Alm could count on one hand the times he admitted Mycen had been right. Mycen had been right before, of course, but admitting that was another thing.

And this time, Mycen was right.

War was not the glorious occasion portrayed in fable and legend. That was true for an observer, perhaps, but not a participant.

Time had ceased to exist in Alm's mind; his focus was on the endless stream of Rigelian soldiers, charging up the mountain towards them. The bloodshed was such that Alm could not discern between the soldiers covered in the blood of their compatriots, or reinforcements in crimson Rigelian armor.

He could still hear the muffled voices of the Crystal Gems, but just barely over the song of war. The flit of arrows, the screeching of steel, the screams of dying men.

In Alm's mind, he was invincible. He had weathered some rather grievous shots, but he had become numb to the pain. Something wet and red was beginning to coat his armor; blood, yes, that was it. Whether it was his or his foe's, he didn't care to know. .

But even then, as the battle wore on and the men fell in droves before him, something else was slowly creeping into Alm's mind. A sadness, wounding him more deeply than any physical weapon could. He could feel it slowly puncturing the crown of his soul, as if it were hatching from an egg, swarming every extremity of his body.

Make it stop!

It was a familiar voice, though Alm wasn't sure if it was real or not. He managed to duck just as the tip of a killing edge came down; a swordmaster stood across from him now, sporting a crooked smile.

You have to stop! Stop!

He felt sick to his stomach, like a child who had eaten too many sweets…

There was another sensation now, one that was surely real, for the swordsman matching blades with him also reacted. The blaring of a horn, several voices shouting "fall back," and for what felt like the first time in eons, Alm's attention was diverted from the throes of battle as the remaining enemies turned and retreated back down into the valley.

I can't let them leave, said another voice, throatier than the first. It was gritty and dark, and yet Alm couldn't help but listen. He spotted the swordmaster in the retreating pack, attempting to climb on the back of a retreating paladin's horse. With speed he didn't even realize he had, Alm sprinted after him, lunging and catching the man's boot as he nearly sped away. The man landed back-first, exhaling and cringing as the hard ground battered his spine.

Alm's arms lifted his blade into the air, fixated on the man's quivering throat.

"...lm, no…"

Something collided with Alm's back, so that he landed face first in the hard soil. He heard the metallic hum as his blade slid across the ground, landing at the feet of...Pearl.

Alm squirmed against his captor, pounding the back of their head with his elbow and biting at their hair.

"It's Rose, Alm. You need to stop…"

Alm's muscles relaxed, and suddenly he found that he could hear again. It felt as if a dark filter had been taken off of his eyes. Before he could even bend over, a cascade of bile reached his mouth and forced him to vomit.

"Oooohh…" he heard Pearl shiver. He knelt down for what felt like ages, as if his stomach itself wished to retreat with the Rigelians, before standing upright with his hand placed to his stomach.

"It's over, Alm. They've fallen back."

"But for how long?"

Carocol stepped in between them, also clutching at his stomach. A trickle of blood ran down his right leg, and a crescent-shaped gash was slowly forming on his left cheek. Alm thought of helping his friend sit down, but the instant he moved, the pain he had ignored overwhelmed him. He collapsed on the ground, and Pearl averted her eyes, afraid Alm was going to vomit again.

"Where's Garnet?" Rose asked, not taking her eyes off Alm.

"Uh, she'll be back in a bit."

Ruby was supporting a limping Sapphire.

"It was one of the horseback guys! We had just-" Ruby pounded her fist into the outstretched palm of her other hand "-pow, crushed one of the archers, and he came out of nowhere and plunged a lance in our chest!"

Pearl and Sapphire moaned simultaneously, but Ruby laughed it off.

"We unfused at the last second, so we're okay!"

"Yes, although the same man's horse trampled over my ankle as he retreated," Sapphire said, sitting down and stretching out her leg. She pushed the hair out of her face, revealing a single, tearful eye. "If we form Garnet like this, we will be at a significant disadvantage."

"I've expended my healing abilities for a time," Rose said, sounding tired for the first time since Alm or Carocol had met her. "I hope you're okay being separated for a while."

Ruby twiddled her thumbs, kicking at a loose rock on the ground, but Sapphire placed her bangs back in place and nodded.

"We'll be okay, Ruby."

But before Ruby could respond, there was a commotion as Rose suddenly swung her sword at Alm. Had Carocol not pushed Alm out of the way, the resulting blow would've been catastrophic.

