As a member of the Survey Corps, Krista came to the Scorpio Corps and wasn't treated any kind of special.
No one guarded her like a rare animal, and no one looked down on her either.
Most people—Roger aside—didn't even get the chance to say a single word to her.
Though Roger once ran a gang, this wasn't some pack of street thugs. Krista was pretty and small enough to look fragile, but Roger didn't permit anyone to lay a hand on her. If anyone so much as showed the slightest disrespect—even in body language—Roger punished them.
On her second day with the Scorpio Corps, Krista sent a letter back to her regiment, reporting her status.
Commander Erwin had ordered her to report once a week. If any week passed without word, the three branches would come in person to confirm Krista's safety.
Between the lines, Krista sounded… happy. She wrote honestly about what she saw here. Not only was there no discomfort, but thanks to Roger's particular attention, her basic needs—food, clothing, lodging—were as well provided as possible.
She also described the Corps' strict discipline and high washout rate. Contrary to what they'd imagined, everyone here followed Roger's orders to the letter, and every rule he set.
Frankly, the Scorpio Corps was no longer a rabble of lowlifes. High pay and high discipline had retrained them, letting each person lean into their strengths.
It wasn't perfect, but there was no broad discontent.
Krista felt the unit's combat power would absolutely surpass the three branches' carefully selected elites—perhaps by a lot.
She wondered what the commander would think when he read it, and waited daily for his reply.
At last, on the third day, it came.
He reiterated her assignment and said nothing at all about her observations.
"So I did say too much, huh…"
Krista sighed.
Tomorrow was the day Roger had told her they'd depart from the Walls. The Scorpio Corps and the Survey Corps would set out together—one heading south, the other north. After culling Titans to the end of the island, they'd rendezvous.
According to Roger, a country called "Marley" had troops posted there, guarding a harbor.
That harbor had firepower far beyond anything inside the Walls—and ships the size of fortresses.
The Titans that escaped from the Walls were that nation's top-line weaponry.
If they couldn't avoid them, a fight would be inevitable.
So Roger had warned Erwin to prepare for combat against humans, lest Marley catch them flat-footed.
Krista packed her kit, ready for a long stint outside.
Roger even stopped by to ask if she needed anything else.
That raised her opinion of him.
But Roger had another reason.
To him, Krista looked far too delicate—as if a stiff breeze would knock her over. If she died by accident under his banner, then no matter how many Titans the Scorpio Corps killed, it wouldn't matter.
If hundreds or thousands of soldiers couldn't keep a single little girl safe, the Walls would laugh at them—and any hope of cleaning their name would be a joke.
So Roger took special care.
Even on deployment, he would place Krista dead center of the formation, the safest slot, and keep her there.
On the other side, the Survey Corps didn't need to treat Roger's envoy the same way.
Because they didn't need to.
Roger was sure the Scorpio Corps would win, so he planned to send his most trusted man—Tours—to tally the Survey Corps' Titan kills.
What Roger absolutely didn't expect was that Tours couldn't even do addition and subtraction under a hundred.
Hard to believe—but true. Tours had been abandoned by his parents as soon as he could form memories, begging with his little sister to survive. Later he drifted into Red Eye's gang, thinking he could make good money. But because Red Eye was incompetent—and because Tours was young and underestimated—he couldn't both do gang work and beg for food. In the end, his two-year-old sister froze and starved to death.
So he hated Red Eye—hated his weakness, his uselessness, his lack of faith.
He trained himself like a madman until he became the bull-shouldered hulk he was—and until Red Eye died and Roger, who could actually make money for his men, took over.
For that leader who spotted talent and used it well, Tours was loyal to the bone.
But numbers under a hundred? He couldn't manage.
The only arithmetic he'd ever learned was driven into him after a swindler cheated him out of five coppers.
So he couldn't tally. After turning it over, Roger sent someone else. Not a nobody. Not a goon.
Levi Ackerman.
Before departure, Roger told Levi there was no need to idle; keep your own count of the Titans you kill, he said—you'll have a use for it later.
Levi had no idea what Roger was plotting. But he'd at least read a few books in the Underground, and as a former boss he could do basic math.
If Roger said not to sit on his hands, he'd do as told.
"The Survey Corps should meet your blade needs. Their gear's issued by the crate; don't worry about running out," Roger said, reaching to clap Levi's shoulder—only for Levi to slip away, face twisted in distaste, as prickly as ever.
"I know. Don't get mother-hen on me," Levi said, swung into the saddle, and rode off.
He was headed for the Survey Corps' post.
One day later, Roger would march his own unit out.
They didn't plan to start by killing Titans. First, they'd patch the hole the Colossal Titan had kicked in Shiganshina's gate.
With the War Hammer's power, Roger figured it would be easy.
So, the next morning, fully kitted, he led his equally armored troops through the great open gate on horseback.
No cheers. No send-off. People hid to the side, staring blankly as the column left the city.
For once, they didn't curse Roger. At this moment, he was doing a thing of immense good for them.
A task the witless monarchy's 100,000-strong expedition hadn't managed.
Repair Wall Maria. Reclaim the lands beneath Wall Maria that Titans had occupied for years.
"All units—on my mark! Move!"
From the saddle, Roger raised his flare gun. One round in—fire. Green smoke lanced upward, pulling every Scorpio soldier's eyes skyward.
And then—
A strange sound.
Bang!
Bang!!
BOOM!!!
A thunderous impact rolled across them, and every head snapped toward the source of the sound.
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