Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Something wasn’t right.

Nyx crouched low in the tall grass, Luche next to him, and waited. There were next to no guards outside the base, just one watchtower at the back and one unit with one MA Veles at the entrance. Nyx fought the urge to growl from deep within his chest in agitation. There was something in the air he couldn’t place, leaving a metallic taste in his mouth, and it was driving him absolutely crazy.

Luche shot him a reproaching look as he twitched again. He didn’t even bother to look at the blond man; too intend to stare at the entrance of the base. It was near two hours before daybreak. The perfect time for an attack and something was wrong. If he could just articulate what it was.

A near indiscernible click sounded in his ear, followed by Pelna's hushed voice: “Roh Unit in position. Luche, you sure this is a good idea?”

“Too late for second thoughts. Besides I didn’t make the plan,” Luche hissed into his earpiece.

“Kresch Unit ready. Let’s blow these bastards back where they belong.” Sonitus’s voice sounded equally quiet.

Nyx felt his muscles flex, the stiff tension leaking out and then he went still. Be the hunter in the jungle, the coeurl before the jump. He felt Luche’s gaze on him again, this time a piercing stare full of caution, and again he ignored him. With a quiet hiss he unsheathed one of the two military grade kukris. Not for the first time did he wish for his hunting knives. Sometimes the blades he had to carry as a Glaive felt like a blunted set of claws. He bared his teeth to chase those distracting thoughts away.

Now was not the time.

“On my mark,” he heard Luche say.

The world seemed to hold its breath, the tension so thick in the air he could nearly taste it. Something about all this made his hackles rise. Caution, caution, caution, it whispered in his ears. He couldn’t do anything about it. This, whatever it was, couldn’t be stopped now. The blade of his kukri didn’t shimmer in the light of the setting moon.

Danger in the shadows, death from beneath the trees, fast as a flash of lightning. Áris, guide our steps, Kyriákos, guide our blades, Orféfs, let our kills be swift and quiet.

“Go.”

Nyx threw his blade and reached for the feeling within him that was like jagged pieces of glass and foreign-doesn’t belong-intruder, and pulled. For the fracture of a second he felt like he was freefalling through sulfur and ashes before he had the kukri in his hand again, his body near horizontal in the air in a hail of light blue magical particles. The sound of bursting crystal drowned out everything esle. He used his momentum to slam the blade into the head of the nearest MT.

The thing started to crumble in a rattle of metal while Nyx twisted his body to tackle the one next to it, freeing his kukri from the helmet it had pierced. It took him less than two seconds.

A soundless snarl twisted his lips, unseen behind the silken cloth masking his face. He hated that thing. Not even the addition of the stylized horn of a Galahdian coeurl on his hood made it any better.

A low mechanic rumble made him look up. The MA Veles was turning in their direction. Nyx let himself wonder for half a second why that thing was suddenly so slow and clumsy when they never had been before. Not to that extend.

He threw the blade in his hand and warped a few metres above it, lightning flashing between his fingers and striking the heavy machine in a deadly crackle. Nyx landed on top of it, smooth like a cat, and prepared to strike it again. The metal death machine shuddered under his feet and swayed dangerously from side to side before it toppled over in with a low groan.

With a muttered curse he jumped off and tucked himself into a role to absorb his momentum upon hitting the ground. At once he twisted around again, crouched low and kukris in hand. The MA Veles laid there, still and unmoving. After a long tense moment he relaxed his stance and shared an incredulous glance with Luche who stood over the last MT to go down.

“That was too easy,” Tredd hissed from his left.

The man was right. Nine MT and an MA Veles? The fight hadn’t even lasted a minute by Nyx’ estimation. He shifted his weight onto the balls of his feet, suddenly tense again. Something like apprehension flashed through Luches eyes.

The earpiece clicked and Pelnas voice sounded through: “Roh Unit reporting. We have taken the watchtower.”

“This is Firn Unit, we have the entrance under control,” Luche answered. “Further commands are as follow: Kresch Unit on the lookout for any enemy units outside the base, engage at your own judgement. Units Roh and Firn are to conquer the base and to search for the plans of the rumored magic-killer technology.”

That statement made something heavy settle within Nyx’ gut. A barely guarded base, new as it was, with no blooded commanding officer and plans for a new magic-killer prototype? That couldn’t be right.

“Luche,” he growled but the blond man just shot him a dark look.

“We will continue with the plan as is Nyx,” he warned.

As an answer Nyx only rolled his shoulders and adjusted the grip on his kukris. Luche and the others stared at him for a moment longer, making sure he wouldn’t spontaneously disappear. Nyx suppressed a snort. He wasn’t that dumb.

He wasn’t.

“Kresch Unit on lookout. We’ll circle the surrounding area,” sounded Sonitus’s voice over the earpiece.

“Roh Unit ready for infiltration and takeover,” Pelna said. His voice had a strangely hesitant quality to it that made all of Nyx’ alarm bells ring. The communications specialist had a knack for recognizing sticky situations and traps. If he felt something was fishy…

“Permission for attack granted,” Luche said, tapped his earpiece and crept towards the gates, kukris drawn.

Nyx and Tredd shared a look before following. Stepping through the heavily fortified but conveniently open gate, the red haired man was the one to check the control room directly behind it and to the left. It was unmanned, as were the walkways and the second gate.

They encountered a handful of MTs between the storage depot stocked to the brim with shiny new weapons, and the fenced in area leading to the third gate. It was pathetic and made the restless feeling in his stomach worse. He was waiting for… something to happen. Anything, really.

The group made their way through the third gate in silence, having checked every nook and cranny for the rumored construction plans. There had been nothing, only a conveniently placed keycard to shut the lasers at the gate down.

“Lucky. Someone must’ve forgotten it,” one of the newer members of the Glaive said, only to be hushed immediately. The young man, still nearly a teenager, ducked his head and Nyx could easily imagine that he was turning red under that flimsy face guard. He patted the other on the back, not letting any of his thoughts show in his posture.

Niffs didn’t just forget things like keycards. The experience of long years of fighting, first in the resistance and then in the Lucian military, taught him that. By the spirits of Galahd, their regulations had regulations.

Now even Luche was getting visibly restless, but still he pressed on. Tredd was hissing something inaudible under his breath but still followed, as did Nyx and the rest. He really didn’t want another disciplinary punishment hovering over his head for perceived insubordination. Defending ones home, ones people, with all a hunter had was something to be revered, not punished. For Hearth and Home. Their captain really shouldn’t go sprouting Galahd's greatest motto around and then not follow through. It was bad taste.

Barely a second after they all had stepped onto the great empty space behind the third gate, Roh Unit arrived. Their members practically melted out of the shadows, with the exception of two who warped in a glowing hale of magical particles. Those idiots. Some remedial training would be good for them.

With a near imperceptible hum the lasers of the gates turned back on.

In the middle of the huge place stood a strange machine, looming above them like a menacing thorn. Nyx barely had time to register all of this before his instincts started blaring.

Danger, danger, danger!

The floodlights went on, nearly blinding him in their intensity. He jumped away from the gate as far as possible. It was not a moment too soon. A hail of bullets slammed into the place he had been standing mere seconds before. The boy who had rejoiced about his lucky find with the keycard went down screaming, the bullets sieving his legs and upper body. He was dead within moments. Tredd jumped away from him cursing loudly, back against the wall and shoulder to shoulder with the rest of Firn Unit.

Within the span of a few heartbeats the space between them and Roh Unit was swarming with MTs and MA Veles’, which very noticeably did not move like they had a few too many screws loose. Above him a speaker activated and a voice he had only heard a handful of times before, cackled in absolute schadenfreude. It was Caligo Ulldor.

“Ha! I have you Lucian scum now, like rats in a trap. Fitting, is it not? I never would have thought a few mere false rumors would be enough to rouse you from behind your precious Wall. Now, do me a favour, and die here today like good little rats, will you?”

Nyx bared his teeth in a vicious grin as the General’s amused chuckles sounded around him. Dying like rats? He thought not. Not with his prey parading around in plain sight.

“Luche, call the Captain, now! We need an extraction team and Kresch won’t be enough,” Pelna said over the coms, his voice grim.

“That will take more time than we might have.”

“I don’t fucking care. Do it. I hope to the ancestors that Drautos has a good explanation for this fuck up. Otherwise I’ll haunt him from beyond the Gate,” Pelna spat.

To his credit Luche only tapped his earpiece and started talking to command. They were sitting at a checkpoint in Leide and were waiting on news of their success or failure. Well, right now it was neither.

Nyx lifted his own hand to his ear. “Tredd, you, Axis and me’ll take first wave; the others keep the things off Luche while he organizes our way out.”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Instead he threw his kukri and warped right into a group of approaching MT snipers. Two went down within the first few seconds and Nyx ducked out of the way of a bullet that hit a third one behind him. He jumped, kneeing another one in the gut, crashing it into an axeman behind it, and sent a thunder spell through both of them. They went down rattling and limbs twitching.

A huge metallic leg entered his line of sight. The MA Veles wasn’t aiming for him but Axis who was battling with two magitek assassins at once. The man didn’t notice the barrels aimed at him. Nyx cursed and warped. His upper body hit the muzzle of the thing’s gun, veering it off course just enough that the erupting hail of bullets didn’t hit his comrade but a few of the MTs flocking everywhere.

The impact knocked the air out of his lungs, causing him to miss the kukri he had warped towards. His whole left side hurt. He groaned. The MA Veles moved and he slipped, falling, he instinctively tugged himself into a role to absorb the impact. A correctly executed warp only partway towards the linked weapon. Fuck, he hadn’t known that something like that was possible.

The landing on the concrete was harder than the one in the dirt outside, but he still just jumped right back up and warped towards the fallen weapon. It would be suicide to lose one.

He appeared right beneath an MT and kicked its legs out from under it, sending it tumbling down. One of his kukris pierced its slightly lesser protected neck. Pressing his back into the concrete wall next to him he reached for his ear.

“Luche, please tell me you reached command.”

It took a few too long seconds for the other man to answer. “I did but it will take over an hour for them to reach us with an appropriate force. I repeat to all units: we’ll have to hold out for an hour.”

Nyx cursed and sent a volley of lightning into the MTs in front of him. None of them did stand back up. He tugged the irritating hood off and grinned. It was full of teeth and spite and a hunter’s arrogance. The strange feeling he’d had since his First Hunt buzzed within him. It had never led him astray, making his steps soft and quiet and his body graceful and lithe in its movements. It told him when and where to strike, to bare his teeth and growl and kill the ones who dared to hurt what was his.

And he did just that. With a wild glint in his eyes he prowled forward and attacked the axeman coming at Tredd from the side. The redhead slew his opponent and stopped for the fracture of a second to stare. Nyx flashed him a grin, crouched down low and attacked another one.

He did not know how long they had been fighting already when they met with Pelna's unit more or less at the halfway point of this huge space, the strange thorn-like machine looming above them like an unholy spire, backs against the wall and fighting a fight none of them thought they could win. Nyx could see it in their eyes. Four were already dead and the enemies just kept on coming, accompanied by Ulldors periodic taunts over the speakers. When Nyx got to that piece of shit he would show him what an Ulric did to their enemy-prey.

“Something’s wrong,” Pelna half shouted at them half spoke through the coms. “The magic is draining way too fast!”

“I know!” Luche yelled back. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, the worst being on his right upper arm where a bullet had grazed him.

“… wher… rein…ment.”

The voices over the communication system grew static before going out entirely. Fuck. Nyx didn’t know if that had been Sonitus or their rescue team but if communications were out they were truly fucked. He hoped Libertus was okay.

One of the Glaives, Nyx didn’t know who but judging by the uniform it must be a newer member, broke formation with a desperate battle cry when Pelna warped out of the way of a flamethrower accompanied by a hail of bullets. The newbie was dead within seconds as an assassin’s blade caught him across the throat and down to his ribcage.

That motherfucking idiot.

Hadn’t he learned? What were Drautos and the instructors teaching them?

No. This slaughtering had gone on long enough. He wouldn’t let these prey-enemies continue to think they were hunters.

The pressure that had been building in his chest during every battle he’d ever participated in, didn’t recede this time. Instead it burst to the forefront like a raging storm, and a barrier within him that he hadn’t known even existed, gave away. Nyx didn’t know why and, frankly, he didn’t care. Everything after that was pure instinct.

He spun the kukris in his hands and then flung himself forward. The world around him spun in a dance so fast the glowing red eyes were nothing more than blurs.

Lightning flashed.

The prey fell under his claws one by one. How dare they attack his pack! None of them would be left alive. None.

Nyx barely felt the blow in his side. He snarled and dug his claws into the face with the glowing red eyes. They would pay. They would pay.

They would pay.

Sounds of metal shrieking and lightning cackling reverberated in his ears, nearly drowning out the voices yelling around him. A metal giant stepped in front of him, clumsy on its two legs. Nyx hissed at it and jumped, digging his claws into its hide. His legs flailed for a few seconds before they found a foothold. Lightning traveled from his fore-paws to his claws and into the metal giant. It shrieked and fell, but Nyx couldn’t free his claws in time and landed hard on the ground.

For a moment he felt nothing but white hot pain. Someone was screaming. He blinked rapidly. His vision wouldn’t clear up and something was moving at its darkening edge.

Pack. Where was his pack? He had to protect his pack.

Forcing himself to move tore a hoarse scream from his throat and made dark spots dance in front of his eyes, but he managed to turn from his back onto his elbows. His arms shook as he heaved himself into a semi-sitting position.

“Nyx!”

He blinked at the form approaching him with careful steps, kukris sheathed and bare hands open and visible. It was Pelna.

“Fuck, Nyx. What was that? What were you thinking? Stop, don’t answer that. Fuck!”

Nyx wanted to laugh. He would like to know that, too. That strange… instinct in him hadn’t vanished but it had gone quiet. At last, he could hear his own thoughts again.

“Shit, you’re hurt. Axis, get your ass over here!”

A moment later a second face appeared before him. Axis didn’t seem too hurt, which was good, but the look on his face made him squint. He looked at him like he was a hurt predator in the jungle.

The wound in his side was bad. It looked like a blade had tried to cleave him in two and only hadn’t succeeded because it hadn’t quite been able to reach him. Nyx had no idea when he had gotten it.

“Pack. How’s th’ pack?” he managed to slur. Damn, his tongue felt like lead.

“Pack? What do- oh. Don’t worry. Nobody else was killed after you… well.”

“Well wha’?”

He hissed as Axis crushed one of their precious potions over his wound. Its feeling of creeping fingers-not right-intruder made him shudder involuntarily. A bandage was pressed into his side.

“Lie down and keep still. I have no desire to see you bleed to death because of your own recklessness,” Axis hissed, still avoiding eye contact.

“Kept us ‘live, didn’t it?”

“Yes you oaf, it did. Now can you tell me what the fuck that was? That wasn’t the King’s magic. Whatever that was, it was all you,” Pelna said, eyeing him with an intensity he seldom allowed others to see.

Nyx needed a few seconds for the words to register. That hadn’t been the King’s magic? He frowned. That spark of animal-deep jungle-instinct flashed. No, that wasn’t the King’s. This felt like-

“Galahd,” he muttered.

“What? Nyx, what are you talking about?”

Nyx didn’t answer. He was tired, but he wouldn’t sleep until his pack was safe and away from enemy territory.

Yells grew loud and he recognized Luche’s voice and – was that Libertus? Yes it was. His best friend looked a bit worse for wear but otherwise unhurt. Good. Behind them more and more people entered the space littered with fallen MTs and MA Veles’. Nyx flashed a vicious grin at General Leonis when their eyes met, not bothering to wonder what the man was doing here.

They were late.

Chapter Text

“You know what the paperwork for the use of a potion out in the field is? It’s an ahtrii damned headache,” Pelna grouched as he sat beside Nyx's sickbed, sunken into the chair like a petulant child.

“Why do you have to do the paperwork? If I remember correctly, it was Axis who used the thing,” Nyx said, eyebrows raised.

Luckily the potion had healed him enough that he didn’t have to be sewed back together, but still he would need to stay in the hospital until tomorrow. It was aggravating. The doctor and nurses were walking on eggshells around him. They couldn’t know what had happened on the mission already. He supposed it could have something to do with the fact that he had been admitted utterly covered in the oily black stuff the MTs leaked when cut into pieces. At least Pelna had gotten over his tiptoeing stage during the first few hours they had been back in Insomnia.

“He foisted it off on me because I was the one to make him do it,” the other man pouted.

“Then it’s your own fault for letting yourself be talked into this,” Nyx grinned and reclined further into his pillow.

“Yeah well, you try telling him no when he gets going.”

For a moment they grinned at each other before Pelna grew serious. “Nyx? What in the name of the Hunters happened in that base?” he asked, his voice growing deeper and more quiet. “One moment we’re losing very badly and the next you’re between them teeth bared and lightning everywhere. You ripped off an MTs head with your bare hands.”

“Is that what it looked like?” Nyx blinked, surprised.

Huh. No wonder the other guys had been so careful around him.

Pelna gave him a flat stare and Nyx winced. “It was worse. Way worse. You-”

The door opened and the burly form of Libertus stepped into the room, followed by Luche and lastly Crowe, who was the only one in this group who hadn’t been part of the mission.

“There is our hero. You feeling any better?” Libertus crowed as he let himself fall into the second chair with a big grin on his face.

“The staff here is very charming,” Nyx grinned, glad to have escaped the dreaded topic for a bit longer. “How was the debrief?”

Libertus made a face.

“That bad, huh?”

“It’s the Marshal who is doing it. Every person separately. It feels like you’re back in the wandering stories. You know, inquisition and all.”

That gave Nyx a start. “Why the Marshal and not the Captain?”

“Because it was the Captain’s information that was faulty,” Luche answered, his face grim and eyes blazing. “They say it was his informant that tipped them off about the plans and the new base, and now it’s on his head that the mission was such a disaster.”

“That’s utter bullshit,” Libertus spat.

“You think I don’t know that? They’re just looking for a reason to discredit us some more. As if they haven’t done that enough.”

Nyx dearly wanted to say something about that, but he knew if he did, it would just explode in his face and Luche would storm out in fury. A thick silence settled between them all that was only interrupted by Crowe’s vexed huff.

“Can we maybe not talk about that? I would rather know what happened during the mission that has everybody in a titsy. The guys come back from the debriefing and the first thing some of them do is go to the elders and now everybody is talking about the Ulric Clan again and digging up the old stories. On the way here I even heard an interesting rendition about your First Hunt. Something about your ancestors turning you into a coeurl.”

Nyx groaned as all eyes focused back on him. He knew the stories people were telling about the Ulrics, of course he did. As a child he had begged his mahir nearly every night for those stories. Back then he’d still been Nameless, but then he’d gained his Clan Name at just nine years old and suddenly those bedtime stories had become his stories, and they had gained an uncomfortable weight he hadn’t known what to do with. He still didn’t. However now he wished he’d actually paid closer attention when the stories had been told around the great fires.

He hadn’t. Too stuck in his own head as he had been.

Nyx would actually have to talk with the storytellers, he realized. Or he could ask Libertus to guide him towards a snake and hope one of his ancestors would show him what to do, if what they said about the Ostium Clan was as true as the stories about the Ulrics seemed to be.

Yeah, no.

Libs would keel over laughing if he were to ask. He still preferred that over the old gossips, though. So Libertus it was, as soon as the people stopped not-staring at him.

His gaze wandered to Luche who was frowning at him but not looking at him. That might actually take a while.

“I don’t know what happened,” he managed to say at last. “I really don’t. One moment we’re about to lose that damned fight, and the next all I could think about was protecting all of you.”

Crowe frowned, clearly not understanding. Libertus didn’t fare any better and he had actually seen the aftermath. Nyx just didn’t know how to put to words the animal-deep jungle-instinct that still pulsed in his chest like a heartbeat. Thankfully it – whatever it actually was – was quiet now and didn’t make him want to curl around his people and hiss at everybody else who stepped too close to them.

“We couldn’t get too close to you, with all that lightning you were throwing around,” Luche said in an echo of Pelna’s earlier words. “Everybody knows that you have an affinity for thunder spells, but this…”

“We know what the King’s magic feels like, and whatever you did, definitely didn’t come from that. Something was blocking the more powerful magic at our disposal and made the rest very draining, but you still did what you did, and it didn’t have that artificial feeling royal magic has,” Pelna said.

“Wait, the royal magic feels artificial to you?” Nyx asked, perplexed.

Crowe frowned and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “That’s what you got from that? This sounds like you used a magic of your own. Do you know how many people besides the royal family have been born with magic like that? Exactly one and she’s called the Oracle.”

“I’m just that special,” Nyx grinned, but on the inside his stomach dropped down to his knees. That couldn’t truly be everybody, could it? Galahd had its own kind of magic that was pretty widespread, but it was subtler than the warping and the elemency spells Lucian magic was known for.

“I’m scared to ask, but: What does the King’s magic feel like to you?” Pelna asked, his expression curious.

“Like jagged pieces of glass, like it doesn’t belong, an intruder.”

“I’ve never heard that description before. Mine feels like a too hot firestorm but still with that artificial undertone in it,” Crowe said, her frown deepening.

“That’s very nice and all, but what does it have to do with what the hell happened in that base? What’s the point?” Libertus wanted to know.

“The point is,” Crowe cast Libertus a dirty look, “that what Nyx did apparently lacked the artificial undercurrent we all feel when using the magic the King gave us, which means – I think – that what he did is an innate talent and nothing else.”

“It’s still there, you know,” Nyx said, and at once all attention was on him again. “It feels a bit like the deep jungle around our village, like you know a predator is watching you. Nearly like its living. It’s really strange.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous at all.”

“Shut up Libertus! No one asked you,” Crowe hissed.

“Hey! You were thinking it, too, don’t deny it.”

The only woman in the room scoffed but didn’t, actually, deny it. Nyx couldn’t really blame her. It didn’t just sound ominous; it felt like it, too.

“Could you use it again?” Luche asked from where he was leaning against the wall.

Nyx hesitated for a moment, thinking. Maybe? He may have said that it – whatever it was – felt like a predator watching him, but what he hadn’t mentioned was that it felt like meeting that coeurl on his First Hunt again. Like it could devour him at any moment - but it wouldn’t. Because it was protecting him, helping him.

He tried to reach for it like he would for the King’s magic and the spark answered immediately, its energy spreading through his body. It tingled and he could feel his instincts sharpen; his field of vision grew at once wider and narrower, the colours changing and throwing him slightly off balance. The smell of disinfectant underlined by sickness, burned in his nose, nearly drowning out the smell of his pack mates around him. Energy traveled like lightning under his skin and Nyx felt his chest rumble in a content purr.

“Eh, Nyx?”

“Hmm?”

It took him a few seconds to find his human voice again and remember how to use it. He felt the sudden urge to round all of his pack mates up and lick their wounds. His golden-one, his pack-brother and his pack-member all smelled of blood.

“What the hell are you doing right now? Your eyes…”

Nyx blinked. What was with his eyes? His concentration broke and for a moment he keenly felt the loss of his sharpened senses. He looked at the other three in his room. Pack mates, must protect, echoed the spark within him. They looked like they didn’t know if they should bolt or stay. What had just happened?

“What did you just do?” Crowe asked, more curious than anything else, while Libertus stared at him in the same way he had done when Nyx had told him what had happened during his First Hunt, Pelna breathed a quiet “What by Pitioss?” and Luche went back to frowning.

“I wanted to see if I could use whatever it is again?” It came out more like a question than anything else.

“In a hospital,” she deadpanned utterly unimpressed.

“Maybe not my best idea,” he muttered half under his breath. “So, what about my eyes?”

 “Quick, tell everybody else, Nyx is starting to learn some common sense. The water serpents must’ve grown legs,” Crowe mock exclaimed.

“Your eyes looked like a fucking coeurl’s, that’s what,” Libertus said at the same time.

Nyx’ mouth fell open in surprise. He really, really needed to talk about this with someone who had experience with this. Sadly none of the candidates was still alive.

“Oh.”

“Fuck, this is a mess,” Pelna muttered, dragging his hands through his hair.

“Does none of you realize the potential advantage we get with this on the battlefield? Nyx practically slaughtered one third of the enemy by himself back there,” Luche said a strange expression flickering over his face. It had the feeling of desperate hope.

“You realize that Nyx is, like, one person, don’t you? He cannot be everywhere at once, and magic, wherever it’s coming from, is not endless within a human body. It doesn’t matter if it’s Lucian magic or his own. You, as a unit leader, should actually know that, Luche,” Crowe said, glaring at the blond man.

“Wowowow, stop. I’m all for kicking Niff ass with this, but I have no idea what I can actually do, what it is or what it does, and I’m not dumb enough to use an unknown variable on a hunt,” Nyx said, feeling strangely agitated.

Crowe made a there you have it gesture, looking smug.

“You’re going to experiment with it, aren’t you?” Pelna asked, resigned.

Nyx nodded. Of course he would, but before he could answer the door opened again, and this time it was Marshal Leonis himself who entered the room, a clipboard tucked under one arm. At once all conversation ceased as they all stared at the man. No one wanted to be caught talking about this in front of a foreigner. The man might acknowledge their cultural differences most of the time and back off – and was better for it than ninety percent of the people living in Lucis – but there was no need to upset Lucian sensibilities when it came to Galahdian… ah, heathendom, like the nobles and the press so delicately put it.

“Glaives,” he said in greeting, his face as stern and stormy as ever. “I would like to talk with Sir Ulric, alone if possible.”

Libertus patted him on the shoulder hard enough that the pain in his side flared up again, while the others nodded at him before they all trooped out, not giving the Marshal more respect than necessary. Only after the door clicked shut behind them, did the older man move.

“It is good to see that you were not too badly wounded, Sir Ulric. May I sit?” he said and motioned towards the seat Pelna had vacated.

“Of course Marshal,” Nyx nodded.

He tried to straighten his posture. It did not really work.

“No need. I am only here to ask a few questions about what the other Glaives of Units Kresch and Roh said during their debriefing. As well as what I and the rescue team saw in that yard. The doctor assured me you are capable of doing that.”

“Ser, if I may ask: What will happen to the Captain?” Nyx figured he might as well ask before his own interrogation began. Captain Drautos was a capable man, even if he liked to ignore social practices most of the time.

The Marshal hummed and tapped his clipboard against his knee. “Captain Drautos has nothing to fear. He is merely helping us trace the information as far back as we can manage, to ascertain from whom exactly this trap came from. Ulldor may be a decent General most of the time, but his ability to lay traps is rather abysmal. Now, walk me step by step through everything you did on this mission, Sir Ulric.”

Nyx suppressed a sigh, rearranged the blanket around his legs and started talking. This may actually take some time. He hoped he would get something to eat after this.

Chapter Text

Nyx’s side pulled in a mildly painful way with each too sudden movement of his torso, as Libertus and Crowe herded him along, cheerfully chatting all the way. They walked through the streets of Little Galahd, air filled with lively chattering in a mix of accented Lucian and Hadnissa, and heavy with the smell of exhaust fumes, grilled meat and spicy bamohna.

It gave him that feeling of not-quite-home he had become familiar with.

“Seriously, guys, what’s this about? I’m out of that white prison for like half a second and then I get abducted by you two,” he complained, totally exasperated with his storm-siblings.

He bit the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile. The two each held one of his arms captive, catching more than one stinkk eye as they navigated the narrow streets, but none of them cared.

“We’re going to see an expert,” Crowe asserted in a stern voice for the third time.

Well, that wasn’t unhelpful at all.

She went right back to bickering with Libertus about the ancestors-knew-what. Nyx was just letting their voices wash over him, happy to let them be while soaking in their presence.

He glared at the tattoo-shop on the side of the street between a butcher’s shop and one concentrating on traditional leatherworks, that had opened not too long ago. The owner was one of those assholes who thought he could profit off of a foreign culture, only to be surprised that no one would give him the time of day. 

The three of them stopped to get a kreitschi each for dinner from one of the street vendors who had tattoos not unlike Nyx’s on his fingers. The thin meat was expertly folded on the skewer, intersperced with the tiny tomatoes that made an adequate substitute for the red sifah that actually belonged to the recipe. Nyx relished in the sharp bite of the bamohn and sweet chili after two days of tasteless hospital mush. How Lucians could eat their food tasting like nothing, he would never know. Maybe that’s why they were always such dickheads.

He got herded up a flight of rickety metal stairs and when he saw the house they were heading towards, he abruptly stopped walking. Or he would have, if Libertus hadn’t walked into him. He coughed on the piece of meat he’d choked on. Tears sprang into his eyes as the hot spices went down the wrong pipe. All the spirits, was that painful.

“Man, Nyx your face!”Libertus laughed. “You alright?”

Nyx shot him a dark look after he got his breathing back under control. His throat still burned something fierce, but right now he could do nothing about it.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he said.

Crowe heaved an exasperated sigh, hands on her hips, like his sister used to do when she was losing her patience with him. The thought made his heart twinge painfully and he unconsciously tugged at the mourning braid he carefully maintained, even after all these years.

“Seriously, Nyx. Weren’t you listening? I told you a million times by now we would go see an expert for this!” she said.

“I didn’t think you meant that kind of expert!”

She shot him an are-you-dumb look, he didn’t bother dignify with an answer. It was kind of true he supposed. He should’ve known what they meant when they had picked him up at the hospital with shit-eating grins on their faces and a manic glint in Crowe’s eyes. She’d always had a talent and interest for magic.

“Up, up, you hero. We don’t want to be late.” Libertus grinned like the traitor he was, and proceeded to push him up the rest of the stairs until they reached the old concrete building with the surprisingly large inner courtyard, where the stories were told once every five days and during every celebration.

Here the elders lived with the best things they could be afforded. Since governmental support amounted to basically nothing the Galahkari had started to pool resources, not only for the elders but also for the orphans and those who couldn’t earn money themselves. It worked, if only barely.

Pelna was waiting for them at the entrance of the courtyard with Luhce standing next to him, his face a grimace of I-don’t-want-to-be-here. Tredd, Axis, Sonitus and a few other Glaives - most of them had been on his last assignment - loitered not too far away. Already Nyx could hear the telltale sounds of even more people behind the entrance. He would like to go home now, please. He had no desire for people to ogle him like he was some kind of attraction.

Before he could think of an effective escape plan however, Pelna saw them, grinned and waved like the cheeky bastard he was. “Damn. Didn’t think you would actually manage it,” he said.

“Did you doubt my power of persuasion?” Crowe asked with a playfully pointed look.

“Of course not,” Pelna laughed.

Nyx just rolled his eyes and wondered how these were his best friends. “Let’s just get this over with,” he grumbled and trudged past Luche who looked at him with a carefully blank face, into the courtyard.

“Oh come on, hero. You don’t need to act like you’re going towards your execution,” Libertus called and hurried after him, followed by the others.

The courtyard was already full of people standing in clusters, talking animatedly and clothed in colourful garments one didn’t normally see in drab and proper Insomnia. At the centre stood a barrel in which a fire burned merrily. The air smelled of smoke and old history.

He breathed in deep, soaked the atmosphere up like a drowning person needed air. Maybe, just maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea. Why hadn’t he come more often to gatherings like these? A spike of homesickness made him want to grimace. Ah, that’s why.

The voices floating around him hushed as Istoria Patientia stepped up to the fire. She was an old woman, closer to ninety than eighty, shrunken and marked by the war like so many of them were, but her eyes were sharp and clear. Her long white hair was twisted into a myriad of braids, the most prominent designating her as a sinehär gisdrauht. One of the five that still lived.

There were no seats or any other accommodation as the people stepped closer to the fire, Nyx included. When a storyteller wanted to tell a story, you listened. They never did so without reason, there was always something to learn.

Istoria’s gaze swept over the crowd and hung a few seconds too long on Nyx. He felt the fine hairs on his neck stand on end and that animal-deep jungle-instinct spark again in anticipation. Whatever happened this evening would be important, he could feel it. She dipped her head into a slight nod and watched the crowds a few seconds longer before she took a deep breath and started to recite in that hypnotic rhythm all stories were told in.

Her voice was scratchy with age but loud and clear and carried well through the confines of the courtyard, where no Lucian eye could see them.

Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well, for this is a story told to me by my father and mother who were told by their father and mother back until the first people stepped into the arms of Galahd and the world was younger.

The day the last of the white coeurls, great guardians of Galahd, left his pack was one of joy and great sorrow. He roamed through the deep shadows driven by something he could not name. Dreams had plagued him, dreams of blood and pain and a knife forged by green mists, keeping him awake and restless.

Dreams are dreams his pack told him but he thought differently and so he went out more and more often for longer and longer amounts of time, always searching for anything that could help. After a new bout of restless nights he searched again, high and low for many circles of the sun and moon and yet didn’t find anything. Only trees and more shadows where secrets he couldn’t even begin to decipher, lay.

But finally, many days after leaving, he came upon a hill where an old hollow tree stood, guarded by crows and Naga’s kin. He knew who lived here. The ever-young, she, who danced with the storms. The witch the humans called wise.

The last white coeurl came near and the crows laughed. He swiped his sharp claws at them but they only ruffled their feathers and laughed louder. The sound followed him over the threshold of the hollow tree.

“You’re finally here. Come in, the knife is finished,” the Wise Witch said.

She stepped up to him, her long black hair braided in the ways of the oldest traditions. In her hand she carried a knife he knew well, for it was the blade he saw in his dreams full of blood and pain. He hissed at her in warning, but she did not hesitate as she laid the knife down in front of him.

It was a short, one edged blade with a hook at the backside and a sturdy grip made out of pale wood. Dark green runes adorned it, pulsing in time to the white coeurl’s heartbeat.

“Soon, there will come a day where you will need this. Take it. The payment will be the pains you will feel for the rest of your life should you decide to use it,” the Wise Witch said and went back to her glasses full of herbs and magic, as if the last white coeurl was nothing but air to her. And maybe he was, for she was as old as the lands themselves.

He stood there, bristling, but he knew what happened to those who didn’t heed the Wise Witch's words. So he took the knife and turned to make his way back home, the crows’ laughter echoing in his ears. It took him many days until he stepped back onto the cliff that was his pack’s home.

The smell of blood and death greeted him. His trot became a run. What he found was a woman with braids in her hair, who spoke the tongue of beasts, burying the last of his pack.

Thus the last of the white coeurls, great guardians of Galahd, met Adrastea, she who speaks the tongue of beasts. His blood yet lives to continue the task he inherited from his pack and has been passed down until this day.

Nyx stood there, rooted to his spot next to Libertus, staring at the fire. He watched it flicker and dance as Istoria told a story he had first heard at his thuirs knee when he was too little to remember it. The words were the same, but something was different.

A coeurl ran through the flames as the last words were spoken and silence settled upon the gathering. People blinked as if woken from a spell. A low murmuring started as children asked questions and parents answered.

The prickling sensation at the base of his neck made it clear that there were people watching him. He suppressed a shudder. “Well, that wasn’t helpful at all,” he muttered.

Crowe dug her elbow into his uninjured side. “Shut it. You know the sinehär gisdrauhti never tell-”

“Never tell a story without reason. Yes, I know.”

She shot him a dark look, causing him to sigh and duck his head.

“You know, you would’ve been a great gisdrauht if your thuirs family had allowed you to take their name,” he said as way of an apology.

Her sharp gaze softened to something young and vulnerable, a slight smile curling at her lips. It lasted for only the fraction of a second before the sarcastic woman was back again.

“The very best,” Libertus chimed in, and got a thump on the upper arm for his trouble. He made a face and cursed.

“Nyx of Clan Ulric,” Istoria said, causing theit group to stop and look at her. She stood, hunched over on her cane, a smile on her wizened face. “Come to the fire. There we may talk.”

He nodded and with a muttered “Of course, sinehär” followed the old woman, after a few quick goodbyes, back to the barrel. His friends weren’t following, not having been invited and everybody still remaining kept a respectful distance.

For a while Istoria just looked at him. Her brown eyes took on an eerie orange sheen in the fire light. Then she tapped an earthen pot that was half buried in hot coals at the base of the barrel and pulled out two earthen cups from her many layers of colourful patched skirts and said: “Be a dear, Nyx of Clan Ulric, and pour us a cup each. All that story telling makes me thirsty in my old age.”

Obediently Nyx bent down and picked up the pot that looked like a mix between a carafe and a Lucian teapot with a wavy pattern that reminded him of the sea, by the handle formed to look like a sea serpent. It was nicely lacquered in turquoise and shades of deep sea blue. He filled the identical cups that matched the pot and set it back down.

The smell alone told him at once what it was. Fumir. Istoria gave him a cup and he took a careful sip after she did, and nearly choked. This was very strong and very spicy fumir. It burnt all the way down and settled like a warm ball of sunshine in his stomach. Thank the ancestors he had eaten something before coming here.

Istoria shot him a mischievous grin, like she knew exactly what he was thinking, and then she grew serious again. “Did you know that until the days of Adrastea no Ulric has ever had blue eyes? Grey certainly, sometimes green and even Solheimr golden, but never blue.”

Nyx felt his eyebrows climb to his hairline. He had an inkling of where this was going and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he kept his mouth shut. Not only was she the oldest member of their community still alive and a storyteller, but he also knew she wouldn’t hesitate to whop him with her cane if he did, and he really didn’t need that with so many people still around as potential witnesses.

“Blue came after and with it a spark, so to speak. What I’m about to tell you, Nyx of Clan Ulric, has been a secret of your Clan for as long as its members have had blue eyes. Your father entrusted me with it before his untimely death to tell you, should the time ever come, since he knew he wouldn’t live long enough for him to do it himself.”

That caused Nyx to stand up straight, eyes wide and mouth open. That was… of course it had to have been a Clan secret he had no clue about. His father had died of creeping vine’s disease when he had been five and Selena two and his father’s older brother had died just a year before and none of his children had taken his Clan Name. Two of his cousins were still alive and in Insomnia, even, but refused to talk to him since he had joined the Kingsglaive, despite the debt they owed the King.

“I thought I would have to ask Libertus for help,” he burst out before his brain could catch up and promptly drank another gulp of the warm and too strong fumir to keep him from humiliating himself any further. Ahtrii, he wished he was anywhere but here.

“A viable option, but unnecessary,” the old woman chuckled. “Even if it would have been interesting to see young Libertus of Clan Ostium try to find and convince a snake. They can be very unhelpful if they want to be. Especially here on the mainland.”

Nyx grinned at the mental image. That would have made a suitably embarrassing tale for Libertus’ wedding, should he ever decide to marry someone.

“Now, according to Ilias, the Clan of Ulric belongs to those with a close connection to an animal, but that was already obvious. When he came to me a large part of his veins had already turned green and his hands shook so bad he couldn’t hold a cup anymore without spilling half of it. He looked me into the eyes and said: ‘Contrary to popular believe the Ulrics don’t change into coeurls, we never have. What we do have is the ability to copy what makes a coeurl a coeurl and use it ourselves. We can see like them, hear like them, even move like them, but we’re still human and that’s the important difference.’ I have heard many a tale of you doing exactly that but now you have come into a degree of power not seen in your Clan for many generations. The Lady of Beasts has blessed you.”

With a startling clarity he remembered what had happened during his First Hunt, when he had been all of nine years old. There, in the clearing full of flowers, he had met her. The Great Coeurl. She had treated him like an unruly cub of her pack. At least that made some amount of sense now.

“I… thank you for telling me, sinehär,” he managed to say, his mind filled with a strange buzz. Damn, that drink was way too strong to be just a regular cup of fumir. No wonder Istoria kept living on and on, if she used this to shock her heart back into pace again. He felt old, gnarly fingers taking the near empty cup from him, and blinked down at his empty hand.

“Go back to your hunting party, Nyx of Clan Ulric and, for once, let them take care of you. Sleep, eat and then you can keep running off into your adventures again,” Istoria said with an air of exasperated tenderness, as she gently tapped his leg with her cane to make him turn around.

Nyx really, really wanted to protest, but he knew if he opened his mouth now, nothing coherent would come out. So he did the sensible thing and did as he had been told.

“And tell my grandson I would like to see him for dinner tomorrow evening,” Istoria called after him.

His friends took one look at him before herding him out of the courtyard and towards his apartment building. He didn’t look that bad, did he? Somehow he managed to mumble the invitation to Luche, or at last he thought he did, if he remembered his friend’s grimace right. After that it was all a blur of different colours, shapes and sounds until he felt himself being wrapped into a blanket, then he was out like a light.

Chapter Text

The training ground was empty, the dusty ground largely undisturbed, safe for the clouds that flew up around Nyx as he skidded to a stop, having stumbled over his own feet. Again. How embarrassing. A frustrated huff escaped his lips as he stood there, covered in sweat and dirt from head to toe.

This was beyond vexing. That strange familiar-but-not magic was there, sparking just under his skin, but he could barely direct it the way he wanted it to go. It was like two wills struggling over the magic in a tug of war.

“I think I saw something this time,” Crowe called from the sidelines a few metres away, in a tone of voice that said she was absolutely bored. Her eyes, however, told a different story. They glowed with an excitement she positively vibrated with every time she learned something new about magic.

It should have been her. Discovering an innate magical talent no one alive knew how it worked. Not him. She at last deserved it for all the shit the world threw at her.

“... try that.”

“What?”

“Damn it, Nyx! Stop dreaming! I don't want to be accidentally fried because you can't be bothered to figure out how to not spew lightning everywhere.”

Nyx scowled at her, and as if to confirm her words, lightning sparks travelled from his fingers down his blades. His scowl turned into a glare as he fought to keep that animal-deep jungle-instinct from making him pounce at the lazily drifting clouds of dust that were illuminated by the late morning sun. Could this be any more annoying? He wasn't a Pitioss damned house-cat!

“It's not my fault that every time I want to cast lightning it totally goes off the rails. I want to see you trying not to jump at anything that moves while attempting to craft a fucking spell, Crowe,” he said, more peeved at himself than his storm-sister who took time out of her free day to help him figure this out.

“Then concentrate harder,” she grouched right back.

“But I am concentrating!”

“Well, obviously it's not enough! This is your own magic and not some borrowed connection. It should be... instinct... Oh, we're so dumb. Nyx, don't try to actually craft a spell!” She was shouting now, every illusion of boredom gone.

“What?” he asked, stunned. “But you said-”

“I know what I said. I was wrong, okay? Listen. We tried to treat this like Lucian magic with its formal spell system and everything. That kind of magic is very rigid with a very clear set of rules. But yours isn't. This doesn't have the same artificial feel to it. It's more... natural for lack of a better word. You looked like a fucking coeurl on that battlefield, Pelna told me. So try to think like a coeurl.”

Nyx felt his eyebrows rise in disbelief. He wasn't some cat, he wanted to say, but something stopped him from doing so. For a moment he was nine again, full of spiteful determination, as he stared at the biggest coeurl he'd ever seen with white fur and spots the colour of shadows in the snow, and eyes as green as the jungle he grew up in. Coeurls weren't house-cats. Far from it. Crowe threw him a smirk like she knew exactly what he was thinking about.

A coeurl, huh?

He looked down at the blades in his hands. They weren't the military issued ones used in the Kingsglaive, but a pair of his Clan's hunting knives. The only pair he'd been able to smuggle into Insomnia. Their solid and familiar weight was a comfort he had missed dearly. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes to help him focus and reached for the power pulsing like a living creature under his skin.

The moment he made contact with it, it threatened to sweep him up in its current and drag him to places he wasn't ready to be. He centred himself as best as he could but did not fight against the magic finding its own way, did not try to force it into the paths the Lucian magic had carved for itself. He did not know how long he stood there just basking in the power that was wild and untamed and, most importantly, all his.

His first step was cautious, as if he didn't quite trust his feet, his mind and his magic to work together, as if something might fall out of sync the next instant. But it didn't. Emboldened, he took another step, his eyes still closed, then another. He could hear his pack-sister breathing, the air leaving her lungs in astonished wonder as his movements smoothed out with each passing heartbeat. He smelled the sun in the air, the dust and dirt he kicked up, the sharp tinge of ozone. Nyx followed the current of his magic down paths he had never consciously taken and felt the lightning travelling along his arms.

Another step. His arms moved in tandem.

The smell of ozone grew stronger until his fine hearing picked out the crackling, growing louder and louder. A feral smirk tugged at his lips as his movements became more fluid, trailing lightning behind his limbs.

In his mind's eye Nyx saw himself slink through the shadowy darkness of the jungle, the air cool and smelling of damp earth, rotting leaves and growing things. It was an atmosphere so familiar it sent a sharp stab of longing through his heart. The eyes of his pack-sister glinted in the shadows, safe in their distance, but ever so watchful, following his every move. He felt a certain pride and smugness about it and couldn’t resist the urge to leap in a daring jump over the fallen trunk of a tree.

His prey was near now. He could smell it. Musky fur and warm blood and utterly unsuspecting. It sent a thrill of the chase down his spine. His steps made nary a sound as he crept closer towards his prey, muscles tense in anticipation. Claws ripped through a soft flank not a single thought later, and lightning sparked yet again as another predator tried to steal his prey. He circled it, growling in warning. Pack-sister's eyes were wary now, her whole being tense and ready to move. He jumped, teeth and claws flashing. The fight was short and brutal; Nyx was victorious. He flexed his claws, a content purr rumbling in his chest.

Nyx opened his eyes and blinked into bright sunlight. For a moment he saw nothing but vague forms in front of a too bright background. Strange. Hadn’t he just been back in the Galahdian jungle? All around him black marks and gouges littered the ground, showing the trail of destruction he had wrought across the training yard.

“What the fuck!”, yelled a voice causing Nyx to whirl around in surprise, not all that alarmed, strangely. It was his pack-sister, Crowe, who stood in a circle of lightning marks. Sweat dripped down her face and her breath came in short bursts, as if she had run for some time. Or had continuously exhausted her magic. “What the fuck did you do, Nyx? That was absolutely brilliant!”

He blinked, his head tilted to the side in curiosity. Slowly, he started to disentangle himself from the currents of his magic and his vision narrowed down. It threw him off balance for a moment before he was able to focus on Crowe again. She walked towards him in long strides, nearly bouncing with each step like a child as he sheathed his knives.

“You're my pack-sister,” he found himself saying.

“Eh, yeah? I'm Crowe? The one your hunting-brother claims as his sister? Your storm-sister?” she said, worry hidden behind the amusement in her tone.

“I know who you are, Crowe,” he said, bristling at what she had said, “but you're my pack-sister!”

Nyx stared at her, tried to drill that information into her. It was very important that she knew, he felt. Oh, why had he only met her when she had already been twelve? He could have had pack-in-name. Didn't she understand that?

She stared at him, something flashing in her eyes that was gone too fast for him to discern.

“Thats-,” she started to say but never got to finish.

Suddenly that spark of magic that was wholly himself – and foreign at the same time because he hadn't known for the longest time it was actually there – tensed in a way that made him go absolutely still. A growl worked itself up his throat and suddenly lightning travelled all around with him at the epicentre. Crowe yelped partly in surprise, partly in shock as she stumbled back, even as she had nothing to fear from him. She was pack-sister. Nyx stretched, all coeurl and grace, and took a deep breath that smelled like ozone, dust, sweating human, amazement, shock and... fear?

Positioning himself in front of pack-sister he stared into the shadows between the scattered trunks of stone trees that held the stone-canopy up. Why did he have to stand in the bright sunlight where he could be seen but not see? His nostrils widened in an attempt to sample the air. He could smell the musk of human male, metal, leather and hints of blood. A predator. A predator that smelled of fear. Nyx felt smug. It was good to be recognized as the superior one.

“Marshal Leonis,” he could hear pack-sister say behind him.

Nyx could see a form walk out of the shadows and into the sun. He carefully catalogued every move made by the other male. He would not hurt pack-sister. A warning growl rumbled in his chest when he felt the other male was close enough.

“Sir Ulric, Sir Altius, I hope your... training was fruitful,” he said in greeting, his fear nearly completely hidden but not quite.

Pack-sister boxed him into the small of his back. He jostled and blinked as the magical haze in his mind... cleared was the wrong word. Balanced out? Yes, that. It balanced out and Nyx could think more clearly again, the vague form of the Marshal of the Lucian military clearing to show the features of his face. The older man was staring him not-quite into the eyes with a carefully blank face and Nyx felt inordinately pleased about that.

“The training showed results,” Nyx said, the hissing rumble of coeurl not quite gone from his voice.

“It was very enlightening. May I ask why you are here, Marshal? We have booked the training yard until midday. There hasn't any issue come up about that, has it, Ser?”

Crowe's voice held a hidden warning Nyx wasn't sure the Marshal understood. The last time a group of Glaives had booked a training yard to train in magic that was to affect an entire area independently, the times had been mixed up with those of the Crownsguard. Crowe was still absolutely furious that her squad of mages hadn't been able to train adequately and as a result two of them had died during the next mission they had been on, when the untested spell had nearly exploded into their faces and sucked at their magical energy like a leech.

“There are no issues, I assure you, Sir Altius,” Marshal Leonis said, his gaze never leaving Nyx. “King Regis has sent me to ask you to meet with him as soon as possible, Sir Ulric.”

“Now, Ser?” Nyx asked full of disbelief.

What in the name of his ancestors would the King of Lucis want from him? He didn't dare to look at Crowe, but he could smell her surprise and indignation. And wasn't that still a kick in the gut? His own magic seemed to filter out the information he wanted and needed, otherwise he would have suffered sensory overload a long time ago, he knew. Said magic had calmed and settled down enough that Nyx felt human enough again to make an attempt at polite conversation. Just... why the King of all people? He wished the rest of his pack wasn't on active duty at the moment. He could have used Libertus' steadfastness, Luche's mind for politics and Pelna's way with words right about now.

“If you are amenable to it, Sir Ulric." The Marshal nodded, strangely formal.

Something was going on here, and it bugged Nyx not to know what it was. He wanted to find out. So he swallowed down all the questions and demands that burned on his tongue, and nodded his acceptance.

“Good. I'll wait for you to get ready. Please do not keep His Majesty waiting for too long.” With that and a last nod to the two of them he turned around and walked away.

“Crowe?” Nyx asked, still staring after the retreating form as it vanished back into the building.

“Yes?”

“The fuck just happened?”

“You dumb-ass went all over protective coeurl on the Marshal, spouted a whole lot of lightning and then accepted to meet with the King. What by ahtrii were you thinking?”

“I wasn't-”

“May the fires protect me from the idiots of this world,” Crowe hissed under her breath. Should Nyx tell her that he heard that? Probably not. He valued his life, despite what everybody else was saying. “Anyway. Go get ready. Take a shower and maybe redo the braids to pretty yourself up. Ahtrii know you need it. You can tell us later what this was all about.”

He scowled at her. Then his face smoothed out in worry. “Are you alright, Crowe? You look like you've tried to wrangle a spell-chain or something.”

“Don't worry about me, you idiot. Do me a favour and worry about yourself for a change, alright? It's not me the King wants to see for whatever reason,” she scoffed and tried to shoo him towards the building.

“I get it, I get it. I'm going already. No need to push,” he grinned, his hands held up in mock surrender.

His back was ramrod straight and his shoulders tense as Nyx waited in front of the King's private office. It was situated in a part of the citadel the Kingsglaive was not allowed to be outside a life or death emergency. Since he had entered this wing so close to the living quarters of the royal family, Marshal Leonis leading him without really telling him anything, he felt like he was being watched. His magic sparked in agitation and Nyx had to concentrate to not get swept up in its current again and attack something. That wouldn't go down particularly well, he thought.

The Marshal had entered the office not a minute ago, asking him to wait outside. Nyx resisted the urge to tug at his freshly redone braids. Especially at his debtor's braid. He did not like the thing, in fact he hated it, but he owed King Regis a life-debt and even if the King wouldn't be able to know its meaning, or even pick it out from all his other braids, his honour as an Ulric demanded that he wore it in front of the person he owed said debt to.

One bead for one life.

If Selena had survived the collapsing tunnels it would have been two. He would have shouldered her debt as well, no matter how long he would have to bow to a king that wasn't truly his own to pay them.

The door opened and Nyx stood even straighter. The Marshal's light blue eyes fixated on him.

“The King is ready to see you now, Sir Ulric,” he said and stepped to the side to let Nyx inside the spacious room. The coat of his service dress felt like it wanted to constrict his movement with every step he took.

The private office was no less opulent than all the other rooms he had been in over the years, but it managed to exude something that approximated a homey feeling, or at least a lived in one. Wooden panelling stretched over the walls in a warm colour where it could be seen beneath the many bookshelves and historical paintings in their heavy frames. The biggest one hung between the two windows of the room and showed a man that set Nyx's teeth on edge. The Conqueror.

Without any conscious thought did the thumb on his right hand touch the base of his ring finger as said finger and his pinky folded down. It was not a sign to ward away something evil but more a warning to the spirit of the man depicted here. Eternal remembrance and deep resentment; you are not welcome to the places we call our own. A truly great start to whatever this was.

Nyx forced himself to look away from the painting and lowered his gaze towards the living King in the room. King Regis sat behind a heavy wooden desk that was covered in stacks of files. Non sensitive, if Nyx was allowed in here. He stepped between the two ornamental chairs in front of the desk and settled into parade rest.

“You asked to see me, Your Majesty?”

He suppressed a nervous twitch when the Marshal remained behind him by the door. Luckily the normally ever-present Shield wasn't in the room for a change. Otherwise Nyx would have probably jumped straight out of the window, consequences be damned.

The King's green eyes wandered over his face, slow and thoughtful, as if he was looking for something. What, by all the Serpents of the Water, was this about? He had to bite down on his tongue to not blurt that question out.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting, Sir Ulric,” King Regis said, the beginnings of a smile around his eyes. “Please, take a seat.” He motioned towards the chair on Nyx's right.

For a second Nyx didn't know what to do. A Glaive did not just get asked to sit in the presence of the King by said King himself. Then he forced his legs to move and gingerly sat down, prepared to jump up at a moments notice. This was so strange. It only made his agitation at the situation even more prominent. The silence stretched for a few seconds too long.

“Your Majesty, why exactly am I here?”

Oh, that had been rude, hadn't it? Crowe would hit him over the head for that one. No, not Crowe, she didn't truly care for Lucian niceties outside of the military. Luche. Definitely Luche. The slightly older man always cared maybe a bit too much about social protocols.

The King, however, only blinked in surprise and tapped the folder that lay closed in front of him. “The accounts about your last mission have been very enlightening, Sir Ulric. We have had concerning news about Nifelheim's forays into magic suppressing technology - Besithia's newest project - but never thought they would have managed to get this far. From what we know now, due to this fight, is that they can't prevent the casting of magic entirely for now, but make it more energy consuming.”

Nyx did not like where this was going, not at all. A spark of sudden fury made the smell of ozone burn in his nose again. Damn, he should really get a grip on this. Had they known about this magic suppressing technology and still sent them out? Did this King, this man sitting in front of him even care about the lives lost during that mission? He forced himself to take even breaths. In and out. In and out. Like he had learned from his mother while hunting, back when he hadn't had a Clan Name yet. It helped to calm the roaring in his ears to a manageable level. One question remained burning in his mind, however: Why was the King telling him this?

“If not for your actions many more lives would have been lost,” the King continued, not noticing Nyx's inner turmoil. “The magic you used; our enemy could not suppress it. At least to a level they could fight it. Tell me, Sir Ulric, how long have you known that you posses a magic of your own?”

The question made his breath stutter in his lungs. For how long? For a split second he considered lying. To lie through his teeth about all of this and call it a day. But he owed this man a life-debt. The weight of the braid pulled at him until he had to fight to keep his head from lowering.

“My mother has told me tales of the magic sleeping in my blood since before I can remember, Your Majesty,” he answered haltingly, but truthfully.

King Regis hummed thoughtfully and went back to watching him again with that strange laser-pointed focus. Nyx kept himself from twitching in his seat. Somehow. He wanted to growl at the painting of the Conqueror behind Regis. Even with all the generations between the two men the resemblance was apparent. Near uncanny, in truth. Eyes, their brown so light that they nearly looked yellow, seemed to bore into him and he hated it.

“May I ask you a rather personal question, Sir Ulric?”

The question forced Nyx's focus away from the painting again. “Your Majesty?”

The King took that as permission. “Your father, what can you tell me about him?”

“I...” Nyx paused, blinked and licked his suddenly dry lips. He could feel his magic spark and burn into the wood of the armrests he clenched until his knuckles turned white. It forced him to take a deep, calming breath. He could not lie, but- “I barely remember him. The last time I saw him I had just turned four. He had been very sick.”

Eyes turning thoughtful, King Regis pulled a folder off the stack to his right and opened it. It was a very thick folder, and while Nyx couldn't see what was in it, it gave him a sense of foreboding.

“You were born in 724 ME, correct?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The tension in the room steadily grew until it was thick, tightly curled like a snake ready to jump its victim. Behind him the Marshal moved for the first time since Nyx had sat down. It made him twitch for real. The King sighed, shoulders dropping just a little bit, but it was enough to let the tension bleed out of the room near completely. Green eyes, suddenly tired, focused on him again.

“I will be frank, Sir Ulric, since there is no good way to say this. There are no independent magical lines outside the Lucis Caelums and the Fleurets. As you can imagine, that leads to a few questions concerning your lineage.”

Nyx opened his mouth and closed it again half a second later. This was... was the King saying... “What?”

The King had the gall to look apologetic. “There have been a few examples of cadet branches of my family during the earlier history of Lucis; every time the magic in those lines vanished after only two to three generations. Since your magic manifests in a way that clearly implies black magic – even if in a very unusual way – which has happened before, it is a very real possibility that we are in fact quite closely related.”

“You think we're related,” Nyx repeated with a tongue that would barely move under the weight of those words. It was not a question.

How dare this King, this man sitting in front of him, to imply that- His field of vision widened and shifted and Nyx had to fight his magic back as to not attack something, preferably the people in this room. He did not manage to hold it back entirely, seeing as his vision refused to return to normal, but at last the feeling that the King was threatening his territory had died down. King Regis looked at him with an air of curiosity and hummed as if he had just confirmed something. Nyx's sharpened hearing picked up the thundering heartbeat fluttering away like a nervous bird in the older man's chest.

“Over the last few days research was conducted. The possibility is certainly there. My father, the late King Mors, has been in Galahd during the time your Lady Mother would have conceived you, as well as during later times up to 728 ME.”

The lump in his throat made it hard for Nyx to breathe. This could not be happening. At least it explained why the Marshal had been so damn formal with him, he thought near hysterical. A bitter taste spread on his tongue. His thoughts were a raging storm he could barely contain.

I am not a descendant of the Bringer of the Black Ships! Of the reason why so many names were lost and the voice on the autumn storms takes vengeance on us to this day. Death and suffering was all this Conqueror ever brought us.

“What is it you want from me, Your Majesty?”

He somehow managed to not make that sentence sound like an insult.

“Would you be amenable for a DNA test, Sir Ulric? It would answer the questions we have quite nicely.”

Nyx nodded without much thought. His mother would have told him his father was a fucking Lucis Caelum a long time ago, if it were true. If it were the case, he would be sitting here as Nyx Utris and not an Ulric. But the King, the holder of his life-debt, asked him to do a DNA test, and so he would do it without complaint. He truly didn't know what power he had over him. And he was glad for that.

As the small group of three made their way to the infirmary in the Citadel, a tiny part of Nyx couldn't help but wonder, doubt festering in the darkest parts of his mind.

What if, it whispered. What if?

Chapter Text

The evening was murky and lukewarm as Nyx finally found Libertus, Crowe, Pelna and Luche occupying the usual table in that little outdoor eatery they all frequented regularly. They sat there, cups of something steaming hot with a bitter smell in front of them, and a platter of striped meat covered in what counted as a sorry excuse of edible seaweed in this city, between them. They had clearly been waiting for him.

Without so much as a greeting or paying attention to his friends' curious faces he stole Libertus' cup, who only gave a token of resistance, and drank it down in two large gulps as he plopped down on the only free chair left. It scalded his tongue but he didn't really care. This hot the strong bitter-leaf tea was even semi-palatable. He was kind of put out, however, that it wasn't alcohol. Nyx set the cup down harder than he needed to, proceeded to lay his head on the table and groan pitifully. Bellowing laughter was his answer. If looks could kill, every single one of his friends would be dead now.

“Where's the alcohol?” he asked – more like whined but he would never admit to it – and forced himself to sit up when Pelna set a cup in front of him without a word. Had he mentioned that he was his favourite friend right now?

Nyx took a sip from the cup – it was something that burned all the way down, cheap and Lucian – and as he finally looked up again, saw four faces in front of him with expressions ranging from exasperated to down right ready to strangle him. He resisted the urge to needle them a bit, if only to evade the dreaded subject for a few seconds more. They all stared at each other for a bit longer until Libertus made a noise at the back of his throat.

“Shit, man. What by Pitioss happened? The last time you looked at me like that...” he didn't finish the sentence and shook his head, clear worry in his eyes now.

“It was a shit show from the very start,” Nyx forced himself to say and took another burning mouthful of the cheap alcohol. It tasted like piss. Or worse. He hadn't quite decided that yet.

“It's the royal house of Lucis we're talking about here. What did you expect? Also, aren't you going to take that out?” Luche gestured at the left side of his head where the debtor's braid still hung, heavier than it had any right to be.

Nyx grimaced and tugged at it. “Have to go back later.”

Which was also the reason why he hadn't changed out of his service dress yet. Still, he finally shrugged out of the overcoat with its stiff collar and heavy black and grey fabric. Luckily what he wore underneath that was made of breathable fabric and light, even with its long sleeves, the black colour and the intricate silver embroidery on it. The latter a poor attempt at cultural acknowledgement. There was no rhyme nor reason to the patterns that would normally be carefully arranged in meaningful compositions mostly used on the northern islands. The most one could read out of it was 'Prosperity for Death' if one squinted and tilted the head just so.

“What? Why?” asked Libertus and managed to sound indignant and put out at once.

Nyx sighed and desperately tried to find an answer that didn't make everybody at the table explode. Well, if he hadn't found a way to break the news gently and without more drama than necessary on the way down from the Citadel, he wouldn't find one now.

“If you ever get invited into the King's private study, be aware that a painting of the Conqueror King hangs there smack dab in the middle of the wall right behind the desk. It stares at you like it wants to kill you,” he started. This was the aspect of that awful meeting he could talk about without having the urge to jump over the railing into mess of piping below.

The group's reactions would have been amusing, if this hadn't been such a sensitive subject for any Galahkar who still drew breath. Especially for those who had lost family and friends to the Voice on the autumn storms. Libertus cursed up a storm, Crowe looked like she wanted to set something on fire and Luche had gone stone faced, his lips pressed into a hard line.

“But why would the King do that?” Pelna asked, his eyes growing wide. “The Traitor King's likeness was taken down everywhere, safe for the Gallery of Kings, after the people learned what he did in Cleigne. So why not the Conqueror's? Is the King trying to invoke his spirit? We won't accept him, surely the King knows that.”

“I really doubt that the Lucians invoke their ancestors for anything. Not with how fiercely they cling to the Crystal and their Astrals. Especially Bahamut.” Luche said the Astral's name with an impressive amount of contempt.

“I don't think he did it on purpose,” Nyx offered, not really believing he had just said that.

“You defending that man again? I can't believe you, Nyx,” Libertus grouched and winced when Crowe kicked him in the shin under the table. Nyx hid his grin at their antics behind his cup. Libertus shot her a betrayed look.

“Oh come on. You know exactly what that was for, you big oaf. Sometimes I can't believe you.”

“I don't try to defend him, but I'm getting the feeling that there's much we know that he, and all the other Lucians, don't,” Nyx said and pushed the cup away from him, still more than half full.

Getting inebriated when he had to meet the King again, would not be a good idea. Instead he forced himself to eat something. Like he had expected, the seaweed didn't taste all that good, but it was edible enough. Libertus stared at the platter like it had personally offended him.

“They really don't know all that much,” Pelna nodded. “Not with how they all write it down in ten different ways and then argue which of those is the true one.”

“Of course they don't. They're hiding behind their walls and all like they could solve all their problems,” Libertus grumbled and proceeded to quietly complain about the food. The only reason he did so quietly was that this time the meat was better than the last time they had had this specific dish.

Luche leaned forward a bit, his face still serious where the others, including Nyx, had started to relax a bit in the face of old and well trodden arguments. “That's not all there is, isn't it?”

At once all eyes were on Nyx again. He chewed slowly to buy himself more time, but it didn't help one bit to bring some kind of order to the chaos swirling in his head. He didn't even want to think about it. About how the King thought he could be his brother. Which he most certainly wasn't.

Probably.

Fuck, why did this have to happen to him?

“Eos to Nyx. Has the ohtahi triantafe stolen your mind this time?” Crowe waved a hand in front of his face.

Nyx flinched and stared. “There's not any growing around here,” he said rather dumbly.

It hadn't been his fault that he had fallen into a bush of them once as a teenage,r when he had been dared to free climb a steep part of the cliff near his home village. That slateroc had startled him! How was he supposed to have known that those damned roses had grown there and made him hallucinate the weirdest shit? She stared at him like he was stupid, which in this situation was rather justified to be honest.

“Whatever happened, it's made you really out of it,” said Libertus in this non-request to talk to him, he usually did when he thought that things were getting serious.

“It's...” he sighed and carded a hand through his hair. “ Aviosa linmuhru hes quäbehn .”

Pelna nearly spat his drink over the table, jerking comically in his seat, and next to Nyx Libertus choked on his spit. Crowe just raised her eyebrows and Luche was the kind of blank he got when he carefully restrained himself from doing something he considered beneath him.

“It must have been quite something,” Crowe said at last, once everybody had themselves back under control. Including Nyx, who felt the irrational urge giggle. Damn his non existent alcohol tolerance.

“You can say that again,” he muttered.

“Out with it, Nyx. And I swear, if you try to give me a heart attack again, I will throttle you,” Libertus threatened not very convincingly. All the while he stared at Nyx like he was trying to read his mind.

“It's not my fault you've got such a weak heart, big guy,” Nyx grouched half heartedly and sighed again. His shoulders slumped and he slouched in his seat, which was probably the only reason the others didn't say anything this time. “I got called to the King because of the magic thing I have. Apparently Lucians think that 'true independent' magic is only found in two families in all of Eos.”

“Wait, really? That's ridiculous,” Crowe said full of indignation.

She didn't bother to elaborate. Everybody in the whole Glaive knew her views on magic and the Lucians' habit of ignoring the more subtle things it was able to do.

Nyx made a gesture that clearly said you're telling me? while he pulled himself upright again. He was an Ulric, damn it, and he would act like one. Even if – if – the King's suspicions turned out to be true, he had earned that name. Lived by it and its values most of his life. His mother had named Ilias Ulric his father and the man had accepted him as his son. That was all that counted, was important, should be important to him. His ancestors, those that guided him and had a part in making him the man he was today, were the Ulrics and not the Lucis Caelums. But why then, if he knew that with absolute certainty, did he have a bitter taste in his mouth?

“I think we already established that Lucians have no idea about the things that are actually important,” Luche stated.

“Yeah, but where do they think all of the attributes the flora and fauna showcase, come from? How do they think do killer bees turn the pollen they collect into poison when they feel threatened?” Crowe spoke like the Lucians' ignorance had personally offended her.

Maybe it actually does , Nyx thought, at least where magic is concerned.

Before the Fall of Galahd, Crowe had made a large portion of her money hunting down the nests of the bigger bee species', and harvesting their honey. It was very dangerous work but the honey had great medical properties, not to mention it tasted good, so it was well worth it, if one wasn't stupid enough to aggravate the huge insects.

“Anyway,” Nyx said before this dissolved into a discussion of the magical properties of nature and the spirits that lived within it. Once Crowe got started, it was hard to get her to stop. “The King thinks I may be a Lucis Caelum bastard.”

There. He had said it. For a few seconds there was disbelieving silence, before bellowing laughter sounded from the people around the table for the second time this evening. Even Luche couldn't suppress an amused chuckle.

“ Ahtrii, Nyx. Everybody who knows about the Ulrics knows that you're one of them and nothing else. You embody everything they are, down to your reckless possessiveness. Even I know that and I don't come from the same island as you,” Pelna said still gasping for breath and rubbing tears of laughter from his eyes.

Nyx would never admit it to anybody but at that statement he felt something deep within him relax. His magic sparked again and he felt the urge to drape himself all over the darker skinned man and purr. He bit his tongue and kept his lips tightly shut to not let the sound form right then and there.

“Nyx,” Libertus said and patted him on the shoulder in a comforting way, “even if... you know, this happens to be true, the Lucii, or whatever they call them, are not your ancestors, you realize. You earned your name the same way everybody else did. Well, not really, but you know what I mean. The only people from beyond the Gate who have any influence over you are the Ulrics and those deadbeat Kings can natter on all they want. It's not like their own descendants are listening.”

“Thanks, Libs,” Nyx murmured and sent his hunting-brother weak smile.

This meant more to him than he had thought it would. A warm feeling grew in his chest until it was a little sun behind his sternum. He loved these people with all his being and he would do everything in his power to protect them. That he swore by the ancestors he had chosen and that had chosen him, by the Great Coeurl who had made it so, and by the spirits of Galahd who still connected all of them. He had sworn it so before but this time it left the taste of magic on his tongue that gave it a different kind of gravity.

“I can't quite wrap my head around it. What does the King hope will happen if Nyx turns out to be his... relation?” Pelna looked at Nyx for information after a long moment of silence.

“Brother,” he said and nodded towards Luche in thanks who put down a cup full of bitter-leaf tea in front of him. In this eatery it was the only Galahdian thing one could drink that actually tasted genuine. But maybe the reason for that was that even under normal circumstances bitter-leaf tea tasted like shit.

“Brother,” Pelna repeated and paused. “That's quite the age gap, though.”

“So, Mors Lucis Caelum. The guy who pulled the Wall back from encompassing all of Cavaugh to just surround Insomnia,” Crowe said with a frown on her face.

“Why do you know that?” asked Libertus.

“How do you know that?” asked Luche at the same time.

The mage shrugged. “I make damn sure to blame the right people for shit they've done. Otherwise it just gets messy.”

There was a flicker in Luche's eyes that was gone as fast as it had appeared. Nyx had no time to think about it because Pelna started speaking at that moment: “He's also the first Lucian King since the Wanderer King who personally came to Galahd. Not sure if he was just that careless or had balls of steel.”

“Lucis always thought of Galahd as a fully realised part of their territory, even if all we did was pay taxes sometimes, and they did nothing for us. With that it's not surprising that he walked into Galahd like he owned it. Lucis, especially the Lucis Cealums always had a special kind of arrogance.” Luche said this with carefully projected carelessness that Nyx didn't buy and neither did the others, if the looks they shot each other was any indication.

A thought practically hit Nyx over the head. He choked and nearly started to swear to the Gates of Death and back again. “The King thinks mahir slept with his father.” He didn't know if he should laugh or cry.

“No shit. Your mahir would've sooner clobbered that Mors over the head with one of her smithing hammers than let herself be touched by him,” Libertus guffawed.

Crowe snorted and nodded. Nyx couldn't help but agree. His mother would have never accepted a Lucian in her bed. Not after what a Lucian hunter had done to her sister when she had gone looking for Solheimr ruins on the mainland. Alyxa Utris had been resentful like that.

“Lucian Kings have never struck me as overly intelligent,” Pelna mumbled and put another piece of meat into his mouth.

“It's not like the King knew mahir,” Nyx couldn't help but point out. Not that he knew that for certain, since the King had been on Galahd for the second to last leg of fighting they had done there, and she had been purely a weapons smith by that point.

“That's only part of why I doubt their intelligence and I didn't even know your mother for more than two weeks,” Pelna said after swallowing. “It's also the abhorrent state of our supplies and equipment. Our radio sets are too old and too susceptible to hacking because of it.”

“Haven't you told Drautos?” Libertus wanted to know.

“Of course I did! Drautos said he would talk to the Marshal and the King about it, but until now nothing has happened.”

“When did you talk to him?” asked Luche, his eyes suddenly intense.

“A few weeks ago. I wanted to speak to him again about it but then that mission happened and until now I haven't had the chance to do so.”

“I'm supposed to meet with him tomorrow. I'll talk to him.”

“Thanks, Luche.” Pelna smiled in gratitude.

Nyx couldn't help but frown. “Something about this stinks to the Gate and back.”

“You're telling me? No offence Luche, but why was Pelna's Unit the one to infiltrate the compound and not Sonitus's? His is the stealth unit,” Crowe asked, her gestures wide and jerky.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Crowe,” Pelna said with a grin.

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

Luche made a face. It looked like he was fighting with himself, trying to decide what to say. “Those were the orders. I couldn't simply ignore them.”

“Know what? Fuck those orders! Next time we're doing things our way. The Lucians have no idea how to execute a proper hunt. It's no wonder they're losing ground by the day with those crap orders. Not even our best hunters can balance that out.” Libertus nearly exploded in outrage when he said that.

“That's coming very close to treason ans insubordination,” Luche warned, but there was something in the way he said it that robbed the words of their harshness.

Libertus ground his teeth but didn't say anything.

“To do anything effectively, short of a Great Hunt, which we can't simply call, we would need a makti-oir,” Pelna said slowly, like he was tasting each word out in his mouth.

“We would need to talk to our people about it, and without the sinehär gisdrauhtis on our side it would be a lost cause before we would have even started. And if it comes to a vote, it won't be subtle,” Nyx added. The Gari had already been tossed, so why not add a little more spin to it?

Luche carded both hands through his hair. “I cannot believe we're seriously talking about this.”

“It's better than more of us dying because they can't get things sorted out correctly,” Crowe shrugged, a dark look on her face. No doubt she was thinking about the training ground incident again.

They all fell into a thoughtful silence, considering this insane idea for its merits and flaws. Nyx wondered what would happen, if they actually managed to do all this. Vote for a makti-oir and then tell the Lucians they would from now on hunt the proper way. He didn't imagine it would go over overly well.

The ringing of his phone broke the silence. He jerked in surprise and hurried to fish it out of his coat pocket.

“Ulric speaking,” he said in Lucian for the first time he had sat down, his accent thicker for it. He already knew who it was.

“Good evening, Sir Ulric. The test results are here. Please come back to the Citadel at your earliest convenience. The guards will let you through to His Majesty's private study without issue,” Marshal Leonis said, sounding just a tad impatient.

Translation: Be there at once.

“Of course Marshal,” Nyx answered and wondered what had crawled up the Marshal's ass now, as the man hung up without another word. Had there been some kind of noise in the background? He wasn't quite sure.

He nodded towards his friends as he stood up and put on the coat again. “I'll see you later guys.”

A chorus of good-byes sounded after him – Libertus, the ass, yelled the traditional words of the Last Journey – as he trudged up the stairs towards what felt like a funeral.

Chapter Text

Nyx found himself within King Regis' private study again faster than he would have liked. In fact, he would have preferred to never step foot into it again. Being more or less prepared for it this time didn't make him feel any less on edge.

The Conqueror King stared down at him as if he knew exactly who and what he was, and wanted to cut him down for it. His Blood Axe was something no Galahkar wanted to see in their lives. Nyx' fingers curled into rabhithisaikna again.

This time it wasn't only King Regis and the Marshal there, but also Shield Amicitia. The Shield looked like he had bitten into something sour as he stood by the King's left shoulder, who sat behind the heavy wooden desk again. Marshal Leonis stood a bit off to the right, his arms crossed, but his eyes were as alert as ever. Nyx wanted to pace, mark the line that the other three occupants of this room should not dare cross. Instead he forced himself to bow.

The King looked at him, his face still guarded but also strangely open in a way he had never seen. It made him want to hiss and leave the room before he did something stupid.

“Your Majesty, Lord Shield, Marshal,” he said in greeting and settled into parade rest.

“Good evening, Sir Ulric. Thank you again for taking the time to settle the matter. Take a seat, then we may look at the results,” the King said and motioned at the chair to Nyx' right.

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

He nodded his thanks and sat down, the palms of his hands carefully pressed against the wooden armrests. Hopefully he wouldn't leave any marks on the obviously very old, and very expensive piece of furniture. Since he had arrived at the Citadel again, his magic had been restless, sparking between his fingertips and warping his field of vision until he felt oddly off balance. Yet again, he was made aware that he seriously needed to work at his control. He was just waiting until he blew up something important, like his phone or his fridge or something.

The King picked up the crisp envelope sitting on the desk in front of him, and opened it with great care. It contained only one sheet of paper. As the King unfolded it, Nyx felt his magic spark again and hid a wince. He felt the spark digging through the wood. That was not good. Not good at all.

With baited breath, and his heart hammering away in his chest like it could run away from this bizarre situation, he watched as King Regis read the sheet of paper and his face became a careful mask of absolute neutrality. Any warmth that may have been there, vanished. Without a word he sat the paper down and pushed it over the desk until Nyx could grab it without standing up. As he leant forward he got a glance at the multiple picture frames cluttering the desk. Most of the ones he could see showed either the Prince or a beautiful woman with startling blue eyes and dark brown hair. The late Queen.

Nyx didn't even try to bother with the technical terms jumping out at him as his eyes devoured the few lines cleanly printed on the paper until he came to the part he had been looking for.

No relation.

No relation.

Thank ahtrii .

Carefully not sagging as relief flooded his system like a tidal wave, he folded the sheet back up again and laid it down on the part of the desk he could reach. A part of him, one he hadn't realized had been quite so restless, finally settled down along with his magic. There was no threat to his blood here, to his integrity as a Galahkar and head of the Ulric Clan.

“I take it was negative,” Marshal Leonis said into the heavy silence.

King Regis gave the barest hint of a nod. “Yes. Yes it was.”

For the fraction of a second Shield Amicitia's face gained an expression similar to one Libertus often sported. It was the face his hunting brother gained when he knew he was right about something that Nyx didn't want to hear. His eyes settled on the King again, who, despite the wall of neutrality he had erected around him, looked like he had aged years within seconds.

Now Nyx understood what that openness on the King's face had been. Hope. Resolutely he pushed the first signs of growing sympathy as far down as he could manage.

“Then we must decide what needs to be done now,” Shield Amicitia said, brisk and business-like as always.

What was there to be done? As far as Nyx was concerned this farce was over and done with, he would really like to go home now and forget this ever happened. He bit down on his tongue to not blurt any of this out loud in present company.

King Regis gave a little hum as he leaned slightly back in his chair. “The origin of your magic is still an unanswered question, Sir Ulric. As is your relation to other important individuals, though I admit that it is rather more unlikely than the potential connection to my line.”

Nyx wanted to bang his head against the nearest hard surface. Ahtrii . He had to remind himself that there hadn't been a direct question in that statement and so he wasn't bound to answer. No, he wasn't. He dearly wanted to point out that the world didn't revolve around the Lucian way.

He could practically taste the sudden cold formality in those words as well. Nyx felt his fingers twitch against the armrests. Was the King really that disappointed in their lack of blood relation? His gaze wandered back towards the picture frames on the desk. Family was something the man clearly treasured. That was something Nyx could respect about the King. Painted light brown eyes practically burned into him and every shred of growing sympathy was yet again thrown out the window.

“I think we can continue this another time, Your Majesty. Sir Ulric's squad won't be on active duty outside the Wall for two weeks yet. Let the tempers cool down so that we can make a rational decision on this matter.”

Nyx had felt the Marshal's gaze lingering on him for most of the meeting, but now his gaze was firmly set on the King. If Nyx didn't know better, he would say it looked like a warning. When had the air in the room become this charged?

At once he felt his hackles rise and his lips twitch at the urge to bare his teeth in warning. A voice in the back of his mind, sounding suspiciously like Luche during one of his snooty moods, told him that it was a pretty bad idea to directly threaten the King of the nation who had taken them in as refugees, and he owed a life-debt to.

For the fraction of a second the King looked like he wanted to argue. He sighed, strangely defeated. “You are certainly right, Cor. Sir Ulric, I apologize for this misunderstanding. It was not my intention. Also please be ready for another summon during the next few days.”

“Of course, Your Majesty." Nyx nodded and stood up, taking this as a dismissal.

“One more thing: No word of this to anyone. We do not want the wrong people to hear of this.”

Nyx bowed. “Of course, Your Majesty,” he repeated.

Finally, finally he was able to leave this awful room behind. The moment he stepped through the door, he felt the tension in his body relax a fraction. Now back to his apartment to see if any of his alcohol had survived the last 'hooray we're still alive' party. He could really use a drink right about now.

The first sensation Nyx woke to the following morning – at last he assumed it to be the following morning – was an insistent throbbing in his skull. He grimaced at the stale taste in his mouth and the fuzzy feeling of his tongue, and forced his eyes to open. It didn't make his headache any better.

Fuck, I didn't even drink that much.

The throbbing in his skull grew worse until he realized that part of it came from an insistent banging against his door. With a hoarse groan – ahtrii his throat was parched – Nyx peeled himself out of his bed.

“Damn it, Nyx! Open that door, you hero, I know you're there!”

Said hero stared blankly at his closed door. By all the spots of the Lady, what did Libertus want from him at – he glanced at his alarm clock – 6:30 in the morning? He scrubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave again. Fuck. Barely awake for a minute and already Nyx could feel this day go down the drain.

Twisting the handle and kicking the edge of the door so that it wouldn't drag over his already ratty nylon floor, he pulled it open and came face to face with a wild eyed hunting brother who stormed into his apartment without another word.

“Took you long enough. Kohna, have you any idea what's going on out there? It's a madhouse. A fucking madhouse. What the fuck happened yesterday after you left?”

Nyx let Libertus ramble for a moment and shuffled over to the sink to get a glass of water. His headache receded a bit and made it possible for him to hear his own thoughts again.

“Fuck, man. Did you even hear a word I just said?”

“I practically fell out of bed a minute ago because you hammered at my door like a hunted man, big guy. I have no idea what you are talking about,” Nyx said, decidedly unimpressed by this whole situation.

“Right... right,” Libertus muttered and dragged a hand through his hair. The heavyset man practically flung himself into a chair. “Did you drink last night?” he asked incredulously, the without me practically filling the silence between them.

Nyx finished his second glass of water before he progressed to the ancient and barely used coffee machine sitting on his counter, pulling up an extra cup for his unexpected guest. As the hot water gurgled he stared unimpressed at Libertus, who made a face. They fell into an easy silence until two cups full of coffee were set down on the rickety table.

“So, care to tell me now what happened this early in the morning, on a free day no less? You look like a chickatrice got a few pecks out of you.”

He hid his grin behind his cup as Libertus glared at him.

“Yeah, laugh it up. You wouldn't look any better if this had happened to you. I walk out of the house this morning to get some more yoghurt and as soon as I step out on the walkway I get swarmed by reporters asking questions about you. I ask again: What happened yesterday evening?”

Like an anak calf caught in the headlights, Nyx froze, his cup halfway towards his mouth, and stared.

“What the fuck?”

“My words exactly! Now tell me.”

“No, seriously. What the fuck? The King forbid anyone who knew anything from talking. No one should know, especially the press!” Nyx groaned pathetically and buried his head in his hands. “I hope he doesn't think I blabbed.”

“Okay, so no telling. What are you going to do now?” Libertus asked.

“Now I'm going over to Pelna's. If anyone can find out what the press knows, it's him,” Nyx answered, jugged the rest of his coffee and stood up.

Pelna was one of the few people in this apartment complex with a working moogle-net connection and a computer that didn't look like it would fall to pieces the moment you touched it. He felt his hunting brother's eyes on him as he shuffled towards the door.

“Maybe you should, you know, actually get dressed before you head over. Wouldn't want to give Pelna a heart attack because you flashed his nieces, or something.”

Nyx stopped, his hand on the door handle, blinked owlishly, and looked down at himself. He wore nothing but a pair of baggy old sweatpants that rode dangerously low on his hips. Cursing under his breath he turned around to pull on a threadbare tunic and look for a pair of jeans to wear. He threw a sock at his best friend's head when he didn't stop sniggering. That idiot.

Not waiting for Libertus, and still barefoot, he walked out the door towards an apartment two floors down. He could hear Libertus's hurried steps behind him, cursing all the way. Despite the lingering headache, Nyx couldn't help the grin growing on his face.

The door to Pelna's apartment opened before they could even knock. Out spilt his two nieces, Ker and Dione, and his son, Moireus. All three of them ready to go to school and kindergarten, as was the case with Moireus.

“Morning, kids,” Nyx greeted and lifted a hand to his collarbone, his palm parallel to the ground. Next to him Libertus did the same.

Ker, the oldest of the group at sixteen, saw them first. Her cheeks grew a dusty red as she returned the greeting.

“Nyx!” yelled Moireus, who ran past his elder cousin, and tackled him in a hug.

“Hey, buhgil. On your way to kindergarten I see,” Nyx laughed and tousled the boy's curly black hair.

The five year old nodded with a bright smile and proceeded to hug Libertus, who gave an amused huff and threw the boy over his shoulder like a sack of wool, teasing a shrieking laugh out of him. Behind the children Pelna appeared in the doorway. He looked way more awake than Nyx knew he himself did.

“Ah Nyx, I thought I heard your name. Morning Libertus. What's got you two here this early in the morning?”

“Morning Pelna. There's a group of reporters out in front of the house. You kids should take the backdoor through the washing room,” Libertus said and sat Moireus back down on his feet.

“Thanks for the warning,” Dione said. “Come on, we're going to be late and I don't want to give my teacher a reason to give me detention again.”

The three waved their goodbyes and disappeared down the hallway.

Pelna let them into his apartment. It was easily twice as large as Nyx's, with two bedrooms, a bathroom and a combined kitchen and living room, but still too small to comfortably fit five people.

“You guys already ate breakfast?”

“Got derailed by crazy journalists.” / “Libs threw me out of bed twenty minutes ago.”

“Right,” Pelna drawled and proceeded to throw together a meal made of thick slices of cold breakfast meat with eggs, and yoghurt with fruit and nuts while the tea got ready. Nyx's stomach rumbled loudly. He had barely eaten anything yesterday evening, having been too nervous to stomach much.

“Where's Tethys?” he asked before shovelling a slice of meat into his mouth.

It was anak meat instead of garula, but still good.

“Still down by the docks. Depending on how much fish they caught it might still be a while until she comes home.”

“I wanted to ask her for some sea bass for the next big dinner. I can trust her to have good quality fish instead of the crap others try to sell you as safe to consume,” Libertus said, a sneer tugging at his lips.

“Tethys is scheduled to go out again tomorrow, so you could ask her then,” Pelna suggested.

Libertus grunted in acceptance. He regularly asked Tethys for good quality fish at a reasonable price for his regular cooking projects Nyx, Crowe and Pelna's family always got invited to. It was always an event and Nyx couldn't wait for the next one.

They finished the rest of their meal in companionable silence. After they finished washing the dishes they sat down with fresh cups of tea. Nyx felt satisfied and sleepy, like he could curl up in the patch of morning sunlight hitting the chair he sat in and fall asleep. His magic felt like a satisfied cat about to take a nap. A near silent purr rumbled in his chest. He ignored the glances the other two men shot him and took a sip of the tea. Thankfully it wasn't bitter-leaf, but something floral that also smelt strongly like mint. It helped chasing the last vestiges of his hangover away.

“So, not that I mind the surprise visit, but why did you really come over?”

The question startled him back into the present. The tranquil sensation his magic gave off didn't vanish. Nyx blinked. That was new. Another sip of tea made him miss Crowe's honey even more than he usually did. Libertus looked at him when he didn't answer and rolled his eyes.

“We need to use your computer. Those reporters down there were asking questions about Nyx and his audiences with the King. Apparently they're not even supposed to know that. We need to find out what they actually do know and how,” Libertus grumbled.

“That doesn't sound good. Wait a moment, I'm going to fetch the laptop.”

Pelna stood up and went over to the desk, covered in pencils, schoolbooks and colouring books, and pulled a slightly beaten up laptop out from under a pile of loose paper. It was a slightly older model that he mostly used for non-sensitive work when he needed to be at home during work hours. One of the few concessions he had managed to wrangle out of the government concerning his situation. It was relatively quiet for the next few minutes as Pelna searched the far reaching depths of the moogle network.

Suddenly, the man winced and hissed in sympathy. “Well, that's not good.”

At once Nyx stood behind Pelna so that he could read over his shoulder, Libertus right next to him. The site displayed was from a moderately popular gossip rag that liked to specialize in conspiracy theories. There, on their front page, in bold letters, a headline stared up at Nyx that made him want to hide in the wilds for a good long while.

New member of the royal family?!

King Regis ordered paternity test for Glaive Nyx Ulric!

“That's one big pile of shit,” Libertus said.

“That it's 'one big pile of shit' doesn't make it any better,” Nyx hissed, his hackles rising and magic coming to the surface. Lighting sparked between his fingers and his vision shifted until it looked like the contrast setting had been turned too bright when he looked directly into a light source.

“Wow, wow, calm down hero. No blowing up the computer. Pelna still needs it for more than selling scrap metal,” Libertus said, herding him back to his chair.

Nyx took a series of deep breaths as he took in the scents of his hunting brother and pack mate near him. They seemed more concerned about him than worried about the untrue words. It helped him calm down enough that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Like frying that shitty piece of technology.

“They don't seem to know much more than that you were ordered to do a blood test to see if you're related to the King, Nyx,” Pelna said, having skimmed the article. “There's no word about what came of it or why exactly it was ordered in the first place. Also, the only papers actually writing about this are the gossip rags, and not even the good ones.”

“Since when are there good ones?” Libertus asked, incredulous.

Nyx snorted in amusement.

“Tethys likes reading For You ,” Pelna said, clearly embarrassed.

A disbelieving hum rumbled through Libertus' chest as he shared an amused glance with Nyx. Pelna glared at them, disgruntled, but in good humour.

“Anyway,” he said and turned back towards the laptop, “it's not as bad as it could have been. Some of the articles are pretty amusing. One is accusing Nyx of stealing magic and so blaming the King's bad health on him and another is trying to dig up the King's secret love affair that clearly spawned you. There's even one accusing you of being a Nif spy planted to gain the crown's trust, Nyx.”

That statement startled a laugh out of him while his hunting brother nearly snorted his tea out through his nose.

“And people believe that crap? Those are clearly iskarali .”

As an answer, Pelna shrugged. “You're my friend, Nyx, but I'm not wading through the comment sections for you. There's only a certain level of stupidity I can stand in a day.”

“We love you, too.” Nyx grinned and clapped the dark skinned man on the shoulder. “Do they say where they got their information from?”

Pelna blinked, glanced back at the screen and shook his head. “Some of them a citing an 'anonymous source' but nothing more. With how they're telling it, I think it was the source that came to them and not the other way around.”

Nyx wasn't quite sure if that was reassuring or not.

His phone started ringing. He closed his eyes and dearly hoped it wasn't Captain Drautos, or worse, Marshal Leonis. As it turned out it wasn't either of them. Somehow that only made it worse.

“Ulric speaking.”

The sudden switch from Hadnissa to Lucian felt as awkward on his tongue like it always did.

“Good morning, Sir Ulric. This is Mendaci Auris from The Flash. We are a newspaper specializing in all things social and I was hoping-”

He had pushed the button to end the call before he even realized he was doing it. Libertus and Pelna were watching him as he practically threw the phone on the table with a well placed curse. It was an old phone from a time when touchscreens hadn't been invented yet.

“The press?” Pelna asked with a knowing tilt to his head.

Nyx just glared at him. How had they even gotten their hands on his number? He somehow doubted that a member of the community had simply handed it over. The image of a reporter asking Titus Drautos of all people for his phone number, was hilarious enough to make him grin despite the situation.

“Not to blunt anybody’s blades or anything, but how are we going to deal with the crowd outside the house? I can't imagine that the others will be very happy about this,” Libertus said.

Both of them looked at Pelna who held his hands up in not quite surrender. “Hey, don't look at me. I have no clue how to deal with something like this.”

“But you're the communications specialist,” Libertus shot back.

Before anyone of them could answer that the entry door opened and Tethys walked in, accompanied by Luche and Axis. All three of them looked as if they had been put through the wringer.

“Pelna, do you know why there's a horde of reporters outside the house that is asking after Nyx? Oh, hello Libertus, Nyx. Do any of you know what's going on? I warned the residents I met on the way not to use the front entrance, but it's only a matter of time until those people find the backdoor.”

Tethys's voice was unusually low and held the hint of a warning. She was a small and muscular woman with even darker skin than Pelna's, which was only partly due to her spending large portions of the day outside.

“Welcome back, si pehwa. How was work?” Pelna asked with a smile.

Tethys gave him a look.

“Why does everybody think I'm an expert in this?” he moaned and threw his hands up in exasperation.

Nyx leaned back in his chair and groaned.

Was it still too early to have a drink?

Chapter Text

Nyx scaled the outer wall of the concrete building with all the grace of a disgruntled cat. Muttering obscene curses under his breath, he swung himself over the railing and landed on the flat roof in a crouch with nary a sound.

The day had started so well. Considering the circumstances, that is.

It had been an absolute disaster.

After being thrown out of bed by Libertus and swinging by Pelna's place to find out what the realms of Pitioss was going on, Sinehär Gisdrauht Istoria Patientia had come by personally to 'invite' him to a cünaniu that was to happen this afternoon. It had been shortly after lunch, Pelna, Libertus, Luche and Axis had to attend a spontaneous training exercise and so hadn't been there. Nyx himself was still on medical leave and so Tethys had invited him to stay.

Greetings had been exchanged. Istoria sat at the table, a steaming cup of the traditional tea of welcome in front of her. The smell of druhm roots, pepper, cardamom, liquorice and honey made Nyx think back to his sister's first tries that had been overly strong and sweet. Barely eight, she had been so proud of her achievement that neither his mother nor him had uttered anything but compliments. That day had been full of Selena's bright laughter.

Istoria took a sip and hummed in appreciation. “You have a skilled hand for brewing tea, Tethys of Clan Najad.”

“Thank you, Sinehär Patientia. My maneth taught me; her teas were said to be the best,” Tethys demurred, her own cup between her hands and a sad smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

The short exchange startled Nyx out of his childhood reverie. Silently reprimanding himself for his lapse in attention, he forced the image of a smiling and laughing Selena from his mind. The painful stab of regret he felt in his heart every time he thought of her, had never gotten easier to bear over the years.

“For which occasion do you honour my family with your visit, Sinehär?” the younger woman asked.

“To my regret it's not a member of your family I came to meet,” Istoria said. Her eyes were firmly set on Nyx who dearly wished he could vanish into the ground at that very moment. “A cünaniu has been called for this afternoon and Oirkar Ulric has been invited to speak among us.”

Her body language, the set of her jaw and the tone of her voice made it clear what kind of invitation it was. Should he not show up at the gathering he would lose what standing he had within the Galahkari of Insomnia. Loathe as he was to admit it, if he didn't have his standing as the head of an old and respected clan, much of the shit he did get himself into wouldn't end as well as it normally did.

Beneath the sharp eyes of both women in the room, Istoria's giving nothing away and Tethys' silently promising to get an explanation out of him, he bowed his head in acceptance.

“I will be there, to speak and to listen,” he said.

“Good.” The old woman nodded. “Now, I don't care how you do it, but get those reporters out of Little Galahd as fast as you can. They're more of a nuisance than evergrow weed.”

“Of course, Sinehär,” Nyx muttered, internally wincing. He'd had to turn off his phone after the ninth call from one reporter or other. He knew it wouldn't help any in the long run, but for now he could actually talk to someone without being interrupted every five minutes. Maybe he should invest into a new number. Though he had no idea how to do what the Elder had asked of him.

“The cünaniu will be held by the community fire at exactly 4pm. I trust you know the etiquette of an invited speaker?”

Nyx nodded again. All Clan Heads had to know; they were most likely the ones to be invited. Speak clearly and only when prompted. Any other time an invited speaker wanted to say something they had to take a step forward and wait until they were acknowledged. The surrounding crowd, if there was one, wasn't to be addressed ever. Since this was a formal event the proper titles had to be observed.

They drank the rest of their tea largely in silence, only interrupted by the spare bits of small talk Tethys and Istoria engaged in.

This was not going to be any kind of fun. At all.

Now he crept over the flat roof of an apartment complex in the middle of Little Galahd not too far from the courtyard the Galahkari had chosen as their speaking grounds, with little time remaining and on the run from those damned reporters.

Carefully he slunk across the roof, hidden by damp bed sheets that had been hung out to dry. He still didn't dare to stand up properly.

If he ever found out who had blabbed, he was going to do a blood eagle. Damn the consequences. The longer he thought about it, the more he was convinced that it must have been the lab technician who talked. He doubted that either King Regis, Shield Amicitia or Marshal Leonis would sabotage the situation like that. Nyx had known from the start that it was a bad idea to consent to a private audience. Well, this was what he got for not being able to say no.

At the reminder of that private office and that awful portrait he snarled at the bed sheets drying in the warm air and spit out in an impulsive show of disdain. Ozone burned in his nose and when his fingers brushed one of the sheets the spot started to sizzle.

He bit his tongue so hard he could taste blood. No, now was not the time to be upset about a portrait depicting the Conqueror King, as justified as it may be. It was just a portrait for ahtrihn sake. The man himself was long dead. It was a cold comfort.

He reached the other end of the roof and glanced down at the street five storeys below him. Not a reporter in sight. Just a few Galahkari making their way to and fro, easily recognizable by the patterns of their clothes.

Thank Enías for making me lose them.

It would have been so embarrassing, if those reporters had managed to follow him all the way here. Nyx had probably lost them somewhere around the the narrow streets surrounding the marketplace, where they had made such a ruckus that some pedestrians had looked close to causing bodily harm. Well, most Lucians had a talent for that, so it wasn't anything new. The point was he had finally lost them.

Furrowing his brow in consideration, he glanced down at the street again. It wasn't far towards the court yard, where the community fire was, now. Should he risk it?

Scoffing at himself – he wasn't scared of a few reporters, damn it – he made his way down, jumping from windowsill to windowsill as if they were the branches of a tree made out of concrete.

Somebody yelped in surprise and Nyx winked at a woman standing by the windowsill he was using as a temporary perch, a wide and playful grin on his face. He jumped the last two storeys down followed by a slew of obscene curses. People turned around to see what was going on, but as soon as they recognized him they nodded in greeting and went back to their own business.

Heh, he still got it.

His grin transformed into a satisfied one as he flounced off towards the community fire.

The spark in his bones rumbled like a giant satisfied cat.

After running all over Little Galahd – technically it was just the market place and a few streets, but there wasn't anybody present to refute his claim, so there – he was nearly late. There were more people present in the courtyard than he had expected. Then again, considering the topic Nyx could guess was to be discussed, it honestly wasn't too surprising.

