27.

"So Malos, what d'you think? It remind you of Elysium?"

Malos stepped back from the window of the common room of the Praetor's guest apartments, where he was looking down at the moonlight glimmering softly off the rooftops of the city below. The apartments were spacious, carved of soft white stone, with a common room to which all individual rooms were connected in a ring – enough of them that two still lay empty, even with everyone claiming their own room – except for Zeke and Pandy, who in addition to still accompanying them, shared a bedroom. Unlike Mor Ardain, however, men's and women's quarters were not separated. Nia and Dromarch were currently lounging on one of the common room's large, luxurious couches. Morag had changed out of her Ardainian officer's uniform, at Brighid's urging, wearing instead a white collared shirt and a pair of flaring black slacks, her hair down, reaching to her mid-back. She had been quiet, since her encounter with the refugee, and stood currently examining one of the paintings decorating the wall of the apartment, while Brighid lingered near her and murmured quiet words to her. Tora and Zeke took up two chairs around a small table, Zeke puzzling over a game board between the two of them while Tora chewed lazily on a fruit-filled pastry, while Poppi, looking almost bored, was playing with Pandy's tail while she wasn't looking, poking at the lightbulb at the end of it, raising a curious eyebrow when it lit up as she sent a small shock of electricity into it from the end of her finger.

"No," Malos replied dryly. "I mean, you saw Elysium in my mind, Rex. It was a lot more green than this. I think this is what he wants Elysium to be, not what it actually is." He shrugged. "Or….who knows. Maybe he saw a part of Elysium even I didn't know about."

"Still, you gotta admit it's impressive." Rex was perched on one of the counters separating a small kitchen area, swinging his legs idly. His eyes shone with something like admiration. "Amalthus...he climbs the World Tree all on his own, he's the Driver of an Aegis, afterwards he builds this city, he helps all those people…I dunno. Gotta be one hell of a man to do all that, I think."

"I don't know that he's someone you want to be admiring," Malos replied. Then he glanced back out the window, looking over the city once more. "Though...it is strange to think that he carried me back down all the way from the top of the World Tree all alone. Well, at least this." He reached up with one gauntleted claw to tap the dark purple crystal in his chest. "Not that I was...awake at the time."

"Why do you say that?"

Malos glanced up. Morag was looking at him from across the room, dark circles beneath her eyes. "He was...around, during the Aegis war, wasn't he? Do you...remember anything about him from that time?"

Malos was quiet for a moment, then shrugged. "Not really. Like I said, I wasn't awake when he carried me down from the World Tree, and I never met him in person, only saw him from a distance. Addam was the one who talked with him. But...well...back then, there was this Titan-nation called Coeia. Indol and Coeia had...a long history of warfare between the two of them. And Amalthus, he wasn't even Praetor at the time, one day comes to Coeia, at a time when the two of them aren't even at war. And the next day, Coeia is sunk, blown to hell, beneath the Cloud Sea. He said that Mythra escaped his control, and blew it up herself...and, well...he did give me to Addam, later, to stop her. But that was what kicked off the Aegis War. And I always wondered if he had ordered Mythra to blow up Coeia. If he had given her her first taste of destruction."

Morag raised a puzzled eyebrow at this. "I...that's not how our history books tell it. I had always learned that Coeia had initiated conflict several months before Amalthus had went there with the Aegis..."

Malos snorted. "Yeah. I noticed. I mean...I wasn't awake for the beginning of the war either. But that version of events seemed to be pretty common knowledge at the time. Hey, it could have been wrong. But on the other hand, it's hard to keep track of who has their fingers in your history books over the course of five hundred years."

"I don't get it though," Nia spoke up, yawning a bit as she lounged back against Dromarch's soft fur. "If Amalthus was the one who bought Mythra down, who kicked off the whole Aegis War, weren't there a bunch of people after his head? Seems so odd that he caused all that trouble, and even after all that, he ended up becoming Praetor."

"He is notoriously charismatic and a legendary negotiator," Morag mused. "But I always wondered how he pulled that one off, myself."

Malos shrugged yet again. "You're asking me things that I don't know much about. Who knows how Indoline politics works? And he caused a problem, but also offered a solution, by giving me to Addam. But yeah, there were people who wanted him dead. Not as many as you might think, though." He gave a sharp smile. "You want to know my personal theory? It was fear. Sure, he said Mythra was out of his control, and sure, he did his part to stop her. But he was still her Driver. Maybe people thought if they went after him, he'd still be able to order Mythra to evaporate them."

"What about you, Zeke, Pandy? I mean….you work for the guy. I'm a little nervous about meeting him." Rex grinned sheepishly as he leapt down from the counter. "I'm a salvager, I'm not all that used to meeting royalty."

"You didn't seem so bashful meeting my brother." Morag crossed her arms, a faint smile lighting up her face.

Rex waved a finger at her. "You sprang that one on us, remember? I hardly had time to be nervous. Although I guess...you're technically royalty."

"So's Zeke."

"And I'm technically nobility," Nia teased.

"Hold on a second," Rex said, consternation suddenly crossing his face. "Tora, are you and I the only ones here who aren't bluebloods? Oh, don't tell me you're some nopon prince too."

Tora waved one of his wings idly as he leaned forward to make a move on the board between him and Zeke, causing Zeke to frown in thought. "Rex not be silly. Nopon not have royalty. What crude governmental system. Actually pay your own money for other people to have palaces? Nonsense. Royalty useless, useless. Ah, present company excluded, of course," he said, offering a nervous fanged grin to Morag and Zeke.

"Yeah! Let's hear it for the working man," Rex grinned, putting his hands to his hips. "So Zeke, what do you say? What do you think of Amalthus?"

Zeke shifted, reaching out with one well-muscled arm to make a move on the board. Then he sat back in his chair, sighing, and looked down, lost in thought for a moment. "He's….a very depressed man, I think," he said after a moment, not looking up. "Don't get me wrong, I….let's just say, I owe him a big one. But...who knows. Maybe it's just the consequence of living through all he's lived through. All the centuries of war, watching Titans disappear...but it's like he doesn't see the good things that happen. Or any of the good in people." Finally he looked up, shrugging, with a small grin. "You'll see soon enough, chum."

Slowly, as the night wore on, more and more of the party retired to their rooms. Nia yawned again, settling her shoulders into the rumbling purr and warmth of Dromarch's side, listening to the dwindling buzz of conversation as she closed her eyes, just shutting them for a moment-

It was hours later that she woke, sunk deep into Dromarch's thick coat. She grumbled to herself as she sat up, yawning, and then stretched until she shook. She hadn't meant to fall asleep on the couch. Or in her jumpsuit. With her boots still on.

Standing up, she glanced around the common room. Perhaps it was part of the strange calm of the Praetorium, but the quiet of it all seemed almost eerie, with the moonlight streaming in through the window and washing everything in a pale glow. The window-

Nia tsked irritably to herself. There by the window, slumped over a ledge, almost falling off a stool he had pulled up to it, was Rex.

Annoyed as she was when she approached him, she couldn't help but smile a bit to herself. She had been worried that what had happened in Leftheria might make things awkward between them. But Rex...had a way of making the things that she worried about seem like not such a big deal after all. She observed his snoring, peaceful face for a moment, smiling softly to herself. Then she reached out and gave him a sharp poke in the side.

"Ow! Wh-who's there? I'm up!" Rex said, sitting bolt upright, his eyes snapping open.

"You sleep like that, you're gonna get a crick in your back," Nia scolded gently. "You should go to your bed."

"Ah...what? Ah, I wasn't sleeping. Just resting my eyes." Rex yawned, stretching. "That's all."

"Resting his eyes, he says. You normally snore when you're just resting your eyes?"

Rex grinned sheepishly in response. "Ah. You got me."

"C'mon. You really think the Praetorium's so pretty you fall asleep watching it? Get your arse to bed."

"I wasn't looking at the city, really. Though it is very pretty. I was…" Rex's eyes drifted back out the window. "Oh look, they're still there."

Nia followed Rex's gaze, out over the softly glowing rooftops of the city spreading out below them. From here, they had a clear view of the plaza where the refugee tent city had settled, a few small campfires staining the white stone of the plaza with soot. There, by the light of the moon, clearly visible, were the white-robed figures of Indoline priests, moving among the refugees. They carried steaming pots, ladling out some sort of stew into bowls clutched in the hands of the tormented and broken.

"They must have been at it for hours now," Rex murmured quietly. "I saw them, walking out of their temples. Visiting all the restaurants. Gathering up as much food as they could. And then going to hand it out to all the refugees." He gave a small smile, but there was a touch of sadness to it, a darkness haunting his eyes. "I have to say…if I could do even half as much good as Amalthus is doing here, I think I could die happy."

"What," Nia responded softly. "Is funding an orphanage not enough for you?"

"Oh, that's different. They raised me, I owe them, after all. It's just...I keep thinking, Amalthus is a Driver of the Aegis, and look at all he's managed to do. And so am I, but what have I done…? Not much, it seems. I haven't even been able to properly fight with Malos yet. People...keep on getting hurt. The bad guys keep on winning." Rex closed his eyes, remembering Vandham's defiant last stand against Mythra, remembering the light of madness in the eyes of the Brionac officers once they had Niall where they wanted him.

