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“The going from a world we know
To one a wonder still
Is like the child’s adversity
Whose vista is a hill,
Behind the hill is sorcery
And everything unknown ,
But will the secret compensate
For climbing it alone?”
“Well, what do you think?” asks Erwin as he lays the book face down on his chest, and turns to look at Levi with a smile.
It’s a frigid winter afternoon, but inside Erwin’s office it’s warm. They are taking a break after working all day -- work in wintertime mostly means paperwork, and writing letters and asking for funding and donation, which Levi finds more grueling than fighting titans. Levi had made some tea from the small ornate tin of loose leaf Erwin brought from Mitras, and Erwin had mysteriously pulled out a book from under a floorboard, and lay down on the couch to read it. Levi thinks he looks rather funny lying there; the couch is much too short for his six-two frame. He also has the top button of his shirt undone and his sleeves rolled up. Levi would have found the impropriety scandalous and scolded him for it, but oh, the fire is crackling, the tea is steaming, and he is tired. He’s content just sitting here, sipping tea and not saying anything.
“Think of what?” he asks.
“The poem I just read.”
“What’s a poem?”
“Oh. Sorry. Well, a poem is ... a form of literature, arranged in verses -- lines, with rhythms and sometimes rhymes. The poet could use it to tell a story, paint an image, express their feelings, imaginations, philosophies, evoke emotions, provoke thoughts.”
“Hmm,” Levi drawls, “sounds like the stuff for rich people who have too much time on their hands. Why ask someone like me who’s not been to a day of school?”
Erwin frowns, “Not necessarily. People of all walks of life can enjoy poetry. Do you know any nursery rhymes? Well, those are poems, too. Moreover, intelligence itself has nothing to do with the years one spends in school. And you, Levi,” he points at him with a smile, “happen to be a very intelligent person, who has an unusually keen grasp on most things.”
Levi scoffs.
“So, what do you think?” Erwin asks again, “What image does it paint for you? What emotion does it evoke in you?”
“What?” Levi raises an eyebrow, “Are you having doubts about our expeditions outside of the wall? Afraid of what you might find? That the truth might not be what you expected?”
Erwin laughs. "See? You do have a grasp of poetry.”
The intensity in his blue eyes burns Levi. He feels a rush of heat overcoming him, and looks away. It’s the fire, he tells himself, he’s sitting too close to the fireplace.
“So, are you?” Levi asks after the heat on his face is dissipated.
“Am I what?”
“Having doubts. Afraid.”
“No,” he says, easily. “I mean, I do wonder at times. Like when reading poetry, for instance,” he chuckles as he taps his fingers on the green suede cover of the book. “But it doesn’t stop me. I still want to go. First I will … climb over to the other side of the hill, so to speak, to see what’s there, and then I’ll decide.”
“Hmm,” Levi nods.
“What about you?” Erwin asks after a while.
Levi shrugs. “I will follow you,” he says simply.
Erwin smiles, and Levi thinks he looks a bit sad, although he does not know why. "Thank you, Levi," He looks up at the ceiling, sighs contentedly, and closes his eyes.
Levi leans back on his chair and takes another sip. The tea is good. Deep, rich aroma, no bitter aftertaste, much better than the papery tasting tea found in the officers' mess. He doesn’t know that he has a grasp on ‘most things’, but maybe at least on tea he does. Erwin, for example, can’t taste the difference at all.
He thinks Erwin might have fallen asleep on the couch. He wants to go over and rouse him because they have to get back to work, but a voice says, let him rest . He hesitates; he thinks, yes, let him rest.
Suddenly, they are no longer in Erwin’s office. They are on a roof. Erwin lies there lifelessly, face ashen, torso covered in blood.
Levi springs up from his chair and runs towards him. But he does not reach Erwin. How can it be? He’s only steps away. He runs and runs but still does not reach him. The floor, or the roof, is melting into nothingness. Erwin seems to be falling, or Levi is floating. All the while, booming like a drum, the voice is repeating:
“Let him rest.”
“Let him rest.”
“Let him rest.”
Erwin falls. Further and further, smaller and smaller, until he’s engulfed by complete nothingness.
Levi awakes gasping for air.
His heart is beating like a drum. His eyes dart around wildly for a few seconds before he can situate himself. He’s in bed, he realizes. He sits up and looks out of the window. It’s still dark. He clutches his chest to calm his breathing. It’s just a dream. A memory that morphed into a dream. A memory from years ago, before the Fall of Wall Maria. And now they’ve taken it back, taken it back and ... climbed over to the other side of the hill. Was it worth it? Are they better off knowing the truth despite how ugly it is, or would it have been better to stay ignorant?
