Chapter 4
Dust to Dust
The crystal jammer deployed by the Empire was designed to have a range that could cover most of Insomnia's inner districts, a not inconsiderable area. To do so however it needed to be situated at effectively the center of the city. Due to the unexpected intervention of the kings of yore however, the imperial forces had been forced to deploy the jammer well short of that location. It was close enough however for the projected field to affect the Citadel, with some rather ironic effects.
The Lucian traitors trying to commit regicide were concentrated solely within the Kingsglaive, whom relied heavily upon their borrowed magic to be effective. When the field reached them, both loyalists and traitors were suddenly bereft of their primary arms. That was not to say they were completely unarmed, all glaives carried with them a basic combat knife and a sidearm as emergency fallbacks, but they were without a doubt considerably less effective than the projected weapons.
The Crownsguard on the other hand relied heavily upon conventional weapons, both firearms and blades. For many, this was to serve as foundational training for when they would learn to project arms using their liege's magic. Even those that were already capable of this feat but had not transferred to the Kingsglaive for whatever reason carried with them a full complement of conventional weapons. As a consequence, while the glaives were finding themselves crippled as an effective force, the Crownsguard, all of whom had remained loyal, were in no way similarly handicapped.
"Forward!" Clarus shouted.
The charge was presaged by a hail of gunfire as the guardsmen blasted through the defending traitors. The grenade that detonated moments before had already broken their ranks and what meager resistance that remained was mercilessly crushed. With a satisfying thunk, Clarus sank his own blade into one of the traitor glaives. His opponent twitched once, twice, before slumping over. Giving the corpse a kick, the Crownsguard commander shoved it off his sword and let it tumble back to join the other broken bodies staining the floor.
"Area secure," Monica said, rifle at the ready nonetheless as an overabundance of caution.
"Then onwards to the vault," Clarus said. "The traitors must not be allowed to override its lockouts."
Easier said than done, but considering the offending glaives were intimately familiar with the Citadel's security systems, they might yet achieve their goal. Clarus would be damned if they were going to have an easy time of it however.
"Clarus, status," Regis' voice sounded over the radio.
"We've overtaken the last strongpoint before the vault proper, Your Majesty," Clarus responded. "Whatever is cutting us off from your magic is most definitely also affecting the traitors."
"Small fortune there," Regis remarked. "I will be with you shortly."
"Your Majesty, you should wait until we've cleared out-"
"The Citadel is my castle, Clarus," Regis stated. "I will not sit idly by while my loyal retainers shed blood in its defense."
"As you say, Your Majesty," was the only answer Clarus could offer.
Not long thereafter, Regis appeared, walking with cane in hand, but under his own power once more. At his side and in hurried discussion with his sovereign was Cor.
"-imperial forces have already breached the inner perimeter," Cor said. "Estimates are the Nifs have deployed their magitek troopers in at least regiment strength, and that is not counting the dreadnaughts they have circling the city."
"Iedolas certainly spared little expense in mounting this attack," Regis remarked dryly, "though he seems not to have expected the Old Wall."
"Never before has Insomnia been so threatened as to require their summoning, Your Majesty," Cor pointed out.
Regis sighed. "Perhaps that too is a mark of my failure as sovereign."
"Your Majesty is too critical of yourself," Clarus said firmly. "You owe these traitors no apology, their loss of faith in you is theirs alone."
That was certainly one point of view, and not likely shared by the turncoat glaives. As more and more had been identified, the rationale for their betrayal had become evident. All were from outside of Insomnia, some even beyond Lucis' formal borders. They had been invited to the Crown City on account of their compatibility with Regis' magic, at a time when the Kingsglaive's ranks badly needed replenishment on account of the ongoing war with Niflheim. Some came because they were looking to start a new life after the loss of their home, while others did so on the promise of Lucis assisting those homes they still held dear.
Unfortunately the imperial war machine had proven too powerful and it was all the kingdom could do to keep some measure of control over its own provinces, much less send aid to even more far-flung lands. For many of the men and women that served Regis, that was a bitter pill to swallow. Bitter enough that despair or desperation had seen so many of them throw their lot in with Niflheim. Many, but not all. And not even all those from beyond the walls either, as signified by the presence of the burly man standing behind Regis.
"The general is right, sire," Nyx said. "It hurt, a lot, what's happened to our homelands. But Insomnia's been our home for many a years as well. To let this happen to our new home, these bastards might be deserving of some pity, but not mercy."
Nyx Ulric was also an émigré, hailing from the islands of Galahd northeast of Lucis. While not formally part of Lucis, they had been part of the kingdom's sphere of influence and looked to Lucis for protection. The long relationship between the two lands saw Galahd reject the Empire's overtures despite the withdrawing of Lucis' shield to just Insomnia's limits. The island had however paid for their defiance, with a major imperial raid devastating Galahd shortly before the ceasefire negotiations began. Indeed, Lucis' inability to defend its ally was seen by many as an impetus for the kingdom's effective capitulation. Too many lives were lost pointlessly to allow things like petty pride stand. Too many lives were being sacrificed now for petty vindictiveness.
Regis took a deep breath and nodded. "And they will not find any. But the consequences of their actions does not change." The king turned to face his loyal marshal. "Cor. I want you to leave the Citadel, gather what detachments of the Crownsguard that you can find, and flee Insomnia."