"Are you mad?" Alm screamed, catching a mouthful of Rose's shield in the process. He managed to stay on his feet, though the taste of blood began to fill his mouth, and he looked down to see a couple of teeth on the ground.

"You killed so many humans. Did you even stop to think what you were doing?!"

Alm turned his attention to the pile of bodies. He attempted to shield himself from the stench with his arm, though the feeling of still-wet blood against his face was not a pleasant one.

"Rose!" Sapphire yelled. Ruby and Pearl were biting their fingers nervously, wanting no part in holding Rose back.

"I made a commitment to protect humans when I formed the Crystal Gems. No matter what side they were on…"

Rose bounded towards Alm. Alm rolled out of the way at the last possible second as her sword cut along the ground. He looked for any sign of his grandfather's blade. By chance, perhaps, he placed his hand on the ground and felt a familiar sensation of cool silver against his skin.

But Rose, with the swiftness and instinct of a true quartz soldier, stepped on the blade, trapping Alm's hand with it. Alm howled in pain, but still nobody helped him.

"If you pick up that sword, you will kill again," Rose said blankly. "I cannot let that happen."

"What did you expect would happen? That the Rigelians would see the five of us and lay down their arms? They're an empire!"

"You don't need to tell me," Rose said. "I've done my fair share of fighting empires too, in case you've forgotten. But unlike gems, humans can't regenerate! All those men you've killed are gone forever. How can you live with yourself?"

"Far more comfortably than someone who has more sympathy for the enemy than their allies."

There was a gasp, and Alm could see out of the corner of his eye that Pearl had clasped a hand over her mouth.

"Mycen may not have the power to heal and revive his friends by touching them. He may not be able to see the future. But he taught me that no warrior could expect to last on the field of battle if their heart hurt for the enemy."

Alm looked down at his hands, drenched with Rigelian blood.

"I understand that I've torn away so many lives today. Torn them from their families, their friends, their country. But they knew this could happen. Anyone who calls themselves a warrior understands this, and fights anyway. They fight for something greater, for what they feel is right."

Why did these words feel so hollow?

Rose hung her head. Garnet and Pearl looked back and forth between the two, waiting for one to make a move.

"If that's so, I know what I fight for, and what I have to do."

She lifted her sword.

"If I let you kill more, I could never live with myself…"

In that moment, as Rose's sword prepared to separate Alm's head from his body, something came between them...

"Carocol…!"

Carocol aimed a kick at Rose's torso. It was enough to push her back. She grimaced for a moment, then regarded the Yasha with shock.

"You are what I once was," he said in a strange voice, heavy with emotion and yet impactful nonetheless. "Afraid to fight for a cause, because having a cause meant hurting someone else! I understand that fear...I was raised to feel it myself.

"But traveling with you, seeing what you all fight for...I understand more than ever what it means to have something worth fighting for. Family, friends, the sake of the world...There will always be those that rise to take those things from us, and there will always be someone to meet it. Today, that is us.

"If you will not hear me, and you will stand between Alm and his destiny, I will stand with him."

Carocol held his sword out before him. Pearl and Ruby, who had been just as dumbfounded as Rose, slowly positioned themselves next to Rose, their weapons drawn. Alm found this ironic, as the proud gems who openly rebelled against the influence of the Diamonds, were annoyingly loyal to a Diamond without knowing it.

"No."

It was Rose who had said this, indicating for Pearl and Garnet to lower their weapons. Rose's sword and shield disappeared, as did Ruby and Pearl's gauntlets and spear respectively.

"I...I'm sorry Alm, I…guess I'm not a warrior after all."

Pearl gulped nervously, but Rose looked down at her reassuringly.

"You're a quartz, Rose, you were made for fighting," Sapphire said, trying to pull herself to her feet. Rose shook her head.

"Alm is more of a warrior than I ever could be. Someday, maybe we'll all understand."

In the distance, Alm heard the gate to the Imperial castle clicking to life, followed by the pounding of hundreds of boots upon the drawbridge.

"We're not done. They've retreated, but it's time to finish this!"

Alm turned and sprinted down the mountain trail. Carocol followed, as did Ruby (stopping, of course, to collect Sapphire in her arms), leaving Pearl and Rose to slowly follow behind.

Fernand could see all of this as he ascended the eastern tower, which led to the dining hall. He had climbed these same steps for years, since becoming a Rigelian soldier in fact, typically with an empty stomach. But on this eve, he wondered if he would ever have the stomach to eat again. Never had climbing these steps filled him with such dread.

