STOP!! The fic below is a sequel to the other story that I wrote entitled: The Terra Episode. Therefore, it is a must that you read that first before starting with this one. Otherwise, the plot will contain holes for you throughout.

       More importantly, the fic below is simply a rewrite of the original fanfic that I wrote three (3) years ago. Concepts contained in the story such as war, terrorism, mass-murder, justice, security, vengeance, etc… are purely generic. In that, I mean the chapters here are not patterned to, based on, or inspired by any specific event and they are not to be interpreted, compared to, contrasted from, likened to and/or linked to any specific event in the history of the world. I make no reference to any event in the real world from my fanfic. The story that follows is purely fictional—no more, no less.

       On a lighter note, I ask for your patience to endure this first chapter especially if you’re not used to a lot of narrative. This chapter is mostly a combination of a recap of The Terra Episode and the summary of general events introducing the setting of its sequel. Just be patient. Celes will make her introduction in the fourth chapter. Thank you. =)

The Celestial Rise
(sequel of "The Terra Episode" by magicite54)

        Never before had there been such a large number of casualties in Vector tied to a single enemy attack, let alone a rebel attack so close to the Bronze Fortress--stronghold of the Great Emperor Gestahl. So many soldiers were lost in just a small span of time. Thousands of civilians still, were shaken by the events. The families and friends of those who perished grieved and made empty, yet solemn, threats to the alleged rebel group responsible. Threats and cries for justice and vengeance were heard. Questions arose from the households—questions about safety and security. Vector was attacked by an unknown foe—by whispered rebel group whose name was still a rumor. Suddenly, everybody not from Vector was the enemy. And everybody within was an enraged victim.

       The explosion of the Magitek reactor was the first signal for concern. The explosion was heard from miles away, surrounding the Bronze Fortress. It was officially declared as an accident, however, it had triggered an investigation for its cause—an investigation that had uncovered evidences of alarming hostile infiltration of Vector’s most guarded Magitek facility. A lock-down was issued on the Imperial Army Grounds and the area was at yellow alert while the investigation was going on. A criminal was found in the midst of the soldiers of the Empire—a traitor and a rebel-sympathizer. The criminal was arrested but had escaped the authorities’ grasps. In a desperate attempt to escape the compound, the criminal was able to seize a Magitek Weapon from an unguarded Magitek powering station and was successful in doing considerable damages, deaths and chaos in the heart of Vector itself in an incident that came to be known throughout Vector as The Terra Episode.

       Vector was the most highly technological empire in the world. Its military might was unmatched. Before the Terra Episode the citizens of Vector felt safe, invincible and untouchable. The thought of rebel operations being perpetrated within the boundaries of the Empire was laughable. But the incident was a waking call to everybody, particularly the military. The rumors of the existence of the rebels and their underground group had been confirmed. They were branded as terrorists and mass-murderers. Nobody knew how the rebels operated. Nobody had any clue about their whereabouts. That day, the citizens were all alerted to their existence but not their presence. The Empire had but one link to the rebels, however. That person was identified as Tina Branford.

       The Vector citizens dubbed her “the Witch.” It was a rather hypocritical name since it was Vector itself that could have been responsible for her magical infusion. (Who else could it have been?) The truth was, Tina Branford was not a rebel-sympathizer. True, rebel groups existed but Branford never had any affiliation with them, whatsoever. Still, most of the Empire didn’t know this. Branford became an object of their hatred to the enemies of the Empire. She became the symbol of terror—a monster, a malignancy to the Imperial Army for her treachery.

       Terato.

       The condition of the compound had risen from yellow alert to red alert. The whole area was locked down completely. Martial law was declared. The streets of Vector vacated an hour before sundown, while the Imperial Army did inspections of business and residential places… sweeping all areas for possible rebel hideouts within the Empire. Businessmen didn’t like the idea of their trades closing for the day too early. Ships and cargoes were grounded and thoroughly inspected. Foreigners were all detained without question—men, women and children alike. Trade and commerce stopped to a grinding halt upon the Emperor’s command. Activities outside were severely limited. Schools were halted as well as some private businesses and the citizens were all searched for their proper papers and proofs of their citizenship.

       The Empire stopped the departure and arrival of people into the capital. Whoever tried to sneak in were arrested and thrown in jail. Whoever tried to sneak out were shot by Magitek Weapons on patrol. Suspected rebel affiliates were beaten and tortured, thus making the scope of the “witch hunt” more extensive. There were a lot of finger-pointing and wild accusations. The word ‘suspicious’ took on different levels of meaning which eventually spread over ordinary everyday routines, thus, effectively, but unintentionally, restricting personal freedoms out of fear of both the rebels and the authorities—mostly the authorities.

       Anxiety was in the air inside and outside of the Bronze Compound. From within, a more intensive search of every facility was done. Army barracks were turned inside out. Soldiers and civilians alike were interrogated and their backgrounds were checked and double-checked. Their communication beyond the boundaries of the Bronze Compound was severed. Their families and friends from the outside heard of no news from those within. The use of transmission devices to communicate beyond the marked boundaries was prohibited until further notice. What the people thought to be an impenetrable Empire ironically became their prison. It was a time of purging. It was a time of combing out the malignancy of treason within the ranks. The Empire was resolute in righting its mistake for whatever the cost. In an Empire of Privileges—not Rights—freedom was easily waived to suit the emperor’s wishes. And since it was considered a health hazard to bad-mouth the Emperor or the Emperor’s decisions, blame was redirected elsewhere.

       And yet, amidst the turmoil and chaos of the situation, there were still those who were cunning and devious enough to bend the circumstances to their advantage. Kefka had already made his move and was immensely proud of the development of his plans. The aftermath, however, was none of his concerns. He obviously didn’t care whether many soldiers were to die needlessly. He didn’t care about the destruction of many facilities. He didn’t care about the injured. Apathetic to the outside of the circle of his Cult, Kefka was greatly satisfied with his capture of Tina Branford and her successful enslavement with his wondrous Slave Crown creation.

       The boring internal matters of the Empire was beneath his personal agenda. Matters like reconstruction, investigation, intelligence gathering, security improvement, and retaliation. It was a sardonic mockery of his very purpose in the Empire. However, a handful of people were highly interested in one particular development. It was that of military-political concern. During the Terra Episode, a general of Vector by the name of Bernard Fencross was injured in his attempt to distract the rampaging Magitek Armor while his forces gained defensive ground. He suffered a head injury from an explosion that would otherwise have killed him if it weren’t for a magical barrier he had produced around him just in the nick of time. He survived the explosive energy beam sent to him by the Branford traitor but he fell deep in a coma.

       The military infirmary did their best to revive him. His wounds had been tended to but it was his psyche that needed restoration. No known magic or medical technique was available to the highly technological empire to speed up the human process of mental reconstruction. All they could do was wait. It was all up to Fencross’s body and mind to revive his mental health.

       In the meantime… Vector was missing a general.

       The Empire would not have that. They would not allow a blow to cripple them any more than it had to. The Emperor ordered the Vectorian Military Council to find a replacement, if only temporarily. The Empire was not ready to conclude that they had completely lost Fencross yet. He was a valued military leader. And yet, the Empire could not afford to lose precious moments of waiting for him to awaken out of his coma. The Emperor suspected that the Terra Episode was just the tip of the iceberg. They had to prepare for the worst. The attack should not have happened. The rebels had come close. Too close. It was a slap in the face of the Emperor himself. Vector was on the defensive.

       They needed a leader for the campaign. A leader to rid Vector of rebel operatives, identify their network, and crush them all wherever they may be in Terrae. Kefka did not want the job. General Leo had a mission in another continent. And Fencross was unavailable at the moment, indefinitely.

       And so the Council made the announcement to the Empire’s military population… and the result was nothing short of predictable. It was like waving a fresh slab of meat at a pack of starving wolves.

       Many military leaders fought for the position. Temporary or not, being a general was no trivial matter. The rank held power. It was their chance to prove their worth. The announcement, of course, was definitely not an audition of sort. In theory, the decision was up to the Council. The Council reviewed the candidates’ records of experience and service, and then chose the best one for the job. Though it may sound very simple, the Council had the huge responsibility of choosing wisely. The typical decision-making was democratic. In that, the members narrowed down the candidates and voted for the one whom they thought would be the best man or woman for a certain job. The Vectorian Military Council was composed of twenty-five members, each with political position but no military ranking. So close were they with military affairs, however, that they were mainly concerned with political-military matters as opposed to dwelling on either side of the extremes. They normally handled promotions in the military if the Emperor relinquished that task to them. Trivial promotions never even passed the Emperor’s attention but when it came to a high-ranking promotion, the Emperor was asked first. The Emperor always had the first and final words. If he chose to simply handpick a new general, then there would be nothing and nobody to question that decision. Even the democratic proceedings of the Council would be rescinded. Vector was an Empire of Impermanent Privileges—not a Nation of Intrinsic Rights.

       It was expected by all that the Emperor would take it upon himself to handpick the new temporary general. To everybody’s surprise, however, the Emperor had decided to let the Council handle the task. The dogs were loosed at the signal, and the race for the prize was on.

       Those vying for power wasted no time and spared no effort. The Council Members were not as protected as the Emperor—to put it mildly. They were easily corruptible, influenced, and swayed by bribes, promises and threats. The colonels were on the lead and nobody trusted the others. They pulled their strings, summoned their contacts, and deployed their resources… everything that they could afford, perhaps even their own blood, all directed to the acquisition of the majority of the Council votes.

       The contest was abhorrently played. The control, wrested away from the Council members themselves, as the colonels’ fight for power reduced the members to nothing more than trophies. Those greedy were subject to monetary offers, while those noble were prone to threats either to themselves or their loved ones. It was a losing battle to resist the tide they were meant to hold at bay. The only logical thing to do was to take advantage of the situation. And so, the Council members sold their very votes to the highest bidder.

       But even this was not easy. The hotheaded colonels were spiteful. Pleasing one meant enraging the others. So while one might offer the most in gold, many others might resort to threats. And to ensure that a Council member would not change “allegiance” they were promised protection.

       This went on for days. It started out with seven top colonels fighting for the rank. Then when a few realized that there was no way to win the race, they backed out from it, cutting their losses. In the end, only three were left: Colonel Harold Llurd, Colonel Bramon Ranger, and Colonel Saric Blaey.

       The day before the decision came, and the clock was ticking fast.

********** 

       Harold Llurd hadn’t had a good night’s sleep for days. He couldn’t, no matter how hard he tried. The race was very close between his rivals and he did not want to give up. He was very close. He was ensured ten votes for himself while his opponents, Ranger and Blaey, had nine and six, respectively. He was in the lead. If the Council were to make the decision now then he’d be the new general. But the decision was to be made the next day. This did not bring him any comfort at all. It took him a great deal to acquire the ten he had, and a great deal more to keep them. The fight did not end there. He intended to keep his ten and gain more in only a matter of hours. He needed to steal more votes from his opponents for even if he had the most votes, his position was not yet secured. If in the last minute his two opponents decided to strike a bargain then the result would be fifteen against ten. Should one of his opponents back out of the race instead, then the votes would be up for grabs.

       Llurd did the math many times in his head. It wasn’t that hard. In fact, it was obvious. To fully secure his lead, he must garner three more votes from his opponents. It didn’t matter where the three came from. He just knew that he needed three more. This way, should the division shift to two, instead of the current three, his votes would still come up ahead.

       He leaned back on his comfortable leather chair in front of a fireplace, cautiously pouring himself a glass of red wine. It was his first in many days. How he craved for the soothing taste of a far stronger drink in his mouth to help him finally get some rest. But alas, he needed his wits with him intact. This was definitely not the day to get drunk. That day was reserved for the hour his name was appointed as the next general of Vector. The glass of wine he just poured for himself was just to warm up his heart and keep the cold away. He took a sip, savoring the bacchanal sensation on his every taste bud.

       “Three,” he uttered almost inaudibly before taking another sip. His head leaned back against the soft, yet firm, comfort of the expensive leather chair. His eyes closed, granting them the teasing reprieve of rest. The bottle of red wine and glass, still in his hands.

       “Sir?” a subordinate’s voice returned.

       “Three, Barnes. I want three more,” Llurd repeated in a more clear voice.

       Barnes frowned and did not answer. He swallowed out of fear as his gaze remained fixed on his tired commander sitting on the chair. His commander looked like a weary old man, about to give in to the weight of the world. But to think so would be utter folly. Llurd was far from weary and old. And he was definitely far from giving up.

       “Did you hear me, Barnes?”

       The voice startled Llurd’s subordinate.

       “Y-yes, sir. Quite clearly,” Barnes said.

       Llurd opened his eyes fully and took a deep breath. He finished the rest of his glass rather quickly and impatiently. He held out his left hand that was holding the bottle of wine for Barnes to take. This was done promptly. The empty glass, however, he threw into the fire, smashing it to bits against the burning log. The act was not of anger or impatience. It was habit, casual and perfunctory. Even Barnes was not surprised. He even expected it of his commander.

       Llurd stood up “Tell me now, Barnes. Where do we get these three from?”

       Barnes didn’t know. He knew that it had taken them everything they had to acquire the ten votes. He knew that they were lucky to even have the ten votes. They have tried to “persuade” the other council members to vote for Llurd but they were very much protected by their competitors. The fifteen refused gold, favors, and even resisted threats.

       “I don’t know, sir,” Barnes riskily answered in honesty. He braced himself for a rebuke from his commanding officer.

       But that didn’t come, much to his relief. Llurd remained very calm. Barnes was amazed at his commander’s control of temper considering the stress involved in the situation. He had seen his commander very upset before. It was not something he’d be delighted to see again soon.

       “Hand me the latest report from our spies,” Llurd said. Barnes was quick to produce the needed document. Llurd thoroughly reviewed the pages of the report. It was a report of his personal spies’ observations of all the council members and his competitors. He ordered them to keep track of their every move. He didn’t like the idea of his competitors striking a deal to take him out of the race. He needed his spies to be his eyes and ears. After a few minutes, Llurd handed the report back to Barnes.

       “Tell my men to get ready, Barnes. We’re arresting some suspected rebels tonight. Then I want you to get me Ardner, Lemarr, and Siroch. Drag them out of their cozy beds if you have to. But do make it silent.”

       Barnes wrote down the names on a piece of paper so he wouldn’t forget. He recognized them all. All of the three were council members whom they had failed to “convince” to vote for Llurd before. He assumed that Llurd had a plan to attempt, perhaps for the last time.

****************************
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       Emperor Gestahl was a man of seventy, yet fit and sharp as a general. His high cheek bones were accentuated by his thick, gray mustache. His eyes were sunk deeply into their sockets and the wrinkles on his forehead were defined. He wore a garment made of the finest of all clothing-a pontifical robe of dark red and black that stretched all the way to the ground, hiding even his feet. He had solid gold rings on each finger, boasting brilliantly-cut gems of the rarest quality and size.

       The Emperor was in his private herb garden-a dome of self-contained atmosphere and temperature where he could grow special plants and herbs as a hobby. It was his favorite refuge. The silence, broken only by the soft rustling of leaves and gushing of an artificial fountain at the center, was his valued companion. He held a small pair of garden shears in his hand and a bulb of flower on the other. With the shears he cut off a petal from the flower and threw the small piece into a white dish with dried laurel leaves, chopped up ginseng, and a pinch of red powder taken from a small bottle in his pocket. He mashed the ingredients together with a ceramic pestle, creating a pasty red substance which he then scraped off with a small knife designed for that purpose.

       He mixed the substance into his finest bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass. He sipped from the glass and let the warm liquid linger in his mouth for a few seconds, trying to detect the slightest difference in taste from the last glass he had the day before. With an inward smile of satisfaction he swallowed and drank some more. He had grown good herbs this year and the wine had matured quite extraordinarily. The potion was his secret to good physical and mental health. It was an ancient secret lost a few hundred years ago, rediscovered and re-mastered by himself.

       A servant entered the dome and approached him quietly.

       “My lord, General Cristophe and Advisor Palazzo have arrived,” the servant announced.

       He needed not look at a clock or a timepiece to know that they were prompt as always. “Are they aware of each other’s presence?”

       “No, my Lord. They are not aware, as you have so carefully commanded me,” the servant answered clearly. “Advisor Palazzo waits outside the main door. And the general is in the throne room, ready to be transported here at your command.”

       “I shall see the general first,” the emperor decided.

       “Very good, my lord.”

       The servant uttered a word of magic and he vanished in a flash of light, leaving the emperor alone once again. A few seconds later another flash, brighter than the first, filled the room. Two figures materialized out of thin air. It was the servant and the general in his ornate battle armor. He had been summoned as a general, hence, he came as a general.

       General Cristophe took off his helm revealing his mohawk hair-a mark of the highest military honor in Vector. He knelt before the emperor on one knee and bowed his head.

       “My lord, I have come without delay as summoned. What is thy bidding?” the general said reverently.

       “Rise, Leo, and follow me.”

       The emperor walked with measured steps across the small plaza of the dome to where he had planted the taller bushes years ago. With his arm he brushed aside the small branches and leaves of the bushes, revealing an empty patch between the plants big enough for a man to fit in. There was a stool on that spot, made of wood, yet sturdy.

       “Sit, Leo,” the emperor commanded.

       General Cristophe did not hesitate. He stepped through the gap and sat on the stool. The stool held without a creak even with the full weight of his armor. Then the emperor released the branches he was holding back, utterly hiding the general from view. But just as a precaution, the emperor cast a Vanish spell on Leo to render him invisible.

       “Be still. Be quiet. And listen,” the emperor said as his last commands.

       With the General Cristophe out of view, he turned to his servant who was still with them and said, “Tell Kefka that I am ready to see him now.”

       The servant bowed and left quietly.

       “I trust that you have heard of what transpired recently?”

       “The news disturbed me greatly during my mission, my lord,” Leo answered from behind the bushes.

       “I have not spoken to any of my advisors since that day. I was deep in thought. Today will be the first that I will speak with Kefka. I ask that you witness his words with me tonight, and then, as a general, you will lend me your advice.”

       Leo took a deep breath out of thrill. “It would be… an honor, my lord!”

       The servant returned with Kefka behind him, unintimidated by his presence unlike most others. Kefka was smiling smugly behind him.

       “Your highness, Advisor Palazzo is present,” the servant announced and then shuffled out of the arboretum.

       Kefka bowed from his waist slowly with a vague gesture of reverence.

       “Great Emperor. It brings me great joy to see you again still in perfect health. I was worried that the recent episode had you troubled deeply,” Kefka began with a pleasant but sly tone of voice.

       Emperor Gestahl held his composed facial expression and stern, straight-to-the-point voice. “When did I give the order to stop the experiments for the Slave Crown Project?”

       Kefka’s smile disappeared but his smug composure did not. He had anticipated this question from the emperor and he was prepared.

       “My lord, I know where this is going. I assure you that I-“

       “When did I give the order to stop the experiments for the Slave Crown Project?” the Emperor repeated without a sign of impatience in his voice. However, it was obvious simply due to the fact that he interrupted Kefka’s sentence.

       Kefka did well to answer the question quickly after. “Six years ago, my lord. I myself presented to you the document that you signed upon your request, declaring to stop the Slave Crown Experiments.”

       “Six years ago… and it seems only yesterday that I signed that document shortly after reading the progress report,” the emperor continued, still with his composed tone of voice.

       “Your highness, those reports were highly inaccurate. They only-“

       “It was the progress report for the Slave Crown Experiment in the span of… how long was the experiment in effect?”

       “Ten years, my lord.”

       “Ten years,” Emperor Gestahl thoughtfully repeated as he turned to pick up a garden hose conveniently hanging from a small hydrant by the bushes. “In the span of ten years the experiment yielded a virtually non-existent progress percentage of... what was it again?”

       Kefka licked his thin lips and swallowed. “The number was very low, my lord, but-“

       “0.0012%.”

       The emperor twisted the knob on top of the small hydrant to turn on the hose. He started watering the plants casually, being careful not to send a jet of water towards Leo’s direction.

       Kefka agreed in submission. His point would be heard sooner or later. He just needed to be patient.

       “Then tell me, Kefka. Why is Subject B wearing a Slave Crown on her head?”

       Kefka took a deep breath before he answered. “Because, my lord, it works!”

       “Ah! Well I suppose that makes it all better. But there is that one problem concerning it. You took a great risk of putting that on her. We could’ve lost her.”

       The emperor’s voice was still calm. But the way he said the words seemed like they were spoken through gritted teeth. Though it was not evident, the emperor was furious.

       “No, my lord, I did not. If you would allow me to explain, I am sure that you would find my decision to be the most prudent and sensible,” Kefka stated. It was not a request.

       “Please do, Kefka. Because this fact has me the most troubled.”

       “My lord, sixteen years ago, when we started the Slave Crown Project we were working with extremely limited knowledge about the nature of magic. We have gained a lot more during those years! And my own team has continued the research implementing those new discoveries to the fullest. It was all thanks to Cid del Norte Marguez’s ground-breaking discoveries of magic. We’ve figured out what we were doing wrong. And we’ve managed to find ways around stumbling blocks. We continued the research till we perfected the first prototype!” Kefka said triumphantly. “And as you have no doubt already seen, it works perfectly.”

       “The end justifies the means only when I allow it, Kefka!” Emperor Gestahl’s brows furrowed. “You disobeyed my order and continued the Slave Crown Experiments under my nose! I don’t like that, Kefka. I don’t like operations happening without my knowledge.”

       “Please do not be upset, my lord, for I did not disobey your order. Your order was to stop the experiments on human subjects. It was not to stop the research entirely!” Kefka said quickly as an excuse.

       “You dare bring up this pathetic loophole before me?”

       Kefka bowed again from his waist and said, “It was to be my gift to you, my lord. I continued the research on my own. I used my own resources in testing the prototype. We did not test on humans after you have so clearly commanded. But we did test on animals and did extensive simulations for the human brain. We got the results up to perfection! There was no risk, my lord. And all these, I did for you! For the Empire!”

       The Emperor glanced towards the general’s direction and then turned the water off. Kefka was still prostrated on the spot, unmoved, until the emperor ordered him to be at ease again.

       “A gift?” Emperor Gestahl asked, his composure, returning gradually.

       “Nothing less, my lord. I know better than to cross you.”

       “I don’t like surprises, Kefka. A true emperor likes to see every piece on the chessboard before they are moved-and should they be moved it would be with my knowledge and permission. Is this understood, Kefka?”

       “Absolutely, my lord. It will never happen again,” Kefka promised.

       “I trust that you have the proper documents to give to Cid’s science team concerning this... gift? I’m sure they would like to see your own team’s findings and accomplishments.”

       “I will personally give the documents to Cid myself, my lord.”

       “And Subject B?”

       “What of her, my lord?”

       “How is she faring on her crown enslavement?”

       “In mind, she is no more. Her body is ours to control. We can still use her to bring us to our goal, my lord,” Kefka promptly answered.

       “So she is dead?”

       “Her cognitive activities that define her will have ceased to exist. But her body is in perfect health. She is now in a stasis cell, protected from all possible physical threats, shielded from disease, and heavily guarded in the same laboratory that she broke into.”

       “Is there a chance that she would wake up from this… state?”

       “Impossible, my lord.”

       “So tell me, Kefka. What else do you have planned that should involve my knowledge and permission?”