"Your Majesty!?" Cor exclaimed.
Regis held up a hand, forestalling any further protest.
"The city is lost, that much is clear. Lucis as a whole however need not share in our fate today. The kingdom will have need of what strength you are able to save. My son will have need of that strength. So I ask of you, my dear friend." Regis removed the ring from his hand and held it out to Cor. "To go, and protect that which is most precious to me, beyond even my throne and my kingdom."
His expression torn, Cor nonetheless extended a hand and accepted the offered ring. Still, he did not immediately take his leave.
"I will earn your forgiveness, Your Majesty," he said, "for failing you so."
As commander of the Kingsglaive, Cor certainly held a degree of responsibility in so many of them turning traitor. These were his men and women whom had foresworn themselves and turned their blades upon not only their fellow glaives but also their sovereign lord. To have allowed such persons to enter into the service, to advance in that service, was the very definition of failure. But it was not one he bore alone.
Regis placed a hand on Cor's shoulder. "Whatever failure you think you endure, the greater part of it is mine and mine alone. You may have trained and led them, Cor, but I was the one that chose them. For having placed upon you such a burden, it is I whom owe an apology to you."
The marshal grimaced still, but he gave a simple nod in acceptance of the words and the forgiveness implicit within them. Stepping back, he executed a respectful bow before taking his leave. It was a struggle not to slow down and look back, but every second counted.
"Monica," Clarus said. "Go with him. The Crownsguard will have need of your level head."
The woman took a deep breath. "By your command, sir. Your Majesty."
And hurried after Cor. Plenty still remained in attendance to Regis, and yet somehow the king felt just a little more lonely. He glanced over at Clarus.
"Well old friend, shall we?"
No hint or suggestion was uttered for Clarus himself to depart. As the king's sworn shield, there was simply no way Clarus would have accepted even a direct order to abandon his liege, and his friend, at a time like this. Besides, the House of Amicitia was already doing its part in protecting that which Regis had called his greatest treasure.
"At your word, Your Majesty," Clarus responded.
"It is given," Regis declared.
"Hold them back!"
The Crown City Police Force was never intended to get into a standup fight against army regulars. Their job was to protect the general peace and security of Insomnia from criminals and the like. This duty was reflected within their complement of weapons, or rather the lack of heavier arms in their deployed arsenal. Today however, none of the men and women in the police force's ranks let that minor detail interfere with the execution of their duty, the defense of Insomnia's citizens. As the ranks of magitek troopers marched forward, the police officers used whatever weapons were available, including some taken from disabled enemy mechs, to hold the line while the citizenry evacuated. It was not a duty borne without cost however.
"Gah!"
The officer was dead before his body hit the ground as a burst of rifle fire perforated his body.
"Janis!"
His comrades had but mere moments to mourn his passing, as any longer and they risked joining their deceased friend. The fire that answered sprayed across the magitek ranks, punching holes here and there through the enemy's armor, but the mechanical constructs were more sturdily built than their merely human opponents and kept pressing onward.
"What the hell are these things made of!?"
"Stop bitching, keep shooting!"
One of the officers ducked out just long enough to toss a flaming bottle, retreating without even checking to see its effect. The flames that splashed over the enemy infantry might have made for a bright spectacle, but the magitek troopers seemed barely inconvenienced.
"Civilians evacuated, pull back to the next block," a voice crackled on the radio.
"Roger, squad 4 bugging-"
A loud bang sounded, cutting short the reply. When the officers looked up, a massive bipedal walker was closing on them with wide strides.
"What is that!?"
"Run!"
Mere human legs were never going to outpace the walking armor and it was upon them before the officers had made it more than a few steps. A scream sounded as the mech lurched forward, skewering one of the officers with its clawed arm. It was a scream abruptly cut off as the unfortunate man was ripped apart.
"Monster!"
"Keep moving!"
Despite their rage and horror, the surviving officers continued their frantic retreat, splitting up and hugging the buildings for at least some cover. With enemy troops closing in all directions however, they were simply running out of places to run.
"What?"
The large armored figure that appeared before the two officers gave off an eerie, inhuman sensation. If someone were to claim it was a larger magitek variant, they would have been easily believed, what with the sinister, ebony armor it wore. The officers never got the time to ponder any of these possibilities however, as the figure swung its crimson greatsword and cleaved right through them with nary any effort.
Stepping past the toppled corpses, Titus barely noticed the drips of blood that ran down his sword. Theirs were not the first, and certainly would not be the last so stain the blade. While Niflheim had achieved a certain degree of surprise in its attack, the activation of the stone guardians had stymied the Empire's troops long enough for the city's garrison to mobilize. What was supposed to be a decapitating lightning strike was turning into a slog of urban warfare, chewing through men and machines with brutal rapidity. The deaths were not limited solely to combatants either, what with the Empire's liberal usage of bombardment from their dreadnaughts, or at least those still flying, to flatten any opposition.
