Returning to No Applause, Only More of the Same

“Rise and shine, drop-out!” Craig shouted the second the Dragonstone door to Kreig’s cell slid open. As always, Kreig was sitting by his desk, at this point trying out ink and brush to draw with. “Huh? You’re not in bed?” Kreig put down his brush. “Hrm. I’ll take your silence as a firm ‘maybe’! Really, though. It’s, like, six in the morning! All the other prisoners would have a riot being awakened at this hour, you get me?”

As always, Kreig did not oblige Craig with an answer, only standing up to face him.

Craig, in turn, fetched the iron collar Kreig always had to wear, alongside the mitten-cuffs that Kreig hadn’t worn in two weeks. “-Yeah! Surprise surprise! Since nobody else has told you anything, I’ll go ahead and say right away that we’re not headed to the usual meeting place.” They weren’t? “Nope! We’re going to the Upper Level, where they keep all the otherworlders below level 100!” Now that was… unusual.

Kreig was above the highest level visible. All things considered, there was neither rhyme nor reason to why he should be allowed in the same room as what he personally considered to be regular people.

“Yeah, a bit odd, right? Well… consider it a final test! If you can keep not harming anyone and not doing anything wrong, they’ll consider letting you into more… regular situations. Like the outside. Or, for example…” A competitive grin flashed across Craig’s lips. “-Your family.” Kreig froze where he stood, his hands half-inside the mitten cuffs. “I thought that’d get a reaction outta you. Now get those things on and we’ll get going! You’ve gotta hit the showers, after all!”

Another unexpected detail. Though, it did make sense, since he really hadn’t showered in two weeks or so, which was the third time they let him shower.

How long had he been there? He knew it was no more than two months. He’d gotten real good at counting the days back beneath the Empire. Now that he compared the two lifestyles… He really couldn’t say that this was any bad. He saw people every day, was allowed to draw and paint as he pleased… It wasn’t bad.

Though, now that they were climbing higher than he’d gone in over a month, he did feel somewhat nervous.

“Oh, also, we haven’t informed them of who you are or anything. All those guys above will know is that you’re a new prisoner. Try and get along with them, yeah?” Craig told him as they walked. A bit odd, but Kreig would rather that be the case than what happened on the Lower Level. If they got to know him before they learnt who he was… He might be able to get along with them. Somehow.

The shower Kreig took was quick and shallow, the kind you take before a strenuous exam when you know you have to shower but can’t bother to remain too long.

And then, it was time. The clock had hit 7 in the morning according to Craig. Apparently, early mornings did nothing to dampen his spirits.

And there they were. In front of the back-exit to the cafeteria, the one used by guards and other people coming from the lower depths into the main area. There were several hundred Upper-Level prisoners, most of them consisting of the soldiers of some country, all the leaders and sorcerers of their platoons having been forced to end up in the Lower Level due to their higher level.

They wore red jumpsuits with the smallest marker to inform the other prisoners of their national affiliation.

Kreig emerged into a room full of these prisoners, huddled around their tables, eating breakfast foods that they had likely never had before they came to Earth. Not a single soul turned to look at Kreig and that was how he liked it. Going by the voices and languages he could hear, the Empiricists sat with the Empiricists, the Pawinians sat with the Pawinians and that was how it went. Larger nations had more tables but even small nations had at least one full table.

The single guard at his side, the only guard who had followed into the cafeteria itself in order to remove his mitten cuffs before he entered the cafeteria itself, gave him a nod before wandering away. Leaving him to his own devices.

...Although he no longer held any love for the Empire, he had to admit that these were the only people he could sit with at this moment. Although many higher-level leaders and captains and lords in the Empire knew of Kreig’s ‘betrayal’, this wasn’t a commonly known or public fact. To the people of the Empire, he was a blank face. As long as he didn’t tell him anything.

He stepped up to one of the many tables housing the soldiers of the Empire, waited for them to notice his presence, and affixed them with his gaze. “Good morning.”

One of the soldiers flew from his seat. “Y-, you!” The others turned to look at him strangely. The soldier was young, around 15 years of age, and for some reason, Kreig could swear he recognized him. Those large, white eyes that were assured of death, his trembling lower lip… “War!” The boy gave a final shriek before turning to his confused comrades. “He-, he’s the one I told you about, the monster in our midst - War of the North!”

One of the other soldiers glanced between the boy and the sunned silent Kreig. “Uh. Gerald, this is the guy? This is War of the North, who destroyed your platoon?”

“Yes!” Gerald said with no trace of hesitance.

The other soldier turned to Kreig. “Hey. What’s your name?”

“Kreig,” Kreig answered swiftly. The soldier stared at him, looked at the other members at the table, and gave a wave for Kreig to sit in an empty spot beside Gerald. “Thank you,” Kreig mumbled. He hadn’t grabbed any breakfast out of sheer nervousness, but he didn’t need any.

Gerald seemed absolutely heartbroken. “B-, but

The soldier almost glared at him. “You told us that War was a Newt like the rumours said.”

“W-, well, that’s…”

“Ergo, Kreig here can stay,” the soldier looked Kreig up and down, “say, is there a reason you’re wearing an orange jumpsuit and a… collar? The name’s Unglaus, by the way.” It was a good question, and Kreig wasn’t sure how to answer it. In most cases when Kreig was uncertain in how to act, following the words of the scripture was usually the wisest decision, since it was written by wise men, and Kreig himself was not wise in the least. Therefore, honesty was a given.

“-I was brought up from the Lower Level.” No need to elaborate on that one, no siree.

“...Is that so? Erm. I mean… Did they perhaps misjudge your ‘level’? Really, we have no idea how to do it. All they need is a guy to look at you and for you to touch a strange card and they know how strong you are. Some of our guys have been hypothesizing that they’ve all eaten a Messiah’s Egg, but that makes no sense. Not only is it the most sinful deed of all, but there is no way that those fungi could possibly grow on this strange world. It only makes sense that their magic artefacts would fail one of these days,” Unglaus said with such perfect rationality that even Kreig wondered if that wasn’t what had happened.

At the provocation, one of the other members at the table spoke up, presenting a theory that since the Messiah’s Egg was a shroom (most foul), it was likely to have invaded this world through spores. Another disagreed, figuring that little white imps had brought it here.

Yet another believed that the people could not, in fact, see their strength, but that the card alone did the trick. The Messiah’s Egg person was just a scare-tactic.

In the end, nobody came to an agreement and breakfast was finished without much further ado. Gerald still seemed extremely apprehensive in regards to Kreig’s mere presence, but in a certain way, that was to be expected. He had killed his entire platoon, after all. Maybe he should apologize? Wasn’t it only right to apologize to someone you’ve wronged? Ah, then again, this might be a bit too much.

And even if he did decide to apologize, he would barely even know how to. He’d learnt long ago that the clearest way to apologize to someone was through actions and gifts, not words, although complimentary words always did well.

Then again… He had no actual reason to apologize, either. And not because he killed them in “self-defence”, no, there was just no reason to try to befriend Gerald at all.

...No, there was one reason. A singular reason.

If he made friends, albeit temporary ones, he could prove to the authorities that he was stable enough to be given free rein outside. Perhaps even to meet his family. That settled it. If he could befriend a man who absolutely hated him, that must prove that he was well enough in the head.

That left him with the pure physicalities of befriending Gerald.