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I.
The straight razor moves slowly along skin pulled tight against his jaw. A flick of the wrist sends soap into the washbasin. The motion repeats until his face is smooth.
This is a big night in the capital. All the Scouting Legion’s most fervent supporters (and detractors) will be present at the celebration. Erwin likes these parties. He’s good at charming nobles, and how can anyone dislike something they’re good at?
He pulls the dark jacket of his dress uniform on and pins on medals and decorations. Everything in its place. Fingers pause for a moment, ghosts of lost soldiers behind each insincere piece of cold metal rising to mind.
They would understand. He does this for them, to make their sacrifice so much more. To redeem them, he thinks, smoothing the jacket.
He pulls immaculately shined boots on, a pair that’s never seen the dirt of combat or blood of Titans and comrades alike. It’s unfair, how unstained and unyielding they are. The boots? Perhaps the nobles.
But tonight is a game, one Erwin will win.
II.
The dull thrum of conversation is little more than white noise as Erwin passes from one group to the next. A few words float through the din, catching his interest.
“…but that type…not what they’re paid for…blasphemous, if you believe the Wallists…”
He locates the speaker easily and approaches the aged man and his two younger companions.
“Ah, Commander Smith,” a young man waves him over, “We were just discussing the merits of Titan research.”
“Merits?” The elderly man guffaws, “More like the waste of precious time and money!”
“I assure you sirs,” Erwin responds, fixing the men with a serious look, “that any research we conduct is purely incidental and only into the technical aspects of how best to dispatch Titans to protect the citizenry.”
The older man bristles, “What about that crazy soldier in charge? Hanji, I believe? I heard they don’t even have any formal academic training!”
Erwin smiles reassuringly, nods in agreement. “That is true. However, Hanji is one of the cleverest soldiers I have ever had the pleasure of leading.” The two younger men nod along, impressed by the high praise.
“Let me ask you, sir,” Erwin continues, a hunter quietly laying his trap, “In your expert opinion, is it more important to have thought deeply about doing a thing, or to have done it?”
“To have done it, obviously.”
Erwin nods sagely. “I agree, and what Hanji lacks in formal training is more than made up for by first-hand experience.”
The old man closes his mouth quickly against further protest. Erwin looks briefly to the two younger nobles. They seem pleased, no love lost between them and the geezer. Two more supporters for the cause.
III.
He weaves through the crowd, flashing charming smiles and nodding knowingly whenever someone meets his eyes. There’s no need to know everyone, to remember their names or the minutiae of their lives when a flash of white teeth or a conspiratorial gaze will do.
A little further, standing in a group of unflatteringly overdressed noblewomen is the figure of his comrade and old friend. Erwin makes for him quickly, dodging a plate of hors d’oeuvres and avoiding a proffered glass of wine.
“Mike,” Erwin claps a hand on the tall man’s shoulder. Mike turns and gives Erwin a tired look. The conversation of the group finally reaches Erwin’s ears.
“It’s just bizarre, that’s what it is,” a woman with makeup so thick it renders her face a garish mask, pouts.
“What seems to be the problem here?” Erwin schools his voice to its most calming register.
“Well…” The woman averts her eyes, “He keeps sniffing me and it’s just the type of poor manners I’d expect from his type,” her finger points accusingly at Mike, or rather at his nose.
Erwin sighs, shrugging his shoulders guiltily. “That is my fault entirely. Mike has recently recovered from a grave illness - we are lucky that he’s with us today. I thought the ball would improve his spirits- he hasn’t been able to get out much recently.” At the words sympathy shows through the woman’s heavily-painted features.
“My apologies, if I had known…”
Mike sniffs again and smiles, looking at the woman. “That perfume is lovely- an herbal, petally scent, yes?” The woman lowers her eyes, a caricature of the demure.
“Why yes,” she murmurs, “It’s a floral with lavender.” The conversation picks back up, offense forgotten.
Erwin and Mike exchange banter, artfully dispatching small talk and playing off each other with an ease born of familiarity. The stoic quiet of Mike and the smooth charm of Erwin is a guaranteed crowd pleaser.
As Erwin moves to leave he winks at Mike and presses back into the crowd.
IV.
On his way to get a glass of wine (or something stronger considering how many more hours he has left to go) Erwin notices the lovely Nanaba.
She is stunning tonight, having chosen an elegant dark gown rather than the dress uniform, and Erwin is pleased with his decision to invite her. She’ll have no trouble gaining the Scouts more ardent supporters, whatever their true motives.
But something is amiss. The way she leans away from the man speaking with her. How her hands cross subtly at her thigh and her back seems tense, almost rigid.
Erwin approaches quickly and hears the man’s patronizing tone.
“But come now, there can’t possibly be anyone in the Scouts here tonight that you’d rather dance with, can there? A soldier like yourself should feel flattered that a noble has taken such interest.”
Erwin glides up next to Nanaba, his face showing great relief, “Nanaba, there you are, I’ve been looking all over.”
Nanaba takes the cue easily, “Oh, Commander, I must have lost track of the time. I hope you don’t think I’d break a promise.”
The noble scowls, looking between the two with narrowed eyes. “Commander, what business could you possibly have with a soldier tonight, at a celebration?” He challenges Erwin, smirking.
“Why,” Erwin responds, catching Nanaba’s graceful fingers in his own calloused ones, “Nanaba promised me a waltz tonight, and I do believe that’s exactly what the orchestra is playing.” He smiles apologetically at the silently fuming man.
They make their way to the dance floor, and only when the man can no longer spy does Nanaba relax.