For Titus' part, the man's irritation at being delayed along his way to the citadel was only mildly vented by every Lucian defender he cut down. Still, they were making steady progress. The army regulars were effectively pinned and unable to come to the citadel's defense, while the police force dispersed throughout the city barely warranted being called opposition. They were felled so effortlessly that Titus felt almost uneasy about it. As if such easy blooding was dulling his senses, making him more less ready to face actual warriors like those of the Kingsglaive that still served their bastard of a liege.
Suppressing a growl, Titus pressed onward, moving ahead of the advancing magitek. If he waited for the Empire's troops to clear a path, Regis might yet live to see the coming dawn. That somehow felt more intolerable than all the other betrayals he had suffered at the king's hand, and one which Titus was determined to not let happen.
As the former glaive drew closer to the citadel, he encountered more organized and better equipped resistance. Elements of the army, actually able to stand against the magitek troopers, had dug in along the main approaches. Even with his new armor, Titus could not have hoped to simply barrel his way through. There was no need to either, seeing as his position within the Kingsglaive meant he knew quite a few backdoors and side passages that allowed one to bypass the citadel's perimeter. If he could link up with those glaives that had been won over to his cause, together they should be able to overcome the loyalist dogs and open the way for the Empire once the magitek companies were able to overrun the outer defenders. Assuming of course the delay he had already suffered had not given Regis enough time to rally the loyalists and put down the mutiny. Enough things had gone wrong this day after all.
Ducking into the subway, Titus was gratified to find it clear of any defenders or bystanders. He cared not if any of Insomnia's denizens were caught in the line of fire, they deserved no consideration after hiding all these years behind the barrier while the rest of the country suffered the Empire's predations, but having to cut through more worthless chattel would have wasted time and effort. With no one barring his path, Titus was able to emerge within one of the citadel's sublevels with due haste. Once inside, he tapped into the secret channel that had been prearranged for use by his compatriots.
"This is Glauca," Titus said, using a codename to further obfuscate things. "I have arrived. What is the situation?"
"Glauca?" came a response filled with the hiss of static. "Where the hell have you been!? We're getting cut to pieces in here!"
Titus grimaced. "Then we'd best not waste any further time, no? What is the situation?"
A momentary pause passed before a more useful answer came, the traitor glaive on the other end apparently deciding Titus had a point, whatever his irritation might be.
"Our magic's not working, and we're starting to run dry on ammo. We weren't able to take the main armory, there were a lot more Crownsguard on site than expected."
The crystal jammer, one supposedly attuned to Lucis' crystal. Had Titus realized the Empire would be forced to deploy it so early, he would have placed greater emphasis on his own forces gaining access to the armory. It annoyed Titus that he had committed such an oversight.
"The loyalists have also managed to retake the main security command center. They're locking out corridors to keep us divided so they can pick us off group by group. We've still got the main entrance to the vaults and we're trying to get it open, but at this rate they'll be able to storm us before we override the lockouts."
Titus took a single moment to consider the tactical picture.
"If the loyalists are dispersed trying to hunt all of you down, then they'll be spread thin," he said. "I will take the security command. Focus on overriding the vault lockouts."
"Understood."
The connection went dead and Titus began heading upward. Signs of battle were visible even before he reached the ground floor, countless glaives having fallen on both sides. Over a third of his former comrades had been in on the conspiracy, surprise helping offset their disadvantage in numbers. Unfortunately Titus had not been able to turn any of the Crownsguard, that organization's members deployed more often than not outside Insomnia in accompaniment of the crown prince. While a large contingent had returned to the citadel while Noctis prepared for his upcoming wedding, Titus had expected they would have similarly departed when the prince himself did so. Another unplanned for complication that could yet see the plot fail.
The sound of fighting soon reached Titus' ears and his pace quickened. There, a contingent of glaives were raining fire upon their former comrades. So intent on rooting out these betrayers, they noticed only too late the heavy footsteps that approached from behind.
"Wha-"
With a mighty bound, Titus closed in and slammed his greatsword through the glaive's chest. Screams and cries sounded from the other glaives, but even as they tried to face this new threat, but those bullets that found their mark simply bounced off of Titus' armor. The former glaive shoved the dead body aside and renewed his assault.
"AGHH!"
Titus barely felt his blade slow as he cleaved through the glaives. Perhaps if they could call upon the king's magic, they might have been able to withstand a blow or two. Perhaps they might have even been able to wear down his own armor. As it was, the slaughter was entirely one-sided and soon Titus stood amidst another cluster of broken bodies.
"This is Glauca," Titus broadcast on the short range. "Fall back to the vault and hold it. I will handle the king's men."
"Roger that," came the response from the group he had just saved.
As Titus ascended the steps, he felt as if his blood was quickening. Anticipation rose within him as he contemplated finally having a chance at Regis, the bastard king that abandoned his subjects to hide behind Insomnia's barrier. The world would have been better off had Lucis fallen alongside its ally Accordo, at least then there would have been no further fighting. No more deaths at the hands of callous rulers more interested in their personal glory than the needs of their subjects. Every glaive that Titus cut down now, the man felt his heart soar as if it was another cut upon Regis' own self. The failed king deserved at least this much for his betrayal. This much, and so much more.
As he had suspected, the effort to retake the vault had left the citadel's halls bare of defenders along the way to the command center. Titus was almost upon the room itself when he finally ran into opposition worthy of the name. Opposition that caused his blood to roil.
