The first rays of morning light cut through the misty veil that lingered above the rooftops of Stoheis. Golden warmth spilled across the cobblestones, brushing against the faces of townsfolk who squinted upward as if savoring a fleeting blessing.
But before anyone could bask in its calmness, the sound of boots and hooves thundered down the main avenue. The unmistakable sight of a vast convoy entered Stoheis District, flags of the Survey Corps fluttering in the breeze. Rows of horses, wagons, and soldiers marched in formation, their presence so heavy it silenced chatter before it sparked again in hushed voices.
From the windows of cramped houses and shops, residents craned their necks, curiosity overtaking caution.
"The Wings of Freedom… It's the Survey Corps."
"Are they… planning another expedition beyond the walls?"
"Look at their numbers! That's more than usual."
"If they could reclaim Wall Maria, maybe we wouldn't be suffocating like this in overcrowded districts."
"Don't be naïve. Outside are Titans—tens of thousands. How could a few hundred soldiers clear them all?"
"It may be difficult, but isn't hope better than despair?"
"Hmph, or maybe they're just putting on a show. They could ride out, make some noise, then turn back as always."
Despite the skepticism, there was an undeniable shift in tone compared to the years before Shiganshina's fall. Where once the Corps had been mocked as wasteful fools throwing away lives, now there was respect—some even admiration.
The truth was simple: only the Survey Corps still dared to fight Titans.
The Garrison sat idle, content with their rations and alcohol. The Military Police buried themselves in corruption and self-indulgence behind Wall Sina. When danger pressed against humanity, only these men and women bore the burden.
The younger recruits, riding near the middle of the convoy, noticed the change in the air. For the first time, they weren't greeted by insults or thrown stones but by something that resembled faith. Tears pricked in some eyes, hidden beneath helmets.
Finally—after years of being scorned—the people began to see them not as parasites, but as the shield humanity desperately needed.
Lock, perched firmly atop his horse, took it in quietly. His hood shadowed his face, but his thoughts flickered between cynicism and understanding.
"Only when desperation claws at their throats do people realize who protects them," he reflected. "But I can't hate them for it. They've been caged by ignorance, trained by the king's government to keep their world small. Their narrow vision isn't malice—it's all they know."
Even so, his chest carried no warmth for the crowd's cheers. To him, they were still strangers, victims of their own confinement. Change would never come from their hopes alone.
Change demanded power. And opportunity.
He cast a glance toward the carriage trundling beside the horses. Through the open slit of a window, Petra and Ymir sat resting, their eyes closed in brief peace. For an instant, Lock envied their ease. Women didn't endure the ache of hours in a saddle. But comfort was a luxury he couldn't afford to linger on.
Somewhere in these very streets, Reiner, Bertolt, and Annie could be watching.
If they chose to strike here, amidst the crowded houses, the Corps would be crippled. Civilians would die in droves. It would be a massacre—and Erwin knew it. That was why their true destination was not Stoheis itself.
The commander's plan was simple but brutal: march through the district, leave via the outer gate, and bait the enemy into a confrontation outside the walls. There, with no innocents at risk, the Survey Corps could fight without restraint.
But for that plan to work, the enemy needed to take the bait.
Lock's grip tightened around his reins. He'd ordered Eld, Oruo, and the others in his squad to stay alert. They didn't understand why, not fully—but they obeyed. Better confusion than complacency.
The convoy pressed on.
By the time they reached the central thoroughfare of Stoheis, the towering outer wall loomed close. Another twenty minutes and they would be at the gate.
Yet Lock's thoughts turned grim. In all their planning, one moment remained dangerously vulnerable: the transition at the gate. Moving such a large force beyond the wall required time. Soldiers and supplies couldn't simply vanish at once; wagons had to be lifted by the great elevators, horses guided through narrow channels. For those precious minutes, the Corps would be stretched thin, divided, exposed.
"If they choose that moment to strike…" His jaw clenched. "Then we'll bleed to hold them back."
Beneath his hood, his expression hardened to cold steel. Around him, most comrades bore serious faces but not the same weight of awareness. For many, this was still just another march—another venture into mystery. They carried nerves, yes, but also an almost youthful curiosity. They did not yet know the shadow hanging over them.
They would soon.
High above, across the rooftops near the gate, three hooded figures crouched low, watching the line of soldiers snake closer.
Reiner. Bertolt. Annie.
They had been waiting.
"Finally," Bertolt muttered, breath tight with nerves. "Do we… do we strike now?"
The anxiety in his tone betrayed him. Among Marley's warrior candidates, his physical ability was exceptional. But when pressure bore down, his courage cracked. Retreat, hesitation—that was always his instinct.
Reiner's hand pressed on his shoulder firmly. His whisper carried steadiness:
"Not yet. They're too far from the gate. Even if we attacked, forcing our way out of Stoheis would be chaos. Too many civilians, too many chances for failure. We wait."
Unlike Bertolt, Reiner's resolve was tempered; his sense of duty burned into every fiber of his being. He understood responsibility. Once he chose a path, nothing wavered him.
"…Alright," Bertolt exhaled, though tension knotted his shoulders. He shifted, eyes darting toward the figure crouched beside them. Annie's hood concealed most of her expression, but her sharp eyes never left the convoy.
"They're preparing to leave the district," Annie observed flatly. "The gate's closed now. That means they'll use the elevators. That's where we strike. They'll be scattered, vulnerable. Our chances of success rise."
Her words carried no hesitation—only calculation. Yet, after a moment, her lips tightened.
"But…" Her voice lowered, barely audible. "…is he with them?"
The weight behind her tone was clear. She meant the one with the power of the Founding Titan.
Reiner's eyes narrowed, then gave a single, decisive nod.
"He should be. For them, the ability to go beyond the wall is everything. They'd keep him close."
Bertolt nodded quickly in agreement, though his gaze lingered strangely on Annie. His expression shifted—nervous, yearning, conflicted. He opened his mouth, perhaps to speak, but Annie's glance cut him short.
Cold. Distant. She turned back toward the advancing convoy, as if Bertolt's presence meant nothing at all.
The three crouched in silence, hearts steadying, as the Survey Corps inched closer to their trap.
The sun climbed higher, painting the rooftops in light. The district held its breath.
And within the convoy, Lock's instincts screamed—the storm was near.
---
A/N: Advanced Chapters Have Been Uploaded On My Patreon
Support: patreon.com/Narrator_San