Prompto futilely licked his lips and rested his head back against the warm stone. He had taken to resting during the hottest hours of the day, to conserve his energy and his hydration. It meant he only moved during the hours of dawn and dusk, so not a lot of progress was made, though it ensured he would live longer. He didn’t know why he bothered; it wasn’t like he really had a purpose. He was exhausted, dizzy, low on ammunition, his head was pounding painfully with every beat of his heart, and his throat was so dry and sore it felt as though he were breathing in sand. And, of course, he was more than familiar with that.

  The sudden shock of water being tossed over his head caused Prompto to start awake with a gasp, instantly sucking in the sand that coated the floor of the arena. Lifting his head slightly, he saw Sir standing over him, one hand holding an empty bucket, the other resting on his armoured hip, awaiting Prompto’s response.

  Prompto wanted nothing more than to fall back into the oblivion of unconsciousness, but knew that even if he did so, he would just be woken again, and likely in a rougher fashion. Instead, he forced his limbs to move, pulling his legs under him and his arms before him, leaning over his thighs in a submissive bow. Waiting. He could be waiting in that pose for hours depending on how Sir was feeling, but this time, at least, he was spared that particular training method.

  “The two of you will replace the floor, then report to Inurement. Do not be late.”

  Prompto ducked his head lower in acknowledgement, but otherwise did not move from his position until he heard the door to the arena shut. Only then did he dare sit up and look at the other unit, the one who had bravely blocked Sir’s attacks even as it no doubt led to the later beating they had both taken.

  “Well, he’s a bit of an arse hat, isn’t he?” the unit said, causing Prompto’s eyes to widen in fear and glance suspiciously at the door, half expecting Sir to come bursting in and really let loose on them. Seeing this reaction, the unit just grinned and stood. “Relax,” he said, walking over to where Prompto was sitting. “He’s gone; he won’t hear us. Name’s Arvid. What’s yours?” He held his hand out to Prompto to help him up.

  Prompto took the hand and stood with only a little help. “Prompto,” he said eventually. He had to remind himself how to talk; he had been in self-imposed silence for… some time,; it was hard to keep track.

  “So… what did he mean by ‘replace the floor’?” Arvid asked, doing a fair impression of Sir’s gravelly voice and causing the corner of Prompto’s mouth to twitch in amusement despite himself. He was definitely new though, if he had never been assigned this particular task.

  “We sweep the sand into the grates at the edge of the arena, then pour fresh sand down evenly,” Prompto explained, limping over to where the brooms were kept.

  “Sounds easy enough.”

  Prompto nodded. Yes, this particular task was easy. It was hard when it hurt to walk and move, but it was better than the multitude of other tasks they could have been assigned.

  Prompto sighed and opened his eyes. One major problem with trying to conserve his energy: he had nothing to do but think. He habitually shied away from anything that could be considered an independent emotion or opinion; if he stayed with replaying safe memories or what he physically required to survive, the headaches remained at a tolerable level. Otherwise, the pain was enough to see stars in front of his eyes.

  Arvid had taught him how to laugh at their situation and the laughter and the jokes had helped a lot more than Prompto had thought it would, especially on their worst days. He was someone to talk to, someone who understood and didn’t judge. They hadn’t been friends — Magitek soldiers couldn’t have friends — but they were comrades.

  “Here’s a joke for you. What does the Imperial brat do when all routes are removed? He sits down and waits for death to come,” Prompto said to himself, his voice a croak, before giving a bark of laughter. It wasn’t even funny, but laughing at crap like that was habit, it made it seem not so real.

  Glancing at the sky, Prompto pushed himself up to a standing position; the sun was setting; it was time to move. He really didn’t want to, but he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do. All his life he had followed orders — well, he had been given them at least, there were a few times he had deliberately disobeyed — and now he had no orders. The only order he had had was to kill the Lucian prince. And instead of doing so, he had deliberately shot the creatures that were attacking them, saving them. That had hurt, a lot, but he rode through the pain and now it just left him feeling empty. Empty and lost.

  But he wanted to live. Even though that wanting caused pain, it remained nonetheless. Last night, he had spotted the lights of a town in the distance. That could be a destination, though he was apprehensive about how they would view him. Even without his face-concealing helmet, he was very obviously a Niflheim soldier and since Lucis had fallen to the empire, there was no love held for his people. But he had to risk it. He needed water.

  l-l-l-

  “We need the gil,” Noctis said as the three of them leaned over a hunt poster. It was for 3 Ashenhorns tormenting the area and offered a large amount of gil and a rare phoenix down, something they had thus far not been able to afford.

  “We should at least wait until morning,” Ignis pointed out.

  “By then, someone else will have snatched this up,” Noct countered.

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  “For once I agree with the princeling,” Gladio said, clapping an arm around his shoulders and ignoring the pout Noct gave at the hated nickname. “A prize this good? We can’t risk anyone else getting to it first!”

  Ignis gave a long-suffering sigh, then snatched the paper back, saying only, “Very well,” before moving off to the tipster to let him know they were taking the job.

  While Ignis’s back was turned, Noct and Gladio fist bumped, sharing a grin. They were supposed to be gathering royal weapons, building up Noctis’s arsenal, and to that end, they had heard of a tomb in some mines to the south of Hammerhead. However, they had also been warned that the demons guarding it were tough, much stronger than the daytime Leide creatures they had been fighting. This would be an excellent test of their prowess and a chance to spend the prize money stocking up on supplies.

  An hour later had them heading towards the area at a jog; Ignis had won that part at least: they were not taking the Regalia for what would be a five minute drive. At least with the sun setting, it wasn’t so blisteringly hot.

