9

Tertium non datur
May 9

I

The call to the Citadel announced a damn serious affair. The Council had gathered in a hurry for almost a whole day, and whatever the topic of discussion had been, Gladio couldn't understand why the four of them had been summoned, since Prompto hadn't yet taken his oath. As far as he knew, however, the rest of the Crownsguard hadn't been involved.

"This call is kinda strange, isn't it?" Prompto remarked aloud. "Perhaps we have done something? Noct, are you sure you're not hiding anything from us?"

"And what do you want me to hide?" the aforementioned answered, blinking. "I haven't seen my father for almost two weeks. I have absolutely no idea what he wants to tell us."

Gladio had some suspicions about that. Now that the Kingsglaives had returned to Insomnia there would certainly be some changes in the role of the armed groups within the city. He kept on playing around with the idea that, if the Glaives would have been relocated in Insomnia, some of them could join the Crownsguard; Silia, for example.

"Anyway," Prompto went on, "It doesn't happen so often lately that we're all hanging around in Ig's car, right? With Noct's part-time and Gladio who disappears somewhere at night turning off his phone..." He gave him a mischievous look.

Prompto was exaggerating, as always, because they'd see each other almost every day, if not every night, but he felt cut to the quick anyway. "Actually," he said cautiously, without confirming or denying, "I workout at the Training Hall."

"At night?" Noctis inquired. He usually was too involved in himself to take an interest in his private life, but that day he sounded strangely communicative.

"Even at night," Gladio confirmed, brotherly kneeing him. "It's never enough. You should do it, too."

Prompto knelt on his seat – he never fastened his seat belt – and hugged the headrest, looking at him with the air of someone who knows a lot that Gladio didn't like at all. "So, Gladio, if you're working out at night, who's Hartwood?"

This time Gladio felt the blow. "And how do you know that name?"

"Ignis mentioned her a couple of times."

Gladio gave Ignis a killer look that he hoped was intercepted through the rearview mirror. He was the only one whom he had talked to about Silia, within certain terms, of course; he had told him that, from time to time, he'd meet with a Glaive on leave – nothing ambiguous or sketchy, just a casual friendship – and that they were training together. He had been almost forced to talk to him, because at the Crownsguard's headquarters, periodically jokes were raining, and they had reached even his father's ears, although not Noctis'. Gladio had wanted at least Ignis not to misunderstand. Even if, after all, perhaps there was nothing to misunderstand, and everyone had understood everything before him.

"Who's Hartwood, Gladio?" Noctis also asked.

"Oh, Gladio likes to be discreet, so everybody thinks badly," Ignis replied before he could. "She's a woman who's helping him to train," he supported him. Gladio felt grateful.

"A woman who's helping you to train?" Noctis blinked. "I never heard that name. She's not a Crownsguard. Who is she?"

"Nobody. Just a friend." He could have come clean with Noctis and Prompto, at that point, and perhaps he would have done it some time before if a part of him hadn't realized it wasn't that easy. The hours he and Silia would spend together were no longer a sporadic corollary of leisure to his days, but a moment he awaited impatiently. Whatever he had tried to bury for months, he was now having trouble keeping it at bay.

"Is she pretty?" Prompto asked.

"She doesn't need to be pretty to train with me. She's agile and very skilled with the sword. She helped me to develop a couple of new techniques. Maybe sooner or later I'll introduce you guys."

"Geez, how boring," the blond said. "It seemed too good to have something to make fun of Gladio for."

They reached the Citadel without the subject, much to Gladio's relief, being further broached. They left Ignis' car in the underground parking and went up to the hall, where Claire Aulus, one of his father's most trusted attendants, was waiting for them. They took one of the elevators to reach the wing reserved for Council's meetings.

Following Claire, Gladio began to perceive a palpable nervousness around him. The woman's gestures and her tense expression, the stiffness of the employees they met along the corridor, a feeble chatter in the background, convulsive, very different from the usual frenzy that animated the Royal Chancery...

No, Gladio told himself, there is definitely something wrong.

Claire didn't bring them to the Meeting Room, as he had already guessed, but into one of the private flat where the King and the Council used to retire. That wasn't a formal summons therefore, but in a sense, it was even more alarming.

The attendant opened the door and stepped aside to let them in. That contrived nervousness infected them; they entered the room tensely, almost intimidated.

His nervousness increased when he saw the participants in that unusual conversation; the King, seated at one end of the rectangular table that almost completely occupied the room; his father, standing next to him talking in a low voice; Rubeus Scientia, who was taking notes on a small laptop; and Cor Leonis, who was staring at the emptiness with his arms crossed, thoughtful. In the corner, behind the King, leaning against the wall, was even Captain Titus Drautos.

Everyone looked up when they entered. Claire closed the door behind them, staying outside, and Gladio took a look at the serious expressions of the men in front of him for final confirmation that something very serious had happened. As did Prompto and Ignis, he bent his back in a short bow to the King and then straightened up, waiting for instructions.

