Underdogs

THIRTY-FOUR

❝The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.❞ — Galene Everhart

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Chapter thirty-four:

BACK IN BUSINESS

A whistling noise broke the tense silence as the blade crossed the gelid air and sank into the round face of the King of the Walls.

From behind a worn, splintered desk, cold eyes regarded the piece of paper as if they could burn the drawing to ashes. Frustration and an insatiable thirst for vengeance glimmered in them, only concealed when a knock on the wooden door echoed within the dull room; then, those emotions were quick to hide behind a thick curtain of feigned-indifference.

The smell of cigarettes permeated the humid air, making the place hotter than it was bearable; but she was used to it. Pushing the imagen of the king and the rest of his rabble being executed as they so much deserved — a desire that only grew stronger with each passing day — to the back of her mind, the hooded woman clucked her tongue and murmured, "Come in."

A man wearing a cloak just like hers, black and ragged, stepped inside the room and closed the door behind. The hinges squeaked in response, as did the planked floor under the weight of his tall figure as he situated himself in front of the desk. Blue eyes skimmed through the large amount of files spread over it before meeting her shadowy ones, and a frown formed on his lips.

"No luck," he reported in a hoarse voice — that of someone who hasn't spoken in a long time — and cleared his throat before elaborating, "It's like a tomb in Mitras. No sign of what they are up to in the capital."

The visibly-shorter woman crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a stony wall that looked about to give in under the softest breeze. A shake of her head gave away the frustration she was so adamant to hide, but she remained silent for a few seconds — mulling over, cursing them all for even existing. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of a small mouse poking its head out of the wall, only to scuttle back inside its burrow as she looked in its direction.

"The Military Police has made sure everything remains perfect inside the capital, as usual. They don't really give a rat's ass about what happens to the rest of the world," the man added with a shrug, yet there was an edge in his voice.

She let out a mirthless laugh. "This is not the Military Police's doing. We know damn well how useless they are when it comes to... everything, basically. The whole world saw them freeze and flee when Wall Maria was taken by Titans."

Both quieted down as the remembrance of chaos and death screamed in their minds; the events of that fateful day were as fresh and clear like the footsteps of the people on the city above the underground had been.

"What do you think is going on, then?" he pressed after a minute of thick silence, watching as her lips pursed and she pushed off the wall to approach the desk.

Slender fingers reached to pick up a sheet of paper from the large pile, and he craned his neck to try catching a glimpse of what it showed. She passed it to him so he could read her thoughts, and a brow arched as his eyes lifted to meet hers with a look of disbelief.

"Another party?" he quoted, reading her own handwriting before giving the file back to her. "You actually believe what that guy says? He's the least trustworthy prick you can run into."

Humming, she showed her disagreement by sending him a secret smirk. "His actions are driven by a hunger for freedom." She walked past him to retrieve her blade from the drawing of the King of the Walls. As the weapon danced on her fingertip, her eyes flickered to his wary ones and her smirk widened. "We have a common goal. The king needs to die—"