shortcutter | [3] drei | the fertile fortress

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[3] drei | the fertile fortress

The journey wasn't a lengthy one. It was a bit longer than the estimated fifteen kilometers, but for a Survey Corps horse, such distance was akin to a sprint. There had been no cause to stop, and although they'd taken a few minor detours to avoid being harried by wandering titans, they still made good time; however, with the thick silence that held between Levi and Mikasa for the duration, it could have felt shorter. The weather also did them no favors. The sky was pale and overcast while the wind blew hard, threatening a storm.

Their path skirted them well wide of the forest, leaving less chance for a surprise attack. Levi was prepared to encounter a mass of titans as they drew nearer, and had warned Mikasa of the possibility, but the final leg of their trek proved to be uneventful. The lack of titans was almost unsettling, and as the fortress rose into view, Levi motioned for Mikasa to slow. He reigned his own horse to a trot and allowed her to catch up so that the two of them were riding side by side.

The fortress was a broad, hulking structure that sat on the crest of a hill with a shallow and steady incline. Its thick gate, visible from their position, was up and appeared to be fully intact. The crescent cut of a stream ran some twenty meters away from the north and west facing walls, appearing not unlike half a moat. The stream crawled further south only to disappear into the forest.

Still no sign of any titans. So far, this was seeming all too easy. When Levi spoke, he raised his voice to be heard over the light howl of the wind and the rattling of his cape.

"I'm going to give you my extra horse," he said. "Tie them near the gate, then scale the walls from the outside. Find the highest point up there and be my lookout. I'll circle the place and check for any breaches."

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Naturally, there were some marks and stains that would not come out no matter how he used the tools at his limited disposal. In cases like these, his practicality was stronger than his compulsion. The mattress was clean enough now that he could deign to use it; given its make, it would be much better for his sore body than a night on the hard floor. Whether Mikasa thought the same was up to her, though it was difficult to imagine she would be more bothered.

Using the rainwater, Levi thoroughly washed his hands and forearms, scrubbing until they were tingling and pristine. He strode over and crouched at his small, personal pack, then began to paw through it. Earlier, he thought he felt a suspicious lump that hadn't been there when he'd organized his things the night before. His inkling was confirmed: it was a round thing, wrapped in a handkerchief, and there was a gleam of red as he uncovered it.

An apple. Levi wasn't sure who could have sneaked it in, but he suspected it was either Erwin or Hange. But, more strongly, the sight of it made him think of Petra. Similar generosity had been her trademark, and if he'd chose to confront her later, she would have laughed and denied doing it, lying poorly while responding with something like: Captain, don't you know how many big fans you have among the troops? It made his chest feel hollow — but as always, the emptiness refilled shortly with stout resiliency.

Levi turned and held the apple above his shoulder so Mikasa could see it.

"Our dinner just got sweeter," he said. "We must have a big fan."

No matter that it had been among his personal things. It was something to share. Whoever put it there in the first place would certainly understand.

She had dipped a pair of clean handkerchiefs into the water left in the pot and washed up while the tea steeped. A moment of brief, profound pleasure to press the cloth over her face and feel heat seeping into her chilly nose and tired eyes; then she wiped down her neck, hands, and arms, pausing in the middle to decant the teabag into the other cup.

When Levi spoke he interrupted a train of thoughts about what Eren was doing this night, whether he was comfortable (probably) and being treated well at the summit, whether Armin was watching out for him. She looked over Levi's way with reserve -- though, seeing what he held, she wondered who the fan was and how they knew she liked apples.

She brought his tea over to him and in the process plucked the apple from his grasp. Curling both hands around it, she rolled her wrists; the apple snapped in half with a crack and a burst of delicious scent. Unceremoniously she held out one half to him. Its white, fragrant interior shimmered in the firelight.

Since her hands looked freshly spotless, Levi had no logical issue with the abrupt splitting — nor much of an emotional one. Fruit was simply food, and it all served the same basic function: it was consumed, used for necessary nutrients, then the rest was shat out. Yes, it was a juicy, scrumptious gift, but it would ultimately end up in the same place as the grainy, tasteless hardtack.