The smell of warm turkey indicated he had reached the desired landing, and he stepped out into the dining chamber. When Emperor Rudolf was still healthy, he would change the decor of the room to match the season; a white and midnight blue checkered tablecloth and silver-bound candles, for instance, in Wyrmstym to reflect the season's snow. Berkut, however, had no interest in these minute affairs. Though they were in the heart of Wyrmstym, the plaid pumpkin orange and brown of Avistym was still draped over the table, and an empty cornucopia gasped for food to be fitted in its maw.

Berkut was seated at the end of the table by himself. This was yet another quality of the room that had changed from when Rudolf reigned. Fernand remembered his days as a private, when the voices of the emperor and his generals would fill the room until late in the evening. The table groaning under the weight of bowls and plates of the most delicious food Rigel had to offer, so much so that it was a fortunate thing the chamber was in the back of the castle and away from the public eye, or there would certainly have been far more peasant rebellions in those days.

But Berkut possessed none of the chemistry with his men as the emperor, and often dined alone or with his wife. Fernand had offered to join him several times, but Berkut always turned him down.

Berkut noticed Fernand enter the chamber, and began dabbing at his chin with a napkin.

"Fernand, my friend! I did not know you had returned."

"My apologies, my lord," Fernand said from the other end of the table, bowing deeper than he typically would. "I took the liberty of captaining the city patrol the past few days, for one of the lieutenants has been ill. I pray it isn't the same illness that has taken hold of the emperor."

If there was any advantage to Berkut not interacting with his men, Fernand thought, it was that he had no way of knowing if one of them was lying.

"Very well," Berkut said, placing the napkin in his lap, studying his favored lieutenant. "And what did you do when the order was given to capture our little hawk and his cast?"

"I ordered my men to join the attack party, of course, which is why I am here, my liege. The attack, unfortunately, was a failure. The boy fights with the strength of ten thousand Zofians."

The spoon in Berkut's hand fell to the floor, and the coolness in his manner vanished with it.

"You mean to tell me the boy fought off our finest forces by his lonesome?!"

"We...must've underestimated the abilities of his friends, my liege."

"No…" said a distant sounding voice.

The two men looked around the room for the source of the voice, and Fernand nearly lost his footing as Gilgamesh moved in beside him.

"My king! Wh-when did you return?"

"Not too long ago, but I did manage to catch sight of the skirmish. The boy is his own army. His allies, aside from the Yasha mongrel, did almost nothing. He truly is the manifestation of destiny."

Gilgamesh placed his hand on Berkut's shoulder, who looked just as surprised as Fernand to see him.

"He will, of course, attack again this very eve."

"Yes, my excellencies, which is why I have come here. If we line our forces around the battlements…"

"We have no need for your tactics, do we, Berkut?"

Berkut cleared his throat.

"Uh, no, Fernand. I have been made aware of your activities by the emperor."

Fernand suddenly found it very difficult to stand.

"Your excellency, I was assigned to complete the task by the emperor himself. Forgive me, I was just following his orders…"

"Rudolf is sick, and is not in his right mind. I, as your direct commanding officer, am. You should've come to me first…"

"With all due respect," Fernand said, his eyes darting back and forth between Gilgamesh and Berkut, who were both studying him like one would study a troublesome cockroach, "I was told not to come to you, in order to protect you."

"And how can you protect him at all if you are not here?" Gilgamesh said, picking up a pitcher of wine and filling a goblet with its contents. He took a sip, made a face, and put both back on the table. "This is the best this nation can produce? Puh."

"Gilgamesh is right, Fernand. For all you know, the emperor could've sent you on his way so he could kill me."

Fernand could hardly believe his ears.

"Your excellency, I'm sure even in the most rabid of states, the emperor would not dare to attack his own flesh and blood?"

"He ordered you to aid the number one enemy of our state. His mind is a frightening enigma."

"My lord, please, I only do what is right for the crown of Rigel. I swear, I was doing what I thought was right. Please, have mercy!"

Fernand collapsed on his knees, and placed his arms on Berkut's plated boots.

"My life is yours, my liege, until the day you or I draw our last breaths. Please, give me another chance. Tonight, I shall lead our forces to victory and take care of that Zofian runt once and for all!"

Berkut kicked Fernand's hands away.

"You are a pitiful display. I will allow you to retain your life, but your days as a Rigelian knight are over. You will surrender your armor and weapons tonight, and any accolades you have accrued are forfeit."

