34

Amicus fidelis protectio fortis

I

At last Noctis had regained consciousness. It had been a moment of relief, but not of joy. Gladio and Prompto had agreed that, if he felt like it, it ought to be Ignis to give him the news since he had witnessed the Princess' last moments and fought Ardyn Izunia, and he had assumed that mournful responsibly. They waited outside until Ignis had finished talking to him.

At first it seemed that Noctis had taken it well, all things considered. There were no scenes of despair or anger nor, at least in front of him, tears. The two weeks of total immobility implied for him a third one to get his strength back. Those days, for all of them, were even more depressing than the previous ones. for the first time since they had left Insomnia, the troubles seemed to have divided rather than united the group, and each of them seemed to prefer to stay by himself. They spoke little, and reluctantly. They never quarreled, no one ever raised his voice, but Gladio could feel the tension rise by the minute.

Noctis spent long hours fiddling with the Ring he had found in his hand when he had woken up. Perhaps influenced by what Ignis had told him, he didn't wear it once. Almost every day Gladio would throw it out there, without insisting too much, that the Ring was their only hope of retrieving the Crystal and that Noctis would have to practice using its power. It wouldn't harm a member of Lucis' royal family – not immediately, at least – and he didn't have to be afraid of it. Gladio's words fell on deaf ears, however.

Although Ignis had told him that he would decide whether or not to continue with them after Fodina Caestino, he behaved as if it was obvious that he wouldn't back down. Gladio's heart sank every time he'd see him stumble or risk bumping into an inanimate obstacle. If until a few weeks ago he knew that in case of need he could count on him to protect Noctis, he now felt responsible for his safety as well. He tried to raise the issue again, in the hope that Ignis had changed his mind, but he refused to talk about it.

Prompto showed good humor. He would help Ignis in all, and try to cheer Noctis in every way, but he too seemed deeply troubled by something that Gladio couldn't identify and that, for some reason, he doubted was bound to the disastrous events that occurred in Altissia. Gladio tried to talk to him too, but Prompto decidedly denied being worried about anything other than the future dangers, now that the Oracle could no longer assure them of the blessings of Shiva and Bahamut and that Ignis was so weakened. "Don't be worried about me too, Gladio," he had told him with a disheartened, adult smile, so unlike his natural behavior that it had made him shiver. "And don't overdo it. You're not alone."

When Noctis finally declared that he was feeling strong enough to leave, Gladio received the news with a sense of anguish and liberation; once they had gotten back on track, he was sure, things would go better. After Fodina Caestino, they would continue to Gralea, where they would infiltrate incognito to retrieve the Crystal. They had no plan, they had no hopes, but they had no more time to waste either, and by then it was clear that Izunia could do with them whatever he wanted, whenever he would decide it was time. The only option left was to act as little as expected from them.

A suicide mission, Silia had ruthlessly decreed when they had told her. Cor, instead, hadn't taken position. Perhaps he also understood that there was no other solution. Perhaps he knew that they had always been destined for this, and one moment, by then, was worth the other.

Cid declared himself willing to accompany them to Cape Esther, and they agreed that they would leave the next morning. They spent the evening at the Maagho to say goodbye to Weskham, in an atmosphere that was anything but relaxed, and went to bed without exchanging a single word.

II

Silia opened her eyes and snapped to her feet, already perfectly awake, at the exact moment she felt someone approaching her cot. It was still dark outside and she struggled to recognize his or her features.

"Ms. Hartwood?" Alisa, one of the radio technicians, timidly revealed herself. "I apologize for disturbing you so early, but..."

Silia looked alarmed at the cell phone screen. It was five o'clock in the morning. She had barely slept. "Don't worry, Alisa. Did something happen?"

"No ma'am, but there's a private radio call waiting for you. Lockhart asked me to come and inform you."

