COTE x AOT: Ashes in The Sky

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Location: Fields of Wall Rose
Year: 844
Time: Early Morning

The steady clip-clop of hooves on the hard-packed dirt road was the only sound that filled the quiet stretch of countryside around me.

Every so often, a gust of wind stirred up clouds of dust that clung to my boots and coat.

I never mentioned how dirty the Walls were, didn't I?

Besides those useless thoughts, I was busy with the pressing question of money.

How can I get it without attracting suspicion? I thought as I watched the sparse trees lining the road pass by in a blur.

Money wasn't something I could do without here, yet making too much of a scene wasn't an option either.

I considered various ideas, some a bit more practical than the other.

Bounty hunting came to mind first.

Simple enough, really, and it provided a quick, legitimate route to coin—an essential point when standing out was the last thing I wanted.

I had no shortage of skills for the task. It would even let me move around freely, to do whatever I wanted.

Yet, I could already see the downside. Bounties would eventually dry up, leaving me short on options in the longer term.

No point in bleeding the only convenient well dry.

The thought of stealing flitted across my mind...

No, I've done enough already.

Not only was it reckless, but it would also attract exactly the kind of attention I didn't need. I wasn't desperate enough to risk compromising my position or drawing unnecessary suspicion.

There was always the matter of official documents, too. I've been wanting to get my hands on some ever since I realized my situation.

Getting hold of papers—authentic or fake—would be advantageous. Being documented would open doors to more stable work within the Walls. Between my physical abilities, my efficiency with various tasks, and my general lack of visible emotions, I was confident I could fit in wherever I was placed.

How difficult could it be?

Steering my horse around a bend, I reached into its saddle bag, pulled out a piece of jerky and ate it.

It wasn't like the stuff back in ANHS, but it'd do.

A stray, unrelated thought drifted through my mind, lingering on the ODM gear smugglers I'd tailed last week.

They were careful, but not too careful.

Payment...

Not handfuls, nor pieces of coin. Pouches, large ones.

That kind of transaction was well beyond anything the average citizen would see. It told me enough—just who the buyers were, I could figure out later.

I adjusted my grip on the reins, glancing toward the horizon where the Walls were meant to be.

If I moved just a few more kilometres to the left, I'd be able to see those 50-meter giants for my own eyes...

Yeah, those things were definitely made by some magic powers.

Sotomura would love this place.

There wasn't much of an explanation besides magic, to be honest.

This place was still a mystery in parts, but I was slowly piecing it together, with every person I spoke to, every sign I read, and every rumour I picked up.

Just a little more time, and a few more details, and I'd have a map in my mind that made sense.

"Just go in, then out," I muttered to myself, barely loud enough to hear over the wind.

...

...

...

Two weeks.

It was now almost certainly the start of Fall.

The night air had a chill to it, the kind that clung to the skin and bled through clothes despite the layers I'd put on.

The weather in the Walls was similar to that of the northern hemisphere. I could equate it to probably the Scottish Highlands or perhaps somewhere in Eastern Europe.

It was also quiet.

The kind of quiet you could feel as if the whole world had shrunk down to just the darkened clearing we'd stopped in.

I stood a few paces back from the small group gathered, watching as the Military Police officers made their way into the clearing from the opposite side. The air smelled of damp earth, and a thin mist hung just above the ground, making the shadows seem to stretch and blend.

This was my first time at a deal like this. I'd been warned, rather pointedly, to stay quiet and observe.

I had no plans to break that rule.

As they drew closer, one of the officers eyed me sharply, a hint of distrust flickering in his expression.

His eyes went to the man standing a few paces ahead of me—my boss for the night. A wiry man with a confident air.

He responded to the officer's look with an easy, dismissive wave. "Relax, he's just here to help load up. Trustworthy hands, that's all."

The officer's gaze lingered on me, and I met it with the same blank expression I always wore. It was clear he wasn't entirely convinced, but after a pause, he gave a curt nod and refocused on my boss.

My goodness, don't be so uptight.

It's not like I'm going to strangle you in your sleep...

Lighten up a bit, would you?