"Clarus."
The clean-cut man was at the head of a contingent of Kingsglaive instead of his Crownsguard. Not that it mattered to Titus one way or another who else he needed to cut down on his way to Regis. At seeing the heavily armored figure, the Lucian soldiers immediately leveled their weapons.
"Another of the Empire's tin soldiers?" Clarus said dismissively.
A sneer crossed Titus' face, but with his helmet up none of the men and women before him could bear witness to his contempt for them. That was a simple enough problem to solve however. With a click Titus' helmet partially retracked, and gasps sounded all about.
"Titus?" Clarus managed to hiss.
"So good to see you again, Captain-General," Titus greeted with the same tone Clarus had used mere moments ago, "for one last time."
Despite his shock, Clarus was already reacting. "AARRRRRRRRRRHHHHH!"
Titus had barely a moment to enjoy his reveal before his helmet snapped shut and he was forced to meet Clarus' blade.
"TRAITOR!"
Parrying the blow, Titus barreled forward, slamming his heavier form into Clarus. The Crownsguard commander backpaddled frantically, trying to maintain his footing.
"The only traitor here is that failed king of yours," Titus growled, his voice carrying an unpleasant echo from within the armor. "We of the Kingsglaive fought and killed in his name, only for him to abandon our lands and families. We were the ones betrayed, not he!"
Bringing his sword crashing down, Titus was able to knock Clarus onto his knees. His was unable to press the advantage however as the others glaives charged in.
"Titus, you bastard!"
A pair of blades slashed at the armored figure, scratching the metal surface but doing little actual harm.
"Nyx," Titus recognized his assailant. "Why do you still fight for Regis? Was not your own home razed by the Empire after Lucis abandoned it!?"
Nyx's jaw tightened, but he did not rise to Titus' taunts. He kept his focus on his opponent's blade, looking for any opening that would allow him to strike.
"So to spite your liege, you would sign on with the very Empire that stole your home away?" Clarus however was not prepared to let the insult go unanswered. "What a disappointing fool you've turned out to be, Titus."
"The Empire has the strength to make good the promise that Regis was too weak to keep," Titus responded. "In exchange for his head and the crystal, our homes go free. For that, none of you shall bar my way!"
Charging, Titus moved with shocking speed and slammed into another glaive. A sickening crunch sounded as the man was crushed against the wall. Stepping aside, Titus dodged a swing by Clarus and responded with a thrust of his own. Tilting his blade, Clarus was able to deflect the swing, but the distance was too close between the two men. Titus' leg shot out, nailing Clarus' shin with his armored boot. The Crownsguard commander cried out in pain as bone shattered, but before Titus could follow through and land the killing blow another cry cut through.
Leaping over the downed Clarus, Nyx hurtled into Titus and sent both himself and the traitor glaive tumbling back. Rolling quickly back onto his feet, he brought his kukri down but again hit only solid metal. With a frustrated roar, Titus rammed his helm against Nyx's chest and sent his opponent crashing back. This earned Titus no reprieve however as the other glaives launched attacks of their own. That they all failed to do more than scratch his armor seemed not to deter them at all, and given enough time they might actually wear him down despite the augmentation offered by his armor. Of course, they needed to live long enough to pull that off.
"How does it feel, to finally face someone with a just cause?" Titus taunted, blocking another strike by a glaive before reaching out and smashing his fist into the woman's chest. "Someone whom has no need of borrowed powers?" Taking advantage of his opponent's teetering posture, he swung the blade and was splayed by the blood squirting out from the severed neck. "Bereft of your hallowed magic, all of you will fall to my blade!"
Another glaive lunged at Titus, grazing his side. Sparks flew as metal met metal, but Titus responded more quickly, letting the glaive's attack carry him past and open his guard. Slamming his fist down, he caught the glaive in the back and drove the attacker into the ground. Then without missing a beat, Titus spun around, dodging another glaive's thrust. His adversary was nowhere as lucky, as the momentum of the missed strike carried him right into Titus' waiting greatsword. Though the other man was thoroughly skewered upon the blade, for a moment it did mean the weapon was engaged and unable to be brought to bear against anyone else.
"GAH!"
A sharp pain ran through Titus' side and one of his hands released the sword to swat at his assailant. Nyx however was already ducking away, his kukris slick with blood. Grunting, Titus turned to face his former protégé. The armor granted to him by the Empire was sturdy and strong, but it was not invincible. To allow him to actually move, there were a few soft spots that were not protected by a hard shell of metal. Striking at them was not easy, but could be done by one with a deft hand, fast reflexes, and sharp eyes.
"Do not think you are any closer to victory, just for drawing blood," Titus growled.
"Then I'll just have to draw some more," Nyx responded, kukris at the ready.
The two were some of the last combatants still standing, the other glaives dead around them and Clarus an effective invalid with his broken bones. Even had the Crownsguard commander been at his peak, Titus was still confident in his victory. With a roar, he charged at Nyx, relying on the augmented speed granted by the armor to let him close in before Nyx could respond. No fool, Nyx was prepared for the attack and was stepping back the moment Titus cried out. That saved him from being cleaved in half when the greatsword fell, but he would not win by constantly retreating. He still needed an opening to attack himself however. Fortunately, one was not long in coming.