He hugs his knees to his chest and buries his face between his arms. Well , he wants to ask Erwin, what do you think? What do you think of this mess, Erwin?
But Erwin is gone. He had let him go himself. Erwin would never learn the truth, and Levi would never know what Erwin would do. Erwin has always been the brain, the thinker, and Levi his weapon. Now he’s a blade without the soldier, and an arrow without the archer.
He sits like that until daybreak.
-
“ … and that is where things stand,” Hange takes off their glasses, and cleans them with the hem of their shirt, “No doubt there will be a lot of discussions of what to do next in the coming months, but our immediate objective is to eliminate the remaining titans within Wall Maria using the Executioner. We’ll need to train the garrison in Trost to do it, given that,” they smile ruefully, and look around the table, “at the moment, the entire Scouts is comprised of a total of nine members.”
Eight of said nine members are sitting around the table for a briefing. Levi’s had meetings in this room before, but those were officers’ meetings. If there was something that needed to be addressed to the entire regiment, they used the training yard. But now the entire regiment fits into this room.
Levi looks around the table. Eren, with a new weariness about him, flanked by Mikasa, unwavering as a rock, and … Armin. Armin, who lived instead of him, whom Levi had chosen to let live instead of him. Armin, who’s so bright, so talented, with so much riding on his shoulders. Connie, who can use a haircut. Jean, still in arm sling. And Floch, sitting all by himself two empty chairs away. All young faces. He suddenly feels old, like he’s obsolete, like he belongs to a bygone era.
“Commander,” Armin raises his hand, “I can go to Trost and help train the garrison.”
“Thank you for volunteering, Arlert,” says Hange, “But as it is, I can’t spare you because,” their eye glints, “we’re going to run some experiments on you. Your titan , that is.”
Floch lets out an audible snort. Eren and Mikasa turn their heads in unison and look at him sharply, but Armin places a hand on Eren’s arm and shakes his head. Jean glares at Floch with irritation until Hange calls, “Jean, I’m going to send you. Any objections?”
“No, Commander!”
“Alright,” Hange continues as they put their glasses back on, “As for what happens after that … well, we shall see. But before any of the serious businesses begin,” their face brightens up, “the Queen is going to hold a ceremony and award us medals.”
“Medals?” Floch mutters, “For what? For surviving when all our comrades died?”
“Floch! That is no way to talk to the Commander!”
“It’s alright, Connie.” Hange waves a hand. They fix their good eye on Floch, “The medal ceremony is right after the memorial for our fallen comrades. If you will, think of the medals as something honoring all Scouts, and the nine of us are just there to accept them on all their behalf.”
Floch purses his lips into a thin line, and does not say anything more.
“Well, that concludes it. Meeting adjourned,” Hange stands up, “Jean and Connie, make sure you tell Sasha. Hopefully she'll recover enough to stand by then. Eren, Levi, come to my office, please.”
Levi follows Hange into their office, and is alarmed to see a stranger already in there. A man in a dark suit with two briefcases, who stands up as they enter.
“Mr. Heinrich,” Hange greets the man, and gestures towards Levi and Eren, “This is Captain Levi, and Private Jaeger.” Then they turn to Levi and Eren, “Mr. Heinrich is from Otto & Heinrich Law. He has requested a meeting with us, for the matter of … er ...” they trail off.
“The will of Erwin Smith,” The lawyer, Heinrich, finishes, as he nods at them in greeting.
-
“I am very sorry to hear of his passing,” the lawyer begins once they sit down. “My deepest condolences.”
Levi’s ears are ringing. A will. Of course Erwin would have a will. The man is so orderly, and meticulous about every little thing. When did he write it? Or has he always had one ready since the day he joined the Corps?
“ … he is humanity’s hero,” the lawyer is saying, “and will be mourned by many and remembered by posterity. I have the honor, ” he opens the smaller briefcase, “of being entrusted by him with his will,” he takes out a document, “He’s donating his entire estate to the Fallen Scouts Memorial Foundation, and donating most of his belongings, but he did make some personal bequests, to those present here.”
On Levi’s left, Eren looks up at the lawyer, and quickly glances at Hange and Levi, visibly startled.
“Now then, without further ado,” Heinrich flips to the second page and reads off the document:
“To the current Commander of the Survey Corps, I leave all my manuscripts on military strategies and operations. They are stored in the top drawer of the file cabinet in my office. ”
He addresses Hange, “Although it does not mention you by name, obviously this would be you, Commander Hange.”
