Warp. He still had nightmares of Tennebrae, his father kept how the war was really going from him more than Noctis thought he should. But Ignis told him more, kept him appraised.
The few times he asked the King to help, to let him do something, the man refused. It wasn’t time yet, he wasn’t ready, that would come. And to be honest, Noctis wasn’t sure what he could do anyways.
The guards were kept on the outside of these chambers, and the windows were almost always open. Fumes. Warp, hang by his sword, find a new vantage.
Sure, he was getting pretty good with weapons, he knew much of what he’d need to be king someday, but he wanted to spend his days sleeping more than anything, hanging out with friends. It all sounded...it looked, so heavy. He couldn’t imagine bearing it, all the time.
So he tried not to. Warp.
But there was something he could do, something nobody else but his father could handle.
One last warp, he was on the windowsill, and he slid inside quietly, rolling up his sleeves. His mentor and advisor had already been chastising him for being more tired than usual, but he wasn’t going to stop. Or talk about it.
It felt almost embarrassing, that this was all he could do. This was all he was good for. But, did he even want to be good at more? Standing silently at the table, he pushed the thoughts away and opened one of the requisition books frowning for a moment at just how hard his father had been pushing himself.
Others could manipulate magical energies, place them in bottles, but it was an exhaustive process for most; involving training and equipment that Lucis was scrambling to manage in the face of Niflheim’s magitek engine of war. For the royal line, however, it was easier than breath.
The elemantic lab lit up as he reached behind him, lightning and fire spooling out of vast vats running like wells into the bowels of the palace, and the energy spiralled into his hand. Staring at the book, his other hand reached out, and several coins and materials also vanished into sparkles of light that swarmed in the other. He brought them together with a sigh, and they condensed.
A furious liquid-white light shaped itself between his palms, and he let it slide into the bottle. With a wave of a few fingers the bottle vanished, disappearing into the spell treasury.
Only a hundred more, and then the next requisition. He straightened his back. He could do this, at least a few orders, then he’d catch some shuteye before school.
