Chapter Text
As Prospector arrived at the Manor, he buried his invitation letter well in the inner pocket of his shirt that he wore endlessly; a poor man like him would not have a spare one, after all. It reeked of sweat and smoke, but he didn't care. 'Care' was a luxury he also didn't have. When you're mistreated your entire life, you suppose it’s the norm, that everyone’s treated this way... but that's only if you're asocial, and haven’t seen better days. Norton had it the other way around; he saw how everyone else got treated and thought he deserved such sympathy too. Why wouldn't he? His only flaw was being born in a time when your status mattered more than anything ever. You are a slave, of society — second, of your mind — first. Therefore, he did atrocious things, only to be freed from his first prison. Next step was bigger, greater, to win a game. Wealth was a perfect match for his greed, but can you really call it ‘greed’ if a man who had nothing from beginning, wanted to have something?
The Manor was huge, breathtaking; it's the most comfort he ever had in his life. A warm room and a large, soft bed to sleep in, all for himself. Clean air and a beautiful view outside, so much space that the prospector could spread his arms, and there still would be space left, unlike his earlier place of habitat. Regardless, he felt a painful void in his chest, eating him away. Poor Norton couldn't put himself at ease, being constantly anxious. The consequences of his actions were still a mystery, which led to a feeling that something worse has yet to come. Oh, how he hated it. It's a feeling you never really get used to. It makes you all angry and unpleasant to be around, might even bring you to tears if you are brave enough! Norton was brave indeed, not even his pride could stop him from wetting the pillow at night. He was true to his emotions, as 'himself' was the only thing he had.
Wandering around, he ended up in a dining room; one large table in the middle had a pretty piece of paper lying on it. Sides of which were decorated with delicate pictures of flowers, warm colors bringing them to life, "Is this a menu?" He noted, confused. And indeed, it was. Different foods described in every single detail, names of some he knew but never had a taste of. Strange, they didn't have prices marked. Not like he would pay for them anyway but seeing how different things were priced in the world of the rich was remarkably interesting. It could also give him an idea of how wealthy this place actually is. Norton found it sickening, how some piece of cloth or some fruit could be worth months of working, and he still wouldn't be able to afford it. So even if he had enough to buy a treat, he didn't bother, being careful with what he earned. Unfortunately, Norton didn't have the notion of "Money comes and goes", so he didn't want to risk asking for a meal that would cost him a fortune, especially if he wasn’t aware of its price. Ah, the privileged classes never needed price tags anyway; they had so much. Counting all their fortune would take months, if not years. He envied them but had a hope that one day he would earn just as much, if not more. "So, bread and milk it is..." Campbell murmured, before heading to another location, being extra curious about everything.
What others considered simple 'decoration' was a whole museum for Norton. Such beautiful paintings! Baron must be particularly fond of Greek Mythology. What a wide selection! A simple mortal like him could rarely lay eyes on renaissance in his everyday life. Despite this, he could still recognize a few artists, since, while not being a huge fan of art, he had a general culture of it. You would think that to blend in with the bourgeoisie, being rich would be enough. However, do not let yourself be fooled; gold was only part of such status. Being cruelly smart was a main detail, as the fools were left to die in a cave. Otherwise, they would never stay there long enough to be crushed under crumbling rocks caused by an explosion. He promised himself to manage so well in life that he would have enough of free time to paint twice as many paintings this manor has.
Leaving the dining room, he saw someone enter it after him, the journalist. She was very charming, but not charming enough to trap prospector in her curiosity. He was unfriendly and dry, which apparently didn't rebuke her enough. What a staunch little lady, her brown eyes burning with determination. The sweetness of her voice would be pleasant to hear if he didn't bear such heavy secrets on his shoulders, trying, praying to be strong enough not to spill them into journalists' hungry ears. So, he avoided ‘Mrs. DeRoss,’ as they called her, and every other guest. There was something wicked, much darker, going on in this place. Relying on someone would lead to a grave fiasco, he believed, though it didn’t stop him from getting included in some sketchy scenarios.
Sighing, tired, Norton reached the backyard. There wasn't much to look at. A dirty shed, some flowers here and there, and a busy forest that brought some sort of worry to him. So murky and full of trees, a few victims are definitely buried there. Well, he should not have thought of this, because now he could see someone just as tall as a tree exiting the very forest that gave him chills. Hiding behind the nearest column, he wanted to see what would happen next. Maybe it would enlighten him with some more details about this manor, on its inner ecosystem, as the person approaching wasn't one of those he already saw. An intriguing sight, a tad too white man, dressed in all black, slowly dragging his feet to a small shed, which Norton prior had assumed was abandoned. Despite the whole picture creeping him out, he still wished to investigate.
The door cracked open, as a paper white face peeked through. Mistakenly assuming that he was alone, he took off back towards the forest. Norton wasted no time going straight in, since that tall man left the door slightly ajar. Stumbling on something, he fell on the floor, hissing in pain. It was a shovel, and he cussed it out in his mind before taking a careful look around him, analyzing the surroundings. Local mice were being a bit too noisy, making annoying sounds by running to different spots, scratching everything on their way. What a boringly normal shed… just a bunch of wood, tools, spider webs, and dirt lying around. A large stone caught his attention, struggling to lift it from the ground; he noted that it was in fact an epitaph. It was full of unreadable scriptures, but judging from the bible that laid near it, he assumed those were evangelical verses.
