Chapter 9:
"Explain."
Cor all but threw her into the seat in front of his desk, slamming the door behind them. She was surprised at how small it was; no wide open spaces or illusions of grandeur on behalf of Insomnia for the Marshal. Just enough space to be efficient. On second thought, it was perfect for him.
"Cor, if you'll only just allow me t-"
"Enough of your platitudes, Inertia," He leaned against the window overlooking the training grounds, jaw clenched tight in frustration. "Is that even your name? Inertia Izunia? Although your relation to the Chancellor does seem fitting with the secrets you've been keeping."
"Marshal." She folded her hands, voice small, but commanding. He paused long enough to look at her. She shot him a glare, and with a sigh he sat on the other side of his desk, meeting her at eye level. "First, allow me to apologize for any deceit I've participated in." He grunted, and she figured that would be the best she would get out of him. "Second, while you've no reason to trust me, please allow me to implore your discretion in this matter."
"We'll see," He shrugged. "That depends on how much I like your story."
"Please, Cor," She placed a hand on his own, and he didn't try to pull away, even as she tried to ease his troubled heart. "This is a matter of grave importance. Should you not comply, even more lives might be at stake than the ones at present."
He shoved her hand away, angry, but resolved.
"Go on."
She could recall those gray walls, and the cold, and the hard floor, and the flat faces of everyone in the facility, and the beeping of the monitors all around, and the men floating in the holding tanks, and the barcodes on everyone's wrists, but she didn't know anyone's name. She wandered the facility as she pleased, people stopping to greet her or pick her up and show her an experiment or readjusting whatever outfit she wore that day, fixing the hair that fell out of her braid or ponytail, but she didn't know a single person's name. No one introduced themselves, no one played games with her in her room, even when they brought her mac n cheese for lunch they left it on the table, seeing themselves out before feeding it to her like she thought grown ups were supposed to. That's what she saw in all the movies they showed her.
At five years old, Inertia Izunia was a cute little sideshow for the workers in the facility, and nothing more than that.
Some of them would show her the animals they held captive there. She didn't know that word at the time, but she knew she didn't like it. Flexitusks, gigantoads, garulas all among the prisoners there, looking sad, so sad, and it made her heart hurt. She wanted to play with them, to cheer them up, but the workers never let her. They'd pick her up and let her see them, but she could never go in the cages with them. That wasn't allowed. And she had to be a good girl, they said. She was special, they said, and she had a lot to learn, but in order to do that, she had to behave. She had to be good. Until one day she decided she didn't want to be good anymore. And since no one would help her, she helped herself.
She had long since figured out how to open the door to her room, setting a small stool by the door and tugging on the handle. She knew the workers talked about it, but she also knew they talked about how Ardyn wouldn't like it if they didn't let her explore. She didn't know who Ardyn was, but she wondered why he liked her so much to let her misbehave.
Letting herself out and into the long, dingy hallway, she toddled hitherto from her empty, cold room. It was the middle of the night, so none of the doors that were open during the day were open for her now, but she saw everyone else use the numbers on their wrist to open the big, metal entryways before, so she tried to do the same. She wasn't tall enough to reach the scanner, but there was a pedal at the bottom of the panel on which it stood that let her lower it to the ground, and so she did just that. She'd watched enough of the workers to know just where the pedal was, and how it worked.
The numbers on her small wrist glowed under a flashing light, and suddenly the door was open, just like she'd seen so many times.
Gleefully, the little girl ran to and fro opening doors with her wrist, some kind of magic she didn't understand giving her the power of a superhero. It didn't take her long to reach the holding facility, where they kept most of the animals for testing, and she wandered the long corridor in front of their cells, wondering who to go see first. The funny thing was that, even though it was night time, time for bed, as she knew it, and the lights were off and the place was quiet, none of the animals slept. They paced their holding cells, back and forth, looking angry, and not even remotely sleepy. Some bashed their heads against the walls, some licked at their legs nervously, some plucked feathers from their bodies, some chewed at the chains on their limbs. None of them looked happy; which the little girl already knew. But they wouldn't even sleep at night. It seemed so scary to her that all of them were awake, and agitated, and miserable. Why would this place do this to these big creatures?
