by Jun Eishima
“Currently engaging the target,” a reinforcement from the Crownsguard chimed in as he reached the area.
“Are you quite certain you have time to be talking right now?”
But the man continued to report as he and Ardyn clashed. “Sir . . . I don’t think he’s one of us!”
“See? You’re leaving me all kinds of openings.” And then this man, too, was dead.
Not that it would have mattered if he’d stayed silent and entirely focused on the fight. The outcome would have been the same.
“Then what the hell is he?” Clarus demanded over the radio.
What am I? Ardyn thought in response. Why, I’m me! Would it have even been possible to explain? Better to leave simple minds blissfully unaware of the complexities of immortal life.
Another crackle of static. “Sir, we’ve identified the giant! It’s the Infernian―Ifrit, the Infernian!”
“An Astral?!”
“My, does information flow at a leisurely pace in Lucis,” Ardyn quipped. They all fought with movements heavy and cumbersome, like men flailing underwater, and it seemed their minds moved just as slowly.
“Yes, sir. One of our officers seems to be controlling the Infernian, but we can’t get an ID on him.”
“What?!” Clarus shouted. “Find out who he is at once!”
“And to think I wished to savor their struggle,” Ardyn sighed. “Oh well. I suppose I can’t expect a legacy such as my brother’s to produce the greatest minds of the day.”
He pummeled another man into the ground, then looked up. The battle seemed to be over, all enemy combatants dispatched. What an underwhelming start. He pondered where to go next. Was it better to finish off the other Crownsguard squads doubtlessly mobilizing in sectors all across the city? Or perhaps he ought to let them organize an evacuation after all; let them gather the entire populace in one convenient location for swift and total annihilation.
Another transmission sounded, this one different from the others.
“There seems to be some kind of disturbance. What’s going on?”
Ardyn checked the radio, but it was silent. He shifted to look at another device he’d brought along―an imperial transceiver. Of course. The voice belonged to Verstael, presumably still positioned just beyond the Wall.
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Ardyn smiled as he responded.
“Fine, I’ll not ask,” Verstael said. “Now, I need you to locate and destroy the devices amplifying the Wall.”
“As you wish. Just sit back and enjoy the show.”
If they could manage to bring down the Wall, Ardyn could leave the slaughter of ordinary citizens to the imperial army.
Hard to argue with efficiency, he thought. Then aloud, “Now, where in the world might those dastardly devices be . . . ?”
He’d merely been speaking to himself, but Verstael seemed to take the question as addressed to him. “I’ve marked the location of all the devices they’re using to amplify the Wall.”
The transceiver’s screen displayed an aerial view of the city. Several red circles dotted the map.
“They seem to be positioned on rooftops around the city. Find them and destroy them.”
“With pleasure,” Ardyn replied. “I’ll be sure to keep you abreast of my progress.”
Then, with the transceiver carefully muted this time, he sighed. “No rest for the wicked.”
He examined the screen, determining the best route to reach the first device. The answer was the rooftops. Up high, he’d be able to avoid the Crownsguard grunts scrambling among the city streets. One less annoyance to deal with. He sighted the tallest building nearby and leapt with phantasmal force to the top.
As he warped along, he developed a sliver of appreciation for the densely-packed buildings. Down below on the city streets, they had felt cramped and claustrophobic, but now they afforded unexpected freedom and ease in his quest to find the amplifiers.
As he neared the first marked point, an unusual bit of architecture entered his view. It had to be the structure housing the amplifier. It was of elaborate design, looking somewhat akin to a small temple or pavilion, and nearly every surface was covered with intricately patterned carvings. Inside stood a large stone figure, which seemed to glare from its post as Ardyn drew near. The statue seemed familiar. Ardyn recalled something resembling it in one of his many borrowed memories.
“The Fierce, is it?” Ardyn chuckled.
