1st of November, M.E. 754

Aleya finally met Umbra today. It was delightful. They seemed to fall in love with each other at first sight. I think Noct was a bit jealous. Umbra may be divinely linked to the Oracle, but today he seemed to be very much a dog. A dog that fell in love with my assistant.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised if I don't start receiving visits from him, myself, if only to see the girl that showered so much affection upon him.

4th of November, M.E. 754

I said it would happen, and it did. Aleya returned to work today, but covered in scratches and bruises from training. I must admit it was quite distressing to gaze upon. Gladio is one thing—Aleya is another. I meant to scold her, but she seemed rather deflated. I couldn't determine whether it was from the sound beating she got in training or something else entirely. The only thing I could do was offer her a potion and to bandage her wounds. She accepted the potion, but wouldn't let me near her to dress the more offensive abrasions. I can only hope the potion will do its work nicely.

Upon my return to Noct's apartment today, I received a rather large surprise. I honestly expected the worst, as my day had proven melancholy to this point. However, Noct had tidied up and the report was marked and notated. He hadn't done something like that since our last rather large dispute—and that was a sort of an apology, I suspect. This time, it appears he took the initiative all on his own. Quite the turn of events. In any case, it's a start.

7th of November, M.E. 754

I've been contacted by Monica. I'm to host individualized training sessions with the newest of the combat recruits for the Crownsguard. I'm called to do so on occasion—usually once or twice a year. I've never hesitated before, but I fear I do now. After all, my assistant is one of the recruits, and she's top of the list to receive one-on-one instruction.

The combat exercises are exceedingly realistic. It's causing me much anxiety. If I can scarcely stand to see the cuts and bruises accompanying her training, how could I possibly inflict them upon her?

I shall have to find it within myself to do so. I owe it to her; To allow her to find her own strengths and weaknesses, so she can grow and adapt. It means a great deal to her to be a capable fighter, to protect His Highness when called upon to do so. Gladio knows this, and finds no quarrel with helping her to fight. Why should I?

8th of November, M.E. 754

Training did not go well. Aleya is furious with me. I may even be reprimanded by the Marshal. It is my duty to train the recruits if I'm called upon to do so. However…

[FLASHBACK]

There she stood—in her tank top, cargo pants, and ponytail, pulling on a small pair of leather gloves. They must have been tailor-made for her, as the bones in her hands were so small. Ignis regarded her fingers as he stood awkwardly before her. How could she possibly fight with hands as small as those? He was afraid they would shatter if they struck anything. This wasn't going to be easy…

"I've been looking forward to this," she said with a smile, fastening the last strap.

Ignis tried to settle the rising feeling of nausea in his stomach. "Have you? Looking forward to getting a nice swing at me, have you?"

She laughed. "Of course not. I'm grateful to you. I've seen you fight. You're amazing."

Ah, salt in the wound. He couldn't shake the ominous feeling of dread. He should have told Monica his schedule was too busy. He could have convinced Noct to come up with an excuse. The awkwardness of having to pin her and wrestle with her was not lost to him, no matter how innocent Gladio thought he was. Not only that, but he would most likely have to harm her. Either scenario was daunting. He couldn't think of anything he would rather do less. He would prefer to be left on a dark lightless road in the middle of Duscae's pitch-black night. He tried not to groan when she bowed to him, respectfully preparing for the fray. "Aleya….are you sure you want to do this?"

"What do you mean? I told you. I have to learn how to fight to…"

"…Protect Noctis. Yes, I know. But that task falls to me. You're not obliged to take up the sword."

"Are we having this conversation again? What if you're hurt? What if you're incapacitated and there's only me left to defend Noct?"

He smirked as he pushed up his glasses. "That will never happen."

She put her hands on her hips. "Come on, boss. Let's go. Don't worry about hurting me. If I fall, I'll get up. It's how I learn."

He took a shaky breath. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to when he walked in, but he had summoned the courage and fortitude to proceed. It was his duty, after all, and Ignis Scientia would always fulfill his duties. He had promised Monica to train the recruits. He was a man of his word; He couldn't back out simply because he admired and respected one of them. He couldn't give in to his disquieting thoughts just because he didn't want to have to stare at a bruise or a broken bone he had inflicted upon her. However, he was also the same Ignis Scientia who couldn't harm someone he cared for. It was beyond him. It was the same reason why he would never engage in one-on-one combat training with Noctis until he was fully trained, and left it all to Gladio. "If I do this, I can't hold back. You could be hurt."

She nodded. "I understand."