Suddenly, Nia's hand wormed its way into his. He glanced at her, her eyes reflecting the light of the moon as she looked down at him. "Rex," she said softly, "None of that is your fault, you stubborn dunce."

He laughed. "Yeah. Sure. I know that. It's not my fault the world's got so much wrong with it. But...isn't it my responsibility to fix it? I'm the Driver of the Aegis, right? Even if I can't do it all alone, I...I owe it to people to do something with that. Don't I? But I never seem to be able to." His gaze drifted back out towards the refugees. "How many more of those people are there going to be, because I couldn't..."

"Rex, did you think you were going to be able to walk into Mor Ardain and stop them doing what they've done for generations, now? That isn't your damn responsi-" Nia sighed, and shook her head, as Rex shot her a pained glance, doing her best to quell her rising ire. It was seeing him take all the weight of this onto himself that was so infuriating. "...besides. You have helped people. In Fonsa Myma, you helped rescue Iona. In Mor Ardain, you rescued Tora, and his da', and Niall. I mean sure, Amalthus helps all those refugees, but he's had five centuries to build up to that, yeah? And….and you've helped me."

Rex looked at her with surprise. "Me? Help you? You're the one who's always healing me. You're the one who's helped me."

"They aren't mutually exclusive or anything," Nia snapped, her cheeks burning. "Of course you've helped me. Use your head. If it weren't for you, I'd be with Torna with...whatever destructive insanity they're on about. But it's not just that, you know. You've been the only real...friend I've had, besides Dromarch, in a long time...and...I'm just happier, traveling with you."

Rex stared at her for a moment, thoughtful, as if contemplating her words. Then he threw his hands up in frustration. "Alright, look, is this about the kiss?"

"Huh?" Nia could suddenly feel her blush in the tips of her ears.

"Because...I know we have kinda been avoiding the subject. But...I admit I am a bit confused. I asked Zeke about it, and he told me I have to look for all sorts of 'signals' and whatnot from you, but that seems like all sorts of….well frankly, tiresome bullshit, you know? But now I wonder if you're sending signals, or you feel like you need to, and...I dunno, I like being able to just talk to you and all without having to wonder about all that, and..."

Suddenly, Nia laughed. There had been a sort of tension between them, though Rex, as always, had been good at playing it down. But with this outburst of confused sincerity, awkward as it was, she felt the rest of the tension draining away. It warmed her heart to know Rex would always be open about this sort of thing. "No, no, signals...it's all tiresome bullshit to me too. Look...I mean, I'm...sorry about the kiss and all that..."

Rex held up his hands. "Whoa now. Don't get the wrong idea, the kiss was great and all. You're a good kisser. I'm just-"

"You aren't so bad yourself. Ah...I mean...I'm sorry for any...I mean it's only reasonable that you're confused." She laughed lightly. "I….look, we can talk about it at some point, just...trust me, alright? I'm not gonna try to give you signals or anything, we can talk about it without all that nonsense. I..." Rex squeezed her hand, and Nia cursed herself in her head. Truth be told, she would like to kiss him again right now. But she couldn't be certain that she wouldn't find herself unwittingly forming an ether bond with him, raising all sorts of questions. "I promise. You don't need to go listening to that shellhead Zeke."

"Alright, alright. I trust you." Rex smiled at her, and Nia suddenly felt shame stabbing through her heart. All that trust, and he didn't know she was a flesh eater. That was the truth of it, right there. She could trust him, but he couldn't trust her. "Shellhead though. That's a bit of an odd one."

"It's….you know, because of his pet turtle." When Rex raised an eyebrow at her, she continued. "You...you know. Turters. The turtle he and Pandy carry around."

Rex shrugged, then got up from his seat by the window, stretching. "I suppose I should try to get some proper sleep before tomorrow."

"Rex, please tell me you've seen Turters. I...I can't be the only one who knows about this."

But Rex was yawning, waving his arms. "G'night, Nia."

Nia watched him go stumbling sleepily off to his room. Her hand went to her flesh eater core, concealed beneath her suit, clutching at it tightly, as all the things she might say to him raced through her head. "One day," she murmured to herself. "One day."

28.

It was closer to noon than they expected when Fan la Norne came to gather them up to meet Amalthus. "He had planned on meeting you this morning," she explained apologetically. "But he had to shuffle around his schedule to see off some...visiting dignitaries that decided to leave suddenly." Zeke and Pandy saw them off, waving them goodbye. They were not to accompany them – Amalthus did just want to meet the Driver and his party, after all – and Malos muttered under his breath that they were probably looking forward to having the apartments to themselves.

The apartments were part of a series of buildings ringing a humongous, broad plaza, decorated with fountains and pillars of smooth white stone, leading to the Praetor's sanctum, which towered over it, casting a broad shadow. The plaza was bustling with much more activity than they had seen in it last night, much more, in fact, than much of the rest of the city. Indoline priests walked calmly among crowds of petitioners from every nation, all of them come to plead the Praetorium for help, whether it be healing, protection, or food.

It was a slow journey across the plaza. People would often cry out to Fan la Norne when they saw her, and she would stop every time, offering soothing words of comfort to people who had lost their homes, children who had lost their parents, or worse, parents who had lost their children. Just her serene presence seemed to soothe people, the suffering who clutched at her robes. Although, Malos noted, it did take its toll on her. She kept her face serene, comforting most of the time. But after the lost children, after the bereaved parents left her, sometimes, she trembled, leaning heavily on her staff.

But finally they found themselves climbing the humongous staircase of marble leading up to the entrance to the Sanctum. They passed inside, to be greeted by a long corridor of white stone, ceilings that nearly disappeared from view, and almost perfect silence. Although the stone hallway was not purely white. In addition to being lined with pillars and carvings of various Titans, the walls were decorated with a series of humongous murals, painted with such exquisite passion that it almost took your breath away to look at them.

The murals presented a sort of story, as they passed before them. All of humanity, living in peace, in a land of beauty so rich it made Rex's heart ache. Elysium. And then to be cast out of the top of th World Tree, into Alrest, a world of suffering and war, to lose everything they had and then to keep losing it, to fall further and further from grace even long after they had been banished from the World Tree. To walk those halls and see those paintings was to feel a mounting sense of loss and despair. To know that whatever humanity may once have been, it could never be again. It was, Rex realized with a start, an odd set of paintings for a man who had himself climbed back up the World Tree.

Finally the hallway opened up into a wide throne room, bathed in the light of many stained glass windows. In the center of the throne room lay a massive circular wooden table, polished to a gleam, laid out with an extensive feast that immediately made Rex's mouth water, steaming cooked meats and vegetables, and a panacaea of fruit.

And at the head of the table, sitting in a golden throne, was Amalthus.

As the Praetor rose, Rex was immediately struck by the sheer presence of the man. He was tall, lithe, even for an Indoline, his skin a soft blue, shining with scales along the sides of his face, in long flowing white, black and gold robes, atop his head a large hat that served as a crown, ringed around with what appeared to be two draconic horns. A large black color bloomed around his head, framing what seemed to be a face very youthful for all his advanced age – Rex did not know how Indoline lifespans worked, but he would have never guessed Amalthus was beyond middle-aged.

But beyond all that, there was simply...something about him. Like you could feel history itself folding around him as he moved. And his gaze made the steely glares of Malos and Vandham feel like a gentle caress. There was not a sharpness to it. But when his eyes settled upon you, it felt as if you were being pressed beneath a mountain. Rex suddenly found it much more believable that this man, of all men, climbed the World Tree alone.

"I apologize for the rudeness in delaying our meeting," Amalthus said, his voice calm, smooth, and suddenly Morag was on high alert. She had not failed to notice his presence either, and now his voice...there was a sheer magnetism to Amalthus, a charisma that was almost primal in its intensity. The Praetor's voice was one to be listened to and obeyed. She had watched in dismay as men of much lesser charisma had seduced her nation into madness and war. She understood, almost immediately, why her parents had said Amalthus was so dangerous. "I assume Fan la Norne informed you of the difficulties this morning." His hand swept out over the feast laid out before them. "I hope you're hungry. This was a lunch meant to feed many more people, but I'm afraid they're gone now."

"Who was it, exactly," Brighid asked curiously, as they all pulled up chairs to the table, and Amalthus settled back into his throne, "Who had left this morning?"

The Praetor's gaze shifted to her and Morag, considering them, weighing them for a moment that seemed like an eternity. "The last of the Urayan diplomats, I'm afraid," he said softly. "I had been trying to convene a World Congress to...do what I could to set Mor Ardain off its path. But there's nothing more to be done. They left to be with their families."

His words suddenly hammered home reality for Morag. She had held out hope in some recess of her heart that some miracle might work itself, that the Ardainian invasion of Uraya might be avoided somehow. But...it was here that the last hope of a miracle might have presented itself. If Amalthus, of all people, said that there was nothing to be done, then that truly was it. The invasion would, without a doubt, happen. The hunger in her suddenly shriveled up and died.

