Attack on Titan Fanfiction – Bladesmiths & Librarians: Chapter 8

What’s In the Box

“You always have to be the good-looking sonofabitch, don’t you?” Levi muttered to the statue as his clear grey eyes looked up at it.

The brigadier was on his way to see Scheiber at the library. In the vestibule of the building was a life-sized bronze sculpture of Erwin Smith himself, wearing the old military uniform, the Wings of Freedom. The face was handsome, extremely so, rivaling the beauty of the ancient gods, the body tall and strong, large and imposing. In his hand he held a book instead of a sword, an eye with a compass in place of an iris decorating the cover. Carved on the base of the statue was a pile of books, topped with a globe and an ancient key: Eren’s basement key. It was a piece of art celebrating the pursuit of knowledge and truth. 

Schreiber was proud of the sculpture. He had commissioned it himself, based on his research and interviews with what was left of Erwin’s comrades. 

Levi remembered the day the statue was inaugurated two years ago, timing it with the publication of Erwin’s biography as written by a well-known author from the continent, Gustaf Schreiber. Queen Historia was there along with the entire royal household. Jean and Mikasa each carried one of the twins, who were impressed by the large statue. 

“Please Uncle Jean, Aunt Mikasa, tell us stories about our father speaking with this great big man!” they beg the couple. At that moment the couple’s eyes land on Levi’s. “What do we know? You do it!” their eyes said.

“This big man is named Erwin Smith. He was a great leader of our people. Your Uncle Levi knew him best. I’m sure he can share some stories about him speaking with your father,” Jean said, glancing meaningfully at Levi, who scowled at him.

Enough reminiscing. Back to today. 

Levi was in a bind. Last week something extraordinary happened. The two assassins sent by the Yabo had been found, but unfortunately, they couldn’t be captured alive. 

“Sorry, boss,” his operator, Captain Caleb Pfeiffer, had said. “I knew they were designated High-Value Targets. We were this close to bagging them, but they put up a huge fight and I had to radio for backup. When backup came the targets decided to self-destruct.”

“It was my fault, sir,” said his other operator, Captain Karl von Bennigsen. “I wore a plain coat over my uniform, but during the chase it got torn and our insignia became visible. They saw it and everything seemed to go downhill from there.” 

While Pfeiffer and his men were disguised in plainclothes, Bennigsen and his men had just arrived at the northeastern port right after a mission. He didn’t have time to change to his undercover clothes. 

Levi could see what happened. The Yabo assassins realised they weren’t just dealing with plain clothes policemen: they were dealing with Ackermann-trained Special Forces. And they knew what every Special Forces operator around the world knew: better kill yourself than be captured alive by enemy equivalents, because the torture that would follow in order to extract information would be a fate worse than death. 

Besides, even if the targets were elite assassins and former Special Forces operators, they were outnumbered two to twelve by fellow operators who rivaled them in skills. Ultimately, the Yabo assassins did what anyone in their place would have done.

“You did what you can. Well done,” Levi said.

It was a good thing the targets were eliminated; Levi no longer had to spend sleepless nights worrying about the assassins prowling the island and killing other craftsmen and worst of all, finding Jürgen Schmitz and kidnapping him. But now, information-wise he was all the poorer. He’s lost his leads, he’ll never find out who had hired the assassins in the first place. 

That night he went home and paced the floor, thinking of what to do next. Exhausted with his pacing, he took down Erwin’s volume of poetry from the bookshelf. In times of distress, in times of loneliness, in times of indecision, Levi would flip through the volume, reading a few sonnets here and there, and he’d find comfort and strength. Sometimes a light bulb lit in his head, just by reading Erwin’s words.

That night Levi sat on his easy chair and thumbed through the book of poetry. Schreiber had arranged the poems according to date, painstakingly annotated them, adding a complete glossary, including detailed notes regarding the ancient mythology that Erwin sometimes mentioned, as well as the non-Eldian classical phrases that peppered his writing. He transcribed the Ancient Eldian calendar and language into Modern Eldian. Thanks to Schreiber’s efforts the fragmented poems became a beautiful anthology that anyone can read and appreciate. It was a labor of love really. 

With Levi’s permission Schreiber included only a few choice lines from the Truth poems, but none of the Love poems, in his official Erwin Smith biography and children’s book. Schreiber put together the anthology because he wanted to, out of respect for his subject. He felt strongly that if there was one person who should see the anthology in its entirety, it ought to be Levi and Levi alone. 

At first Levi was offended that Schreiber dared read such intimate poems. But then Levi looked at the original version and found the language and dating too ancient to make sense of. It was only thanks to Schreiber that he had something readable in his hands. 

Tonight, having run out of ideas on what to do with the bladesmith case, Levi slowly and carefully flipped the pages of the anthology, reading a sonnet here and there and going through all the corresponding glossary notes at the back. 

Suddenly he noticed something he had never noticed before.

Levi found a stray poem, not in Erwin’s handwriting but in Schreiber’s. It was scribbled on the back of the last glossary page. 

Levi’s breath caught in his throat. The poem was written in Modern Eldian, in the form of an allegory. But the subject was clear. Schreiber wrote in beautiful, agonizing, heartbreaking lines about his deep, sorrowful, impossible love for Hange Zoë.

Levi read the poem again. It was so poignant it could make a grown man cry. So Levi read it once more just to be sure. Without wanting to, his eyes start to water.

Now he was sure. Holy fuck.

“You need to tell them. You sound too fucking miserable not telling them,” Levi sits in Schreiber’s office, waving a piece of paper in the librarian’s face. Schreiber stares at the paper in utter horror.

“I can’t, Levi. I wish I could, but I can’t. I mustn’t,” Schreiber says, the look of horror transitioning to a defeated, somber, forlorn expression.

“Life is short, Gustaf. Why’re you being coy? We’re all fucking adults.”

“I know, but it’s impossible. I must not. I cannot. Not now, not ever.”

“If you don’t tell them then I will.” He waves the piece of paper once more. 

“No, Levi, I’m begging you, please.”

They go back and forth like this for a while. Exasperated, Levi stands up, hands on hips. He narrows his eyes at the head librarian. 

They were in his office, Levi demanding why he wouldn’t tell Hange and Schreiber being all reticent. Levi found himself both suspicious and incredibly annoyed.

“You’re fucking hiding something,” he deadpans.

Silence.

“Tell me or I’ll wring it from your filthy neck.”

Schreiber feels the weight of the shrewd grey eyes on him. He looks down at his feet. He knew what he had to do. Everything in his life has lead to this moment. He was going to have to tell Levi the truth. 

The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help him gods.

This is the end, Schreiber thinks to himself.

“Wait here,” he tells the shorter man, disappearing into the office backroom to come out with a sealed wooden box. He unlocks the box and turns it around so that Levi got a clear view of the contents. In it were three skulls: an adult woman’s skull, and two smaller skulls. 

Children, about ten years old or thereabouts, Levi surmises. He stares at the librarian, mouth half-open in disbelief. 

Gustaf Schreiber sits with the box in front of him and tells Levi everything.

Next – Chapter 9: The Disconsolate

Back – Chapter 7: Sonnets of Truth & Love

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