3rd of August, M.E. 754

Gladio and Aleya went out to lunch again today. The third day in a row. Perhaps they'll be polite enough to send me an invitation to the wedding.

We've received word from the Accordo Counselors. The Empire is beginning to increase its demands and its hold on that region, now. I wonder what my dear mother thinks, as she left for Altissa the moment I was recruited by the King as Noct's retainer. There is a chance she now would trade her comfortable life across the seas for the safety of these crystalline borders.

His Majesty is well aware of the Empire's posturing and aggression. It seems to me he is a man staving off the impending doom, doing his best to postpone the inevitable.

The question is—what is the inevitable conclusion that he fears so gravely?

14th of August, M.E. 754

Apparently, Aleya's birthday was today. I confess I never bothered to find out the date of her birth. It's an oversight that is inexcusable. Incidentally, I might have gotten a notice today from the main office, but I was so wrapped up in Noct's upcoming festivities that I never would have received it.

I only found out after I bumped into Gladio today, who proudly announced he had bought Aleya a gold necklace with a Galahdian opal pendant. At first, I took the message quite sourly. I figured I did not need to be apprised as to every detail of their courtship. Then, he asked me what I was planning to do for the special occasion. That's when I learned I had made the grave error in not saving her date of birth to my devices.

Of course, the flurry of trying to find an appropriate gift set in. I didn't know what I could possibly retrieve on short notice that would equal to a gold necklace with the thoughtful memory of her birthplace. It was an exercise in futility. There was nothing at all that I could think of that would equal such a gift. I had decided to go home and make her a dessert of some kind, but on my way back, I walked past a Galahdian peddler. I decided to inquire of him.

[FLASHBACK]

"Pardon me," Ignis approached the vendor, all business.

The vendor—a man who appeared to be in his fifties, with a crippled leg—drew back a bit. "Sir, I assure you, I have a permit."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Your people come by here every day. I may be an immigrant, but I am legally licensed, and my wares are legitimate. I have my licenses and account registers here if you need to see them again."

Ignis was confused, and equally as concerned. Why would a man need to be checked every day to make sure he was selling legally? "Do you rotate locations of your cart?"

The gentleman looked equally as confused. "Of course not. Here is where you get the best business—nice people looking for gifts for their daughters and wives and such."

"Then why are you being checked on a regular basis?"

The man squinted at him. "Why are you asking? I'm an immigrant. What do you expect? See that guy over there?" He pointed to a vendor across the street who looked rather shifty. "That guy's only been checked once in the last six months. You wanna know why? He's Lucian."

Ignis surveyed the man across the street. "You can't be serious."

"He's Lucian, alright. Born and raised."

That's not what he had meant. He couldn't believe the man had only been checked once. He looked as if he was the type of person to sell out of a paper bag in the back of an old car. Clearly there was prejudicial treatment being rendered here. "I'll have someone look into it," Ignis promised him. "There's no reason for such a discrepancy. All checks are to be conducted on a monthly basis, especially as your license is appropriately displayed."

"Who are you? Are you from the comptroller's office?"

"No. I am higher up. I assure you I'll look into it right away."

"You will, huh?" The older gentleman nodded at him and lifted his hat to scratch his scalp. Ignis noted the long scar. The man had obviously been a refugee of the war; Had probably barely escaped with his life eight years earlier. "Well that's nice, sir. You have my thanks." He offered his hand. "What's your name?"

Ignis shook his hand firmly. "Ignis Scientia."

"What can I do for you, Mr. Scientia?"

"I'm hoping you can help me. I am looking for a gift that a young lady from Galahd would appreciate."

"What's the occasion?"

"Birthday."

"I see." The man nodded. "Those are grand events indeed. They weren't before the war, of course. Now we view every member who survived as having great importance. They're all that's left of Galahd, and they carry the memories of our heritage. Every year they live is another year that Galahd lives."

