Okay, so, here's the next chapter! Tell me what you think; and keep those guesses coming! A few of you are picking up on small hints I keep leaving around the story :D

Just a couple of clarifications!

1. NH-01987 is the number imprinted on Prompto's arm ingame, and hence that's why I'm using it as his name :')
2. I chose to include Nyx because he's adorable.

That's all 3

"I suppose you'll be wanting to know your orders, hm?"

The evening had passed by at a steady rate, before Ardyn had returned to collect him. Surrounded by guards, they'd been marched through the halls to the guest wing of the Citadel. NH-01987 followed behind obediently; his metallic steps resounding heavily throughout the marble corridors, causing several servants to stop and turn their gaze to him as the group passed. It wasn't until the pair were stood in the Chancellors temporary quarters that he'd spoken the question that had been on NH-01987's mind since they'd arrived. His tone was slick with amusement, but not in the cheerful way. No, slick with grotesque amusement that he was aware of exactly what was going through the MT unit's mind, what was bugging him. The smirk that played on the man's lips was disturbing, and NH-01987 averted his gaze to study another painting in the corner of the room.

Ardyn Izunia slipped his oversized coat free from his shoulders, draping it over a nearby chair before placing his hat atop it. In the dim light of the room, his amber eyes seemed to shine with a new emotion; scrutiny.

He was clearly still awaiting an answer, NH-01987 realised, and he provided a rather curt and mechanical nod as a response. Words were useless when you were a machine. His job was to follow, not to express. The moment they had entered the room, NH-01987 had positioned himself aside the door; back straight and arms tucked neatly under his cloak. The perfect stance of obedience that had been drilled in to him ever since he'd been a-.. A what? Young program?

Ardyn crossed the room in a swayed stride, closing the distance between them in seconds before reaching a gloved and slender hand out to trail along the lower metallic line of his helmets jaw.

He wanted to step away. He didn't.

The same smirk still sat on the Chancellor's lips as he observed him, seemingly waiting for a reaction that wasn't occurring. "My dear NH, it is your job to observe the young Prince. Nothing more, nothing less."

Observe the Prince? What goal could that possibly achieve in the Empires benefit? He was a unit that had commanded troops, had charged into battlefields guns-blazing, and now the Chancellor himself wanted him to what, babysit? That didn't add up.

Perhaps Ardyn was aware of his sudden confusion – although Eos knew how – because the Chancellor withdrew his hand and stepped back, a low chuckle leaving his lips.

"You seem perplexed. Tell me, can MTs feel perplexed?" He chimed.

No. No they couldn't, NH-01987 thought. If Ardyn Izunia saw through his confusion so easily; what was preventing the Chancellor from simply having him decommissioned for a more functioning model?

Ardyn finally stepped away and NH-01987 would have felt relieved; if not for the fear of being spotted. His knees felt ready to buckle under the weight of his armour, a weight that was only just apparent now. He was sure there was an unsteady shake to his hands; loose circuit, perhaps. The Chancellor didn't seem to notice as he crossed the room to the entrance of the king-size bedroom that followed, the furniture in question had been draped with the most lavish of silks.

He felt that same sick feeling rise in his stomach as before. The Chancellor was toying with him; and he couldn't work out to what end.

"Tomorrow morning, I shall be summoned to the audience chamber once more, to speak with King Regis. Do me a favour and take the time to relax, won't you?" Ardyn glanced back at him. "No doubt you'll be followed by the guard, so do be on your best behaviour."

He paused.

"Just one small, tiny little detail. You are the Chancellor's unit, not Ardyn's, not Ardyn Izunia's, am I understood?"

What?

And with that, the Chancellor made his way to bed. Leaving NH-01987 to stand watch over the main door in the communal room in confusion.

MT units didn't need sleep. Or at least, not on the same level that humans did. Sleep provided a chance to sift through memory data; though his had always been spontaneous and random, leaving him with no control over the images that flooded his mind. Thus, more often than not NH-01987 avoided sleeping in fear of being caught in one of those glitches. So there he stood, perfectly still like a statue across from the door, with one hand resting gently against where his gun should have been.

