Chapter Text
The battle is long over and the road is a wreck, though the fires have died out. There's ice crawling across the road and over the broken wrecks of the destroyed cars, and the survivors huddle in the headlights of the only car with a motor still running. Three servants and two of the Crownsguard, all of them shaken and rattled, with their clothing ripped, but alive and miraculously uninjured. They are not the entirety of the convoy.
There are more people missing than present.
"My son," Regis Lucis Caelum gasps, breathless from the near endless sequence of long-distance warps it took to get there. "Where is my son?"
The survivors hadn't noticed him - now they scramble to their feet, wavering and exhausted, but doing their best to offer him proper salutes and bows. "Your Majesty!" the first says, a Crownsguard with blood on his clothes but none in the gaping hole in his coat. "We've been trying to reach you - reach anyone -"
"I am but the first to arrive, backup is on the way - pray tell, where is my son?" Regis says desperately. Looking around he can see neither Noctis, his nanny, nor the driver of his car. He can see the car, though - upturned across the road, with enormous slashes across the side. If there were people inside when whatever destroyed the car took place…
"Ah," the Crownsguard says and then looks away - down the road.
Regis warps, his panic too great to even question the potential insult of it - if they'd left his son's body lying on the ground, if they hadn't even brought him into the light. There, amidst the wreckage, he sees some of the battle, how it must've went. A daemon, surely, nothing else could've made such damage. It was done at speed too, judging by how close the cars are to each other. The last vehicle in the convoy had fallen first, then the next, then the next, thrown across the roadside like discarded, ruined toys -
It had been an ambush, a Niflheim trap. How they knew the route his son's convoy would take, Regis isn't sure. A daemon had been laid in wait, and the moment the convoy passed them by, it was unleashed upon them. An insidiously effective tool of assassination - afterwards Niflheim could claim they knew nothing of it, of course. Random daemon attacks were becoming more common the world over. Why would Niflheim have one of theirs so far from any of their operations? Surely all the fighting was taking place in Cleigne, far from this one random stretch of the road. Perhaps it is lacking Lucian security measures that were at fault.
Regis curses them, and curses Clarus and Titus for demanding he and his son travelled separately - for the security of the Kingdom, you cannot have both Lucis Caelums in one place outside the Crown City, the risk of losing them both in one attack is too great - and searches for his son in the rubble.
He finds Noctis in the arms of a man, also examining the wreckage. They're being shadowed by a Crownsguard, who's doing nothing to take Noctis from the man, despite the fact that by his worn and faded clothes alone it's obvious he's not of the convoy. Wary, Regis slows, watching them from behind an upturned car, just in case his son is at blade point.
"… think that's it, kiddo," the man is saying, his voice light despite how ragged he looks, carrying Noctis with ease despite the fact that at eight years of age Noctis is no longer as small as he'd once been. "I'm sorry - I don't think there's anyone else left alive."
"Are you sure?" Noctis asks quietly, his voice subdued. "Maybe we should look again - they might be unconscious."
The man sighs and turns his head to look at the Crownsguard - and Regis can see the side of his face. Greying hair, scraggly beard and dirt all over his face, with unremarkable clothes that have seen better days, he has none of the armour of hunters and none of the refinement of a Crownsguard. He looks, more than anything, like a homeless man.
"What do you think, Cerno?" asks the stranger.
The Crownsguard bows his head. "I'm sorry, Your Highness - I've counted everyone we've found so far," he says quietly and closes his eyes. "Everyone in the convoy is accounted for."
Noctis' lower lip quivers, and he nods shakily before burying his face in the shoulder of the man carrying him and stifling his sniffles against his shirt. The man sighs again, patting his back in comfort, and turns to say something to the Crownsguard - before finally noticing they're no longer alone.
"Your Majesty!" the Crownsguard, Cerno, says, and quickly salutes him.
"Dad!"
The stranger immediately lets Noctis down from his hold and Regis sets aside his unease in order to catch his son. Noctis is fine, there's no blood on him, no visible bruises - he smells of freshly used potions and faintly of gasoline. Regis breathes it in and then pulls back, kneeling down. "Let me look at you -"
Noctis is pale, his eyes are red, and he's been crying. If he's been injured at all, there's no sign of it now - he looks exhausted and frightened, but otherwise alright. The attack, if it touched him, left no visible marks. "Oh, thank the Gods, thank the God -" Regis whispers and brings him close again.
