You don't return to the hospital for the rest of the day, even though you have plenty of free time to do so. You ensure a boat ride home is still prepared for the day after tomorrow before returning to the inn to pack what you can. It's unnecessarily early to begin packing, but you can't find a better way to spend the time.
The following morning, you're back at the hospital for your final day of duty. It's a little somber, given that most other staff members are leaving tomorrow as well. Everyone continues with their unfettered resolve to work, but the atmosphere seems quieter than usual.
You stop at the receptionist's desk first. "Good morning, Gretel."
"Morning, dearie. Enjoy your day off?" Gretel dips her pen tip in her inkwell.
"Well, you know, I visited my dad's grave. So, that was nice, I guess." You lean against her desk, your dress flowing around your legs.
"I see. Good for you." She continues writing. "Is this your last day?"
"It is. I'll be taking the boat out of here tomorrow morning."
Ruth appears from the hallway, catching wind of the conversation. "You, too?"
"Good morning, Ruth."
"I'll be taking the boat as well. We can go together," Ruth offers as she nears you. "At least to wherever you live. I'm taking it all the way to Ehrmich before heading east to Stohess."
"Yeah, that would be nice. I'm going to Trost."
"Trost, hm?" Ruth takes note of your place of residence. "Then I'll be with you for the journey. Do you know if Thea is coming?"
"Thea?" You're pleased to hear Ruth's interest in her recent friend. The two must've been getting close without you knowing. "She lives just outside Shiganshina, actually. Just on the inner side of Wall Maria."
"I see." The three of you are truly spread out across the Walls, only fate allowing your three paths to intersect. Most volunteers have similarly vast backgrounds and experiences that all converge in this hospital, creating a nice hotbed of variety from different pinpoints of humanity.
"Well, you two have a safe trip," Gretel wishes. "And finish up today strong."
"Yeah, we will." You nod to her and Ruth.
"Let's quit dinking around, then," Ruth encourages. "I've got patients to see, and to say goodbye to."
You part ways with both women, deciding to begin your rounds. You start with Erwin's room, but of course it's empty. Empty of its patient, at least. You find Oscar inside, tugging the used sheets off Erwin's old bed.
"Hey, good morning!" Oscar greets happily.
"Good morning, Oscar." You stand across the bed from him, already helping him undress it. "Are you on your last day here?"
"Yeah. I'll be leaving in the evening, actually." He takes the sheet you hand to him, quickly folding it up.
"Where are you from?" You retrieve the pillow from the head of the bed and give it to him as well.
"Oh, I'm a country boy. I come from Keiski—do you know the place?"
"Mm, not really."
"It's in southeastern Maria. Just a little town near the forest. One of the forests. It's mostly a touristy place, but I was born and raised there." Oscar smiles to himself as he remembers his hometown. "The trees are so pretty. They're huge. Have you ever seen them?"
"Yeah, once or twice." You nod, recalling your few trips to the remarkable forest. "It's certainly an awesome place to visit."
"It is. I'm ready to go back; I missed it during this week." He tucks the bedding under his arm before heading to the door. "What about you?"
"I'm from Trost. Straight north from here." You follow him out of the room, joining him on his journey to the laundry room. "I'll be leaving tomorrow morning."
"Not bad, not bad." Oscar, like others, is impressed with your privilege of being a Wall Rose resident, even if in its outer district. "Do you like it there?"
"Absolutely. I've got a steady job that makes decent money, and there's a lot of opportunities in the town. It's a nice place."
"It must be! Sounds like a lot of fun." Oscar arrives at the room and hands the bedding to active staff. He thanks them before turning to you, smiling.
You smile back. "I'll get to work, then. See you around!"
"See you around."
You head to Leon's room next, but you're stopped by Clark's hand on your shoulder before you can open the door. He's got that look on his face, those sad eyes that warn you of bad news beyond that door. "Clark?"
"It's not good. Leon's in bad condition," he says in a low voice.
You face him slowly, glancing around the hall. "What happened?" you whispered. "Dr. Jeager came by. I thought he helped."