Levi kept his empty hand raised. He glanced at the half she held out to him, then up toward her eyes. There was nothing to it — her look. No indication that she expected him to do anything other than take the half she offered, ignoring how she'd snatched the apple right from his grasp without a word.

He extended his hand slightly further, keeping his fingers open and his gaze level. Nothing in his expression hinted at any irritation or impatience.

"I'll take the other half."

Mikasa blinked and glanced down at the two halves. Was one bigger than the other? They looked more or less the same. His face was obscure in the shadows, sharp, lit only on one side by the fire. In any event, there was nothing she could tell from it.

Out of an inability to imagine any reason why not, she handed him the other half as he'd requested. Doing so produced an unaccountable tightness in her scalp and an expression of mild consternation.

Apples brown fast. She cupped her hands around her half and bit into it. The skin was tight and bitter, the flesh crisp and sweet. A dark look was directed at Levi from beneath her black lashes; her neck felt bare, and she turned on one heel and returned to the fireside to open the other packets.

Levi watched her turn, then bit hard into his half. He took his time chewing, enjoying the texture almost as much as the taste. After a second bite, he sampled the tea. It was the tired, standard-issue brew — how many hundreds of cups had he swilled? — but the initial sip did its job, working quickly to dispel any of the chill that still hung to his insides.

Before long, Levi joined Mikasa by the fire. Using his foot, he nudged the bedside bench across the room so that it rested next to hers, then he sat and crossed his feet. His knees and shins absorbed most of the heat, so he adjusted the angle of the bench a bit and settled casually with his body open to hers.

He supposed she could use some debriefing, and now was as good a time as any.

"The titans inside were pretty damn frisky, even in the dark," he said. "And the ones outside attacked as soon as they all started moving. So what do you think? Doesn't seem like a coincidence."

Already, they knew the Ape Titan was capable of directing a legion of its fellows at seemingly any hour, so that was where the evidence pointed. It didn't mean much that its hairy ass hadn't showed; they still knew very little when it came to the power behind controlling titans.

This casual guy.... She thought, but said nothing.

Not because he deserved it, nor because it was what was done for a superior officer, but simply out of habit, Mikasa broke a piece of hardtack into fingers, and set a few strips of jerky (it was better not to ask what the jerky was of. Meat was rare enough these days,) next to them on a clean napkin, and set the whole business on the bench at Levi's side. She arranged herself at the far end of the bench with a similar portion in her lap and her teacup at her hip, neither particularly looking at Levi, nor particularly avoiding him in favor of the fire and the long red scarf dangling above it.

"It's the Ape Titan," she replied bluntly. Her voice was soft and resonant with fatigue. Methodically she tore a shred from her jerky, balanced it on top of a finger of hardtack, and nibbled.

The weariness in her voice was discernible, but that was fine. Levi had no intention of needlessly dragging this chat on — or likely any conversation in the future. Still, he attended to his food with no urgency to speak of, loading a napkin full of the jerky and hardtack, approximating his share. He chewed on the jerky separately, and softened the hardtack in his tea before eating it piece by piece.

His question had been bait for a quick, easy answer, but it lead directly to a follow-up that centered around what she should believe to be the crux of their mission.

"It seems like that thing has a particular interest in his fortress," he said, after swallowing. "It can get titans in. That's something we should assume. So what happens, even if we take tomorrow to clean out every titan in the walls? Will it ever be a safe place for Eren to hide?"

She stared into the fire following Levi's pronouncement, looking blank, not even fiddling with her dinner now. Her lips parted; her gaze focused at something in the flames. After a breath she turned to Levi.

"...We'll have to kill it."

The statement was peculiarly hesitant, like Levi might judge her answer correct or incorrect.