"Dad - dad, I'm alright, I'm okay - but -" Noctis sniffles, beginning to shake in his arms. "There were - it was a daemon - not everyone made it - we've been looking for, for survivors - "
"You did well, you did so well, well done, my son," Regis babbles, boneless with relief as his son begins to cry in earnest against his neck. "It's okay now, daddy's here, it's going to be alright -"
Behind Noctis, the stranger watches them with an awkward and weary sort of look before turning away, hugging himself. The Crownsguard waits, shifting his footing.
"What happened?" Regis asks finally, gathering his son into his arms and standing up with him. "Tell me everything."
"Sir," the Crownsguard says, standing at attention. "It was a daemon - a big serpentine thing, with multiple arms and swords. There was nothing we could do, sir - before we even knew it was there it had slashed up the rear most vehicle, and it didn't take it much longer than that to take out the rest."
"Where is it now?" Regis asks, even though he knows - and sure enough, Cerno looks at the stranger.
The stranger clears his throat and then bows his head in a salute that's not quite as crisp as the Crownsguard's, but there's real respect in the depth. "I - chanced upon the convoy, Your Majesty," he says awkwardly. "I'm only sorry I was too late to stop the daemon attack in the first place."
"You have my thanks for what you did do, for helping my people and saving my son," Regis comments carefully. Is it overconfidence that the man has his own abilities - or something worse? "I would have the name of the hero I am so indebted to."
The ragged man doesn't answer immediately, his hand on his chest squeezing into a fist. The silence stretches long enough to border on embarrassment, and then he says, "Ah," as though in awkward, belated, realisation.
Regis arches his brows. Well, that might clear the man of the suspicion of being a spy attempting to place himself in Regis' confidence with this debt - a spy would surely have an identity thought out. This person clearly has nothing prepared - including a suitable outfit, or haircut. There are many other occupations a man might have, to wish to withhold his name from royalty - and most of them aren't so genteel. Hmm.
"Well, setting that aside," Regis says. "You defeated the daemon? What sort was it?"
"A Marilith, Your Majesty," the man says, and straightens up a little in clear relief. "It's one of the snake types, looks like a big woman with a snake tail and four arms - an Alpha rank."
"I assume that's a high-level one," Regis says slowly. To take down armoured cars, it definitely couldn't have been weak, but at the same time, to be defeated by one man, and one out of the Crown's service at that… the man isn't even carrying any weapons that he can see. "I'm afraid I'm not up to date on hunter rankings where it comes to daemons…"
"Yes, sir," the man agrees and clears his throat. "It was… pretty strong."
Regis tilts his head at that - at the awkward, near guilty body language - and then nods towards the Crownsguard. "Did you happen to see the fight?" he asks, rubbing Noctis' back as he does.
"Yes, sir, though only part of it," Cerno nods slowly and then, giving the stranger an almost apologetic look, says, "I don't think it would've been possible to take it down… without magic."
The stranger lowers his gaze minutely, all but fiddling with his hands, and then stands his ground and - ah. That explains the guilt and the unease - except for the fact that it doesn't. Only the Crownsguard have magic - and only for as long as they are loyal to the King. This man hardly looks like he's been to the Crown City in years - he cannot be in active service. Nor could he be unknown doing so, if he had the power to take on a high-level daemon the likes of which Niflheim might use for assassination.
"I see," Regis says slowly, though he does not.
"He saved me, dad," Noctis says quietly, and Regis looks down at him, surprised. "When we ran from the car, and the daemon came after us, and Nanny Constanta was - when she was - he saved me."
"I managed to deflect one of the Marilith's blows," the stranger says, almost ashamedly. "I'm sorry I couldn't block the other."
Regis closes his eyes. Nanny Constanta was a good woman, resolute and steadfast. It's what she would've preferred, and it's what he prefers, but he can't help but feel guilty. "You have my thanks," he says with a nod and draws a breath. "This Marilith was the only daemon present?"
"The only one - we've walked the area since, sir," Cerno says. "No other hostiles have been sighted, sir."
The area would still need to be checked thoroughly for signs of other evidence and Niflheim activity, though Regis has no doubt there'd be little to nothing to find. "Very well," he says and lifts Noctis slightly more securely into his arms. He nods to the stranger. "The other convoy will be here soon - please, join us."
It's not a question.