A moment of silence passed between them. He regarded her quietly, staring into her face. She was so full of determination, of resolve. She brimmed with expectation. Was she actually looking forward to being beaten by her employer? The woman was teeming with courage as well as foolishness. She had seen him fight, but she still did not truly know what he was capable of. He took a deep breath, decision made. "I'm afraid I must ask your forgiveness."

"What?" Her face fell.

"I can't. I won't."

She shook her head quickly, alarm passing over her features. "Ignis, this is part of my training. You're training everyone else—"

He interrupted her, trying to speak to her gently to ease the blow. "I cannot harm you. Please understand."

"It's part of training." She repeated, as if he hadn't heard her the first time.

"A year ago, we stood in this very spot, and you came to my aid. Not once, but twice. You couldn't stand to see me—an experienced fighter and tactician—battered. And now you expect me to mete out the same punishment?" He watched her expression change to surprise. Had she not thought of that? "Are you asking me to pummel the person who became my savior? I'm not capable."

She looked at the floor for a moment. "But, I've seen you pull your punches. You know how to—"

He cut her off again. "What if I make a mistake? What if you do? There are too many variables in battle. I can control myself, but you're untrained and ambiguous. I've never raised a hand against you, and I have no idea if you'll react the way I've anticipated. There are times when I injure someone, simply because they've turned left when I anticipated right; They've charged when I expected them to halt."

"That's part of training. I don't get a pass just because I'm your assistant."

He was not changing his mind. Not now, not ever. "No."

"Ignis, this is a half hour class. If you don't train me, who will?"

"That's not my concern," he replied, firmly.

She gave him a look of pure disbelief. "You're backing out on me? I need your help!"

For a moment, he faltered. 'I need your help.' He knew very well of her goals, her concerns. He also had slowly seen her turn into a different person over the last few months. His cheerful, bright-eyed assistant had become sullen and quiet, withdrawn. She was entirely wrapped up in her work. He hadn't seen her eat lunch in well over a month. Aside from the brief meeting with Umbra, it was as if she had become a stranger to him. At times, she would even slip back into her training fatigues at lunch, punching the sand bags until time to resume her normal activities. She obviously was working something out deep within herself. 'I need your help.' Would twisting her arm, throwing her to the ground, stabbing her with training daggers help her? Would it help if she sweated out her fury, until she was a crumpled bleeding heap on the floor? Would it help for her to look at her wounds in the mirror as she mentally reviewed her mistakes? Would it help her resolve whatever she had brewing inside? Perhaps.

It could also get her seriously injured, even killed. One mistake, and he could break her jaw, her teeth, her limbs—even her neck. The fear of such an occurrence gave him pause before training every recruit. Now, it struck him with a cold sweat. He was terrified.

He thought of the day she ran to him, risking her own safety to protect him from Yore. He thought of her tending his wounds, and scouring the blood off the training room floor—so content to be of assistance in any way possible. His eyes moved to the diamond-shaped tile where he had seen her kneeling, doused in blood, scrubbing away. He then glanced to the opposite wall, where she had challenged Yore a second time, and how Yore had struck her. He could still feel her fingers clinging to the fabric at the back of his shirt as he stood between her and the Master that would do her harm.

Something turned in his stomach and he felt physically ill. He couldn't bring a weapon to bear on her now, no matter how she pleaded with him. "I'm sorry, Aleya. I can't." He replied, genuinely apologetic. "I do hope you understand." With that, he turned on his heel and made to leave the training room.

"Ignis!" He heard her feet race towards him. Despite the fury in her voice, he didn't bother to move away. Let her hit him if she wanted. It's not as if she could do him any real harm.

To his surprise, she did not strike to try to goad him into an attack. Instead, she grabbed his arm at the elbow with both hands. "Ignis, please. You don't understand. I have to learn how to fight. I have to! You're the best one to train me. I know you won't just fight; you'll teach. I won't hold it against you if I get hurt. It happens all the time."

He winced and looked away.

"I mean—it happens to everyone all the time. I've seen you get injured before, too. So it's the same thing. How is this any different?"

"Because it's you!" He snapped, meeting her eyes.

They both stopped and stared at one another for a moment. He was as equally shocked as she that he had said such a thing. He also wondered as much as she did as to what it meant. He was in unchartered territory. He knew full well the kind of injuries she had sustained thus far, and he knew she would continue training despite him. But he also knew—with every fiber of his being—that he couldn't be the one to harm her, even on accident. It would be akin to asking him to harm Noct. It was an impossibility.

He tore his eyes away from hers and shook his arm away. "I'm sorry. You'll have to find someone else to train you."

