22nd of May, ME 756

Our task has been an exhausting endeavor, but I'm choosing to pen the events of the day regardless. Now that we are well on our way towards the goal of destroying the Empire and reclaiming our homeland, I feel it's imperative to record daily events. After all, my life and my journalism may in time provide an eye-witness account of our King's ascension. It seems only proper, as most of Eos believes earnestly that Noctis is deceased. If they feel he's dead, they would hardly recognize him as a savior or Sovereign. We will change that eventually. Meanwhile, I'll keep close account. When stories are told in the future, all will know of the labor and sacrifice our King has performed in order to bring hope and peace unto his subjects.

For example, we took down a Behemoth today. It was terrorizing a local chocobo rancher by the name of Wiz. Yesterday, we went scouring a local pond for frogs for a scientist. Ms. Yeagre needed them for her research project. I asked her to keep me apprised, but I'm afraid she's a touch scattered. Would that Aleya were here—she was a great fan of her work.

Though my resolution has taken the brunt of the sting, it has by no means mended my wounds regarding Aleya. I find it difficult to place one foot in front of the other. My only solution is to keep ever-focused on Noct. I've well learned what occurs when I let someone I love out of my sight. It shan't happen again. In summary, I've lost my heart, but not my will. I vow to stand by Noct and protect him. Even if he weren't our only hope for the future, he's all I have left in this world.

Gladio can sense there is something amiss regarding my mood, but he stays in silence. I can sense the burden of his guilt—he's the only person in our entourage who managed to retrieve someone dear to him from Insomnia. None of us find fault, however. I, for one, would never wish another living soul such pain.

This entry is becoming remarkably glum.

We did manage a victory today, even if frivolous. Out of curiosity, we went to see the meteor of legend. In truth, I think Noct only agreed to it as a way to cheer me up. I well know he and the others have no interest in such things. Nevertheless, Noct knew I've always wanted to see it, and that Aleya wished I could lay my eyes upon it one day as well. Therefore, we soon found ourselves pulling up to the mechanical gates outside the former tourist site.

We were greeted by the Empire. They have become a veritable infestation. We can no longer travel freely throughout Eos without them doggedly upon our heels. We've been remarkably victorious in every battle we've encountered thus far. Today was no exception. We did not receive entry to tour the meteor-fall site, but we decimated their sentry guard. A small victory, perhaps, but one of many.

Tomorrow we travel to Lestallum. Gladio is due to finally meet with his little sister after the events that unfolded in Insomnia. Perhaps that's why I find him pacing about outside rather than sleeping.

I can't fault him. I have also been plagued by nothing but sleepless nights since our beloved city fell. I don't dare close my eyes. I've lost far too much for doing so, and I won't let such things ever happen again.

23rd of May, ME 756

Intriguing. Just as I sat to write, Ms. Aurum called. Seems she sent a transport of refugees in from Insomnia and would like me to greet them upon their arrival. She said a few state to be from the Kingsglaive and the Crownsguard, and they'd like to speak to the King in person. However, she was betting—quite astutely—on filtering such request through myself before speaking to His Highness.

It's been a long day, but it's best I find out what is amiss. I've gone without sleep so long, I suppose I'm almost growing used to it, whereas Noctis seems more fatigued with each passing day.

[FLASHBACK]

The fatigue was beginning to take a toll on the King's advisor. He slammed the car door a bit harder than he intended. Noct shot him a look of concern. "Yes," Ignis replied to Prompto, "I'm sure we can find suitable accommodations nearby."

Prompto began wandering off immediately, distracted by the sights, smells, and sounds of the quaint town that greeted the quartet. Well, quaint by Insomnia's standards, he supposed.

"Everything alright?" Noct asked, placing a hand on his retainer's shoulder.

"Oh, yes. I'm fine. Nothing warranting your attention." If anyone knew what would be going on inside of Ignis, it would be Noctis. Indeed, only a few nights prior His Highness had forced a confession out of him regarding his dark mood. But it appalled the Royal Retainer that Noct would be worried with him. As the forthcoming King, and a man who had suffered his full share of loss, he needn't be burdened by Ignis' state of mind.

