Look lady- Noctis was just here as a representative of Lucis. At nineteen, the entirety of the Lucian territories had been rocked to the core to discover that there was no only the three powers of Lucis, Nifelheim, and  Altissia to balance- two more had been introduced: Elympios and Rieze Maxia. The Nifs had done what they did best, diving in quickly to make their greetings with the Elympion people straight from the gate. And in an attempt to keep pace, Noctis had been deployed to the lush, thriving, yet odd hamlets that made up Rieze Maxia. To be completely honest, it was... beautiful. And Noctis had had only a few minor trip-ups along the way.

   This... being one of them.

   The correspondence inviting him to meet Maxwell had been left under his door at the inn he’d taken residence in, and while he wasn’t entirely certain of just who that was, he’d heard enough stories to know that the name held weight. Maxwell... Kinda’d be like turning down a meeting with Bahamet himself ( though the sheer laughability of that concept was not lost on him ). Noctis had turned the letter over a few times, searching for signs of foul play but.... so what, was this Maxwell a figure head, a speaker on behalf of this country’s deity? Must be...

   No way would the Lord of Spirits actually be lying in wait for him.

   But he’d been in for more than one surprise. The woman before him ( call him sexist- Maxwell sure sounded dudely ) spoke with an even authority, a rigid resolve expressed in the, well, everything about her- her stance, her cadence, the way she did not turn to greet him but instead observed his approach. These two were not on even footing, and that much Noctis was at least aware of.

   .... this felt like a video game. Prompto’s caw of boss fight monologue should have triggered his preparedness at least some; instead, he’d stood, listening to her express her affections for both humans and spirits ( there was that word again- spirits; just what made a spirit? What were these people--? ). He knit his brow, shaking his head. “You’re losin’ me-” She hadn’t even bothered to introduce herself- had he messed up some kind of diplomatic custom? He hadn’t had this much issue with that Rowen guy...

“However, I must test your resolve as king. Prepare yourself!”

   Noctis bit back the reflexive commentary that my dad’s not dead. Affirmation of his actual station could hold out for the time being. After all, that aura did not look friendly. Noctis stuttered, “H- W-wait, hold on-” then grimaced. She wasn’t giving him a hold on. Those lights-

   He sunk into a defensive stance, throwing his own arm out to the side in mirror as he summoned a familiar sword into his hand. Against what he assumed were the prolific spirits he’d heard so much about, he wondered how well he’d stack up. Maybe there was a competitive, morbidly curious part of him that was excited to find out. But there was definitely a much louder, much more prolific side of him more bent on self preservation than anything.