The thought represented a change in her previous strategy, which involved Eren secure within the walls, herself at the gate, and Levi and everyone else in the environs and woods, keeping the titans at bay. (Erwin did not appear in this strategy.) But if it was true, the thing Levi was hinting at, if the Ape Titan could bring the titans inside the fortress walls, then -- there was no strategy that did not start with the death of the Ape Titan. Quite unconsciously she assumed it would be them, her and Levi, specifically, who accomplished this task.

"We will."

Whether he was simply agreeing or making an optimistic prediction, Levi would not clarify. He didn't trust himself to accurately guess how Erwin would react to the information they returned with. Seeing the bigger picture and responding however necessary was the commander's lot; he might prepare a full on offensive to take the Ape Titan down, or he could abandon the idea of occupying the fortress altogether. Levi wouldn't openly question either decision.

So, for the moment, it wasn't his concern — though there was one last pressing bit of business.

"Staying to kill all the titans inside might end up being risky and pointless," he said. "We could leave first thing in the morning instead."

Earlier, he'd meant what he said: We'll deal with them. If Mikasa was paying any attention, she ought to know where he stood. Still, there was some logic behind the opposite choice, even if it ultimately went against both of Erwin's goals. In the end, though, what she answered was less important than how.

"Leave..." She started, thinking aloud, then turned her attention back to the fire.

We could leave. Back, close to Eren again. The ape -- a team, pulled together, a strategy, Hange would have one. Erwin would have one. No, what if they didn't see it. The importance. It rated low on her scale to kill titans for the sake of killing titans. That didn't matter. The risk wasn't worth it. But... where would the search start. We came here because of the attacks. Not one, but many.

Her gaze became suddenly sharp; she glared at Levi, nearly accusatory, and spoke harshly. "No, Levi, we can't leave. We haven't searched the castle. What if it comes here for a reason?"

What if there's something here, something it wants or something it's attached to. If Levi doesn't notice... if he doesn't care --

"We have to stay." Abruptly she set aside her dinner and stood up to collect her harness from the floor. "...I'll go search now."

The change was remarkable. Her tiredness washed away; she stood straight, battle-ready in an instant, and gambling only against how long Levi could be made to stay on site. Though what the difference was between going alone at night while he slept, or going alone in the morning after he had left, she couldn't say; only that there was one.

Her damn willfulness — somehow, it was still catching him off guard. She had the right answer but the wrong extreme. Given her sudden zeal, it seemed certain she understood the importance of staying to search, but it would be stupid for her to go alone. Too dangerous. Too easy for her to be blindsided, grabbed and killed, as he had nearly been.

"Step one is cutting her off from everything she knows and putting her life in someone else's hands."

It took Erwin's steady words in his head for Levi to recognize the opportunity. Not like before, when they'd saved each other in the heat of battle. That was a natural instinct — certainly for him, and for what he knew of her. She'd saved people; he'd gone over a particular report from the battle for Trost, when she'd rescued a group of civilians that were bottlenecked at a point of escape.

But what did that nuance matter? Levi could let her go, then wrench her from the jaws death at the last available moment as a kind of harshly-designed lesson, but would the result be worth the gamble? In the brief moment he had, before she went strutting out the door, he decided to err on the side of caution.

"Sit down," he said, "and finish eating. I told you we'd deal with them, but there's no reason to do it now. Those ugly shits will still be there in the morning. If you've got that much energy, then you can take first watch."

Edited (you sold me on "kindly" bro) 2013-11-22 07:44 (UTC)

The buckle clicked shut at her thigh. she paused for a moment, and glanced at him, her bare foot still propped up on the bench.

"...Ah..."

Resolutely she turned her attention back to her straps. The other leg was next, then she stretched out and tested for binds.

"Then... I'll take first watch."

It seemed silly now, rushing like that. Levi probably knew before he started asking questions. Awkward. She had seen him after missions when his silence was palpable and he stared off into the distance as if still looking for the ones who had been left behind. Why had she assumed he would so easily leave her behind now?

She finished strapping herself in, mechanically, lost in thought.