A loud bang sounded and Titus felt a heavy impact slam into his back. It was not enough to bring him down, indeed the shot by itself did not even slow him. It did distract him however and the fraction of a moment that he hesitated was all Nyx needed. The glaive darted aside, kicking off the way to give his leap further momentum. Inside Titus' guard, he slammed the kukri through the softer mesh under the other man's arm. Titus tried to turn about, to bring his sword up to cleave through Nyx mid-leap. The angle was wrong however, and Nyx was able to use his second blade to deflect the swing. His own blade struck truer, sinking into Titus' flesh, eliciting another cry of pain.
Suddenly Nyx found himself staggering back, his head dazed as Titus slammed his armored helm against the former. His vision blurred and otherwise disoriented, there was no way for him to fend off Titus' next strike. This was the end then, his best and he still failed. Nyx wondered if that was how all the other turncoats had felt when their homes were ravaged.
A thundering boom clapped in Nyx's ears and the next moment Titus' charge came to a dead stop as the man was engulfed in lightning. Whatever cries Titus might have uttered were lost amidst the cacophony that accompanied the magical strike. When the spell faded, leaving Titus' armor smoldering from the heat, Nyx was finally able to clearly see the man responsible. Not that there was any doubt, seeing as whom else but King Regis was still capable of calling upon magic.
Despite the aching pain, despite even the slight numbing of his body, Titus could not help but smile. The king that he so wanted to taste his blade was here. Nothing so trifling as a bit of shock was going to stop him. Straightening, Titus gripped his sword.
"So good of you to show yourself, Your Majesty," he sneered. "Finally out of places to run and hide?"
"Had you any capacity for understanding that which I hold back," Regis responded, "your courage would have failed you long before you succumbed to betrayal."
Titus' expression stiffened, then with a furious roar he charged the king. Despite his weathered condition, Regis brought his sword up to meet the swing. He barely withstood the blow, legs visibly shaking from the effort. But as king, Regis would bend knee to no one. With his free hand, a ball of fire coalesced before erupting right in Titus' face. While the flames washed harmlessly off the armor, the traitor still staggered back from the force of the blast. When he raised his sword to attack anew, Titus was again stymied when Regis hurled his own blade at the armored figure. Swinging his sword to bat the flying weapon aside, instead a loud crack sounded as the two weapons met and Titus found Regis' hands gripping his sword. The amplified magic cruising through Regis' blade spiked, shattering Titus' greatsword in half.
Again Titus found his form bathed in a sea of fire. This time however he paid no need to the heat, instead lunging forward and smashing a fist into Regis' shoulder. The blow sent the king tumbling back, battered but still far from beaten. Tossing aside his broken weapon, Titus screamed again and began trying to pummel the king with his fists. The armor's systems were still operational, enhancing Titus' speed and strength to levels that Regis, despite his magic, was starting to be overwhelmed by. Those strikes of the blade that landed carved shallow gashes on the metal, but they failed to penetrate outright. The magical shield bolstering Regis' form on the other hand weakened with every blow of those armored fists. Forced on the defensive by the feral onslaught, Regis summoned a tower shield to try to weather Titus' blows. Even that however began to buckle as the metal warped and caved in.
Ready to launch the next strike, Titus suddenly cried out in pain as a pair of kukris slammed into his side. Nyx, having taken advantage of the traitor's fixation on the king, had snuck under Titus' guard to deliver the strike. This time the blades cut sure and deep, and when Titus backhanded Nyx away, the motion a kukri be wrenched free, rending more flesh in the process. The other, buried deep in Titus' side, cut at the man with every move he made.
Staggering, Titus' mind raced as he tried to figure his next action. The wound on his side was not mortal, not yet, but his chances of taking Regis' head was plummeting with every drop of his blood that was shed. He needed to end this, now. Lunging forward, another blow struck Titus' shoulder and the man could just barely make out Clarus leveling a pistol in his direction. The accursed Crownsguard commander might have been lamed, but he was still alive, still a nuisance. But that was all he was, just as that was all Nyx was. The only one that mattered was Regis. If he could just get to the king, just wrap his hands around the bastard's neck, he would win. He would win. Titus took another step forward, then another. His motions seemed to slow, as did that of the others. Off to the side, Titus could see Nyx preparing to launch another desperate foray. In front, sparks crackled in Regis' hands as the king cast another spell. Even further back, Clarus was frantically reloading his gun. And then, everything seemed to stop outright. For a moment, Titus wondered if time itself had frozen. But then why was his own vision expanding? And why did his vision pull back, to allow him to see his own form? His own form, with a massive blade slammed into his back right through his heart. Ah, that was why. He was already dead.
As Ardyn closed in on the sound of battle, the chancellor caught sight of Nyx in his final throes trying desperately to reach Regis. Tutting, Ardyn shook his head.
"And after all the time and effort invested in him, he couldn't deliver in the end," Ardyn remarked. "Ah well. Somnus, if you would."
The towering figure appeared in a flash of reddish light, striding forward in wide steps. While Regis and his retainers immediately noticed the advancing figure, Titus seemed so focused on his aim that he seemed entirely unaware of what approached from behind. Indeed the man did not even react when Somnus slammed his massive blade through Titus' heart. Whether he ever realized what happened became moot, as Titus slumped over dead.