Morning had come, and Ardyn had been escorted away as promised. With his orders clear, though not entirely understood, NH-01987 had taken it upon himself to learn the layout of the Citadel; or at least of the areas he was permitted access whilst under the constant watch of the rather fed-up looking Kingsglaive behind him. The man was far taller than he was, and wore his hair back in braids, leaving NH-01987 to wonder if that was a custom of the land he'd come from. It was common knowledge that those who served in the Kingsglaive weren't all of Insomnian birth. He walked with a gait and sense of duty that NH-01987 admired in him, though the Glaive avoided eye contact almost entirely; which wasn't hard to do, considering his helmet. He didn't seem impressed that he'd been charged with accompanying the MT on his wander around the Citadel, not in the slightest.

He'd heard the other guards refer to him by name: Nyx Ulric. Something NH-01987 decided to store in his memory should it ever serve a purpose.

The two of them walked in silence along one of the lower corridors; though there was definitely an unspoken question as to why an MT felt the need to take a walk hanging in the air between them.

Because I have orders, NH-01987 reminded himself.

He paused by one of the paintings; almost causing the Glaive to walk straight into him. It was a magnificent piece that had been mounted above a dark blue sofa, depicting a younger version of King Regis smiling down at his son; who sat just opposite him in the painting. That parental bond was something NH-01987 didn't entirely understand; the need to protect something so small and fragile, like that. Yet still, it invited a new emotion – new programming – into his mind, something warm and reminiscent.

Nyx seemed to notice the MTs gaze, and followed it to look up at the painting.

"Painted just before the Prince's eighth birthday; before Niflheim's attack." He spoke sourly, but evenly.

Niflheim's attack? It took NH-01987 a moment to recall which attack in question he was referring to.

Ah, right. Niflheim had managed to release a Maralith Daemon onto Prince Noctis' escort, killing nearly every guard that had tried to stand in its way. The Daemon had not been defeated, and had been recovered by the Empire a short time later. Although it hadn't completed its intended use of killing the Prince, it had severely injured him – though to what extent, NH-01987 wasn't sure, for the male had seemed absolutely fine the day prior when he'd been commenting on his height.

He took a moment to admire the innocent expression in the boy's face, before moving on down the hallway.

It was then that the familiar clash of blade-on-blade caught his attention, and he slowed as he reached two open doors.

Through them he could see what appeared to be a practice area beyond; dusted with sand and open to the sun streaming down from above. They were on the lower floors, so such architecture was to be expected, yet the rays still surprised him at their intensity. He barely noticed that Nyx was following a little too closely as he found himself wandering inside; squinting under his helmet at the uncomfortable feeling the sun formed in him. He could thank Daemon blood for that. Not enough to disintegrate, but enough to feel the effects regardless. It was worse without the armour; but still not unbearable.

Not that he regularly wandered around without the metallic suit; either this one, or one of the more standard issue varieties.

The blades clashed again.

Two combatants were sparring in the centre of the training sand. One, a large man laden with muscles and sweat; the upper half of his body tattooed with the graceful and dark outline of a bird. It didn't seem to faze the man that he was fighting with blades, entirely unprotected. In both hands, he gripped a large greatsword, currently resting it against the sand. His breath was even, despite the sweat rolling down his skin, as he stared down his opponent.

And with a sinking feeling, NH-01987 realised just why Nyx was suddenly so close to him. The large man's opponent was none other than Crown Prince Noctis, dressed in no more than a tight black shirt and loose training pants. He too was sweating against the excursion of the battle, with a single one handed sword in his grasp as he began to back away from the big guy, creating a large amount of distance between them.

Noctis raised the blade into the air…

And threw it.

What happened next was something NH-01987 was sure wasn't going to leave his memory banks for a very long time.

The moment the blade had left the Prince's hand, crackles of blue and white crystallised light began to form around it, and around the Prince himself. It was barely a millisecond before he shone all over with that light, a light that stung at NH-10987's eyes, before vanishing entirely. His grip resumed on the blade as he re-appeared across the room mere inches from the big guy, twisting his body before bringing the weapon down in a swift and steep arch on him.