"Welcome. Please, have a seat," Ignis' uncle greeted them, closing his laptop and gesturing toward the chairs. "Prompto, we haven't met for a while. You look good." He was trying to ease the tension, but no one followed his example.

Prompto mumbled an embarrassed 'thank you' in a low voice, and was the first to move a chair and sit down. Ignis sat next to him. Noctis remained standing, staring at his father, and Gladio preferred to stay up as well. He also leaned against the wall, like Captain Drautos, and waited to find out why they were there.

The King – more and more worn out every time he met him – folded his arms, looked at them briefly, and then paused to look at his son. When Regis was young, and not many years had passed, the resemblance to Noctis was impressive. Now it was lost in the folds of time.

"What I am about to tell you," the King said, "It has not been officially released yet. Only the members of the Council, Marshal Leonis, Captain Drautos, and some of the most trusted Royal Chancery employees have been informed. I demand you not to talk to anyone until it is public domain." Gladio looked at his father, slightly arching his eyebrow, but Clarus Amicitia's face expressed no emotion. He nodded imperceptibly, perhaps inviting him to listen carefully.

"Yesterday Chancellor Ardyn Izunia requested an audience here at the Citadel. He proposed a truce between Niflheim and Lucis. The conditions are as follows: the renunciation of the territories around Insomnia in exchange for the immediate cessation of hostilities. The Council and I decided to accept."

Gladio held his breath. A truce with the Imperials. After one hundred and fifty years of open war, they had come to that. He laid his hand over his eyes.

"Do not believe," the King went on, after giving them a few seconds to process the news, "that we have not carefully evaluated each option. Your maturity goes beyond your years, as you have been required by the roles you play, and I am sure you will understand perfectly that this choice was not taken with a light heart." He was talking to them all, but it was Noctis who he was addressing to. It was the destiny of the kingdom that he was soon to govern, after all, that was at a stake.

"Almost all crown citizens have never set foot outside the city. There is a world out there that almost none of us have ever seen. The war has never touched our people, so they are used to thinking of it as an integral part of their life, but it is not like that." He gave a deep sigh. "We've been at war for four hundred years and now it's time to accept that Lucis has no choice but to treat."

The King studied them carefully. Gladio felt his throat and chest paralyze, and he couldn't react. None of his friends could. He wasn't in a good position to intercept their looks, but probably, like him, they were trying to foreshadow a world where Niflheim reigned supreme – it's already doing it, he corrected himself, only that so far we have opposed with all our strength to this situation and from now on we won't. A world where, however, the citizens of Insomnia wouldn't have need to take refuge behind a Wall erected by long-time dead kings and kept up by the power of the Crystal.

"Father." Noctis' voice, limpid, was like fresh water in a hot day. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," the King replied softly. "We didn't summon you to discuss this. Everything has been decided. The Chancellor returned to Niflheim to announce that we have accepted, and we will shortly set the date of the signing of the treaty. You are here because Emperor Aldercapt has requested a further condition that concerns you personally, Noctis."

Gladio stiffened and felt his mouth twist in a grimace. Almost without realizing it, he took a step closer to Noctis. They couldn't have dared so much, he told himself. They cannot have requested Noct as a hostage. The King would never allow it.

The King gave him a benevolent look. "Do not worry, Gladio. They do not intend to do him any harm. Iedolas Aldercapt wants the truce to be sanctioned by a marriage between the heir to the throne of Lucis and the Oracle, who has been under their formal protection for years."

Noctis opened his eyes wide. "With Luna?" he murmured, incredulous. Gladio echoed his sentiment. Noct hadn't met Princess Lunafreya for years, but they had regular correspondence, and she was the only person towards whom his friend had a transparent and deep affection. It seemed too good a story to actually be true.

King Regis nodded. Since the Chancellor had already returned to Gralea to report the decisions of the King and the Council to the Emperor, everything had already been decided. It was time for Noctis to assume his responsibilities and his duties, like all of them, even if Gladio didn't believe that this duty would have been particularly burdensome for him. He tried to hold back the smile that had come to his lips. It was not the right time.

"When?" Noct asked.

"As soon as possible. But not in Insomnia. We haven't yet communicated this to Chancellor Izunia. I decided that the wedding will be held in Altissia. You will leave in the morning of May 13th."

We will leave. Gladio remembered the first time his father had presented such a possibility to him. When he was five and wanted to be a hunter, or maybe a wizard, he hadn't decided yet. Despite the tragic situation, despite their uncertain future, the idea of leaving Insomnia aroused in him a thrill of excitement.

"Prompto Argentum." Marshal Leonis spoke for the first time, and his friend stiffened in his chair as if he had been shot. "Tomorrow you will pledge as a Crownsguard. You are ready now, and we want the Prince to surround himself not with an armed retinue on his journey, but with trusted people. You will reach Galdin Quay, trying to get as little attention as possible, and from there you will take the ferry to Altissia. You shouldn't face too many troubles on your trip. Few people know your appearance outside Insomnia, Prince."