She stopped in front of a cage where she didn't see any animal at first. Curiously, she ran to the railing of the observatory half-wall, looking between the bars desperate to catch a glimpse of whatever was inside beyond the glass. When she didn't see anything, she decided this was her stop, and ran to the scanning panel stationed in front of the cell. Letting herself in as she had so many times before, she entered the small room as any child would; loud and excited.
"Where are you?" She called out. There was a small tree in the cell, a few boulders to mimic the wild, a small body of water in the middle. But no sign of any animal. "Hello?" She asked, toddling forward. "Is anybody here? I want to be your friend, Mr. Animal!"
The thing was on her in an instant.
She fell back, hitting her head on concrete, dazed and confused. She blinked up into big, blue eyes, which glared at her with fire and hate. The thing's face was inches from hers, and it sniffed at her halfheartedly. Her head was throbbing, and the wind had been knocked from her lungs - she'd never felt that sensation before - but she was too stunned to cry, or yell, or make any sound at all. The claws on her shoulder dug into her a little more, pinning her to the floor. The thing's ears were pinned against its head, lip curling back and exposing horrible, pointed teeth that were only inches away from her small face.
It pushed her, then, dragged her across the ground until it had shoved her into the water in the middle of the floor, and as small as she was, it didn't take long for her to be submerged. She flailed, helpless under the weight of the thing that held her down beneath the small waves. Gasping for breath, her head surged from beneath the abyss only once, and she glimpsed the thing holding her so angrily in the water. It was a fox, or she thought it was, though it was bigger than the foxes she'd seen on TV. It had silver fur and blue markings on its face, and of course those blue eyes so filled with hate. Its many tails were flicking from side to side like mad, and its body was tensed in its fight against the small girl who had invaded its territory.
Whimpering, she allowed the thing to force her back under the water, and she was choking, losing consciousness. Things were growing black and she'd lost the will to struggle against the creature, who was so irrationally filled with hate, and she wondered why the humans here had done this to these animals, why they had made them so angry and hateful. Was that her fate too? Would they make her hateful, too? A killer?
The next thing she knew, she was back on solid ground, coughing up water, and the fox was laying on the ground somewhere far across the enclosure, still and unmoving. There was blood everywhere, spilling out from beneath silver fur and dripping into the water in the middle of the cell, red mixing with blue in an almost beautiful way. Her five year old mind couldn't help but wonder if she had crayons those colors. That man with the violet hair and amber eyes stood over the lifeless creature, a blade in hand, enshrouded with the same red now crawling across the floor. He had a foot on the body, and only when he saw Inertia stir did he leave it behind, coming to her aid.
"Why, hello, little Inertia," He greeted her warmly, kneeling beside her. She shivered, cold from the water, and shaken from the near-death experience. He wiped the wet hair from her face, strands clinging to her pale skin in desperation. He cupped her cheek in his palm, and his hands were still so large, even though she hadn't seen him in years. "You always find trouble, don't you?"
She cried, then, cried for the parents she didn't have the dead creature only a few feet away, she cried for having almost lost her life, and cried for the childhood she'd never been granted. Ardyn - she didn't know it was him, then - wiped her tears away with his coat, smiling down at her.
"It looks like it's time to teach you how to defend yourself, hmm?" He murmured. He pulled her into a hug, but the tears kept falling as she looked at the dead thing across the cage, her heart empty, and her soul cold.
She saw Ardyn nearly every day after that.
She learned who he was, and who he was to her, and his position in the Niflheim empire, and how to defend herself, too. At five years old, her practice was little more than play, but he instilled in her skills of coordination and agility, even if only by jumping rope or hopscotch.
Ardyn wouldn't allow any of those other workers to train her. He saw to it himself.
He would have to leave from time to time, on imperial business, he said, but he would always come back, and always resume her training. Years passed, and she grew hardened to the physical exertion, to the fight he implanted in her spirit, and he began to teach her other things, too. Language, writing, mathematics, anything she could wrap her mind around, he would impart to her, through studies and textbooks and late night games. She never told him about the time Griseo appeared to her, not too long after he started to teach her.