Amalthus was still considering them, thoughtfully. "I have," he continued, quiet, yet his voice somehow carrying across the entire table, "Sent a contingent to Uraya."

Morag looked up in sudden alarm. "I...Praetor, are you taking sides? Are...are you going to war against Mor Ardain?" She would say that Mor Ardain was stronger, militarily, than Indol. But her mind raced over her history lessons. Lessons that had noted, sharply, that whenever the Praetor committed forces, his enemies had been destroyed. Utterly.

Amalthus let the question hang in the air for quite some time. "No," he said, finally. "My forces there are for the protection and evacuation of the civilian population. Though they will protect themselves if attacked. I would not threaten you over my dinner table, Morag. I have had extensive communications with your brother. I know he did not want this war. I know the Senate forced his hand in the initiation, and I know Brionac resorted to a coup to escalate it to a full invasion. Were Mor Ardain a lesser nation, I would have offered him my forces to restore his authority and prevent the war, however, so dire do I think the circumstances. But she is not, is she. Even I could not stand against Mor Ardain now."

His gaze swept over the table, lingering upon each of them in turn. Tora quailed beneath his stare, murmuring to himself, and even Poppi seemed unsettled. Nia tried to meet his gaze, but looked away after a moment, pretending to be suddenly interested in a plate of fish before her. Even so, she could feel that stare, piercing her to her very bones. Malos was the only one unperturbed as Amalthus considered him, his eyes settling upon the core crystal in his chest. Finally, he settled upon Rex. It took everything Rex had to meet that weighing gaze with a smile.

"So, you are the new Driver of the Aegis," Amalthus murmured. "After long centuries, it's good to have some new company."

"It's, ah, good to meet you as well. Y-your eminence," Rex replied, fumbling over his words in his nervousness.

"No need for formalities." Amalthus waved an dismissive hand, as if discarding with the concept of his title. "Monarch of Indol I may be, but I have always considered myself as merely a representative. Besides, you and I are the same, aren't we? Both Drivers of an Aegis. I consider us both equals."

Rex grinned, relaxing a bit, his face still burning despite this. "I guess so. When you put it that way."

The Praetor shifted his eyes back to Malos. "And Malos. You look a bit different than when I last saw you. I never did manage to get the chance to thank you for your efforts against Mythra, the first time around. Where you disappeared to was always a mystery to me. Though it is far too late, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Personally. You saved many others, but for me, you helped undo the worst of my sins."

"Not quite, right?" Malos replied, his face impassive. "Mythra is still around, isn't she?"

"To my shame, yes," Amalthus replied. "I have been attempting her capture since I learned that she was not destroyed. But the band of Flesh Eaters, Torna, that she has joined up with, makes this...exceedingly difficult."

Nia felt her legs turn to jelly at the mention of 'Torna' and 'Flesh Eaters' in Amalthus' mouth.

"Odd name for them to choose, don't you think?"

The Praetor nodded. "Perverse, really. But this is no talk for a meal. Please, enjoy yourselves. I would like to meet you in my office, privately, afterward, where we can talk more."

The meal was eaten mostly in silence, all of them cowed by the Praetor's presence. Amalthus himself didn't eat, despite Fan la Norne worriedly placing a plate in front of him and urging him to quietly, appearing lost in thought. He would occasionally look upward, asking a question, asking Tora how he had designed an artificial blade all on his own, asking Morag whether she planned to return to the Empire for the war. For Nia, mercifully, he had no questions, but she was aware of his gaze settling on her, from time to time, and she dreaded when those questions may come.

Finally, the meal finished, everyone full, Amalthus motioned to some servants in the corner of the throne room with long, thin fingers topped with sharp obsidian nails. They moved forward smoothly to collect the dishes as Amalthus rose with fluid grace. "The rest of you are welcome to dessert, or if you would like, to explore the Sanctum. Fan la Norne can show you to the Eastern wing, which serves as an art and historical museum to the public, if you would like. But Rex, Malos, if you would, please join me in my office."

Malos and Rex followed Amalthus down a long corridor, careful not to step on the train of his flowing robes as he moved forward. The office he led them to was gigantic, as Rex was beginning to suspect everything in the Sanctum was. A servant greeted them at the doorway, offering to fetch them tea, but Amalthus merely said he would like some privacy with his new guests, and the servant bobbed his head and glided smoothly away.

The Praetor sat behind a huge, carved desk, motioning them to take up a pair of seats in front of it. He sat, considering them, for a moment.

He was about to speak, when Rex actually broke the silence. "Oh!" he cried, smacking his forehead. "I almost forgot. How stupid of me. I was supposed to give you something." He reached into the small backpack he had strapped across his back, rummaging around in it for a moment, before removing an ornate gunblade. He placed this on the Praetor's desk with a somewhat clumsy clatter.

Amalthus looked down at the weapon for a moment, surprised. He picked it up, feeling its weight in his hand. "Well now," he said at last. "It has been a long time since I've seen this. A very, very long time. The weapon of my old blade. Well, at least before Mythra." He suddenly twirled the gunblade expertly in his hand, and gave Rex a sharp smile, the first they had seen from him. "Still got it."

"We met Minoth in Fonsa Myma. He said you could help us."

"That will depend greatly," Amalthus replied, sliding open a drawer in his desk to tuck the gunblade away, "On what it is that you want help with. Though fate is funny, isn't it. I invite you here, and you were also seeking me. We can discuss whatever aid you require, but first I would like to ask you some questions."

What Amalthus wanted to know, it turned out, was where exactly Malos had been found, their encounters with Torna, their encounters with Mythra, what they had experienced in Mor Ardain. Rex ended up recounting almost everything that had happened to them since he awoke Malos, though he concealed that Nia had been a member of Torna. He was worried that might leave holes in his story, but Amalthus hardly seemed focused on that. He asked the most quesitons about Torna and Mythra, particularly about Pyra's transformation into Mythra.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of talking – during which Amalthus had admitted a servant so Rex could get some tea to wet his throat – the tale came to an end. The Praetor leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, as Rex fell silent. "Quite the journey," he said quietly. "And so it is my help in getting to the World Tree that you are after."

Malos, who had remained mostly silent throughout the telling, spoke up suddenly. "Actually, before we talk about that, I have some questions for you."

"Certainly. It seems only fair."

Malos crossed his arms, quiet for a moment. And then suddenly: "Did you order Mythra to blow up Coeia?"

Amalthus' gaze slowly swiveled from the ceiling to level itself once more on Malos and Rex. Impossibly, it had grown even more weighty, even more intimidating. "Ah, yes," he murmured quietly. "I do remember that rumor, all those years ago."

"So did you?"

Amalthus looked down at his desk, gathering himself, before he looked up and began to speak. "I….would like you to understand some context. Coeia and Indol had been at war for….many years, before the latest iteration of the Aegis War. Brutal warfare. I suffered one of their invasions in my youth. It was during one of these Coeian invasions that I, as a very young child, lost my mother."

"I...I'm so sorry," Rex said quietly.

"They got what they deserved," Amalthus replied, his voice leaving it clear that what they got was probably best left unsaid. "But because of this, I was….extremely angry, in my youth. Particularly at Coeia. And it is, indeed, the reason why, the first thing I did after awakening Mythra was head to Coeia, and order her to annihilate Coeia's forces. It was shortly after this that Mythra left me to begin her rampage. I did not explicitly order her to sink Coeia. But there was very much a part of me that would have liked her to. Perhaps the greater part of me. And I have always wondered whether she felt that through our bond, and that was what set her on her path of destruction. So while I never explicitly ordered her to, I blamed myself as if I had." Amalthus looked upwards at Malos once more. "Is this answer to your satisfaction?"

Malos considered the Praetor. He got to his feet, pacing back and forth for a moment. "What," he said finally, "Happened to Haze?"

"You mean Fan la Norne."

"Her name's Haze," Malos replied, "Or at least it was. What was it that happened to her…? Why is she the Goddess of Indol now? What happened to her core?"

Amalthus remained silent, gesturing for Malos to sit, and not speaking until the Aegis did so. He got up from behind his desk, going to the door, and telling the servant there to please leave them in complete privacy. "What I tell you now," Amalthus began, as he sat down behind the desk once more, "Is one of Indol's darker secrets. As you may remember, I was not Praetor during the Aegis War. My predecessor, Praetor Rhadallis, was. After your final battle with Mythra, and the destruction of Torna, there was a group of Tornan refugees fleeing from the sinking Titan. Rhadallis thought you and Addam were among them, and sought to recapture you for the Praetorium. Well, you were not, but some of your companions – Jin, Lora, Haze….they were. Rhadallis was cruel. His forces slaughtered the refugees to a soul. From information obtained after the battle, I was able to gather that Lora was killed, though before she died, Jin was able to become a Flesh Eater and escape. Haze was the only core they managed to capture, though damaged. I was Quaestor at the time, and when I discovered Indol's forces had been used to kill not just the innocent, but those who had saved us from Mythra, I was...furious at Rhadallis."