       “I have none, my lord. But I do have a suggestion.”

       “I am listening.”

       “Now that we have perfected the Slave Crown Technology, I suggest that we mass produce it. We can use it against our enemies. Think of the possibilities!”

       “I plan to rule a world of the living, Kefka. Not mindless slaves.”

       “I simply meant to increase manpower in our campaign, my lord. You yourself said it. You want full control of the pieces on the board. With the slave crowns, loyalty is guaranteed. The slaves will fight with no fear and with no regard to their lives. They will not hesitate to charge into battle. And they’re combat skills will not be compromised.”

       The emperor looked uninterested but he did pause in thought.

       “I shall think about it.”

       Kefka frowned at the emperor’s lack of enthusiasm. “Furthermore, we can also crown… Subject A.,” Kefka spoke ominously.

       Emperor Gestahl’s eyes stared straight into Kefka’s. For a split second, the emperor’s eyes showed a glint of disapproval.

       “Perhaps that would not be necessary.”

       “Maybe not, my lord. But it would surely speed things up!” Kefka argued.

       “I like my chess pieces to move at a comfortable pace. However, I shall consider it.”

       Kefka frowned again but held his tongue back. It would do him no good to push his suggestion.

       “Very well, my lord. Shall I order the production of a few more slave crowns?”

       “No,” the emperor simply said. “I shall accept this… gift. You do not need to do any more concerning it. You will have all the research documentations given to Cid. He will be in charge of it from now on.”

       Kefka was appalled at the idea.

       “But, my lord-“ Kefka began to protest.

       “It is not your place to handle such tasks, Kefka. Cid and his team will be more than qualified to put such operation into effect-after they have done extensive reviews of your team’s findings.”

       “A wise decision, my lord, but do you not think that-“

       “You will move on to the next phase of our plan which I consider more important. I trust no one else to do it. I expect the same kind of... devotion… that you have shown me to the next phase. I know that you will not fail me.” The Emperor Gestahl said the last sentence in a tone of such finality that Kefka thought it best not to say any more.

       Kefka bowed one last time and dismissed himself from the arboretum. The emperor made sure that Kefka made it outside the dome before he spoke again.

       “Come to me, Leo.”

       A rustle was heard as the branches and leaves of the bushes parted to let an invisible entity through. The general reappeared before the emperor, still holding his helm.

       “What have you heard?”

       “Everything, my lord,” Leo answered in a stern voice.

       “Then tell me… what do you think of this Slave Crown Technology?”

       “Personally, my lord, I don’t trust it.”

       “Neither do I, Leo. At least, not yet. I shall wait for Cid’s analysis before I even consider implementing it.”

       “A very wise decision, my lord. It did not feel as if Adviser Palazzo was telling the whole truth.”

       The emperor smiled and chuckled.

       “That is precisely the reason I summoned you here, Leo. I trust not even him.”

       “Begging your pardon, my lord, but why do you tolerate his presence in the Empire? Surely, your other advisers are more trustworthy and aptly competent. Not to mention, unconditionally compliant.”

       “Indeed, Leo. Your words are true. But I have much use for Kefka that I cannot reveal to you. He may be a loose cannon but his audacity and guile in a certain… field is much needed. Just as your skills and expertise on the battlefield is irreplaceable. I am aware that he is not a very popular character in the Empire, to say the least, but just like you, Leo, I have no doubt that he will help us achieve our goal,” the emperor explained calmly.

       Leo doubted it very much but he had to be careful with his words.

       “It is not my place, after all, to ask such questions, my lord,” he said sternly.

       “Enough of that… what do you think of his decision to use the slave crown on Branford?”

       “Unacceptable, my lord! He should have asked for your permission on such things.”

       “Indeed. It was what infuriated me more when I heard of what transpired. But we cannot let what’s been done to plague us. It’s too late for that. If the slave crowning process is reversible, there would still be no point in doing it. She’s as good as dead. Without the crown, her body will perish.

       ”However, I do not wish for this to happen again. The Subject A must be protected, Leo. Kefka will surely find an excuse to use the Slave Crown Technology on her. I know that he will disobey me again. And he knows that there is nothing that I can do to stop him.”

       Leo was flabbergasted at the thought. “Impossible, my lord! You are the emperor. Your word is the law. You are the law!”

       “I have, in my possession, four keys to winning this campaign. You, Subject A and Subject B are but three. Kefka is the last and he knows it. I cannot control him as easily as you would think. You are amenable because of your loyalty. Kefka is… conforming because he, too, needs me. But he is impatient. I’m afraid that he will ruin everything with his recklessness.”

       “Command me, my lord! Tell me how to ease your troubles and I shall not fail you!”

       “I have a plan, Leo, and Kefka must not know that I am behind it. For every move I make to turn the tides to my favor, he has a counter-move to turn it to his. Therefore, this plan is something that I cannot directly organize for I am predictable. He knows my intentions well. I have summoned you here from your duty in Doma temporarily to assign to you an odd mission. You are to make a move for me that will throw his schemes off-balance. You will protect the two other keys from him. And I know just how to do it.”

****************************
****************************

       “Gentleman. Good morning to all of you,” Llurd started as he entered the room-his office. It was still dark out-still a few more hours before sunrise but technically it was already morning. His guests numbered three, still in their sleeping attires. None looked very happy to be where they were. At this observation, Llurd just then realized that his greeting sounded blatantly sarcastic. He didn’t mean to sound sarcastic in the least, though it wouldn’t have made any difference, otherwise. He knew very well that the council members did not like him very much. At the same time, he didn’t intend to be polite either.

       “Colonel Llurd! If this is another attempt to-“ Ardner started in an obvious displeasure of his abduction from his house.

       “Mr. Ardner, I’m here to do you, Lemarr and Siroch a great favor,” Llurd interrupted. “Your abduction was absolutely necessary for your own protection. I wanted to speak with you all in secret.”

       “This had better be good,” Siroch muttered.

       “You may judge for yourself, good sirs. Have a seat.” Llurd walked around his desk and sat down on his own comfortable chair. “I’ll get right to the point, gentlemen. It’s no secret why I’ve sent for you all here. I want your votes. Nothing else is new. Nothing, that is, except for my offer of…” Llurd paused for effect. “Freedom,” he finished with a grin.

       The three men exchanged glances, hoping that the other understood completely what Llurd had meant by that.

       Siroch cleared his throat before he spoke.

       “Colonel, keeping us here as your prisoners won’t get you what you want at all. I don’t see how-“

       “No, no, no!” Llurd said with a look of disgust in his face. “What do you take me for? That’s not what I meant by freedom.”

       “Then what did you mean precisely, Colonel?” Ardner asked in impatience.

       “You have rejected my offers before, gentlemen, and I now know why you cannot vote for me. I know why you couldn’t say ‘no’ to Colonel Blaey. And I know that it’s not his offer of money. He threatened you and your family, didn’t he?” Llurd said bluntly.

       The three didn’t speak, though, one could easily see it in their eyes that Llurd was speaking rather precisely of the truth. But one tried to hide it with a lie.

       “What makes you think we’re going to vote Colonel Blaey?” Lemarr asked with a feigned incredulous sneer.

       “I have people working for me. Experts.”

       “You have spies!” Lemarr hissed in disgust. “No doubt our privacy’s been… tapped?”

       “Oh, don’t act so naïve, Mr. Lemarr. Did you honestly think that nobody’s been watching you since we all heard that the Vectorian Military Council was left to make the critical decision? I’ve had my spies monitor your every move and so did nine other colonels vying for the rank. In fact, ever since you’ve committed your votes to Colonel Blaey, you and your families’ houses have been under constant surveillance by Blaey’s goons.

       “Preposterous!” Siroch exclaimed.

       “Gentlemen, I’m trying to be honest here. I do not sink low to try and lie my way to persuade you to reconsider your votes. I gain nothing by doing so. I kindly ask you to do the same. I know that you’ve been offered bribes by the other colonels. I even have the exact amount and time that you’ve been offered them. My spies keep remarkable documentation of them all. However, I also know that the reason Blaey was successful in… convincing all of you was because he did more than offer money. He actually threatened your loved ones, didn’t he?”

       “I don’t know what you’re t-“ Siroch started.

       “Your sister and her husband, perhaps?” Siroch’s eyes widened and his face paled. Llurd then turned to Lemarr. “Or somebody’s brother working in the refinery? Or perhaps somebody’s kids… particularly ages fourteen and seventeen?” both Lemarr and Ardner bowed their heads in a non-verbal confession of the truth. “Well, I can’t personally say that I blame all of you in your decision to abide by his wish. I would vote for him if he threatened somebody from my family, held them hostage and all, if I were in your shoes. But I’m not in your shoes, gentlemen. I have the means to defend myself and those that I care about. More importantly… I have the means to fight back!”

       “So what are you saying, Llurd?”

       “Simple. I want to help all of you. I offer my service to you to rid yourselves of the awful burden of worrying about your families and constantly looking over your shoulders.” Llurd stood up from his chair, placed both his hands on the desk and leaned forward to his guests. “I have the means to eliminate the threat that plagues you and your families.”

       “Threat? You speak as if our problems are one and the same,” Ardner commented.

       “But they are! Allow me to explain. Colonel Blaey has a connection with a rather unsavory group of… how shall I say this? Professionals,” Llurd said with a dark, foreboding voice.

       “P-professionals?” Ardner dared to ask.

       “Criminals, Mr. Ardner. I’m talking about robbers, muggers, kidnappers, assassins, murderers… people who are paid to incite fear. People who make sure that you keep your end of the bargain. These are the same people who are now watching your brothers and sisters and wives and kids and whomever it is they threatened to kill if you do not vote for Colonel Blaey. How else did you think he’d carry out his threat? With his own men from the army? No, gentlemen. He is no fool. He would dare not risk that because evidences may be traced back to him. He struck a deal with these people to keep his hands clean. When they fall, Bleay would still be sitting pretty in his home, untouched. Because who will believe a crook even if they admit that Blaey is the mastermind at their trial? If it were that simple, why, I could’ve just filed a report to place Colonel Blaey under arrest for collaboration with criminals. Unfortunately, it’s not that easy to take him out of the race.”

       “And what exactly do you propose to do about these… professionals?”

       “I plan to kill them all, gentlemen,” Llurd said in a cold, unfeeling tone of voice. “Get them out of your hair permanently. No court trials. No paperwork. No bails. And it would look very good on my record to eliminate a nuisance from Vector.”

       The three were appalled by the idea. They didn’t know what to say but the shock in their faces was understood perfectly by Llurd.

       “Don’t be too concerned about their lives, people! They are nothing more than wretched criminals! They’d kill you and your kin without a moment’s hesitation and quite possibly with malicious pleasure! They are monsters. Vector would be glad to be rid of them. You three, above all, should be glad to be rid of them.”

       “In return for what?” Siroch asked dubiously. It was a stupid question and everybody knew it.

       Llurd looked him straight in the eyes and said, “You know what I want, Mr. Siroch. It’s no secret.”

       “Colonel Llurd, I understand completely what your proposal is but I doubt that even you can organize an operation quickly enough to find these people’s hideout and-“

       “The bust has already begun, Mr. Ardner. As we speak, these criminals are being arrested. Every single one of them is now being rounded and brought to a secret place where they will be… executed. Their execution, of course, is the last phase of my plan. It all depends upon your decisions. If you promise your votes to me then Blaey’s goons will be executed and they will never bother you again. If you don’t, then these criminals will be released where they will continue to plague your sense of security. Do you really want to spend the rest of your lives worrying about these types of people? Even if you do vote for Blaey, what makes you think he’d keep his end of the bargain? He just might order his goons to kill you all to get rid of witnesses.”

       “How do we know you’d keep your end of the bargain?” Ardner challenged.

       “Because my end comes first. I’ll show it to all of you. Present it to you on a silver platter. I will kill them all right before your eyes if you want to bear witness to it or simply just wait for the daily news about our successful bust of the criminal operation. I can promise you the results right before your eyes. Blaey cannot do that. Nobody can. And once I rise to generalship, Blaey or any other colonel would never dare to defy me. I shall guarantee your protection and the protection of those you care about and I am willing to put that in writing.”

       The door opened softly behind them as Barnes shuffled in quietly as a ghost. Only when Llurd looked at his associate that the three noticed his presence as well. Barnes was in his full military uniform of peacetime, proudly wearing his polished brass pin that bore his rank. He saluted to his commanding officer and was promptly acknowledged.

       Llurd turned back to the three and continued, “I don’t see how you can turn this opportunity down. Blaey’s cornered you against the wall with his goons. And I’m here not just to bail you all out but also to make sure that this sort of thing doesn’t happen again. Don’t you agree, Lt. Barnes?”

       “It’s the chance of a lifetime, sir,” Barnes concurred with a smile. “Speaking of which, the moment has arrived to decide what to do with our suspects.”

       “Indeed?” Llurd said, sounding very pleased. He looked at his watch and nodded with approval. “Three minutes ahead of schedule. I expected nothing less from my own men. I also assume that you’ve completed checking their criminal backgrounds?”

       Barnes produced a folded document from his pocket and gave it to his commanding officer.

       “Everybody accounted for. It could not have gone any smoother, sir,” Barnes said proudly.

       Llurd took the paper and unfolded it. He quickly browsed through what looked like a list of names. When he reached the end of the list he smiled.

       “Gentlemen, what I have here are the names of our suspects. It’s a list of the members of a long-standing criminal network in Vector. I’m pleased to report to all of you that we’ve captured them all and have sufficient evidences to put them away. But as their deaths are preferable to their imprisonment, I strongly urge that we avoid the red tape and skip right to their executions. My men can make it look like that these people fought back during our strike at their hideout. They will be reported to be killed in retaliation against my men. Of course, this will not, in any way, tie any of you in involvement. I play my cards wisely, gentlemen. I’ll make sure you’re all safe. It would not benefit me, otherwise.”

       “Very impressive, Colonel Llurd. But just so we’ve fully explored our options… what happens if we refuse the offer?” Lemarr asked.

       “I give Lt. Barnes the order to tell my men to abort their mission. My men will then throw the fish back into the water as if nothing happened. And I’ll have my men see to it that you arrive at your houses safely,” Llurd said casually. He did not sound like he was going to be angry or disappointed if the three council members refused his offer. This was not like him at all. There had to be something up his sleeve, a final chip he could bet, a final word to convince them all.

       “That’s it?” Siroch asked suspiciously.

       “That’s it,” Llurd said with a shrug and a smile.

       That could not be it! they all thought.

       “Of course,” Lt. Barnes said, drawing attention away from his commander, “If we release the prisoners now, then they would be able to continue with their… current operations. And furthermore, Colonel Blaey will be alerted of this. He would not be too pleased to find out that the three of you met with Colonel Llurd tonight. Though he does not know that yet, if we release his goons, he’d figure it out soon.”

       “But that is out of my hands, gentlemen,” Llurd concluded.

       There it is. His final chip to make us all fold. Llurd didn’t have to threaten them all. He just needed to use the existing threat coming from Colonel Blaey to the three council members. Llurd would not come out as the obvious antagonist of the situation. How could he? He offered them his service that was legal, but more importantly, irresistible.

       Siroch gave out a sigh. The solution was obvious. They had to agree.

       “You will protect us from Colonel Blaey?” Siroch asked.

       Llurd’s lips twisted to a smile. He knew he had them. The three votes were as good as his.

       “I will assure you that you will have nothing more to fear once Blaey’s goons are out of the picture. He’s a weakling. He’s not prepared to risk the better half of his resources,” Llurd replied. “Besides, when I get promoted tomorrow, Blaey will forget all about you. The three of you will be ‘off limits’ to him. He will hate you as he will hate me. But he will also fear you because he will fear me.”

       “Unacceptable!” Ardner interjected. They were all surprised at this. “That is not enough. The rank may only be temporary. When or if General Fencross wakes from his coma, you will fall back to your old rank. What happens then?”

       Llurd was taken aback. He didn’t have the answer for that question. He did not expect it. But as he fumbled for an answer in his mind Lemarr spoke.

       “What are you suggesting, Ardner?”

       “I’m saying that not only should we eliminate Blaey’s goons. I want Blaey himself out of the picture!” Lemarr demanded. His council companions gasped in shock. “Think about it! We can never be truly safe with him still alive. He will hate us for as long as he lives. Our lives and the lives of those we care about will always be in danger-goons or no goons. He’ll find away to exact vengeance upon us. Thus, he, too, must die!”

       Siroch and Lemarr fell silent. Llurd and Barnes were astonished at this turn of event. None of them had foreseen this type of reaction.

       “He’s right, Siroch,” Lemarr said softly. “It’s the only way that I will feel safe.”

       Siroch agreed with a solemn nod. “Well, Colonel Llurd? Those are our conditions. You will have our votes if you eliminate Colonel Blaey’s criminal operatives and eliminate Colonel Blaey himself.”

       The three council members looked at Llurd intently. Even Barnes was curious to know how his commander was going to react to this. Llurd’s face was like stone. None could discern his true emotion at the moment. His eyes stared into the distance in deep thought and consideration. He left his chair and walked towards the window in measured steps, his hands behind his back. There he stared outside for a minute or so, quietly. Then turning around he announced his decision.

       “It can be done,” Llurd said with a sudden wicked smile on his face. “However, I must become a general first before I plot his demise. There is nothing I can do at the moment.”

       “But how will we know you’ll stick to the end of your bargain?”

       “Unlike Blaey, I prefer to make friends than enemies. You, gentlemen, may be of use to me again in the future, especially during the course of my generalship, however long that would be. Besides… I had planned to rid myself of the competition anyway in my rise to generalship.”

       “Then it is agreed!” Lemarr said in excitement. “We will vote for you when the hour comes. In return, you will give us… our freedom.”

       Llurd laughed in triumph. Lt. Barnes joined in.

       “And to conclude tonight’s meeting-Lt. Barnes, tell my men to proceed with the execution.”

       Barnes saluted then dismissed himself from the room.

       “Champagne, anyone?”

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****************************

       A First Lieutenant arrived at the Magitek Lab wearing a heavy military issue raincoat. It was pouring out. The heavy raindrops created a white noise that rivaled the static hissing of a Private First Class’s communication device. The private was stationed at the entrance lobby of a Magitek Facility that night and was alone. He did not immediately notice the lieutenant’s arrival as he played with the knobs and dials of the communication device.

       “Give it up, Jasom. With this weather, you’ll never get that thing to receive anything,” the lieutenant said in greeting, as well as in declaration of her presence.

       The soldier snapped to attention, faced his superior and saluted.

       “Lieutenant Chere! I did not hear you come in!”

       “At ease, Jasom. All is well,” Lt. Celes Chere replied with a warm smile.

       Jasom Keep helped her take off her raincoat.

       “Nasty weather,” Jasom commented.

       Celes flashed him a smile and answered, “I love it!”

       She stared outside through the glass doors of the facility and saw the millions of vertical lines comprising the heavy rainfall. It was as if the sky had lost interest in keeping the scene interesting because of the dark. No wind tossed and bent the dropping water. No lightning stirred in the black clouds. The torrent was as unimaginative as it was to a bored toddler, uninspiring to a starving painter, and utterly depressing to a Private First Class in his night guard duty. But it was not the sight and sound that pleased Celes. It was simply the thought of the tons of fresh, clean, heaven-sent water cleansing the buildings and streets of the Bronze compound. It was the thought of ablution and purging of the dregs that clung to Vector’s steel and concrete-a passive rite of lavation of a grand scale.

       “I prefer the sun myself,” the soldier said continuing the small talk, as he hung the dripping wet raincoat on a hook next to his desk. On his desk was a neatly folded towel. He gave it to Celes who thanked him for the thought. He was expecting her tonight and made sure to have one handy just for her.

       “Well, thank you, Jasom. How very thoughtful!”

       Celes dabbed the towel on her face and arms. Though the raincoat had mainly done what it was supposed to, rain mist still penetrated through the openings, particularly through the hood and sleeves. Her golden hair remained fairly dry, pony-tailed by a silver hairpin, thus, exposing her slender neck. She’d rather lose the hairpin and let her hair down freely but it was against regulations as a soldier in uniform. It was either that or have her hair cut short or head shaved just like the others.

       Jasom was expecting her arrival like routine. She always came on the same day of the week to visit a friend who worked deep within the facility.

       “A tad late today, aren’t we, lieutenant?” Jasom Keep said in a rare display of informality between a private first class and a first lieutenant. Celes Chere didn’t mind. In fact, she preferred it… to an extent, of course. For as long as she could remember, Jasom Keep had always been assigned on guard duty at that particular facility, on that particular day of the week and at that particular time of day.

       “I took my time under the rain. A downpour like this doesn’t come often enough every year.”

       “You sound like you like it very much. I’m surprised you wore a raincoat at all,” he said as he produced a mop from a utility closet nearby. He was set to a new task of mopping the small puddle of water on the white-tiled floor.

       “I was very nearly tempted to take it off on my way here but imagine the reaction of anybody who might see me do that.”

       Jasom sighed as he mopped the floor as the thought occurred to him.

       “Yes… I can I imagine how that would be,” he said casually, concentrating on his work.

       “I meant just the raincoat, Private First Class, Jasom Keep!” Lieutenant Chere said sternly, not looking very pleased with what Jasom said.

       Keep stopped his task and looked surprised. His mind raced, trying to figure out what he had said wrong. Then it hit him.

       “B-begging your pardon, Lt. Chere. I-I meant only that I’d be mopping more water and would probably be needing more than a towel to give to you! N-not that I-I think you’re a bother and all. I mean you can make a big mess on the floor for all I care. Er… I didn’t mean it like that! And I’m not saying that you’re a messy person-just saying that if you wanted to then you could and I wouldn’t complain-not that you would and all! I mean you’re probably one of the most well organized person in all of Vector considering--er… I-you-not because you’re a woman! I’m just saying… I… can’t imagine you to be an untidy person-not that I imagine you to be anything at all-I mean-I don’t-“ he said quickly in his defense and was left to juggle with words that only made the situation more awkward and embarrassing for him. He was red in embarrassment and quite nervous, too. His verbal blunder wouldn’t have ended right there if it hadn’t been for Celes bursting in laughter right before his eyes.

       Celes knew what he had meant by what he said from the very start. She only meant to liven up the quiet place by playing a little joke on him but she never thought that he would react as clumsily as he did. She almost felt guilty for what she did but it was all too funny. She tried her best to keep a straight face, at first, but when she couldn’t take it anymore she let loose of her laughter that began as a snicker. It was a hearty laughter, neither taunting nor derisive. It was a kind of laugh that invited everybody else present to laugh with her. They were alone in the lobby at that time and Jasom soon found himself chuckling with her nervously, but still flushed.

       “Oh, Keep! It may sound so unkind of me to say so but I wish I had heard that till the end,” Celes said when she had found enough strength to restrain her laughter.

       “I don’t think there would’ve been an end, Lieutenant,” he replied, wiping a drop of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

       Celes chuckled some more before retreating to the closest chair.

       “I’m sorry, Jasom. I didn’t think you’d react like that.”

       Keep continued mopping the floor. “I didn’t either,” he admitted with a sigh.

       “You must make your girlfriend laugh all the time. Which reminds me… how is she doing?”

       “Just great, Lieutenant… or so I’ve heard. She will be coming back to Vector within the week,” Keep replied with a smile, glad that the topic of conversation steered away from himself and onto something that he looked forward to.