Nyx saw quite a few friends and closer acquaintances in the mingling crowd, but didn't have the time for more than a nod in greeting. Luche, Axis, Pelna, Crowe and Libertus were part of the training exercise the Glaive was scheduled to do today, Tredd and Sonitus were there, however, along with Pelna's eldest niece Ker. Here and there he could see other members of the Glaive that were on leave. Then there were Ariadne and Archyll Utris, so close to the fire barrel, it was nearly inappropriate.

Nyx made a face and acted as if he hadn't seen them, a longing tug in his gut. He tried to shake it off. Both of them had made it quite clear when he had joined the Kingsglaive that he wasn't welcome with them any longer. Nyx hated how that argument had ended, but was determined to respect their wishes.

Straight backed and head held high, he stepped into the space the sinehäri had left for him. Right between Istoria Patientia and Eriq Aliquantus. The old willowy man stared at him with icy eyes. His remaining hair was carefully braided into a neat braid full of colourful beads, that reached his chest.

Nyx crossed his wrists next to his left hip in greeting deference. He didn't say a word, as it wasn't his place to speak first. The five sinehäri in the circle touched their chests, right over the heart, with the back of their hands in the acknowledgement. The other three members aside from Istoria and Eriq were Elenia Dala, Leonid Colophon and Demetri Arra. Out of them Demetri was the only one - aside from Istoria - who smiled at him.

All around them the crowd grew silent.

Istoria was the first to speak, as she was the oldest if the five.

“Welcome to the open fire. May the flames be witness to what is spoken and keep the knowledge until the ashes of the world are washed away.” She spoke the traditional greeting in the oldest tongue they remembered. Then she turned to him. “Be welcome as a guest in our midst, Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric, that you may speak and be heard.”

“May the flames be witness to my words and prove them to be true,” Nyx replied, the old words heavy on his tongue, his accent a heavy drawl.

“We have gathered here today,” Istoria continued in modern Hadnissa, “ to deliberate on the recent development concerning Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric and King Regis of the Lucis Caelum line.”

She used the Lucian word for 'king' since technically Hadnissa didn't have an equivalent word for the title. There were a few that came close, but like all titles in Galahd, they had to be earned and the Lucian king most certainly hadn't done that.

“Now tell us in detail what happened to make the crown interested in you, and why those Lucians are crawling all over the place,” Eriq commanded, tone harsher than necessary.

Istoria cast the man a stern glance. Nyx kept his face carefully neutral as all eyes trained on him.

He started his tale with what he could tell of his last mission without going against the King's orders. It was moments like these Nyx hated the careful balancing act he had to practice due to his debt to the man.

The sinehäri kept their silence until his tale ended, even if Eriq and Elenia looked like they dearly wanted to interrupt him more than once. The only thing holding them back was the fact that one wasn't to interrupt a speaking party, if one didn't want to be excluded. After Nyx had finished his recounting, having made it as detailed as he could manage, the silence hung heavily between them for a few heartbeats.

“This is an opportunity we cannot let go to waste.”

All eyes turned towards Leonid. The man was the youngest member of the cünaniu, having reached the appropriate age only three years ago. All other remaining members had been a part of it since before Galahd had fallen.

“What do you propose we do, Sinehär Leonid of the Colophon?” asked Elenia, her voice cold and sharp.

The lower right side of her face looked like the skin had melted and formed into into a misshapen mass. The mark travelled down her throat in sprinkles and vanished under one of the colourful scarves she always wore. Sometimes her right arm twitched without her permission. Those were souvenirs the Nifs had left her with during the initial attack. Since then she was against anything to do with Lucis or Niflheim.

The youngest of the five Elders returned her gaze evenly. “I propose we play into their expectations. Lucis doesn't recognize a country or ethnic group without them having a clear leader to negotiate with. I think we will all agree when I say that's not something we have. We could make Oirkar Ulric our representative, so to speak.”

“So he would be what? Our... king?” Eriq practically spat the Lucian word in front of his feet like it was a curse.

Nyx suppressed a flinch. His fingernails dug painfully into the palms of his hands. He swallowed down the words burning on his tongue and reminded himself not to speak. From where he stood he could see parts of the crowd. It was scarely silent for a crowd this big. He could make out worried faces, angry ones, neutral and confused ones. It was a pretty mixed bag. Ker had moved into the first row of the spectators and grinned at him when she saw him looking.

“I'm saying that if we were recognized as an autonomous people, we would have rights. Family members of dead Kingsglaives wouldn't lose their homes, we would have the right to open our own schools to educate our children in our ways, just to name a few. Our traditions exist because they saved our lives, now it's time we add to them so that they may continue to do so.”

Elenia stared at Leonid with distaste burning in her eyes. “I won't consent to changing our traditions because Lucis demands it!”

“Traditions have been altered or added to before. Lucians have been the catalyst of that for many times. As a people it is our most sacred duty to remember what others forget. It is a lapse in our duty that it took us so long to realize the true depths of Lucian ignorance.” Here Istoria nodded towards Nyx in reference to his tale about the private audience. “We cannot let ourselves be dragged down into the same pit of forgetfulness. For that we need to teach and to be able to teach, we need the Lucians' cooperation while we reside in their city.”

“You want to teach Lucians?” Elenia's scandalized cry caused a wave of silent unrest within the crowd.

“No,” Istoria said decidedly.

Her hard tone took Nyx aback. Eriq snorted and muttered something under his breath Nyx couldn't quite make out.

“You know how difficult it has been to take the children on their First Hunts, Sinehär Elenia of Clan Dala. It will only get even more so as time goes on. Something needs to happen,” Demetri intervened. Until now the man had been silent, listening carefully. “ Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric, please tell us your opinion on why exactly the Lucians are convinced of you being of... higher blood.”

Nyx didn't roll his eyes, but it was a near thing. Hadn't he already done that at the beginning? Nonetheless he he opened his mouth without complaint and told them again.

“It's my ability as a mage, Sinehäri. The Lucians are convinced that independent magic is only possible within two family lines on all of Eos. The Lucis Caelums of Lucis and the Fleurets of Tenebrae. Everybody else showing magic that hasn't been gifted by them, must therefore be either of their blood, or a line of higher blood blessed by their Astrals.”

All five Elders around him made various faces of distaste. Elenia's looked like a mask made out of wax due to her scar.

“What do you think they expect from you, Oirkar?” Demetri asked before anybody else could say anything. It was probably better that way.

Nyx had to pause for a second. A sense of anticipation, he didn't want to ponder, built in the air. He swallowed dryly and started slowly: “I... I think the King doesn't really know, himself. For him it appears to be mainly about family. Beyond that... This has gone into a direction that cannot be predicted in its entirety. If I had to guess, I would at least be a more specific target than a whole ethnic group.”

“I think we should work with that,” Leonid reiterated into the thoughtful silence.

“I won't accept a king!” Eriq bellowed again.

“We are talking in circles,” Istoria said in a brisk voice that brooked no argument. “The Oirkar has been put into Lucian focus. We cannot do anything about it - it has happened. What we can do, is use the situation to get what we want. Are we all in agreement about that?”

They all nodded, even if Eriq looked like he had swallowed old seaweed and Elenia like she would rather gut herself. Nyx looked at them, resigned about what he knew was the loss of his relative anonymity. He sighed soundlessly and stepped forward, waiting to be acknowledged. In for the meat, in for the kill.

Istoria looked at him, her expression one of careful consideration. She nodded.

“What about the position of makti-oir?”

Demetri made a sound like he had been punched in the gut. Leonid looked vaguely smug and Istoria had a satisfied tilt to her head. It was like that was what she had wanted to happen all along, thought Nyx.

Damn that woman.

The eyes of Elenia looked like they would fall out of her head and Eriq opened his mouth to say something – not polite, no doubt – before shutting it again with a clicking noise. A thoughtful expression made its way onto his face.

“Sinehär Gisdrauht, how many members of Clan Ulric have held that position?” he asked, tugging at his beaded braid. His eyes never left Nyx who shifted his weight, growing rather uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

The eldest in the circle smiled. “The first was Nikon of Clan Ulric, daughter of Adrastea of Clan Ulric. She became makti-oir in the conflict that drove off the poachers. After her was Oirkar Perses of Clan Ulric, who became makti-oir the day the black sails first clouded the sky. He was the first of three to hold the position during the War of the Black Ships.”

Nyx unwittingly stood a little bit straighter as the woman listed name after name. He could feel hundreds of eyes resting on him. Those were members of his Clan. His. For the first time in a long while he could truly appreciate it. His Clan. His history. All those stories that had been carefully preserved and told again and again and again.

Elenia's gaze was still full of that raging fury he had never seen her without, but now there was also a quiet respect. Hers was not the only one.

Demetri nodded thoughtfully after Istoria had ended her impromptu narration. “Does Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric fulfil the requirements?”

Nyx carefully continued to breathe evenly, though it took some effort. If this was his chance to make things right, to atone for his failures, then he would gladly dedicate his life and his death to it. His people deserved nothing less. Selena and his mother would have deserved nothing less. All the people he had failed.

It was Istoria who spoke again: “On his First Hunt Nyx, then of no name, was blessed by the Queen of the Jungle, Lady of Beasts, the Great Coeurl herself, and now he strides in her shadow. He fed four Clans during the last winter before the war came and led twelve hunting parties through it once it was there, the second to last group to leave Galahd was the one he helped protect and since coming here he has fought to regain our homes, never leaving anyone behind, living or dead.”

The subject of such praise could barely bring himself to listen. This wasn't something he wanted to hear. It wasn't him. Where were his failures? All the people he hadn't been able to save? Those that had starved during that horrible long winter, those the Nifs had killed while he had been right there and not being able to do anything. And so many more. Those that had drowned because they had fallen off the boats during their escape, those the daemons had gotten on their miserable track across the mainland. The hunger and the sickness. All the comrades he had lost while fighting for a nation that didn't want to appreciate their sacrifices.

Nyx blinked as he noticed that the old woman had stopped talking. What had he missed? Kohna, why had he spaced out?

Eriq huffed in irritation. “Do you accept the position as makti-oir?”

Steeling himself, Nyx gazed into the crowd. A tension covered the whole courtyard like a smothering blanket. The air was stifling and hot. Hadn't there been less people when he had last looked? He couldn't say for certain.

He tried to read their faces. Would these people accept him in this position? Would his fellow hunters follow him and trust in his decisions? A heaviness, he wasn't sure he could bear, settled around him. His eyes caught Tredd's. The redhead stood near the edge next to Sonitus, his face an unreadable mask. For barely a heartbeat they stared at each other and then an expression flitted across Tredd's face. It was gone so fast that Nyx couldn't say what it had been, but the other man raised his chin, having come to a decision, and nodded.

Nyx turned his attention back towards the five sinehäri who were waiting for his decision with varying expressions of patience.

“I accept,” he said loud and clear.

Within seconds the tension in the air evaporated. The crowd surged, waiting for the cünaniu to end so that they could celebrate. They had come one step closer towards leaving this city and going home. Everybody knew hit.

But it wasn't over.

“What shall we do about the Lucians?” Leonid asked, looking pleased and exhausted. “I have said it before, we need someone to press for our interests. With Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric we have somebody who can do it.”

Elenia looked ready to murder the man. “We will not collaborate with the Lucians! Not after everything they did.”

“We won't collaborate with the Lucians,” Leonid shot back. “Think of it as taking what we're due.”

Elenia huffed but didn't say anything else. Nyx was thankful for it. He had honestly enough of old people arguing. Not that he would ever say that out loud; he didn't want to die that badly.

Demetri sighed tiredly. Even now at age 84 he was nearly a head taller then Nyx. With that and the tattoos and scars he had collected over his life, he still cut a formidable figure. He spoke little outside of his duties, but his voice was like a booming bass, loud and imposing. “The Lucians should come to us first, if we do this. We must be prepared for it, but we cannot be the ones to ask for an audience with the Lucian King. It would press us into a weaker position than we already have.”

No one seemed overly happy at his last words. But they were true and everybody in the courtyard knew it.

“Are we all in agreement of this?” Istoria asked, looking at her peers.

One after the other nodded. Her gaze settled on Nyx who realized that now that he was makti-oir, his voice had true weight within this circle. He nodded also.

“Then we will leave it here.” She raised her voice so that it echoed loud and clear over the heads of the listening crowd. “Let it be known that after Oizys of Clan Pontos who fell as Niflheim covered our land in death and flames, we name Oirkar Nyx of Clan Ulric as makti-oir. He has been found capable of this responsibility and has accepted it with the fire bearing witness to his words.

We will enter negotiations with the Lucian crown to fight for our tradition and way of life, as we should have done from the beginning. Let this be a lesson for us to not place our pride over our needs. The Astrals couldn't make us bend. A human king won't manage what the false Gods couldn't do. We won't let him.

May the fires bear witness to our words, to what has been said and done today. In the name of the Wooden Throne that seats only Galahd itself, I close this cünaniu .”

For one eternal second the words seemed to fill every space in the courtyard and beyond. The wandering shadows deepened and a cool breeze filled the air, carrying the sound of rustling leaves and the crashing of the sea against Galahdian shores. A shiver of anticipation travelled down Nyx's spine.

Something was coming.

The fire cracked. Sparks flew high, dancing in the air and bringing the smell of home. It sounded like the distant roar of a coeurl.

“The hunts are on!”

The cry thundered through the air and broke the spell. The crowd roared, the sound deafening.

Nyx didn't move, too busy trying to come to grips with what had just happened. Then Ker was there, a huge grin on her face. The girl was barely old enough to remember what her home had been like. She hugged him. The force of it pressed the air out of his lungs and teased an airy laugh out of him.

Her face pressed into his shoulder and her body started to shake. She was crying. Worried, he slung his arms around her muscular form and asked: “What's wrong, buhgil?”

Ker shook her head, hiccuped, and looked up at him. Her cheeks were covered in tear tracks and a dusty red. She was still smiling, positively brimming with happiness. Nyx barely understood her over the roar of the celebrating crowd.

“Thank you, Nyx. Thank you.”

Chapter Text

The apartment was a battlefield of loose papers, open folders, half empty plates and cups of tea. Nyx sat on the floor in the middle of it all and inhaled his tea at an astonishing rate. Blue eyes stared sightlessly at the folder in his lap, a pen dangling between his fingers and an open notebook next to him. Its paper was stained with brownish rings where he had put his cup down and some of the tea had spilt over.

It was currently shortly after lunchtime and already Nyx felt tired enough to sleep for the rest of the day. He snorted into his cup and focused back onto the profile page of Axis Arra. There was nothing on it Nyx didn't already know or couldn't ask the man directly, but he had figured talking to every single Glaive would take up too much time, so he had asked Luche to get him the basic information of every Glaive currently active. As the Captain's adjunct it would be easier for him than anybody else.

The blond man had looked like he had been ordered to bath in behemoth shit - most likely because it wasn't exactly legal - but only two hours after Nyx had asked, Luche had come back, his expression still just as sour, with a stack of heavy folders in his arms. No one had any idea how he had managed to do this so fast, and no one dared to ask. The Lazarus Clan was scarily effective like that.

Nyx ignored aspects of Axis's profile like medical history, his place of residence or if he had any dependants, but concentrated on and added his preferred weapon – a crossbow – allied Clans – Altius and Patientia – Clans the Arras feuded with – none – and his hunting patron – Artemis – among other things. It was not the first time any of this information had been written down, but it was the first time it was all in one place and so comprehensive.

Nyx glanced at the stack of heavy folders balancing next to him and wondered what to do with them all, once he had finished his task of restructuring the units within the Kingsglaive into proper hunting groups.

This would be so much easier, if he didn't have to do this within the confines of the already existing structure. Or if he didn't have to do it in the first place. However things couldn't continue how they were now. Nyx's gaze wandered from the folders towards his own notes that were a mess of names, arrows and question-marks. Captain Drautos had once said he had done what he could within the parameters given, but now that he was actively looking, Nyx could tell just after a few hours that something was off.

Why would he put a Najad within the same Unit as a Pontos when it was known by everybody, that members of those Clans would sooner sabotage, if not murder, each other than work together? He could understand placing them within the same Troop, since those had been decided upon order of admission and not necessarily skill-set, but the same Unit? That was just asking for a disaster to happen.

A loud curse interrupted his train of thought. Nyx gaze shifted towards Pelna who was sitting at his tiny dining table, typing away at his laptop. He fished out what looked like a list from somewhere within the chaos on the table, and crossed something out.

“What's wrong?” Nyx asked and tried to loosen the tense muscles in his neck.

Pelna looked at him, the skin around his eyes tight and his mouth pressed into a thin line. “I've been looking into the current suppliers of the Glaive, like you asked me to. It's a right mess,” he said with a grimace and held up the paper. “I used the Moogle Network to cross-check the list Luche managed to get. There's one company – it's called WEAPON – that supposedly specializes in magic conductive weaponry and something about it is strange.”

“It must be more than strange for you to look like that,” Nyx pointed out.

His spine cracked uncomfortably as he stood up. Gingerly he picked his way towards the table, around a census of every Galahkar living in Insomnia, to-do lists and a colourful explosion of post-it notes. Pelna gave a rueful grin.

“WEAPON isn't the only weapons company on the list, but it's the one most of the Glaive's budget goes to, which is strange because they don't supply us with nearly enough weapons to warrant that amount.”

The laptop screen showed a chart full of numbers Nyx couldn't make heads nor tails off. They seemed to be sums of money ordered by company and what they provided. It was scarily detailed.

“And Luche gave you this list?”

Pelna shook his head. “Not exactly that one. He was able to give me a list of what exactly each company provided and how much they were paid in general, but no specifics. He said he couldn't get more because the secretary of the acquisition office came back from her coffee break before he could find the files. I've been looking up each company, looking for prizes and adding them up with the stuff we have in inventory. And before you ask: I got that information from Hephaistos. He still owed me one.”

Hephaistos Gohlann had lost a leg to an MT with a flamethrower during combat. Now he worked a desk-job in the Glaive that Drautos had gotten him as a favour. Mostly the man now managed their logistics.

Nyx hummed. That sounded like a lot of tedious busy work. “How big is the Kingsglaive's budget anyway?” He was a bit embarrassed that he hadn't thought to look that information up sooner, since it was kind of important to what he was doing. He just had never thought he would be in a position to need this information.

“That's the thing,” Pelna said with a frustrated shrug. “I can't find the correct numbers anywhere. They should be easy to find and open to the public – well, mostly – but they aren't. I can find the Yen they put into every other Division but the Kingsglaive. The Captain always said we didn't have enough money, but I can't verify that and with that big chunk of our money that gets pumped into WEAPON...” He shrugged again.

This was... concerning, and one more point on Nyx's ever growing list of things that needed to be done. He carded his hands through his hair and sighed. He needed a break.

“Can you work it out?” he asked.

Thoughtfully, Pelna chewed on his lower lip while his fingers drummed out a lively staccato on the edge of the table. “Depends. If I have enough time and Crowe can help me juggle the numbers, most likely. It might take a while though. For how long has this been going on? I mean, it must have been noticed by someone, right?”

“That's fine, take your time. That's what I want to know, too. Also, it seems prudent to know how much money you have and where it goes, don't you think?”

“That's basic household management,” Pelna replied, impressively unimpressed, and held out his own empty tea cup. “Now be a dear and make some fresh tea, while I sacrifice my precious free time for you.”

Nyx huffed an amused laugh and took the cup without further comment. It would do him good to do something else with his hands for a bit anyway.

A comfortable silence fell between the two. A slight breeze came through the open door of the apartment and rustled the papers with a quiet whisper. Nyx had given up on closing it with how many people had come to see him today already. It was kind of ridiculous. For members of Clans that were traditionally under Ulric protection, Nyx had always had an open door policy, but now it seemed to include every Galahkar within the city.

First, it had been Sinehär Gisdrauht Istoria shortly after daybreak with the census, then Luche, much to Nyx's surprise, and then Pelna had shown up before he had to go to work. After that it had been one person after another, most of them Clan Heads wanting to affirm their loyalty towards the new makti-oir. It was done with very little ceremony, but now he had a growing pile of beads carefully tucked away in his bedside table and no clue what to do with them.

It was something that the Clan Heads didn't have to do, but was generally expected anyway, so Nyx had put up with it. After a while he just hadn't bothered to close the door anymore. Why do it when he had to open it five minutes later again anyway?

He was rooting around his cupboards for one of his tea mixes with a bit more of a kick behind it, when Libertus came in.

“Hey, guys. You still have something to eat? I'm starving. Where do you want me to put these?”

Nyx looked up and stared at the files in his best friend's arms, in horror and disbelieve. “Where did you get those from? I can't see my own apartment floor under all this paper, and you bring even more?”

Like the asshole he was, Libertus just shrugged and dumped the files in Nyx' armchair, before he sniffed at a sandwich lying on a plate next to it. Nyx shared an exasperated glance with Crowe, who had come in behind him. Pelna glanced up for all of one second before he went back to his work, used to ignoring the antics of the three around him with years of practice.

“This looks like you lost a war,” Crowe commented with a smirk on her face.

“Oh, you're free to help,” Nyx grouched and pulled out a box of tea leaves with a triumphant “aha!”.

Crowe stepped into the apartment, careful to not disturb the chaos on the floor, and took the tea box out of Nyx's hand.

“Hey!” he exclaimed and made a grab for it.

Crowe held it out of his reach and turned her upper body away. She made a shooing motion towards the door with her free hand. “You step out and take a break, Nyx. If you don't get your allotted amount of fresh air, you'll crawl up the walls and drive us all crazy in the process.”

“Gee, thanks,” Nyx said and made a face.

He would never say it out loud, but it was true. Being cooped up for too long made him twitchy and grumpy, the open door not helping in the slightest. So he stepped outside without complaint and went up to the flat roof of the apartment complex. The air wasn't necessarily fresh, it smelled of exhaust fumes and home cooked meals, but there was a nice breeze caressing his face.

Clenching his hands into fists to keep them from trembling, he stared up to the underside of the bridge stretching over his head. His thoughts were a tumbling mess as he finally allowed himself to try to process what had happened over the last few days. There had been so much going on. And now he was the leader of all Galahkari hunters. Nothing to say about the magic he now possessed. He still felt like he didn't deserve those powers. There were so many other people who could do so much more with them. Crowe most of all. However he didn't regret having them, he realized as he watched a spark playfully dance over his knuckles. With this power he could keep old wrongs from repeating themselves. This time he would protect those most important to him, and everybody else as well.

Maybe I should train a bit more first, he thought as the playful spark turned into a tiny bolt of lighting that fizzled out a metre over his head as he lost control over it. That could have hit somebody.

He could most likely convince Crowe to spot for him again. Her ability to just understand magic was priceless. He should probably ask Axis, too. The man wasn't part of a mage unit, but he specialized in augmenting his close combat with magic.

Maybe he should also invest in some blades that could channel magic and lightning better than the two sets he had now. And the best weapon smiths he could think of were... Ariadne and Archyll. Nyx mouth twisted into a bitter grin. Of course it had to be those two. They were cousins of his from his mahir's side, twins, that had made it quite clear they didn't want to talk to him again, after their last big argument. It was something some people still talked about on occasion. But maybe, if he came to them in a professional capacity – as Head of the Ulric Clan and not a relative – he could talk to them? Or would they consider it him going against their wishes?

It was strange, before any of this had happened they had never talked to each other much when they had come from the next settlement over to visit his mother, and even in the short time between her and Selena's death and him joining the Glaive, they hadn't talked much. Too much had been going on back then. But now he missed them dearly. There was family right there, and he couldn't talk to them because they didn't want him to. The weight of that rested heavily in his chest.

“Ah, there you are, Nyx. Libertus said that Crowe practically threw you out of your own apartment.”

Nyx whirled around, a growl rumbling in his throat that morphed into a pleasant purr and a grin as he saw Luche standing near the stairs. He cursed himself for being so inattentive. Luche stepped up next to him; the air around him still carried a touch of caution.

“That's about right,” Nyx muttered and wondered if he would growl and hiss at everything and everybody who startled him. That would be inconvenient.

For a moment they both stood there, side by side, leaning against the railing and watching the people below. It was a hive of activity. There was a liveliness there, that had been lacking only the day before. It was good.

He groaned as his thoughts drifted towards the Lucians. What by ahtrii was he supposed to do?

“You need to present them with some concrete demands and a position you'll not budge from, come scourge or raging fire,” Luche said, a cynical twist to his mouth.

Had Nyx said that out loud?

“I want...” Nyx stopped to think about it. What did he want? “What I want is for every Galahkar to have a better life here, for us to not have to worry that they'll take our children away because we 'can't give them the appropriate care'. I want for us to be able to walk through these streets without shame, debt or guilt. I want our homes back, to hunt in the jungle and swim in the sea. I want to hit Aldercapt in the face and eat his heart.” I want my mother and sister back.

Next to him Luche snorted.

“What?”

“I don't know about eating Aldercapt's heart. It must be very much spoiled by now, if it was ever edible at all.”

“You're probably right,” Nyx conceded with a grin on his face. “I still want to rip it out of his chest and bury it in never melting snow.”

“Every Galahkar still living, will jump at the chance to help you with that.” Luche shifted his weight until his hip rested against the rail, facing Nyx. “You might be able to make everything else possible. How far along are you with reorganizing the hunting groups?”

“Maybe a third of the way through?” Nyx shrugged. “It's a mess and I keep to need to start over. The Captain said he formed the best units he could under the constraints given, but...”

“There's something off”, Luche finished for him.

“Yes! Everybody knows you don't put a Najad and a Pontos in the same hunting group. That group has the highest rotation count because those two keep trying to kill each other, and we can do nothing about it,” Nyx growled, eyes flashing.

Luche's gaze was guarded and calculating. He was clearly pondering something that had bothered him for some time now. The other Glaive had become strangely distant over the last few months. Nyx would admit that some part of him had worried.

“You should restructure the whole thing from the ground up, no matter what the Captain, the Marshal or any other higher-ups say”, Luche said at last, making Nyx do a double take in surprise.

“That's... wow. Just wow. You think I should do this regardless of the consequences? The one who always goes on about rules and regulations and heeding the chain of command. Who are you and what have you done with Luche?”

The blond man rolled his eyes. “You're makti-oir, it's your given right to do this. It's your duty to do this. And regardless of what some people might be whispering behind my back, I'm of the Lazarus' and my Clan is as much of Galahd as any other.”

Nyx couldn't hide his wince. He had heard those whispers himself, and he hated them. The Lazaruses were traditionally jewellers and also a Watcher Clan, a duty they shared with the Drautos Clan, with the distinction that the Lazaruses lived partly in Tenebrae and the Drautoses in Lucis. Because of that they had Tenebrani blood in their veins, which made them a little different from the other Clans and created spiteful whispers more often than not.

“Will you help me?” he found himself asking.

Luche twitched in surprise. He obviously hadn't been expecting that. “You want me to help? Why?”

“You know the rules,” Nyx shrugged. “Ours and those of the Lucians. You've got practice and experience with coordinating people and making them do what needs to be done. You know how to talk to the Lucians.”

“I know what you're trying to do, Nyx. You're not very subtle,” Luche said with raised eyebrows.

“Is it working?” Nyx wore a cheeky grin.

With a sigh, Luche shook his head. “Damn it, yes it is. Just because I know how I need to phrase things around Lucians so that they don't think me an 'uncultured barbarian', doesn't mean that they're listening to me. I can be your people wrangler, but the King and his ilk are your problem.”

Kohna. A man could hope.

“Thank you, Luche.”

“Hn, you're welcome.”

A companionable silence settled between them. Nyx was relieved. He had known that he wouldn't have to do this all by himself, but now he knew. Luche could help him wrangle the Lucians, while Libertus helped him wrangle the Clans, Pelna dug through the Glaive and Crowe helped him figure out the accounting. For the first time he felt like he could actually do this without failing horribly.

Luche searched through the pockets of his threadbare jeans – those looked very uncharacteristic on the normally very correct man – and pulled out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter. Nyx shook his head when he got offered the packet, and with a shrug Luche put a cigarette between his lips. Nyx stood upwind of Luche, but still he grimaced as the smell of burning tobacco reached his nose.

The blond man took a deep drag of the cigarette and blew out the smoke with a quiet sigh. “It's nice and all that we came to an understanding, but that's not why I was looking for you in the first place. Captain Drautos sent me since you seem to have fried your phone.”

“It was an accident.”

Luche's stare told Nyx what the other man thought of that. It really had been! Kind of. Anyway. Nyx threw the man next to him a petulant look.

“Great, and now I'll be late to whatever the Captain wants from me. Thanks a lot, you idiot. For the record: If he asks, I'm blaming you.”

Luche gave an undignified snort and waved his free hand as if to say like I care. And he cared, more than he should, Nyx knew. Instead of commenting however, he jumped on the railing with all the grace of a lazy cat and grinned.

“Shouldn't you change into something more appropriate before you go?” Luche asked, his lips twitching in amusement.

Nyx's grin grew wide enough to show the barest hint of teeth. “Then he shouldn't have asked for me during my sick leave,” he said and jumped off the railing.

Even from his position two storeys below on a windowsill, he could hear Luche's barked laugh. Who knew the man had a sense of humour.

Drautos stared at him like a man who knew he should have seen this happening from kilometres away. Nyx stood there, utterly unrepentant in an old pair of comfy leather trousers and a loose tunic with colourful patterns showing never ending knots. His bare feet flexed against the ground. He probably should have fetched his shoes before going. Too late now.

“Care to tell me what's going on?” Drautos barked, obviously not happy.

“I'm on sick-leave, Sir.”

The Captain glared. “Cut the crap, Ulric. What went down yesterday?”

Nyx blinked in surprise. “A cünaniu was called and I was invited to speak,” he said slowly and carefully, nearly like he was speaking to a young child. Why were they talking in Lucian again?

“A cünaniu,” he repeated flatly. His mouth had an unpleasant twist to it.

“Yes, Sir.”

Drautos stared at him. Nyx stared right back. They were in a strange stalemate, trying to out-stubborn each other. Too bad for the Captain that no one was as stubborn as an Ulric.

“What was the topic?” he asked at last.

“My last mission and my meeting with King Regis. No one was comfortable with those articles and the press lurking around.”

“And are you...”

“No. Sir,” Nyx interrupted the Captain rather forcefully.

An empathetic nod was his answer. Drautos shifted his weight in his chair, a thoughtful frown on his face. Until now this meeting had gone better than Nyx had expected, but he knew this wouldn't last.

“Sir,” he spoke up after a moment of silence. Better to get this done with. “I was voted makti-oir.”

Drautos froze. It was like someone had slammed the curtains shut. Suddenly the Captain's whole being seemed to be an empty canvas, lacking any expression that could be a clue to his inner musings. It was in all honesty very disconcerting to watch, and set Nyx teeth on edge.

“And what,” Drautos said, his voice nothing more than a tightly controlled whisper, “do you plan to do now, Oirkar?”

Nyx very carefully suppressed the urge to hiss at the man in front of him, but he couldn't quite help the snarl tugging at his lips, his magic sparking in aggravation.

“We're going to overhaul the Kingsglaive. If it stays like it is now, it'll collapse in on itself sooner rather then later. We cannot let members of feuding Clans on the same units. You can clearly see with Rani Unit what a bad idea that is. No other has such a high death count because two people will rather sabotage each other than kill the enemy. Now we finally have the leverage to do something about it.”

The with or without you was clearly heard.

“And you think you can just waltz into the Citadel and make the Lucian nobility listen to you because you got voted in as a 'barbarian warlord'? Because that is what they will think, Ulric, and they will try to stop you every chance they get. Do not forget that to them, we are nothing more than worthless refugees, living in their great city at their mercy.”

There was a hurt there, old and festering. It was an ugly thing and Nyx had never seen it in the Captain before. It completely took him aback. Not for the first time Nyx wondered what had happened to Drautos on his way from Galahd to here, but as always no answers were forthcoming.

“They will listen, if they want to keep us all here,” he snarled. When he realized which words had left his mouth, he shut it with a click, just as surprised as Drautos was.

“You would make every Galahkar still living, leave the safest place on Eos, because of – what? A temper tantrum because things are not going the way you want them to?”

Nyx's teeth ground painfully together, he was clenching his jaw so tightly. Drautos sighed.

“Be that as it may. I know I cannot stop you. Just know that I warned you.”

Nyx forced his jaw to unclench. The muscles protested rather forcefully. “Of course, Sir.”

“Good. Now go, Ulric, and don't let me see you again until your next mission briefing.”

He nodded and stalked out of the room, his field of vision warping in a way he was starting to get increasingly familiar with.

Chapter Text

The attack couldn't have happened at a more unfortunate time. Nyx had been back from his two week medical leave for a few days now and had been in the middle of planning the second set of training exercises for the newly restructured Kingsglaive with Libertus and Luche.

It was still a right mess. The members of the Kingsglaive took to the change with an enthusiasm tinged with relief that had surprised Nyx. The troops he had interacted with regularly, had been mostly stable, with the most extreme exception being the old Troop Rani.

Captain Drautos wasn't happy about any of this. He had stood at the edge of the training field at the first day of training, with a dark scowl on his face, and hadn't said a word as everybody made their best attempt at working together within their new groupings. When the first exercises had resulted in people screaming at each other, Nyx had thought he had seen a gleam of grim satisfaction in the Captain's eyes. But that couldn't have been correct. Right?

In the end, it had taken Libertus yelling at them to behave like professional hunters, to calm everybody down. His best friend and hunting-brother may have a temper and grouch about things he didn't like in above average volume more often than not, it took quite a bit, however, to actually get him to yell on the top of his lungs – and what powerful lungs they were. Everybody knew that.

At the end of the day, those training exercises could have gone worse and no one had been permanently maimed or killed. That could definitely be considered a victory in some cases. Nyx could understand the hiccups, he really could. All members of the Glaive had found ways to work around the problems of each Unit and Troop over the years. Even Troop Rani with its two feuding members. And now they had to get used to new people hunting at their sides.

It was Pelna who burst through the door of the tiny office Nyx had commandeered, since he, to his utter consternation, actually needed one now, his face a grim mask that grabbed the attention of all in attendance at once.

“Border Patrol just sent the message: Niflheim is on the move again. They say Glauca was sighted with them. The King wants us out there as soon as possible.”

For half a second no one said anything. Nyx jumped up from where he had sat down not a minute ago, nearly knocked a pile of papers off the desk, and cursed. Libertus's face looked caught halfway between a snarl and a sneer, while Luche's face could have been made out of stone.

Nyx took a deep breath, suddenly deathly calm. The smell of ozone started to creep through the air. “Luche, get the others moving and call as many as you can out of their vacation. With Glauca there, we need every hunter we can get. Pelna, make sure everybody gets what they need from the inventory and I don't care if some idiot says 'Crownsguard only'. Take it, I'll deal with it once we're back again. Libertus, round up the trucks and tell those damned drivers to be there on time or we'll drive ourselves. We can't let that son of a she-devil any further into Lucis. Also tell Sonitus to get in touch with the Border Patrol, I want to know exactly where the Niffs are. You all have an hour. I'll-”

“You'll get ready and calm down your magic, Nyx. If you fry the truck you're in because you can't control yourself, or worse, blow it up, you won't be getting anywhere,” Libertus said rather forcefully.

For a moment they stared at each other, both willing the other to back down with their gazes alone. But his hunting-brother was right. He himself may be rather calm, but his magic was a torrent beneath his skin.

“All right,” he conceded. “All right.”

Libertus looked at him a moment longer, to make sure he actually meant it, before he nodded and stormed out of the room. The others that had already left the moment they had received their orders.

An hour wasn't a lot of time to prepare, and they hadn't done any exercises for it – Nyx put them on his ever growing to-do list – but they really needed to hurry.

He stayed in the office a few minutes longer - minutes that felt like an eternity - until the animal-deep jungle-instinct raging beneath his skin, was reduced to a distant echo thrumming in his mind. But instead of going towards the locker room to get ready, he left the tiny room to get to the Captain's office.

Nyx had tried to stay out of the older man's hair for the last few days as much as possible. But now, makti-oir or not, the Kingsglaive needed their Captain.

In the hallways it was like somebody had poked a beehive. People were everywhere, trying to do whatever they were doing as fast as possible without actually running in the halls. A crowd was assembling around the Glaive's armoury, voices clamouring over each other in a bit to get what they wanted, and fast. Through a gab Nyx could see Tredd trying to keep order with a grim face, and continued on his way. People should know better than to question Tredd within the armoury. The Furias may be traditionally artisans, but if Tredd understood one thing best, it was weapons and explosives.

“Captain?” Nyx half asked, half yelled as he knocked on the man's door.

No answer came.

Nyx frowned. Should he open the door anyway? He could feel the gazes of the passing Glaives in his back and decided he could deal with the consequences, should the Captain be in his office. Settling his shoulders and chin in a stubbornly determined expression, he opened to door with one last unanswered knock.

“Captain, I'm coming in.”

The office was empty.

Nyx closed the door behind him to keep curious gazes out and started to search the room for a clue to where Captain Drautos could be. There were no new messages or notes pinned to the boards on the walls, no file on the desk that could tell him anything, and he didn't quite dare to actually rummage through the cabinets or the desk.

With a displeased frown Nyx's gaze wandered one last time around the relatively spacious room, before he whirled around and left. He had better things to do right now than to look for the Captain.

There was a crowd forming outside the headquarters. People stopped and gawked as the Glaive assembled outside in their new groups, while non-fighting members loaded the trucks with field packs, half of which Pelna had managed to wrestle from the Crownsguard's clutches somehow.

Nyx ignored the Insomnians as best as he could and tried to decide how to divide the Troops into Companies. He hadn't had the time to really do that until now, which was coming back to bite him in the ass. He hissed like a disgruntled cat, displeased with himself and those damned onlookers. They had ten minutes left before wheels up and still more Glaives arrived, those having been called in from their vacation. None of them looked happy. Everyone was on edge.

All in all, Nyx estimated that there were around 200 Glaives assembled, which was less than he liked and more than he had expected. Their numbers had been dwindling steadily for years now. They needed new recruits, but that was a problem for another time. Nothing he could do about it now.

He looked for Libertus. His hunting-brother had the loudest voice he knew and could probably make himself be heard over the noise the easiest. The man stood at the edge of the plaza where the noise wasn't as prevalent, and talked into a clunky military phone with a fierce scowl on his face. He hung up before Nyx could reach him.

He gave a lazy salute in greeting and hung the phone that could probably be used as a murder weapon, onto his belt.

“Bad news: only half the usual drivers are there. The other half is 'indisposed' because the call was too short notice,” he sneered.

Nyx suppressed the urge to growl. “Then we won't ask for their services anymore,” he said.

“I have nothing against that,” Libertus shrugged. “We could probably hire a few Galahkari that could use the job, as soon as Crowe figures out our budget. But we need to somehow arrive at the battle before the Niffs stand in front of Insomnia.”

“We can do that,” Nyx agreed. It was a good idea. “Could you do me a favour, big guy?”

At once Libertus eyed him suspiciously. Nyx just rolled his eyes at his best friend's behaviour. He wasn't that bad.

“Hey, it's nothing bad. I just need you to help me with organizing the Troops and getting everybody into the trucks. Oh, and ask for volunteers to drive them.”

Libertus still looked sceptical but nodded and followed Nyx back in front of the crowd.

For a moment Libertus took in the group in front of him, all in the individualized uniforms of the Kingsglaive, and took a deep breath.

“Okay people, listen up!” he yelled. Nyx was tempted to cover his left ear. “Into your Units and Troops! Don't fall asleep people! Troop leaders to the front!”

To Nyx's satisfaction, it didn't even take half a minute for the whole Kingsglaive to stand in front of him in orderly lines. There were eleven Troops in total, ranging from a total strength of ten to thirty-one people.

The two Troops specializing in stealth and hit-and-run tactics would be grouped into one Company, three Troops could be grouped under heavy hitters and assault, he supposed, and a further two fell under demolition. The last four were a bit trickier. One specialized in ranged fighting, one in magic, another was the supply squad and the last could be called a rearguard. In the end the mages were stuck with the ranged fighters.

Under the curious eyes of the growing Insomnian crowd and camera flashes, they piled into the trucks as to Libertus's yelled instructions, and departed with only a ten minute delay. The streets were empty of any traffic as they made their way towards the wall. Somebody must have told the City Watch that they were coming through. He sent a quiet blessing to the person who had thought of doing so. Probably either Pelna or Sonitus.

Nyx had absolutely forgotten about it.

Their long convoy passed through the gate and over the long bridge connecting Cavaugh with Leide without any interruption.

It was shortly after nightfall, when they neared the latest known position of the Niflheimr army. They were very close to the Taelpar Crag now. Until now Niflheim had not managed to permanently cross it and take Duscae. They had gotten close more than once, though, and it showed in the many natural stone and crystalline arches spanning the Crag, that had been fortified or destroyed in the fighting.

Secullam Pass was chosen as their base of operations. Within minutes near blinding floodlights were set up to keep the daemons away, a watch was set up and one of the newly formed stealth units, Unit Kresch under Sonitus, was sent out to stake out the enemy.

Waiting for a battle to begin had always been the worst for Nyx. It made him restless with pent up energy and broody. It reminded him too much of his time with the resistance on Galahd.

To keep himself from crawling up the rocky walls surrounding their camp, he hunted down Pelna, the newly baked leader of the Gebo Unit. It was a part of the Ulnen Troop which was responsible for their supplies. Right now they were responsible for keeping their floodlights running and distributing the field packs.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makti-Oir,” Pelna greeted when he saw Nyx coming, and crossed his wrists in a formal greeting.

Nyx stared at him and very pointedly rose a hand to his collar bone. Pelna actually rolled his eyes at that, but didn't comment on it. Instead he stepped up to his friend and said: “How can I help you, Nyx?”

“I know it's kind of late to ask, but how did you manage to convince the Crownsguard to part with their stuff? The last time the Captain tried, I heard it nearly ended with somebody dead.”

Pelna stared at Nyx with a raised eyebrow as if to say and this is why you keep me from working? “It's pretty simple. I kept to the tried and true method of 'better ask for forgiveness than permission'. Don't look at me like that, I learned that from you, you know? Damn idiot that you are. I bribed Hephaistos into helping, and he was the distraction while I and some of my new Unit mates got the stuff out.”

It took Nyx a few seconds to actually understand what Pelna had just said, but when he did, he couldn't help himself. He laughed. It was a roaring full belly laugh that made more than one head turn, but Nyx didn't care. This was just too good. Pelna cast him a sour look.

“What's so funny?” Libertus asked as he marched towards them, Crowe right next to him.

Nyx wheezed as he tried to get his laughter under control, only for it to start up again as he opened his mouth to explain.

“It would be so embarrassing, if you died of laughter and took us with you because you guided the Niffs towards our base,” Crowe said in that typical deadpan of hers, when she found something hilarious but refused to laugh herself for whatever reason.

“I- I'm sorry,” Nyx gasped, fighting to keep the laughter down. He pressed a hand over his mouth. His eyes started to tear up with the effort it took.

“Our dearest makti-oir seems to find it hilarious how I got us the supplies we desperately need,” Pelna grumbled.

He got a sage nod from Libertus and an amused huff from Crowe as an answer.

“Don't get me wrong, this is funny and all, but Luche is looking for you. He wants to go over the attack plan with the rest of the lead hunters. Which you should actually organise since it's your job now, Nyx,” Crowe said.

“Alright, alright. I'm going,” Nyx answered as soon as his breathing was steady enough and he didn't fear to burst into laughter again.

They attacked at daybreak. As soon as the sun was high enough in the sky to ward the daemons away. As far as they had been able to tell, this was the time the Niffs were most vulnerable since they couldn't depend on their growing mass of daemons. Until now, when it had come to open battle, the Captain had always insisted to wait for the Niffs to attack and defend from a stronger position.

Nyx had decided to do something different.

Units Kresch and Roh, who now belonged to the Tahrolin Troop, and were their stealth specialists, were to circle around the enemy force with a demolition Unit and attack the pens where they kept the beasts they used as an attack force. Hours ago, Luche had taken Roh Unit and had gone to join Sonitus to give him his orders. Simultaneously the heavy hitters would stage a full on frontal attack along with Senehrin Company, their mages and distance fighters, to give them cover fire.

As soon as Luche's voice came over the comms, reporting that they were in position, Nyx gave the order to march over the wide stone arch spanning Tealpar Crag. Not far behind it, on the other side, was a wall the Niffs had hastily erected. It surrounded their whole compound. It was barely more than a few slaps of concrete stacked onto each other.

A slight breeze ruffled Nyx's hair before the world grew still. Not even the distant calls of the birds could be heard. There was only the warmth of the early morning light, the sound of his own breathing, and the feeling of animal-deep jungle-instinct crackling just beneath his skin. A rumbling growl resonated through his chest as his field of vision widened and narrowed down at the same time. Only the wall and what lay behind it were important now. New colours joined the old and some grew muted as his eyes grew more sensitive to light.

Then the crudely erected wall exploded as a combination of pre-planted Galahdian seal traps and Lucian fire spells crashed into it.

Nyx stood close enough to feel the hot air lick across his skin. His lips twisted into a snarl that could have been a bloodthirsty smile. The sound of screeching metal and yelling voices reached him over the roaring fire and falling rubble.

All nervousness was gone. Anticipation curled in his gut, while sparks of lightning travelled up and down his arms.

As soon as the rubble had settled, Nyx bounded into the thick, oily smoke churning in the air. It blocked out the early morning light near entirely. Formless shapes tumbled through the thick smoke. All within the reach of his kukri fell in gurgling screams and the screech of metal on metal.

The smell of burning metal and rubber, oil and blood clogged his nose, but still he found his way to the other side of the burning hell. Nyx jumped onto the nearest MA Veles and toppled it with a volley of lightning. Nothing but a smoking husk of useless metal was left.

A roar echoed between the walls of this area in the base, as he wedged his blades free of the machine he had driven them into. It made the air quiver and the hairs on his neck raise in anticipation. It took him a moment to realize that it was him who made that sound. A challenge and announcement of an assured victory at the same time. The MT and MA units attempting to form a defensive line froze for but a moment.

Nyx clamped his mouth shut behind his face guard and shook his head. He needed to keep a clear mind. A shot cracked through the air, missing Nyx, who was still crouching on top of the smoking MA Veles, by a hair. Only years of training suppressed his initial instinct to flinch. Instead he threw one kukri into he direction the shot had come from.

The world around him dissolved into a nauseating display of shards of Lucian magic. Then he was on top of an MT. His chest slammed into its front. He groaned as the air was knocked out of him. Even through his clothes and armour he could feel the icy cold the MT emitted. The thing couldn't react fast enough and fell lifeless to the floor, as Nyx rammed a blade into one glowing red eye.

He now stood on a metal catwalk spanning the Niflheimr compound overhead. His new vantage point let him see the Glaives, who were now pouring through the opening that had been blown into the wall. A large part of the magitek had blown up along with it. Their fault for storing their shit along the outer wall. Nyx snorted and watched for a moment as the Glaive practically descended upon everything that was still able to move.

Satisfied, he turned away and looked where a series of explosions shook the air, along with the resounding roars and snarls of furious behemoths and sabertusks. He couldn't really see anything that was going on over the walls between him and the other units, but he trusted in their ability to get the job done.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw movement. It was a pair of MT, both of them snipers, aiming at the Glaives below. They hadn't seen him yet. Within seconds he was upon them, tackling the first as it aimed a shot and drove a kukri into the knee of the second, which toppled over, off the catwalk and into the fray below. Snarling and eyes blazing, he slammed his now empty hand against the MT's face and sent lightning through it, until its mask was nothing more than a warped mass of metal and its limbs stopped twitching uncontrollably.

Again he looked towards the closest inner wall which prevented them from getting further into the strangely improvised base. He had an idea. But as he reached up to activate the communication device, he ripped it off his ear with a foul curse as it fried with a painful pop-spark.

Shit. So much for that, he thought with a twist of his lips. I really should have practised more.

Nyx warped down towards the kukri still lodged into the now dead MT's leg, and grabbed the nearest Glaive by the shoulder. It was Axis.

“I need you to relay some orders for me!” he yelled over the cacophony of screeching metal, gun shots, the dying roar of a furious behemoth and the sounds of discharging magic, as people cried and fought and died.

Thankfully Axis didn't bother to ask what had happened to his device and just raised his hand.

“Attention, all Glaives. I'm about to relay orders of the Makti-Oir in his stead.”

“The most talented warpers are to gather near the wall leading further into the base. We need to get past the gate to prevent the Niffs from organizing a counter attack, so we'll warp over the wall and open it from the inside. Luche is to do the same on his end as soon as those damn behemoths are dead. Oresch Unit is to secure the breached wall as soon as we're finished here.”

Nyx took a deep breath. His magic was pressing against his mind, urging him to hunt, to kill and feast on his prey. Another breath. Not now. Pack came first. Their safety was paramount, and to keep them safe he needed to be able to think.

Dutifully, Axis repeated every word.

With a thankful nod Nyx turned away and made his way towards the targeted wall. It wasn't very high, five metres at most, which was below average for a Niff base, but like in all bases, this one had an opening which was blocked by a series of red lasers that could melt flesh from bones, if someone was stupid enough to touch it.

Axis followed him. The man may specialize in magic based close combat, but his warping skills were above average. Not far from him, Nyx could see Libertus decapitate a MT with a kukri that looked more like a traditional Ostium battle axe than anything else.

Three others met them by the wall. Nyx grinned. Five. Five people for this was a good omen.

“Axis, you're to concentrate on shutting down those lasers, the rest of us will cover your ass. On my mark, we warp. Ready- go!”

In unison they threw their blades. Lucian magic burned like acid on Nyx's tongue. He appeared above the wall for a second before he warped down on the other side, the others following him in a protective formation around Axis, in which Nyx was taking point.

His feet barely touched the ground before he was swarmed by MT. They were those guys with the heavy serrated swords. Nyx cursed and dove out of the way. A sword whizzed past where his head had been not a second ago. Nyx managed to kick the thing in the hip as he evaded another horizontal swing of the sword. The kick caused the upper body of the MT to rotate just enough that it buried its blade into the machine next to it, caving in its breastplate with a high pitched metallic shriek and a sickening crunch.

Before his target could wedge its blade free, he severed the sword arm at the elbow and drove the other blade into its neck. His weight caused it to fall backwards and take another two MT with it. He made short work of them.

“I've got it!” Axis cried.

With a hiss the lasers deactivated.

Suddenly the air was filled with the electric whirr of MA units activating. There were eight of them. Kohna.

With a snarl Nyx hurled himself over the last two MT in front of him, twisting the right one's neck and clipping the other in the shoulder. He knew his blades couldn't do much against the MA units, so he sheathed one and used his now free hand to fry the nearest one with a powerful bolt of lightning.

Not far from him Axis was doing something similar, attacking a machine's weak spots with calculated shots of lightning. They needed more mages here. Again Nyx cursed himself for frying his comm. He couldn't distract the other four with him now, so he had no other choice but to retreat.

And nearly run into another Glaive right as he stepped through the gate. Blinking sweat from his eyes, he recognized Libertus. His facecloth had slipped off and revealed a bloody nose.

“Libs! I need you to comm Lesan Unit! Our blades won't do anything against those MA units!”

Without further ado, the man did just that. His voice was drowned out as something further into the base crumbled with a deafening blast. The ground shook.

It was only due to the fact that Nyx stood so close to the wall, that he didn't fall. Libertus didn't fare as well. He fell heavily onto his side and had to quickly roll away as a magitek spear buried itself into the ground where he had just lain. Nyx killed the thing with another blast of lightning.

“Come on, big guy. No time for a nap,” he said as he helped his hunting-brother to stand back up.

The battle continued in that vein, until they met Luche's Troop in the heart of the base. It was here the officers were housed as well as logistics and communication. Or there should have been.

Instead there was nothing here but a large empty space.

Something was very, very wrong. It was too much like their last battle, which had turned out to be a trap.

He could see the same thought echoed back at him from Luche's face. The man had discarded his hood and facecloth sometime during the fight. His normally slicked back blond hair hung into his forehead and was covered in soot and ash. Other than a few scrapes and a nasty bruise forming over his cheek bone, he seemed to be fine.

The sun beat down on them, signalling the nearing late morning. The air was hot and sticky, and stank of ozone, molten metal and rubber. It left an oily film at the back of Nyx's throat with each breath he took, and made him wish he hadn't already used up all of his meagre water rations.

His muscles ached from the continued fighting, and he could feel a stasis nearing. He had simply used up too much of his magic. He couldn't bring himself to regret it, however, as it had saved more than one life.

“Keep your eyes peeled,” he ordered. “This stinks of a trap.”

Next to him Libertus shifted his weight, anxious. “I've got a bad feeling about this,” he muttered just loud enough for Nyx to hear.

Suddenly Luche raised a hand. The growing mutterings between the Glaives stopped at once. He activated his comm, clearly listening to something. The longer he did so, the paler his already fair complexion grew. A raw look of fear flittered through his eyes. It made Nyx' stomach plummet in dread. Luche looked him in the eye and suddenly Nyx knew.

Glauca.

Ruthlessly, Nyx shoved down the urge to order a full retreat. It had never been stated directly during the planning of this attack, but they would take this chance to kill the monster in the armour, one of the main reasons they had had to flee Galahd seven years ago.

With a resolute nod towards Luche, Nyx opened his mouth to issue new orders, but was interrupted by the sudden cry of “Dropships incoming!”.

“So this really is a trap,” someone behind him mumbled, despair lining the voice.

Nyx gritted his teeth. He knew the sensible thing to do was to order a retreat. At once. Before the trap napped shut.

“Libs, contact Crowe.”

“What? Nyx, we need to fucking go, right now!” his best friend hissed into his ear.

“No!” Nyx half yelled, half growled.

He refused. He refused to let Glauca slip through his fingers again. That man had collapsed the tunnels he, his sister and his mahir had been in, killing the last of his immediate family. He bared his teeth in a snarl.

All eyes were on him.

The high pitched whine of the air ships' engine ground against his sensitive ears.

“Contact Crowe,” he repeated, his voice a harsh rasp. “Ask her if she and her Unit managed to master that storm field spell they have been practising.”

Realization crossed Libertus' face like a ray of sunlight in a dark, cloudy sky. The tense atmosphere eased the tiniest bit.

“This plan is madness,” Luche growled as he came closer.

“I won't let Glauca slip through my fingers this time, if I don't have to, Luche,” Nyx hissed back.

The blond man stared at him with hard eyes. Exhaustion was edged into his face, a testament to the overall state of the Glaives present. Damn it, he shouldn't have let all of their main attack force fight from the beginning. They had fought for hours now, without much of a break, safe for a few moments they had been able to steal here and there.

MTs didn't grow tired. Humans did.

“She says yes,” Libertus interrupted before Luche could respond.

“Good. Tell her to blast as many ships out of the sky as she can. Units Arl and Sevah, trap this place to Pitioss and back. Those tin cans aren't to take a single step without something going off. The rest of you, regain as much strength as you can before one of the ships make it through. Share any elixirs you might still have left over. I'll go after Glauca.”

“Have the ohtahi triantafe finally cooked your brain? This is madness, Nyx. No one has gone up against that man in a direct confrontation and lived,” Libertus practically yelled.

“Libertus is right. They say not even the Royal House dared to do it, back when Regis still deigned to leave Insomnia,” Luche cut in.

“I won't go alone,” Nyx said.

“Oh, and who exactly will help you? Our strongest fighters will be here because of your hair brained scheme,” his hunting-brother growled.

“Oresch Unit,” Nyx answered before he could stop to think about what he was doing. “They are by the breached wall. Luche, where is Glauca now?”

Luche was clearly unwilling to answer, but after a few seconds he sighed. “Fine, you win. The Fathers must have blessed you, for your stupid ideas to work so often. He was seen outside the base, close to the Crag and to the north. Don't lose, Nyx. If you do, the whole Glaive is done for.”

Nyx nodded, eyes flashing in a silent promise, and ran out of the base as fast as he could. The sky darkened rapidly with roiling clouds. Lightning flashed.

Oresch Unit had not been idle during the fighting. Nyx' experienced eye could see the signs of traps half hidden in the rubble. Discreet lines were drawn into the dust and dirt, and he wondered who had sacrificed their water to make these. Most of them were old Galahdian scourge wardings that had been modified to work against Niflheimr magitek. Their presence read dangerously close to that of a daemon.

Their leader was a petite woman with shoulder length dark brown hair that, at the right side of her head, was braided close to her scalp in a series of small braids forming a wave pattern. Her name was Ladone Najad, Tethys's aunt, and was approaching her fiftieth year. She had somehow mastered the art of startling even a behemoth with her presence alone, if she so desired. Or she could make herself be completely overlooked.

That was exactly what he needed in this situation. Should he not be able to do it, she could use her talent to catch Glauca unawares and kill him.

Probably.

Hopefully.

Ladone listened to his plan with the gravitas of a person who had seen it all. She didn't say a word until he had ended and looked at her expectantly. One of her thin eyebrows rose the tiniest bit, as she thoughtfully chewed on one of those fireleaves she carried around everywhere.

“You're worse than your thuir ever was,” she drawled and spit a reddish blob onto the ground. “My ancestors and the serpents in the water help me, I'll do it. But I want my makuwid to stay here, Makti-Oir. I won't let this wall be undefended should something happen, and if I've learned one thing with those zehstiris, it's that there's always something going on with them. I'll follow you, to death, if need be, but be aware that, if I get the chance, I'll take it. This isn't your kill alone.”

Her eyes were piercing and hard as flintstone as she looked at him. He nodded respectfully. Ladone Najad wasn't somebody he wanted mad at him. Ever.

“Of course, namakar,” he answered.

“Good. Then we shouldn't waste any more time. Iase, you're in charge until I get back,” she barked.

A woman in her late thirties and hair cut so short it was nothing more than fuzz on her head, gave a salute. Ladone nodded and turned her attention back towards Nyx.

“Before I forget, here.” She threw a flask at him. It contained a yellowish liquid flecked with blue. “My son-in-law made this. It's better than the dishwater the Lucians try to sell us as ether. Take it. You look like shit.”

Nyx's only answer was a tired glare, but he emptied the small flask without another word. It tasted kind of like he imagined a swamp to taste like. The thick liquid travelled down into his stomach, leaving a warm and revitalizing trail in its wake. At the very least it worked gentler than the punch in the gut that was a Lucian ether.

“Well?” she said, her head cocked in a way that clearly communicated they should go now.

Without another word Nyx started walking north. They stepped into the shadows of the trees growing close to the edge of Tealpar Crag, and from one moment to the next Ladone seemed to vanish into thin air. Nyx breathed an exasperated huff that just covered how anxious he really was.

Around him nature was unnaturally still. The animals had probably all fled when the fighting had begun this morning. By now the storm clouds swallowed nearly all of the daylight and lightning shrieked in the sky as it hit a dropship. The combined magic of nine mages weaving the field spell, was a growing weight prickling against his senses. Wind howled through the trees and across naked rock. It reminded him uncomfortably of the first hints of a Galahdian autumn storm.

He snarled to chase away the dread pooling in his gut, making his hands slippery with sweat and his senses going haywire at the sensation of being watched. Which he was. By Ladone. An alley, he reminded himself firmly, and stepped out of the thinning trees and into the open. The ground was bare rock with a few stubborn bushels of grass growing here and there, and behind him the enemy base loomed, smoking and wreathed in lightning.

Suddenly, there he was.

General Glauca.

He emerged from the shadows of an erratic boulder like he was a daemon himself.

Each step the mountain of a man took sounded with a dull thud over the lighting roaring in the sky, his very presence filled the air with dread. Nyx crouched down, muscles suddenly too tense, as his instincts screamed at him to run. He bared his teeth in a warning snarl.

“Your attack on the base was surprisingly effective, Glaive. You have my compliments,” Glauca snarled in a warped voice that ground in Nyx's ears and made the fine hairs on his neck stand on end. The decidedly mocking tone didn't make it any better. “But now you are exactly where I want you to be.”

Nyx crouched even lower, nearly on all fours now. The handles of his kukri dug into his palms and he readjusted his grip.

A bone-grinding laugh travelled through the air and suddenly Nyx realized that this... person in front of him couldn't be human. It radiated an energy uncomfortably close to a powerful daemon, and through the crevices and seams of the armour shone a dark light that betrayed its true nature. That of absolute malice for malices sake.

Unbidden, an old adage of protection and warding tumbled from his lips.

Another unholy laugh.

“You think this will help you, little Glaive? Words for beings that are nothing more than hot air themselves? Let me tell you one thing: there are no Gods. There are only those strong enough to lord their power over those too weak to do anything about it.”

“I'm not interested in what you have to say, zehstir,” Nyx hissed.

His field of vision widened, and he could now hear the near silent whirr Glauca's armour emitted as he dragged the tip of his huge sword in an arch across the dirt in a mock salute.

“Ah, how long has it been since somebody called me that?” Glauca drawled each word, rolling them around his tongue as if they were a fine wine. “That name brings back memories.”

With a roar of sudden fury, Nyx threw the kukri in his right hand and pounced.

The warp was quick and instinctive. For a split second, he saw nothing but magical particles glowing a near blinding blue. His fingers closed around the grip of his kukri without hesitation as he twisted in the air to strike his prey where his neck met the shoulder.

An ice cold hand clamped around his wrist in an iron grip and tossed him away. Nyx rolled across the dirt, using the momentum to twist into a crouching position again. His breath came in quick bursts and his lungs burned. Damn it. He was too tired for this fight. It had made him a second too slow.

“How pathetic. I expected more of a challenge from an esteemed warrior like you,” mocked the thing masquerading as human.

Thundering steps drew slowly nearer, but this time Nyx wouldn't let himself be goaded into attacking too early.

He stayed still.

Waited.

Magic, free and wild and powerful like the coeurls of his home, thrummed beneath his skin, giving his tiring muscles the opportunity to react fast enough.

Glauca's blade rose and Nyx darted beneath his arm and behind him. He jumped onto the General's back as the man took a jerky step forward, his blade cutting nothing but air where he had expected Nyx's head to be.

This tiny mistake gave Nyx enough time to find a grip on the armour. He slammed one of his kukri into the left shoulder guard. Lightning shrieked, bright and deafening. It travelled from his hand into the blade and then into the magitek armour.

Glauca roared. More in fury than in pain, but it was still loud enough to make Nyx's ears ring and his vision blur. The inhuman sound sent goosebumps up and down his spine.

The armour started to glow as too much energy travelled through it, and began to melt away. With a triumphant growl, Nyx channeled even more lightning. Slowly, oh so slowly, he could feel the armour give away. But it wasn't fast enough.

His prey started to struggle, trying to get him off.

In response Nyx slung one arm around the helmet and watched as it started to light up under the assault of his lightning magic. With another roar of fury his prey stumbled backwards. One step. Then another. Farther and farther until Nyx's back hit the erratic boulder. Hard.

Dark spots danced across his vision and the air was pressed out of his lungs. His grip slacked. The lightning stopped as his concentration broke.

Something hit him hard in the face. He could taste blood on his tongue. Blinding pain exploded behind his eyes as the back of his head collided with the boulder at his back. Again he was thrown through the air. Only this time he landed painfully on his side.

He lay there as he struggled to pull air back into his lungs. Only luck had allowed him to not lose his grip on both kukri. Shit, he hoped he hadn't broken any ribs.

Harsh laboured breaths echoed mechanically through the magically charged air. It stank nauseatingly of ozone, hot metal and something putrid that made Nyx retch.

“Do you... really think that... something like this... will kill me, Glaive?”

I hoped it would, Nyx wanted to say but couldn't, too busy with just breathing and dragging himself up onto his feet again. He couldn't allow himself to stay down. To stay down was to die. And he couldn't die now when things were finally changing.

At last he managed to clear his swimming vision enough to be able to focus on Glauca again. The monster in human skin still stood by the bolder. He did not quite lean on it, but it was clear that the melted armour on his shoulder was giving him trouble. The destroyed parts on his helmet were already regenerating, giving Nyx only the most fleeting of glances at a patch of pale skin at the temple.

He cursed quietly inside. He had nearly had him.

His limbs trembled as he forced himself to stand upright. Stasis was looming dangerously close. He had put nearly all of his newly regained magical strength into that attack.

Movement on top of the boulder caught his eye. Barely a moment later Glauca howled. Still eerie and hair raising and mechanical. But this time in pain as a long and thin kukri found the weakest spot of his destroyed shoulder guard.

Ladone twisted the blade with a thundering war cry before ripping it out again. She was gone again within the blink of an eye. As if she had never been there in the first place.

A sword slammed into the boulder and nearly cut it in half.

“I will make sure there is nothing left of both of you to bury once I'm finished with you,” Glauca hissed through clenched teeth.

Nyx barked a laugh. An idea started to take form in his mind. It was madness, but it could work. He hoped Ladone would catch onto it. Otherwise he was pretty much dead.

“For that you need to catch me first,” he rasped with sharp grin full of teeth, and retreated back the way he had come between the trees.

As he had hoped Glauca followed him, each step a tiny earthquake.

Wood splintered as his huge blade hit the trees Nyx duck behind, just dancing behind its reach like a cat playing keep-away.

A gust of wind that shouldn't have been. Metal rang against metal as Ladone struck again and vanished just as quickly as she had before. As Glauca made to follow her, Nyx charged in a half hearted attack that missed its mark by an embarrassingly huge margin, to keep the man's attention focused on him.

Further and further Nyx lured Glauca between the trees. Closer and closer to the edge of the Crag. To an arch close to the one the Glaive had used to cross it, but still far enough away from the others. Hopefully.

Nyx's movements started to get sluggish. The burning in his lungs had exceeded uncomfortable and passed into painful a while ago. Each new breath he took was a struggle between his need for oxygen, to just keep moving a little further – nearly there, nearly there nearlytherenearlythere – and the instinctive need to avoid the pain it caused to suck in each new gulp of air.

His concentration had shifted from avoiding the sword chasing him, to just keep moving. He knew, if he stopped, it would be over.

Suddenly the trees were gone and the Crag gaped at his back, beckoning the unwary to a horrifying death. A death Glauca had a scheduled meeting with, if Nyx had anything to say about it.

Oh so carefully he started to inch his way across one of the stone arches, concentrating only on Glauca and what his prey was doing. His steps had grown uneven and his left arm hung uselessly by his side. There were obvious chinks in his armour now. Nyx grinned a bloody grin. Ladone had gotten the bastard good.

Voices sounded from his left and behind him, but he ignored them in favour of Glauca. They were so close. So close to killing the second nightmare of Galahd.

Suddenly the man stopped right at the edgy of the arch. Nyx tensed.

“Do you think this cheap trick will work on me?”

Too late Nyx realized what Glauca meant. He flung himself forward in a futile attempt to stop it, but he knew he wouldn't be fast enough. Exhaustion ate away at him, both magical and physical.

A dark shadow slammed into Glauca's back with a defiant cry as the sword was driven into the arch, crumbling it with a nauseating wave of something that was neither magic nor scourge.

Nyx stumbled. One step, then another.

Then the ground beneath him fell away.

Chapter Text

Nyx!

The cry, high and desperate, washed over him like a wave crashing against a cliff side during a spring storm. The sky fell away from him. Had that been Crowe? He couldn't be sure and had no time to contemplate it. He gritted his teeth so tight the muscles in his jaw twitched, to keep his voice from joining the wind howling around him.

It tugged insistently at his hair, his clothes, his skin like it was trying to keep him from falling. Falling deeper and deeper into the shadows of the Crag. It wasn't trying hard enough.

Nyx was so tired. His muscles were nothing but old rubber and each thought had to be grasped tightly or it would vanish in the murky molasses of his exhausted mind. Instinctively he tried to control his fall, years of flinging himself off cliff sides and warp training kicked in, making him spread his limbs out in a bit to stabilize his flailing body and slow him down.

Sharp rock and crystal rushed past him, often times nearly close enough to clip his body with their uncaring edges. It was so tempting to try and dig one of his kukri into the wall to try and break his fall. He knew it wouldn't work. Sooner his blade would be damaged irreparably and he would die.

He had only one chance and he intended to make it count. Nyx dug as deep as he could into the place where his magicks rested. The animal-deep jungle-instinct and the feeling of sharp glass-intruder-foreign. Both were nearly depleted, the King's magic less so but it still wasn't enough to scrounge together a warp-jump. In a near panic he also reached for his own magic. Only a few precious sparks were left. Together they were enough. They had to be. Time was getting short.

Falling by a stone arch that nearly beheaded him, Nyx could see what he assumed to be the ground now. It was dangerously close. This had to work, otherwise he was dead. With all his remaining strength he threw the kukri in his right hand and followed.

It didn't feel like any other warp-jump he had ever done. This didn't feel like hurling himself head first through a door at full tilt with shadows grappling at him. There was no presence pressing down and stealing the breath from his lungs, while trying to drown him in something sulfuric and disgusting. No. This time it was like a leap over a vast chasm. It stretched him thin and, for but a moment, it was like every receptor in his brain was firing at once. There was a loud crackling bang, as if lightning struck the earth, and then he was rolling over the rocky ground.

Blue eyes blinked open and stared at the sky above them, uncomprehending of what they were seeing. Sky wasn't exactly the right word for it. It was dark, too dark for the sun to still be shining and that should make Nyx very nervous, but right now he was too exhausted to care.

Instead he lay on the hard rocky ground, limbs arranged awkwardly around him and just... breathed. Far, far up, a thin band of tiny pinpricks of light were scattered in the dark, their light reflecting on large arches of crystal the likes of which he had never seen before. It all carried an otherworldly beauty that was easier to concentrate on than the situation he was in.

He remembered the attack on the Niff base that had been a strangely ramshackle construction and entirely untypical.

Glauca. Nyx remembered him. His fight, Ladone, the fall.

The fall.

He had fallen down Taelpar Crag.

The thought was enough to make him move. Or try to, at last. The moment he tried to roll onto his side the whole world lurched, and despite the darkness around him restricting his ability to see, he felt like everything was spinning. If he hadn't been lying down already, he would be now. Maybe the darkness made it even worse. He didn't know.

Nyx groaned. His mouth was as dry as a summer's day in Galahd and his tongue lay heavy and fuzzy against his gums. He needed something to drink. Badly.

It took a while for the world to stop feeling like it was hanging on only one hinge and spinning and spinning and spinning out of control. Nyx swallowed down the bile rising in his throat, taking several steadying breaths. Slowly, oh so slowly he pulled his arms closer towards him and proceeded to push himself up.

A breath hissed through gritted teeth when he was finally sitting up. His muscled quaked in exhaustion and everything was sore. Especially his back and left side.

A cry echoed through the Crag, starving and aggressive and animalistic. It didn't sound like it was very close, but still it made dread crawl up Nyx's spine with icy fingers. He couldn't stay here, he needed to move, he needed to get out of here and find his people. He needed... Another cry sounded. Had it gotten closer? Nyx wasn't sure, his brain still too busy with sorting through what the fuck had actually happened. He needed a safe place to spend the rest of the night.

Easier said than done.

The first time he tried to get his feet underneath him, it ended with him nearly face planting from the sudden bout of vertigo. Magical exhaustion was a bitch. It turned your brain to mush, slowed your reaction time to basically nothing, and made you simultaneously feel like you had the worst hangover ever combined with not having slept for a week.

His hands brushed something cool and the sound of metal scraping against stone made him perk up. His fingers couldn't get a firm grip on the kukri, but they still made him feel so much safer, even if he probably wouldn't be able to hit a garula standing still in his condition.

The second try was better. Nyx stood there, swaying like a strong wind could blow him over, but he was standing. Finally he squinted into the night, trying to ascertain his surroundings without accessing the enhanced senses his magic could grant him. It was startling how instinctual it had become for him over the last week, which was both good and bad. Right now it was bad, since trying to use magic while in stasis or a hairbreadth away from it, was something even he wasn't stupid enough to try.

It wasn't as dark as he had first thought it was. The strange crystals weren't exactly luminescent but they reflected the starlight far better than they should have been able to. Not two metres away from him was the wall rising straight up like a shadowy giant. In his condition he would never be able to climb it. He seemed to be on a small plateau surrounded by stone pillars, which acted like natural stairs leading to his position. The air was cold despite it being summer, and smelled indescribably of history, age and magic. It made his skin itch and the fine hairs on his arms rise.

Which direction should he go? It might be a very stupid idea to move in the dark, but he couldn't stay wherever he was either, unprotected and unable to defend himself. The answer provided itself as he turned around, careful to not trigger another bout of vertigo, and saw the telltale smoky band of a haven rise up not too far from him.

Nyx blinked and stared at it dumbly. What was a haven doing here? Why was there a haven here? Despite the questions wading through his mind, he started to climb down from his spot. Since he didn't carry the materials of erecting a barrier against daemons in the way of his people, the haven was his best bet. There had never been an Oracle to Galahd to bless the earth with their brand of protection spells, so they had had to come up with their own methods. He would never take a step out of Insomnia without the means to erect a safe place again. He swore it by all the spirits of Galahd.

Sending a silent prayer towards Enías and Kyriákos, he climbed over the descending pillars. Sometimes on all fours, if he had to. There was no one to see it anyway.

The haven was situated along the bend of something that looked like a pathway further down into the Crag, among a patch of grass stubbornly clinging the the thin layer of earth that had accumulated over time. A tiny stream whispered over age old stone. Nyx nearly fell onto the ground again as he went to his knees to drink this liquid treasure in tiny sips. The water was so cold it made his stomach cramp, but it was a balm for his dry throat.

When he laid down in the surprisingly soft patch of grass, the magical fire of the haven ignited itself, sending a warm glow out into the night. Nyx didn't care if it ruined his night vision. Here he was safe from any daemons that might be down here, and that was enough for now.

He closed his eyes. Again the scene right before he had fallen, flashed across his mind. Glauca, his sword raised to strike the stone arch Nyx was standing on, and Ladone hurling towards him. She had been too slow. He nearly snorted. One of the few times the woman was too slow, and it was in this fucked up situation.

Hopefully she wasn't blaming herself. She had been a friend of his father's, always there on the periphery as he grew up. A soft look had always replaced her usual scowl while she had taught him what few hunting tricks Ilias Ulric had shown her. Nyx had been so stupidly grateful. Still was.

He hoped they had made it back to Insomnia by now. He hoped the ambush hadn't killed anybody else. He hoped Ladone had been able to finish Glauca off. He hoped... He hoped they were looking for him, a tiny part of himself whispered into the dark of the night.

As if to not only shield himself from the cold and the darkness lurking around him, but also from his own thoughts, Nyx curled up on the grass by the fire and allowed his exhaustion to pull him down into the realm of sleep again.

When he awoke again, it wasn't night anymore. Daylight spilt down the steep walls of Taelpar Crag, making the huge crystals almost seem see-through at certain angles. The green of the plants that were stubborn enough to grow here, and the white of the stone nearly seemed to glow. It was a truly beautiful place. One Nyx could easily do without.

He just lay there, letting the light warm him and feeling even worse than last night – had it been last night? The stasis had eased some. A faint whisper of animal-deep jungle-instinct thrummed at the back of his mind and his connection towards the Lucian magic didn't feel as frayed and cutting-glass-sharp anymore. He could barely move a finger without it hurting. Sleeping on the rocky ground, grass or no grass, hadn't helped the situation at all.

But he needed to move, and so he forced himself to uncurl and drink again from the tiny stream. Splashing his face with the cold water helped a bit and chased the last vestiges of exhaustion a way for now. Next, he bent down next to the haven's fire pit and touched one of the stones forming the ring with his dominant hand. Nyx's voice was rough and gravelly as he whispered the traditional words of thanks towards the Fathers of the Hunt for having protected him during the night, and also for the haven. It might be foreign and strangely passive like all havens were, but it had protected him and it was never wrong to be polite to magical beings and places. They all had the tendency to remember bad behaviour.

Picking up his kukri, only now did he see in how bad a condition they were. The blade of Galahdian make – or rather what the Lucian weapon manufacturer had thought to be Galahdian make, which it most certainly wasn't – was warped beyond repair. The metal bent from too much magic and lighting being channelled through it, and the grip looked close to crumbling. The other one looked a bit better. Not by much, but it seemed to still be useable in a pinch.

With a heavy sigh, he left the broken blade behind. If nothing else it would make a good token of gratitude in exchange for the protection he'd had for the night.

Something instinctual within him balked at the idea of following the way up and Nyx and long since learned to listen to his instincts. So further down it was.

It didn't take him long to determine that there was something very wrong with this place.

It wasn't only the strange feeling in the air, like there was something ancient and rotten watching him, but also the dead bodies strewn around the way and pinned to the wall by rusted weapons. Most likely their own.

A great number of them wore armour the likes of which, if he remembered Lucian history correctly, had been worn six hundred to one hundred and fifty years ago. There were quite a few pieces which looked older, but they were rusted so badly he couldn't be sure if they actually were armour or weapons or something else.

Nyx knew the stories about Tealpar Crag. Of how people who wandered inside, never came out again. Lucians had avoided the Crag so obsessively, they had forgotten their own stories about it, which was honestly just another way to show how idiotic the mainlanders were most of the time. However he hadn't expected this. Some of the skeletons were old enough they should have turned into dust a long time ago, with how exposed they were to the elements even down here.

There was magic at play, ancient and powerful and probably entirely natural, and Nyx had to stamp down on the urge to tap into his own to get a feel for it.

He continued on. There was nothing in this age old carnage for him to find.

The path dipped left into a hollowed out section of the Crag's wall and grew so steep, Nyx had difficulties to continue on. If he hadn't been moving so slowly, he probably would have missed the glint at the mouth of the tunnel, wedged between two rocks. Since bending down was a bad idea right now, Nyx kneeled to get a better look.

It was a glass vial. Within it was a sparkling blue liquid. Carefully, he picked it up and rolled it between his hands. On one side there was a hairline fracture, but nothing leaked out. Someone must have dropped it there. It was sealed with a glass stopper to which clung the remnants of black wax. An old potion by the looks of it. Nyx weighted it in his hand for a few seconds before he pocketed it. If for nothing else, than to show Crowe and the other magic crazy Glaives when he finally got out of here.

Struggling back to his feet, he groaned as his left side twinged in protest at the unappreciated motion. He stumbled into the dark tunnel, one hand braced against the wall for support. He hadn't made it very far inside when he heard them.

Animals, or daemons. Or both.

“Kohna,” he whispered under his breath.

He was in no condition to fight daemons. He was in no condition to fight much of anything, period. His only hope was that he could somehow sneak past them.

With the next step he took, Nyx practically melted into the shadows of the tunnel, his steps didn't make a sound. The daemons – and it was daemons he noted with equal parts apprehension and relief – came into view after the next bend. Light filtered through cracks in the wall like sharp edged spears the creatures avoided at all costs. He could use that to his advantage.

There wasn't exactly much officially known about daemons, but Nyx had learned through experience that their sense of hearing wasn't that great, so he didn't need to pay too much attention on the sounds he made, and with the beams of light in the room their eyesight mustn't be that good either. Libertus was convinced they could smell fear, which no one could prove or disprove.

The cave was surprisingly large with a series of pillars that showed that humans had been invested in this place once. Which was creepy, since, to Nyx, this place felt like it would be the perfect home for a murder of crows. The pillars didn't reach the ceiling and so were very useful to him.

Long fingers made sure that his one remaining kukri was still securely sheathed at the small of his back, before he carefully started to inch his way towards a ledge that couldn't have formed naturally, and started maybe a metre above the ground. It was carved into the stone, rough and uneven, but large enough for a grown man to fit, if he wasn't claustrophobic.

Hoisting himself up made his muscles quiver, and he bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to make it bleed to stop himself from groaning in fatigue and pain.

A daemon ambled by and Nyx froze, pressing himself into the rough stone which surrounded him on three sides. It stopped where he had stood not two minutes ago and sniffed the air. Sweat pooled in Nyx's palms. He forced himself to take even breaths. Panicking would not help him. If the daemons detected him now, he wouldn't be able to react. He would be as good as dead.

The thing – it kind of looked like a goblin, just with more sharp edges and seemingly double the amount of joints – sniffed again. The sound grated against his ears. It made a sound that was like a high pitched scream and a mad cackle rolled into one, before it jumped once, twice and bounded down the tunnel Nyx had come from. So it had been able to smell him to some extend. Good to know but also bad news. He needed to get out of this cave and back into the sun before the goblin-thing noticed it had run into the wrong direction.

As careful and silent as he could, he started to crawl forward. Each time a daemon came too close he froze and prayed to his ancestors and to the Fathers of the Hunt, that they wouldn't find him. They didn't.

He was maybe halfway across the cave. Slowly the ledge had risen until it was just below the ceiling and now tilted sharply upwards. End of the road. Very carefully, he did not curse out loud. A cursory glance into the room showed him that he was in an area shielded by two beams of light with no daemons within, and one of those small pillars at the edge of it. Very convenient. Almost as if someone had designed it that way.

Trying not to jostle his injured side, he slid partly off the ledge and swung himself on top of the pillar. He froze, sitting on his haunches, and tried to determine if the daemons had seen, heard or otherwise sensed him. None moved intentionally closer and he doubted they could plan that kind of ambush. Nyx remained where he was for a few minutes longer, just to make sure.

From his elevated position further into the room he could make out the exit. It was behind some kind of small shrine, the ropes around it held some kind of barrier spell, if he read it right. For now the barrier was inactive. Nyx had no idea what would activate it and he honestly had no desire to find out. He just wanted to get out of here without dying.

The daemon that had followed his smell down the tunnel came back, chittering its displeasure for all to hear, but did nothing else. Maybe it thought he had escaped back into the sunlight.

Jumping from pillar to pillar like a cat made the path so much easier. It was a bit like jumping from tree to tree in Galahd's jungles to ambush the MT trampling through. Just without the actual ambush. Or other people as backup. Why had he taken the feather out of his braids again?

When he finally slipped past the little shrine, careful not to touch any of the ropes or the colourful pennants hanging off them, he escaped the tunnel as fast as he dared, only sighing in relief when he felt the sunlight caress his skin. It was already late afternoon. Had he really spent that long inside that cave? That couldn't be true, could it?

Nyx stretched his sore muscles cautiously, wincing at the painful twinge in his side. He slipped off his armour along with his coat, and pulled up the stiff shirt and vest beneath it to reveal a series of large, nearly black bruises. They covered most of his left side. He poked at one, swearing under his breath at the pain, and got fully dressed again. This wasn't good, but at least none of his ribs seemed to be broken. He should have checked that before he had spent hours lying on his stomach. Stupid.

With a derisive snort he continued his way further down into the Crag.

It was getting very close to dusk when he found the haven. His second one since he had gotten stuck here. He had certainly hoped to have found a way out of this ahtrii forsaken place by now. No such luck.

The haven was hidden away underneath an overhanging rock just off the path. There was a thin stream of water trickling down the wall and collecting in a clear, small pool that nearly seemed to glow. It was eerie but Nyx was thirsty and couldn't exactly afford to be picky. The taste was fresh and cool with just a bit of something that zinged along his tongue. It wasn't necessarily unpleasant, but disturbing nonetheless.

Close to the small pool, the stones were positively covered in lichen and moss. Both looked close enough to the variants growing in Galahd that he decided to take the risk and eat them. They... tasted horrible, but since he wasn't dead by the time night fell he figured they hadn't been poisonous.

He sat down, still hungry, leaning against the wall, his legs stretched out in front of him, and closed his eyes. He was so tired. The gurgling whisper of water lulled him into an uneasy sleep.

Nyx jolted awake, head jerking up and neck cracking as he rose from his uncomfortable position. It was still dark, even if a few hours must have passed. A quick glance up towards the sky with bleary eyes showed him a nearly full moon. The crystals glittered around him.

Something had woken him up, but there was nothing as far as his tired senses could pick up. After a few minutes of silent tension he was ready to go back to sleep, blaming his overtaxed senses for waking him up. The last few days had been a Pitioss damned disaster, after all.

He had just decided to sit down again when he heard it. The echoing cry of a daemon that was abruptly cut off and shortly thereafter the sound of footsteps.

More than one pair.

Probably two.

There were people here? Other than him, that was. Or were those some kind of daemon the had never seen before? Nyx wouldn't put it past this place. But until now he hadn't seen them anywhere outside the caves.

Near soundlessly he unsheathed his one remaining kukri and crept towards the edge of the haven. The steps came from further up the path and grew steadily louder until another sound was added to the cold air.

Voices.

Voices he knew, he realized with a sudden rush of adrenaline.

“... so far down?”

“Let's just find a place for us to hole up in for tonight and continue searching in the morning. We won't get much of anything done, if we're too tired to see straight. Especially fighting.”

“I know, I know. Let's just hope there's another haven somewhere around here.”

And then they stepped around the corner, dark silhouettes in the night. Two people he was very glad to see, indeed, even if he hadn't expected it at all.

“Libertus, Ladone?” he called.

Both silhouettes froze.

“Nyx! I knew that tumble wouldn't be able to kill you!”

Libertus surged forward and pulled Nyx into a hug so tight, it pressed the air right out of his lungs and made lances of pain shoot through his beaten up side. Not that Nyx let that stop him from returning the hug just as tightly. When he was finally let go, Ladone was there, her stern flintstone gaze softened by worry and relief as she eyed him from head to toe.

“You've got even more rotten lucky than your thuir, boy,” she noted, her voice rough, as she pressed another home-brewed ether into his hand.

He gave her a grateful smile and fingered the vial before downing the yellow liquid in one go. The sudden surge of energy made him shudder.

“Not just a tumble,” he grinned as they sat down around the firepit.

Nyx was positively giddy, and not just because of the ether. He hadn't truly realized under how much stress he had been until a large part of it fell away in one big swoop. Now he had two extra pairs of eyes and hands, people he could rely on and who watched his back as unflinchingly as he watched theirs. It didn't hurt either that most of the after effects of the stasis had vanished.

“How did you survive?” Ladone asked. “Most of the people who saw you fall are convinced you died.”

“I broke my fall with a warp. Scrounged up what was left of my magic for it and passed out because of the resulting stasis afterwards. It was strange though. I didn't have enough left of my own or the King's magic individually to manage it, so I combined them – don't ask me how, I have no idea. The warp turned out all kinds of weird because of it.”

“Weird how?” she asked, her thin brows furrowed in concentration.

“Weird like...” Nyx had to stop and actually think about it. He couldn't remember that much of what had happened shortly before and during his fall down into Taelpar Crag. When he continued, the words were slow and halting. “It didn't feel like it usually does. More like I was really jumping between places. You know all these slow motion scenes in those overly dramatic movies the Lucians are so fond of? Like that, but fast.”

“That,” Libertus started with a peculiar look on his face, “makes no sense at all.”

Nyx just shrugged. He had no other way to describe it, only having done it once. And he wasn't going to do it again until he could talk it through with somebody who had more knowledge in all things magic than him.

“How are the others? Did everybody make it out of that trap alright? What about Glauca? The last thing I remember of him is his damned sword coming down towards the arch I was standing on.”

“For the most part. Your idea to use that field spell was absolute genius. Less than half of the drop-ships made it through and none of those who did were undamaged. No one else died. Crowe and the other mages were all very close to stasis afterwards, but otherwise fine. Which, by the way, is the only reason she didn't come, too. Luche is holding down the fort, so to speak. He said he can give us three days before he has to start heading back to Insomnia,” answered Libertus.

That was stupidly risky. Why was Luche doing that? Not even a month ago he would have been halfway back to Insomnia with the rest of the Glaive by now.

“Glauca isn't dead,” Ladone butted in.

A long beat of tense silence followed.

“What?” Nyx breathed, utterly astonished. He had been so sure they had finally taken that son of a bitch down. That man had practically been on his last leg. “How?”

“I tried to stop him from crumbling the arch, but I was too late. People always say I'm the fastest they know, but the one time it really counts I'm too slow. Figures. That zehstir released some kind of energy wave, knocking everybody too close back. It gave him enough time to get away.”

“Damn,” Nyx whispered, not sure what else to say.

Two days, he thought.

Two days until they had to be back at the Niff base, and if he judged this new Luche right, who was all about not following Lucian orders too closely all of the sudden, he would probably move as slowly as possible during the way back to give them even more time to catch up.

“You two should get some sleep,” he said after a long pause.

“What about you?” Libertus wanted to know.

“After that ether I doubt I'll be able to sleep, and I don't think either of you got any chance to rest while chasing after me.”

“Heh, you're damn right. Chasing after your ass is exhausting,” Libertus snorted.

“Oh my, big guy. I didn't know you felt that way about me. Why didn't you say anything sooner?” Nyx batted his eyelashes at his hunting-brother in a faux coy expression.

Libertus playfully shoved at his shoulder, grumbling fondly under his breath while Ladone rolled her eyes.

“Just don't do anything where I can hear you,” she deadpanned and laid down, her back turned towards them and the fire.

If she felt their incredulous stares, she didn't give any indication thereof. The hunting-brothers looked at each other, their expressions moving in a silent conversation until Libertus huffed and laid down as well.

Nyx spent the rest of the night in contemplative silence.

They left their meagre camp as soon as there was enough light to move safely. Time was short and none of them knew how far they still had to go.

“Why don't we just go back the way you came?” Nyx asked as they continued to walk further down, now along wooden walkways that had been attached along the Crag's walls.

They weren't in the best of conditions, but held steady. They wound their way down and down, and for the first time Nyx could see how deep the Crag really was. It made his mind dizzy and his heart race. As far as he could tell, they were more than halfway down. Two thirds maybe. Massive stone arches spanned the distance between the walls like bridges. The farther they went, the more Nyx felt like they were being watched. It made him more than a bit antsy.

“Damn Nyx, would you stop that already!” Libertus complained as lightning fizzled in the air yet again.

Nyx didn't bother with an answer. He couldn't really help it. He just felt himself bristle at the invisible eyes even more, his vision fluctuating between human-normal and what he assumed to be coeurl-normal. It was distracting and nausea inducing and he wanted it to stop.

“And to answer your question: we came here the same way you did.”

“... You fell down?” He couldn't quite believe Ladone would just fall down the Crag.

“What... of course we didn't fall, we're not you. We warped,” Libertus grumbled, utterly exasperated.

“We touched down at some kind of lake with too many corpses, that all talked and started to fight us,” Ladone added and prevented the argument from forming in the first place.

Nyx was too distracted to really notice. Still, he blinked at that comment. Reanimated corpses were strange. Like, properly strange. On the other hand the whole feel of this cursed place was setting his teeth on edge by now, so it wasn't really surprising.

“It was creepy as fuck,” Libertus said. He seemed all too happy for an opportunity to complain about the whole situation. “Those things were going on and on about how we weren't worthy, how we should turn back and how only the strong will survive. Too bad for them, I'm an Ostium. Strength is kind of what we do.”

They made it through three more daemon infested caves before they arrived at one of the big stone arches bridging the Crag.

“Something's here,” Nyx whispered.

Without a word the group readied their weapons.

A loud screech split the air and a creature unlike anything they had ever seen landed in front of them. It looked like a mix between a wyvern and a sahagin with bird legs and a pair of clawed wings. The ground shook when the heavy body landed, long tail whipping aggressively through the air. Nyx answered the uttered challenge with a bone rattling roar of his own. The creature reared back, pausing for but a second before it lunged straight at him.

Libertus stepped in its way, a scavenged shield brandished in front of him to brace for the impact of the attack while Nyx and Ladone leaped out of the way.

Nyx jumped onto the creatures back while it was distracted by Libertus and slammed his kukri between two plates guarding its long neck. The blade bit deep into its flesh. The smell of burnt skin crept into his nose as lightning crackled. The creature shook itself with a pained cry and threw Nyx clean off as the blade of his kukri broke. He landed on all fours, his lips pulled back into a snarl.

The thing - animal, whatever - took into the air on strong wings. Ladone hung from its side by her own blades. She swung herself onto its back and rode a dangerous rodeo. No matter how it rolled through the air, it couldn't shake the huntress off. No wonder she'd been friends with his father, Nyx couldn't help but marvel.

Nyx stretched a hand out and sent a powerful bolt of lightning into one of its wings. He had been aiming for an eye, but whatever. It tumbled towards the ground, trying to keep itself from falling with one wing. But it was no use as Ladone attacked it with a series of fire spells.

“The throat! Slit the throat!” Nyx yelled and hoped Libertus had heard him over the painfully loud screeching.

He must have. The moment the creature hit the ground Libertus was there, brandishing his heavy kukri that was more a small axe than anything else, and cut its throat as he slid along the ground and beneath thrashing limbs. A wing clipped him by the shoulder and sent him flying. It died with a last garbled screech, blood rapidly pooling around it.

“What by Pitioss was that thing?” Nyx could hear Libertus ask as he picked himself up with a groan.

The sleeve of his coat was ruined and his shoulder would bruise like nothing else, but he seemed otherwise fine.

“I have no idea,” he answered after his ears had stopped ringing and poked the carcass with a foot.

He sighed as he saw the remnants of his kukri sticking out of its neck, and wondered if he could take one of its talons in exchange. But taking a trophy was Libertus' privilege, if he so chose, since he had struck the killing blow.

His hunting-brother stepped up towards the carcass, stared at it with keen eyes and with three quick strikes cut off the talons of one leg. One for each of them. Grinning, Nyx plucked his out of the air as Libertus threw it in his direction, and rolled it between his hands. It was nearly as long as his whole hand and wickedly sharp. A fine trophy.

“Thanks, big guy,” he called.

Ladone jumped from its back down next to him and accepted her own claw with a grave nod of gratitude. “If no one is too injured we should continue post haste.”

“I'll survive,” Libertus declared after he had rotated his shoulder a few times.

“If you're sure,” she said and started to walk towards the other side of the Crag, a customary fireleaf back in her mouth.

Nyx and Libertus exchanged a meaningful glance before they followed her.

They walked through a series of empty caves that reminded him of the oldest holy sites on Galahd. Grand and with a heavy air of power and age, those places had come by through generations of continued faith and care. Whatever was the point of this place – and it was too deliberate for there not to be a point – Nyx knew they would find out very soon.

The last cave they went through had an open wall that offered a good view on a stone arch bridge that was positively covered in weapons. Swords, axes, javelins, halberds and many, many more, all in numerous sizes and forms.

“What by ahtrii is this place?” Libertus asked beside him, as all three of them stood there and stared.

“You're only wondering that now? From the first moment I came here this place wanted to make me claw my own brain out,” Nyx murmured back, his eyes never leaving that bridge.

Something was there, old and powerful and lonely, full of rage and edging on corruption. It was disconcerting. He wanted to bare his teeth and hiss in warning for whatever was down there to keep away from his pack.

“Whatever it is that's down there, it's in our way,” Ladone said, chewing thoughtfully.

“It's been watching us closely for some time now,” Nyx added.

Libertus just grunted. He had most likely picked up on Nyx's behaviour and had come to a similar conclusion. Maybe he himself could feel it, too. Libertus rarely talked about anything that could cross into the territory of Clan secrets.

Ladone looked at them, her eyes hard as flintstone. “We need to get going, if we want to make it out before nightfall,” she said brusquely. “If it comes to a fight – and I think it will – make every hit count.”

Both men nodded. It should probably be Nyx saying all this, but Ladone had seniority. Not only that, but she was also a trap specialist, and while this didn't exactly seem like a trap, it came very close to one.

“Libs, front-line attack, keep its attention on you as much as you can – whatever it is. Your shoulder up for it? You'll need to do most of the fighting,” Nyx wanted to make sure.

His hunting-brother rotated his injured shoulder again and nodded decisively. Nyx nodded back and turned his attention towards the older woman.

“Can you do the same as you did with Glauca?”

Thoughtfully, she looked back out towards the bridge. “If that's what you need of me, I'll do it, Makti-Oir.”

Not exactly what he wanted to hear, but he nodded anyway.

“I'll act as backup and battle mage,” he decided.

From up here the weapons on the bridge nearly looked like shrubbery. Very deadly and sharp shrubbery, but still. The thought amused him.

Plan mostly decided, it didn't take them long to climb down the rest of the path onto the bridge. As soon as he stepped foot on it, the weight of the invisible eyes slammed into him like an actual punch in the gut, and made him stumble half a step backwards. His companions tensed and Ladone seemed to fade from his senses nearly entirely. Just the faint hum of her magic tangled in his made him aware of where she was.

It was a strange feeling, that. He hadn't even known that he could do that with his magic. Libertus he could feel even stronger. Was it because he had known his hunting-brother for longer, or that he was closer to him than he was to her? As interesting as that train of thought was however, it would have to wait.

“Thee of nay faith shouldst not walketh h're,” echoed a deep, metallic voice through the air.

“Who are you? Show yourself!” Libertus demanded as he took a step forward.

A shimmer of angry-old-sharp-as-a-blade magic gleamed in the air, and then there he was. A man in ancient armour, taller than both Libertus and Nyx by at least three heads. His face was covered by a mask in the style of an Solheimr honour guard and where his eyes should be, there was a sickly, yellowish glow. His left arm was missing, having seemingly been cut off.

“So you're the one we have to beat to get out of here,” Libertus said, trying and succeeding to hide the intimidation he must feel.

Nyx smiled and the man tilted his head as his burning gaze landed on their braids.

“Thee art not of mine own line. Thee, who is't cometh from the line of the godless, answ'r. Wherefore art thee in this holding?”

A warning growl rumbled deep within Nyx' chest. He couldn't see Libertus's face, but he could hear the sneer in his voice.

“For a man of the Astral faith you wear those beads very proudly, credahtri. Tell me, what is this place? Your little hidey hole, so you won't have to face those you betrayed?”

The man reared back as if he had been slapped across the face and the double edged and heavily ornamented sword in his one hand twitched. But he did not attack. For now.

“These art the Temp'ring Grounds,” the man drawled. His voice had gained an edge and a weight only an akastral could have. “F'r those who is't longeth to beest a buckler to their king, to seeth their strength beest w'rthy of this task. This a lodging to teste the faith and strength of men who is't dareth to treadeth this path. Those of nay w'rth shalt beest doom'd to line the path of the guardian. Thou art not worthy.”

“What makes you think I need your blessing to be able to protect anyone, credahtri? I know who you are. I know what name you once bore, and how you abandoned it to kneel at the feet of those who nearly destroyed all of Eos in their reckless abandon.”

A furious roar made the air between them shudder as the armoured giant leapt forward and crashed shoulder first into the banged up shield Libertus held in front of him. The sound of the impact made Nyx's teeth clatter. Libertus roared his determination, as he pushed back against the akastral's power.