"Well done Somnus," Ardyn said with a clap. "Your penchant for violence remains undiminished even after all these millennia."
Letting the weight of the body slide it off his blade, Somnus stood still, waiting for Ardyn's next command. The man was in no hurry to issue another one however as he approached the Lucians with a smirk.
"Adagium," Regis gasped.
"Oh, are we going with that old adage?" the chancellor said with a flick of his hand. "I do have a name, you know, it'd hardly kill to use you. We are family after all, right," Ardyn glanced over at the armored figure, "brother?"
Somnus, bound in the armored form, made no answer in word or deed. The red and black miasma leaking into his surroundings made clear that much was now beyond the Founder King.
"You've bound the soul of a king of yore," Regis said, horror tinging his voice.
Clarus gasped at that revelation, while Nyx, less versed in the secrets of the kingdom, stared on in confusion. His weapons remained ready however, ready to act should these mysterious figures threaten his king.
"Fair's fair," Ardyn said. "Somnus did much worse to me while I was alive, the least he could do is offer some contrition now that he's dead."
Regis' grip tightened around his sword. Records regarding the Adagium were scanty, the result of obvious attempts to erase the man's existence from history. The royal family had however spent several generations piecing together its origins, and at a certain point it became clear their forebearer would not have approved of such inquiries. While the legends stated that the Lucian royal family was founded by a wise king that sought to protect his people, persistent stories painted a very different picture, one involving betrayal and murder. That the Founder King might have been forced to resort to unseemly means to secure his power was a given, none of his descendants were naïve enough to think power could be gained bloodlessly. The lengths though, that was a point of some dispute, and of graver repute.
"Are you here then for revenge?" Regis asked. "To exact retribution upon your brother's descendants for his act of fratricide?"
Ardyn tilted his head. "Oh? So you do know something of the truth?"
"I know of a betrayal," the king responded. "The circumstances however have been lost to the mists of time. And seeing what you are capable of, I cannot even claim the betrayal was not warranted."
Ardyn's eyes flickered before cracking a seemingly jovial smile. "You mean because I truly am a monster? I suppose that is certainly one point of view. But if I am indeed a monster, I was not born one. I was made into one."
"And yet the hand that did the making," Regis countered. "Could it not have been your own?"
"A certainly fair point," Ardyn conceded. "My, but you are an insightful one. Hard to believe Somnus could have sired a line with such intellect. My brother was not much for thinking overly long, he was more of a doing type. Didn't feel like he'd accomplished anything unless his blade was wet with the blood of others, or he was stepping through their ashes."
Despite himself Regis felt a sense of morbid fascination as he conversed with Ardyn. True what stood before him was more monster than man, he could feel an unholy aura seeping from the Adagium's form. But if Ardyn really was the long lost brother of the Founder King, the elder brother at that, so many questions might be answered about the charge set their family, about the very crystal that was granted to them. If anything Ardyn said could be trusted, at least.
"You call yourself Ardyn Izunia," Regis went on. "You serve as the imperial chancellor of Niflheim. You wield great power in many forms. What is it you seek, Adagium?"
To that Ardyn outright grinned. "Why, the end of destiny, of course."
Regis blinked. "What?"
It was purely reflexive, the motion, but it saved his life nonetheless as Regis blocked the sudden slash by the Founder King's armored form.
"Majesty!" Clarus cried out.
Nyx immediately leapt into the fray, but where Titus' armor had at least a few weak points to strike, Somnus possessed no flesh to cut. The kukris bounced without even scratching the armor and the next moment Nyx found himself alight as fire washed over him. Screaming, the man dropped and tried to roll the fire out.
Struggling to his feet, Clarus tried to hobble closer, firing as he went. Suddenly a cold grip seized his throat as Clarus suddenly found himself staring into Ardyn's black eyes.
"Ah, the King's Shield," Ardyn said. "Can't say you're much compared to Gilgamesh, but points for trying."
Clarus gasped as he felt a cold, something, seemingly reach into him, draining his very soul.
"Just not very many points," Ardyn said, still bearing that snide smile.
When he opened his hands, empty clothes crumbled to the ground.
"CLARUS!" Regis roared.
With a mighty heave, the king shoved back Somnus' sword and flung his blade in Ardyn's direction. The chancellor did not try to dodge, instead deflecting the strike with a perfectly timed parry using his crimson hewed blade. The blowback sent Regis reeling back, but the king managed a quick recovery despite the weariness seeping through his body. Having to channel so much of the crystal's magic for so long was taking its toll, and it felt as if he might collapse at any moment. But until he did, Regis was determined to fight on. And in that, he was not alone.
Having doused the flames, Nyx was also back on his feet and charged forth to support his king. Somnus' might form however stepped forth to bar his way and Nyx found himself desperately evading the wide swings of the Founder King's sword. Should their blades meet, his kukris were simply too small to bear the weight of the blows. Indeed even augmented by the crystal's magic, Nyx was finding he could not even scratch Somnus' armor. Little surprise there, seeing as the Founder King was wielding that very same magic even after being corrupted. But Nyx arguably did not need to actually defeat Somnus, he just needed to get around him. To that end, he threw one of his kukris, aiming not to hit Somnus but to send it past the armored figure. As expected, the Founder King assumed that the flying weapon to be an anchor for Nyx to teleport to and immediately moved to knock the blade aside, apparently unaware of the jamming that precluded the glaives from using their magic. In doing so, Somnus fell for the feint as Nyx physically leapt forward, kicking off the wall to further add to his momentum, crashing into the Founder King and finally causing him to stagger. Not wasting any time, Nyx pushed off from Somnus' armored form and went for his true target.
