This time when Regis touched back down on the Citadel steps, he managed to keep his balance. It was just as well, given that a series of cameras was still following his every move. Fools. Had they no sense of self preservation? What were they doing still set up on the Citadel drive?
Well. At least the immediate danger had passed for now. He gave them a wave and inside he went, where chaos reigned. The entry hall was packed not only with Citadel staff and guards, but with courtiers and hundreds of people who had doubtless been in the drive only an hour before. Had it truly been an hour? He had no notion of the passage of time, nor any clock to set him straight. It hardly mattered.
"Peace." Regis lifted his hands and his voice.
The echoing of panicked voices subsided to nothing as heads turned in his direction.
"Peace," he repeated more quietly. "The Hydraean has gone. The danger has passed. You may all return to your homes in a calm and orderly fashion."
An optimistic instruction, perhaps, but silence followed his words. Slowly the whispers began to build again as people looked to their neighbors and exchanged thoughts or questions, of which they doubtless all had many.
"King Regis! What's happening to Lucis?" A voice called out of the crowd. "First the Fulgarian, now the Hydraean. The Gods are angered, aren't they?"
Regis smiled bitterly. Questions he could not answer simply, and should not answer casually.
"Eos is changing," he said, for that was all he could offer them. "I intend to insure it changes for the better."
And with that he pressed his way through the crowd: they split easily for him, though hands reached out to brush over his wet cape, as if having touched him somehow made them closer to history. Perhaps it did.
At the back of the hall he found Crea.
"I'm so sorry, Regis. I tried to calm them, but—"
Regis lifted a hand to quiet her. "A panicked crowd is no simple matter to deal with. Now I must see my children. And find someone to send Clarus to me…"
He pulled away, distracted. After a moment she followed.
"Are you alright?" She asked.
"I am tired. And rather damp. But otherwise whole, though the Hydraean's words have stirred further concerns." Had Bahamut awakened multiple Astrals but only warned him of one? Would he, now that Leviathan had failed him?
"I sent Reina and Noctis upstairs," Crea offered. "Though I don't know if they made it there. Everything's been so hectic…"
Indeed. Even now, the halls of the Citadel, usually peaceful and quiet, were in chaos. What few people were about ran hither and thither to whatever end—as if every member of staff in the Citadel had suddenly become a messenger for some cause. And if there was a cause to play messenger to, doubtless Clarus sat in the center of it.
Regis caught a boy in Citadel colors as he ran past.
"Your Majesty!"
"Is Master Amicitia about the Citadel?"
"Yes, Sire."
"You may tell him it is over and I wish to see him upstairs immediately. Tell him to bring the others."
They boy hesitated for a moment, as if uncertain which task to give precedence to. But only a second. Then he bowed sharply, turned on his heel, and ran back the direction he had come.
That was one trouble dealt with. Hopefully.
He ascended to the upper levels in silence with Crea. In the lounge, they were met by not only Reina and Noctis, but all of their friends and the Nox Fleurets as well. Despite the crowd gathered, Regis had eyes only for his children.
He swept forward and gathered them both up in his arms, crushing them against his chest despite Noctis' protests.
"Oh, my dearest ones… I am so sorry…"
Now that the rush of the moment was over, he could see the reality of what he had done. And what he had done was draw strength from his twelve year old children to uphold the Wall and protect the city. Yes, he had told himself in that instant it wasn't for Lucis—that it was for their own good—but did it truly make any difference? He had used them. He had used both of them, as if they were simply extra reservoirs of strength that he could draw on in moments of need.
He was on his knees on the lounge floor while both of them stood in the circle of his arms.
"Leave us," Crea's voice said from behind him. "Please. Everyone, take yourselves downstairs."
A wave of foot traffic passed him by as, one by one, the others dispersed and excused themselves from the main lounge to congregate on the floor below. At last he was alone with his family.
"We're alright, Father," Reina said at length. "It didn't hurt us."
He lifted his eyes and studied them both, one at a time, searching for a lie behind her words. Yet there was nothing to indicate she wasn't telling the truth. They were not currently overflowing with mana, perhaps, but their reserves were not so low as his, and it was nothing a good night's rest would not recover for them.
Yet it did little to soothe his guilty conscience.
He should never have reached out to them in the first place. It mattered little that he had no one else to turn to, save his children. They were children! His children. And by Eos he was meant to protect them, to be the unfaltering figure who stood before them and shielded them from the world, and if he could not do that much…
Then what use was he?
He hugged both of them to his chest and kissed their foreheads. Crea had seated herself on the sofa behind them and watched with a distant, dazed expression on her face. She did not understand what had occurred. He was almost thankful for that. If he had explained it to her, what would she think of him? A weak king and father who drained strength from his children so he could stand.
Never again.
The Wall was broken now, well and truly. And though it had been little more than a facade for weeks, to have it gone entirely was a numbing experience. He had not realized how much weight even the facade placed upon him until the pressure was released.
How much of his power could he recover, now that it was gone? How much of his youth could be reclaimed? The years of his life when he had been spry as a schoolboy were long gone, but at least he need no longer bow beneath the weight of the Wall like a crippled old man.
And yet they had no time to learn precisely how much he might recover, given the opportunity.
