Disquiet!
The antechamber to the Morlock village was a good-sized room, with a ceiling high enough to allow a lazy circular fan. The walls here were covered with more looted signs, mostly from the prewar Underground. Jim thought the effect was rather attractive, actually. Very… nostalgic.
Slightly less attractive — if no less nostalgic — was the row of globular helmets nailed into one wall. No attempt had been made to obscure either the bullet holes, or the bloodstains; and beneath each helmet hung one of the alien dog-tags the Invaders had issued their sepoys. “I assume they put those up after the Restoration,” Jim observed.
“Or at least moved them from their inner sanctums,” Alex agreed. “Not that the sepoys would willingly come down this deep, even during the height of the occupation. They were all convinced the morlocks would hunt them for the table, given even half a chance.” She chuckled. “When we captured one ourselves, it was amazing how quickly they would start cooperating when we started talking about taking a subterranean trip to London.”
You’ve mentioned before that for sepoys, hunger was a constant companion. I suspect that warped their view of some things.