       “Well, good for the both of you. Remind me again where she went off to.”

       “Maranda. She received news that her grandmother was very ill. They went there to visit,” he promptly answered.

       “Oh, that’s right. I hope everything’s well,” she said sympathetically.

       “As do I. But I’m more concerned about the enactment of martial law. They have the entire capital cordoned with troops and watch guards. By the Emperor’s own command, nobody is allowed to get in or out of Vector until he says so,” Keep said, looking glum.

       “Somebody has to make an exception. She’s a Vectorian citizen herself. Her entire family is,” she reasoned. Logically speaking, she was correct but when it came to the unbending orders of the Emperor her reasoning was merely a hypothesis. She knew this but she dared not to sound pessimistic about it. “Tell you what, Jasom. I’ll see what I can do about all that,” she promised with a warm smile. It was a weak smile but honest and sincere.

       “Thank you, Lieutenant, but you don’t have to go out of the way just for me.” Keep meant what he said but deep inside he liked her suggestion. He appreciated it very much, but he remained realistic. Even though Celes Chere was a Lieutenant, the problem of getting out of the locked-down Bronze Compound under Orange Alert was very difficult.

       “Well it can’t hurt to try, can it?” she said.

       “I suppose not,” he said, smiling. He turned back to his task. He was almost done.

       Celes watched him mop the floor as she waited in the lobby for a friend to finish his shift for the day. She had always done this once a week every week since she joined the Imperial Army. It was her only reason for coming into the facility. But even though she had risen to the rank of a First Lieutenant, she still didn’t have enough authorization to access the inner parts of the facility. She could only wait in the lobby-white-tiled, brightly lit, and sterile. Only the humming of the electric lights could be heard if it weren’t raining, except perhaps for the occasional burst of staticky conversations coming from Jasom’s radio. The tiles on the floor themselves couldn’t be any duller. They were very unimaginatively patterned.

       A tessellation of white squares tiled adjacently to each other. The tilers could’ve placed the rows juxtaposed to the previous one. They also could’ve slanted them, at least, with the walls as the basis so they would look like diamonds. Celes looked around her. Even the entire lobby is a square. And by the small size of it, it’s more like a waiting room in the Imperial Army Infirmary! Celes shook her head to ward of the thoughts. I’m thinking too much again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about this same old topic in my head.

       She looked back towards Jasom. He had finished mopping the floor and had just placed the mop back in a small utility room in the lobby itself.

       Hmm. I just realized that cleaning the floor up wasn’t even his job. Well, he must be very bored of this place, too. Who wouldn’t be? To be alone here can be quite maddening. Thank the Goddesses for the glass doors, at least. Still… I wonder if he minded about the rainwater. I probably should’ve offered my help. It was, after all, my mess. But then, it would seem so wrong of me to fuss over such a trivial thing. I’m sure he didn’t mind. Of course, not she convinced herself. I’m more relaxed talking to him than to anybody… except maybe for Cid. I wonder if I’m being too relaxed. I have a higher rank than he does. I don’t want him to think I’m abandoning my poise for his sake. Come to think of it, I had been chatty to him these past two weeks. But that’s only because there’s absolutely nothing to do in this cursed waiting room! Not that talking to him is a bad thing… A smirk appeared on her face. It was but a faint trace and yet she knew it was there because it was intended for her. I’m glad I’m not saying all these out loud. Think of the irony!

       Celes took a sharp intake of breath to release some energy within her, like the venting out of mental frustration. Jasom noticed this and gave her a quick glance in anticipation of the possibility that she was going to say something. It created a split second of awkwardness between the two.

       Are you so starved of attention, Celes? she thought to herself in reprimand. He just caught me staring at him. But I wasn’t. I was deep in thought! My eyes just happened to be looking into his direction. Why not? He’s right in front of me!

       What is wrong with me? Why am I thinking too much? I’ve been like this since I got up this morning.

       It was true. She woke up in the morning without so much as a yawn or the urge to stretch. It was as if she had no need of those to start her blood flowing faster for the day. Her eyes didn’t take too long to get acquainted with the sunlight and when she went to the bathroom she noticed her face in the mirror-she was smiling. The sight surprised her for she didn’t remember any special occasion marked for that day. Her spirit was just high at the start of the new day. She felt a strange energy welling up within her, waiting, yearning to be released.

       At noon, when the clouds started to appear and accumulate above them all, it didn’t dishearten her at all. It had the opposite effect on her compared to her fellow soldiers. She had been training new recruits with her captain during the morning till noon, after which she had a lecture about Magical Signatures in the Imperial Army’s presentation hall. Usually, she got to the presentation hall, tired or close to exhaustion after her physical training. But today was an exception. The strange energy had kept her active. It was the type of energy that not only affected her physically but also mentally. While in the presentation room, sitting comfortably in her chair, she didn’t feel the urge to get up from her chair and do something-anything-just to keep her body moving. The mysterious vim, it seemed, came with mental discipline. Her mind didn’t wander off while the lecture was going on. She found herself enthralled at the topic of the lecture. She hung onto every word and absorbed every bit of information. She even thought of some profound questions in her mind though she never bothered to voice them out loud during the lecture.

       After the lecture, she went to the gym to engage in swordplay with another who was equal in skill. Though she did not always win, her opponents were quite taken aback at the keen observation that she didn’t seem to be getting tired as they practiced. Eventually, her opponents had to be someplace else, much to her disappointment. After a quick shower she proceeded to the facility.

       And there’s nothing to do here! Nothing to think about! No wonder I’m feeling restless. I sure wish Cid would be done soon.

 **********

       Cid was her friend. He was the Magitek Master Engineer of Vector. In the field of Magic, Science and Technology, he was the big boss. A long time ago, an accident in an experimental procedure with magic infusion claimed the life of Celes’s mother. Cid del Norte Marguez was there when it happened. He was her mother’s colleague, her mentor and friend. Celes was just a baby then. When her mother died she was left in the care of her mother’s sister. She never knew who her real father was. Nobody did. It was her mother’s secret that she took to her grave. Her aunt raised her and taught her to be strong-willed, responsible and independent.

       Cid, then, became a constant visitor to their household. He had been a family friend, ever since. He made sure that Celes got through the best schooling available. He had paid for tuition and even tutored her. He grew fond of her like she was his own child and Celes didn’t mind at all to have a father figure to look up to.

       When she turned fourteen she confronted Cid with a question she had been curious to ask.

       “What do you know of my mother?”

       Cid closed the textbook and smiled. With a sigh he looked out the window of his college office where they held the weekly tutoring sessions. “She was a very brave, young woman. A real risk-taker. She had such imagination but they weren’t completely foolish. She always thought about theories of magic and how it worked. You see, she was my top student. She liked to help around my early experiments about magic. She wanted to see me expose its very secret because she believed in it so much that she even volunteered to a few dangerous experiments. I didn’t allow her, of course. I told her that the risks were against her favor and so we tested our theories on animals.”

       “She believed in magic then? Even before the first magic infusion?”

       “Oh, yes. She believed in it because she had this dream of a perfect world where there is no suffering, only a place of constant learning. She wanted it to come true. She wanted to see that world before she died. And that’s why she believed in it. She believed that only through the mysteries of magic can such a world be transformed to her vision of utopia in a short period of time.” Cid’s face fell to a frown. “But alas. An experiment went horribly wrong. I tried to save her life but I failed. Everybody felt her loss, most especially me.”

       Cid’s eyes went back to the other pair staring back at him. He looked for a hint of detestation from those innocent eyes. Was this the day when he would be confronted by the past? No. Celes’s face showed nothing that would hint to blame or disappointment. It was just a question about her mother. It had nothing to do with Cid at all. He felt foolish to think that a young girl such as she would confront him with something she had yet to understand-something he had yet to understand. Celes just wanted to learn what she could about her mother and he had been selfish to take away this opportunity for her for his own personal redemption. This was not the day. Perhaps soon.

       Perhaps later.

       So Cid stopped talking about the accident. He started telling her stories about her mother’s steadfastness, often confused with a trait of stubbornness. He told her funny stories and exciting stories about her mother and Celes absorbed them all through her blue eyes. Her smile was a comfort to both of them. Cid continued to tell her the stories until she feared that the conversation might steer to something that was beyond his memory. He feared that Celes might ask about her father.

       Cid had left teaching at the college a year later much to Celes’s disappointment. She very much wanted to take up some of his classes after she finished her previous schooling.

       “Ah, Celes. You don’t need me to be teaching you about these things,” he said, explaining apologetically. “I’m a horrible teacher! I really would rather do some experiments just like in the good old days with your mother.”

       Celes shrugged and went on with life. Unlike her mother, a life of studying magic was not for her. Instead, she wanted to wield it. She had heard of how safe the magical infusion experiments had become. She wanted to be one of those people who could use magic. She marveled at the thought. It wasn’t so much as a hunger for power that drove her to her fancy but just simply to be one of the Mage-Knights of long ago. With the Empire’s progress of rediscovering magic, they were ushering in a new age. New, perhaps not to the world itself, but it was new to her generation. She wanted to be a herald. She wanted to be one of the Neo Mage-Knights.

       The only way this was possible was to become a soldier of the Empire. One who would be worthy and disciplined enough. At the first chance she received, she enlisted into the Imperial Army and trained hard. It was uncommon for a woman to work through the rigorous physical challenges of being a soldier but she made it through, nonetheless, surprising her peers, her superiors and herself.

       She had become strong and independent. She had left her aunt’s home to live within the Bronze Compound, which she had accepted as her new home. Her aunt didn’t object. Her aunt just smiled for she saw a little bit of her late sister in Celes. Cid, too, as he watched her progress in her studies and training. Cid was close to her now, also residing within the Bronze Compound.
 

**********

       Three doors led from the lobby to the inner facility. All three were off-limits to Celes. Though it would appear that Jasom was the only soldier on duty, that particular Magitek Facility was heavily guarded from the inside. Beyond the doors were more guards, security precautions, and Magitek drones on patrol.

       The middle door slid opened with a clap of a steel mechanism from within and a hiss. Celes stood up as a man emerged from the restricted corridor. Two Imperial soldiers guarded the door from the inside. She knew that there were more. Security had been tightened since the Terra Episode.

       The man was in his late fifties. He wore a thick, bright yellow rubber coat. It was the kind that was lined with lead to shield the wearer from radiation.

       “Celes!” the man greeted with a smiling face.

       “Hello, Cid!” Celes answered back.

       He didn’t wear the coat each time they met but it was also as good as any other raincoat. In fact, it was better.

       “Goodness! I guess Jasom wasn’t kidding when he told me it was pouring,” Cid said, glancing at Keep thankfully.

       Keep smiled and nodded in return. “You two have a nice dinner now, Professor.” He turned to Celes and extended his well wish. “See you next week, Lieutenant.”

       Celes was already putting on her dark green raincoat when she wished him well, too.

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Chapter Five
Even the Dreamers

       Celes and Cid sat at a table for two in exclusive section of the Common Refectory reserved for those with notable positions or rank. Between the two, Cid held the more prominent status. People were more likely to identify him first on sight than Celes. The two didn’t usually dine there. Their usual place was a restaurant just outside the restricted boundaries of the Bronze Compound. But since the Orange Alert had not been lifted up yet, the Common Refectory had to do for the past three weeks. The food was decent, if not exemplary. The Common Refectory was the less insipid choice above the Imperial Mess Hall for the army. It was three stories tall with the ground floor as the public food court. The exclusive sections were on the second and third floor of the building. They both only occupy half the normal floor space so that both have a clear view of the ground floor.

       Cid and Celes dined at the very top by the floor railing. Just by looking to their sides they could see off-duty soldiers dining with their comrades talking to each other, laughing at jokes, and complaining about the lockdown. It was the same old scene for the past couple of weeks. Celes was more tired of the fuss inside the hall than the lockdown itself. Directly above them was thick, glass roof. It provided natural light during the day and on a cloudless sky, a refreshing view of the stars and the moon. The night, however, granted them neither. The rain pounded above them, creating a gray, distorted effect of flowing water. At first, it was interesting to look at but it got duller by the minute. Celes thought that it was different than actually seeing the drops come straight down from the heaven. Though the rain had slowed its pace to a drizzle it was still very difficult to see through the obscured glass.

       They had finished their meals but not their conversation. Celes had just recounted her week’s events that were worth telling. Some where repetition of the previous week but Cid listened to her as though she were telling it for the first time. Cid, on the other hand were telling her about their experiments… at least not the confidential ones.

       “… and that is my theory,” he concluded. “They won’t believe me--refused to believe me--because they want to have their own way. They want me to find a way to cheat. They want me to find a way to defy the laws of magic.”

       “Well what did you tell them?” she asked in interest.

       “I told them I’d gladly do that. But I don’t even understand the laws of magic fully! We’ve only begun to understand the basic principles of it.”

       “You’re the only one who has the most knowledge of magic. Surely, they’d believe you.”

       “Bah! You don’t know Kefka. He doesn’t care about understanding magic. He only cares about controlling it. Talk about the wrong hands, I tell ya! I still don’t understand why the Emperor can’t see that Kefka’s psychologically unstable. And yet the Emperor allows him to push me and my team around. He gives us deadlines like we’re tackling a force that is as controllable as a pup on a leash.”

       “Nobody likes Kefka,” she said flatly. It wasn’t anything new. It wasn’t a surprise at all.

       “Not a lot of people get to work under his ‘guidance’ like me and my colleagues,” he grumbled. “I wish it were him that got sent to the coma ward after the Terra Episode.”

       Celes chuckled. “I doubt the Council would find a suitable replacement for him! Not that that is exactly a bad thing.”

       “Speaking of which, any word about the new general? I thought the Council was supposed to vote today.”

       “I’m sure they did,” she said, shrugging. She wasn’t very much interested who got the job. “But they always announce it the day after. I guess a higher power needs to approve it. I still don’t see what the big deal is. General Fencross isn’t even dead. I’m sure everybody would feel very foolish if he woke up just a few days later. All these fuss about nothing. It’s a complete waste of time, if you ask me.”

       “Well who do you think got the job?”

       “I don’t know, really. A lot of people were whispering about how Llurd had rigged the votes and secured the outcome but they were just rumors. I wouldn’t be surprised if it were him. He’s the Army’s logical choice. A lot of people are wondering why he hadn’t been promoted to a general yet even before all these had begun.”

       “Do you?”

       “Wonder about it?” Celes flashed a disgusted look on her face. “I’m not one to waste my time pondering the politics and bureaucracy of the Empire Military.”

       “Of course, not,” Cid said, smiling. “You’re just here for the food… so to speak”

       “Hey, at least I know my limitations. My ambitions are not exactly out of reach and yet they’re not low,” she retorted. “I’m no dreamer.”

       “Unlike your mother?” Cid asked, raising a brow.

       “You’re talking to a soldier, Cid. Sentiments mean so little to me,” Celes answered with a smirk on her face. It was the kind of smirk that made one look more charming than arrogant. “I don’t want to study the workings of magic. I just want to be one of those to be infused with it.”

       “And then what? You’d have the ability to call upon the elements, control them, mold them and bend them to your will. But what would you do with that power?” Cid asked as a challenge but he made it sound like he was just asking a question to satisfy his curiosity.

       “I don’t know. Serve the Empire, I guess. I mean, I’m a soldier, am I not?” she answered, shrugging.

       “I see. So you would use it to--“

       “I know what you’re going to say,” she interrupted. “But I’ve thought about that.”

       “Have you now?”

       “It’s a paradox, Cid. We must be prepared for war at all times. It is undeniable that we have enemies. These rebels will not stop with their attacks. I know they’re just lying low right now but I’m almost sure they will attack again. Innocent lives have been lost. The Empire isn’t evil. I mean… if the Empire had plans of world conquest they could’ve done so many years ago. The Empire doesn’t need magic.”

       “Very interesting hypothesis. But what then is the Empire’s ultimate goal?”

       “Global accord and its security. It’s not the best choice of words I could think of at the moment but that sums it up fairly nicely.”

       “Semantics in play, that spells global domination and total control. Mind you, global conquest is entirely different,” Cid said. “The Empire manufactures more Magitek Weapons than medical equipment. We train more soldiers than doctors and physicians. What does that tell you?”

       Celes chuckled. “Why, Cid. You sound like you’re complaining. Don’t you like it here any more?”

       “I never liked it here. But where else would I continue my research?”

       “Aha!” she said with a smile of triumph. “So you, too, are also here for the food!”

       Cid sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It’s a sad state of affairs. Might makes right. Either you’re with the flow of the river or you’re against it.”

       “For a soldier it’s simpler and less promising. We follow orders or die following orders.”

       “Unless you’re the one giving the orders.”

       “Heh! Like that’ll happen. The orders I give to the new recruits are hardly even orders. To them I’m just an annoyance they hope to get rid of by advancing to the next course. That’s very encouraging!” she said sarcastically, finishing her glass of wine. “I’ve been sending my application to be one of the next magical infusion candidates. They’ve been rejecting them since I got into the army. They said that I would have to be at least a First Lieutenant to be a candidate. That or I would have to be handpicked by a high ranking military personnel. Well, I’m already a First Lieutenant and I’m still here. So I guess I have to improve my chances of getting chosen by rising up to a higher rank. I’m trying to get promoted to Captain. I believe I can still do that. Becoming a major is kind of a stretch. And I know being a Lt. Colonel is impossible. I know my limits.”

       “A pity,” he muttered before taking another sip of his wine. “But I suppose you don’t have to be a dreamer to be so like much your mother. You probably don’t realize this but you are very much like her--including the looks and poise. And that’s hard to say since she wasn’t a soldier like you are now.”

       Celes shrugged, looking uninterested in the conversation. She glanced to her side and saw a large group of people exiting the refectory. It was too early to retire to bed but for a lot of soldiers, especially the smart ones, it was always a good idea not to wait till it was late at night. Morning trainings were always taxing to the mind and body. Looking up above her she noticed that the rain had stopped and the glass surface was clear of the haze and optical distortion created by the splashing water.

       The sky was still cloudy. No doubt it would rain again soon. There was absolutely nothing to look at outside. She sighed.

       “Tired?” Cid asked.

       “On the contrary, I feel very much active since I woke up this morning.”

       Cid averted his eyes from hers and looked over the rails to see how many people were still inside the building besides them. Then he said in a tone that sounded like he was uninterested in the new topic of conversation, “You don’t say.”

       Celes thought he had caught a glimpse of emotion from Cid’s face that she had never seen before. It didn’t feel right to her but then it could’ve been just her imagination. Celes pressed on.

       “Yes. I was--am--in a rare form. Usually, at this time of day I would be exhausted both in mind and body but not today. I don’t even feel tired in a least bit. Isn’t that strange? I don’t even think I’d get a good night’s sleep tonight with so much energy left.”

       “No, I don’t think that’s strange at all. It happens. It even happens to me at my age. But like you said, it happens rarely,” he said in haste. Then, straightening up he continued, “Shall we? I need to be up early tomorrow and--oh!”

       Cid’s eyes caught a group of Spitfires through the glass roof, flying overhead in a V formation. They had been dispatched from a nearby Magitek Hangar within the Bronze Compound for their evening patrols over the capital in their designated routes. They flew in patterns over the streets and buildings shining their search lights from above, actively looking for people who broke the curfew.

       “Goodness! It’s that late already?” Cid exclaimed.

       He wasn’t at all worried about the curfew and neither was Celes. They were exempt due to their rank and position, although, it was still advisable not to be about when they weren’t suppose to. It raised questions.

       Celes sighed again. She didn’t feel like going back to her quarters yet. As if in protest of the idea, she didn’t stand up when Cid did.

       Smiling, he stood ready to go. “Are you going to stay here a little longer?”

       Celes thought about it. “If you don’t mind, Cid. I’d like to go to the gym after this. I need to burn up a bit more of this energy in me else I won’t be able to fall asleep tonight.”

       “Very well then,” Cid said as he wore his yellow raincoat. “It’s been a lovely evening spent with you as always, Celes. I will see you next week, same time, same place, I suppose. I have a big day tomorrow.”

       “Good night, Cid,” she said, smiling back. “Always a pleasure.”

**********

       After Celes had rested a little inside the Common Refectory, headed for the Army’s Fitness and Training Center where she had been earlier in the afternoon. It was the first time that she went there in the evening. There were less people there at the time. Most soldiers had the sense to just take the evening as a sign to retire to bed.

       She ran laps indoors, trying to exhaust herself. After twenty laps and she still did not feel physically tired she tried thinking about random things to get her mind tired, at least. She tried solving long arithmetic in her head at first as she continued running laps. She was not a math genius but she tried it anyway just to keep her brain cells working. When she arrived at an answer to her made-up math problem, she just shrugged and never bothered to check whether her answer was correct or not. Getting to the correct answer was beside the point. It was the mental process that she wanted to set in motion.

       After a few math problems in her head she turned to thinking about the mysteries of the present challenges of studying magic. It had been the subject of their lecture earlier during the day.

       One topic actually sparked her interest. It was that of the puzzling and erratic nature of the magical force and aviation technology. There had been experiments long ago to combine magical energy with flight technology. They were catastrophic failures. For some reason, magical energy was harder to control when in flight. The special battery packs that contained the magical energy either overloaded or got mysteriously drained for no viably observable reasons. The flight tests resulted in crashes or explosions--most often, both. Many died during the first tests, when the engineers and scientists were still confident that their calculations and corrections were perfect. In the end, they resorted to automated flights as experiments. “At the frequency of the flight experiments, we would’ve run out of pilots by now!” said their professor in exasperation. “Our current theory is that contained magical energy becomes violently out of scale the higher above the ground it is raised, resulting in the failure,” stated the professor.

       Other mysteries included the unpredictable result of the Drain and Revive magic, disruption of the Invisibility Magic, short-term positive effect of the magical infusion process and the ineffectiveness of other spells such as Stop, Dispel, Imp and Osmose.

       After an hour in the Training Center she exited the building without even bothering to wear her raincoat. She just ran outside in the rain, heading for her quarters. She didn’t mind getting wet. She had planned to take a shower in her quarters before she retired for the night. Her feet splashed the water-covered pavement. Her hair, no longer kept together by a hairpin, sagged and clung to her neck and shoulders. The rain felt deliciously warm against her skin. It was not cold at all.

       Training the recruits tomorrow morning would be more interesting if this doesn’t stop. I hope it doesn’t, she wished. I wonder if Capta--

       A blinding flash of lightning distracted her thought. She was forced to close her eyes as she was running. Common sense dictated for her to stop running until she regained her sight but that part did not go well for Celes. Celes’s left foot had stepped on something very slippery. She immediately lost control and balance as she toppled backwards, sending her feet ahead of her and into the air while her body continued to thrust forward from the momentum that she initially carried. Reflex sent both her arms to prepare for a rough fall but it was too late. She fell roughly on her back that she even hit the back of her head on the pavement. She very nearly blacked out from the blow but didn’t. Instead, she felt her whole body sliding forward still--spinning, even--on the slick pavement. The pain in her head and on her body was enough to disorient and impair her judgment. Was she still sliding? Was she really spinning?

       After what she felt to be a full minute, the world had stopped moving. She was lying on the pavement, staring at the gray sky with heavy raindrops pounding on her face.

       What in the world just happened?

