Untold Omens
Chapter Thirteen: Your Worth
"Shit, shit, shit!" For the second time in his whole life, Gladiolus was late.
The thudding of heavy boots echoed across the long stretch of empty hall as Gladio rushed his way to the Kingsglaive training grounds. The thudding of his own heartbeat wrung much louder in his ears.
Cor had been gracious to waive his first tardiness due to the unforeseeable nature of those circumstances. He was careless enough to go out of uniform, so Crowe had mistaken him for a Kingsglaive recruit. As he assured his former marshal, Gladio made certain to always wear his Crownsguard uniform to the Citadel beforehand.
This time, he donned the Kingsglaive uniform instead, save for the military coat hanging over his arm. He bit back a curse under his breath. This time, he had no such excuses. He expected at least a tongue lashing and some sort of disciplinary action.
In Kingsglaive however…
"Look who's late." Crowe commented with a smug grin on her lips.
"I'm sorry," Gladio reflexively began. "I'll take respon—" he never finished as a series of groans and cheers rang through the courtyard.
"Damn it! Kid! I had one more day on the bet!"
"Ha! Pay up loser!"
All around, Gladio could see the older glaives heckling one another, laughing and bickering about some silly wager they've either won or lost.
"…You guys bet on my attendance." The Amicitia observed out loud, in flat disbelief at their foolishness. Accustomed to Crownsguard's stringent standards, Kingsglaive seemed much more lenient and relaxed in comparison.
He felt the tension in his body slowly alleviate. This absence of a strict formal structure resulted in high levels of inefficiency. Yet despite his better judgement, something about this more casual environment was almost… nice…
"That new girl in HR is such a bitch." Luche growled under his breath.
Almost…
"You're only upset because she stopped you from fanboying over Iggy," sniggered Tredd in a teasing manner. "Takes a real loser to geek out over a kid and then get schooled by some bitchy girl."
Gladio paused, catching the tail end of their conversation.
Iggy and a bitchy girl?
A sinking feeling landed in the pit of his stomach at the implication. That could never be right. It made no sense for either of them to be part of Kingsglaive. Even if Ignis somehow decided to fail all of his classes, his status as the Scientia heir would afford him the choice of anything better than Kingsglaive. While Aracelis may not have such caliber of status to her name, it'd be unlike her to make such an illogical decision. With a shake of his head, he dismissed the concern.
Mid-mornings found the concourse sparsely populated after the first rush hour. Gladio expected to be left to his own devices at the military divisions' antechamber, unbothered while other latecomers manually signed in.
"Gladiolus?"
At the sound of his name called, he glanced back to see another straggler. His brows furrowed when he recognized the obnoxious Flavius heir sauntering towards him. While they formally knew one another through various social galas and other political events, they seldom ever spoke casually. It was strange to see him around these parts of the Citadel.
A quick glance over and immediately, Gladio stilled at the familiar sight of the young man's suit and name pass. That uniform was only issued to Crownsguard staff members and professionals.
"Marcus." Gladio returned the greeting with inspired uncharacteristic patience.
"Heard you got transferred into Kingsglaive…" The young man sounded almost apologetic in his words, yet in a way that came off as wholly feigned. "A shame for that to happen to you all because of the prince's negligence. Thought I should ask to see how you were doing."
"I… haven't had any problem with the transfer," replied the former shield carefully, unsure where the other was going with this conversation.
"Seriously?" blinked the cheeky redhead in wonder. "Hm, you are quite resilient I suppose." Marcus commended, before tapping a thoughtful fist to his chin. "…Or maybe," his eyes grew deviously bright at another possibility. "They did manage to make a difference after all!"
"What do you mean by that?" Gladio frowned at his words.
"Oh, just a little debate I had with Aracelis a while back," Marcus began. "I told her Kingsglaive is such a hot mess that it would require more than one person to fix up all of their underlying problems—no offense," he quickly amended, holding up both hands in a silent plea. "But… I guess between her and Ignis, two people really can be enough to start fixing up the place!" His shoulders rose in a glib shrug. "Hm, who knew?"
"Ignis and… Aracelis are in…" Gladio slowly repeated in disbelief.
Without another word, he immediately stormed off in the direction leading to the Kingsglaive HR office. He made his way with quick powerful strides, scaring aside anyone who came across his path. No way, what that windbag said could never be true.
It made no sense for her to be there!
"What does it look like I'm doing here?" asserted Aracelis sarcastically, motioning a hand towards her mountains of paperwork. With that, she returned her full attention to her workload.