"Of course," the stranger says with a slight bow, looking at Noctis and then away. It's only then, in the flash of a distant headlight, that Regis gets a clearer look of his eyes underneath his messy hair. There's something familiar about them.
In the middle of the wreckage isn't the place to question the man - and while holding Noctis it's definitely not the time. Regis turns and concentrates on his son, now beginning to shake as the adrenaline and shock wears off. Wrapping the boy in his own coat, Regis takes stock of the situation best he can without getting too close to the dead.
Of the convoy of about twenty people, only seven have survived, and, he soon realises, even those only thanks to the stranger's use of potions. And they must've been potions empowered by the magic of royal blood, too, going by the echoes of the damage - ripped clothing and stains that must've been caused by near fatal blows. All the survivors have the stranger to thank for their lives, and they know it.
"I don't think any of us would've made it, without him," one of the servants, a young woman, admits.
"It was all but divine intervention, when he warped in," says another. "We're grateful to the King's sworn warriors for their service…"
It soon becomes clear that Noctis had been the stranger's first priority, though. There are those among the dead who might've been saved had the man - and his potions - gotten to them faster, had he not been busy saving the Prince. Which means that he knew who Noctis was, he knew it immediately and without needing to be told.
There is a chance he was part of the ambush, after all - a man with King's magic, a traitor who had a change of heart?
Regis makes sure to keep the man within his eyesight until his guard gets there. The man looks like he expects it - but he's also avoiding Regis' eyes. Trying not to be recognised, perhaps? Sadly, Regis doesn't know all his Crownsguard by name, and fewer by face. They… change too often.
Could there be a man who'd been sworn into the Guard, who'd perhaps gotten left behind on the battlefield, left for dead, who'd somehow kept his magic? Perhaps the man was captured by the enemy and converted, with the scientists of Niflheim somehow managing to help him retain his magic through betrayal. Or, if the man was captured, tortured and then pretended to turn while secretly holding true to his oaths of fealty, perhaps then he might've held onto his Crown-given abilities…
He certainly looks the part, though it's too much speculation for Regis' tastes - either way, he can't question him and hold Noctis at the same time, and Regis isn't quite willing to set Noctis down. Not even when his son asks to be set down.
"Dad," the Prince murmurs. "Lemme down, I gotta go pee."
"I'll take you -"
"No, dad, come on - I'm okay, just let me -"
It sets Regis' heart at ease that his son can whine and complain at this situation, that what happened didn't shake him up too badly - but he also knows the true effects of the incident would show only later. And, likely, Noctis has already gone through the worst of it, and Regis has the stranger to thank for supporting his son through it.
There are many questions he has to ask the man, after all this has been resolved.
Eventually, finally, his guard joins them, and they can begin sorting through the aftermath.
They return to Crown City, rather than continuing on to Galdin Quay. Though the ocean resort is closer, it is not secure, and if Niflheim tried once, they might try again. And, as Clarus and Titus so vehemently point out, having both Lucis Caelums in the same place is not secure. So little of the Kingdom outside of Insomnia's walls is, these days.
So much for their vacation in Altissa and Tenebrae, it seems. Perhaps, there'd be no such forays ever again in their future, not if Niflheim will answer such attempts by releasing ever stronger daemons into the wild.
Noctis falls asleep along the way, and Regis suppresses the urge to hold him, letting his boy instead stretch out on the back seat with his head in Regis' lap. On the front seat, Clarus hums. "It's a good sign that he can sleep easy," he says, comfortingly.
"Carbuncle is no doubt with him," Regis murmurs - he knows Noctis packed the Messenger's totem for the journey. "My poor son. He must be exhausted. Someone trained for the task of dealing with trauma will need to speak to him, Gods know I've never had a normal reaction to such things."
"Here's hoping that's something Noctis hasn't inherited," Clarus mutters, shaking his head. "Glacio can probably find someone suitable. Maybe you should give him a call? The man must be worried sick by now."
And someone would need to arrange for Noctis' immediate care, with Nanny Constanta dead… Regis sighs and strokes his hands through Noctis' hair. "Not just yet," he murmurs and looks down. Noctis never looks anything but fragile and small to him - in some part Regis still can only see the infant placed in his arms after the Aulea's passing. Small were his son's shoulders, to carry the burden placed upon them. Everything about him was so small.