Fernand placed his head in his hands, and for a while Berkut was certain he would begin sobbing. Instead, Fernand helped himself to his feet, and slowly shambled his way back in the direction of the tower.

"Unfortunately, I do not have the same amount of mercy as my companion."

It felt as if the fist of Duma himself had plunged through Fernand's chest. He collapsed to the ground, his blood seeping into the carpet as the spear Gilgamesh had launched caved his ribs in.

"W-what are you doing?" Berkut said in a breathy voice.

"This man is a traitor, and will certainly join Alm's side if you let him live. I say we hang him from the battlements, as a symbol of what happens when you challenge me."

The world was fading fast, and Fernand only had the strength to mutter Berkut's name one final time before closing his eyes for an eternal rest.

"There was no proof of that, my lord. His allegiance to the crown of Rigel was never in question, he only answered to the wrong person!"

Gilgamesh grunted impatiently.

"We cannot afford to be careless, not when the rebirth of Duma is so close."

Berkut pushed his plate of food away from him, for the sight of Fernand's corpse bleeding out on the carpet made his stomach hurt.

"The emperor's life will soon end," Gilgamesh said, smiling and taking another sip of wine as if he had merely commented on the weather. Berkut's heart skipped a beat.

"What do you mean?"

"I did what you couldn't. The goblet of poison sits empty by his bedside. The old fool will finally be out of our way."

Berkut's stomach contracted at the revelation. It was true that the emperor stood in his way, but even after all he, Rinea, and Gilgamesh had done, a dull pain nevertheless settled itself in his heart.

"Where is my wife, my lord? You were supposed to keep watch of her."

"She is at the Tower of Duma, awaiting your arrival," Gilgamesh responded, not meeting Berkut's eye. Gilgamesh often talked down to Berkut without meaning too, but somehow, this response felt different.

"Good. Let's end this little insurrection, then we can finally begin the process of changing the world."

Gilgamesh took another sip of wine, before setting the goblet on the table and wiping at his mouth with the back of his armor.

"On the contrary, I say we let the boy and his sheep take our little fort."

"My lord…?" Berkut responded.

"The boy has made it his goal to stand between us and our destiny. Even I cannot guarantee you protection from him. And besides, I sense the Yasha lad may have discovered the truth about me. That could make getting rid of him rather time-consuming."

Berkut stared around the dining room, the very one where he had celebrated so many birthdays with Rudolf and his generals. He thought of the royal bedchamber, the gardens where he and Rinea had first shared a kiss, the chapel where they had been wed.

"We cannot just forfeit our capital to the Zofians!" he said firmly. Gilgamesh's eyes flickered impatiently.

"Sometimes, you can be so shortsighted, boy."

Berkut found his patience beginning to thin, as it often did around Gilgamesh, although tonight he was finding it difficult to hide.

"How so?"

"When Duma emerges, we can retake this castle. We can make a folly out of the Zofian castle. We can claim the endless prairies and forests you and Rinea used to frequent. If we stay here, we risk missing our window. The princess of Zofia will not live long enough to be useful."

"The princess Anthiese? You mean you've found her?" Berkut asked, his annoyance evaporating.

"Not only that, but I've captured her. Unfortunately, like Alm, the girl has friends of her own that will surely come for her. Even worse, I wounded her far worse than I meant to. We must return to the Tower, tonight."

Gilgamesh moved briskly towards the tower stairs, stepping over Fernand's corpse without a second glance.

"We must leave now, or the girl will die."

Gilgamesh disappeared down the stairs. Berkut followed, pausing only to look down at Fernand's body. He bent down and closed his fallen lieutenant's eyelids gently, and with one final glance at the dining chamber, hurried down the stairs, clutching his stomach a bit tighter with each step.

Before they had even arrived at the gates of the capital, Alm and Carocol had their weapons drawn. No troops came to accost them, even as they entered the city limits. The consequences of Berkut's inexperience were prevalent here, even more so than in the surrounding country and Goldstarch. They had already witnessed some of the city's physical decay from their view on the mountain; now, it was directly upon them.

While the stench of death, like that in Goldstarch, was not present here, the air was stale with mold and rotting hay. Piles of the stuff had been spilled upon the main road, in the haste of the resident's retreat into their homes. At one point, Alm tripped over a tipped-over food cart, and as Carocol helped him up he noticed someone staring at him.