Fussing around, trying to find something useful to keep, he noticed something rather interesting this time – a diary, akin to the one in his room. He picked it up, opening the pages, but those mice made too many loud noises which distracted him for a second. Trying not to pay attention too much, Norton looked back at the diary “Andrew Kreiss,” he read aloud, trying to recall someone he knew with that name, but nobody came to mind. He had never heard of this name prior, “could it be that man?” Taking this diary seemed like a great idea, “speaking of which, I should leave before he gets back” As he was about to turn around, a pair of large arms gripped him, one around his waist, second on his mouth. He couldn’t breathe, panicking, Norton tried to kick whoever was behind off him. Useless, that guy was stronger than him but realising this Campbell didn’t cease fighting back. Desperate for air, he slammed back on the table, trying to grab something that would help, but there was nothing useful. His last resort was to roll on the ground, pressing with all his might and weight. Soon the grip loosened, and Norton took it as an opportunity to jump out of these loving arms, trapping the person underneath him, loosing no time to deliver some nasty punches on bastards' face.
The man under pleaded to stop, blood all over his face, highly contrasting with his earlier unusually white face. Norton didn’t want to kill him, so he refrained from demolishing completely that face, coughing on him whilst keeping his own fist ready to attack in case if necessary.
“Give me one convincing reason not to kill you, or I’ll make a mush out of your face!” he yelled, squeezing the individuals' neck
“I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to k-kill you! You just weren’t supposed to be here! I needed you asleep, that’s all!” wincing at the lack of oxygen and bleeding bruises, he genuinely looked terrified with the whole situation, even more than Norton did.
“Wha… and who are you to tell me that!?” the identity of the man in front genuinely puzzled Norton.
“I-I am a simple staff member, please believe, you can’t kill me! In doing so, you will be disqualified at once!” He made that up, but it seemed legitimate enough, so Norton believed for a second. The prospector sighed, loosening the grip on his neck,
“Andrew, I suppose? If I beat you up until unconscious, it would not be counted as murder, right?” He sighed, heart still ready to jump out of his ugly ribcage
Kreiss just stared at him, his mouth agape in a silent plea, terrified. Norton noticed something peculiar about the other eyes and got extremely close, observing how his irises were shaking. It was a captivating sight, never seen before, but also the colour of his eyes hard to ignore – different shades of red. Realising this made Andrew shut his eyes tight close, getting embarrassed at how shamelessly he was stared at.
“Stop this, I’m begging you, don’t ridicule me any longer, please...” Kreiss begged through gritting teeth with a trembling voice full of anger, trying not to lose composure, clenching his fists. The plea left the prospector perplexed, since to him it was more like fascination rather than humiliation. Regardless, he went ahead to fulfil his request before the situation escalated.
“Explain yourself at least! You try to attack me and then ask to be spared, you ridiculed yourself alone, no need to blame me for this!” Retorted Norton, unsure as for what to do now. He needed more answers and less competition for the game, but so far, he was getting the complete opposite.
“I am just a servant; I take care of some plants here and do the cleaning.” He sounded convincing, but the diary in Campbell’s hand proved that this man was leaving out crucial details.
“And the diary?”
“We should all keep one, participant or not” Another lie, but Norton didn’t have enough information to prove him wrong, yet.
“Then why attack? Escorting me out wasn’t an option!?”
“Uhm, I... it’s what I was told to do...” Just pure bullshit coming out of this man's mouth, Norton frowned.
“I feel like you can tell me more, don’t be shy, go on” He insisted,
“Not here, Campbell” Stuttering on the last word, he realised too late that he dug a deeper grave for himself
“Oh, so you know my name. Means we can skip the introductions, right? Andrew we both know what will happen if you refuse to cooperate” Chuckled Norton, amused by how ‘Andrew’ kept revealing his true self. He knew that killing this poor man wouldn’t lead him to a disqualification, it was a white lie from a man desperate to live.
“Meet me here tomorrow, but I must warn you, I know just as much as you do… If not less. Now please let me go” Andrew kept his head cool, promising that Norton was going to be the last person he’d reveal himself to. He stood up, removing dust from his black coat, checking if the flower on his chest was still intact.
“I’ll take this back if you don’t mind.” Kreiss said sarcastically and snatched the diary from prospectors' hands without waiting for his response. Fleeing the shed with prospector still inside, he also fled the awkward tension that was rising in the air.
Norton grunted, annoyed with what had just happened, but now with what he saw, he feared that ignoring Andrew's existence would be impossible. Unfinished epitaph, the shovel, and this attire of a grave keeper; were those tombstones pre-made for him and other players?
When Campbell returned to his room, he couldn’t close his eyes. The bed was so soft it was really a shame to not use it for its main purpose. If this game’s results were pre-written from start, he needed to know who would win, and if it wasn’t him, then he’d make sure to change the trajectory of events.
“Everyone is required to know their names here, is he stupid?” Was Andrews last thought before falling into slumber.