Vanity, valor, veracity

Chapter 3

Three weeks later Erwin found himself standing across the street from an elegant residence in the Stohess district, just outside the capitol where he had concluded a meeting earlier with some higher-ups. He knew he probably should leave it alone, but he had felt compelled to, at the very least, check in on Miss Sorkin. He wasn't quite sure if there was anything he could do to help the young singer. In fact, he was positive there wasn't.

And yet, here he found himself, staring at her door, debating with himself like some lovesick teenager, trying to screw up his courage. He had faced titans, death on a scale of such magnitude he wondered how he could still rise each morning and carry on. But somehow the idea of knocking on that door nearly crippled him with indecision.

He had never walked away from injustice. As a soldier he had made it his life's mission to rectify the wrongs visited on the populace by a cruel and oppressive government, to somehow effect change in a system that clamped down on any dissent, any whisper of curiosity that the powers that be found rebellious. Any kind of thinking that seemed to question the status quo. He had learned firsthand how that could lead to tragedy at the hands of those desperate to protect their position.

But this was injustice of a different breed and he knew that. He knew by knocking on that door he was not progressing toward achieving his dream of vindicating his father, not serving his ambitions, not protecting humanity. He knew it was, in reality, vanity. His ego—his image of himself as a hero—could not allow someone like Miss Sorkin suffer. If he had witnessed someone elderly or a child being abused, he would have intervened, no? The fact that she was a beautiful young woman should not deter him from doing his duty. The fact that he couldn't stop thinking about her should not hold him back.

These were the jumbled thoughts chasing around in the usually coldly calculating commander's brain. On so many levels, his coming here was wrong—maybe even harmful. And yet he couldn't get her out of his mind. Her sweet nature and the evil that someone had visited upon it. Her terror and sadness. Someone like her—someone who could enchant a room, move a crowd to tears—should be cherished. Fuck, he thought to himself. I want to cherish her.

With that realization, he decided he had to leave. Nothing good could come of that thinking. She was not his concern.

Just then, though, he saw two figures coming out of the door. It appeared to be her two chaperones—more like jailers, he thought to himself. They appeared to be moving with purpose and entered a carriage that had just pulled up. That meant one thing. She was alone.

Without a second thought, Erwin suddenly found himself bounding across the street to the front door. Somehow his body moved without his brain, instinctively knowing that this was an opportunity not to be missed. He'd just pay his respects, reassure himself, and then be on his way. Yes, he will have done his duty.

A kindly middle-aged servant answered the door, looking quite surprised to see a tall, soldierly and serious figure waiting there.

"May I help you, sir?" she asked.

"Thank you, ma'am, I am here to call upon Miss Sorkin," he hesitated for a second. "I am Captain Schmidt from the Garrison Regiment. We met briefly a few weeks' ago. Is she at home?"

Her eyes widened just a bit, taking in the handsome man. Then she smiled knowingly. She moved aside and gestured for him to enter.

"Please wait here. I will check to see if Miss is receiving visitors, Commander." She proceeded down a corridor to a door, behind which Erwin thought he could hear a lilting voice running up and down scales to a piano accompaniment, the sound becoming just a tad louder as the servant opened the door then closed it.