"That's all for now," his father Clarus concluded. "We still have many things to discuss. Be available in the next few days because we will need to provide you with more details. Prepare yourself for the departure properly; each of you has been trained to cope with all kinds of danger, but for the first time you will be confronted with real enemies. I have no doubt that you will know how to deal with them in the way it's best."

Ignis and Prompto stood up. Gladio couldn't wait to discuss with his friends, on their own, about all that they had just learned. But the King turned again to Noctis. "Please, Noctis, stay a little longer."

Before leaving, Gladio paused to look at Captain Drautos, intrigued. Sensing his gaze, the Captain looked at him in turn. That was the man who had turned Silia into an elite fighter. Whenever she'd speak his name, Silia's lips curved in a reverential smile. She owed everything to that man, she had confided to him, and for a moment Gladio felt his lips bending in an admiring smile of sympathy. The Captain, living up to his reputation as an unyielding man, didn't react.

II

A quarter of an hour later, sitting at one of Sotherby's tables, protected by the background music that prevented them from listening to the conversations at the other tables and, consequently, the other customers from listening to theirs, they found themselves unable to comment. Gladio kept on opening his mouth, looking for something to say, and closing it again afterwards, disoriented. Too many radical changes were about to happen for them to succeed in coming to terms with them.

"I'll have to pack all my kitchen tools," Ignis said, more to himself than to the others. "Just because we'll leave Insomnia, it's not a good reason to eat junk food at the service stations every day. And you shall deal with the camping equipment, Gladio, since you already have everything. We'll also have to bring our fishing gear. And exchange the currency before leaving. What car shall we take?"

Scratching his hairline, Gladio bit his lip. "Ignis, I envy your simple practicality. I cannot help but think about the end of a war that has been going on for four hundred years, that asshole Iedolas Aldercapt's smug smile, and people outside Insomnia."

Ignis blinked, focused. "We can think about the war and also the practical aspects of the journey, Gladio. One thing does not exclude the other, and we cannot leave unprepared."

"Even if that's true, I would think about weapons before pots."

"...tomorrow I'll pledge as a Crownsguard."

Gladio gave a guilty look at Prompto and, he saw, Ignis also stifled his embarrassment with a mannered cough. Amid the chaos of news and communications, that – one of the few positive ones – had fallen by the wayside.

Not for Prompto, of course, who continued to smile blissfully. "I couldn't wait," he said. "I know I started training a lot later than you, but you both swore at eighteen and..." He lowered his head, and the bangs hid his eyes. "...I felt behind. I thought this moment would never come."

Gladio felt a deep movement of fraternal affection towards him. Although Prompto's enthusiasm was often irritating, Gladio was smart enough to notice that his manners aimed at filling that distance that Prompto himself kept from them. Perhaps it was because his nonchalant adoptive parents had never infused him with self-confidence, perhaps because of the uncertainty about his origins. Prompto had joined their group a few years before, and Gladio had come to love him as a third younger brother after having overcome an initial period of aversion, which perhaps, on closer inspection, concealed a certain amount of jealousy. He leaned over to ruffle his hair. "Congrats, Prompto. And don't worry, everyone has his own time. We're not all the same. You're an extraordinary sniper, don't feel any less than us."

Prompto didn't answer, but blushed. "I will do my best to protect Noct," he declared, "at the cost of my own life. Even if he doesn't deserve Lady Lunafreya at all."

They laughed. The tension had been eased, and Gladio lifted his already cold coffee to his lips. "I agree. But I suspect that he'll hold with the princess a very different attitude than the one he reserves for us."

"I can't wait to see you, Luna," Prompto mocked Noctis, still laughing, quoting a phrase from the diary that the two exchanged through Umbra. A few months before, they had managed to pry it from his hands. "What I wouldn't give to read that diary now that their wedding has been arranged."

"Come on, guys, don't be indiscreet," Ignis reproached them. "I'm really glad for him; for her as well. Lady Lunafreya had a very unfortunate life. She deserves some happiness. And then, when Noct will be settled down, we can breathe and stop being his unwed escort."

Gladio choked on the last remaining coffee in his cup. He began to cough. "Ig," he gasped, "Stop talking nonsense. This voyage is anything but a pleasure trip. We should stay focused."

He said it more vehemently than he had intended. Instead of amusing him, Ignis' jokes had thrown a hood of anxiety and depression on him. A few days before he had allowed himself to think that perhaps, without forgetting his place and his obligations and his priorities and his family, perhaps, with the temporary return of the Kingsglaives to Insomnia, perhaps, who knows, he could begin to imagine a future where Silia was there as well. He had restrained at the last second from telling her, and again because she had given him a warlike, imploring, almost frightened look. Good thing she did, because now everything had changed. Now it was him who had to leave Insomnia.

Those thoughts made him feel disgustingly mean, and he felt even meaner when he saw that Ignis, his head leaning against his hand, was looking at him with irritation. "I was joking, Gladio," he said, with a sour hint in his voice. "Why are you so upset?"

"Yeah, Gladio," Prompto echoed him. "Sometimes you're really weird."