What a beautiful concept. Ignis was mentally kicking himself for being so thoughtless as to not look into the date of her birth immediately upon her hire. She had worked for him nearly a year, by now. Though he resented Gladio for buying her such a perfect gift, he was also indebted to him. If he hadn't boasted of his most perfect present, Ignis would have missed the occasion entirely. "I'd be indebted to you if you could assist me."

The man smiled at him. "Is it for your wife?"

"No. My assistant."

"You have an assistant from Galahd? And you're higher than the comptroller?" The man asked in surprise.

Ignis smiled. "She's an amazing individual. I couldn't possibly ignore her merit."

"What are her hobbies?"

Ignis' eyes fell over the sundries occupying the man's cart. They were all unique and somewhat pretty, but he wasn't sure if Aleya would like any of them. There were hairpins, bracelets, bags, rings….nothing that could top Gladio's gift. "I'm not sure," he answered in despair. He gave a slight sigh. "She's eager to learn. Anything she can get her hands upon at the library catches her attention. She's a particular fan of history, literature, and language. Other than that, I know of no natural talents or avocations. I'm quite at a loss."

"A smart one, eh?" The man grinned. "I've got just the thing."

Ignis looked on in hope.

He produced a bracelet with a tiny clamshell attached. The clamshell was slightly larger than Ignis' pinky nail and shimmered somewhere between opaque white and a sky blue, dipped in fine silver. There was also a gem stone, very small, cut into a perfect sphere alongside the clamshell. It looked incredibly delicate. Though pretty, Ignis was disappointed by its simplicity. The man presented it proudly to him, laying it in his palm. "Don't let the thinness of that chain fool you. It's incredibly durable. It's made of finite mythril."

"It's attractive," Ignis conceded, "However, I'm afraid someone has already gotten her jewelry, and it's quite magnificent. A Galahdian opal pendant, he said."

The man gave him a suspicious smile. "You're trying to outdo him, are you? You two fighting over her?"

Ignis was offended. "Of course not! She's my assistant, I simply want to put some thought into what I gift to her. That's all."

The man nodded, but the suspicious smile on his face did not fade. "You said she's a smart girl, eh?"

"Yes."

"Fond of history?"

"Yes."

"Pretty girl?"

Ignis shrugged his shoulders slightly, uncomfortable. "She's attractive, yes."

The man threw his head back, laughing at Ignis' expense. "Listen, if she's all the things you say, she's going to love this. Believe me."

He stared down at the simplistic bracelet, doubtfully. What else could he do? He had no better ideas, and he was running out of time. He'd just have to pick up some sort of sweet on the way back, and if she didn't like what he gave her, he'd explain what happened and throw himself upon her mercy. "Very well. How much do I owe you?"

The man crossed his arms with a smile. "For what you've done for her, and what you're going to do for me? Take it."

"No!" He objected, quickly. "I can't do that."

"You can. Listen here, my friend. In these parts, I'm treated as garbage. Most of us are. You took one of my own in and you're trying to look after her, I can tell. You come here and offer to give me fair treatment. We Galahdians—we repay the kindness of those who are kind to us."

"You're running a business. You need to eat, same as anyone else. Please, allow me to pay you. I won't be able to rest well at night if I don't pay you what it's worth."

"I tell you what. Pay me twenty."

"For finite mythril? It must be more than that."

"You didn't let me finish. Pay me twenty. Make good on your promise to end the harassment of my business. And take care of that assistant of yours. That's all the payment I require." He gestured by swiping his hand to the side, as if erasing a blackboard. "That's more than you can give me in Crown Credits."

Ignis felt the weight of his words. This man had truly been beleaguered, and he had wished for better treatment. Further, it was sad to think he was grateful enough to Ignis simply because he had given a fellow refugee a good job. Were such simple comforts so rare in Insomnia? He realized the man was speaking truth. There were some things far more valuable than money, far more important than material items. He glanced down at the bracelet in his hand. He could only hope the same could be said for Aleya's thoughts on the matter. "Very well. Twenty it is. I'll have someone come by your booth in the morning to straighten out matters." He reached into his pocket and handed the gentleman his credits.