"You'll feel better after a break. We'll see Iris again. We can buy food. You don't have to cook us anything tonight." He wrinkled his nose. "And I think after two nights of camping and manual labor, we could all do with a wash-up."

Ignis forced a smile. "Ah. A bath, at long last." Aleya used to say a hot bath and a handful of chocolates could right all the wrongs in the world. He was sure nothing in this world or the next could kill his particular problem, but it wouldn't hurt to try to make life a bit more bearable. He had never felt so grimy in his entire life.

Noct grinned back at him. "You get first dibs, Iggy. I promise."

"You guys coming or what?" Gladio barked back impatiently.

The town was beyond warm. Ignis wanted to claw is jacket off and tear open the buttons on his silk shirt, but he would of course never dare do such a thing. It wouldn't have been a good show of form as he walked aside the rightful King of Lucis.

After they had wandered about town for a bit, sampling local cuisine and interviewing the residents, Gladio lost patience and phoned his sister. They later found Iris at the nearby hotel.

By the time all introductions were made, the rooming arrangements established, and the reunion held, Ignis was quite done with the whole affair. For several days he had gone through his life on auto-pilot, in perfect perfunctory fashion. The only time he had ever come alive was during the pitch of battle; For there was when he must cast aside all woes and focus on keeping their quartet alive. If Noctis were ever in danger, Ignis came to full alert instinctively. However, as soon as all were safe and the adrenaline died away, he could feel the creeping dusk set upon his soul again. The waves of thought and purpose and drive suddenly became very stagnant and tepid. Of course, he wore his mask well. He kept pace with the others. Though Prompto called him stern, he laughed and interacted as expected. Were his skillset or knowledge needed, he very willingly obliged. But he knew the events of the 17th of May had changed him forever. On that day, he had been uprooted and broken apart, like a Gesko tree that had been rendered asunder from its inter-twined pair. He feared he would always be split in two, with no way to recover the other half.

He listened to Iris in an equally perfunctory manner, taking in every detail and yet feeling numb to each. Until, of course, she mentioned that the Citadel took a beating, and that a lot of outlying neighborhoods had remained intact. At that comment, Ignis felt a familiar pain grip his chest. After all, he had constantly been after his assistant to move her quarters to the citadel rather than to the slummy neighborhoods she had made her home. The day before they left for Altissia, he made her swear not to leave the Citadel, insisting it was the safest place for her to be with the Empire on it's way to sign the peace treaty. He had even traveled in to make sure she was settling in that evening. He had been satisfied to see her unpacking her belongings. Though, if she had stayed in her former home—the home he had made her leave due to safety concerns—she perhaps would still be alive.

Noct had told him once that he should not bear the responsibility for her death. But, how could he do so when his guilt was so obvious? He had miscalculated, and it had cost her life.

Something inside felt as if it had torn, and Ignis lowered his head. "The Empire had tactical targets in mind," he commented, quietly.

Noctis gazed upon him for a moment in concern. He didn't have time to speak, though, before Iris continued the conversation. "You know, if there's anything else, you can ask me," she told him.

Noctis, oblivious as always, exuded politeness. "Yeah. Uh, thanks."

Iris decided to break another awkward silence that had set in. "So…about Lady Lunafreya. I keep hearing she was in town."

Attention captured and on alert, Noct leaned forward. The anxiety was palpable. How Ignis envied him! After all, there were no confirmed reports of Lady Lunafreya's demise, and Noct obviously held on to the hope that she was still alive and well. Ignis' hope in that regard had died at the Hunter's camp, where both Monica and Cor had confirmed that they had not heard of any more Crownsguard survivors. Further, Aleya's signal had died shortly after the Citadel invasion. 'There's no possibility of survival,' they had told him. 'Not if she was at the Citadel.'

Iris continued. "Apparently she left right away. But at least it means she's ok."

Noctis dropped his head in relief. Ignis let out a breath he hadn't even realized he was holding. "Good to hear. Thanks."

She stood and headed for the door. "Yeah. Well. Get a good night's rest."

Once she left, Ignis stood and walked over to Noct, placing a hand on Noct's shoulder. "The Oracle lives," he spoke softly to his King. "And so does hope."

