Painting the Silence

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Yggdra Union. This story is mine, though, so don't steal or I will be forced to let my homicidal muses hurt you. 'Kay? 'Kay. Glad everyone understands.

It was a pale, thin dawn that day—pale, thin, and cold. The sky above the mountains was hazed pastel pink and gold, with lilac clouds strewn liberally through the air. The chill wasn't strong enough that one's breath would haze white in the air, but it had enough bite to elicit a shiver every now and then from anyone outdoors.

The company making its way up the mountainside most certainly wasn't enjoying the weather. They'd been traveling through most of the night and hadn't stopped to take a break for a while, the trail was a harsh and unforgiving one, and they were forced to stay on constant alert for enemy attacks.

They were, after all, fairly far into hostile territory.

But they were here for a very good reason—there was something they had to reclaim, and a vital rite of passage one of their number had to fulfill.

The Imperial Army was already fairly small, but it had been forced to divide its forces still further for the sake of their current venture. The mountain tribes had always been hostile to Bronquia, ever since its founding as an independent country, and those who needed to come this way could not do so without protection. Even so, the castle and the capital city of Flarewerk could not be left undefended. Too many marauding bandits and units of the old army still roamed the countryside, and they would happily attack the civilians at the heart of the country for their loyalty.

And there was nothing the Imperial Army could do about it. They'd proved that in the two months they'd spent running themselves ragged in an attempt to curtail this deplorable rise in banditry. Even with all their efforts, no targets had been spared, only a few of the perpetrators had been caught, and only one life had been saved. Their forces were just spread too thin, and recruiting was no easy task: Not everyone had as much faith in the old blood as the Special Forces' young leader or the liberal-minded witch who'd replaced the traitorous old Magister. While the people of Bronquia were plenty happy that they were one step closer to being out from under Fantasinia's thumb now that their old Emperor was dead, it was hard for those who had not been there to see the events of the short but brutal coup d'état to believe in their new sovereign.

Everyone knew that yes, Gulcasa was part of the old blood—in other words, Brongaa's line—and that he was a direct descendant of Emperor Karza, the last member of his family to rule before the most recent war with Fantasinia had put his predecessor on the Dragon Throne. His scarlet hair, golden eyes, and pointed ears proved that much. But while he was seen as a savior to the people of Flarewerk, when his other subjects looked at him, they saw a nineteen-year-old upstart with a ragged following who was clearly struggling for control of his own country. To accomplish anything, he would need the faith of his people, and Bronquia would not rally behind him like this.

Gulcasa needed a miracle. Or rather, he needed to prove himself in his country's eyes.

The only way to do that now was to reclaim the ancient relic his people had lost long ago… their sovereign star. A proof of authority none in their land could deny.

The lost Bronquian crown.

From the castle records, Gulcasa and his men knew what they were looking for: a simple circlet of black steel, with a dragon's head wrought at the center, inlaid with an opalescent gem the color of fire. Much like the sigils of sovereignty in other nations, particularly the Fantasinian Miracle Tiara, the crown was a powerful magical artifact that bound the wearer irrevocably to Bronquia's fate. Only those of Brongaa's blood could wear it. Even some time before it had been lost in a war with the northern tribes, its proper name had been forgotten, and it was now known simply as the "Crown of Thorns".

Without the Crown of Thorns, Gulcasa would not be able to rule his own people, let alone free them from Fantasinia's control. So he'd split his army's forces and was leading this desperate mission into the mountains, in hopes that he would once more wrest an impossible victory out of the jaws of impending disaster. He'd left Flarewerk in the care of his foster father Baldus, the army's defensive specialist, as well as the assassins of the Special Forces and the witches led by the new Magister, Eudy. Along with his personal knights, accompanying him were his sisters Luciana, Aegina, and Emilia… and one other.

The punishing trail evened out before the Imperial Army, leading onto a wide overhang before splitting into twin tracks north and east—over and around the peak they were climbing. As his forces spilled onto even ground, Gulcasa signaled them to take a break.

The men spread out, sat down and stretched, and spoke to one another in low voices, taking out personal rations and relaxing as much as they could.

The young Emperor himself dismounted from his dragon and leaned against the cliff face beside the mouth of a cave leading into the mountainside with a sigh, closing his eyes.

"I still don't understand why you insisted on wearing those ratty old things," said a disapproving female voice to his right. "Crown or no, you're the Emperor now. You have a right to wear the battle armor that's been passed down from ancient times."

Gulcasa opened one eye to give Luciana a disdainful look. "You were there when Baldus insisted I try it on. I know it's a symbol of my office, or that it's supposed to be, but come on. No one, especially not the people we're dealing with here, is going to be impressed by my wearing a suit of armor that's entirely too big for me."