The man squinted at the money. Ignis realized the man might have been blind in one eye. "You paid me two credits too high."

"Buy yourself a coffee," Ignis replied. "The world always looks better over an Ebony."

The man chuckled. "Bless you sir. And bless that assistant of yours. I hope she likes it."

Ignis nodded and walked away. He could only hope so, too.

[Back to Entry]

15th of August, M.E. 754

Yesterday evening was a success. Aleya loves the rather simplistic bracelet I bought her for her birthday. She was enthralled about it. She asked me over and over how I knew exactly what to purchase. She told me her namesake was from the story of Aleystina, one of the former rulers of Lucis (who ruled with her twin Alendester). They were the only twin rulers in the history of Lucis, very unusual. Apparently, Aleystina had inherited her mother's eyes, which were a soft blue/grey in color. When Aleya was born and her father caught sight of her eyes, he immediately desired to call her Aleystina. However, since Her Royal Majesty Aleystina was one of the founders of Galahd, she is somewhat revered, and they viewed an exact reuse of her name would be somewhat sacrilegious. Therefore, they had shortened her name to Aleya.

Aleystina had loved the seas surrounding Galahd with all of her heart. Unlike her brother, who delighted in founding large cities and grand towers, she was more simplistic. She found delight in swimming and diving. She was fascinated by the natural beauty of the clamshells found about the shores of the island nation, and was often known to have fashioned jewelry to wear. The women of Galahd apparently viewed clamshells the same way we view our Imperial crest. It is said that the royal tomb were the twins are buried even bore decorations of clamshell and coral, to pay homage to their love of Galahd. Though Alendester and Aleystina had been forced to rule from Insomnia, it was said they often visited Galahd, and loved it so much that they chose to be buried there, side by side.

Needless to say, it held even more meaning for her, as Aleystina is her namesake. She had looked at me mischievously as she finished her tale and leaned forward as if sharing secrets. She told me that it is rumored Aleystina had a lover from Galahd, and that her Royal Majesty went into seclusion for over a year; It was always believed she might have had a child in secret. 'You never know,' she had told me, teasingly. 'One of my ancestors may have been the illegitimate child of Aleystina herself.'

I told her I might as well start calling her 'Princess', to which she laughed. I told her I had feared my gift would be too simple, as I knew Gladio had gotten her something far grander.

She told me that she did indeed love Gladio's gift, that she would wear it on grand occasions. 'But this,' she said, gesturing to the bracelet she held in her hand, 'I will cherish even more.' She told me she had never been one for opulence, and the bracelet held a history that she had always cherished. She asked me to help her clasp it around her wrist, which I did. She held it up to me proudly and asked me how I knew her so well.

Alas, this is when I had to admit I did not. I freely confessed to asking the vendor for help to find the perfect gift. I thought she would be angry, or at the very least, disappointed. However, she simply smiled and thanked me for going through all the trouble for her.

All in all, it was a satisfying experience. I'm quite pleased she liked the gift. I saw her wearing it today.

Now to other matters. I've one celebration behind me, now on to the next. Noct's turning 18 this year. I've taken the liberty of purchasing a fishing pole he's had his eyes on, as well as all the gear to go with it. It may seem that I've not put a lot of thought into it, but I am most assured Noct will be pleased.

I wonder what His Royal Majesty has up his sleeve for his son.

24th of August, M.E. 754

There was a bit of a scare today.

[Flashback]

Ignis set aside his training sword at the sound of the pleasant chime from the side bench. Normally, he would be annoyed at the interruption, but he was in a cheerful mood. Noct's birthday was quickly approaching. Plans were under way for the celebration, and since the gift was already purchased, he was eager to pass it on to his charge. He had sent Aleya out to finalize payment and delivery. In addition, after the celebration, He, Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto would be going out to camp at Noct's newest favorite locale—investigated and proved to be safe—Crestholm Channels. They would fish and generally goof off for the weekend. Just the idea of Noct's excitement would bring a smile to his face when he thought about it. He was very fond of his surrogate younger brother.

