Chapter Text
Nyx Ulric might be worth meeting Cor decided after coming from a relatively long mission of his own. Reconnaissance wasn’t his favorite kind of mission, but he’d gotten into enemy territory and out as quickly as possible. It had not been fast enough for Clarus Amicitia, however; as Cor had discovered upon his return to the Citadel. Regis, the King and one of Cor’s close friends of many years, had agreed and sent another agent in Cor’s stead. A young Galahdian man that was a part of the Kingsglaive. Apparently, over the last few years, the Glaive in question had earned Regis’ trust, something Cor knew was often hard won despite how airheaded his King could act at times.
When the week of Ulric’s predicted return arrived with no word from the younger man, Regis had not shown any sign of worry. Cor also knew first hand that sometimes missions could go askew and keep you busy for longer. When a second then the third week had followed, the worry had begun. By the fourth week, Cor had found Regis pacing in his study, steadily wearing a rut into the veined, black marble floors.
“I doubt he’s dead,” Cor had stated as he’d watched Regis make another pass in front of his large, dark wood desk. He’d read Ulric’s file. The man had an impressive record, the skill, and the know-how to keep his head above water in enemy territory.
“Could he have gone rogue?” Clarus asked from the other side of the room. “He could be on his way to Niflheim as we speak.”
The glare that Regis had sent his Shield and best friend had been a sharp one, begging Clarus to continue his line of thought. Cor had found it extremely amusing.
“If he hasn’t returned by the end of the week, or we haven’t gotten some word from him, I’ll try to pick up his trail,” Cor had offered, watching as the King had visibly relaxed after that.
Ulric was definitely a character worth meeting, he’d decided.
They were already four days into the week Cor had promised Regis when he got a call from an unusual source. David Auburnbrie, or Dave as the hunters called him. Cor had passed along dog tags of fallen hunters a time or two but other than that the two men had not actually communicated all that much. He’d given the man his number in case he or some of the hunters in Lucis ever needed help, but he’d never actually been called in to make good on that promise.
Moving the phone to his ear, Cor had barely had time to grunt a greeting into the device before Dave started talking.
“Marshal, I think I got somethin’ of yours,” the man murmured into the mouthpiece.
“You think?”
There was a sound on the other side of the line that Cor didn’t really recognize, though it sounded vaguely like a huff. It wasn’t Dave that had made the sound, however.
“Pretty sure,” Dave continued after a moment. “But I think you might wanna see it yourself and decide.”
Questions crowded the tip of Cor’s tongue, wrestling with each other to be let out but he swallowed them. David sounded amused almost, and Cor didn’t think trying to coax the answers out of him would do much more than give him a headache. “Where?”
“Meldacio HQ.”
If he drove he could make it there in three days, which would also put him near where Nyx Ulric had last checked in with Regis and Clarus. It would pay off if the man wasn’t back in Insomnia by the time he arrived.
“I was heading that way soon anyway.” There was a snort from across the phone but Dave didn’t comment more. “Does this thing of mine need anything special?” He was curious, he had to admit.
“Well, no…” The way Dave trailed off left Cor wondering exactly what kind of shit he was stepping into.
“No?”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.
“No.”
Cor hummed into the phone, not believing Dave at all but kept the thought to himself. “I’ll be there in a few days,” he told him before hanging up the phone. Whatever the hell Dave had waiting for him was hopefully not distracting enough to keep him from getting to his next mission. He just hoped finding the missing Galahdian wasn’t like looking for a Cactuar's needle in the middle of a vast desert.
A three-day drive, camping out under the stars except that one night he’d retreated into a caravan because of a storm had been nice. The quiet night air, the sounds of woodland creatures outside. Even the sound of the rain on top of the rented camper had been nice. It was one of the reasons he liked going on missions for Regis. He got to protect his King, prove his worth, and enjoy the outdoors. The Citadel was too crowded for him, and the janitor closet they called his office was worse. Especially when he had Crownsguard coming in to complain about something the Kingsglaive had done.
He savored those moments of peace he had on missions alone. Between the spying, the ambushing, the shakedowns, and the protecting.