A private radio call. Ghiranze used his cell phone, so it had to be Gladio. Silia rubbed her eyes and followed Alisa out of the barrack. "Thank you. Don't trouble the Marshal, Alisa, there's no need. It's personal, or so I believe." She shivered when the fresh morning air, not spoiled like that of the shed, hit her. The dawn hour, by now, despite being almost August, had settled at seven o'clock in the morning; another sign, if ever needed, that the miasma was increasingly shortening the hours of daylight.

She greeted Irwin with a nod, passing by, amazed to see him already awake. Indeed the Crownsguards, in that last month, had gotten the wake-up call that Darius and the Marshal were hoping for: they had knocked down four new Imperial bases, completed a large number of hunting quests, and participated in the exploration missions of the ruins together with the hunters. Moreover, since Iris and Talcott were in Orior, she had sensed a marked change in the Guards' attitude towards her. She didn't believe that the girl had told them something of her relationship with Gladio, but it looked like they couldn't simply continue to treat her as an unwelcome guest in front of the younger sister of one of their mates, who showed her sympathy on every occasion.

She entered the radio barrack. She had hoped it would be a little warmer than outside, since she had left his jacket on the cot, but was disappointed. "G'morning, Lockhart."

Lockhart – a short, slim man from Insomnia – immediately got up from the post to make room for her, handing his headphones to her. "Good morning, Ms. Hartwood. The Marshal had said to wake him up any radio transmission had come, but Mr. Amicitia told me it was personal so..."

"Don't worry," she assured him. No use in looking for an excuse, and Gladio must have had the same thought. "I'm sorry for involving you in something private, Lockart, and on your night shift. But it's nothing secret, I will tell the Marshal of this radio call."

Lockart was too a decent man even to smirk. "There's no need to apologize, ma'am. I'll leave you alone but I'm staying out here in case you need a hand with the radio."

"Thank you." Silia took his place, put on his headphones, and waited for him to come out to lean over and talk into the microphone. She couldn't help but smile. She hadn't expected that call. "Hi, Gladio."

"Hi."

"You okay? Good thing you called, I've something to tell you before you leave."

"I'm fine. Well, as fine as it was yesterday and the last week. We'll leave in an hour. Tell me, Silia."

Rather laconic, as he had been for a month, but he had called her. She tried to sound cheerful. "I couldn't tell you last time we talked. I met Dino Ghiranze in Prairie, you know? I was about to rip out his throat."

"Ghiranze? That asshole reporter?"

"Him. I caught him eavesdropping and thought he was a spy of the Empire. After a bit of mess, I realized he wanted to interview me."

"What?" Gladio's tone was now more animated, and it encouraged her.

"Meteor Publishing wants to openly stand against the Empire by telling the truth; all of the truth, from the fall of Insomnia onward. Cor and I have agreed on the answers to his questions and they will soon come out with an article. It's not the case that people know everything, but there are still many who believe that the Prince is dead. It's time for everyone to know what the Empire really has done to Insomnia, and after, and that there's a voice that stands against all the falsehoods that the radio and the newspapers say. So, when you come back with the Crystal..."

Gladio didn't answer immediately. She thought she would cheer him up a little, but probably with all that they had faced in Altissia and what they still had to face, he couldn't care less about Ghiranze and Meteor Publishing. "Who would have thought that even that idiot Ghiranze could have been useful? I don't know how much, at the present day, but... you're right, people must know, after so many months." Silia heard a deep sigh. "Listen to me. I don't know how things will turn out in the Imperial territory, and I wanted... shit, there's no easy way to say it. I know we're always on thin ice, but this time's bad, Silia, really bad. After recovering the arm in Cartanica, we'll continue towards Gralea and... we can't count on Ignis. Nor on Noctis, if he doesn't get a grip and start using that damn ring. When I look at him, I want to smash his face."

Silia had assumed that the Prince hadn't yet worn it. It hadn't happened with Nyx and Ignis, but she had the feeling that when the Ring returned to the finger of a member of the royal family, she would feel its power again. And she would have been able to use it, probably. "Princess Lunafreya is dead, Gladio," she reminded him.