"Sorry," he tried to defend himself. He liked to think he was the leader of the group, but sometimes the brattiest of them all was just him. "It's just that they dropped on us too much news today."

His friends didn't answer. Gladio glanced at his phone screen; it was half past six. He tried to call Noctis, but he didn't answer.

"Nothing?" Prompto asked.

"No. Well, no point in waiting for him any longer." Gladio pursed his lips and mentally started to list all the needed arrangements for their departure. It was not just about weapons and baggage. There was the itinerary to be planned meticulously, taking into account that outside Insomnia they wouldn't find supermarkets, hotels and service stations at all paces. There was other summons to the Citadel to be expected, because in fact, at that moment, they only knew that a truce would be signed and that they would leave on the 13th in the morning, just four days later.

He had the feeling that if he could not intercept Silia that night, he wouldn't see her again before leaving Insomnia. He stood up, looking for his wallet to pay. "I'll go, dudes. Given the short notice, I've to go for some errands. Stay in touch. Tomorrow evening we celebrate Prompto and his entry into the Guard."

He held out his fist, and Prompto struck him happily with his, smiling. "Will there be any girls?"

"No. Only the four of us males," he replied, winking, and left a few gil on the table. "Start getting used to it. A long car trip awaits us. Only us."

Prompto snorted, disappointed, theatrically prostrating onto the table. "Sooo boring..."

"Gladio..." Ignis grabbed him gravely, placing his hand on his forearm as he passed by. Gladio was sure that his friend knew perfectly that he was going to find Silia and that he would tell her all they had been ordered not to divulge. He opened his mouth to justify, to deny, but Ignis tightened his grip on his arm.

"If you go to the mall, I need a new saucepan. Medium sized. I am afraid that mine is too cumbersome to carry with us."

III

He waited for her for an hour. It was eight o'clock by then, and every minute he was losing sitting at one of Samuel's tables watching the entrance was a minute away from the preparations for his departure. But Silia still didn't answer her phone.

"I'm sorry, Amicitia," Samuel said teasingly, bringing an unrequested beer to his table. "Your girlfriend blew you off today, uh? I shouldn't say that, but maybe it's better this way. The customers got used to her, but five damned Glaives in uniform sitting here is a whole different matter."

Gladio was annoyed by his intrusiveness and by the lightness with which he spoke of Glaives by, but then he had to remind himself that the bartender, in spite of his grouchy attitude of an angry landlord, in those months had shown Silia cordiality and a concern not granted. So he forced a smile, lifted the beer to his lips, and winked. "My girlfriend? Hartwood? If she hears you, she breaks your place to pieces. We weren't supposed to meet, anyway. I just dropped in to see if she was here."

At that moment, his cell phone on the table rang. Gladio straightened up, grabbing it. It was her.

"Hello? I saw you were looking for me, Gladio."

Gladio took a deep breath to calm himself. "Yeah. I... dropped by Samuel's. I was hoping to find you. Where are you, Silia?"

He heard feeble background music. "Hm," she took time hesitantly. "Near your house, actually. I don't know how, but Sarah managed to drag me to some kind of party. Since, we can say, we are in a deadlock..." She sounded embarrassed. "I won't stay for long," she justified herself. "Just to see what happens."

"Wait, stop." A party. Near his home. Oh, for the Astrals. Cornelia Doge. Cornelia Doge and her fucking parties. With all that had happened, Gladio had forgotten that it was a day like any other, for ordinary people, and that Cornelia Doge last week had sent to his home another invitation for the umpteenth party that, as usual, they had snubbed. "The villa with the stone lions on the gate?"

"That's the one," Silia confirmed. "I escaped to the terrace with a glass of wine. Caesar, Legato and Samuel have refused to come. So Sarah demanded that I accompany her. She said that I had a good time here in the city for months and that I could do her this favor. I couldn't say no."

While she was talking, Gladio was already on the street and was looking for the car keys. "How did you get the invitation?"

"We didn't crash, if that's what you're thinking. Sarah met the landlady, I don't know when and where, these past few days. Cornelia Doge, I believe you probably know her. She invited her, saying to bring a friend or two, because she liked the idea of having some Kinsglaives at her party. She must have run out of little monkeys in tutus to be thrown to the guests."

Typical of Cornelia Doge. Gladio started the car. "Good. I'm coming to save you."

"Ah." He didn't expect an explosion of joy, but not even an expression so lukewarm. "There's no need, Gladio," she said dryly.

"There's need, indeed. I had a rough day and I want to have a glass of wine." He laid the phone between his shoulder and his ear, speeding up. "Cornelia Doge had invited me and my family, but it was completely pushed out of my head until now."

"No, Gladio," she replied. "I'm about to leave. Seriously. I'll stay only ten minutes."

"Silia." Her name came out with a sound a little too much like a prayer. "Don't leave. Wait for me there."

He heard her sigh. "Okay," she gave up. "You'll find me on the terrace."

IV

"Here you are."

