Standing amidst the pleasant hum of shoppers and hawkers, savoring the delicious aroma of Lestallum's famous skewers and feeling the cool breeze of a tropical night ruffling his ash blond hair, Ignis Scientia was almost reluctant to return to the Leville. He had left the four-star hotel where Prince Noctis's entourage was spending the night just over an hour ago so he could do some shopping at the farmer's market and pick up some ingredients for their journey. He had wanted to ensure they all had a nutritious breakfast and plenty of rations in the days to come, since it might be a while before they happened upon a grocer. Besides, there was just no beating the Lestallum market's freshness and competitive pricing.
They were planning to get back on the road at dawn's first light, but it was such a pleasant evening Ignis decided to take a bit of a stroll along the city streets and make his way back to the Leville in a roundabout way. To be honest, he was enjoying having a little time to himself. It was such a rare occurrence that he had even left his cell phone back at the hotel room with the intent of thoroughly relishing these brief moments of privacy. He felt confident another fifteen or twenty minutes away would be innocuous; Gladio and Prompto were there to protect the prince, after all. What could be the harm?
Adopting a leisurely pace, Ignis meandered away from the market. Being something of a resort town, Lestallum's streets were filled with mingling tourists and locals at all hours. The sounds of laughter and conversation spilled out of the open doors of a dozen different ritzy restaurants, casual pubs, and kitschy tourist shops, and people crowded the streets and alleyways alike to socialize. The air was filled with the lively music of steel drums, and Ignis found his feet stepping to the beat of their own accord. The sight of so many carefree spirits brought a rare smile to the ordinarily serious man's handsome face. It was relaxing to be among common folk and to blend in.
He had only wandered for a block or so in the opposite direction of the Leville when Ignis suddenly stopped cold in his tracks. Dead ahead, leaning against one of the many steam pipes that littered the winding Lestallum alleys, was a tall and troublingly familiar figure. He made for a daunting display, not least of all due to his shining crown of stark white hair.
Ravus Nox Fleuret met Ignis's surprised emerald eyes with a steely gaze that caused the bespectacled man to inhale a sharp, startled breath. There was a pause as they stared at one another, then Ignis watched with a slowly simmering rage as the Imperial lackey's silver gauntlet came to rest on what he immediately recognized was King Regis's sword.
As Ignis's blood began to boil, Ravus unexpectedly smiled, casting a taunting smirk over his shoulder before he spun on his heel and disappeared around the corner.
Ignis warred with himself for only an instant before deciding what had to be done. Such an arrogant offense could not go unchallenged, and if there was any chance he could recover the late king's heirloom and return it to Prince Noctis, he had to take it. There was no time to waste.
He was unaccompanied and dressed only in slacks and a button-up dress shirt, but at the very least he could give Ravus a piece of his mind, Ignis thought, hefting his grocery bag onto his hip and storming after the Imperial traitor. He had no weapons on hand, but hoped he could look at least a little intimidating, even with a sack of produce hugged to his side.
But the usually brilliant tactician had made a grave miscalculation in failing to consider that, unlike himself, Ravus might not be alone.
Ignis stepped out of the alley and onto a wide, deserted street—deserted, save for the Imperial ship hovering in the air just a few yards away. He took a startled step back as the ship lowered a ramp to the ground, then watched with dismay as Ravus climbed aboard, his boots stomping up the metallic incline and his cape billowing behind him haughtily. Ignis realized with bitter disappointment he would not be retrieving the Sword of the Father tonight.
From the mouth of the ship, Ravus turned and gazed down at Ignis. His expression was difficult to judge. Was it pity? Indifference? He wasn't near enough to see clearly, even by the glowing lights of the nearby power plant. But Ignis had a creeping thought that Ravus was not actually looking at him, but rather behind him.
Before Ignis could turn around and check, someone unexpectedly grabbed hold of him. He dropped his grocery bag as his arm was wrenched behind his back and twisted at an excruciating angle that sent fire shooting along every nerve from his shoulder to his wrist. Ignis let out an agonized cry and arched his back, paralyzed with pain. He gritted his teeth and prepared to draw a deep breath and to shout out for help—his only possible recourse for now—but suddenly found a thick, white cloth pressed to his face, covering both his nose and mouth and knocking his glasses askew.
