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Infamously, Liberio was home to the most titan wielders.
Annie Leonhardt: The Female Titan. Reiner Braun: The Armoured Titan. Bertholdt Hoover: The Colossal Titan. Zeke Yeager: The Beast Titan. Marcel Galliard, later succeeded by his brother, Porco Galliard: The Jaw Titan. And last, but not the least, Pieck Finger: The Cart Titan.
These teenagers, fresh out of Warrior Training, received their most prized possession: freedom. With their name dirtying the Eldian race, the past sin was uplifted once they became Honorary Marleyans. To locals, it became accustomed to knowing one holder, and then, the next day, the holder would be replaced. Nobody got attached to them. Nobody kept their name in mind. At least, not long enough to make history. They were Marley's gift; Marley's weapon. They were destined to always be on the battlefield, scraping their stone skin. And then, after thirteen years, filled with no desire, other than for those moments of misery to expire quicker, they'd be chained up. In rags, steel cutting through their wrists and ankles, as the next in line transformed into a merciless beast, swallowing their spinal fluid.
Freedom was both temporary for them, as much life they had left until that point, but also for their family. They would be devastated and mourn the loss of their child. Bear in mind, that although the grief still settled in, they'd lose the privilege of having the bare minimum necessary in Marley. And after their line would be over, they'd become a simple citizen. Their proud, shining red bandana would morph back into being pearly white. With that thought in mind, it made it easier for you to forget how vigilant you used to be: not to dirty it, not to rip it apart etc.
After Porco Galliard inherited the Jaw Titan from the girl who stole his brother's life, his family felt, and was, socially advantaged. They had the chance of keeping their title, but at the cost of their only son. At the cost of haunted reminders that their eldest, Marcel, wasn't here. Unfortunately, the news wasn't accepted with open arms. Denial and anger snaked their house like it was gas. During those few months, Porco couldn't bear being home, and he'd often flee to unknown locations to crave a moment of silence. For as much as he could. Now, his own home, his own childhood residence, became a hotel. He'd merely tip-toe inside to eat and sleep. But sometimes, not even those necessities convinced him to return.
***
Combat boots put out the cigarette butt with a swift motion, curse words faintly lingering under his breath. The gel that kept his hair upright, out of his face loosened, edges of strawberry blonde peaking on the side. Normally, littering the streets with such atrocities was out of the question for him. Tonight, however, he needed to get things off his shoulders.
The streets were deserted. No cars honking furiously, no bickering, no ships anchoring or disembarking from the port. Nothing. It was pitch black. Even the sky was lighter than the rest of the surroundings! The wind gushed over Porco Galliard like he wasn't even there, messing his locks even more. A particular smell of cannabis twisted the boy's nose in ways he could never describe as he passed a local hotel in his childhood area. The highway was the only thing that broke him and the establishment apart.
In a peculiar manner, no matter how far away it was, he couldn't walk by and not notice the distinct, pumpkin colour that was coming from the only reflective source there was back there: a small rustic window, located on the right of the entrance. Maybe that was the cue he needed. It was far too late to go back to his parental guardians looking like a junkie, as he profusely stunk of nicotine, his eyes injected red.
Sighing in defeat, he turned to the all-too familiar hotel and crossed the road. Approaching it, his dim sight cleared up. Under the creaky doorway, he made out a recognizable face he could perceive anywhere. Her baggy, delicate silver eyes followed him as her petite frame leaned against the walls, raven mane cascading down mountains of skin. Pieck! His oddly too-familiar colleague. His eyes ignited with a dashing flame. But– What was she doing here? It's way past the middle of the night. Creepy; He'd have to consult with her in the morning.
"I suppose you were lost in thought?" serenaded out her mouth. Classic Porco. Always analyzing scraps of useless and useful information.
He nodded.
"Right. I'm sure you are full of questions with enough ambiguous answers to drive you mad" He opened his mouth to respond. She gestured to him to quiet down with her index finger. "Come, not here."
Jerking his eyebrow in cluelessness, he mentally sighed, granting her permission to guide him wherever the wind took them. They slipped inside, as the Jaw's legs and arms stiffened at the sudden contact with heat. Only now, was he beginning to grasp the reality of how far and long he'd walked up until that point. Thus, he was more preoccupied with moving properly in this new environment.
The Cart's hips swayed as she squished him through crammed, crimson hallways and candle lit booths. Along their route, Galliard began feeling insaner by the moment. It was hard to distinguish the creaks of his shoes on the softened planks, from the voices down the corridor that practically howled at him:
"Hey! Look, you've reached Hotel Liberio. Enjoy your visit, young man. It is but a remarkable honour to participate in tonight's feast!" What? What feast? Anyways, he resumed following the girl upfront.