Levi didn't mind; better for her to show excessive initiative than none at all. He couldn't fault her for misinterpreting his intentions, either, since he hadn't been straightforward. If there was an aspect of training he could struggle with, it was the teaching — showing, rather than telling, often felt arduous when he preferred to be blunt and to the point. He'd gotten better, over the years, but many of the finer aspects still eluded him.

It may have been only early evening, yet, but Levi had long since learned to get his sleep as time and situation allowed. He decided against a second cup of tea and ate what remained on his napkin. Afterwards, he tidied up the area around the fireplace and prepared for bed. He rinsed his mouth with water and a solution from his effects, then spat out the window. From one of the bundles he took a rolled blanket and unfurled it across the mattress, then stripped to his undershirt and shorts.

Before turning in, he approached their collection of firewood and divided it into piles, each representing roughly two hours worth. There looked to be enough to last the night, and it was as good a way as any to keep track of the time.

"Take as long a shift as you want," he said.

And that was all. Returning to the bed, he lay on his side, pulled the blanket over himself, and hardly shifted after closing his eyes.

At first, uncertain of how soundly he slept, she tiptoed. From window to window, she looked out into the night -- a futile effort, as it was pitch dark and the only view revealed was of the steady drizzle against the glass. Then along the far wall, though she had to circle the big bed frame, where she listened intently. The wall with the door, the wall that ran along the hallway, was where she took the most time and walked the most quietly, even running her hand along the stone lightly to search for vibrations. In the looming nighttime quiet it was impossible to tell which clicks and cracks and rumbles were the furniture settling, the horses in the entryway, the distant movement of titans or mice in the walls.

One slow circuit of the room, then a few minutes by the fire (very, very quietly) to rest up, then another circuit. Once or twice her attention slid towards the bed and the dark head poking out from the blanket. The fire started to burn low and it proved very difficult to feed it without what seemed like a lot of noise; it didn't seem to rouse him at all, however, and after that she walked on eggshells a little less, and even dared to fix another two cups of tea.

After these little incidents had passed, the watch laid very heavily on her. She had been tired before; once her determined rush had worn off, fatigue welled up in its place. She clung grimly to alertness, willing away the little surges of sleep that tugged at her, listening always for threats. At one point she lingered at the window and stared out into the moonless damp night, and a sensation of loneliness singed her heart. Long kilometers separated her from Eren; she didn't know if he was sleeping now or not, she hadn't seen him off to bed for the first time in months.

Here there was only Levi. A weird man. Cold and then warm. Competent, she supposed. Someone, she thought, tentatively, who could probably be relied on. For some things. She admitted that he was not as inaccessible as she had thought, before. How long should she let him sleep. He'd said to take as long a shift as she wanted. Two hours was a standard watch, four hours a long watch. She did another circuit of the room.

Halfway through the second bundle of wood, she knelt by the mattress and wondered how to wake him up.

"Levi..."

Said so quietly it was nearly pointless. It felt odd to touch someone she didn't know well while he was sleeping. But.

Her hand curled around his firm shoulder and - shaking him seemed wrong. Piqued, she did so anyway, gently.

"Levi, it's your turn."

There was a fresh cup of tea waiting for him on the bench.

In his dreams, he saw shadows of the dead. He could so rarely recognize a face. A shimmering essence, then a turn of the head. A hovering something. White, filtered sunlight. Scratching leaves. Chatter like voices — pleasant sounds — which prompted another turn. No one. A stroll in the woods where he'd seen them die, but no disfigured corpses. No blood. No nicks or scars on the trees. A ghostly grip on his shoulder felt hard but reassuring.

Not a nightmare, so when he woke, it wasn't with a start. Levi felt tranquil but chilly. His eyes fluttered, and Mikasa's face appeared as a pale, floating thing until his mind began to acclimate itself from the dream. He let out a soft groan, which was all he needed to put the images of the haunted forest to bed.

As he sat up, he glanced toward the fireplace, then the wood. He shoved the blanket away and slid off the bed opposite of where she stood. After one stretch and a swivel of the neck, he spotted the tea. He looked back toward Mikasa and gave her a nod. Hard to contest that this one wasn't worth keeping around.