She was playing in her room, specifically a dollhouse Ardyn had gifted her after a particularly hard day of training. It was the first day he'd given her a weapon - if a wooden sword counted as a weapon - and taught her how best to wield it, hold it, sheathe it, and use it in her small fingers. She was only 7 now, and the sword was almost too heavy for her to hold. It sat lazily on the floor behind her, and now she played house. While Ardyn had given her plenty of dolls to play with, she'd discarded them without a second thought, instead using figurines of animals and small stuffed things she'd acquired over the years. She didn't like people, not really, not the cold, emotionless faces of the workers here, or the gray-haired man Ardyn sometimes brought with him to watch them train. She had seen that man around the facility sometimes too, but he never paid any attention to her. He didn't seem to take any interest in her, but she was just fine with that, since he gave her the creeps.
Ardyn was the only person who'd really bothered to learn about her as a person. He asked her what she liked and didn't like, taught her things she didn't know before, told her silly things about himself, like how his favorite food was fish sticks, or how he liked to stay up at night and read instead of going to bed early.
Even so, she preferred animals. In between her sessions with Ardyn, she would go by the animal wing, observing them, watching them, trying to learn about them. She never precariously entered an enclosure again, only entering when a worker or Ardyn would allow her to, accompanying her. She would reach out to the animals, instead of yelling into the darkness, and allow them to come to her, and though they were scared at first, pretty soon they had approached her, albeit with caution, and sniffed her hand, and decided she wasn't a threat. They would nuzzle her hand, and she would squeal, and pet them, and she thought maybe this was the first time they had ever been pet in their lives. Her hand always felt warm when she did so, and tingly, and the animal before her would always seem to calm almost instantaneously, but she wouldn't know until later this was her empathic healing ability that which she didn't know how to use until Lunafreya showed her. Until then, she thought maybe the animals just liked her for her, and that was enough. Whoever came with her wouldn't let her stay long, but it was nice to have a chance to show these creatures a little compassion, even if she never saw them again.
So she played with the animal figurines in the dollhouse, dolls cast aside somewhere she didn't care enough to pay attention to, until she heard a rustling behind her, and felt a breeze on the back of her neck.
Turning swiftly, grabbing hold of her wooden sword, there sat that fox, a silver thing, with many tails, and blue markings on its face, and blue eyes. She blinked. The door was still closed, and as far as she knew, this poor thing had died.
"Who are you?" She asked. Her sword hand trembled, and her voice shook. The fox eyed her knowingly, looking from her to the sword in her hand. Something impelled her to put the thing down, though she knew not what.
You may call me Griseo.
She heard a gentle voice in her ear, but the fox's mouth hadn't moved, and animals couldn't speak anyway. Where did that come from?
"Griseo?" She asked, sounding out the syllables in her mouth. They were foreign to her tongue, and she struggled with the pronunciation. "What does that mean?"
It means gray.
The fox made no move towards her, seated a few feet from her on its haunches, tails flicking as they had those few years ago. It made her stomach tighten in fear.
"Why are you here?" She asked, confused. "How did you get in?"
I do not move as you do, it explained. I do not need doors to come and go.
"But… I saw you die," She couldn't fight the tears that swam in her eyes.
Why do you cry, child? It asked her with a nod of its head.
"B-Because it was my fault," She wept openly now. "I scared you, and you were so mad… so Ardyn killed you."
The fox took a step towards her, and it made her jump a little. Would it try to kill her like before? Its eyes weren't full of anguish and hate as they had been. Why was it here for her now?
I am not the creature you once knew, it said. It almost sounded… sad. I merely took his shape to come to you.
"What do you mean?" She asked, shuddering a little. "How can you take someone's shape?"
I am a Messenger, it took another step forward, only a few inches from her now. I speak to you on behalf of the gods. I have been sent to you as a guardian.
"Sent?' She wiped some tears away on the back of her sleeve. "By who?"
It is not as you understand it, The fox explained, licking a paw. I have not been sent by a person. I have been sent by Eos itself.
"How can that be?" She wondered aloud. "Eos is a planet."
Yes. And it also has a soul, Griseo nodded at her, acknowledging her understanding. Like you or I.
"The world has a… soul?" She asked, a little dumbfounded. The fox nodded.
It does. And it wants me to protect you.
She searched Griseo's face, his eyes, wondering if there was any hate there like the first time. All she could see was hope, and wisdom. Gently, she rose to her feet, and approached the creature, slinking her arms around his neck.
"Thank you, Griseo," She murmured into his fur. He nestled his face into her hair.