Amalthus fell silent. "What did you do?" Rex asked, finally, his voice hushed.

"I killed him," Amalthus said simply. His voice betrayed no emotion, no hatred, it was a simple statement of fact. "It was how I became Praetor. I had Rhadallis poisoned for his transgressions, and assumed the throne."

Rex, and even Malos, sat in shocked silence. "Are you saying you're an usurper?" Rex finally forced out, his voice strangled.

"Yes." Amalthus lifted his gaze to meet theirs. "And I do not regret it, or even think it was wrong. What Rhadallis did was monstrous. To let him go unpunished for his crimes, to let him hold on to power, to let him continue to use Indol as a force for wickedness, that would have been a crime in itself. So yes. I killed him and took the throne, and it was one of the proudest moments of my life. Judge me if you like, I will not apologize. Of all the things I have done in my long life, that is the one I am most certain was the correct choice."

"And...Haze?" Malos pushed.

Amalthus sighed. "You are aware, through Minoth, of the existence of Flesh Eaters. Blades who can become independent of Drivers, and sometimes gain extraordinary abilities, through the consumption of human flesh, or the integration of human flesh into their form through less barbaric means. A technology Indol was well aware of at the time. One of the less well-known effects is that this can have great restorative effects on blades who have had their cores damaged, though it will degrade their stability in the long term. Well, there is a reverse process, where part of a blade's core can be integrated into a human. This can have great restorative effects on both blade and human. We call them Blade Eaters. Unimaginative name, I know. This technology was new to Indol, at the time of the Aegis War, and poorly understood. But we had no idea how long Haze's core, damaged as it was, might last. And it seemed to me a very poor reward for one of the saviors of Alrest to crumble to nothing, stabbed in the back by those she thought allies. So..."

Amalthus reached up, and lifted the crown from his head. There in the center of his forehead was the other half of Haze's core crystal, though it flickered with no inner life. It was dark and dead.

"I personally assumed the risk of the operation. As I said, poorly understood at the time. If it had been completely successful, Haze should have awoken fully functioning, and both the half of her core still within her and the half within me should have lived," Amalthus continued. "But as it was, she awoke with no idea of her identity, afraid, broken, tormented, and the half within me has never shown any sign of life. Though, for all that, she did live. I gave her a new title, and a place of honor, within Indol. It seemed the least that she deserved."

"But why invent a new identity for her?" Malos asked quietly. "Why….rewrite the history books about Coeia? Why hide all this?"

"I had considered," Amalthus replied, placing his hat back upon his head, "Being open and honest with Indol's crimes. With Haze, with the world. But I realized it would do very little good, in the end. What was I to tell Haze? When she was already broken, lost, terrified? That she was here among the murderers of her beloved Driver, shackled irrevocably to their leader? And what would informing the world of Rhadallis' crimes do? Squander the considerable power and influence of the Praetorium, when I had already given the world all the justice it could hope for from the former Praetor, and set about reforming it. More good could be done, more of the living helped, I realized, if I let Rhadallis rot forgotten in the graveyard of history. I wanted to tell people – dearly so. Nothing would have satisfied me more than to see his memory appropriately stained black in history's pages. But in the end, I bit my tongue. To this very day, I still argue with myself over whether that was the right thing to do. But it is what was done."

Malos stared at Amalthus, as the Praetor regarded him coolly. Nothing about him broke his stoicism, nothing about him was anything less than the height of regal command. But something gnawed at Malos. Something….just seemed off. "Why tell us all of this?"

Amalthus gave a shrug, shifting beneath his heavy robes. "Why not? I do consider Rex and I equals, and you deserve to know the truth of what happened to your companions from the Aegis War. I do not fear you telling anyone. Any who might have held loyalty to Rhadallis and want to avenge him are centuries dead. So long has my rule been that even were the high priests to find out I did usurp the throne all that time ago, I doubt they would care. That's the thing about a long life. You watch all the old passions, all the things that seemed to matter so much at the time, fade into dust."

"I have a question, if you don't mind," Rex spoke up. "I want to know, what….what made you climb the World Tree? And what was it like?"

Amalthus seemed to look inward on himself. And suddenly, a despair flashed across his face that seemed shockingly familiar. A despair, Rex realized, that he had seen on the face of Mythra. "What pushed me over the edge," the Praetor said, almost as if to himself, "What set me on my course with utter determination...was...the darkest moment of my life. I...will not speak of it. Only to say that it made me wonder what this world was. Made me wonder what kind of creator would build it. Would build a place where such darkness was possible. But even before that moment pushed me over the edge, I had wondered. You said you were a salvager, Rex. I was actually a salvager in my youth for a time, as well."

Rex's eyes lit up, despite the apparent change in subject. "Ah, really? How was salvaging five centuries ago? What's the coolest thing you ever dug up?"

"It was considerably more difficult than it is now. I understand many methods have been refined and technologies perfected. It astounds me that what you wear now is actually your salvager suit. Mine weighed nearly twice as much as I do. As for the, ah, coolest thing I ever salvaged..." Amalthus reached into one of his desk drawers, fishing out what looked to be a small globe of smooth, dark stone. Rex leaned forward, eyes sparkling with curiousity and excitement, and Malos was suddenly struck by how much the Praetor and Rex looked like each other, in that moment. Amalthus' eyes suddenly flared with intensity and excitement as well, a sincere appreciation and curiousity for the relics of the old world, a small smile twitching at the corner of the Praetor's mouth, the sadness that was so well-worn into his face that you only realized it was there when it was gone suddenly draining away. It was like glimpsing at the man Amalthus may have been had the world not been as it was. "Watch this," the Praetor said, voice hushed, and his fingers traced a familiar pattern over the sphere. Suddenly it lifted into the air under its own power, floating a few feet above his desk. Inner light gleamed within the sphere, and suddenly projected outward, and there, suddenly, hanging in the air, slowly rotating, etched in radiant blue and green light, was an image of a globe. But nothing like Alrest. There was no Cloud Sea, no World Tree, no Titans. Vast stretches of blue ocean, detailed enough that you could see the white foam of waves cresting and traveling across them, great, humongous stretches of land, mountains and forests, and here and there, gridlike patterns of lights etched into the globe's surface, pulsing – cities.

Rex stared at this in awe, sharing a happy grin with Amalthus. And then the globe flickered in the air, winked out of existence, and the smooth black sphere dropped back down to the Praetor's desk with a dull thud. "Ah," said Amalthus. "It did used to hold that for much longer. I suppose whatever power source it uses must be dying."

"That's amazing, though," Rex said, almost on the edge of his seat. "Is that...was that Alrest?"

Amalthus quietly slipped the sphere back into his desk. "I have no way of knowing, unfortunately. Whatever it was, the currents of the Cloud Sea had carried it far from any clues about its origin, or what it was meant to depict, when I had found it. But that was what I always thought, myself. It was Alrest, as it was ages ago. And though I may have sold it for a small fortune, money I could have dearly used when I was young, I always kept it." Amalthus raised his eyes to meet Rex's. "You told me Malos wants to go to the top of the World Tree to talk to his Father. Why do you want to go there, Rex?"

It was Rex's turn to be quiet for a moment. "Because," he began uncertainly, "Because the world is dying. The Titans are disappearing. Because we...we need something better. We need a place where everyone can live in peace. We need Elysium. It can't keep going like this, with everyone killing each other, it...it can't, there has to be something better. There has to be more than this. Doesn't there?" There was a note of desperation that had entered his voice. "Please, there has to be something better." He looked up at Amalthus, eyes large and shining. Something, Malos realized, was straining within Rex. Straining under the weight of all he had seen. "Please."

Amalthus regarded Rex, then nodded slowly. "Long ago," he said quietly, "Too long ago...I thought as you did. It was why I climbed the World Tree. Though I found neither Elysium, nor the Architect there. I believe it was because I was….unworthy." The Praetor gestured around himself, at the large carved walls, glowing with light. "I tried to make this city capture what I thought Elysium might have been, from what I did see within the World Tree. So much that I...did not understand. Rex, I understand your desire all too well. I will gladly help you."

"You will?" Rex exclaimed, sounding relieved. "Oh, thank you so much!"

"No need for thanks," Amalthus mused. "Perhaps this is my destiny. I always thought that one day, I would have to return to the World Tree, somehow, someway, to save Alrest myself. A form of arrogance, perhaps. Maybe my real destiny is to learn that, for all that I have done, for all that I am considered a legend, my true role is simply to play a part in your story." The Praetor leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. "Now, there are two obstacles to the World Tree. You have seen the first. Artifice Ophion."

"Yeah, I really thought I had destroyed him as well," Malos said. "Really going 0 for 2 there."

"Ophion was a weapon wielded by Mythra, during the Aegis War," Amalthus elaborated. "Malos, here, summoned a great host of smaller artifices to destroy it."

"Wait, you can do that?" Rex turned to Malos, a frown on his face. "That really would have come in handy, you know."

