A week had passed since the incident in Goldstarch, and already the air and the sky were at the mercy of the heart of Wyrmstym. Each day, snow confounded Alm and his allies, at times so thick they were forced to stop and catch their breath. Even Rose, Garnet, and Pearl, who possessed the heightened strength and vigor characteristic of gems, found their energy greatly depleted by the time night came.
Further complicating matters were the Rigelian soldiers. The closer they got to the capital, the more grizzled and near-indomitable they appeared. The knights wore armor rivaling Duma's scales in durability, toting spears larger than Alm's body over their shoulders as if they were mere potato sacks. Thankfully, the visibility afforded to these titans was rather limited, and so long as they could hide in the openings in the mountain wall or climb down and off the path, they were fine.
The same could not be said for the Rangers. Once prized animal hunters, the Rigelian Rangers were the pride and joy of Rigel's bow corps. Alm had heard the tales of Rangers who could detect a change in color between single flakes of snow; there were several close calls with these men, but somehow, Alm and his allies managed to stay out of sight all the same.
As the capital neared, the paths grew narrower, taller, and enemy troops appeared more frequently and in greater numbers. Alm considered it a miracle that they hadn't encountered any draco knights, men with cast-iron hearts who could tame dragons and fight from the air, for they would be openly visible to any soldiers who traveled by air.
That was until the night of the sixth day of travel, as they camped out in an alcove along the trail. They had just put out their fire for the evening when there came the sounds of heavy armor clanking down the road outside.
"...ridiculous, who do they think they are?"
Alm put a finger to his lips, and craned his neck to hear the two men with thick, inner Rigelian accents.
"I don't blame 'em, meself. Berkut's a stiff one. I guess the myrmidons are next."
"But what message does that send the rest of the continent, eh? That the Rigelian army consists of a bunch of no-good sellswords?"
"Look lad, whether you like it or not the draco knights are the best in the force. They've been livin' large for decades now, and they go' families to feed, they do…"
"But they also have a responsibility to the crown, captain. Where's their sense of honor?"
"Gotta put food on the table this time of year, you do...When you have kids, you'll understand."
Alm ducked back further into the cave as they walked by the entrance, though they were so absorbed in discussion they likely wouldn't have noticed anyway.
"But where will they go? It's not like there are other nations or mercenary leagues that can afford to keep them around…"
"Oh, I reckon 'ey'll find somethin'. Most of 'em have made their money anyway, no point in riskin' their hides anymore."
Their voices slowly grew quieter, until finally Alm couldn't hear them anymore.
It seemed odd to Alm that an entire platoon of soldiers, especially ones held in such regard as the draco knights, would abandon Rigel over a mere pay dispute. He looked to Rose for her thoughts, but remembering that her world had little concept of currency, quickly turned to Carocol instead. He looked just as dumbfounded as Alm.
In regards to Carocol, Alm was beginning to enjoy the Yasha's company. When Pearl attempted to show off for Rose by leading the way down a slippery rock wall, only to tumble and land on her face at the bottom, Carocol would join in the laughter. Still, he remained mostly silent, but he the way he walked with them and not behind them, and the vigor he displayed when he did speak, was refreshing during those cold, long days of travel.
He had meant to ask Rose what the deal was with Carocol's change in attitude, something he thought would be easy to do since Carocol used to sit by himself most of the time. Instead, Carocol always sat close by now, whetting his blade with a nearby rock and half-listening as Rose and Garnet recounted tales of the early days of the Gem rebellion.
Finally, the night before they expected to arrive in the capital, Alm got his chance.
"So instead of 'excuse me, Nephrite, but can I borrow this ship,' Pearl reaches through the window of the Nephrite's ship, grabs the Nephrite by the ears, and pulls her out of the cockpit!"
Pearl blushed as Rose wrapped up her best story yet, and Alm and Garnet both clapped politely.
"Impressive."
Carocol squeezed in between Pearl and Rose, putting a hand on the gem's back.
"I must say, I underestimated you."
