1st of December, M.E. 753

Aleya visited me twice today. Once, to check in on how I was feeling after surgery, and again later today to bring me a report she had again taken the liberty of compiling in my absence. I tried to apologize for leaving her alone to clean the training room floor, yet she found it somewhat odd and even amusing. Apparently, she was totally unconcerned about the whole thing and viewed it merely as her duty. I believe her to be attempting grace. How someone could be unaffected by those events is beyond me.

According to the report, the Imperials have set up a blockade between Cleigne and Duscae—a show of force I am sure will behoove his Majesty to act.

It is never lost to me that we reside in perfect security whilst the outside world seems to be completely falling apart.

2nd of December, M.E. 753

The King greeted me personally today upon my return and queried my condition. I assured him all was well, and also spoke with him regarding Noct's upcoming finals. As usual, his Majesty seemed to be completely unconcerned. He appears already convinced that Noctis will evolve into a smashing success of a king. However, even if his son fell short of his expectations, I suspect the King would be proud of him. Whatever our prince chooses to be, he has the full support of his father.

I've come up with a new recipe:

Three-Bean soup

Chocobeans, Lucian tomato, Garlic, Wild onion, Leiden pepper, Anak meat

Served on a bowl of steamed Saxhom rice

8th of December, M.E. 753

Eventful day today. I've made a life-long enemy, and I've taken on an assistant.

[Flashback]

Ignis righted himself and landed gamely on one leg, managing to leap over the forceful slash of his opponent's weapon. Before his heels made solid contact with the marbled floor, he back-flipped over the under-handed thrust of the Master's sword. His muscles burned and tore; His joints screamed in protest of the demanding pace. And yet, he still pushed onward. He only needed to evade long enough to identify the pattern of the blows. He needed to watch his enemy's movements and discover the natural pause in his rhythm. He only needed to outlast the stamina of his much older opponent. And…ah, there it was…a natural hesitation as Ignis rounded his eight-o-clock position. The right-handed man would have to turn awkwardly either way to meet him with his blade. If only he could…

OOOF. The air rushed out of Ignis' lungs and he found himself flat on his back, looking up at the glass dome ceiling far above him. The panels danced and bobbled in front of his eyes. Confusion muddled his brain. What had happened? Had he parried? Had he misjudged speed or distance? Perhaps his balance hadn't fully recovered since surgery. Alarm ran through him a steel-heeled boot hovered over his face for a moment before driving down. Ignis rolled quickly, scrambling to his feet before the sole of the boot smashed into his forehead.

He heard a slight gasp from the far wall. Ironically enough, Aleya was back on cleaning detail. As it was the same hour as before, he supposed it was just her new schedule. In any case, she needn't be concerned for him. He was confident he had learned enough to at least hold his own in this battle.

He pushed his glasses up as he paused before Yore, panting, wringing with sweat. He had lost his sword long ago. He was attempting to win a battle against a blade master using only his hands and his feet.

"Pitiful," Yore told him, calmly. "I knew your father to be quite capable in battle. That Altissian blood of your mother's is doing you no favors, boy."

Ignis cast off the bigoted comment carelessly. "Ah, to the contrary. What my father gave me in brawn, my mother gave me in mental capacity."

"Well, you clearly are lacking for both. The proverbial cautionary tale for a Lucian looking to partner up beyond his borders. Weak progeny makes for weak soldiers and a weakened kingdom."

He wanted under Ignis' skin, that much was certain. But in order to be the Right Hand of the King, one must keep his full wits about him, and not be bound in emotionalism. He must ignore the chiding and press on in the battle. Ignis took one step backwards grimly, ready for the next strike.

And the Master struck true, in rapid succession. While the younger was able to parry most of the blows, the final met it's mark directly across his ribs. He bowled forward, clutching his upper abdomen in pain.

"Master!" Shouted Aleya's clear voice. The two men turned to her, astonished at her repeated interruption. Had she not learned the first time? "I beg of you. With all due respect, please ease up." She attempted humility, lowering her eyes as Yore approached her. "Can you not see that he's….?" She never finished her question, as she let out a shocked cry; The same time as Ignis clearly heard the sound of skin smashing into skin.

