Mycen was silent as he and Alm entered the royal chamber. He had the same expression as the day he took Celica away, Alm realized; stern, but behind the pupil walls of black a layer of sadness lingered.

The room was as lavish as Alm had expected the Emperor's quarters to be, and if the current circumstances had been different, he would have voraciously explored every inch of it. Depicted on the ceiling was a scene from the Divine Schism, the moment Duma and Mila separated to rule their own domains, although the figure of Duma had been painted larger and in far greater detail. The Rigelian coat of arms shone from every inch of the green wallpaper, as well as the red drapes obscuring the window. The fireplace was ablaze with the grandest controlled fire Alm had ever seen, accentuating the room with its amber pallor.

Alm was focused on the shriveled husk of a man. Alm had only seen the Emperor Rudolf in paintings, but even these images were hard to come by during his Zofian childhood. Rudolf was a villainous figure in Zofian portraiture, and sometimes the butt of a subliminal joke. He could remember the time Gray was almost banned from the Ram Art Festival for laughing so hard at Rigelian Ass. The painting was initially that of a cartoonish looking donkey painted from the side, but upon closer inspection the Emperor's face could be seen in the fur around the donkey's flank.

But even in these works, Rudolf still possessed the physical qualities of a Rigelian emperor, from his steely, ebony eyes to the flaming mane of golden-white hair flowing down his back. In his expression, Alm had seen a man with little tolerance for failure, and a deep passion for conflict.

It was hard to believe this sickly man was the aloof emperor Alm had studied in so many paintings and stories.

"My boy…" the emperor whispered, pushing himself up with a blackened hand. "You must...despise this old man…"

It was true; even before his quest had begun, Alm, and all of his peers, had been brought up to despise the emperor Rudolf. Beyond paintings, Rudolf was the villain in the childish games he played with his friends. The embodiment of tyranny, and a name that when used to criticize a member of the Zofian ruling class would inevitably result in a screaming match.

But Alm could never, even in the cold depths of his heart, feel any sense of pleasure from watching a man die like this.

"We need to get a cleric up here," Alm said, turning on Mycen. "A troubadour, a minstrel..."

Mycen simply raised his hand to stop Alm, and indicated for him to listen to the Emperor.

"Yes...I see you've absorbed some of Mila's kindness. Mycen has raised you well."

The emperor cleared his throat, a pitiful sound that barely reached Alm's ears.

"Unfortunately, there is nothing any person of the staff can do to save me now. I have ingested far too much poison. My time is borrowed, and I have much to tell you."

He motioned for Mycen to bolt the door, and did not speak until this was done.

"Our two nations have gone to war on several occasions, my dear boy. You could even say it is a tradition, inherited by our ancestors Duma and Mila. Your grandfather and I had our fair share of encounters back in the day."

Mycen and Rudolf shared a wry smile.

"I was young, then, and like any young man handed the reins to the mightiest nation in the world, I was reckless. I wanted more than anything to conquer Zofia and finally establish Rigel as the only nation worthy of ruling Valentia. For the better part of a decade, our two nations destroyed one another, leaving fields and forests full of battered shields, arrowheads, and blood. It was a horrible time for the common folk of both of our countries, but I didn't care. All I could do was focus on the next battle, the next opponent…"

Alm was uncomfortably reminded of the mania that had overtaken him only a couple hours before.

"Eventually, I came to my senses, and saw the effects the war was having on my people. You have seen it firsthand yourself on your journey here; the land was rotting, the people were sick and starving. Brigands were raiding villages without any intervention, kidnapping women and children, killing the farmers, and pilfering from the elderly and poor. I saw brothers and sisters, divided by our nation's borders, forced to fight and even kill one another.

"The king of Zofia had observed this in his nation for months, and had called for the war to end several times, but I did not budge. It was your grandfather that convinced me (in the middle of battle, no less!) to sheathe my spear and seek peace.

"In time, both of our nations recovered, and we enjoyed an uneasy peace. The arrival of the gems from the world beyond ours complicated matters, but Zofia and Rigel both maintained their identities in spite of these new arrivals.

"But then, one day, the sky fell…"

Rudolf's gaze traversed the room, focused on the mysterious realm beyond the sky.

"We had heard the crash even from here. Then, the next day, reports came in that nearly every village near Duma Tower had been wiped out by a massive rock. I believed they had meant a giant rockfall, but the lad who reported it to me insisted that one, massive stone had suddenly fallen from the sky and destroyed the villages utterly and completely.