Gladio approached her and leaned against the balustrade too. He wore the uniform of the Crownsguard, and was a little breathless, as if he had run. He handed a glass of wine to her.

"Thank you. How come in high uniform, Gladio?"

He scratched his hairline, lifting his glass to his lips, but didn't answer her question. "How are you doing, here?"

"Good. Sarah left an hour ago with a guy. Whoever he is, I owe him one."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Because at least she won't see us together."

"Silia, enough." He looked her in the eye. "What do you care? Let them talk. I don't care."

If Gladio had added only one more word, Silia would have left. She shouldn't have waited for him. After what Caesar had told her, two nights before, she didn't feel like she could face such a conversation with him. Amputation without anesthesia Cee had recommended to her, and here she was, drinking wine on the terrace with him, the two of them alone, at an elegant party.

"Are you enjoying the party?" he asked.

Silia shook her head. "Too many elegant people. Too much attention. I put on the Glaives' uniform because I didn't have a proper suit for the occasion. Look where it led us; when we got here, our hostess took us by the arms and showed us around like purebred parrots. Sarah was already drunk and did nothing but laugh. As for me, I don't think there is a high enough amount of alcohol to make me find the situation amusing." She emptied her glass. The party was embarrassing, but she had never drunk such a good red wine.

Gladio laughed. "Cornelia is a weirdo. She belongs to the old aristocracy of the city. If you knew what my grandmother used to say of her." He paused, thoughtfully, looking into the darkness beyond the balustrade. Silia wondered what was going on in his head. His voice on the phone had sounded strange to her. But she was feeling strange too. Once more, she missed the simple relationship they had a few months earlier, a complicity of camaraderie without shadows, devoid of implications.

"Listen" he began to say, but at that moment the windows of the balcony opened wide and a middle-aged couple came out, stopping a few meters away from them. The woman, very elegant, was fanning herself. The orchestra had just started to play the Valse of Fantastica.

"The Valse of Fantastica," Gladio whispered with a smile. "What do you think about it?"

Silia blinked. "What do I think about what?"

Without any warning, Gladio grabbed her hand and dragged her inside.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she hissed. People were staring at them, and it was not the time to put her foot down and make a scene, or she would attract even more attention.

Gladio didn't listen to her. He put his arm around her waist, continuing to lead her to the center of the room, where other couples were already dancing. "Guess what? We are going to dance."

Silia tried to escape, turning her head so that he couldn't realize she was embarrassed. "You are insane."

He tightened his grip on her waist. "Can't you dance the waltz? It's very easy."

"I never danced and I won't start tonight."

"Don't make me beg."

"You don't have to. I refuse."

Gladio didn't listen to her, continuing to hug her waist. We cannot go on this way, she told herself while he turned her and took her hand. We must not meet any longer.

Gladio took her other hand and put it on his own shoulder, then hugged her again between her scapulas. Suddenly she thought of every time she had teased him, when she wasn't yet aware of how much she was attracted to him, and how she had once enjoyed his childish embarrassment. Now he was the cool one, the adult. He bent over her, whispering in her ear. "Just picture a square on the floor. One, two, three. One, two, three. C'mon, I'm sure you've learned more complex combat moves. This is a trifle. Step back. Step in diagonal. Step forward. One, two, three, one, two, three…"

"Enough, Gladio" she said weakly, but she began to follow his movements. It wasn't easy because Gladio was much taller than her. A square on the floor, she told herself.

"Don't look at the floor," he whispered. "Look at me."

He was right. She had learned more difficult fighting moves. The movements of the waltz were symmetric, fluid, repetitive, and soon she stopped paying attention to her steps and began to follow the rhythm.

"Look at me."

She looked at him. Gladio was staring at her, impenetrable, his mouth in a staid, melancholic smile. She gave up to the music, to his hands, and even let him spin her around. After an indefinite amount of time – one minute? five? – the orchestra slowed the rhythm, turning the waltz into a slow dance. Silia tried to get rid of his grip, but Gladio held her, shifting his hand down her back and moving her closer to him. Silia shivered when she touched his chest with her forehead.

"Enough, Gladio," she hissed with a raspy voice. "Is your father here somewhere as well?"

"No, he's not here. The King's Council has been gathering since yesterday. The Crownsguard is busy. Tomorrow the King will make a substantial announcement," he murmured, his breath on her ear.

"What...?"

"Not now. We'll talk about it later. But I'll have to leave Insomnia soon, and we probably won't meet for a long time, so Silia, for the Astrals' sake, turn off your brain for ten minutes and dance with me. I believe it won't happen ever again."

"Gladio, I don't..."

Gladio closed his eyes, clutching his grip on her back. His tone was sweet, soothing. "Silia, please. Don't say a word."

She humored him. She closed her eyes too, following the slow pace of the orchestra, trying not to think to King Regis' announcement, to Gladio's next departure, to the simple fact that they couldn't let others see them, they couldn't stay so close, they couldn't keep up that way. She only listened to the music, Gladio's breath against her ear, the heat of his hand on her back, his familiar smell.