It is nice to finally meet you, Inertia Izunia.
Ardyn didn't show her how to warp-strike until she was 12.
She was skilled with most weapons now, preferring daggers most. They were light and quick, like her. She hadn't grown much, and she figured she never would. Even puberty was making her wait, as was the height she hated to admit she'd never have. But she used these things to her advantage; the smaller she was, the more agile. The more nimble. She could blend in with the shadows, and could trick the eye with her speed.
Which was why the first Royal Arm Ardyn had showed her was the Swords of the Wanderer. Dual blades of a long-forgotten King of Lucis, but light, and quick, and easily handled like the daggers she'd grown accustomed to using.
She'd learned about the Kings of Lucis through the books she read, the websites she perused, and the shows and movies she watched. She knew they weren't in Lucis now; they were in Niflheim, some forgotten, snowy peak, which explained why it was always cold. She'd never been permitted to leave the facility, but she'd been allowed outdoors, and not once had it been without snow. The Kings of Lucis protected a great crystal that housed the soul of Eos - which always made her flinch when she heard it, remembering a conversation with Griseo long ago - and they were the only nation left who resisted the empire's influence. Tenebrae had fallen two years prior, although she knew not what it looked like. It was home to the Nox Fleuret family, headed by an Oracle, always a woman, of the lineage. With the murder of Queen Sylva at the empire's hands - Ardyn had never answered her outright, she had merely sought out the information on her own on the internet, after which her computer had been removed from her quarters - there was no longer an Oracle to head the family. That would soon change, however, when Lady Lunafreya rose to the position. Her elder brother, Ravus, would instead serve the Niflheim militia, when he came of age. That was what all the workers said, anyway.
It was to her great surprise when Ardyn materialized a blade from thin air at their next training session, alarming her.
"How did you do that?" She inquired.
"With much practice," He mused, nodding at her to drop her daggers. She did as he asked, coming forward to observe this phenomenon up close. "You're just as capable as I."
"Horseshit," She joked. He hadn't been surprised when she'd used a swear word for the first time at the age of 10 - but he discouraged her all the same.
"Inertia," He spat. She looked to her feet, ashamed.
"Sorry," She mumbled an apology. He continued on as though nothing had happened at all.
"This that I hold right here is one of the thirteen Royal Arms," He offered the blade to her so that she might inspect its craftsmanship. The thing was gorgeous, the detailing and decorum alone worlds beyond anything she'd seen.
"You mean… one of the Royal Arms of Lucis?" She asked, mesmerized by the weapon. "Of kings since passed?" Ardyn caught a twinkle in his eye.
"The very same," He winked. She blinked at him, confused. "Oh, don't be bothered, dear. The kings are long dead, they won't miss them."
"It's not that…" She ran her fingers along the blade, relishing the feel of the cool steel in her hands. "How are we able to use the Royal Arms? Can't only the blood of Lucian kings do that?"
"I see you've done your homework," Ardyn chuckled, taking the blade back from her. With the flick of his wrist, the thing materialized into thin air again in a flash of blue, gone as fast as it had appeared. "But I've a secret for you and your ears alone."
She eyed him suspiciously, unsure of how to proceed. She leaned in, hesitant. He leaned into her, murmuring into her ear - and she was disturbed by how close he was, her skin crawling in protest. "The Lucian Kings aren't as exceptional as everyone thinks they are."
He pushed her away then, extending his arm before him, fingers playing with the air. "In order to conjure one of the Royal Arms as I do, you must focus all your energy into your hand. Do as I do."
Skeptically, Inertia reached out her arm and hand, closing her eyes. She tried to "focus her energy," but she didn't really know what that meant, and it sounded like some kind of meditative bullshit she'd read and heard about on TV, something she'd written off as silly religious fervor, and not a legitimate field worthy of her study. Ardyn had never encouraged her to self-reflect before, so why was he doing so now?
"You must think the weapon's name in your mind, and feel it in your soul," He explained. "The weapons I wish for you to conjure would be the Swords of the Wanderer."
She nodded, thinking the name over and over.
Swords of the Wanderer, Swords of the Wanderer, Swords of the Wanderer…
Nothing happened.
"Inertia, you disappoint me," Ardyn jeered. "Try harder."
Swords of the Wanderer, Swords of the Wanderer, Swords of the Wanderer…
Still nothing.