Nyx didn't let that deter him. He slunk soundlessly between the weapons buried in the stone, as if they were indeed nothing more than shrubbery of the Galahdian jungle, until he was nearly behind his prey. His claws may have been blunted for now, but he still had his lightning. With a near deafening crack a powerful bolt connected with the man's side and threw him onto the ground.

Not wasting a single second, Libertus stood over him and swung his kukri down. The man rolled out of the way, still clearly dazed, so it only clipped the small of his back. The akastral's heavy blade shook with the tremors running through ancient fingers. The lightning had been powerful. Nyx couldn't do something like that too many more times before he started to court with a magical stasis yet again.

Armoured fingers clenched and unclenched around the hilt of the sword before it vanished in a yellowish mist. At once it was replaced with a sleeker blade. It was long with only one cutting edge, not at all unlike the blade Marshal Leonis used.

The air wailed as the new blade cut through it with a speed Libertus could barely keep up with. His hunting-brother was made for strength. Speed had never been his strongest suite. He did his best as he ducked more and more behind the shield. The dented metal wouldn't last forever.

Across from Nyx a shadow moved. It wasn't a warp, there was neither the taste of Lucian magic in the air, nor the sound of breaking glass or its accompanying flash of blue light, but from one moment to the next Ladone was there and plunged her thin blade right above the calf, where a thick strand of nerves was located.

The man toppled forward with a pained cry as his knee gave out, right into the waiting blade of Libertus. He managed to hit him in the neck and cut off the long strands of pale hair held together by a heavy and old fashioned bead. If the man had been anything else but an akastral, he would have bled out and died within seconds. But he was, and so he swung his own blade as he fell to his knees and cut Libertus right across his face.

Letting the shield fall, but not his kukri, Libertus stumbled back and covered the bleeding cut across his face with his now free hand. With a roar Nyx slammed into the armoured giant, who was breathing heavily as he tried to stand back up again. Not that Nyx really took notice of it. He was too busy curling his fingers around the akastral's throat as lightning crackled aggressively around them.

Somebody screamed. Nyx couldn't have said who it was, Libertus, himself, the man in the ancient armour. This man had dared to injure his pack-brother and no one would get away with it. Not even dead souls that hadn't found their way beyond the Gate.

A ghostly, see though arm gripped him by the coat and violently tossed him away. Nyx skidded along the ground on all fours, even as the rock bit and cut through the leather of his fingerless gloves. He stayed like that, tense and growling like a coeurl ready to attack. His prey was still in range of a possible attack, but so was his pack-brother. So he held back.

Libertus himself had used the opportunity to wipe away as much of the blood as he could and pick the shield back up in anticipation of another attack.

The man had a second arm now. An arm that also held another blade. This was bad. Very, very bad. For a moment none of the fighters moved.

“Who is't art thee, to sayeth thee knoweth mine own charact'r?” the akastral growled in his metallic voice full of pent up anger and pain.

“Have you truly forgotten everything of the culture you come from?” Libertus scoffed, not relaxing from his battle stance.

The tension in the air grew even heavier.

“T'is not mine own culture,” he said, something like wistfulness tinting his voice.

“No,” agreed Libertus, “it isn't. Not anymore.”

Then, without warning, the man lunged towards Nyx, both blades raised to strike, fast and precise like a venomous snake. Nyx leaped backwards, seeking cover in the forest of weapon surrounding them. Libertus however, hadn't seen that. His pack-brother had his eyes firmly on his enemy and only knew that he was about to attack Nyx. So he ran straight into the line of the attack, his whole body braced behind the shield.

It didn't help much. The impact of the strike cleaved the shield clean in half and flung Libertus backwards, close to the edge of the bridge.

Nyx had no clear view of what was happening. He picked himself up, careful not to injure himself, while his hand found the metallic shaft of a javelin. He could feel Ladone's tension through their tangled magic. She was somewhere close to his right, tense and worried, but ready to strike at any moment.

She moved fast enough to practically appear out of thin air beneath the armoured right arm raised to attack, and slammed her kukri into the lesser protected armpit. Her body twisted and ducked around the man's back. Pulling the blade with her, she cut the archilles tendon of his right foot with the other kukri. He fell towards the ground like an ancient tree.

Ladone backed off until she was out of reach of another potential attack, but didn't cloak her presence again. Instead she came to a stop next to Libertus who rolled onto his side with a pained groan. She helped him up with a steady arm, all the while she never took her eyes of the fallen giant who was watching them silently.

All the while Nyx had pulled the javelin from the ground and weighted it carefully in his hand. It was a simple weapon, the blade at the tip broken and bent horribly out of shape. The other end still looked sharp enough to injure, if the thrust was strong enough. It might just work.

With a cry he threw the javelin and reached for the Lucian King's magic within him. He warped in a shower of blue light and crystalline shards as he burst through the barriers of space. His hand gripped the slim shaft of the flying weapon and he twisted in mid-air until its sharp end pointed downward. Gravity did the rest. Aided by his weight the pointy end slammed down into the armoured man's shoulder and pinned him to the unforgiving stone beneath him. Nyx landed gracefully just out of arm's reach.

Then Libertus was there, resting his kukri right against the unprotected throat as the man threw his head back against the stone and gave a hoarse scream of pain. It echoed between the walls of the Crag for a long time.

It was over. The man had lost. All of them knew it, but none of them dared to relax even as the magically constructed arm vanished together with the blade it had held. The mask tilted just enough for yellow glowing eyes to wander from Nyx to Libertus and Ladone, who looked ready to plunge her kukris into the man's crotch if she needed to.

“Bid me, warri'r, what beest the nameth of the sir yond wouldst protecteth his king with such det'rmination?”

Libertus blinked. It visibly took him a few seconds until he realized that the akastral had addressed him. He exchanged a glance with Nyx, who just shrugged helplessly. Between the two of them Libertus had definitely the better chance to guess what went on in the minds of people that had died a long, long time ago.

“Libertus of Clan Ostium,” he said at last.

There was another long beat of silence.

“Ostium. Oh, how the fates turneth. I wouldst has't been honour'd most highly to counteth thee 'mongst mine own blood. The nameth i wast gift'd by those who is't tooketh me in is Gilgamesh Amicitia.”

Libertus did not give Gilgamesh the satisfaction of an answer. He just scoffed.

Nyx felt something cold that vaguely registered as shock and surprise, trickle down his spine. The Amicitias had been of their people once? Dimly he noticed that Ladone didn't seem surprised at all.

With great difficulty Gilgamesh lifted his hand off the ground and pointed it towards the far off wall. Magic shimmered in the air, heady and ancient and powerful. A stairway appeared. It wound its way up towards the surface of Taelpar Crag.

Another twist of the hand and three weapons appeared not too far from them. All three Glaives tensed.

“During mine own life, I has't did travel far and wide in mine own desire to learneth ev'rything th're wast to learneth of the blade. Taketh these as signeth of mine own defeat most cruel, as t'ought to beest done in the way of thy people,” Gilgamesh spoke, not noticing or simply not caring of the reactions around him. “The way is free f'r thee and yours, oh King. Lib'rtus of Clan Ostium, taketh thy King and his companion and wend. Thee has't been hath found most w'rthy. And rememb'r: A Shield dost not moveth nay matt'r the dang'r, nay matt'r the adv'rsary.”

“As if I care about being worthy,” his hunting-brother scoffed as he pulled back his blade.

The fallen man just barked an eerily metallic laugh before he went still.

The three Glaives exchanged a look across his motionless body before they started to walk away from the battleground. For a moment Nyx contemplated leaving the offered trophy behind, but he was makti-oir now and that would be a slight against his traditions, his culture and his ancestors.

It was a Solheimr khopesh he found himself with. An asymmetrical one bladed sword made out of mithril. Ornate carvings and runes lined the milky metal and shimmered like bronze in the light of the sun. It was utterly beautiful and enchanting. Nyx knew for a fact that none of the known exemplars had survived as anything more than rusted remnants in museums. Safe for this one, apparently.

Libertus whistled lowly in appreciation as he hefted the heavy double bladed battle axe onto his uninjured shoulder, its design distinctively Solheimr as well. Each blade was at least as big as his head and wickedly sharp, the edges lined in a black coloured metal Nyx did not know. As a whole the weapon was as tall as his hunting-brother himself. Libertus took the bead he had cut off Gilgamesh and tied it to his new weapon with long strands of pale hair. He nodded, satisfied with his work.

“We need to hurry, if we want to make it,” Ladone said while she eyed the trident in her hands sceptically.

It was weapon just as deadly as it was beautiful, adorned with symbols of a long bygone civilization none of them recognized.

“You sure you can manage, big guy?” Nyx asked, worried.

“I feel like I've been flung around by a gekkan and a Dala got too close to my face, but I'll live.”

Luckily the cut wasn't as bad as it had seemed at first. It travelled from just above his left eyebrow, over the bridge of his nose, along the right corner of his mouth and ended at the edge of his jaw. It was shallow enough to have mostly stopped bleeding already.

“It'll scar,” Ladone stated after she had eyed the wound for a long moment. “I don't have anything left on me able to heal this.”

“Then I'll have something to impress the ladies with,” Libertus shrugged with a grin.

Nyx laughed.

Chapter Text

Whoever had constructed these stairs deserved to be called back from behind the Gate and be killed again. Very, very painfully.

The steps were directly carved into the rock of the Crag, winding their way up in serpentines. Every step was of a different height than the one that came before it, and more often than not, one had to take one to two strides to actually reach the next one. It was all one big trip hazard.

Some of the stairs were cracked from age and fallen boulders. Sometimes those boulders still lay there, like their only purpose was to keep people from reaching the upper edge of the Crag.

Nyx took a deep breath and looked down. The bronze afternoon sun made it difficult to see the ground, but he judged they had made it about halfway up at this point. He had taken point once they had reached the stairs as he was the best climber out of all three of them. Ladone, the least injured, took the rear and Libertus was between them.

They hadn't even passed the second serpentine when Libertus had started to lag behind because of his injuries. His new battle axe had been repurposed as a walking stick, its blade bobbed next to his head like a cloud. The sharp edges seemed to absorb all light around it.

It was slow going, and secretly Nyx worried that they wouldn't be able to make it all the way up before night fell. Should they not make it, defending themselves against daemons would be very difficult. At least there didn't seem to be any wyvern nests nearby. That would have just been their luck.

Ignoring the muscles in his legs, which increasingly felt like they turned into jelly with each new step he took, Nyx turned around and waited until Libertus and Ladone had come closer.

“Has one of you managed to radio Luche yet?”

Both shook their heads and Libertus grimaced at the action. The cut across his face had stopped bleeding entirely some time ago, and his hunting-brother had done his best to clean most of the blood off his face, while they had taken a short break some time ago. Its edges had swollen slightly and turned red. Nyx tried not to let it worry him too much. He wasn't very successful.

“Do you need a break, big guy?” he asked.

They needed to get higher up to leave the area of interference, but Libertus also needed all the energy he could get. With mistrustful eyes he looked at the crystalline structure Libertus stood next to. They had a very strange presence and Nyx was convinced they were the reason why anything electronic ceased functioning down in the Crag.

“Nah. I can continue for a bit longer,” Libertus waved aside his concern.

“Okay, but if you need to stop, you tell me,” he demanded and Libertus rolled his eyes.

“You know, normally I'm the one demanding you take a break,” his hunting-brother grouched playfully and took a pointed step forward.

Nyx huffed and exchanged a look with Ladone, who just raised a thin eyebrow.

“All right, all right. I see when I'm beaten.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Just wanted to be the responsible one.”

Libertus muttered something under his breath that sounded like “For now”.

Not gracing that with an answer, Nyx continued their way up.

Shadows chased their heels as if they were stalking prey, once they reached the last turn of the stairs. The sun had sunken worryingly low. It would touch the horizon in maybe another half an hour. They would never make it back to the rest of the Glaive in time before nightfall, if they weren't already on their way back to Insomnia like they were supposed to, that was.

Behind him he could hear Ladone speak into her earpiece again. “This is Namakar Najad of Oresh Unit, do you read me? We found Makti-Oir Ulric. I repeat: We found Makti-Oir Ulric. He's alive and mostly unharmed.”

For a few long seconds there was silence and Nyx thought they were still within the field of interference the damn Crag gave off, when Ladone spoke again.

“Yes, I copy.”

He couldn't see it, but he heard the smile in her voice.

A soundless sigh of relief escaped him as he eyed the setting sun again. Wrecking his brain for a haven that might be near here, he came up with nothing. He blinked slowly and felt his eyes wanting to remain shut. Damn, he was exhausted. What he wouldn't give for a nice and comfy bed right now. And a hot shower and some food. Nyx looked at his slightly trembling hands and wondered if they shook from hunger or fatigue or both.

“Memakar Ostium is the most injured and in need of medical attention. We came upon fierce opposition in the Crag.”

Nyx gave a quiet snort.

“That's one way to put it,” Libertus muttered, not far behind him.

They continued on their way while Ladone gave a short report of their situation. Nyx shielded his eyes from the furiously glowing sun, which had was now touching the horizon and had turned into a bloated ball of red and gold, and looked around. They had finally reached the end of the stairs.

“I don't know exactly where we are, but we're definitely further south from our original position. There's grassland on both sides of the Crag, but we're definitely on the Duscani side. Should make things a bit easier,” he called back towards Ladone who relayed the information.

Studying their surroundings a bit more closely, Nyx couldn't find a place that looked like they would be able to hole up in for the night, if worst came to worst. They stood on a flat, grassy plane that receded the closer to the edge of Tealpar Crag it grew, until there was just naked rock and a few smaller boulders. It was a shit place to be stranded in for the night.

Libertus walked up next to him, leaning heavily on his axe.

“We need to keep moving. If we stay here, we'll make a very nice meal for the next big daemon coming by,” his hunting-brother muttered lowly.

“There's still some light left, big guy. We'll figure something out,” Nyx replied and wondered who exactly he was trying to convince.

Libertus threw him a deadpan stare.

“How are you holding up?” Nyx asked, instead of thinking further on their impending problem for the moment.

“If I sit down now I won't get up for a while,” Libertus answered with a quiet hum. “So don't even try to make me rest or some shit.”

“That's not what I meant.”

Nyx knew Libertus would bounce back from his wounds with little to no problem. He had lived through worse injuries when they had had to flee Galahd.

A sneer flittered across his hunting-brother's face and for a second his eyes found the bead he had tied a hand's width beneath the axe's blades with strands of Gilgamesh's pale hair.

“Should have killed him is what I should have done. I wonder who managed to cut his arm off. Would adopt that person into the Clan right now, rules or no rules.”

“We both know you can't just kill an akastral by shoving a few knives into it,” Nyx reminded him.

Libertus snorted. “Since when do you give a shrew's ass about that?” He sighed and looked to the sky that would soon lose its red and gold glory. “You know what really gets me? That he isn't corrupted. He should be for what he's done. Then it would be easier to... ahtrii damn it, this happened two and a half thousand years ago!”

Nyx didn't say anything. Just waited for Libertus to come to grips with whatever he was struggling with. He would tell him what was bothering him so much as soon as he was ready. His hunting-brother always did.

“There's a reason we settled so close to the eastern most shore of Galahd, you know?” Libertus suddenly spoke up again.

“You never told me that,” Nyx said with a raised eyebrow.

A sardonic grin was his answer. “Yeah well, it just never came up. Other than the stories to remember what happened, talking about Gilgamesh-” he spat the name out like it was the foulest thing he had ever tasted- “is practically a taboo. He could have been family. Loved and remembered and treasured. Instead he threw that all away to become that.”

“Whenever you're ready, I'll be there to listen, big guy,” Nyx said after a heartbeat of silence.

Libertus shot him such a pathetically grateful look, Nyx had to avert his eyes. He gently clasped the other man's shoulder and watched as Ladone walked up to them.

“I've got no idea what you did with Luche, Nyx, but he's been waiting for us to call. The whole caravan is making their way south to pick us up.” Her voice was underlined by a quiet wonder that showed just how much she hadn't expected this.

“I didn't do anything,” he exclaimed, utterly astonished himself.

The Glaive should have been on their way back by now to make it to the three day mark. That Luche 'I abide the rules to the letter' Lazarus had waited to hear from them was utterly unexpected.

Libertus rolled his eyes. “Of course you did, you hero. I know you two were talking.”

“We didn't talk about that much.”

“From what I hear through the grapevine, you're on the best way to make the Lazarus Clan your ally,” Ladone added. “But enough of that. We have two hours at least until they are here, and we need to figure out what we're going to do until then.”

Nyx took a deep breath to centre himself. Since they had started to climb out of the Crag, his magic had been replenishing at a steady rate. Neither reservoir was enough to fight off more powerful daemons, but maybe...

“Ladone, can you do a warding circle?”

A pair of thin eyebrows climbed upwards. “I can do that. However, it won't do much of anything without the right ingredients and I don't have any of them on me. Why? What are you thinking?” she demanded.

“Do it then, please. Make it a perimeter big enough for the three of us. I have no idea, if what I'm thinking of will work, but it's worth a shot.”

“What are you thinking of?” Libertus demanded to know with the same expression on his face he had had when Nyx had proposed the idea they should try to warp through walls.

They watched for a moment, as Ladone pulled out one of her kukri and started to carve lines into the rocky earth. Nyx would help, but she was most likely using a circle variant that had a water focus, and he had no real idea how those were made up.

“Coeurl's need to protect themselves from daemons, too. So I figure since you know-” he waved a hand in front of them, a tiny spark travelling between his fingers- “I might just as well try it.”

Libertus frowned thoughtfully. “That might actually not be a bad idea.”

“Hey! I have many good ideas.”

“As long as you don't fry us all, that is,” his hunting-brother continued, as if he hadn't heard Nyx's indignant cry.

“I have three words for you: The Old Apothecary's Trail,” Ladone spoke up from where she was still carving the lines and symbols into the ground.

Nyx winced. “Okay, that was dumb. But I was also a kid with something to prove, and Libs and I got a sister out of it. So it wasn't that bad.”

“We nearly died more than once, you hero. Being in mortal peril for a whole night doesn't count as 'not that bad' in my book,” Libertus snorted with no real heat behind it. “But you're right about Crowe.”

“Mahir had me on forge duty for a whole month, and all the while she tried to get more food into Crowe,” Nyx remembered with a far away look.

If he concentrated enough, he could still feel the soot under his fingernails, he hadn't been able to clean out until weeks after his punishment had been finished.

“Done,” Ladone announced and brought Nyx out of his reverie.

She stood at the centre of her work, the lines deep and dark between the blades of grass. Above them the sky was turning darker and the first stars were winking down at the world. They were cutting it mighty close. Nyx helped Libertus into the circle, careful that neither of them touched any of the lines.

“Here goes nothing,” he muttered once they were all safely within the warding circle.

He sunk deep into his magic, as far as he could manage, to get to the source of the animal-deep jungle-instinct sparking within him. A satisfied purr rumbled in his chest as he travelled along his magic's path to carefully guide it to what he wanted to do.

It was surprisingly easy. Only partially aware of what his body was doing, he sat down in the cooling grass, close to the pack mates he wanted to protect, sprawled out like a possessive cat. Lightning sparked first along his arms and hands, then between his fingers before it travelled into the ground and along the lines elder pack-mate had carved into the ground with her claw.

Pack-brother gave a startled yelp when the lines started to crackle with energy and glowed a blueish purple. Nyx gave a calming rumble to help calm him down. If pack-brother hadn't been injured, he would have flopped all over him to make it clearer that Nyx would never hurt him, but instead was protecting him. He wanted to lick the wound on his face clean. And probably would have done so, if he wouldn't have to sit still to keep the lightning from fizzling out.

Elder pack mate stood sentry, still and unmoving as she watched their surroundings. With a deep rumble of approval he cast his senses out in search for threats. None of the weaker of those rancid smelling night hunters would dare come near, but the powerful ones were a concern. Nyx himself was not at full power. He had only enough left to keep this protective field up until more of his pack arrived to take them to their temporary den.

He looked out into the night. The part that was still mostly Nyx Ulric and not a mass of coeurl-instinct-protect wondered how the lightning of his magic wasn't blinding him. Overhead the stars slowly lit up the night in a beautiful monochrome.

Only once during their wait did a night hunter dare to come near. It was a lone humanoid carrying a weapon propped against its shoulder. It ambled near, clearly curious, but vanished quickly at Nyx's warning roar. None would harm his pack mates while he was able to protect them.

At the roar elder pack mate's hands flew to her claws and pack-brother gave a quiet curse, but nothing else happened. Satisfied, Nyx gave a quiet rumble.

Another rumbling sound joined it. At first it was far away, however it slowly grew closer and louder. Nyx tensed, awaiting an enemy. A twin pair of lights pierced the monochrome, joined by another and another and many more.

Pack-brother gave an excited shout and Nyx relaxed the tiniest bit. The pack had finally come.

The rumbling pairs of light stopped not far from their warding circle that still glowed and cracked with charged lightning. People appeared, staring and whispering.

“Nyx, you can stop now,” elder pack-member said gently.

He gave an unwilling growl. The night smelled foul and he could sense another night hunter not too far away.

“They can't take us back to Insomnia, if you don't cancel the lightning,” she reminded him.

Nyx gave a miffed huff. His lightning would never harm a pack mate. Never. He wouldn't let it. Nonetheless, languidly, he stretched his limbs out and loosened his muscles. With each careful movement the lightning surrounding them grew weaker, until Nyx stood up and it stopped.

The blueish violet glow in the lines of the warding circle stayed.

Nyx didn't care about the power still pulsing along the carved lines in the earth, or the whispers and stares flitting from the circle to him and back. Instead he prowled amongst the members of his pack until he found pack-sister. He couldn't see it, but he knew she had cried. With a reassuring purr from deep within his chest he draped an arm over her shoulders and rubbed his chin and cheek over the crown of her head. She clung to him with the fierce strength of relief.

“Don't you ever scare me like that again, Nyx Ulric! You hear?” Her voice was muffled against the material of his coat.

Neither in the mood nor willing for a more verbal answer, he purred louder against her hair.

“All right people. Back into your seats! We need to go now, if we want to make it by morning,” sounded the voice of pack leader-in-his-absence.

Pack-sister gently pushed him towards the leading vehicle and he went willingly. Before he knew it, he found himself draped over pack-sister, elder pack mate, pack leader-in-his-absence and another, making his satisfaction known with a rumbling purr.

Their voices drifted around him, but Nyx didn't care to listen. Instead he blinked slowly and watched pack-brother for a moment, who sat across of him, being fussed over by another pack mate. He was tired. So, so tired. A hand carded through his hair and he closed his eyes, gently drifting off to his own purrs and the rumbling of the vehicle beneath him.

Blue eyes blinked open. With a jaw cracking yawn and stretching limbs, Nyx wondered what had woken him until he noticed that the engine of the military van he was in, had turned off.

“Finally back with us, you big cat?” a voice above him questioned, equal parts amused and exasperated.

Brain still sluggish from sleep and wondering why the surface he lay on was so uneven, he twisted around to look over his shoulder and found Crowe gazing down at him. She looked tired, with dark circles under her eyes and pale skin. Her uniform was rumpled and her hair a mess, but otherwise she seemed alright.

“Good morning. At last one of us got some sleep,” Ladone announced herself dryly from next to his storm-sister.

“Not to complain or anything, but can you get off my legs now, please? I swear I can't feel my feet anymore,” Pelna complained from the other end of the bench.

Only then did Nyx notice that he was sprawled over the legs of Crowe, Ladone, Luche and Pelna. Deciding the easiest way was to just roll off, he landed on all fours in the space between the two benches before he climbed out of the open door.

They were at their usual post-mission drop-off point in Insomnia, near the military hospital. The morning sun shone warmly down on him. Hadn't it just been night outside?

“When did we get here?” he asked Pelna who came out of the van, stretching his limbs and groaning.

“Maybe fifteen minutes ago? Libertus just got taken into the hospital. By the way, you need to get checked out as well.”

Nyx hummed non-committedly and looked around. Glaives mingled between the vans, most tired and pale and dirty, but otherwise alright. Some who saw him, gave wide eyed stares, others respectful nods and one or two even crossed their wrists in greeting. He bit back an exasperated groan. Why had he decided taking the position of makti-oir was a good idea again?

“What are the numbers?” he asked and it was Luche who answered.

“All of us have scrapes and bruises, the mages all have some form of magical exhaustion. Around thirty people need medical attention, twelve of those are more heavily injured. Other than that nothing.”

“No fatalities?”

“None.”

Shoulders sagging, Nyx gave a sigh in relief. That was good. Very good. And with this and all their goals - other than Glauca's death - accomplished, this was their most successful field mission in years.

“Marshal Leonis radioed in as soon as we entered the city limits. The King wants a personal debrief in six hours sharp, and since only one of us got some sleep on the drive here, I'll go take a nap before I have to deal with mainlander logic,” Luche reported and walked away with a nod.

“When did he gain such a mouth?” Pelna wondered half-jokingly.

“I just found out he has a sense of humour last week,” Nyx shrugged.

“No gossiping like dithering sinehäri. Off to the hospital with you three. I hope I don't need to hold your hands for you to actually do it.” Ladone stared at the Pelna, Crowe and him with flintstone eyes,. They all shook their heads. “Good. Pelna, Crowe, catch some sleep afterwards. Makti-Oir Ulric, I cannot tell you what to do, but my advice would be to go see Ethin of Clan Sarcina after a hot shower and a meal.”

Dumbfounded, Nyx nodded. He'd been yearning for that shower and something to eat since he had woken up. He didn't need Ladone to tell him that. But why Ethin Sarcina? He was one of the best tailors of Galahd. And not only because he could kill you with a needle in two seconds flat.

He exchanged a look with Crowe and Pelna as Ladone sauntered off, her new trident slung over her back. Both shrugged, and together they made their way into the hospital.

Before they had even reached the nurse manning the reception, she held the telephone receiver to her ear and started speaking. Not even five minutes later, Nyx found himself shaking the hand of a man who introduced himself as the assistant medical director, who would do Nyx's examination himself, if he didn't have any personal preferences for a physician, that was?

Mutely he shook his head, because what the fuck?

The normal check-up for slight injuries was done by an assistant physician who looked like she wasn't paid enough for the work she was doing, and not getting enough sleep. She was pretty alright, managing to smile through Tredd's temper, Luche's standoffishness and Kepho's flirting.

This assistant medical director was a slender man in his late fifties, who must have been the sporty type in his youth, with dyed brown hair and such perfect teeth, they must be every dentist's wet dream.

Sharing a baffled look with Crowe and Pelna, all three of them followed the doctor past the military wing that took up eighty percent of the hospital and into the wing that was reserved for nobility. The three dirty Glaives stuck out like sore thumbs.

Both Crowe and Pelna were asked to wait in a very fancy waiting area that only had one other occupant at the moment. The man looked utterly scandalized as the two Glaives sat down. Nyx followed the doctor down the hallway until they reached an examination room.

It was spacious, near half the size of Nyx's dingy apartment, with a very comfy looking examination table, something that looked like a wooden floor, a big desk and cushy chairs. Nyx could see his medical file on said desk.

Feeling utterly uncomfortable in this room, Nyx followed the doctor's instructions through the whole examination. At least the man was professional.

“Thank you, Sir Ulric. I'll prescribe you a potion regimen for your injuries. The slight concussion should be gone after the first dosage and the lacerations on your side should be healed after two days at most. Please take this prescription to our in-house apothecary. The nurse there will answer any questions you might have.”

Nyx left the room, feeling strangely dazed. He watched Crowe follow a nurse out of the waiting area and sat down next to Pelna, who had his nose deep in a gossip rag.

“Find anything interesting?” he asked to keep himself from thinking too hard about why he had been examined by the assistant medical director of all people.

“Yes, actually,” Pelna affirmed, leafing through the magazine until he found what he was looking for, and held it out to Nyx.

There, in big, bold letters the headline read:

Hidden Royalty of Galahd?

Beneath is was a picture of himself as he walked down the streets of Little Galahd. There was a slight smile on his face as he looked down to the child that was tugging at the hem of his tunic to get his attention. It must have been taken shortly after his election to makti-oir and at a great distance, because he hadn't noticed any mainlanders near at the time.

“What the fuck?” breathed Nyx.

“This is the newest issue. Apparently they're now really convinced you're a king. There's an interview with a society expert who claims to have 'taken an extensive look' at our social structure. It's utter garulacrap. The guy just tried to give everything a Lucian stamp, it's actually pretty hilarious,” Pelna grinned, though his eyes were sympathetic.

Nyx stared at him. “You're so weird.”

Pelna shrugged, utterly unrepentant.

“Sir Khara?” a nurse asked from the doorway.

Pelna put the magazine away and stood up. “You should go, too. Take a shower, you can't turn up in the throne room stinking like you haven't washed in four days and rolled through a sewer.”

“I don't smell that bad!” Nyx protested.

He didn't really mean it however, because he knew he really did smell pretty bad, even if none of the nurses or doctors here had reacted to it. They were probably used to worse things than a smelly human being.

He left the hospital after a brief visit to the apothecary, where he got his potions. Reading the print on the box, he nearly did a double take. These were the good ones. The stuff he normally wouldn't be able to afford a single vial of with a month's salary. For a few moments he stood on the walkway in front of the hospital, staring down at the box in his hands, until he forcibly shook his head and headed towards his apartment.

All the way there he was followed by the curious stares and whispers of Lucians. One time he could have sworn he had heard a little girl ask their mother if he was the king. After that he had thought it prudent to take the shortcut over the roofs via warping.

Warping with a sword instead of kukri was strange, but manageable. Especially with the right motivation.

Freshly showered and after a quick meal, he was out on the streets again and on his way to Ethin Sarcina, of all people. The old tailor had his workshop at the edge of Little Galahd's market street. It was an old stone building that must have been decent middle class before the city had grown another layer.

The storefront showed two large, arching windows in which mannequins were artfully arranged and dressed in colourful tunics, trousers and dresses. As Nyx opened the door, a bell chimed through the saleroom.

“I'll be there in a moment!” called a voice from further inside.

Nyx looked at the rolls of fabric lining one wall, and the finished pieces meticulously hung on racks on the other side of the room. The floor was made of planks of wood that were probably just as old as the house itself, and across from the entrance was the counter, topped by an antique looking register.

A young woman – a girl still, really – stepped through the open doorway behind the counter.

“Welcome to the tailor's shop of Clan Sarcina. How may I- oh.” The girl's eyes grew huge as she recognized him. Hastily she stepped around the counter and crossed her wrists. “Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makti-Oir.”

“Rid ohlro ar, fohrnfilkar Sarcina trihf,” Nyx answered with a smile.

He wasn't really in the mood to discuss how he wasn't a fan of all this formality at all. The girl was already exited enough.

“Please follow me, Makti-Oir. Oirkar Sarcina is waiting for you,” she instructed and guided him through the doorway behind the counter and through a narrow hallway, into the back of the house.

The girl knocked on the only door in the hallway, and opened it after waiting for a second. “Thuirahn, Makti-Oir Ulric is here.”

“Send him in!” came a voice from behind a workbench.

With a nod and a quiet thanks to the girl, he stepped into the cluttered workshop. She closed the door behind him and probably went back to man the counter.

“Welcome to my workshop, Makti-Oir,” boomed Ethin Sacina as he stepped towards Nyx with a wide smile.

He was a man of medium height with a mane of grey hair that was bound out of his face by a series of braids. His green eyes sparkled with a youthful energy that belied his growing age. They clasped each other's wrist in greeting.

“It's an honour to have you here, Makti-Oir. Namakar Najad commissioned something for you. She said with how things are going, you might need it sooner or later.”

“Truly?” Nyx asked, astonished. “And no need to call me Makti-Oir. I know my own title well enough.”

Ethin laughed. “True. But you shouldn't let other people forget.”

Nyx gave a slight frown, but said nothing. This wasn't a conversation he thought he would have right now. He knew titles were important to some extend, they made for an ease in communication and decision-making when times were dire. Or, they were supposed to, at last. Nyx had never needed to stand this high in the social hierarchy of Galahd, nor had he ever wanted to. It was a daunting task, and he didn't know if he could do right by the people that were now his responsibility.

“Come, sit. My grandniece will bring you some tea, while I'll fetch what was commissioned for you,” Ethin said and motioned towards an armchair in a corner of the room.

It stood next to a small table and was an island of order in what seemed, to Nyx, to be a chaotic room full of scraps of fabric, sewing machines, needle cushions, pattern samplings and mannequins. Right after Ethin finished speaking, a knock sounded. The door opened and a woman around Nyx's age entered with a tray balanced in her hands.

He was astonished to recognise her. She was the woman he had surprised by jumping down on her windowsill. He could feel his cheeks grow hot in embarrassment.

She greeted him with a mischievous smile and sat down on a stool to serve the tea. It was limeschti. A kind that smelled strongly of rose petals and pepper.

“Be welcome,” the woman intoned as he took the traditional cup from her hands. “We grant you safety and passage through our lands, as well as a place at our hearth for as long as you wish to stay. No harm shall come from me and mine. Fire and sun as my witness.”

“Lumo varistos. May your hearth burn strong and bright. No harm shall come from me to you or yours, during my journey through your lands. Fire and sun as my witness,” Nyx responded, raised the cup until it was level with his eyes and then took a sip.

The tea tasted as floral as it smelled with a spicy edge to it. It was pleasant.

The woman reciprocated the gesture. Together they sipped their tea in silence until they set the cups down with a silent clack.

“I am named Athina of Clan Sarcina,” she introduced herself after protocol had been observed.

Athina was a woman blessed by the sun, Nyx noted, her eyes a warm golden colour that squinted slightly as she smiled. Her skin was dark, as was typical for most of the Sarcina and her hair was a warm hazel colour. She wore her Clan braids on both sides of her head and the rest of her hair was swept up in a clean bun held together by sticks with which she could probably murder someone.

“It's good to meet you. I am named Nyx of Clan Ulric. Please, call me Nyx,” he answered with a nod and a slight smile.

Athina returned his smile with an impish tilt to her mouth. “This is better than dropping on my windowsill unannounced, is it not?”

Now Nyx was blushing for real. Athina laughed. It was high and tingling. Nyx had to fight not to stare at the way her eyes sparkled and her whole face seemed to glow.

“I am very sorry,” he managed to say somehow.

Athina dismissed his apology with the wave of an elegant hand and a grin. “Don't apologize. It was the highlight of my day. After all, it doesn't happen everyday that a good looking man basically drops into your living room with a cheeky grin and a wink.”

Nyx couldn't help but answer with a wide grin of his own. “I'm glad I could be of service.”

She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted as Ethin came back, carrying a large wooden box in his arms.

“I'm glad to see you young people get along so well,” he said with a knowing grin. “Athina, be a dear and help me with this.”

“Of course, granduncle,” she said and stood up.

The box was set down on the stool Athina had just stood up from. At Ethin's prompting Nyx pulled open the lid and gaped in surprise. Inside the box, wrapped in rustling protective paper, lay a set of clothing. Of course it was clothing, Nyx admonished himself. He stood in the workshop of Galahd's best tailor, after all.

Carefully, he pulled out the colourful cloth laying on top. It was rectangular, at least two metres long and one metre wide. The main colours were blue and purple, one colour slowly flowing into the other, first blue, then purple and then blue again. Painted on it were a series of intricate never ending knots depicting a scene. Within the blue, white sea serpents coiled around each other and within the field of purple a coeurl roared. It, too, was white, and Nyx could have taken the image for the Great Coeurl, Lady of the Beasts and Queen of the Jungle, if not for the Ulric blue eye. Next to its raised paw floated a knife in grey and green.

It was the last white coeurl. The one who had skinned himself to become human and married Adrastea Ulric.

Nyx could do nothing but gape undignified, as he held the cloth aloft. It was light in his hands, near weightless, but solid and flowing.

“Summer silk,” he breathed.

“You're right,” Ethin proclaimed proudly.

“But... how?”

Summer silk was a kind of silk only produced on Galahd. It was made out of a mix of arachne silk and silk of the Galahdian native spider silk tree. Not even with two years worth of his salary would he be able to afford this. Not since Galahd had fallen.

“We have our ways,” the old tailor winked.

Nyx swallowed. “I... This is priceless, I cannot accept this.”

“You can any you will, Makti-Oir Nyx of Clan Ulric,” Athina asserted firmly. “We already dyed and painted the silk. It's finished and cannot be changed now. Not to wear it would mean wasting all our effort.”

An uncomfortable pressure rose in his chest as he again stared at the piece of painted silk. Both members of Clan Sarcina waited patiently as he visibly fought with himself. He was not worthy of this. But maybe, Nyx thought as his fingers followed the knotted lines depicting the coeurl, maybe, if he worked hard enough, he would one day be.

“All right,” he managed to say around the lump in his throat. “For hearth and home.”

“For hearth and home,” Athina echoed, face solemn.

“Come, you need to get dressed. You cannot go to the Lucian King in that,” Ethin sniffed and started to herd Nyx towards a folding screen.

“What's wrong with my uniform?” Nyx blinked.

“Politics, Makti-Oir. Politics,” Ethin explained sagely.

Chapter Text

“How much are we going to tell the King?” Pelna suddenly spoke up, causing everybody to stop what they were doing.

They had all met again an hour before the briefing at his apartment. Stuffed with paperwork as it was, Nyx wondered how so many people still managed to find space in there.

Libertus was inspecting the contents of his fringe for some unknown reason. Currently he was in the process of dumping a squashed avocado that had gone bad, in the bin with a disgusted face. The wound on his face had been cleaned and taped shut. At the hospital Libertus had also gotten a high grade potion for his bruised ribs.

Crowe sat perched on his table and looked at the proceedings in front of her in amusement. Luche and Pelna stood side by side leaning against the wall by the front door, while Ladone and Athina, the latter of which had insisted on accompanying him to his apartment, looked Nyx up and down with critical eyes.

He stood there, wedged between his TV and two formidable women as they made sure everything was perfect. It made him feel like prey and he did not like that. At all.

“Isn't this good enough?” he wanted to know.

He did not whine. He didn't.

Yet again Athina twitched at the large summer silk cloth that had been slung over his left shoulder so that the roaring coeurl was clearly visible along his upper arm and shoulder. At the front and back it had been tucked into a wide belt made out of fine cotton in a wooden brown colour, shot through with green never ending knots forming plant life, with the ends on both sides reaching his knees. It was draped in artful folds Athina was rearranging again and again much to Nyx's chagrin.

The rest of his clothes were positively understated in comparison. A sleeveless tunic with a high collar that was nearly skintight, and beautifully soft leather trousers, both in a hunter's grey.

“It's enough when I say it is,” Athina admonished and checked the artfully done knot of the cloth belt again. “And now stop fidgeting. I'll be done sooner, if you stand still.”

Nyx did just that and heaved a defeated sigh.

“I could have just gone in a clean uniform like the rest of you,” he complained.

“With what is going on right now, no you can't,” Luche announced from his place against the wall.

A scowl was the blond's answer because Nyx did not dare to move, not wanting to get another one of Athina's disapproving glares. The woman was currently taking the Ulric blades Ladone was carrying and tucked one into the belt against the small of his back and the other one against his right thigh, held there by a leather harness.

“There was discussion of getting you some upper body armour, too, but it would never have been ready in time. Not with how intricate it would need to be, and a bowman's armour would have sent the wrong message. So this is the best we could do,” Athina said and motioned towards the shin guards made out of boiled leather and mithril bands strapped to his boots and the vambraces made in the same style.

“I feel ridiculous,” Nyx said.

“Don't be a baby,” Crowe grinned.

“Well, you can go in your uniform, so you're not allowed to say anything,” he shot back.

Athina stepped back, looked him over one more time and nodded.

“Oh thank ahtrii,” Nyx muttered as his shoulders slumped.

“You'll need to get the new tattoo done soon,” mentioned Ladone as she made sure her uniform jacket sat right around her shoulders.

“I know,” Nyx nodded. “I just haven't had the time to have it done yet.”

“Best make an appointment tomorrow,” the older woman advised.

Nyx nodded again. Makti-Oir was something he would be for life and there were two insignia of his rank, both of which he had neglected to get until now since there wasn't a ceremony for it. One was a tattoo at an easily visible place like the back of his hand, and the second was a mithril bead worn in a fishbone braid.

This was when Luche stepped forward. “I can't help with the tattoo, but I have this.” Within his outstretched hand lay bead made out of mithril that was nearly as big as Libertus' Clan bead.

Nyx was not ashamed to admit to his gaping.

“Where did you get that? Do we even have time to do this?” he questioned.

Luche rolled his eyes. “Of course we have time for this. It won't take us that long to reach the Citadel. Now stop stalling.”

“Okay, okay,” Nyx muttered and took the bead.

Internally he bid good-bye to his shaved mullet. He would need to grow at least one side out again to properly accommodate for his new braid, but for now he improvised and added the braid to the right side. The bead was heavy.

“We'll tell the King what he needs to know,” Libertus answered Pelna's earlier question as he stood up from his crouched position by the fridge.

“And what does he need to know in your opinion, wise guy?” Luche wanted to know, irritated.

Libertus sneered in the blond's direction but before he could say anything Ladone stepped between them.

“Stop acting like a bunch of children. What are you? Five? We'll give the King a full briefing, from the moment we left Insomnia to the moment we got back. What we should be asking ourselves isn't what we're going to tell him, but how much we're going to explain.”

“It's Libertus's decision how much we're going to explain about Gilgamesh. His Clan is the most affected other than the Khara. It's their secret,” Nyx declared.

“I'll concede to Libertus's decision. He fought Gilgamesh and not only took a trophy, but also gained back an unrightfully worn bead,” Pelna announced.

Libertus assented to that with a slight nod and a thoughtful frown that made the taped wound on his face warp. The frown turned into a pained grimace. According to Libertus the doctor seeing to him had declared that there would be a scar, since they had been so late in treating the wound. Not that it bothered his hunting-brother overly much. Galahkari didn't have a stigma against scars like Insomnians had.

“Luche, would you give the report for the Kingsglaive? It would probably be best, if we didn't switch the spokesperson too much. And technically you're the highest ranking Glaive here,” Nyx requested.

The blond nodded after a moment, though he didn't look happy about it. “I gave my word to help you. But I also told you the nobles would be your problem. Don't expect me to do all the talking. Technical highest rank or not.”

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Why did the King demand all of us to be there? Nyx, Luche, Libertus and Ladone I can understand. But Pelna and me? We're not high enough in the hierarchy nor did we do anything report worthy,” Crowe thought out loud.

“Are you kidding me? You invented a whole new field spell and managed to pull it off so well, half an air fleet got destroyed,” Nyx exclaimed.

Crowe turned her head away to hide a blush. “And collapsed afterwards. The spell isn't perfect and I need more time to train its usage with my mages. Two nearly died because of magical exhaustion.”

“And Pelna, you held together communications. You know best what went on where at any given time, and if the Lucians weren't so obsessed with rank, you would be the one doing the reporting,” Nyx ploughed on.

Pelna didn't say anything, but a small grateful smile played at the corners of his lips.

“I think it's about time for you all to go, if you want to be there with a bit of time to spare,” Athina spoke up with a glance to the watch around her wrist.

Luche nodded after checking the time himself. “Being just on time sends a message in and of itself, but we're not at that point yet.”

Nyx didn't want to ask what that meant exactly, but even he could see that it was a power move meant to provoke. That's not what they wanted to do. He turned to Athina who held his new khopesh out towards him, hilt first. Right, power statements. Without a word he sheathed it at his hip, where, half hidden underneath the cloth belt, a sword belt was located.

She nodded, satisfied. Behind her back both Crowe and Libertus shot him wide grins that made him want to roll his eyes.

“Thank you for your help, Athina” he said instead with a sincere smile.

“You come over tomorrow and tell me all about how those nobles reacted to my Clan's handiwork, and we'll call it even,” she grinned.

There was a sparkle in her eyes Nyx couldn't seem to look away from. He nodded, transfixed.

“May the Great Coeurl watch over you, makti-oir,” she said and walked out of his apartment with a small wave.

Had she just winked?

As they themselves left, Nyx at the head of their small procession, Libertus came up next to him and patted him on the shoulder free of summer silk, with a leer.

“Good choice.”

“There's nothing going on, Libs,” Nyx denied with a shake of his head.

“Yes well, excuse me for thinking differently with how you two were looking at each other.” Nyx had to fight a blush creeping up his cheeks and Libertus's grin grew wider as he noticed. “I heard she's Oirkar Sarcina's most talented apprentice. People started speculating that she'll most likely be next in line for the position with how he favours her.”

Nyx shot his hunting-brother a look. He could honestly care less, if Athina was to be the next Oirkar of the Sarcina Clan or a simple seamstress. There was something about her, something vibrant and strong and dangerous, like one of the many poisonous flowers that grew on Galahd. Libertus held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I know you don't care about that. But seriously: anyone who can make you act like a responsible adult with just one look, has my seal of approval.”

“And we need more women in this group,” Crowe piped up from behind them.

Nyx, conscious of the looks they garnered as they passed the people on the street, carefully did not groan or bury his head in his hands. Sometimes he hated his family.

The guards were staring at them. More precisely they were alternating between Ladone's trident, Libertus's axe and Nyx's everything. This was probably the first time they saw authentic Galahdian fashion. Not that Nyx cared much about that. He was too busy concentrating on not messing up the artful folds of the summer silk. Athina would murder him with a sewing needle if he did, he was sure.

They stood in the waiting hall in front of the throne room and they were not alone. At the other end of the hall a group of petitioners sat, talking amongst themselves in hushed tones and looking over at them periodically.

Pelna met his gaze and subtly rolled his eyes. Nyx snorted quietly. The man looked like a soldier ready for a parade with how neatly he was dressed. If one was to ignore the beads half hidden in his hair, announcing his Clan and occupation, that was. Crowe had cleaned up her hair enough that the braids holding her bun together were actually visible for once and even Luche wore a necklace made out of his beads wound on silver metal threads.

Politics they had all said. If Nyx hadn't disliked politics before, he was starting to hate them now.

Libertus proceeded to scowl at the assorted collection of canapés and drinks a butler had delivered as soon as they had entered the hall, which had never happened before. None of them had touched any of it during the ten minutes they had been waiting.

The large double doors opened and a group of three teenagers stepped out. Nyx immediately recognized them as the prince and his retainers, the Lord Shield's son and the Scientia whose name he couldn't remember right now.

The Scientia was the only one whose mien looked appropriately put together for this setting. The prince looked utterly bored and the Amicitia exasperated. Until their gazes strayed over to their group. An expression of bland neutrality that looked so much like his father's, slammed on the prince's face so fast, Nyx felt like he should get whiplash.

He greeted the prince with a stiff nod. The prince nodded back, curiosity creeping into not only his, but also into his companions' expressions. Nyx could only guess what they looked like at the moment. Five soldiers dressed to the nines in their uniforms, and the rising hero of the Kingsglaive dressed in a way neither of them had likely seen before.

Their gazes held for a long moment, until the Scientia muttered something into the prince's ear and they started to leave the hall.

“What was that about?” Crowe whispered somewhere behind him.

“They're all staring at us like we're some kind of attraction,” Libertus muttered under his breath, arms crossed over his chest.

Nyx gave a one shouldered shrug. “Curiosity, most likely. I have nothing against kids showing their curiosity.”

He watched as the prince's shoulders rose in an instinctive defensive movement as soon as he was out of the direct line of sight, and frowned. A child should not do that for wanting to know something.

“Oh, the prince isn't the problem. They are,” Pelna said and tilted his head first towards the still staring guards, then the other petitioners.

Ladone cast them all her hard flintstone gaze and Nyx watched in satisfaction as they hid a shudder and looked away.

A man in a black and dark green court uniform came over to them and cleared his throat. “If you would please follow me. The King is ready to see you now.”

“Thank you,” Nyx said and started to follow him.

Being polite couldn't hurt, he figured.

The servant bowed deeply as soon as he stepped over the threshold. “Your Majesty, may I present you his Majesty, Nyx Ulric, King of Galahd, and the Lords and Ladies of his court: Ladone Najad, Crowe Altius, Luche Lazarus, Pelna Khara and Libertus Ostium.”

Nyx nearly choked on his own spit. What by all the spirits of Galahd...? He had just enough time to exchange a wide eyed glance with Libertus before someone, probably either Luche or Ladone, gently pushed him into the throne room.

He led their small procession, Libertus half a step behind him to his left, until they reached the base of the stairs. The throne room was surprisingly empty. The chairs on both sides of the gallery, where the ruling members of the court usually sat, were empty. King Regis sat on the throne, his Shield stood to his left and Marshal Leonis stood on the landing. Other than the guards by the doors, no other people were present.

Like with every time he saw the King, Nyx could feel the weight of his debtor's braid practically drag him down. He tilted his head in greeting, not unlike he had done to greet the prince, while the others bowed but remained standing. Nyx could tell it was a pretty bad idea to kneel now.

“Your Majesty,” he greeted and the King returned it in kind, head dipping into a respectful nod.

Nyx tried not to show his involuntary wince too much. He was no King. Not in the way the Lucians thought he was. But as Luche had told him on their way here: trying to explain that to them would only end in more confusion and get them nowhere. So he grit his teeth and did his best not to show how uncomfortable this whole thing made him.

“I see you all made it back mostly in good health,” the King said, his eyes lingering on the taped wound running across Libertus' face, before he went back to intensely gazing at Nyx.

Marshal Leonis's gaze flittered from the khopesh at his waist, to Ladone's trident, only to get caught by the large battle axe his hunting-brother carried. A series of expressions ran across the Marshal's face. From surprise to disbelieve to utter astonishment, only to harden into a piercing stare. Nyx frowned, wondering what was going on with the man. The Shield also frowned at the Marshal.

The tension and awkwardness was palatable in the room. Or was that only him?

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered the non question. “There have been no causalities on our side in this battle.”

The King leaned forward, astonished. “None?”

“None.”

“It has been much too long since I heard such good news from the front,” the King mused. “I would like to hear what happened, Your Majesty.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow but nodded. They should probably address that whole royalty thing soon. He had a feeling that it could get out of hand very fast, if it hadn't already.

With my luck, it probably already has, he thought, thinking about that headline in the magazine Pelna had shown him.

Luche stepped up next to him, bowed and started the report from the moment they had left Insomnia. King Regis listened attentively, as did the Lord Shield, though their eyes regularly strayed towards the roaring coeurl depicted on the summer silk cloth. Marshal Leonis's gaze never seemed to leave the large battle axe, which grew more and more disconcerting, the longer it went on.

Ending with their Troops reaching the empty heart of the Niff base, Luche took half a step back, clearly not intend to say much more, if he wasn't spoken to directly.

“Thank you, Lord Lazarus. But I have to wonder: this does not explain why the Glaive was this late in their return,” the Lord Shield stated with a frown.

“It was a trap set up by General Glauca,” Nyx spoke up, back straight and head held high.

Neither Luche nor anybody else would suffer repercussions for their late return. Not while he could do something about it.

“What?!” The Lord Shield seemed to fluff up like an angry chicatrice with shock.

Marshal Leonis did not much more than blink while the King leaned forward with a worried frown.

“You said you managed to avoid causalities,” he said.

“Yes, your Majesty. We have twelve heavily injured people who will all make it and around thirty lighter injured people who still required medical attention, not counting our mages who all suffered various degrees of stasis sickness,” Nyx reported.

His audience listened with growing amazement as he continued praising Crowe's ingenuity with magic, the field spell she had developed, and how she had used it to break their enemy forces before they had had the chance to attack.

“And I went to confront General Glauca together with Ladone of Clan Najad.”

“You. You went to confront the strongest fighter the enemy has within their army, with only one person for backup? Your Majesty,” the Lord Shield added the last part at a subtle sideways glance the King shot him.

Clarus Amicitia clearly didn't buy into the notion that Nyx was royalty and he could have hugged the older man for that. Well, maybe not, but the sentiment was there. But he couldn't help but bristle at the implication that he wasn't able to hunt his chosen prey. That was a serious insult towards any Ulric.

“I did,” he confirmed with a tilt of his head and carefully restrained indignation.

There was a moment of heavy silence between both parties.

Sensing that some form of faux pas had been committed, the King spoke up again: “Apologies, Your Majesty. Please continue.”

Nyx regarded the King for a few seconds and nodded. He knew he shouldn't be insulted. It was a comment made in ignorance, but it still stung. That the King had apologized, surprised him, though.

So the report continued, alternating between Nyx, Ladone and Libertus until they reached their fight with Gilgamesh. That was when Marshal Leonis spoke up.

“You are the first people in twenty-five years to enter the Tempering Grounds and return.”

Libertus, who had stepped up to stand to Nyx's left, gave a sharp grin in answer. “That... man never had to fight against an Ostium before.”

“Those are bold words,” the Lord Shield commented.

Throwing all subtlety into the wind, Nyx grabbed his hunting-brother by the arm to keep him from attacking the Amicitia.

“Libertus, no,” he ordered with as much authority as he could muster.

“They have no idea what they're talking about!” Libertus growled, a sneer on his face and anger in his eyes, but he did not move.

To his other side Ladone gave a quiet curse.

“Exactly, big guy. So calm down,” a warning growl slipped into Nyx's voice as his own magic sparked in agitation.

It only grew worse when another magical presence pressed down on them in a not-quite warning. It was King Regis, who looked down at them with a fire in his green eyes.

“Explain,” he ordered, his voice crisp.

This time Nyx did turn halfway around, still keeping the King within his sight, and looked at his comrades. The normally so laid back Pelna looked furious, while Crowe had a confused frown on her face and Luche looked like the gears turned in his head at high speed.

“The cünaniu lin decreed we should teach,” Ladone commented into the tense silence.

The Elders hadn't decreed shit. In fact, they were against the Lucians being taught too much, and Nyx was pretty sure them knowing a Clan secret counted as 'too much'. Ladone knew that. And Nyx knew that she knew. So why was she proposing this?

“Well,” Pelna ground out. “They need to know something. Understanding and tolerance doesn't come from ignorance, does it?”

“Luche, your grandmother is our oldest sinehär gisdrauht. What say you?” Nyx asked.

The blond's eyebrows shot up, but he considered the question seriously. “She's one of the people who have advocated for more tolerance.”

Nyx nodded. He felt like a bird chained to the ground and longed for the simplicity of a hunt. On one hand he didn't want for the Lucians to know even one of their stories, but on the other hand times were changing, had changed, and Leonid Colophon was right about one thing: they needed to change with them. So he turned towards Libertus.

“It's your Clan secret. What do you decide? None of us will begrudge you, if you decline.”

His hunting-brother's jaw flexed in suppressed anger and agitation, as he mulled their words over. This was hard on him, Nyx could tell, but after a long few seconds he nodded.

Nyx turned back towards the King who was clearly running out of patience, as were the Lord Shield and Marshal Leonis.

“Before we start this, I need you to understand one thing, Your Majesty,” he spoke loudly and more confidently than he felt.

“And what would that be?” There was a dangerous edge to the words that reminded Nyx that this ageing man on the throne had once been a dangerous hunter himself. That he could still be a dangerous hunter, if he so desired.

“What you're about to learn, has until now only been known to three of our Clans. The Ostium, the Khara and the Drautos. Telling someone outside of these Clans is considered an unprecedented show of trust. And telling a Clan secret to someone outside of our people has never been done,” Nyx explained.

“I understand,” the King answered gravely.

“No. No, you don't,” Nyx declared. “But maybe you will.”

He ignored the indignant faces of all three Lucians and stepped to the side. “Crowe, how long can you hold a fire spell?” he wanted to know.

His storm-sister tilted her head, thinking. “Long enough for this.”

She stepped forward and cupped her hands until they formed an improvised bowl in which she ignited a weak fire spell. It was nothing more than a few flames, but it would be enough.

“If you need to stop, I'll take over from you,” Nyx offered and Crowe shook her head.

“What is the meaning of this?” the Lord Shield demanded.

“Our histories need to be spoken in the presence of a fire. Otherwise they can be falsified. The fire's presence will ensure that every word spoken will be the truth and nothing but,” his storm-sister explained.

All eyes turned towards the Lucian King, who frowned, but nodded.

Nyx' gaze travelled towards Libertus, who didn't look happy about any of this at all, but cleared his throat nonetheless and started to speak, voice halting, as he searched for the right Lucian words.

*

Come, come closer to the fire and let me tell you a story. Listen well, for this is a story told to me by my mother and father, who were told by their mother and father back to a time when the Clans were at variance and the sea serpents still swam close to the surface.

At the end of the Wandering Years, when memory of Solheim was still fresh and our people were still hunted all the more for it, a child was born into the arms of the Ostium Clan. It was a boy with strong lungs and flailing arms, screaming his fury into the world. He was the first child born to Thermis and Querello Ostium and the only boy out of four.

The first sister was Tisiphone, who entered the world no two years after her brother had. Brown of hair and brown of eyes she was, with skin coloured like that of the Solheimr used to be. She was of the earth, steadfast and dependable.

Second came Apollaia with hair the colour of the moon and eyes the colour of the sun. Blessed by both heavenly bodies, her fate was to be a great one. Great, but also cruel, for greatness and the protection of sun and moon doesn't mean one remains unscathed on their journey.

And when the boy was seven and the sisters were six and three, their last sibling was born. Their parents named her Danaia, and her smile was the prettiest of them all.

The boy loved all of his sisters dearly, but the one he held most dear was Apollaia, for she had hair as pale as his own, and, even at her young age, readily indulged him in his play-fighting. However, this was not the only reason he was closest to her.

“You must help her become strong,” his mother whispered to him at dusk when the Clan would rest from its day of wandering the marshes and hills. “Out of all four of you, she will be in the most danger.”

“Apollaia is blessed by the sun and the moon, just like you are also moon-blessed,” his father explained patiently when the boy asked why this was so. “But those who bow to the Six think your sister cursed.”

“Why would they think her cursed?” the boy asked and his parents smiled at his curiosity.

Their only son had always been curious and Thermis and Querello indulged him readily in his thirst for knowledge, not knowing that it would play its part for what was to come.

Remember: a curious mind is a great gift, something to be cherished and nourished as long as it isn't taken too far.

“They believe the Pyreburner, he who was goaded into betrayal, can see through the sun coloured eyes of a human. To them the sun-blessed are agents to his will; to spread the all consuming fire into all corners of the world,” his parents answered.

“That's stupid,” the boy protested then. “Sun coloured eyes are a sign of Eos, of Healers and Protectors. Everybody knows this.”

“They chose to forget. A fear has taken hold of those who chose to kneel: the fear of what the Six would do to them should they remember.”

“Kneelers are stupid,” the boy declared.

His mother would laugh a laugh sounding like wind chimes and his father would nod while his pale moustache twitched in amusement, every time they had this conversation.

Years past and the siblings grew safely in the arms of the Ostium Clan. Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable, started to grow as strong in body as she had always been in character. Danaia, with her bright smile, loved to dance and sing when the flowers bloomed and to bring joy to her family. And Apollaia and her brother were scarcely seen apart, always trying to learn something new, or daring each other into yet another adventure.

Years past and they were as safe and happy as they could be. But when the boy entered his twelfth year, when the last summer rains fell, it was decided that the Clan had grown too big to travel safely. Many contested this decision, for there is safety in numbers, true, but a big Clan during the Wandering Years also made a big target, made it difficult to stay hidden.

So split they did.

Five groups they were. One wandered north and west into the great grass plains of Duscae, one made their way to the south of Cleigne, the third stayed where they were and the forth wandered as far west as the land would let them. Thermis and Querello Ostium, along with all of their children and three others were the fifth group and the only one who wandered east into Leide.

Of those three two were the brothers of Querello and their names were Clades Drautos and Kaeso Khara. The third was Diasos Ostium, a distant cousin Thermis had taken in when his direct family had fallen to the hardships of their wandering.

Neither of the siblings took well to the split, least of all the only brother who clung all the fiercer to his sun-eyed sister. Many a night he raged against his parents and his father's brothers and brought his sisters to tears with his words.

And so their childhood happiness died with the warmth of the sun as winter began to make its march across the land.

For many seasons they wandered across Leide, hunted the wildlife, gathered what greens they could find and traded with those willing to let them near their settlements. These were nearly two years full of privations, for the plains of Leide were much harsher than the marshes and hills of Duscae they had wandered before.

During those near on two years Clades Drautos fell to the poisoned shadows when the Clan was driven out of yet another settlement. The Clan mourned and again the boy raged.

“Why do they have to hunt us like we are animals? Why can't we just make piece?” the boy cried out in grief as Apollaia with the sun coloured eyes, tried to console him.

No answer came for the boy that night or those that followed.

It was at the end of their second summer in the plains that the message reached them: A home had been found! A home where they could grow roots and be safe of prosecution.

But they weren't the only ones to hear that call and those who had knelt and bowed their heads towards the Six, renewed their efforts to hunt and kill the Free People.

An argument sparked between the adults of the eastern Ostium Clan. Between Kaeso Khara who wanted to stay and Thermis and Querello Ostium who wanted to leave.

“Think of the children!” Thermis cried when she thought her son and daughters asleep.

“Then leave and I will stay,” Kaeso argued.

“At least accompany us to the border, brother,” Querello pleaded. “We will need your strength against the poisoned shadows. Our children are strong, but I don't want them coming too close to those creatures ere they get sick.”

“Raiders and zealots have grown to such a number in the plains, we fear what they would do, should they catch sight of us. You are as strong with your blades as you are with your words. These skills would be invaluable for us until we reach the marshes,” the mother entreated in tears and Kaeso's hardened heart softened.

He agreed, for it was his brother in all but blood who asked him and the family of his family that was in danger.

Never did they make it over the border into Duscae, however. Only half a day's travel away from the marshes and hills, they were captured and taken to a town whose name has been lost. All but one of them were captured and thrown into the dungeons where they dwellt not in darkness, but in an ever shining light to keep the poisoned shadows away.

It was Diasos, who had been lucky enough to have been in search for a safe place to rest for the Clan, when they had been captured. And again the boy's temper reared as he cursed his cousin as the dungeon's doors closed behind him. Only did he stop when Apollaia begged him to cease with trembling hands that gripped his arm.

There were no windows to tell how many days they waited for their prosecutor to come. Sometimes food and water were brought by silent guards, but never enough and so the boy and his sisters saw their parents and their father's brother begin to waste away.

During this time the boy's mother would tell stories to distract the children from their fate. They were old stories her grandmother had told her, who herself had heard them from her own mother, who had seen Solheim with her own eyes when she had been barely more than a teenager.

Stories about the eternal flame that burned in the highest tower of the now sunken capital they were, of the songs of the sun priests and the fiery glimmer of the Emperor's crown, as he paraded through the streets.

Never did she tell the boy and his sisters of the war the Six had waged between themselves, or the day the earth shook and the sky burnt and everything that did not burn was drowned by the sea. Those were not tales for the hearts of children.

“Tell us the story about the blind woman that got locked away into the shadows by her own son,” the sun eyed daughter would demand every time her hunger was at its worst, and every time her mother would do as asked.

So their days went, with hunger and thirst and stories as their companions, until finally someone came to talk to them. It wasn't a judge or a prosecutor or even an inquisitor, who came down to the dungeons, where the light was everlasting, but a girl.

Her name was Istar, daughter of the lord who reigned over the town the eastern Ostium Clan had been imprisoned in, and she came when all but the boy were asleep in their cells. What neither of them knew was that his sun-eyed sister was also awake and listened to every word they said.

Apollaia, unable to sleep from worry and hunger, was startled out of her reverie of happier days, of laughter and sunshine and roughhousing in the mud, when she first heard the girl's voice.

“I think I finally managed to convince him,” Istar said, her voice pitched in a whisper that carried well trough the cells.

From the way the girl talked to Apollaia's brother, this wasn't the first time she had visited. The sun-eyed girl did not dare move. Dread filled her with every word her brother exchanged with the girl. He treated her, an outsider, a member of the people who hunted the Free People, like a friend.

“Are you sure?” the boy asked eagerly. “I would do near anything.”

“My father did not tell me what he plans to do, but he invited the priest and the judge to lunch this day and afterwards they spent hours in his study. It means that there is going to be an interrogation soon, and since you are the only people imprisoned right now, who would warrant a full questioning, he must have finally listened.”

The girl sounded so pleased with herself, and for a moment Apollaia would have loved to turn around to see what this girl looked like, but her brother spoke up again.

“Istar, that's great! I do not know how to thank you for this. Do you think if I – how did you call it? - testify, they won't harm my sister?”

“Why would my father want to do that? He's not the monster your parents try to convince you he is, you know?”

“Because she has golden eyes,” the boy whispered quietly, as if he feared the air itself could hear and betray him.

The girl gasped in shock and Apollaia did her very best not to give herself away. Her Clan had been so careful to not have those outside of their people learn of this. And now her own brother had given her greatest secret away, to people who thought her a bad omen and cursed.

The girl with the sun coloured eyes heard Kaeso, family of her family, shift in his sleep and all conversation ceased. There was only the rustling of cloth and silent footsteps on naked stone, followed by the sound of a door falling closed.

The boy came over to his favoured sister he thought sleeping, and stroked her moon coloured hair before he lay down to sleep. That night Apollaia did not sleep and when morning came everything changed.

When morning came it started with her mother's pleading as two of her children were dragged away. Apollaia did not look at her brother as they were taken out of the dungeon, for he had dealt her the worst of betrayals.

Remember: For the Ostium Clan, nothing is more important than their Clan and family, and should you be lucky enough to be counted amongst their most precious people, they will move the very earth to protect you. Steadfast, strong, dependable and true those of Clan Ostium are.

And the boy had betrayed his sister.

Both children were separated from each other and the girl with the sun coloured eyes was locked into a tiny cell, bare except for a window, and for the first time in what could have been days or weeks or months, she saw true sunlight again. She held her hands into the warm beam of light and cried in relief. Her skin had paled to the colour of the dry plains of Leide.

A sun-blessed should never be taken from the light, it is a folly that invites tragedy and fates worse than death.

She did not know for how long she was held there. Hours for certain. Sunlight wandered down the wall and over the floor and distracted her from her continuous worry over her Clan. The light had turned an afternoon bronze when the door was opened again and a man so heavily dressed in black, he could be mistaken for a shadow, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her towards a richly decorated room.

Carpets lay on the floor and tapestries hung from the wall, but Apollaia could not look closer, for she was pushed in front of a large table where four men sat.

Everything about them was the colour of wet sand, like it is common for those native to Leide; their hair, their eyes and their skin. Everything but their clothes.

“So this is her. Show me your eyes girl,” the one dressed as a priest of one of the Six demanded, and Apollaia was forced by the man dressed in shadows, to look at them.

Hungry and thirsty, tired and full of fear as she was, she did not struggle. For she was still nothing but a child of nine years and these were men grown.

“My daughter and the boy spoke truth,” one man, wearing the necklace of a lord, said.

And then Apollaia knew what had happened. Her brother had sold her out for his own safety and life. But she did not cry. Here she stood in the sun and as long as the sun touched her she was protected, her mother had told her this every time she had been afraid. And because the moon had also given its blessing, the night could not truly harm her either.

Thus were her thoughts as she was brought back into the tiny cell where water and bread awaited her.

And that night Apollaia slept safely enclosed in the arms of the moonlight and protected by the Guardian of Dreams.

The girl with the golden eyes rose with the sun, as she always did. She had no one to pray to, neither the Six nor ancestors or spirits. But she did not know if she would survive the day, and so she thanked sun and moon for their blessing and protection, before the man dressed in shadows came again to take her away.

This time she did not return to the dungeon or the decorated room, but was taken to a large town's square, where four stakes had been erected upon a large pyre. Her Clan was also there, pent-up in a cage on a wagon and wrought in chains. In the sun Apollaia could see that her father's pale hair had turned grey.

Iron manacles were clasped around her wrists, ere she was locked in with her Clan. All were there, but her brother. Her mother had cried many times in the dungeon, but now here eyes were dry and her face as grim as her father's and Kaeso Khara's. Her sisters crowded around her and she knew that this would be the last time she would see Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable like the earth, and Danaia, graceful and pretty like a desert flower.

A priest – the same she had seen before – stepped in front of the crowd that hushed in exited anticipation, and spoke: “Hear, good people, of what I have to say in the name of the Gods who have spared us in their mercy, and our good Lord. We have gathered here today to see justice done against great crimes committed against our Gods. Captured here, like the animals they are, we have the heretics that refuse to see the light granted to us.”

The people in the crowd roared their agreement and slurs that shall not be repeated here, began to fly until the priest held up his hand and it grew silent again.

“Since the Fall of the great Solheim they have been a bane to our people and now it is time for them to face the consequences of their actions. It has been decided by the Gods and the Lord of our good town, that the men known as Querello Ostium and Kaeso Khara, along with the woman known as Thermis Ostium, be given the Infernian's justice and be burned at the stake.”

Apollaia could feel her mother shake, as she clutched all her daughters close to her, but her hands were steady as they carded through pale and brown hair. Thermis Ostium held her head high, for she was like all of her Clan, strong and immovable like a mountain, and no human could make her bend.

The priest continued: “The oldest among the children, the boy, has experienced the insight the Gods grant us and has renounced his name. He has sworn to follow the Astrals in all their decisions and to never stray from the path they have lain out for him. Henceforth he shall be known as Gilgamesh, servant to Bahamut the Draconian.”

Again the crowd screamed their approval, as they had with every sentence spoken. And the girl with the sun coloured eyes felt part of her heart die. What she had feared had become reality.

“The oldest girl, known as Tisiphone Ostium, shall be granted the mercy of the garotte before she, too, shall be given the Infernian's justice. The second girl, known as Apollaia Ostium, shall be freed of her curse, her eyes blinded, before she is to be given into the Hydraean's embrace. The youngest shall be given to the temple, where she is to be raised in the right ways, in the hope her tainted blood may be purged. Henceforth she shall be known as Samhat.”

Her parents, Kaeso and Apollaia's elder sister were dragged towards the pyre, and she forced herself to witness with her sun coloured eyes as the executioner stepped behind her sister, wound a cord around her neck and strangled her to death.

For the first and only time in her life Apollaia wished the Pyreburner, he who was goaded into betrayal, could truly see through her eyes, so that he may burn every last person in the crowd that cheered, as Tisiphone, steadfast and dependable, struggled and died. She wished they all burn as the executioner set fire to the wood of the pyre, she wished the town would turn to nothing but ashes as the heat grew unbearable and she had to avert her eyes, as her family started to scream.

She cursed the boy that had been her brother, Gilgamesh the Betrayer, as they ripped her younger sister from her arms. She prayed for the sun to rain fire as she heard her sister cry and beg, but she could do nothing.

Nothing but pray.

“Fire!” a voice suddenly called. “The town is burning!”

And as the crowd panicked, trampled the old and frail and young in their desire to flee, Apollaia knew her prayers had been answered. She stood in the cage upon the wagon and watched as thick, black smoke darkened the sky, listened as the people screamed and felt her Clan avenged.

Then she saw something strange out of the corner of her eyes. A person that did not run from the town's square, but towards her. Through the thick soot covering his face, she nearly did not recognize him. It was her cousin, Diasos Ostium.

It was him, who had lain fire to the town, when everybody had been out to see the execution like blood starved sabertusks. It was him, who had killed the guard that held the keys to her cage and the manacles, in the chaos and confusion, and it was him, who slung her over his shoulders and ran out into the plains.

They would not reach Galahd for many years to come, but that is a story for another time.

So ends the story of the boy who became Gilgamesh, told from the mouth of Apollaia Ostium herself with fire and sun as her witness.

*

Deafening silence reigned within the throne room.

Crowe cancelled the fire spell. A thin sheet of sweat glistered upon her forehead. Everybody other than Libertus and Pelna looked shaken and pale, especially the Galahkari.

“This cannot be true. Do you have any evidence for this, Lord Ostium?” the Lord Shield demanded, though his voice had grown hoarse.

“Evidence?” Libertus exclaimed. “I just told you one of my Clan's secrets and all you can think of is to demand evidence?!”

The Lord Shield opened his mouth and closed it again. He looked like he desperately needed to sit down and it was only his own stubbornness that kept him upright.

The King said nothing, casting his unreadable gaze over them before turning towards his Shield, worried. The Amicitia shook his head.

“True or not, I recognize that bead. It is one Gilgamesh wore,” Marshal Leonis declared.

All this time his icy glaze had never left the bead Libertus had tied to his new battle axe with strands of long, pale hair.

That comment got everybody's attention.

“How do you know that?” Libertus demanded.

“I was a reckless kid with something to prove,” the Marshal said like that was all the explanation needed.

“You're the one who cut his arm off,” Ladone realized.

“Yes,” was the bland reply.

Nyx fought the urge to laugh, though he could still feel his shoulders shake. The thought of his hunting-brother adopting Cor Leonis of all people, into the Ostium Clan was hilarious. Poor Libertus was probably eating his words right now. He certainly looked like it.

“This bead is an old Ostium Clan bead. The one known as Gilgamesh forsook all rights wearing them when he betrayed his family for a life in service to the Astrals,” his hunting-brother spoke, voice rough from talking for so long and his turbulent emotions.

And it was true. Beads may be plain nowadays, but both Gilgamesh's and the one Libertus wore in his hair, were made out of a green shimmering, black serpentinite. The Lord Shield made a sound as if he were choking.

“My line comes directly from his. It is his teachings we strife to follow and to archive. We protect those we swore ourselves to.”

“I know,” Libertus asserted, voice and face solemn now. “If things had been different we may have been Clan.”

Something passed between the two men. Something that felt like silent understanding. Nyx couldn't understand it. But then, he thought, the Ostium and the Amicitia may not be one Clan or the same people anymore, but they were still of the same blood. And blood held its own kind of power.

“You succeeded at the trials, I can feel it,” the Lord Shield declared.

“And what if I did?” Libertus wanted to know, teeth bared in a parody of a grin. It twisted his taped wound grotesquely.

“It makes you a royal Shield to the ones you swore to protect,” he said.

The Amicitia looked at Nyx and sketched a bow of respect. Nyx gaped in surprise. What the fuck? Clarus Amicitia had always been one of the more distrusting people against them, though he came from a source of worry about his charge. Which was better than most others, but still a pain in the ass.

“This has certainly been very enlightening. Thank you, Shield Ostium, for your trust-” Nyx really wanted to snort at this one. Being pressured into telling a secret had nothing to do with trust- “and I thank you, King Ulric, for your honesty and your patience with us. If all are in agreement, we will adjourn for today and come together to negotiate at a later date. We all should take this opportunity to rest and ponder what we have learned.”

“Of course, Your Majesty. Thank you,” Nyx said with a nod and following an impulse, he raised his right hand towards his left collarbone in a Galahdian greeting, one hunter to another, before turning around and marching out of the throne room.

He could hear the others following him in silence. Curious eyes followed them until they were back in Little Galahd.

Chapter Text

The day started bright and early with the shrill cry of his alarm clock. Nyx gave a quiet groan, muffled by his pillow, and blindly swatted at his bedside table. The resulting quiet was music to his ears. Blue eyes blinked open, bleary and unfocused, before they fluttered shut again.

Why did he decide waking up at six in the morning on an off day was a good idea again?

Oh, right.

The paperwork.

With a grunt and a jaw breaking yawn he forced himself to get out of bed, and stretched languidly. After getting back to Insomnia yesterday and the audience with King Regis, it had been unanimously decided amongst all of them to call it a day and go back to bed. So Nyx had at last attempted to get more order into the stacks of paperwork still cluttering his apartment.

It had been surprisingly productive. The Kingsglaive roster – active and inactive members – was neatly stacked on his table next to Little Galahd's finances, or at least the parts Crowe had already managed to work through. Axis had taken back the Clan roster just before they had been called out into the field and everything else, from various administrative papers to eventual plans to be considered for the future, was in stacks on the floor next to his armchair.

He stared blankly out of the window as he waited for his tea to steep, not in the mood to try and wrangle an edible breakfast from his cupboards. The light outside was dim, lacking the golden light of a cloudless sunrise. The smoky smell of the black tea did wonders to his ability to want to stay awake and actually pull the folder of inactive members closer to him.

Those were the ones that were on leave due to injury, on maternity or paternity leave, or were on the verge of being let go because something prevented them from active duty.

It was the last group that Nyx still had to do something about. All others had been incorporated already in the new structure and had been made aware either by the gossip circulating through Little Galahd or because of the messages Pelna had written. The last group though...

His thoughts strayed to Hephaistos. The man had been injured during a battle and because help hadn't been able to arrive fast enough, he had lost a leg. The Captain had managed to get him a job as a secretary at the acquisitions office for the Glaive. Maybe he could do something like that? He couldn't just fire the civilians that were doing the secretarial and bureaucratic jobs right now, but the idea had merit. He would bring it up with the others, he decided.

A knock on the door startled Nyx out of his thoughts. A glance to the clock told him that it was barely half past six. Who would want something from him at this time of the morning? Okay, scratch that, he could think of a lot of people, up to and including a reporter with a death wish.

Grumbling, he stood up and traipsed across the room to open his front door. In front of him stood Ker, Pelna's niece, hand raised to knock again. Her eyes skimmed over his naked upper body and a fine, red dusting crept along her cheeks in embarrassment. She mumbled something incoherent.

Nyx blinked in surprise. “I'm sorry, what?”

Ker's face became even redder as she fidgeted slightly with the hem of her top and repeated more clearly: “Aunt Tethys and Uncle Pelna want to invite you for breakfast.”

“I would love to,” grinned Nyx. “Give me a minute to get dressed and I'll be over. I wouldn't miss a free meal for the world.” He added the last part with a wink.

Ker giggled and nodded, the awkwardness bleeding out of her. “I'll tell them you'll be over soon.”

“See you again in a minute,” Nyx called after her and closed his door.

A sigh escaped his lips as he turned around to look for a t-shirt or a tunic to wear. The first thing he found in his dresser was an earth coloured t-shirt with a camouflage pattern. Shrugging on a pair of linen trousers, his gaze fell on the beautiful khopesh laying on the dresser.

It had been a weapon traditionally used by his people in the early days of Galahd, until they had fallen out of use and eventually all but forgotten. His fingers skimmed along the cool metal of the blade that started straight before it curved into a sickle like shape. Nyx could feel the power thrumming through the weapon, it was most certainly magically crafted. There wasn't an element embedded within it, like some stories said Solheimr weapons had been, but there was something else. A power that whispered of running as fast as the wind, of being faster than anyone else. He couldn't wait to truly test the blade out.

But not now. With a vague feeling of disappointment churning in his gut, he turned around and left his apartment.

The door to Pelna's apartment was practically ripped open before Nyx could even knock. He blinked in surprise as Tethys – still smelling of fish and the harbour – gripped him by the wrist and pulled him inside.

“Hey, wow. Where's the fire?” he managed to ask as he did his best not to bristle at the woman.

Tethys had the sense to look apologetic. “We thought it would be best, if you heard this from us before some idiot walks up to you on the street. Yesterday kind of blew up in the papers.”

Nyx froze in his motion of sitting down a the table. Ker had just put down a cup of tea in front of him.

“What? What do you mean 'blew up'?”

Pelna pushed a paper towards him. It was the Insomnian Star, the biggest of the more serious newspapers in the city. It was funded by the crown and centred mostly around political and economical news. And right on the front page was a picture of him, clad in hunter's grey and summer silk, on his way up the stairs of the Citadel. His posture was straight, his head held high, and even through the photograph Nyx could see the cat like grace with which he moved.

How hadn't he noticed that someone had been there?

That question flew right out the window when he read the headline.

Meeting of Kings

The first day of long overdue negotiations?

“What the ever loving fuck?” Was all he managed to say as he stared down at it.

“Language!” Tethys admonished him without any heat in her voice.

Moireus giggled into his yoghurt. Dione rolled her eyes and grumbled something into her porridge. This caused the young boy to kick her in the shin under the table and crow: “Language!”

The teenager stuck out her tongue.

“If you two don't stop right now, neither of you'll get any desert after dinner,” Tethys warned them with a stern look on her face.

Both children pulled remarkably similar pouts, but kept silent and continued eating their breakfast.

Nyx hadn't been paying all that much attention to the exchange or the fact that Pelna had put a bowl of porridge with boiled grains in front of him, too absorbed into the article he was now reading.

After years of silence, the Galahdian King has now come forward. Yesterday this photograph was taken as the King of Galahd was on his way to a meeting with King Regis, the CXII, as trusted sources have disclosed. There is no further information on what has been spoken of, but it is a very large possibility part of it pertained to the refugee situation.

But who is this Galahdian King who has remained anonymous until now? Why has he chosen this moment to step into the political arena?

Let us take a closer look:

Nyx Ulric (27), born on Galahd, came to Insomnia with the second to last wave of refugees that were accepted into Insomnia in 746 ME. The moment he entered the our city, the hidden King volunteered for the Kingsglaive, King Regis' special forces, founded in 741 ME. During his five years of service Nyx Ulric was a loyal soldier fighting to win back his lost home, and was hailed a hero by his comrades.

Our source, who wishes to remain unnamed, has told of a man who never leaves anybody behind, who is the first during an attack and the last during a retreat. A man of great ideals and convictions who loves his people and his kingdom.

Nyx had to stop reading, mouth dry and appetite gone. He looked up to see Pelna watching him with observant eyes while his wife corralled the children – especially Moireus – to get ready for school.

“Who blabbed?” Nyx demanded, voice lowered so the children wouldn't hear the boiling rage in his words.

He could feel sparks of magic igniting under his skin, threatening to spill over along with the urge to hunt, to feel his prey's blood pooling in his mouth and feast in triumph.

The muscles around Pelna's eyes twitched. His whole body was coiled with tension.

“I don't know.” He wetted his lips. “But I'm going to find out.”

Blue coeurl eyes stared at the darker skinned man.

“Good,” Nyx growled.

How dare they? How dare they?

Whoever had done this would pay. Galahd was no kingdom and did not belong to Lucis. The very thought was laughable. And that someone – a Glaive, a comrade, a friend – had called it that made his blood boil and his magic spark. What was worse, was that the Lucians were now truly starting to dig into his past. He wanted to say they wouldn't find anything, but if they didn't discover who their source was in time...

He didn't want to think about it.

There were things that shouldn't be known to outsiders.

“You should eat.” Nyx turned around and saw Tethys, looking concerned. “If you don't, you won't be at full strength to hunt.”

That... was true. He nodded and picked up his spoon. The porridge had cooled considerably while he had been reading the article. Even lukewarm it tasted good. After the first bite Nyx realized how hungry he was and started to eat in earnest. The woman nodded, satisfied.

“Come, children. Time for you to go or you'll be late.”

Moireus bounded over and gave his father a kiss on the cheek.

“Bye-bye, thuir.”

“Good-bye, and have fun,” smiled Pelna and carded a hand through his son's curly black hair.

The boy rounded the chair and tucked at the hem of Nyx's t-shirt until the man bent down to receive his own kiss on the cheek.

“Bye-bye, Nyx.”

“Bye, buhgil.”

With a bright grin and a wave, Moireus ran for the door.

“Hey, wait! Not so fast. Bye!” called Dione and ran after her younger cousin.

Ker followed at a more sedate pace and closed the front door behind her. The silence between the three adults lasted for all of five seconds.

“Now can anybody tell me what the fuck is going on?” Nyx demanded, trying to reign in his temper and his magic.

The other two shared a look.

“The Lucians see something unusual – in their perspective – going on and draw the entirely wrong conclusions. That's what,” Tethys snapped only to take a calming breath. “This is getting out of hand. While you all were gone on your mission, people kept snooping around, bothering the sinehäris and the children.”

“What do they want?” Nyx wanted to know, frowning.

Tethys shrugged. “Information, mostly. About you, Pelna, Libertus, Luche, Crowe and Ladone. Oirkar Ostium nearly murdered the guy who tried to proposition one of his daughters for information.”

“One of them did what? Who was it? How's the guy still alive?”

Nyx wished he could have been there to see Libertus's uncle loose his temper. It didn't happen often, but when it did, it was spectacular. There was only one thing, really, that could make Murus Ostium truly blow a fuse, and that was his family. Threaten his family in any way and you had a gekkan of a man coming for your throat as fast as a snake.

“Funny, that. Sinehär Demetri of Clan Arra heard the arguing and broke them up. The man may be old, but even Oirkar Ostium respects him,” the woman recounted.

Nyx snorted a laugh. “His daughter is alright? Which one was it?”

“Hora. And that Lucian ass would have had a lethal accident by now, if something had really happened to her.”

“Hora would have gutted that Lucian like a fish herself,” Pelna stated and finished his tea. “Nyx, I've been meaning to tell you, but with our mission I haven't had the opportunity: I may have a lead on our money issue.”

Nyx blinked at the sudden change of topic, but leaned forward, interested. “What did you find out?”

“You know that company, WEAPON, I've been telling you about? Turns out that nearly half of the Kingsglaive's money is going there, but the equipment we have from them is worth only a third of that. So someone is definitely using the place to launder money, I just have no clue yet, as to whom it is.”

“Who all has the authority to order supplies for us? It can't be that many people,” Nyx commented, thoughtful and all of a sudden, angry again.

Who dared to sabotage his pack? When he found out who it was he would hunt them down and rip their throat out with his teeth. The smell of ozone burned in his nose as tiny sparks arched over his skin.

“-yx! If you don't calm down, I'm dumping a bucket of water on you!”

That was Tethys. She-member of his pack. Strong and wilful and entirely willing to go through with her threats. He blinked and tried to reign his magic in.

“I'm sorry,” he managed to say, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

Tethys Najad gave him a hard stare, her dark grey eyes hard as flint. In this moment she possessed a startling likeness with Ladone. She looked at him like that for a few seconds, clearly searching for something, before she nodded.

“You're as new to this as we are,” she conceded.

And that was that.

“You'd be surprised how long the list of suspects actually is,” Pelna continued from where he left off. “It starts with the King and ends with Hephaistos Gohlann. The two most notable Names on the list are Cor Leonis and Titus Drautos. Both have easy access to the Glaive's budged compared to all the others. Leonis because he's the head of the entire Lucian army and the Captain because he's our leader.”

“I... can't really imagine that either of them would do something like that. I can't say with the Marshal, but the Captain hates the Empire just as much as the rest of us. He wouldn't gain anything from this,” Nyx frowned.

“I can't believe it either, but better to check it out. Maybe someone close to the Captain is responsible for it. If that's the case then we need to find out so we can warn him,” explained Pelna.

“That... yeah, let's do that.” Nyx sighed. “Man, this is a mess.”

You're telling me, his friend's gaze seemed to say.

“You're going to figure it out,” Tethys addressed the two of them. “But for now you really need to decide what you want to do about the Lucians, Nyx. And fast. If this spirals out of control any further it'll get ugly. There are those who did not take kindly to what was done to us before we were allowed to enter the city and all of our patience is starting to wear thin.”

“I'll need to talk to the sinehäris,” Nyx muttered with a grimace.

It had not been pretty back then. They had managed to take so few things with them and then those greedy Lucians had taken most of that before they had gained permission to enter the city. Nyx still remembered his fury when they had taken four of his ancestral hunting knifes and one of his sister's headdresses, he had managed to take as a memento, from him because those “weren't on the list of acceptable items allowed in Insomnia”.

“You do that,” Tethys nodded as he stood up.

“Thank you for the breakfast, Pelna, Tethys.”

“Any time,” grinned Pelna as he accompanied him to the door.

“Don't be a stranger!” she called from the kitchen.

“Is it really getting that bad?” Nyx wanted to know with a quiet voice.

His friend made a face. “It's getting tense. You becoming makti-oir alleviated it somewhat, but that won't last forever.”

“Thanks. For all that you're doing. Really. Without you this would be so much more difficult.”

“Don't mention it,” Pelna waved off. “I owe you too much not to help. And you're my friend. I would never leave a friend to weather a storm alone.”

Nyx gave him a friendly shove and a quick hug. He couldn't help himself and nuzzled dark, curly hair with a content purr before he let go. The action earned him a bemused smile.

“Don't get into too much trouble,” Pelna said as Nyx slipped out the front door.

“Me? Never,” he said with a wide grin and closed the door.

The streets of Little Galahd were as lively and colourful and loud as ever. Maybe even more so. A tension, Nyx hadn't really noticed because it had always been there, seemed to have loosened. Everywhere people were greeting him and every few metres he stopped to talk to someone. A vendor showing off his wares, a young mother who needed to wrangle her young children and the groceries, a merchant who wanted to know about new opportunities now that things were changing.

It took him nearly thrice as long as it usually did, to reach his destination: the run down apartment complex where they held their storytelling each week and where most of their administration was located, along with apartments for all Elders who wished to live here. It was all paid for by the money everybody in Little Galahd pooled together.

With more confidence than he was really feeling he knocked at the door to Istoria Patientia's apartment on the ground level. On eye level of an average adult, there was a bold red line painted on the door, marking the apartment as a place where a storyteller lived.

To Nyx's surprise it was Luche who opened the door. Both men blinked at each other in mild surprise before the blond stepped aside to let Nyx enter. The hallway was cramped and painted a lovely blue. It smelled wonderfully of tea, spices and simmering stew.

“Good morning, Luche. I wasn't expecting to meet you here,” Nyx greeted as he gently rapped his knuckles against the wooden figurine standing right next to the door.

It stood on a side table, was around thirty centimetres in height and depicted a mythical bird of fire. Long ago, it was said, this bird had been a messenger of the Pyreburner, bringing life and hope with its flames. Now it was seen as a symbol of good fortune and it was supposed to bring luck, if you knocked on its head.

“Mahirahn insisted I keep her company today,” the older man said, slight exasperation colouring his tone.

“There are worse things,” Nyx grinned.

Luche gave a non-committal hum and led him into a semi-large room at the end of the hall, that was kitchen and living room combined. Here the floor was tiled. A large, woven tapestry hung above an old couch and showed a hypnotic pattern of never ending knots. On the dining table a radio broadcast the weather forecast.

Istoria sat in a large rocking chair by the window, knitting needles in her hands and a ball of yarn in her lap. She looked up when she heard them enter the room and returned Nyx's greeting with a nod.

“I've been wondering when you would come visit me,” she said.

“You did?” he couldn't help but ask.

“Of course.” She looked over at Luche. “Please bring our guest a cup of tea, oktihn. There is much to discuss.”

Luche nodded and went to the kitchen counter while Nyx sat down on the chair Istoria had indicated towards. The knitting needles clacked gently, as the old woman sat them down in her lap and looked at him with an expression that made him want to fidget with nerves.

“Now tell me, Nyx, Oirkar of Clan Ulric, why are you here?”

He licked his lips. “I... I think it's time to call a Gathering of the Clan Heads.”

The Elder storyteller nodded in satisfaction and grinned. “That old shrew Eriq owes me a new shawl.”

“Mahirahn,” Luche sighed from where he poured tea into an earthen cup.

“An old woman needs her entertainment, oktihn. Just wait: when you're my age you'll bet on when it'll rain next, just to have something to do.”

“You have plenty of things to do,” her grandson pointed out in exasperation.

He set down a cup of tea at Nyx's elbow, another on the windowsill next to Istoria, and with the last he sat down on the couch. Their positions formed a triangle at whose centre a hearth should have been located. Instead there was a trio of large candle holders, all made out of dark metal.

Istoria raised an eyebrow at Nyx. “Why do you want to call a Gathering of the Clan Heads?”

He took a sip of his tea to give himself another few seconds of trying to get his thoughts in order. The only thing it accomplished was making him angry again, as he remembered what Pelna and Tethys had told him earlier this morning.

“The Lucians are convincing themseves I'm a king. Now even more than before. This morning Tethys of Clan Najad told me that people have been snooping around, looking for information they have neither earned nor deserve. I... it brought something into perspective for me. They finally need to learn that they can't step all over us and our culture and believes, that there'll be consequences, if they do. But for that to happen we as a people need to decide how we're going to present ourselves. We need to decide where our lines are, which aren't to be crossed and where we're willing to move.”

Nyx paused, wondering if his reasoning had been presented clearly enough, if there was anything more he could say to convince the Sineähr Gisdrauht in front of him. Luche looked at him with an unreadable expression that slowly morphed into pleasant surprise and a hidden respect, Nyx had no idea what to do with. So he looked at Istoria instead. The Elder storyteller was slowly rocking in her rocking chair while sipping at her tea.

“And a cünaniu couldn't do that?” she asked.

Nyx opened his mouth to answer and then closed it again, wondering if this was a trick question. A cünaniu could not decide these things. A Great Gathering was where the broad strokes of internal politics concerning all Galahkari were decided. There, every Clan would have a voice and an equal chance to speak. The Clan Heads only convened four times a year, it was rare to call a Great Gathering outside of those times. However this time Nyx throught it necessary because what was happening right now really did concern every Galahkar, not only one or two islands. That was what he told the Elder storyteller.

Her piercing eyes seemed to peer down to his very being.Nyx sat perfectly still and returned her gaze as steadily as he could as the seconds ticked by. Then she nodded.

“We made a good choice in you,” she said at last.

“What?” he blurted out.

“The other sinehäri and me. To be perfectly honest: at first I couldn't help but be worried. You are strong, yes, a good hunter – the best, in fact – humble, willing to fight for your people and you are an Ulric. Don't look at me like that. You should know better than anyone that your Clan has one of the strongest connections to our land, and that gives you power. A power I feared you would never acknowledge within yourself. You were hiding, Nyx of Clan Ulric. Hiding from your responsibilities, your strength and your potential. I thank the Great Coeurl every day that she forced you to stop.”

“But I wasn't-”

“You were,” Luche interrupted. “I don't think you realize how many people were willing to follow you when we first arrived here. You were barely twenty one and had managed to lead near half a thousand people here on your own. If you had spoken up against the treatment we received from the mainlanders, we would have followed you, if you had decided to leave Insomnia, we would have followed you. But instead you decided to take the easy route and fade into the anonymity of the Kingsglaive.”

Nyx could feel his nails dig painfully into the palms of his hands. They were shaking in fury and he could feel lightning spark. A deep, warning growl reverberated through the air and Nyx felt nothing but satisfaction as Luche paled and pressed his lips together.

That was not- it wasn't-

The smell of ozone was nearly overwhelming and Nyx's field of vision started to shift. How dare pack to accuse him of being a coward?

“Luche!” Istoria barked. “Do not blame a child for wanting to be safe. Such responsibility is daunting even for the most experienced. A coeurl hiding in the jungle is a coeurl learning to hunt. There are some things that need time, and showing yourself to your prey can be a truly terrifying thing.”

“Of course, mahirahn,” Luche gritted out between clenched teeth. “I apologize, Makti-Oir.”

Blue coeurl eyes blinked at pack leader-in-his-absence in consideration. Pack was pack, and sometimes pack fought, Nyx knew, to keep itself strong. Another sound rumbled through his chest, this time more like a purr. With one fluid motion he stood up from his chair and strode over towards the couch. Unceremoniously, he let himself flop over the blond man with his full weight. A wheezing sound was his answer and he grinned, shark like and full of teeth.

“You ahtrii damned son of a coeurl,” Luche groaned, but he did not try to push Nyx off. Instead he shifted to accommodate his weight.

Nyx gave a smug rumble and made himself right at home, draped over pack leader-in-his-absence. This was his pack member. His. They had fought and now they were both stronger for it. The coeurl part of him was deeply satisfied while everything else in his mind was quietly dying of embarrassment.

Istoria gave a quiet huff. “It's an honour to meet you, son of the Great Coeurl,” she said. “We have truly been blessed.”

Somehow Nyx doubted that but did nothing more than stretch and gently bump his head against Luche's as he stood up. It was a struggle to reign his magic and that animal-deep jungle-instinct in, but he managed, somehow. It was a wild thing, his magic, and it did not like to be reigned in, to be guided in human patterns. He was learning though, slowly but surely.

“Thank you, Sinehär Gisdrauht, for your time. But I think I have taken up enough of it for today,” Nyx said with a quiet rumble in his voice, still.

“And I thank you for yours, Makti-Oir. May the fires of your hearth burn bright and strong and for a long time to come,” she replied with a tilt of her head.

“And yours,” he answered and turned around to leave the apartment.

He could hear Luche stand up and follow him. For a long moment they looked at each other in silence by the front door.

“What I said,” Luche started, “I mean it. I may have worded it rather... inelegantly, but it needed to be said.”

Nyx looked at him for a long moment. “What are you trying to say?”

The blond breathed a sigh through his nose. “The winds are changing and I can recognize when it's in our favour. The people have been more... like they used to be before all of this. Before we had to leave Galahd behind, unable to give our people the burial they deserve. What I mean is: whatever you need of me, I'll do everything in my power to make it happen.”

At these words, spoken with a quiet conviction, Nyx could feel his breath leave him and his eyes grow wide. He had expected many things of Luche, but not this.

“Luche, are you sure about this? You brokering an alliance between our Clans in the name of your oirkar, I can understand, but... fohl, why are you trying to pledge yourself to me? That's not- I would never demand you do something like this.”

His only answer was a flat stare.

There was something. Something Nyx was clearly missing and Luche was less than inclined to explain it to him. Just as well. With a frustrated huff he opened the door and stepped outside into the stuffy air and bid the blond good-bye.

He strolled along the stands crowding the market district of Little Galahd. The air smelled of grilled meat, stew and spices that made him think of the market days further inland on Galahd, where the salty smell of the sea hadn't quite been able to reach through the jungle. It made his heart twinge with longing.

Nyx had used to sell the pelts of his kills on those markets, as well as dried meats, and occasionally people would ask him to gather one thing or other in the jungle for them. Herbs, rare spices, plants and other things. One time he had made a killing gathering amber for the Lazarus Clan. Libertus and Crowe had surprised him by joining him in the afternoon, after he had been done searching for the day, and they had spent the rest of the day lazing around and swimming.

Hmm. Maybe he could bug Libertus for a lunch?

Debating that thought – it was getting close to noon – Nyx did not really notice that he had stopped moving and was standing on the pavement, staring intently at a stand selling grilled root vegetables with pulled garula meat.

“Here.”

A disposable container was held right under his nose. He jerked, surprised.

“Athina?”

The woman grinned. “The one and only. I saw you through the window of the shop, staring at that food stand. So here.” She held the container out to him again.

“Thank you,” he mumbled red faced and more than a bit embarrassed.

“No need to thank me,” Athina laughed. “It's time for my lunch break anyway. Come, let's find somewhere to sit and eat. You still owe me a story. Lucian papers are no substitute for that.”

He took the container and followed her through the busy street.

“When do you want me to return the summer silk cloth?” he found himself asking.

The seamstress gave him a sideways glance. “It's yours now. Uncle considers it an investment well made.”