V

She washed her face one, two, three times. The restroom was larger than her two-room apartment, clean and scented, in white and gray marble. An elegant restroom of old times. When she felt she had calmed down, she turned around, leaning her back to the edge of the sink. She ran her fingers through her wet hair.

I feel sick, she thought. I should have listened to Cee. Amputation without anesthesia.

She took a deep breath. She was ashamed of herself; she was a professional, a war veteran, and she was behaving like a stupid little chick. She was a Coeurl, not a Kitty. She would leave that privy and face Gladio Amiticia.

He was waiting for her at the end of the hallway. He raised his head as she approached and smiled, but it was a forced smile.

"Let's leave, Silia, I don't want to talk about certain matters here."

And I don't want to talk in a secluded place with you. She tried to mitigate the terms, to resize everything to a healthy and daily normality. "All right. Let's go to Samuel's, then."

Gladio shook his head briskly. "No, not to Samuel's. Let's go to your place, if you don't mind."

"I don't think so" she replied in a breathless voice, unable to stop. Gladio blinked as if she had smacked him. She covered her mouth with her hand, repented, and shook her head. "I mean, Gladio, I don't want to go home yet," she lied.

He scratched his hairline, turning his gaze away from her. "It's okay. In any case I didn't mean- nothing, forget about it. But not the tavern, Silia. I cannot talk freely there. Follow me."

King Regis' announcement had to be particularly serious. She followed him, being careful that people didn't see them leave together, and she noticed with relief that Gladio wanted the same thing. "Go ahead," he whispered in her ear as they walked down the stairs. "We'll meet outside. Walk to the next avenue to the right, in front of the mansion with the horse statues in the garden. There's a lodge for the caretaker, but it's empty at this time, and the owners are here at the party. Wait for me there."

This excess of discretion, after they had danced together in front of who knows how many people, surprised and worried her. She nodded, and walked over to where he had told her. She could hear the cheery voices of the people who were leaving the party, but nobody saw her standing behind the lodge of the mansion that Gladio had recommended to her. A few minutes later he also appeared. For a moment Silia felt again uncomfortable for being in such an isolated spot alone with him, but Gladio gestured her to follow him and they set off.

They walked for a long time, both in silence, up to an elegant club that was still open. The sign read Liberty. Either of them hadn't a proper suit, but the maitre who welcomed them had to know Gladio, because he didn't comment and accompanied them to a quiet table at the end of the room.

"Sorry if I took you to such a place," he said, a bit embarrassed. "But I couldn't think of anywhere else. No one will disturb us here."

Silia smiled in order to take the edge off. "You usually bring your high-up ladies here for dinner, don't you?"

Gladio clouded. "I bring here my sister," he said, more acidic than needed. "But yes, I just happened to have dinner with some women here. Not lately. Is this a problem?"

"Gladio, enough." Silia saw a waiter in a black suit approaching them, and she felt uncomfortable.

"What are you having, Silia?"

"Nothing," she replied.

"Two whiskeys," Gladio said, as if she hadn't spoken. When the waiter departed, he turned to her. He moistened his lips, scratched his forehead for the umpteenth time, and leaned his chin on the palm of his hand. "I can tell you that you'll need it. Silia, what I am about to tell you hasn't been disclosed yet, even if it will be shortly, and it's an extremely delicate and confidential matter. If anyone finds out that I gave you this information, I'll be in trouble. Today an emissary from Niflheim came to offer their conditions for the yield."

"The yield?" Silia exclaimed.

Gladio nodded. "And King Regis decided to accept. He will sign the cease-fire."

Silia covered her mouth with her hand, hissed and asked, "What?"

"You understood well. The terms of the armistice, down to the bare bones, are as follows: immediate surrender of all cities and territories except for the city of Insomnia in exchange for the cessation of hostilities."

In addition to her sense of decency, the front, as Caesar had well noted, had anesthetized a wide range of their emotions. Between those there was panic, because you can't survive in war for ten years – you can't survive sane – without being able to turn that landslide that crashes upon you blocking your movements, blinding you and voiding your judgment in a gust of wind that scarcely straightens the hairs of your arms and neck. A Kingsglaive who wished to stay alive could allow himself to feel discouragement, rage, little nervousness, but not fear. And Silia, although she was prepared to die, had no intention to do it.

During her nine years and a half on the front, once she had overcome the first adjustment period, when she'd found out that you can get used to everything, very few times she hadn't been able to stop that landslide, with some justifiable exceptions. When she had seen Hans falling, for instance, the landslide had dragged her so much that she had torn out her ear-bud from which the Captain still cawed the retreat order. She had crossed half the battlefield to reach him, although it was clear that he had died, even from that distance. She had loaded his corpse onto her shoulders and it was only thanks to her Squad 6 comrades' disobedience and Sarah's unfailing aim that the corpses to be recovered hadn't become two. For weeks after Hans' death she had struggled with her claws and teeth to learn again how to turn the landslide in a gust of wind. When she had woken up in the infirmary without her leg, in spite of the morphine and the healing spells, the landslide had crashed upon her again, and all her thoughts had nullified in an only, incontrovertible fact: I can't fight anymore. Only Captain Drautos' arrival had prevented her from going nuts.