The text was no doubt his assistant texting him to confirm that they payment was made. He grabbed at a towel and draped it over his shoulders as he read the text. 'Receipt in hand. They'll have it at the Citadel tomorrow 3:00 sharp'.

He texted back. 'Splendid! Thank you!'

After a short pause, the screen lit up. 'Anything for you, boss.'

The corner of his mouth twitched a bit, and then curled into a fond smile. She had taken to calling him that lately. He set the phone aside and sat on the bench, drinking water. If not for his assistant, he wouldn't have been able to keep his practice scheduled. He had to move his itinerary around these days, as the King had asked him to start studying up on the locations and creatures of the wall beyond. He was still curious as to why he might have asked such of him, but it really didn't matter. More and more, she seemed to prove her worth to him.

Tossing that thought aside, he rose to his feet and continued his training.

Some time later, he received another chirp on his phone. However, he had already finished practice and was in the shower. He didn't see her message until he finished up. He looked over the text with a slight frown. 'Slight delay. Traffic is terrible. Be there ASAP.'

He wiped the condensation from the front of the phone and typed back. 'Should I send the official car?' They had only utilized the official car a couple of times, and it had normally been when traffic was a disaster and time was of the essence. Official transport could clear the way extremely quickly. Besides, it was armored. Certainly, it's why the King had insisted 'the car' be used to transport Noct to Crestholm in the upcoming days.

Aleya, who usually was rather prompt in replying, did not answer. Ignis shot his phone a few puzzled—and quite frankly, concerned—glances as he dressed. It could have been that she simply couldn't answer at the moment. It could have been that she had left her phone on silent and was conversing with the driver. Maybe she was in the process of responding—he picked it up in hope and frowned as he realized there was no tell-tale sign of a forthcoming message. He supposed she could almost have arrived; Perhaps pulling in to the front entrance now. It did take him a few minutes to even notice her message, and if she were on her way in and would see him momentarily, there would be no need to respond.

His phone rang shrilly as he combed his damp bangs down over his forehead. He picked it up without looking at the number. "Still stuck in traffic?" He questioned.

"Pardon, sir?"

No, it wasn't Aleya. He glanced at the number. It was Natrice, the Crownsguard security secretary. "Pardon, Natrice, I thought you to be someone else. How may I help you?"

There was some clicking of a typewriter in the background. "Sorry, sir, but we've just received word from emergency services. There's been an incident. We believe your secretary has been involved in an automobile accident."

Ignis felt a sudden chill pass over him. He instantly felt numb from the neck down. "What?"

"You know that emergency services and hospitals are to call in when they find an official ID. They read off Miss Clairen's number. They also described her—early twenties, dark blonde, five foot five, ID…"

"Where?!" He cried, cutting her off. He was already in motion, grabbing his wallet and shoving it into his back pocket.

"Fifth and Regal. Looks like a nasty pileup. A transport vehicle took out a taxi. It's on the news."

He started running. He never had the conscious thought to race, but his mind triggered his limbs to hurry, and he did. "Is she still at the scene?"

"Yes, they apparently haven't moved her. Sorry, intel's a little slow. I don't know her condition, yet."

He burst through the double doors of the training room, startling two Glaive and causing a passing Keep to jump and give a slight shriek. "His Highness is currently in his room. Be sure to assign a guard until I call in. I'm checking it out."

"You, personally?" She asked in surprise.

Something in the tone of her voice offended him. It was as if she were shocked that he was putting forth such an effort for her; That he wasn't going to wait and go about his normal business until he got more information. "Of course!" He snapped back. "She's my assistant! I have a duty to look after her safety!"

"I could send a few of…"

"No need. I'll handle it myself."

There was a slight pause. "As you wish," she replied, in a voice that sounded very much like a shrug.

