The soldiers on the watch stand to attention, staring sightlessly into the darkness. Come morning, none of them would remember anything, which is just as well, as far as Ardyn is concerned. He'd like to sort this mess out without dragging any undue attention to himself.
He stays in the shadows, taking his time to look at the captured boys first. Regis' whelp is asleep, curled up awkwardly with his head in his companion's lap, cuffed hands tucked under his chin. The older boy is still awake, though, staring ahead, his fingers combing absentmindedly through the other boy's hair. His face is full of frozen anxiety.
Not surprising, oh no. Dear Noctis can hope to be of some use for someone; as a pawn, as a threat, as a ransom demand, as a pet, even. But this little shadow of his - Igor? Ignatus? - will become superfluous the moment the convoy reaches Gralea and he's not needed to guarantee the prince's good behavior anymore. Executed quickly if he's lucky, given to Verstael for his little experiments if he's not: really, Ardyn's heart would bleed for him, if he was currently in a habit of possessing one.
Well, things to do, places to see, little royal pawns to restore to their proper place in the grand scheme of things. He ambles over to the boys, drops on one knee in front of them and smiles his best friendly smile.
Dear Noctis continues to sleep; the other boy recoils violently away from Ardyn, banging his head against the rough bark of the tree he's chained to and hissing in pain. The bruise covering the left side of his face blends with the surrounding shadows; his remaining green eye stares at Ardyn with defiant suspicion. Honestly, the young are just so rude nowadays.
"Who are you? What do you want?"
Tut, tut. "I'm just a man of no consequence. That's quite a predicament you've found yourselves in, isn't it? Poor dears."
The boy's fingers spasm on Noctis' shoulder before he forces them to still. "Don't touch him!"
Ardyn is tempted to ask just how the boy is going to stop him, if Ardyn should be so inclined right now, but it's a long trip back to Lucis, and delaying too much would be unproductive. More the pity, that.
"Of course, of course, I wouldn't dream of it. But the company you're in now wouldn't heed your requests quite so easily, would they? I could leave you to discover that in the morning, but perhaps you could hear my offer, first."
The kid flinches slightly at the mention of soldiers, but keeps his voice steady and properly suspicious. "What offer?"
"Ah, I'm but a staunch supporter of the Lucian crown, and it pains me to see the young prince in such plight. But I do possess some small abilities, and they would be perhaps enough for me to get the poor child back to his grieving father."
He watches in satisfaction as the boy's green eye widens: he's sharp enough not to miss the implications of the singular noun. Will there be pleading, now? It's perhaps, ah, crass to be looking forward to the sight of a child begging for his life, but some lessons about loyalty to the Lucian crown need to be taught, and Ardyn has always been a staunch believer in the hands-on teaching.
He's slightly startled when the boy leans toward him instead, stares at him with hungry, suspicious ferocity. "Can you take him back? Can you really help?"
"Yes, yes, of course. See how the guards aren't interested in our conversation?"
He waits for the boy to peer past his shoulder at the frozen soldiers, and audibly swallow in surprise. The sight of his magic does not, of course, prove his good intentions, nevermind that they're indeed benevolent right now, but it's not like the child has a lot of options.
"Okay. Okay, please - you'll have to carry him, okay? His back, he really can't walk far. And the food - he has to be so hungry by now, can you..."
Ardyn stares at the boy while he sprouts the entire care and feeding manual on the spot, wondering if he's just too caught up in the minutia to remember about his own fate.
"Of course," he says smoothly, and leans over to sever the chains holding Noctis. The boy hunches over the prince for a moment, full of tension, as if he's pulled taut between two warring impulses - and then he slumps back against the tree, resigned relaxation in the line of his shoulders, allowing Ardyn to pick up the small body.
He looks up at Ardyn, almost shyly, almost relieved. "Could you, uh. Could you tell Noct you'll come back for me later? So he won't be upset. His Majesty will explain it to him properly when he's home."
Ardyn breathes out through his nose, annoyed. "Young man," he says, "are you sure you realize what's going to happen to you, come morning?"
"I'm not a kid," the boy - Ignis it was after all, Ardyn thinks suddenly - says with all the indignant dishonesty of youth. "I'm going to - uh. I was going to begin training for Crownsguard soon. Just take Noct home."
Well, that's Ardyn's good mood quite comprehensively ruined. What do they do to children over there, those remnants of his line? There's so much less fun in this encounter than he'd hoped for.
In front of him, Ignis closes his eyes, slumps heavily against the tree, looking small and insignificant now that he's given up his charge. Ardyn stares at him, and then snarls, against his volition. He shifts the slumbering prince to the crook of his left elbow, and raises his right hand to sever the chain around the boy's throat before he can talk himself out of it.
Ignis' eyes fly open.
"Change of plans," Ardyn says.
After all, the matter of the boy's education in loyalty can always be revisited at some other time.