Attack on Titan: Wolfborn

Chapter XXV: The Masks We Wear(Unveiled)

Night had settled over Stohess, Annie followed Hitch through the narrow alley behind Madame Weber's Tailoring. The shop's windows were dark, its prominent clientele long since departed. Only a single lamp burned in the back room, barely visible through heavy curtains.

Footsteps echoed at the alley's entrance. Annie pressed against the wall, another patrol passing by. Her fingers brushed unconsciously against her jacket where Brandt's papers lay hidden.

Hitch produced a key from her pocket with a triumphant flourish. "See? Told you I had it covered."

Annie's eyes narrowed. "The owner gave you that?"

"Elise—the afternoon girl—was very understanding about my special request." Hitch's grin widened as she worked the lock. "It's amazing how helpful people can be when you slip them a little cash to overlook the usual policies."

The door creaked open, revealing a cramped storage room that smelled of mothballs and pressed wool. Racks of winter coats loomed like silent sentinels in the darkness. Annie hesitated at the threshold, scanning the shadows.

"You're sure no one saw us leave the barracks?"

"Relax, we're good." Hitch was already shrugging off her uniform jacket, letting it fall carelessly to the floor. "Boris is handling morning inspection. Told Dennis too, but couldn't find that idiot anywhere. Probably got lost on his way to his own room again." She snickered. "Whatever—Boris alone is enough to cover for us."

One more day, Annie thought, her hand straying to the papers again. That's all the cover she needed. By the time anyone started asking questions, she'd be halfway to Karanes.

Hitch disappeared behind a rack of coats, emerging moments later with two wooden boxes, their brass clasps gleaming in the lamplight. "Help me clear this." She swept aside piles of fabric samples from a worn workbench, setting the boxes down with surprising care.

"You know," Hitch said, studying Annie's reflection in a dusty mirror, "for someone who never shows interest in anything, you've been oddly invested in this party. Should I be worried?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of genuine curiosity beneath it.

"Here." The soft whisper of silk against linen emerged as Hitch lifted something from the first box. Deep blue fabric caught the lamplight. "Lady Weber's daughter... Elise was quite particular about these being returned exactly as we found them. But what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right?"

Annie found a shadowed spot behind some coats to change, her mind already cataloging potential hiding places. Her room wasn't safe anymore, not with the possibility of searches. But here, in this forgotten back room...

As she shrugged off her jacket, her fingers caught on something. Not a loose thread—her hand found a tear in the inner lining, right where the papers were hidden. Her throat tightened as she traced the seam. Marco's grip must have been stronger than she'd thought.

Annie's fingers moved more urgently over the torn lining. The papers had shifted, threatening to slip free. One corner already poked through the tear.

"Is it your size?" Hitch's voice carried over the racks, accompanied by the rustle of fabric and a muffled curse as she fought with the fastenings. "Who designed these things? I swear it's like they want us to dislocate our shoulders..."

Annie pushed the papers deeper into the compromised lining. The dress would have no place to hide them— Her eyes swept the room, settling on a loose floorboard near the curtain where their uniforms would hang.

"Annie?" Hitch's head appeared around the coat rack, already stripped down to her underclothes. "Something wrong?"

"I'm changing," Annie snapped, angling her body to hide the papers.

"Right, right." Hitch disappeared again, her voice carrying over the racks. "The shoes might pinch a bit, but for one night, who cares? Can't exactly show up in our boots... though I bet that would give those nobles something to gossip about besides their terrible marriages."

Carefully, Annie folded her jacket, keeping the torn seam hidden from view. She waited until Hitch's humming grew louder, then quickly slipped the papers beneath the loose floorboard, pressing it back into place. For now, it would have to do. Picking up the silk dress from its linen wrapping, she moved toward the curtain, wondering how many more secrets she'd have to hide before this night was over

***

The dim light of a candle barely illuminated the damp papers spread across Marco's desk. His fingers traced the torn edges carefully, trying to piece together the water-damaged text:

A drop of blood from his nose stained the corner - Annie's warning still fresh. But what he could read made his pulse quicken:

Report by Capt--- El--- Brandt, 9th Mi------ Poli-- Brig--, Stoh--- District

RE: Incident Report - Trost Disc--v---y

The paper crackled as he smoothed it, revealing more text beneath the stains:

Corpse located ---eath sewers, --- substance unk--wn. Subject we--ing training c---ps jack-t. -----ersonal effects include blo----d napkin, i-itials N.T...

