"So you're telling me they escaped."
Beneath his helmet, the commander broke out in a cold sweat. The voice bore no semblance of threat. It was pleasant, empty as though they were discussing something minute like the weather and not his failure as he knelt on the floor. It was the most dangerous voice he had heard since the fall of Zaibach years ago. Then again, everything had been different since those days.
"Yes, my lord," said the commander, keeping his voice as level as he could. "Forgive me. Once they reached their guymelefs, they took off into the sky. We gave chase, but despite our attempts, we lost them in cloud cover."
"I see.. Such daring little birds," he said, more to himself than the cowering man on the floor.
The man stood from his throne, moving down the steps towards him, flickering candlelight shimmering on his long white hair, bound back away from a sharply angled face. The black and gold robes he wore may have made him seem harmless-- but the commander knew better what lay beneath the regal looking attire. There was strength in the man's features and form, not old nor young. As his footsteps drew closer the commander grew colder, as though the lord brought cold with him, the chill tendrils creeping across the floor. They were reaching for him with icy fingers.
"Tell me what news of the other kingdoms," he said, walking past the commander, who visibly seemed to sag in relief.
"Our spies report that the ripples of rumors of the attacks are moving through the kingdoms. Two in particular seem to be gathering to discuss the events. They will be looking for us."
"Yes, I suspect they will," noted the man with amusement. "Perhaps, with some nudging, they will flush out our little birds for us."
The commander frowned, puzzled. "Sir?"
"Yes.. all the pieces are falling together..." Almost all of them. There was still one missing, and one extremely hard to find. Dark eyes regarded the statue at the back of the room, raised on a platform to separate it from the filth in the metal room. It should touch nothing but the cleanest of metal, pure and untainted: the dais was sacred, a place just for it. One gauntleted hand touched a curve of stone, running over it lovingly, the surface smoothed by the passage of time it had spent, hidden beneath the earth. But he had found it. He understood its meaning. His hand fell back to the sword, hidden beneath his cloak, at his side. He turned, the light catching on the gold circlet around his head, a dark stone set in the center of it.
"You have done well, commander," he said as he walked back towards his throne. The man bent his head, eyes on the floor to hide his relief.
"Thank you my lord."
He did not have enough time to register the sound of the drawn sword before the point of it drove through his armor, and directly through his heart. The man coughed, blood splashing on the floor as he collapsed. Life vanished from his eyes beneath his helm, like someone had turned off a light.
"... but failure is not tolerated," he finished, withdrawing the blade from the body on the floor. He wiped it off with his cloak, walking back to his throne. "Commander Atrum," he said without looking over his shoulder. In the darkness by the door, a figure moved, the sound of shifting armor the only indicator that someone was there at all. "Fuel the fires," he said, smiling to himself as he sheathed his sword. "Make the kingdoms act." He sat down, regarding the figure in the dark he knew was there. "'In the darkest hours, a pillar of light will shine to keep the darkness at bay'-- then all our pieces will be on the board." He smiled.
"Commander, make the world dark."
The order was met with the metallic sound of shuffling.
"... as you will, Lord Noctis."