"He did what he could," Clark concedes. "But Leon's been infected for a while. We don't have what it takes to fight it off." He looks to the reception area. "It's a matter of time, I think. I've already informed the regiment. A section commander should be coming by later."
"Fuck," you sigh. "Sorry. Just—god, it's awful."
"It's okay." Clark overlooks your vulgarity. "It is awful. The poor wretch knows it's coming, too. He tried to discuss euthanasia, but I wouldn't have that conversation until his section commander saw him. I'll talk with him and a superior officer properly."
"There's...there's really nothing we can do?" You look back at the door with desperate eyes.
"No. I've been trying all night. Oh."
You turn to see Erwin enter the hospital, greeting Gretel.
"He's here," Clark announces. "Please, carry on. I'll be busy with him and Leon."
"Sure," you breathe, and you watch as Clark meets Erwin in the reception area. Forcing yourself away from Leon's door, you take slow steps to the next patient room in a weak effort to sweep away your distress.
You're given emotional whiplash by the wild energy swirling in Lotte's room. Hange and Thea are inside, seated on either side of Lotte's bed as Hange presents an odd device to the patient. "See, I added a hinge to its base. It gives it more flexibility." Hange swings the wooden lever in their hands, a simple but unusual tool you can't discern the purpose of.
"Section Commander?" You slip in a greeting while they take a moment to breathe, and all three in the room turn to see you.
"Welcome in!" Hange shouts enthusiastically. "Come look at what I've been working on!"
"You have to see," Thea adds. "Hange's been coming in every day to show their progress."
You're already at Hange's side, inspecting their invention. It starts with a leather cup of some sort, its inside as big as your fist. Its base connects to a wooden rod, hinged with a metal joint that extends to another similar rod. It's crude, and thin, but you take a guess at its purpose. "Oh, an artificial foot?"
"That's right!" Hange beams. "I've been saying for years that we have the technology to develop things like this, but Keith and the higher-ups never take any interest. Now, look, it's only a skeleton right now, but hopefully I can flesh out the...well, the flesh of it. Give it more substance." They fidget with the device as they talk, already inventing more ways to improve it. "I want to give it the same mobility as an ankle, obviously, but figuring out human anatomy is more complicated than I realized."
"Absolutely, it is." You and your experience have no issue agreeing. "More moving parts than you would think."
"Ah, you two would know, wouldn't you?" Hange's eyes sweep between you and Thea. "There's no better expert to consult than you medical workers. I hadn't even considered that."
"I doubt we could be of much help, though," Thea responds shyly. "I don't know about her, but I'm not an engineer or anything."
"Of course not! That's okay!" Hange flings their arms in the air, the wooden foot swinging in their hand. "That's why we combine knowledge, right? Say, Miche told me about possible personnel helping with Scout training. Is any of that true?"
"Yeah," Thea answers. "He offered the opportunity to anyone interested. I decided I would do it."
"We've already submitted our applications. Section Commander Erwin took them for us," you say.
"Splendid!" Hange exclaims. "Then if everything gets approved, I'll see you two and others in the near future. We usually head out to train two weeks after we return, so—one week left now—I'll see you two soon. Right?"
"Right," you affirm, warmed by how excited they are.
"I love meeting fellow scientists, truly. We'll accomplish a lot if we put our minds together." Hange yanks out a satchel from under their seat and thrusts their invention inside. "Furthering the efforts of the regiment has always been my priority."
"You should be devoting your time to the regiment as a whole, Hange," Lotte encourages. "Helping individual soldiers really won't benefit humanity."
"Nonsense, Lotte!" Hange shoots to their feet, slinging their bag over their shoulder. "What's humanity without humans? I want to help as many as I can."
"Just don't lose track of your duties," Lotte sighs. "I'm sure Moblit tells you that enough."
"That he does," Hange chortles. "I'll be off, then. Keep healing that leg, Lotte. I can take more fitting measurements once the swelling goes down. How long is that, Thea?"
"Around a week from now, especially with how well she's healing. She's doing great," Thea congratulates.
"Fantastic. You're made of steel, Lotte!" Hange turns on their heels, waving to the room as they leave. "The whole Scout Regiment is, really. Unstoppable heroes!"