Hange nods. “Yes, I understand,” they muse thoughtfully, “he couldn’t be certain if I’d survive. He couldn’t be certain if any of us would survive ... well, maybe except Levi. And Eren.”
Heinrich then turns to Eren.
“To Eren Jaeger, I leave the painting, Morning Market in Shiganshina by Jan van Ostade.”
He sets the larger briefcase on the table, opens it and turns it to face the other three.
Nestled inside its velvet interior, is a painting with a wooden frame. The scene in the painting is a bustling street market. Shoppers and a row of stalls selling vegetables, meat, and dried goods fill the background. In the foreground is a vendor selling fish. At the center of the painting, buying fish, is a woman with long dark hair, holding the hand of a dark-haired young boy.
Eren gasps. “How … how ...” he stammers.
Something jolts Levi’s memory. He vaguely remembers Erwin getting the painting. However, he could’ve sworn the woman in the center was blonde, and the child was a girl.
“And these words, ” the lawyer continues to read, “ No matter what you may find in the end, may you always be on humanity’s side. ”
Eren swallows.
May you always be on humanity’s side. Levi turns the phrase over in his head. Oh Erwin , he thinks, even you, in all your wisdom and vision, could not fathom the truth of this world. Humanity ’s side. Who’s humanity? Who are the monsters? Who's the real enemy?
The sound of his own name pulls him out of his thoughts. “ … and to Captain Levi, ” the lawyer looks up to meet Levi’s eyes, and then looks back down and reads:
“There is no frigate like a book
To take us lands away,
Nor any coursers like a page
Of prancing poetry.
This traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of toll;
How frugal is the chariot
That bears a human soul!”
He puts down the document and looks at Levi.
Hange glances at Levi and then looks back at Heinrich. “Um, please continue,” they gesture.
“That was all,” the lawyer looks at Hange apologetically.
“Oh ...” Hange blinks and glances at Levi again, “But … What does it mean? Is he leaving Levi all his books?”
Heinrich shakes his head. “In my profession, we don’t make assumptions of our clients’ intents, but in this case I can say for certain that is not what he meant because,” he hands the document to Hange, pointing at somewhere on it, “it states right here, in Article III, that he’s leaving all his books to Rose Public Library, which, I’m sure you know, he helped establish.”
“At the very least,” he offers, “we can safely assume that the late Commander wanted to encourage the Captain to continue reading and the pursuit of knowledge …”
But Levi can no longer hear them trying to guess what it means, all sound drowned out by the loud pounding of his heart.
-
“May I be dismissed?” Levi asks as soon as the lawyer leaves.
“Um?” Hange seems to be lost in thought, “Oh. Of course, Levi. Of course. Take … take some time off if you need to.”
Levi closes the office’s door behind him, checks the corridor and then climbs the stairs two steps a time to the third floor and turns left to the familiar hallway. The double doors of Erwin’s office are locked, but that’s not something that can stop Levi. Technically, it should be Hange’s office now. But they haven’t moved in yet, nor have they shown any interest in doing so any time soon.
He works at the lock. After a minute, it unlocks with a click .
He takes in a deep breath and pushes the doors open.
Erwin is sitting in a chair in front of the desk, backlit by the golden afternoon sun.
Levi’s breath hitches.
"Let Hange lead this operation,” a voice, his voice, is saying. “You stay here and wait for the good news. We'll tell the others we argued until you gave in ... in fact, that's what I intend to do. So, why not make this easier for the both of us? What do you say?"
“No.”
No, Levi shuts his eye, and wills away the memory. He will not think of it. Not now. Not ever. It's futile to dwell on the what-ifs.
He lets his memory drift further back, to that afternoon in his dream. He had spent the rest of that afternoon sipping tea by the fireplace and listening to Erwin read poem after poem from that book. It felt like a lifetime ago. It was a rare moment of pure contentment and leisure that felt almost unreal, like it was stolen from some other man’s life.
“The poet is … let’s just say, ahead of her time,” he remembers Erwin telling him with a wink as he put the book back under the floorboard, when Levi asked him why the secrecy.
He follows the memory to the spot and uses his fingers to feel between the edges of the floorboards there. One board loosens. Levi’s heart leaps. He pries it open.
There . Under the floorboard, is a metal box. Levi opens the lid -- in it lies a small stack of books; the one he’s looking for is right on the top.