He took his own car. The drive to the scene was agonizingly slow. Traffic was, as she had said, terrible. And the massive vehicle accident blocking lanes of traffic was only making it worse. He could see the accident far ahead, but with literally nowhere to go beyond his current position, he was at his wit's end. Just as he made the decision to abandon his car and run, letting happen what would happen to the most sacred of his own property, he spied a woman walking down the sidewalk in his peripheral vision. "By the Astrals!" He spat, and exited the vehicle.

She was startled as he ran up to her. "What in bloody hell are you doing?!" He shouted. She stepped away from him, eyes wide in surprise. Ignis never yelled. In fact, he could never remember a single time in his life when he raised his voice. He had taken pride in mastering the art of remaining cool, clam, and collected. Funny how one crisis with one woman had thrown a lifetime of training out the window.

"What do you mean?" Aleya asked, startled.

"Damn," he fussed irritably, noting the bleeding from her hairline. He tried to find his handkerchief. He hadn't brought it, of course. He'd been in too great of a hurry. He wasn't wearing his jacket. His shirt wasn't tucked in. He had sworn he'd never be so unkempt. Settling on his sleeve, he pressed it to her forehead. "I suppose you didn't realize you were bleeding? Hold still." She tried to pull away, but he held on to her firmly.

"I…I'm…"

"What other injuries do you have?"

"I'm fine." Her voice was quiet, almost incomprehensible. She reached up with a trembling hand to grasp the arm that was compressing the wound on her head. Her bracelet he had bought her caught the sunlight, temporarily blinding him for a moment. "I'm alright."

"You're walking with a limp," he complained.

"I—am?" Her hand fell away, having barely made contact with his arm.

He watched her for a moment. "Are you in shock?"

She stared at him, those dazzling pewter-blue eyes gazing directly into his own. Her gaze held no meaning, no feeling at all. Her expression spoke of a glacial quiet and was devoid of emotion. It was as if he hadn't spoken to her at all.

Keeping his shirt sleeve pressed to the wound, he scooped up her shoulders under his opposite arm. He guided her to the car. "Come. Why would you leave the scene of the accident?" He muttered. "You're far too sensible for such a thing!"

One of the drivers parked behind Ignis hung out of his car window. "Hey dude, is she alright? You need any help?"

"I could use your assistance in moving the vehicles. If I can find a bit of room, I can find our way to the hospital."

"Hey, man, no problem!" With that, he also abandoned his car and began going vehicle to vehicle, pointing, explaining the situation.

Aleya's breath was short and rapid, and Ignis' wasn't much better, when he could catch a breath at all. Her hand still poised as if she wanted to grab his forearm and was shaking terribly. In fact, her whole body seemed to quiver as he walked her to the car. She was in a daze, mostly oblivious to the world around her.

His heart pounded quickly as he drew nearer to the vehicle. He never imagined such a scenario, and he hardly recognized her in such a state. The largest cut was on her hair line, but tiny cuts also ran down the left side of her face and her left hand. Her gait was more of a trip-step as she limped a bit. Her right hand often clutched at the collar of her blouse. Her hair was a mess. Who knew what other injuries she might have that he couldn't see? He had to get her to the hospital, and quickly.

As he leaned forward to open the car door, he jostled her shoulder, and she let out a bit of a sharp cry. He froze for a moment as he looked her over. "Are you in pain?"

Her face blanched white and she began to sink. He caught her. "Now, now. None of that. Sit here. Let me look over you." He glanced down the street, where the helpful citizen was doing his best to get the traffic to move. It seemed as if it wasn't going well, though. There was nowhere for traffic to redirect. Ignis took a calming breath as she slid into the car seat weakly. He handed her a napkin that Noctis had once sloppily shoved in the side panel of the passenger door and held it to her head. Only now did he notice she was bare-footed. Where had her shoes gone off to? Who knew what the soles of her feet had picked up along the way? "Where is your footwear?"

She took a sharp breath. "I didn't have time. I had to run. When you run, you have to take your shoes off. He—he told me to take my shoes off."

"Who?" Ignis turned slightly, as if expecting the mystery persona of whom she referred to be standing nearby. "Who told you to remove your shoes?"

