13

Omnia munda mundis
May 13-14

I

She stayed awake all night in front of the window, where Gladio had left her, unable to lie down again on those sheets.

When hours before she had found him in front of her door, uncertain and frightened, she herself had remained so disoriented that she hadn't been able to adequately oppose; months of self-control – she had thought angrily while, with his stentorian voice reduced to a raspy murmur, he asked her to let him in – swept away by a ringing bell. In that space of a moment between when she had pulled him inside and had pushed everything else away, she had believed that perhaps, after all, it was all right. He was about to leave, and there would be no consequences. For months they had been very aware of their respective priorities and no reason why they couldn't do it even afterwards, especially since there would be hundreds of miles of Eos between them.

But then, when they had looked at each other, she had understood that it couldn't be that simple. Nothing was so simple, ever. She had felt like a person suddenly torn from sleep; an ordinary person, not a Glaive, because Kingsglaives always slept with one eye open – instructors had accustomed them to it during their first training period by throwing them out of their bed in the middle of the night, and woe to those who were not awake and well present to themselves. Suddenly she had understood that their gesture wouldn't have made him or her better, that it wasn't a full stop but a door ajar; a huge bullshit. She had withdrawn like a scared virgin, unable to utter a single word until he, understandably angry, had shaken her. When he had grabbed her wrist, she had been about to tell him everything. The damned signature of the treaty that his father had ordered her – no, not ordered, asked, she had wanted him to order her in order to have a silly shitty alibi – not to tell him, in the name of the security of the Prince. How anxious she was about the signature and what would happen afterwards. How sorry and relieved she was that he would leave a few hours later. But instead, luckily, she had only offered him a damn whiskey.

She still couldn't believe that she was able to experience such a range of discomfort after ten years of war. She hadn't been able to look him in the face since he had been about to kiss her again and she was sure they would start again; since she realized she was about to cry. Who knows if it was the beginning of what they called Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Looking at the Citadel all night, smoking one cigarette after another in front of the open window, Silia had retraced the moment of Gladio's arrival countless times, and every time it had ended the same way: she had pulled him inside. At six o'clock – the Citadel Square, already illuminated by the light of dawn, was still almost empty – a luxury car stopped at the end of the staircase. Silia distinctly recognized a tall boy with glasses who she supposed to be Ignis, another blond boy who was certainly Prompto, Prince Noctis and Gladio who were descending the steps. They all were wearing informal clothes. Almost halfway there, the King also came out of the Citadel, limping, accompanied by Captain Drautos, and the boys came back to receive his latest recommendations, or what perhaps was a less formal leave than what should have happened in the Throne Room. Shortly after, they got into the car and left in the direction of the western gate.

When the car went out of sight, Silia got up.

II

Gladio was forced to simulate a compound curiosity as they crossed the West Gate, but his mouth was dry, and he thought he could hear his heartbeat resonate from the tips of his ears to his toes. A wild and untamed landscape, broken by the electric poles that followed each other like tall and slender mahjong pawns, stretched as far as the eye could see. A warm wind that didn't meet any architectural obstacle was lashing at his face, ruffling his hair, bringing sounds and smells of an unknown world.

He looked back to check that the West Gate, guarded by City Guards born in Insomnia, had not disappeared into thin air, and that the asphalt road on which the Regalia was traveling didn't extend endlessly on the horizon as if it had always been there. But the gate was still there, of course.

He turned again; his comrades were as bewitched as he was, and they didn't say a word for miles, not even Prompto, motionless, squeezing his camera without having the mind to use it. And then, out of nowhere, Prompto put both his hands on the side of the car, leaned over and shouted. It was an unconscious cry, long and pure, an explosion of noisy and enthusiastic freedom. He shouted for all of them; Prompto, because he was twenty, they were all a little over twenty, and even though they were three Crownsguards escorting the Prince of Insomnia to marry the Princess of Tenebrae, the whole world stood before the their eyes, and they were ready to devour it.

III

Their enthusiasm died a couple of hours later when the Regalia left them stranded in the middle of the street.

"Ignis, don't tell me," Gladio groaned at the eleventh or twelfth attempt of his friend to start again. "Don't tell me."

Ignis sighed. "If you want I won't tell you, Gladio, but the facts do not change. The Regalia no longer works."

"What does the fuel gauge say?" Noctis asked.

"Do you think I could have forgotten to fill up on the eve of such an important journey?" Ignis pointed out, adjusting the glasses on his nose. "It could be the battery, but I don't know about cars, I am afraid."

"No point in staying in the car, waiting for it to start magically," Gladio cut it short, opening the door wide. "Hammerhead can't be that far away. Let's get a lift and come back with a tow truck."