"Yeah." Noct replied, nodding in genuine relief. "Yeah, you're right." And then, suddenly he seemed to remember something. He stood and met Ignis' eyes, exuding empathy. "Iggy, I…"

Ignis cut him off, turning to Prompto and Gladio cheerfully. "I do hope neither of you have your eyes set on a bath within the hour," he stated as he walked over to his suitcase. "I don't plan to relinquish it for at least that long. I've a date with an unblemished bath for the first time traveling with you lot, and I don't intend to miss it." And with that, he retrieved his undergarments and walked to the bathroom.

It was only when the door shut—only then—that he buried his face in his hands and let his shoulders bow under the weight of the world in which he was living.

[Back to Entry]

I can scarcely believe the turn of events.

Last night, after the longest bath I believe I have ever taken in my life—which I sorely needed to straighten myself out—I decided to go out for a walk and take in the evening sights of the tourist city of Lestallum. I wandered about a bit. I sampled the spices, spoke with a few locals, gathered intel on the power plant, and retrieved various maps and items for our journey. I was determined to be my old self; The self-controlled, nonchalant, poised and pristine tactician I had always been. No one could ever continue in a straight line if they always looked in the reverse, and no one can ever move forward if they had been paralyzed in time. To be Noct's sure support, I had to collect myself and move onward. It wouldn't be easy, I decided. There would be sleepless nights, mournful days, melancholy moments. But the loss I felt was scarcely different from that experienced by the others, and I had to be the one to rise above such things. That much was certain.

As I locked the trunk of the Regalia—teaming with my new acquisitions—and set my face to the wind, I heard a rather large vehicle cruise to a stop in the street above. The lights were the brightest I'd ever seen. They were almost a piercing blue color. No doubt they were responsible for the bus being able to traverse the streets so late into the night.

I recall I ran a hand through my still-damp hair as I decided to investigate. (I recall this act in particular because I thought if I didn't stop wandering about with damp hair in the evening, I would catch cold, and would be no use to Noct at all.) By the time I made it to the top of the stairs, I saw what was amiss. The bus of refugees Miss Aurum had mentioned had arrived at last. The people within were all sorts—men, women and children, old and young, able-bodied, and injured. Most of the families exited together, carrying or otherwise towing their offspring, meandering about in a rather perplexed and lost fashion, trying to find their way about the new city. Most people from Insomnia, of course, had never seen the world beyond it. Perhaps that is why they had always appeared to be so smug and narrow-minded; Practically xenophobic. Now they were indeed strangers in a foreign land, as it were.

Regardless, I felt infinitely sympathetic towards their plight. As a man who would have been one of the city's Fathers, I decided it best to help out the best I could. Besides, as had been decided, it was my duty to take the statements of the refugees and participate in any pending investigation regarding the Empire.

No one knew me, of course. The citizenry of Insomnia rarely saw those of the Royal court. It mattered not. It was my duty to be there. Nothing could have prepared me for what occurred next.

[FLASHBACK]

"Right this way," Ignis urged, "Take the first left from the main entry. Follow it down until you reach the hotel." He went on like that, person after person, group after group. He helped one elderly lady with her suitcase until a young man from Lestallum offered to take over. He comforted a little boy who was crying. He had been orphaned, and a young couple had taken charge of his care. Then came the wounded: a limp, a cut, a bandage over the eye. Ignis took it all in, inwardly cursing at the Empire, pitying each refugee in turn.

From the back of the bus, he could hear a vaguely familiar voice, also giving instructions as they went. It was male, warm and deep, with a rustic accent that Ignis knew well. The man was undoubtedly originally from Galahd. "Can you walk?" Ignis could hear him say. "Okay, then. They'll take care of you off the bus. Here we go. Come on big guy, your parents are probably waiting for you at the hotel." As the injured progressed into more severe injuries, the gaps between the exits became longer and longer. Ignis finally stepped onto the bus to see how he could help.

There were only three remaining: a small boy who appeared to suffer from a broken leg. An elderly woman, clearly in shock and immovable, and someone lying at the very back, stretched across the one full-length seat in the vehicle. The form was female—that's all Ignis could see from the gap in the seats. But he recognized the conductor quite clearly, indeed. "Ah, it's you," Ignis told him, mustering up a crisp and breezy greeting. "And as you're assisting, I'm assuming you're one of the few who remained loyal."