  A gunshot ringing across the plains as they approached the Asherhorn field only fifteen minutes later was the first sign that something was amiss. Noct skidded to a halt and stared. Something had gotten the Ashenhorns all riled up but, outside of the recurring gunshots, there was no other sound.

  “Don’t tell me…” Gladio said, looking decidedly unimpressed.

  “The tipster didn’t say anything about any competition, did he?” Noct asked Ignis.

  “No,” Ignis said, pushing his glasses higher on his nose.

  “Then let’s go! We’ve already put our name on that job; he can’t claim it from us!” Gladio said and, with a nod in agreement, Noctis warped ahead, leaving the other two to catch up as best they could.

  Using his greatsword, Noct slammed it down against the rough hide of the Asherhorn in front of him, but it just seemed to bounce off the thick hide.

  Hearing another shot ring out, he glanced towards it, towards the Nif boy. He was fighting them, but something seemed… off. He seemed slower than he had been the day they fought, only just managing to dodge out of the way to avoid being gored by another Asherhorn. That was something that had surprised Noctis when they had fought: that a sniper soldier could be so… dodgy.

  The loud clang and grind of horn on metal caused Noct to jump, raising his arms defensively over his head even as he realised the sound was Gladio’s shield covering him from an attack.

  “Watch what you’re doing!” the man snapped.

  “Right. Sorry,” Noct said as he jumped back and out of the way, focusing entirely on the Asherhorns.

  The things were annoyingly fast for how big they were and when they started bucking, all they could do was leap out of the way and wait until it stopped. It made for frustratingly slow progress.

  “Noct! Move! It’s charging!”

  Noct was focusing on one particular Asherhorn of the two remaining, the Nif boy behind him shooting whenever he got a free shot, when he heard Ignis’s shout. Glancing up, he saw the beast Ignis was referring to and threw his sword, warping to it and out of danger. Glancing back, Noct saw the Nif boy just standing there, still in its way.

  “Move!” he shouted, but the only effect it seemed to have was causing the gunman to look dazedly in Noct’s direction. Right as the Asherhorn barrelled into him. The Nif went down in a tangle of limbs as the beast charged right over the top of him. Noct winced but didn’t look away even after seeing the huge foot stomp on the boy’s shoulder and kick his head. Once it had passed, the gunmen lay on the ground, unmoving, the Asherhorn turning to charge back over him once more.

  “Hey!” Noct shouted. He sent his greatsword away and instead summoned a spear. Throwing it, he warped above the beast, catching the spear once more and thrusting it down into the beast’s back, vaulting over the top. That got its attention.

  “We need to finish this quickly!” Ignis shouted over the noise of battle.

  “Right,” Noct muttered as he switched on his torch; like he didn’t know that. The three of them teamed up, focusing on one Asherhorn at a time and doing their best to ignore the other, taking down first the one that had trampled the Nif boy, then the remaining one.

  Noct rested his hands on his knees, panting, trying to breathe deeply. That was… a bit tougher than expected. But still they survived, so that was a good start. Maybe they could try their hands at the mines next.

  The same couldn’t be said for the Nif boy, though. Ignis was already kneeling by him and Noct jogged over, squatting next to him.

  “He’s alive,” Ignis said, “but in bad shape.”

  Noct could see that much for himself. The side of his face was coated in blood from a head wound and one shoulder had been wrenched from its socket. And that’s just what Noct could see with the boy’s armour still on, armour that was now dented and twisted.

  “He won’t survive long out here like that. Best slit his throat now and be done with it,” Gladio said. Noct turned and glared at him. “What?” Gladio said. “It’s a kinder death than letting him bleed out here or getting eaten by demons.”

  “I’m not leaving him here to be eaten by demons, and I’m not killing him,” Noct said firmly. “He had the opportunity to kill us when we were fighting those coeurls and didn’t. He helped us instead. And even now, he had the opportunity when we charged in. But again, he didn’t. He’s coming with us.”

  “You’ve got to be joking,” Gladio said, folding his arms across his chest. “And how are we going to get him back?”

  “You’re going to carry him,” Noct said simply.

  “I’m what?!”

  Noct turned and rose an eyebrow at Gladio, daring him to argue.

  Gladio opened his mouth to do just that, but, perhaps seeing something in his prince’s eyes, he shut it again and sighed. “Fine then.”

  While this was going on, Ignis examined the boy’s body more closely. The head wound had stopped bleeding, which was a good sign, but his face was sunburnt, his lips cracked with more than just injuries sustained in this latest bout. Seeing his gun nearby, he took it and handed it over to Noct — if they were taking him with them, they weren’t going to allow him to be armed — and searched for other weapons, finding none. He did find a water flask and a shake told him what he had already suspected: it was empty, the cracked lips a sign of severe dehydration.

  “I think it will be safe,” Ignis said, moving the boy’s dislocated arm to rest across his chest. “He’s in no shape to attack any of us, and has obviously had no Imperial assistance since his unit attacked us.”

  Gladio slipped his arms under the boy’s knees and shoulders, lifting him with a grunt. “How do you figure?”

  Ignis lifted the empty water canteen and gave it another shake. “Empty,” he said, in case that wasn’t obvious. “Add to that the split lips, red-rimmed eyes, flaking skin with the added effects of sunburn, and it all points to someone who hasn’t seen civilization in quite a while.”

  “And the smell,” Gladio added, scrunching his nose.

  “Trust me, you don’t exactly smell like roses either, big guy,” Noctis said with a laugh. “Seriously though, Iggy, do you think you can help him when we get to Hammerhead? Lesatallum’s a bit too far away.”

  “I’ll do what I can. At the very least, we can get him a shower and some water,” Ignis said.

  “Thanks Iggy,” Noctis replied, sincerely. He didn’t know why, but he had a feeling it would be a good thing for this guy to live.