His hand shook slightly. N.T. Nac Tius? The name brought back Mina's face, her voice trembling:

"I only remember hearing Nac's screams."

"She was covered in blood. Human blood."

"She's a murderer."

He remembered finding Mina in shock during the battle of Trost, then Reiner appearing with grim news about Nac, torn apart by titans. Then Anja, carried in by Annie and Bertholdt, barely alive...

It hadn't made sense then. It felt impossible, though it was the trauma speaking, but now...

Marco swallowed hard, willing himself to believe it was just a misunderstanding. He hoped he was wrong. But the pieces didn't fit.

Se----ary findings:

Damaged ODM g-ar (Scout Reg---ent issue). Sc--t jacket re--vered... body --scov---e- in advan---- state of mum--fication, traces of un---ntified substance...

Could it be that they were after this during the lockdown? But it hadn't started with Nac's death. Why then?

------- of Interest:

E-- -i-n (MIA?) Anja W-lf?

Motive? Review File: MP-MINV-D85--104—Wo-f .A

Last seen, Northern g---, leaving in direction t---

Was there someone else involved, another Scout? Or just Anja...

The rest dissolved into dark stains, that file number... The archives. The answers would be there if he could reach them.

The memory of Annie's strike throbbed in his nose. A dead MP captain's investigation, and at the center of it all—Anja?

A floorboard creaked in the hallway. Marco blew out the candle, waiting as footsteps passed.

He glanced at Jean, sprawled across his bunk, snoring softly. The room felt too quiet, the weight of unanswered questions pressing on his chest.

If he was wrong, the archives would prove it. If he was right... He touched the bruise on his face. Annie's reaction had already given him one answer.

Marco stood, fingers brushing against his jacket. The air outside was cold, but he barely noticed as he stepped into the hallway.

Some things couldn't wait until morning.

***

The carriage wheels clattered against cobblestones. Annie studied her reflection in the window, adjusting the deep blue mask in her lap. Silver filigree caught the moonlight, drawing her eye to the delicate white flowers nestled among blue feathers at its corner. Another mask, another role to play.

Her fingers traced the feathers along its edge, mind racing through the details she'd memorized. Friedrich Weiss—middle-aged, amber eyes, probably trying to blend in. The crossed white keys of their seal would give him away; nobles never could resist displaying their heritage, even at a masquerade. If Brandt's investigation had led somewhere, tonight might be her only chance to uncover what.

"Lady Clara Sorglos," Hitch practiced beside her, smoothing the emerald silk of her gown. Her mask rested atop her head, its gold details and crown of peacock feathers catching the street lights. "Third daughter of Freiherr Sorglos, making her debut after years of private tutoring in the countryside." She grinned. "Well?"

"Good." Annie's voice was distant as she rehearsed her own cover. Lady Lina Zweifel. Second cousin to the von Lutzes. From a family displaced by the fall of the walls. Recently returned to... Her thoughts scattered, returning to the shop's back room. The papers—had she pressed the floorboard down properly? In the rush to change—

"Hey." Hitch's voice cut through her spiral. "You're not actually nervous, are you?" She leaned forward, studying Annie's face with growing amusement. "I mean, I am too, a little. But come on, it'll be fun! Besides," her grin turned sly, "isn't there someone special waiting to sweep you off your feet?"

Annie's silence only widened Hitch's smile. "You know what, tonight I won't pry..." She sat back, adjusting her skirts with obvious satisfaction. "How do I look?"

Moonlight streamed through the carriage window, catching the green silk as it shifted. The cut of the dress was both elegant and eye-catching—perfect for someone wanting to be noticed.

"You look fine," Annie said, her tone deliberately neutral despite the growing knot in her stomach. The carriage was slowing now, the sounds of music and laughter drifting through the windows. Other carriages lined the street ahead, their occupants ascending the manor's steps in a parade of masks and finery.

"Just 'fine'?" Hitch mock-pouted, but her excitement was already pulling her attention to the window. "Oh wow, look at that! I can't believe we're actually going to..." She trailed off, lost in the spectacle outside.

"Remember your role," Annie said sharply. "A noble wouldn't gawk like a common—"

"Act like this isn't new to you," Hitch finished, mimicking Annie's tone. "I know, I know. You've been drilling me for the past hour." She caught herself mid-exclamation, her mouth forming a small o before she composed her features and lowered her mask with an attempt at grace.