"I know that!" he exclaimed, frustrated. "That's exactly why he must wake up! That girl sacrificed herself so that he could do what is right! And Ignis used the Ring knowing he would die like your mate Nyx! Now he's blind, shit, and what's Noct doing? Cryin' over himself!" Silia heard the violent thud of a fist on something metallic. "Sorry. I'm so pissed off. Since we left, everything has gone wrong."

"Just give him time."

"We don't have time. And I could never have imagined to hear something so stupid and sentimental from you, a fuckin' soldier, a fuckin' Kingsglaive."

Silia felt herself blush. She counted until ten, then fifteen, then twenty. When she was sure she wouldn't smash the radio, she answered. "I'm no longer a Kingsglaive, but you're right, I'm a soldier. The Chosen King, whether we like it or not, is not. You can spur him on, you can scream in his face, you can punch him, but he must find his own strength to do what is right." She waited for a reply, but there wasn't any. She counted again until ten, bit her tongue, then said what she wanted to refrain herself from saying: "You try to not lose your head. The Prince is prostrated, Ignis has suffered a permanent physical trauma, Prompto has no experience. Stay focused and don't exacerbate an already tense situation."

"D'you think I don't know that everything is on my back?" he whispered angrily.

"Then try to be up to it," she hissed, already sorry before even pronouncing the last syllable.

Silence on the other side. This time it was Silia who gave an exasperated punch to the wooden shelf. In the last few weeks, she and Gladio hadn't been able to talk without bitterness, even when others were listening to them. Gladio was on edge, she was frustrated because she couldn't help him or the Prince, and she ended up making him even more nervous.

"Don't worry," he finally replied with sarcasm. "I was the Prince's Sworn Shield even before I met you. I don't need you to remind me of what it means."

Silia rubbed her face. She looked for an answer that didn't make the situation worse, but she found nothing. They both remained silent for so long that, hadn't there been the background noise on his side, she would have thought he was gone.

"Anyway, I called" Gladio went on, "to ask you to think about Iris' and Talcott's future if anything ever happens to me. I know that in Orior they will be safe, but the Marshal has a thousand other things to think about and we don't know what will be."

He had called, Silia translated, because he didn't know if he would come back from Niflheim and wanted to talk to her one last time, because he was worried and demoralized and couldn't share that burden with Ignis as usual since he was part of the problem, and because he wanted a word of comfort. And instead, she had been a bitch.

"You know I will," she replied, "but make sure I won't have to, Gladio. I'll wait for you." For a moment, she risked letting her lips escape what she really wanted to say.

"I don't like making promises I'm not sure I can keep." His tone was quieter, now, but still dry.

"I don't want any promise. Just, be careful."

"I'll be careful. I've got to go, Silia."

III

"That's it, look."

Holding her hands on Talcott's small ones – a few years more, she thought, and he would have surpassed her in height – they moved together, slowly, three steps sideways, getting around the wooden mannequin that represented the magitek, and they hit him with the stick. "Yeah, good," she said. "The movement is the one I showed you. Practice by yourself for a while."

"How much of a human is there in magiteks, Silia?"

She shook her head, returning to sit next to Darius to light a cigarette. "I have no idea, Talcott. We tried to bring some of them to Insomnia over the years, but they self-destruct. We only know that they are cybernetic infantry somewhat fed with the daemons' miasma, like all the Imperial technology. There are two types: those with bright eyes and those with their face covered. Those with the face covered are the older and more human models, but I can't tell you how much or how exactly they are produced."

Talcott blinked, impressed, lowering his stick. "Then we know so little about Imperial technology? I didn't think so!"

"It's one of the reasons we lost the war," Darius replied without beating around the bush. "We haven't lived up to their technology."

"So then," the child said, returning to bounce around the mannequin in a tremendous guard stance, "we should infiltrate Gralea and find out what they are doing."

Silia's hands began to itch and she got up to correct his posture. Clenching her cigarette between her lips, she adjusted his grip on the stick, tilted it and pushed her toe against his left heel to move it forward diagonally. "Yeah, we should. And you should learn how to stay in a guard stance."

