The next thing he knew was pain. The shattering of cannon fire against his mind. Then came the booming blasts: loud enough to wake a dead man despite their distance. He jerked upright, his muddled mind struggling to put details together even as his subconscious scrambled to repair the damage done to the Wall. He had been asleep, though he had no recollection of having intended to nap, and he had lain along the couch, propped against Crea who even now sat forward and braced her hands on his back.

They were here.

That was all the time he had to consider before a second volley of shots shattered across the Wall. They were focused in one place—too many shots to be from a single cannon, but he couldn't spare an ounce of thought for how many. If he could divert strength from other parts of the Wall then perhaps. Perhaps he could hold a little bit longer. But if there were too few focused here he had no notion of whether those other cannons would attack elsewhere.

The physical world seemed to fade to a silent backdrop on which he waged war. He was distantly aware of his body sitting on the couch, hunched over his knees with Crea's hands on his shoulders. But more potent was his sense of the Wall. As rapidly as he patched cracks, they came again. One blow after another. More than once, two shots in rapid succession nearly brought the Wall down. If he could hold out. If he could just hold out against this barrage, perhaps they would be convinced that the Wall was invincible. Perhaps they would leave.

But to hold out he needed strength and his reserves were draining rapidly. As quickly as he poured power into the Wall it was devoured, soaked up by cracks to mend the damage. He reached for more power and found the bottom of his reserves. Run dry. All he had left to give was his life.

And still the Magitek cannons fired.

If they broke through, everyone would die anyway. Regis would be the first among them.

If Regis killed himself maintaining the Wall, it would fall anyway.

He reached for his lifeblood—he had to try something—and was distantly aware of hands grasping him. Power surged around him. Like the push of a powerful wave, it nearly swept him off his feet. Save for the hands holding onto him, he would have been lost in it.

Take ours, Father. Take our mana.

Through the bonds that held him to Reina, he heard her voice. He was aware of both twins standing with him, not physically, but in spirit. Their souls were so tightly bound together that they almost appeared to be one. His own energy was drained dry and, just as Reina had stood and extended an offer of her own mana to him after he had warped across from Tenebrae, so did they both offer now.

But at what cost? If any of them survived this, they would be as drained and exhausted as he was in the aftermath. His own children. He had vowed not to use them for Lucis.

Take it, Father!

Another volley of shots struck the Wall. Regis had no mana left to repair the damage, but he was bound to the barrier, body and soul. It sucked the strength it needed from him, whether he had it to give or not. Distantly, he was aware of the involuntary cry he gave as the Wall dragged his own lifeblood from him.

Father!

It took all the strength that was left to him to reach out and take her offer. Energy flooded through him, a burning torrent that left his veins raw in its wake. The raw, untamed, youthful energy of his children poured into his empty reserves and washed over the cracked Wall, mending every fracture in its wake. Between the two of them, they had nearly enough to fill his reserves. Energy that he had not known in so long filled him up and took him over.

But they were young. Still growing and hardly aware of what they gave. Their concept of where mana ended and life began was blurry and uncertain, and as the Magitek cannons rained down fire, both twins reached the end of their own pools. And kept giving.

Enough. Regis severed the ties they had extended to him. If they were harmed it was his own fault. His own fault for accepting what they offered in the first place.

But he could not think of that now, or everything they had fought for would be lost.

He knew not for how long he struggled onward, repairing the Wall and protecting his city. Time lost all meaning. He floated, an indistinct form lost in a wash of mana while the world passed around him unnoticed.

The next thing he had awareness of was coming to consciousness in his bed, though he had certainly not been there when last he recalled. He was alone. His suit was still in place, though the more cumbersome piece of his formalwear had been removed: his shoes, his collar, his cape and pauldron.

Through a hazy fog of exhaustion he reached out for his children. He could feel them, as drained and exhausted as he was, not far away. The Wall still stood. They were alive. Some things, at least, had worked out. For now.

Footsteps sounded outside his room. The door opened and Regis found he scarcely had the strength to turn his head to look.

"Your Majesty?" It was Avun. "Are you awake?"