"Good work. I'll take a long one."

And then it was to business, getting dressed and suiting up before sitting and feeding the fire, granting her the privacy of his back.

Somehow Mikasa had assumed that Levi would wake up and be instantly hardass Levi. To see him rouse like that, hazy for a moment, tousled and disoriented -- it left an unaccountable impression of gentleness, like the scent of apples.

Hardass Levi made his appearance soon enough. Mikasa left him to his devices and rubbed her inexpressibly tired brow and shucked off her gear and boots and most of her clothes and... a pause, she lifted her fingers absentmindedly to her neck. She frowned. Tossing her shirt back on and holding it closed with one hand, she marched over to the fire, elaborately ignoring Levi, and tugged her scarf from the clothesline. Without so much as a 'good night' or 'thanks' she marched back to the bed.

Wound up in its familiar comfort, its warmth penetrating her skin, the fragrance of smoke and family wafting gently up from its folds, she felt unaccountably better. The place where Levi had slept was still warm. She nestled into it, flattened out comfortably, and closed her eyes. For a few minutes she hovered in semi-wakefulness -- too tired and full of indistinct, disturbing memories of the day's work to sleep. The sounds of Levi going about his business felt regular and distractingly soothing. she slept very soundly once it came.

That token of hers…

Though Levi had always seen her wearing it, he'd never bothered to consider its import. Now, as he sat sipping the tea she'd brewed, he had little else to occupy his thoughts. He knew her parents had been murdered when she was young, so perhaps it was a keepsake of theirs. This was assuming the scarf had special significance; maybe she just liked it. People could grow attached to their effects for idle reasons. Levi wondered which tendency more suited her character, but soon decided that there was no telling.

After a moment, he traveled the room as she had, quietly patrolling the perimeter and listening into the walls. Despite what he'd told Mikasa, Levi was eager, if not impatient, to give the fortress a thorough search. If they managed to find anything, though, what were the chances it would simply deepen the mysteries that already plagued them? Given their recent pattern of discovery, it would be frustratingly fitting.

With the uneven pops and crackle of the fire as his only timepiece, the hours crept by. Levi stayed patient and wary. He made several trips around the room, and kept the fire well fueled in between. Eventually, he prepared more tea and helped himself to a few mouthfuls of hardtack. The wood began to dwindle, and Levi roused Mikasa when there were just a few good pieces left.

He stood, but didn't approach the bed. His voice cut across the room, sharp and whip-like.

"Ackerman."

There was no fresh, steaming drink waiting for her, but the packets were out and water was beginning to boil over the fire. She could help herself.

At the sound she inhaled swiftly and rolled onto her side. Her dark eyes opened. Inertia from some dream she could not remember kept her unnaturally still for a moment; she stared at the wall blankly. Dark water, nothingness. She took another deep breath as she slipped away from its weight into wakefulness.

Sliding off the mattress, she straightened her scarf and stood up. Long white legs poked out from below the hem of her open shirt as she struggled into her trousers; buttoning things, belting things. She finally looked over at Levi when she was mostly put together and combing her fingers through her hair. By the state of the firewood, it couldn't be much longer til dawn. From the darkness at the windows, it was impossible to tell.

With hands slightly stiff from exertion and sleep, she clipped her gear into the receiver at the small of her back, and asked without much interest, "Has it stopped raining yet?"

Levi stretched each of his arms, then consulted the windows and found the same untelling darkness.

"Maybe," he answered. "It's not as hard, at least. Listen."

Earlier, the rainfall had kept up an audible pattering; the chamber now sounded perfectly insulated. Making his way back toward the mattress, Levi looked Mikasa over in a perfunctory way and stopped as he passed behind her. She'd missed a loose clump of hair standing up at the back of her head. He smoothed it down for her, then leaned next to the bedside window. Perhaps his mind was playing tricks, but with a closer look, it appeared as though the hilly landscape below had gained some sharpness since he checked last.

"We'll get going once the birds start up."