Apparently, this move had been expected, as the big guy wasted no time in raising his own greatsword once the Prince had disappeared from sight; as such, blade parried blade before he managed to overpower the younger combatant, throwing him down hard into the sand below. The one-handed sword skidded across the arena, throwing up a small cloud of dust and blue particles in its wake.

NH-01987 was rather glad he was wearing a helmet; for he was near certain his mouth was hanging open in absolute disbelief at what he'd just witnessed.

Both blades disappeared in a fizzle of blue light, before the big guy lent down to offer the Prince a hand.

"Nice throw. Almost had me." He commented, a smug grin on his expression regardless.

Noctis accepted the hand, tugging himself to his feet before taking a step back and brushing the dust from his attire. "Yeah, right." He murmured, clearly unconvinced.

"Lighten up, kid. Now, agai-" The big guy paused, turning to see NH-01987 and Nyx stood in the doorway. "Damn, they got a Glaive to babysit an MT unit? Funny looking MT at that."

Why was everyone so concerned with his appearance?

Nyx scoffed, before remembering himself and letting the previous dutiful expression fall back onto his face.

Noctis followed the big guy's gaze, resting his own on NH-01987. "Oh, that thing. It was hanging around outside the audience chamber. Think it's the envoys unit."

They were practically talking about him as if he wasn't in the room. Sure, he was a machine, but that didn't mean he appreciated the lack of consideration here. He needed to do something, anything other than stand there like a clueless piece of tech; unfortunately the best idea that sprang to mind in hindsight was far from the most appropriate. He didn't give either of the two a chance to continue the conversation, tucking one metallic arm under his chest before bowing.

He'd just bowed to the Crown Prince of Lucis.

After the comments the obnoxious Prince had teased him with the previous day, there was a victorious feeling in the back of his mind seeing the Prince do a double take in surprise.

There was a brief pause of silence before the larger guy let out a laugh, clapping the young Prince on the back. "Hell, it's got more manners than you do, kid!"

"Shut up Gladio" Noctis scowled, just about recovering from his previous shock.

Gladio, that was the other man's name. If NH-01987 recalled correctly, Gladiolus Amicitia was the current shield-in-training to the Prince of Lucis; eldest son of the current Shield to the King, Clarus Amicitia. The Shield laughed at the Prince's scowl, stepping forward to cast his gaze over NH-01987; again, the MT felt like shrinking in his armour at being observed so closely. It was just as uncomfortable as when the Chancellor did it. Finally, Gladio's gaze rested on the empty holster where his gun had been but a day prior, a small grunt of acknowledgement sounding from his throat.

"You fight?" He questioned, folding his arms over his chest. Clearly, unlike the Prince, he had already realised that NH-01987 could understand them.

NH-01987 nodded.

"Fancy teaching his royal laziness here a valuable lesson, then?"

Again, thank the Six for the helmet. He was practically gawking at the suggestion of such a thing. Niflheim's MT sparring against the Crown Prince of Lucis? What if he messed up and caused some kind of international incident? Hell, he'd be decommissioned faster than anyone could say inadequate. Yet… at the same time he couldn't help but recall the Chancellor's words. His orders were to observe the Prince; and surely what better way to do so than to observe his fighting prowess first hand? A report like that could even earn him enough gil for a slightly less ridiculous looking set of armour. His hesitation seemed to be noted, or perhaps Gladio put it down to not being heard, as the Shield spoke once more.

"We'll stick to training weapons, of course. Wouldn't want Nyx here to be re-stationed to the gates."

"Wouldn't be worse than this." Nyx commented, earning a laugh from Gladio.

Noctis on the other hand, looked less than appealed by the idea. There he stood, still in the middle of the training arena, with his arms folded and gaze cast off to the side in irritation. He was purposely avoiding looking at the trio up ahead, fixing his sights firmly on a discarded training sword.

Finally, NH-01987 nodded a second time, in agreement to the suggestion.