Now that it is all settling in, Regis is left breathless by the speed of the whole thing, how quickly everything had happened. So suddenly, so utterly without a warning Regis might've lost him - so suddenly everything might've been taken from him. Shouldn't there have been a warning - shouldn't the Gods have stopped the whole thing from happening? Noctis is their Chosen! Shouldn't the Chosen One have some of their protection, a smidge of their blessings? Shouldn't the whole thing be utterly impossible?
Regis knows he should place the stranger's timely intervention at the feet of the Astrals, for surely his arrival was the work of the Divine - but he isn't sure he can.
"Once we make it to Crown City, I want you to see to our guest, see that he's watched over - but do not press for answers," Regis says, brushing Noctis' hair from the boy's face, smiling at the way Noctis makes a face in his sleep. "I will do that myself, once we're back home. But take care - he has magic at his disposal."
"That man is a Crownsguard?" Clarus asks with some incredulity, looking at him through the rearview mirror.
"That is left to be seen. Though I witnessed none of his magic myself, others in the convoy did. And I can't doubt them - taking down a high-level daemon by himself is no small task. No regular hunter could've managed it," Regis says quietly and looks up. "But for him to have magic at all means he must've sworn oaths and remains loyal to them. So, we shall err on the side of caution and treat him as a friend - if one to be watched out for."
It's a long night, and there's much to do, but Regis takes the liberty of taking Noctis to bed and choosing his guard for the night personally. With Nanny Constanta dead, he might have to choose a new one - but at eight years old, Noctis might now do without as well. Regis would consult his son at a better time, on whether he could manage with maids and menservants alone.
"I will see to it that he has the best of mental health care, come morning," Glacio Scientia promises with a bow to his head. "I have already begun to review possible candidates."
"Thank you, my friend," Regis sighs and claps the man on his shoulder. "Truly, I appreciate it. I know you have other duties these days, Glacio, but… I daren't entrust my son to another."
Glacio smiles. "I understand, your Majesty - fear not. It was always my honour to serve as your Chamberlain."
"Thank you. I trust you have it handled," Regis says. "Try and consult them before Noctis wakes, make sure his needs in the morning, whatever they may be in this situation, are met. Inform me the moment he does wake, however - I will make time for him."
"Of course, Sire," Glacio says with another bow. "I can have Ignis here before Noctis wakes as well, if you'd like. A friendly face might set your son's mind at ease."
"Later," Regis decides. Noctis doesn't like it when Ignis comes to him because he's being ordered to. "See what the specialists have to say on such things first. Let's not take chances on my son's mental health."
"As you say, Sire."
Regis takes a moment to watch Noctis sleep, just for a minute, before making sure Carbuncle's totem is well within reach and then making his leave.
There's much to do. Already the preliminary reports of the Crownsguard members investigating the site are coming in, along with the surface level character analysis of Noctis' saviour, who's been directed to a guarded guest suite and, most likely, to the washroom.
"We have footage," Clarus says, catching up with him on the way to the meeting room. "One of the servants was filming the landscape when the daemon attacked - here -"
He hands Regis the camera - an older model without connectivity, a foldable screen on the side, the only sort that would be permitted by the Prince's retinue on the move. Regis presses play on the device, noting that it has been sped forward to a late point in the timeline - likely, the footage before wasn't anything of note. There isn't much to be noted in the beginning of the playback, either - a scene of the dusty region of Leide as seen in the fiery hues of the sunset, passing by as the cars travelled.
And then, a muffled crash.
The footage veers violently to the back, to look through the rear window at the wreckage that's already been thrown aside, a car torn nearly in half, already catching flames. There are screams in the car, terribly brief - and barely two seconds of the perpetrator. The stranger's description of the Marilith was quite accurate, though it failed to convey the daemon's sheer size, or the mindless rage upon her face.
Then the footage goes spinning wildly, while godawful noise tears the audio into screeches, and the camera goes flying out of hands of its owner and out of the car, now turned into another terrible wreck. The camera lands in a way that, unfortunately, catches nothing else of note, aimed away from the fight.
"Hang on, Sire - listen," Clarus says before Regis can switch the camera off. "You can't see much from it - but you can hear it."
