The 13-Year Campaign

Chapter 7

Every weekend you would leave the grounds for the cities. It was a way for you to check on your friends, eat good food, and take time for yourself. When you did visit social establishments, it was often and you were accompanied by friends you only saw every once in a while. You were all scattered across the walls, doing various things under order by your brother Ibrahim. He was the second oldest of your group who arrived here and took advantage of skills to dominate what was considered a tribe.

You would come to your brother's home nearby every month or so for lessons or news for the future. His estate was beyond Trost District and extravagant. large and exuberant, with servants and workers that rivaled even the highest of nobility, At 19 your brother considered himself accomplished. he had made a name for himself in the higher courts already and comfortably collaborated with the Military Police, about what you did not know.

A few of your peers lived there with him but he was in charge and enjoyed the power.

He sent a carriage for you and would have you appear before him in a faux throne room. He had adopted Eldian architecture as a mimicry of the Mid-East aesthetic. The colors of the interior were tinged but still white like everything here.

When you arrived in your uniform and stood before him, he attacked you with his eyes.

"Brother," you greeted.

"Do not address me as such, tainted one," he said and took a large sip of wine from his cup to look back at you. "Where is the correct headscarf?" he asked.

You had one of your mother's homeland instead of your father's, the one Ibrihim considered dignified. Both his your head much or less the same but that wasn't good enough.

"Next time you appear before me, wear the proper attire."

"Should I go continue my lessons upstairs?" you asked.

"After I share some news with you."

Your good ear perked up and hoped he would grant you one of your wishes. More time? Leave from the Military? Admission to the University? Despite everything and how your brother treated you, it was a dream of yours that he would one day acknowledge you and accept you. He would call you sister and not, at his warmest, emphasize the half that distinguished your blood relation.

A bright look in your eye appeared as you awaited his words. Could this be it? Did he miss me?

"You're going into the military police," he said and placed his cup on the table beside him.

Your heart and face dropped. "Excuse me?"

"As I said, I'm submitting you to the Military Police. No debate, no wriggle room, nothing. I have made my decision and the monarchy has granted it."

"B-but I thought—"

"Don't think," he said, "all your thoughts are wrong anyway. I am keeping up my familial obligations to you and that is all. Nothing will change my mind. I'm still deciding on another decision."

You were scared to ask what.

"Either you go into the military police or I marry you off."

Marriage is against everything father—

Don't listen to what that man says about it, Ibrahim said. What's he done good with it? our ways would have you settled and kept for your safety. Things are happening and I need to keep you safe until we are located. I can't have my piece ruined.

"Aren't you worried I'll be tainted? Why can't I live with you and Zanab?"

"Let me worry about that. I am done with you, go up and practice and show me what you have learned."

you hung your head and climbed up to the study room where Zanab was waiting. for the next few hours, you sang, practiced traditional dances, and learned the spoken word.

when you performed for your brother, he showed no positive emotions and said you were "satisfactory."

he sent you off immediately, you weren't allowed to stay with him for his comfort as he put it.

you had a house all your own on the estate, small and cramped but all yours. that night you were more. exhausted as usual. married or military police? you would be even more trapped under the government's thumb or chained to a man for the rest of your days. you knew he'd be much older and probably rich but anyone of his age either already had a dead wife or an unfortunate face that couldn't be outweighed by his pockets.

the alive warm air tapped sounds against your window and you hugged your pillow. your head burned but no tears could come out. you didn't sleep and returned to the main house for further studies. you did poorly and dealt with the onslaught of verbal attacks from your brother. how worthless, pathetic you were, and an embarrassment to your family.

when you were sent back to the grounds, the whirl of feeling festered inside. you fidgeted, thought less about your actions, and did worse in class and even worse in the field. you were completely off your game and nearly defeated entirely. no matter how much you worked or did, it all would end the same.

you hoped doing poorly would make your admission into the MPs more startingly and highlighted clear nepotism that would give you an out. but you knew they would find a way. even if you enlisted yourself into the garrison like you wanted, you'd be forced into marriage no matter where you were. you were always under surveillance somehow and the anxiety was unbearable.

the second year was a little over a month in before Shadis announced a new trial as a test. You would be assigned as a large group which would be split and have to locate the other. The clouds were hinting at rain but the trial went on. What's rain compared to the dangers out in the field?

You were assigned and Eren was given the leadership position of your group. The two of you locked eyes when this development was announced. Then your group set out.