The Lost Years, Part Two
...
…Gizamaluk had no idea of how he could find a way to retribute Kain in the same way he did within that afternoon. Later that day, before a night of rest at the nearest inn, plans were made by the Highwind and Kain for both to find a way to enter through the fortified walls of Grignard.
Even the mention of that name sent shivers of fear over all their bodies. The main capital of the Vastitas, center of their bloody dynasty, where the true evil was lying all along, inside those fortified walls around that tower higher than the sky of Bahamut above, to send his people against the wall, and with no consequences at all.
Since the day Necro usurped of the throne and declared himself to be the leader of the Vastitas by instituting a martial law, riots were spread throughout the capital, and the calamity brought by the revolting ones made them split into two factions: The Red Masks, followers of Necro's ideals of conquer and glory of the civilization through an enduring domain instilled through 7 of the 12 reigns; and the Black Masks, composed by the ones rebelling against Necro, mainly fugitives, represented by the cities of Kilde and Klaire. Both cities were founded above the Mist by a group of fugitives, secured by the Black Masks, also belonging to the same sect. Currently under a siege, Kilde gave all support for Klaire, the 11th reign.
Since all major routes connecting the city to the outside world had been cut or blocked by the Vastitas soldiers on guard, the people of Kilde found a way to offer water and food supplies for the Klaireans from a secret route, whose entrance was found unexpectedly by a child, who had blown up a crumbled wall alongside the route once used by Kilde with a Dead Pepper, a plant mainly found below the Mist, his fruits commonly raised and carried by the Vastitas because they perish after maturity, and their unstable seeds works as some kind of explosive when sprout with contact, being harmful within the range of explosion and speed of the throw.
The nearest you are from one, the unsafest will be your later condition. The tunnel seemed to connect both cities into each one's cathedrals through a tunnel, once dug by the extinct Mole Man society, who used to live around Gaia centuries before the invention of writing. Unfortunately, Kilde has currently been demanding of the same food once given by the neighbors of Klaire, and due to the shortage of resources and the constant city growth, famine began to be feared by the main population of Kilde as well.
For a moment, Gizamaluk fled from the room, and when he returned, Kain noticed his feet was burned, pitch black and gray. Kain was about to ask why, when he and Gizamaluk, alongside Siegfried, went outside. On that evening, they saw through the inn's door a group of people, from around the city of Kilde, reunited across the central fountain, illuminated by the lights of the fire. Each 4 years, guided by the local Priest or Priestess, they reunited around the fountain to commemorate with the rites of passage, alongside the dance, the painting, the music, the arts... those and other mysterious things.
Chaotic as the fire spread under the feet of those, kids and adults, walking in burning coal and ashes to test their courage, a custom inherited from the Vastitas, whose Fire is the symbol of endurance, yet as beautiful as the women dressed in orange and peach badla, dancing to celebrate the good harvest, wishing for their husbands and sons to come back soon. Sometimes, they make people remember things that were not expect to be remembered, regardless of whether they desire to remember them or not.
To bring up memories of such everlasting thoughts, feelings, emotions; at times, they cheered up as friends in the past, while at other times, they would cry of anxiety and uncertainty about the future. In the middle of a major internal crisis, the faith of those people, jaded of breathing in fumes, is tied into an invisible creed, a stream connecting both Kilde and Klaire, like a force polarized into all beings, like pillars sustaining the bridge of a river, whose water is the vital element for each life on the planet.
After a night of sleep, Kain and Siegfried reunited in Kilde's cathedral, to gather more information about the Vastitas and more about the Red and Black Masks factions. They learnt from Priestess Berkana that the Red Masks, whose leader is a man by the name of Frigg, are known by this name because of the color of the mask and the velvet wore on their bodies. Whoever touched or had contact with their pieces of clothes for a long time in battle would be infected by the pox.
For generations, the Vastitas had been trained to become immune to that disease, and since them, they used it to their advantage. Unlike the Red Masks, none of the Black Masks wear black. That's a common designation given by the Vastitas for any habitant, or captive, who fled from Grignard and lived with the absence of Mist, the essence of their passion with death. All Vastitas and his descendants that remained in Grignard had colorless eyes and gray to white hair, due to the contact with Mist enduring generations, unlike Kilde and Klaire's population, whose residents had color on their eyes, like Gizamaluk's green ones, because of their time spent above the Mist. They also believed the Past lives above, in front of the road, and the Future is below, behind.
Being subordinates of Necro, who joined with Hades, the legendary weapon synthesizer from the underworld, the Red Masks have in their possession a stimulant drug, called 'Drive'. Produced from the seeds of red poppies, simmered and drunk like Bulu chai, the 'Drive' is responsible to enhance their vision, agility, response time , energy produced by the muscles, and physical damage improved two or three times than before.