"It's...different now," Malos explained. "Back during the Aegis War, I had access...a connection...to the World Tree, and many of the...creations of Father. The connection is severed, now, somehow."

"Which brings us to the second obstacle," Amalthus replied. "Sometime during Mythra's rampage, I returned to the World Tree. I sought to climb it again, to not stop until I found the Architect, to petition him to stop her. But where before the World Tree had been open, now I found it shielded by barriers of light and darkness. It is my belief that it will take both you and Mythra to unlock the path to the Architect."

"So that's why she dredged me up," Malos said, frowning. "But that means..." he growled, suddenly, frustrated. "How the hell are we going to manage that?"

"Through capture or through convincing her," Amalthus replied. "I...don't have an easy answer for that, though I will help you however I can. I do have a way past the first obstacle, however. You did defeat Ophion, Malos. He sunk beneath the Cloud Sea. It was the nation of Tantal – Zeke's home country – that dredged him back up, shortly after the Aegis War. They claimed to make repairs, although I am skeptical of that – I find it more likely that the creations of the Architect are capable of regenerating themselves to an incredible degree. They did, however, manage to remove the control unit of Ophion, and set it to guard the World Tree." Amalthus frowned. "To, I suppose, prevent people like me visiting it and bringing trouble down upon Alrest again. If you can retrieve that control unit from Tantal, you could neutralize Ophion. Though its existence is a closely guarded secret of their monarchy. I suspect that Zeke himself does not know."

Malos folded his arms. "And so how do you?"

"You must let me keep some of my secrets, Aegis," Amalthus said with a small, devious smile.

"Right," Rex said, scratching his chin with one gloved hand. "Let's take it one step at a time. So it's Tantal we've got to go to next."

"I hope that you will take the time to stay here, for a while, at least." The Praetor sat forward, eyes gleaming. "I can see to your provisioning, see if my diplomatic connections cannot give you an...easier time of things in Tantal...and I would very much like to discuss politics with Morag, should we get the opportunity."

"Sure," Rex replied. "I don't think it would hurt staying here a few days."

"Very good." Amalthus looked up as, suddenly, a great golden clock chimed from the end of his office. "Ah. We have been talking here a while, it seems. I will hold you here no longer. You can rejoin your companions. Though my schedule is busy, I will make time to speak to you again before you leave. It was a pleasure meeting you, Rex. And good to see you again, Malos."

Rex and Malos rose, and headed towards the doors of the Praetor's office. But before he left, Rex turned around, his hand on the door. "Uh, hey….Amalthus."

"Yes?"

"I..." Rex squirmed a bit, then dove on ahead. "I...wanted to say...I think you're a good person. It sounds like you had a hard life and...maybe you did the wrong thing, when you were younger. And you were given a life with a lot of hard choices. But you didn't give up. You...did the right thing, and even with your mistakes, you tried to make the world a better place. And….I think that's...I really admire you for it. That's all."

Amalthus stared at Rex, and for the first time since they had seen him, he seemed shocked. And then storm of despair so utter and complete passed over his face, a despair of such devastating ruin that even Mythra's seemed like a pale shadow next to it. It was shocking, a grief so dark that Rex, for a moment, felt his knees go weak. But it was there for only a moment, and then it was gone. "Thank you, Rex," the Praetor said quietly. "That means a lot to me."

And with that, Rex and Malos walked away. But Malos looked back one last time at the Praetor in his office, now a dark shadow behind his desk, framed by the dying light of day. He had seemed….eminently reasonable, and it was apparent he had Rex convinced. But no man alive had ever made Malos feel as uncomfortable as Amalthus had. Like his words warped and broke the world, made it wrong. He was lying about something, or hiding something. But about what, Malos had no idea.

After the two had left his office, Amalthus was still for some time. Eventually, he slid open his desk drawer, retrieving the gunblade Rex had handed to him. He held it in his hands, staring at it. He was still staring at it when Fan la Norne quietly slipped into his office, softly closing the door behind her. "Our visitors have returned to their apartments for the day," she said quietly. And then she noticed the blade in Amalthus' hands. "Is...that what I think it is?"

"Minoth's old weapon, yes," the Praetor murmured, not looking up at her.

Fan walked forward, sitting in one of the chairs before his desk quietly, eyeing the gunblade dispprovingly. She felt the closest she had ever felt to rage, looking at this weapon. She knew little about the circumstances that Minoth had left Amalthus under. But she knew enough to know that Minoth had left him in his hour of greatest pain, that he had left at the moment something had broken in Amalthus and he needed his friends more than ever.

Suddenly, Amalthus looked up, looking at her, meeting her gaze, and there was such pain, such despair and sadness etched into his features, that Fan gasped, feeling her heart shatter. "Oh, Amalthus," she said, reaching out for him. "I...I wouldn't leave you like he did. I would never abandon you. Please tell me you know that."

Amalthus was quiet for a long moment. "Yes," he said suddenly, sounding very tired, "You would."

"No," Fan said miserably, ignoring the tears that began to fall down her face. "No, please. You must know I love you, Amalthus. You don't need to be alone."

Amalthus was only a few feet across from her, but he may as well have been a thousand miles away. "We are," he said, dark shadows beneath his eyes, "All of us, alone, forever. A lesson I learned a very long time ago. It is the human experience. Even more so, it is reality for blades. You are destined to forget me, to one day live as if I had never existed. It made me angry, once. But no more. You are not to be blamed for the nature the Architect gave you. People are not to be blamed for how the Architect made them. The world is not to be blamed for the nature the Architect bestowed upon it." He rose, tall, commanding, a thousand feet tall, a thousand miles away, his face and heart a shadow. "I have lived so long with the hard reality that it does not pain me anymore."

Amalthus said that, but Fan could feel, through the bond, that seeing the gunblade had opened an old wound in him, one so complete, so monumental, that it was as if her driver was nothing but wound. But Amalthus had built a wall around himself so completely, shuttered himself so utterly, that all Fan could ever do is watch in despair and feel her heart breaking. She wanted nothing more but to leap forward and embrace him, but nothing about her embrace would ever reach him. It was a wound she would never be able to heal.

Amalthus quietly excused himself from her presence, saying something about retiring early for the night. Fan only watched as he left. And then, as she so often did after speaking to Amalthus, she put her face in her hands and wept.

29.

At the Praetor's request, the party lingered in Indol for almost a week. They spent their days exploring the city, directed by Zeke and Pandy, pointing out the quite active life of Indol hidden beneath that quiet stoicism of her people. Indol's people were highly religious and philosophical, worshipping the Titans, drakes and dragons, from whom they considered themselves descended. Festivals of flame and drink lit up the city, if you knew where to find them. They visited Gramps, who they found relaxing in a temple that had a dock built into the Cloud Sea specifically so Titans could make their way within, his great stone scales being cleaned and polished by happily attending Indoline priests. They considered Rex's offer of payment for the service sheer madness – the honor of attending on a Titan was payment in itself. Morag found herself called into Amalthus' audience whenever the Praetor found the time, mostly to discuss her brother's troubles with Brionac. Amalthus seemed to have an incredibly extensive knowledge of Ardainian politics, and she often found herself wondering how many of the Praetor's spies prowled Mor Ardain.

At night, though, the city became as quiet and still as any abandoned field in Alrest, and it seemed almost blasphemy to break that silence. Nia awoke one of those nights in the Praetorium, her arms wrapped tightly around Dromarch as his massive purrs rumbled through her chest. She lay there, stroking his thick, soft fur, for some time, thinking quietly to herself.

It was odd. She had been sleeping a bit better over the past week or so. Usually when she awoke like this, it was the result of a nightmare. But there was no nightmare this night, no pumping heartbeat, no adrenaline coursing through her veins. If anything, she felt a strange calm. It just felt...she didn't know. She had an urge to be up.

She delicately extricated herself from Dromarch, careful not to awaken him. She knew how sensitive he was, at night, to her slight shifts. Suddenly, she felt bad. Dromarch had essentially trained himself to get less sleep, and to sleep less deeply, so he could be there for her should her nightmares wake her up. She reached out and scratched under his chin, and he stretched out in his sleep, lengthening his neck as he arched. She was glad she had managed to get out without waking him up, he deserved his sleep.

But as she scratched, she looked out the window, at the moon playing across the city. Indol was rather pretty, in a mysterious, almost supernatural kind of way, in that moonlight. Again, suddenly, she felt a strange urge overtake her. She should take a bit of a walk, out in that pale moonlight. See the city up close, beneath that delciate glow.

She quietly slipped out of her pyjamas and into her yellow suit, yawning a bit as she, softly as possible, left her bedroom and crossed across the common area, out into the cool night air.

The plaza was utterly empty, save for the fountains, various statues carved of flowing white rock. She shivered a bit – it was a little chilly, what was she doing out here? She wondered – as she strolled among the fountains, the only sound the soft, gentle rushing of water, glancing at them.

