Chapter Text
The year 1812 was still young, though the signs of the approaching spring were ever-present. Although April had hardly drawn to a close, the trees were already in full blossom, and the lush fields of the surrounding farmlands were sprinkled with the colourful heads of newly blossomed flowers. Indeed, it seemed as if the sun was more generous than in previous years, for its rays embraced all that lay beneath more lovingly than usual. The people of Brighthampton, a small, contemplative town on the coast of Somerset, noticed this keenly. After months of cold and darkness, they longed for light and warmth. If things remained as they were, this year could prove to be very successful. That not everyone was fortunate enough to savour these circumstances to the fullest was self-evident.
Tired, Levi Ackerman closed his eyes. It had been a short night, so short that every sunbeam touching his face made him squint blindly. With arms folded across his chest, he stood in the middle of a room that wasn’t his own, gazing out of the window, lost in thought.
He was a rather short man of delicate build who, despite the fine features of his face appearing quite aristocratic, seldom caught the attention of the ladies. In the matte glass of the window, he recognised a pair of sharp, bloodshot eyes, whose steel-grey gaze stared back expressionlessly. His skin was pale, even though he had been in the best of health all his life. With a nose that was small and without any distinctive shape, his lips formed only a small, severe-looking line. Apart from his narrow eyes, whose sharp gaze gave those he looked at the feeling that he stared right into their soul, Levi had the face of a young child who would turn thirty in the not-too-distant future.
He wore the clothes of those who could afford luxury but preferred plain elegance instead: a white, translucent shirt, whose sleeves he had rolled up over his elbows to save it from blood and filth. Over it, he wore a waistcoat made from anthracite-coloured tweed, from whose pockets the golden chain of his watch could be seen sparkling cheekily. Only the white cravat he wore, which was not dissimilar to a distinctive mark, testified that he was a man who took great care in his appearance. The heavy, woollen tailcoat had been placed on an armchair only moments after he had entered this room.
Levi took a deep breath and leaned his forehead against the white lacquered window frame. At around five in the morning, they had shaken him out of his sleep without mercy. An emergency. Such things happened quite often, yet he had never really gotten used to it. Within ten minutes, he had dressed, awakened his ward, grabbed his leather doctor’s case, and set out, accompanied only by his assistant. Since then, he had been here, walking up and down, trying to kill the time that didn’t want to pass. Sometimes, even he could do nothing but sit and wait.
Indifferent, he watched the streets and alleys, which increasingly filled with passers-by during this time of day. He was aware of the fact that there were people who would have paid a high price for the power over life and death, though this was beyond his understanding. It was a profession he had learned in times when this decision was the only acceptable option. It secured an existence blessed by wealth and security. That alone was appealing enough. And still...
A rattle pervaded the silence and brought him back down to earth. Slowly, Levi turned around, with the inner calmness of a man who wouldn't find anything new in this kind of situation. His arms still folded in front of his chest, he let them sink as his eyes wandered around the room. Hardly fifteen square meters in size, it had been furnished in a simple, almost meagre manner: a bed, a desk, a closet. The walls had once been decorated with navy blue wallpaper, which now hung in dark, dirty strips. It gave everything a depressing and heavy atmosphere, in which one would feel claustrophobic rather than comfortable.
This chamber belonged to a housing complex of several parcels. Such buildings had a good reputation amongst university students. Though run-down and filthy, it formed a place of flourishing life and carelessness. A place of youthful foolishness that could reach so far that it wouldn't allow a way back.
In a narrow bed located on the opposite side of the room, hidden in the shadows of the roof slope, lay a young man, hardly twenty years of age. Although his chest lifted and sank periodically, the childish face already had the wax-like expression of the deceased. A suicide attempt, and a bad one moreover. With borrowed pistols, he had shot himself in the head but failed to strike himself properly. Shaken out of her sleep, the housekeeper had found him only a little later and sent for a physician right away. The puddle of clotted blood, interspersed with fragments of scattered brain close to the desk, still testified to the scene Levi had witnessed as he entered the chamber at dawn.