"Ignis!" She shouted one final time, as the training doors clanged shut behind him.

He could tell she was enraged. He didn't care.

[Back to Entry]

9th of November, M.E. 754

No disciplinary charges from the Marshal today, as I had anticipated. However, I was called into his office to speak about the incident. It was an awkward conversation. The Marshal of course wondered why I backed out of training one of the recruits, as I had happily done such things before, and had no problem with training the others. Of course he knows she is my assistant. That led to other discomforting questions.

What else could I tell him? I assured her there was no tension of any kind between us, that I had no romantic interest in her at all. I explained that we had become friends, and I also explained that I couldn't harm someone who helped me at every turn—even at her own peril.

He appeared dubious, but he agreed to pass the training on to other instructors. I'm relieved. If he had forced me to proceed, I would have had no choice but to let her win. I'm sure that would have raised some eyebrows, as I outclass her by a mile.

It's less problematic to avoid such a situation altogether.

Aleya was very quiet today. She didn't say much at all, but she didn't seem particularly angry; Simply reflective, I suppose. I wish I could say she was re-considering her choice to continue in the Crownsguard. But if I know her any at all, I imagine she's trying to figure out how to navigate the setback of one of the best senior instructors refusing to train her. It will impede her progress.

For that, I'm truly apologetic. But I will not raise a hand against her. Not now, and not ever.

11th of November, M.E. 754

I went looking for Aleya this morning. She seems to be more distant and somber than ever as of late. I meant to pick her up at training and offer to treat her to breakfast; A peace offering of sorts. When I walked in, I saw at the very first a cadette who out-sized her by three times rake his knuckles into her jaw.

I think I lost all feeling in my limbs. I'm not sure how I stayed upright. It was such a shock to see her crumple under the force of that blow. I lost all sense. For the first moment or two, I simply stared in disbelief. My next thought was to render emergency aid. But just as I prepared my muscles to bolt her direction, she simply swung her leg around and swept it under his feet, knocking him down. She had him pinned before I had a chance to react.

Monica showered praise upon her. Everyone bowed to each other, and she made her way to the locker room. She never even laid eyes upon me.

By then, I was too startled and shaken to even remember breakfast.

It's apparent that she is advancing in her training at a remarkable pace, despite my refusal to assist. At this rate, she'll far exceed any trainer's expectations.

And yet, I find myself desiring so fiercely that she quit her plans for battle education. I fear if I see one more bruise, I'll go mad.

12th of November, M.E. 754

It's a distracting thing to try to pay attention to an important meeting when your assistant is walking around the table with a limp, collecting data sheets. It's disconcerting to see the black patterns on her left cheekbones, the cuts and ribbons on her skin, and the fact that the uniform that used to fit her so well is now beginning to hang.

How long will she keep this up? What is there left to prove? She needn't serve Noctis this way. She's not a gladiator. She's not a mercenary. She's Aleya Claren. She's sensible, diligent, and compassionate. The Aleya Claren I know is joyful, not buried in angst.

We used to chat. She used to smile. Now she scarcely glances my direction. She's become a servant—mindlessly following orders, never daring to make eye contact. I hardly know her, now. What's driven her to this? Who's taken my assistant away and replaced her?

No, not replaced. I fear she's been buried. She is trying to bury all her joy, sensitivity, and kindness under cold, unfeeling armor. It will never work. She simply cannot support the burden of such a life. I believe she'll crumble. I have to find a way to reach her soon, or I fear it will be far too late.

13th of November, M.E. 754

Noct's father wishes him to set his mind to a task—any task—embodying the betterment of Insomniaand showing leadership, care, and concern for the people within her. I thought he would be sullen and rebellious, but to my surprise, his head simply reeled with ideas. He had far too many to list here. His time spent with the general populace over the years has given him some perspective, it seems.

I used to wonder why Regis allowed the only heir to go to a public school, to get a job at a far-from-glamorous establishment. Now I see the wisdom in his actions. As he has always said, one cannot hope to guide the people if he does not truly know their hearts.

The next task is to get Noctis to choose one project. When he's King, he'll have more than he can carry. For now, it's best to give him a sample on the spoon rather than the whole stew.

14th of November, M.E. 754

When my assistant came in to my office today, barely able to walk, I demanded to know who her instructors were. She didn't want to tell me, but I left her no choice. To my surprise, Gladio was her senior instructor for the week. I was simply shocked. I had no idea why he would allow such a thing. So, I suppose I thought it best to go personally and find the reason for myself…

[FLASHBACK]

"Gladiolus Amicitia!" Ignis' voice rang out sharp and clear, echoing off the walls of the training room. All training ceased, and everyone turned to the Prince's Right Hand in surprise and confusion. Silence filled the hall as the door clanged shut behind him, loudly. "A word." He growled in an undertone, narrowing his eyes at his dark-haired friend.