"Unfortunately."

Avun pushed his way into the room, bearing a tray. "Miss Vinculum gave express instructions that you were to eat as soon as you stirred."

Of course she had. And had she not also made her way into his rooms before the imperials arrived and somehow coerced him to sit down with her. Because she was frightened, of course. Not because he had needed to rest.

He couldn't find the will to be irritated with that. Where Clarus and Weskham had failed by emphasizing his weakness, she had succeeded by playing to his pride and vanity. Of course she had.

Regis couldn't bring himself to look at the tray of food that Avun set on his bedside table. He could smell it. That was more than enough.

"Where is Crea?"

As soon as he asked the question he realized it was an error. She was a nanny. And while she was also so much more, he had no reason to be thinking first of her whereabouts when he woke. He had no reason to be thinking about her whereabouts at all.

"She left to see to their Highnesses and did not return, Sire. Presumably her attention has been called elsewhere."

There was a hint of a reprimand in that last statement, whether Avun intended it or not. He was right. Crea had many duties and none of them involved seeing to the king. That was Avunculus' job.

He hauled himself upright. With Avun's help, he managed to prop himself amongst his pillows in a more or less sitting position. Once he was there, he wasn't certain he wanted to be. The world was spinning and blurring on the edges. His skin felt cold.

His eyes drifted unsteadily toward the tray on his side table. It contained a glass of orange juice and a plate of eggs, sausage, and toast. An assortment of fruit was also laid out. Was it breakfast time? What time had it been the last time he had been cognizant? He couldn't recall.

Regis turned away from the breakfast tray. "My children?"

"Resting, Sire. Not long after the barrage began, both of them collapsed in their respective parts of the Citadel. It caused quite a stir, Your Majesty. Young Gladiolus and my nephew brought Prince Noctis back here. It took longer for Princess Reina to be extracted from the graces of the courtiers, but she was returned to her bed as well. No one quite knew what to do, Sire. There was quite a panic."

And Regis, meanwhile, had been just as comatose and unresponsive. It was a chaos he should have been present to quell.

"Doctors were called for, but when it was established that they were in fine physical health, Miss Vinculum instructed that they be left to rest—and yourself as well—and requested that food be prepared and ready when each of you woke, Your Majesty."

That seemed more in line with Weskham's tasks. Yes, Regis had dismissed him rather harshly before the battle had come to Insomnia, but he should still have been lurking outside. Now that he considered, it was odd that Avun was here and Weskham was not. Nor Clarus.

"Where is Weskham?"

"Ah. Well, Sire. After the imperials began to fire on the Wall, Master Amicitia called together Master Armaugh, Master Sophair, and Marshal Leonis. They left the city to supplement the Kingsglaive."

"They what?" Regis sat full upright. His head spun with the effort but he shoved the weakness inside. "Have they returned?"

"Not yet, Sire."

Regis swung his legs out of bed. Damn fools. Leaving without so much as a word to him—never mind the fact that he had been insensible at the time—and charging headfirst into danger. Those years were behind them. They were all too damn old to be running around with the Kingsglaive trying to knock Magitek cannons out of the sky.

"Sire—!" Avun lurched forward as Regis put his weight on his legs.

It was just as well that he did. No sooner was he upright than the dizziness in his head transformed into a spinning room. The fuzziness at the edge of his vision became blackness, which threatened to engulf everything. His legs buckled. Avunculus caught him and heaved him back onto the edge of his bed.

"Perhaps you should have a bite of breakfast, Sire?" Avun suggested.

"Perhaps." Regis blinked at his vision cleared.

"I should be happy to send word anywhere you require."

Much as he hated it, that was probably wiser than Regis attempting to go himself.

Regis settled back onto his bed, lifting his legs up first and easing back against the pillows. Winded just from trying to stand up. What was he coming to?

"I want you to check on my children first. See that they're looked after."

"Of course, Sire."

"Then bring me whatever word there is from the front. Any news we have received of Captain Ulric, the Glaive, or my retinue."

"Yes, Sire."

"And find out what has become of Crea, if she is not with my children."