A man squeezed by Ignis to retrieve the little boy.

"You think so, huh?" Asked Libertus, turning to the female lying supine on the back seat.

Ignis stood aside as the man from Lestallum passed again with the little boy on his back. "And now you are retrieving the vict—" His voice trailed away at the same time his eyes traveled away from the Glaive.

Libertus had been busy with the female, pulling her upright, and then leaning over to lift her. Though his back blocked Ignis' view and he could not clearly see her face, her arm dropped over Libertus' elbow. Ignis felt a chill run over him. That dangling wrist was wrapped with a finite-mythril charm bracelet, with a jade clamshell pendant. It wore a striking resemblance to—no, indeed it was the exact same—gift he had given a few years hence.

Ignis' breath caught in his throat. Impossible, he thought. He felt sure it was a dream. He must have somehow fallen asleep in the bath. That must have been it. Or, it was a different person. Surely the street vendor had more than one of the same type of bracelet…

'No survivors' he could hear echoing in his ears, over and over, from Cor's matter-of-fact report. 'Don't get your hopes up', 'No chance', 'No one could have'…Those words, echoing over and over and over. All the feelings he had on the cliffside overlooking Insomnia came back; It was as if they were happening all over again: He couldn't reach her on the phone. The Citadel had been destroyed. Hope sweeping away like the coastal waters just before a storm; His heart burned and ached, and he was certain he was having a premature infarction; Numbness, from head to toe; Cold, but unable to shiver; Completely devoid of any thought or emotion; She was dead. Any last bits of hope he had after that moment had been completely wiped away with Cor's report, at the tomb of the Wise. 'We got the official report in,' The Marshal had said. 'There are no survivors.' When Ignis had asked if a thorough search had been made, Cor had continued. 'Don't get your hopes up. From the state of the Citadel, no one could have survived if they had been in the building. Furthermore, we would have had contact by now. Any Crownsguard that survived have already reported in. I'm sorry, Ignis. Anyone else is dead.'

He had wept when he was finally alone, and almost every time he was alone. He had felt devoid of any emotion besides despair or fury for days. He had tried to get his act together, and had failed miserably. He was finally beginning to accept the fact that he would never see her again, and he would have to carry on somehow in spite of it…

And then Libertus turned, and he saw the owner of that tiny clamshell bracelet.

Ignis let out a breath, as if he had been punched in the stomach.

Libertus looked up at him. "You alright?"

" 'Leya!" Ignis cried, rushing forward. "Leya! Oh, My Dear Girl!" He brushed her tangled, matted hair away from her face. His heart hammered with wild hope; His breath abated in the cold shiver of fear. The left side of her face was covered in what appeared to be one long ugly bruise, but was most likely several small ones altogether. Otherwise, her skin was a strange shade of glossy white—even her lips bore no color, aside from a bloody crack of a split at the left corner. Her ear a fire-red; Her earring had been ripped from that ear. And what was worse, the dress she wore—torn apart at the left shoulder and stretched beyond recognition at the arm—was covered in blood. There was a massive bloodied bandage over the upper left of her torso, between her shoulder and her breast.

She hadn't moved at all. He was too terrified to put his fingers to her neck, for she looked quite dead. Her skin had an unnatural chill. Just as his hopes had escalated, they suddenly plummeted. "Is she—Is she…?"

"She's alive," Libertus told him, assuredly. "The bullet went well above her heart and looks like it only grazed her lung. She's lucky. She lost a lot of blood, though. Can't keep her eyes open."

"Leya!" Ignis called to her again, fighting for control of his emotions. And to the Glaive, "How could this happen? Who..?!" Had the Imps dared to attack her? To shoot her?! No, it didn't matter. She was alive.

"Yeah, about that. It wasn't Nifelheim. I found Furia dead on the road—two bullets through the heart. He had her earring in his hand."

"Furia!? The Marshal reported him dead!" Apparently the Marshal's intel was seriously flawed. All sorts of dead people were being found alive.