He could not suppress a gasp and inhaled the toxic fumes of some pungent chemical. Whatever it was, it was potent, and while he was locked in the enemy's iron grip he could not even struggle to free himself. Ignis have never anticipated this could be a trap. But he had no chance to react before his vision began darkening and he felt his consciousness slipping away.
The last thing Ignis saw was a perfectly good Lucian tomato spilling out of the brown paper grocery bag and rolling across the concrete. Such a waste… he thought sadly as he felt his knees giving way.
And the last thing he heard was an unaffected female voice apologizing. "Sorry about this, Specs," Aranea intoned, not sounding very sorry at all. "Orders are orders."
Then he was out.
When Ignis awoke it was to a cold, dark cell and a pounding headache. He had been propped up on a hard, metal bench, and by the humming and vibrating of the room he knew he must now be aboard the Imperial airship.
As he rubbed his throbbing temples, he realized he was no longer wearing his glasses, which only made the situation all the more frustrating. But at least he wasn't bound or gagged, he realized as he scratched the back of his neck freely. That gave him at least some chance to get free of his captors.
There was a faint glow to Ignis's left—a window. It was an overcast evening, the chill of the wind billowing into his cell a sure promise of precipitation. He reached up from his seat and felt out the cold metal of thick iron bars. There was no bending or breaking them, and they weren't even far enough apart to put his hand through. Well, there was no escaping that way.
Ignis braced his hand against the wall behind him and carefully rose up from the bench, pausing for a moment to find his feet while he adjusted to the wind's turbulence. The inside of the ship was as black as its outside, and there was no light in the room save for the muted moonlight pouring in through the barred window, and without his glasses it was almost impossible to make out the size and shape of his holding just by looking. So he slowly started walking, running his palm along the metal wall as he took one step…two steps…three steps…and no more. He had hit another wall.
Turning, Ignis started forward again. This time he detected a doorway with his hand. As soon as he discovered the size of his entire prison was about on par with the size of the bathrooms in some of the smaller accommodations the prince's party had stayed in, with two metal benches and no other furnishings or trimmings, he went back to it to explore further. The door had no handle or latch—at least, not on the inside—and even its hinges were apparently on the outside. Ignis leaned against it hard to see if he might move it by force, but quickly determined that to be an impossibility. There was a small grate just below his eye level, probably a window his jailer could open from the outside to look within. Since there was no hope of breaking out this way, either, Ignis returned to the metal bench he'd woken on to wait. Another opportunity would eventually present itself; he just had to be patient.
Hugging himself for warmth in the chilly interior of his confines, Ignis stared through the iron bars of the ship's window up at the sky. It was dark, but somewhere beyond those rainclouds the stars were shining. Somewhere down below, Prince Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto could see that same faint glow. The thought gave him hope. All was not yet lost.
Unaware he had even begun to doze, Ignis was startled awake by the shrieking sound of his cell door opening. Despite the darkness of the small room and the fact that his glasses had gone missing, enough light filtered in from the hall beyond for him to make out the silhouette standing in the open doorway. He had seen it often enough in his twenty-three years, but still he hardly dared to believe his eyes.
In two small steps, King Regis had joined him in the cell.
"Your—your Majesty!" Ignis gasped.
Wordlessly, whoever guarded the prison from its well-lit exterior slammed the metal door shut with a resounding clang. Ignis was now alone with the King of Lucis.
The advisor rose shakily to his feet. He couldn't seem to close his gaping mouth, he was so shocked. The room was spinning, and not just because it was in the air. "H-how is this possible?" he asked breathlessly. "Your death was reported in all the papers, on the radio… It was in all the news broadcasts…"
"I suppose it's just as well." Regis shambled closer with an unsteady gait and sank down onto the hard metal bench across from him. "I was taken from Insomnia when the Empire attacked and took the Crystal. I guess they figured I'm more good to them alive than dead, at least for a little longer. Or until they have Noct." He looked up at the other man. "Ignis," the king said hoarsely, "where is my son?"
"Safe, Your Majesty," Ignis reassured him quickly. He fell back down into his own seat and tried to regain his composure. "He's with Gladio and Prompto, at the Leville in Lestallum."
"And you?" King Regis asked warily. "How is it you came to be abducted by these vultures? Was there a battle? The ship only seemed to hover in the air and wait… I assumed it was simply refueling…"
Ignis scratched the back of his neck abashedly as he admitted, "It may well have been, Your Majesty. I had separated from the group to…to do some shopping at the market." He felt a pang when he thought of those beautiful vegetables and wheats lying on the street now for the vermin to pick at. "I—I was foolish to have gone out on my own, without so much as a cell phone, let alone a dagger. I regret to confess I made for an easy target. I fell right into their trap. I was careless. I failed my duty."