"Carocol, can I ask you something?" Alm said, poking at the fire Rose had made by blowing on a stray piece of flint.
"Shoot."
Alm blew on his hands and rubbed them together, letting them hover above the fire.
"What's with the change in personality?"
Carocol's expression was blank.
"You complained the first couple days of our adventure about us dragging you down,
and now you're suddenly gung-ho about coming with us? Perhaps I'm being pessimistic...but
something doesn't seem right."
Garnet shifted slightly.
"It's not like a child of Mila to be so...suspicious. But all the same-" Carocol added quickly, for it would be counter-intuitive to frustrate the boy the night before their biggest battle yet, "I was shown a vision of what life awaits me when I return. Needless to say...I hope to enjoy whatever time I have left here on the mainland."
"That's not good enough for me," Alm said, meeting the Yasha's gaze. "You say it isn't like a child of Mila to be suspicious. It's less like a man of your faith to be so dishonest. You have not held back your criticisms of me or my way of life since the moment we met. If you will truly fight by my side tomorrow, I need to know I can count on you should my life be taken into your hands."
"You have it," Carocol said with a smirk. This was the Carocol Alm knew and half-tolerated.
"I find that hard to believe."
"Fine. As a proud son of the Yasha, you have my word, Alm. My blade is yours to lead, and should your sword arm be stricken down, I shall lend you mine."
"Not enough!" Alm said louder, his voice echoing throughout the ports and formations of the surrounding canyons. The baying of wolves could be heard in the distance in response.
"Who wants a roasted walnut?" Rose asked in a high-pitched voice.
"My reasons for joining you will remain a secret. Frankly, it is a personal and painful memento I alone must deal with. And you should know, I am no longer mandated to complete my pilgrimage to Duma Tower. If I so please, I may return to my homeland at any time. But I am choosing to stay with you."
"I apologize for raising my voice Carocol...but I need to know why you have chosen to come with us."
"C'mon, don't make me feed it Pearl," Rose said, shaking her poker in front of Alm and Carocol's faces in turn. "Fine, Pearl gets it."
"Uh, what?" Pearl said, crawling away from Rose. Before Rose could follow through, however, Garnet reached up and ate it herself.
"Garnet showed me a vision," Carocol answered simply. Garnet gulped, even though she had already swallowed the walnut. "My home is no more. As of now, I am the last Yasha, and I wouldn't do my people proud if I simply returned home.
"In other words..." Carocol sighed. "You're the only semblance of family I have left."
"Oh Carocol…" Rose sighed, wiping a tear from her eye before wrapping Alm and Carocol both into a hug. "We'll see this through to the end together. Finally, I can say it."
"Say what?" Pearl asked, Garnet groaning in response.
"We are the Crystal Deliverance!"
Alm shook his head, and noticed Carocol doing the same.
Carocol woke as something pressed on his shoulder. He looked over to see that Alm had slumped over in his sleep.
He sat still, not wanting to wake the lad. The cool wind tickled his eardrums, a breathy lullaby that was lulling him back to sleep…
Just as his eyes closed for sleep, there was the sound of horseshoes on the mountain path above. Though they were on a ledge beneath the main path, and the half-moon's light concealed them from any curious passersby, Carocol tucked his head instinctively and waited for the rider to pass.
But he did not.
The clip-clopping had come to a halt right above them. Carocol sensed that someone, or something, was looking down at them. He chanced a quick glance at the main path to see, to his horror, a man on horseback looking over the ledge. Even in the limited light the traveler's eyes had a piercing, silvery quality to them.
Finally, after what felt like an hour of sitting still, there was a swift snapping of reins, the bray of a mare, and the traveler continued on his way.
Carocol thought about tailing the man. Finding his band of cronies before they could come back. But then again, there was a long day ahead, and waking Alm would wake the others, and the gems rarely slept as they did on this night.
That, and he had seen that stare somewhere before. Did it belong to an enemy, or a friend? It was impossible for it to be another Yasha. Or was it?