"Yeah? I'm the one that reported it. Saw him myself. Guess he wasn't so dead after all."

None of that mattered, Ignis supposed. He ran a hand over her scalp tenderly before sharply changing to ire. "Why hasn't she been healed?"

"They were running low on supplies," Libertus explained. "There's a lot of wounded coming out of Insomnia, 'ya know. They were out of everything in Hammerhead, even Coernix. We tried."

"We have plenty," He replied, dismissively. "I'll take her from here." He went to scoop her away from his grasp.

Libertus knew better than to argue with Ignis. He was the only one on the whole bus of people who had known who Ignis was, and what his position was. "Fine by me. I'll take care of the other two." He let Ignis retrieve her. "Wait. There's something I think you should know, though."

"I undoubtedly already do," Ignis answered curtly, and turned to leave.

"I guess you know our Queen is alive?"

"So I've heard."

"And did you know…"

"We're wasting time!" Ignis snapped. Now that his resurrected love was in his arms, she fell to his care. She needed medical attention, and he couldn't afford to waste a moment.

Libertus regarded him coolly. "Did you know," he attempted again, quiet and stern, "That Hero sacrificed his life to save the future?"

Ignis scanned his mental database as he would a deck of flashcards, filtering through the term 'hero' and how he had heard it applied in every conceivable situation. "Nyx Ulrich?" He guessed.

"Yeah. Nyx Ulrich." Libertus made a motion with his hands as if he were sliding a ring on and off. "I guess even the gods think he's a hero."

Ignis stared at him for a moment in disbelief. A glaive? A glaive could harness the power of Kings? How was that even possible? As far back as he could remember, anyone not directly chosen by the crystal by divine providence had been mortally wounded by such power. "He's alive?"

"I like to think he is. Somewhere. Somehow."

"I see." Ignis nodded solemnly. Then, a thought occurred to him. "The ring? Was he still in possession of the ring?"

"Last I saw it, it was with our Queen," He answered.

"Lunafreya." Ignis muttered in a breath, with awe. How she managed to escape with her life—and with the ring—was a miraculous feat. Truly she was the favored of the gods. "Thank you." And he meant it. He had much in which to be grateful to the man—for providing good news, for helping the refugees, for proving loyal to the king, and of course—for bringing Aleya back to him.

He nodded. "Give my regards to the Prince."

"You're not staying?"

"Long enough to make a report. Then I'm headed back. I gotta round up some of the 'kinfolk'. This fight ain't over."

Ignis gave a short nod. "Precisely." And for a moment, they stared at each other with mutual respect and determination.

Aleya Claren, as cold and lifeless as she was, gave a barely audible groan, turning his attention back to the situation at hand. "Hold on, Leya," he whispered to her as he turned and hurriedly exited the bus. "Help is on the way."

[Back to Entry]

24th of May, M.E. 756

It appears we're to set out for a mysterious sword near a waterfall in the morning. We were informed of its existence today after the others explored the city and returned. It was by young Talcott Hester's suggestion. Can't say I'm surprised; He comes from a long line of retainers, same as I. Culture and knowledge are bred into his genes.

I'd like to say I'm fully on board with the suggestion of getting a head-start on our task. However, if I am truthful, I'm a bit torn. I'm eager to get back to Lestallum. I haven't told anyone of her return yet, not even Noct. I've never been superstitious, but I somehow feel that if I proclaim her alive and we all celebrate, I'll come back to find she'd taken a turn for the worse and was buried. Perhaps it's the toll of feeling the overwhelming disappointment of hope; Her recent 'death' and the fall of Insomnia and the King being so very recent. I've learned to be cautious in my expectations.