Its use implemented after the result of riots spread throughout the capital, the frenzy, split-second feeling given by the drug seemed to be a way to partially 'break their limits', to awaken the mythical 'Trance', the same who once lied on the souls of thousands of deceased Berserkir units, awaiting for their spirits to be incarnate underneath the flesh of a living one.
Anything done under the 'Drive' over-stimulated the body, generating negative symptoms of fatigue, immobility and disorders, such as irritability and the act of self-injury by overage dosage of the 'Drive', as reported by Black Mask units in the field.
With the information given, Kain and Siegfried, alongside two Black Mask units handed over by Berkana, followed themselves to the road to Klaire, while Gizamaluke remained at Kilde's inn. Kain didn't want that kid to risk his life once again, like he did before twice. But when did ever since Kain risk his life? The others had done it for him until now. Kain had no use for weapons, so Siegfried was the one who secured his life and Kain's with Durandal, the holy sword whose blade is said to cut through even the hardest stone of Gaia.
Kilde struggled to maintain the trade route with Klaire, even if it meant an urge of starving and decrease of production from the city itself; Gizamaluke willed to cross the path of rocks set ablaze, in order to show the one he call by father he was useful and brave to bear with the pain; Even Lucrecia, who was awaiting for Kain at Bulu, taking care of Nate on her own for this time being since them. On behalf, what else could Kain do for those kind souls besides reunite the tribes of the same race for once?
Fight, with bare hands or not, was his only choice, in order to put an end to the atrocities of Vastitas. From the tunnel connecting both cities, Kain and the party reached Klaire at once. There, they fell on an ambush, planned by those two Black Mask units, who were revealed to be deserted by a generous offer from Necro himself, since any other Vastita would be recognized by the color of their eye and hair. Priest Erasmus had already been taken care of before Kain could intervene, so he and Siegfried were captured by the Vastitas units at the cathedral and later were sent to prison, the place where the commander of Red Masks awaited them.
Dressed in crimson armor, covered in red clothes, a white and soft scarf made of the same wrapped clothes on the neck, scars on both hands and feets , presumably a wound left on the field by a brave soldier or a fool enough to be called by brave, handling a spear with the left arm, he was defined by h is grasp and rude attitude of his eyebrows frown, contrary to the trim composure left; a genuine Red Mask, called by Frigg.
At least, for a brief moment, they thought Frigg was a man, but inside that rusty armor, beyond the mask taken by those arms from the hidden face of his, lied the body of a maiden.
...
— …He's a she!
— My Highness, please. Funny or not, this is part of our history.
— Sorry, Sigurd.
— Ahem… Where was I?...
…
…Frigg; the femme fatale, known by her own men because of what happened by those who stepped on her shadow. Only a squalid like the one who tried to cut her eye would do that, like Gizamaluke.
Since Kain left him in the inn, Gizamaluk followed through his steps on the way to Klaire, in order to find the one who was supposed to take care of him. When Gizamaluk stepped on Frigg's shadow, she did nothing. Instead of cutting the boy's tongue or ears, she only turned back and stared at him, like he did with the swinging keys lying above her waist.
A small effort that ended up in another captive; Gizamaluk jumped onto Frigg, who grabbed him and locked all his hopes within that cell. At least, Gizamaluk wasn't alone. At least, he was closer to Kain this time. Even though they were in adjacent cells, Gizamaluk's thoughts could be perceived by Kain's look. What would that boy become without a soul like Kain's?...
...
— Lenneth...
— What is it, my Prince?
— This Frigg you mentioned, Sig... I just remembered something. No, someone. It's a woman, who used to be a member of the Dragoon Knights. Maybe it's because of the color she wore, the red, but for a moment, I... well, let's just forget it. And, about Gizamaluk... My answer is that he would become nothing, if no one else could intervene, but the liberty of his wandering around was nothing, without someone as well...
— I'm here if you want, my Prince.
— Yes, Sig. You're with me. For such a long time. Each one is born in parts, and throught time, they become a whole, as they say.
— Ahem...
...
…Gizamaluke bravely raised himself through these years, with only a part of him remaining. The uncertainty about his parents' whereabouts grew on his mind, within the reminiscence of something he took out from Frigg, concealed under his chest, an aching on his heart, the itchy of his skin...
Later that night, Gizamaluk felt ill. When Frigg came to see his condition, secluded in that cell, a piece of red cloth was found above his chest, with small bubbles erupting on the skin below. No doubt he has been infected by the pox, for a long period, without even knowing it.
That poor boy... Kain could not bear the harm he considered to be caused by his fault. Had he obeyed and remained at inn, he would not have been contaminated by the disease. All Gizamaluk did was in order to find a place to belong, with Kain. Even risk his short life, if needed, to find that same place, no matter what way it took, expected, or sadly, unexpected.