Suddenly, she stopped and stared at the sight of one fountain, tucked away in one of the darker corners of the plaza, then rushed forward to get a closer look. Her eyes had not been playing tricks on her. This fountain was a carving of Mythra, eyes fiery and defiant, sword raised as if to strike someone down, flames wreathing her feet and legs. The water dripped from the edge of her blade, in what Nia realized was supposed to gruesomely represent blood. She seemed so….different from Pyra, different even from how she had seen her in Fonsa Myma. There was no sadness in that stare, only mercilessness. "Sheesh," Nia muttered to herself. "Who the hell put this thing here?"

"Trouble sleeping?"

Nia yelped and spun around, then felt her heart drop into her stomach. There, tall and cloaked in darkness, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight, his shadow stretching across the plaza to reach out toward her, stood Amalthus.

"P-praetor," she managed to get out, almost wincing as he strode toward her. Every step he took, she felt a pressure bearing down upon her, almost as if the sheer weight of his existence threatened to crush her. "What are you doing out here?"

He offered her a kindly smile as he drew close, though his eyes felt as if they were burning holes in her. "I often find I have trouble sleeping as well. The plaza offers comfort." His eyes flicked towards the fountain Nia had been looking at. "Ah. I was wondering which of these fountains had caught your eye."

"Yeah, well," Nia muttered, looking away from him down at the stones of the plaza, worn smooth by centuries of petitioner's feet, "It was a bit surprising to see her here."

"Is it," Amalthus murmured. "During the Aegis War, for all the destruction she caused...no, because of it...there were many who worshiped her as a Goddess. And I suppose if any deserve that title, it is the Daughter of the Architect himself. This carving is from that time."

"Yeah, but why keep it here?"

"To remind myself," Amalthus said softly. "Of what it was that I unleashed on the world." He looked down at the Gormotti, face hidden in darkness. "Nia, right? I apologize that we have not yet had the opportunity to speak. Rex travels with so many interesting companions."

Nia laughed nervously. "Don't worry. I get it. I'm just some Gormotti who joined up with him, not some Ardainian princess or master nopon engineer."

"Is that so," Amalthus replied, his voice like a blade held to her throat.

A moment of long silence passed between them, as the Praetor turned back to the statue. Nia risked glancing over at him, but almost couldn't bear to keep her eyes on him. It was like looking at the sun.

"So, Nia," Amalthus said suddenly, softly, "How is Jin doing these days?"

Nia's blood turned to ice. "I-I don't know what you're talking about."

Amalthus turned to face her now, and it was like his eyes were the entire night sky. She whimpered, hating herself for it, held paralyzed by that gaze as surely as if Amalthus had clapped her in chains. "Foolish girl," the Praetor whispered, his words driving a hot spike of horror through her heart, "Do not lie to me. You are not hidden from my sight, Flesh Eater."

She should run, Nia knew. Run, and never, ever look back. Oh, what a fool she had been. What a fool to follow Rex here, into the heart of the Praetorium, into the heart of Indol, face to face with Amalthus himself. She should have known, the minute she saw him, that Amalthus was too canny, too absolute, to be fooled by her simple deceptions. She had known Amalthus was a legend. But she had never considered what that meant. It meant that while her heart was screaming at her to run, the Praetor could hold her paralyzed with a simple gaze.

She remained silent, shaking, as Amalthus quietly walked to a nearby pair of benches, with a small table between them. He motioned towards the bench across from him. "Sit."

Nia fought against the sudden, shocking urge to obey him. His words carried with them a primal command, one that demanded obedience. Amalthus watched her for a moment, then leaned forward. "Nia," he said, not raising his voice, "Sit."

Nia couldn't help it. Those eyes, that voice...it was like he was reaching into her very head, winding those long fingers of his around her heart. It was almost as if her arms and legs moved of their own accord as she walked forward and sat across from the Praetor. She stared down at the table, her heart pounding, gasping, trying to catch her breath.

"Look at me."

Nia's head jerked upward, and suddenly she was receiving the full force of the Praetor's gaze. Those eyes, like stars swam in them. Like they were the whole world, those eyes that had seen centuries, taking up her entire vision.

"So, a member of Torna, in Rex's company," Amalthus said quietly.

"No!" Nia almost shouted. "N...not a member of Torna. Not anymore."

"That would be a very convenient thing for Rex to believe."

"It's...it's true. You talked to Rex, didn't you?" Nia was once again shocked by herself, to hear that pleading in her voice. Almost like she was begging a judge to spare her life. "I've fought by his side, I've healed him...I promise, I'm no member of Torna, not anymore."

"Perhaps," Amalthus replied, his voice smooth. "Or perhaps, you wanted to prove your loyalty, to gain his trust, so that at a key moment you might betray him."

Nia realized with a start that whatever else Amalthus was, he was a man very, very schooled at deception.

"There is, after all," Amalthus continued after a small pause, "The matter of why you have concealed that you are a Flesh Eater from him."

Nia stared at Amalthus, mouth agape. She did not question how he knew this. This man out of myth and legend, she knew now, it was always folly to think that he might not see through her with that weighty gaze, pierce her very soul. But for him to ask her this... "But...don't you know? It's...it's you. You're the one who hunts Flesh Eaters. You...damn you, you're the reason why I had to run for so long, hide for so many years! Damn you!" Outrage flooded into her, weakening whatever spell it was Amalthus held her in. Memories of being pursued by Indoline warriors in gleaming white armor, inhuman, wielding cruel, brutal staves. Every stranger's kindness that might turn on her at a moment's notice if they discovered she was a Flesh Eater, all because the Praetorium taught them that Flesh Eaters were monstrous, diabolical. And this man was at the head of it all. "How...how dare you ask me that! How dare you ask me why I hide!"

Amalthus sighed, and suddenly, he was looking at her with pity. "I have often wondered if I made the right choices in my pursuit of Flesh Eaters."

"The right choices?! How could they be right? The suffering you've caused, the suffering you've put me through-"

Nia fell silent as Amalthus held up a hand. "After the Aegis War," he began, "When I had secured my control of the Praetorium, I felt I had...a responsibility, a duty, to keep the world...stable. I realized that what made Mythra so dangerous – and not just Mythra, but Malos as well – was...all that power, concentrated in just one blade. Flesh Eaters...they represent a similar problem. Not always, but sometimes, they will gain incredible, vast amounts of power by consuming their drivers. Not on the level of Mythra. But incredible power all the same, and without the need for a driver. But you know that, don't you? ...Blades are no more pure than men. After the Aegis War, many blades found out about the method for becoming a Flesh Eater. Ironically, because of the very technologies Indol had pioneered. Many were tempted, and many killed their drivers to become Flesh Eaters. Perhaps they did it to escape them. Perhaps their drivers were abusive. But the world could not afford a society of super-powered blades with resentment against humanity. A secret war ensued, spearheaded by me. If you think my methods are brutal now, they were much more so then. Thousands died in the cold and dark. A price I still consider worth paying. Afterwards, I made of Flesh Eaters a whispered legend. I taught the world that, if they did obtain knowledge of Flesh Eaters, they were monstrous, cruel things. To discourage any blades who might be tempted from taking that step ever again."

Nia had her arms wrapped around herself so hard that her nails almost dug through her suit into her skin. "Damn you. I never wanted this. It was my driver that pushed me into becoming a Flesh Eater. I just...I just wanted to be able to heal..."

"Did you?" Amalthus' eyes drilled into her soul. "During my war, there was a Flesh Eater who always escaped my grasp, though I would have treated him more gently than any other. Jin. Later, I learned his escapes were due in no small part to how he had joined forces with Mythra. And now, here we are, centuries later. With Mythra trying to breach the World Tree, to petition the Architect to end all of Alrest. Should her Father deny her, do you think she would give up her quest? Do you have any idea of her power….? Piercing lances of hellish light, falling from the sky, splitting Titans in two. This is who you found yourself with. What do you suppose you would be doing, this very moment, had you not fallen in with Rex? Assuming, of course, that you are loyal to him."

"I was only even with Jin," Nia whispered, "Because he rescued me from you. And I will never, never, on my life, betray Rex. He...he's the best person I ever met, he wants to help everyone, help the world, and I..."

"Love him," Amalthus finished for her. "Or, at least, you think you do."

"How do you know that?"

"The naivety of youth," the Praetor mused. "I have seen enough of the glances you think secret between you two, seen how Rex's eyes shine when he speaks of you, and yours when you speak of him. No, I would not be much of a diplomat if I did not know how to recognize love." And use it, the unspoken words hung heavy in the air. "For what it is worth, it is because of this that I suspect you are being truthful when you tell me you are no longer part of Torna. And for what it is worth, I am sorry for your suffering at the hands of my men. I have often wondered if there may have been a different path forward with Flesh Eaters. But I never saw any, and I did what I thought must be done for the good of Alrest. Perhaps it was the wrong choice. But perhaps if I had not done as I did, Jin would currently have an army of Flesh Eaters at his back, rather than a meager handful. One of the burdens of leadership is that you will never truly know how your alternative choices may have turned out. All you can do is wonder, and live with the consequences of the sins you chose to commit."

"So..." Nia finally was able to wrench her eyes away from the Praetor's hypnotic gaze. "What was the point of all this, then? Scare me half to death before you let me go…?"