Gladio still couldn't believe his eyes when he spotted his childhood friend seated at the front desk of the Kingsglaive HR office, flipping through files and typing away as if she sat in her grandfather's office back in the Amicitia estates.
His disbelief quickly rose into fury. "... Don't bullshit me! Do Selene or Alder even know you joined Kingsglaive? Or did you leave them out of the loop too?"
The small number of staff in the office garnered a peek from their little cubicles at the commotion. It's become something of a recent sport to watch Aracelis, their newest intern, rip into these hardened soldiers like schoolyard children. However, unlike all the other times this wasn't about paperwork, but clearly more personal matters.
"I joined HR," sneered Aracelis, trying to remain unfettered by his escalating bluster. "That hardly requires their attention. What is wrong with you? Why are you even getting so upset?"
Finding himself locked into a battle of wills, the Amicitia glared down at his oldest and dearest friend, his only friend if he actually cared to admit. "Because you followed me here! I didn't ask for you to do that!"
"Excuse me? What?" Aracelis blinked. She stood up from her seat, not to be cowed by him. "I don't care," she snapped, fed up with his unyielding temper. "What's wrong with here? This is my choice!"
At the escalating volume, Ignis stepped away from his duties and lingered at the entrance of the archives, arms hugging a binder's worth of paperwork. His brows furrowed with worry as he watched the strikingly heated exchange.
"You are better than this! You could have gone anywhere else!" Gladio threw up an open palm, gesturing at the pitiful tiny office. "Look around you!"
Aracelis waved her hand over her transfixed coworkers. "They have no problem with it!" She retorted, matching his posturing.
Gladio bared his gritted teeth, fighting back the urge to grab a hold of his friend and shake some sense into her. In place of that, he settled for slamming his hands at the counter. The ratty desk shuddered and trembled at his ire. "Because you're doing all their work for them!" he decried with a scoff. "You know that you could do so much more with your talents. Kingsglaive—"
"—Shut up!" Aracelis sharply cut in, slamming her hands down on the desk in between them in a similar manner. "They're just as important as Crownsguard or any other department in the Citadel! There's nothing wrong with Kingsglaive! You're the only one with the problem here! "
Gladio's amber eyes lit, glinting with pure fury. Even so, her dark eyes bore into his, unflinching in the face of his challenge.
With her hands still pressed on the desk between them, Aracelis leaned in closer and only she noticed that his face inched ever so slightly back. The Amicitia didn't blink, seeing full well that Aracelis would not back down from her stance. Everything in her manner conveyed that he would have to be the one to let this go.
"What part of 'I chose to be here' do you not understand?" She intoned to him with a slow grim emphasis.
Nails scraped against the aged desk, Gladio found himself clenching his hands into tight fists to restrain himself from further action. As furious as he was, he did not want to hurt her.
Instead, he hastily pulled away and stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him as he went. At the resounding tremor, a nearby tower of paperwork came crashing down. An office staffer groaned in annoyance and they all began to pile everything back in place with sluggish effort.
The moment he was gone, Aracelis let out a loud breath and collapsed down in her seat. She folded her hands against her forehead before settling her breathing.
Ignis took this moment to gingerly approach the brunette as she slowly recomposed herself.
"Are you okay?" Ignis asked her, his voice quiet.
"I'm fine." Aracelis responded curtly from behind her hands. "This isn't the first time Gladio's behaved like a total idiot."
"…It sounds like… he just wants what is best for you." Ignis was careful to watch her response as he tried to provide insight into Gladio's brash words and actions.
Aracelis merely scoffed and dropped her hands away from her face. She moved to grab the nearest file by her and resumed working, if only to dismiss the conversation.
"You know… not a couple of weeks ago, I seem to recall you approaching me in a rather similar fashion when you found out I decided to join you in Kingsglaive." Ignis continued gently, a faint smile tugging at his lips at the memory. "I'm sure you can see where Gladio is coming from."
With that, Ignis quietly stepped away to return to his own tasks. However, before he completely disappeared into the archives once more, he spared one last glance back. Aracelis had resumed working, yet her shoulders slouched ever so slightly.
Unprepared to return to the Kingsglaive training ground, Gladio charged through a winding corridor of the Citadel. Consumed by his fury, he didn't hear the slow arduous footsteps approaching around the next corner. In a harsh collision, he nearly bowled over the unlucky soul in his path. In a swift motion, Gladio reached out and grabbed a firm hold before his victim could topple over. Rather than properly standing up from their collision, Gladio felt the smaller curved body lean further into his supportive arms.