Annie followed suit, securing her own mask's ribbons.

Find Weiss. Follow Brandt's lead. Get to Karanes. Complete her mission. The steps were clear, ordered. She couldn't afford mistakes.

The carriage lurched to a stop. Annie inhaled sharply, steadying herself. She clenched her hands, willing them to remain still.

I can do this.

The manor rose before them like a beast of marble and light, its windows blazing against the night sky. Military Police lined the path to the entrance, their presence a stark counterpoint to the flowing parade of masks and finery. Annie counted them automatically—two at each corner, four by the main doors, more watching from the balconies above. The security seemed excessive, even for a gathering of nobles.

Something about their positioning nagged at her. Had they created a perimeter?

A masked servant bowed as they approached the entrance, examining their invitations with careful attention. Annie's pulse quickened as he studied the seals, but his white-gloved hands revealed nothing amiss. With another practiced bow, he gestured them forward.

Torchlight flickered across marble columns as they passed beneath carved stone archways. The foyer opened before them, draped in gilt and shadow. Annie mapped each detail: main stairs splitting left and right, servants' corridors partially hidden behind tapestries, three visible exits on the ground floor.

More masked servants moved through the crowd with practiced grace, their black and silver attire marking them as clearly as any uniform. But something about their movements caught Annie's eye - too precise, too aware. Guards in disguise?

"Oh my..." Hitch breathed, her grip tightening on Annie's arm as the ballroom doors swept apart. Sound and light spilled out—crystal chandeliers casting prismatic light across a sea of masks below, music weaving through the air. "It's like something from a story..."

Annie's attention sharpened immediately. The ballroom's design offered multiple elevated viewing positions - a staircase leading to the upper gallery, private boxes positioned for optimal observation. Someone had to be watching very carefully.

A cluster of masked figures drew her eye—nobles gathered around someone whose bearing commanded attention despite their concealed features. The way other guests moved around them, maintaining a careful distance, suggested more than mere social deference.

She started to move, but Hitch's grip remained firm as they went down the stairs.

"Dance first," Hitch murmured, her voice carrying a hint of warning beneath its playful tone. "We can't just stand here staring. People will notice."

She was right. Already a few curious glances were being cast their way—new faces at these gatherings always drew attention. A servant appeared with a silver tray of wine, and Annie accepted a glass, using the moment to compose herself.

The servant's sleeve pulled back slightly as he offered the tray. A glimpse of familiar calluses on his hand - the kind that came from ODM gear straps.

A flash of movement near the stairs caught her attention. She set her glass down, but before she could move—

"Well now, what do we have here?"

The voice made her blood run cold. A tall figure in a tailcoat, wearing a black wolf mask stood before them, his bow carrying a theatrical mockery of noble grace.

"Ladies. Care for a dance?"

"Of course!" Hitch began to step forward, but Annie's hand shot out.

"My friend," Annie fought to keep her voice steady, "has already promised her first dance to another gentleman."

"Such a shame," he drawled, dropping all pretense of noble accent. His hand closed around Annie's wrist with casual brutality. "Then you'll have to do instead, won't ya?"

Annie's heart hammered against her ribs as he guided her through the steps. Something about his presence, the way he moved—like a predator playing with its prey. Gray eyes studied her through the mask's eyeholes, missing nothing.

"Ya know what's funny 'bout masked balls?" He leaned closer, he'd dropped his mock noble accent entirely, his words slipping into something darker. "Everyone's so busy pretendin' to be someone else, they forget to watch how they move." His grip tightened fractionally on her waist. "Military training leaves its marks, don't it... Lady...?"

"Zweifel," she supplied, the lie burning in her throat as recognition hit. The Interior Squad's enforcer. Here. Now.

He tilted his head, studying her with almost playful malice. "Those are some interesting eyes you got there, Lady Zweifel. Have we met be—"

"Sir." A woman appeared beside them, her raven mask framing cold blue eyes. "You're needed elsewhere." Though softly spoken, her words carried steel.

"Always spoiling my fun, Caven." He released Annie with an exaggerated flourish, his casual movements somehow more threatening than any overt gesture. "Let's continue our dance later, Lady Zweifel."

Annie watched them disappear into the crowd, forcing herself to breathe evenly. The Interior Squad's presence changed everything. She needed to find Weiss fast, before—

"Are you alright?" Hitch's concerned voice barely registered.