"Fine. Just keep him out of the way," the officer muttered.

He and the other MPs began unloading crates from their wagon, dull metal and wood clattering together like a mediocre boy band trying the drums.

My boss stepped forward, motioning to the crates as if assessing their value by sight alone.

"How many sets you bring this time?" he asked in a low, even voice.

"Five." The officer, a burly man with a no-nonsense look about him, jerked a thumb toward the crates. "That's all we could pull without raising questions. Our captain's been sniffing around lately—getting harder to do these runs."

My boss's expression tightened, though he kept his voice level.

"So, we might need to hold off on the next one?"

The burly officer shrugged, exchanging a glance with his partner. "Could be. We're not gonna risk our necks for this if it's going to blow back on us." His tone held a hint of irritation, a sign he wasn't happy with the added scrutiny from his superiors.

I wonder why.

Two weeks is a load of time.

Lots can change in 336 hours.

The other officer chimed in, voice low. "Look, we're doing you a favour here. We stick our necks out, keep our mouths shut, and in return, we expect things to stay smooth. You want us to keep this going, we need to know we're safe."

My boss rubbed his jaw thoughtfully, then gave a reluctant nod.

"We'll get creative if it comes to that. I've got a few spots in mind where we can lay low for a while if we have to," he replied, giving a half-smile meant to reassure, but his tone hinted at his subtle annoyance. "And you'll get your usual cut—no matter what."

The officers visibly relaxed at that, but one of them—slim, younger, looking more restless than the others—shot a glance back at me. "And what about him?" he asked, gesturing toward me with a jerk of his thumb. "Trustworthy hands or not, new faces don't exactly sit right with me."

My boss chuckled, waving off the officer's concerns. "Like I said, he's quiet and reliable. No need to worry." He turned slightly, shooting me a sidelong glance. "Besides, he knows better than to get involved in things he doesn't need to."

I met the officer's gaze again, keeping my expression calm and empty. Inside, I noted their discomfort and mentally catalogued every detail of the interaction: the way the MPs kept glancing over their shoulders, the impatience that undercut their words. These were men willing to risk much for money but who were still on edge about every variable, including me.

My boss turned his attention back to the crates, tapping one with the heel of his boot. "Looks good enough," he said, with a small nod. "Let's load it up."

There was a quiet flurry of movement as the crates were passed along.

I kept to the back as instructed, lifting and moving a crate to our wagon, observing the mechanics of the deal as much as the people involved.

The ODM gear had a distinctive look: compact yet complicated, every piece strapped down carefully, making it clear this was no amateur job.

Thinking about it further... how would the physics work on this thing if I used it?

If the laws of aerodynamics and drag still applied normally in this world, I would be facing a lot of G-force...

As I moved a crate, I heard the younger officer's voice again, this time lower, almost as if he didn't mean for anyone to hear. "Wonder what anyone even does with these," he muttered. "It's not like you can just walk around in 'em."

The older officer next to him shot him a dark look. "Doesn't matter. They pay well, don't they?" He looked back at my boss, his voice dropping to a mutter. "Look, we're all here for the same reason—cash. So let's get it done and be done."

My boss gave a short, satisfied nod.

"Couldn't agree more," he said, giving a final glance toward the clearing behind us. The tension had visibly eased now that the crates were loaded, but I knew these types—they'd remain on edge until the job was done and they were long gone.

With everything packed and ready, my boss climbed onto the driver's seat of our wagon, motioning for me to sit beside him. The MPs gave a few final, cautious glances around the clearing, seemingly satisfied that no one else had arrived to interrupt. As they turned to leave, the burly officer raised a hand, a half-smirk on his face.

"We'll be in touch when things cool down," he said, before they disappeared into the night, their forms swallowed up by the trees and shadows.

My boss flicked the reins, urging the horses forward. As we started moving, I felt his eyes on me, the slightest glint of amusement on his face.

"Not bad for your first deal," he said, low enough that the words barely reached me.

I didn't respond. The dark road stretched ahead, and I turned my focus back to the night, quietly replaying the encounter. This was a different world, one with its own rules and players. The less I said, the more I learned, and tonight had been no exception.