"We tried," Darius answered. "We couldn't break into the Zegnautus Keep in Gralea, but twenty years ago we managed to infiltrate a spy in one of Verstael Besithia's magitek facilities. We owe all we know to our infiltrator, the only one who managed to go and return. The other moles didn't have the same luck."

"A Lucian spy?" Silia was still in Ambrosia at the time, and didn't know anything about the matter. "Never heard of it. Who was he?"

"Classified details," Darius simply answered, glancing at her sideways. His lips twitched for a moment in an expression that Silia couldn't decipher.

"Are you shitting me? Insomnia has fallen and you're still telling me about classified details?"

Darius didn't answer, taking his cigarette to his lips. When he wanted he could be as tight as a Cockatrice's ass. Silia didn't insist for further details or explanations because she already had enough thoughts on her mind and again, like when she had come back from Insomnia, her brief respite from nightmares had been dragged up by the recent events in Altissia and especially by the prospect that the guys would go to Gralea to retrieve the Crystal. The fact that they were going to Niflheim in mental conditions far from being limpid was even more troubling.

She looked at her phone. It was lunch time – she was using those two free hours to start training Talcott without taking time away from the adults. Cor had left that morning alone to take a look at a new Imperial base under construction one hundred and eighty miles southeast of the camp, which meant he would be back in the evening after taking care of it by himself. Since their return from Cape Caem, he seemed unable to stand still for more than a couple of days, and she could understand him perfectly.

"Silia! Darius!"

Iris ran up to them with three loaves of bread and a package under her arm. The flaps of a military jacket of a size far too large fluttered behind her. "I've brought you some food before they devoured everything!"

"I always said, Iris, that you're a pretty and kind girl. So far from Hartwood," Darius lashed at her, taking a loaf.

Iris blushed and smiled, sitting with them. Silia realized, for the first time, that in Insomnia Darius had to have a certain effect on women. "The two of you get along pretty well, don't you? Be careful, Darius, or I'll tell my brother."

"You'll tell your brother what, please?"

"That I always find you wandering around Silia."

He snorted a laugh. "Iris, believe me, I deeply doubt your brother will be jealous of me and Hartwood."

Iris blinked. "Why shouldn't he?"

"Because your brother has what I'm missing to make Darius a happy man," Silia couldn't help answering.

The girl looked at them both for a moment without understanding, then her face assumed all the shades of red perceptible to the human eye.

"Hartwood, don't be vulgar in front of Iris."

"Are you really calling me vulgar? You?"

"You can barely hold yourself even before the Marshal."

Silia preferred to cut off the subject and opened the container brought by Iris. "Talcott, take a break and eat. You'll have all afternoon to train alone while I'm with the others and you can't do it on an empty stomach."

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Try not to make obscene jokes at least in front of Talcott. He's only eight."

"At eight, my friends and I..." ...would shit over the stocks of the Imperials stationed at Ambrosia, she began to say, but they were going to eat and there really was no reason to be so gross in front of the kids. Moreover, Ambrosia inevitably forced her to rethink Marius and all the painful questions related to him that would forever remain unanswered.

They ate. The stew was particularly tasty, as always when Monica did the cooking, but Silia wasn't hungry, so she ended up toppling half of her plate into Talcott's and lit another cigarette instead.

"By the way, Iris, where did you get that man's jacket?" Darius asked.

"A hunter named Colby gave it to me."

"You cleaned it, I hope."

Iris chuckled. "Sure."

"It suits you, but don't get too used to military clothes, or you'll end up being sloppy like Hartwood."

"Colby's a good lad, but if someone in the camp takes liberty that he should not, Iris, I recommend you tell me." Silia kept an eye on her as she could but, as Cor had well pointed out in Cape Caem, she had too much to do to look after Iris, who was a girl of fifteen – a normal girl – in a paramilitary camp. Fortunately, there was Monica as well.