"Calen."

"Calen? You were with your brother? Where the devil is he?" Ignis stood—careful to keep his fingers on the tissue against her scalp- and looked about his surroundings, hoping to see the rather tall young man standing amidst the traffic of shorter vehicles. But unfortunately, he had no such fortune. When he turned back, he was startled to see a swift tear roll down her face. Her face was completely stoic, and yet a tear still fell. He was taken aback. "Aleya. What's wrong? Are you in pain? Where does it hurt?"

"We got separated," She explained to Ignis, calmly. "I couldn't find him. I couldn't find him for days." Ah, so this wasn't a story of the present. Perhaps her accident had jogged a memory, bringing up old trauma. "I couldn't find my brother. I didn't know what to do. The skies got dark, and I had to hide." She clenched a fist and laid it against her chest, still quivering. "In the day, I would just run and run…for Insomnia. My brother told me to run to Insomnia." Her gaze traveled past him, to an object in the distance. He followed her gaze, and his eyes fell upon the Citadel.

The highest point in Insomnia, no doubt one of the first things the immigrants saw upon entering her gates. The accident—however it had happened—had flung her into the time when Galahd fell, when she and her brother fought to escape, became separated, and made their way to Insomnia. His gaze fell to her again and imagined her as a thirteen-year-old child, orphaned, torn apart by the trauma of war, and frightened out of her wits, dodging the terrors of the night and the beasts of the day. Something caught in his throat, and his anger rose in his chest. How he hated the Empire!

"Aleya," he spoke softly, touching a knuckle to her cheek gently, "You're here, in the Crown City. You've been in an accident."

For a moment, she did not respond. Then, her eyes traveled slowly to his face, and their eyes locked. "Ignis."

Was it a question or a statement? In her state of mind, he couldn't tell. "Yes."

To his astonishment, she reached out and gripped his shirt at the shoulder seam with astounding strength. "Ignis! The cab driver! What about the cab driver? Is he alright?"

Back to reality, he supposed, and in full force. "No need to worry about that," he answered as he unclenched her hand from his shirt. "He's well in hand."

"But—but the truck…the truck hit so hard. He didn't even try to stop. It was like he was aiming right for…ah!" With a gasp, she pressed a hand to her chest, at the base of her clavicle. She sank back in the seat.

He felt a cold shiver run up his back. The adrenaline still served him, giving him perfect clarity. She was hurt. She had gone on an errand for him, and had wound up in this state! Why hadn't he just gone himself? What if her injuries were more severe than they appeared? He had to find her medical attention, and quickly. "Hold on, Aleya. We're on our way." He reached across her to find a few more clean tissues and pressed them into her palm, then raised her palm to her head. He shouted at the helpful citizen down the way, asking him what was taking so long.

As he was speaking, he saw a sleek black SUV coming across the lawn of the park they were parked near. He would recognize the silver markings on that vehicle anywhere. He glanced at his assistant and then back to the vehicle, eager to locate the signal to quit the place. He got to his feet as it slowed to a halt.

A woman got out, motioning to him. "Mister Scientia, please follow me."

The first feelings of relief began to flood in. "Thank you, Monica." He carefully closed his passenger's door and ran around. He practically dove in the car and had his seatbelt latched quickly. "Hold on; We're on our way."

[Back to Entry]

The good doctor informs me my assistant had nothing broken. She had a dislocated shoulder that the paramedics had already set prior to her wandering off, some internal bruising, a few lacerations, and a mild concussion. She's resting now.

Noct insisted on coming to check in on her condition, but as soon as he found out all was well, he made himself comfortable in the guest chair and fell asleep. I had to wake him a few moments ago and send him away to his residence. That's Noct's way of things. He could sleep anywhere, and at a moment's notice. I suspect his fatigue runs deeper than we imagine, and the cause obscure. I often worry excessively about him. For what youth his age sleeps as much as he and still wakes fatigued?