       Celes groaned as she sat up slowly, mindful of any broken bone, stinging scrape or sore bruise. Her vision darkened slightly as the pain from the back of her head returned. She felt the spot at the back of her head with her right hand. There was a painful lump. Her face grimaced in pain. Sharp needles shot to her eyes. She covered them both with her hands when she felt an icy cold sensation on her cheeks.

       She forced herself to open her eyes and look at her hands.

       Great Goddesses!

       Her hands were covered with frost, quickly melting with the rain. She rubbed them off quickly and looked at the ground.

       Ice!

       Indeed. Celes was lying on an ice-covered pavement. Slowly, she stood up with great care and maintained her balance. She looked at the pavement and found herself to be at the center of a circular area where a thin layer of rainwater had frozen over.

       Where did this come from? she asked as she estimated the diameter of the near circular area. Her guess was thirty feet.

       The ice was starting to melt with the rainwater. The edges were already breaking apart. She looked around her, searching for clues as to what could have caused the water to freeze. She found none. She was alone.

       The most logical explanation she could think of was that a Magitek Weapon had created it earlier for whatever the reason. Perhaps a test of the weapon’s Ice setting. Or perhaps it was simply and irresponsibly fired by a soldier to watch the water freeze for his own amusement. She doubted her theory very much. Magitek activities had been restricted since the Orange Alert. If a Magitek Armor were scheduled for testing then the entire Army would know about it as a precaution. After the Terra Episode, nobody wanted any more surprises.

       Still, it was the most logical explanation she could think of. My head hurts, but I don’t have any scrapes, at least. I’m going to have this lump at the back of my head checked tomorrow.

**********

       Celes stared at the ceiling of her bedroom. She had taken a quick shower after a non-eventful walk the rest of the way home. Her headache was gone now giving her the mental strength to ponder upon what had happened.

       Let’s see… I was running and a lightning flashed from nearby, blinding me. I closed my eyes and the next thing I know I was bracing for a rough impact. I hit my head and slid down a few feet. Took me a while to notice I was lying on something cold. Maybe I should report this to somebody tomorrow. It could be serious. I don’t recall reading about a Magitek deployment for today.

       Another possibility crept into Celes’s mind. A magical discharge by magic-user, perhaps? That would be scary if that were the case. Magic was disallowed outside until further notice. I hope we don’t have another attack soon. But how can that be? Could it be possible that we have another traitor in our midst?

       Celes turned to her right side and closed her eyes. She pulled the blanket up to her shoulder and tried to go to sleep. Her mind was not at rest, as well as her body. The energy she woke up with that morning was still present. She ignored it with the might of her will. She’d need it tomorrow. Still, something was bothering her about the whole thing. Granted, the ice was strange enough by itself… but Celes knew that she was missing something completely different about the event. More specifically, there was something wrong about the flash of lightning.

       Celes opened her eyes slightly and found herself staring at the closed window. It was still pouring out. She saw a bright flash from the outside. One… two… three… four… five… she counted before she heard the thunder from the distance.

       Celes’s eyes widened in realization. She had identified the other thing that had been bothering her.

       Thunder! There was no thunder!

       The sky above her was as white as snow and yet without a definite source of light. Below her was pitch black like the center of a chasm or a moonless, starless night. The horizon was gray--dull and lifeless.

       Celes stood on a circular piece of land. It was a floating island in a sea of white, gray and black emptiness. She was nowhere. It was a dream. She was very well aware of this for she had dreamt this dream before and yet it she was unsure of how it would play out. She was neither afraid nor curious. She was relaxed and calm. She knew that she was safe. She felt that she belonged somehow. At the center of the small island was a slab of stone with carved runes. It was a monolith, standing eerily like a gravestone.

       Celes moved towards it and traced the runes with her fingers. The stone felt warm to the touch as though it was radiating heat. The symbols were ancient. She could tell just by looking at it. She did not understand what they runes meant. She couldn’t read the mysterious language.

       The sky above sang in gentle tones.

       Fire traced the runes of the monolith. Celes drew back her hand in alarm. She didn’t get hurt. The flame on the runes spread throughout the surface of the slab and dissipated as suddenly as it had appeared, replacing the symbols with newer ones. From around her a whispering voice chanted.

       The slab started to grow cold. So cold that the air surrounding it chilled Celes to the bone. She could see her breath in puffs of smoke. She began to shiver slightly as she took a step back. Frost covered the slab entirely. A new set of symbols replaced the second one. Then an ominous voice from the eternal darkness below spoke in vehemence.

       A powerful bolt of lightning ripped through the air and struck the monolith with a deafening clap of thunder. Celes’s heart jumped, as she herself hit the ground. The monolith had split open, the top of which was vaporized into dust, debris and smoke, as a lithe, shining figure took its place.

       It was a sword made of pure white material. Her first impression was that it was ivory or maybe marble but she also had a feeling that it was neither. Whatever the material was, it was otherworldly. It didn’t look very strong; instead, it seemed very fragile. She drew closer and examined it without touching it. There were no sharp edges on the blade like a kid’s make-believe sword. The design, however, was clearly feminine. The sword was constructed as though it were carved from this mysterious material rather than assembled. There were no noticeable separation between the hilt and the blade. If they weren’t carved then they were probably molded into shape by an unknown force.

       The type of blade did not exist in the history of Terrae. The sword was definitely not in the broadsword family. The blade was narrow and elegant like a rapier’s blade. But unlike the rapier, the white sword was curved and single-edged, and as mentioned before, the edge was not sharp. Also unlike normal rapiers, the white sword did not have the intricate guard. If such a sword were fashioned in the waking world, it would’ve been ornamental in purpose. Perhaps one could stab somebody with the white sword since the tip was pointy enough. But even then, she feared that the sword would break… even if it were made of metal.

       The voices whispered together in unison, projecting the questions in her mind that she wanted to ask out loud.

       The voices added more riddles. Rhetorical questions, perhaps.

       Celes bravely took a step forward, obeying the voices. She feared nothing. She was as calm and serene as ever. She trusted the voices. To do otherwise seemed utter folly. She obeyed for it seemed like the most natural thing to do. As primal as survival. She gripped the sword by its hilt. It felt surprisingly comfortable to the touch. She didn’t want to let go of it. She felt… protected by it. She felt invincible and impervious to the elements. She started to think that she could single-handedly defeat an army with it. The feeling wrought within her by the touch of the mystical sword was exhilarating. It gave her courage to brave the most fearful of storms. It made her forget about the questions she had earlier. Holding the sword in her hand, the answer to the questions seemed obvious. Somehow, she knew the answers, though she could not put them into words.

       The white sky, black abyss and the gray horizon suddenly started to swirl together in a dizzying display. It was like a painter mixing together the colors to produce the desired shade of gray. But with all the effort of the unknown forces of the realm, the colors would not mix as one. White stayed unblemished. Black stayed true. Gray stayed undiluted.

       All around her the voices thundered their final declaration in a language that she did not understand.

       As the words were recited, tendrils, wisps and vines grew from the hilt of the sword, made of the same mysterious material, wrapping around the blade in delicate patterns. Lastly, it wrapped around her hand making it impossible for her to let go. But Celes didn’t fear it. She felt that she and the sword were meant to be together. Runes started to appear on the surface of the blade with symbols similar to the ones on the ruined monolith. She had the feeling that the runes spelled the previously spoken words. They were etched by fire, carved by lightning, and cooled by ice. The transformation was purely magical.

       But Celes knew that the sword was not the only thing that was transformed in the process. She, too, was changed. Staring at the runes of the slender blade, she understood them all.

       The ground began to tremble. She knew that the floating island was about to crumble beneath her feet and fall into… nothingness. She couldn’t tell which way the pieces would fall--which way she would fall--because the colors were in constant, changing disorder. But Celes didn’t care. She wasn’t afraid. The aura that made her immune to fear in the realm still took its effect. Perhaps it was the sword, perhaps it was something else. But a question sparked to life in her doubtless mind.

       “Who are you?”

       The island broke apart into several sections. She was able to keep her balance and stay on the largest section but she knew it wouldn’t stay that large for long. Still she wasn’t afraid.

       “Who are you?” she asked again, louder this time.

       The rock she was standing on shattered. She fell through the scattering debris. She felt weightless at first for she had lost her orientation of up and down. She knew she was falling and she didn’t care. She just waited patiently for an answer that did not come.

       She was falling faster now. Heading to a direction that was beyond awareness. Up, down, sideways… it didn’t matter. This was where the dream ended.

       Celes woke up with a start. She sat up abruptly, breathing rapidly as she came out of a nightmare. It was pitch black but she knew where she was exactly. She was back in the waking world in her private quarters. She felt the pounding of her heart in her chest. She remembered the dream--the nightmare. It was all so strange. She didn’t remember being afraid in the dream but she was scared now--frightened. Perspiration trickled down the side of her head and onto her cheek. She was trembling. She wanted to cry. The fear was completely irrational. Her hands were both balled to fists, clutching at the sheets of her bed. She tried to will it to relax to no avail.

       A lightning flashed through her window and a thunder rolled from far away. She looked outside and saw that it was still raining. Only this time, wind, lightning and thunder joined the rhythmic ensemble. She started to calm a bit. She hoped that she wasn’t coming up with a fever.

       She sighed. Great! How am I going to get back to sleep now?

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       The day has arrived after one rainy night where a lot of different events have happened but none of them yet were interconnected. Each of the events occurred on their own accord--manifested by people for their own purpose. The innocent and the guilty, all unsuspecting, coexisted in a world of internal Imperial conflict. Emperor Gestahl, General Cristophe, Advisor Palazzo, Colonel Llurd, Master Director del Norte Marguez and First Lieutenant Chere--all on tipped scales that were about to be tipped some more, one hoping to maintain the balance and one hoping to throw it off.

**********

       Colonel Harold Llurd wore his military gala uniform with all the pins and medals that he had earned during his entire service in the Imperial Army. In his office were relics of battles he had fought and won--a tattered flag, broken swords, dented helms, and scorched earth. If it were only possible he would probably display his battle scars along with them. Frowning, Llurd had to content himself with numerous commendations from General Fencross, General Cristophe and even Emperor Gestahl, all in frames hanging on the walls.

       With a glass of red wine in hand, he approached each of them, and then read them out loud and proudly. He recalled each of the battles pertaining to each honor and his masterful strategies, bravery and ferocity that won them all. It brought tears to his eyes and a lump in his throat.

       So long have I waited. So long have I walked and endured the tests. I have earned them all. In only a matter of minutes, my dream will come true. The battle was hard but I will prevail--I already have. Tomorrow morning, Imperial soldiers will be saluting me as a general!

       Then he came upon a particular medal. It was in the shape of a gold hand holding a hammer. The sight caught him off guard. He had wanted to forget all about it. It brought him to wonder why he had kept it at all. It was a medal that was not easy to receive. It was a special medal of bravery. One would only be so proud to have received such a great honor but not Llurd. The memory that haunted the medal clawed at him like a ravenous bird of prey. It wasn’t a ghost of a horrifying memory of a traumatic event. It was the ghost of guilt, attacking his very conscience.

       I did what I had to do, he rationalized in defense. I did what I could.

       The door opened behind him and a subordinate shuffled in quietly. It was Lt. Barnes, carrying his usual clipboard of reports.

       “Colonel, your men have returned from their mission and are waiting for you in the barrack.”

       Llurd took in a deep breath and held it for as long as he could. It was time for him to snap out of his sentimental thoughts and get back to reality--the more rewarding realm.

       “Casualties?” Llurd simply asked.

       Barnes smiled before he answered. “Your men do not know the meaning of the word, sir. Casualties: zero.”

       Llurd smiled slyly. He walked out of his office with Barnes following behind him. It didn’t take them long to reach the outside, on their way to his team’s barrack. It was morning but the sun still had a few more hours to spend on the other side of the world.

       “Have the ten reported to you yet?” he asked as he walked. There weren’t anybody in sight besides them. Their path was illuminated by electric lamp posts.

       “The initial ten council members have indeed reported in, sir. They have sent in their votes fifteen minutes ago. However, we have no word yet from Lemarr, Ardner, and Siroch. Should I attempt to contact them, sir?”

       “Not yet. They must be making sure that my men have ‘secured’ my part of the deal. They will not be disappointed,” Llurd answered without so much a hint of worry in his voice.

       “Very well, sir. We have our comm device in the barracks. Should they contact us after their votes they can reach us directly from inside.”

       “Very good.”

       “And, sir?”

       “What is it, Barnes?”

       Barnes stopped dead in his tracks just a few feet from the barrack’s entrance and waited for his commander to do the same. Llurd, puzzled, stopped and turned to his subordinate. “What is it, soldier?” he asked.

       “May I be the first to have the honor of saluting the new general of Vector!”

       With that, he dropped his clipboard on the ground, stood smartly and stiffly under a lamppost’s electric light, and saluted.

       Llurd could not keep a straight and stern face any longer. It was time for him to admit it. It was time for him to stop being pessimistic. The title was his and no superstition was going to stop fate. With a rare bright smile on his face he faced his loyal lieutenant and acknowledged the honor. At about the same time, loud boisterous yells and shots erupted from within the unadorned building.

       Both Llurd and Barnes rushed inside to see what was going on. His men were all in high spirits, cheering and being as loud and rowdy as they could in their uniforms.

       “What on Terrae is going on here?!” Llurd shouted, his voice booming and demanding order which was shortly given.

       The barrack fell silent as the soldiers all stood in two lines facing each other, unmoving.

       Llurd asked again, “What is going on? Weller!”

       A soldier in line stepped forward and faced him.

       “At ease, Weller. Answer the question.”

       “Sir, Mr. Lemarr, the council member, just made contact. Lt. Barnes was out to report to you so we had to answer.”

       “What did he have to say?” Llurd asked, barely able to contain his excitement. He already knew the answer but he wanted to hear it still.

       Weller smiled. “He said that he, Mr. Siroch, and Mr. Ardner all submitted their votes at the same time. They all voted for you, sir!”

       Barnes opened his mouth to let out a cheer but caught himself just in time. Llurd was in shock. He approached the soldier slowly and held him by the shoulders. Then Llurd whispered softly but clearly.

       “Are you sure, soldier?”

       Weller nodded saying, “We heard it crystal clear from the comm device, sir. They will be contacting again. But we all heard it crystal clear. The three of them voted for you!”

       His heart rate increased in excitement. He wanted to shout and jump to release the welling energy within him but he dared not let his dignity be compromised. He felt dizzy. He felt sick to the stomach. He clung to Weller’s shoulders to balance himself.

       It was the happiest day of his life.

       “Sir?” Weller said, his face wincing in pain. “Sir!”

       Barnes stepped closer and held his commander by the arm. Barnes immediately saw what was going on. His commander was holding on so tightly to Weller that his grip hurt.

       “Sir!” Barnes shouted to get his commander’s attention. “Are you alright?” Lt. Barnes asked as he helped Weller pry Llurd’s fingers off of his shoulders.

       Llurd released his grip suddenly as if snapping back to the waking world. Weller staggered backwards, rubbing both his shoulders. “Sir?” Barnes called again. “Congratulations, sir! You’re a general! You did it. You’re a general!”

       Llurd’s eyes were wide open. He was not laughing or smiling. He was still in shock. The others smiled in line. They were happy for their commander. They were happy for themselves. Each of them would be greatly rewarded. Each of them would be serving a general in the morning. It was a prestige for the entire unit. It was a happy day for all of them.

       The soldiers made themselves at ease. They began to cheer and fill the room with such positive energy, patting their commander on the back and congratulating him. They made so much noise that they woke up the other soldiers in other barracks closest to them. They didn’t care. They were in the presence of a general. No other commanding officer could touch them now. They were protected. It was an unspoken promotion for each of them.

       They served a general.

       It took Barnes a full minute to regain composure. The blood that was drained from his face was now returning. It started with a silent laugh. The kind that was not apparent if it weren’t for his shoulders that bobbed up and down. Then his laugh joined the audible cheers until it was the loudest of them all. He started to hug (the manly kind) everybody in sight and patted them in the back. The soldiers punched him in the shoulders as a congratulatory gesture. A few used the words ‘General’ and ‘Llurd’ in a sentence. Barnes ordered a couple of his comrades to bring out the drinks that they had prepared. The two obligingly obeyed and started to pass out glasses and filled them with cooled champagne.

       They toasted and drank and then drank some more. A soldier yelled, “Speech! Speech!” but Llurd hushed him saying, “I don’t have one ready yet!”

       “Oh, come on!” yelled out his men. “Speech! Speech! Speech…!” they all chanted.

       Llurd signaled them to stop, giving in to the request, with a proud smile on his face. “Fine! I will!” The soldiers all clapped and then hushed to silence, intent on hearing their commander’s words.

       Llurd took a deep breath and began.

       “My friends--comrades! I… am… proud. I am proud of all of you, and your exceptional service under my command. I just want to say that I could not have done it without you--without your courage and strength, without your loyalty and integrity. I owe each of you a great deal! And I shall not disappoint. Tomorrow they shall announce in public of my promotion. The Council shall make the recognition solely to myself but know that I share this prestige to all of you. Together we will reap the rewards! I, as general, will not forget all of you. All of you will compose my own team of Elites! I will share my spot in the pages of Vector’s history with you!”

       The cheers ensued as they raised their glasses into the air and drank to their health. Their spirits were all so high that they nearly didn’t notice the comm device beep. Somebody was contacting them. Barnes was the first to notice. He hurried to pick up the receiver and the others immediately around him hushed to a tolerable din. However, most were still oblivious to the call, including Llurd himself who was having a smoke with his men.

       “Lt. Barnes here… Yes… Yes…? As a matter of fact, he is here… Do you want to--? Excuse me…? I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard you right…” Barnes grabbed the comm device and took it with him to the farthest corner of the room, covering his other ear with his cupped hand. “Mr. Lemarr, please repeat that last thing you just said… No, before that…! What?! You’re… you… you can’t be serious…! How is this possible…?”

       As Barnes listened to Mr. Lemarr over the comm device his hand began to shake. His face contorted to a look of puzzlement and fear. His heart raced and he began to perspire. He dropped the receiver of the comm device onto the floor and looked straight to his commander across the room.

       Llurd was in a middle of telling a funny joke when he saw Barnes’s ashen face. He looked like he had just seen a ghost. He stopped in mid-sentence and his smile disappeared completely. He sensed that something was wrong. The entire barrack sensed that something was horribly wrong… and it had something to do with the call.

       “Lt. Barnes?” Llurd asked nervously.

       Barnes just stared back, his mouth slightly hanging open. He had no words ready to tell his commander the news.

       “Lieutenant? Who was it?”

       “It… it was Lemarr,” he replied, finding the strength to speak again.

       “What is wrong, Lieutenant!” Llurd asked again, impatiently.

       “The Council just tallied the votes…”

       Llurd began to feel sick. He could almost hear the bad news. He didn’t want to ask any more. But he had to know. He needed to know where he went wrong.

       “Who’s the new general?” Llurd asked.

       “It’s… I… I--“ Barnes struggled to say the name of the new general when it occurred to him that he did not know the answer to the question. “I don’t know, sir.”

       “What do you mean you don’t know?! Give me an answer, soldier! I want an answer!” Llurd was yelling. The soldiers near him backed away.

       Barnes gave him the only accurate answer that he could give at the time.

       “Not you, sir. Not you.”

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       “What are we to do now? The colonel will certainly have us killed, one way or the other!” Mr. Lemarr said to his companions who were in the same predicament as he. He, Ardner and Siroch were huddled closely together at the corner of the entrance hall of the Imperial Military Council Chamber.

       They weren’t alone. The twenty-two other council members were present in the large entrance hall, speaking amongst themselves in small groups. Distress was in the air. An unexpected event had just occurred and they were mostly furious about it.

       “We voted for him. That was the deal! We could not guarantee the result of votes. We kept to our end of the bargain. We have it in writing and there is nothing he can do about it. Just as there is nothing we can do about this!” Ardner explained to his companions, trying to look at the situation positively.

       “Then perhaps you would like to volunteer to explain this to him personally,” interjected Siroch. “He will want an answer. And not just any answer--he will want a solution!”

       “Colonel Llurd will have to see for himself that this is beyond our power to change! We did what he wanted us to do. This… development was absolutely unexpected. He will have to accept it!” Ardner argued.

       Lemarr was not the least bit optimistic.

       He was the most nervous of them all. “I was the one to report to him about the votes! He will take it out on me!” Lemarr said, with a voice that sounded like a squeal at the end of the sentence. He was panicking. He kept glancing over his shoulders seeming to be wary of assassins breathing down his neck. “I don’t know about you but I’m leaving Vector the first chance I get. I’ll take my family with me. We’ll hide somewhere… Maranda, perhaps! No… we’ll go to the North Continent!”

       “Don’t be a fool, Lemarr! You cannot leave Vector that easily. The Empire is still in yellow alert. If you even try to leave you’ll be shot without question!” warned Siroch.

       “I will talk to Colonel Llurd when he comes. I will explain to him everything that can be explained. Look around you! The others are in the same predicament as we are in. None of us saw it coming. I don’t know about you two but I’m partially relieved that this did happen. Think about it! We’re essentially off the hook!”

       “Only if we can convince the Col--“

       The double doors to the antechamber opened wide suddenly. Two men walked in wearing military gala uniform. It was Colonel Llurd and Lt. Barnes. The twenty-five council members all hushed to complete silence and watched the two. A few stepped out of the way as Llurd walked toward the center of the antechamber with slow, deliberate steps. Barnes stayed standing by the open doors. Llurd scanned the room with his cold, calculating eyes. He looked straight into the eyes of each of council members and recognized the thirteen who were supposed to vote for him immediately. He knew their names and he remembered the deals he had made with them.

       Llurd spotted Lemarr last. He locked eyes with him and approached him slowly. The other council members parted to get out of his way. His face was like stone. His anger was contained coolly within but it was not something to be tested. Lemarr trembled in his presence. He started to breathe quick, short breaths.

       Llurd stopped about three feet away from him and stared right into his eyes, inflicting fear upon the poor fellow. Then he spoke clearly--and almost slowly--in a normal tone of voice that everybody present heard.

       “Mr. Lemarr. I come to you because there seemed to be a bit of… misunderstanding in the earlier conversation that you and my personal assistant had over the military comm device. I hope that it is something that can be attributed to an… electrical interference.”

       “C-Colonel Llurd. I… I’m afraid that Lt. Barnes had heard correctly,” Lemarr said, his voice barely audible.

       “Indeed? Hmm…” Llurd raised his brows as he turned away from Lemarr and back to the crowd behind him. He walked towards the center of the antechamber again. Everybody was still silent and nervous, including the ones who weren’t supposed to vote for him for they knew that Llurd was not the type of man anyone should cross.

       Suddenly, he smiled a fake smile and spoke out loud, “So! Who is the new general? Colonel Bramon Ranger? Colonel Saric Blaey? Lt. Barnes over there didn’t quite catch the name of the… winner. Who do I salute tomorrow morning?”

       Nobody answered. They knew the answer but no one dared to call the Colonel’s attention towards himself.

       “Ah! No matter! I’ll find out tomorrow when you gentlemen announce it in public. However, I would like to know whom I have to thank for this.” Llurd said the last sentence ominously.

       Llurd was already on his way out when two more men appeared at the door. He stopped and smiled slyly.