"This is quite depressing," He insulted her. She was glad her eyes were closed; the look on his face may have pissed her off enough to violence.
Swords of the Wanderer, Swords of the Wanderer, Swords of the Wanderer…
"It seems the gods have not chosen you as they have me," Ardyn professed, grabbing her arm and forcing it to her side. She opened her eyes frantically, and his eyes were wild with something she couldn't explain. "Enough for today."
Disappointed, she allowed him to escort her back to her quarters.
"What do you mean, the gods chose you?" She inquired. Ardyn sighed.
"A long time ago, I was chosen for a higher purpose, and I mistakenly thought, sharing my blood, you would be the same…" He shrugged. "But I suppose that's what is to be expected, having cloned you from my DNA…" He trailed off. "In the eyes of the gods, you're an unnatural abomination." He laughed wryly. "So naturally you couldn't be blessed with the same gifts as I."
She blinked, mouth agape.
"What?" She stuttered. She was… a clone? She had no mother? And this mysterious, vile, egregious man was her father? He was the only person to which she had a connection, but she wasn't stupid. As he carried out more exploits in the name of Niflheim, and more atrocities were committed at his urging in the empire's name, she'd slowly come to terms with the fact that this man, the only one who had offered her kindness her entire life, wasn't a good person after all. It had taken her awhile to rectify this disconnect in her heart, and she was still struggling with it. But to just so nonchalantly drop this at her feet… that was her origin!? She was a clone, like one of those grotesque MT troopers grown by Verstael? Had she been grown in a test tube like one of them too? Her body on display like some sort of science experiment?
"Oh, surely you knew I was your father, dear," He gestured her forward, for she'd stopped in her tracks, stunned by the revelation. "The likeness is so similar. Our hair, our voices… though you've the eyes of your mother."
"I… have a mother?" She mumbled weakly. "You said I was a clone…"
"I spliced your DNA with another's to mimic the process of sexual reproduction," He explained. Casually. So fucking casually it hurt Inertia's ears to hear it. "I cannot conceive through typical sexual reproduction. This was my attempt to recreate the process."
"What am I to you?" Her lip trembled. They were outside the door to her room, but she ignored him when he opened it for her. "Some kind of fucking science experiment?"
"Watch your language," He tsked, wagging his finger at her. THAT was all he had to say?
"I was never a daughter to you," She pushed past him, past the open door, angry tears falling from her face. She made her way down the hall, with no intention of staying in her room tonight. Or ever. "I was just another test subject."
"Inertia, no matter how you came to be, you're the only thing I have," His voice trailed behind her, the first hint of emotion creeping into his voice. She didn't care. She marched away, angry, hurt, and unafraid.
When he found her the next morning in the old animal enclosure in which she'd been attacked by the Kitsune - which the workers had never deigned to replace with another creature - she was brandishing the Swords of the Wanderer in each hand, jaw clenched, teeth set, eyes hard.
"Marvelous," He whispered.
Anger had become her vessel.
"I escaped not long after," Inertia explained, exposing to Cor the brand on her left wrist that she hid beneath Ravus's charm bracelet. "I stayed long enough for Ardyn to show me how to brandish the Royal Arms, warp-strike… that sort of thing." She shrugged. "When he ceased to be useful, I left."
"But how can either of you wield the Royal Arms?" Cor seemed genuinely interested now, and no longer accusatory. Inertia frowned.
"I don't know," She answered honestly. "He mentioned once that we had neural implants that allowed us to summon the Royal Arms forth, but…" She grimaced. "I did some research into neural implants, side effects of such a procedure, residual effects, that sort of thing…" She winced. "I found nothing to indicate such a thing in me or my father."
"Troubling. But if this is true, Regis needs to know about it," Cor crossed his arms. "They could mass produce these implants and install them in the rest of their army and use the King's magic against him."
"I understand," Inertia nodded. "You may tell your king. But this is a matter of diplomatic discretion. No one else need know."
Cor nodded. "I appreciate your honesty with me, even if it seems farfetched."
"Of course," Inertia rose to her feet. "I apologize for the deceit." She made for the door, prepared to see herself out, and wanting to warn Lunafreya that her duty here may have been compromised by her troubled past, but Cor's voice stopped her before she could go.
"Inertia… I need a favor."