"Without taking anything away from your authority, Hartwood, I doubt anyone here will take certain liberties with Gladiolus Amicitia's sister. Everybody cares about his neck."

"It's not such a good thing, you know?" Iris complained. "At school, in Insomnia, all my female friends had a crush on my brother, and all the boys kept away from me because they were afraid of him. Oh. But I've met a friend here at the camp. We were in the same school."

"Did you? And who is he?"

"Claudio Evander!" Talcott blurted out.

"I'll bet," Darius winked. "I saw you talking closely over the past few days. And giggling. Be careful, Iris, or I'll tell your brother."

Silia didn't hear Iris' answer, because her cell phone started ringing. It was Dino Ghiranze. She was waiting for news on the publication date of the article, so she answered immediately. "Hi, Ghiranze?"

"Hi, boss."

"Cut it out. News for me?"

"Yeah, but not what you're expectin'. Can you talk freely?"

She stood up, gesturing to Darius, Iris and Talcott to keep eating ahead, and walked away. "Now I can. Spit it out."

"Something's happening in Gralea."

"Oh, really?" she snorted amused.

"I'm serious. A group of Imperial civilians reached Cape Noah on a makeshift boat. They escaped a lynching, when people understood where they came from, and now they're under custody of the local authorities. They speak of hundreds daemons, of disappearances of entire villages. They say that military researchers in Gralea let themselves get carried away and they have unleashed a horde of monsters. I thought you and Marshal Leonis should know that."

"Shit." They hadn't told Ghiranze that the Prince and his retinue were heading for Gralea, just into the mouth of what those people were running from. "What the fuck has that wicked Aldercapt done?"

"I don't know anything else. The news came from a contact of mine in Cape Noah. As for me, I hope those Imperial assholes have managed to self-destruct."

"Civilians have nothing to do with war, Ghiranze."

"And what about the Lucian civilians?"

"We're not like the Imperials."

Ghiranze had the decency to not reply. "Anyway," he went on, "I'll let you know when I've got something else, Hartwood. Whatever the Empire is doing, it's good for the Prince to know it."

"Thanks, Ghiranze, I owe you one."

"You're welcome, boss. You already know how you can reward me: give me information too."

"I hope I'll have good ones soon. What about the article?"

"Wait a couple of days and you'll see. C'ya."

"C'ya." She closed the call and thought to immediately phone Cor, but then she realized he had to be busy with the Imperials and she preferred to not trouble him. Instead, she tried to contact Prompto, since Gladio's and Ignis' phones had been lost, then Prince Noctis'. No line. They had to still be in the open sea. From that distance, the radio of the yacht would be out as well. Fuck.

She clicked her tongue, nervous. Maybe she was just letting herself be conditioned by her own anxiety. She had to keep her head cool and stay calm until the Marshal's return.

IV

The tension that had been accumulating for a month at last exploded on the Magna Fortia, a train with Imperial civilians, on their way from Cape Esther to Gralea. Gladio continued to look around troubled, wondering how people apparently so normal could tolerate an emperor who was doing everything to butcher civilians identical to them in other nations.

It was a splendid day, as they hadn't seen for a long time. The sky was clear and the regions of eternal ice still far away. Before the clash with the Glacial, Niflheim was predominantly semi-deserted as the area they were going through: barren, yellowish lands, with scarce and poor vegetation. Gladio felt almost like they were in Leide again. The tracks ran half a mile from the sea, which was flat like a mill pond.

At Cape Esther, where they had bade farewell to Cid, who had also exchanged the license plate of the Regalia with another illegally retrieved by Prompto in a garage, no one had recognized them. No customs to pass through. They had simply bought four tickets for Gralea, connected through Cartanica, and had boarded the train after loading the car. It was a civilian convoy, very long and not crowded, and they hadn't had to work hard to find an empty wagon. They sat scattered, almost without speaking as it had been for days, each lost in his depressing thoughts.