Tonitrus Lucis Caelum. One of the Kings of Yore. As for when, exactly, he was part of his nation’s history, the borrowed memory did not say. Perhaps it was a mystery that would remain ever unsolved.
“In any case, what terrible taste in headgear.” Ardyn shrugged, then turned to inspect the fixtures positioned at each of the structure’s four corners. They seemed to be some manner of repository meant to channel magical energy. Smashing them would undoubtedly disrupt the amplifier. Ardyn moved in a circle, taking them out one by one, but his destruction of the fourth was met with an unexpected bellow.
“I have sworn to vanquish all who would besmirch this sacred place.”
The deep, booming voice came from inside the structure. When Ardyn lifted his eyes, he beheld the speaker: the great stone figure shuddering to life atop its dais, its surface glowing with otherworldly light.
“Oh dear,” Ardyn sighed. “The kingdom’s defense budget is surely nothing to scoff at.”
He’d assumed the Wall was designed exclusively to repel external assaults. After all, if no enemy could get inside the city to begin with, why bother mounting more of the Crystal’s defenses on the inside? It seemed a reasonable enough assumption. More importantly, not a single one of the many daemonified soldiers had offered up memories suggesting otherwise. It only served to underscore how uninformed underlings always were. The details of real importance were leagues above their pay grades.
A lattice of light flashed into place on every side of the rooftop. It was the same hexagonal grid design of the Wall itself, on a miniature scale. Clearly, this was meant to bar the escape of anyone who tampered with the amplifier.
The stone Guardian lurched forward. It slammed its mace into a portion of rooftop occupied by Ardyn not a split second before. Its weapon was immense―one blow would have sufficed to smash any mere human to a pulp―yet the Guardian’s movements were sluggish. The power of an attack meant nothing if it never connected. Ardyn would soon be victorious, and he wouldn’t even have to break a sweat; all he had to do was devote a fraction of his attention to avoiding the mace.
Moreover, with the Starscourge able to infect both flesh and stone, his arsenal was as robust as ever. Whether man or statue, the Guardian’s fate at Ardyn’s hands would be the same.
The battle did not take long. When it was over, the statue fashioned after the Fierce faltered, light fading from its surface, and then the stone itself crumbled and vanished into thin air. The grid of blue light surrounding the rooftop vanished, too, and Ardyn was free to move on.
As he made his way, he heard more chatter from the Crownsguard radio.
“Sir! One of the Wall amplifiers has been destroyed!” The young officer’s voice was panicked.
Clarus’s response came quickly. “But why would he target them? Is this a Niff attack?”
Goodness, Ardyn thought. You’re still all the way back there? He found it hard to believe that this was the man leading the kingdom’s esteemed Crownsguard. Could he be any more obtuse?
“We haven’t sighted any imperial soldiers inside or outside the Wall, sir.”
“Then they must have sent him to do their dirty work,” Clarus replied. “Stop him at once!”
Ardyn chuckled. At least they seemed to be on the right track. He began heading toward the next marker. There were seven amplifiers in all. But the thought of dancing the same dance six more times seemed a bit wearisome. At least all seve
n were installed within the relative vicinity of the Citadel. It wouldn’t take long to move from one to the next.
The next device involved a bit more effort. This time, the stone Guardian was not alone. With it were several of the Royal Guard. They were more nimble than the regular fodder, but their attacks had grown predictable; they engaged him in the exact same manner as when he’d dealt with them on the island and at Verstael’s facility.
“Oh, how I tire of entertaining you,” he moaned.
He needn’t fear death at their hands, but the attacks they landed were admittedly painful. And their cries of fear and surprise quickly grew stale―over and over, the same shouts of “Monster!” and “He’s not human!” that he’d heard from countless mouths already. It was a bother he’d have sooner avoided.
Still, for all the burden they posed, the harvest was great. The Royal Guard represented the best of the best―the information they had access to was far beyond that of the normal troops. A captain among them might even sit in on an occasional briefing about the most sensitive of topics. The memories Ardyn gained this time around included several terms he’d neither read nor heard before.