It was an older woman, wearing a wrinkly clerical shawl and leaning out the front door of her home. The house itself reflected the state of Rigelian society better than any one person could: a two-story manor of timber that had once stood tall over the surrounding tenements, now sagging slightly like a sack of potatoes. The woman began to approach them, but as Carocol raised his blade, the woman held out her hand. The effect was for Carocol to back down, but only slightly, and let the woman approach.

"For you, my prince."

The cleric reached into the folds of her shawl and produced a brown, triangular container. She shook it vigorously, but nothing came out until she tapped the bottom, producing a single capsule of healing herbs. Before Alm could protest, the woman thrust the capsule into his hands.

"Sister, certainly there are citizens who need it more than I?" Alm said, holding it up to his face nonetheless.

She shook her head.

"Long have we awaited your return."

A sensation of deja vu overcame Alm, as he recalled the eventful evening in Goldstarch. The pain wracking Alm was becoming difficult to ignore, however.

"If it is alright, sister, I would prefer to receive a dose of healing magic."

"I'm afraid my staves have long expended their magic," the sister responded, shaking her head. "Please, use that vulnerary. You will not face any more resistance from Rigelian troops."

Alm looked to Carocol for advice, but the Yasha merely shrugged. The herbs had an immediate effect, and though Alm could still feel the burning from a particularly nasty gash in his right hip, he found that he could walk without limping.

"Wait!"

Ruby stepped in between them, still clutching Sapphire and panting heavily for it.

"Alm, don't go to the castle," Ruby gasped. Sapphire got to her feet, allowing Ruby to kneel over and catch her breath.

"We must stop Berkut, Ruby. I cannot delay any more."

"The boy fled some time ago," the sister said, and everyone turned to listen to her. As if in response, the doors to the city houses seemed to open in unison, and weary residents emerged with nervous glances around for any sign of Rigelian soldiers. "The 'king' was with him."

"That makes no sense," Alm said, more to himself than anyone in particular. Why would Berkut abandon the capital so easily, especially in the condition he and the Crystal Gems were in? The sensation of relief was short-lived, as Sapphire suddenly looked up at Alm nervously.

"Alm, if you're not ready…" she began, a single tear streaming down her face.

"Ready for what?"

Sapphire leaned up against the sister's manor, wincing with every movement of her injured leg.

"The thing Garnet warned you about...what Mycen warned you about. It's about to happen."

Alm had never felt so drained. The battle fatigue felt secondary to this new sensation; a horrible feeling of anxiety that lined his insides like lead. Even though he had no idea what was about to happen, he knew he wasn't prepared.

"Wait, Alm!"

Alm started towards the castle. He was ill-suited to handle any more emotional or physical pain on this eve, and yet somehow, he knew delaying it would be even worse.

He heard Carocol beginning to follow him, followed by a feminine grunt, indicating he needed to stay behind. Alm wasn't sure who it was who held him back, but it didn't matter. As far as Alm could tell, the world around him existed behind a sort of veil. He felt strangely disconnected from the residents staring at him as the castle loomed ever closer. Rigelian soldiers of all ranks, some Alm recognized from the earlier skirmish, bowed as he passed.

As he finally crossed the threshold of the castle, the torches beginning to peter out as the night air grew colder, the surroundings were suddenly familiar to him. He allowed instinct (or was it memory?) to take over, to carry up him up the tower stairs. As he ascended, two clerics wielding a medical cot passed him by, forcing him to stand aside.

He resisted the urge to cry out as a familiar face, pale and anguished, stared up at him from the passing cot. Fernand's sharp features and nobleman's arrogance had left him, leaving a soft expression Alm hadn't seen in a decade. How unfair, that someone he regarded as an enemy still felt like a close friend in death. He only caught a single glance at the somewhat familiar gash in Fernand's chest before forcing himself to continue up the stairs.

Finally, he arrived at the landing of the topmost floor. A single torch lit the short hallway to what Alm knew was the emperor's chamber, flanked by stained-glass windows depicting scenes of Rigelian heroes and mythological encounters, though they were lifeless without a moon or sun to shine through them.

Alm's hand hovered over the handle to the door. He took a deep breath, the only thing he could do to stop himself from turning around and running back to the safety of his friends. But just as his hand settled on the scaly, brass handle to the room, the door opened by itself, and for just a moment, his spirits lifted higher than Alm could ever remember.

His grandfather, Mycen, beckoned him into the room, closing the door behind them.