A thud sounded as the single kukri sank into the chancellor's back, distracted as he was engaging Regis. Ardyn stumbled forward, his guard off center and no longer able to stop the thrust of Regis' sword. That blade erupted out Ardyn's back, letting spill a gush of black ichor. Whatever ran through the chancellor's veins, it was certainly not blood. The chancellor looked down at the blade rammed through his heart, seeming more annoyed than actually inconvenienced.
"I rather liked this jacket," he remarked nonchalantly.
A normal man would be dead after having his heart gouged like that. Even a monster would be slowed as it flayed about in the last futile moments of its life. The benefit of immortality of the likes that Ardyn enjoyed, for lack of a better word, made irrelevant any harm that befell his flesh. His soul, bound as it was to the realm beyond, anchored him beyond death's reach, even as he perpetually felt the frigid chill of her breath. And sometimes, when a particularly powerful blow was struck against him, that chill grew cold enough to actually make him shudder. It was almost a pleasant sensation, insomuch as such moments were the only times he felt anything at all. Such sensations were however not to the benefit of those that inflicted them upon the chancellor, for the momentary passions they aroused only inflamed Ardyn's enthusiasm.
With a twist of his body, Ardyn slammed Nyx against the wall, stunning him long enough to dislodge the glaive from his back. Next he cracked Regis over the head, smashing his own skull against the king's. Free from both men's grip, Ardyn turned about and delivered a hefty kick upon Nyx's stomach, lifting the glaive off the ground, and right onto the spear that manifested in a flash of red light. Driving the weapon through Nyx's chest and into the ground, Ardyn left the glaive impaled and helpless. The distraction out of the way, Ardyn turned to face Regis once more.
"To be honest, I don't actually bear you any particular ill-will, Your Majesty," Ardyn said lightly. "You didn't ask to be born a Lucis, and you're hardly at fault for Somnus' betrayal. No, if you have anything to blame for the fate that now befalls you, it would be the service you offered to the gods." The chancellor gripped Regis by the neck and began to squeeze. "And I cannot abide such undeserved piety."
The king clutched Ardyn's arm, trying to wrench himself free, but the chancellor's hold was iron tight.
"All those years, spent wasting away as the magic of the gods ate away at you," Ardyn continued. "And now in your time of greatest need, their powers prove useless and the gods themselves deaf to your cries. What I do now, ending your life as their puppet, it is a mercy. Goodnight, Your Majesty."
Just as Ardyn began to feel the creek of bone beneath his fingers, an echo reverberated through him.
OF ALL THE SINS THOU HAST TRANSGRESSED, KINSLAYER AND KINGSLAYER, THOU SHANT BECOME AS YET.
An unfathomably powerful force yanked him back and Regis' throat escaped Ardyn's grasp. The next thing the chancellor knew, he was no longer in the place, and was instead floating in the ethereal realm of the beyond. The sensation was as he let his limbs waver in the void was, familiar. Almost nostalgic.
"Well, I certainly wasn't expecting to be back here," Ardyn murmured.
And then an immense presence washed over him. Spinning about, Ardyn found a massive draconic form somehow casting a shadow despite the ever present light all about them.
ARDYN LUCIS CAELUM, I COMMAND THEE TO HALT AND KNEEL BEFORE ME.
"Well, well, the Draconian himself," Ardyn sneered. "I'm afraid there's only one sovereign I bend knee to, and it's not you."
Pain, actual pain, shot through Ardyn, despite his form here lacking even the corrupted flesh he now wore. It was as if his very soul was set aflame.
THINE IMPUDENCE IS UNBECOMING, FOOLISH MORTAL, FOR THY ORDAINED FATE DRAWS NEAR, AND BRING WITH IT RELIEF OF THY SUFFERING.
"Relief?" Ardyn said, forcing back the pain. "A curious thing to dangle before me, when you gods were the ones to inflict upon me my suffering."
THOU HAST BEEN CHOSEN TO SERVE A PURPOSE, A CALLING THOU HAST HELD TRUE BY SPREADING DARKNESS THROUGHOUT THE WORLD.
That caused Ardyn to frown. "You mean to say that I've been dancing to your strings all this time? That everything I've done, is all in accordance to some preordained destiny?"
THE VERY SAME. THOU DAREST TO DEFY THY DESTINY, BUT ALL THY EFFORTS ARE FOR NAUGHT. THE FATE BESTOWED UPON A MAN CANNOT BE CHANGED.
Rage suffused Ardyn. "It is not for you to decide the vanity of my actions, nor the course of my fate! I spit upon you, Draconian, and all your fellow Astrals! The days in which I begged blessings from your miserly grace have long past, and with them any bending of the knee!"