"Yes, Sire."

He waved Avun away, out of words for the moment. Once he was gone, Regis lifted the breakfast tray onto his lap and picked listlessly at the contents. The grandfather clock informed him that it was, indeed, what passed for breakfast time. Had he slept through the night? It had been afternoon when he had sat down in the lounge with Crea, certainly.

It took some time for Avun to return with tidings from the outside world, which left no excuses for Regis not to finish his meal. After the tray was emptied, he fought the urge to rise and pace because trying and failing was a worse indignity than remaining bed-bound like an invalid.

And so, when Avun did return, Regis was still sitting in bed, propped against his pillows and searching for some way to occupy his mind without moving.

"Report," Regis said, fighting impatience at the extended bow Avun gave. It was not his fault that Regis had given more than he had to sustain the Wall and now paid for it.

"Their Royal Highnesses continue to sleep; to all appearances they are comfortable and several attendants await any sign of stirring from them. I have made it clear that you are to be informed if either of them wakes."

He disliked that they slept still while he had woken, but when he touched his magic to theirs he found the same thing he had sensed before: they were exhausted and drained but unharmed. If only there had been no need for them to be drained in the first place. He was not yet sure if he regretted accepting their aid.

"News from beyond the Wall is scarce, but since yesterday afternoon, the developments are these: It appears that the Kingsglaive was able to remove two Magitek cannons from commission before they reached the Wall. Doing so cost them heavy casualties, for it required them to focus their attention on the cannons with little regard for the attacking force. They retreated to regroup while the cannons fired on the Wall. While you were indisposed, Master Amicitia took command; he redeployed the Glaive and accompanied them along with an elite task force, intending to eliminate more of the cannons. Though the barrage persisted for what we can only imagine is the full length of their ability, Master Amicitia and the others did succeed in decommissioning one more Magitek cannon during their retreat. Though the Glaive and task force attempted to follow, the remaining cannons succeeded in retreating to a safe distance while the invading force kept our troops occupied. They have been attempting to push through and reach the cannons ever since."

"When did they retreat?" Regis asked.

"It was near midnight, Sire."

Midnight they had retreated and it was now full morning? They would be returning at any moment and he was far from recovered.

"And there has been no word from Clarus and the others since then?" Regis asked.

"Some reports have come through, Sire, but without additional progress. They seem to be held well in check by the imperial soldiers."

Damn. And all of this while Sylva battled the Starscourge in the Outlands and Ramuh showered the wrath of the Astrals upon them. Lucis was besieged on three sides and unlikely to receive any breathing space. If only the Astrals and the Starscourge ran as rampant in Niflheim as they did in Lucis. Perhaps then they would have been too busy in their own lands to be concerned with Regis'.

Avun cleared his throat. "As for your final request, Sire: it would appear that Miss Vinculum has become embroiled in the court."

Regis sat upright. "The court?"

"Yes, Sire. I fear they would have snagged me as well, had I not pled an urgent mission from you. They are hungry for news and concerned for the health of the royal family, especially as Princess Reina collapsed before several of them, and Miss Vinculum is placating them."

If anyone had the patience to deal with a hoard of overgrown children, it was Crea. Still, he pitied her. That had rather become Reina's position, these past few months, and she seemed to enjoy it for whatever reason. Evidently when the princess was not available, the nanny sufficed.

Though that did give rise to another question.

"Where is Prince Ravus?"

"With Master Amicitia and the others, Sire."

As if this day needed more ill news. He and his children were bed-bound, all of them had insufficient strength to face the pending second wave, and not only his retinue—his friends and brothers—had left the city to face this threat in his stead, but so too had the prince of Tenebrae—a guest in his kingdom. It was not the place he would have chosen for Ravus. Then again, perhaps it was best Regis had not been consulted. Ravus was a capable, if restless, young man. Having him prowling the Citadel feeling useless would have done none of them any favors.

"Is there anything else I can do for you, Sire?" Avun asked.

Regis shook his head mutely and cast his eyes out the window, where he thought he could see distant blue flashes of Kingsglaive magic well beyond the Wall.