"So... we're gonna roll through Tenebrae?" Prompto asked at some point, breaking the silence.

"Not before visiting the royal tomb in Cartanica."

"You're sure you're up to that?"

Ignis sighed and again answered that question. "The wounds have mended. There's nothing to be done about my eyesight."

Tenebrae? Gladio straightened up. When did they talk about that without him? They were in the fucking Imperial territory, not on a leisure trip, and already the royal tomb in Cartanica would have been a dangerous undertaking. What the fuck was wrong with them, the three of them, thinking to divert to Tenebrae? He turned to Noctis, who was focused on the landscape beyond the window. The idea that they had decided without him, who had been busting his ass for a month to keep them on track, threw him out of line. He sank his fingertips into his thighs until it hurt, then, no longer able to stop, he got up and went to Noctis.

That's enough now.

"The hell is wrong with you?" he verbally attacked him.

Noctis shook himself, as if he had been half-awake. "What?" he asked, genuinely caught off-guard.

His dim attitude pissed him off even more. "We're not stopping in Tenebrae. We can't risk that much. You need to grow up and get over it."

Noctis stood up. "I am over it. I'm here, if you hadn't noticed."

Gladio grabbed him by his t-shirt neckline, as he had done in the Disc of Cauthess, but this time it wasn't a skirmish due to the heat and the bad mood. "And then maybe, when you're not too busy moping, you can look around and give a shit about someone worse off than you."

"Let go of me."

"How's that ring fit ya? You'd rather carry it around than wear it. The Princess gave her life so you could do your duty, not so you could sit around feelin' sorry for yourself."

"You don't think I know that?!"

"You don't know! Ignis almost died for you, have you noticed? And for what?"

"Enough, Gladio!" Ignis cried from his seat.

"You think you're a king, but you're just a coward."

"Shut up!" Noctis seized his jacket in turn. Prompto rushed to divide them, but Gladio grabbed his head and shoved him away. He and Noctis continued to look at each other with resentment, clutching their shirts. "I get it, all right? I get it!" Noctis' voice was shrill, on the verge of tears.

Gladio let him go before smashing his face. "Then get a grip! Pull your head outta your ass already!"

Noctis looked at him as if he wanted to attack, but – fortunately for everyone – instead he turned and left the wagon.

"Noct!" Prompto tried to call him back, but Gladio ranted about him as well.

"Leave him!"

Noctis had just closed the wagon door behind him and Ignis got up of his seat. He stumbled, managed not to fall, straightened up, then stood in front of Gladio. "What are you doing? You aren't helping at all."

"And are you helping, just letting him be while he's whining about how unfortunate his life is?"

"Shouting in his face won't help him getting over the Princess' death. He's suffering. And don't ever dare involve me in making him feel guilty again."

"Oh, is that so?" he growled to Ignis. "His Majesty is suffering? And you, aren't you suffering? Prompto, me, aren't we suffering? Her Grace, hasn't she suffered? And the people of Altissia? And those of Insomnia? Just curious, since I wasn't in the room when he woke up: did he waste a single word of thanks for you when he found out that you had lost your eyesight? I only ask because he didn't say a single 'thank you' to Camelia Claustra, and although she's an old bitch she has jeopardized the lives of her citizens to allow the Princess to summon Leviathan."

Ignis turned away. "I'm not interested in gratitude. Risking my life for him was my duty, and even if it hadn't been my duty, Noctis is like a brother to me. If at this moment the compartment door reopened and he came here to tell me he wants to go back to Lucis and forget all this, I would accept his choice and support him. This is the difference between you and me, Gladio."

Gladio rubbed a hand over his eyes. He almost felt like crying too. "Yeah. It seems to me I'm the only one here, after all, to keep in mind that 'Noct' is the King of Insomnia, more, the True King of the prophecies, and as such he has duties."

Prompto snapped to his feet. Gladio lowered his arms and hid his hands in the pockets, touching Silia's plate to calm himself down. If Prompto had jumped on him to give him back his shove or punch him, he wouldn't have reacted. Let him do it. By then, he didn't give a shit anymore.

But Prompto didn't jump on him. He merely took Ignis' arm gently to bring him back to his place, perhaps fearing a violent reaction on his part, but not before he had struck him with the most furious look Gladio had ever seen on that jovial face. "Sometimes," he said hoarsely, his voice scraping against his throat, "you're really an asshole. We're all suffering, Gladio, you said it yourself, but we're not all the same. You can't shove people and shout in their face to inculcate your way of seeing and dealing with things. We all have our ways and our times."

It was almost exactly what Silia had told him. Was it possible that no one else understood? He tightened his grip on the plate until he felt the metal sink into his flesh. "My father died in Insomnia," he reminded him angrily. "And so did my friends of the Crownsguard. People I knew. I thought Silia was dead too, but that didn't stop me from going on with you and doing what had to be done."

"He's doing it too," Ignis returned to say. They had quarreled many times since they knew each other, and always because of Noctis, but he had never used that cold, disappointed, passively violent tone with him. "He didn't stop. He didn't come back. We are moving forward, to Gralea, as it should be. But he's understandably devastated. He's scared. You have no idea what using that Ring truly means, Gladio."

To that, he couldn't reply. He gave them his back, and headed in the direction opposite of the one taken by Noctis. At that point, there were no words to smooth the gap between them, only words to dilate it, to keep on crushing and crumbling.

"Here, you leave," Prompto called after him. "And Noct is the coward?"

Gladio stopped. He didn't look at them. He just pulled his hand out of his pocket and looked at the blood on his palm and fingers. "If he doesn't wear the Ring of the Lucii, we won't come out alive from Gralea," he uttered. "And even if I would happily give my life a thousand times for Noct, I'm not going to give it away for nothing. So I warn you: if he won't do it, when the time comes, I'll use the Ring for him. And then I'll have the idea."

V

She waited a little after dinner – just to leave him the time to take a breath – to ambush Cor in his pavilion. She listened in silence for a few seconds once she was within earshot, because she wanted a private talk, and when she was sure that nobody else was with him, she called his name in a low voice to announce herself. Cor invited her to come in.

He must have just finished washing himself after the labors of the day, because he had wet hair and a damp towel around his neck. A dish that was still intact, which certainly Monica must have brought him, was on the table. Hadn't she seen him eating and sleeping in Cape Caem and Costlemark Tower, Silia would have remained of the idea that the Immortal wasn't subject to the bodily functions of ordinary men.

"I was about to send for you, but you anticipated me. Ezma Auburnbrie called me a couple of hours ago."

"I bet I know why. I received a call from Dino Ghiranze."

"About the Imperial refugees arrived in Cape Noah?"

Silia nodded. "What did Madame Auburnbrie tell you?"

Cor leaned against the desk, rubbing the towel over his head. "Twenty-six people taken into custody. Four were infected. They put the others in quarantine."

"What did they do to the infected ones?"

The Marshal frowned. "Do I really have to answer you? We can't risk a surge in the Starscourge cases, especially now that the Oracle is dead."

"Damn it," Silia let out. There was nothing else to do; she was the first to be aware of it. "And what can you tell me about the news from Gralea? Ghiranze told me that they talk about mass daemonifications. Entire villages disappeared. Something escaped the labs, perhaps?"

"Ezma couldn't tell me more, either. She had third-hand news, too. Perhaps something is happening, perhaps nothing is happening. Come on, Hartwood, just say it."

Silia blinked. "Say what?"

"You're about to suggest I send you to Cape Noah and then to allow you to join the Prince's retinue in Gralea."

Raising her hands in a gesture of complete surrender, Silia couldn't help smirking. "Am I so predictable?"

"You're clear as spring water. How did you survive ten years on the front?"

"Maybe I'm not so clear," she ventured to say. "Maybe, Marshal, you understand me a lot better than others because deep down we're alike."

She waited for a scramble, which she was ready to answer to point by point, and instead the Marshal put the towel on the desk and stared at her. Perhaps they really were alike, but what she had said to him wasn't valid on the contrary: she couldn't read him as if he was spring water.

"Then what?" she urged him. "You're right, I want to go to Cape Noah to talk face-to-face with those people. And then join the guys. After what happened in Altissia, they could use two extra hands, at least until Ignis has become accustomed to his new condition."

"I need you here, Hartwood, and we've already eviscerated the reason for a long time," he replied as expected. Silia opened her mouth to reply, but Cor interrupted her, raising a finger. "Or so I would have answered you this morning. Truth is, I don't like at all this story of refugees arriving from Gralea. It has never happened, as far as I know. Aldercapt has stuffed his subjects with so many lies that no one has ever thought of landing at Cape Noah. I want to know more about it, and in the current state of things, maybe four arms to support the guys wouldn't be a bad idea."

Silia had expected to have to fight claws and teeth to convince the Marshal of her point of view, so she was almost disappointed. "Wait, four? Are you coming too, Cor?"

He shook his head gravely. "No. I would like and, off the record, I had proposed that to Gladio when they were in Altissia and the Prince was still in a coma, but someone must stay to hold the reins here, especially if things in Gralea won't go as we hope. But I was thinking of asking Darius to come with you. I gather that you've a good mutual understanding, am I wrong? As long as you don't get drunk in Imperial territory."

She didn't tell him that she had proposed the same thing to Gladio. "We'll try. I must confess, we will probably use a drink or two to not freeze in Niflheim."

"Just try not to blow off your own cover. Once in Niflheim, you have to move incognito. I don't need to tell you what Imperials would be happy to do to a Crownsguard and a former Kingsglaive. Avoid unnecessary clashes that could attract the attention on your combat skills."

"We'll be careful. I am glad to leave with Darius, Marshal, and not because we're friends. You trained him very well. The other Crownsguards get a pass too, but he's the best here. Don't tell him what I told you." She moistened her lips. "But we may come back after a long time. We may *not* come back. Are you sure you can manage without him?"

Cor grimaced what could be a smile of pride. "I will. His father was in the Council. Although he didn't care for the first seventeen years of his life, Darius grew up imbued with politics and war and, as I told you once, he has a brain that works nicely. If you ever find yourself in the position of leading a group of people, Hartwood, here's some advice: ask the opinion of a few, because if you ask the opinion of many you'll never make a decision; ask the opinion of those who have no qualms in contradicting you, because that's where you'll find your limits; and finally, after making a decision, take full responsibility for it."

"I will remember. Too bad you didn't train me instead of Titus Drautos, Marshal," she let slip.

Cor Leonis shook his head. "No, Hartwood, it's a fortune. You would be much more disciplined and less impulsive, definitely, but without the brutality of all the instructors who trained you, without all that you faced in war, you wouldn't be so ready to react to dangerous situations. There's an abyss between knowing how to fight perfectly and fighting for the sake of your and others' lives."

Silia could only nod, turning slightly so as not to show him that his meager compliment had flattered her. "I had in store a long list of arguments to convince you to let me go, Cor. Let me tell you at least one."

"What?"

"When the Prince decides to wear the Ring, it's very likely that I will be able again to use some Glaive tricks. And even if some of them didn't do it on May 16, the Kingsglaives must protect their King."

"Oh, is that so? I lost count of all the times I heard you say I'm no longer a Kinsglaive, Hartwood. I wondered when you would have realized that it was a colossal idiocy."

Silia felt herself blush. "Don't you ever get bored of being always right?"

Cor gave a snort of amusement. "Be careful with your Glaive tricks in Imperial territory. Now go and call Darius. We will discuss together the details of your departure. I suspect that, even if he won't show it, he will be more than happy to come with you. And, Hartwood?"

Silia, who was already leaving the pavilion, stopped. "What, Cor?"

The Marshal offered her one of his rare smiles. "Do you really believe I haven't trained you in these months?"