Annie managed a slight nod. Hitch studied her for a moment, then tugged playfully at her arm.

"Come on, you can't look this miserable at a party," Hitch said, her emerald silk rustling as she pulled Annie toward the center of the room. "My mother—I mean, Lady Sorglos would be absolutely scandalized." She affected an exaggerated accent, drawing a reluctant twitch of Annie's lips.

But Annie's attention was already drifting across the ballroom, eyes flicking from one face to the next behind their ornate masks. She moved closer, her steps casual, a practiced part of the dance. Then she spotted him—an owl-masked figure, his movements slightly off-kilter. He lingered near each group of nobles, gaze sharp but quickly shifting as if he were searching for something or someone.

The way he kept glancing at the doors, the tremor in his hands as he accepted a glass of wine – This man wasn't just nervous. He was terrified.

As he turned to scan the next cluster of guests, Annie closed the distance just enough. When he glanced away, she noticed the faint gleam of a signet ring on his hand—the crossed keys of House Weiss—before he moved on again, his urgency barely masked.

Hitch, still chatting with a nearby noble, caught sight of Annie's subtle shift in focus, glancing between her and the movements in the room.

"Lady Clara!" A young man in a silver griffin mask approached with a flourishing bow. "I believe you promised me a dance?"

Hitch's eyes lit up. "Did I?" She glanced at Annie. "Will you be—"

"Go," Annie said, already plotting her path through the crowd. Hitch hesitated only a moment before allowing herself to be swept into the dance, her laugh carrying over the music.

She turned carefully. Through the crowd, she tracked Weiss moving between groups with growing urgency. But near one of the marble columns, a group of nobles had gathered around a fox-masked man. Despite his fine attire, he held himself with unmistakable military bearing.

"—departure from Karanes within the week." The words cut through the music, stopping Annie mid-step. "The eastern route will take longer, but with Trost still in ruins..."

"Longer?" A woman dripping in diamonds scoffed. "In my experience, that means dangerous. As if your Regiment's mortality rate wasn't appalling enough, now you want to take the long way to Shiganshina?"

Annie moved closer, keeping her wine glass raised as cover. Weiss had paused near a cluster of dancers, his owl mask turning sharply as more 'servants' appeared at the room's edges. He was being observed.

"We have capable soldiers," the fox-masked man's voice carried quiet authority. "Particularly some recent additions that have exceeded all expectations." His eyes swept the gathered nobles. "The route is longer, yes, but with the right resources—and the right personnel—we could reclaim territories beyond Wall Rose sooner than many expect."

The noblemen exchanged glances. Annie noted how the fox-masked man watched their reactions, measuring their interest like a general assessing the battlefield.

"Those who invest early in our future," he continued smoothly, "may find themselves well-positioned should we succeed."

"We've heard the same assurances before." An elderly noble swirled his wine, unimpressed. "Each expedition ends the same way. The Scout Regiment has always been more skilled at spending our gold than achieving results."

"Our preparations this time are... different." The fox-masked man's tone shifted subtly, and Annie caught the barest glance in her direction. "Even our harshest critics have been forced to acknowledge recent developments."

Weiss was moving again, his path taking him closer to the stairs. Annie shifted to keep him in view.

"Speaking of developments..." A younger noble in a butterfly mask leaned forward eagerly. "Where is this Wolf girl everyone's talking about? They say His Majesty himself has shown interest. I was hoping you'd introduce us."

Annie's grip tightened on her glass, attention suddenly divided between Weiss and this new thread of conversation.

"You seem intrigued by our discussion." The fox mask turned toward her. Annie realized too late she had drifted too close, caught in her moment of distraction. The group shifted, creating an opening in their circle—an invitation that felt more like a snare.

Annie's mind raced. Through the shifting crowd, she caught a final glimpse of Weiss disappearing up the stairs. "My family's ancestral lands are near Wall Maria," she said, the rehearsed lie falling into place. "Naturally, one hopes for their recovery."

"Such modesty," he mused, tone pleasant but appraising. "A natural interest to many, yes."

The fox-masked man tilted his head slightly, his attention shifting towards her dress. "Curious... You wear the lily of House Weber. Hasn't your family been rooted in Stohess for generations?"