He turned, horrified at the sound, knowing immediately what it meant. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw the look of astonishment on her face. She held the palm of her hand to her left cheek, staring at Yore with round eyes. Had Yore lost his senses completely? How dare he strike her!

Yore towered over her menacingly. "I've told you before, and I will never tell you again. I will tolerate no interruptions."

She stared for a moment in quiet disbelief, still a bit shocked at his behavior. Her eyes flitted to Ignis and met his gaze for a moment. Something passed between them. No, she wasn't asking for help, nor was she accusing the blade master. Something of sheer determination and engrained courage ran through her features for a moment. Somehow, though she looked so small and vulnerable, she appeared to be twice as tall as he remembered. Setting her lower lip, she turned to Yore again. "I apologize, sir. But I must beg of you not do this. I insist that…."

"You insist?!" He echoed, raising his hand again. She flinched, turning away.

Before he even realized what was happening himself, Ignis was instantly there, stepping between them. He had no recall of how he crossed to their position so quickly, as injured as he was. However, he caught Yore's arm on the down-stroke. He closed his fingers around his wrist and spoke to Yore with clenched teeth. "If you have a concern, I suggest you solve it without further violence." With that, he shoved his arm away.

Yore's eyes glinted dangerously. Ignis took a step backwards as he outstretched an arm, motioning the Crownskeep further behind him. He felt her fingers curl between his shoulder blades. Was she regaining her balance? Affirming her presence? Or was the action simply an intimation of fear? It really mattered little. He wouldn't allow Yore to harm her again. It was his duty to defend the innocent young woman from the Master's tirade.

"You defend this immigrant wench?!" He spat at Ignis. "You truly stand against a war hero of Lucis to defend a Galahdian whore?"

The words were patently offensive. If they shocked Aleya even half as much as they shocked him, it was unacceptable indeed. "And I would also advise you to watch your language," Ignis countered back, balling a fist, face coloring in anger. "I won't tolerate such a show of disrespect for my assistant." Well, there they were. The words were out of his mouth before he could think better of using them.

Master Yore was not buying it. "Your assistant? She wasn't your assistant last week."

"She is now." He could now feel her fingers closed around the back seam of his shirt, clutching it as if it were some sort of lifeline. "She's proved quite invaluable to me."

Yore smirked at him, and then looked past him to what he could see of Aleya. His eyes traveled over her crudely. "Oh, I bet she has."

Ignis bit down hard on his tongue. He resented the implication, but he had to win one battle before starting another one.

"Very well then, Scientia. You're to make a choice. Do you support your Kingdom, or your cheap whore?"

Ignis drew himself to his full height and took a step closer to the Master, nearly nose-to-nose. What a repugnant man! As true as his middle name was Stupeo, he wouldn't let the sun set without reporting his behavior to the Marshal. Simply intolerable! "I support my King," he answered. "And I am most certain my King would have no use for the likes of someone such as yourself, war hero or no. This woman is a crown citizen and deserves the respect and care of any citizen under our charge. Is your intent to cause further injury to her? I'm sure you are well familiar with article seven-ten, subsection twelve, paragraph thirteen of…."

"Spare me, Scientia." He threw his sword at his feet with a huff. "You're not worth my attention. Our lessons are henceforth over. You'll never train with me again."

"What a pity!" He sniped back, sarcastically.

And with that, Yore turned on his heel and marched out of the training room doors.

As soon as the doors clanged shut, Ignis turned to her quickly. "Are you alright? Did he harm you?"

She instinctively covered her offended cheek, hiding where his fingers had made contact with the cheekbone. Her eyes turned up to him—a blue-grey mist that reminded him so much of a newborn morning sky—and he was startled to see a bit of wetness on the lower lids. As quickly as she had met his eyes, however, she blinked away and turned her shoulder to block his full view of her face. "T-thank you, Mr. Scientia."

"Did he wound you?" Ignis rounded on her, attempting to pull her hand away from her face.

She stepped away quickly and dropped her hand with a forced smile. "I'll be fine. No need to worry."

"Are you certain? The color is beginning to turn."

"I've had worse."

Something about that statement instantly alarmed him, causing his heart to leap and beat with fury. "Worse?"

