Dorcas's eyes were narrow slits of barely contained fury; and something else. Fear.
"You're treading dangerous ground, Commander, are you questioning government protocols?" Dorcas said, his voice low.
"I'm stating observations," Erwin replied. "As I'm required to do in an official inquiry. If my observations are incorrect, I'm sure you'll correct me."
The magistrate recovered first. She set down the broken pen, folded her hands, and met Erwin's gaze with newfound respect; or perhaps, wariness.
"Commander," she said carefully, "the government shares your concern about the sophistication of this attack. Rest assured, the investigation will be thorough. If there is more to these 'bandits' than meets the eye, we will find it."
"And if you don't?"
A long pause. Dorcas and the MP Colonel exchanged glances. Something passed between them; a decision.
"Then," Dorcas said slowly, "we'll have to consider the possibility that the Survey Corps'... enthusiasm for conspiracy theories is clouding their judgment."
Levi shifted behind Erwin. "You son of a—"
Erwin held up his remaining hand. Levi fell silent, though his glare could have melted steel.
"Let me be clear," Erwin said. "I'm not accusing anyone of anything. I'm simply noting that the evidence doesn't support the official narrative. If the government wishes to pursue that narrative, that's their prerogative. But I won't lie to my squad. I won't tell them that what they saw wasn't real."
"No one's asking you to lie, Commander." Dorcas's smile had returned, though it was thinner than ever. "We're simply asking you to trust the process. To let the proper authorities handle the investigation. And to focus on what you do best."
"Fighting Titans."
"Exactly."
Erwin stood. Levi fell into step beside him. At the door, Erwin paused.
"One more thing," he said, turning back. "The cadets. Eighty-three survivors. They saw what happened. They know the truth. How do you plan to handle that?"
Dorcas's smile didn't waver. "Children are remarkably adaptable, Commander. With proper care and guidance, they'll come to understand that what they experienced was a traumatic event, filtered through fear and confusion. The mind plays tricks in moments of crisis."
"Indeed it does," Erwin agreed. "It's remarkable what people can convince themselves they saw. Or didn't see." He left before anyone could respond.
The door closed behind Erwin, all officials waiting for the two scouts footsteps to recede. That's when Dorcas slammed his fist on the table.
"That man is a menace!"
The magistrate calmly retrieved a new pen from her case. "He's perceptive. We knew that going in."
"Perceptive?" The MP Colonel's face was still flushed. "He practically accused us of covering up a conspiracy! In front of witnesses!"
"He accused no one of anything," the magistrate corrected. "He made observations. He asked questions. That's his right in an official inquiry." She looked up, her spectacles glinting. "The problem is that his observations are accurate."
Dorcas rounded on her. "Whose side are you on?"
"I'm on the side of not creating more problems than we solve." She set down her pen. "Commander Erwin is not a fool. He knows we're hiding something. The question is whether he can prove it."
"He can't," the MP Colonel said, with forced confidence. "The evidence is destroyed or in our custody. The rest are dead. The fire took care of the rest."
"Dead." The magistrate's voice was flat. "The impersonators the Survey Corps fought in military grounds; they died in battle. In the dead of the night. How convenient."
Dorcas's eyes narrowed. "What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm noting that their deaths are another loose end that conveniently ties itself off." She shook her head. "This is becoming a pattern."
A fourth figure; an older man in civilian clothes who had remained silent throughout the interrogation; finally spoke. He was the senior official, the one who would report directly to Premier Zachary.
"The magistrate has a point," he said quietly. "The Survey Corps is now a problem. They know too much. They've seen too much. And they have a commander who is smart enough to connect dots we'd rather keep separate."
Dorcas leaned forward eagerly. "Then we eliminate—"
"Don't be a fool." The senior official's voice was ice. "Killing a war hero; a now one-handed war hero, no less; would cause an uproar. The public already sees the Survey Corps as martyrs, although foolish ones. Turn them into actual martyrs, and we'll have riots."