"You're a sniper unit, right? What's that, gun and short sword?" Gladio questioned.

Another nod.

NH-01987 had been trained in a variety of weapons since his initial establishment; though he'd taken a keen liking to pistols and rifles, being one of the best shots in the Infantry. That didn't however mean he couldn't swing a sword and thus his weapons usually consisted of both; though he preferred to only use a blade in close combat situations where a gun would risk his own safety. There had been a few occasions where the recoil from a rifle had sent him tripping backwards over his own two feet, especially if it involved being at point-blanc range from the enemy. His supervisors had demanded that he utilise a blade more often; or face decommission for inadequate weapons handling.

Gladio had stepped away for a moment whilst NH-01987 had been caught up in his own thoughts. When he returned, he was holding out both a training gun – with hefty, but non-penetrative blanks – and a training sword. NH-10987 took both with a small nod, biting down on his lip underneath his helmet at the realisation of what he was getting himself in to.

"Noct! If you manage to beat this MT here, you can have the rest of the day off." Gladio grinned; a rather shit-eating grin at that. He didn't expect the Prince to win, it seemed.

Regardless, the prospect of a day off seemed to intrigue the young man more than NH-01987 would have expected, his gaze immediately on Gladio as if challenging him to take that bet back.

He didn't.

Noctis smirked.

One thing NH-01987 couldn't quite fathom was how anyone expected an un-armoured, tired Prince to win against a fully armoured MT unit.

Despite his concerns, NH-01987 found himself making his way to stand opposite the Crown Prince in the sand. He slipped the sword into an empty socket on his belt; where his old blade had been before their departure to Lucis. He hadn't brought the weapon, knowing full well it would be taken away, but he'd also been unable to part himself with his gun. Settling the training gun in his gloved hands, he let his fingers brush against the trigger; a familiar sense of concentration overcoming him as he eyed his opponent.

"You fight until one of you has given up! Don't go breaking any bones-.." A pause. "Or er, circuits, for that matter." Gladio quickly corrected, shrugging at his blunder. He eyed them both as they readied themselves before continuing.

"Start in three!"

"Two"

"One"

"NOW!"

And the moment that word had left the Shield's mouth, Noctis was gone in a flash of crystallised light. NH-01987 barely had a moment to register the Prince's sudden disappearance before a woosh of air behind him had him turning on his footing. His actions were entirely program-driven – one could even argue instinctual – and he let his mind remain a blank slate, allowing his body to do the work for him. The instant he turned, he was face to face with the Prince's oncoming blade; the young man in question bringing it down on him hard. However, his perception had given him the advantage as he stepped backwards and out of range of the weapon; hearing it crash against the dust. He'd have revelled in that small victory, but his programming said otherwise; allowing him to raise the training gun and shoot forward at the Prince.

The bullet didn't connect, for in a similar manner to the teleportation ability, the Prince merely phased slightly to the right and let the bullet fire through a mist of blue shining particles. Swinging his blade once more, he failed to land a second hit on NH-01987; who continued to back up whilst analysing the Prince's skills. In particular, he noted, the Prince had to focus on where he wanted to teleport a moment before he did so; and this gave the MT a huge advantage over a previously un-winnable situation.

Sure enough, it didn't take Noctis long to retreat back to the first tactic- seeking a vantage point to attack from; gaze very briefly trained on a pillar not too far away. There was a familiar crackle of air as the Prince disappeared from sight once more.

However, this time he was about to be in for a shock.

NH-01987 aimed the gun up at the pillar, judging the distance between where the Prince had just vanished and counting down quickly in his head. The teleportation was near instant; but there was a 0.147455 second delay between the two actions; meaning as he pulled down the trigger and fired off the bullet, there was a rather surprised swear as the Prince was knocked free from the blade he'd been grasping – crashing down to the ground below. A fall like that had to hurt; and NH-01987 couldn't help but feel a brief pang of guilt for causing it- and the frantic worry that he really could end up accidentally killing the Crown Prince of Lucis.

Nyx made a movement to step forward, only to be held back as Gladio held out an arm and shook his head; the same grin on his expression as Noctis pulled himself to his feet, spitting dirt and sand aside as he glared down the MT unit.