Ah, I hope this works.

They can't be too different, can they?

...

...

...

I leaned against the corner of a brick building, watching as my boss spoke to two Military Police officers near the center of the square.

The officers—both of them with a certain air of smugness about them—stood with their arms crossed, occasionally glancing around with a forced sense of calm, as if ensuring no one could see what they were up to.

They handed my boss a few small pouches, and even from here, I recognized them: the same coin pouches used in the transaction two nights prior.

I let out a quiet hum of self-satisfaction, mentally noting that no matter where I found myself, people tended to fall into predictable patterns.

Humans remained human, whether in my world or this one.

After a few moments, my boss glanced over his shoulder and saw me, giving a quick nod. The exchange concluded, and he strolled back toward me, wearing an exaggeratedly strained look as if he'd just been through some ordeal. 

What? Did he realize that he's constantly living in filth?

He gave me a solid pat on the shoulder, his expression shifting into a sly grin.

"Well done, Kiyotaka," he said, his voice low but carrying a hint of genuine admiration. "Not many could pull off what you did. Now tell me, how exactly did you make it happen?" His eyes gleamed with curiosity, but I could tell he was mostly humouring himself, wanting to hear the details for his amusement.

I let a beat pass, feigning innocence.

"A trade secret," I said, folding my arms.

His face split into a wide grin, amused. "Playing coy, huh? I suppose I can't blame you."

I recalled the simplicity of the plan, one so obvious it was almost laughable.

The officers in this town were notorious for their indulgence, especially when the right incentive was presented. A few strategically placed hints, the promise of a tidy reward, or better yet, recognition from their superiors had been all it took to draw their higher-ups' attention.

I'd left breadcrumbs to lead their commanders right to the officers dealing in ODM gear, casting it as theft from local citizens—myself and my boss included. That sense of 'duty' and self-righteousness had done the rest.

The ODM gear remained 'lost' but the people who sold said gear were caught.

It was more than enough for those MPs to be satisfied with.

My boss chuckled, shaking his head as if he'd caught onto my game.

"Fine, keep your secrets. Just know that you've made things a lot easier for us," he said, his tone edged with relief. "With the money we've recovered from those dirty pigs, we're in a much better position to keep operations running smoothly."

He tossed me a small coin pouch—payment, compensation, a reward, whatever he wanted to call it. I caught it without much thought, briefly weighing it in my hand.

Not a fortune, but it would serve my needs for now.

If I stretched it out, I could last another month, which wouldn't be ideal, as with winter approaching...

You get the idea, don't you?

"Anything else you need?" he asked, crossing his arms and giving me a calculating look as if sizing up just what kind of request I might make.

I nodded.

"Actually, there is. I need some documentation. Not much—just enough to keep under the radar."

I kept my tone even, letting it imply that this was simply a matter of logistics, not curiosity.

If I wanted to move into more civilian life while also keeping connections with the criminal underworld... I could do that with ease.

There wasn't much technology for these people to find criminals such as fingerprint readers or proper equipment for DNA analysis.

Despite my overbearing knowledge, I intended to keep these people like this. 

Primitive.

So I'd always have the advantage just in case.

My boss's eyes narrowed slightly, but after a beat, he nodded. "I know a guy," he said thoughtfully. "For the right price, he can get you anything you need. Papers, records—hell, he can probably fabricate an entire background for you if that's what you're after. Though, after what you've done and what you can bring to the table, I'm sure we can hash out something."

He chuckled afterward.

"Sounds like it'll work," I replied, slipping the coin pouch into my coat pocket. My boss gave another amused smile before turning his attention to the quiet streets around us.

"Alright, then. I'll set it up. It may take a day or two, but if you keep yourself free, he'll have you sorted out."

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Words: 2587

Author notes:

Ah, 2.5k words per chapter...

Remember when those were the standard? Yeah, Queasy would never do that anymore—he's too focused on trying to create spectacle and hype for a 온라인카지노게임 that spans over 200k words.

My brain has actually fried I can't think