Annie's breath caught, but she quickly masked the brief flicker of surprise. Her gaze remained steady, though a slight tension lingered at the edge of her jaw. "The Webers were kind enough to assist with tonight's attire," she said smoothly, her voice calm, faintly laced with an apologetic note. "Given our reduced circumstances since the fall, it was... a necessary arrangement."

Something shifted in his posture—the slightest tell that her quick thinking had disrupted some calculation.

"I apologize for my presumption," the fox mask gleamed as he studied her. "Perhaps we could discuss your family's former holdings another time."

"Of course." Annie dipped into a careful curtsy. "You must excuse me, a friend is expecting me."

As she withdrew, she felt the man's attention follow her through the crowd. She'd revealed too much by lingering, but there was no time to worry about that now. Not when Weiss had disappeared upstairs, acting like a man who'd seen his own ghost.

Annie ascended the marble staircase with measured steps, each movement calculated to appear casual. The upper gallery stretched before her, its shadows deeper than those below. Through three separate rooms she tracked him—watching as he checked corners, doubled back, nearly collided with other guests in his distraction.

She found him in one of the viewing boxes overlooking the ballroom, the music and chatter muffled in the background, set back from the main gallery with heavy curtains partially drawn.

Annie watched from the shadows as Weiss paced the small space like a caged animal, alternating between railing and door. His owl mask lay discarded beside an untouched glass of wine, revealing a face lined with exhaustion. His signet ring caught the light as he reached for something in his jacket, then stopped himself.

It was unmistakable. The same man she'd seen in Trost, Anja's doctor. She'd recognized him instantly.

"Captain Brandt was investigating your family before he died." Annie kept to the darkness behind him, her voice low. "You're going to tell me what's your part in all this, Dr Weiss."

***

The guard's boots echoed through the empty corridor. Marco pressed himself against the wall, fingers tight around the forged orders. His heart hammered as the guard studied the paper under lamplight.

"Bit unusual, isn't it?"

"The Lieutenant mentioned increased patrols." Marco kept his voice steady. "Would you prefer to explain to him why you questioned his orders..."

The guard's eyes lingered on Marco's face a moment too long before he pocketed the paper. "Archives have been quiet anyway. Just make sure you log any document requests in the morning."

When the footsteps faded, Marco pushed open the heavy archive door. His lantern cast weak light across rows of filing cabinets stretching into darkness.

***

Weiss spun toward her voice, hand flying to his chest. "Who—" His eyes searched the shadows desperately. "Are you from the Interior Squad?"

"No. Just someone who wants to know what they're after—what your family and they are trying to hide."

"Hide...?" He let out a breath, almost to himself. "You don't understand. We thought we could contain it—keep what happened in Trost buried. But if they've already sent their lapdogs..."

"Who's they? What do you mean by containing it?"

***

MP-MINV-D850-104C-Wolf .A

The investigation file was thin, containing only the barest details: Murder Investigation: Tius, Nac – Trost District, 850 Suspect: Wolf, Anja, 104th Southern Cadet Corps Result: No substantial evidence found. No body recovered. Key witnesses: Leonhart, Annie; Hoover, Bertholdt; Braun, Reiner.

Their testimony had cleared Anja? Marco frowned. Annie had attacked him over papers that mentioned details absent from the official investigation. What else were they hiding?

Something caught his eye - another reference number scratched in the margin. He turned back to the cabinets, pulling more files.

Anja's personnel file should be here, but the space was empty - every trace of her military record was nowhere to be found. Instead, he found Annie's file. Then Reiner's. Bertholdt's.

His hands stilled. All three listed the same unmarked village within Wall Maria. Yet during training, Annie had barely acknowledged their existence. The files themselves were full of gaps - missing records, incomplete backgrounds...

***

"The council, the king... they fear what they don't understand. Fear anything that threatens their grip inside these walls. They're desperate to keep up a sense of normalcy."

"Those are the masks we wear..." He laughed bitterly. "My father used to say it—pretending to be something we're not, playing our parts. Some of us wear our masks to protect, while they wear theirs to crush what they can't control. To them, this isn't about hiding something or containment—it's about extermination."

***

Marco's breath caught as a he found another file - "Incident Report, Research Subjects Termination -Trost District, 850" The lockdown's true purpose emerged from its pages. The Scout Regiment's secret research titans - dead. Clear signs of internal sabotage. Critical research about titans, stolen? Destroyed? Traces of that same black substance Brandt had found with Nac's body.

