Vanity, valor, veracity

Chapter 13

One year later (Time check: Four years after fall of Wall Maria, 2 years into their marriage)

Erwin slammed the journal down on the table, then rubbed his eyes in frustration. It was about the fiftieth time that he'd gone through Elijah Sorkin's journals. After today's disastrous mission he thought he'd try one more time to read between the lines, to see if there was any clue—anything—that would help him make progress.

He'd been at a stalemate for some time now. When he'd first gone through the journals he felt sure that the information could help his missions achieve better results. Descriptions of forays outside the walls, approaches to staying alive, detailed entries about titan behavior in relation to topography, daylight, darkness, etc. He had thought it would add up to more success. But for every step forward, he seemed to take two steps back and now, four years out, he was no closer to taking back Wall Maria.

Morgana had entered the room and quietly lit the lamps after softly placing a tray of food on the table next to Erwin. She tried not to disturb him. She had learned that it was best to leave him alone after his missions in recent months. The high hopes he had had after becoming commander and implementing the long-range scouting formation had been thoroughly squelched by now. Even after the disastrous mission with the refugees, the discovery of the journals had buoyed him.

But in the past year, he had been increasingly growing frustrated. Sure, the formation had brought casualties down when he first became commander, but the numbers had plateaued after a certain point. And some of the information from the journals had offered further mitigation when he had discovered them two years' ago thanks to Morgana. But there had been no major breakthroughs since then, nothing to indicate why or how there were docks at the edge of the frontier. Were people brought there in ships? Who were they? And what did they have to do with the titans? There was nothing that helped solve the mystery. And yet Sorkin had wrote about amazing things that didn't add up—there had to be more to it and Erwin was determined to figure it out and had become more obsessed than ever.

It didn't help that the losses today had been one of his worst and the townspeople had jeered and spat at him and his soldiers as they returned. They had expected more when he became commander—where were the results? The bloom was most definitely off the rose and they were growing weary again of the constant losses. He had remained stone-faced as he reached HQ but had slammed the door when he got home to his small house. Without saying a word to Morgana he had hastily pulled out the satchel with the notebooks straightaway to once more pore over them. There had to be something in these that could help, he told himself for the millionth time.

"Morgana," Erwin said sharply, looking up from one of the journals. "Your father here mentions flashes of light and some kind of transformation. Did he ever say what he meant? And I think he's referring to some documents or drawings. It's almost like he's writing in code. I feel like there's something more that he didn't want to write it in his journals. Did he ever talk about it?"

Morgana looked up nervously, edging toward the kitchen. It wasn't the first time Erwin had questioned her about her father's activities.

"Umm—no. Not that I recall," she said. It was always the same—she just didn't know anything and every time Erwin asked her she sensed his frustration.

"Of course," he grumbled. "How is it you never had even an ounce of curiosity about what your father was doing?"

"I—was..." She didn't know how to answer anymore.

"I know—I know—you were young, you were a girl—et cetera," Erwin said impatiently. "Incredible..." he sighed.

She stood there for a moment looking at him, hurt flashing across her face before she schooled her features. "I'm sorry, my love," she simply responded and moved to collect his dinner dishes and leave the room.