“Thanks Erwin, that noble just would not give up.”
Erwin places a palm gently on her waist, taking her offered hand in his other as they begin the waltz. “It’s the least I could do, after all, I’m the one who made you come here tonight. Besides, I’d never hear the end of it from Mike if I hadn’t.”
Nanaba laughs, genuine and sparkling. “Always the gentleman, aren’t you,” she teases.
V.
The night reaches a point where guests who were going to overindulge already have, conversations becoming colorful and deadly. Erwin notices an uncharacteristically quiet group- four noblemen clearly gossiping. His body is already turning to avoid them when one calls him over.
“Ah, Commander Smith, we were just having a discussion and hoped you might weigh in on it. It’s to settle a bit of a bet really.”
Erwin turns, and joins the men. One looks like a merchant, there’s a blonde noble and his father, and a fourth not worth description other than his unusually large nose. “What sort of bet is it that I can help you gentlemen settle? I’m afraid I may be out of practice when it comes to most gambling games…”
“Oh, we simply want some insider knowledge,” the merchant assures, adding, “We’re all curious about the Little Captain, Levi.” The merchant’s smile is fixed and predatory. Erwin feels unease but would prefer to diffuse the situation.
“Well,” Erwin chuckles, “I wouldn’t recommend calling him that to his face, but what is it you’d like to know about the Captain?”
The large-nosed man sneers, “We’re simply calling a spade a spade. Tell us, is his skill truly what has earned him advancement so quickly in the ranks?” The question is a grating taunt. “Is he really Humanity’s Strongest?”
“He’s more skilled in combat than any soldier I have ever led.” A simple reply seems the most direct- Erwin supplies it easily. With that the gates erupt, words pouring from the men in quick succession, their tones accusatory.
“The rumors say he’s a filthy urchin from the Underground.”
“Who cannot even read.”
“Word is, he spends military funds on his own private luxuries, that’s embezzlement!”
“I heard that he’s a pervert.”
“There is some truth to that, definitely not so, these are accusations I shall investigate, and- excuse me?” Erwin pauses at the last statement.
“But then, I heard that you’re also a pervert. Commander. Pervert.” The large-nosed man sneers.
Erwin’s eyebrows travel up his forehead at the brazen rudeness, “I beg your pardon?”
“You heard me. Levi is a pervert. Everyone says it. Though you’re no better- probably worse. After all, he didn’t really earn that promotion on the battlefield, did he? No, a small, delicate, man like that- it’s much more likely he earned it by dispensing certain favors to his Commander.” Eyes meet in challenge, one pair muddy brown, one a striking blue- Erwin’s contained anger showing only in this single feature. Erwin does not look away as he slowly speaks.
“It is true that Levi is a small man, it’s evident to anyone who has seen him. He’s rude, foul-mouthed, and tactless. His habits are sometimes odd and he lacks the deference to authority most soldiers find second nature. However, Levi is loyal to a fault, has earned the respect and admiration of his peers and subordinates, and has killed more Titans than anyone- period.”
His speech finished, Erwin looks steadily around the group, forcing each man to hold his gaze in turn. Most of them look away. The large-nosed man does not.
“So, you’re not denying it then?” Large-nose prods.
“Think what you will. I’d rather be a pervert than a fool.” Erwin turns on his heel and leaves the men, an uncomfortable silence in his wake.
VI.
Champagne isn’t enough to chase away the growing unease. Erwin grabs two more glasses and continues his search. He’s located Mike, Nanaba, even Hanji in the pulsing throng. But not Levi. He heads to the last place he can think of, the large balcony on the other side of the dance floor. It’s mostly peopled by lovers and a few drunks, bumping gently into each other and murmuring quietly.
The sky spreads out above, quiet and unfouled by the night’s debauchery, the innumerable slights to his soldiers- to himself. He spots a compact figure leaning on the railing. The man stands apart, dark hair shorn cruelly close at his neck, dress uniform impossibly neat even at this late hour. Erwin approaches, silently offering champagne. Levi turns and takes the glass, sipping a small amount.
Erwin throws his own back quickly.
“Having a shitty night?” The small man asks.
“Yes,” for once Erwin feels no need to supply more, to lie, charm, or distract.
“Welcome to the club,” Levi drawls.
The night air is cool, the stars distant observers over the city. Silence stretches between them, a welcome respite.
“Is this why you hate these things?” Erwin asks, remembering his earlier conversation.
“What?”
Erwin realizes he must explain, Levi isn’t a mind-reader after all, despite how well he usually creates that illusion.
“The rumors, the teasing, everyone being so… despicable.” Erwin finishes lamely. Levi looks at him, curious, but doesn’t press for more. Instead he sips champagne thoughtfully before answering.
“Yes. I hate these events. Half of them just want to suck up. I prefer that, the other half are worse. Trying to get in my pants, insulting me, lording their wealth or prestige over me like I owe them something.” Levi sips calmly. “It makes me wonder what it means to fight for humanity, whether we deserve the Titans.”
Erwin shakes his head, realizing just how difficult the things that come to him easily can be for his soldiers. How much they endure for him. No matter how much he gives he’ll never feel that the debt has been returned.
“They called you a pervert,” Erwin murmurs, “Me too. Accused us of being romantically involved.” Levi snorts and downs the rest of the champagne.
“And?” Levi asks, quietly.
Erwin leans a little closer, his words only for Levi to hear. “I didn’t correct them.” Erwin smiles, a small genuine expression. Levi turns away, staring up at the sky, but Erwin can see the slight red tinge on his pale neck.