Now she wasn't on the front anymore, but in an elegant restaurant with black-suited waiters. There wasn't a jormungand before her, but Gladio Amicitia, whom by now she'd known for months and toward whom she had feelings she couldn't deny anymore. It was not a danger that threatened her life and her comrades', but the news that King Regis, whom she had sworn loyalty to when she was a kid, was saving Insomnia, as his father Mors had done before him, by sacrificing the rest of his kingdom and all people who lived in it, and that Emperor Aldercapt would shortly rein undisputed over all Eos. The landslide fell upon her head and she didn't manage to stop it. She stood up by one step, knocking over her chair.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Silia!" Gladio scolded her with a harsh, low voice, making an exasperate gesture with his hand. "Calm down, you fool!"

He had never called her that before, but he was perfectly right. She leaned a hand on her chest; her breath had turned into short wheezes. She realized she was sweating and looked around to remind herself where she was. Then she noticed the chair on the floor and struggled to bend to pick it up without fainting.

She raised it up and sat down, leaning both her hands on the table to calm her dizziness. She felt Gladio's hand on hers and, although she was in a panic attack, she understood that she had to move her hand, that she couldn't allow him to touch her again.

"Calm down, Silia, please," he whispered. "Not here."

She nodded. She closed her eyes and took one deep breath after another. She pulled out her hand from his and took off her uniform jacket. The smell of her own sweat, aroused by that gesture, nauseated her. The same waiter of just before conveniently brought their whiskeys on a tray, pretending not to have heard the noise of the chair and her gross yell. She thanked him half-voice, and waited for him to leave before half-emptying her glass and starting to talk again. The landslide started to melt.

"Okay" she said, shifting her hair from her sweaty forehead, "Okay. I feel better. I feel good. I'm sorry. I overreacted. But…" She scratched her head furiously. "Gladio, this is huge. And unexpected."

Gladio nodded solemnly. "It won't be a very popular decision, I am aware of it. Everybody is, including the King."

"This is a euphemism, Gladio. Disorders and scuffles will happen. Perhaps Insomnia's people will be okay with this; what are they going to lose? Not a fucking thing, indeed, it'll be the end of the war for them. But for the people who live in the borderlands? For Kingsglaives' relatives? D'you have any idea about what this means?"

"There was no choice, Silia."

Silia hugged her shoulders in a gesture of defeat. "There's always a choice."

Gladio hit the table with his open hand. "What do you think? I don't like this armistice. My father doesn't like it. I can tell you the King doesn't like it. But we've been in war since before our great-great parents were born."

And we have lost it, Silia completed for him. "So do you support this decision? Emperor Aldercapt is a tyrant," she replied, with an incredibly bitter flavor in her mouth. "D'you think he'll be a just ruler with the cities that Lucis once owned? I've felt it on my head. With this armistice, King Regis has drawn a line between first-rate subjects and second-rate subjects that can be sacrificed for the common good."

Gladio looked away, a sign that he tacitly shared what she had just said. "I know King Regis personally. If he has accepted the terms, he must have weighted the decision and discarded all the alternatives. Have you no confidence in him?"

Silia sighed. Now that the landslide had melted, she was feeling empty. "Of course I trust him, Gladio. I don't share his decision, but I have made an oath." She leaned her right hand on her chest. "I've sworn to serve King Regis Lucis Caelum and the Kingdom. That's what I will do. It's not up to me to contest his decisions."

To her surprise, Gladio shook his head, annoyed. "Silia, you aren't in front of Captain Drautos. You don't have to swear before me, I'll never doubt your loyalty to the kingdom. We are just two friends who are talking open-heartedly."

"And I'm telling you what I think open-heartedly. I don't like this business and I don't trust Niflheim. Ambrosia has been already lost for years, but I cannot help but think about the other cities that will follow Ambrosia's fate for a weighted decision, cities where my comrades have a family. But it's necessary to make difficult sacrifices in war. I am a soldier and nobody knows it better than me."

At those words, Gladio smiled. "If there were more people like you to fight for the kingdom, Silia, we would have won this war a long time ago," he said, with a sudden sweet voice.

Silia felt she had blushed. She finished her whiskey. "When will the treaty be signed? Where?"

"Here in Insomnia, in a few days. The date has not yet been officially fixed."

"And what about your departure?"

Gladio nodded, tilting his head. "Niflheim wants to cement the armistice with a marriage between Noctis and Princess Lunafreya."

"Really? Good thing, this one, at least. So good to be suspicious."

"You won't suspect Princess Lunafreya, I hope. If there's someone heavily affected by this war, that's her."

"I don't suspect Princess Lunafreya. That poor girl is just a booty of war. I don't want to think about her. Prisoner in her same home, her brother at the command of the army who invaded and absorbed their country, and now she's been sold as pledge for a truce." She closed her eyes. "At least Prince Noctis will treat her properly, won't he?"

