[Every word is a hook that roots them to their places, fastened to this very moment; one that Ardyn is intent on turning into something cruel as he stretches both of them through the wringer and back again. These next few seconds are precious, wonderful things — he gets to see the dawning of the truth weigh down on the young king with such ferocity that it might make him crack.

Might make him see just how laughable this whole idea of a truce is.

Knife cleanly inserted, he gives it a twist.]

Oh, she didn’t tell you? Honestly, how utterly kept in the dark you've been, Noctis. Am I really the only one with sense enough to be truthful with you?

[A purposeful shrug of broad shoulders, but a sharply expectant look at Aranea.]

Why don’t you tell him, Commodore? About the Oracle’s untimely — but very orchestrated, if I do say so myself — death?