Alm remembered the lights he had seen those months ago, colors Alm had never seen before dancing across the sky. Even the thought of seeing those peculiar tones again made him shudder.

"Things were never the same after that. Though Duma Tower was badly damaged by the impact, it still stands today. But all the same, the crops began to die again. Natural disasters and earthquakes ravaged the countryside. Then, the terrors emerged, attacking and wiping out villages all over the continent with surgical precision.

"Never had I felt so powerless. After every day, I would collapse on this bed, drained from the amount of tragedy I was forced to absorb. My nephew, ever the ambitious lad, volunteered to investigate Duma Tower for me, and lead the efforts to rebuild the area surrounding it. I knew the area around the tower would be a place of great evil…"

A single tear rolled down the old man's cheek.

"I should never have let the boy go."

"Berkut went by himself?" Mycen said, speaking up for the first time. It took Alm a moment to make the connection, but when he did it felt like a powder keg had exploded in his chest.

"Berkut is not your son?!" Alm roared. Mycen and Rudolf exchanged knowing glances. Alm had many questions, but the emperor's breathing was already growing labored. Alm clenched his fists, and growled for the emperor to continue. He would deal with his newly realized cousin in due time.

"When he returned, he was not alone. I don't know if it was the journey itself, or his new acquaintance, Gilgamesh, who came back with him, but something had changed my nephew. That ambition I had once taken pride in had turned to lust. He would sequester himself for weeks on end in his chamber, even from his own wife, talking only with this man.

"It wasn't until one day, when Rinea and I were supping in the dining chamber, that I realized what was going on. She had taken to wearing her traveling cloak around the castle, even in the daylight. It was Flostym then, and the air was still warm, but I knew better than to intrude on the affairs of another man's wife. On this occasion, however, she had been careless with her butter knife, and cut her finger. I leaned down to examine it, and...there they were.

"The command seals of the Rigelian Heritor of Arcadia."

Alm had heard the term Heritor before, but he couldn't remember where.

"I'm sure Celica told you all about it back when you pranced around in the meadow behind the village," Mycen said wryly, knowing the opposite was true.

Celica had mentioned the story before. But then again, religious tales had never excited Alm. More often than not, he only stayed quiet when she spoke because he liked the sound of her voice, even if the words went through one ear and out the other.

"Perhaps you need a refresher?" Mycen said, ever the clairvoyant. "Before Duma and Mila split, Mila proposed that a living mortal should attain both hers and Duma's qualities. If there came a time where one God would attempt to overpower the other, the Heritors, along with servants who resided in Arcadia, would unite to bring balance to Valentia once again.

"Sadly," Mycen continued, leaning against the sofa facing the fireplace, "even my knowledge of the tale is quite limited."

"You know enough, Mycen," Rudolf said. Even with his quiet murmur of a voice, he had the ability to command the attention of everyone in the room. "The command seals were believed to be how the Heritors made their connection to these divine Servants. And on Rinea's arm, was the seal of the servant of Rigel. But that could not be."

"How come?" Alm asked.

"If you had known Rinea, she possessed none of the qualities of the Rigelian Heritor. She was humble, meek. Even though she was born with tremendous magical abilities, she dedicated herself to her family, and then Berkut once they were wed."

"Where is she? If Berkut knew who the real Heritor was, she would certainly know."

Rudolf opened his mouth to answer, but was quickly placated by a series of raspy sounding coughs. When he finally had the strength to speak again, however, he hesitated again, tears forming in his eyes.

"Rinea is dead."

The room seemed to dim slightly. Only a week ago, Rinea had offered Alm and his friends a room in her fort, despite being on the other side of the geopolitical aisle. In any other circumstances, she would've been a tremendous friend.

"However, neither she nor Berkut learned who the real Heritor was," Rudolf continued, his voice breathy and labored. "Even though Berkut crossed blades with him multiple times, and his wife Rinea lent him a bed to sleep in, neither ever knew that they were in the presence of the real Heritor of Arcadia.

Alm waited for the old man to laugh. For Mycen to playfully punch him in the shoulder. But the grave expression in both their eyes was all he needed to know.

"I'm a Heritor of Arcadia," Alm said, in a voice of awe that bordered perilously on uncertainty. His body felt heavy, as if somehow he did not belong in it.