The door swings shut, and the room is significantly quieter. You think Hange probably wouldn't have boasted the regiment's strength if they knew of Leon's unfortunate condition. Lotte will push through, but her fellow squad leader won't.
"Well then," you sigh. "I'm happy to see you're doing well, Squad Leader."
"Yeah, fine. Despite everything." Lotte pulls her sheets up to reveal her stump, hidden under heavy bandages. "Don't know when I'll get back on the battlefield, but I've already spoken with Erwin. He's made arrangements for new leaders."
"Oh, wow. That quickly?" He must be working to find replacements for both Lotte and Leon, his section taking the biggest blow in terms of casualties. Besides Flagon's, of course.
"Yep. Even if I come back to the regiment, I probably won't be a squad leader anymore. Disabled soldiers don't make the best leaders." Lotte tries to inflect her words with resignment, perhaps convincing herself that her new life won't be so bad.
"I'm sorry to hear that," you say with tender sympathy.
"It's alright. That's what happens when you become a Scout." Lotte shrugs. "I'm lucky enough to be alive. I'm not going to complain about a missing foot." She smiles as she looks upon her stunted limb. "I mean, I complained enough when Ruth was slicing me open. I think I got most of my frustration out then."
You grin. "Sorry about that. We've just gotta do our jobs."
"I know," she says. "You should carry on, then. I don't need two nurses babysitting me."
"Yeah, will do. Thea, if I don't see you again before the end of the day, I'll say goodbye now." You wave briefly to your friend, but she won't have it.
"Weak. If you're saying goodbye, make it proper." Thea darts around Lotte's bed and charges you, flinging her arms around your torso. "I'll miss you! You were a fantastic supervisor."
"I—oof. Yeah. I'll miss you too." You're stiff in her embrace, not even able to free your arms and return the hug. "We'll see each other in a week, though."
"I know, but I can still say goodbye. You know I'm gonna want to say goodbye." She eventually releases you, taking a step back. "'Til we meet again, Supervisor."
"I'm not going to be in charge next week," you point out. "It'll just be our little gang of nurses all listening to the Scouts."
"Delightful," Lotte laughs from behind Thea.
"Right? It's gonna be fun." Thea smiles at her patient friend.
"I'll get going, then. Take it easy, Lotte."
You continue your work day mindlessly, thoughts of your next venture with the Scouts busying your brain. You don't know how eventful training could really be, especially for a nurse, but you aren't going to question it. It gives you something exciting to do, and it gives you another chance to run into the invincible recruit that was Levi.
You have to return the handkerchief, after all. It currently sits neatly folded in your suitcase, thoroughly laundered and ironed nicely. Overkill for a scrap of cloth, maybe, but you don't want to underestimate Levi's desire for cleanliness.
You're on the boat the following morning, Ruth by your side. Goodbyes were given to Clark and Oscar before they both left to their own methods of transportation, Clark staying at the hospital and Oscar taking a coach to his village.
Now, you and your travel mate each hold your own cases as the ferry departs, chugging alone on its wire system.
"It's hard to feel somber about this," Ruth mutters to herself. "We're all going to see each other in a week."
"Not all of us," you correct. "Just whoever decides to join the Scouts for training. Besides you and Thea, I don't know who else is coming with us."
"I heard Robin would. Do you know Robin?"
"Yeah. I don't know much about him, but I do know him." You scrap together what memories you have of the nurse, though it's hard to paint a good picture of the reserved, mysterious man.
"He left the hospital yesterday morning, actually. I think he lives way up north." Ruth watches a child stumble on the roadway before his mother helps him to his feet. "Somewhere around Utopia District."
"Oh, wow." You recognize the northernmost district of Wall Rose. "Yeah, he's got some distance to travel. Does he cut through Wall Sina to get there?"
"He can't." The resident of Wall Sina is well-versed in the travel restrictions of the interior. "He'll probably go to the gate of Ehrmich, then circle the Wall and continue north to Rose. It's arduous, but there's no alternative."
"No kidding. That must be quite the road trip." You sympathized with the traveler, already trying to imagine how much extra distance was added on by the requirement to circle the perimeter of the Wall instead of journeying through it.
