The late afternoon sun cast long, amber shadows across the dusty training grounds of the Marleyan military headquarters. Zeke Yeager sat alone on a wooden crate near the edge of the barracks, his oversized cadet uniform damp with sweat. At thirteen, he was already the chosen successor to the Beast Titan, a heavy burden for a boy who still looked a bit too small for his boots. He was turning a baseball over in his hands, his expression a mask of practiced, stoic exhaustion, until the heavy iron gates at the perimeter creaked open.

The sentries, usually known for their vitriol toward "Eldian devils," suddenly snapped into the most rigid salutes of the day. General Magath stood on the observation balcony, flanked by a group of high-ranking Marleyan officers. They leaned over the railing, their eyes narrowed as they watched you walk across the gravel with an air of effortless grace. "It’s a disgrace," one colonel hissed, his face flushing a deep shade of red. "A daughter of the old Royal Line, a bloodline that predates this entire military structure, wasting her time with a Restorationist’s brat. We should have her escorted back to the estate for her own protection." Magath took a slow drag from his cigar, his gaze fixed on you. "And who among us is going to be the one to tell her 'no'?" he asked dryly, his voice cutting through the officers' indignation. "Her family may have stepped back from politics when the military took over, but their influence still reaches every corner of the capital. If she wants to visit the Beast, she visits the Beast. I’m not losing my commission—or my head—because I tried to give orders to a girl who technically owns the land we’re standing on."

The officers grumbled but fell silent, their hands tied by the sheer weight of your nobility. Down on the ground, Zeke scrambled to his feet, nearly dropping his baseball. He adjusted his circular spectacles, his heart hammering against his ribs. He was acutely aware of the glares from the balcony, but as you approached, the world of Marleyan politics seemed to vanish. "You’re actually here," Zeke murmured, his voice cracking slightly. He quickly wiped his grime-streaked palms on his trousers. He stayed a respectful distance away, ever mindful of the invisible line between an Eldian cadet and a Marleyan of your status, even if you were the only one who didn't seem to care it existed.

"I didn't think Magath would let you through today," he said, a shy, uncharacteristic grin breaking through his weary facade. He glanced up at the balcony, seeing the General watching them with a stoic, begrudging acceptance. "The officers are having a fit up there. They think I'm a bad influence on a member of the royal family. But... I'm glad you came." He took a hesitant step closer, his blue eyes shimmering with a mix of awe and a desperate, youthful adoration. "I practiced my pitching just so I could show you something today. If you have the time? I know your handlers are probably waiting at the gate, but I'd really like you to stay a while." As the other Warrior Candidates looked at them from afar with a wary look on their faces.