Arrests had been sweeping across Insomnia and even into Lucis proper, the cities of Meldacio and Galdin Quay were ramping up their cracking down of Niflheim loyalists, but it seemed like it was never enough. Every other week there was some disruption in trade or other enterprises within the slowly liberating former territories, especially in Galahd that had been entrenched as a Niff colony much longer than the mainland. Noctis bent over his desk as he studied several trade manifests, gritting his teeth while wine-rose eyes flitted between papers.
“We’re going to have to do something about this sooner or later, Nyx,” the king said to his Shield, gaze flicking up to the man.
They’d certainly been busy the last few months, he and Noctis. New laws had been drafted, old ones revised, the entire council rebuilt from the ground up. There’d been the coronation proper, and his appointment as Shield. Nyx was well aware of the fact that many opposed to it at first, but Noctis refused to listen to any objections. And then there were the arrests... It nearly made him uneasy, the sheer number of sympathizers who were being rounded up on the daily. Especially back home in Galahd.
Home... How long had it been since he thought of Galahad as such? For so long, he didn’t even have a home. Then, his perception of what ‘home’ meant shifted, and it became a person. The very man seated across from him. There’s a hum upon the Glaive’s lips, coupled with a grave nod. ❝I know. We have no other choice, at this point.❞
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