Yesterday's Enemy [AoT]

NINETY

(ONE YEAR LATER)

'Memory is often the deadliest and most potent method of control. It is in our instincts to flee from what has wounded us. Bear your consequences as a knife, and strike to scar.'

-An unseen extract written by scholar and journalist Aksel Briggs.

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NINETY

Wall Maria, North Region, Islet, Briggs manor

Aksel Briggs watched the city with a blank gaze.

He stood, firm, gargoyle-like upon the balcony of his grand manor, taking in the world as if it were no more than an elaborate game.

Twice, he swept his cold, calculative eyes over the city of Islet. Far below scuttered about the little people, driven mad with regard for little problems in their little lives. He might have pitied them. But the hierarchy seemed almost natural, watching from afar.

How it must be dull to be so narrow-minded, Briggs thought, descending the staircase of his great manor. His cane echoed a deep thud through the building as it struck the floor.

Below, his wife Adette got a little fright at the sound. She kept her eyes trained down, a farce of being interested in the marble patterns. The hint of a smile tugged at Briggs' lips.

All was falling into place.

So long, he had spent planning, reaching up to his grand dream. The chessboard was set, the pieces laid, now, he need only to strike. King. Rook. Pawn.

If the world was a game, this might be the greatest indeed.

Briggs took his wife's hand. He squeezed her wrist just a little too hard, she inhaled sharply but did not dare protest. "We will not have a repeat of last week."

He saw her nod from the corner of his eye. Unacceptable.

"Use your words."

"Yes, dear," she managed out.

Briggs returned his eyes to the door in front of them. The future was beckoning. But this was no fate; every piece had been laid, and quite particularly too. A Briggs left nothing to chance.

He didn't hesitate. Perfectly on cue, the grand doors were opened and out stepped Briggs, the perfect picture of strength.

Cheers erupted like screams.

Before his doorstep, were thousands upon thousands of his followers. The grand gardens of the Briggs manor were packed to the gates with unfortunates who had turned to him with their hopes. To them, this man was a god amongst men.

He made a charming smile grace his cold features, stepping forward, waving subtly. The picture must be painted. As expected, the cheers loudened.

All Briggs had to do was raise a hand, and every man, woman, and child fell deathly silent, waiting on his words.

He gazed upon the masses. Just as he was about to open his mouth and grace the crowd with a fresh slew of expertly crafted lies, Briggs was interrupted.

Two of his henchmen were hauling a woman before him, clutching a baby in her arms, a little girl at her legs. "Found this one raiding the food supplies, sir."

They shoved the woman to her knees. She looked up to his cold, callous gaze, tear-filled eyes searching for some semblance of mercy. She bowed to him, clutching her babe to her chest. Her young daughter copied.