The king sighed heavily and looked away. Both men were silent for a time, then King Regis changed the subject. "How is Noctis?" he asked, sounding equally hopeful and nervous.
"He is doing well, Your Majesty. I mean," Ignis amended, "he took the news as hard as you'd expect. None of us had anticipated the Crown City would be overcome, that you would be— When Prince Noctis heard you had been killed, he was beside himself."
"He was angry?" Regis guessed.
"Well, yes." Ignis rubbed of his neck. "He was upset you sent him away, that he couldn't be there at your side. He's young, Majesty, and—if I may say—a little spoiled…"
Regis burst out in sudden laughter that ended in a coughing fit.
"But he loved—loves you," Ignis continued when the other man had settled down. "He's had to grow up rather quickly, and he's becoming a man you would be proud of. But you'll discover that for yourself, Your Majesty; when we get out of here and he sees you're alive and well, I just know he'll be—"
King Regis's apparent apathy caused Ignis to falter into silence. The king's head was bowed, and if Ignis didn't know better, he would think the man didn't want to reunite with his only child. But that surely was not the case, so the alternative was that the prospect of doing so was so remote it was not worth the pain of even considering.
"King Regis," Ignis dared to ask, "where are they taking us?"
"To Gralea…or so I'm told." Regis leaned back against the wall behind him, his head striking the metal audibly. He didn't seem to notice.
The tactician frowned deeply. "To the Imperial capital?" he gasped. "For what purpose? To what end?"
"This is a convoy ship, filled with prisoners like you and me. It's taking us to Niflheim, where we will be assimilated into the Imperial army."
"A-assimilated?" Ignis repeated in disgust. "Your Majesty, do you mean we're to be mechanized into those—those things the Empire uses as cannon fodder?!" He leapt to his feet. "Then there's not an instant to lose! We're both capable fighters. We just need to get our hands on some weapons. When the guard returns and opens the cell, if you're waiting in the entry and I'm crouched in the corner in the shadows, we might just be able to take him by surprise."
The king clearly did not share his enthusiasm. He just shook his head slowly, seeming more tired than Ignis had ever seen him before. "It's too late for that," Regis said weakly. "They've already implemented phase one. There's no reversing the process now."
Ignis did not like the king's tone, so devoid of hope or any emotion. He felt his own energy draining and sat back down as if in slow motion. He was afraid of the answer, but asked, "Phase one of what, Sire?"
As if in reply, the clouds parted in the sky, and the full radiance of the moon and her stars shone their resplendent light into the small room.
With this newfound illumination, Ignis did not need his glasses to see the man sitting across from him, so close their knees almost touched. He saw that the king's hair, once black like Noct's but beginning to gray, was now nearly as white as Ravus's. His eyes were dull and yellowed, and his skin was so thin it was nearly translucent, dark purple veins visible beneath its filmy sheen.
Ignis gripped the sharp edges of the metal bench so fiercely he cut his hands open. "No…!" he choked.
"That spot that's been irritating you, at the base of your skull…"
His eyes wide with alarm, Ignis reached up and brushed his fingertips over the small bump on the back of his neck, the one that had been itching since he awoke.
The king nodded knowingly. "The first injection. It begins to break down the human cells, preparing the body to receive the initial strands of daemon DNA."
"What…?" Ignis felt the weight of the room pressing inward, stealing his breath and threatening to crush him.
He didn't hear the rest of His Majesty's explanation over the roaring sound in his own ears, the rush of blood pumping hard as fear gave way to panic. King Regis was no biologist, as he himself admitted, but from what he'd gathered, they were already in the process of being transformed. The humans aboard the Imperial ship would be taken to the Gralea science station where they would receive a series of fourteen additional injections, infused with Daemon cells that would corrupt their own and eventually take over. And even were they not presently caged like animals and at the Empire's mercy, the injections they had already received would continue to break down the structure of their own DNA, to erode away what it was that made them human. Even without the full course of shots, there was no hope. They would die. And if they completed the process, they would have no humanity left; they would be soulless entities, biological weapons known as "empties," or M.T.s: Magitek Troopers.