Prompto stared at the remains of the battle before him, still sitting where the Lucian prince had left him. He was alive. He wasn’t supposed to be alive, if his unit was dead he was dead, he knew that. But still, he was alive. He was the only one, two whole units, one ranged one melee, had been decimated by three men. Granted, most of the melee had been MTs, doing nothing more than following basic programming, but the majority of the sniper units were human, boys he had lived with for the past few years, ever since he had failed to make an impression with his close combat skills.

  What… what was he supposed to do now? The prince’s car had driven off some time ago. The sun was setting, daemons would start coming out soon, and he was all alone. No training had prepared him for this, there were no lessons on how to handle having your arse handed to you by a pampered prince and his two protectors. If he was defeated he was supposed to be dead, everyone was dead. But he was alive.

  There was an Imperial fort nearby, he could go there. But to arrive without his unit, to be the sole survivor, alive only through the enemy’s mercy, would only invite a death more prolonged and painful than any daemon could inflict. No, best avoid that area if possible.

  Prompto swallowed and wiped a gloved hand over his sweaty forehead. Water. He had to find water. He also wanted to shed his armour but the pain that lanced through his head at the mere imagining of doing so convinced him that it wasn’t worth it; he could deal with the heat if he could find water. Plus, the protection would likely be needed.

  Still sitting where he had fallen, he reached over, picked up his rifle and examined it. There was a chunk carved out of the barrel and cracks running up and down it. Prompto tossed it aside once more; attempting to use it would likely cause it to explode in his face and he didn’t have the tools he needed to fix it. He still had his sidearm, it would do.

  Pushing himself to his feet, Prompto walked over to Arvid’s body and stared down at it. From this angle he could see in through the visor, could see the boy’s lifeless eyes staring straight ahead, wide in shock.

  Prompto charged at Sir, blunted steel practice blade raised high. It was contemptuously swatted aside, a foot rising to slam into his stomach causing him to double over, retching. Before even getting a chance to move away, Sir’s own sword slammed into Prompto’s collarbone with a crack, sending him crashing to the sandy ground.

  He had to move, he -

  The blunted blade struck his back, driving what air he had got in out again. Aside from the wuff of air forcefully leaving his mouth though, he made not a sound. He did not dare to. Any sound of pain was a sound of weakness and was to be stamped out. Crying was even worse.

  “Get up,” Sir growled at him, his voice dripping with contempt.

  Prompto was trying, but his left arm wasn’t working properly. Using his right arm he pushed and rolled himself over. His eyes met briefly with Sir’s cold gaze before he saw the sword swinging down towards him once again. He squeezed his eyes closed.

  Instead of the expected burst of pain, however, there was the clang of metal on metal. Prompto’s eyes snapped open to see another unit standing over him, his sword parrying Sir’s.

  The corner of Sir’s lip rose in a disgusted snarl and he turned his attacks to the other unit. Prompto used the opportunity to pull himself up, ensuring he remembered to pick up his own training sword. By the time he had regained his feet and stumbled back a few steps, Sir had beaten the other unit back.

  Prompto’s eyes flicked to the other unit, trying to convey thanks without saying anything. The unit shot him a grin instead, despite the fact there was blood running down his face now from a cut across his eyebrow where Sir had struck him. He must be new, was all Prompto could think of the reaction before he turned his attention back to Sir.

  “Very well then,” Sir said softly. “Both of you. Come at me.”

  They charged.

  Prompto clenched his fists beside him and looked away. Arvid wasn’t a person and he certainly wasn’t a friend. He was a unit, and a dead one. He also had ammunition that Prompto needed. Bonus to wearing identical armour, Prompto knew exactly where the ammunition for his side arm was kept. He collected it, added it to his own, then moved to the next body and repeated the process. By the time he was done, the sun had nearly set entirely. He had to leave; this many bodies around would only attract even more daemons. There was a haven nearby; his unit had spent the night there after being dropped off so they would be ready to lie in wait for the prince. He headed back there.

  -l-l-l-

  Noctis stared out over the landscape as they sped past, chin in his hand with his elbow resting on the top of the door. He couldn’t get that Imperial boy’s face out of his mind. The fear and acceptance of pain and death written in his expression.

  A kick to the back of his seat rocked Noct out of his thoughts as Gladio snapped, “What the hell was up with that? Since when do you get squeamish about killing Nifs?”

  Noct sighed a little; he had known the questions would be coming, he just hadn’t thought of how to word what he was thinking. Instead, he glanced to Ignis and asked, “Are all the soldiers from Niflheim that young?”

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  “I’m no expert, but I do believe they start training their soldiers as children there. Though he did seem younger than expected,” Ignis said slowly.

  “I was a child when I started learning,” Noct pointed out.

  “You were twelve. From what I’ve heard, they start there as young as four,” Ignis clarified.

  “Four?” Gladio exclaimed; even he was surprised by that number.

  “So I’ve heard,” Ignis replied.

  Noct slid down to slouch in his seat, turning that information over. He couldn’t even remember much from when he was four years old. If that boy had been training since then, if that was all he knew and all he remembered… He shook his head. He couldn’t even really imagine it.

  Noct charged Gladiolus, wooden sword held high. It was no use of course, Gladio simply deflected his clumsy attack and parried, his own wooden sword striking the padded armour the prince was wearing, sending him stumbling to the side. It didn’t hurt of course, the padded armour ensured that and Gladio was always careful to only hit protected areas, but it was embarrassing.

  “Come on, again,” Gladio said, turning to face the prince, his sword held ready.