They ought to be loud enough. An abandoned fortress could make an ideal nesting place, and in further evidence, Levi had already noticed an abundance of dried shit built up around the ledges and overhangs they'd passed.

Quite automatically her hands leapt to where he had brushed down her hair -- as if he were going to pull some kind of prank and rub honey on her or something. Of course, there was nothing. A strange alertness followed in the wake of his touch, ticklish, unlike the familiar air of Eren's tousling or Armin brushing a loose hair from her shoulder, and she spun to watch him as he went to the window. Strange man.

One of the decaying books on the floor lay open. Dark and splotchy around the edges from mildew, there was nevertheless an illustration clear upon the page: in watercolors, of an archaic tint, a picture of a castle window framing a blonde princess who raised a slim, graceful hand. Roses, lavish with fat pink blooms, climbed the walls, and climbing the roses was an athletic hero with an old-fashioned sword in his hand. He was smiling; he had a sharp chin and black hair. With one leg (in particolor tights, one leg red, the other blue) akimbo as he inclined towards the princess... not that it mattered, just that Levi was leaning in almost exactly the same way, except grouchy.

She flipped the book closed with the toe of her boot.

He was right about the rain, anyway. It was quiet now. She wondered if he would try to get a little more sleep in, or what. It was his business either way. She filled a cup with cold water from a skin, drained it, set the cup on the bench, and began warming up for the day's work with a series of slow, serious extensions.

It wasn't long before the complex burbling of blackbirds broke from the eaves.

Feeling as though the extra rest might make him nothing but groggy, Levi fell into a vaguely meditative state as he continued to stare out the window and watch the spanning pasture grow steadily lighter. As the birds began to chirp, he looked back toward Mikasa. She'd heard him. He was certain she would be prompt as they prepared to leave, but he held his glance for a few seconds. Behind his hard eyes, there was an obtuse sympathy, if she could see it: Here we go again. This is it what it means to sacrifice yourself for humanity.

Levi tended to the supplies, equipping himself with a fluidity that appeared automatic. He then doused the fire and began grabbing his garments from the clothesline, folding them quickly before stowing them away. He'd weighed the benefits of leaving their things and coming back for them later, but they may be forced to leave in a hurry — better to do so with their survival necessities in tow.

"We'll bring all of this to the horses first," he said. "If I say it's time to go, then we go. Let's start with the keep and search from the ground up."

Once everything was packed, Levi swung one of the hefty bundles over his back. As soon as Mikasa was ready, he approached the door and kicked it open, unsheathing a blade as he turned into the corridor.

She saw nothing in his eyes; she wasn't looking. In line with his orders, there was only packing and a quick breakfast. Before she ducked into the corridor she turned to look one last time at the room; a thin, shadowy dawn light slunk through the windows and illuminated the white mattress among the detritus. A nameless feeling, to see it. The hallway was markedly colder than the room.

The next hours passed in tense near-silence. Any ceiling higher than 3m became cause for instant concern; anything lower, and they would look for the burst-holes first, then listen for the beating of heads against walls, or splayed titans, grinning hideously, trapped inexplicably in rooms. There was a difference, she thought, watching Levi easily slice through the nape of an immense neck, between the way they went about this work. He was precise, moreso than just by the dictates of a killer instinct. Elegant. It almost felt like he enjoyed it, that this was the handiwork of an artist and not just a housecleaning chore.

By midmorning the first floor and half of the second were clear and they were more or less apprised of the layout of the keep; but there was no sign of anything noteworthy. At least, not that Mikasa could tell. The windows allowed in only limited light and they still depended on torches in the halls.

The tower -- they knew already to expect a fight there. Their suite on the second floor had felt safe enough in the night. In general if there were titans above, then wouldn't the structural damage have been felt? But the ceilings were sound throughout the first floor. Why were there titans inside anything? Near the stairs Mikasa finally broke the silence.

"...Where do you think they're coming from?"