After all their travelling and lurking, they arrived in a fancy dining room. It stood out far more than the rest of the building. It was sweeped, uninhabited of dust, with a wooden bar and set tables, fancy lighting, historical relics placed on a worn-out bookshelf and satin curtains that revealed the pitch-black view from outside, with the notable exception of a few sparks here and there.
“Join me for dinner.” she hummed gently. By that point, he had calmed down from his recalcitration: his heart was steadier, he no longer trembled and his face stopped being feverish. He took his seat, hesitantly, looking at his fellow colleague. Something about her intent, yet cunning gaze stormed butterflies in Jaw's stomach. After a short, awkward pause, both heard footsteps. Porco cocked his eyebrow in wonder; however, Pieck seemed rather unphased, waiting sternly for the echoes to deepen closer. Zeke Jaeger peeked through, maneuvering a silver tray. Atop of it stood a tall, burgundy wine bottle, followed behind by two slender glasses.
“Zeke?”
“Ah, Galliard! Fancy seeing you around the suburb. Hotel Liberio seems to be lacking the hustle and bustle it once had. Glad to see familiar faces around here.”
Zeke placed the tray in the middle of the two’s table, patting the other man’s shoulder “I owe you one from the Mid-East War. You saved my neck back there.” And with that last testimony, he vanished into thin air, sanding away in the night. Meanwhile, Pieck took an interest in the beverages before her, inconsiderately pouring herself and her colleague a few sips. Upon notice, Porco bluffed:
“Ah– Uhm, Pieck… Isn’t that—?”
“Zeke’s spinal fluid wine” she stopped mid-pour, looking at him nonchalantly “Why, is there a problem?”
He was quick to humble her. “Isn’t it… used for—”
“Ongoing conflicts and transformations between Paradis Eldians and Marley, yeah.” She frowned “Oh Pock, you’re so foolish at times! How could you think I’d sabotage the prospects of our motherland? There were a few left from our last mission.”
“Right… The few, ‘upscale’, ‘high class’ that we specifically use for administrative reasons–”
By then, both glasses were half full, pooling with blood-like liquid “Please, don’t be so absurd. I’m not Tiffany-Twisted. I just enjoy the finer things in life; You get me, don’t you?”
Right. He does get her. Yet he didn’t admit it openly. “Loosen up a bit, tonight’s our night! And we should celebrate it by-the-book. This wine will really kick the field; you’ll be a whole new man after a few chugs.”
Whatever comrade Pieck says, it must be correct. And a clink shut his worries out.
***
“What is between you and Zeke?” He broke the silence.
“Me and Zeke?”
“Don’t act dumb, Pieck. The way he safeguards you, the way he always tails around your back like an obedient puppy. Are you really concealed so badly in your love goggles for war you forgot to double-check with reality?”
“...I don’t know what you’re talking about! Me and him are merely friends” She protested. “Oh, but why? Is someone jealous of us, Pock?~”
“Cut the crap out, Pieck!”
She remained silent. He followed the silence.
“Porco.” She began. “Why do you think we stand on the frontlines of Marley?”
“Huh?” Where was she going with this?
“Why do we dance in battle, intertwined with the Fate of Ymir for thirteen years?”
He quieted down. “Some of us become titan wielders to remember who we truly are. We are nobodies before we inherit what makes us the bare necessity of our world-kind: human. Us and our families get privilege for thirteen years, before we live out of a suitcase from insults and boos. Some, become titan wielders to forget what makes them the minimum, making ends meet with the ilusion our society fights democratically for our rights. To Marley, we are toys they can use by killing two birds with one stone: market-business slaves and war-slaves.”
“...Haha, I’m just kidding! I must've had too much to drink.”
Too much to drink? Porco was having reservations. Yes, Marley exploited Eldians and not only, but they couldn’t be puppeted by cynicism that vile. However, Pieck isn’t thick, nor slow; her affirmations seem unhinged to the naked eye, yet who knew what devious intentions crawled up her sleeve?
“Zeke, bring us another wine, will you?” These questions did not remain his to inquire or decipher key solutions to. He was no scientist or debater, he was, well, Porco Galliard: a simple civilian that just so happened to inherit one of the Seven Titans under Marley’s patrol.— Anyhow, Pieck was right about the wine! It really warmed him up.