Luckily, the treatment for the pox was at Pathos, a small village, the 8th reign founded by the Vastitas. Frigg was the one who told it so, while holding of the seemingly lethargic infant over her shoulder, before that remnant of infected cloth had been burned by her, on an attempt to make amends and comfort Kain's thoughts, to make him see her less of a threat to be taken care off and put the blame on herself, as i f it was her own fault that brought the unfortunate consequence.
Why would she do that; Kain had not a single answer let. Not even Siegfried, since that kind of behavior wasn't natural for a Vastita who lived all this time lingering with the side effects of Mist. That hair, white as the snowfields covering dead trees, seemed alive when slightly touched by Gizamaluke.
Those concerned eyes trembled, trying to leak out a single tear, but instead, Frigg remained in countenance, quiet and on such a cool, allowing the contact of that being from the lands above with a being whose life had been spent on the Mist for this long. T he scars left from the tips of the enemies arrows and javelins noticed by Kain all over her arms, head and neck's skin meant nothing compared to the wound left on Gizamaluke….
...
— …Father also carried scars on his skin. I remember when he used to came back. You were there, as well. Always there.
— The battle has its cost, Gabriel. Your father knew it.
— Not only father, but... Brandford. The Major who followed him. He was the one with more scars left. Compared to Brandford, the scars of father seemed insignificant. The one who truly fought was Brandford. Father... he only stared at his men, didn't he?
— Even if it was the truth, your father cared for this country. Had he fought for it with the sword of his or had he left the javelins be thrown by the others; he was the King, and as a King, he knew, 'right' or 'wrong', what to do on such situation. We'll never know if he was worthy or unworthy of being a King, but those are just words. A King is a King, not the Kings. He's an individual as well, has it's own feelings, emotions... but a King has the duty to do what seems more relevant to its people, even if resulting on the death of hundred, or the deployment of resources. To carry on with the responsibility of the scars carried by Brandford is the result of being a leader. As the pain Gizamaluke felt by Kain, failure will stifle you, Gabriel, as much as stifling Edgar, but as a King, he won't let it persist.
— Continue...
— What?... Yes. I'll do…
...
…With the boy's life in peril, Frigg then fred Kain, the man responsible for taking care of Gizamaluke, from his cell, as Siegfried remained like the other prisoners.
From there, they headed to Pathos, the birthplace of many Red Masks, such as Frigg. It was a question of time for them to reach the city before the situation of Gizamaluke worsened. Fortunately, with the movement of both enhanced by a single 'Drive' taken, the trip ended just in time enough. Founded above the ruins of Guerinika, the soil sowed by the seeds of kudzu and buildings covered by radius of its vines,
Pathos had been living days of glory since the increase of 'Drive' trade in exchange of gil, the currency stolen from the travelers and wandering ones from above the Mist. When asked by her officers and subordinates around the city about Kain and the child, all Frigg told them was the same excuse of transferring approval of both prisoners into her thralls for good behavior, a kind of ownership that wouldn't fool anyone, but who else was willing to question Frigg, the skillful high ranked Red Mask commander, perhaps? Nobody with sense would disagree with him/her.
The treatment given to pox, as listed by the doctor Frigg knew since youth, consisted of resting over a bed, whose tissue on the first day is slightly taken by pox, whose quantity increases with the days. Like warfare, the best strategy with more chance of success is to attack the enemy by surprise. The body also learns with the victories and mistakes as well; by drinking some Ether during meals, the patient would have some more energy left to maintain his strength in order to combat the remaining pox, until it vanquishes as a whole and the body learns how to prevent it. On that way, through generations, the Vastitas became immune to many diseases.
For a moment, Frigg took out her gaze from Gizamaluke to focus on the statue at the center of Pathos. It was a statue of a Grignard commander, well-regarded by the local population and the entirety of the empire. He was known as Gareth.
Handling of the Gungnir with his arm, regarded as the spear that brought the lives of hundreds, Gareth was once a child born on a family belonging to the last inhabitants of Guerinika, a city full of deserters before the Vastitas slaughtered them, with the remaining ones becoming their slaves. When he grew up, he was forced to fight in the Gymnos battling arena, for the amusement of the crowd. Those people fought each other naked because the Vastitas believed that no armor could protect you if the end of our life had already been decided based on the judgment of gods.
Ending up victorious after he reluctantly fought a hundred ones falling in a row, Gareth conquered his liberty and with it he became the former commander of King Matheus army and personal security force; furthermore, he also was nominated as an official mentor of Pathos Jugend, in order to train rookies into new soldiers or Red Mask units.