This moment right here as he drove up the last bit of worn road to the Meldacio Hunter HQ was likely going to be his last moment of peace for a while. Once his hunt for Ulric got underway he’d be spending his days tracking down the Glaive, forced into enemy territory where he’d have to take on a completely different persona than Cor Leonis.
With a sigh, Cor parked his car and climbed from the seat. Meldacio was a nice place, parked under a natural rock archway that provided shade from the sun. Past the gate settled at the back of those natural rock arches was The Vesperpool, a place Cor hoped Ulric hadn’t spent much time at. The Malboro’s there could be rather territorial.
He was almost to the steps of the wooden house the Hunter’s called home when Dave stepped out, shielding his eyes from the setting sun in the distance. “Figured you’d be here before nightfall,” he called out as Cor made his way to the house, pausing with one foot on the steps that lead to the small porch. “Sorry for makin’ ya come out all this way, but I figured this was something you’d wanna see first hand.”
“Can’t say I’m not curious,” Cor murmured, looking up at the hunter. “I thought maybe you were calling me about some dog tags you’d found. One of ours has gone missing recently.”
There was a brief look of amusement that crossed Dave’s face before he turned to look back at the door he’d left open. “Come one out.”
Cor wasn’t sure what he expected to come out of the open door. Maybe a Crownsguard or Kingsglaive that had gotten pranked by his fellows. Maybe some people he and Dave had hunted for in the past and never found. What he hadn’t expected in the least was the massive thing that filled the doorway before stepping out onto the small porch. Cor’s fingers itched and the weight of his katana settled into his palm even before he truly thought of calling it from the armiger.
The creature was huge, although Cor had a distinct feeling that it was young, almost like a teenager to its own kind. Its fur was like ash, more grey than silver, the rosettes on its fur strikingly black, dotted across the thick silver fur that crested into a mane that ran along the ridge of the things back. Its ears were large, tufted with black fur, and swiveled from side to side, catching sounds even Leonis wasn’t hearing. At its brows were the beginning of horns, Cor realized. The bone there was stiff, arching out carefully from the side of the creature’s head to slowly brush backward towards its long ears. From its cheeks grew two, long, twining whiskers the same ash grey of its pelt, covered in the same dark spots. The tips were white and whip-like, but Cor knew the deadly secret those whiskers held. The faint glow of blue at the tips made Cor a bit nervous, but he shifted his gaze away from the deadly whisker tips to look at the creature’s face. Two blue eyes stared back at him. Intelligent, Cor thought to himself as he stared into the face of one of the largest Coeurls he’s come face to face with. Large and still growing, he realized as he stared at it.
“This is not Lucian, is it,” he murmured, all the while wondering why that was the first thing that had made its way out of his mouth besides the thought of ’why’ that was crashing through his brain.
Dave snorted as he stared at it. “No, not it’s not,” he murmured before turning back to Cor. “And not normal for a Coeurl either, figured that out when he wandered up to me out in The Vesperpool and whined instead of trying to eat me.” The Coeurl made a low rumbling sound from behind him, but there was no threat to it, just annoyance. “Then I saw the tags hanging around his neck. Figured you’d have to see it to believe me.”
Cor didn’t move, not until Dave reached over and touched the huge cat between its ears. The creature's tense posture eased a bit, the glow leaving its whiskers as Dave carefully unhooked the thin chain that circled the Coeurl’s neck. It had been hidden by the long fur that formed the creature's mane. He caught the chain out of the air when Dave tossed it to him, looking down at the metal tags even as he dropped his sword back into the void of the armiger.
The tags carried the emblem of the Kingsglaive etched into the metal, and when Cor flipped them over he solved two mysteries at once. The name ‘Ulric’ was etched into the tag, his date of birth, blood type, and identification number following it.
There was definitely magic at work here, some kind of curse that had caused the Galahdian Glaive to become one of the creatures from the young man’s homeland.
All he had to do now was figure out how to tell Regis his Glaive was actually a one-hundred and fifty-two-centimeter cat.