Avun collected Regis' breakfast tray and departed, leaving him to his thoughts and, eventually, to his rest. He would have little time to gather his strength and would need every ounce he could salvage. He took some comfort in the knowledge that Clarus and the others had taken down one more Magitek cannon since the last wave. Four had drained him and his children dry. Three might be doable. Though not with all their reserves empty.

He slept.

And when he woke it was to the same shattering pain and booming blows of Magitek cannons striking the Wall. For an instant he was aware of the physical world: the cry that was dragged from his lungs, and echoing shouts outside his door in the hall. Then all that faded and he was drawn once more into a flurry of magic and frantic repairs.

He had very little energy restored for those few hours of recovery. It seemed as if twelve hours of rest should have afforded him more strength, but in moments he was scraping the bottom of his reserves once more. The Magitek cannons struck all in one place, one after another. Regis reserved what little energy he had and instead diverted strength from other parts of the Wall to that point, strengthening only where they struck at the cost of the remaining Wall. It was a risk. If they struck elsewhere, the Wall would shatter before he could repair it. But if he ran out of energy before they did, it would fall all the same.

Distantly he recognized the sensation of hands gripping his body. At the same time, strength flooded into him and he was cognizant of the nearness of his children: silent, but lending their energy to him. He took it. They had no time for his regrets or debates on the morality of using his children to protect Lucis. He did it to protect them as much as the kingdom.

Their magic twisted up with his, forming braids where once there had been only strands. The last time they had poured their power into his reserves and it had become his own magic. They time he drew it from them, guiding their youthful strength to fuel the net that supported the Wall.

Here. He showed them. The cracks form and we fill them once more with magic. Fill them smoothly, without bumps or breaks. Flaws are weakness and we cannot afford weakness beneath this onslaught.

He felt more than heard their assent. As they learned to guide their magic under his direction, each blow was less of a drain on him. The Wall still dragged at him. He felt every strike of Magitek against his magic as the barrier drew strength from him to sustain itself. But while the Wall sucked energy from Regis, his children filled in the cracks and made it whole again. He took comfort in the knowledge that at least they did not feel the pain of every shot fired against Insomnia.

The pain was the last thing he knew, for a time. When he woke once more it was dark, save for the flickering of firelight, and he was not alone in his bed. Reina and Noctis had taken to his side and now lay curled in his arms. As if he could shelter them from Niflheim's attack. But no longer. They understood the price he paid for the Wall now, perhaps better than any other, save himself.

He resettled himself among his pillows and lay there for a time, too tired to move but too rested to fall back asleep. Eventually the hall door opened and someone crept inside. Regis peeled one eye open to look to his bedroom door as it, too, cracked open. Avunculus peered in. His eyes swept over Regis—half awake and committed to neither—and the children still sleeping in his arms.

"Sire," he whispered, "Miss Vinculum has come to report, if you are feeling well enough to receive her."

Crea? Report?

For a moment his fuzzy mind struggled to make sense of the statement. A pretense, perhaps, but whatever it was, he could drag himself upright for Crea's sake. Even if it was her fault he had laid down in the first place.

"Help me to my feet," Regis said. It was permitted to admit weakness to one's attendant. That was, after all, precisely why Avun was present: to fill in any cracks in Regis' exterior and make it appear as if he had none.

It took some effort. Indeed, it would not have been possible to smooth over Regis' exterior and make him fit to be seen by the public. But Crea was a different matter altogether. So Avun helped Regis out to his private lounge, promising to bring dinner, and Regis sat in his shirt sleeves and wondered if it wouldn't be worth simply napping here.

Avun withdrew. Before the door could shut behind him, Crea slipped inside, with Avun at her heels making sounds of objection. Regis waved him off. Ever proper. If only there had been no need to stand on ceremony with her: she could have woken him instead of Avun.

She looked harried. Though all that dissolved away as she came to stand before him, looking over her shoulder to see that Avun had withdrawn and shut the door behind him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Wonderful," he lied flatly. "I wonder… if you would pour me some water from that pitcher?"