"My dear," Amalthus replied, "What makes you so certain you are ever leaving here?"

Nia gasped, looking back up at the Praetor. She wished she hadn't. Something was...happening with him. It was as if the whole world was revolving around him. "N-no," she forced out. "You got what you wanted! I'm...not a member of Torna-"

"Even so," and even though his voice was a calm murmur, she flinched as if it were the blast of a thousand trumpets. "Why leave things up to chance? Why not be certain? That boy is the best chance…" Amalthus paused. "The best chance that Alrest has for peace. Why should I leave even a scrap of doubt that there is someone among his ranks that may betray him?"

"Rex would...he'd never let you-"

"Wouldn't he," and Nia gasped as some darkness crept into her mind, traveling along the mere force of the Praetor's words. "Kings and Emperors, nations and peoples, all of these have been swayed by my words. Never a man nor woman has lived who I have not been able to convince, Nia. And you think your petty infatuation would shield you from my will? Do you think Rex loves you so dear? Isn't that a bit arrogant? What if I were to tell him you were a Flesh Eater? Or merely tell him that Torna exclusively recruits Flesh Eaters, and allow him to draw his own conclusions?" The darkness in Nia's head began to howl, and she clutched her head, moaning. This was nothing like her own voices that tormented her. This was so much worse. Something primal, laced into Amalthus' words, a darkness, a sickness so complete that even her own demons stood aside in awe. He would abandon you, it whispered to her, for after all, you were never connected in the first place, we are alone, child, alone in this prison, ALONE, IN ETERNITY, ALONE IN THE DARK, alone in this brief flicker, and we are fooling ourselves, we can never be anything but alone, lie to yourself, oh lie, but in your last moments, locked in your head, before the eternity of death, you will know the truth, you are alone and you always were.

"Can you convince me, Nia?" Amalthus was saying, watching her with a cocked eyebrow, but his voice seemed like it was coming from a thousand miles away. Nia was vaguely aware that she had fallen off the bench, and was currently leaning against it, clutching at her core crystal. Something was...all that howling darkness in her head was traveling to her core, ripping through her, plucking strings within her. "I am a reasonable man. I am not without mercy. Tell me why I should not take everything from you. Is your freedom worth the risk to Alrest? I will have certainty, girl. I have worked too hard, too long, to let fate hang on the thread of your fickle, youthful emotions. So forget Rex. He does not exist." Nia howled as suddenly, all memories of Rex were ripped from her, as if the force of the Praetor's words had indeed, erased him from existence. She clawed after them, desperately, feeling nothing but their deep, indescribable loss. "Neither does Jin. Mythra. Malos. Morag. Brighid. Tora. Poppi." Nia writhed as memory after memory was torn from her, and before her, with each lost memory, Amalthus seemed to grow, and grow, and grow, until he was a mile high, and Nia was lost, with no memories of her own, no knowledge of who she even was. Amalthus eyes took up the world, stars, galaxies swirling within them. "Now, Nia. Now that you are alone, as we always are. What is it you want? Where do your true loyalties, untarnished by the circumstances of your personal connections, lie? This is what you you will ultimately always return to, in the end."

Nia didn't answer him. She was struggling within herself. She knew her memories were locked away somewhere. Even if she didn't remember what they were, she knew they were precious, too precious to let them be torn from her. Even the ones that she knew were full of pain.

"ANSWER, NIA," Amalthus intoned, and his voice was the voice of a thousand Kings, and the night sky shook and flared, and she heard a distant scream that she did not know whether or not it was her own, but she still reached for those memories, not even knowing who she was, but she knew one thing, she was a healer, that was what she did, she fixed people, she cured people, she made sick people better. She suddenly glowed with golden light, healing water flowing from her fingertips, and that darkness crowding around her, swirling around her, recoiled and retreated for a moment. Because that was what it was, wasn't it? A sickness. A sickness, an infected wound, like the world had never seen. A dark violence forged by history.

Suddenly, the world spun around her, Amalthus' eyes flashed, the stars in them exploding, her memories flooded into her, tumbling into place one after the other-

And suddenly she was sitting again, on the pavement of the Sanctum's plaza, gasping for breath. Amalthus still sat calmly on his bench, hands folded in his lap, regarding her oddly. "Extraordinary," he said quietly.

Nia staggered to her feet, her legs shaking. "I...what did you do to me, you...I'll...I'll bash you proper, I swear-"

"Will you," Amalthus mused, and suddenly his eyes flared with hidden depths, a promise of pain, and Nia realized that whatever she had seen, it was a fraction of the darkness that lay within this man, the abyss he had lying within. "I think you will do no such thing. I had the truth from you, Nia, that's all. I had to be certain where your loyalties were. Well, you have convinced me."

"Whatever you...whatever you did, I'll – I'm going to tell Rex. What the hell are you?"

Amalthus cocked an eyebrow at her, a small smile crossing his lips. "I am just a man. All I did was have a conversation with you. If you wish to tell Rex, that's up to you. Your Flesh Eater reality is yours to reveal to him, if you please." He shrugged. "Personally, I think Rex will see the merit of my concern over your loyalty."

Nia furrowed her brow, as her memories of what had happened found themselves muddied and fogged. All she could remember was Amalthus talking to her. Quite harshly, questioning her loyalty, yes...that...was that really all that had happened? All that dread, that dim memory of darkness, had...was that all her? Was all the horror she felt really all in her head?

Amalthus rose, sweeping his robes around him. "It was good that we had this conversation now, while we still had the time. I think you will prove a dear ally to Rex. And to the world. Just remember, Nia. When you cross paths with Mythra, remember." He pointed to the fountain, to Mythra's form holding the sword aloft, ready to strike. "This is who Mythra really is, deep down. She will extinguish this world as surely as a hurricane puts out a candle's flame, should she succeed. There is no healing her. This is who she is."

Nia watched as Amalthus swept away, back towards the towering Sanctum, not taking her eyes off of him until he had ascended the steps and made his way back inside.

She staggered away, then, back towards the apartments, hugging herself. Suddenly the night seemed bitterly cold, though it was, in fact, a mild chill. She stumbled across the common area, opening the door to her room, seeing the slumbering form of Dromarch, still sleeping soundly in her bed, thank the Architect. And then she noticed something.

She couldn't feel her ether connection to her blade.

She reached out, desperately. She wanted to feel a connection to something. She wanted to feel something that made her feel not so alone. But it was as if a thick block of ice had frozen itself around her heart. She dimly remembered how alone, utterly alone, terribly alone, Amalthus had made her feel. "No," she whispered. "No, no, please. That can't be real." But no matter how hard she tried, no matter how much she struggled, the ether connection wouldn't come.

The shadows of the room deepened as she reeled, fear coursing through her. She was alone. Dromarch may as well have been a lump of stone to her, for all the connection she could forge with him. She was alone in the cold and the dark and-

Moments later, she had left her room and entered Rex's, sitting on the edge of his bed, kicking off her boots. She tried to be as quiet as possible, but with a tired mumble, Rex still awoke, groggily looking over at her. "Nia….?" he said, smiling at first. "Wait a second. Nia?!" Suddenly, he clutched his blankets to him, as if to cover up.

"Yeah. I had….a really bad dream. Look, just keep quiet. I wanna sleep with you."

"Wh-" Rex sputtered. "Well, okay, look, hold on, let me put on some pyjamas. I only got my boxers on – SHEESH! Your hands are cold! You been sticking them in the freezer?"

"I know. I know I'm cold. Warm me up. Please."

"Nia you...you can't just say that. It's...going to have effects."

"I don't care if I see your-"

"Well I care! Wh-hold on, don't just take all the blankets-"

"You're so warm, you don't need them-"

"I'm warm because of the blankets! Look, alright, let's just-"

"Are those hearts on your boxers…?"

"Don't you bust into my room and criticize my-"

"No, no, no, not like that. I don't wanna be big spoon. I want your arms around me."

"For the love of the Titans, Nia. Okay, c'mere, we can-"

Eventually, they settled down beneath the blankets, Rex wrapping his arms around Nia, while she wrapped her arms around him, her head nuzzled against his chest, hearing the beat of his heart. The warmth from him slowly seeped into her, as she held on as tightly as she could. "Y'smell nice," she murmured.

"Nia, I am begging you here," Rex muttered. She laughed, cheeks beginning to burn, life and emotion beginning to return to her. What would the others think, if they saw them like this, she thought. She might be in her jumpsuit, although there was a part of her that dearly wished she could take it off, but Rex was mostly undressed. And his skin against hers, it made her burn with life and heat she desperately needed to feel.

Eventually, Rex settled back into sleep, as she hoped she would. That block of ice around her ether connection, that chain forged by Amalthus' words, slowly began to thaw, as her core struggled to forge a connection with Rex, as she was hoping it would. Eventually, with a great shattering, it broke through, creating an ether connection with him, and she nearly sobbed with relief into his chest. What was it about Amalthus that had frozen her like that?

