My eyes scrolled through the soldiers as they returned from the battlefield. Some sat slumped against the wall, others straightened their backs and adjusted their armbands as I passed. They were merely low ranked soldiers, as the grey on their armbands suggested. I wasn't interested in them. Nor in the warriors who were decorated in the yellow armbands. I wouldn't be seen speaking to anyone of such low status.
I raised my chin and walked straight ahead, passing the wounded soldiers as if they were mere pebbles that adorned the street, and not much of an adornment at that.
Hmph, I scoffed slightly, hoping to oppress the urge that welled inside me, on small occasions anyway, to pity them. They were beneath us, descendants of a nation of people who had once used their power to scourge the earth and slaughter millions before war broke out amongst them. It was our hero who had put a stop to their tyranny and sent their elders into hiding, leaving behind the few who live scattered around the world, many of which reside in our beautiful city.
I noticed his large physique merging through the wave of soldiers towards where I was standing. Even without his red armband, he was most definitely recognisable. Physically, he looked every bit that a dedicated soldier should look. It was a face that could not be mistaken for a less experienced soldier. It was a face that held the look of a man pained by many years of struggle, loss and anguish.
"Vice Chief Braun?" I asked although the answer was already clear to me.
He gestured a slight nod, his eyes squinting with what I could only assume was suspicion. It didn't faze me. Even though he was now an official Marleyan, he had no doubt had his share of time on the other side with his true race of people. As well as the fact that his history with people born outside his race had probably been riddled with distrust and pain.
It couldn't be helped. His people were, and would always be, considered low and even devilish.
"I am Celine Heinemann," I said without extending my hand. "I've been sent to speak with you."
He nodded again. Regardless of any distrust, he was still obliged to treat me with respect and possibly subservience, after all, we had allowed him the chance of a good life, so didn't we deserve that honour?
"You may show me to a place we can talk," I said and turned my gaze back towards the city.
"There is a place nearby," he said, gesturing a path for me to follow.
I walked ahead quietly, listening to the sound of his steady footsteps, which seemed to be close behind me, and hoping that this nearby place was somewhere befitting. I knew very little of the personal lives of the members of the warrior unit and even less of him. Apart from identifying those who would be deemed most loyal to our cause and most suitable for their role as a warrior, we didn't care much for their thoughts or feelings.
Another wave of guilt ran through me as I cast my glance sideward to catch a quick glimpse of him as he slowed his pace to greater the distance between us. How could I walk ahead of someone who, in all reality, was a war hero who had served our city to his utmost and still think of him as less than worthy of any respect?
"It's on the left," he said, gesturing to a small café at the corner of the road.
A small sigh of relief left me, although I wasn't sure what I had been expecting.
I entered the café and took a seat near the back, I didn't want complete privacy, but we needed to talk without all eyes and ears on us.
I sat up straight in my seat and waited for him to ask what I needed from him, but he didn't speak. His eyes were fixed on my face, actively watching my movements, but behind his gaze seemed a deep fog, as though his focus was not fully engaged on the present time.
"There are 2 issues I was asked to speak to you about," I started. "Firstly, you are soon to be awarded a medal for your acts in Paradis 4 years ago."
"I've already been awarded," he rebutted.
"Yes. You will be awarded again. The general thinks it will raise the spirits of the rest of the warrior unit as their full cooperation will be needed."
"What for?"
"Well, that was the second point, and this is classified. You are to speak to no one about it."
He nodded.
"There is soon to be a declaration of war. The details haven't been finalised yet, but it is to be expected."
"I see," he said.
The calm in his voice only countered by the sudden rush of emotions that ran behind his eyes. Was it nerves or fear?
"So I need to ask a few questions about your time in Paradis, just for the ceremony."
"I've already declared everything."
"I wanted more of a personal story."
"I see," he said again, his eyes dropping to the table with fake interest. "Well, I should leave now. I planned to return to the internment zone today. Anytime you need me to answer your questions, please let me know."
There wasn't any rush, I could have waited. If it wasn't for the obvious falter in his voice, I would have.
"Now is a perfect time," I said.
"My train leaves in a few hours."
"We have time, and if the worst comes to the worse I'm sure we can arrange something else. You are the Vice Chief of the warrior unit after all. You have certain privileges I'm sure."
He nodded slowly and raised his eyes back to me. His eyelids flickering as he looked at me in a silent plea.
"Is there anything you haven't mentioned about your time in Paradis?"
Paradis was a special mission that he had been sent on nine years ago. Out of the four who had been sent, he was the only to return, earning him the status of Vice Chief.