Levi picks it up. He feels its green suede cover, then turns it and feels its fore edge. Something is sandwiched in there. He opens it. Between There Is No Frigate Like a Book and the next page, there is a folded piece of paper.
He unfolds it with trembling fingers.
Levi, it reads.
Levi’s vision blurs before he can read more. “Damn it,” he mutters between clenched teeth, “Damn it.”
Damn it, Erwin, I laid you to rest, stop trying to work from the grave. Manuscripts for Hange, a reminder for Eren. What do you have for me? Preemptive orders for the next twenty years?
He waits for the lump in his throat to go down, and picks the note up again.
Levi,
I hope you never have to read this. If you find yourself reading this, I am sorry.
Do not grieve for me. I will have died chasing my dreams. I will have had no regrets.
While it is my hope that you will continue to support - here, ‘Hange’ is crossed out, and replaced with ‘the current Commander of the Survey Corps’ - and help rein in our Young Titan, the dead have no business telling the living how to live.
Do you remember the deal we made on that fateful day when we first met?
Well, I release you from it. Do not bind yourself to the dreams of a dead man. Be free. Do what your heart desires.
Should you desire to retire early and open the teashop you’ve always talked about, open the envelope under this book. Consider it a gift.
You didn’t choose to start this story. Now you continue it how you want it. This is, after all, your story.
Eternally Yours,
Erwin
Levi sees the envelope now on top of the stack. He opens it, takes out its content and unfolds it. It’s an official looking document with big cursive letters that says ‘Register of Title’ on the top , and an embossed seal on the bottom. Levi reads it. It is full of obscure and long winded sentences that Levi doesn’t understand, but he gets the important part - it certifies that Levi Ackerman is the owner of the commercial property located at 84 Canal Street, Leseheim.
Levi stares at it, thoughts jumbled.
For a while, he sits on the floor, stunned, then he raises the document closer and reads the address again: Canal Street, Leseheim.
-
Levi rides north. Towards Wall Sina.
The thought sounds funny to him. He was always trying to go outside of the walls, and go as far as possible. Now he’s heading inward. And he almost feels a sense of … safety, like the walls he was so desperate to break out of are now ... protecting him. The King told his people the walls were erected to protect them from the outside world, and wiped their memory to protect them from the truth. In a sense, the King was not wrong. Do they really need to go outside and face the cruel world? If one stops to think about it, within the walls life is not too bad. Sure, there are still plenty of struggles and injustice, but at least no one hates their guts for no reason other than what their ancestors did long before they were even born.
Levi sighs and continues riding.
Leseheim is located just south of Ehrmich. It is a bustling town thanks to its rich farmland and its location right on the canal.
Levi remembers the first time Erwin brought him here. It was during the winter holidays, and they were on their way to Mitras to attend some ball, because all the who’s who in the capital wanted to see ‘Humanity’s Strongest’, and Erwin was hoping his appearance would inspire hope and therefore, inspire funding. They made a stop at Leseheim. It’s technically not directly en route to the Sina gate at Ehrmich, and requires a slight detour, but Erwin had said he’d rather make the stop there because he found the town charming, and Levi had scoffed at his sentimentality.
Snow was coming down hard as they rode in town, Levi remembers. The stores along Canal street were decorated with fir, holly berries, pine cones painted red and gold and purple - pops of color here and there in the fresh white snow. Levi was struck speechless by its beauty. And when they were served steaming soup and bread at Big George’s Tavern, he had never found any food so welcoming. As they were leaving, a cravat tie at the window in the tailor’s shop caught his eyes. Something about its prim and proper aesthetic just appealed to him. He had packed a set of dress uniforms for the occasion, but those were military issues. A tie of his very own, bought with his own wages … now that would be something. But in the end, it wasn’t bought with his own wages. When he took out his pouch to pay, the tailor told him Erwin had already paid for it. Levi insisted on paying him back, but he had said, “Consider it a birthday gift.”
Consider it a gift . Levi remembers the words from the note. He walks on Canal Street and searches for Number 84. Since that first time, he has passed here on his way to Mitras many times, but he had never had any particular reason to pay attention to the street numbers before. He sees the wooden plaque on a candy shop says 40, and the next one says 42, so he knows he’s headed in the right direction. He keeps on walking down the cobblestone street. There’s Big George’s Tavern, Number 68, and right after it, the tailor’s, 70. He picks up his pace. Number 78, meat and sausages. Number 80, bakery. His heart is racing.
There . 84, in large wrought iron numbers, right below the sconce.
