Armin's head aches from staring at endless documents and mission reports, from the late hour and lack of sleep and simply from thinking at this point. His tired eyes flicker to the candle that's about to burn out, and sure enough, the flame dies, a small string of smoke wisping into the air. He sighs heavily, slumping against the back of his chair and stretching his back out before letting out a groan of relief when his stiff shoulders crack.

Armin understood being Commander would be hard, that he'd have to make tough decisions and choices that those around him might not like. He's gentle of heart, and cares deeply about the opinions of his companions, the last thing he wants is to upset them... Which is causing the seed of crippling self-doubt to sow, thinking maybe he isn't cut out for this. 'Commanding' isn't a word Armin or anyone else would associate with his name... maybe Commander Erwin was really the one that should have been saved.