       “Well, now! What a coincidence!” he said sarcastically. “Colonel Ranger and Colonel Blaey are here, too. Good morning to both of you, colonels,” he greeted with the same bitter tone of voice. “Or would it be more accurate to say, ‘colonel and general?’ Forgive my ignorance, I would salute the new general but, unfortunately for me, I simply do not know who it is.”

       “Calm down, Harold!” Colonel Blaey said, scornfully. “None of us got the job!”

       A puzzled look overcame Llurd’s face. “What do you mean?” he asked.

       “Isn’t it obvious, Harold?” Colonel Ranger.

       “Did General Fencross recover from his coma?” Llurd asked, casting a glance at Lt. Barnes who was supposed to know such news.

       “No, Harold,” Ranger said, derisively. “The Council chose somebody else! And from what I’ve heard, it was a unanimous vote.”

       Llurd turned back to the crowd behind him. “Unanimous?!” he exclaimed wearing an ugly frown on his face. “Not one of you voted for me?” His stare went back to Lemarr.

       “It’s not what you think, Colonel!” Lemarr began.

       “Indeed?” Colonel Blaey said. “Please explain it to us, gentlemen. How was it that a unanimous vote was achieved when our… informants reported to us a different voting result?”

       “It’s really quite simple, Colonels,” began Ardner wearing a calm face. He opened his mouth to say the explanation when the door to the Imperial Military Council Chamber opened.

       From it emerged an unexpected figure. General Cristophe stood before them all with a slight smile on his face. He seemed to be enjoying the confusion in the antechamber.

       The three colonels and the first lieutenant all saluted to him. They were shocked and even more confused. What was General Cristophe’s business with the Council at this time of day?

       General Cristophe regarded the three colonels scornfully.

       “What is your name, lieutenant?” Leo asked Barnes at the very back of the crowd. He had recognized his status with the uniform he was wearing.

       “Sir, First Lieutenant Jeremy Barnes, sir!” he answered promptly.

       “Lieutenant Barnes, your presence here is not needed. I order you to return to your quarters immediately,” Leo barked.

       Lt. Barnes did not hesitate. He saluted again and with a final glance at his colonel he left, closing the double doors behind him. The silence reigned in the antechamber. He had not yet acknowledged the colonels’ salute. General Cristophe approached the colonels. He started with Llurd.

       “Colonel Harold Llurd?”

       “Yes, sir!” he answered.

       He examined Llurd closely. He noticed the military gala uniform that he was wearing and Leo found it amusing. Nevertheless, he kept his amusement to himself. He walked next to Colonel Blaey.

       “Colonel Blaey?”

       “Yes, sir!” answered Blaey as well.

       He went to the last colonel present. “Colonel Ranger,” he said. It didn’t sound like a question this time.

       “Yes, sir!” he also promptly answered.

       “At ease, gentlemen!” Leo ordered. “I’m sure that you have a lot of questions on your mind at this very moment. Don’t despair, gentlemen. All questions shall be answered.” Leo turned back to the doors of the main chamber. “Therefore, let us not waste any more time. The Military Council awaits us within!” he announced.

       The colonels all glanced at each other uncomprehendingly.

       “The Council, general?” Colonel Llurd braved to ask.

       Leo turned to face him with a twisted smile. “That is correct, gentlemen.”

       “Begging your pardon, general, but we do not understand,” Llurd said.

       “Mr. Ardner, you were in the process of explaining to the colonels what precisely is going on. Please do continue for the colonels’ sakes,” Leo said.

       “Of course, general,” Ardner began. “Colonel Llurd, we are no longer members of the Council. We, to put it simply, have been replaced by the New Military Council, effective precisely an hour ago.” Ardner said it rather proudly despite the fact that he had just been fired from his job.

       The colonels’ mouths all hung slightly open in surprise. Without further delay, General Cristophe pushed open the doors and entered. The old council members followed him. The three colonels entered last. The crowd found themselves at the center of the half-circular room. A long arching table faced them. Behind the tables sat the members of the New Military Council. A chair in the middle of the long table was empty. There were only ten of them, not counting the empty chair. They were old war veterans no longer in field service. General Cristophe had the honor of being under the command of a couple of them a long time ago.

       General Cristophe walked around long table and sat down at the middle chair.

       “I wish to make this quick,” General Cristophe announced. The people to his sides stared at the colonels with stern, icy-cold looks. “The Old Military Council is no more. All of Its members have been discharged. A new council is present before you. They shall continue what the old council has started.

       “However, there will be changes. Vector had long endured the weak ruling of the old council. I have personally proposed to the Great Emperor Gestahl of its reformation and his Benevolent Lordship has granted me the power to make it so. He believes that this reformation is a strong and prudent initiative to root out the corruption within the ranks. In turn, this action shall temper even more the integrity of the Imperial Military.

       “To my sides are but a few of the surviving war heroes of Vector. They are those who still believe in the honorable hierarchy and stringent chain of commands. They are incorruptible. They are powerful. And they are granted the right and authority to strip anybody of command, and this does not exempt me. They are to be feared! They are to be respected! And though they no longer hold any rank within the military hierarchy, they are still to be saluted. To offend one of the new council members is to make the gravest mistake of your military-political career.

       “We shall not make an apology for the… inconvenience that this has caused each of you. The old council members’ disbandment without investigation had been a generous ruling of the New Council. Do not expect it to happen again in the future for whatever the situation.

       “We shall not make an apology for the annulled decision to promote an individual to the rank of general. The annulment of the decision without investigation had been a lenient ruling of the New Council. This, also, is not to be expected to happen again.

       “In short, due to your past services, we have granted each of you reprieve for all unlawful acts committed. But the New Council shall look the other way only this once. Consider yourselves fortunate.

       “The Council will now entertain any question,” General Cristophe ended.

       A soft murmur among the old council members rose to a tolerable noise.

       Mr. Ardner asked the first question.

       “W-what happens to us now?”

       The ten new members glared down at Ardner with cold stares and furrowed brows but none of them said anything. They looked down on him with utter disgust. General Cristophe slowly glanced to his left and then to his right to see if any of the new council members would like to answer the question. When he saw that none were too happy about the question, he himself glared at Ardner. The new members and General Cristophe were silent. Their stares did not leave Ardner.

       Ardner’s heart raced. Their stares stabbed him through the heart like heated needles. He had gotten his answer.

       “I-I respectfully withdraw my question!” he said immediately and disappeared behind his disbanded comrades.

       “Are there other questions?” General Cristophe asked again.

       “I have a question, general,” Colonel Llurd said in a loud and clear voice. “How will the decision be made now?”

       “What decision do you speak of, Colonel Llurd?” asked the man to the immediate right of General Cristophe.

       “The choosing of the acting general in place of General Fencross,” Colonel Llurd promptly explained.

       “There will be no such decision to be made,” answered the man to the left of General Cristophe.

       The colonels glanced at each other, blinking in confusion.

       “So… Vector will not have a new general?” Colonel asked for confirmation.

       “Negative,” said the man to the far right. “Vector will indeed have a new general. There will be no such decision to be made for we have already made a decision most unanimous.”

       “Who? Who is our new general?” Llurd asked worriedly. If Lt. Barnes was right, it was not him.

       “Not you,” General Cristophe answered disdainfully.

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       Celes was furious. She had woken up the day before with a smile on her face. Now she was wearing a hardened frown of frustration. She couldn’t sleep. The energy within her could not be doused by prolonged physical exertion. After waking up from her dream she had returned to the Training Facility. It was hours still before the sun shone and she had run laps around the building at top speed but still she didn’t feel tired. The very few soldiers present watched her with slight interest at first which then turned to utter amazement when Celes decided to climb the ropes several times in a row--with added weights strapped on both of her legs.

       It was a marvelous display. Even the physical trainers present were awed and speechless. They had lost count at how many times she had reached the top of the forty-foot rope in a succession. Celes slid down the rope from the top gradually. When she landed back on the padded ground she fell on her knees, breathing deeply. Everybody thought that that was the end. To their surprise Celes cursed out loud, almost in tears.

       “What is the matter with me?!”

       It was then that she started to climb the rope again at an even faster pace than the previous times. The soldiers didn’t know exactly what they were looking at. It was obviously not normal--not even for the strongest, quickest, and toughest among them.

       Celes gave the rope up. It was not getting her anywhere. She still wasn’t tired.

       “Who wants to spar with me?” she shouted. Her voice echoed in the near-empty building. The soldiers looked at each other, nervously. “Come on! One hundred gold pieces to the first person to beat me!”

       The trainer in-charge volunteered first. He put on protective training gears as fast as he could and grabbed his training sword--no sharp edges. The trainer had beaten her a few times before in sword training exercises, when she had asked for a sparring partner. Surely, he could do it again with ease. It would be the easiest one hundred gold pieces that he would earn.

**********

       The trainer, named Brett, fell on all fours, catching his breath. He was exhausted and at the end of his strength. Many rounds had gone by already and he still hasn’t beaten Celes yet. He could not believe it. He didn’t remember her being this skillful and adept with the sword. Moreover, he didn’t remember her having such uncanny stamina.

       “What’s the matter, Brett? Is that all you have to show me? I’m very disappointed in you!” Celes said scornfully. She didn’t normally talk to people like that but she was angry and very frustrated. “You used to beat me all the time in training! What is wrong with you?!” she screamed. She was in tears. She needed to see a doctor. She needed to find out what was wrong with her. But she couldn’t stop. Her body wanted to keep on going.

       Celes relaxed and faced the rest of the soldiers gawking at the two of them. “Two hundred gold pieces… to the first pair to beat me!”

**********

       They moved so slowly. Their attacks appeared so apparent and predictable. They were so weak. I was too quick for them all. They didn’t even come close. I was surrounded and now they lie in individual masses of exhausted, pathetic excuses for soldiers. They should be dead by now if only my sword were real. No! They should be dead by now if only I didn’t hold back! Real sword or not, three against one or not, I could’ve killed them all!

       “I guess nobody wanted to have that five hundred gold pieces badly enough! You make me sick!” she yelled again. She wasn’t only angry, she was also terrified.

       In a violent moment of her unbridled fury, she threw her sparring sword to the farthest main wall of the building. It spun dangerously in the air and instead of making that clanging noise that metallic objects made when they hit the ground, it produced a kind of crash much similar to concrete being demolished by a sledge hammer.

       The training sword, stuck to the wall like a fired arrow hitting the truck of a tree.

       She saw this and she began to cry. She was afraid. She needed to see a doctor immediately. Her denial of the strange occurrence was at its end. She needed to see Cid first.

       Celes exited the Training Facility through its backdoor, running.

**********

       Cid was asleep when the call from the front desk came in. A buzzer woke him up. He groggily rolled over to his side to look at the clock--still two hours left before sunrise. He groaned irritably and rolled off his bed. He grabbed his robe that was thrown carelessly on a chair and wrapped it around him as he headed for the door to his luxurious suite that was only provided to the valued science team members.

       Grumbling, he pushed a button beside the door and asked, “This had better be good!”

       “Sorry to bother you, professor, but--“ a voice said from a small speaker just beside the button that he had pressed.

       “Who is this?” he asked irritably.

       “This is Tom at the front desk, sir.”

       “Oh, hello, Tom! What seems to be the emergency?” Cid asked in a more pleasant tone of voice. He was friends with Tom.

       “Sir, Lieutenant Chere is here with me and she wishes to see you immediately. She said it’s some sort of emer--“

       “Let her in!”

**********

       The time is precisely timestrike five and forty-nine counts. She was hysterical. In my arms she cried, mumbling about sleep and nearly killing somebody. I could not quite comprehend the rest of her words. She seemed confused… almost delirious but I observed that she was not feverish. I feared that it may have been some kind of an anxiety attack, perhaps triggered by a bad dream.

       “What are you writing?” Celes asked from the chair close to the fireplace. Her voice was hoarse from crying.

       Cid closed his journal and put his pen down on the kitchen table. He was completely out of Celes’s sight and had a considerable distance between himself and her.

       “How did you know I was, Celes?” Cid asked curiously.

       “I could hear the pen scratching on paper,” she answered calmly. She didn’t sound suspicious. It was simply a signal for Cid that she was ready to talk. “So what are you writing down?”

       Cid stood up from his chair and walked to her. “I was writing down my initial observations,” he said truthfully.

       Celes looked at her quizzically. “Why?”

       “I want to make sure that I don’t miss anything when the Infirmary Med Officers start asking questions,” he explained.

       Celes stared back into the fire. Her hands were still trembling slightly.

       “Are you cold?”

       “No,” she replied in an unintentional whisper.

       “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” Cid asked as he sat on a chair directly in front of her.

       “I can’t sleep.”

       “Are you tired?”

       “No,” she said shaking her head slowly. “That’s the point. I am not tired. I’m not tired even when I am supposed to be dead exhausted right now. I ran laps, I climbed the rope several times, and I sparred. And yet, I don’t feel tired at all. In fact, I can do them all over again and I still probably wouldn’t feel tired afterwards. I don’t know what’s going on, Cid! It’s not normal. I know that it’s not normal.”

       Cid regarded her seriously. “I believe you. But whatever this is, I’m sure it’s not a cause for concern. We’ll find an explanation for--“

       “I almost killed somebody today,” Celes interrupted. “I was angry and afraid. While I sparred, I almost killed Brett.”

       “Brett?”

       “A trainer. While we sparred I unleashed my anger onto him. I recall every second of the fight from beginning to end. I can count the exact many times I held back just in time before I could seriously hurt him or kill him… or kill them.”

       “Them?”

       “I was… dissatisfied with the sparring exercise,” she said with disgust. “I challenged the others present to fight me. Two at a time… then three. They didn’t stand a chance against me. I could’ve killed them all. They didn’t even touch me. They didn’t come close. Look, Cid!” Celes said motioning for him to look at her legs and ankles. “Lead weights! I climbed the ropes and I fought all of them with the weights still strapped on me! I may have injured some of them back there and… it’s just not normal, Cid! I feel… I feel…”

       Celes’s eyes started to get misty.

       “What do you feel, Celes? Tell me exactly how you feel,” Cid encouraged.

       Celes paused and slowly stared back into the fire.

       “I feel… invincible,” she said almost inaudibly.

       Cid frowned. Celes stood up slowly and paced around the room, pondering very carefully.

       “I’m afraid and yet… I fear nothing at the moment. I can’t explain it. I could face a hundred enemy soldiers and still not care. I could be in death row awaiting my execution and still remain calm. And yet here I am, trembling at the mere thought of it. I do not understand it! Why is this happening?”

       “I don’t know yet, Celes, but I promise you that we’ll get to the bottom of this. There could be numerous possible reasons.”

       “Like what?” she asked thoughtfully.

       “Um… well… like a chemical imbalance in your body causing your brain to release certain neurotransmitters that make you more active and alert.”

       Celes made a confused look. “Cid… I don’t feel tired at all!”

       “Feeling tired and being tired are two different things, Celes. You said you ran laps and did strenuous exercises. I’m willing to bet that your body is very tired right now but your mind makes you believe otherwise.”

       Celes calmed. “You think so?” she asked softly, seeming to accept that answer.

       “It’s a possibility. The question of why, however, is a different matter. Are you on any medication?”

       Celes blinked and looked at Cid in disbelief. “Cid… you know me.”

       “I’m just making sure, Celes. I’m merely trying to rule out external factors. What did you eat?”

       “The last thing I ate was the chicken dinner at the Common Refectory. You were there with me.”

       “But you said that you started feeling very active yesterday morning. What did you have for dinner the day before yesterday?”

       “The same food they serve in the mess hall. The weekly menu does not change. We had potatoes and grilled beef… or so they claimed,” Celes muttered the last part of the sentence with a derisive snort.

       “I have already given you a mild tranquilizer. It should help you relax a bit.”

       “Was that what you gave me? I hate tranquilizers.”

       “I don’t have to give you any more until we hear from the doctor. I’ll take you straight to Dr. Deregasi. He’s the best doctor in Vector and a good friend of mine. He’ll take care of everything.”

       “I’ve heard of him. Cid, I can’t afford him.”

       “I can. He owes me a great deal,” Cid said with a smile. “Now let me just get dressed and we’ll be off. And do take those weights strapped on your legs off. Try not to exert too much energy. Your body can only take so much strain.”

       “Cid, I need to tell my commanding officer about this.”

       “We’ll do it in the hospital, dear.”

       Celes sat back down to remove the straps off her legs and ankles. She barely felt the weights there. Much of Cid’s presumptions about the whole thing didn’t make sense but she didn’t blame him. He was not a medical doctor. She hoped that Cid’s friend would better explain everything to her.

       Cid left her alone and before going to his room to change, he made a quick stop in his kitchen. On the kitchen table lay the small notebook and a pen. He opened the book to the last journal entry and quickly scribbled a few lines.

       “I feel invincible.”

**********

       “Adrenaline levels are extremely high and dangerously unregulated by normal standards,” summarized Dr. Deregasi. “And yet, her brain is managing the strain quite well. It’s extraordinary!”

       Cid listened intently as Dr. Deregasi read from his charts. Celes was in the next room, running on a conveyor belt at a jogger’s pace. Wires stuck to her skin at various spots on her body, connected to the jogging machine itself to read vital readings. Such as heart rate, breathing, and more. They could see her through a glass window. She could see them also but she could not hear their conversation.

       “Richard, I want to know if she’s in any danger,” Cid said.

       “It doesn’t appear so, Cid. According to these readings she’s in perfect health. The brainwave activity seems very stable. Her heart rate and breathing are normal. The only abnormal thing that I can detect right now is her unbelievable stamina. It’s off the chart! I don’t know why just yet but we’ll soon find that out after we move on to the more advanced equipment in the building.”

       “I see,” Cid said flatly as he stared through the glass window. “What are the possible causes of this?”

       Dr. Deregasi shook his head as he thought. “Something like this is definitely external. An ingested or injected chemical agent, perhaps. A type of steroid?”

       “She told me she did not and does not take anything of that sort.”

       “I doubt that very much. It’s possible that she took it without her knowledge. Wrong prescription maybe?”

       Cid shook his head. “She’s not on any medication, Richard.”

       “Vitamins?”

       Cid thought carefully. “Quite possibly. The Army include the pills to go with their food. Do you suppose there’s been a contamination?”

       “If there was we’ll know soon enough. I will check with the army’s medical director for records as soon as they’ve opened their main office. In the meantime, I would like extract a blood sample from her.”

       “That can wait, Richard. She wants to rest,” Cid stated.

       Dr. Deregasi chuckled in disbelief. “Rest? Are you kidding me, Cid? According to these readings she’s not at all tired.”

       Cid regarded his friend seriously. “Trust me, friend. She is very tired. Not physically. Not even mentally. But she is tired. She wants to sleep. Give her something, Richard.”

       Dr. Deregasi nodded silently in perfect understanding.

       “Let me prescribe a stronger tranquilizer drug. Anything less won’t have any effect on her.”

       Cid nodded in return. “Thanks, old friend. And I don’t want you to mention your findings to her directly. In fact, I want you to report to me only about this. Keep it to ourselves.”

       Dr. Deregasi was taken aback at the request. “Cid, you know very well that I cannot do that. It’s in violation of--“

       “I’m asking you as the Head Director of Science, Richard,” Cid said sternly.

       Dr. Deregasi’s eyes widened. “Is… is this official, Cid?”

       “As of now, friend,” he answered as he walked past him to exit the room. Cid entered the observation room where Celes was and smiled. “Celes, you may stop now.”

       Celes pushed a button on the machine and it slowed to a stop. Then she started plucking the wires off her and then she dismounted from the conveyor.

       “So what’s going on, Cid?” she asked anxiously. “Is something wrong with me?”

       Cid held up his hand and said, “No reason to fear anything, Celes. Dr. Deregasi just informed me that you are safe. We still don’t know the exact cause of this change in your body but he’ll be doing further testing much later during the day. I will be present at that time.”

       “Does he have a guess, at least?”

       “We both suspect a contamination of the daily vitamins that the army prescribes in the mess hall. A steroid of some type. We will ask your prime medical officer to hold an investigation today. But the important thing is that you’re safe.”

       Celes sighed in relief.

       “Dr. Deregasi will administer a tranquilizer now so you can sleep. There is a private room for patients. You’ll be comfortable in there. Or would you rather take the tranquilizer on your own in your quarters?”

       Celes thought for a few seconds before answering. “I’m supposed to meet my commanding officer for training today. We have a new batch of trainees eager to take part in this anti-rebellion campaign.”

       “I’m sure he’ll understand. I’ll have Dr. Deregasi write you a note. Doctors’ orders come before the general himself, you know.”

       “But, Cid, I dislike tranquilizers. I don’t have to take it, do I?”

       “I thought you said that you wanted to go to sleep.”

       “That was before I knew what was going on. You did say that I am safe, right? I mean… would I still be in danger if I went on my normal routine today?”

       “I strongly urge against that, Celes. We still have to do some testing.”

       “What for?”

       “Well, for one thing, if this were an overdose then we need to know.”

       “But if this really were an overdose then don’t you think that I should burn it out of my system?” Celes argued.

       “Well, yes… but I… er…” Cid fumbled for the right words but he just didn’t have them. What she had said made complete sense. “We have yet to identify the drug that did this.”

       “Don’t you just need a blood sample for that? Go ahead and take it.”

       “I think it’s going to take more than that, Celes. We need you on the equipment we have here and--“

       “Well then let’s go! Let’s do the tests now. I don’t care how long it takes or what it involves but I am not going to take that tranquilizer to sleep,” she said stubbornly.

       Cid knew that she wasn’t about to give up. She reminded him of her mother so much. “Very well, Celes. But the equipment that we’re going to use will need to be prepared. You may… do what ever it is you want to do but please do be careful. Don’t overexert yourself. Your judgment may be impaired so don’t be fooled easily by this sudden boost of endurance. I expect you to be back here at noon.”

       Celes smiled. “That’s perfect. I get to skip the boring lecture. Just make sure Dr. Deregasi signs my permission.”

       “I’ll personally make sure that he does.”

****************************
****************************

       The training of the new recruits started normally enough. The officers were introduced to the young and eager aspirants lined up, and got ordered around to do tiring and unimportant tasks. Those who could not comply fast enough (that meant everybody) were punished by being ordered to do pushups. They were yelled at reprimanded for the smallest mistakes. They were scolded and penalized for doing nothing wrong. A few lieutenants particularly enjoyed an old pointless practice. Two lieutenants would order a private to do different things at the same time which were always impossible to do, such as fetching one lieutenant a glass of water within a minute and shining the other lieutenant’s boots. The private will only get to please one of them while. It didn’t matter which one. The private got punished either way.

       Celes watched her fellow lieutenants in disgust. Celes disliked participating in the hazing of the newcomers. It was immature and often cruel, though she had to admit that it did serve a practical purpose. It was supposed scare away the weak early even before they began the real training. The tradition was something she tolerated because it did effectively filter out the wimps from those who held true potential. If there was anything she hated most in the military, it was those who climbed the promotional ladder simply because they were the sons of important or rich people. They got the special treatment and yet she felt that they did not belong to the military. They were spoiled slackers who couldn’t--wouldn’t--find another job outside.

       There was one such person that she particularly reviled. He had recently been promoted to a First Lieutenant just like her in only a matter of weeks. She expected that person to be promoted again ahead of her. His name was Arnold Beigeletter, and he was one of those who participated in the hazing, drowning in his own sadistic pleasure.