"Lucky shot." He remarked, a sour expression on his face as he threw the blade forward once more- apparently deciding that close range combat would suit him better than attempting to teleport out of the fray again.

The movement was actually unexpected, leaving NH-01987 to drop the gun in favour of drawing the sword; parrying the strike from the Prince as he re-appeared above him; having to dig his heels into the dirt below to avoid being toppled over by the sudden onslaught. There was a surprising amount of force behind the attack, eventually causing one of his knees to buckle; leaving the unit knelt against the ground in the split second it took for their weapons to connect.

Noctis seemed to see this as an opportunity, drawing the weapon back before aiming it forward into NH-01987's side. The blow was enough to knock him backwards, but he regained his footing with a renewed need to avoid looking like a fool. If machines could look like fools, he supposed.

The fight drew on well over thirty minutes; swords constantly parrying yet neither of the combatants were able to land sufficient hits on one another. Apparently the teleporting had its limits, because as the fight continued Noctis began to rely on it less and less; his strength weakening beneath each attempt at an attack.

Finally, the two of them were left looking rather exhausted at opposite ends of the arena. Even NH-01987 had to admit, his own programming hadn't taken into consideration the absolute beating he was taking; meaning even he felt an unusual presence of exhaustion. Noctis was stood opposite him, both hands on his knees – with one still gripping the training sword – as he huffed and puffed; breathing ragged from exertion.

"Not bad.." He coughed. "For a short bucket of bolts." And there it was, the smirk that NH-01987 really wanted to wipe off of the Prince's face.

"Alright, alright." Gladio concluded, clapping his hands together and stepping away from where he and Nyx had been watching. "I think that's enough, this fight isn't going to get anywhere if the two of you collapse from exhaustion." He didn't seem to mention that he doubted MTs could even do that; something NH-01987 was glad for.

NH-01987 offered both training weapons back to Gladio as he approached, who nodded down at him as he retrieved them. There was something odd on his expression, as if he was trying to read something behind NH-01987's helmet, whatever it was, he didn't comment on it as he retrieved Noctis' training sword as well.

As NH-01987 raised his gaze, he became aware that a fourth person now stood in the room; leaning against the doorway. He couldn't read the males expression, but Glasses was clearly looking straight at him; a frown on his lips.

It was then that he considered just how late the hour was getting; chances are Chancellor Izunia had finished his meeting with the King by now. Raising himself to his full, and apparently short, height, NH-01987 nodded the group a farewell; before departing from the room with Nyx Ulric in tow. Even the Glaive seemed impressed by the battle that had just taken place, as he glanced aside at NH-01987 and regarded him briefly. "Smart moves back there." He commented, before they walked the rest of the way in silence.

"And just what were you thinking letting Noctis spar an MT of all things?" Ignis scowled, now left alone with Gladio and Noctis; the former of which still held a smirk as he watched the retreating back of the MT making its way down the corridor.

Gladio shrugged. "What can I say, kid needed the experience against an actual enemy. Though… Can't say I expected it to be so lifelike in its movements."

"The way it anticipated that warp…" Ignis mulled, apparently forgetting his brief bit of anger.

Noctis frowned. "What does it matter, it's probably got some high tech programming; you've seen the armour on that thing." Though, even his tone seemed to be lined with doubt. They'd seen MTs in the past with Niflheim envoys; the machines were lifeless and clunky. What he'd just fought… had been something else entirely.

"Perhaps. It's not entirely out of the range of possibilities. But still, I'd be quite interested in knowing where the Chancellor acquired such a model. For now though.. Noct, it's about time we returned to your apartment. You have reports to read through."

The Prince's face seemed to fall at the prospect; leaving him groaning. "Yeah, right, those." His mind was still reeling from the fight; from the way the MT had actually bowed to him as if to prove a point that it had been listening the entire time; the way it had turned its back on him the day before when he remarked on its size- which in all honesty, was the same height as he was.

Something didn't add up, and he found himself determined to find out what.