She corrected herself. "I mean—if this is the worst that ever happens to me, I'd be considered lucky, right?"

'Lucky?' Ignis thought with distaste. "I apologize for his inexcusable behavior. Pay no mind to his words. Only a man with a limited vocabulary uses such vernacular."

She had apparently been replacing the towels when all the trouble began. She set back to her work, carefully avoiding eye contact with him. "Oh, Mr. Scientia, you really don't have to apologize for him. It's I who should apologize to you."

He gingerly re-positioned his glasses on his nose. It was still sore from his last encounter with the blade master. "What in blazes for?"

Ah, she finally looked at him, again. Those four purple streaks on the left side of her face stood out in vivid contrast to her empyrean eyes. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't—I mean, your training was curtailed because of me, right? I'm sure he won't let it slide. How many cadets dream of training with him?"

"They're likely to thank me. I've spared them a few broken bones, I'd wager." He cast his eyes out over the gym floor for a moment, checking for any tell-tale signs of bodily fluid. At least he appeared to have gotten away without spewing any blood, this time. When he turned back, he caught her staring. "What is it?"

She pointed at his face. "I can't believe you are still so bruised up."

He touched the bridge of his nose self-consciously. It wasn't just his nose, though. He had two black rings under his eyes. He wasn't sure if it was from the initial blow that caused the damage, or from the extensive work that it took to repair the bone structure. In any case, the two dark creases above his cheekbones would fade, eventually. "Indeed."

She gave him a look that reminded him very much of his father's when he was very young and had skinned his knees: It was a mix of relief and fear, a bit of reproach, a bit of admiration. "It could have been your eyes, you know. You need to be more careful."

"I'll keep that in mind."

She paused. "In any case, thank you, sir. That's twice now you've come to my rescue."

"Likewise." He put a hand in his pocket, watching her calmly. For a woman that had just been slapped and verbally abused, she seemed remarkably put together. All the better. He couldn't have an assistant that would fall into hysterics over every little thing.

Aware he was watching her, she gave a nervous smile. "Well then, sir. I'll see myself out."

"Where are you going?"

"Back to my assignment. Where else would I be going?"

Ignis flashed her a patient smile. "I thought I had made it clear that your assignment is now with me. I require an assistant."

Her mouth opened and closed briefly. She then tilted her head slightly to the side, considering him. "I thought you only told him that to get him to leave me alone."

"Only for him to find out I was lying the next day, when he happened upon you cleaning the hallway windows? I think not. I'm a man of my word. Now that I've said it, I will not hesitate to honor it."

"You could tell him I turned it down," she offered.

"Are you?"

"No."

They regarded each other for a moment. A silence passed as they pondered upon the situation presented. Finally, she spoke. "It's just that I'm not sure I'm qualified."

He gave her a small smile. "Did I not say you are invaluable to me? You've kept records, written reports, retrieved documents, and ran errands for me. You're already performing as an assistant. I'd say you're quite qualified."

"Ignis—M-Mr. Scientia…"

" 'Ignis' will do nicely."

She paused again, obviously flummoxed. He supposed he had sprung this on her quite rapidly; he didn't blame her for her apprehension. In truth, he was equally as apprehensive about the whole arrangement. Nevertheless, it wouldn't hurt to try. He did indeed desire assistance in the performance of his duties, and she had proven herself quite capable up to this point. She took a short breath. "I—Ignis." She winced slightly at using his first name. "I did those things because you needed my help. You don't have to feel obligated to—"

"No one is forcing you. If you desire to continue mopping floors, waiting tables, and tending the official functions, you may continue to do so."

"I—"

"But, should you choose to work for me, I do promise to treat you fairly. And, I can spot a keen intellect from a mile away. Should you desire an occupation that is a bit more—shall we say 'cerebral'?—I am sure you would not be disappointed."

Ah, there was the change in her eye at the mention of intellect and a career based on learning. There was a glint of fire, a spark of joy. As he had surmised, she indeed had a love of academics. All the better.

"Very well, then." She gave a definitive nod, her lower lip curling in with finality. "I am at your service, sir."

"Wonderful."

They sized each other up for a few moments before she addressed him a bit awkwardly. "Is there paperwork to do, or…?"