She did so, drawing closer to pass the glass to him. He brushed his fingers over hers as he took it from her and she granted him a smile. She didn't withdraw.

"Reina and Noctis?" She asked.

"Asleep still, thankfully. They are young. I suspect they shall recover more easily than I." Regis drank deeply from his water, parched as if from a marathon.

"Then they were helping you?" She made it a question.

"Yes, though it shames me to admit I accepted their aid." He tilted his head back against his armchair and looked up at her. "But it was necessary. I do not believe I could have held against either attack without their aid."

"I'm just glad they were able to help you."

He couldn't say the same. Not truthfully, knowing his children suffered the same ailment that now afflicted him. Perhaps it would be less potent for them, but nevertheless. He was caught between two needs to protect. Never had they conflicted so sharply and so directly before.

"Clarus and the others?" Regis asked.

"Retreated for now. I'm sure as soon as he hears you're awake, he'll be up here."

Regis groaned. "Tell him I'm asleep."

She smiled. A lovely sight.

"They're just worried about you, Regis."

"I know. And it pains me that they have every right to be."

She smiled a sympathetic smile, which was tolerable only by virtue of how nice any smile looked on her face. Perhaps she was no less concerned than they, but for some reason it was easier to face her worries than theirs. If one was doomed to being fussed over, at least let it be at the hands of a beautiful woman.

"Was any progress made before their retreat?"

"I don't know. They don't share those details with me."

"They might as well." Regis straightened in his chair and drained the last of his water. "If I must hear bad news, let it be from your lips rather than Avun's."

"Someday, perhaps." She smiled and took the empty glass from him. Rather than setting it aside she held onto it.

Someday. The word bounced around inside his skull, refusing to sit and sink in. Someday. What did that mean?

"I think I may accidentally have taken Reina's place," Crea said, forcing Regis' mind back to the present. "I was on hand when she collapsed and chaos erupted. The court was desperate for some point of contact or source of information. So I stayed after sending Reina upstairs with Crowe."

"You remained… with Reina's courtiers?"

"Yes…" Crea said absently. "They're a little like children, aren't they?"

Once more his tired brain stumbled over her words and he found himself staring stupidly up at her instead of responding.

"I mean, most of them have all their needs taken care of by other people and end up with so few responsibilities that they have no idea what to do in the event of any uncertainty. They just needed someone to tell them what to do so they would stop panicking."

"You took Reina's spot among the courtiers and told them what to do," Regis managed.

"I suppose so. No one else was doing it."

"Crea."

"And it wasn't as if they were going to do it themselves."

"Crea."

"They are honestly like a pack of overgrown children who—"

"Crea."

She fell silent. Her fingers tapped arrhythmically against the outside of his empty water glass.

"Marry me."

The glass nearly slipped from her fingers and she fumbled to keep her hold on it to spare it from the marble floor. When she had it back in both hands she set it aside on the coffee table and straightened. Her face was flushed.

"Um." Her voice warbled.

"You cannot take Reina's courtiers in hand like a pack of children and still maintain you do not have the skills necessary to be a queen."

She tugged at her sleeves, not looking at him. Regis sat forward in his chair, intending to stand until he recalled the state his body was in. Collapsing at her feet might have been effective, but it would not have been dignified. Instead he reached forward and took her hands. She looked first at his hands before lifting her chin to meet his gaze. She allowed him to draw her closer until she stood against the side of his armchair.

"You do not have to give me an answer. Not now. You have expressed before your fears that you would make a poor queen and I have given you my assurances that my offer still stands. I now merely place before you my evidence that you have all the makings for a fine queen."

"I don't know…"

Sometimes what was most obvious to those closest to you was most difficult to see. He squeezed her hands and leaned back in his chair, but did not release her.

"I should be more concerned if you did," he said. "This is hardly a choice to be made lightly."

A knock came to the door. Regis released her. Crea startled, glancing toward the door and taking three hasty steps back.

"Enter," Regis called, and Avun did so. He had, without contest, the worst timing of anyone in the Citadel.

"Your dinner, Sire."

Though, then again, dinner may have been important.

Regis waved him to leave it on the coffee table.