As for Aleya—I'm rather relieved she'll recover nicely. I'm not sure why I panicked so. Perhaps it is because Aleya has become invaluable to me. She is more than my assistant. She is my friend and my partner. I would have been horrified if something had happened to her while running the errands I purposefully gave her, only that I wouldn't be bothered with them myself. I'm not sure I would have been able to forgive myself for such an error in judgement.

For now, I must leave this place and return home for some rest. Noct insists that he will return with me in the morning to check in on her. In all honestly, in this particular case, I'd have preferred to go alone. There are things I fear may be discussed that may be discomforting to her with an audience. Still, I can deny Noct nothing.

Best agree to his requests now and make good practice of it. In a few years, he will be king.

25th of August, M.E. 754

As I suspected, my assistant felt the dire need to apologize for the prior day's events. She then decided to tell me the story in its entirety.

Apparently, it was a head-on collision. It is a miracle either one of them survived, however, it helped that the passenger side took the brunt of the blow. As Aleya was in the back seat, she received quite a beating, but her life was spared. Unfortunately, the cab driver suffered far worse. He's still alive, though most likely will be permanently disabled. The Crownsguard are already determining how to assist his family. We take care of our own, and Aleya is indeed part of the group, though she is an assistant to a militarized member. As the incident involved her, we are eager to take care of the man who suffered while transporting her.

The driver of the transport vehicle fled the scene, and there are questions that it might have been intentional, though nary a one of us can figure why. We are currently launching an investigation.

She woke when she was dragged from the car, and somehow wandered off, where she ran into me.

The accident triggered rather unpleasant memories for her. It would seem her mother, brother, and herself attempted to flee the city via vehicle (upon her father's last wishes). The car was struck and flipped, killing her mother. Her brother had to dig his younger sister out form the twisted metal. She had lost a shoe in the mayhem, and he had discarded the other, fearing it would slow their flight. They had fled to Insomnia, but had been separated along the way for a while. She had spent terrified nights alone between Galahd and when she met the rescue convoy, where she was reunited with Calen.

This incident simply pulled her back to those horrid days, and she had reacted out of her usual calm character.

She and Noct seemed to bond even further after her tale. His story is quite similar to her own. He also was attacked and fought for his life as a youth, and grew to hate the Empire because of it. He views her an equal victim of their ruthlessness. I am inclined to agree. There is no excuse for such disaster.

No apologies were needed. Had I known this story in advance, perhaps I would have reacted with a bit more patience when I found her wandering about in the street. My heart hurts for her. I found myself rather angry at her tale. I can't even begin to imagine losing so much: family, home, city, and any hope—any prior plans—for the future.

The sooner the Empire is called to task for it's war crimes, the better.

30th of August, M.E. 754

It's the day of His Highness' Birthday, and it was indeed splendid. As per the usual, there was quite the gala. Noctis minded his manners during the lengthy event, and I'm proud that he did so.

His Majesty has gifted his son privately, and Noct has not told even I what the gift was. We're off tomorrow for an overnight camping trip. I imagine His Highness will desire to drive on our journey. I best pack appropriate medication. I have a feeling I'll need it if we ever make it to the campsite in one piece.

I had wanted to invite Aleya to his Highness' party. Noctis desired it, also. However, with her injuries, we supposed it would do better for her to rest for now. She'll need a few more days, at the very least.

It's hard to imagine His Highness is now 19 years old. I still remember the first day I was assigned to his care. Sometimes when I look upon him—even today—I still see that wide-eyed, round faced little boy, who was pure joy and innocence.

Those days, I never imagined he would nearly die at the hands of the Marlith, or watch Tenebrae burn around him. Could I go back to those days of his youth….But no. What's done is done. And in the end, I suppose he will still turn out to be the powerful, honest, and diligent ruler I had always imagined he would become; The same as I imagined him when I first shook his hand: A young boy of only 4, with an aura of hope and promise.

Rustic Stew

Daggerquil Breast Cleigne Wheat Wild Onion Scheir Tumeric

Garlic Salt & Pepper to taste Caem Carrot Celery