She gave him a crooked grin and it took Nyx a few seconds to understand what she meant. He could feel his mouth fall open.

“What?” he yelped.

They climbed up the fire escape at the side of an old concrete building and sat down at the edge of the flat roof. From up there they could see the whole market street. The noise was nothing more than a faint murmur up here.

“I would never want to presume that...” he started haltingly after he had sat down, container in his lap and feet dangling over the edge.

Athina laughed. It made her whole face glow and did something to Nyx's insides. He had to look away before he started to stare at her. Instead he looked down at the crowd moving below.

“Don't you worry. I figured that out within the first few minutes of meeting you.”

He had no idea, if he should be offended by that or not.

“Granduncle has always been of the scheming sort,” she continued. “Mahir always told me how proud he was of brokering deals between prominent members of different Clans. And now... let's just say I haven't seen him this enthusiastic since we had to come here. I don't have the heart to stop his fun for now.”

“He cares for you.” Nyx could not think of anything else to say.

“Yes, he does. Nyx, please don't think of him any less. He just wants me to have a good future and a happy life with a spouse and many children.”

“Do you want that? A spouse and children?”

They looked at each other and Nyx could see Athina's golden eyes soften. She nodded and he suddenly felt like he was hot and cold at the same time. Why, by all the spirits of the jungle, was he feeling this way?

“To be honest, I have never much thought of it,” Nyx offered. “Ever since the Niffs came, there has always been something else going on. But I have always liked children.”

A warm, elegant hand touched his upper arm. “You know that you don't have to go along with my granduncle's notions, right? As long as we don't want to, there are no strings attached to the summer silk. You looking the part of your position will help us as a people immensely in the long run. That's also part of the investment.”

“I know,” he said.

Athina was such a bright woman; talented and strong with an inner fire Nyx couldn't help but admire. He felt attracted to her and as Libertus could attest, when he was truly attracted to someone, he fell hook, line and sinker. It didn't happen often, and when it did, he tried to stay out of the person's way as much as possible. His problems weren't the kind most people would share with him, he felt. Crowe thought it was the stupidest reasoning this side of Eos, but he just couldn't help it.

This time however, something felt different. He felt himself click with the woman next to him in a way, he seldom did with others. So call him a fool, but for once he was willing to try.

“Athina? Would you like to accompany me to the next storytelling?”

She looked at him, hard and searching. A fork full of vegetables hovered halfway to her mouth. Nyx did his best to convey his thoughts with his eyes, unable to give voice to them. After an agonizingly slow few seconds, she smiled. It was slow and beautiful in a whole other way. Like a sunrise was.

“Yes. Yes, I would like to. Very much so.”

They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Both simply content with the presence of the other.

“Now,” she said and clapped her hands together once, making him look at her. “Tell me what happened at your meeting with King Regis. You promised.”

They spent the rest of Athina's lunch break like this. Sitting on the edge of the roof, just talking, while down below the world continued to move.

Chapter Text

Organising a Gathering of the Clan Heads on top of everything else was a logistical nightmare. They were all a very prideful bunch, which meant that over the next few days, while Insomnia slowly imploded with speculations, Nyx visited every single oirkar in person to announce the Gathering. It wouldn't have been half as bad, if he hadn't had to suffer through half an hour of drinking tea with every single one. Even Murus Ostium, Libertus's uncle.

It got especially awkward when he had to go to Clarice Utris. The old woman was oirkar of her Clan and also a relatively close cousin to his mother. Since Nyx could remember, she held a strong dislike for everything with the name Ulric. It was so bad she had nearly cut all Clan support Alyxa Utris was due, when she had married Ilias Ulric against the wishes of her Clan Head.

“To what do I owe you the pleasure of your visit, Makti-Oir?” Clarice Utris asked with a caustic voice.

She had been old when they had still been on Galahd, and now she was even older. Her wispy snow-white hair was done in her Clan's braids – two thick braids that started at the temples and held the rest in a bun at the back of her head; men tended to pull it into a tail – and her gaze was as sharp as ever. Nyx felt like a child again that tried not to cower in front of this intimidating woman with her tall stature, wide shoulders and muscular arms.

“Thank you for granting me entrance to your lands,” Nyx intoned, despite the fact that none of them currently had any lands to grant entrance to, and held out his left hand.

Clarice Utris was left handed. She hated it when people held out their right hand to greet her. It was ridiculous, but right now he needed to be on her good side. Well, as good as he was ever going to get. She eyed it like a gryffin would its prey, before she grabbed his wrist in a greeting of equals.

Her grip was strong and firm despite her old age. Normally an oirkar would have declared a successor by the time they hit 70 at the latest, but the Utris Clan was one of the few exceptions. Age didn't count so much as the ability to swing a hammer in the forge did. As long as Clarice Utris could do that she would remain oirkar, even at the age of 87.

“No harm shall come to you, Makti-Oir, while on the land of Clan Utris. Be welcome and take rest at our hearth,” Clarice Utris said with no inflection whatsoever in her voice.

Nyx nodded and followed her inside the apartment. It was small and utilitarian, with the largest room barely fitting a small couch, an armchair, a coffee table and a huge shelf. The highlight was the actual fireplace, which was most likely why the old woman had chosen this place to live. One of the only frivolities – if one wanted to call it such – was the wooden fire bird statue by the entrance.

The building must have once been a large town house, made out of brick with large windows and an unusually sweeping roof. Located at the upper edge of Little Galahd, it was close to the stairs that led up to the main highway of the city. Nowadays five apartments were crammed inside.

Clarice Utris offered him the armchair to sit and wait, and vanished into the kitchen to make some tea. Nyx sat down and plugged at the clothes he wore. Tunic and trousers were a hunter's grey at the base and melted into intricate patterns of different shades of browns and greens with splashes of other colours in between. Athina had practically shoved them into his arms after rooting through his closet and declaring most of its contents unfit for meeting the oirkari in his role of makti-oir.

A tray with two earthen cups and a round bodied tea pot was set down on the coffee table. Clarice Utris did not spare him even a glance as she prepared what Nyx now identified as limeschti – the official welcoming tea.

Despite having already greeted him, she set a cup down in front of him and took her own in her hands and spoke the traditional words: “Be welcome. We grant you safety in passage through our lands, and a place at our hearth for as long as you wish to stay. No harm shall come from me and mine. Fire and sun as my witness.”

“May your hearth burn strong and bright. No harm shall come from me to you or yours, during my journey through your lands. Fire and sun as my witness,” Nyx said, raised the cup until it was level with his eyes and then took a sip.

The tea had a very smoky quality to it.

“Now tell me, Makti-Oir,” Clarice Utris spoke after she set her cup down, “why do you come to me only after you have already visited Nitor Lazarus?”

Nyx blinked and bit the inside of his cheek to not blurt out the first thing that came to mind. Instead, he took a calming sip of the limeschti to keep his words as polite as he could make them.

“Clan Lazarus is brokering an alliance with Clan Ulric. Allies take precedence over the other Clans, as a woman of your standing is, without a doubt, well aware.”

“Family takes precedence over allies.”

It took everything Nyx had not to bark a bitter laugh. Though judging from her expression, the smile he gave her was too sharp. Family. What a joke. An Utris had been his mother. An Utris had been his sister. But where had the rest of that Clan been after Ilias Ulric's death? His mother had barely managed to feed the three of them during the winter afterwards.

“For there to be familial ties, they must be acknowledged first, Oirkar Utris.”

The wrinkles on Clarice Utris's thin face grew even more pronounced. “You had a mother and a sister that were counted amongst this Clan.”

“Mahir and Selena were family before they were members of Clan Utris.”

The old woman's lips twitched as she glared at him. Nyx was very careful not to let any of his inner conflict show on his face. He would have loved to call the members of Clan Utris his family. A long time ago. Now he didn't quite know how to feel about them, other than the dull ache he always got when he saw Archyll and Ariadne. They had been his sister's and his favourite cousins.

“Alyxa would have been happy with the match we had for her,” Clarice Utris said, and it sounded like a challenge.

“Maybe she would have. Maybe not,” Nyx said, trying to be as diplomatic as possible about this. “But in the end she found her greatest happiness with Ilias Ulric.”

“You could have been one of ours,” she said then, something wistful in her eyes. “You could have been my grandchild. The name Ulric brings nothing but death to those who are close to them.”

This time Nyx felt his jaw drop open. “You don't get to do that,” he whispered. “You don't get to do that. You don't get to hide your bitterness behind what happened to my Clan. The simple matter of fact is that mahir did not want to marry her third cousin, no matter how much you wanted it to happen.”

Fuck.

Nyx closed his eyes for a second in the following silence. He should not have said that. No matter how true it was.

“Out,” Clarice Utris breathed.

Her face had gone bone white behind her natural tan. Her hands shook as they balled themselves into fists on her knees.

“Get out!”

Slowly Nyx stood up, heart thundering in his chest. For a moment he looked down at the old woman seething with anger, then he spoke the words he had come here for in the first place.

“Clarice, Oirkar of Clan Utris. You are hereby invited to the Gathering of Clans, which is to commence in three days time at midday in the storyteller's yard.”

He marched out of the apartment without another word, down the stairs and out onto the street. The air was humid and it smelled nauseatingly of exhaust fumes. Nonetheless Nyx took a deep, calming breath. This could have gone better. Why couldn't that old hag simply let it go? He glared up at the underside of the road above him, as if his gaze alone could make it catch fire.

No, he told himself firmly. No, don't go there. Down that road lie too many painful memories.

With an annoyed grunt, he turned around on his heels and walked into the mass of alleyways leading further into Little Galahd. This had not been the last home he would need to visit today.

Ethin Sarcina welcomed him into his home with a jovial laugh and a firm shake of his wrist. The man was a welcome distraction with his good mood and truly delicious chocolate covered blackberries. Nyx listened for nearly ten minutes to the glowing praise the older man had for his grandniece, before he managed to inform the man of the Gathering.

“Clan Sarcina is honoured to be so high in your regard,” Ethin said with a solemn gravitas that was only strengthened by his mane of shoulder length hair.

Nyx didn't even bother to ask how he knew.

“It was a wise decision to go to the Lazarus after talking to the Ostium,” the older man continued and subtly shifted his weight on the cushion.

The Sarcina came from Drahlehlin, Galahd's southern island. There, tables were low and people kneeled on cushions on the ground. Nyx had no idea where that custom had come from, but he certainly was no fan of it. His toes were growing numb.

“If I may be so bold in asking: whom will you visit next?”

Nyx's gaze wandered over the tea set on the table between them. From the tea cups without handles made out of porcelain, to the flat teapot that looked like a disk in Nyx' eyes and the wide rimmed snack bowl, all set out on an intricate table cloth depicting colourful birds.

Should he answer? On one hand he didn't want to inflate Ethin's ego even further, on the other, he would know soon anyway.

“Khara and Najad,” he said at last. “Then the Arra, the Bellum, the Patientia and the Altius.”

Ethin hummed, gaze thoughtful. “A packed schedule you have there, Nyx Ulric.”

“Yes,” Nyx agreed and made a face.

Tomorrow would be even worse. He'd have to take a free day to manage them all, and if he was really unlucky, he would have to ask Libertus to tackle the lowest ranked Clans. Which wouldn't go over all that well.

A calculating gleam entered Ethin's eyes. “You went to the Lazarus after the Ostiums because you're brokering an alliance with them. But that can't be all. A personal favour? No matter. The Najad are high up the list because they were personal allies to your father. The Arra are the record keepers, they are always amongst the first ten Clans to be invited. But why the Patientia after the Bellum? The oldest gisdrauht is a Patientia, after all.”

It took Nyx a second to realize that this was a question he was supposed to answer. “Because it was the Bellum that got so many of us out of Galahd. They deserve to be honoured for that.”

“Very true. But following that logic you will deal the Pontos Clan a grave insult. Didn't they help as well?”

“The Pontos were amongst the first to flee, took nearly all of their ships, loaded them with what goods they could, and lost half of them to the waves anyway. Regard for them is low.”

In Nyx's opinion they had gotten what they deserved, though it pained him to think about how many Galahkari lives had been lost in their foolishness.

“And you would risk insult to everybody else should you place them too high,” Ethin nodded and took a sip of his tea.

Nyx tilted his head in acknowledgement and bore the older man's renewed scrutiny. Approval was clear in his green gaze, it made Nyx feel like he had just been tested without realizing it. It was disconcerting.

“Now, don't look at me like that, Nyx Ulric. You may have the standing, but I would never give my grandniece to an idiot.” Another lingering look. “I will personally see to an outfit for you to wear during the Gathering.”

Ethin held up his hand to pre-empt Nyx's attempted protest.

“Please, do not protest this. If we were on Galahd, this wouldn't nearly matter as much, but the sad reality is that we're not. The mainlanders will notice sooner or later, and when they come to investigate, we need to make the most of it. For them, illusion is more important than fact, and it's high time we use that.”

This would be a lot easier a pill to swallow, if Nyx wasn't the figurehead in all of this. He had no particular desire to play into the Lucians grand notion that he was a king.

“Thank you for your help, Oirkar Sarcina,” he chose to say instead of all the other things tumbling through his head.

“Of course,” the older man acknowledged.

Thankfully the hard part of this conversation was over after that.

After a light lunch and a change of clothes, Nyx went to work.

“I'm thinking of getting some units back into the old stealth tactics,” he said to Luche as they watched a mock battle between Troop Zwihr under Libertus, and Troop Kihna under Kepho No-Name.

Both troops consisted mainly of heavy hitter front line fighters. Libertus tended to go more in the direction of ambush tactics, while Kepho was like a hard hitting hammer. Blunt and blind force, but when directed very effective. Right now Libertus's people were winning.

Next to him, Luche frowned. “The tried and true method of hiding in trees and attack from above? That worked in the jungles, but won't do so on plains and within Niff bases.”

On Galahd the trees grew strong, sturdy and tall, able to carry people many metres above ground without trouble. However here on the mainland, trees were feeble things that, to every Galahkar, looked more like tall bushes.

“That's not what I meant.” Nyx cast the blond a look. “What do you know about the Ostium way of fighting?”

Luche took a few seconds to contemplate his answer. Down in the field Libertus and his hunters had managed to encircle Troop Kihna, whose members started to drop out of the fight even faster now. It spurred them to fight with a grim determination.

“Very strong, but also very fast. They are most likely the only ones who can wrestle a gekkan bare handed and not only not die, but also win. They are cunning to a surprising degree.”

Nyx nodded. “Most people tend to only focus on their strength. But they forget the Ostiums also have a very close bond with snakes. Snakes are fast, snakes are cunning, and they also know how to hide, how to camouflage themselves and strike from an unexpected position.”

“You want to turn Zwihr into another stealth troop? That's not a good idea, Nyx.”

“That's not what I meant.” Nyx gave an exasperated sigh. “But it would be beneficial, if some of our units and troops weren't so static in their functions. Libertus makes a great front line fighter, he's strong and knows how to use the hunters under his command for maximum impact, but half the time I want to put him with Tahrolin Troop for an ambush. What if we make Zwihr Troop into both front line fighters and an ambush force?”

“It might work. Might, mind you. You'll need a diversion. A force that will manage to absorb first contact with minimal losses and stand it's ground.”

They both watched as down below Kepho managed to rally his remaining hunters into a circle formation facing outwards, using localized shield spells to defend themselves. No, that was not quite right. The hunters formed pairs, where one cast shields and the other attacked. Right at that moment it turned into a battle of attrition. If this were a real battle, losses would be heavy on both sides. The defending force would make the enemy bleed for each step they took. Nyx whistled in appreciation. So Kepho was not just blunt force, he was also a tree with deep roots and a thick bark.

“I guess we found our diversion,” Luche stated, voice dry.

A few minutes later the fight ended in a stalemate. Libertus stank of sweat and Lucian magic when he stepped up to them, after making sure his people were alright.

“Kepho's one tough son of a bitch. Hadn't expected that. Wait, since when are they here?”

“Who?”

Nyx turned around and saw Gladiolus Amicitia along with whom he assumed was his younger sister, lurking at the edge of the training compound.

“Don't turn around like an idiot, you dumbass,” Libertus hissed.

“Alright, alright. Still, what are the Lord Shield's kids doing here? Don't they have lessons or something?”

“His Grace must have told them the Gilgamesh story,” Luche concluded after a moment.

“'His Grace'?”

“Yes, Nyx, 'His Grace'. I learned some of the finer points of Lucian nobility – like you should, as well. The Lord Shield is a Duke, the Duke of Taelpar to be exact, and as such is addressed as His Grace. Lord Shield is the title used to show his capacity as the Shield of the King.”

“Great, that's just great,” Libertus grouched and rolled his eyes. “I'm not dealing with that. If those two want to talk, they better not expect me to come to them. So, any conclusions to that exercise?”

“Yes, actually. Luche and I were just talking about it. How do you feel about being the snake hiding in plain view?”

Libertus blinked, then grinned. “Ah, a snake amongst the leaves. You think it'll work?”

Nyx nodded. “If we take the initiative and attack instead of defend, yes. Everything east of Tealpar Crag is mostly clear of Niffs. If we find a way to stop their sovereignty over the airspace, it'll be firmly within the Crown's hand again. The enemy has currently only two bases on the western side of the Crag. The closest is Tollhends Stronghold. It guards the main crossing over the Crag. We have that, they can't just move their ground troops further inland.”

“Hmm. A surprise attack from within?”

“Basically yes. That's the general idea for now. Can you do it?”

Libertus scratched his stubble in thought. “With a whole lot of training, maybe. I'd need to talk to Draskelio, Ares and Nube about it.”

Draskelio Furia, Ares Bellum and Nube Dala were the lead hunters of the units under Libertus' command. All three of them were good hunters with Draskelio being the oldest in his mid forties and Ares the youngest at 33. Nyx didn't know them very well, but he was confident they would be able to pull it off.

“What do you think, Luche?” he asked.

“Ares will be on board without much prompting. Put a strategy in front of him and he can come up with the tactics to make it happen. And the bloodier a nose the Niffs get, the better. Draskelio is very forward, and he very much prefers to hit the enemy straight in the face, so to speak. But if you convince him to do it, he will keep to the plan. Nube I don't know very well either, but from what I have seen and heard, she fights smart instead of running straight ahead.”

While Luche talked, Libertus's eyes had flittered multiple times over Nyx's shoulder where the Amicitia siblings were lurking. Nyx concentrated and heard quiet shuffling over the sounds down in the training field, where Arl Unit was setting up a perimeter now that he fight was over. The next exercise would be a capture the flag kind of deal.

Libertus's face morphed through several expressions in fast succession before it settled on annoyed. Nyx shared a look with Luche, who returned his gaze, eyebrows raised.

“Alright,” Nyx said. “Libertus, after the Gathering you'll start the preparations. Do we have a plan or something for the Stronghold? One of the demolition units could rig something up for training, if we do.”

“I will look into it,” Luche nodded.

“What? Uh... yes, okay,” Libertus said. Then, he switched into Lucian. “Damn it, kids. If you want something come here and say it!”

There was a light scuffle behind his back, at which point Nyx decided to turn around. The moment his eyes landed on the Amicitia siblings, they both froze. At once the boy pushed his younger sister behind him and gave a deep bow of respect. The girl brushed off her brother's hand to do the same.

“Your Majesty,” the boy said. “We are very sorry to disturb you.”

His younger sister nodded.

Nyx made a face at being called that, yet again. Behind him, Libertus gave a snort.

“Don't call me that.”

“But father said you're a king,” the girl chirped from half behind her brother.

How old was she? Ten?

“That's not a title we use,” he answered, patient.

The girl just didn't know any better.

“Well, what do you use then?” she wanted to know.

Stumped, Nyx looked at Luche, who was looking at the siblings in consideration. The blond man was definitely planning something. The question now was: How much of a pain in the ass would it be for Nyx?

“If you need to use a title for him,” Luche spoke up, “then call him Makti-Oir.”

Gladiolus tilted his head. “Makti-Oir,” he repeated carefully.

All three Galahkari did their best not to wince at the butchered pronunciation. The 'r' was articulated to far back in the mouth, the 'a' was too long and the 't' sounded wrong.

“What's that mean?” the girl asked.

“First Hunter,” Libertus spoke up.

At once both Amicitias' eyes were on him. The boy's considering, searching, and the girl's just plain curious. What by Pitioss had the Lord Shield been telling them? Before one of the two could open their mouth to ask another question, Libertus asked one of his own.

“What are you two doing here? You should know how dangerous it is to walk into an active training field!”

“Gladio wanted to see you, so I decided to come along, so he wouldn't do something stupid,” the Amicitia girl said and walked around her brother, more confident now, though she still stayed close to him.

“Iris!” Gladio hissed.

So her name was Iris. Nyx should really make more of an effort to remember it. Giving a charming grin, Nyx crouched down so he was closer to an eye level with her.

“Thank you for making sure your brother wouldn't get into trouble,” he said and winked.

“You're welcome!” Isis grinned.

Nyx did his best not to laugh at the face her brother made. “Now, would you tell me why you and your brother came here?”

Iris looked up at her brother who gave her a nod. “Father told us about the Blademaster, and the story Lord Ostium told him and King Regis. Is he really our cousin? We never had much extended family before. Father also said that Lord Ostium is your Shield now, because he beat the Blademaster in a fight, and that Gladio had to learn how to be a proper Shield.”

“You better ask him that yourself, Iris. It's very impolite to talk about people like they aren't there, when they're standing right next to you,” Nyx said and stood up.

The siblings looked expectantly at Libertus, though Gladiolus looked decidedly more embarrassed than Iris. He was not exactly a boy anymore. His features retained no baby fat, which made him look older than he was, though Nyx guessed him to be in his late teens. He was taller than all of them, and had a solid musculature that faintly reminded him of an Ostium, though that might just be him seeing things.

Libertus looked between the two siblings, clearly considering things, before he sighed in defeat. He had never been able to say no to kids, and had often looked after his younger relatives. Still did, when time permitted it, and to Nyx it looked like the Amicitia siblings had just been added to the list, no matter how much his hunting-brother may grouch and complain about it.

“Okay, first of all don't call me Lord Ostium. Neither of you. I ain't no lord. I just make sure that guy-” he jammed his thumb in Nyx's direction “- doesn't kill himself with one of his stupid ideas.”

Nyx made a scandalized sound, which caused Iris to giggle. Gladio frowned, thoughtful.

“But you beat the Blademaster and proved yourself worthy of being a Royal Shield. You deserve being called a lord.”

No one who didn't know him well would notice, but by this point Libertus started to struggle to keep his temper in check.

“For you Lucians, that may be so. But to us Galahkari, it was justice served. We don't give people titles like lord, for doing something we deem important.”

It was Iris again, with all the wisdom a child possessed, who asked the most important question: “What do we call you then?”

“... Libertus. Just call me Libertus.”

“Nice to meet you, Libertus! I'm Iris and this is my brother Gladiolus.”

Libertus gave a solemn nod as a greeting. Nyx had to stifle a grin at the scene. Iris's face gained an expression that was probably supposed to be business like, but could only be called cute.

“Are you going to do it?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“Teach my brother.”

Gladio hissed something at Iris while the Galahkari present shared glances. Libertus looked pleadingly at Nyx, who looked at Luche, who looked at them both in exasperation. They were saved from having to answer by a small explosion going off on the training field.

At once, Nyx whirled around, lightning crackling along his arms and hands, and hissed like a startled cat, ready to pounce at the source of danger. Only there was no danger. Down below, Tredd gave off a slew of creative curses, before he called up to their group.

“We're alright, in case you wanted to know!”

“Tredd!” Nyx yelled back in Hadnissa. “You fucking idiot!”

From the corner of his eye he could see the Amicitia siblings startle. Gladio had pushed Iris back behind him and gone into a ready position, a summoned sword in hand. Libertus had positioned himself at Nyx's shoulder, ready to fight, while Luche was ready to take the rear.

Now, Luche actually rolled his eyes and muttered something about idiot distant relatives, while Libertus spat his own curses back at Tredd, before making sure the siblings were alright.

“Fuck you, too!” Tredd yelled back, much to the scandalized looks of Gladio and Iris, who may not have understood the words but certainly their intent.

With a quiet growl Nyx jumped down – to the loud protest of his hunting-brother – and warped with the clap of a lightning bolt. This was still strange, warping without using much, if any, Lucian magic. Though his control of it was still pretty much hit and miss, so he overreached himself, stumbled, and tumbled to the ground.

Above him, Tredd laughed.

To save some of his dignity, Nyx could only do one thing: He kicked Tredd's legs away from under him. With a thud and a curse, he landed in the dirt next to Nyx.

“Very mature of you,” the redhead grumbled.

“Right back at you,” Nyx shot back, voice still a deep rumble.

“Whatever got your whiskers in a twist,” he heard Tredd mumble, but chose to ignore it.

This time.

They stood up and dusted themselves off as best as they could. Both of them were dressed in a strange mix of their Kinglsglaive training uniform and their traditional hunter's garb.

“What exactly were you doing?” Nyx asked.

Instead of answering, Tredd waved him over to where the rest of Arl Unit was standing. Two of them were putting out the burning dirt, while another tried to scrub off the soot from her face, and the rest were discussing amongst themselves what might have gone wrong.

On the scorched ground, still half visible, were lines made out of crumbled coal. They had been part of a circle along with a few sigils and runes. Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“A daemon trap? You tried to make a daemon trap with a fire element? No wonder it exploded.”

“Yes well, if it works with water as a base, I don't see why it shouldn't work with fire.”

“Maybe because fire is fickle with too much of a temperament?” Damn, that had sounded condescending, hadn't it?

Tredd sneered. “You got a better idea? We're nowhere near the ocean, and using earth as a base is a really bad idea anywhere close to Duscae.”

Nyx scrunched his face in thought. “Lightning?”

The redhead opened his mouth to argue, blinked, and closed it again, a thoughtful look on his face. The fingers of his right hand trailed over his chin.

“Damn,” he whispered. “That might actually work.”

Without another word he turned around and started barking orders. The members of Arl Unit scrambled to obey them. With a good-natured huff, Nyx turned away to leave the nut jobs to their work. Tredd knew all about weapons, true, but he was also an artisan, and one of their duties had always been the construction of new wards and other things.

That's what the Arl and Sevah Units were at their core: Trap and ward specialists respectively. Most of their members belonged to the Furia, Lazarus and Sarcina Clans as a result.

He warped back up to Libertus and Luche in two quick bursts of Lucian magic. This time he stuck the landing perfectly. The Amicitia siblings watched him with large eyes. Nyx ignored them for the moment. Maybe they would go away? Unlikely, but a man could hope.

“So what did Tredd do?” Libertus asked in Lucian.

Nyx raised an eyebrow but responded in kind. “A fire based daemon trap.”

It was amusing to see how Luche's face grew slack and his eyes became unfocused as soon as the words registered. Meanwhile Libertus did a passable impression of a fish on land.

“He did what?” Luche demanded after he composed himself.

“You heard me.”

“That idiotic ahtrii damned wognesfahli...” The rest grew intelligible as Luche turned around and marched off. The last thing Nyx could hear was something along the lines of “That fire brained dumbass could have blown us all to Pitioss and back!”

Nyx looked at Libertus, who looked back. His lips twitched and the next moment both of them were howling with laughter.

“Did you see his face!”

“He was gaping! Gaping!”

They looked at each other and burst out laughing again. Nyx's cheeks started to hurt and tears gathered in his eyes. It took a while to calm down enough to notice that the two Amicitia were still there. Both were staring at the grown men like they had lost their heads. Nyx nearly laughed again, but forced down the urge.

“Shouldn't you two be at school or something? Does your father know you're here?” Libertus demanded.

Gladiolus's face gained a defiant expression. Oh dear.

“Lo- Libertus, I would be honoured to spar with you in the future.”

His hunting-brother tried to stare the boy down, but he held his gaze, head held up and spine ramrod straight. It came very close to a parade rest. After a while Libertus sighed and threw his hands up.

“You know what? Fine. You've got guts, kid. But we're going to talk about this. This evening, 19:00 straight at the Rose's Thorn. You're late even one minute and this whole deal is off.”

“Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!”

The kid saluted. Actually saluted. Nyx bit the inside of his cheek and did his best to make a serious face.

“Thank you,” Iris parroted.

They both bowed to Nyx with a mangled “Makti-Oir” and finally left the Glaive's training ground. Nyx and Libertus stared after them.

“Libs.”

“Hmm?”

“I'm proud of you.”

“Fuck you, too. What the fuck did I just do?”

“Seems like you got yourself a little apprentice.”

“I don't even have a job that warrants an apprentice. And he's way too old anyway!”

“Now you're just being mean.”

Nyx grinned and took a step away from Libertus. His hunting-brother sputtered, then threw himself at his best friend with an echoing war cry.

Chapter Text

It was time for the Gathering. With everything that was going on, it seemed to Nyx like he had only blinked once and the day had come. Luche's help for the preparations had been invaluable. Since Libertus had been largely occupied with his new shadow and preparing his Troop for the coming training exercises. Much to her ire, Crowe had been unable to help because she lacked a Clan Name.

Luche had helped Nyx figure out the logistics of getting enough tables and chairs into the courtyard normally used for storytelling, and decide where to sit whom to minimize potential violence. After the third admonishing glare, Nyx had just thrown his hands in the air and let the blond man deal with it. If he wanted to do seating arrangements so bad, he could do them. Nyx most certainly wouldn't complain.

Instead Nyx spent his time at Murus's bar, the Rose's Thorn, talking food and drink. Because you could not hold any kind of assembly or gathering without food and drink. It might be the Ostium influence talking, but it was true nonetheless.

Though that was not the only thing he did at the bar. Crowe and him were also there to look at Libertus grumble and curse as Gladio managed to actually somehow talk the man into training him. Libertus was a softy at heart. Well, most of the time.

The day of the Gathering dawned bright and clear with no cloud in sight. Some older fashioned people among the Galahkari might call this a good omen, the bartender within Nyx just calculated how much more people would be prone to drink, when the air in the lower levels of Insomnia inevitably grew hot and muggy.

A knock on his door made him look up. That would be either Libertus or Luche. Both of them had announced yesterday they would come over before going to the meeting place. Nyx opened the door, toothbrush in his mouth, clad only on a pair of underpants and hair still wet and unbraided from the shower, only to freeze like a startled cat.

In front of him stood neither Libertus nor Luche, but Athina, who stared at him, wide eyed and arms clutched around a parcel wrapped in protective paper. Her eyes flittered from his naked chest, to his hair and lastly to his face while he stared at her. A fine dusting of red spread across her cheeks.

“Waa uuu doon ere?” he asked dumbly around his toothbrush and winced.

Athina visibly shook herself out of her surprise and raised an eyebrow. “May I come in?” she asked.

Wordlessly Nyx stepped aside and opened the door wider to let her in. She slipped past him and set her parcel down at the table. Silently Nyx cursed himself that he couldn't offer her tea, barely dressed as he was with his toothbrush still dangling in his mouth. Ahtrii, this was embarrassing.

“Granduncle Ethin told you our Clan would make sure you were dressed for the situation, didn't he? He made it very clear to me that you had given your blessing,” she answered his question.

Nyx took a long second to remember the part of the conversation three days ago, where Ethin Sarcina had not offered, but declared he personally would see to it that Nyx had something fitting to wear for today. He made a strained sound Athina took as confirmation.

“Good. Then go get ready. I'll wait.”

Cheeks burning hot, he still dipped into an extravagant bow that had her laughing before he fled into his bathroom. He did his best to hurry, but made sure his braids were done to perfection.

When he finally stepped out, Athina just set down his sole tea pot on the table. She smiled at him.

“I hope you don't think me too presumptuous,” she said.

“No, not at all,” Nyx answered with a shake of his head. “I would have offered it myself, but well...”

Athina grinned. It made her golden eyes sparkle. She wore a beautiful green dress decorated with winding bronze patterns that bled into burnt orange and ochre depending how they reflected the light. Bronze ribbons were wound into her Clan braids, while the rest of her hair fell down her back in slight waves. It made her look absolutely stunning.

“Now,” she said and clapped her hands. “Let's get you dressed.”

The first thing Athina pulled put of the parcel was an undershirt in a dark hunter's grey, followed by a loose pair of pants in dark shades of grey, purple and blue. The pattern made it look like a stormy night sky streaked with lightning. Nyx slipped into these clothes as fast as he could. He was not shy of his own body by any means, but he liked to think himself decent enough, not to just appear half naked in front of the woman he considered courting. If Athina noticed, she did not show it. Considering her work, she had most likely seen more than one person in various states of undress.

“Do you still have the summer silk?”

Her question made him startle slightly.

“Of course I do,” he said and stepped towards his dresser.

The summer silk cloth lay meticulously folded in the drawer where he normally stored his socks. To make space he had wedged them between his tunics and t-shirts. He picked it up and once again he was fascinated by how light it felt. It was cool beneath his fingers and flowed like water.

Athina took it from his outstretched hand with a quiet “thank you” and proceeded to refold it and then wrap it around his waist until it was some kind of half skirt. Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“Really?”

“You got so absorbed in Lucian fashion that you can't wear a schiroh anymore?” she asked back, only half joking.

That made him close his mouth pretty fast. “Sorry,” he mumbled while Athina fixed the ends within the foldings somehow and tugged at the cloth to make sure it was secure. Nyx had nothing against schirohi in general, but that didn't mean they were his preferred clothing choice.

Traditionally, they were worn by men of high standing during official events like a cünaniu, a holiday, or a Gathering of the Clan Heads like today. The more elaborate the schiroh, the higher the standing of the man in question was within his Clan and society in general.

“I can understand if you don't like to wear a schiroh, but like it or not, in your position you have a duty to uphold our traditions,” Athina scolded lightly and patted him on the arm.

“I know,” Nyx sighed and looked at his ceiling.

There was a slight crack close to where it met the outer wall. He should probably get that looked at once he had the time. Which meant never.

“Here,” she said and held a tunic out to him.

For the first time he really noticed the thin lines tattooed into her fingers, denoting her dexterity. No wonder. From what Nyx could discern, she was a very talented seamstress. The tunic he took from her was sleeveless and dyed in gradients of blue with traces of green. Embroidered over the whole front of the tunic was a large tree, trunk, roots and branches winding in never ending knots in dark brown and black. It was the tree that had later been carved into the wooden throne. At the shoulders were hints of leaves. The back was covered in much finer embroidery that showed constellations of stars, Nyx realized after a long moment of simply staring.

“This is...” he swallowed. For some reason this felt so much more meaningful than the summer silk had been. “This can't have been done in just a few days.”

Athina, surprisingly, gave him a bashful smile. “I have my ways. Though, I have to admit. Granduncle had to help, otherwise I would not have managed it.”

Now Nyx's mouth did drop open. “You...?”

She nodded. Without another word he drew her into a tight hug. A purr rumbled in his chest as he gently rubbed his cheek against her temple. She smelled of roses, cinnamon and something subtle that was entirely her.

“You are amazingly talented,” he rumbled into her hair, careful not to mess it up.

For a moment she wriggled in his grip, though she made no attempt to get out of it. “We need to get done. It'll not look good if you're late to the Gathering you called,” she mumbled.

Nyx hummed and let her go. They fit together rather well, a part of him mused. They were nearly of the same height, which made it easy to rest his chin on her shoulder and just... bask in her presence. He pulled the tunic over his head. It fell down to the middle of his thighs, with slits from his hips down to the hem for manoeuvrability.

He spread his arms and looked down at himself. Never in his life had he worn things that were so fancy. Athina clucked her tongue.

“Here, let me...” she said and began to unwind the summer silk cloth only to rewind it over the tunic. “There. Now it looks better.”

“But now you can't see part of the pattern.”

“That's what you're frowning so hard about?”

“You worked hard for this.”

Athina laughed a tingling laugh that lit up her whole face. “Thank you for your consideration, but believe me, you don't want to turn up at the Gathering looking like some hobo.”

That statement made Nyx snort. “No,” he said. “We wouldn't want that.”

Not long afterwards Luche knocked at his door. He wore a wide necked, knee length tunic with embroidered borders. It nearly covered the leather breeches he wore which were tucked into knee high boots. His schiroh was held up by a cloth belt in which he had tugged a pair of long daggers. Around his neck hung the necklace with his beads and his arms were decorated with a few armrings.

Both men seized each other up.

“Presentable,” Luche said at last.

“Not too shabby yourself,” Nyx shot back.

“Men,” Athina complained.

“Good day, Athina. You look wonderful. And you did a very fine job with him,” the blond man greeted her.

A satisfied smile settled onto her face. “Thank you, Luche. You look very dashing yourself.”

“Aww, why's she getting a proper greeting?” Nyx complained half heartedly.

“Because you've not even invited me inside yet.”

“Well, normally everybody decides to just barge in, so I don't even bother anymore.”

Nyx rolled his eyes, but let Luche inside his apartment. Luche watched with slowly raising eyebrows as Athina rummaged around the kitchen for a third mug and poured out the tea. Nyx had to smile over his own culture. Always time for one more cup of tea.

“Where'd you leave Libertus?” he asked as he took one of the mugs and leaned against his kitchen counter.

“He is helping his uncle. Lugging barrels of root beer around, most likely.”

“The non-alcoholic kind, I hope. I don't want to deal with a group of intoxicated, violence-happy idiots halfway through the morning.”

Luche took a sip of the tea and pulled something out of his cloth belt. More like two somethings that turned out to be armrings. The smaller one clearly went around the wrist. It was made from two different coloured metals, one silvery white, the other a reddish gold, that twisted around each other and ended in two snarling coeurl heads. Their long whiskers formed a secondary ring close to the main one and intertwined in the middle. The second one was larger, clearly meant to go around the upper arm, and a simple wide ring that had no decoration whatsoever.

“What are you giving me here, Luche?” Nyx couldn't help but ask while he stared at the pieces of jewellery lying on his table like they might eat him.

“A present,” the blond man deadpanned. He pointed at the smaller one. “This was made by a master jeweller of my Clan per commission of the Clan Head. An appreciation for the alliance.”

“The alliance isn't even through yet.”

“It might as well be. The moment Nitor realised he was the second oirkar that got an invitation to the Gathering, he made the commission.”

Nyx groaned quietly into his hand. “I did not do that to get 'tokens of appreciation'.”

“You must have known what kind of signal you would send doing that,” Athina said. “Just like you must have known when you gave my Clan the honour of being fourth.”

“Fine, fine,” Nyx sighed, defeated. “And the other one?”

“I made that one,” Luche said, expression flat.

A light touch against his shoulder stopped Nyx from commenting. Instead he took a large gulp of his tea and leaned forward to pick up both pieces of jewellery. They were surprisingly heavy, which meant they were solid. Nyx was pretty sure the smaller one might have cost him half of a month's pay cheque. The thought made him slightly uncomfortable.

“We should go now,” Luche said with a look at his phone. “You need to be there to greet the other oirkari.”

With another quiet sigh Nyx nodded and put his mug in the sink. Athina picked up the protective paper to bundle it up and throw away, when she stopped and stared. Curious, Nyx stepped close to take a look. At the very bottom, nearly hidden within the layers of paper, lay something. Gingerly, the tall woman reached down and picked up what turned out to be a kaskarfa – a long piece of cloth a woman wore around her shoulders and neck like a stole or a scarf. It had the same function for women as a schiroh had for men. This one was the most beautiful kaskarfa Nyx had ever seen.

“Oh my,” breathed Athina, her voice barely above a whisper.

The kaskarfa was very fine and see-through, the material such a dark green it looked nearly black. But that wasn't the most impressive thing about it. No, that was the embroidery. Stunned, all three Galahkari stared at the colourful feathers trailing down the whole length of the piece. Feathers from every bird imaginable, arranged like a bouquet of flowers.

“Any idea who did that?” Nyx asked, his voice full of silent reverence.

Athina shook her head and trailed a hand over the detailed needlework. “Granduncle must have something to to with this. There are only very few people in my Clan who are this talented and would have had the time to work on this.”

She draped the kaskarfa around her shoulders and neck. The effect was stunning against her dark skin and her dress. Nyx felt his mouth go dry and swallowed.

“It's a very daring power move,” Luche chimed in, which made Nyx remember that the other man was still there.

“It is,” Athina agreed. “I wonder what granduncle was thinking.”

Together the three of them walked out of the apartment and made their way out of the building. Out on the street the few Lucians that moved through Little Galahd, stared at them. Against the reserved colours they preferred, their little group stuck out like sore thumbs. Most Galahkari they saw on their way were dressed equally festively. After all, it did not happen every day that a Gathering of the Clan Heads was taking place out of schedule. Everyone who could, would be there to listen.

The Gathering started with formal greetings. There wasn't much of an etiquette to it. Who came first got best choices from the small buffet set aside for them. They stood there and ate breakfast, chatting. Nyx felt increasingly uncomfortable.

“I think it's about time,” Murus said as he checked the watch around his arm.

“Certainly,” agreed Nitor Lazarus with a dramatic gravitas that didn't quite fit the situation. “Though I think some here do not understand what is going to happen.”

Very deliberately none of their group looked over to where the root beer barrels had been set up. Captain Drautos stood there, arms crossed in front of his chest and face closed off, as he silently watched the people around him. He was dressed painfully Lucian.

“You told him what this was, didn't you?” Murus growled.

Nyx sent the larger man a look. “Of course I did. Had to do it in his office since he never seems to be at his home. He was none too pleased with it.”

Nyx had to wonder, though. It hadn't seemed like the Captain had planned on attending. Maybe telling him that it was important to gather the leaders of all Clans residing in Insomnia had been enough for him. To their knowledge the Captain was the only Drautos left. Much like Nyx was the only Ulric. Because of that, there had been an inkling of sympathy there. A silent understanding. But over the years Nyx had started to think it might have been coming only from his side of things.

“I've been telling you, there is something wrong with that boy,” Nitor Lazarus declared in a hushed voice.

Murus gave a derisive snort. “You're not that much older than him.”

“But he's like a boy still learning how to bind his own schiroh. It makes you wonder what his thuir actually taught him,” Nitor Lazarus sniffed.

“Are you implying that... the Captain may be a zuskehruht?”

The very thought alone made Nyx's stomach drop and a buzz form in his ear. There weren't many more things that were worse.

“I'm merely stating an opinion based on my observations. I would never make such accusations lightly. It's been generations since someone had the gall to pretend to have earned a Clan Name, after all,” Nitor Lazarus said, but the glint in his pale blue eyes made it clear what he thought.

It was strange. There had been an alliance between the Lazarus and the Drautos Clans for generations now, since they were both Watcher Clans. Maybe this fact made the Lazarus Clan Head uniquely suited to notice these things.

Nyx frowned in thought and shook his head. Those were thoughts for later. Now it was time for the Gathering to begin.

The Makti-Oir stepped towards his chair and waited. Murus Ostium and Nitor Lazarus understood at once and sat down. Ethin Sarcina saw what was happening from where he was talking to Shet Furia and hurried towards the table, the Furia Clan Head right behind him. It was a power move on Nyx's part. He just stood there, back straight ans head held high, and waited silently.

Lina Arra was the next one. She guided the blind Semele Patientia to her seat, before taking her own next to Nitor Lazarus. By then the others had caught on to what was happening, and took their seats. All chairs were identical but for the banners hanging off their backs. They all were in the colours of the different Clans.

Nitor Lazarus looked unbearably smug from his place directly at Nyx's left while Murus sat to his right, like the Ostium had always done. As head of the Clan with the least repute, Batrachus Pontos sat across from Nyx. It was clear what place he had despite the chairs being arranged in a circle.

Once all Clan Heads had sat down, Nyx took another few seconds to let his gaze travel over them, before he started to speak.

“Welcome fellow Oirkari, and thank you for coming here today.” He took a steadying breath and continued. “You're all doubtlessly aware of what has occurred over the last few days – weeks even. Ever since I got elected as makti-oir, the Lucian King has shown a... keen interest in us. It might be a chance we could take, it might be a trap, or it might just be a passing fancy of the Lucians and nothing will change. However – I'll be frank with you – from the talks I've had with the Lucian King and how he reacted, this is not a fancy. My hunting-brother, Libertus Ostium, got himself an apprentice in Gladiolus Amicitia. Things are changing. They are changing fast. I have called this Gathering so that we may decide how we are to act in the future. This affects us all.”

A few seconds of silence followed during which no one moved.

“And what do you want us to do?” Shet Furia called, a provocative undertone to his voice.

Nyx raised an eyebrow as some of the Clan Heads shifted in their seats. “If I wanted to decide the course of all Galahkari here by myself, I wouldn't have called this Gathering,” he shot back.

Shet Furia scowled, but remained silent.

“All of you know what the press has written about me. About us. Personally, I really don't like that they're superimposing their social structure onto us, but there is room to manoeuvre there, I think we should use,” Nyx said and finally sat down.

“We will not declare you King!” declared Illyrios Dala.

The portly man looked ready to throw himself into a passionate rant.

“I assure you, Oirkar Dala, I have no desire to be,” Nyx responded, voice flat.

“I think I can see where you want to go with this, Makti-Oir,” Lina Arra spoke up. “If the Lucians think there is a – a King-” she grimaced- “then we are considered to be a foreign nation. And that means we have certain rights we didn't have before. Concessions would need to be made on their part.”

It was Oneiro Colophon who spoke next. He was one of the younger people present. “In and of itself that might be a good idea, but how would we go about implementing it?”

“You cannot seriously consider this mad idea! You may be young, Oirkar Colophon, but I expected better of you.” Clarice Utris practically spat the words towards the young man who sat to her right and now leant subtly away from her.

Nyx frowned heavily. He knew the old woman was just saying this because she was still bitter and angry. Their talk definitely hadn't helped any.

“If we're talking about the proper way to do things, Sinehär Utris, then I would love for you to introduce us to your successor,” Shet Furia said, a provocative grin on his face.

The Furia Clan Head was around fifty years old, his once bright red hair had gained more of a coppery tint while greying at the temples. Nitor Lazarus sent the Furia sitting two chairs down, a disapproving look that was soundly ignored.

“Be that as it may,” interrupted Areion Khara with a cautious look towards Clarice. The old woman had gone red in the face with seething anger. “We aren't here to discuss the internal politics of different Clans, Oirkar Furia. I'm with Makti-Oir Ulric on this one: we have an opportunity here. I think that's something we all can agree on. What we have to do now, is to decide what to do with it.”

Nyx inclined his head in thanks. The Khara Clan Head flashed him a quick grin. Most people nodded at the declaration, with the exception of Illyrios Dala, Wellan Pisca, Clarice Utris and Batrachus Pontos. The only one surprising was Wellan Pisca, who normally held it like Areion Khara and Phaiax Najad.

“You have doubts, Wellan?” asked the Najad Clan Head, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look at the woman sitting to Areion's other side.

“It doesn't sit well with me to play into Lucian expectations like this,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “We all know the stories. Give a Lucian a finger and they will consume you head to toe, until nothing is left of you. We should have never come to this city in the first place.”

Illyrios Dala nodded fervently. “The Lucians have been trying to kill us all from the start. And then their Conqueror King came and tried to take our homes, too. When the Niffs came, we were doing well. We were defending ourselves. But then the Lucian King came and made us a target. It was only after he left that they sent in the airships.”

If Nyx could, he would like to beat some sense into the Dala Clan Head. He had to wonder what his mother, the Elder Storyteller Elenia Dala, had drummed into him. People exchanged unsure glances.

“Would you shut up!” Murus flared up.

He was so loud, his voice practically echoed through the courtyard. Nyx gave a startled hiss and felt lightning spark in his hands before he managed to reign his magic back in.

“You make me sick, Illyrios! Do you even hear yourself speak? If you had actually fought on Galahd, you would have known that while holding our own to some extend, we did lose ground pretty much from the get go. It was only a matter of time before the Niffs steamrolled right over us.”

“I was busy out there, making sure we all still had something to eat, while you all crawled around your tunnels where it was safe!” Illyrios Dala yelled and jumped up from his chair.

His face showed nothing but a mask of fury and fear while his hands, curled into tight fists, trembled at his sides. Thankfully, he did not seem to remember the large knife tucked into his fur accented schiroh.

“Oirkari, please,” Lina Arra said into the tense silence. “We aren't here to discuss the War of Galahd. Not one of us was at fault. All of us did what we could. Maybe we would have won if we had stayed, maybe we would only have found death. Now isn't the time to throw accusations around.”

Slowly, Nyx stood up and all eyes turned to him again. “Ten years ago we numbered twenty-six Clans. Here, now, we're only nineteen. I cannot say if any of the others have survived one way or another – though the Bogs certainly might have.” A smattering of chuckles travelled though the air and loosened some of the tension. “What I do know is that I don't want to lose another Name to flame and memory. There were enough Names the Arra have had to strike from the Clan Roster over the generations. I don't want there to be any more.”

“And so the circle closes,” nodded Ethin Sarcina. “We're in Insomnia because that was the only place we could go to recover from the exodus. No matter how much the Lucians don't like us, they had to grant us entrance, since their Kings have been declaring Galahd a part of their Kingdom since the time of their Wanderer King.”

“Not to mention we're very useful to them. The Kingsglaive is made up of only Galahkari with very few exceptions,” Nitor Lazarus added with a look at Captain Drautos.

Titus Drautos nodded, but chose not to say anything. Out of the corner of his eye Nyx saw Nitor Lazarus nod to himself like he had just proven a theory he has had for some time now. He frowned, but chose to let that issue rest for now.

“We may be useful, but we're also a nuisance. One that should just go away very quietly and do as they say,” Phaiax Najad pointed out.

“That's because they think we're Lucians,” Nyx blurted out.

“Explain.”

Damn. Where was Luche when you needed him? He couldn't just ask Ethin Sarcina or Nitor Lazarus to do it. Nyx had to prove that he actually knew what he was doing here. Which he very much did not, if he were honest with himself.

“It's like Oirkar Sarcina said: the Lucians consider us part of their Kingdom. And they try to make us behave like it. In their minds we're just naughty children that need to be taught the right ways. But much has changed. They don't remember anymore what they did to us in the past, or why the differences between us exist. All they know is that we have another religion.”

As Nyx stopped to consider how to continue, Lina Arra spoke up. “It's true. Many of us have children or grandchildren who are taught the Lucian version of history in school. We know how they think these things happened. Their mindset is that all magic was a gift from the Astrals, and they only give it to royal lines. Which is how they came to the conclusion that Makti-Oir Ulric is a King in the first place.”

“They think the Great Coeurl's blessing is a gift from the Astrals?” Oneiro Colophon exclaimed, sounding utterly scandalized.

That's what the other Galahkari thought Nyx's new talent was? Huh. Good to know. He should really pay more attention to what was going on in the rumour mill. Two loud claps made all look at Kataigida Bellum, who, once she was sure she had the attention of all Clan Heads, began to sign. The only sound amongst them were Shet Furia's whispered words, as he translated what the older woman signed for Semele Patientia.

“Until now, there has been nothing to refute their way of thinking. The Lucian King was blessed with a crystal to protect and magic, while the Oracles of Tenebrae became Queens. The Accordo have always been a bunch of lawless pirates in their eyes, but the Hydraean tolerates them. The Niffs are the only ones with no blessing. Their jealousy is what made them start the war in the first place. Or so they say.”

Low murmurs broke out amongst them. Nyx looked at Murus who gave a shrug, as if to say it doesn't have to make sense. Captain Drautos gave Kataigida Bellum a thunderous glare when she mentioned Niflheim, but he cloaked himself in silence, like he had done since the start of the Gathering.

“In summary: The Lucians believe that magic is a gift from the Astrals and only royal lines can receive such gifts. This is the reason they think Makti-Oir Nyx Ulric to be our King. So in their mind – since we must have the blessing of an Astral – we have now the potential to be a fully fledged foreign power, instead of being a subservient vassal state that has been nothing but trouble to them,” Lina Arra said.

Another round of mutterings and nods. Even the anti-Lucian faction seemed a bit more amendable now. So Nyx chose to speak up again.

“I don't wish to make myself King. We have never had one and don't need one either. But in order for our culture to survive so that we can teach it to the generations coming after us – for us to survive – our best bet is to be considered a fully fledged foreign nation. We would have rights then we don't have now.”

“What kinds of rights are we talking about here?” Votano Altius spoke up for the first time.

Nyx couldn't stand the man. He was old and frail now, his once impressive stature had wilted into a wrinkly and bent form. It was hard to believe that Crowe had feared this man during their teenage years. It was him who had listened to Aerugo Altius's words, and consequently had abandoned his storm-sister, had cast her from his Clan before she had been ten years old. Nonetheless, the man had his brighter moments.

Nitor Lazarus cleared his throat before Nyx could open his mouth to answer. “If you don't mind, Makti-Oir, I have spent some time looking into this matter.”

“By all means, Oirkar Lazarus.”

The blond man gave a self-important nod and sat up even straighter than he already had. “Thank you. We all know how we are treated right now, so I don't believe I have to expand upon it terribly. But safe to say the situation as it is now, is heavily to our detriment. Our qualifications didn't translate well into the Insomnian work market. Most of the jobs we find here are badly paid, and even then we earn less than our Insomnian equivalent. This builds – amongst other things – into an educational issue, since our children have to go to their schools. We simply can't pay for the better ones out there, not to mention their universities.”

“It's not like we want to send our children there,” Illyrios Dala scoffed.

“But we want them to have food on their table and a roof over their head. They can't have those things here and live a fulfilling life, if they have a substandard education,” Areion Khara pointed out.

“We don't want to be here,” Clarice Utris spat.

“We may not want to, but here we are, and we need to deal with it. We don't exist in a vacuum, as much as some of us might want to,” Ethin Sarcina said, pointedly looking at no one in particular. “The only reason our situation isn't as bad as it could be, is because we pool resources as a community, and the Kingsgaive. Their pay is what keeps most of our internal aspects working.”

“Yes,” Nitor Lazarus nodded, sounding somewhat annoyed. “Which is why I am for Makti-Oir Ulric's plan. If we go through with this, we have a chance at a very considerable tax reduction, for one. Our language may be added to the official curriculum here and we get a stipend, so to speak. Legally, we won't fall into their minority-rights anymore, but into their foreigner's charter. Which was tailored for dealings with Tenebrae, and so is very favourable.”

“What about the Wise's Edicts for Foreign Policy?” Oratio Aliquantus wanted to know.

It was Nyx who answered, surprising himself. “We don't fall under it. That's only for people born in the core-lands of the Niflheim Empire, and those who joined their military, held a position in their government or were otherwise systematically relevant. We're neither of those. We don't even fall under the Stern King's additions, since we fled Galahd before it was considered conquered, and even if, to this day, Niflheim hasn't released any statement that announces the absorption of Galahd into their territory.”

Those who knew him, stared at him, wide eyed. Nyx wanted to huff. Tredd, Axis and Pelna had argued about this one lazy afternoon during guard rotation. Nyx had been unfortunate enough to be close to them while it had happened. Now he thought himself lucky that he had remembered this morsel of information.

“And how is this supposed to work, huh? It's not as easy as simply meeting the Lucian King and declaring us an independent nation. If it were that easy, we would have done that already!” Batrachus Pontos declared.

Clarice Utris, who sat to the man's right, looked like she didn't know if she should agree or stare distastefully. In the end she settled on the latter.

“You got a better idea, unsanguikar? Come on, I'm all ears,” Shet Furia said, an unpleasant smirk on his face.

“What did you just call me, fire-brain?” Batrachus Pontos demanded to know, voice rough and face pale in anger.

Shet Furia's smirk widened. “You heard me just fine.”

For a moment Nyx worried that this was the point where things would end in violence. But he was lucky. Captain Drautos, who sat on the man's left, laid his hand on the Pontos Clan Head's arm and shook his head. Shet Furia looked vaguely disappointed at this development. Nyx couldn't say he was overly surprised at this.

“This is why we are here,” he said yet again. “How we're going to do this is something we must decide together.”

“If we need an Astral we can claim, we already have one,” Semele Patientia said.

“The Pyreburner,” said Gerrarius Gohlann after a moment of silence.

Semele Patientia nodded. “We may not like to admit it, but he is the keeper of all our secrets. They're also the only thing giving him power. If we claim him as ours, the Pyreburner has no choice but to follow.”

“That's risky. Very, very risky,” Murus said. “We have always recognized what fire has done for us as a people, but to get the Pyreburner himself involved...”

“What will our ancestors and the spirits think, if we involve... him?” Wellan Pisca sounded very worried as she asked this. The arms she had crossed in front of her chest, looked like she was trying to hug herself.

“The spirits have always known that the Pyreburner is a part of us. That he's always there when we light a fire. He's our involuntary listener. He can't disconnect from us, like we can't disconnect from him. Better to find a peaceful solution then,” Gerrarius Gohlann spoke up.

Nyx sent him a surprised look. The old man gave a crooked grin.

“If you've worked with fire for as long as I have, you gain a certain understanding,” he said.

Clarice Utris gave a rather audible scoff. “Just because you have spent your time dully hammering out nails and doorknobs, doesn't mean you suddenly have an understanding of what the Pyreburner thinks.”

“But you have, yes?” the Gohlann Clan Head asked in a deceptively soft voice.

It made Nyx's hair stand on end and think about smouldering embers that could suddenly flare up again.

“That... Astral is violent and unpredictable! He wants to make you feel like you're in control of the situation, only to suddenly remind you of what he is capable of.”

“Are you saying this just to be contrary again?”

“Pah! If me not being contrary means you're going to very painfully burn, I'll hold my tongue next time.”

“This is why the colour red has so many associations,” Nyx spoke up with a quick look at Murus, who nodded. “On one hand it's anger and aggression. Destruction and fickleness. But on the other it's also life, creativity, passion and ingenuity. Most of all, the colour red represents history.”

Semele Patientia shot a smile in his direction. It made the horrible scars on her face look even worse, but he smiled back, even if she couldn't see it. During the War of Galahd, an MT had exploded right in front of her. It had rendered her blind and scarred.

“You're right, Makti-Oir,” she said. “The Pyreburner knows us already. We may as well be the only ones who remember and thank him in our own way, for giving us the gift of fire so very long ago. Fire burns and leaves marks, but new things grow from what is left behind. Lucis grew from a destructed Solheim. We grew from a destructed Solheim. We've always known this. The only thing we would be doing, is to give name to something we already have.”

“Then how do we let the Pyreburner known?” signed Kataigida Bellum with a grimace on her face that showed how unhappy she was about all of this.

Nyx didn't fare much better. Ifrit, the Infernian. The Pyreburner. Destroyer of Solheim and the Deceived One. Somewhere he had always known they hadn't severed their connection to him. Ifrit was fire, and fire was him. It was one thing to know about this in the back of his mind, but to openly acknowledge it was a whole other thing. Nyx could see of how most of the Clan Heads were unhappy with this. Especially Illyrios Dala, Clarice Utris and Wellan Pisca.

“I refuse!” Illyrios Dala cried. “I refuse to bow down to an Astral and worship it.”

“If you don't recognize that this isn't what we plan to do, I fear for your mental capacity, Illyrios,” Murus said, dry as sawdust.

“Are you accusing me of being stupid?”

Shet Furia laughed. “That's exactly it. Glad you noticed.”

“Why you?!”

With a yell Illyrios Dala hefted his weight out of his chair and drew the large knife tucked into his schiroh. Kataigida Bellum, who sat to Shet Furia's right, hit the red haired man upside down the head with a disapproving face, while Lina Arra jumped from her seat to intercept the furious Dala Clan Head.

To everyone's surprise, Illyrios Dala did not make it further than two steps before he fell face first onto the cobble stone floor. With a satisfied smile on her face, Semele Patientia, who sat between Shet Furia and the Dala Clan Head, pulled back her cane that doubled as a staff. Nyx bit his tongue to not laugh out loud. Some of the others didn't show the same amount of restraint. Chief amongst them was Shet Furia.

“Ahtrii, Shet. Can't you behave like a grown up human being for longer than five minutes?” Nitor bristled.

“You should loosen up some, you old grump.”

“That's enough,” Votano Altius spoke up while he made sure that Illyrios Dala was alright. “You've had your fun, Furia. In case you forgot, we're not here to be your personal entertainment.”

Shet Furia wanted to say something, but Kataigida Bellum hit him upside the head again and clicked her tongue in warning.

“Alright, alright, woman. No need to hit me.”

Nyx gave a sigh that was somewhere between relieved and exasperated. Why did the Clan Heads have to be such children? The only thing he could console himself with was that at least this wasn't as dry as the Lucian council meetings he's been forced to stand guard at.

“Now that that's over, all in favour of laying claim to the Pyreburner, please raise your hand,” Nyx announced and raised his hand.

Murus Ostium followed suit. As did Ethin Sarcina and Nitor Lazarus. Because of Nitor, Nyx knew he also had the votes of Kataigida Bellum and Shet Furia. He also wasn't surprised to see Semele Patientia raise her hand along with Gerraruis Gohlann, Phaiax Najad, Areion Khara, Lina Arra and Oneiro Colophon. Who did surprise him, considering what she had said today, was Wellan Pisca.

All other hands remained down, though Votano Altius looked unsure. Nyx didn't care about that overly much. Thirteen out of nineteen was more than enough.

“This is a really bad idea. I hope to our ancestors that we won't come to regret it,” Batrachus Pontos said.

“Your comment has been acknowledged,” Nitor Lazarus said, and Batrachus Pontos scoffed.

“Then that's decided. Now we need to decide who should be the... let's call it person we authorize to speak in our name in front of the Lucians,” Murus Ostium said.

At once all eyes turned to Nyx.

Nyx groaned. “I should have seen this coming.”

Ethin Sarcina nodded. “You should. Considering what already happened, you're our best choice.”

“The next time something like this happens, I'll just sit back and won't do anything,” Nyx complained, letting go of all illusions of power and dignity he had tried to keep up.

“As if you could do that,” Murus scoffed.

Nyx glared, but didn't refute the statement. He knew the Ostium Clan Head was right. He was an Ulric, and Ulrics protected those they considered theirs. No matter how much he disliked some of the people here, they were still Galahkari, and the Galahkari were his people.

“Alright. Alright, I'll do it. But I won't do this alone,” he announced over the chuckles of some of the Clan Heads.

“Do you have people in mind?” Lina Arra asked.

“Yes,” Nyx answered. “Libertus Ostium, Crowe, Luche Lazarus, Pelna Khara and Athina Sarcina.”

Nitor looked unbearably smug at the mention of Luche's name. At least the other Heads of the Clans he had mentioned, had the decency to merely look satisfied. Though there was a flash of displeasure on Murus's face when he said Crowe's name.

“You really want to get a Nameless girl involved in this?” Votano Altius asked.

“Said 'Nameless girl' is my storm-sister. You would do well to remember that,” Nyx growled.

She could have been yours, but you threw her away!

“Is there anything else we need to talk about for now?” Ethin Sarcina asked.

People looked at each other and shook their heads. With a thankful prayer to his ancestors, Nyx looked up and over the crowd of listeners, only to freeze. There, close to the back, stood Libertus, Crowe and Athina flanking who could only be Regis Lucis Caelum and Clarus Amicitia.

Chapter Text

For a few long moments Nyx stood frozen, caught somewhere between surprise and anger. What were Lucians doing here? Why had neither Crowe nor Athina turned them away?

One after the other, the other Clan Heads saw what had Nyx staring and grew quiet themselves. For barely a heartbeat it grew deathly quiet within the courtyard as those within the crowd of listeners who hadn't noticed them before, did so now. Mutterings started, full of surprise and indignation. Out of the corner of his eyes he could see Libertus start to move into his direction while Luche made his way through the crowd towards the King and his Shield.

“What are they doing here?” hissed Illyrios Dala, fury etched into his face.

“They have no place here,” echoed Wellan Pisca.

“Technically that's not true, Oirkar Pisca,” Nitor Lazarus cut in. Nyx was thankful for it. He had seen Clarice Utris start to open her mouth and he had no desire to hear what she had to say right now. “This here may be what we call Little Galahd, but we're not in the jungles. This is Insmonia and this-” Nitor Lazarus motioned towards the buildings around them and the courtyard- “is property of the Crown. The King has every right to be here.”

“It's quite the grey area,” Ethin Sarcina added. “No one is allowed to interrupt a Gathering outside of very grave circumstances, but we have just ended this one. We want to keep Lucians away from what we do, but this place is literally as deep within Lucian influence as it can get. As much as we don't like it. There are no laws being broken here.”

Lina Arra nodded. “Right. But I have a question concerning this: How did the King even know what we were doing? I don't believe word has spread quite this fast.”

“I did,” Captain Drautos spoke up in Lucian.

Mutterings broke out again and Nyx watched as Luche had a short conversation with Crowe and Athina before they started to guide the two Lucians towards the circle of Clan Heads. He shot a quick look at Libertus who came to a stop to his left. His hunting-brother wore a belted plaid in dark green and silvery white that looked like stylized snake scales with the top half hanging down his back. Beneath it he wore an embroidered linen tunic.

“You okay?” Libertus asked.

Nyx gave a crooked gin. “Ask me again when this shit show is over.”

The King and his Shield stopped just outside the circle of Clan Heads at Athina's silent behest. Many people, especially the anti-Lucis fraction, sent them suspicious looks. Athina walked along the row of chairs until she reached Nyx. She leaned close and spoke quietly, in a near whisper.

“They arrived when Oirkar Ostium started to lay into Oirkar Dala. Apparently they are here on invitation of Oirkar Drautos, so we guided them to the most out of the way corner and made sure those who noticed stayed quiet. The King wishes to speak to the Gathering. Will you allow it?”

Nyx hummed to show he had listened and let his gaze wander over those present. No one seemed exactly happy, but there were quite a few who seemed, if not directly for it, willing to see where this was going. After all, the Galahkari had never had the ear of the Lucian King directly. A Lucian King that was willing to talk and to listen, that was. He made a decision.

“The Gathering has ended. We have decided upon what we should do. Now we have the opportunity to make our words reality – a bit earlier than I expected, I admit, but fire and sun as my witness, I won't let this opportunity pass. All for turning this Gathering into a parley between us and the Lucian King, raise your hand.”

Eighteen out of nineteen hands went up. Batrachus Pontos looked like he had tasted something foul as people stared at his raised hand, and Illyrios Dala huffed in irritation as a crossed his arms, having been the only one not to vote in favour.

“Who knew you would see reason, Clarice,” Gerrarius Gohlann commented with a placid smile on his face.

“The autumn storms take you,” the old woman hissed.

“Then it is decided,” announced Nyx.

Without prompting, Era Ostium, daughter of Murus Ostium, carried over a set of chairs. After some shuffling around, one was set between Nyx and Nitor Lazarus, while the other was placed between Murus Ostium and Ethin Sarcina. Tethys Najad draped a banner over each chair. On the chair to Nyx' left, she placed the royal Lucian banner, and on the other a plain red one.

The King was watching the happenings around him with great interest. He stood at the front of the crowd now flanked by Shield Amicitia, Luche and Crowe, who had stayed at a respectful distance to the circle of chairs during the Gathering. While he wore his usual finery, the Lord Shield had opted for something less formal than the ceremonial armour he usually wore to court. Nyx was thankful for that.

From the way the King tilted his head towards Crowe, she had been translating for him, or at least explained roughly what was going on.

Istoria Patientia walked through a crowd that readily parted before her and sat down on the chair with the red banner. It wasn't usual to have a storyteller be present like this at a parley, but this was a special occasion. So it did not surprise Nyx that the Galahkari felt the presence of a storyteller was needed for this. What was surprising however, was that Istoria stepped up and not Demetri Arra, since his speciality was recent history, whereas Istoria specialized in the ancient stories. Nonetheless he gave her a respectful nod and a formal greeting, which she readily returned before she sat down.

“King Regis of the Lucis Caelum line,” Nyx spoke up in Lucian once the noise settled down, feeling decidedly nervous to address the Lucian King like this. “Shield Clarus of the Amicitia line. Be welcome. We invite His Majesty to sit in our midst, so that we may speak.”

The King gave a smile that somehow managed to land between pleased, polite and thankful as he replied: “It would be my honour.”

With that Crowe led him and his Shield to the only remaining free chair, the Lucis Caelum banner draped proudly over its back. The King sat down while the Shield took to standing at his left shoulder. Clarus Amicitia looked at where Libertus stood and something like satisfaction flashed through his eyes for but a second.

“We always stand to the left,” Nyx remembered Gladiolus say to Libertus, after their first training session. “The left is the side of the Shield. It's one of the teachings of Gil- of him.”

“The left is protection first, honour second,” Libertus had quoted the old Galahdian adage. “And you can say his name you know? No one here is going to give you shit because of it.”

For a moment Crowe seemed unsure where to stand, but in the end she chose to position herself directly next to Shield Amicitia's right so both he and the King could hear her easily. As per an unspoken agreement she would act as translator when needed.

Athina took position behind her granduncle along with two of her cousins, while Luche settled at his grandmother's side, when the other listeners started to crowd in, muttering excitedly. A parley had less restraints on others speaking than a Gathering or a cünaniu had. For a split second Shield Amicitia looked restless with all these people around them, then he settled down, standing upright and proud like a deep rooted tree or an immoveable mountain. In that moment Nyx could wholeheartedly agree that there was something purely Ostium in that man.

Nyx, who, in a stroke of genius, as Nitor Lazarus would later say, had sat down at the same time as King Regis, chose to cut to the chase immediately. Maybe they could finish this before it was time for lunch. He didn't hold his breath, though.

“Introductions first, I believe,” Nyx said and motioned towards his right. “This is Murus, Head of Clan Ostium, they are the closest and longest standing ally to my own Clan. Next to him is Istoria Patientia, our oldest living... Storyteller. Keeper of histories? Ethin, Head of Clan Sarcina, ...”

And on it went, one after the other in the order of their seating. The Clan Heads of the three Sea Clans were next, Phaiax Najad, Areion Khara and Wellan Pisca, followed by Votano Altius and Gerrarius Gohlann. Next was Titus Drautos, with the Drautos being one of the two only Watcher Clans. The Head of the Pontos Clan was next, and where the others had greeted King Regis with a polite nod at least, Batrachus barely managed a grimace. Clarice did not even manage that much. She just looked at the Lucian King with a neutral expression. Then came the Clophon, Aliquantus, Dala and Patientia Clans, followed by Shet Furia, Kataigida Bellum and Lina Arra. Last was Nitor Lazarus, with the Lazarus being the other Watcher Clan.

Nyx took a breath when he finished and listened as Crowe quietly explained in a few quick words what a Watcher Clan was at the King's unasked question.

King Regis for his part, took it all in stride and remained unfailingly polite. It seemed to throw quite a few people for a loop. No doubt they had expected someone... worse. And while Nyx still cringed in discomfort when he thought of the Conqueror King's portrait hanging in the King's private study, wondered how a man like him could be so ignorant to his own family's history, or if he did not care about it, he ultimately knew Regis Lucis Caelum had a good heart.

Lina Arra was the first to speak, her light brown eyes sharp and watchful. “Why did you come here today, Your Majesty?”

The King's only reaction to the bluntness was to blink once before he answered. “I came in hopes of reaching an understanding with the people of Galahd, my Lady. And to issue a formal apology.” He turned towards Nyx. “I admit, I am unsure how to address you Nyx Ulric. It has come to my attention that 'King' is not a title your people use.”

“My title and address is Makti-Oir, Your Majesty. And we have an announcement ourselves: Galahd has always been, and will always be, an independent nation. It is high time we are recognized as such.”

The low mutterings from the crowd surrounding them died down into an expectant silence. Somewhere a mother hushed a crying child.

Something Nyx could not name flickered across the King's face.

“Of course. You realize that, as per Lucian law, for you to be recognized as an independent nation, you need to meet certain requirements?” King Regis enquired politely.

“I do,” Nyx nodded. “Named territory, a clear leader, a functioning government and the blessing of an Astral.”

“Among other, more minor points, yes,” King Regis agreed. “I can see Galahd already fulfils most of them. There is only one point I am unsure of.”

“The Astral's blessing,” Murus Ostium rumbled.

“You are right, my Lord. Galahd has clear borders, you, Makti-Oir, are the leader of its people, there is a governing council present. It is widely known however, that Galahd does not worship the Six.”

“We may not worship them, revere them as Gods, but that doesn't mean we don't acknowledge they exist,” Istoria Patientia pointed out, voice dry.

“My apologies, my Lady,” King Regis said with a slight tilt to his head.

The old woman gave a quiet huff. “My title in your language is Elder. The younger ones may let you call them by titles you're familiar with, but I'm not that young anymore, and with age we all tend to lose our will to accept compromises.”

Nyx hid a wince. Istoria may be more tolerant and progressive than most Elders, but even she had developed a heavy obstinacy concerning certain things. To his credit, King Regis accepted her declaration with a simple nod, even though his Shield bristled in indignation.

“Wait. Why is Niflheim acknowledged as a nation then? They declared that the Astrals are Gods to them no longer and I never heard that they ever had the blessing of one in the first place,” Shet Furia spoke up rather loudly.

“They claimed to have the blessing of a being they called Phoenix. In their scriptures it is referred to as a minor Astral, but it never showed itself, as such the claim could never be proven or disproven,” the King said.

“What a huge bag of chocobo turd,” Libertus muttered under his breath.

Nyx honestly wasn't quite sure if he meant the story in itself, or the fact that Niflheim had very likely lied.

“I call bullshit,” Shet Furia echoed Libertus' sentiment with a sharp grin.

Nyx saw the King's eyebrows rise and Shield Amicitia begin to bristle like an angry crow, and wished he could kick the Furia Clan Head into next week. Or at least knock him unconscious.

“You accuse His Majesty of lying?” Clarus Amicitia demanded sharply.

“Now, I never said that,” Shet Furia drawled.

“Spirits beyond the Gate, Shet, can you go five minutes without antagonizing everyone around you?” Nitor Lazarus demanded while Kataigida Bellum signed something decidedly unflattering.

“That's it. Furia, if you open your mouth again without it being a productive contribution, I'll drag you from this parley myself,” Nyx growled, the hiss of an angry coeurl rumbling in his voice, the smell of ozone in his nose and lightning sparking between his fingers.

Light became brighter and colours shifted as his field of vision began to widen. People began to whisper and when Shet Furia saw Nyx's glare, whatever cocky comeback he was ready to sprout, died on his tongue. The red head couldn't quite hide his grimace as he silently raised his hands in surrender.

“What I'm sure Oirkar Furia meant,” Lina Arra said with a warning glare into the man's direction, “is that a being called Phoenix doesn't exist.”

“I'm sure,” King Regis agreed, a pleasant expression on his face which made Nyx want to hiss at the nasty aura it gave off.

With great effort he managed to fight his magic down enough to return his vision to normal, and for his thoughts to bounce back from musing how nice it would be to tear Shet Furia's throat open. He took a deep breath, and when he looked up again he saw the King giving him a curious look. Nyx held his gaze for a moment before his eyes settled on Crowe, who was alternating between glaring in Shet Furia's direction and turning her intent gaze at him. He tried to give her a reassuring smile, but whatever must have shown on his face only made her frown harder.

“What does it matter which Astral, who may or may not exist, may or may not have given the Niffs their blessing? We all know they're conniving bastards that lie and kill to get what they want,” Phaiax Najad said, causing some of the rising tension to ease.

“Oirkar Najad is right. We're not here to argue about Niflheim. We do that too often already,” Ethin Sarcina said.

“True. This is about us and how we're finally claiming the Pyreburner in full,” Gerrarius Gohlann agreed.

A short silence ensued, during which people all around them were nodding or announcing their assent from further within the crowd.

“'Claiming' the Pyreburner?” King Regis enquired. “I am sure I must have misheard you, my Lord. Did you say, you wish for the blessing of Ifrit the Infernian?”

“I meant what I said, Your Majesty. We're laying claim on the Pyreburner.”

The Lucians both were clearly at a loss of words. Istoria Patientia took pity on them.

“We're not asking for a blessing, because we never lost it. At the dawn of Solheim, the Pyreburner blessed all of humanity,” she explained.

“How? The Infernian took his blessing from humanity when he burned Solheim to the ground in his hate. Everyone knows that,” Shield Amicitia said, a touch of hysteria in his voice.

Nyx just blinked and shared a look with Crowe, who shrugged.

“You lost it because you forgot the value of his gift to us. Fire is not just a tool for destruction, Your Majesty. Fire is life,” the Elder said with a satisfied nod.

Somewhere behind them, the cooking fires cracked loudly. The Lucians still looked like they didn't understand, but the King gave a single, thoughtful nod. Nyx could appreciate that. Acceptance despite not understanding.

“Now the only thing left for Lucis to acknowledge Galahd as a foreign nation, is proof of the blessing,” the King said.

“You already witnessed a storytelling in front of a burning flame. Isn't that enough?” Murus Ostium wanted to know, leaning forward, eyes narrowed.

“That you are laying claim on the Infernian, as you are calling it, my Lord, has us in a bit of a bind, I am afraid. Normally the fact that you have magicks of your own, Makti-Oir, would be enough, but lightning is the mark of Ramuh. Lucis has the Crystal as a mark of the Drakonian's allegiance, Tenebrae has the Oracle line along with a crown of never melting ice, and Altissia is the resting place of Leviathan,” the King elaborated.

“Like a case of confusing signals,” Oneiro Colophon murmured low enough it went nearly unheard.

“Yes,” the King confirmed.

Nyx frowned. His magic was not a mark of Ramuh, and it also hadn't been gifted to his line by the old Stormbringer. But instead of trying to explain that, he focused on the problem before them. How would they make the Pyreburner prove he was theirs? He was fickle and temperamental, and since the Astral War no one had seen him. Not that Nyx wanted the Astral to just show up here.

He looked to Istoria, who looked deep in thought herself. The wrinkles around her mouth deepened as she pursed her lips. For a moments no one seemed to know what to do, even those Nyx knew to be against all of this lost their smug air and grew quietly uncomfortable. Despite what they had proclaimed before, they wanted economical and juridical equality like everybody else here. But what to do?

Suddenly, something seemed to take root in Nyx's gut. It was unbearably hot and comfortably warm in turns, and caused him to yelp in surprise. He was not the only one. The King, while not affected, seemed to sense something was going on and sat up straighter, a tension present in his shoulders that hadn't been there before.

“Pitioss,” Libertus cursed behind his shoulder as children started to cry, startled, and the adults in the crowd talked in hushed, worried voices.

A breath of hot air travelled along Nyx's skin, made him shudder with the feeling of sheer ancient power, and with a whoosh of displaced air, a ball of fire appeared. It hovered in the air, red and flowing sluggishly like magma, just above their heads. After a moment it twisted itself into a ball the size of an adult's head. In breathless wonder everybody present watched as the ball pulsed like a heartbeat. It grew a bit smaller, denser, brighter with each contraction. In the span of a few breathless moments the fire had contracted into a ball of glowing gold. It was like a miniature sun. Looking at it directly made dark spots dance in Nyx's vision.

He blinked rapidly to get the forming tears out of his eyes, and though he averted his gaze slightly, he could not look away as the sun shrunk further into the size of a large nut, glowing a brilliant white so hot, it set the air around it on fire in a delicate golden ring.

Nyx's skin prickled at the heat running along it like water. Slowly, gracefully, the small, nut sized sphere descended towards the ground. The loose cobbled stone closest to it began to crack at the sudden influx of heat. Someone at the other end of the circle of chairs began to laugh. The small sphere of heat and light vanished between the stones, which began to glow a dim red along the cracks.

For a moment that seemed to have been it. Their proof, the Pyreburner's assent. His blessing, as the Lucians called it. Nyx looked across of him at Gerrarius Gohlann, who looked at the cracked and glowing cobblestones with a wide grin and a mad kind of joy in his eyes.

Before Nyx could do more than release the breath he had been holding, the ground burst open with an ear splitting groan. The sound of people screaming in surprise was nearly drowned out by the sound of something growing at a rapid pace. With his ears ringing and his vision dancing with glowing shapes, Nyx sprung up from his chair and crouched down, feet planted firmly on the ground to keep his balance as the ground heaved and twisted to make space.

On instinct, he reached for a weapon and came into contact with the hilt of one of his knives. The crackling sound of a barrier being summoned joined the cacophony. Nyx groaned as the pulsing feeling of heat and warmth in his gut grew into a searing pain so intense, his vision flashed white. Lighting flashed around him, searching for a threat and finding none.

An endless second later, it was over. His own ragged breath rattled in his ears as he uncurled from his position kneeling on the ground, one arm wound around his middle, the other hand clutching the knife's hilt so hard his knuckles had turned a stark white.

“What the ever loving fuck was that?” Libertus cussed as he picked himself up from the ground.

Nyx didn't have the energy to answer. Instead he shook his head to clear his vision and looked up only to stop dead in his tracks, mouth ajar and eyes blown wide open.

There was a tree. Right there. Its trunk wide enough that not four grown men could reach around it. The bark was of a golden, yellowish colour with its rough edges looking like cooling ash. What by all the spirits had just happened? No. Priorities.

“Is everybody alright?” he called in Hadnissa, thoughts too jumbled to bother with Lucian.

A cacophony of groans and “yeahs” and “still alives” was his answer.

“What by all the spirits just happened?” someone asked.

Crowe stumbled over to them, face pale and eyes bright.

“Do you feel this too?” she asked, one hand pressed against her stomach.

At her question, Nyx focussed inwards and felt a warm pulse, a pale shadow of the searing pain. Now it just felt like the comforting warmth of a warm drink. His magic prodded at it, but the only feeling he got from it was a strange mix of anger, resignation, bone deep exhaustion and, beneath all of that, the barest hint of thankfulness.

“I think so. But more importantly: are you alright?” Libertus chimed in.

Crowe rolled her eyes fondly. “Yes, big guy. I'm alright.”

“Well, I think that answers that question. Though I wonder how the Infernian was able to do something like this,” King Regis said mostly to himself while he looked bemusedly up the tree, seemingly unbothered by being unable to understand the conversations going on around him.

Remains of the barrier he must have conjured around him and the people closest to him, dissolved in a gentle tingling sound. His Shield stood in front of him, a man-height shield braced against his shoulder. It dissolved in a shower of glowing blue magic, revealing a pale and grim face.

“Was that the Pyreburner's doing?” Lina Arra groaned.

To Nyx's other side Murus Ostium cussed up a storm, while Athina was helping her granduncle and Luche made sure Istoria was unharmed. Athina looked pale and spooked like most other people here, but otherwise unharmed. A determined glint glowed in her golden eyes.

“Of course it was,” Gerrarius Gohlann laughed from the other side of the tree.

“Fire is life,” Istoria Patientia repeated her earlier words as she nodded in thanks towards Luche. “Fire is living and light. Without light nothing can grow.”

At her words Nyx squinted up the large trunk of the tree. It was taller then the surrounding buildings, maybe even tall enough the top of it reached the street above their heads. The branches reached high and wide with dual coloured leaves of light green and bronze. All in all it looked like a humongous and weirdly coloured ash tree.

“That's a fire-ash,” Shet Furia said, reverence clear in his tone. Kataigida Bellum must have signed something, because the red haired man continued talking. “Of course I'm sure! I have worked with wood my whole life, I think I would recognize a fire-ash if there is one right in front of my nose. It doesn't matter, if I've never seen one before. You haven't either.”

“Why?” someone cried. Nyx recognized the voice as belonging to Batrachus Pontos. “Why would the Pyreburner do something like this?”

“For once in your life, Pontos, stop flailing like an idiot!” barked Clarice Utris.

It must be a day of wonders, because Nyx found himself agreeing with the old bat.

“Makti-Oir,” the Lucian King said.

It took Nyx an embarrassing long second to realize that it was him who had been addressed. He turned around. A smile danced in the King's green eyes.

“I'm very sorry,” Nyx blurted.

“Whatever for?”

Nyx opened his mouth to answer only to snap it closed again. Helplessly, he gestured towards the tree.

“The Astrals do as they will, Makti-Oir. I dare say this must have been quite the wakeup call,” the King said, however he did not elaborate on what he meant by that. “Be that as it may, you have proven to have an Astral's blessing – or rather, the Astral proved it. I will prepare an announcement for this evening. Be sure to be prepared for what comes after.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Nyx nodded, acting more on autopilot than anything else.

“Good. I think it is time we returned, don't you think so my friend?” the King asked with his head tilted towards his Shield.

“Yes, Majesty,” the taller man agreed easily.

With a last respectful nod towards Nyx and Libertus, who had not budged from his place by his side, the two Lucians left.

“I know I'm repeating myself, but what the fuck? Did you see how Amicitia was staring at me through the whole thing?” Libertus exclaimed.

“Really? That's what you're hung up about? Not the giant tree that spontaneously sprouted out of a ball of fire that was summoned by the Pyreburner of all people?” Crowe asked with a deadpan look.

Libertus glowered at her but didn't say anything.

Not long after King Regis had taken his leave, the oirkari stood at the base of the fire-ash. People milled around them, curiously looking at the tree, not as afraid as they could have been. Some even came up to touch the rough bark. Nyx knew it would only be a matter of time until the children started to try to climb it.

“Well,” Nitor Lazarus said, clapping his hands. “What now?”

And wasn't that the question.

“Now we eat because I'm starving and the smell of grilled meat is killing me,” Murus Ostium said and on command Nyx felt his stomach growl.

“Let's eat,” he agreed and tugged at his shiroh. Maybe the world would make sense again with a full stomach.

“Wait,” Libertus said, looking around. “Where did the Captain go?”

The man was no where to be seen. Neither in their group nor in the crowd around them. Nyx's gaze met Luche's. The blond man nodded once and vanished into the crowd.

This chapter now has art done by the wonderful laternenfisch over on Tumblr! Come and check it out!

Chapter Text

Luche had lost the Captain just outside Little Galahd. It bothered Nyx to no end, but there was nothing to be done about it. He really did not want to think about what had happened yesterday, but the damned fire-ash he could see from his apartment window, said otherwise. As did the reporters swarming all over Little Galahd, trying to get interviews from every person they could get their grubby hands on.

Behind him, Crowe gave a quiet curse. She was seated at his tiny dining table, surrounded by paperwork and staring into the screen of the laptop she had pilfered from the Requisitions Office. The TV was on with its volume turned down, as to not disturb the people in his apartment. Pelna had commandeered his armchair, typing away at his own laptop. Libertus had gone out to buy stuff for dinner, while Luche had been elected to go deal with the press. His face at that had been priceless. He had gone, but not without accusing them all of hiding. Which was most certainly not true. They had all gone to work like responsible people.

It had been strange, however. They had all done their daily training exercises, people had been on stand-by duty and others had done their guard duty. All as usual. But the atmosphere had been different. Tense, waiting for something to happen. Nyx had nearly had a heart attack when the Lord Shield had shown up at the Kingsglaive Headquarters, to ask him to not go on guard duty for the foreseeable future.

With practised moves, Nyx finished preparing the tea and distributed the cups between the people crowded in his apartment, before returning to his own improvised workstation. Which was his bed.

He sighed soundlessly and stared at the budget forms of Little Galahd Crowe had oh so helpfully printed out for him. They contained not only the current financial balance of the bank account they had set up a few years ago, but also who had paid what during the last two years, from businesses to private people. It was a very long list. This was growing hopelessly out of proportion.

It wasn't even in his job description as makti-oir to do something like this, but everyone had just... pushed the work on him. And idiot that he was, he had accepted it.

Nyx took a sip of his tea, and checked the list of things he wanted to do in Little Galahd. Renovating the buildings was on top of the list, closely followed by providing financial support for those, who struggled on the Insomnian work market, supporting their own businesses, and founding social facilities from kindergartens to schools to everything else people could think of. The list was growing by the day. The money they had now, wouldn't be enough for most of it.

“Here, can you check that over for me?” Pelna asked Crowe, holding out a small stack of papers to her.

“What's that?”

“The Kingsglaive budget.”

Crowe gave a frown. It only deepened when she leafed through it, giving it a cursory glance.

“These numbers can't be right,” she muttered.

“Yeah, that's what I thought, too, so I went digging. Took me a while to find the protocol for the budgeting session in question, but I managed to dig it up. That's the amount of money they agreed on. The King signed off on it,” Pelna explained, sounding strangely pressed.

“What is it?” Nyx asked, curious.

“Protocol from the last meeting of who gets how much money,” Crowe answered, eyes jumping from line to line at a rapid speed.

“I know what a budgetary meeting is, Crowe. Even without moonlighting in a business course during school,” Nyx grumbled without any real heat behind it. He stood up to join the other two.

Crowe rolled her eyes. “Oh, come here, you big baby.”

“Don't tease him too much, Crowe. He might take it personal and throw us out,” Pelna smirked.

“Love you guys, too,” Nyx grouched good naturedly.

He sauntered over and read over Crowe's shoulder. It was the copy of an official document, the Lucis Caelum crest proudly displayed at the top of every page. Skipping most of what was written there, his eyes settled on the chart that clearly labelled the different sections of the military and how much money was distributed to each one.

There were the five big sections listed – the Crownsguard, the City Watch, the Border Patrol, the Kingsglaive and the Crystal Knights – along with references to their respective subsections, if existent. It was all pretty standard, to be honest. Nyx was about to ask what was so special about it, when his eyes found the amount of Yen dedicated to the Kingsglaive.

“What the fuck?” he choked out.

“Yeah,” made Crowe and laid the half crumbled paper down on the table.

“I saw the Captains budgeting plans. He was working with barely more than two thirds of that,” Pelna spoke up while he started digging through Crowe's piles of paper she had yet to work through. “Wait a second, I know I put it here somewhere.”

“Hey watch that! You mess any of that up, I'm using you for target practice.”

“Aha!” the darker skinned man exclaimed a few seconds later and held up a thin nondescript binder.

The pile he had dug it out from, tilted dangerously to the right, but did not fall. Crowe glared.

“These are all the budget plans for every quarter for around... five years, I think. Digging farther back was more work than it was worth at the time.”

Crowe made grabby hands at Pelna, who forked the binder over. She searched for the right page and then held up the protocol up next to it. The difference was startling. Nyx let out a low whistle. Despite the anger bubbling under his skin, he knew these type of things required a special set of talents. Pelna nodded emphatically.

“The Captain has to know about this,” Crowe whispered, face pale. “There's no chance he doesn't. For how long has this been going on? Why hasn't he come to us for help?”

“Oh, he does know,” Pelna confirmed grimly.

He dug through the stack of papers that made up the budgetary protocol, and procured a single sheaf of paper. It was the last page, where all the signatures of those present at the meeting were located. And there, right next to the names of Regis Lucis Caelum, Clarus Amicitia and Cor Leonis, was the unmistakeable scrawl of Titus Drautos.

“Fuck me sideways,” Nyx whispered, mouth dry.

“But why didn't he say anything?” Crowe repeated.

“You really think the Captain is the kind of person to just come out and talk about something like this?” Nyx asked, but even as he spoke he couldn't help the bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.

Something was wrong about this whole situation, and he didn't just mean the fire-ash shadowing the whole of Little Galahd. There were a lot of small things suddenly piling up. The money, the Captain's lack of traditional clothes yesterday, his strange aversion against speaking more then two consecutive words of Hadnissa, his insistence of keeping members of feuding Clans in the same group. All these pieces came together to form a picture Nyx really didn't like.

“Wait, there's more,” Pelna suddenly exclaimed, rushing over to where he had left his laptop on the armchair.

He dropped it on the table among the chaos of mostly loose paperwork – Crowe's workplaces always looked like an autumn storm had blown through – and began typing.

“You remember how I told you about WEAPON, right? That company where most of the Glaive's money went to? Well, I checked it out. Luche was a great help here, by the way. I have no idea how he can charm the secretaries and archivists to just give him this information. Anyway, the company specializes in special metal alloys and magic conductive weapons. They're the main supplier for our standard issued weaponry. But it turns out that this only accounts for around a third of the funds we give them.”

“Wait. What do they do with the rest?” Crowe demanded, brows set into a hard frown.

The question made Pelna grin in triumph. “Took me a bit to figure that one out. You're aware of the regulation that only certain people within the military can make requisitions of that size, right?” At their nods, he continued. “For the Kingsglaive that's only two people. The Captain and Hephaistos Gohlann; and we all know Hephaistos does what the Captain tells him to without question.”

“And what does that have to do with our situation here?” Crowe asked, arms crossed.

“I'm getting there. The surplus money they get from us? There's official records using a fake name sending out commissions, but – get this – WEAPON has no records of them. So I did some more digging. Someone hacked us and gave that fake identity the authority to make those commissions without raising any red flags. Under the guise of those commissions - which do not in fact exisit because WEAPON has no record of them - the missing money goes to a dummy account, which is made to look like it belongs to WEAPON, where it is then transferred to another one and another one and so on.”

“You know where the money ended up in the end?” Nyx wanted to know.

Here Pelna shook his head. “That's all I got.”

And it was an impressive amount of information, Nyx had to admit. But...

“Why would the Captain do something like that?” he whispered more to himself.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. None of them wanted to even contemplate the possibility that their Captain would be up to something like this. Hadn't he been fighting against Niflheim with the same vigour as they had? Hadn't he lost his home and loved ones to the Empire just like they did?

“We can't talk with just anybody about this,” Nyx suddenly announced, voice surer than he actually felt. Crowe and Pelna both looked at him. He continued. “If he really... If he would really do something like this, we can't tip him off. We know the Captain has a strong base of loyal people in the Glaive; Pitioss, until all of this started happening, we were amongst them.”

He gave a self-reprimanding laugh.

“Don't,” Crowe said, giving him a stern look. “Don't blame yourself over this. None of us had even the hint of an inkling that something was going on.”

Pelna nodded, but Nyx couldn't help himself. He should have noticed. These people were his responsibility, especially now. It was him they looked to for protection, and he had let them down by not noticing what the Captain – Drautos – was doing.

“What are the long faces for?” Libertus's voice sounded.

The large man stood in the doorway, laden with bags from the grocery store. Vaguely Nyx wondered if his hunting-brother planned to feed the whole building. He shared a look with Crowe and Pelna. None of them were really sure what to say. Nyx was just about to open his mouth and just... say it, when he spotted Luche stepping up behind Libertus. The blond man not so gently shoved the protesting Libertus inside and flung himself on the freed armchair with a put upon look on his face.

Libertus grumbled some more, shooting Luche a poisonous glare, before he set the bags down on the cramped kitchen counter and turned around to Nyx and the others. His gaze travelled from one to the other, he look souring with every second.

“Okay, spill. What's going on? You all look like someone pissed in your tea.”

Luche gave an amused snort at that.

“Look,” Crowe spoke up, “we're just worried about how you'll react.” She worded it as an answer to Libertus's question, but here eyes were focussed on Luche. The blond man raised an eyebrow.

“It's about the Captain,” Pelna hedged, “and we know you're pretty close to him, Luche, since you and him are from Watcher Clans.”

Luche slowly pushed himself upright with a frown. “What exactly are you getting at?”

“You've been pretty chummy with Captain Drautos from the beginning. You must have noticed something,” Crowe declared.

Nyx shot her a warning look, but she ignored it. Luche's frown became darker.

“It would be very helpful,” he said slowly, “to know what we're actually talking about here.”

Nyx sighed and spoke up before anyone else could. “We finally found the cause of the Kingsglaive's money problems. Drautos has been embezzling around a third of our budget.”

At once Luche's face became a blank mask. Nyx felt his muscles first tense, then grow deceptively loose, ready to attack or defend at once. “The Captain has been what?” the blond asked, voice even and lacking any inflection whatsoever.

“So you didn't know,” Pelna determined.

“If I had known, I would have gone through the proper channels with that information.”

At those words, spoken in a cold, detached voice, the apartment descended into an uncomfortable silence. No one seemed to quite know what else to say. Luche's eyes had become vacant in a way which indicated that he was running over information in his head, while Crowe silently glared at nothing and Pelna busied his hands with trying to bring order into the chaos on the table. It was a sign of how distracted Crowe actually was, that she didn't tell him off for messing with her system.

Libertus set down a bowl with a loud clank, drawing all attention to himself. “This is fucking stupid! Why would the Captain do that? He hates the Niffs just as much as we do! Is he really stupid enough to sabotage our own efforts? Fuck!”

His fist hit the counter in frustration.

“There must be something more behind this,” Crowe said and turned her brown eyes towards Luche, who raised an eyebrow. “You know him the best.”

“Just because I've been his adjutant, doesn't mean I know the man well on a personal level. He never talks about his private life. How sure are you it's him who did it?”

“You trying to defend him, huh?” Libertus demanded.

“No. I'm merely trying to discern what evidence you have. If it's not good enough, it won't get you anywhere.”

“At least 80 percent,” Pelna sighed after a short, tense silence.

“Pelna!” Crowe hissed.

“No,” Nyx spoke up. “Pelna is right. We can't fight amongst ourselves. I also don't think we can go to the Insomnian authorities with this. No, let me finish. Just yesterday we announced our independence. We can't just run to them for legal matters now. Drautos is the head of his Clan, he needs to face our justice for this.”

“Nitor has had his suspicions about that,” Luche said.

“He hinted at something like that yesterday,” Nyx said with a frown.

“Care to share with the rest of the class?” Crowe prompted.

Luche and Nyx shared a look before the latter turned to answer. “Yesterday before the Gathering, Oirkar Lazarus dropped some hints. He thinks Drautos might be... might not actually know what he's doing.”

“Like how exactly? Politics? Because, no offence, Nyx, in that area you don't really know what you're doing either,” Libertus pointed out.

Nyx shot his hunting-brother a put out look and rolled his eyes. “We all know that, big guy. No need to point it out. No, what Orikar Lazarus meant was more socially focussed. Called it Drautos not even being able to tie his own schiroh.”

Luche gave a nod, but instead of elaborating on it, he asked: “Do you actually have any tangible evidence for your accusations?”

Pelna shrugged. “There's only two people who've had the clearance to pull something like this off without it being immediately noticeable. One is the Captain and the other Hephaistos Gohlann. Though between the two of them, Hephaistos is the one with the technical know how to accomplish something like this.”

“Ever since the Captain got Hephaistos the secretarial job after loosing his leg, he's been doing everything the Captain asked him to,” Luche mused out loud. “But have you considered that it might be someone hacking in from the outside?”

“You really think someone would go to these lengths just to just shove some skeletons into the Captain's closet? That seems highly unlikely,” Pelna argued. “He also vanished right after the fire-ash went up, and hasn't resurfaced yet. There's been many small things happening as of late, and on their own they might not mean much, but they all pile up.”

“Okay, okay,” Nyx said massaging his temples. “Let's just... table that discussion for now, alright? Pelna is on it, figuring this out, and there's no use for us being at each other's throats. We should concentrate on things we can actually do right now.”