Monica glanced to Gladio. She thrust her head in the general direction of the young, slender, sandy-haired man glowering at him, whose demeanor spoke as to his disposition: Feet spread, shoulders back and slightly atilt, right hand in a clenched fist. "Better see what's up."

"Right." Gladio slung the training sword, and it landed precisely in it's intended stand on the wall, with barely even a shudder on the landing.

As he neared, Ignis could hear his blood pounding in his ears. His jaw clenched tightly. He could never remember being so furious, at least as far back as he could currently remember. No, he couldn't remember being as furious in his life. That was something, as he could remember many, many late nights fuming at his adoptive younger brother, who had successfully landed them both in detention on numerous occasions. This, however, was far different than the sting of a potentially damaged reputation.

"What's up?" Gladio asked, nearing him. He flexed his right shoulder as if it were bothering him.

He couldn't help it. The words were out of his mouth before he processed rational thought—another discrepancy of his character. "You know damn well!" He bellowed, irritably. "How could you?!"

His companion played it cool. Though Gladio was larger, he knew what Ignis was capable of in a good fight. And whatever was eating at him, he certainly didn't want to cross him. Besides, he had no desire to cause him harm. He was, after all, his best friend. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "You wanna clue me in? What are you talking about?"

"She is a junior member! She's trained less than a few months!"

An expression of realization crossed his features. "You talkin' about Aleya?"

"Yes, Aleya Claren!" Ignis spat back. "I've known you to be many things, but never reckless! She's not a seasoned fighter. She doesn't even have mediocre combat skills! How could you—damage her in such a way? Is this how you treat your romantic pursuits?!"

"Romant—what are you talking about? Have you lost your marbles?"

"You're dating, are you not?"

"Woah, Iggy. Hold on there. It's not like you to jump to all these assumptions. Did Noctis hit you with too many lightning spells? You sick or something?" He reached out to put a friendly hand on Ignis' shoulder.

He flinched away aggressively. "Unhand me! Have you no shame? Have you seen the results of these training sessions, or do you genuinely have no concept of what a training blade can do to the female form?"

"Is she hurt?"

"Hurt?!" Ignis stared back at him, appalled. "One more session with you and I fear she'll be confined to a wheelchair!"

"Ignis, calm down, will you?" He began to lose his patience.

He scowled at him. "Why should I, pray tell?"

"Because you sound like an idiot!" Gladio snapped, losing patience altogether.

Ah, that was the wake up Ignis needed. He took it like cold water in his face. He prided himself on intellect; On observation, deduction, and appropriate action. He had built his whole career—no, his whole life—upon the importance of such matters. Gladio hadn't meant to insult him. It was simply the truth. He had indeed lost all sense of reason in this matter. Such a thing simply couldn't be tolerated, no matter the reason. "What are you saying?" Ignis replied, cautiously glaring at him through narrowed lids. He could calm down without losing his sense of ire.

"I'm sayin' you need to get your facts straight before you accuse a man of beating up his girlfriend."

"Girlfriend." So it was true. He had suspected, but hearing Gladio confirm it verbally was somewhat deflating. He wasn't sure why.

Gladio made a 'tch' sound in the back of his throat. "That's what you're sayin' ain't ya? Well, for your information, it's not true. None of it."

Ignis' eyebrow furrowed in a combination of skepticism and confusion.

"She ain't my girlfriend, and she ain't gettin' those injuries here. Did she tell you that?"

His color flushed slightly. "To be perfectly honest, she told me scarcely a word. I demanded the names of her instructors. I suppose I very rashly assumed the rest."

"Uh huh." Gladio's big strong knuckles bumped him in the chest, hard. "And you marched over here like her Knight in Shining Armor. What is it, Iggy? You got a thing for her?"

His red tone colored all the deeper, and he pushed his glasses up on his nose, tossing Gladio an indignant look. "I most certainly do not. She is my assistant. I'm simply looking out for her welfare."

The bemused twinkle wouldn't fade from Gladio's eye. "Sure."

They stated at each other for a moment; Gladio's face rendering delighted amusement and Ignis' registering dismay. "Well then, are you certain her injuries are not being accrued here?" That left other possibilities that Ignis didn't want to ponder. Was her brother abusive? He never had been before…

"She may look small and helpless, but she's scrappy. Eager to learn, too. If we could get our dear sweet Prince to pay half as much attention to combat training as she does, I'd be out of a job. She's a long way from officer material, but she's holding her own against the juniors."

