“What just happened?” Gemini asked, after Warmaster Chamberlain and General Degurechaff had been carted away to somewhere deep inside Ark City. Only the two of them were still standing atop the highest tower of Ark City after the rest had been moved away, where Gemini had requested for the Warmaster to hang back for a moment.

           The Campmaster shook his head. “Well, you see, Gaius asked me this question, and then I found my ability to understand the world shoot up by leaps and bounds. It was…something I never thought about. Something that I could never think about on my own. The little lecturer raised the question to me, and then I saw the world anew.”

           After sneaking a few looks at the Campmaster’s face, Gemini shook his head. Clearly, the Campmaster had no idea why things didn’t turn out the same way as it had for himself, and the Constellation was inclined to think that the man had probably forgotten about something when he tried to emulate the boy called Gaius.

           More interesting was the fact that lightning had fallen on General Degurechaff. True, he was standing at the top of a tower, but the fact that a storm cloud had appeared just for the general was beyond unfortunate. And if that wasn’t enough, Gemini could clearly feel divinity emanating from whatever Campmaster Magnus had just did.

           There were far more secrets to Orb than it seemed, which was actually very impressive. Gemini had gazed down upon the world as one of the Human God’s chosen heroes, and then up at it as a person amongst the commoners, but this was the first time he’d come across a divinity he couldn’t recognise. He had ruled out the Demon God and the Human God immediately, and the power emanating from the four-coloured sky was not like the divine might that had descended upon General Degurechaff and Warmaster Chamberlain. It was probably something from Hereward, the Sentinel of Space, or Aldnath, the Dragon of Time, but why would such beings do such a thing in the first place?

           “Campmaster,” said Gemini, “did the Stabiliser govern death? Or was it under the dominion of Aldnath?”

           “If it were, you’d think that these two gods would be more famous by now.” Campmaster Magnus breathed out heavily. “After Gaius removed my veil, I realised that our people were very blasé about death and what comes after. We honour their passing, but bear not even an ounce of curiosity as to what comes after.”

           Gemini was silent, his mind churning the entire time as he tried to remember what happened after every beastfolk city fell. His memories of watching the triumphant processions of the Southern Assembly enter the cities they conquered were ones that haunted him every so often, but now that the Campmaster had mentioned it, the Constellation couldn’t remember any ounce of fear or remorse on the soldiers’ face.

           It was wholly unnatural. Back on Earth, treating corpses with respect was something so basic. Sure, the rise of the scientific age had dispelled some superstitions, but before that, death was something that was both feared and explored. In fact, the notion of what comes after life was something that drove entire societies back then.

           And yet, there was nothing of the sort in Orb.    

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           By now, Gemini had understood the implications of the Campmaster’s words. There was something preventing people from thinking about the afterlife in this world, which explained a great deal about why corpses weren’t that much of a deal. The Constellation could remember a conversation that had passed back when he was serving as a scout of sorts in Ark City — the Second Extermination had left the corpses of their dead behind, rather than carting them back.

           At that time, the Constellation had brought into the argument that it was just a trick by the Southern Assembly to whip up even more hatred towards Ark City, which at least had the culture of burying the fallen as a mark of honour.

           He wasn’t all that sure about whether that argument held true now. For one, that argument was based on an underlying assumption that the two races treated the fallen equally, but what if the South never had treated their dead with the type of respect that Ark City accorded to dead soldiers?

           Gemini shook his head. There was too much he didn’t pay attention to back when he was in the Five Lands. Lost in regret, Gemini was about to pursue another line of thought when he noticed the Campmaster staring at him.

           “S-something wrong?”

           “Just curious,” said the Campmaster. “How were you not affected by that question? I’ve been looking at your expressions, and I’m quite sure that you were also under the same restrictions as the others, but why didn’t anything happen to you?”

           “…Maybe because I’m not from Orb in the first place?”

           The Campmaster rolled his eyes. “That’s probably it, eh?”

           He looked up at the skies. “But why would a great god try to stop us from thinking about the afterlife? I’m curious.”

           “We’ll toss that into the cabinet labelled “Mysteries of Orb”, and then work it out from there,” replied Gemini. “Now that you’ve mentioned it… I can’t help but wonder if the dead would come find me after I eventually join them in the world beyond. Would they have forgiven me by then? Would they blame me for leading the armies that killed them and their families?”

           “Would you forgive that person, were you in their shoes?”

           “I—”

           “Forgiveness is a luxury. It is given by the victims, dependent upon their kindness and understanding. But a clear conscience is something you can earn,” Campmaster Magnus said slowly. “The path to one such conscience can be short or long. But so long as you keep walking on it, you will eventually come to terms with your actions.”

           The Constellation trembled. “Have I…?”

           “That is not for me to judge. Nor can the gods. You, and only you alone, will know when your own conscience is cleared. When you’ve atoned for your sins.” Magnus sighed. “Us soldiers who rampage upon the battlefield…we don’t have much of a choice. What matters is that you choose the best of them.”

           “Thank you for your counsel,” Gemini said quietly.

           “Anytime.” A small smile appeared on the Campmaster’s face. “It is times like this, in the silence of your heart, that you are most introspective. Look back. Maybe you’ve done more than you think you did.”

           He took out a small bottle of alcohol. “And times like this call for a drink.”

           Gemini accepted the bottle with a smile. “Yes. Indeed.”