Crowe gave a little snort and exchanged a look with Libertus at these words, but Luche and Pelna nodded. The blond man relaxed and leaned back in the armchair.

“You know you can't hide from the press forever?” he asked Nyx who winced.

“I can very damn well try,” he muttered under his breath before continuing in a more normal but perturbed tone. “King Regis already did a press conference about the tree and acknowledged Galahd's independence. I don't see why I have to talk to those goblins and tell them the same again.”

He did not want to know what kind of backlash the King had faced from the nobles for this. What would the corrupt politicians do now, that they couldn't line their pockets with their tax money anymore?

“Because to them you are the leader of a nation,” Luche suggested, face set in a truly impressive deadpan.

Nyx made a face, but Luche just cast a pointed look at the paperwork strewn all over the apartment. Okay, Nyx grudgingly admitted to himself, maybe it looked like that, especially to Insomnians, but that didn't mean he was the king of his own country. Galahd didn't work like that.

“It'll be weeks, no months, until everything has been ironed out, I imagine. We all can look forward to long meetings with the Lucian Crown haggling over the tiniest details. What? You thought this would be over with just the King's admission to Galahd's independence? Now the fun part starts. Money, juridical rights, representation at court, concessions they'll try to force on us, all that fun stuff. The only thing no one can dispute is our sovereign territory,” Luche went on, now more in his element.

Crowe and Libertus made choked off sounds at the prospect described to them. Nyx just sighed, tired, and Pelna frowned.

“We can't forget the Kingsglaive,” he said. “That's a legal disaster waiting to happen.”

That was true. Many Galahkari worked for he Crown in the form of having joined the Kingsglaive, an arm of the Lucian military. And now they weren't Lucian anymore. Would they still retain their jobs? Had there to be special allowances? Was the Glaive now considered under Galahkari authority? For the millionths time, Nyx wished someone else had been dumb enough to step up to the position of makti-oir.

“I would have loved to see their faces though,” Libertus suddenly said, jarring Nyx out of his thoughts.

“What?”

“With the fire-ash. I would have loved to see the Insomnian's faces when it suddenly grew up from under the streets.”

Crowe gave an amused snort. “Probably as dumb as yours was.”

“Hey! You weren't a paragon of serenity either, so you have no room to talk.”

The two glared at each other until Crowe huffed and rolled her eyes good naturedly. “Yeah, whatever.”

By now they had all seen the newsreels about it. Interviews with upset pedestrians and citizens that their beautiful city had been blighted by a blessing of Ifrit. But on moogle net there were quite a few people voicing their interest in learning more about this. Especially young people. It was strangely heartening in a way.

Nyx looked out his window at the large form of the fire-ash peeking out from behind the buildings. It's crown had grown around the main street of Insomnia and the Founder's Plaza along with a few other places. It looked like round islands of bronze and green in all the grey. Currently there were concerns flying around about how much light the lower districts were getting now, with the tree blocking out much more of the sun than the buildings already had, but Nyx could already tell that somehow they now had even more light and that the air had become cleaner. The tree didn't look like it glowed per se, but it was definitely emanating light of some kind.

“You think the sinehär gisdrauhti and the cünaniu will declare it a sacred sight?” Pelna asked no one in particular.

“Don't think so,” Crowe answered. “They would never declare something of Astral making sacred. Also, it's at a too inconvenient a place to set up a sacred sight proper. I give it until noon tomorrow at most until the children are climbing all over it.”

“No bet,” Libertus snorted, amused.

The sudden ringing from a phone made them all twitch. Libertus gave a quiet slew of curses and fished his phone out of his pocket, it's screen lit up and emitting a series of semi-melodic high pitched jingles. He answered in Lucian.

“Yeah? Ostium speaking. - Wait, how did you get your hands on this number? - Yeah, okay stop. What did you call me for? - Know what, get yourself over here and we'll talk about our training sessions. - Of course that's alright. Why wouldn't you be able to come down here? We didn't shut us off from the rest of the city, you know.” Libertus sighed and rolled his eyes before giving out the address for Nyx's apartment. “You know how to find it? - Good. See you in an hour then. And don't be late.”

“Did you just invite the Amicitia kid for food?” Nyx asked with a raised eyebrow.

Libertus stared down at his phone like he couldn't believe he had just done that. Suddenly, Nyx grinned.

“Admit it. The kid grew on you.”

His hunting-brother scowled and shoved Nyx in the shoulder. “Shut it, you.”

“But you don't deny it,” Nyx singsonged and ducked out of the way of the kitchen towel sailing in his direction.

Someone clapped their hands together to gain their attention. It was Crowe.

“Okay, playtime is over. If we want to eat at a reasonable time today, we need to start to clean up. No getting out of it Luche! Don't think I didn't see you try to sneak away. You can help Libertus in the kitchen.”

The bond's expression did not change even a little bit as he walked over to the kitchenette, where Libertus had finally started to sort through the bags. As always, he had bought at least thrice as much as should be needed.

Nyx turned back towards his bed and started to resort the loose papers into their proper binders, all carefully labelled for easy manoeuvring. It was done relatively quickly, so after he was done, he went to help Crowe, who just shooed him away. So he just shrugged, turned the TV louder and retreated into a corner to mix some limeschti after his Clan's recipe.

“... live from the Founder's Plaza.”

“Thank you, Lucius. I'm here at the Founder's Plaza, where you can see the very top of the fire-ash. It appeared yesterday precisely at high noon, causing a minor accident on the Insomnia Main Street and giving the pedestrians quite the scare,” a female reporter in a muted green military styled blazer spoke into a microphone.

“They still harping on about that?” Libertus wondered out loud. “That's old news already!”

“Not for Insomnians,” Luche said. “You know they love to regurgitate things like that again and again, until no one wants to hear it anymore.”

“Thank you. And that was Julia Videte, life on-site. And now please welcome in our studio, renown biologist Doctor Sania Yeagre. Thank you for coming, Doctor.”

The screen showed a woman in her early to mid thirties with dark skin and black, curly hair done into a bun on top of her head. Large glasses framed eyes that glinted with a childish enthusiasm rarely seen in adults.

“The pleasure is all mine,” she said, a bright smile on her face.

“What can you tell us about the general attributes of a fire-ash?”

“The Fraxinus Ifriti, commonly known as fire-ash, belongs to the olive family. Since the fall of Solheim, this tree has become exceedingly rare, for a few centuries it was even considered extinct until they found a living specimen during the construction of the Tomb of the Fierce on Mt. Ravatogh. It also is the slowest growing tree on Eos, with barely half a centimetre per year. Studies also showed that its sap could be used as a strong curative.”

“Can I infer from the scientific name, that there is a connection to the Infernian?”

“No shit,” Libertus muttered, causing Nyx to snort.

Sania Yeagre, not at all perturbed by the leading question, nodded enthusiastically. “Yes! In some of the earliest botanical works we have today, it is listed as a symbol of Ifrit's blessing. Which is why the tree must have been very common during the existence of the Empire of Solheim. It is depicted in near every work of art we have left of that time.”

“Then the fire-ash that spontaneously sprouted from Little Galahd, can be seen as a sign of the Infernian blessing the Galahdian people?”

“I imagine so. This is a very rare opportunity. I returned to Insomnia as soon as I heard of the fire-ash's existence. Hopefully the Galahdian leader will let me study it.”

Nyx shared a look with Pelna, who had also finished cleaning up his papers. He stood by the door, papers and laptop crammed under one arm.

“I'll be back soon. Just need to put these away and get Tethys, Moireus and the girls. We'll also bring another table and some chairs. There's no way we'll all fit at this tiny thing you call your dining table, Nyx.”

“Hey. I haven't needed a bigger one until now.”

“Time to get a new one, then,” Pelna threw over his shoulder and slipped through the door.

Nyx scowled after him while Crowe and Libertus snickered and Luche's lips ticked up into a grin. A knock came from the open doorway soon after. There stood Athina, her hand raised and a smile on her face. She looked gorgeous in her dark red tunic dress with a wide cream cloth belt.

“Athina!” Nyx exclaimed, surprised and joyous. “Come in. Can I offer you some tea?”

“Good day, Nyx. Thank you, that would be very appreciated,” she smiled.

She stepped into the apartment and towards the table that looked like nothing had changed for the last ten minutes. Still papers were everywhere, but woe to the person who wanted to help Crowe clean up her mess.

“Can I help you? Four hands are faster then two,” Athina asked the other woman.

Nyx was about to open his mouth to tell the dark skinned woman that it was hopeless to ask, when Crowe squinted at her and nodded after a few seconds of staring, which Athina bore patiently. Libertus gave him a wide eyed look. Crowe never let people help her with cleaning. Never. Athina, not knowing what had just happened, just asked their storm-sister where which papers went and started to help as per her instructions.

Very deliberately, Nyx turned around and reached around Luche to fetch another tea cup. His last one, since he only owned four. He poured the last of the tea he had made earlier, and earned himself a bright smile when he set it down at a spot of now paper free table. The answering smile growing on his face was more of a flirty smirk. From the corner of his eyes he could see Crowe roll her eyes.

Not too long after that, there was a roast in the microwave oven and Libertus had gone to fetch Crowe's to put the second roast in. Because one was apparently not enough with the amount of people, who were suddenly coming. Pelna returned with Tethys and the children a few minutes after that, bearing a foldable table and chairs along with more dishes. Nyx sent them a grateful look.

“Nyx!” Moireus cried and barrelled into his legs, to give him a tight hug around the waist.

“Buhgil! How have you been? My, have you grown taller?”

Nyx tousled the boys hair, which earned him a bright, toothy smile. “I grew this much!” He held his thumb and index finger about two centimetres apart. Nyx nodded, impressed.

He looked up and gave Tethys, Ker and Dione welcoming smiles. “Thanks for coming.”

“Thanks for having us,” Tethys returned with a smile of her own.

“Don't mention it. I think Libertus's secret ambition for today is to feed the whole house with how much he bought.”

“I want to see the pretty tree!” Moireus spoke up, tugging at Nyx' trouser leg.

“You need to ask your parents that, buhgil. Maybe they'll take you tomorrow, if you're on your best behaviour this evening and go to bed without complaining.”

“I will!” the boy nodded eagerly and ran over to his mother to tell her, even though she had clearly heard every single word being spoken.

The TV was turned off and someone set up a CD player on his chest of drawers. At once a lively drumbeat filled the apartment along with their chatter and the smell of meat and steaming vegetables. It gave Nyx a sudden pang of homesickness. What would it be like to do something like this again in his Clan house? To fill it with voices and music and laughter? He hoped he would find out sometime soon.

Maybe half an hour later, they had the tables and chairs crammed into all the available free space, and were just starting to set down the plates, when there was another knock at the door – which, surprisingly enough, had been closed sometime during this endeavour. Nyx, who was closest, opened it.

Outside, there stood three kids. Gladio he had expected, even his little sister to some extend, but the third was a mystery. He looked to be a bit younger than Gladio, with sandy blond hair that was common in Leide and southern Duscae, and glasses framing green eyes. Promptly, the unknown boy gave a proper Lucian bow. Nyx raised an eyebrow.

“I'm very sorry. I should have said that I'm not coming alone,” Gladio said, looking embarrassed and giving a bow of his own.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Nyx waved away his concerns.

All three of them looked mildly relieved at that.

“Now, what's your name?”

“Ignis Scientia,” the teenager answered promptly in the accent most nobles had. “I am very sorry for the intrusion.”

“I said it was fine, didn't I?” Nyx told them and stepped back to let them in.

They stepped inside, and Nyx found it kind of hilarious to see their emotions flicker over the faces as they took in their surroundings. The tiny flicker of embarrassment at how tiny and run down it was, was firmly showed into the farthest corner of his mind. Iris simply looked genuinely curious. Her eyes widened as they flickered over the people in attendance, the food, the tables that had barely enough space and settled on Pelna's nieces. The two boys seemed unsure and taken aback, though Ignis hid it better.

Iris eagerly skipped up to Dione, who was the closest to her in age here, and introduced herself in a chipper voice.

“Hi! I'm Iris. What's your name?”

“Dione Khara,” the girl muttered, suddenly shy, but Iris didn't let that deter her and started up a steady stream of chatter.

In the corner of the room, Nyx could see Pelna and Tethys exchange amused and exasperated smiles. The other adults in the room took the presence of the Lucian teenagers rather well. Nyx just left the door open, mostly for air circulation, but also because someone needed to go and get more chairs.

“We need more chairs,” Libertus echoed his sentiments in Hadnissa, so the two Lucian teenagers standing close to them wouldn't understand.

“I'm going over to your place and get more,” Nyx said, but Libertus shook his head.

“No. You have to enforce Guest Right, I'm going to go. I don't think Luche will mess up the food in the two minutes I'm gone.”

His hunting-brother walked out the door and Nyx shimmied towards the kitchenette. Luche held out the kettle filled with hot water he had just prepared and he took it with a grateful grin. A few minutes later he picked up four hot, steaming cups and set them down at the edge of his table.

“Gladio, Ignis, Iris, come here for a second, please,” he called.

At once all three hurried over. Nyx blinked. Huh. He gestured towards the tea cups.

“We need to observe Guest Rights. Each of you take one cup.”

They were all made out of simple porcelain, formed into different shapes and sizes. Nyx wished he had a proper tea set for this. All three chose their cups after a beat of hesitation. Ignis looked curiously down at the cup he had chosen and then over at him, a question clear in his gaze, but he didn't quite seem to dare to ask it.

“You can ask. I won't bite your head off,” Nyx said a touch dryly.

“Would you be willing to explain to us what you mean by that? What are the Guest Rights?” Ignis asked.

Nyx could practically hear the Your Majesty the teen swallowed down. Points for effort, though.

“Guest Rights are an old tradition of my people. Each Clan has a territory they reside in, land they preside over and look after. When you go to another Clan's territory, you want assurance that they won't harm you, and they want assurance that you won't harm one of them. So you make a pact of sorts, with the leader of the Clan, for the duration you're in their territory. You promise to respect their traditions and not to harm them, and in return they promise no harm will come to you from them, that they will give you a roof over your head and a hearth to warm yourself at. Those kind of things. If you break Guest Right, the spirits will curse you and yours.”

All three listened with avid attention. It was weird to explain these things to teenagers, Lucian teenagers at that, but it also felt a little bit like progress. His answer also seemed to encourage more questions.

“Why do we have to drink tea for it?” Iris piped up.

Both teens looked ready to scold the girl for a rudely asked question, but Nyx spoke up before either of them could open their mouths.

“At first we did it with plain water, because water is the lifeblood of the world. Without it we would die, and it's the medium our souls travel through, to reach the Gate. But then we realized that plants carry with them the essence of the earth, that they absorb some of its magical properties. So we started to steep them in boiling water to have that connection to earth's magic. If you want to know more about it, you should ask Crowe. She knows much more about these things than I do.”

The Lucian trio nodded.

“Do we need to do something special now, or...?” Gladio trailed off uncertainly.

“We don't need to do something overly special. Words are always optional for this and more of a ceremonial thing besides. You just need to raise the cup to your eye level like this-” he demonstrated by raising his own cup- “and then we drink it.”

Nyx did his best not to laugh when they took a sip after copying his motions. The Clan Ulric limeschti was spicy. Spicy with a wooden and smoky note. It wasn't the paragon of good taste, he had to admit, but it was always funny to see the faces of people who tasted it for the first time.

“And now,” he said after setting his empty cup down, “sit. I can see Libertus getting fussy with the food, so it's about time to eat.”

They all sat down, Iris between Pelna's nieces, asking them all kinds of things about the food, their hobbies, favourite colours and so on. Ignis sat next to Gladio, who sat next to Libertus. For the first part the two kept more to themselves, though Gladio periodically looked over at Iris to make sure his little sister was okay. Moireus was his usual energetic self and ran around the table, or crawled under it, depending on his mood.

The atmosphere was lively and relaxed, even with the Lucian guests, the food was delicious and the company good. Laughter and music drifted through the air.

“We should do this more often,” Athina said from where she sat at Nyx' right side.

“Yeah, we should,” he agreed with a smile.

“Do you have any rum here?” she suddenly asked.

“Huh? Yeah... it's in the cupboard next to the sink. Why're you asking?”

She gave an impish grin. Her eyes sparkled beautifully. “Would you mind, if I made some tea?”

It took Nyx exactly two seconds to figure out what she was planning. He grinned back. “Of course, I don't mind.”

His blue eyes softened and his mischievous grin turned into a gentle smile. She returned his gaze, a slight blush dusting her cheeks. His stomach suddenly felt like it was doing backflips. It wasn't quite love, at least he didn't think so, but there was certainly attraction and a deep fondness. He could see himself with her, and that hadn't happened since Galahd. Soon he would give her his first courting gift, he thought.

Athina stood up and their knees brushed together. Nyx suppressed a shudder. The moment passed when she turned around to reach for the kettle. Libertus, who had talked with Crowe, who sat across from him, noticed the moment and nearly choked on his spit before he started grinning.

“Nyx, you coeurl! Why didn't you tell me you're getting married?” he asked loud enough that everyone in the apartment heard.

Nyx felt his face heat up and prayed to the spirits he wasn't blushing.

“I'm hurt, Nyx, really, really hurt. I'm your best friend, your brother, and you didn't tell me,” Libertus teased, voice flat but grin widening.

In the face of such teasing, Nyx kicked said best friend and brother in the shin, like a good sibling did.

“Ah, damn it! Why do you have to kick so hard?”

“Because you deserve it,” Nyx shot back.

“Language,” Tethys chided at the same time.

Athina laughed as she measured out the tea leaves. “We're still quite a ways off from marriage, Libertus.”

“You're making tea in his home,” the man pointed out, which... fair.

But that still didn't mean they would tie the knot anytime soon. Pitioss, they had barely started courting! He wondered what kind of gift he should get her first. A bead maybe. Or was that too common? Maybe some traditional Ulric bone jewellery would be better. He was startled from his thoughts when the subject of his thoughts set down a cup of spiked tea in front of him. He gave her a smile in thanks, which she returned.

“Now,” Libertus spoke and turned towards Gladio, after a round of teasing comments and innuendos thrown Nyx's and Athina's way, “what's it you wanted to talk about?”

This made Nyx pay attention, because honestly, he also wanted to know what was going on. Iris was trying to teach Moireus and Dione some simple games she knew at one corner of the table, while Athina and Crowe started a conversation about tea preparation and Pelna and Tethys seemed to have a semi-serious conversation with Luche and Ker.

For a moment the young Amicitia seemed to be at a loss of words. He scratched the back of his neck while the fingers of his other hand skimmed along the edge of his own tea cup. Whatever the matter was, it clearly made the teen anxious.

“How did you become a Shield to the Makti-Oir?” he asked at last.

Nyx gave an internal sigh at the kid's insistence to call him by his title. Getting him to call him by name was an ongoing battle.

“I did not become his Shield, alright? I just try to make sure this guy-” Libertus jabbed his thumb at Nyx- “doesn't die from the idiotic shit he pulls.”

Nyx tried very hard not to make an exaggerated hurt face at his hunting-brother for that comment.

Gladio scrunched his brows together. “I don't understand.”

“It's... look, the Ostiums and the Ulrics have been close allies ever since the first Ulrics came to Galahd. Closer than that, even. We're brothers, Nyx and I. His father was brothers with an Ostium, and Ilias's mother was the sister to one. We watch after them, they watch after us, simple as that, no ceremonies required.”

“You don't feel it is an obligation?”

Ah, so that's what was going on. Libertus shot Nyx a look, who shrugged.

“Nyx and I are family. The moment family becomes obligation, it isn't family anymore.”

“You don't have duties to your families?” Ignis asked a touch incredulous.

Right.

“We make a difference between Clan and family. You have a duty to your Clan. Help it prosper, do nothing to harm it, respect your oirkar – your Clan Head, would be the correct translation I believe – that sort of thing. Family is a choice. It's not bound by blood. Libertus is my brother because I want him to be my brother, and he wants to be mine,” Nyx tried to explain.

“Shouldn't you be talking about this kind of thing with your father?” Libertus wanted to know.

Gladio made a face. “He said being the Shield of a King is the greatest honour an Amicitia can gain, and also the greatest burden. The King's life will be my responsibility.”

Nyx shared another look with Libertus. The latter cleared his throat.

“Okay. That... seems kinda impersonal.” He paused for a moment before an idea seemed to come to him. “So the Amicitias are your Clan. And the duties of your Clan are to protect the line of the King, yes?”

Gladio gave a nod and frowned, puzzled. But before he could open his mouth, Libertus continued.

“That's your duty. You have to do it. But no one is telling you how to go about it. That's what you can decide for yourself. If you can't chose the goal, chose the way to get there.”

“Damn, Libertus. That was deep,” Nyx couldn't help but tease.

“Hey! I have my moments, you know?”

“Just a few,” Crowe cut in with a grin.

“What's this? Harp on Libertus day?”

“Awww, you know we love you, big guy,” Nyx grinned.

Libertus gave a few quiet grumbles and Nyx patted him on the back. All the while the two Lucian teenagers watched them. There was something like a quiet revelation on Gladio's face.

“You're his older brother,” he breathed.

“That's what I've been trying to tell you,” Libertus said, relieved that Gladio finally seemed to understand. Or start to, anyway. “You remember what I told you when you said a Shield always stands on the left?”

“The left is protection first, honour second,” came the immediate reply.

“What do you think it means?”

Gladio was silent for a few seconds as he contemplated the question. Meanwhile, someone pulled out bottles of beer from somewhere, to the joy of all adults present.

“That you take the place to someone's left not because of the honour it brings, but to protect the person you are doing it for.”

“Close enough. You don't do it for honour, but it's an honour to be trusted enough to be allowed to stand at someone's left side. What you need to always remember, is that you do it to protect. No matter, if you're seen doing it or not, if you get recognized for it or not, if you lose your own honour doing it or not. All of that doesn't matter. That's what it means. You're an Amicitia. You can't chose to stand to the prince's left. But you can chose how to go about it. Do you want to be a lover? A brother? A friend? Strictly professional? Do you want to do so openly, like your father does? Or do you want to take a step back and be the invisible shadow?”

“Having someone stand to your left – be your protection – is the greatest gift that can be given to you, but it's also a responsibility of it's own,” Nyx commented. “So, if this is about trouble with the prince, it may very well be because he feels responsible for your life. Something like this isn't a one way street. It's give and take.”

“We thank you for your advice,” Ignis said with a nod that looked suspiciously like a bow.

“Also maybe talk with the prince about this? Before you end up like these two in their teens. It was ridiculous,” Crowe cut in again.

“We weren't that bad,” Nyx protested.

“Oh, believe me, you were. Remember the first time we went cliff diving?” She raised a challenging eyebrow. Nyx opened his mouth only to snap it closed again. “Exactly.”

After that the serious talk tapered off. Gladio and Ker convinced Ignis to drink a beer, which turned into two. His protests about underage drinking since he was only seventeen, didn't bear fruit, because on Galahd people were allowed to drink lighter alcohols from age sixteen. Moireus seemed to be determined to teach Iris Hadnissa. He kept pointing at things and saying their name until the girl repeated it, her eyes shone with interest and enthusiasm.

“That could have gone worse,” Athina murmured, her voice barely audible through the sound of music and people talking and laughing.

Nyx nodded as the two watched the Lucians mingle for a few moments. Which was the point when Ladone peered into his apartment together with Axis, Tredd, Sonitus and a few others, bearing snacks and bottles of alcohol. Their impromptu party spilled out into the open hallway.

Libertus's voice resonated through the training ground, causing Nyx's head to give a slight throb with each word. Damn, he shouldn't have drunk so much yesterday. He resisted the urge to massage his temples – Crowe, who stood next to him would only laugh at his misery – and directed his attention towards the Glaives below them instead.

The training ground had been modified to look like part of a Niflheimr base. One of the smaller ones, because the budget hadn't allowed for more and the space wouldn't have been enough anyway. But despite that, Fuhrin Troop had surpassed all expectations Nyx had had.

They had managed to get the material from spirits knew where, to built part of a base's outer wall, along with what they estimated the structures behind said wall to look like. And since most bases tended to allow for very little variety, it was a very educated guess.

Right now, Libertus was giving last instructions on what would be their first training exercise for this. Nyx dearly hoped their new scheme would work.

Kihna Troop was nearby, ready to stage their mock attack at the gates, someone had rigged up from scavenged technology, while a colourful mix of members of other Units would play the Niffs for this exercise. Luche and Sonitus had been put in charge of them.

Up on the viewing platform Nyx and Crowe weren't alone. Most of the other Glaives on stand-by duty were also there, intending to watch. Ever since Niflheim had gone quiet after the Taelpar Crag fiasco, there was not much else happening on the war front.

The first run barely lasted a few minutes. As planned, Kepho led his people in a frontal attack intended as a distraction, but one of Libertus' people triggered an alarm while they tried to sneak over the wall.

Murmurs broke out amongst the watchers, but they quickly shut up when they caught Nyx glaring. Correctly planning and executing this manoeuvre during training would take time. Weeks, maybe even months. If they had the time, which Nyx very much doubted, but a man could hope.

Over the duration of the next few hours they repeated the exercise seven times. After that the Troop and Unit leaders congregated in the briefing room.

“Well, that was a bust,” Kepho muttered just loud enough to be heard once everyone had arrived.

“Next time I'll throw you over the wall and see how many alarms you trip over,” Draskelio Furia hissed, temper flaring.

He had been among the people to trigger the alarm most often.

“Kepho, Draskelio, stop it,” Nyx commanded. “Remember, this was only the first day. Now we need to discuss what alterations we need to make, so this plan will work.”

For a moment both looked ready to argue, but in the end they relented with brisk nods. Nyx released a quiet breath.

“I watched the exercise from the stands. So I have some ideas of my own, but I want to hear your impressions first. Luche, you first.”

The blond stepped forward. “The basic plan is good, but I feel we need to take the watchtowers into account. It might be better if Libertus's team takes one out while Kepho and his people distract the MTs, and sneak in from there. There will be less risk of discovery that way.”

“One watchtower houses four soldiers max. It should be easy,” Libertus mused. “The only problem being, we'll need to sneak through the whole base then, find and kill the commander and then get to the entrance to assist Kihna Troop.”

“I'll set you up with Ladone to help with the stealth training,” Nyx offered.

“That might actually be a good idea. Not everyone is suited to my brand of stealth.”

The Ostium brand of stealth lay mostly in their connection with snakes. They had learned from communicating with and watching the reptiles. Partly, their success lay in disguises, partly in their ability to just make themselves less noticeable. The most talented amongst the Clan could come close enough to a person to touch them without them noticing. For children, pranks were a good way to train the ability. Libertus had once tried to teach him, with limited success. Nyx moved too much like a cat for it to work properly, Libertus had complained back then. Looking back now, his words held the strange tinge of foreshadowing.

“Holding a line against MTs is all well and good, but what about their other magiteck? I can't guarantee for how long we'll be able to hold them off,” Kepho spoke up.

“You want a nice timetable, planned down to the last minute? It needs to be long enough for us to find the commander of the base and take him out,” Libertus said.

Kepho shot him a harsh glare but kept silent.

“We also need to plan for the eventuality that they have magic dampening technology at the base,” Crowe commented.

That shut all of them up for a moment. She was right, of course. But no one had wanted to think about it. The possibility that what happened a few weeks ago, would happen again. The way they had been taught to fight as Kingsglaive was too reliant on magic, Nyx suddenly realized. Magic, active Lucian magic, was powerful, and it was easy to grow reliant on it because it was just so easy to access. It had made them prone to not consider their own talents.

“What are you thinking of, Makti-Oir?” Luche asked.

Nyx gave a contemplative hum. “Nothing concrete for now, but I think we should dial back on the Lucian magic, use it more in concentrated bursts, and concentrate on what we're capable of without it.”

“That's some new overtures coming from you, hero,” Libertus pointed out, oh so helpfully.

“Yeah well, I don't exactly want a repeat of the last time,” Nyx replied with an overly casual shrug.

Quiet murmuring broke out amongst the people in the room. About half of them had been there and the rest had heard the story later, about how Nyx had awakened the Great Coeurl's blessing to protect his people.

“Before we actually strike Tollhends Stronghold, I think we should poke at them for a bit. Strike their supply lines. Those that aren't handled by airships, anyways. Hit some of their patrols. It should weaken them enough so they shouldn't give us too much trouble by the time we actually strike,” Nyx spoke, doing his best to ignore the starstruck stares directed his way.

“It'll also make them more alert. Security will be higher,” Sonitus pointed out.

“True,” Nyx conceded, “but it will take some of the pressure away from Kepho and his people. Libertus, you think you and your Troop can manage with those conditions?”

“Once we're in, security isn't that much of a problem,” his hunting-brother said after a moment.

“Good. Then we'll leave it here for now. You all did a great job today. Keep at it, and we'll be able to show those Niffs how dangerous it is to spill the blood of our people. For Hearth!”

“And Home!”

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered golden through the rustling leaves of the fire-ash. The air smelled less of exhaust fumes and more of growing things and nature. The atmosphere was a peaceful one, despite the surrounding crowds, and the thrumming level of noise they caused. Or maybe they were the reason for the peace Nyx felt resonating down to his bones. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the rough bark of the tree.

Over the last few days it had become habit for him to come here when he needed a place to think. And there was so much going on he needed to think about.

Training was progressing steadily, if slowly; Kepho had toned his antagonizing down to a minimum, thank the spirits. After some contemplation, Nyx had come to the conclusion that it would be better, if they divided the huge problem of attacking the base into a series of smaller ones. So now Kepho and his people were doing attack drills, while Libertus's Units suffered Ladone's special kind of training, and the whole of the Jabberwock Company was trying their best to get their hands on as many magitek units as possible to try and figure out how they ticked.

Which wasn't exactly easy, since MTs and all kinds of MA Units self-destructed once they had suffered a certain amount of damage. Not that Jabberwock Company let that stop them. Added to that, Insomnia didn't allow for any kind of Niff magitek within its borders. Especially not in the quantity needed to properly conduct the research they had in mind. However, Galahd had no such laws. But while Little Galahd now technically counted as its own nation, nothing had been signed yet. Additionally one still had to get through large parts of Insomnia to get there, which... it all just gave Nyx a big bloody headache.

Not to talk about the noble idiot who had started the discussion about the Galahkari needing visas now, of all things. Which, Nyx could see the point of. Kind of. But still.

Politics.

A nice breeze tousled his hair and carried the sound of playing children climbing around the lower branches of the fire-ash. Nyx took a deep breath.

There was a haven not too far from the city borders at a cliff-side in Leide. Maybe Jabberwock Company could use it as a research site? He would propose the idea to the next Furia he saw, since most of them were in said Company.

Then there was the problem of Drautos. No one had seen hide nor hair of the man since the Gathering, which did not paint a good picture at all. And considering when and how he had pulled the vanishing act, there weren't many ways one could interpret it. A malcontent rumble had started within the Glaive as soon as this particular piece of news had come out. It wasn't like something like this could be kept quiet for long.

Had Drautos noticed Pelna's digging? Was it the Gathering? Or maybe Nyx becoming makti-oir? Had Drautos thought Nyx was usurping him? Nyx had to admit that the last one was more or less what had happened, but the Captain had never sat down to talk with him about what had happened. Drautos would have made a wonderful leader for a company after everything would have been ironed out. However considering Drautos's behaviour as of late, all bets were now off. Right about now Pelna should have dragged Hephaistos Gohlann in for questioning.

The most important answers they needed were where the Captain had gone to ground and how exactly he was involved in this shit show. Nyx had no illusions that Hephaistos would be able – or Pitioss, even willing – to answer these questions, but maybe whatever Pelna managed to get out of him would get them one step closer to figuring it out.

But those were all things other people could deal with for the next fifteen minutes. Nyx breathed a weary sigh and lounged in the patch of sunlight he had found, allowing himself to relax. The fire-ash was comfortable, nearly unnaturally so. A warmth pulsed beneath it like a slow, steady heartbeat and when the leaves rustled in the wind it sounded faintly like fire crackling in his mother's hearth. The feel and sound were soothing, and Nyx gave a quiet groan as a tension he hadn't realized he was carrying, released.

Slowly the sound of playing children and chatting adults seemed to drift away, swallowed by the sound of rustling leaves and the feeling of warmth surrounding him like a comfortable blanket.

~  -  ~

He is the oldest, but he is young. He travels the lands basking in his mother's light, watching, learning. There is so much to see, so much to discover.

He does not quite know how long after his birth it is when he discovers them. Beings that look very much like him, with skin the colour of bronze and hair ranging from earthen tones to the colour of his mother's gaze. They are the most fascinating beings he has ever found. So he stays and watches and learns.

They call themselves humans.

The longer he watches them, the more he comes to the realization of just how similar they are. They look at the world with just as much curiosity as he does. They try to learn how to live under his mother's warm gaze and most do so well. He does not know how the world had been before. The impressions the Dreamwalker sends him, are a thing he can barely comprehend. But they make him better at understanding what his mother had seen in humanity to do what she had. To give them the kind of gift she did.

So what else could he do but follow her footsteps?

There is only one gift he can think of, that is worthy of his mother's actions.

The first time he reveals himself to the humans, some flee. Scared as they are of his fires and the heat and the passion he radiates. But there are those that stay, that look at him with curiosity and awe instead of fear and horror. Them he finds worthy of his gift.

It is his flame he gives to them, the tiniest flicker, but it is enough.

He watches with pride as ingenuity takes hold within these humans. Passion and creativity. He is in awe at the things they create. Houses that reach for the sky, machines for faster travel, for health, contraptions with which they can fly.

He cannot understand the reluctance and sometimes outright hostility with which his siblings interact with humanity. Their mother loves them, so they should too. It is only right. With his gift he has bound himself irrevocably to these humans and it is the best thing he has ever done. And maybe someday his siblings will see it was him, who is right.

~  -  ~

“-yx! Hey, Nyx! You up there?”

Nyx startled awake, an irritated hiss passing his lips. His hands dug into the rough bark of the fire-ash as to not slip off the branch he had apparently taken a nap on. A bloody nap. By the spirits, that had been one heck of a dream. With a shuddering breath, he scraped a hand over his face.

He didn't have time to process it before a grunt to his left distracted him. Out of the foliage Libertus's head appeared, his expression one of absolute disgruntlement.

“There you are! We've been looking for you for ages, and here you are taking a nap.”

“It wasn't exactly on my to do list,” Nyx scowled back.

“Yeah well, apparently you needed it. Now come on. There's things to do and people to meet.”

On their climb down, everything seemed to have a bronze sheen as the light of the afternoon sun drifted through the branches. Nyx felt like he was breathing liquid warmth. Everywhere around him the tree echoed with the all consuming feeling of love he had felt in his dream. Could the others feel it as well? Right now Nyx did not dare ask.

Things to do and people to meet turned out to mean trooping over to the bar of Libertus's uncle to get some food. His usual group was already there, with drinks and paper crowding the surface of the table they had claimed for themselves.

“Look who I found taking a cat-nap in the tree,” Libertus said in way of greeting with a stupidly big grin on his face.

Nyx just rolled his eyes and gave his hunting-brother a good natured shove while the gentle ribbing of the others washed over him. The moment he sat down, Murus was there, setting down a plate of steaming curry and a pint of root beer in front of him. It smelled delicious and made him very aware of the fact, that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast.

His gaze drifted through the relatively empty room. Other than them, there was a clique of eight Galahkari that worked at the docks and were steadily getting more and more drunk, a whole horde of Clan Lazarus members crowded around their Clan Head, Nitor Lazarus, and a small group of four Lucians huddled in the far corner. They looked kind of lost but determined to stay.

He thanked Murus, who nodded and bustled over to the dockworkers, and tucked in. The curry was delicious and so spicy it burned all the way down. Just as it should be. He let the chatter of the others drift around him, content for now to just listen to Libertus' rendition of today's training with the occasional comment from Ladone, who was currently in charge of said training.

In her words: “They're clumsier than a fish on land, but not as bad as I expected.”

Which was good. Galahkari were a stealthy lot by nature, but Ladone's expectations were on a whole other level.

“How did the interrogation go?” Nyx asked halfway through his meal, when there was a lull in the conversation.

Pelna made a face. “Getting Hephaistos into custody was easy enough, but the man refuses to say much of anything. He wasn't at all surprised when I told him Drautos was nowhere to be found, so he must know what's going on. I mean, he didn't even twitch when I brought up the money.”

“You think Oirkar Gohlann would be able to make him talk?” Crowe asked, a scowl on her face.

Pelna moved his hand in a so-so motion.

“Involving Gerrarius should be our last option,” Luche spoke up. “The man has a good head on his shoulders, but he's traditionalist enough, his first instinct will be to do everything in his power to get Hephaistos out of custody. He'll want to deal with this Clan internally.”

“As should be the duty of every oirkar,” Nyx agreed.

“That may be, but it will be hardly helpful in this situation,” Pelna countered. “Give me a few more days to get him to talk. Maybe I'll find a weak point.”

“What if we let him go?” Ladone proposed, causing everyone at the table to stare at her.

“You want to just let him get away with this?” Libertus demanded, voice rising.

Nyx grabbed him by the shoulder. “Easy, big guy. I'm sure Ladone has a good reason for suggesting this.” She better have.

The woman nodded, unmoved by the sudden rise of Libertus's temper. “With a bit of luck we'll find Drautos' little hidey hole through him. Tell Gerrarius what's going on and then let Hephaistos go. This way Clan Gohlann will not take insult and we can tail our suspect. Sooner or later he'll contact Titus, if he's really involved in all of this.”

“That is not a bad idea,” Nyx conceded.

“I would still like to try one more time before we do this,” Pelna said.

There was a murmur of agreement, then a beat of silence.

“Okay, now that that's done with, I need you to look this over,” Crowe stated and held out a wad of paper in Nyx's direction.

“What's that?” he asked around his last bite of curry.

“New preliminary distribution of the Kingsglaive's budget for the rest of the year. Some of the orders couldn't be cancelled until then, so we'll not have access to all the money we could have. I think we should keep relations with WEAPON. It pains me to admit, but their magic conducting alloys are the best.”

“Don't let an Utris or Gohlann hear you say that,” Libertus teased. “You might hurt their feelings.”

Nyx suppressed a snort and wisely didn't point out that his cousins would be more than up for a fistfight over this. His sister would have been, too. Shaking his head and decidedly shoving the thought aside, he took the papers and looked them over.

To him, it didn't look much different than the plans he had seen for the previous years, which was to be expected, he supposed. The big changes would only be able to be implemented with the next business year. Which was still a ways away. But he could see Crowe had stopped all transactions that were going nowhere, so they had a bit more money to play with. Money that would mainly go into magitek research and medical equipment.

On another page he found a list of proposed outside contractors. Most of them Galahkari. Ariadne and Archyll Utris for weaponry, three Gohlanns for armour modifications and a group of Patientias and Altiuses, since they were chemists and healers respectively.

“Looks good,” he said and gave Crowe back the papers.

She nodded, clearly satisfied, and set them on top of a stack balancing at her elbow.

Nyx leaned back in his chair and took a sip of his beer. For the first time since being woken up, his thoughts wandered back to the dream he had had. It had been so strange, like he had been another person. He shivered as an echo of that deep wonder, devotion and love bubbled up within him. These emotions had been so genuine, so intense. Nyx couldn't remember exactly what had happened in that dream, but impressions of those feelings had stayed. He wondered what it might mean.

When the door to the bar opened again, it didn't seem to interest much of anybody. This was a bar, there was always traffic. But then a girl's voice broke through the usual buzz with a loud and slightly mispronounced “Fahlana, Libertus!” causing everybody to turn around.

There, by the door, stood a group of teenagers, two of which looked decidedly uncomfortable. Ignoring the sudden lull in conversations, Iris Amicitia bounded over, a brilliant smile on her face. The whole table turned towards her. From what Nyx could see, they weren't the only ones. The dockworkers did their best to seem like they didn't care for whom had just entered the bar, while Nitor Lazarus and his group looked oh so very interested, and the Lucians in the corner looked like they couldn't decide if they should be shocked or indignant.

“Iris?” Libertus sputtered.

The girl threw herself at him in a tackle hug. The burly man caught her easily, a sound somewhere between a grunt and a laugh escaped him.

Nyx grinned and winked, to which Iris giggled and returned the gesture. He turned his attention to the group following the girl at a more sedate pace. Gladio he had expected. The young man would never let his little sister come here without his supervision. Ignis could be expected as well, Nyx supposed, seeing as he was very interested in their cuisine. But the other two? One was a blond teenager with a smattering of freckles over his face. He looked to be of mixed Tenebrani and Nifasi descent and bounced nervously with each step he took. The last one... Nyx bit his tongue to keep any knee-jerk reaction from showing. There, walking with his shoulders hitched up every so slightly, was Noctis Lucis Caelum.

“Iris,” Gladio scolded lightly once he was close enough.

“Look who's back again. Hey guys, buhgil,” Crowe greeted.

“Good afternoon. I hope we are not disturbing you,” Ignis returned, eyes trailing over the paper strewn over the table before they settled on Nyx.

The makti-oir shook his head and waved the concerns aside. “It's fine. But we're going to need another table to fit everyone.”

Before he had even finished the sentence, Pelna and Ladone had stood up and started to drag the closest table over. The teenagers shuffled aside, still looking awkward while the adults rearranged the seating arrangement.

“Now then,” Nyx announced as he sat down again, “introductions first. Please excuse the informality, but you caught us outside our working hours.”

For some unfathomable reason Gladio looked at the prince who ducked his head, while the blond teenager fidgeted nervously at the prince's other side. Iris had firmly attached herself to Libertus's side, who took it with the grace of someone who was used to regularly help looking after children. Ignis took the last free seat located between the blond teenager and Pelna.

“Hi! I'm Prompto, and this is my best friend Noctis,” the blond teen said cheerfully and clearly nervous.

The Lucian prince clearly looked out of his depth, which... okay. Nyx had never really interacted with him, had only seen him at official functions or from afar, but from the few minutes he had been here now, Nyx had him firmly pegged as an introvert.

So Nyx smiled back, not quite as cheerfully as Prompto, and said: “Nice to meet you two.”

Noctis's head shot up, expressive blue eyes blinking in surprise. Nyx turned his smile a touch encouraging. From the corner of his eyes he could see Luche lift an eyebrow while Crowe tried to hide a snicker and Ladone looked like she wanted to roll her eyes at him.

“I'm Nyx of Clan Ulric, but you probably already knew that,” he said with a crooked grin causing the prince's lips to twitch into a tiny smile. He gestured towards his left. “This is Libertus of Clan Ostium, he's something like my very annoying brother.”

“What do you mean 'something like'? I am your brother, you little shi- idiot,” Libertus protested in mock hurt, stumbling over the last word with a look down at Iris.

“That's what you're hung up about?” Crowe asked with a teasing grin. “Then again, you can be pretty annoying.”

Libertus scowled at her, clearly intent to continue their usual banter, but Ladone's admonishing “Children” made them stop. The Lucians among them looked at the two with large eyes. Nyx cleared his throat and continued as if nothing had happened.

“This is Crowe, my sister and the best mage among us. Next there is Ladone of Clan Najad. She was one of my father's best friends. Pelna of Clan Khara, resident media expert, and last but not least, Luche of Clan Lazarus, best negotiator I know.”

“Where's Athina?” Iris asked before anyone could say anything else.

“She's at her family's tailor's shop. They have been swamped with new orders,” Nyx explained.

“Oh." Iris pouted.

Murus came by their table, balancing a tray of empty glasses with one hand. “Can I get you anything?”

“One of those dark beers, please,” Gladio ordered.

“Home brew or import?” the tall man asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Don't take the import. Those taste like someone pissed in perfectly fine beer,” Libertus jumped in.

“I'll hold you to that. Home brew, then.”

Murus nodded and turned his attention to the next in line, which happened to be the prince. Noctis chewed on his lower lip, looking at the imposing man who was treating him like he treated any other Lucian costumer: Brisk and just friendly enough to not be overly off putting.

“Do you have tea with pepper?” the teenager asked as last.

There was a beat of surprised silence before Murus's beard twitched and he launched into a long list of spicy teas. Noctis's eyes grew large in astonishment as he heard one specific kind.

“That one. I'll take the Night Blue, please.”

“Good choice, luah nykti. And the other three?”

“Uhhh... a soda?”

“Apple juice! Please.”

“Coffee, black, please. Ebony, if you have it.”

“Don't have Ebony, but I'll come up with something.” Murus nodded to himself at these words and marched away.

“Didn't think you'd be a fan of our kinds of tea, Highness,” Crowe commented.

Noctis ducked his head the slightest bit. “I didn't know it is Galahdian. Night Blue was my mother's favourite tea.”

“She had good taste then. Night Blue is an all time classic,” Ladone said.

“Hey, uh, I got a question,” Prompto spoke up, beginning to raise his hand like he was at school before thinking better of it. “What did that guy call Noct? Luh- luah...”

“Luah nykti,” Nyx enunciated carefully. “It means 'child of night'. Nox means night in Old Lucian, right? Your name, Noctis, is a derivation of that. Our words for night have the same root, so basically, he called you a kid in a very poetic and round about way.”

“He called you a kid making a wordplay out of your name. Which is... polite for him,” Libertus added.

There was a bit of an awkward pause as the Lucians looked at each other, not quite sure how to deal with that knowledge. Until Iris started to giggle, that was.

“It's cute,” she said, eyes sparkling.

“Yeah? And what is it you were called?” Noctis shot back, no heat behind his words.

“What, buhgil? That's a general term of endearment for children. It comes from buhgän, which means sprout,” Libertus explained to an attentive audience.

“So cool,” breathed Prompto.

Nyx wasn't quite sure if they were supposed to hear that.

“What brought you here?” he addressed the group of teenagers once their drinks were there. “I wasn't aware that there was another training session planned for today.”

Gladio took a sip of his beer, making an appreciative noise. “No, there wasn't.”

Nyx cast them a look. He wasn't against them being here. It was just that normally the only reason Lucian teenagers found there way into Little Galahd, was for dares or attempted criminal activity and not much else.

“We wanted to come here for a while now, but we weren't allowed to,” Prompto started, gesticulating animatedly. “We were curious. And then the Tree grew – with a capital T because it deserves it – and that was so cool! Scared me to bits though, when it happened. I mean, who expects a giant tree to appear out of nowhere, in a city no less?”

Ignis interrupted the blond's torrent of words with a pointed cough. Prompto let his hands sink back into his lap with a sheepish look on his face.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

“Did we satisfy your curiosity?” Luche spoke up for the first time since the teenagers had arrived.

“Uhhh...”

“Luche,” Nyx admonished.

“Ntih kil lumahi, skar aikriurra pa, cirna ponuh garu ruriwad dukar,” Luche hissed, Hadnissa rolling furiously off his tongue.

“Luche!” Nyx repeated, this time a clear warning edged his tone.

The blond man pressed his lips together and averted his eyes, the Lucians at the table shared uncomfortable looks. Prompto looked like he wanted to be anywhere but where he was.

“Is something the matter?” Ignis asked, tone smooth and business like.

Nyx made a face. “It's... complicated. But it's good you're asking questions. It means you're thinking about this and willing to learn. You're kids. Curiosity is part of the deal. So ask your questions and we'll do our best to answer them.”

There was a long beat of silence where the prince did his best to vanish behind his teacup, Prompto fidgeted in his seat and Crowe tried to kill Luche with her eyes alone. Murus sent them speculative glances from where he had stopped to talk to Nitor Lazarus. It was clear they were talking about them. Nyx did his best not to think about what they might be saying.

In the end, it was Ignis who spoke up first: “If you do not mind me asking then: Why is Crowe the only one here, who was introduced via first name only?”

At once all eyes turned to Crowe, who looked at Nyx.

“It's your call,” he said.

Something shuttered in her gaze, but then she straightened and nodded firmly.

“It's because I'm not a member of a Clan. Pretending you belong to a Clan is a great offence. You'll be thrown out of the community, if you're found out and will be declared credahtri.”

“Your paperwork says your last name is Altius, though. Where did that come from?” Gladio asked.

Crowe's grimace turned pained.

“Yeah, well. That one caused quite a stir,” was all she said.

Pelna jumped in to elaborate. “Back when we first came to Insomnia, they had to register every single one of us. Names, dates of birth, immediate family, that sort of thing. People got confused when we not always shared Clan Names with our spouses and children, and some people didn't have a Clan Name at all. Children under twelve generally don't carry a Clan Name either. So Insomnians just started to sort of lump families together following the patriarchal line.” He paused and shot a glance at Crowe who didn't make a move to stop him. “For people like Crowe, they just gave them the Clan Name of their fathers.”

“Is this like being a bastard?” Noctis asked, expression guarded but curious and attentive.

Pelna thought about it for a second. “Not necessarily, no. But the social stigma is much the same.”

“I don't get it,” Prompto admitted. “How is it decided who gets what name, if it's not hereditary? And how come some people don't have a name at all?”

Nyx couldn't help but chuckle. “We call it First Hunt. It's different for every Clan, and generally children complete theirs somewhere between the ages of eleven and twelve. If you don't manage to complete one until age thirteen, you remain Nameless.”

“Oh,” made Prompto, looking subdued. “I heard you're a really great mage, though.”

Crowe gave the teen a crooked smile. “Thanks, kid.”

“How old were you, when you had your First Hunt?” Iris asked Nyx and interrupted her game of tracing the dents in the wooden table with her finger.

“I think that's a rather private question, Iris,” her brother gently admonished.

“No, it's okay. I was nine.”

“Oohhhhh,” made Iris, bouncing in her seat, eyes full of childish wonder. “What did you do?”

“Hunted down a hare,” Nyx answered in dry amusement.

His friends and comrades rolled their eyes, smiles on their faces. Even Luche looked amused.

“And you?” the girl asked, big, pleading eyes settling on Libertus.

The burly man huffed but relented without protest. “I was ten and sought the shed skin of a snake.”

“That seems rather young,” Ignis commented.

Libertus snorted. “Yeah well, I had to make sure this guy-” he jabbed his thumb at Nyx- “wouldn't kill himself with his reckless stunts.”

Nyx made a properly indignant face. Crowe barked a laugh.

“Come now. Half the time you'll just jump after him no questions asked,” she said.

“She got you there, Libs,” Pelna agreed.

It was pure accident Nyx saw it. One moment he was laughing at Libertus's spluttering with the others, the Lucians finally starting to relax, when a sudden movement at the dockworkers' table got his attention. The swing of a fist, the slap of knuckles hitting skin, a pained yell and shattering glass. One moment there had been a peaceful, if heated, discussion at their table which Nyx had been peripherally aware of, the next there was a fight.

At once he was on his feet, prowling the table like a furious cat. His sharp gaze caught Murus's who rolled his eyes but nodded. So he would help break the fight up. Nyx didn't dare to breathe in relief. There were shocked cries from the Lucians in the far corner of the bar. Why were they even still here?

Gladio and Ignis pushed Noctis and Prompto behind them, bodies tense and ready to defend their charges. Good. So Nyx wouldn't have to worry about them. The moment he started to round the table, he heard Libertus curse.

“Here. Look after her, will you?” his hunting-brother demanded.

From the half hearted protest, Libertus had just pushed Iris at Pelna.

“Hey! Quit it, will you? There's children here,” Nyx called loud enough to make himself be heard by everyone in the room.

In true Galahkari fashion, they didn't listen. Of course. Why did he even bother? With a sigh he ducked a stray swing and dug his elbow into the man's kidney. His hair was shorn short, but the necklace he wore identified him as a member of Clan Najad. Ladone wouldn't be happy about this.

Before he could reach the main source of the conflict, some idiot chucked a glass at a woman with a Pisca braid in her hair. The throw missed and instead hit the edge of the table where the Lazaruses sat. Glass shattered and hit at least two people while the liquid splattered everywhere. The room began to stink of spilled alcohol. For just a second Nyx shut his eyes in resignation.

“This just had to happen today,” Nitor Lazarus said just loud enough for Nyx to hear, as he heaved himself out of his chair.

The Lazaruses entered the fight.

Nyx kicked a woman in the hollow of the knee, causing her to fall and take her opponent with her, who fell against the table, which toppled over with a loud bang. Ups. He blocked a swing aimed at his gut from the idiot that had thrown the glass. The guy was definitely drunk. With a grimace Nyx grabbed him by the shoulders and dug a knee in the man's stomach. He didn't make a sound as he collapsed and curled into a fetal position.

Just behind him, Nyx could hear Libertus cursing up a storm. To his right he saw Luche trying to talk to his Clan Head, who didn't seem amused at all with the whole situation. At the edge of the fight, Ladone was dragging her fellow Clan member by the scruff of his neck, looking positively murderous.

Someone hefted a chair over their head. Instead of dodging, Nyx rushed forward, pushed an unfortunate Lazarus out of the way and tackled the person with the chair to the ground. It was a man of the Pisca Clan. A shocked cry sounded as he lost his grip of the chair and it fell behind them, just missing their heads as they tumbled to the ground. Instead it hit the back of a Lazarus woman. As if in slow motion, Nyx looked up and watched as the woman stumbled forward, crashing against another man, who held the remains of a broken bottle in his hand. Said main lost his balance, flailing wildly while he searched for something to hold on to. The broken glass sliced right through Gladio's face.

Nyx's tight hold on his magic broke.

Chapter Text

The smell of ozone was nearly overwhelming. Lightning sparked along the floor and walls, burning Lichtenberg figures into old and worn wood and bursting plaster from the walls. Screams echoed through the room. Somewhere behind him someone was screaming for Nyx to stop.

Stop.

That was what he had wanted for the occupants of the room to do. To stop fighting.

Nyx's lips peeled back into a vicious snarl and a growl vibrated from deep within his chest. The wave of magical power surging through him was nearly enough to drown out everything but the most basic of instincts. The smell of blood pierced his nose and suddenly he remembered again why the animal-deep jungle-instinct was raging within him. The adolescent, charge-of-his-pack-brother, had been hurt.

“Hok! ” Nyx roared, currently barely able to even speak in his own tongue, nothing to say about Lucian, and everything seemed to freeze.

No one moved or made a sound, but just stared at him while he struggled to reign the lightning in. A whimper of pain. A sob of fear. This was not what Nyx had wanted. He gritted his teeth. Sharpened canines bit into the insides of his cheeks until he tasted blood. Slowly, oh so slowly, the lightning ceased to spark along the floor and walls like it was a cage keeping them all inside, but the energy was still there, making Nyx's hair stand on end.

There was no fighting back the coeurl-instinct-protect, so he tried to go with the flow as best as he could, hoping to all the spirits of Galahd, that no one would provoke the protective instincts within him again like that.

He stalked forward, past his own pack-brother, who smelled of worry and determination, towards where pack-sister stood protectively by the side of charge-of-pack-brother, while leader-in-his-absence and close-pack-mate-nearly-brother were looking after the other cubs. Nyx came to a stop in front of the injured one, making chittering noises of concern.

Charge-of-pack-brother was curled into himself, hands pressed to his face, and leaning heavily on pack-sister. She gave Nyx a quick glance, partly concern, partly a warning, before turning her attention back to the injured nearly-not-a-cub-anymore.

Nyx gave a reassuring purr and turned his back to the rest of the room. Pack-brother and elder pack-mate would make sure the others behaved until he had dealt with the most immediate concern.

Careful to keep his touch soft but firm, Nyx pulled charge-of-pack-brother's hands away from the wound to get a better look at it. It was bleeding profusely, the cut travelling the length of the face from the forehead to the jaw line. Tears streamed out of both eyes, which was a good sign that the left eye hadn't been destroyed.

Pack-sister said something. Asking for medical aide most likely. Probably. The small she-cub started to wail in distress.

Nyx crooned and, before anyone could react, started to lick the wound. The injured young one flinched and someone pulled Nyx away. He hissed at being interrupted, but barely a moment later some sort of potion was poured over the wound. It ceased bleeding, though it was still raw and fresh and looked like it could open up again any moment. Charge-of-pack-brother groaned. Pack-sister and cub-of-den-leader gently pushed him into a chair.

At a hissed warning of elder pack-mate Nyx pivoted around. Her hard flintstone glare was directed at a man held in her grasp. From the position he must have tried to run away. His expression was one of fear. In the corner behind them the Lucians cowered, huddled together like a defenceless flock of birds unable to fly away.

More and more of the feral and wild magic in the room settled around Nyx's pack and the cubs like a protective shield. From his momentarily position he could only see elder pack-mate, but he could hear the others shifting. Once she felt what he was doing, her eyes flicked over to him and she tilted her head in acknowledgement. Nyx gave a pleased rumble.

He stalked forward again, making sure he had the full attention of those in front of him. Many avoided his gaze. “When I say 'stop fighting', I mean stop fighting,” he growled in Hadnissa still, tongue heavy and barely cooperating with the articulation of human sounds. “There are cubs here. We do not injure cubs.”

Sparks flashed between his fingers to drive the point home. All around the room people nodded. Satisfied, he let the sparks dissipate, glad he had regained what shaky control he had over his magic, and took a look around the room.

The Lichtenberg figures on the floor spread in a star like pattern from the epicentre amidst the fighting. Thankfully, he couldn't smell burnt flesh or burnt hair, so no one must have been seriously injured by his... episode. However, the man he had tackled to the ground was unconscious. Nyx pointed towards the two poor souls standing closest to the unconscious man.

“You and you. Take him to a healer.”

With as much haste as they were able, the two manoeuvred the unconscious man into a fireman's carry on the larger one's back and hurried out the door. Once it closed again, Nyx did his best to release the grip he had on his magic, and his magic had on him. He was only mildly successful, however he seemed to be able to balance the animal-deep jungle-instinct and his human reasoning a bit better.

“Now,” Nyx said, finding his voice easier, though it was still underlined by an animalistic growl, “find a place to sit down. Murus, I'm very sorry for what happened and that I have to ask something of you. Would you please make bitter leaf tea for everyone here. There's some sobering up to do. I'll compensate you after this is over.”

The burly man grumbled, made a throwaway motion with his hand, and vanished behind the bar to get both of his tea kettles running. Around the room people began to cluster together and straighten up the furniture. Luckily, nothing seemed to be broken, if you ignored a few dents here and there and the occasional Lichtenberg figure burnt into the wood.

Satisfied with what he was seeing, Nyx turned around towards the heart of his pack. Libertus stepped close to him, looking him in the eyes. “You back with us?”

“Mostly, yes. Sorry about the scare. I'm not quite sure why it happened.”

“We'll figure it out. Your coeurl-eyes are cool, but that lightning trick is still unnerving as heck. Looked like that area effect a coeurl can cast. Didn't hit anyone, though, so that's a plus. Let's hope uncle doesn't have anything against the new decoration choices you made.”

Nyx snorted. “You have strange priorities sometimes.”

“If you call useful priorities weird, be my guest. You can have the other ones.”

A short chuckle bubbled in Nyx's throat. The growl still lacing his voice made it nearly sound like a purr. Libertus gave him a pleased grin and then turned his attention to Gladio.

The teen still sat hunched in his chair, obviously in pain, though he tried to be tough about it. His sister clung to him while his friends fluttered around him like nervous birds, with Pelna doing his best to keep them all calm and Crowe trying to convince Gladio to go to a hospital.

“You will go to a hospital. Now,” Libertus cut in. “The potion the Prince managed to scrounge up was very basic and diluted. All it did was keep you from bleeding out. You need to heal before you'll be anywhere near efficient for protection detail.”

Gladio seemed to curl into himself a bit more, shoulders slumped in defeat. Libertus blew out a noisy sigh.

“You did a good job, kid. But part of taking care of someone is knowing when you need to take care of yourself.”

The blond cub – Prompto – scuttled forward, a phone clutched in one hand, and the other dancing nervously through the air. “I've called an ambulance. They should be here any moment now.”

Nyx nodded. “Good. Once we've all settled down, we'll need to talk about this.”

Behind the chair the prince and Ignis were giving each other looks. Prompto seemed to pick up on it, because he started to speak again. “Don't worry, Noct, Iggy. I'll go with Gladio. I promise I'll call as soon as something comes up.”

“Are you sure?” the prince asked.

“You can count on me!” It was said in false cheer, but seemed to be appreciated nonetheless.

“Thanks, Prom.”

“Haha, no. That's what best friends are for, buddy.”

The sound of sirens could be heard from outside, steadily growing louder. Ignis stepped forward.

“That must be the ambulance. Come, Prompto. I'll help you guide Gladio outside. I think it best the paramedics not come in here.”

“Yeah. Sounds like a good idea,” Prompto agreed and the prince nodded.

The light haired teenagers positioned themselves at each side of their injured friend and heaved him upwards. They hadn't taken more than a couple of steps when the prince caught up to them. He leaned close and said something low enough, Nyx couldn't understand him over the whistling of the kettles. Gladio nodded and a before unnoticed tension in his shoulders melted away.

The prince arrived back at their tables at the same time Murus did. The Clan Head gently pushed the tense teenager into a chair and set down a large mug and a platter of sweets in front of him. From the smell of it that mug didn't contain bitter leaf tea, but Night Blue. Noctis blinked, surprised. Without a word he wrapped his hands around the mug and proceeded to curl into himself. No one said anything about it.

Instead they settled into their own seats, cups of bitter leaf tea in front of them. Murus yelled for Era, one of his three children and proceeded sit down in one of the unoccupied chairs around the table. Era came through the door leading into the tiny kitchen. She was nineteen, tall, with a heavyset physique that spoke of strength. She took in the situation with keen eyes and, without missing a beat, picked up the tray full of tea mugs and proceeded to hand them out to the patrons in the room at Murus's hand gesture.

“I think none of them will ever start a bar fight again after this,” Nitor Lazarus said and settled into another free chair. “Nyx, I must apologize for not reigning my Clan's men in.”

“Ahtrii know I have nothing against a good bar fight, but not when minors can be caught up in the middle of it,” Nyx said, finally managing to switch to Lucian, with a nod towards the prince.

To his credit, Nitor did not miss a beat as he turned towards the teen, and gave a deep nod – nearly a bow – of apology. “My apology, Highness. Your Shield was injured partly due to my own negligence.”

Prince Noctis visibly gathered himself before looking Nitor straight in the eyes. Introvert he might be, Nyx thought, but he was a brave kid.

“I accept your apology. I recognize, however, that this was an accident.”

Nyx allowed himself to slump down in his chair for a second. If the prince had no hard feelings, then maybe they could avoid the more unpleasant consequences.

“Will Gladdy be okay?” Iris mumbled near inaudibly from Pelna's side.

“He'll be, buhgil. Don't you worry,” Pelna said, carding a hand through her brown hair. “How about another juice while we wait for news?”

Iris bit her lip, looking down. But she nodded and grabbed the glass Murus had brought with all the tea. Noctis looked at her, tilted his head and seemed to contemplate something.

“You know,” he said after a few seconds of silence, “with a scar on his face Gladio could become a pirate.”

That visibly cheered the girl up. She giggled into her glass.

“You a fan of pirates?” Libertus asked, voice gentle and amused.

“Yeah! They could go everywhere they wanted and do everything they wanted and they had adventures! Dad said if I want to be a pirate, someone needs to teach me how to sail first, but no one will teach me or knows how to.”

The people around the table shared amused looks over the girl's head. Iris was easy to cheer up and distract from her brother's injury. Oh, to be a child again. Nyx gave Luche a look and raised a brow. The blond man heaved a quiet huff but started to speak nonetheless.

“We have enough sailors between all of us, I think, to teach you a thing or two.”

Nitor gave Luche a hard stare, while Murus gave a surprised grunt that was drowned out by Iris's excited squeal. She nearly climbed on top of the table to get closer to Luche.

“You would really do that?”

“I may know a thing or two, but Pelna would be a much better person to ask.”

Big, pleading eyes turned to Pelna, who gave Luche a flat stare. But when he looked down at the girl sitting next to him, his gaze softened and he nodded. Iris flung her arms around his neck in a crushing hug.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“No problem, buhgil,” Pelna wheezed.

“I want to be like Raging Storm Bird! They say he managed to get through one of Leviathan's storms by flying his ship over it!”

Nyx felt his eyebrows climb further up his forehead, utterly amused. Pelna made a noise that sounded like a choking cat or like someone had punched him in the gut. Crowe and Libertus started to laugh.

“What is so funny about that?” the prince demanded a touch protective.

“We mean no offence, Highness, but well...” Nitor started, looking at Pelna.

“It's not every day a Lucian girl tells you she wants to be like the pirate you have floating around in your ancestry,” Pelna managed to say.

“What, really?” Iris exclaimed. “You're related to Raging Storm Bird?”

“Historians think his actual name might have been something along the lines of Petrel because of the nickname. I don't think anyone ever though he might have been Galahdi- Galah-kari,” Noctis supplied, carefully sounding out the foreign word.

Pelna's resulting facial expression when he heard that was so offended, Nyx couldn't stop himself and burst out laughing. This was relaxing. A child's excitement over pirates. It was also a great distraction from his loss of control over his own magic. Nyx knew he would have to deal with it sooner rather then later, but right now, while he laughed, he could forget about it for a few precious seconds. Which was, of course, why the moment had to end rather abruptly.

When the door opened, Nyx didn't look up immediately. It took Libertus more or less subtly hitting him in the side to look away from a grinning Noctis and an excitedly gesticulating Iris. So, when he felt his hunting-brother's fist in his side and he looked up, he came face to face with King Regis and Cor Leonis, who were followed by Ignis.

Nyx would deny for the rest of his life having yelped like startled cat.

"Dad?" Noctis exclaimed, having looked up at the sudden lull in sound, nearly flinging his tea mug across the table.

“Your Majesty,” Nyx greeted, standing up and giving a shallow bow that was more a salute than anything else. The others followed suit.

King Regis returned the gesture, although his attention was more on his son and Iris than the other people at the table. Nyx couldn't fault him that.

“Makti-Oir, my Lords and Ladies,” he said and turned his attention wholly towards Noctis and Iris. “Noctis, Iris, are you two okay?”

Out of the corner of his eyes Nyx saw more than one of his comrades make an unhappy face at being addressed as a Lord or Lady, but one look from him made them shut up. They could address correct titles at a more appropriate time.

“Yes,” Noctis answered. “How is Gladio doing? Why did you come here?”

“Ignis called us. It is a serious thing, having a Shield being wounded in the line of duty, within the walls of Insomnia no less.” Here the Galahkari shared trepidant looks. “Clarus is with him now. Once they know something, he will call.”

“But he is going to be okay, right?” Iris asked, large brown eyes trained upon the King. Her lower lip wobbled.

“He will be,” the King promised, a soft smile nearly hidden behind his beard.

They sat down, King Regis and Marshal Leonis on chairs procured by Ignis, the rest in their old seats. There was a beat of a rather awkward silence before Era suddenly stood at their table, one hand on her hip, the other balancing an empty tray. If she was nervous, she didn't show it, as she looked at the Lucian royalty at the table and asked: “Would you like something to drink, Your Majesty, Marshal?”

“Coffee, black. Please,” answered Marshal Leonis, though it seemed to be more reflex than anything else.

It had however the practical side effect that Nyx barely caught the King's flummoxed expression. It vanished within the fraction of a second it took for Era to nod and turn her attention towards the King again.

“Do you have tea with pepper?” he asked.

Nyx clearly wasn't the only one who had to keep from reacting. Murus still gave a quiet snort as the Prince spoke up.

“Dad, they have Night Blue here.”

The King blinked, and then smiled. “A cup of Night Blue would be wonderful.”

Era nodded and turned towards Ignis. “Can I get you something as well?”

“A cup of coffee and a glass of water, please.”

“Of course,” Era nodded and walked away.

“Now,” the King said, looking at all people present, “I would like to hear what happened.”

“It was my fault,” the prince immediately said before anyone else could.

“Your Highness-” Nyx started, not pleased with that assessment at all.

The prince only shook his head. “No, it's true. I heard Gladio talking with Ignis about coming here and I got curious. So I asked them to take me here. And then a bar fight started.”

“A bar fight,” the Marshal repeated.

“Murus, have you found out what the fight was about?” Nyx asked.

All eyes turned towards the burly man, who leaned back in his chair. “The usual. Too much alcohol and a Najad and a Pontos being in too close proximity for too long.”

Nyx winced. Yeah, that would do it.

“What were a Najad and a Pontos even doing sitting at the same table?” Pelna questioned.

Murus shrugged. “Don't ask me. I've got no idea what's going on with those fish brains- ouch! Damn it, Ladone! What was that for?”

The dark skinned woman scowled down at him. She had obviously heard their talk from where she had been keeping an eye on the people still in the bar to make sure they kept their feet under the tables.

“I would appreciate, if you didn't call my fellow Clan members fish brains. We're pearl divers, not fishermen.”

Nyx saw the Lucians exchange looks and decided to explain. “Between Clan Najad and Clan Pontos exists a long standing feud. Which means, at the best of times, they'll try to do their best to discredit the other.”

“How serious are these feuds usually?” the King questioned after a few seconds of thoughtful silence.

“If the children hadn't been here, the fight wouldn't have been anything unusual. Inter Clan feuds are mostly about reputation and work related rivalries. A bar fight or two aren't uncommon in this situation, especially when alcohol is involved. The Najad-Pontos feud goes back quite a few generations. Details are kept between the two Clans, but I hear the escalation point was when the Najads discovered a new diving ground and the Pontos accidentally destroyed it,” Nitor added.

“Tse. There was nothing accidental about it,” Ladone grumbled under her breath.

The King did not comment. He just nodded. Nyx resisted the urge to squirm in his chair like a nervous kid. A few more moments passed, until the King spoke again.

“This is quite the tricky situation. I would like to hear everything from the beginning, before deciding on a course of action, if you please.”

“We were here to eat dinner and do some planning,” Luche started to answer. “This bar belongs to Clan Head Ostium and is usually a good place for that. Clan Head Lazarus was at a different table with a few others of our Clan. Not too long after we started, Gladiolus came in along with his sister, the prince, Ignis and another friend of theirs.”

“I was curious,” the Prince said again, not quite interrupting. “Gladio, Ignis and Iris had already been here and I... I guess I just wanted to see what all this was about. And meet the people Gladio was meeting with all the time. So I convinced them to take me and Prompto.”

“It was fun!” Iris piped in. “We learned all kinds of interesting stuff. But then the fight started and it wasn't fun anymore.”

“You're a brave kid, buhgil,” Libertus said and tousled her hair.

The girl smiled, proud of herself. The Lucians observed the interaction with keen eyes.

“Have you been coming here often, Iris?” the Marshal asked.

“Yeah! When I could talk Gladdy into letting me come with him.”

“As far as I understand it, Gladio came here regularly to train with Libertus,” Ignis added.

“Sometimes he let me come along and Hora would show me how to throw a punch or how to fall,” Iris said, punching the air with her fist to illustrate her point.

“And who is this Hora?” the King asked.

“She's one of my children,” Murus said. “She and Era took a liking to Iris.” He nodded towards the young woman in question, who was currently in the process of walking towards them with the drinks for the Lucians.

“Thank you, Ms. Era. Please continue,” the King prompted and took a careful sip of his tea.

Murus hummed. “Not much to tell. Libertus just dragged her brother in one day and asked if he could use the backyard. Something about training how to be a Shield.”

“Gladio and Iris came to me asking, if I could help him train. Didn't see a reason to say no,” Libertus spoke up with a shrug.

“Who started the bar fight?” the Marshal asked, a touch of impatience in his voice.

Nyx motioned towards the group of people sitting around a table at the left wall. “They did. If you want to question them, Marshal, you are welcome to. Ladone, would you go with him to make sure things stay... civil?”

“Of course,” the older woman nodded.

She followed Marshal Leonis, who had stood from his seat with a single nod, and now moved towards the group of people, who looked increasingly nervous once they noticed his approach. Crowe grinned at the display. She had grown silent since Murus had joined them at their table, neither party willing to acknowledge the other.

“What happened here will probably be all over the news by tomorrow morning at the latest,” Pelna said with a look towards the Lucian patrons, who were still huddled in their corner.

Two were staring right at them, only looking away when they saw the Galahkari and their King looking. One had his phone out and was typing furiously, while the last hissed furiously in his ear. Libertus groaned.

“It would be for the best, if you were to write a statement, Makti-Oir. I will write my own, but the fallout will still be there,” the King said.

Nyx nodded. “That will be unavoidable.”

Noctis looked at the people sitting around the table. “What happens now?”

“Now Cor will question everyone involved in this incident. If Gladio or Clarus wish to press charges, there will be a hearing to decide on the gravity of the sentence.” The King turned to Nyx. “The sentence will most likely be nothing heavier than a suspended sentence or public service. Will you agree to a hearing, Makti-Oir?”

There was a quiet sharpness in the King's voice now. A tiny hint of the predator this ageing King could still be. Nyx nodded.

“Can we still come visit? The people here are real nice and we're learning lots of interesting things!” Iris asked, eyes big and pleading.

“That is for your father to decide, my dear.”

“But dad practically told Gladdy to come here.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, he told Gladdy that he needed to learn how to be a proper Shield. And the only other Shield besides him is here.” Iris motioned towards Libertus, whose eyebrows did a valiant job at trying to vanish into his hairline. “And did you know that the pirate Furious Storm Bird is related to Mister Pelna? He and Mister Luche promised to show me how to sail!”

There was a pause at the sudden change of topic from the girl. Pelna himself looked like an anak caught in the headlights, while Luche's expression had gone neutral again.

“Did they now?” the King questioned, clearly amused.

The underlying tension around them was starting to dissipate. Spirits bless this girl, Nyx thought. And thank the spirits that no one had brought up the lapse of his magical restraint yet. But it was bound to happen sooner or later what with the evidence literally burnt into the wood. He needed to step up his training. Maybe a training exercise outside the city walls was in order. They could even combine it with a bit of scouting at the enemy lines, and maybe they could finally manage to capture an MT or two to see what was actually beneath all that metal. There had never been much left of them when they self-destructed.

Nyx was brought out of his musings when King Regis stood up from his chair. The corner of his eyes twitched in a barely there wince of pain as his knees stretched. The prince was on the phone now, talking in a hushed voice.

“My compliments to Ms. Era for the excellent tea, Lord Ostium, but I think it is time we head back,” the King said with a nod.

Nyx hurried to stand up and gave a shallow bow. “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty. I'm sorry about the circumstances.”

The King bowed in return. “There will be many more talks in the future, I am sure.”

Prince Noctis stepped up next to his father, call finished and phone still held in his hand. “Prompto just called. He said Gladio will be alright. The wound will most likely scar, though. They sent him home already, but Clarus told Prompto we can come over, if we want.”

Nyx heaved a relieved sigh, as did many of the others. So the eye hadn't been damaged. Good. At once Iris was at Noctis's side, grabbing his free hand.

“What are we waiting for, then? Come on! Good bye Libertus! Good bye all!” She waved while tugging Noctis towards the door.

The King chuckled. “Good evening, Makti-Oir, my Lords, my Ladies.”

Ignis bid his own good byes, and together the Lucians, other than Cor, made their way out of the bar. The moment the door closed behind them, people started to whisper amongst themselves.

“I never imagined the King to be this laid back,” Era said into the silence of their table as she picked up their empty cups.

“Yeah, it's weird,” Libertus agreed. “But being called a Lord was making my skin crawl.”

Nyx barked a laugh. “Now you know how I feel when Lucians call me 'Your Majesty'.”

“This could have gone a lot worse,” Luche commented.

“Yeah well, we're still not out of the woods yet,” Pelna said. “But no one is getting arrested yet, so that's a plus.”

“And let's keep it that way,” Nyx said.

A round of nods was his answer.

“Did you all see how Iris played his Majesty like a fiddle?” Libertus suddenly asked.

“It was amazing,” grinned Crowe. “I can't decide if she was doing it on purpose, or if it was a happy accident.”

“There was nothing accidental about it, trust me,” Libertus assured her. “That girl knew exactly what she was doing. Hora and Era did it all the damn time.”

“Murus?” Nyx approached the burly man, who acknowledged him with a raised eyebrow. “About your bar... if any of the electronics need to be repaired, tell me and I'll figure something out.”

The Ostium Clan Head waved his concerns away. “You're blood of the coeurl, Nyx Ulric. I figure losing your temper at seeing someone under your protection get hurt, is part of the deal. Instincts and all that. Just try not to do it again in here, alright?”

Nyx swallowed the lump forming in his throat and nodded. “I think I can do that,” he choked out.

“Good,” Murus grinned and patted him on the shoulder. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a bar to run. Era! Go prepare the dip sauce, I can take it from here!”

“Sure thing!” the young woman yelled back, waving at Nyx and the others as she vanished back into the kitchen.

“What do you plan to do now, Nyx?” Pelna wanted to know.

He thought about it for all but a second. “Now I'm going to go home, write this stupid statement, give it to you, and afterwards I'm going to sleep for the next year. Then I'm planning to be out of the city for the one after that.”

Chapter Text

The next few days were a flurry of activity, giving Nyx barely any time to simply sit down and breathe. There was the statement, Marshal Leonis poking his nose seemingly everywhere it didn't belong, a more than awkward interview with an overly eager reporter and a press conference about Galahd's declaration of independence. Pelna and Luche might have grown to hate him a bit over said press conference, but the two of them were so much better with words than him.

Each moment he could squirrel away, he worked on the plans concerning the training trip outside Insomnia. When he had handed in his proposal, the Marshal had looked at him, sighed, and declared that they needed to talk about the future of the Kingsglaive once the trip was done with. Nyx dreaded that discussion as much as any other political talk that laid in his immediate future: that was to say, very much.

It was with a great sigh of relief, not just from him, that he and a good third of the Kingsglaive set out, leaving behind a large crowd of spectators and the press.

Nyx sat in the front of the first van along with Luche and Pelna, which the latter was driving. There was a thick folder on his knees, opened to show a map and a timetable.

“You know, going over this for the hundredth time won't help you, especially now that we're on the road,” Pelna remarked when he heard the rustling of paper.

Nyx sent his friend a glare. “I'd like to not mess this up. And the Marshall has been on my ass about proper planning ever since I brought the idea to him.”

“You won't mess this up, Nyx. That's what we have Luche for.”

“I resent that statement,” the blond in question grouched.

“Last ride left HQ. Repeat, last ride left HQ,” Sonitus's voice drifted over the radio.

“Roger that,” Nyx answered over the comm system.

“Well, here goes nothing,” Pelna said as he continued to manoeuvre the van along the route that had been cleared for them through the city.

There were people standing behind the barriers that had been erected. The Galahkari had bid them farewell before they had gone to the Glaive Headquarters, so the only people to be seen were Lucians. They stood there and watched the procession of vehicles with curious eyes. Some even waved. Here and there were even a camera team or two, filming the whole procession. Luche scoffed.

“What a farce.”

“Let them look. It's not like they can see anything anyway,” Nyx said.

“That's not the point and you know it. When we were just-” Nyx could practically see the massive air quotes around the word 'just'- “a Lucian minority, the people gave us the same regard as they would a dead flower. But now... look at that shit.”

Nyx pressed his lips together. He wasn't happy about this either, but he couldn't exactly stop the people from looking at a bunch of black military vehicles drive by.

“They can't pretend we aren't there, when they're looking. So I'm inclined to count this one as a win. And there have been voices for more equality amongst the Lucians. They just never gained any traction in the mainstream,” Pelna commented.

“Oh, I wonder why that is,” Luche grouched.

Pelna and Nyx shared a quick glance. They knew Luche would likely never come to like Lucians, but at least they knew he could be professional when within sight or earshot of them.

Nyx couldn't help but think back to a few days ago, when Pelna's son Moireus had brought a Lucian girl from his pre-school class to him. Both of them had been followed by the girl's apprehensive mother. Apparently it had been the girl's birthday and her biggest wish had been to meet a king. Nyx wasn't under any illusion that the girl hadn't meant King Regis, but that hadn't been a possible wish. So Moireus, who had heard her being made fun of, had declared he would fulfil her wish and had brought her to him. This had led to Nyx somehow entertaining two small children and the girl's mother for the afternoon. He would never admit it, but it had been satisfying to see the mother slowly go from apprehensive to considering to amazed to being curious herself.

They passed the Southern Main Gate and were now on the Bridge of the Ambitious. Seeing the ocean to his left and right set something within Nyx at ease. He was outside. A purr rumbled in his chest.

“Someone is really excited about this trip, it seems,” Pelna teased with a grin.

Nyx shot him a glare that lacked any amount of heat, and reached for the comm system. “Attention all Glaives. In case some of you slept through the briefing for what will happen today: We'll drive until we reach the Merrioth Haven at the Three Valleys. There we'll erect our HQ. The whole of Troop Schirohlin under Tomix Sarcina will be responsible for that one. For all new recruits: This means that no Furia is allowed near fire or explosives within twenty metres of the camp. Everything else will be discussed when we get there. Ulric out.”

“You do know that we haven't had new recruits in nearly a year, right?” Luche asked, amusement colouring his voice.

“Yep. Just laying down the rules again, in case someone forgot,” Nyx grinned.

Pelna huffed a quiet laugh. “You should stop to nettle them every chance you get.”

“Not a chance. I'll stop when they quit exploding half the training ground every few days. I have to deal with that every single time it happens.”

“You mean you call me or Axis to deal with it,” Luche pointed out.

“Yeah, well. I can't do everything on my own,” Nyx declared, nose held high in mock indignation.

It didn't need to be said that the Furia were much more inclined to listen to someone of an allied Clan or a neutral one. Luche conceded to that point with a tilt of his head. Nyx returned the gesture and turned his attention towards Pelna.

“Have you made any progress concerning Drautos?”

“Nothing,” Pelna grumbled with an unhappy look on his face. “It's like the man vanished from the face of Eos. You know we had to let Hephaistos go, too. I realize it's part of the plan, but it still vexes me to no end.”

They left the large bridge spanning the gorge between Insomnia and Leide behind them and Pelna let the van come to a halt when they reached the military checkpoint. A member of the Crownsguard came up to them, uniform slightly greyed from the dusty winds and a baton at his hip. Pelna held out the relevant papers before the man could say anything. The Crownsguard member blinked, startled, but took the papers and looked them over.

“Seems to be in order,” the man said after a few moments. “Have a good trip, my Lord. And happy hunting.”

Pelna's eyebrows shot up, but he nodded. “Thank you. Have a nice day,” he said and let the window drift shut before starting to drive down the road again, past the somewhat lacklustre fortifications.

“I know it bothers you,” Nyx picked up their conversation again, “but Ladone and her Unit will keep an eye on Hephaistos while we're out. Should something happen, she can handle it.”

“I know,” Pelna conceded with a sigh. “It's just- you know that Hephaistos was one of Drautos's best intelligence officers out in the field. I just can't help but worry that we're missing something important here.”

“But that's exactly what we're trying to figure out, isn't it?” Luche said. “We already know the Captain is involved in something shady – he vanished when it became clear there would be lasting change in the status quo, and Nyx's new position made it clear there were glaring discrepancies with how the Glaive was run. There's also the reasonable suspicion that Hephaistos knows at least in part what's going on.”

“Do you have any idea what it might be Drautos is involved in?” Nyx wanted to know.

Luche hesitated, his brow pinched into a frown. “I have an inkling, but nothing I can prove.”

“He's most likely a zuskehruht.”

Silence.

Pelna shrugged, clearly uncomfortable. “We've all been thinking it. I know I did ever since I heard Oirkar Lazarus's comments.”

“Why though? Even if he is... you know, he's been with us long enough to know what the consequences of that would be,” Nyx argued.

“But that's exactly the reason why Drautos wouldn't know, isn't it?” Pelna argued back, eyes trained to the road ahead of them.

“We won't know anything concrete until we find out more about his past,” Luche declared. “I'll reserve judgement until then.”

There was a long beat of silence. Nyx shifted in his seat, tugging at his Clan braid in a nervous gesture. “What do we know about his past? I never bothered to ask him.”

“He's from a village at the north western coast of Cleigne, like most of the Drautos Clan. And he looks enough like a Drautos that no one contested his claim, which means, even if he is a zuskehruht, he has Galahkari ancestry. The Captain once mentioned an attack that happened during his childhood, so that should help narrow it down a bit,” Luche recounted.

“Fucking Niffs,” Pelna hissed. “There's only one attack that comes to my mind: The Avlin Massacre.”

From one second to the next the mood in the front of the van grew gloomy and subdued. Avlin had been one of only two villages built outside of Galahd that had carried an Hadnissa name and had housed mainly Galahkari. It had been a fishing village under the protection of the Drautos Clan and had also been one of the places where Tenebrani refugees had arrived on Lucis.

Maybe this had been why Niflheim had targeted the village nearly twenty five years ago now. No one could tell for certain, but ever since then Clan Drautos had either gone to ground or had been wiped out. That was until a young man claiming the name Titus Drautos had suddenly appeared in the stream of refugees from Galahd.

“Do you think he was there? Drautos I mean,” Nyx asked in a hushed voice.

“It's actually very likely,” Luche mused, an unreadable expression on his face.

“The massacre was what? Twenty four years ago? Twenty five now? That would have made the Captain around nine or ten years old when it happened. Do you think some relative got him out and then they hid?” Nyx pondered.

Luche shrugged. “It's a possibility. But don't you think it odd? There were survivors after the initial attack. We know that. Oirkar Drautos sent out a message to Nitor's father, who was Oirkar at the time, asking for help and warning the people. But when the hunters arrived, everyone was dead or gone.”

“Mahir told me about that part,” Nyx said, a queasy feeling settling in his gut. “My uncle Troas died during the massacre. He had been visiting a friend of his. She said when the hunters arrived they found a battlefield littered with the dead. Galahkari, Niffs, but also Lucian soldiers.”

Outside the van the dusty plains of Leide drifted past. There wasn't really anything interesting to see. A rock here, a bush there, a pack of sabertusks running in the distance. They had passed Hammerhead quite some time ago.

“So, what're you asking, Luche?” Pelna wanted to know. “That the Captain is lying about his origins?”

The blond made a face, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I'm not saying that, though, I am loathed to admit it, the idea has merit. We just don't know enough. It could also be that he was born in Avlin and his family moved away before the attack. Or he might have escaped during the first one. It's just...”

“If he survived, why no one else? And why did they not come to Galahd after the attacks were over?” Pelna finished when Luche hesitated.

“Yes. And for the Captain to bear the name Drautos, he must have completed his First Hunt shortly before that. I think if he had done it this young, the story would have spread like wildfire. There is just no way it wouldn't have. Members of my Clan were talking about Nyx's First Hunt for weeks after it happened and we live on the other side of Galahd.”

Nyx slid a bit lower in his seat. He always hated it when others talked about his First Hunt. It had caused quite the stir, he knew. Not only his young age, but also the prey he had brought back. And ever since he had discovered his magic, people had started to talk about it again. Blessed by the Queen of the Jungle, they called him, Blood of the Great Coeurl.

“So, can we agree we have nothing but a whole lot of conjecture and next to no hard evidence? The Captain might be from Avlin, he might not be. He might have survived the massacre, and if that's true, he might carry the name Drautos unjustly. That's a whole lot of mights in my book,” Pelna summarised.

“Yeah,” Nyx answered, making a face. “Let's table that discussion until we have more concrete evidence.”

The other two men nodded in agreement. After that, they spent the rest of the trip mostly in silence.

Like most havens, Merrioth Haven was located on a rocky plateau a short way off the road. Dry brownish grass grew in thick patches along with a hardy bush here and there in the valleys. In the centre, half buried in the ground, lay large animal bones, bleached from the sun and picked clean by the local predators and carrion eaters long ago.

The Glaives had left Insomnia mid morning. Now the sun burned down on them with its afternoon heat. Nyx stood on the flat stone of the Haven, nose tilted into the wind and breathing in the dusty air. He could feel the magic humming in the stone beneath his feet like he had never before.

It felt strange to him. Less powerful than sunlight, but more powerful than moonlight, and also... fragmented, for lack of a better word. He knew the Oracles of times past had journeyed through the lands to create these Havens as safe places to rest during the night, and they worked. They did their job, but now that he had somehow attained an even finer sense for magic, he could tell that the magic in the powerful enchantments lacked something. It felt incomplete to him.

Around him was the general commotion of a camp being set up. Pelna had taken the reigns on that one, along with Tomix Sarcina. Tredd was out with his Unit setting up a perimeter of wards and traps. There wasn't really anything to do for Nyx at the moment, so he went and searched for Crowe.

He found her at the base of the plateau studying a sharp rock jutting out from the ground. The closer Nyx got the more it felt like a static was emanating from it. The feeling curled over his tongue and left a metallic taste behind. It was most curious.

“Find anything interesting?” Nyx asked as he stepped next to her.

Crowe shot him a quick glance before directing her focus back at the rock. Nyx thought he could see tiny sparks flickering in its shadows.

“It feels different from you,” she said, chewing at her lower lip in contemplation.

“...Yes?”

His storm-sister shrugged. “I don't know why I thought it would feel the same. But this feels more like remnants of lightning travelling through the sky. You on the other hand feel like the static in the air when a coeurl is about to attack.”

“That's... interesting,” Nyx hummed. “What exactly is that stone? I've seen them before, but I've never felt something from them but a faint buzzing.”

“I don't know,” Crowe answered. “They're only found near havens and I've learned that only people with great potential for certain magicks can actually feel the magic they trap within. It's like they're some kind of battery, collecting the ambient magic and concentrating it until someone extracts it. I read somewhere once that the Lucis Caelums are able to do that.”

“Only near havens, huh?” Nyx muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Oh nothing. Anyway. I was looking for you because I wanted to ask you something.”

Crowe turned towards him, her weight mostly on her right leg and hip cocked to the side. “What is it?”

For a moment Nyx floundered for words. “The haven. What does its magic feel like to you?”

“The haven?” Crowe repeated with a furrowed brow. “Why? Did you notice something?”

“It feels... strange. I wanted to know if maybe you knew something.”

“Well, they were made by the Oracles somewhere around two thousand to one thousand five hundred years ago. The runes look to me like an offshoot of Solheimr warding runes. They're build to be self-sustainable, but they need sunlight to recharge. At least that's the current theory. No one knows anymore how the havens are created, or if warding off daemons is all they do. If they were build where they are now, because of those magic absorbing rocks, or if they're a side effect of the havens, no one knows either.”

“So that's why those runes always looked weirdly familiar to me,” Nyx commented.

The Solheimr warding runes after all, were how the early Galahkari had protected themselves from the daemons. To this day one could find them carved into rock or formed by ancient trees that had been gently coaxed to grow a certain way. Over time the Galahkari had developed their own runes to compliment the existing ones. Looked like the Tenebrani had done something similar once.

Crowe shot him an unimpressed look.

“Hey, not everyone can be a magic genius,” Nyx defended himself when he noticed.

His storm-sister looked at him for a second longer before she sighed. “Describe to me exactly how the magic feels to you,” she commanded.

With a concentrated look on her face she carefully listened to every word he said, ignoring the people passing near them, carrying crates and other things up to the haven.

“Considering the runes' origin and how we think they work, I get the sunlight comparison. But moonlight? Sun- and moonlight are two completely different things, so why...?”

Her words descended into inaudible muttering. Nyx left her to it. It would take a while for her to come out of her thoughts, as she spun theory after theory. She would tell him, when she came to a conclusion that satisfied her.

His stomach gave a noticeable growl, so he made his way back up to the rocky plateau again to see if the food tent had been set up already. Libertus had commandeered that one despite not being part of the Ulnen Troop, which was in charge of supplies for this trip. Not that anyone had dared to complain or protest. One did not come between an Ostium and a kitchen.

The large tent had already been pitched around the fireplace that was always emanating a gentle blue smoke. It smelled like hearty stew. The command tent had been erected right next to it. Unopened crates littered the haven and outside the main area the sleeping tents were being hitched. He saw Tredd climbing over a rock formation, a large pack on his back, full of things needed to construct the wards.

Nyx nodded to himself and decided to find Pelna to ask where he could help. There was much to do until the sun set.

Everyone but a few who had the misfortune to be on guard duty had sat down for dinner. The atmosphere was light and cheery, since they weren't expecting to run into Niffs so far into Lucian controlled territory and the food was good, its spicy smell alone spreading like a warm blanket over the soldiers present.

Nyx looked over the group assembled. Subtracting those who had to stay behind in Insomnia due to injuries, and those currently on watch, there were fifty nine people in attendance. They all sat outside in the warm evening air, using now emptied crates as improvised chairs. Some had chosen to sit on the ground.

“Okay, listen up!” Nyx called once it looked like most were done eating.

Within just a few seconds, the group had grown quiet, all looking expectantly at him. Nyx swallowed and shoved the nervousness threatening to bubble up, back down.

“I will now share with a further details of this training trip. This here will be our main base, under the command of Troop Schirohlin under Tomix Sarcina, when I'm not there. Its Units – that is Units Arl and Sevah – will conduct their warding and trap experiments here, and will do some research on MTs, should Troop Zwihr under Libertus Ostium manage to capture a few. For that reason its Units will split up and erect temporary bases at the borders between Leide and Duscae. Firn Unit under Nube Dala will go west to the Hunter Base north of here, Tid Unit under Ares Bellum will go to the edge of the Kettier Highlands to the south, and Poful Units under Draskelio Furia will be mobile between the two. We know there have been sightings of Niff airships in those areas, so we're hoping to coax a few down.”

Nyx paused to make sure they all were still listening and understood what he was saying.

“Troop Tahrolin under Luche Lazarus will go further west to scout for any enemy movement east of Tealpar Crag.” He held up a hand when mutterings started. “I know we just pushed their last forward movement back, but you never know with these assholes. Lesan Unit along with Crowe asked to come along to this trip to work on their field spells. For further questions please approach your commanding officers. Dismissed.”

All at once voices started clamouring over each other as the people began to discuss what they had just heard. Nyx sat back down with a relieved sigh and took a large gulp of his tea. He looked at the people sitting close to him: Libertus to his left with Crowe next to him, Luche to his right and Pelna across.

“Pelna,” he spoke up again, voice quiet to make it difficult for people outside their group to hear him.

“Yes, Makti-Oir?”

“Split the members of your Unit up so at least one is with each group leaving. You can go as well, if you want, but I would prefer it, if you would be the one to stay here to coordinate things. Make sure they use the old Galahdi lin Puhnak codes. No Niff listening in will have a chance at deciphering that one.”

“Sure thing. And good call, since I doubt the Niffs speak any form of Hadnissa,” Pelna nodded.

“That was my thinking as well,” Nyx said. “Crowe, you made your own schedule and I approved of it, but be ready to be backup should someone need it.”

The only woman currently in the group, nodded. “Don't worry, I'll keep Libertus out of trouble for you.”

“Hey!” the man in question protested. “If it's one person who needs looking after, it's Nyx. Not me.”

“Admit it, big guy, you're nearly as reckless as him,” Crowe teased.

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“What are you, children?” Luche interrupted the petty spat.

Both looked at the blond and glared, pursing their lips in eerily similar ways. Luche just rolled his eyes, familiar with their antics and utterly unimpressed. Pelna snickered. Nyx swallowed his own laughter and turned towards Luche.

“I know you've most likely already planned out a route, but if you can – and manage to get that far – I would like you to stake out Tollhends Stronghold. We need more intel on that base before I'm comfortable ordering an assault on it.”

He would probably never be comfortable ordering an assault on anything, but no one needed to know that. Until now he had only ever been amongst the people executing an assault. Hopefully the one at Taelpar Crag not too long ago, hadn't been a fluke – since that one had been successful. Well, mostly, Nyx corrected himself with a grimace. Glauca was still alive and a pain in everyone's ass.

Luche nodded slowly. “That's quite the journey, but I'll see if we can swing it. Maybe if we can rent some chocobos.”

Libertus frowned. “Not using the vans?”

“No. The vans won't get us everywhere and I don't want our route to be tracked by where we had to stop to refuel. It'll be slower, but the Niffs shouldn't be able to find us as easily. However, a few of us will be posing as members of the Meldacio Hunters. They will get a car. I've already made arrangements with their leader.”

Nyx nodded easily, having helped Luche brainstorm ideas before this trip.

“Good,” Crowe spoke up. “Now that that's taken care of for the day, how about a card game?”

“So that you can hustle us at cards again?” Pelna asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What, me? We all know it's you who is counting cards.”

Pelna looked at her, expression perfectly innocent. Crowe snorted, disbelieving, and reached for the pack of cards she tended to carry around during trips like these.

Chapter Text

The first few days went exactly as planned. Maybe that should have been his biggest indication that something was about to go horribly wrong. But instead Nyx had ignored the uneasy feeling in his gut creeping up on him, when he had more than a few seconds to sit still and think, and had just been glad about the change of pace.

A bit more then half the camp had marched out at sunrise the very first day. From his core group – the people he thought of as family and were as close to a Clan as he currently had – only Pelna and Crowe had remained in the headquarters with him.

Most of the morning was spent organizing. Nyx contacted Insomnia for his first check-in, helped finishing to set up the command centre, checked their security system and shortly before noon had handled Units Firn, Tid and Poful first check-in.

After a quick lunch and some instructions for Tomix Sarcina, Nyx finally found an opportunity to get away for a bit to conduct his own training. He did not go too far. Just far enough to be surrounded by nothing but rocks and the occasional bush with no electronics anywhere close by. It was the ideal place to try out some of the more volatile ideas he hadn't had neither the time nor the space for in Insomnia. Nyx had thought it prudent not to work on his lightning-warp-trick again within city limits.

With an excited grin he drew his kukri, weighting them in his hands for a moment, before a slight frown of concentration marred his expression. He reached inward, towards the pools of magic – one wild, animalistic and wilful, the other foreign, sharp and much more sophisticated. This wasn't the first time he tried to use both in tandem, but it was the first time where Nyx was actively aware of it happening and not in any kind of danger while doing so.

So he took the time to compare them both and feel how they interacted with each other. It was utterly fascinating.

The Lucian magic had always felt artificial to him – constructed and warped for a specific purpose – but he had never realised how much this was the case, until his own unique magic had sparked. It was a bit like looking through a cracked window, but the shards were coloured crystal that moved against each other in different patterns, depending on how he wanted to use it. It was rigid, but with a surprising amount of flexibility. If he were honest, it had a beauty all its own.

His own magic couldn't be more different if it tried, but still the two of them seemed to find ways to fit together. Like they had when he had fallen down Tealpar Crag and had warped using the lightning of his own inherent magic.

To start with, he did some simple warp-strikes for a warm-up. Just how his instructor in the Kingsglaive had shown him. During this exercise he had a close eye on the Lucian magic. For the first time he really noticed what it was doing and he couldn't help but wonder why that was. Maybe because it hadn't really interested him before?