"Then what do you suggest?"
The senior official was silent for a moment, gazing at the portraits on the wall. Kings and queens, all long dead, their secrets buried with them.
"We contain them. We limit their funding. We restrict their movements. We make it clear, through a thousand small humiliations, that their cooperation is expected, and that defiance has consequences." He turned to face them. "And we let the Knights finish their work."
The MP Colonel frowned. "The Knights? The same ones who failed to eliminate the cadets?"
"They failed because of interference. The crystal Titan. The winged creature. The work of a boy." The senior official's eyes narrowed. "But the Knights are persistent. They've already sent a team beyond the Wall to hunt the likely changeling and the beast. If they succeed; if they capture or kill these entities; the threat diminishes. If they fail..." He shrugged. "They answer to Lord Reiss."
Dorcas nodded slowly. "And the boy? The one the creature took?"
"Presumed dead. A tragedy. The family will receive compensation and our deepest condolences." The senior official's voice held no emotion. "However, if by chance it is the same changeling as the knights proclaimed. The order will deal with that when it happens."
The magistrate cleared her throat. "And Obsidian? The crystal Titan's reappearance after six months? That can't be ignored."
The room grew quiet. Obsidian was the wild card; the variable no one could predict.
"The Knights are handling it as well." Dorcas said, though his voice lacked conviction.
"The Knights have been 'handling it' for six months, same with some misshapen news of ghosts in the refugee camps for five weeks now." the magistrate countered. "Meanwhile, civilians are starting to talk. The 'Crystal Titan' is becoming an urban legend. A symbol. At this rate, people will start praying to it."
The senior official's jaw tightened. He knew the danger. A symbol was harder to kill than any monster.
"If the Knights can't eliminate it," he said slowly, "we may need to... reframe the narrative."
"Reframe how?"
He turned to the window, gazing out at the golden afternoon light falling on Stohess's pristine streets. "The crystal Titan fought the Armored Titan during the fall of Wall Maria. It disappeared. Now it's reappeared, fighting alongside the Survey Corps against... bandits." He let the word hang. "What if it's not a titan? What if it's an otherworldly being? A protector sent by... by whom? The king? The god of the walls?"
The magistrate's pen scratched against paper. "You're suggesting we co-opt it."
"I'm suggesting we control the narrative before it controls us. If the people see Obsidian as a threat to the government, we have a problem. If they see it as a divine protector; one that answers to the crown…we have an asset."
"And if it refuses to play along?"
The senior official's smile was thin. "Then we let the Knights keep trying to kill it. Either way, we win."
Dorcas leaned back, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "So we wait. We watch. We let the Survey Corps spin their wheels. And we trust that the Knights; or the Titans; will solve our problems for us."
The senior official nodded. "Exactly. Commander Erwin is smart, but he's one-handed and outnumbered. His squad is exhausted. His resources are limited. He can investigate all he wants; without evidence, without jurisdiction, without support, he'll find nothing but dead ends."
"And if he tries something... unauthorized?"
The senior official's eyes hardened. "Then we have the excuse we need. The Survey Corps disobeying direct orders. Operating outside their mandate. Conspiring against the crown." He nodded slowly. "Immediate termination. Legal. Clean. Permanent."
The magistrate finished her notes and looked up. "And the queen? If it comes to that, she may have objections."
"The queen," the senior official said carefully, "is young. Idealistic. Surrounded by advisors who understand how the world actually works." He paused. "Besides, Sir Aldric keeps her... grounded." The senior official straightened his coat. "We've done what we can. The rest is up to the Knights and the gods."
He moved toward the window, then paused, looking back at the table where Erwin had sat.
"One-armed," he murmured. "They took his hand. And still, he sees more clearly than most." A shake of the head. "A dangerous man. But dangerous men can be managed. With the right... incentives."
Chapter 30-31 are already available on Patreon.com/Weeb Fanthom.