“Was that all you came here to ask? Dude, you’re straight-up weird. Okay, see, a lot of the weird stuff all those cardinals have been telling us to read was really just a sort of a prelude. Like how the Jewish are still waiting for the Messiah to arrive, yeah? We’re all sitting around on our asses, fiddling our thumbs and singing pretty songs, hoping the God Below should do something.

So far, nobody’s told me exactly what He’s supposed to do, but I don’t think it’s an apocalypse or something. More like an egg finally hatching to reveal a phoenix or something.

He’ll come. We don’t know when or anything, but someday, he’ll rise from the ground and show us the way. I think. That’s what all these books you can’t bother to read say, at least.”

I read them when I can.

“Huh? That so? Gee, was a surprise! The big dumb jock paladin actually has sense to read the scripture he believes in! Wow. Wouldn’t expect that from you, Kreig.

I never expected you to start writing chants and prayers.

“Oh, that’s, uh… Just a past-time. You know, gotta have something to do when you’re not healing random sickos and stuff. Heh. I was going to author a book, you know? Something of an autobiography about-, well, about this. Who else to do it? But, I guess… The feeling of hearing your psalms sung in church for the first time is just-, it’s, heh, it’s something else. Not that I’m any attached to it!”

Of course you aren’t, Peter.

“Don’t say it like that, dude. Well, anyway, I answered your question. I’ll be going now, yeah? But, uh, Kreig? Before you go?”

Kreig looked up, his vantage point small and unclear where he sat cross-legged in the darkness that seemed to go on forever. What is it?

The massive moving mound of mud and bones heaved up to stand, the very ends of it slowly moving into the edges of the endless darkness. The skull, yellowing and stained with rotten flesh and mud and blood seemed to smile as it stalked down and hunched before Kreig. Face to face.

“Thank you for letting me go.”

The smiling skull and the endless squirming mud erupted into shining white flames that licked and fawned over his dying form, enlightening the whole of the abyss in blinding light. The fire enveloped the dead man and burned him, purging his existence from the world, bones and mud and soul. All.

Leaving only a golden spire.

Kreig picked it up, watching nostalgically as it melted and reformed into a large, golden broadsword.

And then, Kreig woke up.

His room was basked in blackness and there was a sheen of sweat on his brow. He’d dreamt something weird again, but not something bad. It had just been… Odd. Like a mash-up of his entire relationship with Peter. Especially at the end of it. It hadn’t been like that, not really. Barely.

He got out of bed. Naked feet tapping the cold wooden floor. The room was still dark, but he could tell that this would soon change.

Kreig walked over to the window and opened it. Cold air flooded inside his room, catching his worn hair and the edges of his clothes. It felt good. Refreshing. Like the soft winds would peel off all the sweat and mud and he’d no longer be weary and worn. Sometimes, in the dark nights when he suddenly thought after so long of doing things without any conscious thought, what brought him back always seemed to be that cool night-breeze. He was quickly brought back into that nothingness by a soldier or a mud-mover or just a wandering monster, but those few moments of rest were special to him.

The moon had almost entirely fallen, and from the dying embers of its meagre light, the sun rose. Its rays stretched out over the city like desperate, clawing wraiths.

Dousing the dark blue world in endless red light.

And all of a sudden things were wrong again, his heart dropped and his breathing ceased. Eyes wide, he felt his grip on the window frame tighten, the buildings seemed slowly sinking into a massive, all-encompassing mass of mud, rising towards the red, bloody sky, Kreig’s breathing hastened, his heart beat quicker and quicker, a white-hot heat in his head pressing against the back of his eyes seemingly spreading down his spine and into his arms and making them too hot to touch and too cold to keep warm and everything was wrong and his tongue felt too big and the red sky seemed to invade his mind, ripping it open with cold, slick hands, and right as he well and truly felt like this was it, this would be the end of it…

He turned around.

The red retreated, the mud slipped off of his body, and he could breathe again.

He took a seat at his desk, and until the sun stopped being red, he wouldn’t turn to look at the window at all. Once the sun was a mild orange and the sky was a friendly blue, he stood up. The clock in his room told him the time was almost 6. Going by what his siblings had said, today would be the day they started working after taking two days off to help him. Kreig had no idea when they had to leave for work, but since neither of them were awake yet, Kreig had the perfect opportunity to make them some sort of breakfast before they fully woke up.

So, after dressing in his thrice-used clothes once again, he stepped out of his room and went to the kitchen, where he quickly got to cooking.

A hearty, Empire-styled breakfast meal. Far from simple, but surely filling enough for his siblings to work well.

And, behold, when his siblings woke up just half an hour later (just in time), they actually seemed somewhat delighted for the meal Kreig had made. Sure, despite her general honesty Sam seemed unusually cautious about the foods Kreig had cooked, but once she got a taste, she didn’t stop. Kreig would be a liar if he said it didn’t feel somehow fulfilling, just seeing someone enjoy a part of his usefulness that wasn’t pure combat.

Once they finished their food, both turned to Kreig.

“Okay, uhh, Kreig. Here. I wrote a list of all the things you’ll do today!” Sam said, sliding a little paper over to Kreig. It seemed simple enough.

08:00 - Meet tutor (become friends!!)

08:30 - Do a bunch of school stuff (bleh!)

12:00 - Eat lunch (and make some for the tutor, too!)

15:00 - School ends (yay!!!)

16:00 - Go to the psycho dude (Address: Karl-Oskar Street 15c)

17:30 - Come home (pretty please?)

-It said. Simple enough.

“Excuse what is written in the brackets, Sam insisted on giving a personal touch to it,” George said. Kreig didn’t see any issue with it and pocketed the slip of paper. “Oh, also, uh. Before I and Sam leave for our stations, we need to get you washed. I’ll show you, so just… Follow me and listen, will you?”

Kreig obliged him. The whole process was really quite simple. George told him how to use every kind of shower-liquid, helped brush his hair, and then sent him inside to do the thing.

By this point, Kreig knew how to shower. But exactly how to use all these different kinds of cleaning liquids… Fascinating. And after a mere half an hour (where he stealthily tried all of the different soaps just to see what they did), he emerged. Washed and ready to do Normal Things. Towel wrapped around his midsection.

After another quarter of an hour where Sam and George both fought over how best to clean Kreig’s now-wet hair, Kreig was all-ready.

Apparently, his siblings had been able to get some oversized clothing by the use of (threat of treason), so he was all clothed, clean and ready when they left. Leaving him alone in the apartment. The silence was deafening, but he just sort of stood there. Wandered over to look at the painting hanging in the living room. Inspected the battery-powered lamp.

The clock hit 0800 hours. Kreig was standing in front of the front door, breathing deeply. They should be here by now.

Where were they. Why weren’t they here. Whe-,

Knock kno-, Kreig tore the door open.

“Hi! Glad to meet you! I’ll be your tutor from now on, happy to-,” her eyes widened and her hand stalled mid-reach.

Kreig sniffed the air a few times. Ah, it was her.

At this moment, Erica realized that she might have come to the wrong place.