"Then where would she be accruing such injuries?"

Gladio shrugged. "I don't know. But here is a word of advice: ask her. Make sure you have all your facts straight before you go and strangle some innocent, unsuspecting stranger on the street."

Ignis shot him a sarcastic—if not somewhat embarrassed—look over the top of his glasses. "And a word of advice for you, as well. If you intend to keep up your crusading statistics, I suggest you keep your distance from my assistant. Anyone would think you two are lovers."

"Anyone?" Gladio smirked. "Or are those assumptions getting the best of you again?"

With a look that could have frozen tepid water, Ignis rounded on his heel and left the training room, as abruptly decisive as how he had entered.

[Back to Entry]

It turns out she is doing training after-hours with some of her friends in the Kingsglaive. For the life of me, I couldn't fathom why.

Imagine my horror when she told me of the hate crimes against immigrant citizenry. A dark and ugly prejudice is running rampantly within the walls of this glamorous city. Several Galahdian women have been the target of hate crimes as of late, one of the most recent being a dear childhood friend. I have learned that is why she recently asked for personal time. She was tending to her friend in the hospital.

I was confused. I thought she had begun combat training so as to protect Noct. I told her as much. I'll never forget her reply. She looked at me for the first time in a long while, with those eyes that simply stupefy me; Causing me to lose track of depth and spatial awareness. I found myself lost as I gazed in to those rings of ash-blue glass. She said, 'I did. I have promised to stand beside you and to support you no matter what. If you are doing anything at all—including fighting—I will be with you. I will stand with you always. But along the way I found out that to survive, I have to step out from your shadow. And to help my people, I cannot hide behind these walls. I started learning for you, Igs. But if I'm going to be of any real help to anyone, I need to survive, first. If I fall, so does the person I'm trying to protect.'

There are no words. We just stood there, staring at each other. I couldn't say anything, for I didn't know what to speak to her. She astounded me. I couldn't tear my eyes away, at least until my phone rang and I was forced to do so. I simply felt it wasn't right to look away from this woman who is meant to be my assistant, but surpasses me and teaches me in every way.

18th of November, M.E. 754

Gladio was injured today. He, Prompto, and Aleya went ahead of me to collect Noct for an evening out—apparently Noct wishes to see the cinematic version of Loveless. He feels it is something Lady Lunafreya would appreciate. I firmly feel it's his plan to take her to see it one day.

In any case, I was finishing up a few errands, so I sent Aleya ahead with Gladio and Prompto to retrieve him from work. Once Gladio arrived, the Glaive on duty dismissed himself and retired for the evening.

A drunk patron began to make trouble. From what I gather, he specifically was making trouble for Aleya. At first, it was just verbally. Noct and Gladio both warned him to ease off. But when he laid hands on her, Noct was offended. When he attempted to intervene, the patron attacked him with a knife. Aleya was shoved out of the way by Gladio as he stepped between the blade and our young heir. I am certain Gladio could have avoided the injury. In fact, he said as much himself. However, he did not want to harm a Lucian citizen who was clearly drunk out of his senses and would probably not remember a bit of the events the next morning.

As soon as Aleya saw him bleeding, she quickly attacked the man herself and brought him to his knees. Noct and Prompto jumped in, and the crisis was averted. However, imagine my panic as I learned the truth of the events—and wound up meeting my friends at a hospital rather than a theatre.

Had I been there, perhaps none of this would have happened at all. I wouldn't have let him get within three yards of my assistant in the first place, and I definitely would not have let him get near Noct. Furthermore, I could have assisted in apprehending the man before he could wound anyone.

I have thanked Gladio profusely, but I think he will never understand that a simple act of duty for him meant the world to me. He somehow managed to protect the most important people in my life in one quick sweep. I'll never be able to repay him—nor measure up to his valor.

22nd of November, M.E. 754

Gladio is extremely proud of his scar. He says it will attract women. I'd like to know how many women are left in Insomnia that haven't already had their fill of attraction to him, scar or no.

Noct has narrowed down his choices for his project. Either he seeks to establish a new commerce route between Insomnia and Lestallum, reopen negotiations with Altissia, or seek a diplomatic envoy to be sent to Tenebrae for spiritual guidance for our people. All much-needed endeavors, to be sure. I'm pleased for the options he's chosen. As soon as he's finalized his plans, I imagine he and I will set to work straight away. I am curious as to what his final decision may be.