To ambush the Central Military Police unit led by Kenny, Roger waited the whole night—and didn't see a single shadow.
Dawn broke; they had to return empty-handed.
After sending a recon team to scout the outskirts, Roger got a piece of intel that made no sense at all.
Last night Kenny's people had indeed given chase—then halfway through, they suddenly detoured to the biggest tavern in the Orvud District, "Mori Tavern," rented the whole place out, and drank until the small hours.
Roger was baffled.
Was Kenny just not interested in him?
Or did he realize there was surely an ambush ahead and call off the pursuit?
He asked Levi, who only shook his head.
"Kenny's always been hard to read. Even I can't guess what's in his skull," Levi said.
"In that case, we'll have to make the first move," Roger decided.
With someone like Kenny, you had to seize the initiative fast—or risk being strung along by him.
The problem was, Kenny's current location was slippery.
Roger sent many men out in plain clothes to sniff for leads, and every one of them came back empty.
The Central MPs didn't seem to be under the MP commander's authority. They answered only to the royal family.
If so, the likeliest place they'd appear was near the royal capital, and they'd likely be thick with certain nobles.
Roger's first suspect was Lord Meg—he often dined with Commander-in-Chief Darius Zackly; sometimes he met MP Commander Nile Dawk; and he'd even chat over chess with Garrison Commander Dot Pixis.
A man like that had motives—and the means—to assemble a small anti-personnel unit.
So, after a week of prep, Roger put together a plan to assassinate Lord Meg.
Because the man's villa was huge, getting in took some work, but they pulled it off.
Levi's reaction speed was monstrous. Fighting alongside him for the first time felt like racing a blood brother—relentless pressure, neck and neck.
In the end, Levi still lost on stamina. Roger figured that was thanks to his own Titan boost; take that away and they'd be about even.
They made it out to safety, and Levi, face tight with annoyance, pulled a several-centimeter lift out of his boot.
…?
"Levi, don't tell me you twisted your—because of a lift—"
"Shut up. It's not funny, Roger," Levi deadpanned.
"…"
Right. No more jokes.
Still, why would anyone stuff lifts that high in their boots? Was height that important?
Until Levi took the lifts out and stood in front of Roger…
…coming up several inches short under Roger's gaze.
Roger attained sudden enlightenment.
Yeah. It mattered.
Back at the encampment, Roger kept sending people to track MP movements over the next few days.
That anti-personnel unit didn't show—like Lord Meg hadn't mattered at all. And if they were Meg's men, why wasn't there any reaction to the attack?
The only explanation…
The commander behind the anti-personnel unit wasn't Meg. It was someone else.
"Could it be Lord Turner, the finance chief?" Tours wondered. "He's loaded. Big villa. If anyone wants a private guard corps, it's him."
Roger nodded slightly.
So Lord Cromwell Turner died in his bed—clutching his gold and jewels to his chest.
Still nothing.
Kenny's unit kept appearing and vanishing like phantoms, impossible to read.
Two nobles dead in a row left the court in panic.
They knew who was doing it—but there was nothing they could do. Every assassination left no trace. No matter how many search orders they handed the MP, it was useless.
A few days later, the royal family issued an emergency summons, ordering the Survey Corps back from outside operations to join a kingdom-wide manhunt for "Titan shifters" inside the Walls.
The Garrison had it worst—nearly everyone received search orders to knock on every door and conduct a census.
It was the biggest population sweep within the Walls yet. Even the unruliest place—the Underground—was forcibly searched, dragging out wave after wave of criminals until MP jails were nearly full.
But the public wailed, wondering what the royal family's massive move really meant.
Soon, a "rumor" leaked—maybe the truth—that "Titan shifters have infiltrated the Walls."
The Wall Cult swelled overnight. Crowds tried to flee inward—but Mitras barred all entry, sealing every gate. Anyone who tried to force their way in or out was seized on the spot for treason and detained for investigation.
Days later—
The entire MP mobilized to crack down on every gang in the capital.
Outside Mitras, the four gate districts—Stohess in the east, Ehrmich in the south, Yarckel in the west, and Orvud in the north—rang with gunfire all day, bodies everywhere.
The royal family had gone for the throat.
When their own lives were on the line, profit from gangs meant nothing. They wanted to live—unlike the two lords who'd just been cut down.
In the royal hall, "King Fritz" sat on the throne, cheek on fist, remote and composed while the ministers huddled, terrified, to discuss countermeasures.
"Lord Reiss, what now? The people are enraged. The anti-gang campaign is just, but mistakes are inevitable. Protest groups have already formed."
"Right. We can't keep the city sealed forever." The man wiped sweat from his forehead. "I sent men to inspect the city gates at dawn—crowds outside, desperate to leave. Outside the Walls there are crowds too, desperate to come in. Keep this up and even the MPs will start to doubt."
"Yes, yes—this isn't a solution. Lord Reiss, think of something."
Hearing the complaints and fears, Rod Reiss felt the same headache. Kenny hadn't managed to kill Roger Eikam. According to those three from beyond the Walls, the Jaw Titan—the one to mend the Wall—and the Armored Titan—the one to break it—were both in Roger's hands. If Kenny's strike and those three's surprise assault had failed, then beyond the Founding Titan, no power could check that man.
"Open the granaries first," Reiss said at last. "Hold on a while longer. For now, we have to placate the populace."
And on the very next day after opening the granaries—
Roger showed himself.
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