       Celes Chere saw him as a disorderly soldier and a coward. And yet he was not a complete dolt when it came to sword fights. His love for swords had given him enough motivation to be skillful at it. It was all too bad that he only used it for show. But what really annoyed Celes so much was his sexist attitude. She hated him so much that she somehow made it through training days without coming into contact with him.

       Today was an exception. Lt. Arnold Beigeletter was the reason why the training didn’t end quite smoothly.

       Lt. Beigeletter gathered up some new recruits for him to toy with. He had made them stand stiffly in formation and started lecturing them about random military drills, sounding like he knew them all and had mastered the various skills. He told them exaggerated stories of his accomplishments and started bragging about his sword skills in front of them as the new recruits were forced to listen to him and laugh at his jokes. He wanted them to get the impression that he knew exactly what he was doing. Celes couldn’t care less that what he did inflated his already bloated ego, but she did care about the new recruits. Beigeletter’s group was behind schedule. The other recruits had already gotten their uniforms and were being briefed about the different drills. The ones that Beigeletter had (about ten of them) would be late in everything. Celes had to do something about it.

       She did and she regretted it almost immediately.

       Celes walked up from behind him. She could hear him lecture them about discipline and chain of command. The topics particularly centered on him. It made Celes roll up her eyes.

       “Lt. Beigeletter, these recruits have a lot of catching up to do. Have them report to the Captain immediately. They will be starting the barrack assignments,” she said out loud for the recruits to hear, too.

       Beigeletter glanced at her and raised a brow. With a twisted smile he replied, “Ah! Lt. Celes Chere, you’re just in time!” Beigeletter turned back to the men in formation and continued, “What are you, worms, waiting for? Salute her! Even though she is a woman she’s still a lieutenant!”

       The recruits saluted as ordered and Celes’s face turned red with anger.

       “One of the things you have to get used to here in the military is the fact that even women like her get to boss you around because of her rank,” Beigeletter tactlessly explained with a grin. “I don’t know about the rest of you but that turns me on!”

       None of the recruits gave any sign of reaction from the rude comment.

       “That is enough, Lieutenant. Have these men report to the captain immediately,” she said sternly, trying very hard to control her temper.

       Beigeletter chuckled slightly and waved his hand dismissingly. “In a minute, Celes, let me just finish up here.”

       “You are finished here, Lieutenant! Send the recruits now.”

       Beigeletter’s grin disappeared as he faced her again.

       “You can’t order me around like that, Celes-“

       “You call me Lieutenant Chere like everybody else, Lieutenant Beigeletter!”

       “Oh, forgive me… Lieutenant Celes… for my mistake. I assure you it won’t happen again… Celes. But as I was saying, you can’t order me around because we’re the same rank!” Beigeletter said arrogantly.

       Celes was fuming. Her eyes narrowed to calculating slits. She wanted to strike him down but she knew it would not be that easy for obvious reasons. She needed to calm down. She needed to get away. This was not worth her time and patience.

       “Very well, Lieutenant,” she said with a nod. “I shall report this to the captain at once. I’ll leave you to deal with him later.”

       With that, she turned and started to walk away.

       “Ooh! Did you hear that, boys? She’s going to report me! I guess some things don’t change in the army. Women still resort to nagging. And if that don’t work, they tell!”

       Beigeletter laughed very loudly at his own joke. The recruits made no reaction to enjoy the joke. They stood stiffly in attention. However, they all eyed Celes, waiting for a reaction from her.

       She stopped dead in her tracks and bowed her head. She felt the blood pounding in her ears. The anger had been too much for her to control. She turned around very slowly to face Beigeletter again.

       “Oh, look! I think I hit a nerve. Let’s see if she’ll cry next!” he continued to taunt.

       Celes drew her dagger from her belt and threw it towards Beigeletter’s feet. As reflex Beigeletter pulled back his right foot and not a moment too soon. The dagger stuck to the ground where his right foot had been. The force of the throw was such that the dagger’s blade sunk to its hilt on the dirt ground. If he hadn’t moved his foot at all he would be limping his way to the Infirmary… after painfully prying his foot off the ground.

       Beigeletter stared at the dagger in such an alarm that his eyes and mouth were wide open.

       “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Beigeletter exclaimed in anger and shock. “That could’ve been my foot!”

       “Pity!” Celes spat. “I guess I should’ve aimed for your knee, instead.”

       “You’re going to be in so much trouble, bitch!” he growled.

       “Oh, what are you going to do? Report me?” she taunted.

       Beigeletter’s face was contorted to an angry frown. After a few deep breaths, however, he calmed and wore his sneering smile once more.

       “Of course, not. That’s not how men handle matters,” he said as bravado. He drew his sword from its sheath. “I don’t normally fight women but since we’re in the army I suppose you’re given the equal opportunity to prove one thing.”

       “And what would that be, Lieutenant Beigeletter?”

       “That you do belong here, Celes,” Beigeletter said with blunt effrontery. “So how ‘bout it, Celes? Care for a practice session? I’m sure that the new recruits present here will learn something important from it.”

       A twisted smile appeared on her face as she drew her own sword. “I’m sure they will, Arnold.”

       Celes waited for him to make the first move but she saw that Beigeletter was doing the same thing. It didn’t matter. Celes bit first which was easily countered by Beigeletter. But to Celes, his counter moved so slowly. She saw an opening in an instant and decided to push on. To everyone’s astonishment, including herself, but most especially Beigeletter’s, Celes managed to disarm him in a quick chain of deft moves. Beigeletter’s sword flew from his hand and onto the ground in front of Celes.

       Beigeletter managed a half-laugh after his initial astonishment.

       “Well, well, well! Somebody’s been practicing!”

       “Pick it up, Arnold, and stop wasting my time.”

       Her words hit a nerve. “Very well, Celes,” he said as he slowly bent over to pick up his sword.

       Then he moved quickly to deliver a fierce upward swing that should’ve caught an inexperienced soldier off guard. To Celes, however, he moved so slowly that all it took her was a simple and almost effortless sidestepping to dodge it. Beigeletter unleashed a chain of sword swings that met with Celes’s own. Like her sidestep, however, her blocks seemed effortless at a glance. She seemed relaxed as the recruits watched the two of them fight. Though, nobody had given them the order to be at ease, the soldiers simply helped themselves to enjoy the show.

       Celes skillfully managed to cut the distance between her and Beigeletter thus rendering their swords ineffective. The difference, however, was that Celes was prepared for her next move. Beigeletter couldn’t figure it out at the time how it happened, but his shock and anger doubled as Celes disarmed him for the second time by twisting his sword arm behind his back.

       His sword harmlessly fell to the ground the second time around and this time Celes had him at her mercy. Kicking him behind his knees, she forced Beigeletter to kneel as she held his arm firmly behind his back. She had him in a lock.

       Beigeletter grunted as he struggled with her to no avail.

       “What you’ve just seen, gentlemen,” she started to say to the recruits, “was a weapon-unaided disarm, followed by a Penitent’s lock. It is one of the hardest maneuvers that you will have the chance to learn in your future training sessions. What normally follows next is up to you. You may decide to cuff them at this time and take him prisoner, or finish off your opponent by slitting their throats with your sword or dagger.” Celes made a mock slitting gesture with her sword across Beigeletter’s bare neck.

       Celes pulled his arm up and he grunted in pain some more as he was forced to stand up. Then with her right booted foot she kicked him away as she released his arm. Beigeletter staggered forward. She had wounded his ego and she liked it very much.

       Celes picked up his sword and threw it towards him. Beigeletter caught it by the hilt in mid air. He was furious but he didn’t say anything. He attacked again with more ferocious sword swings. They were deadly but reckless. At least, that was how it appeared to Celes. She blocked and diverted them all. An idea entered her mind then she smiled inwardly. She let herself be on the defensive.

       Celes’s sword flew out of her hand and Beigeletter grabbed her by her right hand and twisted it behind her back just like she did to him moments ago. It was Beigeletter’s turn to hold Celes in the exact same lock.

       He laughed triumphantly.

       “I was just getting myself warmed up, Celes. You didn’t really think that--oof!”

       Beigeletter was thrown bodily over Celes’s shoulder. He landed roughly on his back in front of Celes. She seized Beigeletter’s sword and with both hands she gripped its hilt and pointed the tip of the sword straight to his heart. He didn’t dare move.

       “Few of the things you’ll learn in training are that predictability has no place in a melee. It leaves you prone to deception, making you think that you have your enemy right where you want him, when, in fact, it’s the other way around.

       “As you also saw, there is a way to get out of the Penitent’s Lock. It takes a considerable amount of energy and high tolerance for pain. The move to escape from the lock is taxing. It is most advisable that you finish off your enemy immediately after pulling it off,” she explained with a clear voice. “The price of your freedom is, at the worst, a dislocated shoulder bone or a torn ligament-perhaps both. However painful, it is so much more preferable to death, don’t you think so?”

       Celes stood up slowly, with her sword still pointed to Beigeletter’s chest. She rubbed her right shoulder with her left hand. “If you’re lucky, the price is only a sore shoulder muscle usually an indication of your opponent’s physical exertion against your right arm… just like Lt. Beigeletter has demonstrated before you.”

       Beigeletter swore out loud and brushed off Celes’s sword with his gloved hand. He tried to get up but Celes forcefully pushed him back down with her right foot on his right shoulder.

       “Never give your opponent the chance to regain grou--“

       “Shut it, Celes! Or I’ll shut it for you!”

       Celes released him and stepped back. She dropped his sword and picked up her own. She gingerly brushed off the dirt from the blade with her gloved hands.

       “If you feel like embarrassing yourself in front of these men, then be my guest. I mean-I don’t want to pressure you or anything but if I beat you they’ll be talking about you for many weeks to come. Imagine that!” she said as she deliberately gazed up to the sky as a taunt. “A woman beating you. What will be your excuse? ‘Oh, I just went easy on her ‘coz she’s a woman!’” Celes laughed sharply. “That would be so pathetic!”

       Celes struck a few more blows to his ego. She wanted to completely humiliate him. She didn’t know why but her hatred for him increased fourfold. It wasn’t like her at all. It wasn’t like her to confront people-most especially not like this! She never really acted out of hatred or anger before this. It was dangerous to do so-reckless and irresponsible. It was absolutely unbecoming of an officer.

       Her logic screamed out all the possible consequences of her actions. But her more satisfying reaction couldn’t be persuaded. Beigeletter’s character was most odious, especially to her. She didn’t only want to get even for his thoughtless remark; she wanted to see him suffer for it. She was also confident that she could very easily do it. She still had the same vim that she had yesterday--perhaps even doubly so. She no longer feared its peculiarity. She welcomed it now.

       “For those of you who do not know Lt. Beigeletter’s reputation-he’s the best swordsman among all the lieutenants of Vector. At least, that’s what he thinks. He never bothered to challenge me thinking that women are inferior. A very important lesson to all of you--this lieutenant is no weakling!” she said the last sentence vehemently. “And for Lt. Beigeletter’s next trick-he will lose to me again… then again… then again… then again.”

       Beigeletter was too furious to say anything. His face was an ugly red of rage. He engaged Celes again in a fight, vowing to make her feel sorry for her very own existence in the military. The idea, unfortunately for Beigeletter, was not to be. Celes had successfully blocked and countered all of his attacks. She had predicted all of his moves and had quickly adapted to all of his tactics. He was enraged at first but now he was also frustrated. He could not seem to break Celes’s defense. Not only that, he could not predict her moves.

       The soldiers and new recruits from around them finally noticed the commotion. They gathered around the two to watch. It didn’t take long for another lieutenant to start asking for bets. Even the new recruits started placing theirs. They all started to cheer as the two danced around in swordfight. Even Celes’s own commanding officer did not stop the fight. Instead, he simply watched them both with a smile, thinking that it was Chere’s and Beigeletter’s idea to show a spectacular display of armed combat to the new recruits. He was immensely proud of them both. Their commander could tell that they were both very skilled but he also noticed that Beigeletter was somewhat struggling to keep up with Celes. The commander thought it highly unusual for Beigeletter to be in that state. He also noticed that Celes seemed more relaxed and calm. Many of Celes’s comrades observed that as well and they all thought it odd. Still, the display of skills provided an excitement and thrill in the air. It was a welcomed diversion. The commanding officer considered it a time well-spent.

       Celes sensed the frustration from Beigeletter and she decided to infuriate him even more by executing a few maneuvers that utterly humiliated him in front of the large crowd that now surrounded them. She started by disarming Beigeletter twice in a row. Those who knew both of them raised their brows in disbelief. To disarm an expert swordsman was close to impossible and yet Celes managed to pull it off. Celes also started to play a bit more with Beigeletter by sweeping him off his feet or by making his footing falter. She did it by a combination of tricks and quick foot maneuvers. The sight of Beigeletter, tripping down seemingly unable to keep a good balance was astonishing. Beigeletter did not like it at all, to say the least. It was humiliating for him. Even more so to see Lt. Celes Chere blatantly expressing her delight.

       Beigeletter was starting to panic. He was already fighting at the upper extreme of his ability and was still unsuccessful in bringing down her defenses. He was struggling and Celes was warding off his attacks effortlessly. Too many people were present to see this and he had been humiliated too many times already. His reputation was being crushed.

       Beigeletter panicked.

       Picking himself up from the ground, he charged recklessly at Celes with a pitiable battle cry. Celes simply cut the distance between them with a long step, lazily diverting Beigeletter’s sword to the side. And with an easy punch to his face, his cry was abruptly cut short. Beigeletter fell to the ground with his nose bleeding. He didn’t notice this at first until somebody from the crowd pointed it out. He brushed it with the back of his hand and stared at it in horror. He was finished. He would never live this down. He would be the laughing stock of entire military. Worst yet, he would be the laughing stock of the new recruits.

       Celes grinned at the crowd as they cheered for her. She raised her arms into the air, enjoying the sound of her name from the chants of her comrades. It was not like her at all to be so conceited but she had to admit that it was highly satisfying to be in the spotlight for a change-even more truly so since it was at the expense of somebody she despised.

       I will only allow this once. Just this once, she promised herself silently.

       Her gaze went back to Beigeletter, still on the ground, catching his breath. He was finished. He had nothing left in him. Those who betted on Celes cheered even louder while those who lost shook their heads in disappointment. The major, her commanding officer, clapped his hand and nodded approvingly at his Lieutenant. He was about to order them all to get back to training when a totally unexpected presence graced them all.

****************************
****************************

       “Bravo! Bravo!” said a loud, booming voice.

       Everybody turned towards the voice, including Celes. The voice sounded awfully familiar to all of them. After a quick moment of surprise, all those who recognized the man saluted and remained frozen on the spot.

       It was General Cristophe. He was wearing a less formal uniform but there was no mistaking his identity and rank as a general. His eyes scanned the disarrayed group of men and women, though he did not show disapproval. When he saw Beigeletter saluting him with his nose still bleeding he spoke.

       “At ease, Lieutenant. Have that looked at in the infirmary.”

       Beigeletter saluted and vaguely said a word of thanks. He turned around and got away from that place as fast as he could.

       “Two formations!” the general hollered. “The new recruits to my left. The rest of you, to my right!”

       Everybody scrambled to obey. Those who held ranks, including Celes, formed a single line comprised of three captains and several lieutenants. They were the ones who were mainly in charge of the day’s new recruits. The aspirants’ took longer to form their lines. In the end there were five lines in their formation. They stood still, facing the ones with the ranks. General Cristophe walked between the two formations with his hands behind his back. He kept on pacing back and forth between them for long moments that seemed to last several minutes.

       The captains and lieutenants were nervous. Celes was frightened.

       General Cristophe! Here! What is he doing here? Did he see the whole thing? Is he angry? Are we in trouble? Am I in trouble? The one time I break the rules and he has to be here! Him… of all people! Why him?!

       “Devenias Gastra!” General Cristophe shouted as a call for salute.

       “For the Empire!” Celes’s company returned. General Cristophe then faced the new recruits and smiled. “They get younger each time,” Leo remarked. “To what, I wonder, do we owe today’s yield of new recruits? Glory? Power? Vengeance, perhaps? Maybe you lost a relative or a close friend during the Terra Episode and a part of you is hungry for revenge.

       “Yes…! Hatred! Anger!” Leo exclaimed loudly as he dramatically clutched the empty air with his gloved hand, forming a trembling fist. “Overwhelming emotions yearning for maximum satisfaction. Vector was hurt… and you want to hurt the enemies back. An eye for an eye! This is what Vector is all about! Vengeance! Am I right, recruits?!”

       “Sir! Yes, sir!” the aspirants shouted in unison.

       “Vector is all about getting even! Am I right?!”

       “Sir! Yes, sir!”

       “Vector is about the elimination of the opposition! Am I right?!”

       “Sir! Yes, sir!”

       “Vector is all about global conquest! Am I right?!”

       “Sir! Yes, sir!”

       The aspirants’ spirits were up. Their morale had been boosted up just by the mere presence of Vector’s most respected military figure and his commanding voice. Just as when they thought that their mere enthusiastic shouts of answers were sure to get them into the army the lot of them were taken aback by the general’s reaction.

       “Wrong!” General Cristophe growled.

       Silence reigned as the general resumed his pacing between the two formations. He stopped in front of Celes and he looked into her blue eyes for a long, noticeable moment. Then he looked away and resumed his walk, away from Celes.

       “First Lieutenant Celes Chere, fall out!” he commanded while his back was turned towards her.

       This is it! He’s not going to make this pleasant for me either! He’s going to make an example of me in front of the new recruits! Dishonorable discharge! she thought with increasing dread as she took a step forward.

       “Lieutenant, would you please be so kind as to explain to the newcomers why I am wrong?” the general said as he turned to face her slowly.

       Celes was quick to answer.

       “Yes, sir! Vector is not about vengeance. It’s about Justice, sir! Vector is not about elimination of the opposition. It’s about neutralization of the threat, sir! Vector’s campaign is not global conquest. It’s about global accord, sir!”

       “Semantics, Lieutenant Chere!”

       “No, sir, it’s not!” she shouted in response, confident of her answer.

       “It’s only a play of words, Lieutenant Chere!”

       “No, sir, it’s not!”

       “It’s utter nonsense, Lieutenant Chere!”

       “No, sir, it’s not!”

       General Cristophe smiled slightly and then he turned back towards the aspirants.

       “Lieutenant Chere is correct. Vector’s campaign is all that and more. You will learn all these if you stay long enough. But first, to defend Vector you have to know what Vector is all about. Before you can take up arms you have to know what the Imperial military is all about. Above all, it is about honor! Without it, the ranks of the military that make up the mountain will cave in and crumble. It’s about discipline and loyalty. It is about knowing where you stand. It’s about knowing when you let others think for you, when you think for yourself, and when you think for others.

       “Lieutenant Chere, please tell them what I’m talking about.”

       “It’s the chain of command, sir!” Celes promptly answered.

       “Very good!” Leo started to pace again. He walked past Celes and then continued, “Lieutenant Chere commands you. Her captain commands her and you. I command everybody present here today. It is very simple. The higher you are in the hierarchy, the more powerful you are in terms of authority. But the higher you are in the hierarchy, the greater the responsibilities that you have to carry. When a person somewhere in the hierarchy fails to do his or her job well, the result is the inevitable collapse of the levels directly below that person.

       “An incompetent commander will only lead his soldiers to defeat while a strong one will lead them to victory. Vector cannot tolerate weakness in the ranks be it permanent or temporary. When such a person is found he or she is replaced by a stronger one-”

       Celes closed her eyes and sighed secretly. This is it! He’s going to say it! I am finished!”

       “Strength and weakness come in many forms. General Fencross was a great soldier before the attack. He was no weakling. His selfless sacrifice has saved the lives of his men. But at this very moment he cannot serve Vector. Therefore, a replacement is in order if only temporary to prevent the weakening of the links in the chain. We await his imminent recovery. But until then, his lordship, the emperor, has decreed that a suitable substitute be found. This means that there will be changes in the hierarchy. Perhaps, minor changes… perhaps, major changes. However big the changes are, your duty is to know… your… place!

       “You will accept the changes without question. You will accept the changes with respect. You will have no doubt in your mind that the change in the chain of command is for the better. If you do your duties without question then the integrity of the hierarchy will remain like oak, and the strength of the military will be like steel. Our battles will be victorious and Vector’s goal will be as good as ours.

       “For the Empire!” Leo shouted, ending his unplanned, simple, lecture-like speech for the new recruits.

       “Devenias Gastra!” shouted Celes’s company.

        He dismissed us! Celes thought with relief. I guess he’s not going to strip me of my rank after all! Thank the goddesses!

       “Commanders, resume the new recruits’ training for the day. You have fallen behind schedule and have a lot of catching up to do!”

       The commanders saluted and then started barking orders for the new recruits. The recruits scrambled to follow them. They were ordered to go back to the main assembly ground for their barrack assignment. General Cristophe remained standing on the same spot, watching the young recruits run past him in haste. He saw Celes turning to follow her commander. It was then that he said something to stop her.

       “Lieutenant Chere! A word with you please?” General Cristophe called out in a clear voice. With a worried look, Celes glanced back at him and hesitated to come for only about a split of a second.

       Celes stood before General Cristophe tall and proud. If she were to be discharged this day, then she might as well accept it with dignity.

       “At ease, Lieutenant. I wish to speak with you about two things. First of all, I want you to know that you’ve handled yourself quite well back there.”

       “Thank you, general,” she replied, her expression, serious.

       General Cristophe walked slowly past her and stared into the distance towards where the new recruits have gathered, close to the line of barracks. “Second of all… I wish to talk to you about a matter of great importance.”

       My untimely dismissal--of great importance?

       “What do you see, Lieutenant?” General Cristophe asked as his eyes remained fixed at the crowd in the distance.

       “Sir?” she asked, not sure of what he meant.

       Leo glanced back at her with a slight smile on his lips--almost a charming smile and a rare one at that. “The crowd of people gathering at the main assembly ground-what do you see when you look at them.”

       Celes was confused and worried at the same time. She didn’t know where the conversation was pointed to. All she knew was that she had no choice but to answer his question and find out.

       “I see… my commander and my comrades preparing the new recruits, sir.”

       “Precisely, Lieutenant. You see the old and the new interacting. I bet some of the recruits are nervous and yet some are eager. Which one were you, Lieutenant?”

       “Er… I suppose I was both, sir.”

       General Cristophe chuckled softly. Again--a rare sight. “So was I, Lieutenant… very long time ago. I was eager to ascend the ranks through determination and perseverance. And yet I worried about so many things, big and small. I worried about not overcoming an obstacle in training and about not surviving the battles.”

       “You’ve accomplished a great deal, sir,” Celes noted out of respect.

       General Cristophe turned around to face her.

       “Have I really, Lieutenant? Or was I simply lucky? A long time ago when I was a lieutenant such as yourself I had a friend who was also a lieutenant. He was better at many things than I was. He was stronger than I and also faster. He was clever and cunning. He did not tire very easily and our sword skills at the time were closely comparable. Knowing him, he would’ve made it easily to generalship.

       “But something went wrong while we were in training. There was an accident involving a poorly tied rope and the hard ground. He had broken his knee in the fall and was never able to walk without a limp ever again. He quit the military after a month. He was never the same man since then.