With the helm obscuring his visage, one did not have benefit of seeing Bahamut's expression to know his mood. The manner in which the Draconian shifted however made clear the god's fury, along with the searing pain that coursed through Ardyn's soul once more.
THY WILL TO FIGHT AGAINST FATE BE THY SINGULAR CHOICE, BUT WHETHER THOU SUBMITS OR CRIES DEFIANCE, THOU WILT SERVE MINE PURPOSE.
"I serve NO ONE!" Ardyn screamed, embracing the pain and letting it tear through him, fueling his own rage.
Being in the beyond, Ardyn had but his own soul with which to stand against the Draconian. A soul that was no longer merely mortal. Granted, the root of his immortality was how his soul was anchored here in the beyond, which meant it was also here that a true blow could be struck against him. But the same should arguably also be true of the Draconian. By revealing himself the way he did, Bahamut was also exposing himself to genuine harm. Clearly the Astral did not expect Ardyn to possess the power necessary to actually inflict such harm. It was time to show how grave a miscalculation that was.
The burning pain from the Draconian's fire was washed away as a black miasma began seeping out from Ardyn's soul. The Starscourge was not merely a disease of flesh, but also of spirit. That meant it was possible for him to carry it forth even in this metaphysical realm. Recalling how he had infected and corrupted the Infernian, Ardyn reached out to do the same to Bahamut. If it was the chancellor's very soul that was incarnated here, then surely the manifestation before him was much the same for the Draconian.
A manifestation though it may be, the swing of Bahamut's sword felt all too solid as it connected. Despite its immensity, the edge was still a fine sharpness, and Ardyn felt his form waver as he was splattered by the blow. With immense effort, the chancellor reforged his form, the ashen light seeping out of his soul echoing the corrupted shell that was his physical embodiment.
THOU SHANT FIND A PATH NOT ORDAINED BY MINE HAND. MAN EXISTS BY OUR GRACE ALONE, AND LACKING SUFFRANCE WILL TO THE LAST PERISH. RESIST IF THOU MUST, BUT KNOW THE VANITY OF THY STRUGGLES.
"I'll be the judge of that," Ardyn said snidely.
Again he reached out, and again the Draconian smashed through the chancellor with its blade. But in that brief moment before he was splattered, when he could actually touch the manifestation of Bahamut, Ardyn could feel something. Something immense and powerful, but something very much living. And anything that lived, the Starscourge could find purchase in. Ardyn reached out once more, but this time the Draconian did not deign to meet him with his sword. Instead a powerful force blew Ardyn back, keeping him from contact with the Astral.
"What's the matter, Draconian? Feeling a little under the weather?" Ardyn taunted. "What was that about your grace and sufferance?"
THY HAND BE STAINED UNCLEAN BY THE DARKNESS SUBSUMING THY BODY AND SOUL. THOU SHANT TAINT MINE HOLY ANIMUS WITH THY TOUCH.
"Oh ho, dare I take that to mean my touch can reach you?" Ardyn let out a sickly cackle as he reared back. "Oh Bahamut, you really shouldn't have let that slip."
Ardyn charged, but this time instead of waiting to be hit by whatever projection the Astral threw his way, he intentionally scattered his own self into countless fragments. The blackened cloud billowed outward like roiling waves, growing and growing until it was so diffuse that not even the scourge eating away at Ardyn could blanket out the ethereal light of the beyond. Spread so thinly, one would have thought the twisted manifestation harmless. But the thing with disease was, it only took the slightest touch to spread.
As Ardyn felt himself draw ever closer to Bahamut, something struck him with such force that the chancellor found himself stumbling once more in the halls of the Citadel. Looking about in a mild daze, he saw Regis collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.
"Well, darn," the chancellor said. "Looks like he managed to slip away after all. Ah well."
A reddish sword appeared in Ardyn's hand, but just as he stood poised to impale the king, he stopped.
"You know, after all the effort he went through to stop me, I think it's only right that I honor the Draconian's decree," the chancellor said with a smirk. "I won't be kingslayer, or kinslayer, not yet at least. But I'm afraid you'll still be dying today, Your Majesty. Somnus, if you would do the honors."
In one fluid motion, the Founder King strode forward and slammed his blade through Regis' back. The king let out a single cry, but his strength had already greatly waned. As his blood drained from his shattered heart, so too did his final breath and life.
End of Chapter 4
Writing combat scenes is really, really hard. To do it right requires a fair amount of planning out each step of the fight. I'm not quite prepared to go to such lengths, so the scenes this chapter were rougher than I could have managed if I had actually taken the effort.
So the last two chapters more or less combined the events of the Kingsglaive movie and the Episode Ardyn DLC, blending them together into what I hope to be a relatively coherent narrative. It also helps demonstrate more of the divergences I'm taking from the FFXV canon, hinting at what Ardyn's grand plan might be.
Anyway, next chapter we return to Noctis and company, after which arguably the real story starts.
I actually ended up rewriting the ending of Ardyn's fight with Regis to include the conversation with Bahamut. I originally intended the fight to unfold that way, but in the first draft it kind of didn't quite go that way in my stream of consciousness. I let it stand originally, but after some reflection, I decided it was necessary to go back and rewrite it because it actually incorporates a pretty significant development that lays the groundwork for future plot points.