“-I really think they’d make an adorable couple but HR keeps insisting that showing any kind of personal weakness in front of the otherworlders could cause a revo-, ah, here we are!”

They stood in front of a metallic door. At this point, they had ascended several staircases and gone up at least two elevators, but even then, Kreig could tell they weren’t entirely at the top. Craig stepped up to the door, placed his thumb against a scanner, poked a pin number into the mounted keypad on the wall and opened the door. He held it open. None of the Fighters or guards moved, and neither did Kreig.

“Huh? Whatcha waiting for? Get in there, you big lumbering blockhead! If I hold the door open too long the guys inside might try to escape!” Craig scandalized, nodding for Kreig to enter.

Slightly flushed at his mistake, Kreig entered, noticing rather unhappily how the door closed behind him with a metallic click and whirr that suggested it locked itself. A guard standing by the side of the door on the inside eyed Kreig warily. Kreig eyed him right back before turning to the room as a whole. It was about the size of a normal bar, lit by cold fluorescent lights and populated almost entirely by round tables, littered boxes and thick books (written in all languages except English) and, finally… A whole gaggle of prisoners.

About a dozen and a half. Most of them sat crowded around single round tables, gleefully playing card games that were surely too modern for Kreig to understand. The language spoken seemed to mostly be German (the empire was rather large, after all), though the people around another table spoke French with several smaller collections that spoke other languages such as Korean or Afrikaan.

Not a single soul spoke English. Kreig adjusted himself. He had only ever learnt English, Mandarin and German. The people in the Kingdom that existed before the Holy Order of White Roots took over spoke Mandarin while those of the Empire spoke German.

It was simple.

For a few seconds, Kreig just stood there. Staring at this minor collection of people.

Magus Human, Lv.223 Human, Lv.190 Human, Lv.276 Magus Human, Lv.145

A few turned to look at him. As they turned, others moved as well, until, finally, the lot of them saw him. Most of them were middle-aged and male, though their ethnicities varied. About half had the pointed ears that characterize the Magus Humans, or what most called sorcerers, wizards and witches. Unlike common belief, these long-eared blue-eyed magic-wielding people did not come to exist through a mixing of races or even though a pure fae-like race, it was simply, much like the oracles of God, created through the consumption of a certain type of mushroom. Unlike the Messiah’s Egg, eating these were cause for neither execution nor ex-communication.

These people now looked at him, and Kreig was entirely unsure what to say. Should he introduce himself? As who? Surely one or two in this room knew his identity, surely they must be ready to attack him on sight…

“-It’s sir Kreig!” one of the sorcerers called out in German, standing up from his seat. Kreig was ready to accept the oncoming beatdown. After all, to the Empire, he was a traitor. A dirty, rotten-, “The Captain of the Royal Guard!”

...Huh?

About three-fourths of the blue-clad prisoners surrounding the German table sprung from their seats, their faces split wide by some of the largest grins Kreig had ever seen. The other few Germans seemed deeply confused, but were unable to stop the others, who bolted for Kreig, surrounding him in a matter of seconds. Some were excited enough to let their hands rest on the iron mittens covering his hands, others simply stood there, eyes glittering.

“Sir, sir! It’s an honour meeting you! How is the Empire doing? Surely, we’ve not been invaded by those dastardly Pretzians?”

“Sir Royal knight, have truly 70 years passed in our absence? Say it isn’t so!”

“I’ve got a wife and kids, how are they? Have you met them? I must say, sir, though I never became a knight of the Royal Guard, you were always my inspiration! And, Klaus, according to my calculations, it should have been 85 years, not some measly 70!”

“Shut it, Kilian! You’ve been here longer than I have!”

-Ah. So that was it. Tme passed differently between the two worlds, and these people… They’ve been here too long to have understood Kreig’s new status as a fugitive. Or, even worse, as a sort of… national disaster. He’d never considered himself as such, but according to those people who interrogated him a month ago, that’s what he was.

“Say, sir, you’re being awfully quiet. Everything alright?” one of the long-eared fellows asked. Somehow, Kreig had never heard any reports of magicians and wizards going missing. Though… armies were a more common occurrence, usually attributed to adolescent dragons or grown drakes goofing around.

Now this… this was a more interesting phenomenon.

The people close around him shared a few glances since Kreig still wasn’t responding. One leaned in closer to another and began whispering things. Kreig didn’t hesitate to snoop. “Hey, isn’t it strange that the Captain is still alive? If 60 or 70 years have passed, shouldn’t he be dead-? I mean, maybe they’ve kept him here for a while, but…”

Kreig didn’t like the sound of that. He didn’t want to make a mess, and since only one of three skills or a single forbidden spell could grant some form of immortality, having them suspect him of being a heretic would likely lead to a mess being caused.

Nevertheless, what caused a mess was not Kreig, but the single fourth of Empire citizens still lingering about the Empire’s table.

“-Hey! Get away from him!” one of them shouted, knocking over his chair as he swiftly rose from it. A few of his fellow Empirists rose as well, carrying equally as conflicted and apprehensive expressions on their faces. All other people in the room were merely watching on as it happened. “That’s the guy, that’s the heretic bastard knight we told you about!”

Busted.