"Is there anything else I can do?" Crea asked.

He fought the desire to answer that question truthfully in Avun's presence. "No, thank you, Crea. It sounds as if you have been performing admirably in our absence."

She withdrew, leaving him to his breakfast and Avun's reports of the world outside his chambers.

"Master Amicitia is asking after you, Sire."

Despite his jesting words to Crea, the conversation with Clarus was an inevitable one.

"I will see him now." Though he would have preferred to enjoy his dinner in Crea's company.

Avun bowed out of the room, going to deliver his wishes to Clarus, while Regis began on his meal. So few minutes passed between Avun's departure and his return that Clarus must have been sitting outside in the lounge, waiting for Regis to wake. It was not only Clarus, however, but Weskham, Cor, and Cid that accompanied Avun back to Regis' rooms as well.

They filed in at Regis' motion.

"Done with yer beauty rest, are ya?" Cid asked.

"Let's not be irreverent to the man who upholds the Wall during this siege." Clarus sat down across from Regis. "How are you feeling?"

The question nettled him more than Cid's. "You may be as irreverent as you wish, so long as you keep your voices down. Reina and Noctis are asleep in the other room."

They settled more quietly at his warning, each taking a seat in the lounge: Cid made a point to take up half the sofa himself, Weskham folded himself neatly into an armchair, and Cor, rather than risk indignation by sitting too near someone else, stood with his arms crossed leaning against the wall near the door.

"We heard from Crea what happened," Clarus said in an undertone. "At least in part. Is it true they assisted you in maintaining the Wall?"

"It is. And that is the extent of my tale. The rest I expect to hear from you," Regis said.

And so Clarus reported, occasionally supplemented by details from the others, on the state of the battle outside the Wall. Regis worked his way through his dinner, nodding occasionally but otherwise making no comment as he stored every detail away. It was grim news. Though they had managed, alongside the Kingsglaive, to eliminate three of the six Magitek cannons, they had little hope of reducing Niflheim's numbers further. The troops that had come from Gralea seemed intent on protecting the cannons at all costs. Casualties meant nothing to men of metal or to daemons.

"I fear we may need a fresh strategy, lest we fall to their attack," Clarus finished. "And I admit to being out of ideas. Though it gives me some hope to know the twins are able to aid you."

Regis dabbed his mouth with his napkin, folded it beside his plate, and set the whole tray aside. He sat back in his chair.

"Do not place your expectations on them," Regis said. "This is not their war to fight and I would not have them used as a crutch."

"It may well be their war eventually," Weskham noted.

"No," Regis said. "It shall not be. Whatever I pass on to them, a war with Niflheim shall not be among them."

Whatever it took, he would end this war—one way or another—before Noctis took the throne.

If only he had some method to do so.

As if on cue, the door to Regis' bedroom door cracked open and two faces appeared in the doorway.

"May we join you, Father?"

Under normal circumstances, he would have ushered them out of his lounge to wait until serious conversations were through with. But how could he, after what they had done for Lucis? For him?

"You may." He waved them forward and they came to stand beside his chair.

They were of a height again. If Crea was correct, and she most often was, it would be the last time they were. Reina still seemed much too small to have stopped growing—a child's height for life—and if Noctis took on any of Regis' height, they would make an odd pair. Those days of children indistinguishable from each other were long gone.

"Wes, will you see that dinner is brought up for the prince and princess?" Regis asked.

They must have all slept through lunch. He remembered breakfast and little else of the day. The Wall consumed everything.

Weskham leapt to his request while the others shifted uncomfortably and exchanged looks. How did one speak of war while two twelve-year-olds stood in the room? After today: much the same as one spoke of war any other time. For they had stood on the front with him and been spared little of what war meant for Insomnia and the throne.

Clarus cleared his throat. "Dare I ask how long you can hold against this siege?"

Regis' own reserves were drained dry. Without lowering the Wall, he had little to draw on, save what he managed to recover between attacks. The twins were little better off. While they did not have the ever-present strain of the Wall on their shoulders, they were but children, still half-trained and undisciplined. It was easy to look back now and wish he had spent more time on their lessons. But they were only twelve.