And so he can - the destruction of the cars, the shouts and screams of the convoy, the sound of someone shouting, "This way," and "Hide the Prince, cover him - " and then -
Regis thinks he might be imagining it - the slight flash of light against the rocks, as someone warps in. He definitely doesn't imagine the clang of metal against metal, or the ensuing roars and screeches by the daemon. The fight sounds brutal even to his ears. It also sounds a little familiar. There's a telltale rhythm to a battle when one of the combatants can warp and does so with impunity, without relenting.
Regis counts up to seven warps before losing track and looks up to Clarus. "Is there anyone in the Crownsguard who can warp so rapidly?"
Clarus shakes his head. "Not many," he says and folds his arms. "Cor and you are pretty much the only ones crazy enough to do what this guy is doing - sounds like he's just ramming himself into the thing, doesn't it?"
Regis gives him a flat look and then lifts the camera a little to listen more. He catches the sound of magic almost in hindsight in the woosh and roar of the Marilith and has to rewind to catch the crack of glass before. "He uses flasks," he mutters. "An Elemancer."
"I think so too, Your Majesty," Clarus agrees. "There's something else - rewind a bit, see if you can spot it."
"I'm not exactly in the mood for investigative games, Clarus," Regis says shortly. "What is it?"
Clarus shifts his footing and then shakes his head ruefully. "He's switching weapons, constantly. Hard to say how many - but you can tell weapons types apart just by the sound of them, and I counted at least three. One of them is a greatsword." Which means that not only does he have access to Armiger, but he has variety in it.
Only Regis' personal Retinue were permitted more than two things in the Armiger.
Regis lowers the camera and then hands it back. "Have it analysed," he says. "Is there anything else?"
"Well, we already knew he had imbued potions," Clarus says, taking the camera back and folding the screen. "He's also the reason why there was so much ice on the site - he used it to stop the fires. Titus will know more, your Majesty - he sat with the guy on the way back to the city."
"Where is Titus now?"
Clarus motions up ahead, and with a nod Regis continues on to the meeting room. Titus waits there, along with Crownsguard Cerno, Cor, who's looking particularly frustrated - and thankfully, none of the Council. No doubt they would make an attempt to rush in as soon as the word spread, but for now, Regis can concentrate on the immediate incident - rather than its political repercussions.
They all rise at the sight of him, already murmuring greetings and exclamations of joy at his good health, and Regis waves them down. "No time to stand on ceremony - Titus," he says. "Give me the short of it."
Titus nods, salutes, and explains what the Crownsguard investigators on site and the ones in the city who'd questioned the survivors had figured out - which isn't much different from what Regis already knows. The Marilith attacked from behind, slashing cars as it went. Noctis' nanny got the Prince out of the car before it was wrecked but was then chased down by the Marilith. She died, while the stranger managed to save Noctis from sharing her fate.
"So far there's been no evidence of Niflheim activity in the area, though we will have to wait for daylight for a full investigation," Titus admits. "If I had to guess, though, I'd say the daemon was dropped on the convoy from above - ejected from an airship."
"Which none of them noticed?" Clarus points out with arched brows.
"Niflheim airship technology is still advancing - we already know they have stealth capabilities. And this was an assassination attempt," Titus points out and looks at Regis. "We'll know more by morning, but, and I hate to say it… probably not much more."
Regis sighs. No evidence means no official recourse for rebuttal. Granted, they are at war, so no justification for reprisal is even necessary - the fact that they're at war alone justifies suspicion and retaliation. And one would be called for here, clearly, an attempt on the Crown Prince's life isn't something he can just let lie… but without evidence, Niflheim would plead innocence, perhaps even accuse them of orchestrating the whole thing themselves, or inventing the incident from whole cloth. Damned thing about daemons is that they don't even leave bodies behind to serve as proof.
A point of frustration decades old and never likely to change, Regis sets it aside. "What of our timely hero?" he asks, glancing at Cerno and then at Titus again. "Clarus says you sat with him on the way back."
"I did," Titus agrees and leans back on his seat with a sigh. "I didn't learn much, though, sorry to say. Not much of a talker - fell asleep halfway back, too, so that's no help. His clothes are Insomnia made, though there's not much to say about them. They're old, his boots are nearly worn through - doesn't look like he's had a bath in months."
"I assume you asked questions," Regis says.
"And he answered none of them, saying he'd rather wait until you were there," Titus says and shrugs. "Got the impression he was expecting a private audience."
Regis hums. "I see," he murmurs, rubbing his fingers over his brow. He got that impression too - or at least that the man wasn't willing to talk in front of Noctis. Shaking his head, he looks at the Crownsguard from the scene. "Cerno, wasn't it? You were with the man post-incident - what did you think of him?"