The timing gnawed at him. Why had the Scouts accepted Anja so quickly after Trost? The story about her fighting the Armored Titan alone... No one could have survived that encounter. Unless...

Unless she'd never fought it at all.

His eyes darted between the scattered evidence. A murdered cadet. Sabotaged research. Four soldiers with impossible stories and missing records. Carefully coordinated absences. Testimonies that protected each other.

The day of the attack surfaced with new clarity—Anja late to her duties, Annie coming to find her, and the attack beginning minutes later. They'd appeared at headquarters with Reiner, Bertholdt mysteriously absent. Then during the battle, Anja had separated from their group, going on a rampage. She was found later with Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt—the same three who testified about Nac's death.

The Armored Titan, focusing on reaching Eren. Then its sudden retreat after Anja 'fought' it, and moments later—Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt show up. Where had they been during those crucial moments?

Then there was Eren—proof that a human could become a titan. The Armored Titan, the Colossal Titan... both so different from normal titans. Both appearing just at the right moment...

"They're not just covering for each other," he whispered, horror dawning as the pieces fell into place. "They're—"

A faint creak of the door echoed across the room.

***

The master of ceremonies' voice suddenly rang out, booming across the hall: "My lords and ladies, if you would gather for a special presentation..."

Weiss moved quickly to the railing, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Listen carefully. This gathering... it's all one big façade. It's meant to draw something out. Something they think they've found. If they confirm their suspicions—"

"It is my great honor to present our distinguished guest, the Hero of Trost!"

Through the haze of evening light, a figure appeared at the grand staircase. Anja... She stood above the crowd, red dress catching the light, black and gold mask concealing her features. At her appearance, a burst of fire and music erupted—hidden musicians struck up a triumphant melody, while crystalline chandeliers flared brighter as flames leapt from torches along the staircase, casting an orange glow over the sea of gathered faces below.

Weiss's whole demeanor shifted, his expression draining of color as he stared, rooted to the spot. His voice was hollow with disbelief. "This isn't... This can't be right..." His eyes locked on Anja, confusion overtaking the fear. "She should be terrified..."

***

"We know you're in here." The voice was icy, formal.

Marco's blood ran cold. He doused the lantern, pressing himself between cabinets. His fingers found the back door's handle—locked.

Heavy boots scraped against wood. "These documents are property of the crown. Attempting to access them without authorization is treason." Each word measured, mechanical. "The penalty is death."

***

"I have to..." He turned sharply toward the door, desperation in his movement.

Annie moved without thinking, catching his arm. "We're not done here."

In the struggle, her mask shifted—just enough.

Weiss froze, recognition flooding his features. "It's you..." he whispered. "You're her friend."

***

The blow came without warning. Marco crashed to his knees as spots danced across his vision.

"Your name." Not a question - a command. Another strike followed. "Answer."

Marco tasted blood. Through darkening vision, he saw more figures entering the archives. This was it. He was going to—

"Wait!" A voice cut through the darkness. Familiar, but different somehow. Strained.

Footsteps approached. Softer ones.

"I... I know him." The voice wavered slightly.

The world was fading, but Marco caught a final glimpse - a face he knew, twisted with fear and something else. Recognition flickered in his fading consciousness.

"Mi...na?"

Then darkness took him.

***

The nobles' applause echoed through the hall as the figure reached the bottom of the stairs, but Weiss was already turning away, his face ashen. "I'm trying to help her," he said urgently, his voice barely above a whisper.

A sharp clatter broke through the noise, followed by hurried footsteps.

Annie peered into the hallway, her breath catching. Black and silver-masked 'servants' moved with military precision, led by the wolf-masked man. Box by box, they were closing in.

"They're here," Annie whispered.

"Hide," Weiss hissed, shoving her toward the heavy curtains. As she moved, his hand pressed something cold into her palm. "Everything you need to know - it's all in my old estate. Please help her." He glanced toward the door. "Don't let them see you."

Annie slipped behind the thick fabric just as the door burst open. Through a narrow gap, she watched shadows move across the floor, heard the sharp intake of breath as they seized Weiss. His struggle was brief, almost resigned.

When she emerged minutes later, the viewing box was empty save for an abandoned wine glass. Annie's fingers closed around the object Weiss had pressed into her hand - his signet ring, marked with the crossed keys of his house. Looking closer, she noticed something odd about its design, almost like a key itself.