“What atmosphere there is! We haven’t had that spirit here since I was a young lad. Coming right at you, Galliard!” Jaeger shouted down the hall, supplying them quickly with what he requested. From that point on, his vision began blurring gradually. With each mouth of wine he took, he reckoned that no matter how much he drank, he couldn’t muffle the ear-curdling encouragements that thumped his brain:
“Fine young man; Do not miss this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity of witnessing the inheritance of One of the Fabulous Seven! Bring your friends and family and live up to the glory of the moment! We are all waiting for your presence.”
In any other moment that night, Porco would have pondered in the abyss about the metaphors they were trying to insinuate, caught up in their epithets. Now, his teeth clenched irritably, a migraine climbing its way up to his temples. He was getting severely hot under the collar by them. His colleague cut his train of thoughts by the couplers:
“Hah… Porco, can I get the elephant out of the room already?” she chuckled with a nervous huff. Elephant in the room?
“What elephant?” Seconds later, Pieck switched sides in the blink of an eye. Her gaze became clouded, her face expression sorrowed, and her hands started jittering and fidgeting on the table.
“You know, I didn’t bring you here just to kill time… There’s something else you should know about.” He gulped, already getting tense . That euphoric, drunken-dazed state washed away and splashed him back to Liberio.
“...Break the ice; I’m listening.”
“Zeke’s going to pass his titan to Colt.” She impulsed out.
“What?!” Porco flipped. “What are you talking about?”
“Porco, calm yourself down or else nothing will make sense!” Pieck got up from her chair, bending across the table, forcing Porco to sit down by his shoulders. “Zeke’s getting older. And Commander Magath forecasted he’ll be lucky to survive to see the Paradis operation launch into the project.”
“That’s what I’m concerned about! How will we work things in black and white if the project’s not even in its early days?”
“Porco.” She sternly interrupted him. “Can’t you see what they are doing to us? We are prisoners to our own device. Marley will never view our points of view, rights, and obligations as only ours to keep. They will squeeze all of the joyousness we possess to contribute to the economic system of this torturous country. Consequently, Zeke’s retirement was inevitable; Not only that, but I suspected Marley might sabotage us at the last minute.”
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Porco’s eyes teared up, mouth agape in disbelief. Pieck sighed melancholically walking to the other side of the table. She gently pulled him into a hug, resting his head on her chest, delicately caressing his head with her hands. “I’m sorry. Believe me, but I wish I could’ve done more for him.”
“So then why not do more?” He snapped, letting the tears spill on his cheeks.
“You know as well as I do how Marley’s regiment works. Our opposition influences nobody. That’s the way that things go around here.” And whilst he wished she was wrong, his biggest nightmare came true: Another young soul sacrificed eternal youth over provisional glory.
A couple of tranquil minutes into the embrace later, Pieck tugged his hand. He raised his head:
“Come on,” She asked him softly. “Commander Magath wants us to witness the ceremony. Everybody’s waiting on us.” No. He couldn’t go. As much as he and Zeke were different, much like chalk and cheese, he couldn’t imagine his despair in those moments. He wasn’t ready to imagine Colt morph from the teenager he was into the dejected pre-adult.
But what was he going to do? He didn’t want to go!; Yet Commander Magath’s orders stood tall. Alas, Porco said the first thing that came to mind to escape the stingy situation:
“Yeah, uhm… I’ll join you shortly. I have to go to the bathroom—” Out the door he was.
The exit seemed farther than he anticipated. And he should have reached it! He wasn’t freezing anymore, his joints arched enough for him to dash through where he passed earlier. But everything was altered: The candles were almost put out, illuminating the hallways weakly; the floorboards creaked, piercing his eardrums. His gaze began blurring, and swirls of dizziness stopped his path.
“Porco.” The voice that beamed at him made his blood run cold. It was Zeke?– Awh, this is so hypocritical! He’s in the basement, being eaten by Colt. There was no way he was speaking to him right now.
“Porco, do not falter! We, Honorary Marleyans, are programmed to receive either way.”
“Zeke, is that really you?” It was the first time Porco spoke to the voices that night. He wanted to be comforted in the slightest, knowing it could have been Zeke, but the chances slimmed with each second.
“In the flesh!”
Years had passed since Porco received his titan. Yet, he suddenly found himself craving for his mother and father. For his mother’s warm meals, and the comfort of his bedroom. It was then that he realized no place could replace his parents. “Zeke! I can’t take this anymore! Please, let me out of this mess. I just want to go home!”
“Marcel, you may never be able to go home.” Marcel? “You can check out at any time you’d like. But you will never have a normal life: Once a titan wielder, your thirteen years are slowly starting to expire. No more, and hopefully no less. Nobody can become a simple civilian after the transformations they endured for the sake of Marley. And nobody chained up in this arrangement will save you. Heck, they won’t remember how you poured your heart out smoking just now!”