Regardless, I still cling to hope. Aleya was cared for by the physician, and her wounds appear to be mending. However, she's in a bleak state of mind. It will also take some time to build her blood up to acceptable levels again. I've instructed the physician to be mindful of her anemia. I've too taken the liberty of preparing iron-building meals for Iris to impart to her while I'm away. Hopefully she'll be physically no worse for wear by the time we return. Her emotional state may be unyielding, though:

I was quite distressed to receive the phone call from Miss Aurum. She asked if I had seen the refugees arrive safely, and also requested me give my regards to the Prince. (Prompto will be in a state of utter depression to learn she inquired nothing of him). When I asked for more information regarding the circumstances of Aleya's arrival, I wished I hadn't. It seems she had stumbled into Hammerhead in a blood-washed mess and asked if she could work to pave her way to Lestallum before falling into an unceremonious faint. It was there they learned she had been shot, and rendered as much aid as possible. Cindy stated she fell into a delirious fever that evening, and had only whispered one word. I can't determine whether I'm pleased or distressed that it was my name.

It was my belief that the Imperials had shot her when she tried to make her escape from the city, but it was worse. I interviewed Leya as soon as she woke, and learned the details.

Tredd Furia—a man who certainly had deserved two deaths-had hitched a ride from the city in the back of a covered utility van; The same van that happened upon Aleya and offered her a ride in the back with the other refugees. She did climb the tailgate in her tattered and torn dress and sat. There was a moment when her eyes had adjusted to the change in the lighting, she told me, as the van had taken off. And when her vision was again clear, she saw him sitting just across from her. At the moment of her laying eyes upon him, at the look on his face, she knew she was in danger yet again. She jumped out of the truck. He would have none of it, and went after her. The driver hadn't even realized they had left the vehicle, and proceeded onward as Furia chased her down. She told me if only she hadn't been wearing that fancy dress, and if only she hadn't hurt her leg when exiting Insomnia, she perhaps could have made a clean getaway. Sadly, she could not. When he had the chance at a accurate shot, he took it.

I can't even bring myself to put on paper what his intentions were. With such hate and treachery in his soul, I suppose I'm not entirely surprised, even though I'm appalled. If he weren't already dead, I would remedy it forthwith.

Aleya—who was wounded and barely trained for combat-did manage to stop him. There was a fierce fight, and the only way she could preserve herself was to wrest his weapon away and pull the trigger.

I won't begin to imagine the mental anguish she went through. Not only had she killed him, but she was faced with the trauma of somehow crawling out from under the weight of his corpse. She managed to walk to Hammerhead—but after a night in the elements, with the daemons.

Miss Aurum, in all prudence, sent her along the way to Lestallum after she heard my whispered name, hoping we'd meet.

That's not all of the trauma, however. We've also learned her brother Calen has passed. His death appears confirmed by more than three witnesses.

There were no tears when relating the whole story to me. It would have been less upsetting if there had been. She seemed simply numb to the whole experience, for the most part.

Perhaps I'm the only one of our entourage who hasn't had sufficient rest. Noct slept in this morning, and he's sleeping now. Prompto and Gladio have slept soundly several nights in a row, now. Once the shock of Insomnia wore off, fatigue took over, and the routine set in; They haven't lost even an hour of sleep since.

Best I turn in as well. I'm no doubt driving again in the morning.

I will, of course, support Noct in whatever course he decides to take, and the lengths he goes to take it. Still, I hope that course leads us swiftly back to Lestallum. Aleya had only been 'dead' a few days, but I felt like I was parted from her for an eternity. If I had my way about it, I'd never let her out of my sight from this moment forth.

25th of May, M.E. 756

I want this expedition over forthwith for two reasons: Aleya and Noct.

As to Aleya, I left her in Iris' care, and she assured me she would take great pains for her recovery. I had no choice in the matter, really. It was part of why I avoided pursuing a relationship. My duty to Noct will always be my first priority—not merely because it is required, but because I do indeed desire to assist him. What kind of man would I be to neglect my King and country in favor of my own selfish pursuits? Still, I can only hope she understands. Assuredly, if I could be in two places at once, I would indeed remain at her side, especially as I fear she needs me so desperately at the current moment.

As for Noct, he's exhausted—sleeping off a long trek through Greyshire Glacial Grotto, where he received the power of the Wanderer. It was a very perilous expedition. When we weren't freezing to death, we were being attacked by the Hoardes of the Dark. We got lost several times, which made the cold even more pervasive and harder to endure. If we hadn't exited when we did, at least one of us might have perished. (I really must find a proper jacket for him. How his 'jacket' can be classified as such when it has no sleeves is beyond me.)