His mouth curled into a sideways grin. Of course there was. He hadn't even requested an assistant yet through official channels. She would have to have a background check before she could go anywhere near Noctis Lucis Caelem. No need to burden her with that, however. He was sure his uncle could pull some strings to make short work of it all. "Just a chat with my uncle, which I shall do forthwith. Besides that, a handshake should suffice nicely." He reached his hand out to her.

She tossed him a truly gleeful grin of satisfaction and placed her hand in his, shaking it twice firmly.

Perhaps it was her smile. Perhaps it was the look in her eye. It could have been the sensation of her hand in his—so small, and yet so strong and full of resolve; So delicate, and yet still so solid. It could have been the ease in her demeanor. He potentially was still reeling at her earlier display of courage, or maybe his gratitude had yet to fade. Somehow, however, he knew that handshake would change his life forever.

[Back to Entry]

9th of December, M.E. 753

Uncle doesn't seem to be the least bit concerned that he will have to search for Aleya's replacement. When I delivered the news, all he could do was smile, slap me on the back, and tell me how proud he was of me. How admitting that I cannot handle my duties single-handedly produces paternal pride, I'll never fathom.

I spoke with the Marshal regarding Yore's foul attitude the moment I had a second to spare. He seemed equally troubled and desired me to relay his personal apologies to my new assistant, which I have done. She put on a façade of non-concern, but something tells me she's still a bit wounded; And I don't mean simply the red streaks on her face that have yet to fade. He insulted not only her country, but her character. Regardless, the Marshal said he would handle the matter and look into Yore's background personally.

Noct was up late last night, but I have my doubts it was to study. I caught a glimpse of Umbra's hind end disappearing around the corner. It seems Noctis had quite a bit to pen to her ladyship last evening.

10th of December, M.E. 753

My first day with my new assistant. I submit that when I offered her the job, I hadn't fully calculated the details of such an offer.

On one hand, she arrived in pristine punctuality, dressed appropriately, with an organizer and a few file folders in hand. She offered to make my coffee before I even had a chance to say a proper good morning. She took notes—her handwriting is impeccable—and organized documents for me. Aside from a bad case of the nerves when being introduced to the top members of our government—including our Lord King—she handled herself with dignity and grace. Also, I can tell Noct took a shine to her right away. He asked her to 'whip me into shape', whatever he means by that.

On the other hand, I hadn't realized how much I enjoyed being alone before now. At some point, hopefully we'll have perfect synergy, and I will not have to instruct, direct, or consider with every turn I make. For now, it's a bit of a burden I wasn't expecting. Hiring a female has its problems, as well. Suddenly, each of us had to awkwardly report when we needed to excuse ourselves to relieve our bladders. Such announcements are extremely discomforting to us both. I can't imagine it getting any easier to handle in the near future.

Lunch was additionally awkward. I felt the need to wait upon her, and she insisted it is her job to wait upon me. I'm loathe to let a lady tend to me where dining is required, but she would have it no other way. Since we couldn't think of any topics to speak of, we pored over work. No mental repose whatsoever.

We'll have to take this day-to-day and see what transpires.

18th of December, M.E. 753

The first week is done, and it went well for the most part. Aleya and I have established a routine. While the strangeness has not worn off entirely, I sense it is beginning to pass. I slept better over the passing few days than I have in the last several years. This is largely due to the fact that all my tasks were finalized before I wound down for the evening.

Noct likes her. I think I've managed to procure a quite efficient partner in that aspect alone. As far as the rest, time will tell.

I thought of a new recipe today over lunch. Spiced chocolate mousse. Sounds a bit exotic. I bet it will taste equally so. I'm confident Noct and my new assistant will adore it.

25th of December, M.E. 753

Another week, and it seems this arrangement is working out nicely, after all. Aleya is prompt and attentive. While I expected her to fetch and carry, I did not anticipate such a keen wit. While I surpass her in several subjects, her knowledge rivals mine in history and foreign language.

So much so, in fact, that I have decided to assign her as a tutor for Noct. He needs help with Civics. If she can pull his grade up over the next few weeks, I shall consider our arrangement permanently ensured. Hopefully she can do something with him. He certainly has not responded to my tactics.