"Not long, before it breaks us down or drains us of life," Regis said. Though his retinue blanched at the bluntness of his words, his children did not. They understood the price that was paid to keep Insomnia safe. "We may have a day at most to solve this."

Weskham returned, having delivered Regis' request to the servants, and took up his seat once more.

"We'll just have to throw everything we have at them," Cor said.

"Appearing too desperate will only make them more eager to break through," Clarus said.

"Aren't you listening? They're going to break through by tomorrow night either way," Cor said.

"Is there any chance of leveraging your contacts in Altissia, Wes?" Clarus asked.

Weskham shook his head. "Small chance. Don't forget, Accordo is still part of Niflheim. They maintain no true military of their own as part of the bargain for their supposed independence. Even if they did, Camelia stands to lose too much by supporting us so openly."

They sat in silence for too long. Minutes washed away while they deliberated and yet, no ideas were to be had. This could not be the end for Lucis. Not now. He had defied the Gods and set himself against fate. He had all but convinced Crea of her virtues and capabilities. He had reunited with his retinue after decades apart. He had extracted the Oracle and her family safely from Tenebrae to combat the Starscourge. Would it all come to naught in the face of the empire?

Avunculus knocked on the door. "Master Carrina is requesting a brief audience, Your Majesty."

The empire. The Astrals. The Starscourge.

And Hamon Carrina.

Hamon, who always had his own agenda and did as he pleased to accomplish it. Hamon, who could not be trusted alone with Reina for all that he tried to twist her perceptions and magic to his will. Regis was of half a mind to tell Avun to dismiss him. If Lucis had twenty four hours left on Eos, he wished to spend none of them in Hamon Carrina's company.

Reina's hand landed on his arm. He looked up to catch that familiar, distant look on her face, like one attempting to recall some half-forgotten memory.

"You should talk to him, Father," she said.

Hamon, who held his place on the council still on because Reina had requested he not be deposed. Because he had some part yet to play.

"Send him in," Regis said. Let them hear what Hamon Carrina had to say.

Without being told, the others shifted. Reina and Noctis still stood to one side of his chair, though Reina tucked herself rather more behind Noctis than previously, Cor remained standing near the door but he straightened from his at-ease position, and the others rose to arrange themselves about Regis' chair. The aura of casual conversation over dinner evaporated. They stood, instead, in a negotiation chamber.

Avun opened the door to admit Hamon and stood to one side, on hand until dismissed or sent on a new task. Let him remain. He could see that Hamon left once his time was up.

Hamon followed, though far enough back to make it appear as if he entered of his own volition rather than on Avun's heels. For all that Regis and his children were worn down supporting the Wall, and his retinue was bruised and beaten by Niflheim's army, Hamon appeared remarkably unaffected by the whole ordeal.

He would be tomorrow, if they could not think of a suitable solution before then.

His eyes swept the room, taking in every detail, before landing on Regis.

"Your Majesty," he bowed just low enough to avoid being disrespectful. "Your Highnesses." He inclined his head to Noctis and Reina.

"Master Hamon." Regis motioned that he might speak freely.

"I come bearing counsel, as is my due," Hamon said. "Though we have not convened to discuss the situation in Insomnia, the news is dire, and my duty to the crown remains."

Regis held both his tongue and his thoughts on the subject of Hamon's sense of duty, and waved him onward.

"Unless I am very much mistaken, we face a foe we cannot hope to best with steel," Hamon said. "And so we must turn to other alternatives. To counsel on these requires a certain amount of conjecture on my part, but I trust I shall be corrected if I draw erroneous conclusions." His eyes flicked briefly to Clarus before settling once more on Regis. "The rescue effort in Tenebrae went remarkably smoothly. Indeed, reports make no mention of combat whatsoever. This alone is puzzling. But Niflheim has had sources within Lucis, and Lucis has a long history of friendship with Tenebrae. It is not so far-fetched to imagine that we had allies still remaining in Fenestala, who might enable a rescue mission to flow so smoothly. More far-fetched, but not inconceivable, is the possibility that we instead have allies within Niflheim. Once we brush aside the obvious objections—that surely if we had such a friend, the council would be aware of it—then it seems very clear. An imperial ally would be much more capable of ensuring smooth execution than a Tenebraean one."