He pondered this for some time, until he happened to see that the moon was already beginning to set, and thin traces of gray could be seen on the horizon, and he closed his eyes for sleep.
It was traditional for any person of Mila's cloth to fast for days on end, but never had Celica gone so long without food or something of substance for so long. She was blindfolded, yes, and hadn't seen anything other than the filthy side of a blacksmith's rag for the past six days. She could tell the brutes that occasionally visited her, forcing frothy drinks and aged cheese down her throat, were Terrors simply from the way they hissed and barked at one another, in a primal language devoid of dialect and reason. That, and the smell.
The smell of her prison wasn't any better. It was a dusty and dry place, and as the days went on her breathing grew labored and haggard in a vain attempt from allowing it in. The terrors came to visit once a day (although it was hard to tell how long a day was), their footsteps and wingbeats echoing off the walls and ceiling. Thankfully, Gilgamesh hadn't visited since the day she had surrendered to him.
But finally, one day, there was a clatter of footsteps that awoke from her slumber, her fifth nap of the day in fact, and she opened her mouth automatically for her daily ration of grool and ale. But this time, there was a voice. Never had the common language been so welcoming to her ears, even as she recognized the voice.
"And there she is," Gilgamesh said. She could sense him moving closer to her, until he ripped the blindfold away. Celica grimaced as she adjusted to the sudden light. The room she was in was no room, but a sort of antechamber. Behind Gilgamesh was a balcony overlooking what must have been a massive hall, for the balcony across the way was barely visible. She craned her head to look out where the sun was coming in, but couldn't make out anything but a gray sky.
"You nauseate me," Celica croaked. Gilgamesh made a sarcastic hissing sound with his nose, and his footsteps drew closer.
"You're lucky I need you alive. And that I am in good spirits. For tonight, we dine to the birth of a changed world."
"And why's that?"
"Have you not heard of the Rigelian King's fate? He is too weak to rule, and has no choice to abdicate full control of the throne to his nephew, my master, Berkut. Soon, Rigel will be under my complete control."
"But didn't the Rigelians start the war? I was under the impression Emperor Rudolf was behind it!"
"No, Berkut and I will be the engineers and rulers of our new world. Rudolf stands in our way as long as he draws breath."
"I shall prevent you," Celica said, to which Gilgamesh guffawed.
"I would like to see it. Unfortunately, the chains that are binding you are made to imprison those with a high level of divinity. Your faith in Mila is your downfall, princess."
A gold portal hummed to life above the man, and a goblet slowly emerged from it. Gilgamesh picked it out of the air.
"I'm sure you are quite tired of the bile these fiends are feeding you. Perhaps this will ripen your spirits."
Celica puckered her lips in defiance as Gilgamesh placed the lip of the goblet against them.
"Now, now, you must be filled with vigor if your power will be absorbed by Duma."
Something blunt and heavy collided with Celica's midsection, forcing her to exhale. Gilgamesh took the chance to pour some of the wine into her mouth. Celica's cheeks bloated as she prepared to expel the stuff, but as soon as the sweet, dry flavor met her tongue, every nerve in her body seemed to loosen up. She pushed the liquid into every corner of her mouth, her spirits lifting like the slow blooming of a flower.
It felt almost sacrilegious to swallow, but eventually the flavor withered and she was forced to do so.
"Now was that so bad?"
Celica said nothing, even as a dribble of the stuff slid down her cheek. Gilgamesh put a finger out to stop its descent, letting it pool in his thumb before sticking it in his mouth.
"Even the holy are tempted in times of hardship to the forbidden taste of my finest culture. Perhaps another?"
Celica nodded, and Gilgamesh poured another mouthful. This second mouthful tasted even better than the first, and her mouth rejoiced at the taste. It was too bad...
Gilgamesh closed his eyes just in time as Celica expelled the liquid at full force. Red liquid dripped from his hair and onto his armor. He wiped it away and cracked his neck impatiently. He put a hand on Celica's cheek, this time digging his fingers into her flesh.
"You are lucky I need you alive," he said one final time, before a golden fire surrounded him and he was gone.