With the help of his assistant, Levi had removed the blue tailcoat and yellow pantaloons before they placed him in his bed, carefully avoiding soiling themselves with the blood of the wounded. The young man hadn't regained consciousness since. From time to time, his eyes opened and a silent, tortured moan left his blue lips. A tragedy. For safety reasons only, Levi had given him a painkiller and arrested the bleeding. That was all he could do. A clean, not very efficient wound, which brought a slow and painful death. And still – it seemed as if the breathing rate slowed down. The cries of pain that had filled the air in minute intervals only hours before sounded merely in uneven periods. Without doubt, the end of this boy was near. Not much longer and Levi could finish a day's work and return home, where the newspaper and a hot bath would wait for him.
He looked at his fingers and pulled a wry face. Although he had scrubbed them several times in a provided basin, there were still remains of dried blood underneath his nails. With a silent moan, he turned away from the window and went over to the bed of his patient, where he sat down on one of the surrounding chairs. Carefully, he grabbed the hand of the dying, which lay cold and heavy in his own, and took the watch out of his pocket. It took him time and sure instincts to find a pulse, yet it was hardly noticeable anyway. While doing so, he watched the face of the boy. Not a movement, not a twitch allowed any conclusions about the feelings Levi might have felt during those seconds. Even for his closest friends, he used to be a closed book most of the time.
“Sir, I'm back.”
Wordless, Levi raised his head and looked over to the door, in whose frame his assistant and ward, Eren Jaeger, stood. Barely sixteen years old, he had spent eight in Levi's care after the street had flushed him into Levi's arms on one blissful day. Like his foster father, he wore simple and dark clothing, on which those stains and spots that came with the profession of a physician would hardly be seen. In all these years he had spent with Levi, he had had the chance to learn much of his foster father's day-to-day work. Once he had finished school and passed his final exams, Levi intended to send him to university, where Eren would complete his education and become a physician himself. The times were changing. Medicine was no longer in the hands of butchers and barbers. It had been displaced to the caring hands of the empirical sciences and was disappearing, bit by bit, into the extensive halls of the ivory tower.
Eren must have just returned from school. In his right arm, he still held the linen-covered schoolbooks, bundled only by a leather strap. He was breathing heavily, and the dark brown, dishevelled hair covered his heart-shaped face. Eager to learn and thirsty for action, he never Msed a chance to observe his mentor at work. Although Eren's unmanageable and stubborn nature drove Levi crazy from time to time, it was an eternal give and take between the two.
“Close the door and come here.”
Eren did as he was told and moved closer. With every step, he turned more pale, while his large, bilious green eyes filled with silent awe. As he stopped beside Levi, the physician placed the hand of the dying man back under the white sheets and stood up. “What do you see?”
Despite his severe tone, his voice held a certain warmth. Both exchanged a long, trusting look. It took a couple of seconds until Eren made up his mind to answer the question. After all these years of being in contact with Levi's patients, death still unsettled him.
“A man who committed a failed suicide attempt with a pistol.”
With every word, his voice died away, knowing that this wasn't exactly what his mentor wanted to hear. A derogatory snort left Levi's throat. He shook his head and pointed with a short nod towards the bed.
“You shan't repeat what I already know, Eren. Apart from that...”
The steel-grey eyes rested in silent melancholy on the motionless body for a moment. “It seems as if his effort will be crowned with success in the end, even though I've rarely seen a more hacked-up try to blow one's brains out of one's head.”
He could hear Eren gasp next to him. That his words did not create delight was a fact he was fully aware of. Levi inherited a harsh and open-minded manner, which made no bones about it – no matter how hurtful the things he had to say were.
For a moment, they fell silent. Then, Levi grabbed Eren's shoulders and pushed him with soft emphasis closer to the bed. With every inch Eren moved forward, Levi felt how every fibre of the youthful body stiffened. He paused for a second – his slender fingers still enclosing Eren's shoulders – approaching the younger until his lips were close to Eren's left ear.