"I'm surprised he chose to make the trip," Ruth remarks. "Or that the Scouts send their requests for volunteers so far from Shiganshina."
"They must've asked all of humanity. I mean, they're always recruiting, soldier or nurse or otherwise."
"Obviously. Like that thug Section Commander Erwin picked up."
"Thug?" You chuckle. "Are you talking about Levi?"
"Is that his name? The short guy with the black hair?"
"Yeah." You nod, surprised she doesn't know that. "You think he's a thug?"
"That's what some patient said. He's from the Underground, apparently."
"The Underground!" you exclaim. If Ruth's information is correct, that just adds another damn feature to this showcase of a man.
From the Underground.
From the grungy down-below shoved underneath Mitras, stuffed with the most depraved criminals and monsters of men.
It fits him, yet it doesn't. He wasn't grungy, at least not in appearance. His clothes were meticulously cleaned, his face well groomed and free of imperfections. His movements were fluid and smooth, devoid of ugly sauntering or drunken bumbling. He smelled pleasant, thoroughly cleansed with soap you had inadvertently provided.
But his attitude, and his demeanor, and his brashness; all of it pointed to a man that certainly could have been raised in the every-man-for-himself mentality of the subterranean city. You'd never been yourself, of course, but rumors and stories spread easily within the three Walls.
"Supposedly." Ruth shrugs. "The soldiers think it's the most reckless thing Section Commander Erwin has ever done. 'He got three thugs, and two died'. That's what the patient said."
"Three." You formulate an image of Levi's two comrades. Just two, then. Not a group, nor a lover. Just two friends. "Were the other two rumored to be as good as Levi?"
"I don't know." Ruth faces away from the moving shore line, leaning the small of her back against the railing. "Probably not, if they ended up dying."
"Ruth," you chide, refusing to allow the indifference of your friend devolve into insolence.
"Sorry," she apologizes. "Just saying it how it appears."
Even if she's right—and you have to admit she probably is—there's better ways to go about expressing that notion. You sigh. "Well, if Levi's the hot shit everyone is proclaiming he is, then maybe Section Commander Erwin overlooked his history for his strength."
"It's likely. Still reckless of the Section Commander."
"No kidding. That thug literally concussed him on his first mission."
Ruth scoffs lightly, almost letting a laugh out. "Reckless idiots. Both of them."
"Maybe we shouldn't disparage the Scouts like that," you suggest halfheartedly. "They deserve a little more respect than that, I think."
"I know that. I wouldn't volunteer to help them if I didn't respect them." Ruth rests her suitcase against her legs. "But they're human. And sometimes one human recruits another human, then gets attacked by said human. That's just the way we are."
"Philosophical," you comment sarcastically.
She huffs, offended. "And sometimes, another human takes a weird interest in said attacker human. To the point where she convinces a section commander to hand out invitations to be with the Scout Regiment just to see the human of her interest."
"Wh—hey! That isn't true!" You immediately pick up on the thread of her remarks, insulted by how she includes you in this hypothetical. "Section Commander Miche offered that opportunity to me of his own volition. I didn't convince him to do anything."
"Oh, I'm sure he did," Ruth agrees dully.
"He did," you insist. "And I don't see you complaining. You signed up too, y'know."
"I did," she admits. "I just take opportunities to do something. It was an opportunity."
"That it is," you agree.
The ferry ride is far more pleasant with a partner, and it passes much faster. Hours are comfortably spent reading and talking with Ruth in the lower deck, your friend neither overwhelming with conversation nor boringly silent.
On the upper deck, you immediately spot Walter's clinic right as the ferry reenters Trost District. It's nice to be back, even if your time will be short-lived.
"Ruth." You nudge your friend, then point at your house on the other side of the river. "That's my place. If you're ever coming through Trost, you're welcome to stay with me. I've got a spare bedroom and everything."
"Cozy place," she notes. "You live alone?"
"Yep. I have for a few years now." Your house disappears behind taller buildings as the boat continues further downstream, stopping in the midpoint between the two edges of the district. "I work just across the river."