Levi holds his breath and looks up. A two story building with a steep gable roof. Vines of green, orange and red leaves twist around its cream-colored clay exterior, criss-crossed by its brown exposed timber frame of vertical posts, horizontal beams, and diagonal braces. Two attic dormers jut out from the red brick roof, and two six-paned windows with green shutters line the second story. On the ground level, on the left, below a small striped awning is a large arched window, the mounted sconce and the street number in the middle, and then a half panel door in warm stained wood on the right. A wrought iron sign hangs from the upper right corner.
Levi stares at it, taking in every detail. He walks closer. He looks up at the hanging wrought iron sign - it’s the shape of a shoe. He sees himself standing there, arms crossed , frowning at it and saying, this won’t do , and replacing it with one shaped like a steaming teacup. He looks at the door, its nine-paned window on the top, the wooden panels on the bottom, and brushes his fingers over the bronze door handle. He moves to the large arched window and peers inside. It’s empty barring a wooden counter in the back and shelves on the wall behind.
He sees himself there, behind the counter, weighing and packaging tea for customers he’d scoop out from jars that line the shelves behind him.
There would be tables and chairs, of course, for customers to sit down and have tea. Nice cushioned chairs. White linen tablecloth. Fresh flowers in vases.
And there would be cakes, scones, tarts, clotted cream and strawberry jam - all the sweets he had once seen in a tea party in Mitras.
In the evening, after he closes the shop, he’d clean the counter, clean the floor, and make sure everything is spotless.
Once a month, he’d close the shop, and take some sweets to visit the Queen’s orphanage.
When the winter holidays come, he’d decorate it with fir, holly and painted pine cones, too.
This life could be his. He has but to reach out his hand and grasp it. He doesn’t have to be a soldier. There’s honor in simple, honest work like this, too, isn’t there? Is there anything better than making people happy by providing life's simple pleasures?
Private citizen Levi. Tea shop owner Levi. No Humanity’s Strongest. No world-outside-the-walls. No titans. No Marley. No wars.
He lets out a long breath.
It’s a nice dream, but it’s time to wake up.
He takes a few steps back, gives Number 84 one last look, and then turns his heels. “C’mon,” he tugs at the reins of his horse, “we gotta get back.”
“Captain Levi? Is that you?” a woman’s voice called hesitantly. Levi turns and sees a round woman in white cap and apron. He recognizes her as the baker’s wife. “It is you!” she exclaimed.
A man with a large beard and oilcloth apron walks over to them. “Are you looking for Old Travers?” he offers.
“Old Travers?”
“Yeah, you know, the shoemaker,” the man jerks his chin to the hanging wrought iron sign, and then looks back at Levi, “Well, I’m afraid you won’t find him here. He sold the place and moved to the countryside to live with his daughter’s family some time ago. Couldn’t tell us who he sold it to. Said some law office took care of all the transactions.”
“I see,” Levi says softly, “No, I’m not looking for him. I’m just … passing by.”
A crowd gathers around them. "Captain Levi,” the old tailor asks, “Is it true? What the newspaper said? About us and … the titans ..."
“Yes, Captain Levi, is it true?” a woman joins in, “It’s so hard to know what to believe anymore.”
“Especially the newspapers,” a man snorts, “Wasn’t too long ago they said Commander Erwin murdered some man. I, for one,” he jabs his chest with the tip of his thumb, “never believed a word of it.”
“Yeah! But we trust the Scouts, and we trust you, Captain Levi. We’ll believe what you tell us.”
Levi looks at them. “It’s true,” he says simply. “They are telling you what we the Scouts found.”
A silence falls. A woman starts whimpering.
After a while, Big George asks, "What's going to happen to us now?”
Levi shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he says honestly.
“The newspaper says the … the outsiders are going to come for us! Invade our land!”
“That they very well might be,” Levi nods, “however,” he looks around and meets the eyes of each person in the crowd, “you can bet we will be ready when they do. Our military has defended the walls and its people for a century, we aren’t about to give up now just because the enemy is different. The old King might have made a vow renouncing war, but we have a new Queen now. And we have not one, but two Titans on our side now. If you don’t know who to trust, then trust the Queen, trust the Scouts.”
“Yay!” the crowd cheers.
“The Queen!”
“The Scouts!”
“Captain Levi!”
“Captain Levi!” Big George booms among the cheers, “come in and have a drink!”
“Sorry, can’t,” Levi says apologetically as he mounts his horse and pulls the reins to turn around, “Duty calls.”
He has a ceremony to go to, some brats to look after, and quite possibly, an entire world to save.
Erwin, thank you. You might have released me, but this is my choice.