“It’s not your first death, is it?” he whispered. Tentatively, Eren shook his head. When he opened his mouth the next time, his voice sounded anxious and infirm.
“No,” he breathed. “The coachman's accident last month...”
Levi nodded. He remembered it well. What an unpleasant incident. It could be said it was pure irony when someone was trampled underfoot by his own horses. And still – compared to today, that death had happened exceedingly fast.
“Good. Step a little closer.”
The younger looked at his mentor in uncertainty. He was at an age when the immediate encounter with death caused nothing but naked fear. Until this coachman died, Levi usually had sent Eren out of the room when death approached. Yet now this boy was old enough to be confronted with the truth. Reluctantly, he obeyed his master's orders, whose hands still rested on his shoulders. Once more, Levi lowered his voice until it equalled a hoarse whisper.
“What do you see, Eren?”
Both knew that Levi wouldn't let his protégé go until he had given him a satisfactory answer.
Eren's breath began to shiver. With agonizing slowness, he bent down. His eyes wandered over the face of the wounded, searching carefully. He studied every visible detail. Each moment seemed to bring back the inner calmness that had slipped away only moments before.
“The bullet entered through the maxilla right under his left eye,” he began haltingly and eventually reached out to push some blood-soaked strands of hair aside, “and exited the skull through the occipital bone. The skin is... greyish. The cheeks are sunken, the cheekbones protrude. The breathing...” He hesitated and watched the chest for more than a minute. “The breathing is irregular, accompanied by occasional dropouts.”
Now satisfied, Levi nodded and let him go. Eren immediately stepped back, still unable to tear his eyes away from the wounded. A mixture of disgust and fascination was written all over his face.
“What’s your prognosis?” the physician asked calmly.
Eren remained motionless. He furrowed his brow, clearly uncertain what to think about this situation.
“Frankly, I’m surprised he’s actually alive, Sir,” he said in the end, not without indignation in his voice. Levi’s mouth twitched in silent amusement before he once more folded his arms in front of his chest. Together they watched the dying man. It was the first time Eren had encountered a suicide victim. In the world they lived in, people didn’t discuss such things. The killing of one’s own body was a sin that offered no words of comfort or forgiveness. And still, such people existed. They lived, they died, and they couldn’t be avoided in the end. Levi took care of them, accompanied them through their last moments before he left them without any regret. Life and experience had made him grow cold towards such people.
Eren still lacked this clarity of thought.
“I wonder what made him do this,” he whispered.
“Whatever it was, nothing justifies that kind of mess.”
They exchanged a look. Even though Eren appeared shocked by Levi’s reaction, he understood his foster father’s intentions. Both knew what it was like to fight for a life in balance. Both knew the feeling of being closer to death than to anything else. They loved life. Both of them.
And this love had once woven a bond between them which made them interact as an unequal but efficient duo since then.
The dying man gasped. Then his breath ceased for a long time until his mouth opened again. It continued like this for several times until the last movements of life faded from his youthful face. Levi and Eren looked at him in silence.
“Hand me one of the silver spatulas, Eren.”
The boy obeyed. With rapid movements, he went over to the leather case, took out the desired piece of equipment, and handed it to his mentor. Levi stepped closer to the bed, placing the spatula underneath the man’s nose with practised movements. As it didn’t steam up, Levi removed the blankets, opened the linen shirt, and pressed his ear expectantly against the chest. He felt for the man’s wrist and checked the pulse. He could feel the gaze of his protégé on him, who wouldn’t Ms a single one of his movements. As their eyes met, Levi shook his head slightly before pulling the white sheets over the motionless body. Then he took out his watch and looked at the dial.
“Twelve past five. Pack everything together while I prepare the documents.”
As they left the house, the cloudless sky already changed its colour to the orange hues that revealed the approaching sunset. The air was filled with the scent of freshly baked bread, the perfume of wealthy ladies, and the filth left behind by merchants and their cattle in the alleys. Over it all was the laughter of children, who chased, stained with mud, after simply constructed wooden toys. Although the sun slowly disappeared behind the rooftops, it was still so warm that Levi began to sweat under his tailcoat. It was a rather strange feeling to be confronted with pure life and joy after such a day. As the door of the house closed behind them, the physician couldn't help but heave a sigh. He usually only noticed how oppressive death was when fresh air filled his lungs, reminding him that he was still alive.