The elevator doors slid open. Out came Clarus, Weskham, Cid, and Cor.
"Regis!" Clarus, stepped forward, looking alarmed. "Are you alright?"
In retrospect, sitting on the floor in a puddle of seawater brought in on his own cape was not the single most dignified position to be met in. Cid confirmed as much.
"You look like hell, boy."
He was soaked through to the bone. His hair lay matted against his head. His crown—he lifted a hand to straighten it and touched only hair—was missing. Somewhere in the streets of northern Insomnia, doubtless. All of these things were insignificant in the grand scheme.
"Is it over?" Cor asked.
"I fear it has only just begun," Regis said. "Two Astrals have joined with me. Three yet remain. The longer we wait for the Draconian to make a move, the more danger Lucis will be in. We must act now—wake the Archaean before Bahamut does, and take matters at last into our own hands. We must beat him at his own game."
And Ardyn, while they were at it. For he was at the heart of this all.
"You intend to drive to the Disc of Cauthess and wake the Archaean yourself?" Clarus asked.
"Not alone," Regis conceded, "But yes."
"We'll come with you, Father," Reina said.
"No, my dear. You will both remain here, where you will be safe." With any luck. "Now run along. Go on. Downstairs and rejoin with the others. And you might let the Oracle know I wish to speak with her."
Though Reina fixed him with a reprimanding look for dismissing her from serious discussions in such an offhand way, Noctis jumped at the chance to escape. He thankfully pulled his sister along with him and a moment later he stood in the lounge with only Crea and his retinue. For once, the usual Crownsguards and servants were absent—pulled away by the chaos in the Citadel and throughout the city.
Someone would have to handle that, but he could not spare the time.
"If we're all going, we'll have to take two cars," Cor noted.
Regis looked them over. His faithful retinue. His loyal retainers. Decades had passed since each and every one of them had sworn oaths to the crown and still they were as willing as ever to charge headfirst into danger at his behest. It was a tendency that age should have shaken out of them. But at thirty-five, their youngest member was too staunchly loyal to do anything but charge into danger after him. Even if it was a stupid idea, they would have insisted on coming.
It was a stupid idea. But it was the best one Regis had.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. A moment later, Sylva had joined them in the lounge.
"I need you to awaken the Archaean," Regis said without preamble.
Her eyes widened. "So soon? I had thought—"
"I tire of idling about doing nothing while my people suffer. I will not wait about for the inevitable threat to descend and wreak havoc on my lands, threaten my family. For the moment we stand one step ahead of the Draconian. Let us act now and remain that way."
It was still but one step among too many. But at least it would be a step taken of his own volition.
"The Messenger will accompany the Father King." Gentiana had not—he was all but certain—been standing in the lounge with them a moment before. And yet now she did.
Regis turned to regard her. She stood beside Sylva with a placid, unreadable expression on her face. His first impulse was to deny her. And yet could he truly dictate what a Messenger would or would not do? It irked him to consider, but her words had been a mere statement of what she would do, not a request. He could not stop her if she chose to follow.
"Is that so? And what stakes have you in this encounter?" He asked.
She smiled an enigmatic smile that meant nothing at all. "The Father King doubts my sincerity."
"Merely your motivations," Regis said. "Though it may be the case that two Astrals have allied themselves with me, three have not and one will not. As Messenger, are you not allied with the Astrals by necessity?"
"As Messenger, I am bound to convey the will of the Astrals to mankind. Nothing more. And nothing less."
"Can you swear to me, then, that you will not interfere in my undertaking?"
"As Messenger, I swear not to interfere in the affairs of Astrals and men."
That would have to do. Whether a Messenger could be so bound to her word, he had no notion. Perhaps a promise made to one of mankind meant less than nothing to one so high above. But he was unlikely to receive any better assurance than that.
He turned toward the elevator, discussion over.
"Regis."
He was halted by Crea's voice and turned to find her more or less where he had left her, standing beside the sofa.
"I'll meet you at the car," Regis said to Clarus. While the others went on ahead, he retraced his steps. Yet even when they had disappeared and left Regis and Crea standing alone in the lounge, he could think of no words to say.
She laughed, though tears built in her eyes. "It's stupid, but when I agreed to marry you I didn't think I'd have to stay behind and watch you march off to face down gods."
He reached out to cup her cheek, brushing away the first tear that fell. "Crea, my heart… you know I cannot take you with me."
"I know. I'd only be in the way."
"And I need you here. I leave behind a city in a state of uncertainty and panic. The council may be well capable of cleaning up this mess, but the people will need a face to look to. You are that face, Crea."
She shook her head, which forced more tears from her eyes. "I couldn't even calm a single room full of people. How could I manage a city of them?"
He took her face in both hands, rubbing her tears dry. "The same way you convince frightened children to mind you. With a will. Act as if they should listen to you and you will find that they do."
He took what opportunity he had and kissed her while she stood in the circle of his arms. She leaned against him and the taste of her tears met his lips. Would that he could spare more than this minute for her.
But his time was up. He pulled away, sparing one last searching glance for her features and stepping back from her. Though she stepped forward, trailing his steps to the elevator doors, she did not cross the threshold.
"Stand firm, Crea. For me," he said. "I love you."