Prompto took the initiative and began to gesticulate, but without success. They all began to wave, uselessly, for more than a quarter of an hour; cars, vans and fire engines darted beside them without even slowing down. His Majesty Noctis, already tired and bored, sat behind the Regalia. Prompto laid down for dead on the asphalt.

"Damn, thought people were friendly outside the city," Gladio let out when the umpteenth car overtook them, leaning on the side of the car next to Ignis. Perhaps, he thought, loading strangers is not as safe as in Insomnia.

"You can only go so far on the kindness of stranger." Ignis tried again to restart the engine. The car gave a snort, as if it were an old crankshaft and not a young scion of mechanical engineering, and refused to move.

"Just gonna have to push her all the way."

"I've already pushed myself to the brink of death," Prompto mumbled.

Gladio was sweating under his jacket. He didn't expect such a hot day. He took it off, threw it over his seat, and walked around the vehicle to reach Prompto and Noctis. "Oh, get up," he spurred them, irritated, hitting them with his foot. Insomnia had just disappeared behind them and already Noctis was sitting on the ground waiting for someone to solve his problems. "C'mon, car isn't gonna push itself."

Reluctantly, with a sigh – distressed Prompto, annoyed Noctis – the two got up. They positioned themselves on the opposite sides of the Regalia, while Gladio resigned himself to pushing it from behind. After all, he was the one with the most physical strength.

"I thought the car was supposed to move us. Noct, did your father do this on purpose to test us?"

"Don't talk nonsense."

"Save your breath to push," he scolded them. "Ready... steady... push!"

They pushed. The car slowly began to move. Gladio had a feeling that the two, trusting in his physical strength, weren't working very hard. Moreover, the Regalia wasn't a small car.

"Unbelievable..." Noctis grudged.

"Not exactly a fairy tale beginning, huh, Prince Noctis? Let's just hope this isn't some omen," he added aloud.

Noctis clicked his tongue. "Gladio, do me a favor..."

...don't jinx it, he thought he wanted to tell him. "What?"

"Push it by yourself."

"Forget it. Move your royal ass, Noct."

"You won't even notice if we just let go," Prompto gave him support.

They continued to push silently for what seemed to him a very long stretch. There was still nothing to be seen that resembled Hammerhead on the horizon. His father could have at least given him old Cid's number, just in case.

"The map said Hammerhead was right there."

"Literally next door."

Ignis laughed. There, at the wheel, Noctis and Prompto's stupidity had to be much funnier.

"Looks that way on a world map."

"The world's a big old place... filled with wonders."

Sweating under his hair that continued to fall on his eyes, despite the situation, Gladio couldn't help himself but smiling. And now it's ours.

IV

"Oh, by Shiva."

Sarah was the only one to breathe while knocked down by the umpteenth unexpected news of the last few days; they looked at Caesar with blank eyes.

"Murdered, did you say?"

Caesar nodded. He was pale, his jaws tense, and he continued to avoid their look as if ashamed of his displeasure. In these six months he must have been very close to Crowe. It couldn't be otherwise. "Like an animal. And she was abandoned half-buried among the waste. I feel sick just talking about it."

"Fuck you," Sarah spat, as if she had some poison in her mouth. "Fuck you. And we are signing a treaty with them."

"Don't be so hasty, Sarah." Legato seemed to be focusing on a spot in the corridor that was interesting only to him. "There's no evidence that the Imperials did this."

"And who the fuck do you think it was?" Samuel scratched his beard furiously. "The Princess' dog?"

"The Captain told Nyx he won't allow the investigation to be hampered by the treaty." He seemed the first who couldn't believe it. "Damn, she didn't deserve dying like this. She was so kind. And very skilled with magical power. What the hell did they throw at her?"

Samuel hit the wall with a fist. "Are we just going to let it slide like this? One of us, killed this way?"

"Sam, enough," Silia tried weakly to calm him down. The fury of her comrade was fuel to the fire of the indignation that she was desperately trying to hold back. "We had said to stay calm until the treaty would be signed. It's not the case we feed each other's tension, now that the Imperials have arrived. There's already a climate of revolution out there, with all these people rioting across the city."

"What about Libertus?" Sarah asked. "How did the hothead take it?"

Caesar stiffened. "Not well. He was crazy about Crowe. He deserted. I guess he won't be the only one, from here to the signing of the treaty." He ran his hands through his hair. "But Silia's right. Let's not talk about it anymore. Sorry, I need to stay alone for a while."

Silia flickered with apprehension. She reached out to hold him by his arm. "Caesar, you aren't going to…?"

