George gave an all-too forced smile. “No, that’s alright. We’re just stepping through.”

Annie didn’t seem quite happy, but she couldn’t deny them. So, although hesitantly, with a sidelong gaze, she stepped inside her apartment and wasted no time locking the door. George wasn’t even surprised. Had it just been him, she likely wouldn’t have been as apprehensive, but since Kreig the living mountain was there in person, It made sense for her to be more cautious than usual.

As Kreig took a step to move towards the door to place his letter within, George stopped him by gently placing his hand on his brother’s chest. From just that touch, George could tell almost instinctively that if Kreig hadn’t stopped, George’s arm might have been broken by him simply moving. Now, as unfun as those thoughts were, when Kreig turned to him, eyes bright and confused, George knew he had to explain. “She’s cautious. We’ll wait until she steps away from the door to post her the letter.”

By the looks of it, as hesitant as he was, Kreig accepted it, stalling in his steps fully. Then, he turned to the door. Short quick breaths through his nose. And after just a minute… “She’s left the door.”

George didn’t question it, simply nodding at the door in a gesture that said it all. Kreig gave a nod in turn.

Kreig approached the door. Thumbed the letter a few seconds, and pushed it inside the little slot on the door. Gave a sniff in the air, and retreated.

And George could only barely hear the sound of quick, thumping footsteps and the door being thrown open before the world blurred into a flurry of colours and things and all of a sudden he was outside, in the arms of his brother. His glasses were lopsided. What the hell had just-,

“I brought you outside to evade her discovery.” Right. That explained it.

George wobbled out of Kreig’s grasp, feeling his intestines all squirming and unhappy. He felt bad, really bad. Humans weren’t meant to move as fast as they had just moved, he could feel it. How fast had it been? A wink of the eye and he had moved several dozen meters. “Right, thank you, that was-, we don’t want to be discovered. For national security reasons. Or something.”

It wasn’t as though Kreig argued this or was even trying to make an argument of his own, but George still couldn’t bother to stick around there. If Annie decided to walk out of her apartment complex to investigate, they’d be in trouble.

So, he made it over to the car, got Kreig to sit in the other seat, and drove off. “One down, three to go.” Once George got the GPS all configured to the next spot, he turned to Kreig. “Now, continue. About the theocracy you served.”

Kreig froze in his seat. Swallowed.

“It was… Not a good time.”

But in George’s silence, Kreig found himself too uncomfortable to withhold the past.

The theocracy fell. It had been too ambitious, Kreig said. Trying to spread to countries that rejected the belief and everything to do with it. And then… War happened. Kreig’s voice was so low as he spoke about it that George could barely hear about it. Death. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers and civilians slain. There was no way to soften the truth. He almost died. When he admitted that he was captured by the enemy, that he was kept in a prison beneath the Empire for almost twenty years.

“...Are you still a believer?” Maybe it was an insensitive question, but for some reason, George really wanted to know if his brother was some sort of zealot for an otherworldly religion.

Kreig didn’t answer. As a matter of fact, he didn’t say anything at all.

Not until they reached the household of the Winter family. These people lived in the suburbs, so all George and Kreig had to do to post the letter was to exit the car and place it in the mailbox. Back into the car, and off they were.

“-I am,” Kreig said. “Despite it all.”

That said more than George wanted to hear. But he didn’t know any details, nothing concrete. Nothing about the religion except what little Kreig had told him. Therefore, instead of taking an opinion of sympathy for the hardships his brother had gone through, he saw it through a more modern sense. The religion Kreig held did subject him to oppression and hardship (by the tone of his voice), but wasn’t it somewhat earned? What with the crusading and all?

Maybe he should have been more on Kreig’s side, but he couldn’t help it.

The Schwartz household, or, rather, what remained of it, was also in the same suburbs as the Winter one. Same business, same situation. Kreig returned to the car, and even without any prompt from George, he continued. As if to justify himself.

By this point, going by the few markers of time Kreig presented, he was far older than George was. Even older than their parents had ever gotten. But the years kept coming, and Kreig kept explaining, the soft and sweet niceties peeling off to reveal the grim reality behind it. He didn’t just subjugate humans as a pawn for the Empire. He was a soldier. He did what they told him to do, no matter what or how morally depraved.

The air seemed to turn heavy between them. Kreig’s voice was like lead, pressing down between them, crushing George into stunned silence. Yet, he kept speaking.

Details, specific missions, exactly who died where and when. His voice was cold and rough. So many years, but every aspect remained painfully relevant.

“Kreig, it’s okay, you don’t have to-,”

“I do.” He continued. He spoke of one time he was sent on a private mission. He wasn’t a captain yet, just an abnormally powerful pawn. Obedient. He hadn’t known. By then, he still thought there were some depths to which he wouldn’t be forced to sink, some sort of good in him that had survived it all. That he was still a good man.

That changed quickly.