He continued to stare at me for a while, his words stuck in the frenzy that seemed to play out in his eyes.
"There isn't much else to say," he eventually said.
"Okay," I said, but I could see there was definitely a lot more to say. I pulled my journal and pen from my bag. "Tell me about when you first arrived in Paradis."
"Well, after breaching the wall we made our way to a refugee camp where we stayed and gathered as much information as possible before joining the Military police."
"You're still telling his official story," I said. "I want something more. I want to know about the monsters you encountered, the lies they told themselves to get through their days and how they are willing to train and put their lives at risk to protect a king with a bloodlust."
He squinted slightly and only momentarily, before letting out a deep puff of air and then a blankness covered his eyes as he opened his mouth to speak.
"They were monsters," he said. "Telling themselves lies to get through the days and ..." He paused, his already deep-set frown deepened as it would whenever a painful memory replays in your mind. "They don't have a king now, they have a queen, and they are more than willing to train and put their lives at risk for her, as you would expect."
"What are you doing?" I asked, dismayed by his response. "You simply repeated my question."
"Yes, there isn't much more than that. What we have always been told about them is true."
There was more. There was always more.
"Vice Chief Braun," I said, as I flicked to the calendar section of my journal and placing a big cross through the next few days. "I can cancel as many plans as needed over the next weeks. So, we have plenty of time if you're feeling eager to reunite with your family first."
There it was again, an inner conflict that played out clearly in his eyes.
"I may not be able to ..." he began.
"Do you have a deployment that I'm unaware of?" I interrupted.
Silence.
"There's an apartment building nearby the intermittent. I will arrange for you to be granted access. Long term. We can take as long as you like." I continued.
He lowered his head into his shaking hand and rubbed his fingers roughly over his eyebrows, but still said nothing.
"What time will be ..."
"Stop," he finally said. "I remained a warrior throughout, isn't that enough?" His voice was hoarse and abrupt and hinted at the answer to a question I had not asked.
"I made no accusation about you. Your loyalty has never been under suspicion," I said. It was the truth. I had no reason to believe he had acted as anything other than the warrior that he was, until the moment his eyes caught mine as he raised his head. They were no longer the eyes of the warrior I had spoken with just moments ago. They were the eyes of a boy, a scared, confused boy.
"My friends gave their lives for our service to Marley, and we took the lives of so many of our 'enemies', whether directly or indirectly," he said, giving a mocking emphasis to the word enemies. "Some of those people would have given their lives to protect us, they believed we were their friends, their comrades, and we should have been. They were good to us. But we chose Marley every time. There was never a doubt about2 that."
They were good to him? I flipped through my journal, quickly jotting notes on what he had just said. Nobody wants a counterargument on the devils of Paradis. That wouldn't be good, but we could always spin it. Perhaps the devils had known of our mission, that there were warriors from our land. Maybe they had strived to compel them into a false friendship and sense of camaraderie hoping they would switch sides and join with them.
"I believe you," I said. "You had all had good Marleyan training, but you were all young still. You weren't to expect their underhandedness."
His heavy brow furrowed as he watched me, and then, slowly a small smile crept onto his lips.
"Yes. It has to be," he said with a slow nod. "You should see their 'great strategist'. You would never pick him out from a group of school kids playing in a sandpit, but I've heard his cunning words and seen how his tongue can turn a man's mind into a panic. And how he pushed his body to near death only to ensure he would be first in line to receive the colossal." He let out a heavy sigh, "In their own ways, they were pretty much like warriors themselves." He dropped his hand to the table and clasped it around his other hand, and looked me straight into the eyes. "I think I'm ready," he said.
"Ready for what?"
"You will never understand. You weren't raised being told, constantly, that you were different; a devil even. Never good enough. The only way to be accepted would be for you to risk your life for your country and people. But not for your true people, because the only lives that matter are the lives of those who will never really accept you. Not even now, with the so-called title. Do you think I don't see the disdain in your eyes as you look at me?"
It was true. As much as I tried to rationalise my thinking, my mind still did and probably would always think of them as beneath me.
"And what did we achieve apart from the deaths of thousands of people, and ..." he continued.
"Braun, I am seriously advising you to stop," I said. "I'm willing to overlook your outburst, but any more and you are in danger of being transferred. We already have candidates who are ready to take over your titan."
A slow rumbling laugh, emerged from him as he picked up a knife from the table arrangements and slowly dragged the edge of the knife across his palm.
"I've grown very tired," he said, stopping his hand and pressing down slightly with the knife.
He wouldn't, I thought as panic swept through me causing each memory of joy and sorrow to merge into one solitary vision of him, as he looked back at me with eyes filled with more sadness and pain than malice, or evil, or any of the other words I had been taught to describe them with.