When we left the cave, he was stricken with a piercing pain. He claims to have had a vision or dream of some kind that accompanied the debilitating headache. Thinking him perhaps to be ill, and concerned for the health status of all in our party after our mission through the grotto, I made a large pot of soup. Alas, I fear it's been entirely consumed. (Next time I am teased for being so thin I shall remind the lot of them that I barely have time to dip the ladle in the pot before it has been devoured…. animals, they are.) In any case, the soup did not appear to help the headache, nor were the visions some sort of hallucination from wandering about in the cave. He had another splitting pain before he went to sleep.

As his visions seem to center on the Disc of Cauthess, I've an inkling these headaches have something to do with the Archean. I do remember something in my studies regarding the interaction of the gods with the kings of their choosing. I should ask Aleya; She's the expert on the Cosmogony. Perhaps we'll receive the needed answers tomorrow upon our return.

Until that time, I think it's best that I drive the Regalia.

26th of May, M.E. 756

Noct continues to have headaches. I, for one, cannot stand to see him in such agony without a clue to it's cause. Perhaps that's why we decided to entrust ourselves to a man of such obviously dubious character…We were desperate. Granted, I don't actually trust him as far as I could hurl him. Even now, he prowls around the outside of the caravan like a voretooth. No doubt I won't be able to close my eyes for even a moment tonight.

In my haste, I didn't even have time to see Leya. I ask myself repeatedly what is the point in having her back if I can't take the time to even look at her; To speak with her. Of course, I fall upon the same answer—she is alive. That is enough. I did manage to inquire of her condition, at the very least. Iris says that though she mostly sleeps, she's mending nicely.

On a side note, despite all the ill that's happened to us, I must be in a delightedly cheerful mood. The sun seems a bit brighter, the air crisper, the grass greener. I caught myself humming, or rather, Prompto caught it. I told him my lips were sealed as to the cause, but I knew why. My Leya's been resurrected. How can a man not be happy about that?

Away from prying ears, I informed His Highness that Aleya is alive. I've rarely seen his face light up so quickly. It wasn't just his own joy at knowing she survived, though. He was beyond ecstatic for me. He is the only person in this world who knows just what she means to me. He wanted to see her right away, of course. I've promised to reintroduce them upon our return.

He's asked me if I've had 'the talk' with her yet; I rightfully assumed he implied that I should tell her my innermost thoughts and feelings regarding our relationship. Sad to say, he seemed disappointed that I had forgone such action. Can he not understand? We just lost Insomnia. We're sowing the seeds of a war against the Empire. She returned from the dead, and she's lost her brother. I find it poor timing.

Speaking of time, I've no further time to mull over such frivolity. Our guest has just entered the caravan, and I'll need the use of both of my eyes for the remainder of the evening.

30th of May, M.E. 756

Stranded. Absolutely, positively stranded.

I was daft to have taken assistance from the Chancellor of Niflheim.

Of course, if we hadn't, we'd all be a heap of ash, buried underneath what's left of the meteor. Still, I wish never to lay eyes on that horrid man again. I despise ambiguity, and Ardyn Izunia is as ambiguous as they come.

We're actively searching for the Regalia. It is my hope as well as Noct's that she's survived our meeting with the Archean. Meanwhile, we're stuck in this silly caravan, with the bloody stench of the bloody fowl farm. Between Prompto's shenanigans, Gladio's posturing, and Noct's apathetic sulking, I'm very likely to go mad. I've never been able to sit still for long, and certainly not under these conditions.

At least Noct's headaches have resolved. One less thing to worry about.

I've been unable to reach anyone in Lestallum, which troubles me deeply. Hopefully, it's simply an outage in the mobile lines.

Aleya would tell me to make good use of my time and read up on what lies before us. And yet, my access to educational material is very limited here. Wiz has been very kind, though. He strikes me as a wise man, in many ways. We haven't spoken much at all, and yet I feel quite drawn to him. (Perhaps I miss the father figures in my life.) He asked me today if someone—note, some one—was on my mind. I merely looked at him, but he must have read my expression. I recall he merely chuckled and walked away with a "well, that's mighty nice".

His intuition baffles me. The man must be a sage.