He shook his head. "No. No, Silia, don't worry. I don't take back what I said the other night at the bar. But I'm going to see how Crowe's story will go on. It's one thing to obey orders, another being killed in this unworthy way without your Captain – your King – doing everything possible to have the culprit condemned." He put his hand on hers, squeezed her fingers for a moment and then freed his arm. "C'ya later."

He hadn't taken five steps and Nyx emerged from the curve of the corridor. He had a box under his arm. "Oh, Caesar," he greeted him, giving him an affectionate pat on his shoulder. He didn't smile. "Guess you told the others. Hello guys."

"Nyx, I'm sorry for..." Sarah started to say.

Nyx shook his head, stopping her with a vague gesture of his hand. He looked straight at Silia. "Thank you. If you don't mind, I need to steal the Coeurl for a while."

Silia blinked a couple of times, surprised. "Me?"

"You," he replied dryly. "I need to talk to you. I was going to bring this home. It's Crowe's personal belongings. D'you mind walking with me for a little way?"

Inevitably, Silia looked at Caesar, who shook his head imperceptibly. Her friend said farewell to them with a hand and walked away down the corridor.

"All right," she said. "Let's go. C'ya later, guys."

A few minutes later – they had just left the headquarters, and Nyx hadn't yet begin to talk – it started to rain; a summer drizzle, warm, but persistent, and getting worse. Along with the noises of traffic they could hear the indistinct clamor of a gathering of people. Another demonstration.

"Nyx, let's stop someplace."

He didn't even slow down. "What's it, Coeurl, have you become so delicate that you cannot bear ten minutes of downpour?" he asked with a derisive sound in his voice.

Silia decided to ignore his zinger. She brushed her already wet hair off her forehead. "Why didn't you just contact me at my frequency if you wanted to talk?"

"'cause I'm always afraid of interference and I don't want people to hear us speak by chance. More, if I can talk with a comrade face to face, I prefer it. I don't have to tell you: certain conversations consist of what is not said while speaking."

They looked up at the procession that, defying the ever-increasing rain, paraded beside them in the street. Someone in the crowd recognized their uniforms and pointed at them furiously. They continued to walk briskly, ignoring them, followed by insults hurled like bullets - cowards was the most flattening one. It was amazing how, on one side or the other, they all came to the Glaives, first for having been at war and now for not being at war anymore.

"Then let's hear what you want me not to tell you."

"As you want." Nyx kept his head slightly bowed forward. "Crowe is dead. The Captain assures that there will be investigations, as Caesar must have told you, but I want to understand why she was sent to take Princess Lunafreya and she has arrived yesterday morning at Insomnia with her brother, the High Commander Ravus."

She shrugged. The answer was so obvious that she hesitated to say it. "Crowe never reached Tenebrae."

"That's ok, but the Princess knew nothing about the mission. I was on watch in the Throne Room when the King received her. How could the Princess not know about a member of the Glaives in charge of escorting her?" Silia opened her mouth to reply that she didn't have the slightest idea, but Nyx continued, taking off his jacket and using it to cover the box. "And that's not all. The Prince is no longer at Insomnia, is he? The King said so."

"If the King said so, it must be so," she answered cautiously.

Nyx stopped. He studied her carefully, looking for that non-verbal communication he was talking about. "Silia, please. I don't care about your business. Gossip, for me, counts less than zero, but experience has taught me that if you hear twenty people say the same thing, a kernel of truth is always there. At least admit you know the Prince's Shield, or d'you want to deny even that?"

Caesar told him. Given the circumstances, she couldn't feel anger. She sighed, denying was useless. "I do," she simply answered. "I know him."

Nyx started walking again. "Well, that's a start. Did you know about their departure?"

"I knew it."

"Good. What else do you know, Coeurl?"

"Are you asking me to divulge confidential information?"

"Maybe, if it came to your ear, it's not so classified, don't you think?"

They looked at each other sideways. "What the fuck do you want to know from me, Nyx?"

"I already told you. I want to know what Crowe really had to do."

"I don't know it for sure."

"Then tell me what you suppose, by the Six."

She looked at him again for a while, suspiciously, then decided to answer him. She knew little, after all, and soon it would be public news. "The royal wedding will be held in Altissia, not in Insomnia. I think Crowe's mission was to escort the Princess to Accordo before the Imperials discovered it. As for what happened after, I have no idea. Maybe she stumbled into an airfleet of the Niffs, a general recognized her uniform and wanted to play the Glaives a dirty trick before the truce."

Nyx shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Crowe was incognito. And also why risk a diplomatic incident just a few days before the signing of the treaty?"