Then, on a certain day, another civil outbreak rose and had fallen in Grignard, together with the corpse of Gareth, who died in a miserable way like his comrades. Yet, until now, people regarded him for his done acts, still inspiring many to become a warrior like him. The armor he once carried is now worn by each ruler of Grignard that succeeded Matheus since then, in a sign of respect.
...
— Edgar is now carrying his father's armor, and his sword. He respected him, as much as me and my other siblings. Besides the blood, we carry on within us his will to continue fighting, as he once fought for us. It's painful for me to believe such a man I barely saw with my eyes is gone, as a mother.
— ...
...
…With the years, the story and aftertaste left by Gareth mixed with the rumors Kain heard to be spread by people, such as the one who mentions Gareth had a secret affair, some say being one of his own students, meaning he probably had a son, or not. The first night spent below the Mist seemed the same as the one spent at Kilde.
Kids walking into the coal reminded Kain of Gizamaluke, and how wayward he was to even risk his life for his father's sake. At least, Gizamaluk would be alright, and that treatment would put an end to the source of Kain, and maybe, Frigg's anguish. Not only they walked on coal, but also curled their dirty tails one to another, a game called 'Rat King' by them. Whoever was the first to let go of the tail tied tightly as a node with the others was the winner, even if it meant flaying or tearing the skin apart from your own body. What kind of awful fun they had since infants, he taught.
From there, Kain and Frigg, holding of Gizamaluke in a wrapped piece of red cloth, went to a place, where instead of green vines of kudzu, the walls of that house had been overtaken by a red creeper; that was Frigg's house, where she stood until she turned 16, the age of consent to become a member of Vastita infantry. No one from the general populace knew who Frigg was, before she became a Red Mask, as much as who Kain was before he had been chosen by Bahamut…
...
— ...Before my brother became the King, he was just like me. A Prince. Now I'm his Prince, heir of the crown in case he passes away.
— Yes. Exactly...
— Edgar... Why does he always avoid looking straight at me? And his sons, imitating him? He, like his sons, thinks I'm a failure.
— What?... My Prince... don't say such a thing before considering the facts.
— The youngest brother, that's the reason why. Edgar blames me for our mother's demise. Mother would still be alive, if it wasn't for me. So healthy she was, before her last pregnancy, he said.
— Well, this is what Edgar thinks. Racquel was, in fact, suffering from an unexpected disorder since he was young, before you were even conceived. From breakfast to dinner, each food given, and the taste felt disappearing with the bits of crumbles left. Sensations never again felt the same way. Whatever happened to her tongue, each morning, afternoon and night, Racquel barely felt the taste of the meal she ate and the wine drank. Of course, the one who had been the most affected was your brother, Edgar. Your father used to be away before you were born, and when he was, Edgar stood there with Racquel, and his younger siblings. He never accepted the one who once feeded him and was now unable to feel the taste of things as before. For Edgar, the meaning of Racquel's taste loss meant more than a single taste loss. It meant she would lost more with the process.
— Lost... more?...
— The appearance, the confidence, the colors... Edgar feared this possibility to happen. Stubborn as always, he blamed Stephanus, his father, for not doing a single thing, which later resulted in a punishment. No one could do a thing, except Edgar, as he thought. Ever since a child, he cared for his mother. He wanted to see her better, to gain strength, he believed such a miracle would happen to heal his mother's condition someday. Edgar wanted his mother to regain the taste, because she had already lost something in the way, the same 'something' Edgar carried within himself: Love. He was in love with his mother. The love of his father, only Edgar could give it to Racquel on the days the King was gone, and his life was spent into the field.
— In love... with mother? Sig...
— I liked Racquel, not as much as your father and Edgar, but still, we were siblings. A bond, the same that grew with Gizamaluke and Kain, was there with us, from the day we were born. There are bonds you are born with, and those who you create bonds with in order to find security. Edgar wanted a shelter of his own, while your father needed someone on his side to offer coziness on hard times, the same once felt by a mother. Now you can understand the shock of your brother when you were born, Gabriel. Your father said nothing, as he just looked at you, and the body of Racquel.
— …
— We knew your father felt something about Racquel. He just had no time to express himself, to show the feelings hidden underneath that skin of his. On the other hand, the one who spent most of the life with Racquel erupted. On the same second Racquel's soul left this world, you cried, and Edgar yelled. He didn't accept his mother could have died, after all he had done for her, and didn't accept his father couldn't cry after standing near the body of the one whom he loved. As if you claimed for a mother's attention to be taken care of, the one who cried was you, Gabriel. From that day, Edgar thought his mother lost more than her taste. Completely, Edgar lost his mother for the mere existence of yours.
— So Edgar thinks this way... or used to think. As a King, he seems more reasonable, but still, he lets the past pass in through his mind. The only failure of his... is that he insists on living with the resentments of the past.
— As much as a certain someone… continuing…