Armin shakes his head. "They mock the fallen either way. I would not name them gods, though - they're not worthy of that." There is an angry, scornful certainty in his voice at that.

Armin glances at Alcuin, startled at his words and his touch. Then he looks back at the train-car, staring for a long time. Finally, he turns his back on it, looking to Alcuin. He looks slightly sick - sorrow and fear and anger in his gaze - but for all that, his voice is strong.

"No. There's nothing in there that I need to see."