       “Another person I knew was like my friend. He was my old commanding officer. He was courageous and honorable. He was a calculating tactician and a great leader. He had led his men to victory several times. One unfortunate night in a training camp outside of Vector, he was bitten by a snake in his sleep. He was found dead in his tent in the morning and Vector grieved for her loss.” General Cristophe sighed and smiled.

       “Two very good people did not make it up the ladder because of seemingly trivial misfortunes. Had I been one of the unfortunate ones, somebody else would be delivering you this message.

       “Forgive me. This must be confusing you very much.”

       Celes didn’t answer. She tried to hide her confusion with a stern expression but her blue eyes betrayed her. They always did.

       “Celes--er… may I call you Celes?”

       Celes was taken aback. Of all people to call her by her first name, there stood the most prominent man in the military. Her thoughts were now more muddled than when their conversation had first started. She didn’t know where it was going but she knew that it concerned her… somehow.

       “Y-yes, sir,” she said quickly after she finally realized that she had been quiet for a long moment.

       “Celes, as I said earlier to the new recruits, changes occur every time in the chain of command. These changes are always for the good of the military; hence, it is also for the good of the Empire.

       “An edge dulled from experience will need to be sharpened again. After this is done, the shape of the sword is changed minutely--almost unnoticeable. The bearer will feel no change in his swings and slashes. He will be able to fight the same way that he is used to fight. Whenever there is a need to change a part of the hierarchy the Empire will jump to the opportunity. Often times, these changes are very small and the ranks remain unaffected in the least. The balance of power is not disturbed and the people adapt to the change very quickly.

       “But a badly battered sword remains strong by casting it again into the fire to be forged anew. While the blade is red the sword itself is weak. But such weakness is only temporary. While the hammer strikes true and the metal endures the forging, the sword is made stronger. Such a drastic change for the bearer of the sword may be disconcerting at first. The weight and feel of the blade may be very different from the way it was prior to the second forging. The wielder may falter many times as he fights but as time progresses, he, too, will adapt and learn to wield it.

       Celes listened very carefully and thought about how the conversation concerned her. It had gotten to the point where it worried her so much that she just wished he’d get it over with.

       Say it! I’m fired! I’m out of the army. Is that so hard to say? I’m just a lieutenant, for crying out loud! You don’t owe me an explanation. You’re not doing me any favor by giving me all these lecture of how important it is to… get rid of me! Celes thought angrily. It was the kind of anger that normally spawned from anxiety and frustration. Her being guilty did not help any. Being talked to by a general didn’t help either. It was embarrassing, and she was afraid. What would she do when she was out of the military? The tension was too much for her to bear.

       “There will be a great deal of change in the military, Celes--“

       A great deal? Then what are you doing here wasting your time with me?

        “-and it will come to the whole military… perhaps the whole of Vector in a shock with a magnitude far greater than when we all heard the news of General Fencross’s comatose.”

       Aren’t you exaggerating this just a tad bit? How can my dismissal from the army be that shocking? Unless… Celes paled. A chill crept up her spine making her to shudder. She shifted her position to prevent General Cristophe from noticing. Unless there has been a change in the way punishments are exacted upon officers. To serve as brutal reminders to those who may betray the Empire.  Her mind ran wild in panic.

       “The soldiers of the Empire need to see an example the likes of which none have ever seen before. And I want to make an example out of you.”

       Oh, please tell me I’m wrong!

       “The military needs to be taught a lesson of honor, discipline and humility from the most unlikely candidate.”

       Me?

       “You are that candidate, Celes. In two days time you will be presented before the entire military.”

       To be hanged? Shot?

       “The Emperor will be there, of course, and--Celes? Are you feeling well?”

       Celes was hyperventilating. It took her a while to gather enough strength to utter the words.

       “What… did I do… to deserve this?” she asked worriedly.

       General Cristophe grinned. He looked ominously cruel to her. “The New Council voted for you.”

       “Voted?!” she gasped. She felt sick. “You mean… they… chose me?”

       “I know it must be hard for you to understand, Celes, but yes,” General Cristophe said sympathetically.

       “How… why did they choose me?”

       “Many different reasons, Celes. Quite a few that I cannot explain to you but the honor is all yours!” he replied with a bright smile.

       Celes looked at him in horror. She wanted to run away but she was beginning to feel sick to the stomach.

       “S-s-s-surely there must be… somebody who is more… deserving than I?!”

       “We’ve thought about it carefully and we’ve all come to the conclusion that you deserve this great honor most of all! This must be very exciting for you!”

       Celes looked at her quizzically with her mouth hanging open. She was trying to figure out who between the two of them had just gone completely insane.

       “Exciting?!”

       “And utterly confusing for you, I imagine,” General Cristophe added almost apologetically. “All will be explained shortly, I assure you.”

       There’s no such explanation in the world that will make feel better about it!

       “Not only will you serve as a lesson to those who lack in faith in the military you will also be an inspiration.”

       Come again?!

       “They will come to respect you for the prestige, eventually. It will be difficult to earn everybody’s respect but with a lot of trying you will prevail!”

       Celes could not fathom the depths of those two illogical sentences. Respect my death? Death is a prestige? And how can I keep on trying after I’m already dead?! And what good is their respect if I’m already dead?!

       “So what do you say, Celes Chere?”

       “I… I get a choice?”

       General Cristophe chuckled. “Of course, you do! You may be our best candidate but you still have the last word. I will, however, try my best to convince you to take this opportunity because, I assure you, it will never come again.”

       I get a choice? And what did he mean by ‘convincing’ me? And how hard exactly is he going to try to ‘convince’ me?

       “Well, Lieutenant? Do you accept or not?”

       “No!” she cried out in distress. When she realized that her reply was out of order she added, “…Sir!”

       General Cristophe was taken aback at the quick response. At the very least he was expecting her to hesitate first.

       “Of course, you don’t have to give me your answer now. I want you to think about it. Please do think about this very carefully!”

       “Sir, there is nothing to think about! I… I refuse the offer. People may think it… cowardly of me not to accept but it’s simply ridiculous! No offense, general, but I’d rather die in battle and not be famous about it.”

       “Ah! How very selfless! You are indeed what the Empire needs. I know you are afraid of this great responsibility but I assure you that you will not be alone. You will be guided through it all until you can stand on your own,” Leo said.

       Not alone?

       “Who else will be with me?” Celes asked.

       “The best trainers and tacticians of Vector will all be behind you.  The New Council will be behind you all the way.  If you say yes, then you will be sharing the honor with me,” he said proudly.

       Him?!

       “You, sir?”

       “Yes. They will salute to you as they now salute to me.”

       Celes shook her head. Her face was still pale and Leo was beginning to worry.

       “May I be frank, sir?”

       “You may speak freely.”

       “I simply don’t find all of these… appealing, sir! In fact, I find it very senseless. How can my death hold meaning for the military? What will you say to them to make it meaningful when you can’t even convince me?!”

       General Cristophe’s smile disappeared. He raised his brows in question. He wondered whether he had heard her correctly.

       “I beg your pardon!” he said in alarm and almost in embarrassment. “Did I hear you correctly? Did you say… death?”

       “Yes, sir, I did.”

       It was Leo’s turn to be confused.

       “What does your promotion have anything to do with your… death?” he asked in extreme puzzlement.

       Celes blushed. My… promotion? she thought.

       “Yes,” General Cristophe answered. Celes was too shocked to notice that she thought the words out loud.

       “I’m getting promoted?” she asked in disbelief.

       “Yes, you are. What did you think you were getting? An execution?” General Cristophe laughed. He had meant the last part as a joke that played as an irony to Celes.

       I’m getting promoted! I’m not going to die! Great goddesses! I was worried for nothing!

       Celes laughed weakly with him. She was greatly relieved and embarrassed at the same time.

       “I’m getting promoted!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Well, sir, that makes all the difference in the world! Of course, I accept, sir! I will be the best damned captain Vector will ever see!”

       General Cristophe stopped laughing abruptly. He shook his head saying, “I don’t doubt that one bit, Celes. But I do believe that you can do even better as a general.”

       It was Celes’s turn to stop her laughter abruptly.

       “Excuse me, sir, but I could’ve sworn that you just said ‘general’ instead of captain but I do know that’s not possible since captain comes after first lieutenant,” she said with a nervous voice, a forced smile and chuckles.

       “I did say general, Celes,” Leo confirmed seriously.

       Celes was stunned for a few seconds then she laughed again.

       “That’s… that’s very funny, sir,” Celes said. “Really it was. You had me there for a second.”

       “In fact, Celes, you are officially a general now as the New Council has dictated.”

       “Me? A general?” she asked dubiously. She laughed again, shaking her head. “Sir, you can not be serious!”

       “I am very serious,” he said sternly. “I do not take such matters lightly… and neither should you. The Council has chosen you to be General Fencross’s temporary replacement.”

       Celes’s blood drained yet again from her face. From anger to angst, to terror, to embarrassment, to shock, Celes went through them all within a short span of time like hitting the branches of the tree on her way down. Inevitably, the hard ground was next.

       Celes fainted.

****************************
****************************

       “It’s unbelievable,” Celes said softly. “This cannot be real. It just can’t. It doesn’t make any sense.”

       “To you, it does not. To most of the military, it won’t. But to me and the Emperor, it makes perfect sense,” Leo calmly answered. He stood by a large window with a great view of the army grounds and the sunset. The cityscape outside the boundaries of the Bronze Compound appeared like bony fingers greedily reaching up to the sun and stars.

       They were in his office--a large room that resembled a trophy room. She felt like she was in a war museum. It looked similar to Colonel Llurd’s office--only bigger. On one wall hung various commendations. The sheer number of which had made any one of them seem unimportant. His medals were all polished and framed. To the opposite side were relics of many kinds: swords, both real and ornamental, shields, pieces of armor proudly displaying the scuffs, dents, and other marks of violence, Vector’s flag, bloodied and tattered, scrolls and journals. His desk was clean and spotless. At the moment it served no purpose, as it rarely ever did. General Cristophe was a man of action. He abhorred the tedious military paperwork procedures. He was once heard quoting, ‘The only paper I wouldn’t mind writing on is a clean map of the battlefield.’

       Celes stared at the floor. It was clean, spotless, and to her disappointment, dull, as well.

       “I don’t see how this is going to help the military,” she said flatly. She wasn’t trying to argue.

       “Exactly!” Leo turned to face her. “They won’t see it coming. But the lesson will be there. It is a perfect way of testing the military’s honor and discipline. It is a test to filter out those who have doubts. The Emperor wants to find those who question his authority. He wants to know how well-tempered the military’s resolve is. The leaders will be asking in silence. Those who are foolish enough to confront this decision will be thrown out of the military. Those who step out of bounds will be severely punished. Ultimately, those who stay will be strengthened and forged.”

       “A lesson?” Celes asked. “In other words, sir, you want me to be a… lure. A bait.”

       “You will be a figure of everybody’s doubts, at first. And then you will surprise them all. You will achieve what nobody, not even I, has ever achieved before in my lifetime. You will earn their respect, one way or the other. What they will first behold as a demoralizing decision by the New Council will eventually be their source of high morale in the end.”

       Celes was still not convinced. The talk was not helping her at all.

       “Begging your pardon, General, but… you make it sound so simple! I am but a lieutenant. I have very little field experience. I know little about strategies. I haven’t won a single battle. I don’t know how to lead. I--“

       “You will be taught.”

       Celes gave a short cry of frustration. It was almost derisive. “There are some things in life that can’t simply be taught, sir! Some things in life are learned with battle scars and… and…broken bones… and… and… severe burns! Experience teaches us to ignore pain, and disregard fear whenever we need to. Most of all, experience teaches others to learn to trust me. My own battalion will hesitate to go with me to battle. They will think I am weak because they know for a fact that I have none of the things that my commanders right now have. Or worse, they will resent my rank. They will only despise me. Demoralization is an understatement, sir, if I may be so bold.”

       “Have you ever heard of the expression ‘Heroes are born, not made?’”

       “Again, sir, if I may be so bold as to accuse you… you oversimplify the situation.”

       General Cristophe laughed. “I am not saying it’s going to be easy. But neither am I saying that you’ll be alone. I will help you, Celes. I will train you. I will offer you my advice. Doors will be opened before you. You will have full authority to the various resources of the Empire. You may do with them as you wish. You will receive advanced training sessions. You will assimilate the politics involving the military and Vector. You will have the privilege of the magical infusion process…”

       At the mention of the words Celes’s eyes widened and her expression changed from uncertainty to interest. Leo sensed it. He smiled inwardly.

       “You will experience the thrill of power and authority in your hands,” he concluded.

       Celes was in thought. She was still in much doubt but her attitude towards the proposition had changed.

       “You will teach me?”

       “Yes,” Leo said calmly.

       “How can you be sure that I am going to learn all of these quickly enough?”

       “That is why we chose you, specifically, Celes.”

       She shook her head, still not in understanding. “I still don’t know how--“

       “We’ve been watching you closely, Celes. Not just you, but dozens others. We’ve been in constant watch for the subtle clues of a great leader.”

       “And I… exhibit these traits?”

       “Yes. Because you are focused. You are determined. You will go to all lengths to reach your goal as long as it is honorable. You believe firmly in the chain of command. Your philosophy clearly matches the will of the Empire. Most of all you have the great capacity to learn and adjust.”

       “Let it be now known to you, sir, that my only goal was to be one of those privileged enough to be in the magical infusion process,” she confessed.

       “And now that you are, what do you hope to accomplish next? Surely, you can’t be content with just being a captain or even a major.”

       “I’m not that ambitious, sir.”

       “You don’t have to be ambitious to accomplish great things.”

       “I’m a realist, sir. I know my limit.”

       “I don’t think you do, Celes,” Leo said firmly. “How can you know your limit just by thinking it? How can you be sure without even trying?”

       Celes had no answer but her doubts were still strong. The responsibilities--the hardships--they were overwhelming.

       “You said you have been watching others, as well. Who is your next candidate?”

       “Do not pass this opportunity, Celes. You are first in line. Don’t let anybody else take the prize that is rightfully yours,” the general urged her.

       “I just want to know who it is, sir, if it won’t make much of a difference.”

       General Cristophe was silent for a moment. He frowned. Celes wasn’t sure whether he frowned because she had asked or perhaps he did because the next candidate was not a very promising one.

       “He is also a lieutenant. In fact you know him quite well. His name is Arnold Beigeletter,” he lied.

       Celes scoffed. “Pardon me, sir, but--“

       “You don’t think he’d make a good leader. Yes, not a lot of people do, but the hints are very subtle and we see it in him,” Leo quickly finished.

       “He doesn’t even... er…”

       “Doesn’t even what, Celes?”

       “Nothing, sir, I stopped before I could speak ill of him.”

       “You are a general now. Be blunt and direct.”

       “I was going to say, sir, that he… I don’t think he even deserves to be in the military. I know I have no proof of this but there have been rumors that--“

       “Yes, yes, I’ve heard of those stories, too, and I am also inclined to believe them. But like I said, he shows promising signs. He has almost the same capacity to learn and absorb knowledge just like you do.”

       “Surely, you jest, sir. There has to be another!”

       “I do not like the idea of giving him this privilege more than you do, Celes, but if you decline this offer then we have no choice. Think about it. If the next candidate is a man like Beigeletter, what would the next person behind him be like? Will you let a man like Beigeletter ascend to generalship?”

       Celes wanted very much to answer ‘no’ but she caught herself just in time. She was afraid that saying ‘no’ would imply her acceptance.

       “I sure don’t!”

       Celes was silent. It felt wrong for her to just accept. She desperately needed to be convinced. The lure of the privilege was great but so were the challenges that came with it.

       “Capacity to learn?” she asked softly.

       “You have it. You don’t know that you have it because you’ve been kept behind. You’ve been grounded here, training the recruits, day in and day out. You don’t yet know your limit, only what you’ve been restricted to believe. You say that it takes experience to learn some things. Well I say that, sadly, sometimes the opportunity does not come to those who deserve them. What the New Council and I are doing now is helping opportunity find the right person at an early time. Experience is not compromised in the process, Celes. You will have them. You will be given this opportunity unlike my friend who had broken his leg in training, or my commander who died a tragic and meaningless death. They had potentials just like you do now.”

       “There is no guaranty that this will work, sir. If I accept, you can be sure that I will do my very best.”

       “Does this mean that you--“

       “But if my best does not turn out to be good enough for your expectations. What then? This lesson that you wish to convey to the military will not be delivered. I will not be a symbol of morale and inspiration as you would hope. I will be a symbol of failure. Sir, do you have any idea how great a responsibility this is for me?”

       “Look at it this way, Celes. We have watched and thought this over extremely carefully. Do not think that we did not have doubts during the process. Vector does not make quick judgments. But if the Emperor, myself and the New Council are convinced about this, then the cause for concern should be minimal.”

       “The Emperor approves of this?”

       “Just between the two of us, Celes, he is very enthusiastic to know where this will lead.”

       A huge portion of her doubt was removed. She paused in long silence to sort out what was left to consider.

       The most powerful people in Vector are confident about this. Surely, they did not come to this decision lightly. Do I really know my limits? Is it really that improbable for me to become a great leader?

       “I will be taught?” she asked softly.

       “Yes.”

       “I will be trained?”

       “Yes.”

       “And you believe that I will be able to cope with this change?”

       “Rapidly.”

       “I have the approval of the Emperor?”

       “And the support of many influential people.”

       A sudden thought returned to her.

       “But this rank is only temporary. What happens to me when General Fencross recovers? Will I return to my previous rank?”

       “A very good question, Celes. But we also have considered this. Depending on how pleased the Emperor is to the result of this experiment, he may actually grant your rank’s permanence.”

       “And if his lordship does not?”

       “Then you will have the privilege of continuing to serve the Empire as a colonel.”

       A colonel! If I accept then--

       “In other words, if you accept you are guaranteed colonelship at the least,” Leo said, stealing the words from her thoughts. Leo saw her eyes brighten. “It’s a lot to think about, Celes. But as you do, I hope it becomes more apparent to you that there is only one logical answer,” General Cristophe said with a warm smile.

       “Sir--“

       “You are technically a general at this moment, Celes. Please call me Leo.”

       Celes was appalled at the thought. In some ways, technicalities didn’t matter at all. For her it would sound very disrespectful to address him by his first name.

       “Leo…” she said clumsily and with a slight wince. The general only smiled more. Celes blushed and hurried to ask her question. “If I don’t accept then Beigeletter gets the job?”

       “If he accepts, yes. And we both know that he would most likely do so.”

       “Knowing Beigeletter, sir--Leo… I cannot let that happen. Therefore, logically speaking, I would have to…” Say ‘accept,’ fool! she thought. “I will have to accept.”

       General Cristophe took a deep breath of relief and smiled. “Very good, Celes! You will not find yourself regretting this decision!”

       “However--“ Celes added. “If you wouldn’t find it of me as disrespectful, I have a condition.”

       General Cristophe raised a brow. He was very curious to hear the condition, however, he knew deep inside that no condition was costly enough for her acceptance.

       “Name it, Celes!”

       “I don’t have to shave my head, do I?” she said, staring at Leo’s mohawk hair.

       Leo laughed heartily. Celes chuckled nervously and shyly.

       “No, Celes. I don’t think you’re privileged enough to have that!”

***************

       Celes Chere arrived at the Magitek Lab wearing a cloak over her normal training leather armor. The hood covered much of her face. She entered the lobby quietly. It was dry out unlike the previous day where it poured almost non-stop. White noise coming from a Private First Class’s communication device covered her sneaky entry.

       The private was stationed at the entrance lobby of a Magitek Facility that night, and he was alone. He did not immediately notice the visitor’s arrival as he played with the knobs and dials of the communication device, listening in to the latest news about the border-wide barricade and embargo. Another day had passed and he still had not received word from his beloved who was away, visiting a sick relative, and was due for arrival some time this week.

       He was worried for her. She had been away for far too long. The Vector citizens who were locked out set up camps just outside the borders under the watchful, untrusting eyes of the Vector soldiers.

       No news yet. No news whatsoever about the Emperor’s long-awaited edict to lift up the Imperial Seclusion.

       “You need to get out more often, Jasom. Staying cooped up in here the whole day is not very healthy,” Celes Chere said as an announcement of her arrival.

       Jasom Keep, startled, snapped to attention and saluted. Celes acknowledged promptly with a smile.

       “Lieutenant! What a surprise! I did not expect to see you here today.”

       Celes removed her cloak and threw it carelessly onto her favorite waiting chair. “Well, Keep, sometimes life is just full of surprises!” she said cheerfully.

       Jasom didn’t know what she meant by that. He simply shrugged it off.

       “Is the master director expecting you today, Lieutenant?” he asked.

       “Yes and no. I was supposed to meet with him earlier but I… um… something came up. So now I thought I’d come to him here.”

       “I see. Let me contact his office right now, Lieutenant, and let him know that you’re here.”

       “Oh, don’t bother, Jasom. I can manage it from here,” she said, flashing another smile that seemed cryptic with meaning.

       “I… I don’t follow, Lieutenant.”

       She grinned at him as she headed straight for the main entrance of the lab. She produced a security access card tied around her neck like a necklace and slid it at the doors control panel. The panel chimed and the door opened.

       Jasom was astonished. He knew very well that to obtain permission to enter the high-security building was close to impossible for a lowly lieutenant. From within, four armed guards stood up from their resting stools to greet the newcomer with the usual procedure.

       They, too, were surprised to see an unfamiliar face enter. They had almost forgotten to ask her for the proper documentations.

       Celes handed them a scroll bearing an official military seal. It bore what was called the First Seal. It meant that the bearer of the document was of high rank and great influence. The first guard took it from her and read the contents. His jaw dropped after reading the document and then he looked at Celes incredulously.

       “Is there a problem?” she asked with a twisted smile of confidence and utter enjoyment of the soldiers’ reactions.

       “I must have this document verified, er… sir… ma’am!. It’s only standa--“

       “By all means!” she concurred. “Take your time.”

       She turned back to Jasom who watched with utter surprise as the guards remained determined not to let her in. The first guard took the document with him to a nearby communication device and pushed a button.

       “This is Magitek Lab Entry station. Please put me through the Office of the General.”

       “As I was saying, Jasom, you need a break. Relax a little. Take a vacation!” Celes started to talk casually.

       “I… uh… of course,” he replied clumsily.

       “Tell you what, Jasom. Pick your seven ideal days, give them to me, and I’ll take care of it!” she said with a wink.

       Jasom didn’t know what to make of it. She was flaunting authority that he didn’t know she ever had. Unless…

       “Did you get promoted, lieutenant?” he asked excitedly.

       The other guards raised their brows and glanced at each other nervously. The one guard was still busy talking to somebody through the comm device. Celes was overexcited about the whole thing that she couldn’t hide her cheerfulness. She flashed the brightest smile that Jasom had ever seen her show.

       “Great goddesses! You did! Congratulations, Captain Chere!” he exclaimed, saluting her again.

       Celes still held her smile on her face. It was hard for her to rid of them. She shook her head and jerked a thumb up.

       “Higher?” he asked in bewilderment. “Major? You made major?”

       Celes still shook her head and continued to make that motion with her thumb.

       Jasom frowned. “I don’t think I follow. Surely, you didn’t make lieutenant colonel straight from a first lieutenant!” he said, chuckling uneasily. “Did you?”