"Well, that sounds pleasant." Ruth plants her feet to brace for the boat grinding to a halt. The gangway is swiftly laid out, followed by floods of passengers exiting the ferry. "And here we are. Go back to your cozy home, now."
"I will." You glance at her, wondering if she had any more parting words.
"Great." Her hands stay wrapped around the handle of her suitcase. "I'll see you in a week. Maybe."
"Yep! See you soon, Ruth."
You disembark from the ferry, back on steady ground and ready to temporarily resume your ordinary life. Ruth floats into the distance as you make your way to Walter's clinic, deciding to stop by his place before even heading home. The air is different in Trost: a bit colder, and a bit fresher. It's soothing to your lungs as you walk across the tightly-packed cobblestone road, roads that are constructed with much finer craftsmanship than the ones in Shiganshina.
Walter's clinic is quiet, but it always is. Even at its busiest hours, there's never more than half a dozen clients inside, and most are silently waiting while the doctor tends to each one individually. You take the door handle and enter without knocking, quite comfortable with coming in to your workplace on a whim.
The few heads inside look up, though your colleague is too busy speaking with a young boy to notice you just yet. In the chairs lining the wall beside you, a buxom woman is waiting several seats away from a middle-aged gentleman. She had her eyes on the boy seated on one of Walter's exam tables, but when you enter she's kind enough to give a nod and a smile.
You reciprocate, nodding to the gentleman too before heading to the counter in the corner on the other side of you. Storing your suitcase behind it, you glance at the list of patients Walter has left on the desktop. It's a schedule of the past week, complete with the names of who he's seen and what time they were to arrive. You remind yourself to gently scold Walter for being too forgetful about keeping confidential patient information hidden as you take the sheet and slide it into a lower drawer.
Walter stops his conversation when he hears the thud of the drawer close, and he cranes his neck to see his friend at the entrance. "Ah!" His face lights up instantly, beaming with excitement at your return. "You're back!"
"Hey, focus on the boy," you chide. "We can reunite after you're done with patient care."
"Oh, of course." He nods to himself as he faces the child again. "Would you like to take a look with me? This little gentleman seems to have suffered a sprained ankle."
"No, it's broken," the boy insists. "It hurts real bad."
"Jean," the waiting woman scolds. "Listen to the doctor. He knows what's best."
You immediately discern the relationship between the two. "Excuse me, ma'am. I didn't properly introduce myself." You reappear from behind the counter, giving your name. "I work with Walter as a medical assistant. Trust me, I'm not just some snooping stranger."
"Oh, not at all, dear." The likely mother waves her hand forgivingly, laughing politely. "It's nice to meet you."
"You as well. Is it alright if I take a look at your son?"
"Of course." She nods. "Jean, be polite for the lovely lady, please."
You quickly wash your hands before joining Walter's side, smiling at the young child. "Hello. Jean, is it?"
He's chubby, a bit slow in losing his baby fat. His ash-brown hair is shortly cut and barely fits on his oval head, crowning a face that's bearing a boyish look of overweening haughtiness. "Yep," he answers. "Kirschtein."
"Jean Kirschtein," you complete. "It's nice to meet you. Do you mind telling me what's going on?"
"My ankle." He crosses his arms. "It's broken."
No, it's not. One quick glance at it proves it's simply sprained, swelling already decreasing with no abnormal positioning of the foot. He's overreacting.
"I see." You keep your eyes up at the child as you begin to weave a distracting conversation. "How did that happen?"
"I was runnin'." He's busy looking over your face, his adolescent mind perhaps trying to ignite new feelings at the sight of a pretty woman.
"Running?" You grin softly, bearing no malintent. "Why were you running?"
"I—there was—I saw a girl."
"A girl?" You keep down the laugh that wants to stir from this boy's childish delights. "Were you chasing her, Jean?"
"No," he pouts. "I just...saw her."
"Right." You've taken a small step closer to him, your hand right at the level of his dangling ankle. "And tell me, Jean," you say as you rest two fingers on the malleolus. "How does simply looking at a girl cause a broken ankle?"
"Um, I dunno." He's too caught up in trying to explain his story that he doesn't notice your touch, nor the slight pressure you exert on it. "I just saw a girl. I tripped later. Or something."