No matter. What was important was the here and now. With each warp strike he was about to execute the shards of Lucian magic turned a glittering blue. The same colour of the residue left behind and falling from his skin with every warp. He would have to talk with Crowe about that.

Warping had always been as easy as breathing to him. In Nyx's mind it had always been a bit like pouncing his prey. Maybe that was why he was so good at it. After his last leaped warp down from a rock that was at least twice as large as he was, he came to a stop. Every movement was tinged with practised smoothness and perfectly controlled.

He breathed in deeply, tasting sunlit warmth and dust on his tongue. For a few moments he simply closed his eyes, let the wind caress his face and card invisible fingers through his hair. Then he reached for his magic again.

This time he let the two kinds of magic residing in his blood and bones, mix. His coeurl-deep jungle-instinct jumped to the forefront eagerly, like a playful cat. The taste of ozone spread on his tongue and his fingers flexed around the hilts of his kukri in anticipation. Sparks danced over his skin, only to be tempered a few seconds later by the now glittering blue shards of his borrowed Lucian magic. The sharp, cutting edges of which seemed to have softened a bit over the years, and even more so with lightning assuaging the feeling of biting sharpness every time he used it.

For one fleeting moment Nyx just felt both kinds of magic mix and connect. Then he threw a kukri.

The sound of the warp was near deafening. Nyx flew across the plain literally at the speed of lightning and far farther than he had intended. The feeling of buzzing static all around him and across his skin unbalanced him enough to lose his concentration and balance. He skidded across the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs, landing painfully on his right shoulder and rolling once, twice, thrice until he came to a stop, blinking up at the dusty blue sky.

Nyx groaned, feeling thoroughly disoriented. Lightning had cracked the stone where he had first landed. The ground there now blackened and dotted with tiny shards of fulgurite.

Fuck.

This would require more work than he had anticipated. With another groan he stumbled onto his feet. His muscles ached. With a grin that looked more like he was baring his teeth at a challenger, he threw his kukri again.

The sun had marched well into the late afternoon by the time Nyx trudged back into camp. He garnered quite a few looks, caked in sweat and dust as he was, with rumpled clothes, and scrapes and bruises all over. Ignoring an insufferably grinning Tredd, Nyx made a beeline for the mess tent. The smell inside made him realise just how hungry he was. Which was to say, very.

Using magic took a lot of energy. Energy the body mainly regained with food and sleep. Which was why having a good supply plan was so important.

Nyx plopped down at a table, tray in hand. Dinner time was just starting so the mess tent wasn't exactly crowded, but nonetheless he found himself sitting across from Pelna and Tomix Sarcina.

“You look like you got trampled by a grandhorn,” Pelna commented with an amused quirk to his lips and a raised eyebrow.

Nyx shot him a nasty look and shoved a spoon full of spicy stew into his mouth. Hmm. Someone must have hunted a reapertail or three. Those things tasted surprisingly good; the meat in their shears was very tender.

“Anything happen while I was out?”

At once Tomix launched into a semi formal report of this afternoon's happenings. The temporary ward lines had been taken down and more permanent ones had been set up. Arl Unit under Tredd Furia had nearly caused a power outage when they had tried to set down their first version of a lightning based daemon trap.

“Luche and his troop split off from Firn Unit. They divided into their Units and changed vehicles at the Hunters Base. Luche says they will start with checking out Alstor Slough and what people near Coernix Station have to say. Units Firn and Tid have reached their destinations and are on the lookout.”

With a nod of thanks Nyx swallowed the last of his stew and proceeded to mop up the last vestiges of it with a piece of flat bread.

“That's good,” he said, glad things were going according to plan so far.

“And what have you been up to? We heard lightning strike quite a few times,” Pelna asked him, hands around a by now lukewarm cup of tea.

“Oh, I flung myself around the plain at the speed of lightning. It was quite fun actually,” Nyx said, head tilted just so.

Pelna snorted while Tomix shot him a strange look.

Weirdly enough, by the end of it, warping with lightning strikes had really been fun. By then he had quit landing on his ass every time and had figured out how to step and land to keep his balance and his movements smooth. Next on his list was to figure out chain warping. Was that even possible? Well, he had never heard of coeurls warping using lightning either, so it wouldn't hurt to try. The warping was probably a purely Lucis Caelum thing to which he was just... adding his own flavour, so to speak.

“You know what? I'm not going to ask. Go take a shower and bother Crowe or something.” Pelna made a shooing motion with his hands.

“I see how it is. No appreciation of my genius,” Nyx sniffed dramatically.

“Genius. Right,” Pelna said, voice dry as dust.

Tomix looked between the two of them. His eyes had grown slightly larger and he was doing his best to hide his expression behind his tea mug. It occurred to Nyx that until recently, he had never had much to do with the man, no matter how tightly knit the Kingsglaive was.

Tomix Sarcina was a rather quiet and reserved person with a mild temper and a surprisingly deep voice that didn't seem to fit his slight figure at all.

“But a shower sounds like a very good idea,” Nyx continued as if he hadn't heard Pelna.

“But don't bother Crowe too much, you hear? Whatever she was trying to do with one of her field spells didn't work, and you know how she gets,” Pelna called after him as he moved to return his tray and leave the mess tent.

One quick shower and change of clothes later, Nyx felt much more human again. He found Crowe at the edge of the Haven, practically glowering at the runes gently glowing beneath her feet. Shuffling his feet a bit as not to startle her, he stepped next to her, close enough their shoulders were touching. With the patience of a hunter he waited for her to speak.

“Fuck earth magic,” she spat after a few moments causing Nyx to look at er sideways.

He waited, since he knew from experience that there was more she had to say. Crowe took a deep breath and scowled at the ground like it had personally offended her. Maybe it had. Who knew with magic?

“It's like trying to hold sand in your bare hands and when you think you have it, it turns out that what you're holding is so void of anything, it tries to eat you whole.”

Nyx wasn't sure he understood that. “You make it sound like it's alive.” Which, if it was, would be a problem.

“No.” Crowe shook her head. “It's more like... hmm. Do you know what they used to say about Niflheim?”

“What? That they're all bloodthirsty askarali who eat children?”

A snort and an elbow in his ribs were his reward for that comment. He grinned.

“Not that, cat brain. I meant back when there was a desert. You could look at the dunes and see no life. It looks like it's empty. But then the rain comes and suddenly everything is green. Full of living things. Plants, animals.” She waved her hands to illustrate her point.

“That's very interesting, but what does it have to do with your problems with earth magic?”

“I'm getting to that! Listen. Us mages are the rain attempting to call forth the magic in the earth – the greenery in the desert, if you will – and it should work. It should! There is magic in the earth, damn it, otherwise havens wouldn't be sustainable! Or all the plants and animals with magic of their own.” His storm-sister made a noise full of frustration and anger. “But the earth just keeps on taking and taking and taking. Galahd is so different. So full of life and magic. I couldn't use it, but I could feel it. It practically flows directly beneath your feet. Here it's like there is a... oh fuck.”

Her face paled rapidly and she stared at him wide eyed and with trembling lips.

“This is bad. This is so fucking bad.”

“What? What is? Crowe, talk to me. So Lucis is a magic desert. That's kind of bad, I get that. We just have to make it rain, right?” As he spoke, Nyx gently grabbed his storm-sister's elbows and looked her in the eyes to make sure she did not get lost in her own spiralling thoughts. She shook her head frantically.

“No, that's not- it's- damn it! Technically you're right. But it's a draught. A fucking draught. The earth here can barely sustain itself with what little magic it has and when you try to reach for it with your own magic, it tries to consume you for every bit of extra energy you can give. This is why three of my mages got stasis sickness in five seconds flat!”

Crowe was trembling now. Nyx tugged her close and wound his arms around her in an tight hug.

“Shhhh. Deep breaths, asi pirir miga. Breathe with me. Yes, just like that. We'll figure it out, pirir miga, like we always do.”

He kept murmuring into her wild brown hair until her breathing slowed and the shaking stopped. The sun was vanishing behind the horizon in a blazing red that might have caught his eye, if he hadn't had more important things to do. Nyx didn't know how long they stood there until Crowe pulled back a bit to properly look at him.

“Thanks Nyx,” his storm-sister mumbled before visibly gathering herself. “Anyway, earth magic is out of the question.”

“What a bummer. I was looking forward to the earthquakes.”

The smile Crowe gave him was a tiny, trembling thing, but it was a smile. Nyx counted that as a win.

“What do you want to do now?” he asked her.

“About the magic? Nothing. I... I need to think. Try some things out. But right now I'm getting myself some dinner and then I'm getting drunk.” She took a few steps and turned back around when he didn't follow. “You coming?”

“Give me five minutes and I'll be right there.”

Crowe gave him a searching look, then shrugged and walked back into the camp proper. When he couldn't see her anymore, Nyx turned back around and looked at the plains stretching in front of him with a troubled frown on his face. What Crowe had told him bothered him more than he would like to admit.

A place with its magic stretched so thin that it could barely sustain itself? Nyx had never been the best at sensing magic. He hadn't even realised he could do it until he had come to Lucis and there had been something... different. Different and less everything. It had bothered him at first, yes, but he had never worried.

But now he did.

This lack of magic in the earth must be why earth wasn't used in elemency. Why had he never questioned that fact? Well, he had once at the beginning, but had thought it had something to do with Titan and left it at that.

All things were dependent on magic to some extent. Every Galahkar knew that. It was taught to them by the storytellers from the moment they were old enough to understand. Was this the reason why Lucians thought magic was only a thing of the Lucis Caelum line? The lack of magic anywhere else?

That was... very worrying.

Shaking his head, he turned around and brusquely followed the path Crowe had taken a few minutes earlier. He didn't want to think about this right now. There were so many other things he had to worry about. Eos would not die anytime soon.

Hopefully.

Getting drunk sounded like a wonderful idea.

The second day started with a headache and the sensation like something furry had crawled into his mouth and died there. Which was to say, day two of their field trip started like shit and didn't get much better.

At breakfast Crowe and him stuck their heads together and decided to keep the magic thing under wraps for now. At least until they both had had the opportunity to think it over in more detail and maybe gain more information. Though where that information was supposed to be coming from, Nyx had no idea.

After that he made sure the three mages Crowe had mentioned, would make a full recovery – they would, but stasis sickness was never fun and could be lethal – and then went to get some paperwork done. It was a pain in the ass and it made him so glad that Tomix was the one actually running the camp. All Nyx had to do was go over the reports and sign them off.

By the time lunch rolled around, he was done with the work and could go actually eat something on time.

The mess tent was full of people, the smell of simple curry having seemingly attracted everyone who wasn't on guard duty at the moment. Close to the table the Furias had commandeered for themselves, Tredd stood, tray in hand, talking to Crowe, who, while frowning, seemed to seriously consider what the redhead had to say. Which, no. Nyx wasn't going to think about this until he had had something to eat.

Nyx had barely sat down at his own usual table, when Tomix Sarcina stepped up to him, clearly waiting to be acknowledged.

“Memakar,” Nyx said with a nod, motioning for the other man to sit down across from him.

“Makti-Oir,” Tomix replied with a salute and sat down.

Like most Sarcina, Tomix's appearance was carefully groomed, with a neatly trimmed beard and shoulder length dark hair that was held out of his face by a series of braids. He was in his mid-thirties, crow's feet just appearing at the corners of his eyes. The man gave him a look, partly respect, partly scepticism, which Nyx didn't really blame him for.

“What can I do for you?”

“I'm here to tell you that Ares Bellum's Unit has met the enemy in battle. We got the message barely ten minutes ago. Khara is compiling a report.”

Nyx straightened his posture even more than it already was, setting aside the cutlery. He had not expected for the Units sent out, to meet the Niffs quite this soon. Was their presence in Duscae stronger then they had anticipated?

“Wounded?”

“Two,” Tomix answered promptly. “But nothing a potion couldn't fix. They happened upon an air patrol and decided to lay a trap. The only reason there are even two wounded was because they did their best to capture the MTs while not letting the captain of the airship know what's going on.”

“The airship stayed in the area?” Nyx couldn't quite help the sinking feeling in his gut.

“Longer than usual. It eventually left.”

This was... strange. The Niffs did not care what happened to the MTs. They were expendable to the highest degree. Not for the first time Nyx wondered how the Empire was dealing with the strain this attitude must have on their resources. Then again, maybe that was part of the reason they were clearly gearing up for another large scale operation, if their increasing air presence was anything to go by.

“That can't be good,” Nyx said more to himself than to anyone else.

Tomix raised an eyebrow. “Makti-Oir, if I may speak frankly, I think this was no normal air patrol.”

Nyx nodded thoughtfully. “Your reasoning?”

“First there is the behaviour of the airship. Those usually never stay in the area once the patrol leaves the ship, so it must have had another purpose somewhere close. And the composition of the MT squad was different as well.”

“Different how?”

Normally, a patrol ship carried a squad of riflemen, axemen and swordsmen, all coordinated by a bannerman. However, to this day they had not quite figured out how the bannerman was able to do so, seeing as it was an MT itself. The only evidence they had that the bannerman even had a function other than stroking Niflheim's ego, was that, when terminated, the rest of the squad always broke formation and started to attack at random.

“There was no bannerman, for one. And the others were riflemen, battery soldiers and one sniper,” Tomix rattled off.

Now that couldn't be good.

“An escort squad? What is an escort squad doing so close to the front? Lestallum I can understand, but this far south there isn't anything drawing their interest that I know of.”

“Me neither,” Tomix said at an inquiring look from his makti-oir.

“Has Ares said anything about where the airship was heading? Any distinctive features?”

“I'll have Khara look into it, Makti-Oir.”

He dearly wished he had sent more people down there. One Unit wasn't enough to look into this and...

“Did they capture an MT?”

“Yes, one. They're heading back here as soon as they can.”

Damn it. It was good they had managed to capture one this early, but on the other hand, Nyx wanted to know what was going on with that airship. He sighed.

“Alright. Have them come back. Have Draskelio's Unit take their place and contact Luche. I want some of his people looking into this as well. Maybe they have a better chance in finding out what's going on.”

Tomix gave a curt nod and stood up. “By your leave then, Makti-Oir.”

“By all means, memakar.”

After a quick salute, the Sarcina turned around on his heels and walked out of the tent presumably to find Pelna. Nyx sighed and picked up the fork again. His food had gone lukewarm by this point. Nonetheless he ate it all. He did not want another Ostium coming to him complaining about wasted food.

All the while his thoughts lingered on the conversation he'd just had. Something was clearly going on with the Niffs. First Glauca of all people showed up at Taelpar Crag and now an airship with an escort squad had been encountered in the Kettier Highlands. There was nothing there Nyx could think of that could interest the Empire. So why...?

Shaking his head he stood up. No use thinking about it. He'd ask Pelna to look into what locations might be of interest to the Niffs, if he wasn't doing so already. The man had a better mind for research and information gathering than Nyx did. Afterwards he would go back to figuring out the lighting-warp-thing. Mind made up, he left the mess tent and hoped the rest of the day would pass without incident.

Chapter Text

It was well into the night when Ares Bellum and her Unit arrived at the main camp. Nyx had practically flung himself out of bed when the call of approaching lights had come, and was now waiting with a growing group of anxious Glaives for the military van to pull to a stop.

The driver had barely cut off the engine, when the first Glaives piled out. Ares and her Second from the drivers cabin, the rest from the back. Nyx stepped away from the crowd and towards the leader of the Unit. Her eyes were a deep brown that appeared black in the half light, which made her gaze seem that much more serious and stern. Ares Bellum was a tall and muscular woman, with cheekbones that could probably cut glass and brown hair cropped close to her skull.

“Makti-Oir,” she greeted with a sharp salute, her Second not far behind.

“Namakar, makar,” he greeted them both. “Debrief in the command centre in ten. Your Unit will be able to manage?”

Ares gave him a sharp nod. “Best have a Furia close. That thing makes everyone as jumpy as a Lucian squirrel.”

As if that had been his signal, Tredd marched past them towards the eight other people that made up the Tid Unit. They stood in a cluster, clearly debating something.

“Now let's see it then,” Tredd declared, planting himself right in the middle of things, as he was often wont to do.

Nyx shook his head in exasperation. That man had two settings. Absolute attention seeker or a ghost no one noticed, nothing in between. It made the redhead unpredictable.

On his way through the crowd to meet with Ares in a quieter place, Nyx spotted Crowe. His storm-sister stood there, frowning and arms crossed, her hair in a messy braid and dressed in a linen shirt and sleep trousers. She gave a small wave when she saw him making his way over, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Hey. Libertus with them?” she asked.

Nyx shook his head. “The big guy is with Draskelio's Unit.”

“Pity.” Crowe yawned. “So, how's the thing with the MT going?”

“I didn't stay. I need to debrief Ares. But Crowe, can I ask you for a favour?”

“Sure. As long as it's not changing shifts for keeping watch, I'm in.”

Nyx rolled his eyes and bumped their shoulders together in mock offence. “I would never dare to do such a cruel, cruel thing to my poor storm-sister,” he exclaimed and grinned when he saw her playful glare. “What I wanted to ask, was if you could also take a look at the MT once it's secure? See if it's got any magical surprises, or, ahtrii forbid, some kind of magic suppressive thing. We already have enough trouble without that piece of shitty Niff technology.”

“All Niff technology is shitty and the source of evil,” Crowe declared, only half in jest, before she looked at him, a playful glint in her eyes. “What's in it for me?”

“More magical experiments?” Nyx shrugged and then grinned. “How about no watch duty for you for the next three days?”

Crowe tilted her head, clearly thinking. After a few seconds she nodded.

“You've got yourself a deal, oh big leader.”

“Oh, get going, ghost girl.” Nyx's grin grew bigger as he gently shoved her in the direction of the commotion.

“You have somewhere to be, not me,” she called over her shoulder before she was gone.

Nyx barked an amused laugh and made his way to the command centre. It was situated right next to the mess tent, nearly dwarfed by the latter's size. The inside was dominated by a large table made out of lightweight aluminium that was covered in maps and papers. A row of desks stood to the left and the far end, electronics piled upon them.

Ares Bellum stood by the large table, studying a map of the Kettier Highlands that Pelna must have left there. Her Second was an Ostium, one of Libertus's more distant cousins. Tall and heavyset, he stood at Ares's left shoulder, muscular arms crossed in front of his wide chest and a frown on his face.

Both looked up when Nyx stepped in, saluting in crisp motions. Ares more so than her Second.

Nyx gave an answering salute and went straight to the point: “Tell me about the airship.”

“It looked like a dreadnought but smaller and red,” came the prompt answer.

Ares's face was grave and a touch incredulous. Her Second wore a thunderous expression while Nyx felt his eyebrows fly up. He chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing. This... sounded like a lot of trouble.

“New model?” he asked more to himself, but still Ares answered.

“I'm not entirely sure, Makti-Oir, but it seems so. The ship was built like a dreadnought, but small enough to not need as many crewmembers, at least from my understanding. Maybe thirty people at most. It lacked the big cannon, but looked like it packed more firepower than a drop ship or a cargo ship. Can't say much more since we didn't exactly get close to it.”

Deep in thought Nyx crossed his arms in front of his chest and leaned against the edge of one of the smaller tables. This did sound suspiciously like a new model ship. He trusted Ares's assessment of it. As a Bellum, she was more qualified than most when it came to ships of any kind. But it was worrying. Dreadnoughts were devastating, if loud, slow and apparently ate more fuel than was strictly practical. A lighter and smaller model would loose some of that firepower, but could be improved in every other aspect. It would make combat a real pain in the ass. Now the question was how many of them there were, and who had them under their command.

“Namakar, how good is your knowledge of the Niff's air fleet?” Nyx inquired.

Ares blinked once in surprise. “Passable. But you would have more luck with either Sonitus or Navis. Both of them have a very firm grasp of the air fleet's upper crust and the ships themselves. However, I'll do my best to answer any questions you have, Makti-Oir.”

Figured. The people with the biggest know-how were never there when one needed them. Sonitus was out on the scouting mission with Luche and with that out of his reach for quite some time yet, while Navis was the leader of Schahnen Troop, which had stayed back in Insomnia.

“Then give me your best guess. How many of those ships do you think the Niffs have and who is in command of the ship you saw?”

“Not too many, I'd think, or we would have had another air attack on our hands already,” Ares answered after a few moments of consideration.

“The Niffs like to press their advantages,” Nyx agreed, glad to have his thoughts confirmed, no matter how tentatively.

“As to why that is, maybe they're still in the testing phase and the one we saw is the test run. Which would give us a bit more time to prepare before we have an armada on our doorstep.” Ares grimaces at that, looking exactly like Nyx felt at that prospect. “For the ship's captain, my first guess would be an experienced officer for optimal results, but I wager the Niffs aren't above using someone inexperienced in a test run, in case something goes wrong. There's also to consider that the ship has been individualised, which really hasn't happened at all until now.”

“So someone new to the army, but experienced in airships?” Nyx guessed.

“Probably. Like I said, I really don't know enough, Makti-Oir, but that seems like the most likely conclusion. If that's true, it shouldn't be too hard to find out who it is. The pool of people outside the military with any kind of know-how when it comes to airships, is rather small.”

Nyx took that for the silver lining it was, and nodded with a soundless sigh. There wasn't anything to be done about it at this point in time. He would include it in his report for Insomnia and have Pelna send it off at a more reasonable hour of the morning. Maybe the Crown would manage to reach a decision on what to do, before one of his Glaives ran off to Niflheim to blow up a shipyard or three.

He looked at Ares and the stoic and silent Ostium at her shoulder. It was still strange to think of the Glaives as his . His to protect and his to guide. His responsibility. Nothing to say about the Galahkari as a group.

With a slow, deep breath Nyx did his best to assuage the sudden onslaught of nerves. There was no time for nervousness, or the feelings of inadequacy that bubbled up in the dark recesses of his mind, every time he had a moment to sit and think. After all, who in their right mind would follow a man who couldn't even protect his own family, his own pack?

Suddenly the tent flap was torn aside and a young man stumbled through, face ashen and eyes wide with horror. At once Nyx stood at the ready, magic churning under his skin, his senses searching for any kind of threat. A deep, near imperceptible growl rumbled in his chest.

“Namakar, Makti-Oir. The MT- it- there's-”

“What?” the Ostium demanded.

The man suddenly stood next to the young Glaive, heavy frame belying his agility and speed.

“Calm down and start from the beginning,” Ares ordered.

The young Glaive took a deep breath. The tension in his body eased a bit, but the horror in his gaze did not.

“We had the MT be secured at the edge of the haven by Memakar Furia, just like you ordered. He put it in some kind of rune trap and it was still immobile from that trick Teikos did, so Memakar Furia said it was okay, if we took a quick look under the armour.”

“He did what?” Nyx growled.

The young Glaive – one of maybe half a dozen in the Kingsglaive who weren't Galahkari – flinched. “Well, I- I mean, Namakar Crowe was against it, but he didn't listen. So he started to pry the chest plate off, and...”

If at all possible, the poor young man grew even paler and shuddered. The MT couldn't have exploded, they would have heard that, so whatever powered the things must not be pretty. Nyx pressed his lips into a thin line and exchanged a grim look with Ares. The woman's features had grown hard and unreadable.

“Take us,” Nyx ordered and the young Glaive scrambled to obey.

Most of the camp seemed to be up by this point. They all wanted to get a look at what was underneath the MT's metal shell, or were anxious at the MT's close proximity to them. Nervous whispers drifted all around Nyx as he and his group made their way to the source of the commotion.

The first thing Nyx saw when they drew closer, was Ares's Unit trying to keep the curious and appalled onlookers at bay.

“Coming through, coming through. Step aside people!” the young Glaive cried in an attempt to push through the crowd.

It was slow going, but Nyx caught a glimpse of Crowe, who stood within the circle Ares's Unit had created. She looked pale and nauseated, shoulders hunched and hands held at the ready to cast a spell within a moment's notice. She looked down at something Nyx couldn't see, a dark scowl partly hidden by the strands of hair falling out of her braid. Then he noticed the stench and nearly retched. The air here was heavy with a sickly sweet smell that came close to rot – but not quite – combined with rotten eggs, sulphur and something Nyx had, until now, only associated with daemons. He swallowed the bile and did his best to push his magic back down.

The group stepped into the circle Ares's people formed, and now Nyx was able to see Tredd. The redhead was crouched next to Crowe – it was him she was scowling at – looking slightly green around the edges as he scraped some thick black residue off the inside of the MT's chest plate with an utility knife.

Before Nyx could say anything to Tredd about his rash behaviour, his gaze fell on the MT and he felt the blood freeze in his veins. The unit in their custody stood unresponsive, clearly held at bay by the ward circle and whatever Ares and her Unit had done. Its eyes flickered a dull red, the colour of dried blood. Its form was eerie and disconcerting to look at in detail as there seemed to be something slightly off with its proportions, but what made it downright terrifying and revolting was what the missing chest plate revealed.

There, on horrible display, was the grotesquery of a human torso. Its flesh was a rancid white mottled with black – the same bruise like colourations that were a sign of scourge sickness – and looked mummified, as if the thing within was a bog body. The ribs jutted out of the flesh in uneven arks and dripped with a thick black mucus.

Next to Nyx the young Glaive retched.

“What is this?” Ares whispered, sounding as horrified as Nyx felt.

He was frozen in place, unable to look away from what had clearly once been human and had been twisted by the sick ambitions of Niflheim. A part of him wondered what the rest of the poor person looked like, but a larger part shied away from the thought. He didn't want to know. Not truly. Just this was horrible enough. Were there people within every MT? What was their purpose?

Suddenly Tredd stood up. A sound, partly disgust, partly anger and partly grief, escaped his throat. He turned towards Nyx, his lips pressed in a firm line and eyes blazing with determination.

“I will get to the bottom of this,” he declared in a trembling voice, but no less decisive.

All Nyx could do was nod, still not able to look away fully. The last time Tredd had looked like this, was when they had made the decision to leave Galahd in a desperate bid to survive. Nyx felt his gut clench. Often times Tredd may be all bravado, but the reason he had been able to kill MTs this well until now, had been that everyone had thought they weren't human. But now...

Finally his tongue unstuck from the roof of his mouth. “You have full authorisation to do this. Anything and anyone you need. And after you're done, we're giving this poor soul a proper burial.”

At the last part, the Ostium at Ares's side nodded in approval. Tredd moved in a jerky salute before he turned towards the crowd and started to rattle off a list of names and things he would need. The crowd started to move.

Nyx walked over to his storm-sister. “You alright, Crowe?” he asked, stretching out a hand towards her.

Crowe startled, as if she just now noticed where she was, before she turned towards him, eyes wide and angry, and pressed her face against his shoulder in an uncharacteristic request for comfort. Without a word, Nyx wound his arms around her and held her tight.

“We cannot let this keep happening.” Crowe's words were muffled against the cloth of his sleep tunic.

“I know,” he muttered, glad the smell of her hair drowned out some of the stench in the air. “Do... do you feel anything?”

There was a short pause before she shook her head. “Not anything new. Only the same black smoke and poison the daemons have, as well as metal and emptiness. I don't think the- the person in there is alive anymore. Not really, at last.”

Nyx couldn't help his frown. So she didn't notice the smell? That was... he didn't know what it was. Crowe stepped back to look him into the eyes. Her gaze was burning with determined rage. He smelled a subtle hint of campfire smoke around her.

“I will help Tredd,” she declared.

Nyx did not give her the discourtesy of asking, if she was sure about this. Instead he nodded and released his storm-sister.

Behind her, Tredd and two others, Ares Bellum among them, had manoeuvred the MT into a lying position and were now trying to see how to get the rest of the armour off without causing harm. All of them wore gloves. Another Furia was carefully collecting black mucus in glass vials she had procured from spirits knew where.

Crowe gave him one last look before she turned around and joined the group gathered around the MT. Nyx sighed, scraping a hand over his face, suddenly exhausted. He watched them for a few moments, seeing Tredd managing to get a pauldron off with a triumphant exclamation.

Well, he thought as he turned around, time to look for Pelna.

He found Pelna waiting for him at the command centre, a bad case of bedhead and two mugs of strong black tea clutched in his hands. One of them he handed Nyx, who took it gratefully, without a word.

“Figured you'd want to report back to Insomnia now,” Pelna said with a shrug before Nyx could open his mouth and ask.

“Yeah,” he said instead. “This is something they need to know.”

“Well then. Let's hope there's someone reasonable on duty right now,” Pelna said and turned to enter the tent.

He made a beeline towards the comm station at the far end, politely shooed out the Glaive on duty, and sat down in the foldable chair in front of it. Nyx came to a stop behind him.

“Let's see,” Pelna muttered as he put on the headset and flipped a few switches. “Insomnia, this is Glaive Command, please answer. Over.”

One second of static. Two.

“Glaive Command, this is Insomnia. Over.”

“Insomnia, please get the Lord Marshal on the line. We have an urgent report. Over.”

“I'm sorry, but Marshal Leonis has other matters to attend to at the moment. Please leave a message. I will report it at the earliest possible time. Over.”

Both Glaives shared an incredulous look. What could have the Marshal up and about at this early hour of the morning and not willing to accept reports?

“I assure you, officer, the Lord Marshal will be wanting to hear this. Over.”

“Very sorry, uh- Sir, but I have strict orders to not disturb him. Over.”

Nyx gave a quiet tsk while Pelna frowned. The Marshal had never been one of those privileged windbags that did not want to be disturbed for any reason. Nyx wanted to be angry, but he liked to think he knew the Marshal well enough to know, he wouldn't do such a thing without a very good reason. He motioned for Pelna to try continuing to convince the officer on the other end to get the Marshal on the line. His friend nodded.

He himself walked out of the tent. Like he thought, the Glaive on comm duty, a young woman and member of the Dala Clan judging by her braids, stood outside, waiting. She snapped to attention the moment she saw him.

“Dala, please call the Glaive on comm duty in Insomnia and try to find out what's going on over there.”

To her credit, she did not ask questions, instead she pulled a heavy duty phone from her belt and pressed one button. She did not need to wait longer than three heartbeats before the call connected.

“Fahlana, this is Glaive Command speaking. Makti-Oir Ulric wants a direct line towards the Lord Marshal. Now. - Yes, he's standing next to me. One moment.”

She handed over the phone.

“Ulric here.”

“Makti-Oir, we might have a bit of a problem on our hands.” The Glaive on the other end was Axis Arra. The man sounded weary.

“What kind of problem?” Nyx demanded, feeling his patience dwindle dangerously fast.

“As of... yesterday morning now, Prince Noctis has been missing.”

Chapter Text

Something icy and heavy settled into Nyx's gut. “What?”

He did not care for the looks he got for that outburst.

“You heard me,” Axis said, sounding even more tired than a few moments before. “We don't know how it happened. His Chamberlain reported the Prince missing last morning. He was neither with his Shield not that civilian friend of his. No signs of struggle, no nothing. The Marshal is this close to going on a proper hunt. It actually is kind of impressive.”

“What of the King?” Nyx couldn't help but ask.

“The nobles are walking on eggshells around him. He's keeping up appearances to keep the information on the down-low, but everyone knows something is up with the amount of magic leaking everywhere.”

This wasn't good. Not good at all. The Prince missing? It was like everything was happening at once. The realisation that MTs were actually people, the weird magic shit and that strange... airship. The airship.

“Axis, what are the chances that the Prince got smuggled out of Insomnia?”

There was a long beat of silence on the other end.

“They're not zero,” the Glaive said slowly. “But the question remains: How did they – whoever they are – actually manage this without anyone noticing? It's not like the Prince is just some random person on the street.”

“Your guess is as good as mine. But fact is, Ares Bellum and her Unit saw a strange airship too far into Lucis controlled territory. Her best guess is it's a new model on a test drive. But the MT we captured was one from that airship, and it was part of an escort squad.”

“A new airship model? The Marshal will want to hear about this. If there is even a chance the Prince is on there, he'll come running as fast as he can. I know where he is, give me five minutes.”

Nyx barely managed to articulate his thanks before a clicking sound came through the phone, signifying that Axis had muted the call. The Dala, who should have been on communications duty right now, was unabashedly staring at him. Nyx was sure within half an hour the whole camp would know that the Prince had gone missing, probably abducted.

He stepped back inside the command centre to hear Pelna still trying to corral the Lucian soldier on the other end into getting the Marshal on the line. With a mischievous grin Nyx stepped up next to Pelna and spoke clear enough for the soldier to pick up the words.

“You can stop, Memakar Khara. Memakar Arra is getting me a direct line to the Marshal. No need for you or this dutiful officer to waste precious time anymore.”

Pelna raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed with his shenanigans, but still ended the call without another word, cutting off the Lucian's comical sputtering.

“What is this about Axis?” the Khara wanted to know.

Nyx held up the phone in his hand. “I got your Dala to call the Glaive on communications duty in Insomnia. Turns out it is Axis. And he knows where the Marshal is and is getting him on the line for me.”

“You know what?” Pelna said with a flat stare. “Next time let's do that first.”

“Agreed,” Nyx nodded.

“So. What's the big deal over in the city?”

“Oh, yeah.” Nyx realised he should probably have led with that piece of news. “The Prince has gone missing. No one has seen him since yesterday morning.”

“... What?”

“That was my reaction too.”

“No. I mean what the fuck?”

“I know.”

“Any leads?”

Nyx just shrugged. He had only just heard of it himself after all. Both man looked at each other, very well aware that this could end in disaster. If it really was Niflheim who had managed to abduct Prince Noctis, who knew what they would do to him and what demands they could make for Lucis to get him back. The war would effectively be over then with no chance for them to get their home back. They couldn't let that happen.

The phone beeped.

“Huh. That was quick,” Nyx muttered before answering in Lucian. “Ulric speaking.”

“Makti-Oir Ulric. I hear you might have a lead to the Prince's whereabouts?”

It surprised Nyx how the Marshal somehow managed to sound polite without a proper greeting and a clipped tone that bordered on curtness. And he managed to pronounce his title near flawlessly. It was impressive.

“Marshal,” he returned the short greeting and continued without preamble. “We decide to go on our training trip, a day later the prince goes missing and at the same time my people find a new airship well inside Lucian territory. That's a whole lot of coincidences from where I'm standing.”

Pelna kept quiet as Nyx paced around the tent until he settled close enough to the entrance to look outside. Phone calls always gave him the urge to move for some reason.

“The airship?”

Nyx did not let the Marshal's behaviour bother him. He knew the guy was a man of few words on his best days. This was most certainly not one of his best days.

“New model best as we can tell. Build like a dreadnought but smaller. Less of a heavy hitter and more for speed and range. And it's red.”

“You sure it actually belongs to Niff military?”

“All due respect, Marshal. There was at least one escort squad of MTs on board.”

A spark of irritation ignited within Nyx, though he didn't let it show in his tone. There weren't many non-military airships. Not since the war had started back up in earnest. A few trade vessels, but that was it. And those weren't red, nor did they look like small dreadnoughts.

“Apologies, Majesty.”

The curt, but very sincere words made Nyx grimace. He dearly wanted to tell the Marshal that he was no king. There were many powers being makti-oir did not grant him. All that the title gave him authority over was hunts and battles, everything else depended on how much his people respected him and what mood they were in that day, if he were honest.

“Libertus Ostium and the Poful Unit are on their way to stake out the situation, Ser,” he chose to say instead of all the other words burning on his tongue.

Now was not the time to antagonise a man who was at worst only painfully ignorant, when it came to the Galahkari. And wasn't it a sad fact, that this was actually a good thing?

There was another beat of silence on the other end of the call. From what Nyx understood of Lucian politics, the other man was reconsidering the situation, now that he knew that Libertus of all people was looking into it. The Marshal probably equalled it with King Regis sending out his Shield on a reconnaissance mission. Nyx suppressed a snort of derision at the thought.

“I propose an exchange of information then,” the Marshal said, tone not changing a bit. “Should we find evidence that the Prince has indeed been taken outside the city, it is very possible that the airship your Glaives saw has indeed something to do with it.”

“That is agreeable.” Nyx shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

“May I suggest an exchange of officers then, to facilitate this exchange?”

“Who?”

“Monica Elshett.”

Nyx did a double take, glad that the Marshal couldn't see him. Monica Elshett? The Marshal's second in command? That was... quite the bold suggestion. Nyx chewed on the inside of his lower lip in thought. There was no doubt that Ser Elshett would not only be a liaison officer, but also report to her commander about the Glaives and their behaviour. And Leonis would report it to the King. Could he take that risk? Was it even a risk?

With a start Nyx realised he had been silent for too long.

“Agreed,” he said, hoping he would not regret it. Then he added: “In exchange, I will assign Memakar Arra to you then.”

“As you wish,” the Marshal agreed far more promptly than Nyx had.

Another beat of silence, nearly long enough to turn awkward.

“Good hunting then, Makti-Oir.”

Nyx gaped. Before he could scramble an appropriate answer together, a rustling sound reached his ear through the phone. The Marshal must have handed it back to Axis.

“Makti-Oir,” the Arra said.

“Axis, assign Navis Bellum to your post temporarily. The Marshal and I agreed to pool resources for the search of the Prince. You'll be the liaison officer on his end,” Nyx ordered, gladly switching back to Hadnissa.

“Scha-fia, Basif,” accepted Axis the command.

All Nyx could do at that was heave a tired sigh. “Really, Axis? Really?”

The other man had the audacity to give a quiet chuckle. “Well, it's not untrue, isn't it?”

“Where did you even get the idea to address me as a King-” that word he said in Lucian- “in Sol of all things? No, you know what? Don't tell me, I don't want to know.”

“If you say so.”

“... It wasn't Isoria Patientia, was it?”

“You said you didn't want to know.”

Oh that meddlesome old woman! Nyx groaned.

“Don't worry too much, Nyx. People know it's all in good fun. No one is taking it seriously. Not even the Elder herself.”

“Was that supposed to be reassuring?”

“Take it as you want. Is there anything else you need?”

“Not at the moment. But Pelna will send a report through in a few hours. I need you to make sure it reaches the King and the Oirkari.”

“Scha-fia,” Axis said again, this time blessedly leaving out that blasted ancient title. “Good hunting, Makti-Oir.”

“Good hunting, Memakar Arra.”

The call ended.

For a few moments Nyx stared blankly at the phone in his hand, wondering if this had just really happened. He dearly hoped there wouldn't be any trouble with Ser Elshett coming here. At any rate, she wouldn't arrive for at least half a day, if she jumped into a car right now and legged it. So including preparation time, they probably had a day until she got here. Time enough to get the Glaives used to the idea. Hopefully.

Most people curious about the MT were slowly wandering back into the camp proper, meaning Nyx got quite a few curious looks, which he all ignored. A series of metallic sounds and curses were coming from where the MT was situated. Nyx spared a glance in that direction, hoping there would be no other macabre discoveries made. Somehow he seriously doubted it however. Niflheim's depravity knew no bounds, but that they were actually humans...

Where were all these people coming from? The Empire churned out those bucket heads by the thousands without any regard for resources. Which in itself was problematic for their civilian population, but if people were being drafted left, right and centre for this, someone would make noise about it.

Wouldn't they?

There was a foul taste in Nyx' mouth. He swallowed dryly, gathered his thoughts as best as he could and whirled around to face the inside of the command tent again.

Inside Pelna was hunched over the map of the Kettier Highlands, a coloured marker in one hand, and a piece of paper in the other. He looked up when Nyx came closer. The map now sported a series of dotted lines going in different directions, with one ending at Costlemark Tower, which had been circled multiple times.

“How'd it go?” Pelna asked as if he mustn't have heard every word Nyx had said.

Then again by the looks of it, he hadn't been paying much attention. The Ulric threw the phone on the table.

“As well as can be expected. Monica Elshett is coming, probably arriving sometime tomorrow.”

“Well, shit. That'll go over well with the others.”

“I know.” Nyx sighed.

“Why's she coming anyway?”

“As a liaison officer. To coordinate the search for the Prince, since there is a possibility – slim, but there – that our unknown airship has something to do with it.”

Pelna frowned, tipping the marker against his chin in thought. “Possible. It really depends on how organised the abductors are, for how long they have actually had the Prince, and how they got him outside Insomnia, if they did. They would have had to transport him by car...”

The communications officer mumbled something Nyx couldn't understand, leaning over to look at the map again. Then he turned around, rummaged around a pile of maps precariously balancing at the edge of the table, until he found a street map of Lucis. He unfurled only part of it, but still is swallowed a large part of the table.

“Now, let's see,” Pelna mumbled, turning towards where Insomnia's star shaped wall was depicted. “There is only one bridge connecting Insomnia with Leide, so if they didn't manage to chart a boat – which is honestly very improbable – they had to used the main gate.”

Pelna tipped his marker against the corresponding spot on paper. What he said made sense to Nyx. All boats leaving and coming to Insomnia were under very strict guidelines. Even the small fishing boats. The main gate saw more traffic, if not by much, so with the right papers and permits combined with a bit of luck, one could be waved through without much issue. Of course it was also an open secret that, if you had the right connections, you wouldn't even need any of the above to leave the city.

“We can safely assume then, that they at least passed Hammerhead, since the only paved road coming from Insomnia leads there and most mainlanders somehow find it weird to go cross-country. Not to mention that travelling off the road with a hostage is basically suicide. After that point, it's a bit of a toss-up,” Pelna continued. “There's only three functioning roads leading into Duscae. The one in the north leads past the Hunter's Outpost, so Nube and her Unit could easily take a look around. The southern road leads very close past Galdin Quay, which means more traffic and more people. So the middle road makes the most sense. If our theory with the airship is correct, of course.”

“Let's assume it is. Why Costlemark Tower?”

“Well, it's got the dubious honour of being a prominent landmark that no one wants to get close to. It's relatively close to the road and is surrounded by forest, which means many places to hide. The airship could wait close to the ruins and no one would notice.”

Nyx nodded slowly. What Pelna said made a large amount of sense. Now they needed only to wait for word from Libertus and Draskelio, and if they found the airship, it was as good as confirmation. It was just the waiting part that Nyx didn't like much. He wanted to go out now. Do something. But he had people here, responsibilities he had sworn to himself not to abandon again. So he would remain here. For now.

“Where is Luche currently?” he asked, an idea starting to form.

“Last I heard, somewhere near Allstor Slough. Why?”

“Have him turn south and approach Costlemark Tower from the other side. That way they can't make a getaway by road, if they smell something foul going on.”

“Got it,” Pelna nodded.

“And can you compile a report on the MT situation for me and send it to Axis? I'll write something up as well.”

“Sure, I can do that. But Nyx, I only have so much time and only one pair of hands.”

“I think the Dala waiting outside the tent, will be perfectly willing to help you,” Nyx pointed out. She was technically on duty right now, after all.

“Radia?” Pelna blinked, then nodded. “Of course.”

Nyx nodded as well. “I'll leave you to it, then.”

“Go ahead. You should probably get dressed properly,” Pelna grinned.

Nyx shot his friend a playful scowl and marched out of the tent. He nodded at the Dala – Radia – to go back inside and made his way towards his own lodgings.

He had the immeasurable luxury to not to have to share his tent with someone else, which meant he had a tiny bit more space. He took a large gulp from a bottle of water, and then proceeded to get dressed in uniform, but decided to forego the coat for now. Making sure his braids were in order, his eyes landed on the khopesh he had taken from Taelpar Crag. Until now, he hadn't had a true opportunity to try it out, other than a few simple exercises.

There was magic in the blade, Nyx could feel it. With every swing it vibrated against his skin, the sense of fast paced running and wind blowing through his hair. But nothing had happened yet. Maybe it needed special conditions to activate its magic? He should probably have taken the sword to a weapons smith to get it appraised, but he had never found the time to do so. With a sigh, he fastened the khopesh to his belt. Its carvings and runes shimmered, like they did every time he touched the sword.

Rolling his shoulders to get rid of the tension sitting there, he consciously put the thought out of his mind. Right now he had more important things to do than worry about his sword. Like telling the Glaives about their coming guest.

He announced the news over breakfast, since most Glaives would be in attendance. It went over as well as could be expected. Which meant no one was pleased about it.

“I won't change how I run the camp just to please her,” Tomix Sarcina grumbled from his seat across from Nyx, after he had sat down again.

“And no one expects you to,” Nyx pointed out.

“Good,” the other man stated with a sharp look.

“Just don't alienate her too much, alright?”

Tomix grumbled something unintelligible into his carefully groomed beard. “Won't you be here when she arrives?” he asked after a moment.

“Not sure,” Nyx admitted. “It depends on what Libertus finds at Costlemark Tower. I'm certain we'll get a message from him before Ser Elshett arrives.”

“So you'll go if they find the airship there,” the Commander of the camp stated.

“Yeah.”

Tomix chewed a piece of dried fruit that accompanied this morning's porridge, and nodded thoughtfully. He looked like he had made up his mind about something. Nyx studiously finished his own breakfast and stood up. On his way out he crossed paths with Pelna, who was later than usual. He must have finished and sent off the report then. They nodded at each other.

It was time to check in on the MT project again.

A tent had been erected around the MT, likely for people to be able to do their work in piece. Judging from the amount of people still loitering about, it had been more than necessary. The Glaive standing guard at the entrance let him in without complaint.

Inside were a group of eight people, including the MT. There were Tredd, five other members of his Unit, and Crowe. Three people were crowded around a table where the armour – or the outer shell, depending on how one was looking at it – had been placed on. Two others had something between them that stank of scourge and miasma, while Tredd and Crowe were looking at the... body. Every Glaive looked up when he entered, and saluted once they recognised him.

Tredd waved him over without a word, mouth set in a grim line and eyes gleaming. Crowe's expression wasn't much different. From his current position, Nyx could only see a pair of misshapen feet, that were too long to belong to a human, and ended in talon like shapes, but that was already enough to make him regret eating breakfast before coming here. He came closer nonetheless.

“What can you tell me?” he asked, voice lowered.

If he did so out of respect for the unmoving body lying on the cold table, no one had any intention of calling him out on it. Looking even paler, Crowe waved at the MTs uncovered face. Nyx's eyes followed her motion.

For a long moment he didn't know what he was looking at. His mind refused to comprehend it. The face was milky pale and thankfully untouched by any scourge caused deformations. There were dark bruise like spots along the right side, travelling over the the temple and along a shaved skull that was covered in an uneven pale fuzz. Tracks along the cheeks looked like it – they – had been crying black tar. Nyx blinked, but the image stayed the same. The features stayed the same. He looked at the pale, dead and scourge riddled face in front of him and couldn't help but see another face superimposed on it. One he had seen only once or twice, but it was enough to recognise it.

The face of a teenager named Prompto Argentum.

“What the...?” he whispered, suddenly feeling nauseous.

Bile rose in his throat and it was only with great difficulty that he kept it down. Tredd kept uncharacteristically quiet at the obviously uncomfortable picture he must make. Crowe looked at him in understanding.

“It looks like the kid,” she agreed, voice barely above a whisper. “Even the body type is the same, from what I can tell.”

“What the fuck is going on here?” he couldn't help but ask.

Not that anyone had an answer to that question. He balled his hands into fists to keep their shaking from being too noticeable.

“The body died the moment we got it out of the armour,” Tredd reported.

His voice sounded as emotionally void and detached as the redhead looked at that moment. Nyx did his best to keep his face neutral as he turned his attention towards the man. Crowe stepped next to Nyx, one of her hands gripping his wrist. The touch was calming, reassuring.

“The magitek core running it was welded into the body's spine, along with parts of the armour. To make the transfer of electrical impulses more efficient, I suppose. Part of the wiring reaches into the brain. So I have no idea how aware the... the body was while being in there.”

“Tredd,” Nyx started. “If you-”

“No,” the redhead hissed. “Don't you dare, Ulric. I don't need a break, I don't need to step away. What I need is to see this through and figure out what in the name of Pitioss is going on.”

“Okay,” Nyx relented immediately, aiming for a calming tone. “Okay. What else have you figured out?”

For a long moment Tredd stared at him, likely ready to call Nyx out on a bout of false sympathy or something. But he found nothing, so he nodded and waved one of the people over, who had been looking at the magitek core.

The man was also a Furia, agate and fire opal gleamed in his red hair, which had been bound into a practical bun at the base of his neck. His most distinguishing feature was the monocle he wore. It's frame was of a bronze colour with a number of magnifying lenses attached. So someone who was used to fine detailed work.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makti-Oir. I'm Lentus of Clan Furia.” The man spoke slowly, as if he was weighting every word.

“Rid ohlro ar, Lentus of Clan Furia. What can you tell me?”

“These magitek cores are barely good enough to contain what they were designed to hold, Makti-Oir. Something like this would never pass our quality control.” Lentus adjusted his monocle. Each of his fingers had a thin line tattooed along its length. “This makes them extremely dangerous.”

“What do you mean?” Nyx asked.

“It's my belief that the core's poor quality is part of what makes MTs explode, once a certain level of damage is reached. An unexpected but welcome side effect, I wager – if I were a betting person, that is. I'm still not done with my preliminary observations, Makti-Oir, but what I can say is that the core does run on some kind of miasma. It seems to be partly responsible for the body's... transformed state, but what has leaked due to the core's poor quality, is by far not enough on its own.”

Lentus stopped speaking, a pinched expression on his face. He was studiously looking at the magitek core and kept his back to the body laid out on the table. Nyx really couldn't fault him for it.

“So you're telling me the MTs are using daemons as their power source?” he questioned, feeling sick in his stomach.

This was just messed up. What by Pitioss and the deepest depths of the ocean had they been thinking? Probably nothing. He shook his head. Thinking about this was not going to help him figure out what he should do about it.

“It certainly looks that way,” Lentus confirmed. “The only known source of miasma are daemons, which we know are connected to the scourge. It wouldn't be too far of a leap to hypothesise that miasma causes scourge-sickness to occur in humans.”

An uncomfortable silence spread amongst them. Scourge-sickness had been rare on Galahd, but it had always ended with the victim dead. There was no cure for it. Not on Galahd and not anywhere else. That someone would even think about utilising something like this, try to bend it to their will was...

“This is so fucking stupid.” Crowe's whispered words were loud in the silence.

Tredd made a disparaging sound, but judging from his expression it was not directed at his storm-sister. Lentus cleared his throat, shifting his weight nervously.

“There's nothing truly concrete yet. We're still in the preliminary stages of our tests, but if I may add one more thing.” It took Nyx a second to notice that Lentus was waiting for his permission to speak further, so he nodded. “We found something at the base of the MTs skull. It seems to be some kind of mini-computer. My current theory is that this is what's used to program the MTs, like they really are just empty hulls of metal run by coding. We'll need someone to decode it. I'm afraid this isn't a field I'm particularly knowledgeable in. Or anyone in Arl Unit, really.”

“I'll find someone to look at it,” Nyx promised, already running over the list of Glaives with computer experience.

Pelna came first to mind, but the man was largely self taught and, as far as he knew, had never hacked anything. But if Nyx couldn't find anyone, maybe he would be able to. It was at least as good an idea as any.

“My thanks, Makti-Oir,” Lentus said with a nod deep enough to count as a bow. “I'll return to my work then.”

Nyx nodded and with that the Furia took the chance to get as far away from the body as he was currently able.

“What are we going to do now?” Crowe asked. “None of us here has any experience with autopsies, nothing to say on autopsies on obviously scourge-sick bodies.”

It was Tredd who had an answer for that. “Now we record everything. State of the body, degree of deformation, wiring within the body, everything. And then we need to get more MTs and see, if we get the same results.”

The redhead said those words with the intonation of a man possessed. Nyx dearly wished Luche and Sonitus were here now. Those three could be hunting-brothers, they were so close. Crowe tightened her grip around his wrist until it was nearly painful, before she let go and stepped closer to Tredd.

“Just don't go overboard, fire-brain,” she said with a carefully calculated nonchalance. She shot Nyx a heavy look and then proceeded to push Tredd towards the exit of the tent. “Now, let's get some breakfast. We've been at it for hours and could use the break. I know I'm starving right now.”

Tredd gave a token protest, but did not resist the mage too much. Nyx followed the two outside, glad to get away from the stink of the scourge and the dead body.

A body with a face that looked way too much like the prince's blond friend. There had to be some kind of relation. A piece of the puzzle Nyx didn't know about, but was vital. All he knew was that it didn't paint a pretty picture. The MT with a face that was regularly seen around the Prince, and the Prince himself missing or abducted.

If this got out to the public, it would get ugly. Nyx resolved to make sure his people kept a lid on it for as long as possible. The kid – Prompto – didn't deserve the backlash, but Nyx would really like to have a good, long conversation with him, to see what he might know about any of this.

Nyx took a breath of the still quite early morning air. He felt his lungs expand and made a conscious effort to relax as he exhaled. The air was clean, with the scents of human activity and prairie dust travelling along the breeze. It was a good smell, if lacking, because it wasn't home.

Chapter Text

Monica Elshett did indeed arrive at the Merrioth Haven like she had gotten into a car as soon as she had gotten her orders and then floored it the whole way. Nyx couldn't help but be impressed when she climbed out of the van stacked full of supplies to help with their research, and a stack of folders that had Top Secret stamped on their front in a bold red. Her uniform was slightly rumpled from the long journey and there were dark circles under her eyes.

“Ser Elshett,” Nyx greeted as he stepped up, trying to look like he hadn't been waiting since word reached them that a Lucian military van was approaching.

“Makti-Oir.”

The Marshal's Second-in-Command said it with the same inflection she used to say Majesty when referring to Regis, and gave him a salute fit for a royal. Nyx did his best not to squirm at the posh treatment. To his right Pelna gave a quiet snicker.

Nyx very consciously swallowed down phrases like We didn't expect you to arrive this soon, or It's good to have you here. That would just be stupid. Instead he inclined his head and gave the woman a crooked smile.

“If you would follow me, Ser Elshett, I think it's about time we exchanged some information. Pelna, get Tredd, Crowe and Tomix. It would be best, if we're all on the same level.”

Pelna nodded and strode off in the direction of the research tent. Meanwhile Ser Elshett had gathered a suitcase from the driver's cabin of the van and stepped closer to him. The watching Galahkari whispered amongst themselves and stepped out of the way, as the two of them made their way through the crowd. If the whispers made Ser Elshett uncomfortable, she did not let it show.

Barely twenty minutes later six people were gathered in the command tent, limeschti – their traditional welcoming tea – in front of them and a large platter of finger food on the table. Ser Elshett had done as instructed during the welcoming ceremony without asking questions, which brought her the reluctant approval of the people around her.

Now that the ceremonial stuff was out of the way, they all either stood around the main table, sat on chairs or leaned against the edge of the other tables in the room. They could act with proper Lucian decorum – none of them would have been in the Kingsglaive if they couldn't – but they, upon an unvoiced decision, had decided not to.

“With the formalities out of the way, I think the most prudent thing to talk about would be the missing Prince Noctis,” Nyx spoke.

He was crouching on top of a metal chair, its back in front of him, his arms resting on top of it. Partly he had done so to see if he could get a reaction out of the seemingly unflappable Second-in-Command, and partly because he really felt the urge to climb something. She had not batted an eye, much to Nyx's mild disappointment.

“How big is the possibility that the Prince was taken out of the city?” Tomix questioned. “Because I assume by this point it's pretty clear that this is no act of petty teenage rebellion.”

“He's a good kid,” Crowe chimed in. “Curious. Shy. He and his little band are pretty close.”

Nyx nodded at that, thinking back to the afternoon in the bar. The Prince had been an attentive listener, quiet, but eager to know more. He also cared about his friends. He would not have up and vanished of his own accord without telling at least one of them.

“If Prince Noctis was taken outside Insomnia, then the instigator must have been an insider. We have been... reluctant to consider the possibility, but I must admit, considering the evidence – or the lack thereof – it's the most likely possibility,” Ser Elshett answered the question.

“What kind of evidence?” Pelna wanted to know.

“Like I said, it is mostly the lack thereof. No signs of a struggle and the night guard also did not notice anything. It looks like Prince Noctis woke up during he night and simply vanished from his rooms.” At this point Ser Elshett turned even more serious than she already was. “Now, there is the possibility that the secret pathways were used, but the people who know about them and also know where they are, can be counted on one hand.”

“Is Titus Drautos among the people who know where those pathways are?” Nyx asked, following a hunch he really didn't want to be right about.

From his place leaning against one of the tables along the long wall, Tredd twitched noticeably.

Ser Elshett blinked in surprise and nodded slowly. Nyx's heart sank.

“Yes. But he has handed in a request for extended vacation time some time ago and wasn't even inside the city when it happened.”

The Galahkari in the tent share glances, especially Nyx and Pelna, who had had a discussion about the Captain with Luche on the way to the haven. Nyx really wished the blond were here. The man was the best at explaining these kinds of things when he put his mind to it.

“Oh, so that's where he has supposedly gone?” Tredd grouched with a scowl on his face. “Good to know the vanishing into thin air without a word is how Drautos takes vacation time. He should do so more often, very practical for all people involved.”

Ser Elshett threw him a look, but restrained herself from saying anything. No one else did either. It's not like Tredd isn't justified in his frustration, Nyx thought. The redhead had been helping Luche on and off in looking for Drautos and they had never found hide nor hair. So when Tredd launched into a rant about what they had – or rather hadn't – found, no one stopped him.

The Captain's office had been untouched as well as his apartment, which was located on the outskirts of the more middle class district and not in or close to Little Galahd. The neighbours hadn't been of any help either, more focused on their own lives as they had been. But what they had been able to tell them was that Drautos was barely in his home. Further investigation had brought up a pub in a neighbourhood mostly inhabited by Tenebrani refugees, but that had been it. No friends, no love life, two people that could be called acquaintances. And those two hadn't been seen either for quite some time. Fancy that.

“That sounds...” Ser Elshett trailed off, frowning.

“Frustrating? Mildly suspicious?” Tredd offered, his tone mildly condescending.

Tomix shot him a warning look, at which the redhead scowled but raised his hands in surrender.

“Let's just say we've had our differences with the Captain as of late. Especially ever since Nyx took over,” Pelna stepped in, his tone placating. “But I have to add for the sake of fairness, that it's quite a jump from thinking his background doesn't add up to suspecting Drautos of kidnapping Lucian royalty.”

“Weren't you one of his most loyal people?” Crowe wanted to know with a raised eyebrow.

Tredd's answer was a rumbling snarl, but Nyx's unblinking stare and the sudden pressure of a static before a storm filling the air, kept him from doing anything else.

“We keep getting distracted,” Nyx stated.

His voice had gained a rumbling quality to it. Ser Elshett was watching him carefully, but nothing else was betraying her nervousness. The rest of her demeanour was a mask of stone cold professionalism. It was something Nyx could appreciate in her.

“There has been no evidence that the Prince is being held captive within Insomnia, much as there is no evidence of him being outside the city. Whoever took him knew what they were doing,” the Marshal's Second-in-Command said.

“Or,” Tomix said slowly, “he knew and trusted his kidnapper.” He shrugged at the looks he was getting. “Think about it. You're a teenager woken in the middle of the night by a trusted adult figure who tells you to follow him and be quiet because there's danger afoot. Of course you follow without questioning this overly much. And by the time you begin to suspect something isn't right, it's too late.”

Ser Elshett sighed. It sounded like this was something she had suspected but hadn't wanted to entertain. Nyx felt a twinge of sympathy for her. Monica Elshett was not only the Marshal's Second-in-Command, but also a friend of his, if he trusted the stories floating around about the two of them. Which also meant that she must have known Titus Drautos quite well, since the man had been part of that circle since early on.

It had always been a point of contention between the members of the Glaive. On one hand, they all had thought of Drautos as one of them, on the other, he had been part of Insomnia's upper echelon by the simple fact that the Lucian King had taken a liking to him.

“It is not impossible,” the Lucian woman admitted at last.

Nyx gave a jerky nod. “Then this is what we'll look into, since we're the only ones who can.”

“Nube – that's Namakar Dala of the Firn Unit-” Pelna added for Ser Elshett's benefit- “gave her first report concerning the situation about two hours ago. They've been stationed near the Hunter's Outpost up north. There have been no suspicious cars coming through since they arrived. Only the usual trucks the hunters and merchants use, and a handful of civilians. The most worrying rumour they picked up was about a roaming pack of ashenhorns coming down from the mountains and roaming the Weaverwilds.”

“So the kidnappers didn't use the northern route. Like we suspected. If Costlemark Tower is indeed their checkpoint, then the road through the Kettier Heighlands is the most plausible one.”

The other Galahkari in the tent nodded at Nyx' assessment. He chewed at the inside of his cheek, wishing either Luche or Libertus had sent word by now. But they both had been quiet and no one liked it. Were his people alright? Had they run into problems? Had they found the mysterious airship?

Suddenly a Glaive practically barrelled through the entrance. All occupants of the command tent looked up. It was Radia Dala. She held a phone in her hand – the same one she had called Axis with – her eyes bright and a grin on her face.

“Makti-Oir, Makari,” she greeted, also politely nodding at Ser Elshett. Radia then proceeded in Hadnissa like the Lucian woman wasn't there. “Memakar Ostium called. They made it close to the Costlemark Tower, said they had to take a detour around a behemoth's nest, so they couldn't make it there sooner. But they've had visual on that red airship. It's still there, waiting for something.”

“Finally!” Crowe exclaimed with a grin. “The big guy sure took his sweet time.”

Nyx felt his own grin mirror Crowe's. “Any more details?”

“He said he only had a visual on three people for now. A woman and two men. Draskelio said she's definitely Nifasi mountain folk. The men were wearing clothes more suited for cold weather,” Radia reported.

“Good work. Send them a message that they're not to engage until we arrive. They're to keep out of sight and keep an eye on the situation,” Nyx ordered.

Radia gave a single nod before she turned around and marched back out of the tent.

“At least we're getting somewhere,” Tredd commented, stroking his chin in thought.

“As if we haven't gotten anywhere before,” Crowe muttered barely loud enough for Nyx to hear.

He turned to look at her and his gaze fell on Ser Elshett, who hadn't moved from where she was standing. The look on her face could only be described and confused and slightly put upon, but it quickly vanished behind her mask of cool professionalism as soon as she noticed him looking. Nyx refused to feel bad.

“Look, ma'am, if you really want to be a liaison-officer for us, you better learn our language,” Tredd said in that charming way of his.

Pelna rolled his eyes with a quiet groan. Nyx could sympathise. Ser Elshett shot the redhead a pleasant smile, one that looked similar to those the noble ladies tended to wear at court, but this one made Nyx's hair stand on end.

“Of course, Sir Furia. And I am sure you will be most willing to help me in that endeavour, I gather?”

Tredd sputtered, clearly at a loss for words for once. Tomix laughed.

“She's got you there, idiot.”

Nyx slid down from his chair and stood up, effectively gaining the attention of everyone within the tent, before the situation could devolve any further. Ser Elshett could clearly give back as good as she got and it would have been amusing to see Tredd arguing with her and trying to stay on this side of polite while doing it, but there were more important things that needed to be done.

“Ser Elshett, Libertus Ostium has just given word that he arrived in the Costlemark area. He has a visual on the red airship and three members of the crew. A woman and two men.”

The Lucian woman raised her eyebrows. “A woman? The Nifasi normally don't allow woman in their military.”

“Which means there's either politics involved, or she's really good,” Pelna guessed.

“Quite, Sir Khara,” Ser Elshett nodded. “There is also the possibility of her being an outside contractor. A mercenary.”

“This is getting stranger and stranger,” Tomix muttered.

“What are you talking about? Things got strange the moment mister coeurl over there started spewing lightning,” Tredd said, pointing his thumb at Nyx.

“Yes, yes, that's nice and all, but can we please stay on topic for five minutes? I want to be done with this meeting sometime today,” Crowe said, arms crossed in front of her chest.

Tredd scoffed but kept quiet.

“Right,” Nyx sighed with a nod. “Luche is also on his way to Costlemark Tower. I'll be going there as well. Something big is going on and we need to know what it is. None of us wants to see another of the Niff's surprises.”

The Galahkari shared grim glances between each other. They all remembered the first real 'surprise' the Niffs had given them. Niflheim's first air strike had reduced Ulnen to nothing more than rubble and cinders. Ser Elshett looked equally grim. She may not know what the other people in the tent were thinking about, but she had witnessed her own share of surprise attacks from the Niffs.

“When will we be going?” the Lucian woman wanted to know.

For half a second Nyx didn't know how to answer that. Ser Elshett was a liaison-officer for the camp, but she was also the Marshal's Second-in-Command. He met her cool and calm gaze with his own.

“Three hours,” he said, not doing her the disservice of asking her to remain here.

“I'll be coming with as well,” Crowe declared, her tone brooking no argument. “I'll ask one of the other mages to keep an eye on our MT research.”

Nyx frowned but nodded. Tredd did so as well.

“Pelna, would you show Ser Elshett to her tent? We all need time to get ready,” Nyx asked his friend.

The man nodded. “Of course. Ser Elshett, if you would follow me?”

Nyx was sure she wouldn't need that long to get ready. She was a military woman after all. But she looked tired and an hour long nap would do her some good he gathered.

Ser Elshett nodded, bowed towards Nyx, and then followed Pelna out of the tent.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Crowe asserted.

Tredd mumbled something causing Tomix to give him a clap on the shoulder. “Come now. You're just pissed that she didn't take your crap lying down. That woman is something else. I once heard she got the Marshal to play nice with some nobles for a whole afternoon.”

Nyx remembered hearing something about that during one of his stints as a palace guard. Apparently an enterprising noble had tried to marry one of his nieces to Marshal Leonis. The noble had been just far enough up the ladder that a simple 'no' would not have cut it. Monica Elshett had been the one to make sure the Marshal gave a polite enough refusal to stave off a political incident.

“Really? I thought no one could make the Marshal do what he doesn't want to,” Crowe said.

“The only people who can do that are the King and the Lord Shield. And Ser Elshett, apparently,” Nyx mused.

There was a short beat of silence.

“As fascinating as this topic might be, we have more important things going on. Nyx, you're sure you want to go to Costlemark?” Tomix asked.

“Yes,” he affirmed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Crowe did not look pleased with that. “I hate your bad feelings, you know that, tight?”

All Nyx could do was shrug. It was like he had a sixth sense for when things tended to get real bad real fast. Worse, the feelings were nearly always correct and not very helpful at all, since they never were specific enough for him to do something. Both Crowe and Libertus had learned to not question his bad feelings and curse them at the same time. Should he mention that he had had a bad feeling ever since this training trip had started?

Three hours later the group of three climbed into the van Ser Elshett had arrived in. It was already getting close to evening by that point, but the headlights of their vehicle were strong enough to keep the daemons away from them, and if they drove in shifts, they wouldn't need to stop for longer than to change seats.

Nyx was not sure what was about to happen, but he knew the camp would be in good hands with Tomix. The man did not hesitate when there was a threat. He only needed to be able to see it.

Ser Elshett looked like she had taken the time granted and had taken a nap. Though it was Crowe who would be driving for the first three hours.

They were mostly silent when they left the camp behind them, their things stored in the back of the van along with a small crate of curatives. Ser Elshett had looked mildly surprised when she had seen the bottles within were obviously not of Lucian make, but hadn't said anything about it. Now, for several long minutes, the only sound in the car had been the radio blaring some electro-funk monstrosity.

“Can't you change the channel?” Nyx asked.

He did not whine. No matter what certain other people in the van might have thought.

“You know the rules. Driver gets to pick the music,” Crowe chided him. “If I have to tolerate your obsession with folk-metal, you can listen to this.”

With a bone weary sigh Nyx sank deeper into his seat. Crowe's music taste wasn't that bad, really. It was just that sometimes the electronic beats made Nyx want to claw his skin off. He knew Crowe would change channels if it really bothered him, but their banter was a familiar comfort at this point. The only thing missing was Libertus claiming that both their music tastes were shit and his was superior. Obviously. Ignoring the fact the he liked folk-metal nearly as much as Nyx did.

“Makti-Oir, may I ask a question?” Ser Elshett asked from the back seat.

“Of course, Ser Elshett.”

“I had the time to take a quick look at the MT research your people are conducting. How far along are you with that? If you manage to get quick results, it will be a great help for the war effort.”

Nyx turned around in his seat to get a better look at the Lucian woman. She looked at him, the picture of professional calm, a folder resting in her lap. Top Secret had been stamped in bright bold letters on the front.

“Before we can come to any conclusive results, we need to take a look at more MTs. One is hardly a good number to base your strategies on.”

“Of course,” Ser Elshett agreed with a tilt of her head. She held out the folder. “May I ask you to take a look at this? It contains the Marshal's findings during his excursion into Niflheim. It has been determined that it would be beneficial for you to know about these findings.”

Nyx's eyebrows threatened to vanish into his hairline in surprise, but he took the folder with a quiet word of thanks. When had the Marshal been in Niflheim? Surely it had not been during the last few years. The man rarely left Insomnia for more than a few days at a time. After all, the Crownsguard was a defensive force, made to protect and not to attack.

Not quite sure what to think about this, really, Nyx opened the folder. There were a few moments of silence where the only sound was the music filling the air. Until Nyx let loose a foul string of curses barely two pages in. Crowe shot him a look before she focussed on the street again.

“Is this true?” Nyx demanded, twisting around in his seat to get a proper look at Ser Elshett in the back.

She raised her eyebrows. “There is absolutely no reason to doubt the validity of the Marshal's words.”

“What's going on?” Crowe demanded.

“There are... photos,” Nyx began hesitantly.

“And?”

“The MTs are made of clones,” he said at last. “Clones that look like Prompto.”

The van swerved. In her shock and surprise Crowe had jerked the wheel. Nyx grabbed the door with a curse. A lone car coming towards them honked its displeasure.

“Fuck. Don't do that, Crowe,” Nyx exclaimed, slipping into Hadnissa.

“Then maybe don't tell me such things while I'm driving, you dolt!” she shot back, face grim.

In the back Ser Elshett sat back up straight and leaned slightly forward. “This information is old – close to fifteen years in fact – but it is the most recent information we know for sure is accurate. Marshal Leonis went to Niflheim because word reached us that something strange was going on in their factories. He was gone for a bit over half a year before he came back with these photos and a child.”

Crowe and Nyx shared a look.

“Prompto,” the former only half guessed.

Ser Elshett nodded. “Yes. He was barely over a year old. A toddler. The examination showed nothing wrong with him – he was a perfectly healthy child. So he was given into a good family able to look after him. We kept an eye on him for a few years, but he kept developing like a normal child should, so surveillance was relaxed and stopped at one point.”

Nyx had no words to express just how many kinds of messed up this all was. He took a deep breath to keep calm, to keep his magic from accidentally wrecking their mode of transportation, and opened his mouth to ask how the fuck the Marshal had managed to smuggle a toddler from Niflheim to Lucis.

“Does he know?” was what came out instead.

“Pardon?”

“Does Prompto know about this?”

Nyx's voice had taken on a deep growling quality, and he gestured towards the folder in his lap as he spoke. Ser Elshett gave him a wary look. She most likely knew she was on very thin ice right now.

“No,” she said.

With screeching tires the van skidded to a halt.

“Nyx,” Crowe hissed through clenched teeth. “Get out of the car. Get out now before you lose your temper and fry us all in here.”

Without a word and a snarl twisting his lips, Nyx opened the door and practically jumped outside. The air was dusty and stuffy from a long, sunny day, and the dust seemed to glow from the light of the low hanging sun. It would be dusk soon. Nyx took a deep breath to try and calm the raging storm inside of him, fuelled by his magic, with only middling success.

Behind him another door was opened and closed. Ser Elshett's scent of housecat-leather-honey travelled on the breeze. She stopped a respectable distance away from him.

“He's got a right to know. It's dangerous not to know these things about yourself,” Nyx declared after a few moments of silence.

His thoughts drifted to the stories of his family. Things might have been so much different, if he had just had someone to tell him the details. If he had had someone alive to teach him, to tell him that something like what was happening to him now, was very much possible.

“Up until recently, he would have been at a higher risk, if he had known about his circumstances. Insomnia is very isolated. Nothing comes in or out easily – there was no threat that would have justified telling a child that he is a clone grown in Niflheim to be fuel for their MTs.”

There was harshness in Ser Elshett's tone, as well as the hint of a reprimand.

“He should have been told the moment it became clear he would remain in your Prince's retinue. Someone in Niflheim is bound to notice that he looks exactly like a MT clone. You don't want him to find out about it like that.”

As Nyx spoke these words, he whirled around to face Monica Elshett. Through the cracks of her professionalism he saw a mix of anger and indignation. At him? No. She seemed to be the type of person who was perfectly able to make nice with people, no matter how much she disliked them. That she let something slip through the cracks could only mean one thing in Nyx's mind: she didn't agree with how the situation was handled either.

“My personal opinions have no bearing on the situation,” she said in clipped tones.

A noise of utter frustration escaped Nyx's throat. Damn. He hated how much more... emotional he had become since all this magic crap had happened.

For a long moment the two looked at each other, before silently coming to the agreement that this was an argument for another time. There were more pressing matters to attend to.

“Hey Nyx! You cooled off yet? Don't want to rush you, but if we want to arrive sometime before daybreak, we need to go now!” Crowe called, halfway leaning out of the open door on the driver's side.

The man in question couldn't help the grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. His storm-sister had a certain way to break up tense moments. A slowly cooling wind brought the scent of the approaching night, reminding him that it wouldn't take long until being outside the van would become increasingly dangerous. He nodded towards Ser Elshett and returned to his seat. The Lucian woman followed his example.

As they continued their journey, the atmosphere within the van was slightly awkward, slightly tense, but there was neither any aggression nor anger. Nyx decided to count that as a win.

Chapter Text

Hours later, when it was Ser Elshett's turn to drive, Nyx was woken from his nap by the voice of Libertus coming through the radio. He stretched and sat up straight on the rear bench seat he had lain across. It was pitch black outside. The only light was provided by a group of ice bombs to their left and one functioning street light ahead of them.

“Everything's quiet,” Libertus was saying in Hadnissa. “I'll approach to see, if I can make sure this hunk of chunk won't fly away on us.”

“No, Libertus. Stay where you are. If a guard sees you this whole operation is busted,” Crowe called back.

“They've been here for at least twelve hours now. Who knows when they'll decide it's too risky to stay here and try to book it? Better make sure they can't leave now when it's dark and noises can be attributed to daemons. Besides, I'm an Ostium, and contrary to popular belief we're quite good at stealth,” Libertus argued back.

Nyx couldn't see her face, but he was very sure Crowe was grimacing.

“I hate it when you're right like that,” she grouched, and then nodded with a sigh. “Alright. Do it. But be careful. If you get yourself killed over something like this, I'll drag you out from beyond the Gate and kill you again. Understood?”

“Understood.”

Was there a touch of amusement in Libertus' voice? Nyx shook his head in fond exasperation.

“We'll get ready to await you. Poful Unit over and out.”

“Over and out,” Crowe replied and hit a switch.

The quiet static vanished and the car radio turned back on. The tunes of a Duscan country song filled the air. Nyx yawned and leaned forward.

“What did I miss?” he asked in Lucian.

Ser Elshett's eyes flickered to him in the rear mirror while Crowe's head practically hit the roof of the car.

“Damn, Nyx. Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

His storm-sister twisted around in her seat to glare at him. Nyx just smirked at her and Crowe turned back around with a huff.

“Where exactly are we?” Nyx decided to ask after a moment.

“Near the end of Kettier Highland. We should reach Oathe Haven in about two hours. From there we will need to continue on foot,” Ser Elshett replied.

“We heard from Luche. Kresch Unit had just passed the chocobo ranch when he did. They might be too far away to be of help, when it comes to a fight, though. And Libertus radioed in just before you woke up: No movement at the airship yet, but he decided to try to sabotage it in case it would try to leave before we arrive,” Crowe informed him.

Nyx tilted his head in thought. He would have liked Luche there when it came to a fight, but on the other hand they needed to keep it stealthy for now and more people would just be counterproductive for that. Sabotaging the airship was a good move, provided Libertus didn't get caught and managed to not make it look like someone had tampered with it. He looked at the sky. The moon was but a sliver and for a short moment Nyx had the ridiculous thought that it looked like a blinking eye.

“We'll be cutting it close,” he said more to himself.

“We had to wait for a group of goblins to get out of our way,” Ser Elshett explained. “Fighting them would not have been beneficial to us, if we are about to have a clash with Niflheim.”

“Let's just hope there won't be another herd of daemons that decides it would be a good idea to camp out on the street,” Crowe commented and held out a bottle of water to Nyx, who took it with a grateful nod.

At that moment the music stopped and an announcer started speaking.

“Welcome back, folks. And after this nice excursion into Duscae, it is time for the flash-news: Ever since the last reported sighting of General Glauca at the front three weeks ago, Niflheim has been quiet. Experts expect there to be another attack soon. Biologist Sanja Yeager has received allowance to study the fire ash that spontaneously grew in Little Galahd, under close Galahdian supervision. King Regis and his council are working hard to have Galahd recognized as a foreign nation despite growing protests from the conservatives and traditionalists. King Ulric still refuses further interviews. Drakon's Day will be next week, so get your blades ready for the dance, folks! It is still unclear if Galahd will be participating this year, or sit the day out like they usually do. These were the flash-news, and now for the weather.”

Nyx's only outward reaction was an exhausted sigh. Pitioss, he was no King! Both women in the front of the truck shot him a look. Nyx resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He was not having this discussion again. Especially in front of a Lucian.

The music picked back up. This time, it was some kind of ballad. Nyx slumped back into his seat. The journey couldn't be over soon enough.

When the journey was over, there was barely any time left before dawn. They had left the van behind at the Haven and then trekked the rest of the way on foot through the trees. That part had been slow going since they had had to avoid any roaming daemons, but they had managed to arrive in time. Barely.

Libertus waited for them. He was ducking in a thicket of bushes just out of sight of the airship. It seemed like his plan had gone off without a hitch. His storm-brother waved at them in greeting with a smug grin. Crowe scowled.

“Crawled into the turbine,” Libertus explained, expression smug, after they had exchanged greetings. “Should take them a while to figure that one out. They only had one night guard and that guy was easy to sneak around.”

“The others?” Nyx questioned, keeping his voice low.

“We spread out into a perimeter a bit further ahead. I was waiting for you. What do we do now? Attack?”

Nyx shook his head. “No. We'll wait to see whatever they're waiting for. Ser Elshett brought a camera to make pictures of the airship. If this is a new type of ship waiting to go into mass production, we need to know what we're dealing with.”

“Let's go continue the stakeout then,” Libertus prompted and proceeded to sneak through the bushes.

All three new arrivals followed. It took them a long few minutes to reach a place beneath the thick bushes that hid them but allowed view on the airship. Just within his periphery Nyx could see Draskelio Furia leaning against the surprisingly thick trunk of a tree – for Lucian conditions, that was. His red hair was hidden behind an earthly coloured piece of cloth and it looked like he had rubbed earth all over his face. Same as they all had done before getting too close.

The airship was small for the dreadnought it was built after, but still surprisingly large. Just like the reports had said. Its red colouration did nothing to help it blend in with its surroundings. The heavy cannon at the front was missing and its slimmer build lent itself more towards manoeuvrability than firepower. All in all, the thing really looked like trouble, and Nyx was seriously contemplating letting Draskelio blow it up.

With a few quick hand signs Ser Elshett communicated that she would leave them to document the airship. Nyx nodded and turned his gaze back to the red monstrosity. How many people fit in there? A crew of thirty? To him it was just clear that this airship wasn't built to transport large amounts of soldiers.

Wind rustled through the leaves, suddenly a bit colder than it had been before, and a few clouds started to creep across the sky. Crowe laid on her stomach, frowning in concentration.

Nyx did not know how many minutes they waited until they saw movement. A ramp lowered slowly and revealed two men strolling down onto the ground. They wore heavy coats in white and grey – military cut, but there was no insignia to be seen.

“This is getting ridiculous,” the one in white complained loud enough for Nyx to hear.

Grey shrugged.

“Oh come on, you know I'm right. We've been here for days now. The only reason Lady A hasn't left yet is that we get paid more the longer this takes,” White continued.

“I know,” Grey said in a surprisingly deep voice.

“Yeah,” White relented with a sigh. “Yeah. Sorry, man. Waiting just makes me antsy. Damn, I wish there was something other to do than run the same diagnostics again and again.”

“I know,” Grey said again.

White huffed. For a moment they stood there in silence.

“So. What do you think is this all about?” White asked.

Grey shot White a look like this wasn't the first time he had been asked this. White raised his hands in surrender.

“I know, I know. But come on. You must have some ideas by now. It must be something big, if the bigwigs in Gralea won't tell even Lady A any specifics.”

“We're mercenaries,” Grey pointed out.

“True, but how are we supposed to make sure a job is within our parameters, if we don't have all the information?”

“We owe Izunia.”

Nyx couldn't see White's face, but his sigh was loud and aggrieved.

“That guy gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah.”

“I mean, seriously. Have you seen that guy weasel around Aldercapt? No one knows where he came from, and suddenly Besithia has a new best friend and became even more of a lab-freak. Seriously. What was he even doing in Fodina Caestino?”

“Not checking out the malboro infestation, that's for sure,” a female voice answered, causing both men to stand at attention.

“Lady A!” White and Grey chorused.

A woman stepped into view, tall and muscular with pale skin and ashen hair. Draskelio had been right, she looked like the was of the Nifasi mountain folk. She wore black armour with red highlights and a red half skirt falling down to her shin. Confidence shone in every step this Lady A took.

“Quit it, boys. I never said this wasn't shady as fuck.”

Both men relaxed.

“Any news from our contact?” White asked.

The woman nodded. “They'll be here within the hour. Wedge, prepare a secure room. Apparently we're to expect an involuntary passenger.”

Grey nodded and vanished back into the airship. Nyx tensed. Were they talking about Prince Noctis? It would be one heck of a coincidence for the Prince to have vanished and for these guys to pick up a wholly different hostage. If they used this chance right, they could free the Prince and sabotage the Niffs in one fell swoop.

“You don't look too happy, Lady A,” White commented after a moment.

“I don't like this job,” Lady A admitted, clearly disgruntled with the situation. “And I don't like that it was Izunia who set us up with it. That man is too cunning for anyone's good.”

“You think Fodina Caestino was a trap?”

“It might have been. Would have been one heck of a coincidence otherwise, to meet him there. On the other hand, the way he acted makes me think he saw a chance with us and adjusted his plans accordingly on the fly. Those are the most dangerous people.”

Branches bent in a heavy gust of wind. The air felt charged with an oncoming storm. Both White and Lady A looked up into the trees and to the slowly multiplying clouds.

“Let's go back inside. Looks like the weather won't hold for too much longer, and I for my part could do with some breakfast,” White suggested.

Lady A frowned but nodded and together they headed inside. The ramp stayed lowered. A careless mistake.

Nyx exchanged a look with Libertus. His storm-brother had also clearly filed away the name Izunia for later research.

“We need someone on that airship,” Nyx muttered.

Libertus gave a soundless sigh. “I was afraid you would say that.”

Crowe shot them both warning looks, but kept moving her lips soundlessly. Nyx could feel the embers-woodsmoke-gasoline of her magic press against his skin and rise to the beginnings of a firestorm. Was she trying to cast a field spell without the assistance of her Unit? Nyx frowned and was about to tell her to stop, when Libertus shifted next to him.

“Alright then. I'll go.”

“What? No!”

“Yes, I will,” Libertus whispered furiously. “I don't like the idea as much as you do, but let's face it: besides you, I'm the best at stealth here and with the situation as it is, it would be really bad if something were to happen to you in there, Makti-Oir.”

Oh, that was a low blow. Nyx scowled at his storm-brother, who held his burning gaze unflinchingly. They both knew Libertus was correct. Again Nyx was reminded why hated politics with a passion. In the end he gave a defeated sigh.

“Alright. But be careful, you hear me? I don't want to have to give Murus your beads.”

Libertus nodded, face grim. With that he unsheathed one of his kukri and started to crawl backwards through the bushes. The feeling of smooth scales-tall mountain-processed air drifted against Nyx' senses as Libertus slashed the kukri through the air in front of him. The air around him glimmered. It seemed to bend and warp until it reflected the environment back at the person looking, making Libertus practically invisible. Movement could still be seen by a cautious watcher or someone who knew what they were looking for, but it was a neat trick the Ostium Glaives had figured out some time ago and was a real help. If only it weren't so energy-consuming for everybody else.

With a soundless sigh of slight irritation, Nyx turned his attention towards Draskelio and let him know what Libertus was doing through a series of hand signs. The man gave a near imperceptible nod.

From the moment this operation had started, their plans had been twofold: Get intel on the new airship and the crew, and find out what they were doing here. Both had been archived, but now a third component had been added: save the person the Niffs wanted to smuggle out of Lucis. It was also very likely that this person was Prince Noctis.

Now it was a waiting game. They needed to wait for the Prince to arrive. A period of time during which the weather grew steadily worse and Crowe progressively paler. More than once Nyx threw her a worried look, but every time he tried to convince her to stop, she threw him a poisonous glare and stubbornly kept going.

It was not ideal and probably wouldn't help much, but carefully Nyx added a few drops of his own magic into the stream Crowe was slowly weaving into a spell. Thunder rumbled in the distance.

Nearly half an hour passed before Nyx heard the heavy footsteps that sent ice cold dread down his spine. He would never forget the sound of these footsteps carelessly crunching plants beneath their boots. In the back of his mind he could hear Selena's voice calling him in desperation.

General Glauca appeared through the trees like a figure straight out of a nightmare. His armour whirred with every movement he made and the reddish glow of the cuirass and helmet cast a ghostly light into the darkening morning. Over his left shoulder the hulking man carried a motionless figure. All Nyx could see were black clothes, black hair and pale skin, but it was enough to identify the figure as Prince Noctis.

Ruthlessly Nyx suppressed the urge to jump out of his hiding place and attack. Instead he sank into the currents of his magic, letting the coeurl-deep jungle-instinct drown out most of his fear and hate. His hearing sharpened and his lips lifted into a soundless snarl. The smell of ozone started to permeate the air causing pack-sister to quietly hiss through her litany and grab his lower arm. A deep rumble sounded from Nyx's throat in a bid to reassure her. He was a hunter, he could be patient. He could wait for the right moment to strike.

Concentrating, Nyx tilted his head. He could barely hear it over the wind and rustling leaves, but cub-of-den-leader's breathing was steady, if a bit laboured. Metal-predator stopped in front of the lowered ramp of the airship, his stance unconcerned and confident.

She-warrior descended only a moment later. Her ash-blonde hair was bound in a high tail at the top of her head and she carried a lance with her. A headdress that looked like stylized feathery wings gleamed in the low light.

Heavy clouds roiled through the sky, dark and foreboding. Thunder rumbled and the wind seemed to grow colder still.

“You certainly took your time, General,” she-warrior commented, seemingly indifferent to the cub tossed over metal-predator's shoulder.

If Nyx hadn't heard the two males talking earlier this morning, he would have believed this little show. He looked at fire-red, making him understand with a series of slow hand signs that Nyx would take on metal-predator while the others would concentrate on getting cub-of-den-leader. Fire-red nodded and slowly turned his head to sign to someone hidden in the undergrowth a bit further back. A human voice sang like a bird and was answered by another.

Up ahead the she-warrior still put on an act of nonchalance, but Nyx could practically smell the tension she felt around the metal-predator. It was strangely gratifying to know that even the Niffs were afraid of this man.

The first drops started falling.

Crowe released a hissed breath.

“The Kingsglaive is on the move,” a modulated masculine voice ground through the air.

She-warrior tilted her head. “Oh, so they were a threat this time, then? I distinctly remember you saying they weren't a problem.”

Nyx bit back a furious growl. Who did that walking mountain of scrap metal think he was? His fingers flexed against the ground. Tiny sparks of lightning sizzled in the earth.

“Things can change quickly, Highwind. Those savages never do as you tell them, even if it is for their own good.”

Only Crowe's sudden grip on his breastplate kept Nyx from jumping out of his hiding place and trying to tear out metal-predator's throat with his teeth. How dare he? How dare he after killing his sister in front of him? How dare he after driving Nyx's people out of their homes?

“You're the expert of the two of us here,” she-warrior said.

Something in her tone was tense. Her stance had shifted into one where she could spring into action even more easily than before. What metal-predator had said must have hit her as well. In the back of his mind Nyx wondered what had happened to her.

Metal-predator said nothing for a few tense moments, then he shifted and laid cub-of-den-leader on the ground. Before metal-predator could stand up properly again, Nyx sprung into action.

Lightning flashed high in the sky.

Nyx tackled the armoured man right around the middle, causing him to stumble away from the prone form now lying on the ground. It would hopefully give one of the hunting-pack the time and space to bring cub-of-den-leader to safety.

In a flash foreigner-ally whizzed past him, her expression hard as stone and gaze focussed on the unconscious cub. She held a double bladed staff poised to attack. Then she was out of his field of vision.

There was movement behind him, but Nyx couldn't concentrate on that. He twisted out of the way of a large metal clad hand and hissed, teeth bared and eyes blazing. Unsheathing his kukri, he crouched low, ready to move in a split second.

“I should have known you would be here to cause trouble again,” metal-predator growled in anger.

Instead of answering, Nyx sprung forward, only to dive to the right and then throw a kukri upwards to hit metal-predator from above. Anticipating the move, the armoured man grabbed Nyx by the arm and threw him against the nearest tree. The air left his lungs with a gasp. He landed on the soft earth and rolled a few paces just in time to avoid the huge sword that stabbed the ground where he had landed. A growled curse passed his lips.

It had begun to rain in earnest now. Thick sheets of water poured out of nearly black clouds. Metal-predator was a black silhouette in the rain, giving off a sinister glow. Cold wind battered Nyx's bare skin.

He crouched low and carefully crept around the hulking dark shape, trying to take advantage of the low visibility. It was for naught. The armour whirred. Barely a moment later a fist landed painfully against Nyx's left shoulder. He did his best to roll with the motion, but it still felt like someone had tried to amputate his arm with blunt force.

Rolling backwards, he came to his feet again. The fingers of his left hand had gone numb. Nyx roared. Lightning flashed around him in a barely controlled arc. For a split second the darkness was illuminated and Nyx was nearly blinded. Still he saw she-warrior defending against fire-red. Foreigner-ally now crouched defensively over cub-of-den-leader, her weapon poised and ready.

An exhale and the darkness returned, nearly blinding in its own right. Nyx leapt forward and slid over the wet and muddy ground behind the metal-predator.

He knew his weakness.

With a nimble leap he jumped on the metal giant's back and at once started to pour his magic into the armour. Lightning sizzled along metal and through the air. The rain around them started to steam.

Metal-predator roared more in anger than in pain, but Nyx kept going. He would expose this son of a demon. A fist hit him in the ribs, another grazed his cheek. Throbbing pain bloomed where the hits landed, but Nyx held on, snarling and hissing, pouring magic and lightning in the metal beneath his fingers. A crunching sound grated in his ears. The same moment the helmet started to come off, he was thrown onto the ground.

Nyx landed with a wet squelching sound on the muddy earth. The helmet still in his grasp. For a split second a strike of lightning illuminated a face Nyx knew well, however it was twisted into an expression he had never seen before – lips pulled back in a sneer and eyes full of a festering hatred. Nyx felt the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Metal-predator, someone who should have been friend-and-fellow-hunter, started to speak, but the words were swallowed by a rumble of thunder that made the air shudder with its force. The hands clutching the helmet twitched, causing lightning to travel along the grooves. Nyx should have expected this. He should have. But still, having seen the person under the metal was like a punch in the gut. It hurt.

The helmet between his hands started to crack under the force of the magic he was channelling through it. Nyx let the thing fall to the ground with a snarl and drew his sword, kukris lost somewhere in the dark and mud. The mithril the sword was made of, nearly seemed to glow in the gloom and the bronze shimmer of the runes had become more pronounced.

The whirring of the armour was his only warning. He twisted out of the way. Mud and water splashed every which way as metal-predator landed where he had been a mere moment before, sword swinging to decapitate Nyx.

He lunged at metal-predator's unprotected side, sword poised. Sparks flew as the blade connected with the gauntlet. The resulting screeching sound nearly made Nyx flinch. The strike left behind a cut, not deep but still visible with a bronze glow. Whatever the armour was made of, it did not hold up against a few thousand year old magical blade.

Another strike.

And another.

They exchanged a flurry of attacks and counter attacks. Each time Nyx hit the armour, a glowing scratch was left behind. Ducking beneath a strike of the giant red bladed sword, Nyx dove forward, slid behind him on the muddy ground and slashed the back of his knee. The force of the strike was big enough to slice through the mesh armour there.

Metal-predator roared, then stumbled. But as he did so, he seemed to slow down.

For a moment Nyx thought it was the adrenaline, but then he saw the bronze glowing nicks and cuts pulsing in time with the runes on his sword. When had they started doing that?

Nyx heaved himself onto his feet, stumbling towards the ever slower moving metal-predator, suddenly aware of his own wounds. The cut on his upper arm, the forming bruises on his upper back, side left shoulder and cheek. Nevertheless he lifted his sword, intending to end this once and for all. Their eyes met through the stormy gloom. Both knew what was coming next.

A sudden explosion rocketed through the air, throwing Nyx off his feet. Flames spread their orange glow and heat slammed against Nyx's skin like a hammer. Something landed against his side, stealing his breath. No, not something, he thought as he blinked the rainwater out of his eyes, but someone. It was Crowe.

Pale and trembling she lay against his side in the mud and rain. Through the ringing in his ears and the fuzzy feeling of his mind, Nyx was barely coherent enough to realize she was suffering a bad case of stasis sickness. He patted her down, finding a glass vial in the pouch hanging from her belt, and forced the contents down her throat. Hopefully it had been an ether.

Releasing a shuddering breath when Crowe's trembling grew less pronounced, Nyx looked up to assess the situation.

Glauca – Titus – was gone. The airship was on fire. The explosion had ripped a huge hole into its hull. Rain hissed and evaporated as it hit the searing flames and hot metal. The scene the fire illuminated was not necessarily a bad one.

Ser Elshett was spreading a potion over Libertus's skin. The man grimaced every time the potion touched his skin. Prince Noctis sat next to them in the mud, blinking drowsily, but conscious and looking unharmed. Most of Poful Unit had an eye on the three prisoners they had taken: Highwind and the two men that had called her Lady A earlier. They looked battered and a bit worse for wear, but not seriously harmed.

Good.

He looked down at Crowe again. She was more aware now, blinking through the rain, though still too pale and trembling slightly.

“You helping me up or what?” she grouched, squinting up at him.

With a helpless chuckle Nyx did just that. She began swaying the moment she stood.

“Pitioss.” The curse left her lips in a heated whisper.

They approached the group slowly, supporting each other with every step. Draskelio nodded at them, a fierce grin on his lips.

“Good fight,” the red haired man said.

Nyx nodded. Pride sparked in his chest, tinged only with the frustration that Glauca had escaped again.

“Gather everyone up! We need to get out of this weather,” he commanded loudly. “Crowe, you can stop now.”

Field spells like this took a while to dispel properly, so even if Crowe cut the magic flow now, it would take a while for the weather to clear up enough for their group to travel anywhere far. To his surprise Crowe shook her head.

“This isn't my doing. I cut the magic flow the moment it started to rain.”

Overhead thunder rumbled, deep and furious. Dread began to fill Nyx. This was not good.

“Wiasro olohi!” he called over the sound of the storm, not sure who all heard him. Though he added in Lucian: “We need to get to Costlemark before this gets any worse!”

Even the three captured mercenaries helped without protest. Collecting weapons and helping the more injured walk through the trees. The mud was ankle deep by now and made the terrain very difficult to navigate.

Wood groaned beneath the force of the wind, but thankfully they held the worst of it away from the group. Carefully, Nyx did his best to keep the flames within his hands burning. With every step Nyx took, he felt the responsibility of leading them to relative safety, weight him down more and more. With how things were going, the storm would kill the weaker members of the group, if they did not find the tower soon.

It took what felt like an eternity until Nyx felt stone beneath his feet instead of mud. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Behind the group, lighting struck a tree, causing the bark to splinter off violently. Someone cried out in pain.

Cursing in every language he knew, Nyx hurried forward. Even the flames within his hands did not do much to illuminate the darkness of the day. He could barely see the high reaching walls around him. Despite the urgency, Nyx couldn't help but wonder what the tower must have looked like back in the days of Solheim. It must have been a sight to see, certainly.

In the end, they hunkered down in the tower itself. More precisely, at the entrance, as it was the only part that still had a ceiling. Though if the rain kept falling like this, they couldn't stay here for forever, he thought eyeing the stairs they had walked down. Exhausted and relieved, Nyx extinguished the fire burning in his hands. Keeping it alive through the wind and rain had worn out the last dregs of his magical reserves.

Without prompting Draskelio formed a fireball between his own hands and threw it up towards the ceiling, where it didn't explode but hovered, giving off a flickering orange light. The ball was quickly followed by a second and third one, all three sluggishly spinning around each other.

For a moment Nyx just slumped against the nearest wall and breathed. This had been a hit show. They had achieved what they had set out to do, yes, but Glauca – Titus – Glauca had escaped and the weather was so bad, Nyx began to wonder if it was natural. Until it cleared up they were stuck here, which was no good either. Thunder rumbled and seemed to make the stone tremble.

With a groan Nyx stood up straight again, his side protesting his every movement, to check on the Prince. The boy was sitting three stairs up, shoulder slumped against the wall, shivering. Ser Elshett hovered next to him. She had a few cuts on her face and the material of her uniform looked slightly singed, but otherwise she looked unharmed. The two adults nodded at each other before Nyx carefully crouched down.

“How are you feeling, Highness?” he asked, voice as gentle as he could make it and still be heard over the storm.

It took more effort to switch to Lucian than it normally did, even after a tough battle.

The Prince blinked and looked at him. “I-” He bit his lip and frowned. “Captain Drautos. You have to warn my father! He-”

“Highness! It's okay. We know. Your father is unharmed and well. Did Glauca do anything to harm you?” Nyx questioned, doing his best to reassure the distraught teenager in front of him.

Prince Noctis shook his head. “Captain Drautos woke me in the middle of the night, saying there was an intruder in the Citadel and he had been tasked with bringing me somewhere safe. We- we were somewhere below the Citadel when I noticed something was off. The Captain wasn't following the evacuation protocol and when I asked him about it, he-”

The kid stopped again, wringing his hands.

“It is alright, Highness,” Ser Elshett spoke up. “I think we can imagine what happened next.”

