Day 43:
It was too quiet in his car. Too empty. The whole way to Hammerhead he expected Noctis and Gladio to start arguing or Prompto to roll down the window and hang out with his camera.
But he had left them behind in Insomnia.
He should have told them. He should have stayed. He should have made some offer—
Ignis turned the radio up, hoping to drown out the sound of his critical subconscious. It was too late to think of what he should have done; right or wrong, he had made his decision. But nothing was so black and white as that.
It took less time to reach Hammerhead when he didn't break down halfway there and push the car the remainder of the way. Less than an hour, overall. By the time he had parked, the sun was just coming up.
The garage was closed. He didn't much care for interrupting anyone's morning rest—whatever Noctis may have believed—but he would wake them if necessary.
He rounded to the back and knocked on the door that connected to the small dwelling behind the garage. And he waited. He counted a minute on his wrist watch before knocking again, more insistently. Cid might not even know anything. He could be doing this for nothing. He could be setting himself up for an earful from a man who already held low opinions of anyone in Prince Noctis' company—or, indeed, anyone at all save his granddaughter. But thus far it was the best lead he had. He might have tried to contact the marshal, but he couldn't risk the information of his whereabouts getting back to King Regis so quickly and he had no guarantee that Cor would not tell him.
Another minute passed before someone came to the door. It was not Cid.
"What's all this racket about?" Cindy, hair in disarray, stood in the doorway rubbing her eyes.
"Apologies for waking you so early. I had hoped to speak with Cid."
"Paw Paw ain't here." She dropped her hand and looked up at him curiously. "Gone to fix the king's boat."
"The king's boat?" If King Regis had made such a request, Ignis expected to have heard of it, at least in passing. There had been talk of a vessel to take Lord Ravus to Niflheim some time ago, but that was all dealt with and did not include the king's personal yacht.
"That's right. The princess came asking if he could do it yesterday and he packed up to take a look. Left the garage with me."
Ignis' heart skipped. Reina had made the request.
"Can you tell me where he has gone?"
"Cape Caem. Guess the king's boat's been in the harbor under the lighthouse all these years."
Ignis' mind raced ahead. What could Reina want a boat for? If he drove to Caem, could he catch her before she left?
"Thank you for the information." Ignis was already backing away. "And, once again, I am truly sorry for disturbing your morning."
"That's alright," she said, nonplussed. "Tell Paw Paw I said hi if you're goin' that way."
"I will."
He made it around the corner of the garage before breaking into a jog. As if that would really take him to Caem any faster. He climbed into his car and took to the road, perhaps a little less carefully than he should have done. For once he wished he had the power of the Regalia at his fingertips. Though he had never put it to use, the top speed on the king's car was near twice what Ignis' was. That would, of course, mean driving over the speed limit. This situation might be the one that called for it, by his calculation.
If Reina had been in Hammerhead yesterday to speak with Cid, could they be ready to leave by this morning? It was certainly possible to reach Cape Caem in that time and still have a significant piece of the day remaining to work repairs. But he couldn't begin to guess what sort of repairs a boat that had been sitting idle for thirty years might need—or how long those would take. All he could do was press the pedal to the floor and hope for the best.
He had never driven so fast in his life. Not only was there nowhere in the Crown City to drive above 65—and that only on the freeways—but even in those situations when most drivers did set a speed ten or fifteen miles per hour above the legal limit, Ignis pointedly refused to do so. Until now. He wasn't even certain what the speed limit out here was. But if there was one at all he was breaking it.
It took roughly four hours to reach Caem from Hammerhead at that speed. By then it was solidly mid-morning, the sun was well in the sky, and Ignis' stomach was reminding him in no uncertain terms that he had skipped breakfast.
Also, his phone had been chiming with text messages for the last hour.
He glanced them over as he climbed out of the car. Nine new messages from Noctis, along with a few from Gladio and Prompto. All said more or less the same thing: Where are you? Please text me back. I am not joking, Specs, this is serious.
It was. And he had given it sufficiently serious thought for a day and a half before this decision. Half of him still wasn't certain it was the correct decision.
But what could he tell Noct that he hadn't already written? He put his phone back in his pocket.
Reina's car was not in the parking lot below the lighthouse. Of course, they might have been driving something else, but he knew for a fact that Cor had left Insomnia in Reina's convertible. Unless they had, for unknown reasons, switched to an Outland-made car, they were not in Caem. So either he had arrived first or… Well, there was no point speculating.
He climbed the hill toward the lighthouse. A few people lingered roadside and offered up cheerful greetings when he passed by. In other circumstances, it might have been refreshing. One would never have such polite and uninitiated words with a stranger inside the Crown City. They lived in too close proximity to other people to pay them any attention when they met on the street.
At the top of the hill was the lighthouse—as expected—and a run down shack that may once have been a residence. The peeling paint suggested it had, at some point, been painted blue. The wood porch looked decidedly unsafe. He gave the whole thing a wide berth. If the boat was in the harbor beneath the lighthouse then that was where he would find Cid. If Cid was still here to be found.
He let himself into the lighthouse—there were no locks—and glanced up along the center of the tower. They had buildings that tall within the Crown City, of course, but none that he could stand on the ground and look up through the middle to see the top. No one would waste so much space when it was at a premium.
A series of clangs followed by a chain of muffled swears echoed up the stairs. That was Cid, surely. Or else it was merely wishful thinking on Ignis' part. He descended all the same.
The Hidden Harbor was not so much of an exaggeration as he had expected. Indeed, it was large enough to park several cars in. Or to moor a seaworthy boat with the royal insignia painted on the side.
The boat was here. Reina hadn't left without him. He could still catch her—and he would catch her, if she had any intention of coming for the boat she had requested be repaired.
Cid was on the boat with a hatch in the deck open. A streak of oil was splashed across his face.
He looked up when Ignis descended the last of the steps, eyes narrowing in his craggy face. "Got some business here, boy?"
"I was hoping to catch Her Highness."
Cid gave a noncommittal grunt. He pulled a filthy rag from his trouser pocket and wiped down his blackened hands. They came out only marginally cleaner for the treatment.
"She's gone to find me some Mythril. Can't finish the repairs without it."
"I see… do you have any idea when she might be back?"
"Nope. No idea where she'd find the stuff anymore."
It seemed he had little choice but to wait for her, in the absence of any other leads. If he took to the road to search for her, he might miss her coming or going. On the other hand, she was all but certain to show up here again. Eventually.
"You sticking around?" Cid asked.
"I suppose I must. It seems the most assured choice."
"Good. Could use another pair of hands, since Cindy stayed behind. Climb on up here, boy. Hope you're not too attached to yer nice clothes."
He was, but if it was important to have this boat repaired then it was more important than the state of his clothes. He pulled his coat off and hung it over the railing to the stairs. Then he rolled his sleeves up and climbed aboard. No time like the present to get his hands dirty.