Erwin picked a bad time to visit. When he brought his men to the Scorpio Unit's foothold in Stohess, they had just finished inducting several hundred recruits—massively swelling their military strength.
In the past, the three branches might have surrounded and sanctioned them, forcing a dissolution. Not anymore.
With Roger—wielder of Titan power—anchoring an organization of real scale, they feared no one.
Erwin had waited a few days to come because the three corps had been mauled in the "Titan War," left disorganized. Rebuilding headcount and regaining footing—pulling that off in a few days was already fast.
Too late regardless.
The Scorpio Unit would no longer play meek. If the three branches broke their oath and moved on them, they'd smash the pot and the jade alike—drag everyone down together.
Smelling powder thick in the air, Erwin entered the room Roger had set aside for them, flanked by two adjutants.
A tucked-away house, with only one approach—and that single path under heavy Scorpio guard.
Force a breach, and the price would be steep.
Erwin didn't care.
His adjutants wrestled with a weight that sat on the heart, but they kept their composure.
Before departure, Erwin had told them one thing:
"We may be killed going there. Even if I die, humanity will not stop exploring. If you're coming with me, you must be prepared to die."
Even if it meant death.
Even if certain death!
They would never abandon their commander to live alone.
Noting the tight patrols and layered guard, the adjutants traded looks, confirming their resolve.
At the long, narrow table, Erwin and his adjutants found their seats.
They set out paper and pens to record the talk thoroughly and completely.
Erwin sat steady, eyes calm and still.
Leaning on the doorway stood Levi Ackerman. He didn't speak a word, yet somehow it felt like he'd said a lot—things hard to parse, his true intent unreadable.
"A troublesome man," Levi decided at last from that look, and he sighed inwardly for Roger—this young man of nearly his own age, perhaps even younger.
Levi had worked with Roger. He knew that by shrewdness alone, Roger wasn't this man's match.
If necessary, iron methods would be required.
He checked the blades in his scabbard again.
All present, all honed—keen and swift.
Since the fight with Kenny—since killing him—Levi hadn't touched the shotgun again.
The weapon hit hard and wide, but to Levi it was clumsy.
You can't pivot the instant a buckshot blast goes off. Too limiting.
So he abandoned it, returned to steel.
This was Roger and Erwin's negotiation. Levi had promised to protect Roger. If anything broke loose, his blades would fly first, do what they were meant to do—cut down who needed cutting.
Roger didn't keep Erwin waiting. As soon as he'd told his men to seat the visitors, he'd already decided how to explain the world beyond the Walls.
Soon a cluster of people filed into the narrow room.
Among them was Tours, gun in hand, glaring at Erwin and his adjutants like he was waiting on a word to tear them limb from limb.
There was a reason.
Tours still remembered Mike—Erwin's man—making a move on their boss without permission.
If Mike had succeeded, the Scorpio Unit would never have seen today's glory. They wouldn't be sitting across from the Survey Corps commander as equals.
In the end, those people still held prejudice against them, Tours thought stubbornly. The lot of them are quick to wriggle out of promises—treachery comes easy. We have to be ready.
Roger arrived.
He took a seat at random, lifted his gaze to the three sitting upright across the way.
"Gentlemen. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Don't play coy, Roger Eikam. Out with everything you know—now. You promised," one adjutant snapped. He saw no need to be polite to a band of villains.
If Roger weren't a monster, he'd already have planted his boot on the table and put a bullet in someone's skull.
Hearing a small fry bare his teeth at him, Roger frowned and looked to Erwin.
"Forgive him. He's always like this. It needn't affect our discussion."
"You've a good temper, Commander Erwin," Roger said dryly. "If he were mine, I'd have flayed him and thrown him in a field for the rats."
"We don't do that," Erwin said blankly. "We grant everyone the right to speak freely—including you. Including yours."
"How generous." Roger's tone turned arch. "But perhaps you should be thanking me. If I weren't so even-tempered, I can guarantee there wouldn't be a single living soul left inside these Walls."
Erwin gave the threat no acknowledgement.
"Let's get to it. As agreed—recognition. We acknowledge you and your people as a lawful organization. In return, you, Roger, will tell us everything about the outside."
"Of course. I keep my word." Roger shifted in his chair. "I'll answer three questions."
"What do you mean?!" another adjutant shot to his feet, glaring.
Roger looked at him the way a mafia don looks at a braggart.
Click-clack.
Rounds chambered—Tours and the others had them lined up in their sights.
"Two."
Roger revised the terms.
Brazen, right to their faces. The adjutant shook with fury, ready to brawl with the rogue across the table.
Erwin stood and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"No need. I only require one answer—provided you answer in full."
"Commander?!"
The adjutant gaped.
One question?!
What kind of joke—
Roger smiled.
"As expected of you, Commander Erwin. Ask. If I know it, I'll answer in detail. But as you said—only one question."
"One is enough," Erwin said. Under his adjutants' eyes, he swept the room, then voiced the doubt that had gnawed at him for so long:
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