Annie checked the hallway - empty now, but for how long? She made her way down carefully, staying close to the walls. The crowd had formed a thick circle around their hero, nobles pressing forward with eager questions and congratulations.

"Hey!" Hitch appeared at her elbow, breathless. "Where have you been? I've been looking everywhere for-" She broke off, studying Annie's face. "What's wrong?"

"We need to leave." Annie was already moving toward the exit, but her steps slowed as she passed the gathered crowd.

The Hero of Trost stood mere feet away, smiling beneath her mask as she accepted the nobles' praise. Annie's heart seemed to stop as they drew level with each other. The height was about right, the build similar, but a thousand tiny details screamed wrong. The set of her shoulders, the angle of her head as she laughed, the way her hands moved - perfect imitations, but imitations nonetheless. Then, as the figure turned slightly, Annie caught a glimpse of amber eyes behind the mask where green should be. The figure's hand moved to brush back a strand of ginger-tinged hair that had escaped the elaborate, red plumed mask.

This was not Anja.

Annie kept walking, her face carefully blank as she passed. Each step seemed to echo in her ears as they made their way to the exit. Behind them, the imposter continued her performance, and Annie wondered if she was the only one who could see through this particular mask.

"Annie?" Hitch's voice was uncertain. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," Annie said softly, gripping the ring tighter in her palm. "Everything's fine."

She didn't look back as they descended the manor's steps into the cool night air. Somewhere in the darkness, bells began to toll midnight.

The carriage ride passed in silence, Hitch mercifully too tired to press further questions. Annie stared out the window, her thumb tracing the ring's pattern. Weiss's words echoed in her mind: "Please, help her." What had they seen in Anja that terrified them so much?

Questions piled upon questions. The Scout Regiment, the Interior Squad, even the king himself - all circling around Anja. And now this impostor. What had they done to her? Where was the real Anja?

Annie closed her eyes, remembering the amber-eyed stranger wearing her friend's face. It wouldn't be long until Karanes. Whatever answers waited in Weiss's home would have to wait -she had a mission to complete.

Two days later...

Morning mist clung to the outer walls, turning the world beyond into a gray void. Anja adjusted the straps of her framework, the familiar weight settling against her shoulders as she checked her gear one final time. Around her, the expedition's vanguard made their own preparations in silence.

Petra's voice carried softly from behind. "Framework secure?"

Anja turned, noting how Petra's eyes darted to the control mechanisms, checking them herself despite Anja's nod. There was something different in her demeanor - not just caution, but something deeper. Guilt? Every time their eyes met, Petra would look away first.

"Did you enjoy your time with your family?" Anja asked.

"Yeah..." Petra's hands stilled on the framework's straps, a strand of ginger hair falling loose as she leaned in to check a buckle. "It was good to see them." The wordas came out flat, missing their usual warmth. Her fingers trembled slightly.

She didn't elaborate further. Heinrik watched over her with concern. "Maybe she had a bad day..." he said softly. "But that's fine - we're going home." He smiled.

Up ahead, Anja and Petra led the vanguard, the others trailing behind in formation, maintaining a subtle but deliberate distance. That would only lenghten when they moved outside. The isolation felt methodical, planned.

Before Anja could dwell on Petra's changed demeanor, orders came from the wall above. Its mechanism groaned to life, the massive doors started to lift, raising dust.

"Stick to your orders," Petra said, her voice taking on an edge of urgency. "Don't go too far from me unless I tell you so, okay?"

"Scout ahead, identify threats before they reach the formation," Anja recited. "Avoid detection." The words felt hollow, practiced. Was that all she was to them now? A tool to be aimed?

Anja nodded, trying to read the unfamiliar tension in Petra's face. "I understand..."

A ray of sunlight painted the clouds ahead in shades of blood and gold. Anja turned in her saddle, searching the gathering formation behind them for familiar faces - Eren, Mikasa, Armin - but the morning haze revealed only shadowed shapes and the glint of gear.

"Look at them all," Heinrik whispered, his reflection rippling across polished gear and windows. "They are counting on us. Don't worry, if you get lost I know the way."

Commander Erwin's voice cut through the mist like thunder, his figure raising a sword high: "The 57th Expedition begins now! Forward!"

The walls of Karanes fell away behind them as they entered titan territory. Ahead lay only mist and monsters.

"You've got this, imp," Heinrik whispered from somewhere beyond sight. But for the first time, Anja wasn't sure she believed him.