“Most interesting. It seems they’ve another line of defense waiting to deploy.”
The Wall of Lucis and its efficacy at deflecting invasion was known far and wide. This new bit of information seemed to be about another capability. “The Old Wall,” they called it. A wall in name, perhaps, but in function it seemed something else entirely.
“In times of crisis, they call upon the Kings of Yore to come to their aid.” Ardyn hummed in mock admiration. “Bless their souls.”
So the ancient kings lay in wait, ready to defend the land. When things looked dire, they’d materialize to drive Lucis’s enemies away. Of course, the information provided by the memory was secondhand. Even the king’s personal guard seemed to know little about the Old Wall, and the now-daemonified soldier hadn’t actually seen it. Perhaps no one had. Perhaps it hadn’t been activated in ages. Still, the information seemed detailed enough to trust.
“If they summon the Old Wall, perhaps I’ll see that long-lost brother of mine.”
His body shivered with delight at the unimagined possibility. Somnus was dead. Therefore, there was no hope of confronting him directly. Ardyn had come to accept the destruction of Somnus’s line and nation as a poor consolation, but now . . . This was the chance to get what he truly wanted. If his brother’s spirit could be called forth, it could be crushed. He could crush it. Ardyn looked down at his outstretched hands. With those very hands, he might yet kill Somnus!
Strength and glee filled his body anew. He leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his new objective clear: bring the kingdom to the brink of collapse, and thereby create a crisis ripe for the Old Wall to intervene.
“He’s going after the Wall amplifiers, sir!”
“He took out another one?!” Clarus responded. “I’ll station reinforcements around the amplifiers.”
“Sir!” the underling replied.
As Ardyn obliterated each subsequent Guardian and operative, the messages between members of the kingdom’s guard continued to flow. Each victory inched him closer to his goal. How many devices were left? While contacting Verstael, he counted out on his fingers the number of towers he’d vanquished thus far.
“Are you there? Can you hear me?” Ardyn spoke into the transceiver. “Almost done. How does it look?”
The empire’s plan had been simple: disable the Wall from the inside, then launch a general attack with the imperial infantry. Ardyn’s part seemed to be nearing completion.
“Quite promising,” Verstael’s response came. “We should be able to break through the barrier with a well-timed assault. You ought to evacuate, lest you get caught in the crossfire.”
Meanwhile, another statue had lurched to life, and Ardyn was engaged in another fight.
“Yes, but there’s something I must attend to first,” he said into the transceiver as the combat raged on.
Once this Guardian was laid to rest, it was time to see the Old Wall summoned. And to do that, he’d need to pay a special visit to someone.
“I’ve got a king to kill,” he announced to Verstael.
“What?” the chief’s tone grew shrill. “That wasn’t part of the plan!”
“I’ve finished my work; now it’s time to play.”
“But we―”
Ardyn cut him off. “No ‘buts.’ You just stick to your plan and keep the boys in black busy for me.”
He cut the transmission and silenced the device. The infantry could manage the destruction of Insomnia and the massacre of its citizens. Ardyn had a new priority.
“Yes,” he crooned to himself. “It’s time to play.”
He dove down to the rows of trees lining the roads below, then hopped from one to the next, humming as he went, ripping banners and snapping flagpoles of Founder’s Day decorations he encountered along the way. Rubbish, all of it. A nearby loudspeaker blared a single word, over and over: “Evacuate! Evacuate!” He smashed it to silence its inane parroting.
His earlier time spent thinning the Crownsguard’s numbers had paid off in spades. There was hardly a soul in sight. No one would challenge him or slow his own little festival of destruction.
“Such a mess,” he laughed. “Whoever is going to clean it up?”
The answer, he mused, was “no one.” From this day forth, Insomnia would be a ghost town. There would be nothing left to maintain.