"Watch it big boy," drawled a sultry voice. "I enjoy a good plowing as much as the next girl, but I thought you would be more of the sort to wine and dine me before pinning me to the ground."
…Oh great, Gladio grimaced in realization.
"…Lady Claire." He stiffened, reserving a wide step back upon recognizing the notorious baroness-in-waiting.
"Come now." The dark-haired girl grinned slyly, taking another step towards him. "Don't tell me you're shy." Before he knew it, he found himself backed against a corner. Claire provided no leeway for him to tactfully regain his personal space. "I don't bite…much."
"Have some respect for your position Lady Claire." Gladio all but spat. His gaze dropped down to her attire and he felt a resurgence of anger upon his person. "…You're… in Crownsguard?"
"Amazing what you can get away with when you have status." Claire disclosed with a brazen smirk. "Though…" She paused before giving him a smug side glance. "I suppose that kinda thing no longer matters if you happen to be dumb enough to get on his majesty's bad side."
"Don't you have duties to attend to?" Gladio questioned in a near growl, jaw tight in restraint.
"Not particularly," dismissed the young woman. "Crownsguard is surprisingly…" she paused in thought, curling a girlish finger around the tips of her brown ponytail. "Bor~ing! I mean, with how Sir Cor is toted to the masses, I expected it to be much more exciting."
"Crownsguard is not a playground," grounded the Amicitia, remaining earnest despite her mocking.
Grinning slyly, she crossed her arms and brushed her fingertips against her full lips in a provocative manner. "If not for your House serving the crown for so many generations, I dare say Sir Cor would have been an excellent shield for his majesty."
"Enough, Lady Claire!" The Amicitia firmly maneuvered the girl aside. He gave her a curt nod as he made haste away from her.
Claire continued, indifferent to his parting gesture. "Those trials Cor survived were meant for the king's shield after all."
His weary eyes grew in realization. The girl was speaking in reference to The Trial of Gilgamesh, a series of near impossible challenges conducted by the Founder King's shield Gilgamesh, The Blademaster.
"I actually happen to know the location of the Tempering Grounds." Claire revealed to his departing back, her voice in a near sing-song. "I don't know about you, but I've always looked forward to seeing the place for myself. That's where Sir Cor earned his title The Immortal. And, he was only 15 years old too. Did you know that?"
Gladio continued to walk away, trying to pay no mind to her immature potshots. Yet despite his efforts, it seemed each jibe pierced through his defenses.
"I mean, you're big and strong, right? Maybe you can take the trial and manage to succeed. Who knows? His majesty might even reinstate you."
For a moment, the promise of her words held him in place. The chance of resuming his rightful position as the prince's shield, the possibility of everything returning back to the way it should have been. With a headshake, Gladio came to his senses and hastened his steps to escape her taunting.
Gladio quietly mulled over his exchange with the Auburn heir amid fulfilling his Kingsglavie duties throughout the day. He couldn't help but admit that his life has fallen into chaotic disarray. All the hard work and grueling training he endured his whole life had gone to waste. Apart from becoming a shield, he can scarcely remember a time where that wasn't what he wanted.
…Except, there once was a time…
While the distant memory had settled far into the back of his mind, Gladio could recount the days when his mother Rose was still alive. Due to postpartum complications, his mother died within days of Iris' birth. Life changed when Rose died.
Whatever childish whims that persisted in him were ultimately stamped out, warped and replaced with full devotion to becoming the next shield. At the lack of his mother's presence, his father's training regimen only grew more rigid and unyielding.
As Jared once put it, Rose was a rather spirited woman unafraid to voice her convictions. She even fought with the imposing Amicitia patriarch quite often, denouncing his relentless standards.
The worst of their disputes often concluded with his mother stealing him away to the Hester household in the middle of the night. He was no older than six at the time, but Gladio could well recall Selene placating his reckless mother, compelling her not to run off with him back to her hometown in Lestallum.
Before the final hour of the workday, the Amicitia searched high and low for the grinning baroness-in-waiting. He took a breath when she was finally found and came to a full stop in front of her, blocking her path.
"Lady Claire," he addressed, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.
"Gladiolus," drawled the dark-haired young woman. "What a surprise…"
"Do you truly know the location of the Tempering Grounds?" He implored.
"…Why? Interested?" drawled the Auburn heir in amusement.
Gladio knows he shouldn't indulge her. However, if there was even the slightest chance to redeem himself… A quiet look of determination burned in his eyes.
"…When can we leave?"