Mathias was having trouble sleeping. The rage burned deep in his chest.
He was angry with his father for making a pre-emptive move, for having seen through him─or maybe he was angry with himself for being so easy to read.
He tossed and turned. Fuerth was on higher ground than Quinta, meaning a cooler temperature. The heavy blanket felt oppressive.
His patience spent, Mathias sat up. He swung his feet to the floor and pushed his toes into icy slippers. Lighting a candle stand, he left for the kitchen to get some water.
Slivers of light trailed from the door to Jörg’s chamber. Was he still working at this hour?
Mathias turned for the staircase but happened to overhear his name being spoken. His father was talking to someone about him. Like Mathias, Jörg hadn’t visited the Fuerth townhouse for a long time─perhaps he’d forgotten that the walls weren’t as thick as they were at the mansion in Quinta. As though compelled, Mathias began to approach his father’s room.
“I understand that it’s hard on the boy. I would go back too, if I could.”
He had no doubt as to the identity of his father’s companion. It was Suzanne, their servant and Mathias’ home tutor.
Since losing his wife, Jörg often shared his bed with her. When Mathias had first discovered this─Jörg and Suzanne still didn’t know he had─he’d been incensed. It had felt like a betrayal of his mother. But now he simply accepted it for what it was. His father was human, too, and Suzanne was no doubt helping fill the void left after the passing of his wife. If they were both happy with the relationship as it was, then Mathias was fine with it.
Stilling his breath, he listened.
“But why? Is there someone you care about?”
As suspected, the voice was Suzanne’s.
“Not really. Well…there are some friends, yes. And people are more important than anything else, that goes without saying─but I left certain items behind, too.”
“Items?”
“I showed them to you before, remember? The artworks. I couldn’t very well load them onto a wagon, not the way things were. There were so many people who couldn’t evacuate. Now, that would have earned some dark looks. But even putting that aside, there was no time to haul them all out. So I left them behind.”
“I’m sure you’ll be able to go back.”
“Not for a long time.”
“Are they so valuable?”
“A significant fortune, but nothing compared to the whole. I brought everything in the way of tender. And I’ve always kept the majority of my assets here in the interior.”
“So this is a simple question of attachment?”
“Indeed.”
Mathias had, without realizing it, broken out in a sweat. He no longer felt the cold. As though he’d been sprinting at top speed, his heart was pounding hard and fast.
He’s talking about…
The numerous works of art, neatly arranged in the underground room. Jörg had left them back at the Quinta mansion.
There must be some way I can use this as leverage.
Mathias’ throat was drier than when he’d gotten up.
He tiptoed away from his father’s chamber and slinked downstairs─the whole time fearing his thumping heart might give him away.
A bribe.
What better way was there of putting such valuable artworks to use? The question was to whom to offer them, and what to ask for in return.
Mathias tried running through it in his head.
He wanted to go back to Quinta. Once there he hoped to find Rita and, if possible, to bring her back with him to Fuerth. For that, he first needed to get past the wall. And not just get past it. He would need a horse. Without one he couldn’t hope to outrun the Titans. They would devour him and he would die in vain.
He was becoming convinced that the only way to get past the wall with a steed was to join the campaign to retake Shiganshina. Yet the sections responsible for drafting volunteers had been issued orders not to accept him. In the end, it seemed to him that his only course of action was to bribe one of the soldiers signing people up.
Clearly, he couldn’t just approach the desk and say, “Sign me up and I’ll tell you where to find some treasure.” For one thing, there was no guarantee that the soldier in question would be the kind that was receptive to bribery. All of which meant that he had to find…
“A place where corrupt soldiers hang out, huh.”
The day after he’d listened in on his father’s conversation, Mathias spent the afternoon quietly at home in the townhouse. Come evening, he changed into the plainest clothes he could find. He told Suzanne he wouldn’t need dinner, then hurried out before anyone asked any questions.
He headed first in the direction of the Garrison barracks. From there he visited every store and food hall in the vicinity, plying the same made-up story to gather information on all the cheap taverns in the neighborhood: You don’t know any of the soldiers’ taverns, do you? Since my brother joined the Garrison he’s been out drinking every night. Mom’s beside herself…
He was fortunate in that everyone he spoke to was sympathetic. Some of the women even went as far as to show concern: Of course…but promise me you’ll be careful. It’s an unsavory crowd there.
For Mathias’ purposes, the more unsavory the places were, the better. That only increased his chances of finding soldiers of dubious moral character. He finally decided on one hidden deep in a complex web of back alleys, relatively far away from the barracks. By then the sky had turned completely dark.
He did hesitate outside the entrance, but this lasted only seconds. Whatever the nature of the clientele, they would be nothing compared to a gaggle of Titans. He wouldn’t be devoured head first.
The din and heat seared out the moment he opened the door. It was abnormally hot inside, with enough vapor and smoke to obscure the recesses from sight. The tavern was larger than he’d expected; the seating seemed to continue beyond the wall visible up ahead. Shabby male servers were busy pushing through the crowd. Mathias couldn’t see any waitresses. Perhaps you had to be a man to handle a crowd this rough.
From what he could see, most of the seats were taken up by uniformed men. It did appear to be a hangout for soldiers. It also seemed the kind of place where barely educated characters came to blow off steam. Somewhere where the main purpose was to get drunk and make noise, not to enjoy quick-witted conversation or debate.
A lesson of sorts.
The experience might prove useful one day. Still, it wasn’t really the kind of place he’d want to visit often. He already didn’t care to breathe too much.
“Hm…” He wasn’t sure where to sit, even whether he was supposed to choose a seat. Either way, none of the servers had spared him a glance.