He didn't Ms the fact that Eren appeared exhausted. Around his nose, he looked paler than usual, and the expression in his gaze testified that he hadn't yet overcome today's events. It would take a couple of days until the rebelliousness, which was so typical for him, would return. He, who barely managed to be quiet for more than a couple of seconds outside of Levi's treatment room, trotted mutely next to his master, his eyes fixed on the leather case he carried for Levi.
“They won't bury him in the cemetery, will they?” It broke out of him after minutes of silence. Levi shook his head without looking at him.
“No.”
The thought of the dead was enough to darken the physician's facial expression. Although he had barely reached the age of 30, the shadows that had emerged under his eyes during the past hours made him look as though he had aged by years. “And no priest will escort him. He can count himself lucky if they bury him in the mud next to the graveyard.”
While talking, he eyed his fingernails. The remains of dried blood still couldn't be overlooked, even though he had done everything possible to make them disappear. He longed for a hot bath. He sped up and continued his speech, desperately trying to scrape off the dark stains under his nails. “He has dishonoured his family. If there are any younger sisters, it can only be hoped they're married already. Considering his age, I seriously doubt it. It's most unlikely that they have been introduced into society yet.”
Honest surprise appeared on Eren's face. Although he towered over his foster father, he had to speed up to avoid falling behind.
“What does that mean, Sir?”
“Nobody of high rank, wealth, and intellect would marry into a family of lunatics. Since the housekeeper witnessed everything, there's no chance to hush up that incident.”
He proceeded walking, waiting for an answer that wouldn't come. Suspiciously, he stopped and turned around just as the sound of a dull thud occurred behind him. What followed was a deafening rattling. His protégé no longer stood next to him. Irritated, Levi searched the area with his eyes and moaned as he found the boy sitting on the ground at a distance of five yards. The leather case lay next to him, sprung open, scattering everything that was inside onto the surrounding street. Crucibles and tins rolled around, and a coil of bandage skipped over the cobblestones before finally tilting to the side and stopping. Next to him, Levi could see a man as huge as a tree.
“Oy, Eren!” he shouted and stepped closer. “How many times have I told you not to stare into space? If you damaged something, I'll deduct it from your wages. Damn brat...”
His lips pressed together to a thin line he remembered that he didn't pay him any wages, only a small amount of pocket money which would barely cover the worth of anything that had been inside of his bag. In the meantime, Eren had started to hastily pack everything back. Doing so, one excuse after another left the youthful lips, before he suddenly hesitated, holding two parts of a broken bottle in the air. He looked resigned.
“The bottle with opium”, he started with a low voice, “it's broken.”
The physician's eyes narrowed. Opium had to be imported from Asia and was, even though the English government did it's best to flood the marked with this drug, an expensive investment. He had increased his stock with exactly this bottle only a couple of weeks ago. It seemed as if he had to redo this order again.
He looked at the small, white globules that had scattered all over the pavement and opened his mouth to proceed with his scolding. He didn't make it far.
“Excuse my mishap”, it sounded next to him. Levi turned around but all he could see now was a heavy build men's chest that opened up right in front of him. It belonged to a man of almost 6”5, more titan than human. While his hair was ash blonde, his sideburns and the short beard shimmered in a dark brown. Eyes of the same colour rested on him in silent kindness. Under a full-length coat Levi noticed a suit in the colour of earthenware, which was, even though not made out of king's traditional silk fabrics, of remarkable high quality. Though his body height surprised Levi, it didn't intimidated him. Motionless he replied the looks of his counterpart.
“Your companion must have overlooked me”, the man continued. “He bumped into me while walking and fell down.”
“You don't say...”