She had already thought about it too. She shrugged. "I have no idea. What's going on in your head, Nyx?"

He lowered his voice, and the sounds of traffic and rain almost covered his words. "I fear the Imperials knew exactly about Crowe's mission."

"And that the marriage would be held in Altissia, you mean? The Emperor Aldercapt was officially informed about this only when he arrived in Insomnia. Crowe was already on her way, actually she must have already reached Tenebrae by then."

"Officially doesn't mean a shit," he pointed out. "Who else knew about marriage?"

"The Prince and his comrades – apart from Gladio Amicitia, two Crownsguards, his trusted friends, people off the hook. The King, of course, and the Council. Marshal Cor Leonis and, I suppose, the Crownsguard must have been informed. Captain Drautos. Some trusted attendants of the Royal Chancery. I don't know anything else, Nyx. If it's any consolation, the Prince and his friends haven't been informed of the date of signing. All seems to me a perverse game of cards: each of us sees only his own hand."

Nyx bit his lower lip. "And what he can peek at others' hands. Not really a secret departure, huh?"

"Maybe they didn't want it to be that much. Can you imagine someone inside Insomnia selling the Prince to the Imperials?"

"I cannot imagine anybody and anything anymore, Coeurl. Whatever certainty I had in my life, it has dissolved in the last two weeks."

She could understand him perfectly. "It's also true for me, Nyx, but there are things I still try to believe in, otherwise we might as well take off these uniforms, like Libertus did. Do you think he'll come to his senses?"

Nyx shook his head slowly. Now they were both soaked, their uniform stuck to their chests, their hair on their foreheads. "No, Coeurl, I think this time it really ended. The news of the treaty upset him, but he, for Crowe..."

It was not necessary for him to continue. Fraternal affection or love, things didn't change. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "Really, Nyx. We have lost many comrades in the war, but such a thing is..." she looked for the right word for a long time, and she didn't find it. "Inconceivable," she contented herself.

For the first time, something like a smile appeared on Nyx's lips. He stopped, and so did she. They were in front of a bar, but neither of them was in the mood for a drink. "Thanks, Coeurl. Also for this conversation. It's nice to see that not everyone has gone crazy. Now I have a slightly clearer picture of things. I'll keep my eyes wide open."

She smiled too. "Since you're going to keep your eyes wide open, hero, let me give you some advice: keep one on Luche."

"Lazarus?" Nyx returned to stiffen. "And why?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "I heard him talk to Marius. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but they didn't see me and they exchanged sentences that I didn't understand well. I fear they're up to something. Maybe I just misunderstood, but..." She recalled Marius' reaction when she had named Luche. "I've a bad feeling, Nyx."

Nyx frowned, and she couldn't blame him; she too would be outraged if anyone had made any allusion about the integrity of one of her teammates. "Lazarus and I have known each other for a lifetime," he reminded her. "Whatever your friend Gaunt has in mind, I don't think Lazarus is involved."

Needless to insist on that point, she understood. "Marius is not my friend. He was, a long time ago, but things have changed. Do what you want Nyx, I didn't mean to offend or accuse anyone."

Nyx sighed tightly, and seemed to soften. "Four years ago, when Division 17 of the army of Tenebrae ambushed us, we in Squad 3 saved ourselves only thanks to your instincts. I'll do as you said, Coeurl, but believe me, Lazarus is a loyal man."

He held out his wet hand and Silia grabbed it. "It was just a fluke that time. Anyway, I'll see you, Nyx," she said goodbye. "If everything runs smoothly on the day of the treaty, we'll go and have a drink all together."

"Coeurl," he said hesitantly, lingering with his hand around hers. "Just tell me one thing. Do you think it was all useless?"

He was certainly referring to Crowe's death, but not only that. Silia looked him in the eyes, retracing her last fifteen years in a few seconds. "No," she replied, not at all certain, to be honest. "Not until we have a sword in our hands and we use it for the right side."

Nyx shook his head imperceptibly, withdrawing his hand. "I'd like to have your certainties."

"I don't have any," she had to admit. "I'm just trying to keep my head on my shoulders and think as little as possible."

"I can't believe it," he winked. "You're too smart to behave like a chocobo with blinders, Coeurl, and I see you as nervous and alert as you were on the front. Better this way. Beyond the speeches about oaths and loyalty, I think it's time to start asking a few questions."

Nyx raised a hand in a last salute, brushed his wet hair, and resumed walking the sidewalk without turning around with his box. With a sigh, Silia stuck her hands in her jacket pockets and headed home.

They were less than forty-five hours from the ceremony.