Gladio smiled. As always, when he talked about prince Noctis he had the stern and tender air of a big brother. "Noct, it's just between the both of us, is happy with this marriage. He and Princess Lunafreya have known each other since their childhood and I really believe that..." He smiled, scratching his eyebrow. "Yes, this could be the happiest combined marriage in the history."

Silia also smiled. "Well, at least someone will gain from this situation."

"I'll leave with Noctis, Ignis and Prompto on the 13th. We'll drive Noctis to Galdin Quay, then we'll take the ferry to Altissia. The wedding ceremony will be held there."

"Altissia? Why not Insomnia?"

Gladio turned his gaze away. "I don't know everything, I'm a member of the Crownsguard, not of the King's Council. I can only suppose that King Regis somehow looks for the consent of the Secretary of Altissia."

"Accordo is subjugated to Niflheim," Silia pointed out.

"But it's quite independent."

"Who knows of your departure?"

"Few, including your Captain, and it must continue to be like that."

Silia blinked. "Did you meet Captain Drautos?"

"Yeah. There was him and Marshal Leonis. They are both formidable warriors, hard and inflexible men, but..." Gladio rubbed his eyebrow. "I don't know. They don't look alike."

"I can't tell you. I never spoke to Marshal Leonis. I've come across him a couple of times, though." She pursed her lips. "What will happen to the Glaives? There won't be the front anymore and for the defense of Insomnia the City Guard and the Crownsguard will be enough."

He shrugged slightly. "I don't know, Silia. There won't be a front anymore, but I doubt your army will be dismantled. There aren't many with your skills. You are the military elite of Lucis. Anyway, you can always apply for the Crownsguard." He winked at her.

"Gladio..." she said, pushing back the chair.

"Come on, don't leave, I just wanted to make fun of you. I don't think you'll be unemployed anyway. If there's something we'll always need, unfortunately, it's someone able to fight. But, Silia..." He laid his chin on his hand. "Do you ever wonder how it would be a different life? Have you ever thought about it?"

She shook her head. "No, I never ask myself, because I don't know a different way of life. Leaving the front has already been a radical change for me. And you, Gladio? Have you ever wondered what a normal life would have been like, untied from Lucis' royal family?"

Gladio frowned, as if he didn't expect a question similar to the one he had addressed to her. "It's quite different for me. Noctis, you know, is a friend, even before he's my protégé. I cannot imagine a life without Noctis. And I cannot imagine myself a friend of Noctis without being his Shield."

He wasn't telling her anything new. "Well, Gladio" she tried to change the subject, "A nice trip on the road awaits you. Four men and a car. You'll have fun, after all." Better this way, she told herself, that's what we need. He won't be back for a long time, if he'll come back, and everything will be easier, between us, more normal.

As an answer, Gladio stretched an arm across the table and touched her fingers. "I'll miss our drinks at Samuel's, Silia. I'm sorry for how I behaved before. Draggin' you to dance, I mean. I asked you not to leave because I wanted to talk. I know I wasn't authorized, but I had to tell someone, and I trust you."

Silia withdrew her hand. "You don't have to apologize. Nothing happened," she forced herself to say. And really nothing had happened, but, for the umpteenth time, they had moved a step closer to that limit they didn't have to cross.

Gladio smiled. "Anyway I had a point. Swordsmen hardly aren't skilled dancers as well. While you were in the restroom, Cornelia Doge came to greet me. She was ecstatic, but also regretted that my charming partner didn't have an equally beautiful dress. She was right. I couldn't help but wonder all the time how you would have looked in a long, low-cut dress."

"Ridiculous," Silia cut to the chase, feeling uncomfortable. "Anyway, it's very late, Gladio. And after what you've told me, I think that crucial days awaits me. I've to go. I need to sleep on what you told me." A clear cut, she told herself. Amputation without anesthesia. She got up, then, with embarrassment, she realized she couldn't put the consummations on her account as she did at Samuel's. And she had no money with her.

Gladio emptied his glass and stood up too. "Of course it's on me. My family often comes to this place. But, Silia, in the next few days I'll have a lot to do to arrange the departure, so I don't think..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but she understood. "Is this the last time we meet?"

Gladio looked at her piercingly. "Probably."

Silia pursed her lips. Amputation without anesthesia, she repeated. "Then let's say goodbye." She held out her hand, friendly. "Good luck, Gladio."

He sighed and then tightened his lips, but came closer to shake her hand. It was not an energetic and warm squeeze like the usual ones. Gladio lingered for a long time with his fingers around hers, staring into her eyes. "See you soon, Silia. I'll get in touch as soon as possible. Good luck to you too. Be careful."

"Thanks for the whiskey, Gladio."

"Thanks to you, Silia, for everything."

He didn't suggest to drive her home, and she didn't wait for him. When she was out of the restaurant, she lit a cigarette with trembling hands. Not seeing each other for a while will clear our minds. Anesthetized amputation.