Over his shoulder Levi gave Eren, who still kneeled on the ground, an uncomprehending look. It was beyond his understanding how someone could overlook a person of that size. As usual, Eren must have been lost in thoughts. They would have a conversation about that. Later.
He turned towards the giant, who inhered a calm down-to-earth attitude that, even though it didn't stand out in a positive manner, didn't attract Levi's displeasure. What annoyed him more were the passers-by who, expecting a scandal, had stopped walking and watched them with unhidden curiosity. The ash blonde man reached into the pocket of his tailcoat, taking out a money purse.
“You mentioned something about opium, right? Please allow me to replace your damaged goods.”
Promptly Levi shook his head and lifted his hand to interrupt the man. The other noticed this gesture and stopped.
“Your motives may be noble, but there is no need.”
As he spoke, Levi glanced repeatedly at Eren, who, in response, began packing the equipment more and more frantically. “He should learn that personal failures bring consequences as well. It will help him to learn to treasure the value of money.”
As he finished, the remaining color faded from Eren's face. The boy seemed to realize that one bottle of opium equaled his pocket money for two months. The next weeks would be most cheerless, and that was certain. The ash-blond man furrowed his brows, letting his gaze wander between Levi and his ward, obviously uncertain what to think about this unequal pair.
“We took the wrong turn, Mike.”
Someone approached them down the street. It was a tall man in his early thirties, slightly shorter than the first. His golden-blond, short hair shone in the light of the setting sun, framing an oval, striking face with aquamarine blue eyes that searched his friend's attention with a gentle smile. Levi couldn't Ms the aura of openly presented self-confidence that accompanied his movements. Silently, Levi eyed the new arrival, whose body was hidden under the scarlet red uniform of the English military, decorated with golden piping. Immediately, Levi's expression hardened. “The town hall is to the north. It's not surprising we didn't find anything here,” the blonde spoke to his friend, who nodded in acknowledgment. The soldier's voice was deep but soft, lacking any severity. Both spoke with an accent vaguely familiar to Levi, yet he couldn't place it properly. One thing was certain: Both men weren't from Brighthampton.
Now that the soldier had finished speaking, his blue eyes took note of Levi, who stood next to him, silently observing him. For a moment, the physician thought he noticed a slight surprise in his eyes, but it faded as quickly as it appeared. The gentle smile, however, remained.
“Who are those men?” he asked with blatant curiosity. “Would you introduce me to them, Mike?”
Mike opened his mouth, but Levi spoke up before he could respond. He was tired of this. He wanted to go home. The company of these two men already bored him to death.
“Don't go to any trouble,” he replied coldly, his voice sharp and unwavering. “I was already going to recommend myself, anyway. Have a good day.”
Without waiting for a response, he turned away and walked to Eren, who had finally stowed everything back in the bag. Levi stopped beside him and watched as he got up. His sour expression hinted that objections would bring unpleasant consequences from now on.
“Come on now,” he muttered impatiently. “And this time, you better watch where you're going.” Eren nodded and obeyed, following his master at a rapid pace, careful to maintain a proper distance.
Shortly after, they reached their home, a pretty, small townhouse that blended discreetly with a row of structurally identical buildings. Built at the turn of the century, its whitewashed cladding bore the decorative style of ancient times. With two floors, it offered far more space than necessary for a single physician and his protégé, but would provide ample room should Levi ever decide to employ domestic servants. In the hallway, he handed his tailcoat to Eren, asking him to prepare some hot water before dinner. Then, he entered the parlour through sweeping double doors. Representative in function, it was the most beautiful room in the house. Levi had adorned the walls with wallpaper made of green silk. Next to a carved secretary of dark oak wood stood a fortepiano, a canapé, two armchairs, and a side table, all crafted in the rococo style. Tired, Levi sank into the sofa and closed his burning eyes for a moment. The exhaustion of the too-short night and the events of the day became fully apparent to him now that he had reached home.