Rex muttered in his sleep, perhaps feeling the connect, and gripped her tighter. Nia felt her blood racing with flame, life, heat, and she struggled to control her ether connection. If it grew too strong, she didn't know what she would do. Well, that wasn't quite right. She knew exactly what she'd do, and this wasn't the best time or place for that. It helped that the lingering chill of her conversation in the plaza had sunk into her bones, making her feel exhausted. So exhausted was she that she drifted towards sleep with her ether connection to Rex still ongoing.

Her thoughts began to drift as she nodded off. Amalthus, she realized, must live with that awful feeling of being alone all the time. What had he seen, in his long life, that had convinced him of such darkness?

But at the same time, it felt good to know, with utter clarity, with utter certainty, that he was wrong about one thing. She could feel it shining through the ether bond, through Rex's burning, brilliant soul. Legend Amalthus may be, silver tongued to make Kings end Emperors take heed. Force of nature and will, myth made flesh, clever and canny and cunning, so far beyond all that she had thought possible. But he was wrong.

He would have never convinced Rex to give her up.

30.

Nia awoke as suddenly, the room shook around her, books shaking in their shelves, the bed rattling and shifting across the floor. She felt pressed into the bed for a moment, as if pushed downward by a great force of momentum, which let up after a moment. "The bloody hell was that…?" she muttered. She glanced downward at Rex. The ether connection between the two of them had dropped – it must have stopped while they slept – and Rex himself, while he muttered and rolled over in his sleep, did not wake up from the apparent earthquake.

Something...something was happening, though. Nia could feel it. She wasn't sure what it was. But the air seemed to crackle with electricity. Something was...

Suddenly the door crashed open, revealing Malos, his eyes as hard as she had ever seen them. "Rex, wake up," he snapped, "We…." suddenly, he took in the scene before him. Nia, laying in Rex's bed, and Rex, mostly undressed. Nia's face burned as a mocking smile slowly crept across his face. "Oh," Malos said. "Of course."

Rex stirred at her side, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Malos? Wh-" He looked at the smile on Malos' face, then looked over at Nia, eyes wide. "Look, it's not what you think," he shouted, waving his hands. "Nothing happened, I swear-"

Suddenly, Poppi appeared behind Malos, peering in the doorway as well. "What Rex shouting about? What nothing happen so important to shout to world-" Poppi's orange glowing eyes fell on Nia, and a mocking smile that almost matched Malos' grew on her face, as well. "Oh. This what a nothing look like?" The robot and Malos exchanged skeptical smirks. Those two got on way too well. Poppi glanced down the hallway, giving Nia a sly smirk. "Oh, morning, Dromarch. Come and see the nothing."

Nia leapt out of Rex's bed as if it were suddenly full of scalding water. "Oh, you little metal trickster," she hissed at Poppi, as she desperately tugged on her boots. "I am gonna wait until Tora isn't looking and then I am gonna disassemble you-"

Malos discretely bumped fists with Poppi, as Nia squeezed past them as quick as she possibly could before more people showed up in Rex's doorway. Then he turned back to Rex, his hands on his hips. "Look, I don't know how you slept through all that shaking, but something is going on. You better get your ass up. There's a lot of people running around outside."

Rex got out of bed, to get dressed as quickly as he could, but not before shutting the door in Poppi's face, who had declined to move and instead just stood there, head cocked to the side, watching curiously, as if she expected Rex to get dressed in front of her.

The group quickly gathered outside, Zeke and Pandy included, Tora still holding a piece of toast slathered in butter in his mouth as he fumbled with the straps of his denim overalls. The plaza was filled with scrambling, panicked petitioners, rushing to and fro in chaos, watched over by the stoic Indoline priests, some screaming in their panic.

Morag's sharp eyes scanned the horizon for signs of panic. What could have caused all that shaking? It hadn't felt like an artillery strike….suddenly, her eyes caught on a familiar pall of black smoke in the sky. She walked forward, her eyes locked on that black stain, following it, leading the group, pushing her way past the panicking petitioners, dodging around buildings, trying to find a vantage point where her view of the Cloud Sea was not blocked by the splendor of Indol's temples.

Finally, she found it. A small ledge from where an unobstructed view of the Cloud Sea could be found. A few of Indol's priests were already milling around it, pointing out into the distance.

There, the source of the black smoke hanging in the sky, was Mor Ardain. The Titan lumbered in the distance, the smoke of her factories leaving a black trail in the sky. The Cloud Sea around it was milling with….uncountable warships, its head crowned as if by hundreds of buzzing wasps, the airship flotilla that attended it. It moved as if with purpose, staggering towards another gray shape in the distance, the massive whale-titan of Uraya.

And suddenly, Morag knew. She knew what this was all about. "Architect's love," she said, only loud enough for Brighid to overhear. "They're doing it. The damned lunatics are doing it."

"Mor Ardain?" Rex said, eyes wide. "But...we were so far from there."

"The Praetor must have moved Indol closer to them," Zeke said, his face grim. He glanced at Morag, who gave him a pale nod. For all his foolishness, Morag thought, Zeke almost certainly knew what this meant. "That was what all that shaking was. He can move Indol rather quickly, when he wants to."

"Rex!" a voice in the crowd cried out. "Morag! Malos! Over here!"

They turned around, to see Fan la Norne working her way through the crowd, waving at them. For once, she was not crowded around by petitioners, who mostly ignored her in their panic. "Please! Please, come, follow me. The Praetor would like to speak to you."

They joined with Fan, making their way through the crowd to the Sanctum. As they were halfway across the plaza, the first sounds of distant artillery guns and bombs roared through the sky like thunder. The crowd screamed, scattering, dropping documents, packages, as the barrage went on and on and on, unceasing, merciless.

"Is that..." Rex asked, his eyes wide, looking up at the grim faces of Zeke, Pandoria, Fan, Malos, Brighid and Morag. Zeke merely closed his one good eye and shook his head, Pandoria burying her face in his arm. Fan looked at Rex with pity, tear tracks staining her face. "Oh Architect. Oh, no. No." His hands shook, and Nia reached out to grab one, not caring who saw.

If the plaza had been busy, the Sanctum was even more so. No petitioners here, but soldiers marching, bureaucrats swarming the halls. Why, Morag wondered, was the Praetorium preparing so much for this? They weren't under attack. Unless they thought Brionac was so rabid, so mad with power, that they'd attack the Praetorium for even appearing near them. Which they may very well be.

Finally, they came to Amalthus' throne room at the heart of the Praetorium. The table that the feast had been laid out on previously was transformed. Now, it lay coated in maps tracking the movements of forces, intelligence reports, and the Praetorium's high command crowded around it. Stoic though Indoline might be, there was a nervous energy even here as they muttered among themselves. Amalthus oversaw it all with calm, standing among them, his eyes currently quickly scanning a report. He put it down as the group entered, nodding to his advisors, and walking over to meet them. "Thank you, Fan," he said, nodding to his blade. His eyes flicked over the group, settling on Morag. "I assume you may have gathered what is going on," he said, retrieving a small slip of paper from his robes. "But early this morning, I received this final communique from your brother. I think it is only right that you see it, as well."

Morag took the slip of paper from Amalthus and unfolded it, quickly scanning over the text. It was short. Brutally so.

Praetor -

I'm sorry.

I tried to stop them.

I'm sorry.

Architect forgive me my failure.

-Niall

Morag's heart broke. "Oh, Niall," she whispered.

"Yes," Amalthus said grimly. "The day we have dreaded has arrived. The Ardainian invasion of Uraya has begun."

Note

Alright. This was a very Amalthus-heavy chapter. I had originally planned to introduce him in the last chapter, but ended up concentrating most of his interaction in this chapter alone, which ended up running longer than I had originally planned, as well.

It is hard to recapture the ambiguity of Amalthus from the game. But within this fic, the idea is that who a blade resonates with not only changes the blade, but who a driver resonates with changes the driver, as well. So the ambiguity of Amalthus here is intended to come from that you don't know what he's lying about. Mythra's influence over him could have changed any of the actions he took, post-resonance with her. I will say he didn't do exactly the same things, in this fic, that he did as depicted in TTGC. What he lies about, and what his ultimate aims are, are left to be discovered.

The next chapter is basically going to be the halfway capstone of this fic. I know that this act hasn't been nearly as action-packed or involved as much of a connected plot as act 4 did. It was meant to be a calm before the storm, a slowly building sense of dread as we drew closer to the last chapter of act 5, the material growing darker as the storm approached. Well, the next chapter is going to be the storm. It is hard for me to predict how long a chapter will be before I write it, but just from my notes, and how much is going to happen in it, and how many people it is going to involve, it is going to be a very long chapter – probably the longest chapter yet, by far – but I don't want to split it up into multiple chapters, as it tells one fully connected culmination of everything that has happened so far. But since it is going to be so long, it will probably take me a while to write it. Don't expect an update within a week, and it may take longer than two weeks. But the result – again, I predict, because it is hard to say how long a chapter will be before I write it – should be a chapter three times longer, or more, than the typical chapter of this story.

As always, notes and comments are appreciated.