“...They seem nice,” Kreig said somewhat off-handedly. Darius scribbled something in his notebook, glanced up at Kreig, and nodded for him to continue. Maybe if Kreig had known them better he could have had more to say. As it was, he barely knew what they did for work, if they had any friends or even what they thought of him in turn. “George is a bit fussy. Sam seems childish.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

Kreig thought for a second, his eyes wandering up above Darius’ head, into the grassy green outside. “Not in everyone, no. Children should be childish. Soldiers shouldn’t.”

“Who told you that?”

“My old lord. A raven-haired man with little regard for any life apart from his own. Perfectly content to remain in his own castle, looking down at his guards and soldiers like pawns in one of his games. Even then, he was not a bad man, so much as he was a selfish man.” Somehow, somewhere, it felt alright, just speaking like this. Neither forced nor unwanted. And Darius seemed genuinely interested. Not afraid, not unhappy, just… there. A listening ear.

“Isn’t it bad to be selfish?”

Kreig gave a quick scoff. “You’d think that. I did at first. He only saved me from the execution block to use as his own personal guard, to curry favour with the Emperor. But he did it for a good reason. He had a son, see. Cute kid. Wanted to be a soldier like anybody. That kid was my Lord’s everything. Had nobody else. He’d kill anyone for that kid.”

Darius wrote something down. “Did you know the child yourself?”

Kreig paused a moment. The reality of the kid’s short little life flashed before his eyes, and for a moment, it felt like he was in his arms again. That golden-haired little kid that only wanted to become like him. His smile that had the same scent as the flowering lichens crowning his Lord’s mansion. Young. Tender. Go-,

“Your lord. What kind of a man was he to you?”

The sound of Darius’ voice snapped him out of it. “My lord was… My lord. I never knew him outside of bowing before him and lowering my head as he approached. We shared no brews nor did he ever join me on any mission.”

“Who joined you on these missions, then?”

Kreig swallowed. He’d never even forgotten their names. Not their faces either. And so, he spoke of them. From the young recruit who quickly became a veteran, to the veteran who almost recognized Kreig for who he was. The boy who’d try to stop and elope with any young, fair milkmaid he laid eyes on. Every person he spoke of, he spoke of in the most charitable of voices. Even their sins were painted as triumphs, their deaths laid out as grandiose and beautiful instead of haunting and tragic.

And after all of it, Darius sat there, eyes glued on Kreig’s. “Do you regret outliving them?”

A pike crashed through Kreig’s heart. Stifling his breathing. Of course he did. They were dead and he was alive. He’d be happier if they were blessed with this accursed immortality. Surely even the lesser of them had more to give the world than Kreig did. Less destruction to rain upon it. “I regret what I’ve done that they wouldn’t have.”

Darius didn’t question it the least. Didn’t even ask what he did. He just nodded, and turned back to his notepad. “What kind of job are you planning on applying for?”

“...I haven’t thought about it.” Until now, he’d pretty much just been going where he was told. Though, if he remembered correctly, Darius had indeed told him to try and get a job. Assuming that soldier wasn’t on the table, he could probably do pretty good work for that organization. The one that fought the monsters. He’d worked as a monster-killer before, he could easily do it again. It was just supposed to be a part-time job of some sort, so he should probably do something he knew he was already good at. “I could fight monsters.”

Darius frowned. “No. Absolutely not. Considering your reaction when you fought the Wyrm, forcing you to fight monsters unnecessarily will only further worsen your mental well-being. No, if anything, the more unlike what you did in your past life, the better.” An unusually hard take for Darius. “Say, do you still paint?” Wiedemann nodded. “I recommend you continue doing so. If you have the chance, picking up an instrument wouldn’t be bad either. Talk to your brother about it, I’m sure he has plenty to tell you.”

There was no doubt about that. After all, Darius had personally told George about a few things he might want to introduce Wiedemann to. All in due time, of course. For now, just getting Wiedemann into the swing of his new life was far and away the best they could do.

So, Darius watched carefully as Wiedemann thought the situation over and finally nodded, accepting it.

“I’m glad,” Darius said. “The next time we meet we’ll talk more about a thorough plan. Thank you for being truthful today. I’ll see you next week.”

Wiedemann seemed a bit taken aback by the abrupt end, but as usual, he didn’t question Darius’ orders in the least. He stood up, gave an appreciative look, and wandered away. The height of simplicity. Very alike the man, and not something that Darius expected to change anytime soon. And that was fine. This would not go quickly, and even then, it would leave scars. Wiedemann would never return to being the Kreig he used to be, but he can grow into becoming a better Wiedemann.

That was what Darius hoped for. If he was allowed to work in peace and if Wiedemann remained placid and passive, he could surely get there.

While waiting for his next client, Darius quickly took out his phone and wrote a short mail to George Wiedemann, speaking in warm tones about how Wiedemann had left a mere minute ago and that he had opened up rather easily, though that this in George’s case might be more of a danger to look out for than anything good. Darius had not missed the look on Kreig’s face when he thought about that child. If Darius could get him to such a point with minimal probing, having his own brother ask the simplest questions could likely get Kreig to a similar point or even beyond. If the latter happened, it might cause something terrible to occur.

Darius wrote openly about his worries without great detail and then placed his phone back in the inner pocket of his jacket.

There was a knock at the door, signifying that Darius’ next client had already arrived. Early just as Wiedemann had been. Darius stood up and confidently strode through his apartment until he reached the door, where he gave no thought to hesitation, merely pushing it open to greet someone he knew better than Kreig in some regards.

“Hello, Doctor. Am I long?” Gerald asked, standing in the doorway, dressed from top to toe in what he clearly considered to be very uncomfortable clothes.

“Not at all. Come on in,” Darius invited, stepping aside to let the boy enter.