Seconds later, Eren entered the parlour. In his hands, he held today's newspaper and several neatly sealed letters. Levi had employed a cook but decided to forgo a butler or maid almost a decade ago. He had assigned their tasks to Eren, believing it important to instill discipline and order while the boy was still young enough to learn. Managing this for eight years now, Eren had handled almost everything to Levi's satisfaction—though his concept of cleanliness differed slightly from his foster father's.
He acknowledged Eren's appearance with a fleeting glance, noticed the letters, and then closed his eyes again.
“How many?”, he murmured impatiently. Politeness demanded a response on the same day, so he hoped their number would be limited.
“Five, Sir.”
The physician took a deep breath. Without a doubt, they would contain invitations to dull salons, dinners, and societies sent for formality rather than genuine interest. Events designed for representative purposes, solely for the purpose of elevating oneself above others through conversation and sharp remarks. An exhausting way to pass the time, which Levi tried to avoid as much as possible. He would decline them all and retire early.
“Anything noteworthy?”
“One of the letters is from Ms Zoe, Sir.”
Silently, Levi looked at the boy, who turned red under his gaze and hesitated to respond. Hange Zoe. She was an old acquaintance, patron, and—so to speak—friend. The two were connected by a love-hate relationship that had lasted for more than ten years. While her loud and persistent nature often grated on his nerves whenever they met, she was, like Eren, one of the very few people he could tolerate spending time with. In his own way, he greatly appreciated her, and so she could boast that he had never declined one of her invitations. She was not particularly pretty, nor was she married. Her intelligence and steadfastness had chased away any suitors by now, and despite no one knowing how she earned her living, she lived a financially independent life. Her wealth was one of the last unresolved mysteries of humanity. She was, in every way, an unusual woman.
“What does she write?”
“She invites you to dinner, Sir,” Eren replied, his eyes scanning the paper, on which someone had scrawled a few lines in spidery writing. “On Friday evening. She mentions guests from London whom she wishes to introduce to you. Unmarried, well-established gentlemen. Apparently excellent matches.”
“That's what she writes?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Levi furrowed his brows. His eyes, still fixed on the boy, narrowed.
“Does she think I care about such things? She's the old maid, not me,” he muttered more to himself than to Eren, who nervously turned the paper in his hands back and forth.
“Uh, Sir...”
“All right.”
The physician raised a hand to interrupt any further protests. He wasn't in the mood to attend to today's correspondence just yet. “Leave the letters here. And the newspaper as well.”
Once more, he noticed the dark stains under his nails. He would certainly not be able to eat supper in that condition. Although he had no problem dealing with wounds, fractures, and even worse, he was always grateful when he could wash away the traces of his profession. His love for cleanliness had caused Eren some trouble more than once. Silently, he watched his hands and remembered the red military uniform of the man he had just met in town. Those two gentlemen must have come from a completely different part of England, judging by their accent. Their clothes—especially Mike's—were plain, but definitely those of gentlemen. It posed the question: what on earth would have brought such fine men into this sleepy little town? A presumption came to mind. Levi raised his head and looked over to his ward, who was about to leave the parlour.
“Eren.”
The boy stopped and turned around.
“Sir?”
“Didn't you mention that Stenton Park has been let again?”
The boy nodded hesitantly, and strands of brown hair slid into his face.
“Yes,” he began, pushing them behind his ear. “Mr Rogers told me about that. He said it has been rented for the summer to two gentlemen from town.”
Filled with meaning, Levi nodded. They exchanged a look, and the boy's eyes suddenly widened in surprise. “Oh, Sir! You don't think it could be Ms Zoe's acquaintances, do you?”
The physician's lips twitched in amusement, but he didn't allow himself to grin fully. Well, of course, there was a possibility, but it was highly unlikely.
“You’ll have to straighten your suit.”
It sounded like an order. His protégé now fully lost his composure. He reached for the hem of his jacket in a rather erratic manner, while his foster father folded his arms in front of his chest and shook his head.
“Your evening suit, Eren.”
“What for?”
“Is this so hard to understand?” Levi leaned back, a self-confident expression written all over his face. “For the dinner on Friday. You will accompany me.”