A relieved look spread across the prince's face. Nyx did his best to give him a reassuring smile, but he had no idea how well he was succeeding at it.

“We'll do our best to get you back home safely, Highness. You have my word.”

“Thank you,” Prince Noctis mumbled, eyes drooping.

Nyx slowly stood up again, using the wall as an aid. He exchanged a look with Ser Elshett. They both knew it would be more difficult to fulfil this promise than they had originally anticipated.

“We cannot stay here for too long,” Ser Elshett murmured so Prince Noctis would not hear her. “Not with this rain, and I have a feeling it will only get worse.”

Nyx nodded in agreement, face grim. He looked over their little group. Everyone was wet down to their bones. Those injured sat either on the stairs or on the floor leaning against the walls while the others were handing out potions. Libertus and Crowe were at the foot of the stairs, her sitting, him crouching next to her. His storm-brother had semi-healed burns along his right arm and face. Their three prisoners were clustered at the end of the hallway where the proper entrance into the tower was located.

Libertus caught his eye and waved. “Nyx! Get your ass down here and let me take a look at that cut of yours.”

Nyx rolled his eyes, and with a wink at the Prince who was owlishly blinking up at him, he made his way to his storm-siblings.

Crowe snorted at the clucking sounds Libertus made when he saw Nyx's upper arm and cheek.

“It's not that bad,” Nyx tried to reassure the two of them.

Libertus just gave him a stink-eye and pulled out a potion and an ether.

“Drink this,” he said and practically threw the latter in his face. “Where else are you injured?”

Knowing better than to protest, Nyx drank the ether, feeling instantly less shaky. Huh. He hadn't noticed he had been this close to stasis sickness himself.

“I think I bruised my upper back and my left side, and my shoulder feels like Glauca tried to tear it off. Nothing feels broken though.”

Dripping a bit of the potion directly into the cut, Libertus nodded and gave him the rest to drink. Nyx felt instantly better, though he still felt a painful twinge when he rolled his shoulders. A potion was not enough to heal him entirely.

“Alright everybody! Sitrep and inventory,” Nyx called in Hadnissa, causing everybody who hadn't understood to stare blankly, while the Galahkari began to pile their resources in the floor between them.

By the end of it, they had only two missing kukris, ten potions, six ethers, a large pile of energy bars, four packs of jerky, enough bottled water to last them two days, if they were careful, a radio, some protective herbs and some other knick-knacks. Four people were injured, but the potions had helped big time, so everyone was mobile in a pinch.

“Alright. Distribute this as best as you can. Keraia, try to reach headquarters or Luche. Try to find out if Luche and his group got caught by the storm as well and where they're hunkering down, if they did,” Nyx ordered.

A woman from Pelna's Unit nodded and grabbed the radio. She moved as far up the stairs as she dared before the radio crackled to live and she began to rattle off call-signs.

Satisfied for now, there was only one thing left to do before Nyx had to think about what by Pitioss he could do about this situation: check on the mercenaries.

“So you're the leader of this motley crew,” Highwind greeted when he got close.

She stood there, hip cocked to one side and arms crossed in front of her chest. White leaned against the door leading into the tower, while Grey stood at Highwind's other side, motionless like a statue.

“Nyx Ulric,” he introduced himself with a nod. “With whom do I have the pleasure?”

Highwind barked a laugh. “I might just like you. The name is Aranea Highwind. These are Biggs Callux and Wedge Kincaid.”

She motioned first to White, then to Grey. Nyx nodded at the both of them. Biggs gave a sloppy two finger salute while Wedge merely blinked.

“Mind telling me why you took this job?” Nyx asked, head tilted to the side.

He had to be careful. His magic sizzled just beneath his skin, ready to leap into action at any moment. However he needed a more rational mind right now, so he did his best to keep it down. There must still be something showing however, with the way the three mercenaries were looking at him. Nyx just blinked at them, a grin showing the edge of sharp teeth.

“Oh believe me, if we had known what kind of job this was, we would not have touched it. Not for all the money on Eos,” Highwind declared, voice harsh and face pulled into a grimace. “Thing is, we owed someone a favour, and that person cashed in. Said we just had to take the new airship on a test flight and land near here to wait for a contact man to bring a... ah, 'special delivery'.”

“Izunia.”

Callux twitched but tried to conceal it as shifting his weight. Highwind shot Nyx a nasty grin.

“Should have figured. At the moment I'm being paid good money to not talk about a person who might or might not be named Izunia.”

Nyx unabashedly returned the grin. “But eventually you won't. Maybe we can hash something out then.”

“Maybe,” Highwind agreed.

Good. This had gone better than he expected.

“You're one weird ass Lilly, you know that?” Callux spoke up. “You high and mighty blackcoats normally 'don't negotiate with criminals'.”

Before Nyx could do much more than snarl in anger – more than one angry exclamation sounded behind him – Highwind held up a hand in an attempt to stop the oncoming argument.

“Stop with the slurs, Biggs. Especially when we're all crammed into such a tiny space.”

Callux sneered but looked away. “As you wish, Lady A.”

What by Pitioss was wrong with that guy?

“Not Lucians. Galahkari,” Kincaid stated.

His deep bass voice caught the attention of the whole group. Nyx was not the only one stunned into silence. Kincaid did not seem to notice the sudden attention he garnered, and just stood there, not moving a muscle.

“Right,” Nyx drawled, dragging out the 'i'. “Now that we established that, you planning on causing us any trouble while we're all here?”

“Why? You thinking about letting us go?” Callux demanded, clearly sarcastic.

“It's always good to have a potential source of information on the enemy. With all due compensation of course,” Nyx added with a not to Highwind.

From what she had said, she seemed like a woman who kept to her contracts as long as she was being paid.

“Of course,” she agreed with a wry smile. “First however, we need to get Ramuh off our backs. Whatever did you do to make him this pissed off?”

“The fuck you mean?” Draskelio demanded. “We exist. That's more than enough for them.”

An uncomfortable silence spread amongst the group like heavy fog. Above them lightning hit stone as if to confirm the redhead's words. Nyx sighed. Of course an Astral with a grudge just had to meddle in their mission. Why now though?

No answer was forthcoming.

Nyx shifted to turn around, intending to check if Keraia had reached anyone. One could never know with this kind of storm, especially, if an Astral was involved.

There was a strange, round mark on the floor. Nyx barely had a chance to register its presence before he stepped on it. It began to glow in a fiery red hue, which rapidly spread towards the stone door and upwards. Callux jumped away with a yelp.

“What the fuck?” Libertus exclaimed.

Hadnissa, Lucian and what Nyx thought was Nifasi, combined into a cacophony of surprise and shock. At his side, the khopesh practically vibrated. Its runes started to glow brightly.

“Hafischef. Hafischef. Gefi-ham,” a mechanical female voice suddenly announced from everywhere and nowhere.

Nyx stood there, frozen, not daring to move a muscle as a thin line of red light wandered up and down his body. He did not really know Sol. Languages had never been his strong suit, but he remembered enough to recognise it as the language the voice had spoken.

“This thing is still working?” someone cried, near hysterical.

“Hafischef lesehe. Huf Begefik-ham. Alehek ukefi. Ibeschef se Hasaf ye Gokbeschef.”

Within moments everything turned white.

Chapter Text

It was over in the blink of an eye. Well, not quite. Tiny flecks danced in Nyx's field of vision, which, for a long moment, were the only things he could see. He shook his head and blinked. Only then did he notice the pitch black darkness. It was impossible to see anything even when he called for his magic. His heart leaped into his throat.

Around him he could hear the groans of the others as they also tried to reorient themselves. From the way the sound travelled, they must have been in a large, mostly empty room made of stone. Which begged the question: How had they gotten here? And where was here?

“Everyone alive?” he called into the dark in Lucian.

“Define alive,” Crowe's voice came from somewhere behind and to the left of him.

“I think I broke my tail bone,” Keraia groaned from up ahead and... slightly above?

“Please don't. The potions we've got aren't strong enough to heal that kind of injury,” a male voice Nyx couldn't place shot back.

“Where the fuck are we?” Libertus demanded from somewhere to his right. “Nyx, what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Nyx defended in indignation. “I just wanted to turn around to ask Keraia, if she had managed to reach anybody, and then I stepped on some kind of mosaic on the floor.”

“Yeah. Was freaky as fuck,” Callux muttered.

From the sound of it, he was pretty close to Nyx.

“Har'eem!” a female voice exclaimed in a language Nyx didn't know.

That was probably Aranea Highwind.

“Could we please get some light around here?” Keraia demanded. “I think I'm sitting on a mountain of rubble and I want to get down without breaking my neck.”

Multiple balls of fire formed as people were eager to see where they were. They let them hover in the air and their flickering shine revealed a largely empty room made entirely out of stone. A pile of rubble was piled up in the back right corner. Small stones clattered to the ground as Keraia proceeded to climb down, movements slightly awkward. It was strange however, since the walls and ceiling were largely intact. What damages there were did not account for all that rubble.

Draskelio and a woman next to him, her name was Tonner Bellum, looked up at the ceiling, muttering in low voices. Nyx raised an eyebrow and slowly made his way over to them. The floor was made from smooth flagstone and largely intact.

“... ooks just like the old schematics, I tell you,” Tonner Bellum argued in muted Hadnissa.

“This tower is fucking old. I don't think anything here works anymore. What makes you even think we're in the Costlemark Tower, huh?” Draskelio shot back, not unkindly.

Tonner shot the redhead a poisonous glare and huffed.

“You think we're in the Tower?” Nyx asked just as quietly.

“Makti-Oir.” Both Draskelio and Tonner scrambled up a greeting.

Nyx waved the formalities away and both relaxed a tiny fraction. Both looked tired though unharmed, save for Draskelio's split lip and Tonner's slightly bruised knuckles.

“Yes, Makti-Oir,” the woman nodded. “The designs on the ceiling are a light-system commonly seen in Solheimr architecture. Most of them are activated either by movement or by command and since we've been moving around and nothing happened, I'm sure this system is command based.”

“If it's even still working. We've got no guarantee for that. This must have been unused for over two thousand five hundred years. And even if, by some miracle, it's still working, we have no way of knowing the activation phrase to actually give commands,” Draskelio argued, voice slowly rising.

“Considering how we got here, I don't think the system is inactive,” Nyx chimed in. “And if we are in the tower like you think, it's certainly worth a try to figure out the activation phrase. Maybe it'll get us out of here.”

Tonner shot Draskelio a smug look. The man rolled his eyes. Looking at how they behaved at the moment, one wouldn't believe the two to be close friends.

“Most of the time activation phrases are a form of address of the structure or a nickname of the system. Let's hope it's the former, otherwise we'll never figure it out,” the redhead offered.

“Alright! Let's try it then,” Tonner announced loudly in Lucian while clapping her hands together.

“What have you been whispering about over there?” Callux wanted to know, squinting at the trio.

“We-” Draskelio motioned between him and Tonner- “are going to get the light-system up and running. What's it to you?”

Callux looked like he wanted to say something, but held off when Kincaid elbowed him in the ribs.

“Isn't everything here too old to work?” Prince Noctis asked.

His tone contained a hint of hesitation. Nyx could practically see Tonner softening, though he himself wasn't much better.

“Usually that would be true, yes,” she answered, a smile tugging at her lips. “But this is Solheimr technology. They built their structures and everything in it, to last. On Galahd we have a saying: 'Arskut ulehne hebuhl Solheimr, wa arskut ohnasne zehwir.'”

“'Solheimr technology stops functioning, when the sun stops shining',” Nyx translated.

“And I wrote what constitutes as my Master's degree on the topic of the functionality of Solheimr light-systems. So I know what I'm talking about,” Tonner added, posture proud.

Prince Noctis blinked, but nodded. “Sounds complicated,” he commented.

“That it is, Your Highness. That it is,” Tonner agreed. “But it means we might get this to work and not waste our magic on making light sources while we figure out how to get out of here.”

“So, does anyone here speak Sol? I must admit I can barely scramble together three words in a row,” Nyx asked.

Languages had never been his strong suit. Added to that, he hadn't seen the inside of a school since he was sixteen, which didn't make for the best formal education. Not that it had ever bothered him, but right now he wished he had paid more attention during his language classes. Oh, well. There was no use crying over missed prey and all that.

“It's a dead language, man. That generally means no one can speak it,” Callux grouched, tone teeth gratingly patronising.

Nyx bit the inside of his cheek. Libertus and a few others looked ready to sock the man in the face. Not that Nyx couldn't understand the urge, but it would be decidedly unhelpful right now.

“He could have certainly worded it better, but I agree with the sentiment. Sol has been a dead language for almost two millennia now. The best minds of Eos have been trying to decipher it for decades and have not gotten very far with it,” Ser Elshett chimed in from further back.

“I can read and write electrical manuals, but that's about it,” Tonner said.

Crowe shook her head while Libertus made a so-so gesture. Since the Ostiums ran most of the inns on Galahd, their focus had been more on Lucian and Tenebrani than Sol. Crowe had just plain never learned the language.

“I'm pretty good at it,” Draskelio suddenly spoke up before the argument could continue.

Callux gave a condescending snort everyone chose to ignore for the task at hand.

“Let's start with something simple. What's the Sol word for 'tower'?” Tonner asked.

“Which one?” Draskelio wanted to know, slightly exasperated.

“I told you. The simplest one.”

“Beyefseyif.”

Nothing happened.

“Efayabgesef.”

Nothing.

“Look, I think we can forego the simple words,” Libertus suggested.

“What do you mean?” Highwind asked, clearly interested.

And she wasn't the only non-Galakar who was. Ser Elshett had fished out her phone from somewhere, typing furiously, while Prince Noctis looked like he was doing his damnest to commit everything to memory. Kincaid actually had taken out some kind of electronic notepad and was scribbling on it with a stylus. Somehow this whole situation had devolved into a classroom atmosphere. Well, at least no one was trying to rip the other's throat out. Small mercies and all that.

Draskelio rolled his eyes, but answered nonetheless. “Sol is a very technical language, and not only in the sense that the Solheimr loved their technology – which they did. They verbalise the tiniest differences in a thing.”

“It's what makes the language so damn difficult. A building beneath five storeys? Not considered a tower, no matter how much it looks like one,” Libertus cut in. “There's a system, but it's mostly used for technological things.”

“Towers are an old concept, so the system doesn't really apply here. They just slapped names on them depending on what they were made of, how high they were and their significance in society. There's also a bunch of other stuff, but I'm no linguist, so that's as much detail as I remember,” Draskelio continued.

While that discussion went on, Nyx gave Keraia a sign to try and get the radio working again. Chances were slim, but it was worth a try. It depended mostly on how deep they were within the tower. Keraia nodded, took the radio and went close to the only doorway of the room. Darkness was all that could be seen beyond it.

“Let's just skip all the simple words then,” Crowe said, exasperated. “The basis of this thing is way too big for it to have been a simple tower.”

The discussion went back and forth for a bit until Nyx had enough of waiting to let them decide which word for 'tower' they should try next.

“Just use the highest ranking one after the Sunstep Tower.”

Four disgruntled people stared at him. Nyx just raised an eyebrow. He did not have the nerve to listen to a three hour linguistics rant at the moment. There were more important things to do. Like finding a way out of here – which they had been thoroughly distracted from, much to his chagrin.

Draskelio muttered something intelligible under his breath before raising his voice.

“Huf Asesif.”

A humming sensation went through the stone, more felt than heard. There was suddenly a sense of awareness there, as if something had been missing until now and finally the tower did not feel like an empty husk anymore. It was hard to describe, but Nyx thought the near imperceptible humming in the air was strangely soothing.

“What the...?” Callux muttered.

“It worked,” Kincaid's deep voice carried through the room.

“I'll be damned,” Ser Elshett whispered.

The prince looked like a startled cat, which was honestly kind of cute. Not that Nyx would ever tell the kid that. He was brave though. Nyx knew kids his age which would have lost their nerves long ago.

Draskelio looked like the smug idiot he was.

“Alright then. Let's see how well this old lady still operates. Eleos-ham!”

High on the ceiling a warm yellowish light flickered on half a second later. It was emanated by long, thin tubes set into the edges of an uneven mosaic. The play of light and shadow made it look like flecks of sunlight shining through the leaves of a grand tree.

“This is impossible,” Highwind muttered.

“So. The Costlemark Tower,” Nyx mused. “Not sure where though.”

“We're somewhere the Tower called a registration bureau,” Draskelio announced while ignoring the smug look Tonner threw him. “The voice at the entrance said something about verifying and forwarding us to a registration bureau.”

“Great. So what are we going to do now?” Libertus wanted to know.

“Hey, at least we're not about to drown,” Crowe scolded him.

“Are we all going to ignore the fact that red head over there can apparently speak Sol? You know, the language that should be impossible to speak? And all you islan- all you Galahkari know way more about Solheim then anyone else? Anyone?” Callux demanded.

Said Galahkari stared at each other, which ended with them all looking at Nyx, who sighed in resignation. Why did he have to deal with this? He was makti-oir and not some government schmuck. His job was to defend his people, to lead them against threats, not whatever this was.

“Everyone learns Sol in our schools,” he deigned to say at last. “We kind of have to, since all government documentation we did, was written in Sol up until maybe two hundred years ago. Most members of Clan Arra sill grow up bilingual.”

The five non-Galahkari in the room were silent for a moment. Highwind looked calculating while Callux mouthed something at Kincaid. Ser Elshett just blinked and Prince Noctis stood, tilting his head.

“We have quite a number of really old documents in the Royal Archive. Many of them are written in Sol and just rotting away since no one can read them. My father would pay good money for someone to translate them all.”

The atmosphere that had been on the verge of tilting into something non too pleasant, lightened instantly. Nyx barked a laugh.

“First we need to get out of here, Prince Noctis, then we can talk about it,” he said and turned to the pile of their things that had thankfully not been left behind by whatever force had brought them here.

“Alright then. Everyone grab your weapons. Let's distribute the potions as best as we can. Those more inclined towards magic grab an ether. Split into groups of no more than four. We need to check out the area, see where we are, and if we're lucky, we'll find an exit.”

“I will stay here with Prince Noctis,” Ser Elshett announced.

The Prince did not look exactly happy with that declaration, but he didn't say a word.

With a frustrated huff Keraia turned off the radio and walked back towards the group, which was mostly clustered towards the back wall. “The radio is too weak to get through the stone and the storm, though I think I managed to connect to someone once. Couldn't understand a word though. The Tower activating just made the interference worse.”

Nyx fought down a sudden bout of frustration. He didn't know what else he had expected though. Nothing anyone had ever said on the matter indicated that Solheimr technology was compatible with its modern equivalent. Still, couldn't it have been easy just this once?

“Hopefully the storm will be gone by the time we get out of here then,” Nyx said.

Which brought him back to one question: Why had Ramuh been a cranky old man and acted like he was trying to get them off his lawn with a loaded crossbow? He shook his head. There would be time later to think about this and the million of other things clamouring for attention in his head. First, get a handle on their surroundings. They had waited long enough already to do so.

“Who else wants to stay here?” he asked.

In the end the group remaining in the registration bureau consisted of Ser Elshett, Prince Noctis, Keraia, Callux, Kincaid and Tonner. They would set up a perimeter – Tonner and Keraia knew enough about wards to set up a few simple ones – while also seeing if the rubble would yield anything useful. There wasn't a high chance of that happening, however it was better to keep people occupied.

The others had arranged themselves into groups of three or four. Nyx found himself with Libertus, Crowe and – he honestly didn't know why he was surprised about this – Aranea Highwind. The woman just crossed her arms in front of her chest and gave him a grin. Nyx simply nodded. He did not sigh, no matter how much he wanted to.

“Let's set out!” Nyx called. “We'll meet here again in two hours. Everyone got a functioning clock?”

A round of nods was his answer. They dispersed into the hallway that lay through the doorway. Thin tubes of light flickered on in the walls and ceilings as soon as they moved. Nyx and his group turned right, while Draskelio's group turned left and the last one followed them before ducking into a hallway Nyx hadn't noticed before.

The hallway they were in was wide with a high ceiling. There were pillars set into the wall, and despite the material they were made of – stone – they had a distinct mechanical feel to them. Everything here had a mechanical feel to it. The embellishments on the wall always repeated the same pattern over and over. Their steps echoed through the emptiness.

“So, Highwind, why decide to come with us?” Libertus questioned after the other groups were well out of earshot.

“Just call me Aranea. You are... Libertus, right? And you Crowe?”

Both squinted at the Nifasi woman. “What's it to you?” Libertus demanded.

Aranea shrugged. “Let's call it professional curiosity. In my line of work, if you don't know who you are dealing with, you're as good as dead.”

Neither Libertus nor Crowe looked satisfied with that answer, but nodded nonetheless.

“But to answer your first question: I think I just wanted to see what kind of people had Glauca run with his tail between his legs.”

“Impressed?” Nyx asked her with a grin.

“You'll have to work harder to have me impressed, Ulric,” Aranea shot back, though there was a teasing lilt to her voice. “Though I have to admit it was highly satisfying to see him taken down a peg.”

The quartet stepped through an archway and the hallway widened for a bit before leading through another archway. The lights in this area were brighter. Maybe this had been some kind of transition or resting area? It was really hard to tell since nowhere were any indications as to furniture. To Nyx it looked nearly as if this place had been hollowed out and then abandoned.

They stepped through the second archway and found themselves in an open gallery which was just as echoing and empty as everything else Nyx had seen until now. Pillars stood, keeping the high ceiling aloft while a balustrade wound itself around the gallery.

“Wow,” Crowe breathed. Her voice echoed slightly along the empty stone. “I knew the Solheimr were all for grandiosity and stuff, but this is just lots and lots of wasted space.”

“Maybe there was supposed to be something in the middle?” Nyx mused and stepped forward to get a better look at the dark hole the gallery opened to.

The light here was colder, with a blueish tint to it, and less bright. The hair on the back of Nyx's neck started to stand on end and a bad feeling spread in the pit of his stomach. Great.

“Ambush!” he called and drew his sword just as a group of goblins came out of the shadows.

Nyx crouched and lobbed the head of the first goblin clean off when it tried to jump past him to get the the three behind him. The thing burst into a quickly dissolving cloud of dark particles. He hissed like a furious cat and threw out his free arm. Arching bolts of lightning left his hand and threw two more goblins off their feet. Black ash seemed to flake from their skin where the lightning had hit. They twitched a few times before they dissolved completely.

A lance flew passed his head and pinned a goblin to the wall. It must have crawled along the ceiling to try and reach him. Nyx kept from flinching. Barely. Looking behind him he could see Aranea kick a a goblin in the head. Her heel dug into its temple. It dissolved within seconds. Libertus split one's head apart with his heavy kukri. Crowe got the last one with a controlled burst of ice.

For a long moment the quartet stood there, waiting to see if another horde would show up. Everything was still. The only sound Nyx could hear was their breathing and the not quite hum within the stone.

“How the fuck did daemons get here?” Libertus demanded as they all cautiously looked around.

“This tower has been unoccupied for over two thousand years. It's not that strange to think some of them found their way in during that time,” Crowe shrugged.

“It begs the question of what else might have found its way in here and where it's lurking,” Aranea added. “Let's just hope the tower activating didn't aggravate it.”

“Please don't jinx it. Please don't jinx it,” Libertus begged.

Aranea shot him a bemused look, but didn't say anything more. Instead, she went to pick up her lance. It had clattered to the floor once the goblin had dissolved into the dark particles.

“That was fun,” Nyx said with false cheer. “Where should we go next? I see a nice golden door over here and a set of stairs leading down into the dark over there.”

No one had the chance to answer before the lights flickered and turned off.

“Great,” Libertus grouched. “Did the power have to run out now?”

Nyx tilted his head in the dark. No, that wasn't it. He could still not quite hear the hum the tower had given off since it had come... online? For a lack of better word.

Lights flickered on again. This time concentrated around the pillars and it was decidedly blue. Some kind of emergency lighting perhaps? Something crackled and then a voice spoke. It was the same that had started this whole excursion.

“Mesuschef ebgeseyul. Mesuschef ebgeseyul. Huf gulfelegbe-ham ses hebgoseylaful eyef afe yemesgbe esk se lafesaf ye sofeseyik ibkafe.”

The four blinked at each other.

“What did she say?” Crowe asked looking at Libertus.

The burly man shrugged. “Not sure. What? Sol is my third language! Give me a break. I'm way better at written Sol than spoken, and I haven't had to use it in years. Maybe ask lightning rod over there.”

Nyx glared. “I know less Sol than you do big guy.”

“Well, I got nothing. Something about leaving? Maybe? And the voice used polite forms. So uhhh... maybe we're asked to leave very politely? No guarantee that's right though.”

“That is more than nothing,” Aranea cut in dryly.

“So, the question now is: Are we going to continue or are we going back? Personally, I would love to leave the tower entirely, but I would also be happy with knowing what's behind that golden door. Must be something, if the door is gold,” Crowe said.

“We're already here and I'm not getting paid for this excursion either way, so might as well see if we get something out of it,” Aranea shrugged.

Nyx gave Libertus a pleading look. Within a few seconds the latter capitulated.

“Fine! Yes, we can continue exploring the daemon infested place that's telling us things we don't understand. What can go wrong?”

“Don't jinx it!” Nyx and Crowe called at the same time.

They grinned.

Libertus glared.

Chapter Text

“So. The door? If we're voting, I'm for the door,” Crowe announced into the short contemplative silence.

Nyx looked around the group and shrugged. “Fine by me.”

“Well, how do we get it open then?” Libertus wanted to know. “A door like that should be locked, right?”

No one knew the answer to that.

“Let's try something first before we think about locked doors, alright?” Aranea suggested.

Without waiting for an answer, she strode across the open space towards the door. On it golden beams travelled in all directions from a spot maybe three quarters up, giving it the impression of the sun. Without any ado, Aranea pressed her hands against its surface and pushed. Stone and metal groaned in protest, but ever so slowly, both sides of what was actually a double door, opened.

Libertus gave a low whistle at the show of strength.

“Well, I guess we don't have to worry about locks around here then,” Crowe commented with a shrug.

The four stepped inside the room. For a long moment there was pitch black darkness before the lights in the ceiling came on. Something about them was strange, however. Their colour was a warm gold, not unlike the room they had all arrived in, but they barely made it possible to see anything. It was like someone had hung up an old fashioned lantern. There was a hole in the floor tiles, as if something had been taken out of there and piles of rubble were in the far off corners that could barely be seen. Black stains trailed down the walls. They looked old.

“This looks like a bust,” Libertus threw into the room.

His words sounded strangely muted. Something about this room made the fine hairs on Nyx' neck stand on end. He bit down on the agitated hiss wanting to escape his lips.

“What do you think this room was for? With doors like that, it must have been important,” Crowe wanted to know.

“Whatever it was, someone surely didn't want anyone else to know,” Aranea answered. The Nifasi woman was crouching by the missing tiles, examining the ground. “The edges here look too clean, even after all this time. It's like something has been cut out of the stone.”

“Oh, that's just wonderful,” Libertus grouched, entirely sarcastic. “An over two thousand year old mystery! What cut the hole into the floor?”

“I don't like this,” Nyx tried to articulate the feeling of feeling like prey that was being watched.

Every fibre of his being was bristling at being in this room. There was something... something...

“Guys? I think I found something,” Crowe called from close to one of the piles of rubble.

At once Aranea and Libertus went over to her. Nyx couldn't bring himself to move. The lights seemed to dim even more.

“A book?!”

Libertus's exclamation was one of pure astonishment and disbelief.

“Don't touch that with your bare hands, you dolt!” Crowe hissed.

“Can you read what it says on the cover?” Aranea asked, excitement swinging in her voice.

“Probably, but the light in here is too bad. How by Pitioss did a book survive here? We're not the first people to ever be in this tower since it was abandoned.”

Instinct made Nyx look up. The ceiling was a strange mosaic of vastly differently sized and deep tiles, giving it an uneven surface. The feeling of being watched came from there, he just knew it. But he couldn't see anything, just weird ceiling tiles. Nyx kept staring up, persistent and trusting his instincts. His lips peeled back, revealing his teeth in a silent snarl. His magic formed tiny bolts of lightning along his skin in agitated challenge.

Something thick and nearly liquid dripped down onto the floor. First one drop, then a second. Third. The room began to fill up with a not inconsiderable stench. A stench Nyx knew and made his hackles rise.

“Out of the room now!” he bellowed.

To their credit, all three reacted at once. It was too late.

“Ebgeseyik ebafi hesguf. Bifasay sese gafikul,” the tower's voice announced dispassionately.

With a sound that rang with finality, the doors closed.

“Fuck!” Libertus yelled.

Nyx barely heard him over his own snarl.

A wet sound had the group look around the room and reaching for their weapons. Dark, nearly iridescent goo started to drip down the walls, leaving black trails behind, overlaying the others. Nyx cursed. How could he have overlooked the signs like some wet behind the ears newbie?

The goo started to coalesce in the middle of the room, first slowly, then rapidly. It took the vague shape of a flan, but much, much bigger and darker. A low, moaning sound escaped its dripping maw and cold, red eyes gleamed.

“Oh, you've gotta be kiddin' me!” Aranea exclaimed, accent deepening in her anger.

She hurled her lance forward, but all that happened was a slow rippling of the giant flan's lower body, where she had hit it. A slew of curses escaped her as she dodged a whip-like something, that was nearly impossible to see in the low light.

Nyx dove into the wild torrents of his own magic as deeply as he dared. The light in the room grew brighter and the heavy smell of ozone spread through the room, mingling with the putrid stench of the large daemon. It nearly made him gag. A roar trembled along the walls. Lightning spread along his arms and jumped towards the flan.

It did not dodge.

Most likely, it could not dodge for lack of room and its own sluggishness.

The lightning connected with an ear splitting crack. The daemon's body was thrown back, rippling wildly with the force of the attack. The wet noises it made, hurt Nyx's teeth.

Half a second later it was engulfed in a fireball courtesy of pack-sister. The daemon roared in pain and fury. It had obviously expected to not be harmed by their attacks. Isolated and old as it was, it must not have met many magic users. Small, stubby arms trashed as its body slowly swallowed the flames.

“Fuck! A normal flan would be dead by now!” pack-sister yelled as she dodged the flailing gelatine like body rushing at her, it's edges still glowing with smouldering embers.

“It obviously isn't a normal flan!” pack-brother shot back.

The heavy hitter preferred melee weapons to magic when attacking, and so wasn't of much help in this fight. It obviously grated on him.

Meanwhile Nyx grabbed both of his kukri – his claws – and spun. Lightning flashed around him like whips of pure electricity. Someone yelped, but he concentrated purely on his prey. One kukri grazed the edge of the flans body, doing no damage at all. Barely a moment later a thick band of lightning carved into its body, leaving a deep gorge behind. Sparks rained from its edges, burning holes into the gelatin body.

With the sound of thick, wet mud sliding over stone, the flan hurled itself forward, if to attack or dodge Nyx couldn't tell. It only gave him another opportunity to strike it again.

In one corner Nyx could see pack-brother and tentative-companion. The woman had climbed half way up the rubble. Half a spin later Nyx saw pack-sister, her attention split between the giant daemon, Nyx and the other two. Pack-brother yelled something and suddenly tentative-companion spun through the air, accompanied by the whirring of machinery. Gusts of wind trailed around her lance.

Nyx spun away and came to a sliding halt, a growl low in his throat. He gathered his magic, staying still, until his whole body was covered in tiny arcs of lightning. He waited.

The moment tentative-companion's feet hit the high ceiling, she hurled the lance downward towards the flan's head. A large torrent of wind followed and engulfed the prey. As one his pack-siblings unleashed the most powerful fire spells they could manage in this environment. Barely half a second later Nyx unleashed the lightning he had held trapped beneath his skin.

The fire spells hit the daemon first, tentative-companion's wind amplifying them until the fire was a swirling mass of burning white. Nyx was nearly blinded by the brightness of it.

For one agonisingly long moment, all movement and sound ceased. It seemed like everything had stopped in anticipation to what was to happen. Nyx felt his breath leave in a rush. A nearly melodic whine reverberated through the air, louder than the near deafening roar of the flames. Then the lightning hit.

The resulting shock wave threw Nyx back against the closed doors and forced the last of the air out of his lungs. He landed on all fours on the ground, couching and sputtering at the horrible stench of burning and fried sickness now permeating the air. The pathways of his magic had become sluggish and slow to respond, exhaustion tugging at every limb. He had definitely overdone it.

Libertus cursing had him look up.

Blinking the spots from his vision and adjusting from the change of perspective as his magic receded, Nyx could barely see anything but the burning blob in the middle of the room. He forced his limbs to arrange his body into a crouch, ready should another attack come.

“Everyone alright?” he called, voice rough.

“If by alright you mean nearly burnt into a crisp, then yeah,” Libertus answered.

“Is it dead? Please tell me it's dead,” Crowe spoke up from her corner.

“Certainly looks like it,” Aranea said, voice dry as the dust in this tower.

“Wonderful. Remind me to never do this again.”

“It was your idea, Crowe. At least we're all dry now.”

“Oh, shut it, Libs.”

While his storm-siblings continued to bicker, Nyx's vision cleared enough for him to properly see the room. First was the fire. It was slowly receding along with the dark blob in its middle. So the flan was dead. Thankfully. The floor had gained a few new cracks along with the walls, and where Aranea had hit the ceiling the tiles were a broken mess, but nothing looked like it was about to cave in. The old black goo that had been everywhere, had been burned away, leaving behind clean stone. It had a nice light colour with darker embellishments. Did that mean the whole tower...?

The grinding sound of metal against stone behind him startled Nyx into a hiss.

“Ebgeseyik hisfeyafi. Uyaleyesiful fiy gisbe-ham sel iseselyik fuy sulye sofeseyebereyusik. Huf hiselik-ham.”

“Looks like we won't have to worry about the doors,” Aranea commented as she stepped up next to him.

Nyx stood up and nodded. At least there was that. He shuddered to think what would have happened, if they had been trapped in here.

“Hey Libs?” Crowe asked as she picked something up from the ground and stored it in the bag at her hip, before she walked over to the doors.

“Yeah?” the man in question more groaned than anything while he picked himself up from the ground.

“What did the tower just say?”

“Fuck if I know. In case you haven't noticed, we've been a little bit busy.”

“You know, normally I'm the one with the reckless ideas,” Nyx couldn't help but comment.

He got two scowling faces and a bemused one for that. Which was totally unfair.

“Seeing you all like this makes me wonder, if you're all scarily competent, idiotically reckless or just incredibly lucky idiots,” Aranea mused.

Nyx shot her a faux hurt look. “I'll have you know we're all perfectly dashing people. This plan wasn't the worst we ever came up with. And you went along with it.”

A groan came from where Libertus stood. “Nyx please, no accidental flirting with the new Niff hire.”

“I'm not flirting.” He was met with three deadpan gazes. “You know what? Let's just get out of here,” he said with a huff.

The gallery was still the exact same it had been before they had entered through the golden doors. They automatically closed behind them as soon as they had all left the room. Nyx took a deep breath. The air here smelled old, dusty and stale with a hint of something sickly, now that he was paying real attention to it. It was worlds better than the stench in the that room.

“Huf fiy gisbe-ham sel iseselyik,” the tower said in its dispassionately, vaguely feminine voice.

Glowing lines appeared on the floor. The solid stone floor.

“What the fuck?” Libertus whispered rather loudly.

“What is it?” Aranea questioned.

“I don't know. Something about being asked very nicely to go somewhere?”

“Let's see where those lights lead us then,” Nyx decided and started walking.

“This is so not going to end well,” Crowe muttered, but she and the other two followed anyway.

The glowing lines lead them to the other side of the gallery and down the stairs. For a moment they were surrounded by near total darkness, only illuminated by the lines on the floor, until the lights on the storey below them turned on with an audible hum in the walls. They walked down two flights of stairs until they stood at the beginning of a long corridor. It looked exactly like the one above, down to the embellishments on the wall. The lights here were a diffuse white.

“This tower is so creepy,” Libertus muttered.

“The Solheimr certainly didn't seem to care much for interior design,” Aranea commented.

Nyx wasn't so sure about that. There was something about the light, about how it caught along the embellishments and pillars in the wall, about how it cast shadows. If the tower lights worked properly, he thought, maybe they would see something different. But that was only a hunch and not really important, so he didn't comment.

They followed the whole length of the corridor, until they stood in another open space, but this time there was no gallery. The path went further down in a spiral motion without any stairs. Nyx wondered what the purpose of that had been. The lines did not follow the way down. Instead, they went towards the left and vanished into the wall.

“So that's a bust,” Libertus said exasperated.

“I wonder, if there's something we can't see here,” Nyx mused leaning closer.

There was nothing different about the patch of wall the lines disappeared into. No discolouration and no seams in the stone. There were no different patterns either to give him a clue. If there really was a door at all, it was hidden very well.

“Most likely a part of the security. If you cannot find the doors, you cannot get into the rooms to ransack and destroy them,” Aranea mused.

The Nifasi woman stood next to Nyx examining the stone. Her light hair looked grey in the light. Her light coloured skin was also rather unusual for people from Niflheim. Taking a step back she sighed.

“I don't think there's much else for us to find here. And I don't know about you, but I have no desire for another daemon to jump us.”

Nyx nodded in agreement. They both turned towards Crowe and Libertus who were standing by the balustrade looking into the darkness.

“I don't get it. My old house would have fit in here with room to spare,” Crowe was saying, arms gesticulating wildly at the open space before her.

“Come on guys, let's head back and regroup with the others,” Nyx called.

Their little group was maybe halfway back through the long corridor, when the humming through the stone changed cadence. Nyx felt it in his teeth. He stopped, suddenly tense.

“You alright?” Libertus asked, worriedly looking around.

“Can't you hear it?”

“Hear what?” Crowe questioned.

Before Nyx could answer a rumble went through the stone, sudden enough that they stumbled. The tower's voice reverberated through the air.

“Sofeseyetesischef ife ebafi eyirfuse.”

“What-?”

Pieces of the wall lit up, helping cast shadows in the form of geometric patterns. Within seconds the corridor did not at all look like the first one. It was fascinating to see.

“Can this whole tower stop doing shit for one fucking minute?” Libertus groused rather loudly.

Nyx opened his mouth to say something along the lines of it could be worse, but one hard look from Crowe made his mouth click shut. Aranea raised an eyebrow at them, but said nothing.

At the beginning of the corridor, right by the stairs, a piece of the wall shifted. No, that wasn't quite right. The dark embellishments in the stone seemed to turn liquid and flowed aside, leaving the now simple stone to slide to the side. Light fell through the opening.

“So there are hidden doors. Good to know,” Nyx commented and walked forward.

His storm-brother followed with an aggrieved sigh.

“If this blows up in our faces, I'm blaming you,” Crowe stated before she followed them, Aranea right behind her.

The room Nyx entered was illuminated by warm lights. In some places it was filtered through shards of colourful glass set in the walls, casting fantastic shapes on the walls, ceiling and floor. In one corner there stood a table surrounded by stone benches that had been set directly into the walls. On the other side of the room there were weapon racks, most of them empty.

“Oh wow,” Crowe whispered behind Nyx before she practically pushed him inside the room to get in herself.

“Hey!” he complained without any real heat behind it.

Even he recognised what a huge find this was. The first of its kind. Nothing much had survived the fall of the once great empire, safe for a few empty ruins and what stories the Galahkari remembered. Maybe they just hadn't looked well enough, Nyx thought as he looked around once more.

“This looks like a common room for the guards,” he commented, looking at the relief located over the large table.

It showed a shield surrounded by flaming horns, upon which a tower was depicted. The colours it had been painted with practically shone in their vibrancy, even after all this time. The symbol of the guard perhaps? Or the symbol of Costlemark? There was no way to say.

“I don't think the weapons are going to be of much use. There aren't very many to begin with and those that are here are mostly batons or some variation of it,” Aranea said from the other side of the room.

“Some of them look like they were made out of wood. I think they'd crumble the moment someone touched them,” Crowe agreed.

“I found the crockery. So I'm with Nyx here. This must have been some kind of common room for the guard on this floor,” Libertus announced not too far from Nyx.

The man had been routing through a series of cupboards set into the wall along with a counter top. Of course the Ostium had found what doubled most likely as a kitchenette, Nyx thought fondly.

“It's strange though, isn't it?” Crowe asked after a few moments of silence. “Everything is empty but here we are and Libs found crockery of all things.”

“Most likely people looted what they could in the early years after they figured out how to get into the tower. Everything that's left are the things they couldn't get to, probably because they also didn't know it was there,” Aranea said.

That... was actually a good argument. It wasn't exactly a secret how one could get into any of the ancient ruins: just wait for the sun to go down and the door opens. Most people wouldn't dare to do it because of the likely chance of encountering daemons, but there must have been some over the last few thousand years.

“Why do you think the doors open as soon as it is night?” Nyx found himself asking while looking at a shelving unit that was inlaid into the wall.

There was a pile of scrolls at the top shelf, but Nyx didn't dare to touch them. They looked like they would crumble to dust the moment someone did. There was a series of mostly empty glass bottles below them and below that something that looked like a mechanical sun dial. Fascinated, Nyx carefully touched one of the metal circles. As soon as his fingers touched the cool, metal surface, the sun dial folded in on itself. At once Nyx jerked his hand back with a yelp and stared at the now palm sized device, its concentric rings now laying flat on a glassy surface which showed something that might be a compass, but did not show the cardinal directions. There were runes carved into the surface of the metal. They gave off a subtle, shimmering light.

“Nyx? You alright?” Libertus asked, now standing next to him and looking worried.

“Yeah, everything is alright. This thing just... surprised me, is all,” he answered with a motion towards the maybe-a-sun-dial.

Libertus squinted at it. “What is that thing?”

“Don't know. Looked kind of like the mechanical version of a sun dial, but as soon as I touched it, it... folded in on itself?” The last part came out more like a question than intended.

Nyx reached out again. This time intending to pick it up.

“You sure that's a good idea?” Crowe asked.

She and Aranea had also come closer.

“It's not harmful. I think. I mean, it didn't hurt when I touched it the first time, so why should it now? Also, we're in a common room. You really think they would leave something truly harmful lying around in a common room?”

Crowe pointedly looked at the weapon racks, but Nyx decidedly ignored her. Instead his attention was taken again by the device. It looked to be made out of a mix of copper and bronze – or maybe it was just differently coloured bronze, it was hard to tell – the colours of which painted mesmerizing patterns on the metal along with the runes carved into it. He picked it up.

It was heavy for its size, but considering the form it had held previously, it wasn't exactly surprising. As soon as he held it properly, the compass like needle below the glass began to rotate rapidly, until it suddenly stopped and went to its resting position again. But now it quivered ever so slightly, as if it was just waiting to move again.

“Huh.”

“Anyone know what that thing is?” Aranea asked into the room.

Everyone shook their head.

“Great,” Crowe huffed. “Let's go back already. We're cutting it mighty close to the two hour mark as it is. You can keep your weird hatschimaguht, Nyx.”

Nyx made a face, but tucked the device into the waistband of his trousers. The group made their way back without much difficulty.

Unexpectedly, they weren't the last ones to arrive. They honour belonged to Draskelio's group. In Nyx's opinion the red haired man looked way too smug, when he entered the former registration bureau. Tonner seemed to be of the same opinion, because she stepped up to him, slapped him upside the head and demanded to know what he had found.

“Fuck you, too,” Draskelio grumbled at the woman before his gaze drifted to Nyx. “Makti-Oir. We have found an access point to the power grid and some kind of control room. I think we got the tower properly up and running again.”

“What do you mean with 'properly up and running'?” Nyx asked.

He had an inkling, but he wanted to be sure.

“From what I could tell from the control room, there's a power source below the tower. My best guess is that, if the tower isn't in use for a certain amount of time, it goes into a kind of energy-saving mode. Everything non-essential will get shut down. But there were still security protocols running. I managed to deactivate at least one of those.”

“So that's why that door opened!” Libertus exclaimed. All eyes went to him.

“We found a hidden room in a wall in the middle of a corridor,” Crowe explained.

Before the wild questioning could start, Nyx stepped into the middle of the group. “Let's do a proper debrief before we all start to talk over each other. Tonner will start.”

The woman in question shrugged, but nodded. “Nothing much to tell from our end of things, Makto-Oir. Keraia and I did what we could with the wards. They're not the most sophisticated things out there, but they should keep out weaker daemons and warn us of the proximity of stronger ones. Keraia tried the radio again, but after what I assume was Draskelio deactivating the security protocol, the signal didn't even reach the outside of the tower.”

“Meanwhile the others set up camp the best they could, after which we... told each other stories,” Keraia added, only to trail off awkwardly.

Nyx simply nodded, assuming Prince Noctis had asked some questions again. The teenager always wanted to know more. He motioned for Draskelio to speak.

“Like I said, we found some kind of control room. I'd like for Tonner to take a look before we go further up or down, in case there are some surprises the Solheimr left for us. She might also be able to figure out how things properly work. Other than that, we only found empty hallways and a few dead ends. We only discovered that control room because of a semi-crumbled wall.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “We encountered daemons twice, but nothing more than a few goblins and the odd hobgoblin.”

Draskelio stepped back, having nothing more to add. So Nyx motioned the leader of the last group forward.

“I think we found the entrance to the tower,” the man started. “It was closed shut, so I assume it was still technically daylight outside. Didn't find much else other than some mould, goblins and a few lightning bombs.”

Quite a few people winced at the mention of lightning bombs. All bombs were a pain in the ass, but especially the lightning ones. One could kind of predict how the fire and ice ones would explode and dodge. But the lightning bombs were unpredictable.

“So,” Crowe spoke into the silence, “we were the only ones that got ambushed by a giant mutated flan then? Nyx, I won't ever go on discovery tour with you again.”

“What?” he spluttered. “What do I have to do with it?”

“Your luck is shit and you know it.”

Nyx made an exaggerated face that communicated just how hurt he was by her words. Chuckles rose throughout the group. Prince Noctis took a step forward. The relatively lightened mood seemed to have given him the courage to speak.

“We could use Costlemark Tower then?” he asked.

Nyx did his best not to grimace, but it was Tonner who answered. “I would advice against people without a working knowledge of Sol trying to use the tower. And there's the daemons to consider. The lights now might be able to hold them back, but I can't say for sure.”

“We also don't know how everything works and in a tower that's practically one huge super computer. That's dangerous. First we'd need to figure out which commands did what and which commands to use in the first place to get the desired result,” Draskelio added.

“It is a good idea, Your Highness, but I do not think it would be manageable in the near future,” Monica Elshett said with a tiny smile playing at the edge of her lips.

“No, that is not what I meant.” Noctis shuffled awkwardly and shook his head. “I am sorry. I worded that badly. I meant to ask, if you, as in the Kingsglaive, could use it as a kind of base.”

All members of the Kingsglaive gave each other considering looks. It really wasn't a bad idea, if the before mentioned problems could be worked out.

“That... maybe,” Nyx conceded. “Still would need to work on the problems Tonner and Draskelio pointed out, as well as the daemon infestation. I would not be able to sleep here for prolonged amounts of time, knowing there's daemons in the walls. But it would make some campaigns easier, if we had a permanent outpost.”

The Prince rocked to the balls of his feet and back down again once, in a show of excitement that Nyx had never seen. Then again, he had never really been close to the Lucian royal family for all that he occasionally had to do Citadel Guard duty. Other than their encounter in the bar, that was.

“Did your group find anything besides a mutated flan, Makti-Oir?” Tonner asked.

“Yes. One storey down a hidden door opened. It must have been some kind of common room for the guards stationed in the tower, judging by the weapons we found, but it's a guess only. It must have happened when Draskelio deactivated that security protocol.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Not much. The weapons are all batons or some variation of it with parts made out of wood that makes them unusable to us. A bunch of scrolls no one dared to touch. Libertus found the crockery-” that got him a few good naturedly chuckles and an eye roll from the Ostium in question- “and I found this.”

With those words he pulled out the device and held it up.

“What is that?” Tonner questioned, clearly fascinated.

Nyx shrugged. “No clue. It first looked like some kind of clock – a mechanical sun dial more like – but when I touched it, it folded in on itself. I wanted to ask, if you might be able to take a look at it.”

The Bellum woman gave an enthusiastic nod. “Sure!”

After that people started to dissolve into smaller groups to take a small break to rest. Aranea had dragged Callux and Kincaid off to one side and the three began to talk in hushed voices, not that anyone would have understood them anyway. Nyx was pretty sure no one in this group spoke Nifasi.

The makti-oir sat in a group with Libertus, Crowe, Tonner and Draskelio, the latter two of which talked in rapid-fire Hadnissa about the device situated between them. Prince Noctis and Ser Elshett sat not too far from them, talking quietly.

Thoughtfully Nyx chewed on a mouthful of ration bar, contemplating on what to do next. They could wait here until it was night time and the entrance to the tower opened by itself, hoping Ramuh's storm had passed. However Nyx highly doubted that the latter would be the case any time soon. That old grouch wanted something. The only question was what and from whom. It could be just his dislike of the Galahkari, or have something to do with the Lucis Caelum line. It was said, after all, that they had close ties with the Astrals.

On the other hand, they could explore more of the tower, go deeper and see where that lead them. But that bore the risk of them spending days in here, and not only were their rations needed to be considered, but also the people waiting for them outside. Nyx hoped Luche had it all well in hand. Maybe the Galahkari on this 'training trip' wouldn't do something stupid with him there. And sea serpents would learn how to fly. Nyx huffed, amused at himself.

“Makti-Oir?”

Nyx swallowed and looked up, dragged out of his thoughts, and met the blue eyes of Prince Noctis. He patted the empty space beside him.

“Come, sit down, Your Highness. The floor isn't the most comfortable, but it's better than standing the whole time. You too, Ser Elshett.”

“Thank you.”

The two sat down and for the first time Nyx noticed how uncomfortably cold the two looked. He had no idea for how long they had been in the tower already, but all the Glaives' clothes were mostly dry at this point. The Lucians and the Nifasi however still looked wet, uncomfortable and cold. Nyx shot a look to Libertus and Crowe to see if they had noticed, but the two of them only gave him questioning looks, so he shook his head and returned his attention to the Prince now sitting next to him. A warm spark inside his belly pulsed gently.

“What can I do for you, Highness?” he asked.

“I want to ask what you plan to do next, Makti-Oir,” the Prince explained.

Nyx tilted his head. “It's still quite some time until the sun goes down and the entrance opens. So I think Draskelio, Tonner and two others of their choice can go to the control room again before that happens.”

“You think the storm is over by then?”

“You don't think so, Highness?”

The Prince made a face and shrugged. “I don't really know. I just... have a feeling, I guess? There is something important here.”

“Is your connection to the Astrals telling you that, or something else?” Nyx couldn't help but ask.

His answer was a startled, uncomprehending look. “Just a feeling,” the Prince mumbled again and ducked his head.

“That's okay,” Nyx said after a too long moment of silence. “I don't think the storm will be over either. But we need to cover all our bases just in case it is. Just because we expect something to happen, doesn't mean it will. And if we're going to be stuck in here, we might as well see what Costlemark has to give us.”

Prince Noctis shot him an incredulous look at the blasé tone Nyx put on at the last sentence. The man smirked and took a sip of water.

Chapter Text

The control room was situated in an out of the way hallway. The wall next to the closed entrance was crumbled like something big and heavy had smashed against it and time had done the rest.

Nyx and Tonner followed Draskelio through the hole in the wall and into a room that was smaller than Nyx had expected. Directly across from the entrance was a long row of consoles covered in symbols and what looked like interlocking dials connecting carved lines to each other. On the wall above were more symbols in different sizes, carved to orbit each other in patterns Nyx couldn't begin to understand.

In the middle of the room was a miniature of the tower, split in two so the inside was clearly visible. It was a head taller than Nyx and made entirely out of stone. Some rooms were blinking in different coloured lights, but most were dark. He wondered what the purpose of that was.

Shelves were carved into the two walls on the side – all empty. Either the Solheimr must have taken whatever had been there with them, or the room had fallen victim to looters. The light in the room had a warm golden glow, which was probably supposed to make it easier for the personnel to sit here for hours and hours and stare at the glyphs and lines.

“Wow,” Tonner breathed, eyes wide and sparkling with wonder.

She practically threw herself at the consoles once she remembered that she could do that, eyes and fingers roaming over every nook and cranny. Draskelio released an amused huff at her antics.

“Well, if this is what Solheimr technology looks like, the Niffs have a very long way to go still, if they want to call themselves the 'Heirs of Solheim',” Nyx commented, putting the last part in air quotes.

“They have no business calling themselves that anyway,” Tonner said, entirely distracted. “This is amazing! Look at all of this! Back on Galahd we only had documents describing things like this along with a few sketches. You know, stuff the refugees from Solheim wrote down so it wouldn't be forgotten. When we're turning this tower into a forward base, I want to be stationed here, Makti-Oir. We are going to turn this tower into a forward base, right?”

Thankfully, Nyx was saved from answering that question when Draskelio shot Tonner a flat stare.

“First we need to get out of here, wire brain. So chop-chop. Do your thing,” he said.

Tonner rolled her eyes and flipped her best friend the bird. Nyx meanwhile decided it was best to just... get out of the way of those two and turned his attention towards the cross section of the tower.

Back in its heyday it must have been a truly impressive sight. It must have been at least as tall as the Citadel in Insomnia, if not taller, with long, arching windows and strange patterns on the outside. Its very top ended in three differently sized spires, which was unexpected, but fit strangely well.

“Ha!” Tonner exclaimed suddenly, startling Nyx bad enough he reached for his kukri, sparks flying between his fingers.

The Bellum woman had her fingers wedged into one of the runes, looking like she was about to cackle.

“Siht Gohlann, you can eat my entire non-existent dick! There is mithril at the bottom of these runes! Just wait until our next convention, I'll rip you to bloody pieces, you fucker. 'Mithril was only used in weapons because of its association with the sword-winged Dragon' my ass. The Solheimr would never waste a resource just because it may be associated with an Astral. Those people did not know the definition of taboo.”

“What the fuck?” Nyx mouthed towards Draskelio, who heaved a heavy sigh of resignation.

“Scientists. I gave up on trying to understand them after I accompanied Tonner to one of their conventions once. Within the first ten minutes there were two attempts at murder,” the red head muttered just loud enough for Nyx to hear.

Nyx blinked, surprised, and then looked at Tonner, who was now carefully crawling over the console to get a better look at the glyphs on the wall. Yeah, he could believe that.

“How many people will I have to stop from coming here?” he muttered more to himself, but Draskelio had still heard him.

“At least four hunting groups worth. And they're vicious.” He raised his voice. “Come on Tonner, get down from there before something explodes, and get it up and running. We don't have the whole day.”

Nyx just gave a defeated sigh. Great. If they were all like Tonner Bellum, he was not looking forward to deal with them. To distract himself, he returned his attention towards the model of Costlemark Tower. It looked like the rooms and corridors were a detailed and accurate replication, though there was no indication shown what the rooms had been for.

After a moment's search he found the entrance at a bit above knee height. Nyx whistled quietly. Those were quite a few storeys underground and it looked like the room with the power source was all the way down. Which was a tiny bit strange because the Solheimr had been all about the sun, but who was Nyx to judge a long extinct civilisation. He was busy examining the complicated mess of rooms between the location of the power source and the rest of the tower, when a triumphant “Aha!” made him look up.

Tonner had her feet on the ground again – thankfully. She stood in front of a set of interconnected dials, grinning down at the now glowing glyphs. The glow spread rapidly, until most glyphs, lines and the entire lower part of the tower miniature now gave off different coloured lights.

“This three thousand year old piece of technological marvel is back in business!” Tonner crowed, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

Nyx watched fascinated as lights blinked and glyphs rotated. It really was a marvel that something so old could still work. Old pieces of wisdom or not. He felt the vibrations in the floor and walls change subtly. A hum rose in the air, for a moment it became so loud Nyx nearly had to cover his ears. It receded not long after, but left behind a slight ringing in his ears. Nyx shook his head. He hated that feeling.

“Ukegbulyamikul seye luyesafi yebe. Ses agseyaf keyi. Bufay ses efsemik. Efsemik hafseyafi-li. Usayaf. Efsemik hafseyafi-li,” the tower's voice said.

Tonner's grin dimmed, but did not vanish. She patted the console like it was a living being and said: “Don't you worry, my dear. We'll get you up and running smoothly again in no time.”

“What did it say?” Nyx asked Draskelio, while Tonner continued to talk to the console, shifting dials and tracing runes and glyphs.

“All systems are back online, but it can't complete a routine maintenance check. Hey Tonner, can you figure out the reason for it?”

“What do you think I'm doing here, axe-brain? Now shut up and let me concentrate,” she grumbled.

“Could have fooled me. Thought you were flirting with your new love interest over there,” Draskelio said dry as the dust inside the tower.

Tonner shot him a venomous glare, but continued with her work. Nyx decided to let those two be. Is that what it looked like from the outside when he started bickering with Libertus and Crowe? Huh. Suddenly he felt like he owed an apology or three to some people.

Shaking his head, he looked at the miniature again. It's rooms were lit up in different colours, while the upper half, two storeys up from the entrance, was entirely dark. Those were the missing parts. Most other rooms above ground blinked a tired white. A large part of the rooms and hallways in the lower part glowed a nice, calm yellow, interspersed with a large number of light blue spots. There were a handful of rooms coloured red. One of those had a light blue glowing wall right next to the door.

Nyx squinted at it. There was a rune in the floor of that miniature room. The same rune was located at the inside of the door next to the destroyed wall. Was this where they were? It seemed likely. Which meant the light blue indicated damaged parts of the tower. Probably. While the red was security and the yellow was secure.

From the control room he could find his way back towards the registration bureau, which was a blessed yellow with a few light blue spots, which, from the rubble inside that room, wasn't all that surprising. But it was good to know the room was as safe as it got down here.

The room Aranea, Crowe, Libertus and him had fought that flan in was coloured a dark blue. So, what? A light blue was 'damage' and a dark blue was 'threat'? Or maybe 'neutralised threat'? It was hard to say without a guide. There were a few other rooms in dark blue, so Nyx made a note of them so they could be avoided, just so they were on the safe side.

There were two spaces glowing a bright silver. Those were the room where the power source was and the large area above that. Nyx squinted at them.

“Ifyesegbe. Efsem-ham,” the tower said suddenly. “Ifyesaf esyesafi. Huf fuy ses begefik-ham.”

Nyx's head shot up in time to see a thin line of light travel up and down the room.

“What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

“The tower scanned us so we're included in the security system. We'll have access to all rooms here, but I won't be able to open the front door because that's above ground and this control centre only has access to everything below ground,” Tonner explained, eyes shining.

“You're way too happy about that,” Draskelio grumbled.

“Oh, shut up. You're just as curious as I am, Dras, don't deny it.”

Draskelio huffed, but did not, in fact, deny it.

“So we can go everywhere but outside until the sun goes down,” Nyx commented just to keep the two from arguing again.

He had the sudden urge to apologise to people.

“Yes, Makti-Oir. In fact, we should show up on the map now,” Tonner nodded.

“Map?”

She motioned towards the miniature. Nyx suddenly felt like facepalming. Of course. Who needs paper maps when one could have fancy glowing, three dimensional maps made of stone and too heavy to carry around? It took him a moment to notice the little dots hovering in the rooms representing the registration bureau and the control room. There were three dots in the latter room, two orange and one red. In the registration bureau there was also one red dot while all others were the same orange.

“Does anyone know what those colours mean?” Nyx asked.

“Yellow is 'safe' or 'normal', light blue 'damage', dark blue 'danger', red is 'priority' for people and 'of systemic importance' for structures. Orange is for normal people, white is 'outside of jurisdiction' and silver is 'mortal danger' or 'threat of death',” Tonner rattled off, counting at her fingers.

Nyx opened his mouth to ask how the fuck she knew all that, before he closed it again and shook his head. It wasn't important right now. He looked at the silver glowing rooms at the very bottom.

“Let me guess: we need to go down there.”

“Yeah,” Tonner agreed, making a face. “It's where the tower's power source is. There's something there keeping the system from completing its maintenance. When that's done I can maybe rig the system to include the front doors. But that's a hard maybe.”

“Knowing you, it'll take you ten minutes tops,” Draskelio commented.

Tonner looked like she wanted to kick her best friend in the shin and then lecture him, but she did neither. Instead she marched out of the room through the hole in the wall. One of the orange dots followed her movement.

“You coming, or what?” she yelled.

Draskelio barked a laugh and followed. The other orange dot moved. Nyx grimaced at the map before he, too, left the room. The lights were even brighter now, bright enough to rival sunlight during the hot summer days. Like this no daemons would dare to attack them, lest they risk instant death the moment they appeared.

Once they reached the others, none were happy to learn that a group might have to go down into a room that was marked as 'mortal danger' on an over three thousand year old map.

“Do we even know if the system's been working correctly?” Callux wanted to know. “The Sands know it's been an age since anything here was up and running.”

“Not likely,” Tonner countered. “The map was working in real time. The system uses mithril as power lines and conductors. Mithril. That shit holds forever and a day.”

“Is there any clue what was potential 'mortal danger' might consist of?” Ser Elshett cut in.

Nyx shook his head. “Nothing. It could be a daemon, or maybe something came in during the night and didn't find the way out again.”

“Most animals small enough to fit through the entrance don't exactly rate as 'mortal danger' to humans,” Callux said.

“Maybe it was young when it got inside,” Keraia suggested.

“What would a growing animal even eat in here?” Libertus asked incredulous. “They would have starved to death before too long.”

“Daemons?” Draskelio threw into the discussion.

“You can't eat daemons!” Libertus exclaimed. “Wait, can you?”

“Don't. Try it,” Crowe commanded, a finger wagging in his face.

“I wouldn't,” he yelped. “Really, I wouldn't! Have you considered how bad for hygiene and health that would be?”

Crowe stared at him for a heartbeat longer before backing off. Nyx suppressed a snort. As if Libs would ever risk their health with food. Those two were just playing it up again.

“Can we please get back on track?” Aranea asked, mostly amused.

Callux muttered something intelligible that was most likely very unflattering causing Kincaid to shrug.

“No matter what it is, if it really survived by eating daemons, it's more than just your average prey, should we hunt it,” Nyx said.

“Maybe the storm will be over by the time the door opens and we won't have to fight the 'mortal danger' at all. We could just leave then,” Crowe suggested.

“I think that's just wishful thinking,” Tonner reprimanded.

Crowe scowled, but didn't say anything, which said enough about how much she believed in her own words.

“If that thing – whatever it is – really is where the power source is located, then we should kill it before it damages said power source and we're stuck in the dark again. Personally I prefer the lights to a constant stream of daemons,” Aranea stated.

There was a beat of silence as a words sank in.

“We have our wards, though, so the daemons aren't that much of a problem,” Keraia threw in.

“That may be, but we can't fuel them for forever,” Draskelio pointed out. “Better we kill the thing and have one thing less to worry about.”

“There is something down there. It wants me to find it,” Prince Noctis suddenly spoke, quiet enough to be barely understandable.

However Nyx caught what he said, as had Ser Elshett. Both adults shot the teen worried looks. His eyes were trailed to the floor and suddenly Nyx had the feeling that it wasn't because the prince was shy, but because he was looking in the direction of whatever wanted to be found by him. Nyx felt a sliver of dread pool at the bottom of his stomach, and he could not understand why.

Most eyes were on him, waiting for his decision. This is why he hated being makti-oir. He stood there, thinking about what to do. Checking the clock, he came to a decision.

“It's only another two hours until sundown. We will wait and see how it looks outside. If the storm hasn't abided, Keraia and Tonner will go to the control room and see, if they can do something about the communication issue. All others will go down with Libertus and me scouting ahead. Maybe we can see what this 'mortal danger' is.”

Two hours later the storm was still roaring full force.

So downwards further into the tower they went. Most people weren't really happy about it, but thankful for something to do that didn't involve sitting on their asses and twiddling their thumbs. Stuff like that could get destructive for a group of high strung Galahkari cooped up in limited space. Throw in a few Niff mercenaries and Lucian royalty and it was a recipe for disaster waiting to happen.

Was it a good idea to take all of them but Tonner and Keraia? No, not at all. Did it make Nyx feel better that he had most of this group close to him in case something happened? Yes.

It would have been better for the prince and Ser Elshett to remain behind the wards or maybe go with Tonner and Keraia, but Nyx knew the look Prince Noctis had worn. The boy would have snuck off alone sooner or later, to follow whatever was calling him. Fucking crystal magic.

So here they all were, walking through long corridors and down winding ramps. Often there were now glowing lines in the walls indicating the presence of doors, runes indicating what they were for. Probably. Nyx wasn't the best at reading Sol on the fly.

“This tower is huge,” the prince muttered.

Nyx could only hear him because he was walking directly in front of him.

“The underground part is barely a quarter of its original size,” he said, throwing a smile of his shoulder.

The prince blinked, surprised and startled. He returned the smile with a cautious quirk of his lips. Nyx's smile grew a smidge wider before he turned back around again. The kid did not trust easily. Understandable after what the Cap- after what Glauca had done. Nyx suppressed a shiver. How was he supposed to explain this when he himself did not understand? How could a man with such a staunch belief system as Titus Drautos betray them like this? Then again, the cracks had been there, hadn't they? They all had just been too blind to see them.

Standing at the beginning of another spiralling way down, Nyx got a sinking feeling in his stomach. He raised his hand. The group came to a stop.

“We're close,” ha said.

No one dared to argue.

“Wait here. Libertus, with me. Let's see what we can find.”

His storm-brother came forward, steps barely making a sound on the stone floor. The rest of the group retreated back towards the long bridge they had crossed just moments before. Nyx could hear Crowe's voice, slowly fading as Libertus and him walked forward.

“What do you think the Solheimr were doing with all that empty space underground?”

“They were clearly compensating for something,” was Ser Elshett's dry reply.

There was stifled laughter. What was said afterwards was inaudible to Nyx's ears.

Following the way down, there was nothing different to the rest of the tower, at first. However roughly halfway down the light started to get... murky. The hunting-brothers shared a grim look. Not long after there were wide arching openings in the outer wall, allowing them to look at the cavernous room beyond. The light quality was even worse in there, barely enough to keep daemons from appearing.

“Many daemons died here,” Libertus commented, tone hushed.

“And many more are still here,” Nyx said just as quietly.

Now that he was looking properly – with the help from a tiny spark of his magic – he could see the deep blackness of the shadows, sense the oil slick feeling they gave off, smell just the miniscule hint of rancid sickness in the air. There were cuts in the stone, large and deep. Probably from iron giants or something similar. Scorch marks littered the far corners and the walls, and dark particles drifted through the air like dust.

“I don't like this,” Libertus muttered.

“You're not the only one, big guy. But the power source is beneath this room, so we have to go down there.”

“I didn't say I wouldn't go. Just that I don't like this. Those marks could be who knows how old, and who knows what breathing all this crap in will do to us.”

Nyx shrugged. “Nothing we can do about it. Let's go.”

Libertus huffed but followed his storm-brother further down.

There was a pressure in the air when they reached the floor. It made all of Nyx's fine hairs stand on end. Unconsciously he bared his teeth in a snarl. Nothing moved.

“I feel like someone is watching me. Do you feel like someone is watching us?” Libertus rambled from next to him. “This place is so exposed it makes me nervous.”

All Nyx could do was nod in agreement and start moving again in hopes to leave soon. They needed to find the entrance to the power source. There were gently glowing platforms set in the ground. They held the same patterns as the walls. Three of them were glowing in a gentle blue, the fourth in a warm yellow. There were no discernible doors in the wall, and if he remembered right, the access was through one of the platforms.

“I think I found our entrance,” Nyx murmured as he pointed towards the yellow glowing part of the floor.

Libertus raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Weird, but okay. We've definitely done weirder stuff than use a glowing door in the floor.”

“But not as weird as running around in an ancient ruin with Niff mercenaries and Lucian royalty.”

It took a few seconds for Libertus to answer, his face set in an expression of deep contemplation. “You know, there's that one time we went into that cave on Ngol-Drihm.” A teasing grin. “I think that might compare.”

Nyx shot his storm-brother the stink-eye and hit his shoulder when he passed to turn back to where the others were. Libertus grinned like the little shit he was, and followed.

The others were passing around water as if it were alcohol when they came back, sitting on the cold stone floor or leaning against the balustrade of the bridge. The prince was looking into the abyss, transfixed. Even with the lights on, one could barely see more than a metal floor and a forest of pipes vanishing into the stone.

“So nothing weird happened? Nothing jumped out of the shadows and tried to dismember you?” Crowe asked, only a touch teasing, as she handed Libertus a bottle of water.

“Well, there is something weird going on down there,” Nyx said, tone as deadpan as he could make it. “And whatever is in the shadows definitely wants to kill us, but, as long as the lights are on, it can't.”

Crowe scowled at him.

“We found the entrance to the power source. As long as everyone is alright with the feeling of being watched with murderous intent, we're good to go.”

“I think we can manage that,” Draskelio huffed.

“Alright then. No time like the present,” Nyx announced, closed the water bottle in his hands and marched back down the winding ramp.

“This is creepy as fuck,” Callux muttered when they arrived at the bottom.

The feeling of a thousand eyes watching hungrily had returned full force.

“Do you know what this room was used for?” Aranea asked someone, probably Draskelio.

“No clue. We may know more than most about Solheim, but this reads more like 'secret facility' than 'run of them mill tower'.”

Aranea hummed. “Fair.”

They quickly arrived at the yellow glowing platform. It was a bit crowded, but they all fit on it. The platform dropped them into a sort of passage under the cavernous room. Everything was the same. The walls, the floor, the ceiling. If the security measures hadn't been disabled, Nyx got the feeling they would have taken a while with this one.

Following the way until the end, they arrived at a circular room in which a bronze coloured dome rose from the floor.

“What is this?” Crowe asked.

Draskelio looked at the string of runes engraved in the dome.

“A lift,” he said after a few moments.

“How do you know that?” Callux demanded.

The red head shot the Niff an unimpressed look. “Because that's what the runes say this is. Once activated they make this platform-” he stomped his foot onto the metal part of the floor he stood on- “lower and rise.”

“Alright then,” Nyx said as he stepped next to Draskelio. “Are we all ready? Below this is our target.”

There was a sharp chorus of “Scha, Makti-Oir!” from the Glaives while the others nodded or wordlessly stepped onto the metal. A single heartbeat later the runes lit up and the platform began to lower. It didn't take longer than a few seconds until they arrived. The platform smoothly came to a stop.

It was darker in here – there was only the dim glow of emergency lights – but even those were enough to see the massive body turn towards them. Nyx could make out a long, thin snout and multiple horns, the largest pair of which wound straight up and back. A curse escaped his lips.

A jabberwock.

Without really thinking about it, Nyx dove forward, narrowly missing the wickedly sharp claws sweeping at their group. The others did the same. He unsheathed one of his kukri and tried to slash at the scaly skin of a hind leg. It did next to nothing. He rolled beneath the sweeping force of the tail.

Thankful for the aether Libertus had forced down his throat, Nyx grasped of the coeurl-deep jungle-instinct residing in his blood. Within moments the world grew brighter. Pushing down on the sudden dizziness from the change of perspective and colour saturation, he threw a bolt of lightning at an underdeveloped wing. The jabberwock staggered and spun around, snarling.

Shots rang out, the sound near deafening as it echoed back from the metal walls. A dark shape dove from above, clipping the great beast in the side. It was tentative-companion. Sharp spikes made of ice whizzed through the air, breaking off one of the jabberwock's horns.

A slight distortion in the air showed Nyx where pack-brother was sneaking up to the beast. Nyx joined him and together they jumped on its back when it crouched low to attack someone. There was yelling.

“Highness, stay back!”

“Hey! Concentrate on me, you fucker!”

With nimble feet Nyx rushed up the jabberwock's neck, nearly falling down more than once as the beast moved to avoid tentative-companion's lance. He took his sword, channelling as much of his magic through it as he dared, and drove it into the relatively softer hide beneath the horns. He jumped, using his whole body weight to slash down its neck. At the same time one of the underdeveloped wings fell to the ground.

The jabberwock roared in pain. It stumbled – right into a glowing glyph on the ground. The resulting explosion threw Nyx against a wall. Multiple someones were cursing. More shots.

“Damn it, Furia!”

“It's working, isn't it?”

“It's slowing down! One last push!”

Nyx shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. The ringing in his ears persisted. Focussing was difficult, but he managed to scrounge enough of his ringing thoughts together to notice that the beast really was on its last leg. Because of the missing wing it tilted dangerously to one side and the large wound at the neck was bleeding furiously while the edges glowed a bronze colour. Ice caked its skin as well as scorch marks.

With a furious hiss Nyx went for the neck again. He dove between the small front legs just as tentative-companion descended from the sky again. Their strikes were near simultaneous. One last ear splitting roar reverberated through the air before the jabberwock's heavy body slumped to the ground.

A collective sigh of relief travelled through the sudden silence. Nyx made a rumbling sound from deep within his chest.

“How did that manage to get down here?” pack-brother demanded, utterly incredulous.

No one had an answer.

The rumble from Nyx's chest transformed into a purr as he saw that no one had been seriously hurt. The only blood he could smell was the beast's. Still, as pack-brother stepped closer to the beast's body, Nyx threw his arms over the larger man's shoulders and rubbed his chin against his scalp. A resigned sigh was his answer. Nyx only leant more of his weight against his brother.

“Yes, yes, you big cat. I'm alright, Crowe's alright. No one has more than a few scrapes and developing bruises. Now get off me, damn it!”

For one moment, just to be contrary, Nyx leant even more of his weight against pack-brother before he let off. Slowly tentative-companion came closer, her gaze sharp and curious.

“This is fascinating. No wonder Niflheim wanted Galahd so badly, if you have your own type of magic. I must say your people hid it well, Ulric. Are you verbal right now?”

Nyx tilted his head and forced his tongue to move. “Enough.”

“Hmm,” made tentative-companion and didn't say anything more.

The coeurl-deep jungle-instinct in his blood refused to settle slowly, wound tight by the fights today and the feeling that something was happening just outside of his perception. It drove him up the wall. Energy buzzed in his bones like lightning and he wanted to move.

Cub-of-den-leader approached from where he had taken cover with his protector. Cub's eyes were trained onto the carcass – no not quite. He was looking at something on the floor. Nyx followed his gaze while cub moved closer like he was being pulled on a string.

There, half buried beneath the jabberwock's body lay a sword. A greatsword. It had a serrated edge giving that part the look of a chainsaw while the other side held a secondary grip. This had probably been done with warping in mind. But it still begged the question: How had no one noticed the sword before?

Before anyone present could react, cub stretched out his hand, as if to reach for the massive weapon. It began to glow bright enough Nyx had to avert his eyes. He heard metal scraping gently against metal. The tingling of crystal shards. Then a yelp and shocked cries.

“Highness!”

At once Nyx's head jerked back up. Cub lay sprawled on the floor, dazedly blinking up at the ghostly image of the greatsword hovering above him. The sight set Nyx's teeth on edge. Something shifted in the atmosphere. If Nyx had not sunken so deeply into his magic, he would not have noticed it. It was like the attention of something great and ancient was suddenly on them all. It felt like decay and a pulsing heartbeat. A few steps away from him, pack-sister shuddered unconsciously.

“I'm alright,” cub said with a shuddering breath.

The image of the greatsword vanished into hundreds of tinkling shards as he heaved himself up on wobbly limbs. At once foreigner-ally was there, ready to step in should it be needed. But cub proved to be resilient. Nyx made a rumbling sound of approval.

“You sure, Highness? The sword was taller then you and it just stabbed you,” pack-brother fretted.

Wait, what?

With a high pitched whine working up his throat, Nyx stepped closer to cub and scented the air around him. It reeked of ancient crystal magic strong enough to make his hair stand on end, but no blood. Not quite satisfied yet, he leaned closer still. Cub's blue eyes grew wide, but he lowered his gaze and carefully settled against Nyx. Satisfied, he rubbed his chin against cub's scalp and buried his nose in short black strands for a few heartbeats.

“Nyx, please.”

That was pack-sister. Grumbling Nyx stepped back and shot her a baleful stare. She just raised an eyebrow.

“Get a hang of yourself. I want to be out of here sometime today.”

“Cats do what they want,” cub said with a shrug. “He was just making sure that I am alright.”

“That might be, Highness, but this is hardly proper behaviour of a Glaive or a foreign dignitary,” foreigner-ally pointed out.

“Less stench. Magic.”

At the looks Nyx got, pack-sister came to his aid. “What he means is that whatever just happened, the magic residue of it has a foul smell to him. What he did was make sure you're alright, Highness, and to lessen the bad smell.”

Curious blue eyes stared at him. “You smell magic?”

Nyx dipped his head into a single nod.

“Are you all waiting to become ashes over there? Get your trophies and let's get out of here. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies,” flame-hair called from where he was picking up a claw covered in soot.

The other Galahkari followed suit. Pack-sister picked up the horn her ice had broken off, while pack-brother took a piece of bone from the cut off wing. The foreigners watched the proceedings with a mix of curiosity and disgust. Nyx did not move from his place. He had made the jabberwock bleed, so he had a right to the blood, but he had no clue what to do with it. Still, pack-brother practically threw a vial of it at his head.

On the way back up Nyx's magic finally calmed down. Mostly. Tiredness tugged insistently at his bones. He could still vaguely feel the press of ancient-powerful attention in the air, but most of it was now centred upon Prince Noctis. He did not like it, at all. No one this young should hold that kind of attention. But right now there was nothing he could do about it.

When they reached the control room, Nyx felt simultaneously wound up and tired enough to lie down on the floor and fall asleep then and there. Tonner and Keraia were crouching on the floor, the former elbow deep on a glowing mass that approached the look of modern cables, while the latter was miserably poking at the mess that had been her radio.

“I've got good news and bad news,” Tonner announced without turning around. “Good news number one is that the tower is now running its system maintenance. Good news number two: we managed to get this mad scheme working for all of five minutes. The bad news is that now the radio is totally busted.”

“Did you manage to reach Luche?” Nyx asked, stepping past the map of the tower.

The lowest room now glowed a dark blue.

“We did,” Keraia answered. “His group got caught by the storm as well. They took shelter in a cave. He'll radio Tomix to send us someone to pick us up. The Marshal will probably at the camp by then. Oh, and the storm is starting to abate, so we'll be able to get out of here in the morning.”

The whole group sighed in relief.

“Finally. I was starting to believe we would never get out of here,” Callux grumbled.

Kincaid and Aranea shot him reprimanding looks.

“Well, looks like we'll be staying here for the night then,” Draskelio commented. “Pick a spot and get some rest. It'll be crowded, but it should work. You too, Tonner. Whatever by Pitioss you're doing can wait until you're here again.”

“Soon. I've nearly figured it out.”

Draskelio huffed and gently rapped a knuckle against the back of her head.

“Rest. Now,” he said.

“Fiiiiine,” Tonner sighed and gently pulled her arms out of the mass of glowing maybe-cables.

Nyx nearly didn't notice Aranea approaching him over the by-play. She looked tired as well. Today had been a long day for everyone, he supposed.

“Ulric, once we're able to leave in the morning, Biggs, Wedge and I will make our own way.”

He should have expected that. “You able to find your way to the nearest settlement?”

She nodded. “We've got contacts to get us off this continent, don't you worry your magic addled head.”

That was not what he was worried about. He huffed at her last words, not even finding the energy to be offended. It wasn't even that wrong. He really needed to work on his control. Going non-verbal like that on a battlefield was not the best thing to do.

“If you say so,” was all he said.

“Come on guys, lights out in five!” Draskelio called.

“Don't you dare!” Crowe yelled back.

“Figuratively! Now pick a spot and sleep!”

“Whoever made him the responsible one?” she muttered under her breath, barely loud enough for Libertus and Nyx to hear her.

The three of them were situated in the corner next to the door.

“You and Nyx look like you'll fall asleep on your feet,” Libertus pointed out like the ass he was. “Seriously, you both used too much magic.”

“Yeah, yeah. I'm sleeping.” Crowe rolled her eyes but settled down at Libertus's side. “See? I'm doing it.”

Nyx sat down on his other side. He was asleep the moment his head fell on a well muscled shoulder.

Chapter Text

The air was cool and clean. The smell of hot winds and decaying green had yielded to wet stone and petrichor. Black skies were just starting to show the first hints of dawn. The dark silence of the early morning was disrupted by relieved exclamations. After being in an ancient underground ruin for so long, the wide open space of nature was more than appreciated. Fresh air had never tasted so good.

Nyx took a deep breath and relished in the fact that he could not smell dust or ancient magic. He bounced on the balls of his feet, overcome with the sudden urge to run. A pair of footsteps stopped next to him. Even in the near dark Nyx could see Aranea.

“My boys and I will take our leave,” she said.

“You sure you don't want to stay until the light is better?”

“We probably should,” she admitted after a heartbeat of silence. “But we're big kids, Ulric. Don't you worry about us.”

Nyx grumbled, not wanting to admit that he did. Callux was a right arsehole, but he carried his part of the weight. There were many people he knew that couldn't even do that much.

Before he really knew what he was doing, Nyx turned around to face the Nifasi mercenary properly and held his right hand to his left collarbone, palm facing the floor. He did not bow, for in their own culture the Galahkari bowed to no one.

“Hes fatihna ohlro mahlt fahl lin zehwirus ala eas,” he recited the traditional farewell. May the light of the sun and the moon guide you.

Aranea might not have understood the words, but judging from the tilt of her mouth, she had certainly understood the sentiment. She touched her forehead with with four fingers of her left hand, her thumb neatly tucked away, and then tipped them in his direction.

“Iregol'ku kes echtek'a elu'ak yel'uk achel,” she said before she turned away, calling for her companions.

“You're going to let her go just like that?” Draskelio asked once she was a bit further away.

Nyx did not turn around. Instead he looked up at the slowly fading stars. Every time he was out of Insomnia he could not help but admire their beauty. Sometimes he wondered if the Insomnians knew what they had traded for their security.

“We have a deal. And getting a foot in the door with her seems like a good idea,” he answered.

Draskelio hummed, clearly not convinced, but thankfully he did not start an argument. The red haired man looked towards the others, who were by the stairs leading down to the entrance. He huffed and rolled his eyes, muttering something about Tonner being an idiot before stomping away after a respectful nod towards Nyx.

Nyx just shook his head and looked at the stars again. There was the Serpent struggling towards the sea but never reaching it. The Coeurl was prowling close to the western horizon while Hunter had already vanished behind the spreading dusk, but the Hunter's Arrow still streaked across the sky. He closed his eyes and sighed.

Footsteps approached from behind, light and familiar. Crowe.

“Trying to find the Sisters again?” she asked, teasing.

“I was ten,” Nyx shot back with a fond smile. “I'm still mad at Libertus for telling you that.”

Crowe huffed, amused. “Yeah, well. As a kid I liked the Tale of the Sisters just as much as anybody else.”

The two storm-siblings watched their surroundings in silence for a while. Around them nature started to wake up in full. Birds started to sing and leaves rustled not from the wind but the hundlegs starting to bustle about.

“Keraia said our pick-up will wait at the parking lot closest to here,” Crowe said at last.

“Well then, let's get going, shall we?” Nyx said and rolled his shoulders.

He turned around and walked back into the ruins to start get the group moving.

They reached the parking lot not long after the sun had emerged from behind the horizon, dousing everything in a red and golden light. The clouds had long since vanished. Another warm day lay ahead of them.

Three vehicles were waiting for them. One was noticeably smaller and bore the mark of the Crownsguard. The Marshal himself leaned against the hood, arms hanging loosely at his sides and thunderous scowl in place. He stood up straight as soon as he noticed their group. Pelna jumped out from the back of the middle troop transport vehicle. He waved, a relieved grin on his face. The last vehicle was driven by Radia Dala. She sat behind the wheel, talking on the radio, but had left the door open to easily exit should something happen.

As soon as they were close enough the Marshal saluted with a hand over his heart and bowed. “Your Highness. Your father will be glad to know you are well. Makti-Oir. Thank you for finding and protecting our prince. His Majesty wishes to speak with you at your earliest convenience.”

“Good to see you, Cor,” Prince Noctis answered from beside Nyx, a small smile on his lips.

The boy was mostly alright, a few scrapes and bruises here and there and he definitely could use a shower and a fresh change of clothes. Then again, so could the whole group.

Nyx gave the Marshal a respectful nod and a salute. “Marshal. I'll return to Insomnia tomorrow. First I need to return to the headquarters. There's a few things I need to take care off.”

The Marshal nodded. His gaze lingered behind the prince, where Nyx knew Ser Elshett stood. There was a moment of silent communication between them before the Marshal nodded again.

“We would take our leave then. I wish you well in your endeavours, Makti-Oir.”

Nyx nodded and turned towards the prince. “Take care, Highness. You did well.”

Prince Noctis looked like he wanted to duck his head, but he didn't. Instead he looked Nyx in the eye and gave a gracious nod. It was a very princely gesture, but also genuine and warm. Huh. Nyx has no idea why he suddenly felt so proud of the teenager in front of him.

The armoured car departed not long after. Ser Elshett remained with the Glaives. It was then Pelna stepped up to their bedraggled group. He crossed his wrists in a respectful greeting before dragging Nyx into a hug. The man grunted in mild surprise, but the other man hugged back with just as much enthusiasm.

“You have no idea how much you worried us, you idiot,” Pelna murmured into his ear.

He took half a step back, but did not release Nyx quite yet. Nyx gave him a crooked smile.

“It wasn't on purpose this time. An Astral kind of got in the way of things.”

Pelna shot him an unimpressed stare. “An Astral.”

Nyx nodded, causing Pelna to sigh. “Whatever. I honestly don't know why I was expecting anything different. Come on, I've brought breakfast. You can tell me everything then.”

The whole group descended upon breakfast like a pack of half starved coeurls. It was simple fare. Bread and nuts and dried fruit with canned meat and tea in thermos flasks, but it was so much better than ration bars. Nyx sat on the ground, back leaning against a tire, with Pelna leaning against the vehicle. Most others had dispersed between the two cars, finding their own places to sit and eat. Libertus and Crowe sat on the kerbstone across from him and slightly to the left.

“Spirits be good. Can't you have one calm day? Finding the missing prince, fighting Glauca – again! – allying with a Niff mercenary and her cronies, the senile old man making a storm, Costlemark Tower. You're the maker of so many stories, it isn't even funny,” Pelna exclaimed after the three had told him their story.

Nyx simply shrugged and swallowed a piece of dried pineapple. “There's one more thing, but I would prefer to tell everyone at once. It's... let's just say it's going to change a lot of things.”

Nyx saw all three of his friends shoot him searching looks. He simply looked back, the message of 'later' clear in his expression. Despite everything that had happened since then, the knowledge that the Captain was Glauca, it was... Nyx still had no idea how to deal with it. So he just hadn't dealt with it. Instead the knowledge sat like a leaden weight on his chest.

“Why do you think the old codger made the storm?” Pelna suddenly asked after a bout of silence.

“Could have been many things,” Libertus said with a shrug. “Maybe he was angry we were there. Maybe he was having a bad day. Maybe he's holding a grudge.”

“Or maybe he wanted us in the tower,” Crowe suggested.

“Why would he want you in there?” Pelna wanted to know.

Nyx shook his head. “Not us. The prince.”

“That makes a disturbing amount of sense,” Crowe said, a frown on her face. “That sword was definitely magic.”

Libertus snorted. “You don't say. I nearly had a heart attack when that thing stabbed Prince Noctis in the chest just like that.”

The reminder of that made Nyx shudder. The memory of the ancient magic that had pressed down on all of them, still filled him with apprehension and made his hairs stand on end. Now though, he was also quite sure it reminded him of something, but he couldn't put his finger on what. He frowned in thought.

“I don't like what happened down there,” Crowe said, making him look up from his nearly gone food again. “I have a bad feeling about it. It also cannot be healthy for the kid to have to be stabbed by a magic weapon before he can use it.”

The all nodded in agreement.

“The magic smelled foul, sick. It wasn't the sword, though, but something else.” Nyx tried not to shudder.

“Let's put that on our growing pile of problems for now, alright?” Crowe suggested at last.

“How are things at the main camp?” Nyx asked.

Pelna sighed. “Chaotic. The Citadel was asking for updates at every hour, the Marshal practically appeared out of nowhere, and I think Tomix had a minor panic attack when we lost contact with you. Tredd was ready to blow the whole base to Pitioss and back. Thankfully Lentus is more reasonable. Nube's Unit also came back with two more MTs, so the Furias were distracted.”

“You sure it's a good idea to have Tredd involved in the research?” Libertus wanted to know.

His question sounded rather tactless, but there was an undertone of genuine concern.

“No, but I'm more concerned about what he would do, if I forbid him from doing it. If this is the outlet he wants, all we can honestly do is to make sure someone has an eye on him. Better he does this, than bottle it all up,” Nyx answered.

He could see the others were as unhappy about it as he was. Stretching out his legs until his feet hit the kerbstone, Nyx finished his breakfast.

They piled into the transport vehicles. Libertus, Keraia and Draskelio's Unit in one, everybody else in the other. They had agreed to split up again, mostly so Draskelio's people could pick up the vehicles and resources they had left behind. They already had to be careful with what they had.

About an hour into the drive, as they were on the road leading through the Kettier Highlands, the radio crackled to life. The sound cut through the funky pop song that had been playing, and startled Nyx out of his contemplative silence.

“Kresch Unit to Coeurl, do you read me? Over.”

Nyx's lips twitched in amusement. Coeurl? Really? Pelna shot him an amused look before he concentrated on the road again.

“Kresch Unit, this is Coeurl. Over,” Nyx answered.

“Heard you hid under a pretty big rock there. Over.”

Pelna snorted.

“Cheeky. From what I heard you didn't do much better. How's the weather over there? Over.”

“Good enough to visit the chocobos. Now that the crisis is over, we want to continue with our little tour. Over.”

“Don't forget to take plenty of pictures for me. I've got to turn back around. The boss wants to talk. Over.”

“Oh, fun.” There was a short silence and then a different voice sounded. It was Luche. “Hero, don't do anything stupid. Over.”

“He's got you there,” Pelna chimed in.

Nyx shot him a wounded look that was too dramatic, to have any chance of being taken seriously. “I have every intention of being on my best behaviour. Over.”

“Take at least your seamstress with you, maybe even your aunt. Both have a good head on their shoulders. Over.”

It took Nyx three long seconds to realize that Luche meant Ladone when he said aunt. She and his father had been close friends, though they had never become hunting-siblings, for whatever reason. Nyx had never bothered to ask.

“Alright, alright. I'll not go without supervision. Happy? Over.”

“Very. Over.”

Nyx shot a mock scowl at the radio, much to Pelna's obvious amusement. “You have fun then on your scavenger hunt with your kids. I demand souvenirs. Over.”

“I'll make sure to pick up a pretty rock or two just for you. Take care. Over and out.”

“You as well. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Over and out.”

Nyx hung up the radio and caught Pelna's amused gaze for half a second. He raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Pelna shook his head, eyes on the road again. “Nothing.”

“Come on. It's not nothing.”

“You know Luche is probably laughing his ass off right now, right?”

“Mister prim-and-proper? Never.”

The amused silence between them in the driver's cabin slowly turned thoughtful.

“I get the feeling that he's been more – relaxed is the wrong term, but less tense, maybe? He doesn't seem like a spring wire about to break anymore,” Pelna said at last.

“He swore himself to me,” Nyx admitted, voice soft.

“What?” For a second it seemed like Pelna's voice had risen half an octave. He took a steadying breath. “When did that happen?”

“It was a while ago,” Nyx admitted. “I was visiting Sinehär Gisdrauht Patientia and he was there as well. You remember the day we had breakfast together and you showed me that article in the Insomnian Star? Luche and I got talking. Things were said, we got frustrated, but right as I was leaving he gave me a pledge. 'Whatever you need of me, I'll do everything in my power to make it happen.' That's what he said.”

“Ahtrii,” Pelna breathed.

“Yeah.”

“He's always felt strongly about our situation, but I never expected him to pledge himself to the first person that seemed to affect positive change,” Pelna mused after a bout of silence.

Nyx sunk deeper into his seat. “Thank you for that vote of confidence, Pelna.”

The man rolled his eyes. “Oh, you know what I mean. We all knew, if someone was going to change anything, it was going to be you.”

“I'm just that kind of guy, huh?”

The words were mumbled, their tone full of self-doubt and not intended for any ears but Nyx's own. That didn't mean however, that Pelna didn't catch them. That man had always had unreasonably sharp ears.

“You know, one of these days, you've got to stop doing that,” Pelna said, tone deceptively light.

“Doing what?”

“The whole 'I'm not worthy of this' shit. Everybody is equally worthy, your talents are simply uniquely suited to the position.”

For a long moment Nyx didn't know what to say. He just sat there, blinking at his friend. There was a heavy knot in his stomach. He knew he could do this. He knew. But that didn't make the voices in his head any easier to ignore.

“Nyx. I know it's hard. Really, I do. We all lost family and friends. We all saw our home be destroyed. And sometimes I'm lying in bed wondering what the point to it all is, why we're still here, alive, when our whole way of living is basically gone, but you know what? I then look at my wife and know my son and my nieces aren't far, and that they need me. They need me because I'm part of what makes them happy, makes them get up every morning. You're just as much a part of this as everyone else, Nyx. I bet you a year's salary that you're the main reason Crowe and Libertus haven't given up by now.”

In the following silence Nyx could hear nothing but the crooning voice of the country singer coming from the radio and Pelna's ragged breath. His head was empty and he felt as if a jabberwock had thrown him into a wall. His mouth was dry as a Leidean summer day. An angry growl worked its way up his throat.

Pelna released a tired sigh.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

“What?” Nyx blinked in surprise.

“I'm sorry. For snapping at you like that. I shouldn't have.”

Nyx sat up straight and took a good look at his friend. He had a waxen quality to his skin and there were worry lines starting to form on his face. It was a strange feeling, the knowledge that his own worries could affect people like that. Was this what Libertus had been trying to tell him ages ago? Probably. Nyx just hadn't been ready to listen. Pitioss, he didn't know if he was ready now, but the message had been received loud and clear.

“No,” he hurried to say. “You could have worded it better, but I think I needed to hear that. Can't really say it's okay, but... yeah.”

Pelna nodded, looking not quite relieved, but close enough.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

And that was that.

They arrived at Merrioth Haven in the early afternoon. When they had reached the Longwythe-Rest-Station Nyx had convinced Pelna to take a nap while he himself drove the rest of the way.

The camp at first glance was emptier then expected. Sounds could be heard from the mess tent – most likely preparations for dinner – and a group of mages sat between the sleeping tents playing some cards. Other than that, the most activity seemed to be around the research tent where the MTs were. After ordering Pelna to get some more sleep, Nyx and Ser Elshett made their way towards the command tent. Crowe joined her mages.

Inside it was mostly quiet. The communications officer on duty kept track on where everybody was and Tomix Sarcina sat at a desk that was covered in papers, reading. The latter looked up when he heard the tent flap move and rose from his chair.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makri-Oir,” he said in greeting while crossing his wrists.

“Rid ohlro ar,” Nyx returned, lifting his right hand to his collar bone, palm facing the floor.

“Ser Elshett, good to see you back in one piece,” Tomix greeted her with a respectful nod.

“Thank you, Sir Sarcina.”

“Any news?” Nyx asked in Lucian as he stepped closer to the desk.

“Pelna already told you about the two MTs Nube's Unit brought back?” At Nyx's nod Tomix continued. “So, it turns out the... people inside of it all look the same, if you disregard the mutations caused by the miasma, that is. The two new ones also had chips at the bases of their skulls, and one of the magitek cores malfunctioned and nearly exploded in our faces. That would have made one fine mess.”

“Is everyone alright?”

“No one got hurt. Tredd threw that thing into one of his experimental rune circles. It contained the explosion. Burned a meter deep hole into the ground though. Speaking of which: Arl Unit managed to make a lightning trap prototype and nearly fried the whole haven.”

“You let them experiment in the camp?” Nyx asked, incredulous.

Tomix sent him an unimpressed look. “Of course not! They were a ways out. Tredd said something about channelling runes and amplifiers when I asked. Half the Unit got sent to medical and two are still in there – nothing life threatening the medic assured me.”

Ser Elshett tilted her head. “Runes?” she asked, genuine curiosity reflected in her eyes.

Tomix tapped his foot against the rocky ground of the haven, but it was Nyx who answered.

“Tenebrae has the Oracle's magic, Lucis has the King's magic, and we know how to use runes. If I remember right, the Oracles made the havens a long time ago, with the usage of runes. So once upon a time the Tenebrani must have had that knowledge as well. Not sure, if they still do. On Galahd, the Furia Clan is one of the best when it comes to warding.”

“And anyone can use these runes?”

Nyx hesitated. “Yes and no,” he said at last. “Technically runes feed on ambient magic and activate once the array is complete. But the ambient magic here is so low, it doesn't quite work like that anymore.”

The tent flap was pulled aside and two figures stepped through.

“Nyx, you seriously got to stop blurting out all our secrets to outsiders!” Tredd grouched, although the words didn't hold too much heat behind them.

Behind him Linus Furia followed. “Makti-Oir, Ser Elshett, it's good to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Not for a lack of others trying,” Nyx grinned.

“Sirs Furia,” Ser Elshett greeted both with a respectful nod. “Am I to understand then that one must have magic of their own to power the runes for a 'lack of ambient magic'?”

“She's got a quick mind,” Linus commented, turning to Tredd.

“There's more to it, obviously, but yes. For some weird-ass reason Lucian soil can't sustain runic arrays other than havens. That's what it boils down to. If you want to know more, you've got to ask the Arra, if they'll let you into their library.”

“The library is back on Galahd,” Tomix pointed out, entirely unimpressed by Tredd's feigned helpfulness.

“Oh, I know!” Tredd said, clapping his hands with a grin. “Believe me, I do. The amounts of times I needed a reference book and didn't have one, made me want to burn something down in frustration more than once. All those books, all that knowledge, and it's collecting dust and mould because no one is there to take care of them.”

“All the more reason to go back, I assume?” Ser Elshett asked rhetorically.

“Now she gets it!” Tredd crowed, pointing at her but looking at Linus, who sent him a supremely unimpressed look.

Ser Elshett herself looked the way Ladone always did when she was planning on how to beat someone black and blue under the guise of a friendly spar. Nyx shuddered at the memory and sighed.

“Why're you here, Tredd?”

“Me? I'm here because my cousin here wanted to come. I'm just his moral support.”