"Sir," the man says, stiff and clearly unused to the setting of the Citadel meeting room. "He seemed… like a decent man? He was very kind with Prince Noctis - the Prince wouldn't let go of him, you see, afterwards. And when the Prince demanded we check for survivors, the guy kept him from seeing the worst of it."
"That was Noctis' idea, checking for survivors?" Regis asks, pleased.
Cerno shrugs. "Well, the man who saved us suggested I do it first, Your Majesty, but Prince Noctis interjected - he wanted to see it for himself, I think."
Regis nods, still a little pleased. Noctis is a good boy who cares about people - but he's rarely assertive, and though he knows what it means to be a Prince of Lucis, he doesn't often act it. Even this little moment of leadership, though no doubt brought on by his fright and unwillingness to be left alone at such a moment, is a step forward on his path to the throne that would, one day and far too soon for anyone's comfort, be his.
"Did you see any of the fight?" Cor asks, the first thing he's said.
"No, sir," Cerno says with a shake of his head. "I saw a bit of the magic, the warping he did, and I saw when he stopped the fires with ice. I was pinned down under one of the cars, though, I didn't see much from that angle. I'm sorry, sir."
"You were pinned by a car?" Regis asks, surprised. "Are you injured?"
"I was, Your Majesty, but the man used a potion on me - I'm alright now," Cerno assures him with a bow of his head. "Thank you for your concern."
"That is good to hear. I thank you for your service, Cronwsguard - make sure you get checked by a medic," Regis says and waves his hand in dismissal. "Even with more powerful potions, it's important to do a follow-up."
"Yes, sir," Cerno says, standing up with a bow, taking the dismissal for what it is. "My well wishes for the Prince."
Regis nods and waits until the man is gone before turning to Cor. "Did you get anything else out of your informant?"
Cor lets out an irritated breath. "Aside from the obvious, not much. The whole thing was a trap - not only for the Prince, but for you as well, Your Majesty," he says unhappily. "The informant was intentionally planted and gave away the ambush at a very precise moment. They chose the timing exactly so that you'd be the first one on the scene. That's all I found out before he… self-destructed."
Regis steeples his hands and lets that settle. The insidiousness of it - either he would've found his son dead or dying, or he would've made it in time to fight a daemon he might've not been able to take on after such a long sequence of warps. Whoever arranged the whole thing… "Any word on how they knew about the convoy's schedule?"
"No, Sire, I'm sorry," Cor says and Regis closes his eyes with a sigh.
"We'll do a full investigation on all parties in the know," Clarus says quickly. "Whoever leaked the schedule will be found."
"Do so," Regis says and leans back. "Seems like we have more to thank our unexpected saviour for than I thought," he says. "And I don't think I can give him the time to recover. Titus, go get him for me. I will see him in the throne room."
"Yes, sir," Titus says and stands.
Regis stands up as well, and the others follow. "Clarus, Cor, coordinate the investigation - both on site and here in the Citadel. Someone in Insomnia took part in an attempt on my son's life - leave no stone unturned."
"Sir!"
"And - assign a guard for Noctis, full time," Regis adds. "Vet them thoroughly. If they tried once, they might try again."
"I'll have it done," Clarus says and then hesitates. "Gladiolus is about the age to begin taking some of the load there. His training is still incomplete, but…"
"That's not a bad idea. Noctis should begin his own training in earnest, as it is," Regis sighs. He's been easy on his son where that goes, on the account of the Prophecy, but this incident proves that fate and godly favour alone isn't enough to protect anybody. There is someone out there who bears his son a specific ill will, and luck might not save him next time.
"I will begin preparing my son, in that case," Clarus says, bowing. "He can help the Prince in his training, going forward."
"I'll return to my investigation," Cor says, holding a fist to his chest. "I'll find out who was behind the informant and get to the bottom of the conspiracy. You have my word, Sire, this will not happen again."
"I don't doubt your diligence, Cor, do what you can," Regis says and heads for the door with a sigh. "And no, it will not. I think… we shan't be leaving Crown City for a good long while after this."
And so, though the attack failed, it might've succeeded in some other way - in further isolating the royalty of Insomnia from the rest of Lucis, and in so leaving the people that much more abandoned beyond the Wall.