Good question. With his spare thoughts, Levi had spent much of the morning wondering the same thing. The Ape Titan had a penchant for throwing things, but the idea that it could have tossed each titan up and over the fortress walls was beyond absurd. It could have opened the gates itself to let them in — with, say, a part-human accomplice — but to what end? Just to ambush and trap the first unlucky asses that showed up?

Forcing himself to accept the notion that the titans could feasibly be birthed inside, Levi considered further. It needed to be somewhere spacious, somewhere that wouldn't harm the structural integrity, somewhere hidden…

"Somewhere underground," he said.

Annoying that it took him so long to puzzle out. Here they were at the stairs, at least. Levi nodded for Mikasa to follow, then headed down. He kept his senses raised, ever alert, though they'd been this way before. The stairs dipped half a flight below ground level and appeared to end at a small, enclosed room that was likely an old guard station. There was one exiting passage that would have lead deeper, presumably to the holding cells, but the way had caved in and was inaccessible.

Levi set his torch on a sconce and more closely examined the room. Its walls, floor and ceiling were plain, gray stone. The only fixtures remaining were a dusty, molded desk with a wide shelf behind it. If there was something concealed here, there was just one place to check. Levi slid away his blade, approached the shelf, then gripped one side. The thing was hefty.

"Help me move this."

Her torch tucked into a similar sconce; she was already coming around to the side of the thing as he spoke. Though she hadn't followed right away why it was necessary, she began to put it together as she got a grip on the thing. A testing nudge - its weight was oppressive against her hand. Levi probably thought there was something behind it. She looked to him for a sign, and, at his mark, she hauled the shelf back as he pushed. A long groan of hardwood grinding against stone, a cloud of chalky dust, and they revealed gradually a gaping hole in the wall.

The portal was finished at the edges and opened upon a stairwell leading down into a guttering darkness. The light of the torch showed sconces in the corridor wall and, at the bottom of the steps, what seemed to be the glint of metal, perhaps iron bars. Hard to tell. The cold air that wafted up brought the scent of minerals and mildew but did not have the stale closed-in quality of a sealed chamber.

Mikasa leaned back against the desk, one hand on the hilt of a sword, her pupils huge and black in the dim as she considered what they had found. But there are no titans underground. That was the way it had been, til now. But what would be hidden in a place like this.

More mysteries. She glanced over at Levi, who might have a better idea.

Above all she began to wonder: who had hidden this hallway?

They were lucky. It had just been a hunch, but Levi's instincts were once again on the money. Good thing, too; he would not have enjoyed scouring the grounds in their entirety to locate another secret passage. An additional hunch suggested that the underground space was vast, and that there were other entry points hidden about — some large enough to accommodate titans, even — but there was no way to confirm such a thing until they explored further.

Levi retrieved his torch and lead the way. Naturally, the darkness was absolute. In the confines of this fortress, he'd already been surprised and caught once; it wouldn't happen again. With limited vision, Levi turned to his ears. He listened into the hazily-lit void, primed to jump at any divulging noises. Still, his eyes were also keen to any shady movement. Levi's venture down the stairwell was cautious but steady.

After another half a flight, the stairs flattened out. Though the ceiling was low, the width of the room spanned for several dozen meters — further than Levi could see with his torch. Surrounding the two of them were cells. Many. More than any reasonably-sized fortress needed. The putrid scent of rot and death pervaded, and as Levi examined one of the larger cells, he spotted the inappreciable remains of a human being — stark white bones, and less flesh than dust.

So lay the fate of every man. Whether in the stomach of a titan or forgotten in the stinking depths of a dungeon, there was only one way a human life could end. Levi looked toward Mikasa, who had separated herself a bit, the torch hardly bobbing in her grip. Levi rejoined her; so long as they weren't moving at the hip, it was safer for them to stay in close proximity as they continued to probe along.

please do

;_; sorry she is going to blow the inherent beauty of his gesture

inherent beauty be overrated

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"his fortress" yeah no. how do proofread

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then suddenly a novel

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you're free to shove things along until the fun stuff

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sneaks in through back door shhh also lmk if anything needs changing

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