"Please," I said, throwing my hand forward to push the knife away and then pressing my own palm down onto his. "I know you don't want to hurt your people."
"You're not my people," he replied. "Or at least you will never truly claim us as your own."
"I know," I said, searching for words that I could use to convince him against what he was threatening. Perhaps I could hold his attention for a while. Keep him from considering such rash action, at least until I could inform the commander.
Or perhaps I could consider, for once maybe, that he was more than just a devil.
His hand was soft and warm, just like any other man I had ever held, and his eyes, they conveyed more emotion than I could even understand.
A trick, I wondered, but my heart told me otherwise. If he wanted to trick me it would have been much better to play along. No rightful thinking Eldian would believe the best way into a superiors good books would be through disparaging our rightful beliefs. And as I think these words even I wonder if we really are rightful in our beliefs, in grouping every member from the subjects of Ymir as evil, whether they had earned it or not. Surely it should be the other way around. Every person should be judged on good unless they show other than that, wasn't that the correct way?
The door of the café shut loudly as three soldiers without armbands entered and walked towards where we sat, scanning the area for a comfy place to sit. Two narrow eyes glared at me, as his eyes drifted slowly from The Vice Chief to me before stopping at our hands, still placed on the table with mine on his.
This could be very bad. I should not be touching an Eldian so intimately, I thought as the previous panic returned this time with a more unjust edge to it. Would it be fair for me to be punished for merely comforting one of our warriors, so what if he is from the Eldian race? Has he not fought for us? Would he not give his life for our cause as his friends did?
My gaze returned to find his eyes which were now cast down on our hands. His heavy brow once again furrowed probably wondering why I had not yet removed my hand from his, but he had neither made any attempt to move his hand. I clasped my hand around his to form a handshake and lift his hand from the table, placing a pleasant yet professional smile on my face.
"Well, I'll let you get on to catch your train. I'm looking forward to completing our interview tomorrow," I said, loudly enough for any eavesdroppers to hear but without being too obvious in the fact that I wanted them to hear me.
The Vice Chief looked up, his ever confused expression more apparent, his mouth dropped open slightly.
"I'll send all the details to you by tonight," I said before he had a chance to speak.
The café door opened once again as another soldier stuck his head through and called out to the first three who had entered. "We're across the road," he shouted.
"Why didn't you say so earlier?" o26ne soldier complained before getting up to walk towards the door.
"Stop complaining," another said. "It's drinks and food tonight." He grabbed his comrade in a headlock and walked him out of the café, laughing as his friend squirmed.
I let out a heavy sigh and released the Vice Chief's hand, clasping it with my own on the table in front of me.
"I have been asked to write a piece, and I intend to fulfil my duty," I started. "But perhaps we could present something a little different. Something that puts your people in a better light."
He didn't respond.
"I would like to do this," I continued. "And I would like your help, please."
Again, silence. He was definitely a man of few words.
I looked up to catch his gaze fixed on me. His eyes, although still pained, softer as he stared back at me.
"Do you plan to have me captured?" he asked.
"I saw nothing wrong today," I said. "Except that, perhaps, you're tired and you've been through a lot. And I suspect you want someone to talk about it with."
"And I'm to believe you, Miss Heinmann?"
"Celine. And yes, I have no need to lie."
His gaze continued to penetrate me for a few moments more before he spoke again.
"Very well, I should get going," he said before pulling his chair out and standing. He didn't leave straight away as I expected him to, rather he moved aside and waited for me to rise from my seat also before pushing it back into place for me and then gesturing with his head for me to proceed him in leaving the café. Good protocol, which had no doubt been instilled in him as it had been in me.
"So, tomorrow?" I asked once we were out on the street again. His eyes, which had been fixed on the corner that led to the train station, turned to meet my gaze. There was a question in his eyes, but, being the man I had come to know over our short meeting, he didn't speak.
"Vice Chief Braun?" I asked, still waiting for his reply.
"Reiner," he said. "I would like to ask for one condition."
"Which is?" I asked.
"If you decide to have me captured, you will warn me."
"If I decide to have you captured, why would I ever warn you? That would completely defeat the purpose of trying to capture you," I answered almost instinctively.
Again that slow rumbling laugh.
"If you had agreed, I would have made an excuse not to come," he said.
"So you will come?" I asked.
"If it is your wish, then I will be there."
"Thank you," I said with a small bow of gratitude.
"No," he said, giving a simple nod of his head. "Thank you."
- - - - - - - - - -
Note: I began writing this at the start of season 4, so it is based around that period.