He was not far from the truth, and so Regis made no sign to interrupt and correct him. He continued.

"I prefer to give you the benefit of the doubt and suppose that this imperial ally had not been hidden from the council so much as he was only recently discovered. But in the wake of the events in Tenebrae, the true happenings in Fenestala Manor have been concealed. Many possible explanations for this exist. The most likely, I believe, is that His Majesty is not yet assured of this supposed friendship and is reluctant to accept the olive branch. Under normal circumstances, this would be a subject for discussion among the councillors. But not, perhaps if what had been asked for was beyond our power to give." Here his eyes flicked toward Reina, though she stood largely obscured behind Noctis. To her credit, she stood strong and straight beneath his unsettling gaze.

Again, his pause was met with no objections. He dragged his eyes away from Reina with the difficulty of a hungry man looking away from a full table and looked back to Regis.

"Far be it for me to decide what Lucis is worth, Your Majesty," he said. "But as councillor to the crown, I counsel this: make a deal."

When placed in such terms it seemed a blatantly obvious thing to do. Indeed, from Hamon's perspective it must have seemed remarkably unlikely that no one had thought of it before. Then again, perhaps the same could be said of anything Hamon suggested.

And yet, in the twisted mire that was Regis' interactions with Ardyn, he had not even begun to consider offering some deal in exchange for ending this siege. Perhaps because what he truly wanted was much more complicated than anything Hamon could deduce.

"Thank you, Master Hamon," Clarus said. "Your counsel has been heard by the crown. If there is nothing else?"

Hamon studied Regis with unsettling intensity, only pulling his eyes away to deign Clarus with the briefest of glances.

"I think not," Hamon said. "That is all for now."

He turned on his heel and swept from the room, pausing only to allow Avun to open the door for him. Whatever he thought of their encounter, Regis could only surmise. Their lack of denial for each of his conjectures was near enough confirmation. He had small details wrong, and he could go on believing them as long as he liked, but the larger picture he had formulated well. And, much as Regis disliked it, he gave good counsel.

Once Avun had followed Hamon out of the room and shut the door behind them, Reina spoke. "Is he talking about the Burgundy Man, Father?"

"He is, in a way," Regis confirmed. Though it was impossible to know if Hamon had guessed who their supposed ally within the empire was.

"Are you truly friends with the Burgundy Man?"

"The Burgundy Man is a difficult person to be friends with, my dear," Regis said. "As a rule, one must trust one's friends. And I cannot trust the Burgundy Man."

"You can trust him," Reina said. "Just not how you trust Clarus."

A cryptic remark that deserved a deeper explanation.

"I'm hungry," Noctis said.

And would not receive one.

"Run along then," Regis said. "Have your dinner, but do not wander far. Bedtime has not changed simply because we awoke late."

They would need their strength for whatever came next. With any luck, one more sleepless night from Regis would not doom them all. He had little choice but to risk it all the same.

Reina and Noctis left, and all barriers went with them. The stilted atmosphere of the room relaxed as his retinue once more took their seats around the lounge.

"So," Clarus said. "Do we take his advice? Deal with the daemon?"

"What choice have we?" Regis asked. "The twins and I cannot stand against the Magitek cannons for much longer and the Kingsglaive—even aided by you—were unable to turn the tide for us."

"And what have we to offer him?" Clarus asked. "Hamon seems to believe Ardyn is after Reina's magic, though that is not the story he has told you."

"Hamon believes Ardyn is after Reina's magic because he desires Reina's power," Regis said. "We are so often unable to look beyond our own motivations to imagine another's. And it suits his narrative. It would please him, I believe, to see me forced to use Reina as a bargaining chip for Lucis."

If it had come to that, would Regis have done it? He had not been able to for Noctis. Or he had, once. And then the world had changed. Hopefully it would never change again to force Regis' hand on such a choice.