The Gembound: The Price of Keeping Chapter 131: Volume 5: Chapter 116 — The Division

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Volume 5: Chapter 116 — The Division Chapter 116 — The Division Day 131 • Eldania The four weeks since the bards had been a blur of travel, transformation, and careful questions. Yara had flown between cities, landing in courtyard after courtyard to find lines of older soldiers waiting. Men and women in their forties, fifties, some even sixty, all veterans with children grown, grandchildren born, families complete. They knew what they were asking for. "I served twenty years," one gray-haired sergeant had said in Aramore. "My knees are shot, my back's worse, and I've got maybe five good fights left in me. But if you can give me ten more years of holding a line, I'll take it." His wife stood beside him, hands callused from thirty years of pottery work. "And if you're offering," she'd added quietly, "I wouldn't mind throwing clay without my hands cramping every third bowl." Yara had enhanced them both. The sergeant's knees reformed, cartilage rebuilding, old injuries sealed. His wife's fingers lengthened slightly, joints smoothing, decades of repetitive strain erased in minutes of transformation. When they stood, they looked at each other like newlyweds seeing each other for the first time. It happened in every city. Soldiers paired with craftspeople. Bakers with Enhanced spouses who could knead dough for hours without fatigue. Blacksmiths whose partners could work the bellows all day. Weavers who suddenly had the stamina to finish commissions that had taken months. The empire didn't just gain soldiers. It gained master craftspeople with thirty years of experience and bodies that could finally keep up with their skill. Aramore's bakeries produced twice as much bread. Saltwhistle's potters filled orders that had been backlogged for years. Aethelmar's textile workshops hummed with renewed energy as weavers who'd been training apprentices suddenly didn't need to. Eliza sent a terse message through the circle: Stop. You're making the economy unstable. We can't absorb this much surplus. Yara had sent back: Then export it. Trade it. The empire is strong enough now to have excess. A long pause, then: ...I hate that you're right. By the end of the fourth week, Yara had Enhanced nearly two hundred older soldiers and their spouses across all five cities. She'd seen marriages renewed, workshops revitalized, and an entire generation of expertise suddenly viable for decades longer. The Gem had been pleased. So much transformation. So much power flowing cleanly through her. But now the work was done. The Bore Beasts were ready. The mountain was waiting. And Yara stood in Eldania's courtyard, wings folded, watching three hundred soldiers prepare for a campaign that would take only a few of them. The morning air in Eldania tasted like cold iron and baked dust—storm weather, even without clouds. Three hundred soldiers stood in the inner yard, armor polished, packs ready, faces expectant. They looked like an army prepared to march. But that wasn’t what Yara needed. She stepped forward, wings tucked tight, and the yard fell silent. “You are not all coming,” Yara said. A ripple moved through the ranks. Not disappointment—confusion. The soldiers had prepared for a major campaign. Weapons sharpened. Packs filled. Goodbyes said. “You are the spine of the empire,” she continued. “And I will not take the spine into a mountain that wants to crush it.” Bruno crossed his arms and nodded in agreement. Renn exhaled, relieved. Rosa muttered, “Finally,” under her breath. Yara raised her voice. “Two hundred sixty of you will return to Aramore, Saltwhistle, Eldania, Aethelmar, and the outlying villages. You will defend the empire. You will handle patrols, food routes, refugees, and communication. I need every border watched and every city steady.” A murmur—this time approval. She pointed to a group of thirty-eight. “Thirty-eight of you remain. Twenty with Bruno on the surface line. Eighteen with me below.” The chosen soldiers straightened unconsciously, pride set