"Oh, I see." You play along deferentially. "Well, Jean, the results of your little adventures aren't too severe. With proper rest, your sprain will heal up easily. It'll be as good as new in no time."
He twitches at his perception of your misdiagnosis. "No, it's broken. It hurts like crazy."
"Unless you've gone numb, Mr. Kirschtein, I wouldn't be able to press on a broken bone—like I am right now—with you feeling some pain. It's nothing more than a sprain."
He flinches, then looks down at his ankle in your fingers. "H-hey!"
"Sorry." You shrug as you remove your hand. "But that just means you'll be healed up even quicker, and you can get back to playing and running around a lot sooner."
"Boring," Jean grumbles, disappointed by his less-than-exciting injury. A measly sprain isn't a cool enough story for him to tell, perhaps.
"You'll have to take it easy for a few weeks." You step back to open the conversation to his mother. "Elevation is ideal. If you can keep the entirety of his ankle and foot wrapped tightly, that should speed up the healing process."
"Of course." Jean's mother is already up, ready to receive her child. "I'll make sure he stays off his feet. Silly boy."
"Mom," Jean whines, swinging his legs. "I'm not silly."
"Come now. Careful when you get off the table." She helps her son dismount the table and lets him find his ginger footing. "Hold on to me," she encourages. "I need to pay the nice doctor."
Jean clings to his mother's dress, keeping his weight on his healthy leg. He buries his face in the gown, peeking at you from behind the folds he clutches.
"Thank you," Walter says as he accepts the money his client hands him. "If there's any complications, you're more than welcome to come back for a free follow-up."
"That's very kind of you," the mother says. "My boy should be just fine. I just get so worried, so very worried about him. Thank you for at least calming my concern."
"It's no trouble, ma'am. Just doing my job." Walter smiles kindly as he meanders to the front counter.
"Come on, Jean. We'll get you straight home so you can rest." Jean's mom puts a hand on her son's back, and the two leave the clinic.
"Wonderful. I'm glad your skills are still sharp," Walter praises as he stores the money behind the counter. "It's nice to have you back."
"Yeah. I'm happy to be here. Sorry, my suitcase is still there. I came straight from the ferry."
"You should go home and rest," Walter encourages as he rummages through the counter drawer. "Sir?" he calls to the remaining patient. "I'll be with you in just a moment."
The gentleman nods, able to wait for his doctor to be ready.
"Here." Walter takes out two sealed letters and hands them to you. "This is the only mail you got during the week."
"Oh, thank you!" You take the envelopes, quickly reading their labels. The first, besides obviously having your name and the address of Walter's clinic, also has the small Wings of Freedom emblem in the corner. It's wide, and thick enough to prove it's holding more than a singular letter inside. From the Scout Regiment, certainly. Perhaps about the upcoming training.
The other doesn't have any indication of who has written it. Just your name and address with nothing else adorning the envelope. You quirk an eyebrow, trying to stave off curiosity until you can check the letters' contents at your own house.
"Now go rest. My work day is nearly over anyways, so I don't need help for today." Walter wants to usher you out of his clinic, anxious to make sure you're comfortable.
"Alright, alright." You slink behind the counter and snatch your suitcase. "I'll be back tomorrow morning, Walt. We can get back into the routine."
You enter your home several minutes later, suitcase in one hand and two envelopes in the other. The living space hasn't changed much, save for a slight staleness lingering in the air. Nobody's been inside, and everything remains untouched.
It's quiet, quieter than the streets of Shiganshina or the bustling hallways of the hospital. This corner of Trost is safe from the main hubbub of the district, making for a rather soothing haven to take solace in. You drop your suitcase by the doorway, saving unpacking for a later time, before flopping onto the ragged couch with your two letters in hand. You need just a few minutes to unwind, and passive reading of your new mail will suitably keep you occupied.
You pick the letter from the Scouts to read first, deciding to save the suspense of the mysterious message for last. The Wings of Freedom are pressed onto its corner with dried blue ink, stamped hastily proven by the splotches surrounding it. You flip it around and slip your index under the envelope flap, tearing the paper free from its wax seal. You're too lazy to grab a letter cutter, but nobody's around to see your slothfulness.