Alm instinctively grabbed at the back of his hand, the one where a strange brand was always faintly visible to him. His mind reminded him of the occasion his hand burned when the quest had first begun, and how it did again when he had dreamed of…

"Celica is the Heritor of Zofia."

Mycen hung his head in silent acknowledgment. As the proud grandfather to Alm, he knew better than to underestimate his intelligence.

"That's why you took her away…"

"It was too dangerous for both Heritors to be in the same place at once, so I took her across the sea to live in the Novis Priory.

"Alm, there is more you should know," Mycen said, in a low, melancholic tone Alm had never heard before. "Celica is not her real name. It is Anthiese."

Now, surely Mycen was pulling his leg. Once again, his grandfather's silence confirmed what he had said.

"Celica is the...lost princess of Zofia?"

"The one and the same. Though Duma and Mila wished for the Heritors to be free from divine influence, it did not mean that anyone could be a Heritor. The Heritors are rich with royal blood, and their family history is deeply ingrained within their birth nation."

"So what you're saying is…"

Alm's head was already spinning from the revelations he had been forced to endure. Now, he felt as if the floor had fallen out beneath him. He slowly pivoted around, until he was facing Rudolf, his birth father, once more.

Neither could say anything. Alm could only stare at Rudolf blankly, as the old man's face swelled and turned a deep shade of red. He felt many things at once; joy, at finally uncovering his father's identity and meeting him face to face. Betrayal, that Mycen had never told him. But mostly, he felt despair, more cavernous and crippling than he had ever felt in his life, knowing their time together was going to be short.

"I expect you to be angry with me. To know that all of these years, you lived in poverty, when you were, in reality, the crown prince of the greatest nation on Earth."

Mycen shifted slightly at this statement, but Alm could care less about Valentian geopolitics. Alm was torn between the desire to burst into tears, or to strike the old man. He settled in the middle, and wrapped Rudolf in as deep of a hug as Alm could manage.

"I...I wish we had more time…" Alm muttered in Rudolf's ear.

"Me too," Rudolf whispered. Alm continued to embrace his father, even as his arms fell limply by his side. As his body grew cold and his breathing ceased.

Alm regretted every negative thought he had ever felt towards Rudolf. For so long, he had been ingrained to hate him, and now, he found himself fighting back tears. Fighting to hold on, even as someone tried to pull him away. He fought as hard as he could, but already the corners of his eyes were beginning to burn, his cheeks beginning to ache from the pressure of stemming the tide.

"Grandpa, I...what do I do now?" Alm said, throwing his arms around who he had thought was his grandfather, pulling him away. Instead, he found himself staring into Garnet's three, watery eyes.

"I wanted to tell you Alm, I'm so sorry. I don't blame you if you hate me," she said, looking down at the palms of her hands. "But, I saw you getting to this point someday, and all I can do is see the future, not stop it from happening. I couldn't tell you, because I had just met you."

It was strange to see Garnet so uncertain with herself, so uncomfortable being in her own skin. Alm looked over her shoulder to see Pearl, Rose, and Carocol, looking just as melancholy.

"Did you all know?"

All three shook their heads no, but their silence suggested an unspoken conspiracy did exist between them.

"We are one and the same," Carocol said, stepping into the light of the fireplace. "Garnet also showed me a disturbing vision of my father's death as well."

Alm, unable to find the appropriate words to respond with, simply nodded at the Yasha.

"You will be a tremendous emperor, Alm. I don't need future vision to know that," Mycen said, placing a hand on Alm's shoulder. "I'm sorry I kept this from you for so long, but it was for your own protection."

As angry as Alm wanted to be, for the many years he never got to experience with Rudolf, he could not find it in his heart to be angry with Mycen. It was because of his training that he had gotten this far, and as he looked around the room at the unlikely army he had led all this way, his despondence slowly faded away.

"Thank you all for being here," Alm said, pulling away from Garnet and wiping the tears from his eyes. "As painful as this journey has been for all of us-" Rose and Pearl half-looked at one another "-and as much as we may feel like we need to rest for a decade after all of this, we still have much to do."

"Yes," Mycen said, regarding Alm proudly. "Right now, Gilgamesh and Berkut are preparing the final rites to bring Duma back into existence. His awakening will bring this planet into ruin. In this castle, you will find an ancient shortcut to Duma Tower. There, you must face Berkut, Alm's servant, and perhaps even Duma himself. This will be your final trial."

"Crystal Deliverance," Alm began, taking one last, painful look at his father, powerful even in death. "Let's move!"