  Noct turned with a sigh and readied his sword before charging in again with a shout. This time when his attack was parried, he managed to parry a few strikes himself before a strong hit smacked into his back, knocking him to the ground.

  “Damn it!” Noct swore, punching the ground in frustration and tossing his sword aside. He sat there, cross legged and head down, trying to catch his breath.

  Gladio watched for a second or two, then sat down next to him, setting his sword aside. “You still have a long way to go,” he said. “But… you’ve got guts.”

  “Huh?” Noct said, looking up surprised. Gladio never complimented him, he got the feeling he didn’t even like him.

  They spoke a little then, of how Noct had covered for Iris when she went missing, of how Gladio had appreciated it. It wasn’t much, but it was a start, an understanding at least. Then they got back to it.

  Knowing Gladio wouldn’t let the matter of leaving the Nif boy alive go without an answer, Noct said, “It seemed cruel. He wasn’t fighting, he’d accepted death, all the others were dead. There was no need to kill him.”

  He might have been imagining it - it was gone as soon as Noct turned to look at him - but he could have sworn he saw a smile twitch Ignis’s lips at that. Regardless, it gave Noctis some satisfaction to know that his advisor didn’t disapprove of his decision.

  Gladio, however, clearly did not share this view. “Still should have killed him,” he said. “What if he’d shot you?”

  “He wouldn’t have,” Noct replied.

  “How do you-” Gladio started but he was cut off by Ignis.

  “What’s done is done. The sun is setting and daemons will pose more of a threat to us than a lone soldier with no transport. I suggest we find somewhere to camp for the night,” Ignis said.

  Noctis sighed dramatically, “Do we have to camp?”

  “What, you got a problem with camping?” Gladio asked.

  “No, I just have a problem with not showering,” Noct shot back.

  “A shower would be ideal, but I’m afraid the nearest town is still a couple hours away, too far to make by nightfall. Camping it will have to be,” Ignis said.

  Noct gave a loud, obnoxious sigh and went back to leaning on the doorway, staring out at the scenery once more.

  -l-l-l-

  Deserts were cold at night! Gralea was cold too but it was cold day and night. Leide was so hot during the day that he had expected it to be at least pleasantly warm once the sun went down, but no. Consequently, Prompto had spent the last couple of nights shivering and fitfully sleeping as close to the fire as he could before it burned itself out. At least there was plenty of food to forage in Leide, a step up from the frozen expanses of Vogliupe where he had done some of his survival training.

  His biggest problem now, though, was water. He didn’t know the area, didn’t know where he was, and hadn’t managed to stumble across any natural sources of water. He had a flask from when he was dropped off and had topped it up with what other units had on them before leaving the battlefield, but that was just about dry now. He had no money to buy any but maybe he could take some hunts to earn some? Would they even give him a job while wearing Imperial armour?

  Shouts up ahead pulled Prompto from his circular thoughts. Running up the hill and dropping to the ground as he came up to the ridge so he wouldn’t be seen, Prompto peered over the edge. His eyes widened when he saw three familiar men fighting two coeurls. Those things sucked! Prompto had been forced to run from one already.

  Standing so he could see easier, Prompto loaded his gun and took aim. Maybe, maybe if he took the prince down now, he could return a success instead of a failure. He was distracted by the beasts, now would be the perfect time to take him down with a single well aimed shot, then make a run for it before his bodyguards caught him.

  Prompto’s gun followed the prince as he warped around the battlefield, darting between the coeurls, striking then running or warping out of reach. One shot, that was all it would take.

  He pulled the trigger.

  -l-l-l-

  They were struggling, Noct admitted that. He thought this would be an easy hunt, two big cats and a few hundred gil at the end. But now he was tiring, Gladio was getting angry from needing to shield him so many times and having the things dart away before he could hit them, and Ignis had claw scratches down one arm.

  Noctis was using his daggers which at least allowed him to get some strikes in but it wasn’t enough. Drawing a breath, he summoned the Sword of the Wise, thinking maybe his ancestor’s weapon would make a dent where his ordinary weapons were not. Just as he did so though, a gunshot rang out. Then another, and another.

  Both Coeurls stumbled, one with a bullet wound in its front leg, and the other with bullet wounds in its front and back legs. Noctis charged that one first, swinging the sword down and finishing it off. Ignis and Gladio took down the other one.

  Panting, Noct stabbed his sword into the ground and leaned on it. His ancestor’s weapons were powerful but they hurt to use, his arms were aching just from the little he had used it. Straightening, he glanced once more at the dead coeurls - yep definitely bullet wounds - then towards where he had heard them come from. He thought he saw a figure standing on a ridge and, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he clarified it. It was a person, but not just anyone. The same Nif whose life he had spared earlier. It seemed the others came to the same conclusion he did.

  “Is that…” Gladio said.

  “It appears so,” Ignis replied, both moving to stand either side of Noct.

  “What’s he doing here?” Gladio growled.

  “Saving our arses by the looks of it,” Noct said. He pulled his sword up from ground and touched it to his head in a wordless salute to the gunman before sending it back to the ether. The Nif in turn rose a fist to his chest and bowed slightly.

  “Come on, let’s go get our bounty,” Noctis said turning and leading the way back to where they had left the Regalia. Ignis followed immediately but Gladio stayed where he was for a few more seconds, staring after the gunman, watching until he too had turned and walked away in the opposite direction. Only when he was sure that no shot would ring out to the prince’s turned back did he jog to catch up.