Luciana scowled at him. "You've grown at least an inch since then," she reminded him. "It's going to fit you better and better with each passing day."

"It's still not any use in a fight yet. And I don't grow that fast, thank you very much." He closed his eyes, sighed, and rested his head back against the uneven stone behind him. Sure, maybe they didn't look like much, but his leathers and the chain mail beneath them had served him well throughout the rebellion, and since they fit much better than the traditional armor he was supposed to be wearing, he was going to continue using them for as long as he could.

Even though he couldn't see her, he knew Luciana was probably giving him the look. "You need to stop acting like a common soldier and remember who and what you are now."

"Leave me alone, Luciana." Did she always have to nag him like this? He was desperately tired and wanted to use this time to gather back all the strength he could; he'd need it on the next climb. It was hard to do that and argue with someone at the same time.

Luciana sighed. "I'm sorry. It's just…" She hesitated. "All this lack of cover is making me nervous. And I don't see why we had to bring him along for this."

Gulcasa opened his eyes and fixed his sister with a glare. "As I have told you, repeatedly, there is absolutely no harm in including him if he wants to come. With Eudy back at the castle, he's the only mage we've got. And your jealous attitude is getting annoying. I don't want it brought up again while we're on this little excursion, understand?"

Luciana rolled her eyes at him and stalked off.

Gulcasa sighed despairingly and turned towards the strangest member of his company.

Nessiah was standing off by himself, facing the horizon as if examining how far they'd come. All through the trek, Gulcasa hadn't heard a word of complaint out of him about the difficulty of the trail or the punishing pace the army had set, but he knew that the mage was having trouble. Even now, Gulcasa could see the sheen of sweat on the V of bare skin at his chest where his overrobe hung open. But as always, Nessiah chose to suffer in silence.

In addition to his already frail constitution (he was a mage, and a fairly typical one in that he was a tiny little thing with only the bare minimum in physical strength) and the weight of the chains that bound him, Gulcasa knew that Nessiah still hadn't completely recovered from the savage beating he'd taken at the hands of the country's overabundance of bandits. The Emperor himself had run into Nessiah lying half-dead on the steps of a pillaged shrine on one of his patrols, and from what the doctors and healers had told him, he'd happened to pass by just in time to save Nessiah's life. Not even the strongest of men could've healed from injuries like that in just a month, and so Gulcasa had to wonder what exactly Nessiah was thinking, having volunteered for something like this.

While Gulcasa watched him, Nessiah turned away from the view of the country they'd left behind and walked up to the cave in the rock face with a pensive expression. "…Strange…"

"…What is?" Gulcasa asked, looking over at him.

"I can feel some kind of latent power coming from this cave—traces of magic I'm not entirely familiar with. It feels like someone's either done a working here recently, or laid some kind of spell on the place. …Or…"

"…Or…?" Gulcasa prompted, standing up and walking over to peer into the darkness along with Nessiah, trying to discern what was so interesting about the cave.

"Or this could be it—the place where they keep the crown. I doubt it, though. Artifacts have a different feeling than this." Nessiah ventured a few steps forward, holding a hand out before him. "Yes, it's very strange. Among other things, they've put a dampening spell on the walls—interferes with other mages' workings. Very odd. What are they trying to hide?"

Gulcasa shrugged one shoulder. "Looks like a pretty deep cave. If they're trying to hide something important, this might be the place to do it. It might even go all the way through the mountain, for all we know."

"Peculiar." Nessiah went a few more steps in, veering off to the side in order to run his fingertips along the stone. "This could do with a little investigation…"

As Nessiah's palms began to glow, continuing to pass along the cave wall, Gulcasa had a strange feeling, as though he'd heard or seen something click.

Something started to rumble off in the distance.

"Nessiah, do you hear—?" Gulcasa tensed, looking around in case enemies were nearby.

Nessiah cursed under his breath and stepped back from the wall. "Sounds like there were security measures on this place… but how could we have tripped them so easily…?"

The rumbling noise got louder, followed by something grating on stone. A few soldiers looked up from their business with frowns.

A large boulder hit the ground nearby, making Gulcasa jump and whirl around. As he looked up warily, he saw that several more stones were starting to rattle down the sharp slope.

"Shit!" He stared at Nessiah. "What did you do?!"

"Me?!" Nessiah demanded incredulously. "I didn't do anything!"

"Well, I certainly—" Gulcasa cut himself off as he saw something large and heavy-looking starting to slide from the cave ceiling.

He didn't think. There wasn't any time for him to think. He just launched forward with a yell, tackling Nessiah and shoving him safely out of the way and sending them both tumbling into the cave. Out of the reach of the rockslide, the two of them looked up just in time to see the solid stone trap door grate closed and the sliver of light beneath it vanish in a great tumble of stone.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

:TBC: