If Regis had thought his schedule was packed before, it was nothing compared to what it quickly became. Within two days, he longed for a time when the only issues were those growing multitude of troubles brought on by Ramuh's storm. Now he had that and more.

The storm still raged. Every issue that had been a concern before was still a concern now—and growing greater every day the rains refused to let up. It was a struggle to grow crops in sodden, flooded soil: those plants that failed to wash away in the flood inevitably drowned or contracted root rot as they wallowed in undrained fields. For now they could make do with canned food and dry goods, but for how long? How long would this trial persist?

Weskham's renewed presence in court did have a positive effect on that trouble, however. Though Accordo had little agriculture of their own, they agreed to trade what they could spare with Lucis, which brought in a trickle of fresh fruit and vegetables on boats.

Meanwhile, power and repairs were a perpetual issue. The death toll of those struck by lightning while climbing poles in the midst of the unrelenting storm was ever growing and companies like EXINERIS were being forced to hire and train more workers. Those workers were less skilled and yet demanded more pay. With no other choice, the companies paid. There would come a day when they couldn't afford any more lives. What then? The crown could subsidize wages, but would it be enough? Doubtful.

And, as Ravus had noted, the Starscourge was running rampant once more. It wasn't enough to have the storms and floods. They also had a brewing pandemic on their hands. Sick people could not work on the power lines, nor transport food and clean water to those in need. The storm made it more difficult to enforce a quarantine, as well. Half the roads across Lucis were washed out. They couldn't have transported sick people to a secure location if they wanted to—and telling people to stay in their homes was simply out of the question, when most homes were flooded or washed away entirely. Refugee camps were quickly becoming a spawning ground for the disease.

If all that was not enough, they now had the added pressure from Niflheim and the pending betrothal ceremony between Prince Ravus and Princess Reina. A date was chosen and the news was announced publicly with mixed reception. Some thought it poorly timed, in the midst of a disaster—or several disasters mixed together. Others found relief and some smidgeon of hope in the coming engagement. But whatever it meant outside the Citadel, inside it meant chaos.

For all Regis tried to keep out of it and save his time and attention for more important matters, it was difficult to be entirely detached. At first his opinion was asked at every turn. When he made it clear that he cared not at all what aperitifs were served at the ceremony, others were drawn in instead. First Ravus, then Reina herself and—along with her—Crea. A whole team of event planners dogged their steps whenever they left the royal levels, which was increasingly more frequent with the commotion demanding it. Reina initially shied away from it, but after a few days she seemed to embrace it. She looked truly the picture of a princess, giving instructions and orders from amidst the sea of people.

Despite her growing comfort in the situation, it set Regis on edge. It was a larger crowd that followed her these days than since her new courtly responsibilities had begun. She had Crea with her, yes, and occasionally Iris or Cindy, but the simple swell of attention seemed to invite trouble like Hamon represented. Perhaps he wouldn't approach her again so openly while she was surrounded by servants and courtiers, but he was sly enough to turn the crowds to his advantage. Besides, crowds in general were always something of a risk. There was a reason why Clarus and Cor dogged Regis' steps, and it wasn't because they were especially good company—though sometimes that was true as well. He would have felt much more at ease if Iris had been several years older or if Cindy had inherited Cid's combat training.

With nowhere else to turn, Regis found himself summoning Captain Ulric to his study, a week after the mess began.

"I need a Glaive to attend Her Highness." Regis stood behind his desk, too restless to be seated, and regarded Nyx levelly.

Nyx stood at attention, eyes focused on the wall just past Regis' right shoulder. "Of course, Your Majesty."

"And think carefully before you make an assignment. It will need to be someone quick-witted and observant who can hold their own in a crowd without missing a detail. If possible, I would prefer a young woman of as few years as possible, who will not look out of place at Princess Reina's side. Is there such a Glaive under your command."

"I don't know about looking 'out of place,' Your Majesty, but I can think of one who fits the bill. She's a refugee, like most of us, and lived on the streets before we picked her up. The city guard said they found her in the middle of a street brawl, holding her own against half a dozen others. She's agile like a cat and she can case a room of people like no one's business. She's street smart, Your Majesty."

"Then she would know, for example, if someone was a manipulative bastard with honeyed words?"

"Smell them a mile away, Your Majesty."

He was fond of her already and they hadn't even met.

"What is her name?" Regis asked.

"Crowe Altius, Your Majesty. You want me to bring her in?"

"Yes. I should like to meet her."

It took no more than fifteen minutes to have the Glaive in question summoned to Regis' office. The doors opened to admit Nyx once more; in his wake came a young woman in a Kingsglaive uniform. She moved like a cautious cat, aware of every square foot of floor before she stepped on it. In the instant they entered, her eyes had already darted around the room twice before coming to land on Regis. She was slight of build, but in the strength of his bond to her, he could feel her aptitude with Caelum magic. She must not have been far removed from the royal line—and descended from someone with more propensity for elemancy than Regis had.

"Your Majesty," Nyx said. "Crowe Altius."

She bowed, but dropped her gaze from his only briefly, as if she was reluctant to expose the back of her neck to anyone at all. Cautious. Aware. Sharp. And with enough strength hidden beneath the surface not to call attention to herself. She would do.

"Crowe Altius," Regis said, "Are you prepared to serve your kingdom by protecting your princess?"

"Yeah," she said, "I guess so, Your Majesty."

Not quite the level of formality he had come to expect from those around him, but that could be learned.

"From this point on, and until further notice, you are assigned as Princess Reina's bodyguard. When she is outside the royal levels and within the public eye, so too will you be. You go where she goes and does as she does. In all else, you take your orders directly from her. Is that clear?" Regis asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Reina would little know what to do with a Glaive under her command, but that was not of great concern to him. They would both learn and, with any luck, they would not get along so poorly after all adjustments were made. Perhaps Reina would have a full house of friends after all. Or perhaps not, for Crea had already warned him that these things could hardly be arranged. Nevertheless, a father could hope. And a Caelum could do worse than an Amicitia, a Sophair, and a Glaive as their retinue.

Once both Kingsglaives had been dismissed from his office, Regis returned to his overwhelming workload with a lighter heart. Reina would be well looked after. For once he wished she had taken after her brother, who was wisely keeping well out of this whole mess. But there was no help for it. She had stepped outside the sacred zone of their private quarters and the rest of the world had descended on her.

It wasn't just servants and event planners. Though the others were not new, and had been a part of her life ever since her show of maturity in court and council, which had landed her with fresh courtly responsibilities. And so she was surrounded, now as before, by courtiers and all manner of people vying for her favor and attention, attempting to earn a place with the next generation of Caelum. She had a wealth of friends and no one to explain to her that they were false. If only Aulea had survived. She had grown up in that social jungle and had always been adept at navigating courtiers, having once been one herself. She could have stood beside Reina, guided her as she deserved to be guided. Instead she had only Crea who, while beautiful and intelligent and skilled in many areas, had very little knowledge of the social landscape surrounding the throne.

But he had done the best he could for them. And the rest of the kingdom was clamoring for his attention.

When next he crossed paths with Reina—and every time thereafter—she was in the company of Crowe. Or, at least, Crowe was nearby, standing like a shadow in Reina's presence. And yet, despite their proximity, it was difficult to associate the pair of them. So different did they appear in every respect. Then again, the same could have been said about any one of Reina's friends.

When he asked her about Crowe, some days later, Reina merely said, "She's wonderful, father. But I think she says a lot less than she wants to."

And that was all he learned of her for some time.

In other parts of the Citadel, life went on much as it ever had, albeit at a somewhat more frantic pace than usual. In between plans for the betrothal and emergency proceedings to counteract the ill effects of the storm, they discussed Niflheim. All meetings were strictly off the record. They had so many troubles to contend with that they were at no loss for excuses to meet with the full council. An alternative explanation—or no explanation at all—was given for each closed-door meeting.

"We must act now, while Niflheim believes us occupied with other plans."

"If nothing else, we must be prepared for Niflheim to act. I can think of no other reason for this pretense over the betrothal ceremony. What does it gain them?"

"If we strike at Niflheim now, then we have no need to prepare for them to act. The best defense is a well-sharpened sword."

"And if we leave ourselves open to attack when we strike at them?"

"A properly prepared attack on our part will not leave us open. These are basic concepts of strategy."

"Whatever we are going to do, we must do it quickly. Once the ceremony is upon us, we will be out of time."

"Then let's have it done now. Deploy the Kingsglaive to Niflheim today."

"To Niflheim?! I thought we were discussing strategy, not suicide!"

If they could have agreed on one single matter, it might have been done. In principle he had councillors to advise him in every matter of ruling the kingdom. In practice, they all stepped on each other's toes and claimed their expertise was related to every problem. Especially when that problem was war. In a way, they were right. It affected everything and a great many things fed into it. But the execution was poorly done. Over the years Regis had learned which voices to give credence in which areas, but that did not make their endless debates any less tiring.

"A frontal attack on Gralea is simply out of the question."

"I did not say an attack on Gralea."

"Where, then, would you have us strike, in your infinite wisdom?"

They were spared an answer by a knock at the door. The whole room quieted. Any disagreements they had with each other dissolved in the face of sudden alarm. Once all arguments had ended and the room was in utter silence, Regis spoke.

"Enter."

The door opened by a few inches and Avun's head appeared. "So sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but Marshal Leonis is requesting an urgent word with you."

Regis rose. The atmosphere in the room was so tense the councillors did not even dare murmur their suspicions. When Cor needed a word so urgently that he interrupted a council meeting, it was not to be taken lightly.

Regis stepped outside. Rather than meet Cor there in the antechamber, Avun led him to one of the smaller waiting rooms off the hall. There he found Cor, not alone, but in the company of Ravus. Cor stood in the center of the room, arms crossed and eyes fixed on Ravus. Ravus leaned back in an armchair, arms and legs crossed like a sulky child. He alone looked up when Regis entered, but neither said a word until the door was closed.

"You asked me to keep an eye on this one, following your chat with Niflheim," Cor said. "I found him skulking around on the balcony above the council room. Looking for some peep hole, no doubt."

"Is this true, Prince Ravus?" Regis asked.

Ravus made no attempt to deny the accusations. He averted his gaze and resettled his pose of haughty indignation.

Regis sighed. One more problem on his plate.

"I have opened my doors to you, given you full privileges as a guest of Lucis in my halls. This is a poor way to repay that. I understand that you feel beholden to Niflheim for the safety of your family, but I have even arranged to pass approved information to them—through you—for the purpose of keeping them placated. In spite of your ill-conceived actions regarding your betrothal to my daughter, I have allowed you to remain unchecked and merely observed inside the Citadel. So far as I can see, you have gained everything you have asked for. The betrothal is proceeding as you planned—as you demanded—despite the better judgement of many others, and the questionable olive branch offered by the imperial chancellor has been accepted. What could you hope to gain by betraying my trust?"

"Trust?" Ravus looked up at him. "You put this dog on me and claim in the same breath that you trust me? You haven't given me a modicum of respect since I set foot in these halls."

"That is not true. If I did not trust you I never would have permitted you to walk freely. Nor would I have given you such privileges as you hold, nor granted my daughter's hand to you. Yet I begin to see it has been misplaced. Am I to believe we have other imperial spies in our midst, or are you the individual that has passed information regarding your lack of betrothal to Princess Reina?"

A violent flush rose to Ravus' cheeks and he looked away again, confirming Regis' suspicions.

"And as that was insufficient, you now seek further information to pass to the empire, despite our earlier agreement," Regis said.

"My mother and sister are in danger!" Ravus was on his feet, hands clenched at his sides. "And you care nothing for them! You're closed up here behind your walls, safely sealed in your Citadel. It doesn't matter to you what the chancellor does to my family. My home. So long as Reina and Noctis are safe, all you care for is Lucis."

"That is not true."

For all their disagreements, Sylva was just one more person misled by the Astrals. From here he could see that. They rained chaos down on Lucis and demanded his obedience. They were no less tyrannical than Niflheim, and if she had fallen into line behind them, who was to blame? Her? Or them?

And young Lunafreya was an innocent in it all. She had been taught to follow in her mother's footsteps, but even now, was she any more than a frightened child pushed into a strategic position by the empire? She was a bargaining chip. Nothing more.

"We have been assessing the situation as it evolves and—"

"But discuss is all you ever do! You sit in that room and they talk and talk and talk, but you never do anything!"

"Enough." Regis fixed Ravus with a steely gaze and held until Ravus took a step back and dropped into his chair, defeated. "I am very fond of you, young man, and if not for the fact that my daughter is involved, I would be pleased to expand my family by one more. But this is unbefitting. I realize that Sylva has mistreated you. Perhaps a part of you even felt a relief at being sent away, and ever since then, guilt has gnawed at you. This is not the way to make up for treacherous thoughts. Hotheadedness will earn neither of us anything and charging into Niflheim's territory without fully understanding their motives or capabilities is folly. Every decision creates a ripple. When you are king, the choices you make cast the largest waves. I cannot afford to act on impulse—neither mine nor yours. Do you understand me?"

Ravus nodded, but would not meet his gaze. "Yes, Sire."

Regis crossed to him, lowering into the chair beside him. He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and clasped his hands, staring down at the tile floor past them. Here he had come with the intention of giving Ravus a firm cuff between the ears to force him to toe the line. He found he had no desire to do so.

"Now, then," Regis said. "As you may not have heard, Lucis is making plans to strike while Niflheim is distracted. We hope this betrothal ceremony will put them at ease; if they see us as compliant, then we hope they will expect no attack from us."

Ravus looked up, a new fire kindled in his eyes. "Then you'll do it? You'll go after my mother and sister?"

"That is our intention."

Never mind the fact that the decision hadn't officially been made by the council. Ravus had swayed Regis' mind, and that was what mattered. He would return and tell them as much.

"Then I'm coming with you," Ravus said.

"I fear that is quite out of the question." Regis lifted a hand to head off Ravus' objections. "No. I have made my wishes clear, and if this is to go smoothly you must trust my judgement. In the event that this attack goes poorly, I would rather not risk you falling into imperial hands. I dare not think what they do to their captive spies when they learn they have not been so cooperative. Furthermore, for the pretense to work, it will be best for you to be here—to all appearances preparing for your betrothal. Let Niflheim's eyes remain fixed on you, while we strike behind them."

Ravus struggled against his defiance. The conflict was written on his face; his desire to put everything right, if not for his family's sake, fought against some kindling of respect for Regis. At last he dropped his eyes and nodded, wordlessly.

"Good man." Regis squeezed his shoulder. "You have your task, then. Make your reports to Niflheim, give no hint of subterfuge, but give whatever details they request of the betrothal. You are to be engaged to Princess Reina. Your plan has worked."

Ravus nodded again. Regis slapped his shoulder and leaned back in his chair. "Go then. Make your reports."

Once Ravus had left—Cor watching him all the while like a hound forced to release his prey without chase—Cor turned to Regis.

"You're going to trust him to make the report you want, even after he's lied to you and snuck around behind your back?"

"Yes."

Cor was too well-disciplined to ask why, but the stiffness of his stature—his arms held immobile at his sides with his hands clenched into fists and a slight forward lean toward the door as if he strained against an invisible leash—begged to know.

"I cannot afford to mistrust my own household at this time, Cor. The boy has his motivations, and while I might disagree with them, they will hold him to his purpose. Niflheim has offered to harm what he loves. I have offered to rescue it. I believe I have not misjudged him."

Cor looked away and back to the door. "You still want me to keep a tail on him?"

"No. I have a more important task for you now."