There's a paper inside folded in half, along with a bundled stack of cash. Curious, you take the letter first, a crease cutting through its equator as you open it up. Your name runs along the header, scripted in swift cursive that's just as scribbled as the rest of the note. It's orderly, but quick.
This letter is sent concerning your efforts in assisting the Scouts and to correspond with you regarding further opportunities to work with the Scout Regiment. On behalf of the leadership of the regiment, we thank you for your ministration and wish to pursue continued contact with you and your abilities.
Section Commander Miche Zacharius has expressed his choice to open up recruitment of temporary medical professionals to assist in Scout training in the rare case of bodily harm. In addition to providing medical relief, medical workers may be asked to aide in auxiliary duties beyond their usual sphere. Versatility is encouraged for all workers relating to the Scouts.
You snort. Versatility. They just want you to mop the halls or prepare dinner after your actual job of bandaging the occasional clumsy soldier. That's fine.
Section Commanders Erwin Smith and Hange Zoe have personally vouched for your ability, and we consider you to be a worthy candidate for this new implementation of the regiment. If your interest still stands, we request that you write back confirming your participation. Training will take place in Keiski Village and the adjacent forest. It begins on the 17th, with orientation for temporary workers on the 16th. We ask that you make arrangements for transportation to arrive on or before midday on the 16th.
"Keiski," you repeat aloud. It's Oscar's hometown. Lucky guy won't have to travel at all if he's volunteering, too.
Enclosed, you'll find the first stipend for your salary. If you no longer take interest in assisting the Scouts, accept the funds as gratitude for your volunteering efforts and send a reply noting as much.
Prompted, you withdraw the bundle of cash from the envelope. Rapidly thumbing through the bills, you find enough money to amount to three weeks' pay of your current salary under Walter. Three weeks. Maybe your first payment is just a little generous to serve as an incentive, but even still the flippancy of the regiment to easily give you such an overabundance heavily contradicted what you know about their funding.
If they are struggling financially, it seems like quite a reckless gamble to burn so much money on fickle volunteers.
We hope to hear from you soon. The Scout Regiment again thanks you for your service.
Best,
Squad Leader Moblit Berner
You grin as you reread the letter, touched by the praise of your ability. The Scouts are ready and waiting for you, and you're excited to oblige. You'll draft a reply soon, though your attention is currently focused on the second letter.
You toss the Scouts' letter and cash on the small coffee table before picking up the unopened envelope in your lap. It's made of the same yellow paper as the other letter, though it's smaller and thinner. The seal on its flap is tiny and simple, no logo adorning the dried crimson drop.
Tearing it open, you fish out the folded sheet, holding your breath as you begin reading the letter.
This time, your first name is written in straight, perfect letters, the author's penmanship thin and precise. Each stroke seems like it took absolute accuracy to draw, and you're almost honored to have your name written in such consummate script.
Thanks for the room. Consider that money Erwin doled out repayment. We're even.
Don't forget the handkerchief. It isn't cheap.
See you soon.
Levi
You actually laugh at the simplicity of Levi's note, amused by the effort he put in to communicate a rather unnecessary message. The paper is incredibly bare with the few sentences filling it, the barren margins vacant of words that could've been written, but weren't.
You wonder if he intended to say more, or if he was even happy with the finished product. His motivations for writing to you in the first place are impossible to figure out, but you weed out the smidge of sentiment he might've been trying to convey. It's hard to tell.
Still, he bothered to find out your address and to go through the process of writing out and mailing a letter. Even if the surface message is simple, the fact that he went through the trouble is more than you were expecting from the aloof man. It's sweet of him, in the tiniest way possible.
You clean up, taking the letters and your suitcase to your room. Levi's note stays openly on your desk, while the message from Moblit is tucked into a drawer, the cash to be stored safely later. Your suitcase is unpacked, dirty clothes wrapped up in a sack to launder. It is returned to your attic, likely to be used in the near future.
It's back to your mundane life for a bit, before your reunion with the Scouts would begin. A chance to extend your care to others, and a chance to witness the mythic Levi.