Said cousin rolled his eyes. “Oh, do shut up. You were just as worried as we all were. I wrote a preliminary report about the whole... MT situation.” He pulled out a tablet in a thick protective case and held it out to Nyx who took it. “I really, really don't like the implications of the three people in the suit being what seems to be like identical copies. We don't have the means out here to do any genetic testing – honestly, we never thought we would need it.”

Swiping along paragraphs upon paragraphs of text, Nyx sighed. Again. He was doing that a lot this day, it seemed.

“They're clones,” he said.

Linus promptly choked on his own spit, while Tredd let loose a string of curses in every language he knew. Tomix slowly turned towards him, silently staring. Nyx felt very tired.

“Look, I just found out about it on the way to Costlemark Tower, but apparently the Marshal managed to infiltrate one of Niflheim's research facilities around fifteen years ago. Don't ask me how or why – I have no idea – but he came back with information and proof that the Niffs were experimenting with cloning.”

“Aviosa linmuhru hes quäbehn!” Tredd exclaimed, furious, before he rounded up on Ser Elshett. “And you never considered that little fact might be important?”

“Tredd!” Nyx called in warning, intending to step in, but Ser Elshett beat him to it.

Her eyes were flintstone hard, her expression set. Her stands was loose and firm in anticipation of a fight.

“That information was declared strictly need-to-know. Up until three days ago only four people – not including me – knew about it.”

“This is absolute garulashit! And you all know it! We've all thought that we've been turning murderous machinery into scrap metal, and now it turns out we've been killing mutants. I don't know about you all, but that was definitely not what some of us signed up for. I did not- oh fuck it! I'm out of here.”

With a huff that was partly anger and partly frustration, Tredd threw his hands in the air and walked out of the command tent. Nyx didn't bother to try and make him stay. That would make the situation only worse than it already was. He felt a headache coming on.

“Well, that went to shit in a handbasket pretty fast,” Nyx said, raking a hand through his hair.

He needed a shower. And a bed.

“I cannot say I blame him,” Linus said, sounding resigned. “Some of us aren't people-hunters.”

“Does it make such a big difference?” Ser Elshett questioned, but her expression said she already knew the answer.

“The choice was taken from him,” Tomix rumbled. “It may have been thoughtless of him to think he could keep to it while in the Glaive, but in the end he did not get to decide.”

“He was proud of it, you know?” Linus chimed in. “The fact the he managed to fight in the Glaive and not be a people-hunter.”

“People-hunter?”

Ser Elshett's voice was soft with something that was not quite pity.

“Our language doesn't have words for 'war' and 'soldier'. 'Hunt' and 'hunter' come close – 'people-hunter' is closer still – but they don't really fit. A people-hunter is someone who hunts and kills people to protect their own.”

“Ah,” she made. “That was indeed thoughtless of him.”

The three Galahkari stared at her for a long moment before Linus consciously released the tension in his body. “I'm going to talk to him before he does something stupid. You can keep the tablet, Makti-Oir.”

“Alright,” Nyx nodded.

There was a beat of silence after Linus was gone.

“I apologize, Makti-Oir,” Ser Elshett said.

Nyx blinked at her. “For what? At this point Tredd already knew that there were living beings in the armour. He just found a convenient outlet. As is, it should be me apologizing to you, and not the other way around.”

Ser Elshett shook her head. “Let us just say neither of us should apologize to the other, and get something to eat?”

“You know, I think that's an excellent idea,” he grinned.

Chapter Text

When Nyx woke with the sun the next morning, he still felt tired. He knew he had dreamt that night, though he could not remember what it had been about. The only traces the dream left behind was a burning feeling of rage in the pit of his stomach. It faded the longer he was awake, only to be gone entirely by the time he made his way to the mess tent to eat breakfast.

Crowe raised her eyebrows at the way he tried to chase his lingering fatigue away by clinging to his tea cup like his life depended on it, but didn't say anything. She did not look much better than him. Statis sickness sucked.

The two of them ate in silent camaraderie as the tent slowly filled up around them.

Tredd was the first person to join their table. The red head looked pale, his eyes drooping from lack of sleep. He must have worked for most of the night. Nyx opened his mouth to say something, but closed it again when Tredd shot him a truly impressive glare. As their meal continued in silence, Tredd's shoulders started to relax a bit, so Nyx was content to nibble on his remaining breakfast and watch the people around them.

Pelna stood in line for his bowl of schapika, talking animatedly with Ares Bellum, who listened with a small smile on her face. When Pelna saw Nyx looking at him, he waved with a grin. Ares also looked in his direction and nodded. Nyx nodded back. Teikos Ostium stood next to one of the three humongous pans used to make the schapika, handing it out to the people waiting in line. How someone could eat that for breakfast Nyx would never know. Tomix stood close to the entrance talking with Lentus Furia. They were probably discussing the MT situation.

Nyx was about to turn his attention back to his cup of tea, when a large group entering the mess tent drew his attention. As if he had a homing beacon, Libertus's eyes found his. His hunting-brother looked unreasonably awake. Nyx blinked slowly. Libertus raised an eyebrow, visibly looked at the other people sitting at the table, and turned away to where the tea was set out.

Turning back around, Nyx raised his tea cup only to notice it was empty. A deep sigh of betrayal heaved itself up his throat and tumbled out of his mouth. It sounded just as tired as he felt. Crowe snorted and Tredd clutched his own tea cup tighter. Nyx squinted at him and Tredd stared back. Nyx huffed and pointedly looked away. He would never.

Suddenly three steaming mugs were set down in the middle of the table. Three heads turned in unison. Libertus grinned, waved and walked away without a word to get into the schapika line. Nyx positively curled around his new mug. Maybe this morning wasn't as awful as he had thought.

Ser Elshett drove like a maniac. And Nyx had thought Tredd was bad. He clung to the grab handle as subtly as he could and tried not to bite through his cheek. No wonder this woman had arrived as fast as she had. The landscape flew past at a breakneck speed. The atmosphere within the car was... neutral, mostly, with an undercurrent of tension. Nyx couldn't concentrate on the folders in his lap.

“If it is not too forward of me, may I ask you a question, Makti-Oir?” Ser Elshett asked rather suddenly.

Nyx was pressed into the door as they hurled around a bend.

“That depends on the question, Lieutenant,” Nyx answered. “I will not be able to answer everything. You may ask however, and we'll go from there.”

She hummed and hit the breaks rather suddenly, when another car appeared in the lane in front of them. Nyx subtly relaxed his grip on the grab handle.

“You started to restructure the Kingsglaive rather suddenly. I was under the impression the Glaive's structure could not be changed. Captain Drautos certainly seemed to think so.”

A shudder crawled up Nyx's spine at the traitor's name. He swallowed down a curse and instead tried to find the question in what Ser Elshett had said. Over the years Nyx had learned that Lucians could be painfully indirect, if they did not want to insult someone of higher standing than them.

“There were many problems with how the Captain structured things,” Nyx said, carefully manoeuvring around the traitor's name. Was Drautos even his name? “Many of which are cultural reasons. The Glaive is made nearly entirely out of Galahkari, which should have made it obvious that the traditional Lucian structure was not the best fit.”

“Nothing about the formation of the Kingsglaive was normal,” Ser Elshett said rather dryly.

A grin flittered across Nyx's face. “No, I guess not.” He sighed. “For us hunting groups – or units, or squads, or whatever you wish to call it – ideally count five people. Ten, if you need a bigger group, fifteen, if you're desperate.”

“The number five must be significant, then.”

Nyx blinked, surprised, and considered that. “Possibly, but not really? It's a religion thing but also practical. A group too big is easier to hear or spot. People make noise. Their equipment makes noise. Trying to hunt something with a group bigger than five is difficult.”

Ser Elshett seemed to consider this while they hurtled past Hammerhead. They were this close to Insomnia already?

“I can see the logic behind that. If you don't mind me asking, Makti-Oir: May I know what else you plan to change within the Kingsglaive? Things may get done smoother with a bit of forewarning.”

Rather suddenly Nyx came to the realisation that no one had thought to contact the Lucian authority about any pending changes in the Glaive. He had just sat down and done it. Fuck. It was a wonder King Regis had simply let it happen. Maybe His Majesty was more of an ally than Nyx had thought.

“... We are currently in the process of reworking our finances,” he said after swallowing heavily. Looking at Ser Elshett, he wondered how much more he could tell her. “There are things we can get cheaper and in better quality elsewhere. Some of the running contracts are going nowhere... hmm, we are paying money, but the companies mentioned within those contracts have no knowledge of them. So we pay money to somewhere and get nothing.”

Had he explained that right? Saying this out loud sounded so awkward. Why did Lucian need a whole paragraph to describe a nowhere contract? Not that Nyx had known that term until Athina had brought it up during a discussion they'd had with the others of his... inner circle one evening. Apparently it was a loanword from Accordo or something.

“That is rather worrying,” Ser Elshett said, a heavy frown on her face. “With your permission I shall talk with Marshal Leonis. Maybe we have some information that will help you.”

Once again Nyx couldn't help but be surprised by the Marshal's second-in-command. He had not expected her to offer help. Constructive help. Most help Lucians offered was nothing but empty promises, his people had learned. And those few that actually wanted to help? They weren't usually in a position to do so in any meaningful way.

“My thanks, Ser Elshett,” Nyx said and hoped the pause hadn't been too long.

She nodded. On the horizon the buildings of the abandoned town Ponte appeared. They were nearly there.

As he wished, Ser Elshett brought Nyx directly to the Citadel instead of his apartment. He had showered back at the base and his clothes – while being a mix of his Glaive uniform and traditional hunter's garb – were clean.

The guards saluted as Ser Elshett and he walked past them on their way to the throne room. Someone must have sent word ahead, because as soon as they reached the waiting hall a few minutes later, a servant waited for them. The man was older, with a sturdy build and a large balding patch at the back of his head, which became visible when he bowed deeply to Nyx.

“Be welcome, Makti-Oir Ulric. His Majesty sends his regards and apologies. He is currently busy with something that he cannot divert his attention from, for the next few minutes. If you would please follow me to a suitable waiting area.”

Nyx sent Ser Elshett a questioning look. However she simply nodded at him and motioned for him to follow the servant. She had obviously no intention to do the same. Was this again some kind of Lucian etiquette thing he had no idea about? Reluctantly he turned to follow the servant.

The room he brought Nyx to, was not far. A door at the right-hand wall of the waiting hall led to a short corridor from which four doors on each side led to different rooms. The servant opened the first door to the right and motioned Nyx to head inside with a bow.

“Thank you for your patience, Makti-Oir Ulric. The wait will not be long,” the servant said with another bow and closed the door when Nyx stepped inside.

The room wasn't too big. A large couch was set against the wall opposite from the door. Two arm chairs accompanied it. On a coffee table between them was a crystal tea set, which was obviously intended for his use. The tea in the pot, which was set above a candle stove, was a lovely amber colour. On a plate next to it a series of dried fruits were artfully arranged, causing Nyx to raise an eyebrow in surprise. Someone had done a bit of research it seemed. His steps were soundless on the carpeted floor as he made his way over to sit in the armchair with its back towards the wall. Next to the door was a large bookshelf filled to the brim with non-fiction books about architecture, food, fashion, history, art and many more topics. Their presence caused Nyx to wonder how long waiting times usually were.

He filled a delicate crystal tea cup, mindful of the heat. Around the rim it had a pattern of intricate hexagons inlaid with gold. The tea had a strong lemony smell. Nibbling at a piece of dried fruit, Nyx tried once more to look through the reports he had brought with him, without much success. He simply could not concentrate on the words.

With a groan he let himself flop back against the plush backrest of the armchair, and stared at the expensive wood panels which made up the walls. A large painting hung on the otherwise empty wall across from him. It showed what was probably a castle. A single, tall white spire rose into the sky. The castle was surrounded by a small city, its buildings made of light sand coloured stone and flat roofs. Colourful banners hung between them. The architecture looked vaguely Solheimr and the whole thing gave off the impression of festivity. Judging from the landscape, this was Insomnia.

Curious Nyx set down his half empty tea cup – it was really good tea and obviously expensive – and stood up to take a closer look at the painting. Its heavy, geometric frame was painted silver and to the right there hung a plaque.

Title: BEFORE

Artist: Unknown

Year: c.a. 500 AS

Found and restored by Augura Lucis Caelum

Nyx could not help but be intrigued. He was no expert on art by any means, but he thought the title was highly unusual for a landscape painting. 'Before'. Before what? He squinted at the painting, trying to find a clue, but he could find nothing.

Feeling strangely disappointed, he returned back to his seat and emptied his tea cup, gently holding it between his hands. Damn, he was scared to break it on accident.

Enough time passed for Nyx to drink another cup of tea and eat some more of the dried fruit – sue him, he was getting hungry – before a knock sounded at the door and the same servant from before entered the room.

“Makti-Oir Ulric,” the man intoned with a bow, “thank you for your patience. His Majesty is able to meet with you now. Please follow me.”

Hastily Nyx scooped up his folders from where he had put them down on the coffee table, and followed the servant out of the room. They walked out into the waiting hall but did not enter the throne room. Nyx swallowed around an uncomfortable hunch.

Three precise knocks were what announced them to the occupants of Regis's private office. As subtly as he could, he formed a rabhithisaikna before the door was opened, knowing what would await him inside. The servant either didn't notice or was polite enough to ignore it. Nyx was glad either way.

At a muffled “Come in!” from inside the office, the servant opened the door, bowed, and announced in that gravely formal tone of his: “Makti-Oir Ulric is here to see you now, Your Majesty.”

“Send him in.”

With another bow the servant stepped aside, opening the door further to let Nyx in. The Conqueror's portrait still stared at him in disdain. Nyx did his best to ignore it.

King Regis stood behind his desk, his Shield standing behind his left shoulder, stiff and alert. Marshal Leonis stood by the couch to Nyx's right. The sun shone bright through the windows, giving the dark wooden furniture a strange glow.

“Makti-Oir Ulric, thank you for agreeing to meet with me in such a timely manner,” the King said with a smile that was just a touch less formal than Nyx usually saw.

“Your Majesty. Considering the circumstances, it's no trouble,” he said with a nod that could be considered a bow. “Lord Shield, Lord Marshal.”

The two men gave him shallow bows in greeting. Ahtrii, this was so strange. King Regis moved around the heavy wooden table and towards one of two armchairs that stood on either side of the couch, facing each other.

“Please, take a seat, Makti-Oir. There is much to talk about,” he said with a hand motion towards the other armchair.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Nyx said, swallowing down his nervousness as best as he could.

Sitting down, Nyx neatly put his folders into his lap. The armchair was very comfortable. The surface was made of a buttery leather he wanted to sink his fingernails into. He carefully skimmed his fingers over the soft surface.

King Regis sat down in tandem with him. Marshal Leonis sat down a heartbeat later. The Lord Shield remained standing, guarding his King with a kind of ferocity Nyx had never seen in the older man before. There was a beat of silence.

“I owe you a debt Makti-Oir Ulric,” the Lucian King said. “Thanks to you, my son is no longer in the clutches of Niflheim. I do not want to think about how things would have ended, if they had succeeded with their scheme.”

“It was my duty, Your Majesty.”

Nyx paused. Should he say something else? Before he could think of something the King was already speaking again, his expression grave and full of anger.

“My son already told me what happened from his perspective. Titus's betrayal cuts deep. Rest assured there will be consequences for his actions. We will find those who aided him and put them to justice.”

Uncaring of the kind of company in the room, Nyx snarled at the mention of the traitor's name. Ice cold fury bubbled in his gut, perfectly mirrored in the King's expression.

“He will be declared none-of-ours and he will pay for all that he did,” Nyx hissed, doing his best to keep his magic in check.

He quickly looked at the folders neatly stacked on his lap and held one out towards King Regis. It was a simple and cheap brown folder with papers – some printed, some handwritten, all of them copies – tucked into it. The Lord Shield stepped forward and took it from Nyx's outstretched hand. Nyx suddenly felt a bit stupid. Of course King Regis would not stand up to fetch a simple folder. Said King tilted his head ever so slightly in curiosity.

“Our findings to Titus No Name's background as of now,” Nyx explained. “Statements from his neighbours, names of the people who knew him, and statements from those we could track down. Some of the Glaives also wrote their own reports with observations. There'll be more, of course. This is only a start.”

“This is... impressively fast,” the King said, skimming through the first few pages. “It will be a great help for us and speed our own investigations along. Thank you for this. I cannot imagine it is easy to trust us with this.”

Nyx shifted uncomfortably in his armchair in the face of the King's rather sudden earnestness.

“We had our own suspicions for a while now, Your Majesty. We did not expect that this was the amount of subterfuge and treachery we were dealing with.”

The Lord Marshal deliberately shifted his weight forward, dragging all attention to him.

“If you would allow the question, Makti-Oir: If you knew something was going on, why did you not report it to the Lucian authorities?” To us went unsaid but was clearly heard.

“Because we didn't think this would involve military matters. Not in the way you are thinking of, at least.”

“What was this investigation about, then?” King Regis asked.

“At our last Great Gathering, where all the Clan Heads of Galahd meet, Oirkar Lazarus – that's the Head of Clan Lazarus – approached me with some worrying observations about Titus No Name. That and him vanishing right after the Gathering were enough to start to look into things. What we found made us keep looking.”

King Regis hummed. “This is the second time you said Titus No Name. May I ask you to elaborate on that?”

Nyx opened his mouth to spout some minimalist answer, but he paused to reconsider. This might be a good way for the Galahkari to distance themselves from Titus's betrayal – just thinking about it still squeezed Nyx's heart something fierce – and keep the backlash towards them to a minimum. So a more comprehensive explanation was in order.

“For a more detailed answer I need to explain a few things about my culture,” Nyx said.

The other three men in the room nodded. There was a kind of eager curiosity hanging around all three of them.

“First off, the general concept of being Nameless as an adult is similar to the Lucian concept of someone being a bastard as far as social stigma is concerned. On Galahd, when a child is born, they do not have a Clan Name – a last name – at first. I, for example, was simply known as Nyx, son of Alyxa and Ilias.” Nyx paused to see if the others understood.

King Regis frowned ever so slightly. “How then do children receive their last name? And why do they not have them from the very beginnings? It seems strange to me that a child is meant to not feel like part of their family.”

“You misunderstand, Your Majesty. Children are very much considered parts of their family, just not part of a Clan yet. Those two structures are kept separate. Clan members have responsibilities. Responsibilities a child is too young to fulfil. So they need to prove they are old enough, responsible enough, to carry those responsibilities with what we call a First Hunt. Through that we earn a position in a Clan. Each Clan has their own version of it.”

“A Clan is like a guild then?” King Regis asked.

“I- Maybe? I'm sorry, I don't know enough about guilds to answer that.”

The King shook his head. “No worries, Makti-Oir. We can revisit that at a later time. Please continue.”

“Right.” Nyx nodded. “There are three ways to being Nameless: a child who hasn't yet earned a Clan Name, a person who wasn't able to earn a Clan Name for whatever reason, and someone who got their Clan Name taken away from them. The last one is the worst and what is happening in this situation specifically.”

Nyx resisted to drag a hand through his hair or sigh. Trying to explain all this in a concise manner was hard. King Regis gave his Shield a look, who nodded and walked to the door, exchanging a few words with someone standing just outside of the office.

“I think some refreshments are in order,” the King said at Nyx's questioning look. “Now, am I correct in my assumption that the analogy between someone being Nameless and someone being a bastard comes from a child not having earned a Clan Name, as you say?”

Nyx gave the Lucians a cautious look. “Yes,” he said.

The King simply nodded. “Thank you for the clarification.”

“There are only very few ways someone can lose their Clan Name. In our history this has only happened very few times. There are only two examples I can think of. One caused the extinction of a Clan and the other sold children into slavery. Both were executed but were declared Nameless before it happened.”

With a long, measured breath Nyx tried to loosen the tension in his muscles. Just thinking about these two stories made nausea settle in his stomach. He looked at the three Lucians. The King looked grave and serious, the Marshal's expression rivalled a furious thundercloud, and the Lord Shield's face had gone entirely blank. Nyx shifted his weight and continued. He craved the grounding warmth of a cup of tea.

“I tell you this so you can understand how serious it is, when we declare someone Nameless, and Titus No Name's crimes are of the same magnitude. This is a very last resort. When we take someone's Name away, we also take away their access to our culture. From the moment I saw his face when I took off Glauca's helmet, he lost all connection to our communities and will never have it again.”

There. Hopefully that explanation was enough.

“Is it a death sentence? Being Nameless,” Marshal Leonis spoke for the first time.

“No, not necessarily. But any crime that's bad enough to make someone be declared Nameless... if they are killed, there will be no legal repercussions.” Nyx looked at King Regis and sighed silently at the look in the older man's eyes. “Ask your questions, Your Majesty. I'll do my best to answer them.”

What else could he do? The King might say he owed Nyx a debt, but Nyx knew it wasn't true. He had just lightened Nyx's own burden. Because saving Prince Noctis from being a political hostage did night measure up to a life saved. The debtor's braid seemed to weight heavily against his neck.

“My thanks, Makti-Oir,” the King said. “You explained how someone might incur the sentence of being declared Nameless, but you have yet to say how the process of that works. Are there any written laws pertaining this?”

“Usually only a Great Gathering can declare someone Nameless, since the crime has to be great enough to concern everybody.” Nyx made a face. “But in this particular situation I have the authority to do it without needing to hold a Gathering, since what Glauca did was an act of war. Our law books are in the protection of Lina Arra, Head of Clan Arra. I recognise that there are many things we need to hash out with our situation as a whole, so I'll ask Oirkar Arra to assign us a law keeper to make things easier.”

“We should do that during this six-day at the latest. Voices have been getting louder as to the legality of everything. I may be king, Makti-Oir, but I can only silence them for so long.”

“Ser Elshett said something along those lines on our way back. I'll speak to Oirkar Arra this evening.”

A knock at the door interrupted their discussion. Nyx could not help the wave of utter gratefulness that washed through him. At a call from the Lord Shield a servant opened the door and stepped into the office, followed by a second servant pushing a service cart. On it were a tea service made of delicate black and gold porcelain and an arrangement of fancy snack foods on matching plates. There were cubes of cheese and grapes, filled olives, dough balls covered in a fine dust of sugar, chocolate pralines, and something that looked like small bits of puff pastry filled with oranges and walnuts.

One servant arranged the plates on the low coffee table between them so that everything was within easy reach of everyone, while the other one poured cups of tea and set them down in front of each of them. Nyx watched their practised, fluid motions and their calm faces and wondered for how many years they had been doing this. It was honestly kind of fascinating. Both looked to be around their mid thirties, though the woman seemed to have seniority. After they were done – the tea pot had been set down in the middle of the table on a candle stove – the two servants bowed and left the office. During that whole time neither had said a word.

Once they were gone King Regis picked up a delicate black porcelain stick and picked up a cube of golden cheese with it. Ah, so that's how this worked. Nyx had wondered.

With motions that looked surer than he felt, Nyx picked up a stick and shoved one of those puff pastries into his mouth. The tart taste of orange peel marmalade spread along his tongue. The pieces of walnut gave it a nice counterbalance. This was delicious. Nyx ate another one before he took a sip of his tea. Night Blue. What a wonderful surprise.

“Now then,” King Regis said after another long moment of silence. “As I said at the beginning, my son told me what happened from his perspective. I would like to hear yours as well.”

Nyx swallowed down his mouthful of tea. “Before I do that, I want to give you this.” Carefully he set down the folders he had been holding in his lap, in a free space on the table between the plates. “One contains out research into MTs, the other the restructuring plans for the Kingsglaive along with a preliminary budget.”

He dearly wanted to ask the King why no one had ever told them that the MTs were the work of cloning, why they had never followed up on that revelation, or why Prompto Argentum was never told any of this, but he didn't. Instead he opened his mouth and spent the next half an hour explaining the Glaive's part in the Prince's rescue.

The King listened attentively along with the Lord Shield and Marshal Leonis throughout the whole report without interrupting once. When Nyx was done, silence reigned for a long few moments, during which Nyx refilled his own teacup, Lucian propriety be damned. His throat was parched.

“This is worrying. Very worrying indeed,” the King said at last, a deep frown marring his face.

Nyx had to agree. Everything about that whole encounter was worrying, however he wanted to know what exactly the King found so worrying, so he asked.

“We cannot be sure that the Fulgurian was truly involved, however the evidence is worrying as is...” the King trailed off, seemed to consider something. “The sword you found down in the Costlemark Tower belonged to one of my ancestors, King Gwerris the Tall, and was thought to be lost. Once a Lucis Caelum is old enough, they go on a small pilgrimage, collecting some of these swords. They will give them strength when it is their time to rule.”

From the looks the three Lucians wore, it was easy to infer that Prince Noctis was considered too young to start this kind of pilgrimage. Nyx had to agree. However having that kind of attention from magic this sick and decaying could not be healthy in general.

“Will it harm him?” Nyx dared to ask, worried for the kid.

“No,” King Regis answered. “However he will not be using that sword until he is old enough to deal with the strain.”

Nyx nodded, relieved. “Let's hope then, that he doesn't stumble across any more of those swords.”

All three Lucians gained strange expressions when he said that. For a second Nyx wondered, if he had insulted them in some way, which was a legitimate possibility with what little they knew of each other's cultures in some aspects.

“Indeed,” the King agreed at last.

The tense muscles in Nyx's shoulders started to relax again. He shifted in his seat, tried to press down the urge to stand up and move. They had been here for quite some time.

“There is one last thing then, before we adjourn for today, Makti-Oir,” King Regis said.

What might that be? Nyx leaned forward, curious. There were many possibilities. The fire-ash, the Kingsglaive, some conflict between their people that might have cropped up while Nyx had been gone, the MT situation, the Sol thing, or even the upcoming Founder's Day. As it turned out it was neither of those things.

“We would like to know if you have any more information about Gilgamesh,” the King said.

The Lord Shield blinked in surprise in tandem with Nyx. Of all the things the king could ask about, why Gilgamesh? Nyx opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted by the Lord Shield, who hadn't taken his eyes off the King.

“Your Majesty! In light of what has been happening, I do not think it time to ask such frivolities.”

For some reason Nyx didn't really believe the Lord Shield when he called his interest in Gilgamesh a frivolity. Not after what he had heard from Gladio and Libertus. Neither the King nor the Marshal seemed to believe him as well. It got Nyx thinking. What did he actually know of Gilgamesh?

“I'm sorry,” he said, pulling the attention of the room onto himself again, “but I can't tell you anything you haven't already heard. The situation with Gilgamesh is an Ostium Clan secret. Only they can give you any information you might seek.”

“That is unfortunate, but thank you for your answer nonetheless,” King Regis said.

While the King spoke the Lord Shield looked like he was debating something with himself. In the end it seemed his curiosity won.

“Would an Ostium answer our questions?”

“You would need to contact Oirkar Ostium directly. He's a traditionalist and very strict when it comes to these matters. The only way he might answer any of your questions is if you offer an exchange.”

Nyx cast the Lord Shield a pointed look. The man wouldn't get any information if he just walked in and expected the answers to be given just like that. And while he knew that the Lord Shield could be a sensible man, there was a sense of entitlement about him that would rub Murus entirely the wrong way.

“My thanks, Makti-Oir Ulric,” the Lord Shield said.

Somewhere on the large desk a phone started ringing. King Regis turned to look towards the sound and blinked.

“I am afraid we will have to end our meeting here, Makti-Oir Ulric. There is another matter I must attend to.”

“Of course, Your Majesty,” Nyx said, hiding his sheer relief at finally being done. “I'll contact you tomorrow for another meeting within the next six-day.”

He stood up, the King and the Marshal doing the same.

“That is much appreciated,” the King said. “May the Light of the Crystal bless you.”

“And may Eos's Light shine on you.”

Nyx gave a near-bow and left the office. He kept his steps measured and precise to not give any indication of how badly he wanted to leave the room. In the hallway the two guards stationed at both sides of the office door stood at attention and saluted once they recognised him. Nyx nodded distractedly in their direction and stretched his arms over his head in an attempt to loosen up his muscles.

What was the plan now? He needed to talk to Axis about how his end of their meagre coordination efforts for the Prince's search with the Crownsguard had worked. Then he needed to talk to Lina Arra about their law books and a law keeper for the talks with the King, and warn Murus about the Lord Shield contacting him. And those were just the immediate things on his list. Nyx heaved a soundless sigh.

He had just stepped into a blessedly empty elevator when another person slipped in as the doors were closing. It was Marshal Leonis. Nyx eyed the man but did not say anything. The doors finished closing and the elevator began its descent. Barely three seconds into their journey downwards, the Marshal hit a button and the elevator jerked to a sudden halt. Nyx raised an eyebrow at the older man, muscles deceptively loose.

“I apologise for the inconvenience,” the Marshal said, expression grim, “but there is something I need to talk to you about.”

Nyx stared at him for a long second. The air in the elevator grew thick with tension. Whatever this was about, either the King couldn't know about it, or the King knew and couldn't tell him directly. Nyx couldn't really think about another reason for this scenario and liked neither of them.

“I'm listening,” he said.

Chapter Text

“A deal,” the Marshal said. “I wish to make a deal with you, if you are amendable.”

“A deal,” Nyx repeated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “And I'm guessing His Majesty doesn't know about this?”

“Plausible deniability.”

With the way the Marshal said those words, Nyx got the feeling that the man in front of him had used that excuse more than once already. He suppressed an amused snort at the thought.

“Alright then,” Nyx said, curious now. “Let's hear it. What kind of deal is so important that His Majesty isn't to know about it?”

For a moment the Marshal was quiet, clearly searching for the right words. He stood at parade rest, like he was about to give a report to his superior. Nyx had never had someone stand in front of him like that. Normally it had always been him doing the reporting. He shoved that thought aside before it could lead down a path he didn't want it to go.

“Since its conception the Kingsglaive has done exceptional work. If not for Titus, it would have done even better. Would you consider sharing your people's resources to help me find the other traitors, should there be more?”

That... Nyx raised an eyebrow. He had not expected that. Shifting his weight in consideration, he eyed the Marshal carefully. From the looks of it, he was entirely serious. It was a logical thing to do. A thing the Galahkari and the Lucians were already starting to do. So why would the Marshal come after him to talk in a lift of all places? And this still didn't explain why His Majesty wasn't to know about it directly.

“And where do you intend to find these traitors?” Nyx asked, voice sharper than he had intended.

The Marshal looked him straight in the eyes. “The nobility,” he said. Nyx nearly choked on his breath. “We know for a fact that some of the Lords and Ladies have done some very... unsavoury things. Until now we haven't been able to prove it to the point any charges would stick. And it should be without question that the Crown cannot be associated with hiring a foreign power to investigate his own nobles.”

“Yeah, right. And with Titus gone and exposed you have a new place to start digging. A new angle.” Cor nodded. “I get that. What I don't get is why you would make a deal with us because of it.”

“It has come to my attention that you and your people have some very effective ways of acquiring information. I ask to use these ways and channels for this.”

Nyx... did his bests not to laugh. Did the Marshal not realise that 'their method' consisted of asking the members of their community if they'd heard something? It was the equivalent of asking your neighbours for the newest gossip, just on a wider scale. And maybe a bit more organised.

“And what would we get out of this? Going digging in Lucian affairs isn't exactly easy nor without danger,” he wanted to know.

“Any pieces of your culture or history, any personal items of your people I find during this, I will get back to you,” the Marshal said.

That made Nyx stand ramrod straight, staring wide eyed at the man in front of him. Had he really just heard right? Or had he finally started hallucinating? Had he somehow gotten too close to a black rose?

“What?”

The Marshal nodded. “I and my people went looking for information when all of this started happening.” He did not need to elaborate what 'this' was, Nyx knew he meant his appointment as makti-oir. “What we found was very incomplete. A large part of your people's immigration paperwork is missing.”

This was very enlightening information, but Nyx could not figure out how this was relevant to the Marshal's offer of getting them back at least some of their stolen things. And Nyx knew the Marshal knew he was going to say yes no matter what. This was the one thing Nyx would not – could not – refuse.

“The state of your archives is sad but not really my concern. How did you make the jump from missing paperwork to our things having been stolen by your nobility?”

“I didn't,” the Marshal said rather flatly. “Not long ago Lord Sagitta, the Minister of Outside Affairs, held a gathering at his home. I had to accompany King Regis instead of the Lord Shield, and while there I noticed a tapestry done in the style of your people.”

“He could have bought that legally,” Nyx suggested to test the waters.

He knew the man hadn't, but he was curious as to why the Marshal thought so as well.

“The nobility has the habit to not see you as a person, when you are there to work a protection detail,” Leonis said.

That was true. And something the Marshal would know just as well as Nyx himself. At events like balls and gatherings and whatever else, most nobles tended to treat the security as part of the furniture. It was not inconceivable to Nyx that a noble had said something where some guards could hear them.

“Not very bright,” Nyx said.

“In this instance it was a case of teenage stupidity and bravado.”

“Ah.”

“Do we have a deal then?”

Nyx tilted his head in thought. He would not say no – he couldn't – but that would not mean that he would say yes right now.

“I'll need to talk to a few people first,” he said instead.

The Marshal's expression did not change. If he was disappointed, he hid it very well. Without another word, the man hit a button on the console and the lift continued its descent with a quiet hum. A thoughtful silence filled the cabin between them until they reached their destination.

Lina and Axis Arra were waiting for him in Lina's apartment. At first glance it looked surprisingly spacious, but once it became clear that Lina and her wife had five children between them, and three of those were teenagers, the apartment suddenly became rather small.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makti-Oir,” Lina said when she opened the door to let him in.

“Rid ohlro ar, Oirkar Arra,” Nyx said, a small smile playing at his lips. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.”

He gently knocked twice on the head of the wooden statue sitting on a table next to the entrance. Lina shook her head and proceeded to guide him into the kitchen. A girl's voice drifted through the hallway from one of the rooms further down.

The kitchen was next to the living room on the right. When Nyx stepped inside Axis had just set a tray down on the dining table. Lina closed the door once they were inside. Axis greeted Nyx with the same formality Lina had. He worked his way through it and sat down, receiving a cup of limeschti, and going through the traditional motions.

“What brings you here then?” Lina asked once the limeschti was empty. “You weren't clear on it on the phone.”

Nyx leaned back slightly, getting more comfortable. The old wooden chair creaked beneath him. The air smelled heavily of spices and slightly burned. Both members of Clan Arra were giving him their full attention. Nyx thought they weren't too closely related, but the resemblance was still there in the shape of their eyes, the set of their noses and their hands.

“Earlier today I had rather interesting talks with King Regis and Marshal Leonis,” he began. “One of the topics was his son's abduction. I would like to know how things were going on your end, Axis, with our attempts at cooperation.”

Axis tilted his head in thought. The man had always been very careful with his words, choosing not to say anything when he considered the words not worth saying.

“The news of the Crown Prince having gone missing reached the Kingsglaive late in the morning. It was just a rumour at first, until one of the Marshal's direct subordinates came to give us the news around midday. We were supposed to search the refugee quarters as inconspicuously as possible. Not just Little Galahd but also Ulwaati, Insalae and Il'Yelek. We found nothing.”

“The Crownsguard was searching the upper levels I take it?” Nyx asked.

Axis nodded. The bags under his eyes seemed bigger than usual. Nyx wondered if one of his children was sick again.

“None of the other refugees were particularly enthused to see us. Especially the Tenebrani. They seemed to take it as a personal offence, though they did not say so in so many words. Since the King wanted to keep under wraps that the Crown Prince had gone missing we couldn't exactly tell them what we were doing there.”

“How did our people take it?”

“Angry resignation.”

It was Lina who had said that. Until now she had listened quietly, recognising Nyx's power to debrief one of his hunters. Now she sat on her chair, her left ankle resting on her right knee and arms crossed over her chest.

“They could have at least had the courage to do this themselves. Instead they sent our own people to treat us like suspects in a missing person's case.”

Neither Nyx nor Axis said anything to that for a long moment. What was there to say?

“When you called, Makti-Oir, I was coordinating the efforts, so reaching the Marshal wasn't difficult,” Axis continued.

“So it wasn't actively working together,” Nyx concluded.

“No. We were told we were to look through those quarters because we knew the surroundings and people better.”

That could count as a legitimate reason, but with everything else, it was getting hard to believe that.

“Still, I think we should keep out of Ulwaati at least for a while,” Nyx said.

Both Arra nodded.

“I'll let the others know,” Axis said.

The man stood up and crossed his wrists with a deep nod towards Nyx. Lina patted him on the lower arm. Then he was gone.

“How's Masi?” Nyx asked to keep the silence from lingering.

“Good,” Lina answered with a semi-amused twist to her lips. “She's currently out with most of our kids. Siris is supposed to be studying in her room.”

Nyx wasn't sure how much Siris was actually studying, but he chose not to say that. Instead he simply nodded to show he was listening.

“That's good,” he said.

“Now then, what can I do for you?” Lina asked, leaning forward in her chair.

“Like I said: I had a discussion with King Regis and the Lord Marshal earlier today. And considering everything that's been going on, I think we will need a law keeper to help. Along with some law books. Do you know somebody who would be willing to do it?”

For a long moment Lina seemed to study him, her light brown eyes holding a piercing intensity. Nyx simply decided to study her in return. The wrinkles on her face told of her worry and joy in equal measure, while her braided hair still held its raven black colour with barely any grey hairs shining through like silver thread.

“I can understand why you might need a law keeper,” she said at last. “For all that we can be considered an independent nation according to Lucian law now, our exact standing in Insomnia still needs to be ironed out. Same with the Kingsglaive I imagine. Anything else?”

“We'll need the laws concerning declaring someone Nameless.”

Here Lina raised her eyebrows until the wrinkles on her forehead stood out in stark prominence.

“Oh?” she said.

Nyx sighed. “I haven't been back long enough to announce it yet, so please keep what I'll tell you quiet for now.”

Lina gave a slow nod. “As long as you'll do so soon. If it's concerning Namelessness you cannot wait too long.”

“I know, believe me. I simply don't want to say this more often than I have to, so I'm planning to wait until the others return from the training trip in a few days.”

With startling clarity Nyx realised he should have asked the King what he was planning with that information. Fuck. Well, no use crying over some spoiled meat. Hopefully he wouldn't say anything before Nyx did. Otherwise none of the Galahkari would be happy. With him or the situation.

“Sounds reasonable,” Lina said. “However, I reserve my right to change my opinion once I know the details.”

“Fair,” Nyx agreed.

It wasn't like he could really order her not to say anything. He could only ask her to follow his lead on this.

“Now then: Why do you need a consultation on those laws?”

“During the rescuing mission of Crown Prince Noctis I discovered that the man once known as Titus Drautos is General Glauca.”

The following silence was deafening.

“What?”

Lina's knuckles turned white. Her face had turned into a tumultuous thundercloud. Nyx grimaced. Talking about it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“I wrenched that helmet from his head myself,” he said. “As of that moment, Titus No Name is not of us anymore. If he ever was.”

“Aviosa linmuru hes quäbehn. As you say.”

With jerky movements Lina stood up – her chair made an unpleasant sound as it scraped over the linoleum floor – and dug out a bottle and two shot glasses from one of the cupboards. She opened the bottle and at once Nyx picked up the strong smell of druhm root alcohol. Moments later a glass was set down in front of him.

“Here. I think we both could use one now,” Lina said and raised her own glass.

Nyx followed suit and emptied his glass in one go. The alcohol went down smooth and oil like. It settled like a warm weight in his stomach. He set down the glass and licked his lips; this was some good stuff.

“The only people who know about this right now are those who were with me when it happened, the King, the Lord Shield, the Lord Marshal and you,” he continued their discussion.

Lina nodded. She poured herself another glass. Nyx shook his head no when she tipped the bottle in his direction in a silent question.

“Two days you said? Are you sure we can wait that long?” she asked.

“We know now who he is. No matter where he tries to hide, we will find him.”

A vicious smile flitted over Lina's face at that declaration. “Alright then,” she said. “And you want a law keeper to make sure the Lucians know we can legally murder that credahtri?”

“That's one of the reasons, yes,” Nyx said. “We also need to make sure our footing here in Insomnia is solid. It... has been brought to my attention repeatedly that I have the responsibility to do something about it.”

Lina's face had become mostly expressionless, so Nyx could not quite tell if she agreed with that sentiment or not. Those law keeper types were impossible to read, if they did not want to be. She simply tilted her head in what could be agreement or affirmation or something else entirely. He couldn't tell.

“So someone with expertise in the Nameless laws, knows how to negotiate, how not to insult outsiders... They should probably also have a firm grasp of inter-Clan laws and our government.” For a moment Lina's words descended into incoherent mutterings. “Alright then. I'll do it.”

Nyx's mind stumbled over the next words he had wanted to say. Instead it came to a screeching halt. He made a sound that reminded him of a startled cat. The corner of Lina's lips twitched. He looked at her, a bit disgruntled.

“You sure?” he asked. “You already have enough on your plate.”

“Yes. There's maybe a handful of others I would trust to do this task to full completion without causing some kind of incident, but neither have my status. And if I have come to know one thing about Lucians, it's that they care about status. I have followed their news concerning us, and they truly do believe the oikari are some kind of Lords and Ladies. No matter how much they don't like us, by their own logic, they'll have to listen. And that's more than they've done before.”

Nyx took a deep breath. Okay then. That actually was better than he had expected coming here. Lina had a very good head on her shoulders, and she had mastered the art of being impartial to near perfection. Not that she would be impartial with this – Nyx did not think so – but should the Lucians check her reputation, it would only help.

“Then I'm glad. Your help will be invaluable,” he said. “Can you get ready within this six-day?”

Lina frowned in thought. “That's quite the order. But if it's that what it takes, yes, I can.”

“You have my thanks,” Nyx said, slipping into slightly more formal speech patterns.

Lina gave him a searching look. “Is there anything else?”

For a moment Nyx hesitated. Should he tell her about the deal the Lord Marshal had proposed? Lina leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“Spit it out. I can see it on your face plain as day.”

Damn law keepers.

“The Lord Marshal asked for a deal,” he started and proceeded to explain what the Lucian's plan was.

As she listened, Lina seemed to grow a shade paler.

“What was your answer?” she asked, a hoarse quality to her voice.

“I did neither agree nor deny,” Nyx said

“Good.”

Nyx sighed and poured himself another glass of alcohol, swallowing it down in one go. “We both know I'm going to agree to this. But this needs an actual plan or we'll be in deep trouble real fast. Spying on nobles. How would we even do that?”

“You're makti-oir. You give your Glaive-hunters shifts where the nobles are,” Lina said with a snort.

“They're really mine now, aren't they? Fuck. I should probably call a Small Gathering for this whole spying thing.”

“They've been yours the moment you were elected, and yes, that sounds like a good idea.”

Of course it was. Spying was secret business and the Great Gathering had too many people. Galahkari loved to gossip. The Small Gathering had only five people, which was a very good number. He made a mental note to call them tomorrow.

His magic was doing something weird. It seemed to vibrate under his skin, heating it up and making him feel lethargic and like he had too much energy at the same time. For a moment Lina was typing something on her phone.

“You know,” he said after a few seconds of watching her, “I don't think Titus is credahtri.”

“Oh?”

Nyx smiled until the too sharp edges of his teeth were showing. “No. Zuskehruht fits him much better. Or maybe both. Since he's maybe a survivor of the Avlin massacre. Probably. We don't know.”

“The Avlin massacre you say?”

There was a quality to Lina's voice that made Nyx freeze for the fracture of a second. Her light brown eyes were blazing with a sudden fury. He nodded.

“From where do you have that information, if you don't mind me asking?”

“Luche. Apparently Titus told him sometime. And we've been trying to dig into Titus for a little while now since things weren't adding up.”

“It's convenient that he's a supposed survivor of that massacre. The whole town was razed to the ground in the fighting. It's impossible to check the records to corroborate his tale.”

And oh. Here she used the word iskaral and not gisdraiht. But it was only fair, wasn't it? Since the tale Titus had told Luche most likely wasn't true. At least not completely. Nyx could feel the beginnings of a headache pulsing at the base of his skull. He searched for the bottle of druhm schnapps and found, to his surprise, that it had vanished.

“I will ask my brother,” Lina said.

Nyx made a questioning sound.

“He visited Avlin with our parents just days before the massacre. They managed to get him out with some of the other children just as the fighting started.”

“I'm glad he got out, and I'm sorry for your loss. My uncle was killed there as well. They are waiting for us beyond the Gate now.”

“This fucking war is slowly grinding us all down. Makti-Oir, if there is one thing I truly believe with all my being, it's that you will do your best to end this whole farce. And that's all we can ever ask of you.”

Nyx dearly needed another drink, but in lieu of that, he gave a neutral hum. One Lina could interpret as she wanted.

“If your brother knows anything, tell him to contact Ladone Najad. She's the one compiling all the information concerning this,” he said.

“I'll make sure to tell him,” Lina answered.

“Thanks,” Nyx said because he didn't know what else to do.

The doorbell rang.

Nyx and Lina turned towards the closed door of the kitchen on reflex. Running footsteps sounded. It was probably Siris answering the door. Nyx turned back towards Lina with a hum.

She also turned towards him and said: “Concerning the law books and the meeting with the King, I should be done preparing in six days.”

“Alright, thank you,” he said. “I'll send you a message at what time exactly I'll pick you up. That okay?”

Lina nodded and opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by a knock on the kitchen door.

“Maneth, there's someone here for Makti-Oir Ulric,” a young, female voice said through the thin wood. Probably Siris.

“Come in,” Lina called.

On her word the door swung open and revealed a teenager of around seventeen years of age, if Nyx had to guess, with glossy black hair, dark skin and a stocky build. Her eyes were a startling light green. It spoke of mixed Clan ancestry. In her hair she wore Arra Clan braids wrapped in a silver coloured wire. Next to her stood, to Nyx's surprise and pleassure, Athina. He stood up.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makti-Oir,” Siris said, crossing her wrists.

Her tone was formal but strong.

“Rid ohlro ar, fohrnfilkar Arra,” Nyx replied with a smile.

Siris's eyes flittered to her mother, blushing. “Parefia, Siris namni sira.”

“Gara Siris,” Nyx agreed, and the red on Siris's cheeks deepened.

Then Nyx turned towards Athina and his smile morphed into a wide, boyish grin. “Fahlana Athina! It's good to see you again.”

“Fahlana Nyx. It's good to have you back in one piece,” Athina said with a smile on her face that made Nyx start to purr.

He ignored the surprised looks he garnered, and swept her into a tight hug. He gently rested his temple against hers, not daring to do much more yet. The returning hug was nearly as tight. Nyx bit down on a disappointed whine when Athina gently extracted herself from his hug. Though she did get a hold of his left hand.

“Oirkar Arra, thank you for messaging me,” she said.

Nyx blinked and something in his mind resurfaced like a soap bubble. “Thank you for your hospitality, Oirkar Arra. It's been a pleasure to talk to you.”

“It was my pleasure, Makti-Oir, seamstress Sarcina. I'll await your message.”

With some last words of farewell, they left the apartment.

Out on the streets the air seemed to hit Nyx full force. The soap bubble in his mind burst and he had to close his eyes with a quiet whine. Even here it was too bright. Colours swam and changed saturation seemingly on a whim. Long fingers gently squeezed his.

“Come, let's get you home. Eat something, if you can. I don't imagine the alcohol agrees well with the coeurl blood,” Athina said.

The words changed volume to a worrying degree. Still Nyx managed a nod. That sounded good. Though that with the coeurl blood was not how that worked. At least Nyx did not think so. Had he always been this kind of a lightweight when it came to alcohol? He did not really remember when they reached his apartment. The way there had been filled with colours and sounds Nyx wouldn't be able to make heads nor tails of later.

He remembered his apartment smelling surprisingly clean, a hand gently carding through his hair, avoiding the braids, and quiet humming. Then he was asleep.

Chapter Text

When Nyx awoke, he did so with a metallic taste in his mouth and a headache. He had no idea what time it was. Peeling his eyes open, he groaned in appreciation when he saw the bottle of water waiting on his bedside table. A vague memory of Athina coaxing him into bed resurfaced in his mind. Nyx felt his cheeks grow red. The embarrassment would come later, however. Probably. First he needed to drink that water, get out of bed and then hunt down some breakfast. Not literally though, no matter how fun that would be and how much he would like to vanish into the wilds for a bit.

His hand pushed forward, groping for the water. It took two tries, and in the process he nearly pushed over a vial he had missed entirely. Its contents were a matte turquoise. Nyx would have to check the smell, but it seemed to be a home-made potion.

The water was a balm to his throat and thankfully mostly got rid of that Spirits awful taste. It also gave him the energy to push himself upright. He looked around and everything seemed normal for the most part. His boots were by his bedside instead of by the door and on his small dining table there was a plate filled with what seemed like crackers. He had been dressed down to his last layer of clothes, a tunic and a pair of trousers.

With a quiet grunt he pushed himself to sit at the edge of his bed and took the vial into his hands. Uncorking it released a muted mossy and earthy smell. A very mild healing potion. It tasted slightly salty, but within moments his headache slowly started to recede. For this he owed Athina big time. She was amazing and he would have to thank her the next time he saw her. And maybe gift her something to show his appreciation.

Nyx squinted at the far away wall. From his position on the bed the clock was barely visible and his phone stayed dark when he tried to check the time. Damn. Judging by the light illuminating his apartment, it must be right around sunrise. He fished for his phone's charging cable in his night stand and plucked it into the wall. He should have kept a better eye on his phone's battery. Oh well, if someone wanted something from him they would need to do it the old fashioned way then. By coming to him.

One change of clothes, a few crackers and half a mug of tea later that was exactly what happened.

A knock sounded at the door. Three quick raps with the knuckles, then there was a short pause, then three quick raps again. By the third iteration the raps had grown louder and Nyx had abandoned his tea on the kitchen counter. By the Spirits, he shouldn't have jinxed it. He opened the door and nearly got hit in the jaw for it.

“Good morning to you, too, Ladone,” Nyx said, dry as dust.

“Good morning, Nyx,” was the equally dry reply.

“Everything alright?”

The corners of Ladone's mouth twisted. “Depends.”

Nyx sighed and stepped aside. “Come in,” he said. “Tea?”

“You don't have to ask.”

With a shrug Nyx closed the door and returned to his kitchenette to prepare another cup of tea. It grew strangely quiet between them. It was the kind of quiet that made Nyx restless with anticipation.

“Good news or bad news?” he asked as he put down the cup in front of his unexpected guest and sat down at the table across from her.

“Depends,” she said again.

This time Nyx rolled his eyes. “If you knocked at my door at this hour for a 'depends', I'm going to zap you,” he threatened only half-serious.

“Your father used to have the exact same expression on his face when I said that.”

Nyx let out a tiny displeased growl while Ladone took a sip of her tea. She then held up her hands what was probably supposed to be surrender, though her body language said otherwise.

“I thought you would appreciate that fact,” she said. “We don't talk nearly enough.”

“If this is a social call, it could have waited until a normal hour of the day, Ladone. Why did you come?”

Ladone hummed, taking another sip of tea. “No one lets a sleep deprived old woman have her fun.”

“You're at least two decades to early to call yourself old.”

“Why, thank you,” Ladone said rather dryly. “Funny how you don't dispute the sleep deprived.”

“That is written all over your face. Your eyebags always are a true work of art.”

The glare that comment got him also was a work of art. Nyx only grinned at her with a touch of too many teeth.

“Alright then,” Ladone sighed. “I wanted to personally update you of our progress with looking into Titus. I went here yesterday when I heard you were back, but the Sarcina girl shooed me away quite insistently. You caught yourself a good one.”

A pleased grin flitted across Nyx's face before he raised an expectant eyebrow, suddenly feeling a quiet tension running through his body. “Well?”

“For the last week members of my Unit have been observing Hephaistos of Clan Gohlann. They took note of every person he interacted with – among other things – even if it was just the cashier at a grocery store.”

“That must be a long list of people.”

Ladone made a so-so gesture. “It could be longer. Hephaistos isn't exactly the most social person out there, thankfully. We're checking every person however, to the best of our ability. It's slow going, especially with the Lucian people. Can't exactly just go to the City Watch and order a background check.” The last sentence was said with a humoristic tilt that made Nyx snort.

“Not sure it would be helpful, even if you could,” he said.

“True.” She chuckled. “As of right now we have found two people that are of interest. Their names are Dilugalar Clandestin and Effe Asay.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. That first one was a Tenebrani name. He looked at Ladone who nodded, correctly guessing what was surprising him. Then he huffed at his own thoughts.

“I guess you can find traitors in every nation. Do you have anything concrete about them or is it just their contact with Hephaistos that makes them suspicious?”

“With Dilugalar it's much more of a feeling than anything else, to be honest. From what my Unit could gather, he's a diligent worker, rarely misses a day – he's a mechanic for Medelesso, works in their developmental sector – and is liked by his co-workers. They went out for a drink yesterday. Apparently he has a nephew back in Tenebrae to whom he writes daily. Not once however, have we seen him go to the post offices. And it has been stated that he writes letters, not e-mails or phone messages.”

“That does sound suspicious. However he could also send the letters in bulk. Sending them this far is expensive. Especially with all the conflict zones they have to reach through.”

“I agree,” Ladone said. “Right now this is barely the beginning of a trail. But there is one more thing that makes me suspect that the letter writing to the nephew is just an excuse for something else.”

Nyx refilled their cups. “And that would be? And how are he and Hephaistos in contact without raising suspicions?”

“Like I said, Dilugalar works for Medelesso. They specialise in walking aids and prosthetics. Apparently Hephaistos somehow managed to get into a program to test out some experimental leg prosthetic and Dilugalar is one of the people developing them.”

“Ah. Still tenuous. What made you pay attention to him?”

“Both him and Hephaistos have been in contact with Effe. And that man is the kind of person you don't want to catch on the wrong foot. Bad temper and an alcohol problem larger than Ulaht mountain. He has connections to a group of smugglers who specialise in smuggling things in and out of Insomnia.”

“There aren't too many of those,” Nyx said with a quiet hum.

Ladone nodded. “They have quite the influence in certain circles. Especially those who are good at their job. And Effe Asay, as far as rumour on the street goes, is, for all his violent alcoholism, a very good one.”

Both were quiet for a moment, sipping at their tea. Nyx leaned back, looking at his ceiling. The traitorous Captain of the Kingsglaive, an intelligence officer, a medical mechanic and a smuggler. The picture that was beginning to form in his head, Nyx did not like at all. Though it was hard to figure out how Dilugalar Clandestin might fit into this mess, if he did at all. Maybe he was a middle man? Nyx put that on his pile of things to consider later.

There was so much to do. Just thinking about it had Nyx wanting to crawl back into bed for another few hours of sleep. “Why can't Lucis' beloved Astrals just blow up Niflheim? At this point it would be a social service,” he muttered.

Ladone snorted. “Now that would make it easy. Life is all about its difficulties.”

Nyx shot her a look. She grinned. Her stained teeth flashed.

“Now you're just messing with me,” he said.

“Life also needs its sparks of joy to master the difficulties,” she said, voice dry.

“And now you're just really messing with me. Do you have anything more to add?”

“My Unit and I will keep further watch. Maybe they'll reveal further information without knowing, or we could lure them into a trap.”

“Hm.” Nyx tilted his head, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Before you set the trap, run your idea by me again. I think it's good, but we need to make sure we can actually deal with the whole snake's tail that comes with doing that.”

“I will, Makti-Oir,” Ladone said with a dip of her head.

Nyx nodded, heaving a soundless sigh. Alright then. He stood up, turning towards his kitchenette, wondering if there was anything edible still there. He hadn't really had the time to check yesterday.

“Would you like to stay for breakfast?” he asked.

Ladone shot him an amused look, setting her tea cup down. “As much as that invitation honours me, Makti-Oir, I think it would be best if I left for now. After all, you only returned yesterday and there are still many things that need to be dealt with.” She pulled out a small bitter leaf from a pouch hanging from her belt and pushed it between her teeth.

“As you wish,” Nyx said, though he was secretly relieved. “I'll bring you to the door.”

“My, so eager to get rid of your father's old friend?” she asked, her mouth curled into a teasing grin.

Nyx shot her a look. “You're the one who just said that I have work to do. And we both know you do as well.”

Ladone stood up and stretched. She then walked towards the front door, Nyx right behind her.

“Still, it was good to see you, Nyx Ulric. Take care. Your father might just find a way to haunt me, if you don't.”

Nyx huffed a dry laugh. “And we wouldn't want that now, would we? Still, it was good to see you as well, Ladone Najad. Take care and sun bless you.”

He opened the door and with a last nod Ladone stepped out of his apartment and vanished down the open hallway. There were a suspicious amount of people loitering.

“Ohlro ar fahl Eohsas, Makti-Oir! May I have a moment of your time?”

For but a moment Nyx closed his eyes. There went his morning. He motioned towards the person who had asked.

“Lumo varistos, Makti-Oir. I came here to talk about one of my Clan members. Lukavöll Lazarus.”

At that Nyx truly focused on the man who was now stepping towards him. His blond hair was free of braids, however he wore his beads proudly displayed on a necklace. Deep wrinkles on his forehead told of a man who frowned often. Nyx blinked in surprise.

“Oirkar Lazarus. I did not expect to meet you here this morning.”

“It was also a surprise to hear you returned ahead of the others, Makti-Oir. So I had to come over personally so we may talk about some new developments. Don't worry, I brought something to make it worth your while.”

At that Nitor Lazarus held up a paper bag which, by the smell of it, contained breakfast. Nyx's stomach rumbled.

“Please, come in,” he said, stepping aside to let the other man in. “What news brought you here?”

“Thank you for your time, Makti-Oir. Like I said: some new developments have come to my ears and I wish to talk to you about them.”

“You wish to talk about Luche.” That wasn't quite the same as a 'new development'.

“He is one of the reasons, yes,” Nitor Lazarus nodded.

The man disposed his cargo on the dining table and sat down while Nyx was busy making another batch of tea. Limeschti this time. Nyx also got a feeling that he might want to mix more of it in the near future, if he didn't want to run out. The two men were surrounded by a semi-comfortable silence as Nyx waited for the tea to get ready and Nitor took out a set of containers from the paper bag.

There was fruit and yoghurt, flat bread and a small assortment of cold meats, some of which smelled heavily of bamohn. Nyx could feel his mouth watering.

Only once the limeschti had been served and all rituals observed, did Nitor speak again of the reasons he had come to Nyx.

“Right before you went on that training mission with the members of the Kingsglaive, Makti-Oir, did Lukavöll come to me. He told me he had pledged himself to you.”Nitor paused for a few seconds to gently pull one of the round flat breads in half. “I must admit, when Lukavöll told me, I was not happy. A pledging is very serious, not something to be done on the doorstep of an apartment.”

Nyx swallowed a mouthful of fruit and yoghurt. “So you aren't truly upset that he did it, you're upset about the way he did it. And because he didn't ask you for permission.”

For a moment Nitor furrowed his brows. “Permission from the Oirkar isn't strictly needed. You know this. Otherwise I wouldn't be talking to you like this.”

Nyx nodded in acknowledgement. “You would have declared a feud.” It was said rather matter of fact.

Nitor's smile was now all teeth. “Lukavöll is a precious member of my Clan. I would never allow just anyone to take his attention and devotion.”

“If you're afraid that I would marry him, don't be.”

“Oh, no,” Nitor said with a laugh. “Oirkar Sarcina has been prancing around like an overly proud cockatrice ever since you showed interest in his grand-niece. It's rather entertaining, and who am I to ruin the fun?”

Nyx fought down the sudden heat in his cheeks and shoved a piece of bread laden with meat in his mouth. Nitor chuckled, before turning serious once again.

“No, I want to know what kind of responsibilities you're planning on giving him. With the kind of pledge he swore to you, he might be more under your authority than mine now, but he's still a Lazarus.”

Ah. There it was. To be fair, Nyx had been wondering when that question would come to haunt him. He had not expected Luche's pledge. He also didn't quite know how to deal with it. Though he couldn't exactly tell Nitor Lazarus that. It would just be plain insulting. Chewing slowly on his mouthful of meat and bread to buy some time, Nyx thought about it.

It was a legitimate question. One Nyx should have truly considered it before, but there just hadn't been the time for it. Embarrassing as it was, simply flailing through his changed circumstances – and that of the Galahkari – had held his whole attention.

“I would not take him away from his responsibilities to his Clan, nor would I make him disloyal to you,” Nyx answered slowly. “He might hate it, but he has a talent for dealing with straahnosa. More than most of us at any rate. That will be needed once he is back and we have to deal with the Lucians. He is also a very respected and competent leader within the Glaive. It makes him invaluable with keeping us all coherent as a large group.”

Nyx would not tell Nitor about the traitor. Not yet.

The man, however did not seem to be quite satisfied with his answer. He sipped at his tea, a hard sheen behind his light blue eyes.

“Lukavöll never wanted anything to do with politics or fighting. He is a peaceful soul that strives in creativity and filigree work. He always strove to emulate his older brothers.”

“I thought between the two of us I was the idealist,” Nyx said before his brain could catch up with the words. He closed his eyes with a resigned sigh. “I apologise. That wasn't appropriate to say.”

Nitor set the tea cup down with a noisy clink that seemed too loud in the room. “I always thought myself a realist,” he said, a barely masked pain slipping through. “No Lazarus shies away from the harshness of reality, which makes it my duty and responsibility as Oirkar to make sure none of my Clan will suffer for it.”

“Just as it's my duty and responsibility to look after every and each hunter of our people,” Nyx shot back. “If Luche really wanted to not fight, that would be his choice. Just as it was his choice to enter the Kingsglaive with all the others five years ago.”

For a moment silence settled between them, the tenseness of which floated between them like the steam rising from hot tea. It wasn't uncomfortable per se, but it made itself felt. Then, as if it pained him to do so, Nitor Lazarus lowered his head into a nod.

“It is his choice, yes. But sometimes the choices we make aren't the best for us or the people around us.”

Nyx stared at the Clan Head, unblinking, mind racing. Then something dawned on him, and that realisation left a bad taste in his mouth. He swallowed down his first response; scrambled for words. The scent of the tea had vanished. All he could smell was ozone.

“I will not let my decisions be dictated by your personal regrets, Oirkar Lazarus. Whatever they may be concerning Luche Lazarus. He is a friend to me, to my storm-siblings. He saved my life more than once when we were out on the field. The respect he has from me, from everybody in the Glaive – every hunter – he earned with his own actions. I won't let you diminish Luche and his actions because you fear them.”

With a deep breath Nyx forced himself to stop talking. The longer he spoke the more the words came out like the rumbling hisses of a furious coeurl. It felt like lighting was shooting through his veins, but he could not let it out, even as angry as he was starting to become. How dare this man? Clan Head or not-

“Do take care how you speak, boy.” Nitor's voice was quiet and cold. He had gone deathly pale, if in fear or anger, Nyx could not quite tell. Maybe it was both. “Makti-Oir or not, you're still young and some things – interpersonal things – are beyond your understanding. Oaths sworn still hold weight, even if those who they were sworn to, are now dead. They are still watching, judging. I have incurred debts before, I won't do so now.”

With a sinking feeling in his gut Nyx thought about the two beads hidden in his hair. The one of his braids that weighted the heaviest. Now it seemed to want to drag him down to the very lowest level of this damned city. The air was thick in the room. Each breath felt like a chore. Could Nitor Lazarus not see it? Though granted, the braid had been carefully hidden between the others.

“Did you” Nyx said, voice quiet and laced with a sharp edge that made Nitor hone in like he was a threat, “forget why I follow King Regis in the first place? I didn't do it because I believed every word he said or because he was such a good ruler. And I certainly also didn't do it because I abandoned my people. Yes, Nitor Lazarus, I heard those rumours. They hounded me from the moment we entered this city. But debts are private, and I won't flaunt mine around needlessly.”

As the words stopped flowing, Nyx dimly wondered where they had come from. It wasn't like him to vent his frustrations like that to someone who wasn't part of his family. Then again, with what had all been going on over the last few months and Nitor just continuing to be an asshole... Nyx took a slow breath in an attempt to calm down. It didn't help very much.

Meanwhile Nitor studied Nyx like he had never seen him before. His sharp gaze came to a stop at his braids and his expression shifted to something unreadable. “I wonder who else couldn't see it. It also explains some things rather well.”

“Debts are private, Nitor Lazarus. You of all people should know that.”

“They are,” the Clan Head agreed. “Though I have to wonder if they truly should be, when they influence more people than the one who owes the debt. The story of Selemen Khara should have taught us at least that.”

“Selemen Khara was forced to become an assassin to clear his debt.” This conversation was veering entirely into the wrong direction. Fuck, it wasn't even midday and Nyx was already exhausted. He sighed. “The life debt he owed was also orchestrated by the one who saved his life. His situation truly doesn't apply to either of us.”

“You know your stories,” Nitor acknowledged, sounding nearly pleased for some reason.

Nyx frowned and stood up. Anger bubbled close to the surface. “Of course I do. Now, get out of my apartment. For Luche's sake I'll not disagree with an alliance between our Clans, but don't come to me like this again.”

Nitor also stood up, nodding in acceptance. Good. Hopefully the man understood just how much he had crossed a line. Nyx was slowly coming to the opinion that debts made people stupid.

“As you say, Makti-Oir. I will await your word concerning the alliance,” the blond man said.

“Get out,” Nyx said again, though this time there was less heat behind the words.

And Nitor Lazarus did as he was told without another word. Still, the sound of the door falling closed was sudden and loud in the now silent apartment.

Nyx carded his fingers through his hair. They were shaking. He released a stuttering breath, trying to bleed the tension out, though he wasn't very successful with that. Restless he paced through his tiny apartment until he changed course and entered his tiny bathroom. The fluorescent lights stung his eyes. There was a crack in his sink. He stared at it while he let water run through his hands, until, in one sudden motion, he threw it at his face. The coldness of it shocked him out of whatever strange numbness he had fallen in rather effectively. Spirits, was he tired.

However there were things he wanted to do today, and it was time he went at it. No matter how much the mirror above his sink showed him a man who desperately needed a vacation. The worst part was probably that, for now, there was no end in sight to any of what was happening. Nyx wasn't even sure if what he was doing would truly mean anything in the end. All he could do was do his best and pray, and, on some level, that scared him. With another splash of water he shooed those thoughts away.

He picked up his boots from by his bedside and slipped them on. Next he focused on the window above his bed and opened it, looking down to the alleyway below. The trash cans stood at one end, while the other lead to the small open space in front of the apartment building. No one was in sight. In one fluid motion he was crouching on the outside windowsill carefully sliding his window closed until it remained open by only a crack. Then, with a grin, he jumped to the windowsill below. And then the next. In that apartment Nyx could here something shattering on the floor. With the next jump he reached the ground, landing on all fours. Still seeing no one, Nyx stood up straight and made his way out of the alleyway with long strides. Just as he walked around the corner, there was the sound of a window being torn open. Now, where to first?

The leaves of the fire-ash whispered in the wind. The sound was soft and soothing and somehow still managed to drown out the noise of the cars rumbling on the streets above Little Galahd. The air smelled clean and a bit like someone had lit multiple fires. Nyx pulled in a deep breath and for a moment just took in the sight of the magnificent tree growing from the cobble stones. Something warm deep within him sparked in satisfaction. Nyx huffed an exasperated sigh.

Around the tree's base a group of children ran, their loud laughter somehow not drowning out the sound of the wind travelling through the leaves. Three adults watched them carefully. The courtyard itself had begun to transform since Nyx had been here last. The fire-ash was still large, its leaves still their two toned colours of light green and bronze, however where the roots burst through the stone in large knots, blades of reddish grass had begun to sprout. From where he was standing Nyx squinted at it, not sure what to make of it. Then he shrugged. He would never understand Astrals, no matter if it was their Pyreburner or not. Thick blankets and carpets had been spread on the stone between the roots and the grass. Their colours seemed to shine brightly in the shade. Someone had also hung lanterns on the lowest hanging branches, though none of them were lit at the moment. Nyx could imagine that the play of light in the night must look magnificent.

“Oh, this Fraxinus Ifriti is an absolute marvel!”

Instinctively Nyx turned around to look for the source of the enthusiastic exclamation. And he was not the only one. His gaze landed on the entrance of the courtyard where a woman stood, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement. She looked like she was about to run up to the fire-ash without further ado, but she paused and turned towards the nearest Galahkar, which happened to be an Ostium who was pulling a one-man delivery cart.

“Oh excuse me, Messe! Might it be possible for me to take a closer look at this magnificent fire-ash? Don't worry! I simply want to look.”

The Ostium man blinked at the enthusiastic woman, clearly surprised and not quiet sure what to say. Nyx took a few steps towards them. He thought the woman looked familiar, however he could not place where he might have seen her before. The woman, not to be deterred, took a breath.

“Not to worry, Messe. I have no nefarious intentions. I am Doctor Sania Yeagre. Biologist. I simply wish to take a closer look. Maybe I can figure out just how this magnificent specimen of a Fraxinus Ifriti is growing from stone. Cobble stone no less! We might be on a lower level of Insomnia, however we are still far enough up that there is no significant amount of soil beneath the cobble stone. If any at all! If we manage to figure this out, maybe we can re-green major parts of the city!”

The woman – Doctor Yeagre – was clearly prepared to keep going, however, before she could, Nyx stepped between her and the Ostium.

“Makti-Oir,” the Ostium rumbled in greeting.

“Fahlana, fohrnfilkar Ostium. Go and take care of your business. I'll take it from here.”

“Lumo varistos.” The man nodded, his braid slipping over his muscular shoulder as he did so. Then he pulled his delivery cart past them and along the edge of the courtyard on his way towards the apartment building which now lay partially hidden behind the fire-ash.

Doctor Yeagre had followed the proceedings with clear interest in her eyes. Nyx studied her for a moment. She was barely tall enough for the top of her head to reach his shoulder, however her presence more than made up for that. She wore practical clothes made more for outside Insomnia than inside of it. Her black curls had been hidden behind a beautiful green headscarf. Right as Nyx opened his mouth to ask her what exactly she planned to do if she could study the fire-ash, the woman curtsied. Nyx nearly choked on nothing but air.

“What-?”

“Good day, Makti-Oir. My name is Doctor Sania Yeagre, like you might have heard just now. I am a biologist specialising in plant science with a minor focus in biodiversity. Most of the time I am outside Insomnia to study the relationship between plants and the starscourge.”

“Doctor Yeagre. Stand up. Please. We don't hold to Lucian court rules. I'm Nyx Ulric, but you might have already known that. I gathered you're here because of the fire-ash, but what exactly is it you wish to study?”

“Of course, Makti-Oir,” Doctor Yeagre said as she straightened, eyes bright and a wide smile stretching across her face.

She dug through the rather large messenger bag she wore slung over her shoulder. To Nyx's eyes the thing looked old but well loved, made of leather and canvas cloth. With a triumphant sound, Doctor Yeagre pulled out a rather large folder. Nyx eyed the thing with some trepidation.

“My resume,” she said. “And a official request to study the Fraxinus Ifriti. I kept it to the Lucian standard for scientific practice, and I hope that will not detract from my application.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” Nyx said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. “I'll read it and come back to you.”

Doctor Yeagre clapped into her hands. “Wonderful! Thank you so much for your time, Makti-Oir. I shall await your response. Please excuse me, I have some things to prepare.”

Nyx nodded. The doctor curtsied again. It looked kind of ridiculous when someone did that wearing sturdy trousers littered with pockets. Nyx had to suppress a sudden bout of laughter. He nodded at her when she straightened her posture again, then she shot out of the courtyard to the Spirits knew where. Nyx watched her, bemused. Doctor Sania Yeagre, huh? Well, she was certainly a character.

The folder she had given him lay heavy in his hands. He would probably have to invest in his own messenger bag, if people kept handing him things on the street.

“Can we go say hello now?” a high, young voice asked rather loudly.

Turning towards the direction of the voice, Nyx saw the horde of children that had been playing at the base of the fire-ash, rushing towards him. The supervising adults simply watched, amused. Within moments and under a cacophony of 'hello's' and 'Makti-Oir's' the children swarmed around him.

With a wide smile blooming on his face, Nyx crouched down. “Hello children. Are you having fun?”

“Yes!” most yelled in tandem, loud enough to make Nyx's ears ring. It made him smile all the wider.

“What's that?” one of the children asked, pointing at the folder he carried.

“Did you see the woman I was just talking to? She gave it to me because she wants to look at the fire-ash.”

The child nodded. “Yes. She was weird.”

“Weird?” Nyx questioned, amused.

“Yeah,” another child – a girl – chimed in. “She did this.” And then the girl crouched down.

Nyx barked a laugh. “True. That was weird. Lucians are very weird most of the time.”

A boy to his right nodded fast enough to make his braids swing every which way. “Yesterday one said braids aren't pretty. But my dads and mum say braids are always pretty.”

Nyx bit down on a frown. “That person was mean. And we don't listen to mean people, do we?”

“No!” the whole group yelled and then giggled.

The boy tugged at Nyx's tunic to get his attention. “I told him he was being mean.”

This 'him' must be the person who told a child that he shouldn't be wearing braids. “Very good,” Nyx said and tousled the boy's hair.

The boy beamed at him, then turned around and sprinted towards the small group of adults watching. “Mahir!” he called. “Mahir! He said I did good!”

“Why does the woman need paper to ask to look at the tree? She was already looking, right?” a girl asked, pulling Nyx's attention back towards the children clustered around him.

“This,” Nyx said, brandishing the folder, “is a very serious Lucian adult introduction. In it people write who they are, what they like to do. And the woman – Doctor Yeagre – also wrote why she wants to look at the fire-ash and what she's looking for. It's so I can decide if I want to let her get close to it.”

The children acted suitably impressed and Nyx smiled at their enthusiasm. As they geared up to no doubt ask another slew of questions, a man from the small group of adults stepped up. He was from Clan Dala.

“Come along children. I'm sure Makti-Oir Nyx has many more things to do today.”

There were a long series of complains, but in the end the children all returned to the base of the fire-ash under loud calls of 'good bye!' and 'thank you!'. Nyx waved after them.

“Thank you for indulging them,” the man from Clan Dala said.

“It was no trouble,” Nyx smiled.

As the fire-ash turned out not to be a good place to just sit and ordering his thoughts, Nyx ended up simply wandering the streets. From a very happy vendor he really ended up buying a messenger bag. It was made out of leather which had been dyed a dusty grey, and white stitching.

What to do now? There were so many things clamouring for his attention, he didn't even know where to start. A small Gathering would need to happen soon. Not just because it was about time that this season's gathering happened, but also because Nyx needed to talk logistics with them with how they wanted to enforce their independence. Also there was the traitor Titus that needed to be dealt with. Though that would be announced once the Glaives were back in Insomnia, so he could still think about how he would go about that particular announcement. Mururs's bar would open for lunch hour; there was still time before that. So what to do?

The answer came when he passed a narrow alleyway and heard the sound of metal hitting against metal. Rather abruptly Nyx turned to follow the sound. The alleyway was barely wide enough for two people to walk next to each other. The buildings to both sides had once belonged to a factory that had long gone out of business. Now some of the Clans used them to house a series of workshops. And apparently they had also manages to cram a smithy into it.

Its entrance was at the back corner of the building, leading directly to the alleyway. The door was open and a laminated piece of paper had been hung above it with duct tape. It read 'Utris Smithy – Repairs and Reforgings Only' with no further indication which Utris was working here. He went inside. What he saw there he had not expected.

The front room of the smithy was relatively small. There was a shelf which held finished projects, most likely ready to be picked up by their owners. The ceiling was low and the forge was crammed into the far left corner. It's fire was kept low even though there was no other source of light in the windowless room aside from the open door. It smelled heavily of burning coals, metal and oil. Next to the anvil stood a man wearing a leather apron and Utris braids in his brown hair. He was scowling, arms crossed over his chest at a woman standing in front of him. Nyx could only see her back, but he recognised that stature and that long brown hair.

“Athina,” Nyx said, surprised.

She turned around, though still keeping the smith within her sight. “Nyx,” she smiled. Her tone was pleased and tinged with surprise. “What brings you here?”

“I could ask you the same,” he said. “I just wanted to know what kind of smithy was back here and maybe see if I could find my cousins Archyll and Ariadne. Seems though that this is someone else's smithy. Fahlana, fohrnfilkar Utris.”

The smith's scowl simply deepened, revealing to Nyx's eyes that he must barely smile at all. Frown lines were carved deep into the man's face. However he managed to find some semblance of manners.

“Fahlana, Makti-Oir,” he said was a voice that was scratchy and deep. “Do you need something repaired?”

“Now that I know you work here, I can think of one or two things I could bring you.”

The smith's expression remained, but he nodded. Then he turned back towards Athina, who was once again staring the much larger man down. “50.000 Yen. That's my last offer. Take it or leave it.”

Without a word Athina picked up the broken spear from the table between her and the smith, as well as a palm sized wooden case which rattled as she handled it. “Then we won't be making business again for quite some time, Hetos Utris. Take care that your hearth keeps burning bright,” she said, nodding once before whirling around and stalking out of the smithy without a glance back.

Nyx followed her out. Athina came to a stop in the middle of the alleyway, where she tipped back her head and took a deep breath.

“You alright?” Nyx asked, gently resting a hand on the middle of her back. Silken strands of her hair caressed his skin. She turned towards him, her golden eyes gentle and warm like the sun in spring. Leaning slightly into his touch, she sighed.

“It's okay. If that man weren't as good at his job as he actually was, I would have stopped going to him for quite some time. A talented person doesn't mean a good or nice person.”

“That seemed to be quite a lot of money for a repair job.”

Athina gave him a wry smile. “Would you believe that that man started with an 'offer' of 150.000 Yen?”

Nyx choked on his own breath in surprise. “What?” he yelped. “That's extortion! Were his prices always like that?”

“No.” Athina shook her head and slowly started moving out of the alleyway. Nyx kept in step with her, his hand sliding to her hip. “He has always been a bit more expensive that most others, but like I said, he does good work. This however, I can only guess at.”

A bad feeling crept up to Nyx. He really didn't want it to be true, but what else could it be? If Hetos Utris had never asked for these kinds of prices before, something must have changed, and the only thing Nyx could think about was his growing relationship with Athina. The thought left a very bad taste in his mouth.

“The only thing I can think about as to why, is my connection to you,” Athina unknowingly echoed his own thoughts.

“How do you know that?”

“Crowe told me. Or warned me, rather. That something like that might happen.”

Nyx made a face. The pair stepped into the more populated side street that would lead them back to the main street of Little Galahd. Quite a large number of buildings here had gained splotches of paint. Colourful patterns that now that Nyx was properly looking at them, made him smile. “I'm sorry,” he said.

Athina stopped again, rather abruptly, causing Nyx to come to a stop half a step later. She looked him straight in the eyes, expression suddenly very serious. For a split second Nyx wondered if he should have said more than a simple sorry.

“Listen to me Nyx Ulric. What Clan Utris does is not in any way shape or form your fault or your responsibility. If they want to walk around as absolute assholes with their heads in the clouds, that is their problem, not yours. And if they decide that I don't deserve fair treatment because of my connection to you? Well, that says more about them than you or me.”

For a moment Nyx stared at her in a stunned silence. “I-”

“And don't you dare say 'sorry' again.”

“I- yeah, okay. Clan Utris and I have never been on the best of terms.”

Athina's piercing gaze softened. “I know. Ethin told me what he could. But even what little I know makes Clarice Utris look like a unreasonable child that cannot let go of the past.”

Nyx snorted in resigned amusement. That was certainly one way of putting it. That woman would probably do her best to haunt him even from beyond the Gate. Hopefully she would leave his mother and sister alone there.

“Ethin seems to want to know everything about me,” Nyx said with a wry grin and a gentle nudge of his shoulder against Athina's. They continued on their way.

The woman chuckled. “What can I say? I am his beloved grand-niece. You should have seen him fifteen years ago when I started getting interested in boys. I'm convinced he had a dossier about every boy I came in contact with or even just looked at for longer than a second. Mahir was laughing at him every time she caught him scowl at yet another one when he saw me looking.”

That actually elicited a genuine laugh from Nyx. He grinned and with a gentle purr carefully dragged his jaw over the crown of her head. Athina simply gave him a beautiful smile.

“I can see Ethin Sarcina do that,” Nyx said. He hesitated for a moment. “Say, do you have plans for lunch?”

Athina looked at him, expression bright and fond. “No, I don't. I just need to bring this to another smith first.” She held up the broken spear.

“Of course,” Nyx said, his smile growing impossibly wider. He tipped his head so that his lips brushed against her hair. “And thank you for your help yesterday. I very much appreciated the potion you left for me.”

“You're welcome. I am glad I could help.”

The smithy Athina ended up commissioning a repair job at, was situated in the Lucian part of the city, though barely. It was a mix of residential and industrial areas just east of Little Galahd. And as the Spirits wanted it, this time it really was the smithy of Ariadne and Archyll Utris. Nyx's cousins.

He stayed silent as the other three bargained for a price, this time much lower than the 50.000 Yen Hetos had wanted. Afterwards Athina pulled out the small, rattling case again. Archyll took it, inspecting it closely, before opening it. Whatever was in there, from where Nyx was standing, he couldn't see it, though he had to admit, when he saw his cousin frown in surprise, he grew curious.

“You should go to a Gohlann smith for that,” Archyll said, closing the small case again to hold it out to Athina.

She shook her head. “I think you and your sister are more than talented enough for it.”

The twins exchanged a look, Ariadne's gaze flitted towards Nyx and then towards the case. She shrugged. “You'll have to accept then, if it doesn't turn out perfect.”

“I am willing to take that risk.”

Archyll sighed, closed the case and carefully put it in one of the many pockets of the heavy leather apron he wore. “Alright then. Is there anything else?”

Athina gently nudged Nyx, who had remained silent up until now, except for the initial greetings, not sure what exactly to say. He still didn't. Torn between the want of connection between family and the knowledge that neither of the twins had ever made much of an effort to get to know him or his sister, as he was. Athina nudged him again, raising an enquiring eyebrow. Now Nyx regretted that he had mentioned the twins at Hetos's smithy. Still, he stepped up, magic thrumming under his skin and fingers flexing at his sides. Both members of the Utris Clan looked at him, in equal parts unsure and surprised.

“Do you both have time this evening? I... would like to talk.”

“Talk?” Ariadne questioned at the same time as Archyll simply said: “Yes.”

The twins looked at each other. There seemed to be a silent conversation going on. Athina gave Nyx an encouraging smile, who felt like his insides were made out of lead. A spark of magic danced between his fingers. This was nearly more nerve-wrecking than the quiet before a battle.

After a few more moments Ariadne raised her hands in a gesture of surrender. “Alright, alright,” she said. “We've got the time. Let's meet again this evening. I'm kinda curious what you want to talk about.”

Nyx nodded in thanks, forcing the relief from showing on his face. “6pm at Yamachang's?”

Once again the twins shared a look. “Fine by us,” Archyll said.

The fire in the smithy crackled loudly. Ariadne turned around and started sorting through bins that stood in a neat row at the opposite wall from the entrance door. By the sound of it, they were filled with ore, though which metals Nyx could not say.

“Come on, brother, we can't fall behind on our commissions,” she said. It was a clear dismissal for Nyx and Athina.

Archyll crossed his arms over his chest, but nodded even though his sister could not see him. “Yeah, I know. Alright then, see you at six. And Athina, your spear should be ready within a week or so. We'll send a runner.”

“Thank you,” she said with a nod and a smile. “I shall await your message. May your hearth burn bright and never loose its warmth.”

Nyx repeated the sentiment, which was echoed by the twins, though Ariadne sounded much more aggrieved. With that Athina took Nyx be the hand and gently lead him out of the smithy. Nyx followed willingly. For a few moments the walked in silence, then Nyx breathed an audible sigh of relief. The magic under his skin started to settle down, though he still felt like he could run up the facade of the nearest building.

“Are you alright?” Athina asked. “I hope what I did was not too presumptuous of me.”

“No, no.” Nyx gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “Without you I probably would have never asked them. But how did you know I wanted to talk to them?”

“You mentioned them when we met in Hetos's smithy and the way you looked at them made it very obvious to me that something was going on. So I gave you a tiny push.”

A deep purr rumbled in his chest at that, and once again he brushed his jaw over the crown of her head. Athina gave him an amused smile and pressed their shoulders together.

“I will not ask what is going on between you and them, but I am willing to listen, should you want to.”

“Not today?”

“That is perfectly alright.” She gave him a smile. Her golden eyes were mesmerising. “Say, how about we look for a place to eat lunch?”

Nyx returned her smile. Suddenly he felt giddy. “Of course,” he said.

Before long they found themselves in front of Murus's bar.

Even though the bar had just opened for the day, more than half the tables were already occupied. The din of the people talking washed over Nyx. It smelled of waxed wood, grilled meat and people. The table Nyx and his storm-siblings usually sat at was still free, so that was where he headed without much thought. Athina followed him. Most people didn't give him a second glance, too occupied with their own meals and conversations. However, those who did, Nyx greeted with a nod.

Murus himself came to them once they were seated to take their orders. They ordered some root beer without alcohol and a thick meat stew which held a large amount of onions, bamohn and guhnril. Nyx couldn't help his grin. It had been quite some time since he had eaten guhnril in any form. Some years the fruit was hard to come by.

“What's your favourite food?” Athina asked rather suddenly.

Nyx tilted his head in thought. There were so many options. “One of them is my Clan's hare stew, another my mother's guhnril cake. And my sister used to make these dough pockets, filled with bacon, onions and seasonal vegetables. Still can't get those right when I try.”

The look Athina gave him was filled with incredible fondness. “You really love your family, do you not?”

At her words Nyx felt a very familiar stab of pain. At this point he might even call it an old friend. But to his utter surprise beneath the pain there had grown a thin layer of warm joy. The glow of remembering his mother's smile when her children praised her for her cake, the proud grin of his sister when Nyx, Libertus and Crowe had started play fighting over the last of her dough pockets. It felt... strange. Strange but good. Nyx smiled.

“Yeah,” he said. “Anything Libertus cooks is great. Crowe can't really cook to safe her life, but she makes the best chocolate I've ever eaten. Especially the one with honeyed nuts.” For a moment his gaze gained a far off quality, then he shook his head. “What about you? What's your favourite food?”

“Mine? Hmm... let me think.” Athina tipped her chin with two of her fingers, gently biting her lower lip. “Grandmother used to make the absolute best kreitschi I have ever eaten. She marinaded the meat in a mix of honey and spices. Neither thuir nor I can get the mixture right.”

“That sounds absolutely delicious and also frustrating.”

Athina laughed, warm and bright. “It is. And every year on her death day we try again. It has become a bit of a game in my family, who can rediscover grandmother's kreitschi recipe. One of my cousins got very close last year.”

“Maybe you'll get it right this year.”

“We will see.”

During the gentle lull in their conversation Murus arrived at their table again, bringing the root beer and also a large stack of folders. Nyx bit back a resigned groan.

“What's all this?” he asked when Murus set them down at the table.

“The Clans brought them to me while you were gone from the city. They're detailing the resources they can muster that are at your disposal. There were mutterings of things not moving fast enough. I told them you would have an easier time making decisions, if you actually knew what you had to work with.”

“Thanks,” Nyx said with a wry smile. “Dealing with the Glaive has been a shit show by itself. I simply haven't had the time yet to properly deal with everything else.”

“I figured. Libertus often complains about some of it when he's here.” Murus nodded. “Your food will be ready soon.” Then he was gone again, taking the orders from the people two tables down.

“That's quite the stack,” Athina commented.

“Yeah,” Nyx agreed, trying not to sound too despondent. He put the folders into his new bag, frowning at it. He should have gotten a bigger one. “But Murus is right. This will help once I actually get to dealing with it.”

“I am willing to help, if you need it.”

Nyx smiled at her offer. “Thanks. I'll most likely take you up on that one of these days.” They were quiet for a few moments before Nyx asked: “How is your work going? Got any interesting new projects?”

For a while they lost themselves in the gentle flow of conversation. Their food came. They ate, they laughed. Nyx learned that Athina gesticulated with her cutlery, when she got excited enough about a topic, and how her nose crunched up when she bit into a too large piece of onion for her liking. He felt like a cat stretched out in a beam of sunlight, ready to take a nap. Of course that was when something else had to happen.

The door to the bar opened and closed. At first Nyx didn't really register it, since there was nothing special about the door to a public space opening and closing. There was no sudden quiet, no tension in the air. People talked and laughed, ate and drank. Murus and his daughters continued their work.

“Hey, Axis! How're you doing? Come, sit down.”

At the loud call piercing through the din of sound within the room, Nyx turned around. The caller had been a man from a table in the middle of the room. From his braids he himself was also an Arra. He was halfway to standing up, waving at the man who must have just entered the bar. Nyx turned back around towards Athina and continued to tell her the story of how he and Libertus had been lost in the jungle once when they had been around eight years old. She listened with an amused smile, her golden eyes twinkling.

A person approached their able. Athina saw him first and smiled.

“Fahlana, Axis Arra,” she said.

Axis nodded in her direction, a tired smile on his face. His eyes were warm. Then he turned towards Nyx, who very consciously did not slide down his chair in a bid not to be seen. “Makti-Oir,” he said.

“Fahlana, Axis,” Nyx said with a quiet sigh. “You know, I climbed out of my window today to escape the people wanting to talk to me.”

“Oh, hopefully I was not included in that group of people,” Athina teased.

“No! Of course not,” Nyx hurried to say.

Meanwhile Axis simply grabbed an empty chair and sat down, clearly ignoring what Nyx had said. “It's about Luche,” he said.

That got Nyx's attention. “Alright,” he said. “Let's hear it then.”

“Is it alright for me to hear this? Or should I leave the table for a bit?” Athina cut in.

Axis and Nyx exchanged a look.

“Your call,” the former said.

Nyx for his part, was torn. On one hand his first instinct was to say no, but despite how much he might have come to trust her in such a short time, Athina was neither a member of the Kingsglaive nor an active hunter. Who was her patron, he wondered? He turned towards her with an apologetic look in his eyes and she gave him a reassuring smile.

“It's alright. I will be at the bar for a bit. Come over once you are done.” Athina grabbed her drink.

Nyx reached for her free hand and squeezed it gently. She squeezed back. “I'm sorry. And thank you,” he said.

“There is nothing to be sorry for. It was nice to see you Axis Arra.”

“You as well, Athina Sarcina.”

So she made her way over to the bar. Nyx followed her with his gaze as she gracefully weaved around people and tables. Before she could reach the bar, she stopped and waved to someone at the other side of the room, making her way over there. Nyx was relieved she had found someone to talk to. He turned his attention back to Axis, who was quietly watching him with a knowing look on his face.

“What is it about Luche?”

“He made contact barely an hour ago. His group managed to make it until the Nebulawood before the storm hit. They were forced to hunker down in a small cave. Their radios also didn't work due to the storm, though their radio officer said he thought he managed to connect to someone once.”

“Must've been us. Keraia tried to reach you, but we lost function of the radio pretty quick.”

Axis nodded and continued: “Tomix Sarcina managed to reach them via radio soon after the storm ended and told him to continue his original orders. Don't think Luche was too happy about that, but the group turned around again. They're aiming for Tollhends Stronghold. During their last update they hadn't reached that far yet, but they managed to reach Taelpar Crag without being noticed.”

“Good. Any words about what the locals think of all of that? The storm and such?”

“None that I know of. I'll make it a point to ask Luche about it.” Axis rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a small notebook. He scribbled something down on a fresh page with a tiny pencil. Nyx's lips twitched in amusement at that.

He had known from Tomix that Luche would continue the mission, but it was nice to hear he was mostly on schedule again. That fucking storm had messed the whole time table up.

“Did Luche say anything else?” he asked.

Axis nodded. “Yes. The reason I came here as soon as I heard from Troop Tahrolin, was that according to them the animals have been behaving strangely.”

That had Nyx's full attention. “Are they all alright?” he asked, worry dancing under his skin along the sparks of his magic.

“A few minor scrapes were reported, but nothing the troop couldn't deal with.”

Nyx took a moment to heave a quiet breath. “How exactly are the animals behaving strangely? Did they say?”

“The further west they get, the more aggressive the animals become. And their migration patterns are unusual. Luche said they ran afoul a rapid griffin yesterday afternoon well outside the species usual haunts.”

“Maybe it was driven out?” Nyx wondered, a thoughtful frown on his face. His fingers were drumming along the edge of the wooden table. “But that would only make sense if one of our battled had taken place in griffin territory. Not many things are dangerous enough to force a griffin to leave its territory. You said it was rapid?”

Axis shifted his weight. “That's what I was told. It attacked on sight, even when they were staying well out of its usual aggression zone, and the colouration of its feathers was off. Luche said he took a few feathers so you can take a look once they're back. Apparently it's hard to describe.”

Leaning back in his chair, Nyx gave a thoughtful hum. “I have never heard of something like that. Maybe it's a new kind of sickness?” Even as he said those words, he himself couldn't really believe them. His instincts told him that there was something else going on, though he couldn't tell what. A sickness that made animals aggressive and discoloured? If Luche picked up some of the feathers, it must mean that the colour must be very unusual.

“Could be,” Axis agreed with a shrug. “But I doubt it. Luche knows his stuff, and when he says this is not normal, then I don't think it could be something like a common new sickness.” For a heartbeat or two, there was silence between them. “Ah, Luche also said that air traffic from Niflheim on the east-side of Taelpar Crag is very minimal at the moment. So it seems like there won't be any trouble from there said at least for a little while.”

“Good. That's good. Let's see for how long that will last. And hopefully Tredd doesn't need more MTs for his experiments. Should be hard to find any when there are no airships to drop them off.”

They had dealt Niflheim an unexpectedly heavy blow. Not only had they taken over their newest base, but they had also thwarted their attempt at kidnapping the Crown Prince and had battled General Glauca to a standstill twice. At the thought of that man an aggressive hiss built in his throat, but Nyx bit it down. There was no use in startling everybody within the pub.

“They're probably rethinking their strategy,” Axis echoed part of his own thoughts. “You beat their strongest general in combat. Twice.”

“I wouldn't say I beat him. If I had, that zehstir would be dead by now. And the first time I had help. But you're right, they most likely are rethinking their strategy. Hopefully they won't act until we have taken Tollhends Stronghold.”

Axis frowned but nodded. Then he stood up. “That's all I wanted to tell you. And I need to get back on my shift. My lunch break is almost over.”

Nyx blinked. “Did you get to eat something?”

“I ate something from the vendors on my way here,” Axis said, a slight smile playing at his lips.

“Alright then.” Nyx sighed. “Don't let me keep you. And give Oirkar Arra my greetings, should you see her.”

“I will,” Axis nodded.

He turned around and walked towards the exit, waving towards the man who had greeted him when he had entered. Nyx let his shoulders slump for a moment. He sighed, feeling tired. It was always one thing after the other. First it was his magic, then the cünaniu and his appointment to Makti-Oir. The battle at and within Taelpar Crag, the fire-ash, the Crown Prince's abduction, and now this. Animals that were growing mad for an unknown reason? At least it would give him another reason to leave the city in the relative future. Well, it depended entirely on when Luche and his troop came back.

The bottle of root beer in front of him was empty. Well, it would probably be best if he paid now. Athina had her own work to return to. Nyx looked down to the bag resting on the floor by his chair. He himself also had more than enough work ahead of him before he would meet his cousins in the evening. At the wave of his hand, Murus stood in front of him less than a minute later.

“The woman had enough of you for the day?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his deep voice, when he saw Nyx sitting alone.

Nyx answered with a crooked grin. “There's someone she knows at the other side of the bar. And I had something to talk about with Axis Arra.”

“You found a good one.” Murus leaned his hip against the edge of the table.

Nyx couldn't help but smile. “Yeah,” he said.

“Can I bring you anything else?”

“I'd like to pay, please.” Nyx was already fishing for his wallet.

“Nyx.”

“Murus.”

The man sighed and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. But know you don't have to pay. Not you.”

“How much do I owe you?” Nyx asked, ignoring what Murus had said.

He paid the amount the other man rattled off along with a little bit extra just because. Murus shot him a look but didn't say anything about it, probably knowing it was a lost cause.

“You got any plans?” Murus asked.

For an embarrassing long moment Nyx did not know what the other man had meant. “I'll let you know once they go beyond me catching up on some sleep.”

“Alright. If you need help to convince the more stubborn Oirkari, let me know and I'll help. Ethin will most likely help as well.”

As if he couldn't help it, Nyx's gaze wandered in Athina's direction. He could not see her from his position, but that didn't matter. He probably should talk to Ethin soon. No matter how exhausted he felt just thinking about it. Ethin's political thinking would be of much help, no doubt. And the man would no doubt want to talk about him and Athina.

“Thanks, I'll keep that in mind,” Nyx said.

Murus nodded. “You know where to find me.”

Then he was gone to tend to another group of patrons, one of which was waving an empty glass through the air to get his attention. Murus did not look too happy about that.

Nyx stayed in his seat a few moments longer to gather his thoughts. Then he grabbed his bag and stood up, eyes searching the crowd for Athina. He found her sitting at a small table with two others, members of her Clan judging by their braids. Between them on the table were a riot of paper and coloured pencils. Athina was carefully listening to something the woman sitting opposite her was saying, hands gesticulating wildly. Their enthusiasm nearly made Nyx feel bad for interrupting.

“Nyx,” Athina said, smiling, as soon as she saw him. “Did you finish your talk with Axis?”

“Yes.”

“And I guess work is calling again?”

A grimace settled on Nyx's face. It was answer enough for her. She smiled and waved a hand.

“That's alright. It was a wonderful surprise to see you today and have lunch together.” Her gaze wandered to the other two people sitting at the table. “Ah, Nyx, these are Pada and Veloni Sarcina. They took the opportunity to ask me for my opinion on one of their projects.”

“Oh?” Nyx couldn't help but lean a bit closer, curious.

“It is nothing special, Makti-Oir, truly,” Pada hurried to say, waving her hands nervously.

“I'll let Athina be the judge of that,” Nyx said, giving the woman in question a grin. “I settled the tab, so you don't need to worry about that. See you soon?”

“Of course. And thank you, you didn't have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Nyx leaned down, gently pressing his forehead against her temple. They smiled at each other, her golden eyes glittering. Their hands brushed together and then he left with a last nod towards the table as a whole. Pada looked like she was about to vibrate out of her chair.

Outside, Nyx took a deep breath and turned towards the direction of his apartment building, already calculating how to best reach his window from outside.