“Oh my. What big walls you have!” Ardyn said, standing at the front gates of the Citadel. “All the better to look down upon his enslaved subjects from.”
Not a guard was in sight. It would have been unthinkable at any other time but for the chaos. Every free hand, and then some, was needed to attempt to stay the Infernian and organize the civilian evacuation.
“Priorities, priorities.” Ardyn chuckled. “This is what you get when the men you command can’t even stop to think for themselves.”
He pushed through the gates and strode into the large, unobstructed courtyard that led up to the Citadel proper. A glance was enough to see that it wasn’t only the gates that were unmanned: the Citadel’s entire guard detail had been dispatched elsewhere.
“Time to call in a favor with the king and have him summon my beloved brother,” he said, making his way across the courtyard. Just then, someone emerged from the Citadel doors. Ardyn made no effort to turn or flee; he was but a simple soldier on duty. His presence wouldn’t invite the slightest suspicion. Or so he thought.
“Something wrong, Officer?” The tone was sharp, as was the stare. As the speaker drew close, Ardyn recognized him.
“Ah, you must be His Majesty.”
“I’m pleased to make your acquaintance,” the man replied, but the implication of his tone was clear: I don’t know you, and I don’t trust you.
Numerous memories had featured this face and the gentle smile it apparently was known to wear. Others showed it bearing a solemn dignity well beyond its years. But not one soldier of the kingdom―or at least none of those into whose minds Ardyn had delved―had been forced to confront the monarch he saw now, a man with a cutting gaze, ready to do away with any opponent.
“Why are you here?” the king demanded.
As the 113th of his line, undoubtedly naught but a trace of Somnus’s blood flowed through his veins. Little of him reminded Ardyn of his brother. But details be damned, this man―Regis―was a king of Lucis, and that alone was enough reason for him to die.
“Why, for you!” Ardyn declared. His crimson Arms flicked through the air, headed straight for Regis. The apparitional arsenal of their shared heritage. This was the proper means to kill a man of Somnus’s line.
Regis’s own blue blades were instantly summoned forth in response. The two men stood like that for a brief moment, Ardyn’s weapons at Regis’s throa
t, Regis’s at Ardyn’s.
“The Royal Arms! Who are you?!”
The clash had undoubtedly unnerved Regis. Set against the king was his own power―the spectral weapons bestowed by the gods, subject to the command of House Caelum alone. Only those born to the royal family could wield them, or the trusted individuals to whom they imparted a portion of that power. And now here stood a common soldier, unidentified and wielding the Arms of Kings.
Yet those of the royal house should be at least somewhat aware of the ancient truth they’d carefully wrapped away in lies.
“You ought to know,” Ardyn taunted, “being a man of royal blood yourself.”
“Adagium!”
As Ardyn anticipated, Regis had immediately understood, drawing from memory the name of the monster entombed on Angelgard. There was no one left in the kingdom who knew the name “Ardyn Lucis Caelum,” but “Adagium” they did know. What cruel irony that Niflheim should now stand closer to the truth of that ancient era than Lucis itself.
Whether or not Lucis knew the truth of its own history, it would suffer all the same. But it would bring Ardyn greater pleasure if they understood by whose hand their end had come.
“In the flesh,” Ardyn replied with a chuckle. “Here to bring the bloodline of Lucis to an end!”
“Hear me, Adagium! On my honor as king, I will vanquish you!”
“Oh dear. What an awful thing to say to your own flesh and blood.”
The Royal Arms still hung in the air, each set of weapons straining to bite flesh but stayed by the force of the other. Suddenly the arrays of red and blue were dispelled, and the men turned to blade in hand to further the fight. Regis moved with speed and precision, wielding his sword with all the valor Ardyn had observed in his stolen memories. The king’s skill with the blade might have excelled that of Somnus himself. Ardyn could easily imagine Regis on the front lines as Crown Prince, alongside his men in the thick of battle.