       The guard at the comm device was overheard saying, “Are you certain? The name is Celes Chere! C-H-E-R-E!” the guard said loudly. “But… but--yes, sir. Yes--no, sir. Absolutely! I understand, sir.”

       The guard flipped off the comm switch wearing a baffled expression on his face. He turned towards Celes, who was staring at him expectantly. The guard cleared his throat and hastily stood before her. And then he saluted as he handed back the document to her.

       “Forgive the delay, g-general! I did not know!” the guard apologized. The other guards looked at each other again, more nervously this time, and utterly confused. The first guard turned towards them and scolded them. “Get out of the way! Let General Chere pass!”

       The guards clumsily moved out of the way, almost dropping their weapons in the process. None of them were sure whether they had heard right. Jasom’s mouth hung wide open. Celes turned back towards him and saw the look on his face. He had lost the normal color of his face. She felt the need to burst out laughing but it would’ve been undignified of her to do so. Instead, she maintained the bright smile on her face that made her seem even less justifiable of her alleged status.

       It’s impossible, Jasom thought.

       “G-general? General of what?”

       “She is the new General of the Army, Private!” answered the guard from behind Celes. “Salute to her!”

       “At ease! All of you,” Celes simply replied. “The announcement is not until tomorrow, so let’s just all pretend that I’m not at the moment. Please stay awhile after your shift, Jasom. I have a gift to give to you after I see Cid.”

       Celes took the First Seal back from the guard and walked inside through the corridor, leaving the bemused soldiers behind her. She felt good about walking the corridor that was previously restricted to her. It didn’t occur to her until that moment that such a simple thing such as traversing the insipid passageway could give her a thrill of exhilaration. Doors did open to her as General Cristophe had said. There was virtually nothing in Vector that she could not go see.

       Celes stopped at the first intersection. A printed sign on the wall labeled the directions but they were in codes that she did not understand.

       X-6940 - EAST
      N-3332 - WEST
      V-0092 - NORTH
      EXIT   - SOUTH

       The corridors were empty and quiet. She felt small like a lab mouse in a proverbial cardboard maze. Her instinct, at first, was to turn back and ask for directions from one of the soldiers, but the more adventurous side got the best of her. She chose a random direction, and off she went.

**********

       “He did what?!” snarled Kefka upon hearing the news from his right-hand man.

       “It is true, Master. The old Council is no more and General Cristophe himself has presided. He handpicked the New Council himself-a group of war veterans no longer in military serv--“

       Kefka interrupted, “On what basis did they make that decision?”

       “Their excuse was that the old Council was too easily influenced. They--“

       “No, no, no! I don’t care about the New Council! Tell me about Subject A!” Kefka said, impatiently.

       Tayan calmly answered his master. “It is not yet known, Master, as to how they managed to get this past the Emperor.”

       Kefka stood up from his chair and walked over to the window. It held a view of the Bronze fortress and the Army Grounds. His “office” was located at the second highest tower of the Bronze Fortress itself. He stared at the highest tower which was on the other end and squinted. It was the Emperor’s tower. It had a great view of the whole of Vector Capital.

       “No,” Kefka said calmly. “The Emperor knows all about this. He pretends not to know. He pretends not to care. He summoned General Cristophe from his mission. I should’ve been more inquisitive about his arrival. The two are plotting against me!

       “But quite frankly, I approve their move! Prudent, decisive, and underhanded!” Kefka chuckled maliciously. “I like it! The Emperor does not trust me about Subject A. But he is careful not to cross me, either. I do not yet know what his plan is but Leo is the key,” he snarled again, saying the general’s name with unmistakable loathing.

       Tayan listened carefully, trying to piece together what his master had rapidly deduced. He admired his master’s perspicacity. Though he was only hearing his master’s hypothesis, he knew that he was most likely right about the matter.

       “I still do not know how the New Council’s decision is such a threat to our plans,” Tayan courageously stated. He did not fear his master’s possible rebuke.

       “Do you not? With Subject A in the High Ranks she is protected. It would not be so easy to touch her-manipulate her. The emperor had taken away the Slave Crown Project from me to make sure that I do not use it on her. And as an added insurance, he took her away from my comfortable reach, too. We will have to move more carefully now.”

       Kefka frowned as he thought in silence. Tayan dared not make any sound. After a good fifteen minutes, a sinister smile appeared across Kefka’s painted face.

       “The Emperor has challenged me to a game of chess and I shall gladly accept it. Though it would be more difficult for me to make my moves, I know that it is the same for him. The pieces are in a teetering balance. He will use his knight to maintain that balance while all I have to do is tip it.”

       “His knight? You mean the general?” Tayan asked to make sure he understood perfectly.

       “Correct, Chosen Mage,” Kefka said, pleased to see his most trusted could follow. “Subject A may be a general now but she is still a pawn. Do you know how pawns move, Tayan?” Tayan nodded. “Forward--always towards the opponent and never turning back!” Kefka laughed, pleased at the plan he had formed in his mind.

****************************
****************************

       Llurd finally slept after the long days of deprivation. But it was not a sound and peaceful sleep. An empty bottle of hard liquor lay beside him. His glass was smashed on the floor along with the clutter of books, torn pages, his prized war relics, and his medals. They were ripped off the walls and shelves in a violent fit of rage. The glass window to his office was smashed, too. A tell-tale broken chair lay outside. His desk was overturned, and his sword stuck through the thick door of his office. That could not have been easy to do, and yet he did.

       His office looked like what an aftermath to a tornado would look like. Perhaps, it had been a tornado. Not of wind, but of fury. It was a tornado of strong emotions that he had been careful to control but had proven to be quite overwhelming. There was nothing worse than the fall that followed great expectations. His pride was wounded and bleeding.

       There was an urgent rapping on the door. The rap felt like it came from the inside of his head and it would not stop. He winced in pain as he covered his ears with his hands. The rapping sound transformed into a high-pitched squeal that was more than he could bear.

       “Enough!” he bellowed. “Leave me alone!”

       The sound of his voice made it worse. He groaned as he rolled off his back.

       “Sir?” came a voice from the outside. “Is everything all right, Colonel?”

       Stupidest question I’ve ever heard! I should have him executed!

       “Go away, Barnes!”

       “Harold, it’s me!” said a different voice from outside.

       “Colonel Blaey, sir, Colonel Llurd is not feeling well,” said Barnes again but it was addressed to the other person outside his office.

       Blaey? What is he doing here? Come to see me as a wreck--I have no time for this!

       “Harold! Don’t you want to hear the news? Don’t you want to know who our new general is?” Blaey asked in a tone of pleasure. Though he himself did not get promoted to a general, knowing that Llurd didn’t either brought Blaey unusual satisfaction.

       “I don’t give a damn, Saric! Get the hell out, or I’ll run you through with my sword!” Llurd said, vehemently. He went into a fit of coughing before throwing up on the floor. It felt like he just threw up portions of his brain, and all that was left inside his skull was the portion responsible for interpreting pain.

       “Very well, Harold. Just make sure you attend the ceremony. I’d like to see the look on your face when you finally see what’s going on!” Saric laughed contemptuously and left.

       The room was quiet again. Quiet, except for his breathing. He was in no shape to get out of his office. He looked like a destitute drunkard out on the street. The smell of his vomit in the air did nothing to make it better. He had drunk hard liquor many times before in his life and yet never had he experienced such a hangover. Perhaps it wasn’t at all due to the alcohol. Perhaps it was due to what had happened last night… or rather, what didn’t happen last night.

       He wanted to disappear for a while. He looked like a fool in front of many and the humiliation was just too much for him to carry at the moment. His men, though almost as disappointed as he was, would be regarding him with pity. He hated to be pitied. The others in the Army who had heard of the rumors would be staring at him, perhaps in amusement. The two other Colonels were already gloating at his... defeat. He wanted someone to pay. The problem was he did not know who to vent his anger on. It was clear that General Cristophe was the one who had ruined his chance.

       He’s the one who disbanded the old Council. He’s the one who appointed the new one! Curses to each and every one of them! I will see them rot before my very eyes!

       His threat was empty, however, and he knew this. He knew that he could not touch General Cristophe. And he knew that the New Council members were very well-protected as well. His hope was gone. A stronger voice--one that he could not influence--had spoken.

       Llurd picked himself up from the floor of his office with much struggle over the pain in his head. His eyes were bloodshot and there was a cut on his forehead. He was oblivious to both of these facts. He sat on a comfortable chair (as comfortable as it could get), and buried his face in his hands as he fought to stave off the lingering discomfort.

       Last night he thought of several plans to win the hearts of the New Council and the promotion. He plotted to assassinate them all as vengeance. He thought of ways to kill himself and ways to escape the impending humiliation. That morning, none of them made sense. They were all the plans of a drunk, not the shrewd, clever tactician that he was. It made him sicker that he already was. He hated himself for it. He had lost control and he felt disgusted at himself.

       I’ve fallen deep enough! There is no room for self-pity. I’ve lied, cheated and murdered people before to get to where I am now. I can do it again! I just have to wait. I just need to survey the present battlefield and form my strategy. I--

       “Harold Llurd,” said a voice from behind him.

       Llurd stood up and spun around quickly, his hand, reflexively going to his sword that wasn’t there. The sudden movement sent a spike of pain up into his head. He staggered backwards but caught himself before he fell.

       “Who the hell are you?!” he growled at the man before him. His vision blurred slightly but still recognized the man to be a Devout.

       “My name is Tayan and I bring with me a message from my master,” Tayan said very calmly.

       “How did you get in here?” he demanded. “Speak!”

       “It is not important how. Are you ready to hear the message?”

       Llurd was too confused and angry at the intrusion to be curious to hear Kefka’s message. When his vision cleared he glanced at the door to his office and saw his sword still sticking through it. He took several shaky but determined steps towards it and started to pull it out.

       “Trespassing into a high ranking officer’s office is a punishable offense, Mr. Tayan! I suggest that you--“ Llurd made a grunting sound as he pulled with all his strength to free his sword from the thick door. “I suggest that you get out of my office the way you came in before I find a more suitable target to stick this sword through!”

       Tayan regarded him in silent amusement as Llurd continued to struggle with his sword. Llurd had not yet regained his full strength. Tayan noticed that the colonel’s face was red with fury.

       “My message is short and so I will just say it,” Tayan said clearly. “My master has a proposition that he thinks you might like.” Tayan wasn’t sure whether Llurd was listening. He observed the colonel placing his right foot against the door to gain more leverage. Tayan continued.

       “It concerns the new general of the military.”

       The sentence was a cue for Llurd to become interested. He stopped with his struggle with his sword and looked at Tayan.

       “What about the new general?” he asked grudgingly.

       “To put it quite simply, my master does not feel it was right for General Cristophe to interfere with the old council proceedings.”

       “And?” Llurd asked impatiently. He was eager to hear the rest.

       “And my master would like to do something about it,” Tayan said with a sly grin.

       Llurd did not yet fully understand what this was all about. It was clear, however, that it involved him. He stepped away from the door and towards Tayan in the most intimidating way possible. Tayan held his ground... unintimidated.

       “And this concerns me how…?”

       Tayan glanced pointedly at the mess in the colonel’s office. “I think it’s pretty obvious, Colonel Llurd. You want that job,” Tayan said matter-of-factly. He walked past Llurd and slowly picked up a gold and silver medal among its ruined glass container. “And we know you’ll go to great lengths to obtaining it.” Tayan turned around to face him again, flashing the medal to the colonel. “Just like when you did everything you could to obtain this particular piece.”

       Llurd squinted to see clearly which medal Tayan was holding. His visual acuity had not been completely restored due to his aching head. There was a short but sudden intake of breath as he recognized the medal, however. It was a medal of honor which reminded him of a lot of dark secrets. It was a gold fist gripping a silver hammer.

       Tayan did not give him the chance to say anything after that. He grinned and said, “You recognize it, I see. Tell me… are the memories still vivid in your head? Do you still hear their screams? Smell the smoke and taste their blood?”

       “I do not know what you’re talking abou--“ Llurd said quickly as he faced away. He choked the last word.

       Tayan was pleased. He had expected him to react strongly about it, but this was more than he had hoped for. It was all going to be easy for him.

       “Of course, not, Colonel,” Tayan spoke slyly. “Such secrets are not meant to be a topic of any conversation. Especially if such a horrible secret resides in the mind and guilt of a high ranking officer such as yourself.”

       “Enough!” Llurd shouted angrily. “I have nothing to hide! Your accusations ar--“

       “Accusations?” Tayan interrupted. He grinned again. “I’m not accusing you of anything, Colonel. It was just a question--a question that a cultist such as myself find very intriguing. I’m sure you did all you could to get there in time,” Tayan said mockingly. “Maybe, something came up and held you back, thus, forcing you to arrive late at the scene.”

       “I have listened to you long and patiently and you still haven’t told me how this whole thing concerns me,” Llurd said with a voice forced between his gritted teeth.

       “My master applauds both your tenacity and ferocity. What you did that day… you think nobody witnessed. But you’re wrong, Colonel. We watched just as you would spy on those whom you wished to control. Oh, but don’t get all excited! It wasn’t just you. Don’t flatter yourself by thinking that this arrangement was entirely exclusive. We all watch high ranking military personnel--not just you.”

       “Thank you for telling me that--get to the point! What does your precious master want of me?”

       “My master wants a different person to be seated upon the position of generalship. And the only way for that to happen, considering how well-protected the new general is, is through--how should I put this? Unconventional tactics. And both you and I know that you are the master of unconventional tactics.”

       “Your master wants me to be the new general? To do what? To serve as his lackey? I don’t think so, Devout. I am no one’s servant. I do things for myself alone.”

       “My master doesn’t care about who gets to be general in the end, Colonel, as long as it’s not the Council’s appointed.”

       “I don’t do favors for anybody,” he said in disgust. It was against his pride and reputation.

       “It’s such a pity that you would rather look at it that way. A prudent tactician should call it a… partnership.”

       “I play alone!” he snarled.

       “A temporary partnership, then. Surely, even with your extensive and shadowy resources you cannot possibly find it easy to do this on your own. If you accept this alliance, Colonel, my master assures victory. The new general will be dethroned and you will rise up as the replacement. Also, note that time is a factor. The longer the new general stays in power, the harder it will be to get rid of her.”

       “Her?!” Llurd asked, dumbfounded.

       Tayan pulled out a folder from the folds of his cloak. It bore a seal of high importance. It was not meant for their eyes. Tayan held it towards Llurd, who reluctantly took it from him. He regarded Tayan with great suspicion. How could a cultist have such access to top secret military files?

       Llurd opened up the folder and started reading the documents. The first thing he noticed was a photo of the new general at the top corner of the file. It was a picture of a young woman in military uniform. He did not understand it at first but as he read on, his face contorted to an expression of disbelief. He flipped through the rest of the pages, reading only the important parts. In the end he was flabbergasted.

       “You cannot be serious!”

       Tayan was chuckling cynically.

       “This is exactly the kind of expression, the other colonels wanted to see from you the moment you discover the truth.”

       Llurd’s eyes widened and in self-consciousness he wiped off the astounded expression from his face. He replaced it with one that flagrantly showed anger and extreme disapproval.

       “A lieutenant?!” he exclaimed. “They chose a lieutenant over the colonels? Over me?!” His face was redder than usual. He dropped the files on the floor and started pacing back and forth. He started to ramble on. “They cannot do this to me! This is not acceptable. It’s a joke. It’s a huge mistake…”

       Tayan calmly picked up the files and with a word of command he set it aflame. He walked over to an empty metal trash bin beside the upturned desk and dropped it there. The smoke drifted up and out through the broken glass window. It didn’t take long before the confidential files were vaporized.

       “I will kill them! I will kill them all! I will march straight to the New Council office and slit their throats!”

       Tayan rolled up his eyes and sighed in exasperation.

       “Then I’m asking the help of a fool!” Tayan said harshly. He turned around and started towards the door.

       “Wait!” Llurd called out. “Where are you going?”

       “My master has overestimated you. You are useless to us,” Tayan replied without turning around to face him.

       “You self-important bastards! I will show you and your master what I can do. I will have the New Council killed first… and then I will kill the new general myself,” he said menacingly.

       “Did you really think your men would risk their lives for you in such a reckless undertaking? Then you’ve really lost it!”

       “I have connections! I have people outside the military who work in the shadows for me. They will--“

       “Die!” Tayan interrupted. He stopped by the door on his way out. He turned towards Llurd to deliver a final note. “You underestimate your enemy. They are not the weaklings that you’re accustomed of seeing in the Council. They are protected. They have appointed mage-knights who follow them around invisibly as guards. Your ‘shadowy connections’ cannot do anything for you. You are so out of your league to handle this on your own.” Tayan turned around to exit Llurd’s office and added, “Besides… Master Palazzo would never let you near her if your intentions are such.  He wants her out of the military... not dead.” Tayan started to walk away, leaving the door open as if to allow Llurd to follow.

       Llurd bit. He stormed out of the office after Tayan.

       “Where do you think you’re going?! Where do you get the nerve to enter and leave my office like that on your own volition?”

       He grabbed Tayan by the arm roughly to stop him. Tayan simply met his angry gaze with his own cold, reptilian stare.

       There were two other soldiers outside Llurd’s office. They were his guards waiting outside. They watched them with curiosity. Llurd noticed this and sent them outside immediately, ordering them to have everybody else vacate the vicinity.

       “I come and go as I please, Colonel… because I can!” Tayan hissed as he held the colonel by the wrist with his free hand. There was a sizzling sound and the smell of burning flesh filled the air between them.

       Llurd’s face contorted to an expression of pure pain. He pulled back his hand, releasing his grip on Tayan. Tayan released him in turn. Llurd fell to his knees looking at the burn mark on his wrist.

       “I will go to Colonel Blaey,” Tayan said. “Maybe he will be more grateful of my master’s offer. Like I said, Colonel, it doesn’t matter who becomes the new general for as long as it’s not her.”

       Tayan walked away, leaving Llurd still groaning in pain on the floor.

       “Wait!” Llurd gasped. “I’ll do it!”

       Tayan stopped dead in his tracks but he did not turn around.

       “I’ll do it. I’ll cooperate!” Llurd said finally.

       Tayan half-turned.

       “Get sober. And then we’ll talk.”

****************************
****************************

       “Professor?”

       “Shh! Not now! I’m in the middle of something,” Cid said, annoyed.

       Complex mathematical equations ran through his head faster than he could write them. It was unstoppable. He had lit the fuse of the question hoping to blast the rock that covered the answer to pieces. He was like a miner strategically planting the dynamites on the surface of the rock and like all experienced miners, he had better be careful with where and how he placed them. A dynamite in the wrong place, at a wrong position could set the entire cave into complete collapse up to its adit. However, obvious differences existed between a miner and a scientist. The scientist, for the most part, was safe. And the scientist’s method was likened to lighting the fuse first before it was known to him where to place the dynamite.

       Cid both liked and disliked this cascade of thoughts. As the numbers became clearer in his head, it meant he was on the right track and speeding towards breakthrough. But he was wary about it, too. He felt that going too fast with the calculations would derail his train of thought or perhaps overshoot its destination. It was a curse of his own ingenuity. Running the complex equations in his mind at this rate made him more susceptible to forgetfulness and mistakes. But sometimes, letting his mind go at its own speed allowed him to gain enough intellectual momentum to make incredible leaps and bounds.

       Cid knew very well that he could not fully control the rate of mental calculations. Doing so took more effort which often led to mental blocks which he could not easily get around of.

       This train is going to derail no matter what, he thought once to himself. Might as well enjoy the ride and measure the ground it will cover while it’s still on track.

       So there he was, frantically scribbling numbers and symbols and notations that only he could hope to understand. He felt like a student who took notes from a professor who lectured incredibly fast, hoping to capture most (if not all) of the words that spewed from the lecturer’s mouth--hoping to be able to make sense of it at the end.

       His colleagues knew him well enough to leave him alone. Most of the time they did it for their own sakes. Cid del Norte Marguez had been known to be unpleasant if disturbed at the most critical of times. Two skilled scientists had made the mistake of interrupting him from his deepest thoughts before and were now serving the science team by doing the most menial of tasks as punishment.

       His assistant’s voice was enough for his train of thought to change course and speed. The engine faltered and his mental calculations continued to churn out numbers that didn’t make sense to him.

       Panic.

       He looked back at the last equation he had written down, hoping to spot the error and salvage the momentum. Indeed, Cid knew it was going to derail, but the best he could do at the situation was to make it stay on the track just a little longer. He needed to complete a certain sequence of numbers so that, at the very least, he could come back to his notes and restart the engine where it stopped, instead of going back to square one.

       Seven… thirty-three… twenty-eight… zero… zero… twen--

       “Cid?” said a voice, softly. It was a very familiar voice that made him drop everything that he was doing… or thinking. It was a friendly voice, but his immediate reaction was that of concern and extreme puzzlement. The fact that the voice alone was heard demanded explanation.

       Celes!?

       Cid looked away from his notes with a slight wince as though in pain. It felt like he had just dropped a priceless crystal art figure on the floor. His heart sank at the lost effort of salvaging the numbers. But the loss did not linger long enough to torment him for his mental faculty had found a newer challenge--a new puzzle that would bring him more satisfaction if (or once) solved--or so he hoped.

       “Celes?! What are you doing here?!” he exclaimed in surprise. The tone of his voice made it sound like a law had been broken.

       “Hi, Cid!” Celes returned cheerfully with a smile on her face. “I just thought I’d drop by to surprise you in person.”

       Cid’s mouth hung open for a moment. He could not decide which question to ask first. Finally--

       “Surprise me in person? Just by being here in person for whatever the reason is a great surprise! Who let you in here?” Cid asked, glancing at his assistant who just shrugged from behind Celes.

       “I did!” she said with a beaming smile.

       Cid caught on quickly.

       “You got promoted! Now that’s another surprise!” Cid exclaimed. “Joshua, get us a bottle of champagne to celebrate. Quickly now!” he ordered his assistant.

       “Uh… yes, professor!” the assistant said, leaving Celes and Cid in the office.

       “Goodness! From First Lieutenant to Major! You skipped the rank of a captain!”

       Celes wanted to correct him immediately but she was curious about one thing.

       “Major? How do you figure?”

       “Well, only majors and above are allowed to show their faces in here with the proper clearances,” Cid answered sounding very logical and obvious. “This explains why you didn’t show up for your medical testing after you promised to,” Cid stated pointedly with a slight smile.

       Celes laughed weakly, almost embarrassed. “That would be the main reason,” she admitted humbly. “I’m sorry, Cid.”

       “You should’ve contacted me or Dr. Deregasi. We both have been really worried.”

       “I know. I should’ve but when I heard about the promotion it was quite a shock!”

       “Yes.  I understand.”

       “I’m not quite sure you do, Cid,” she said. “I mean… I fainted!”

       Cid’s face grew stern and serious. “Fainted? Literally? Are you all right?” Cid asked, talking fast.

       “Yes, Cid. I’m fine. But I have yet to tell you the real surprise.”

       “The real surprise?” Cid repeated in confusion.

       “I--“ Celes started to say when a voice from a comm device interrupted her.

       “Master Director Marguez? Professor, please answer.”

       Cid motioned for Celes to hold her answer for just a moment as he went around behind his desk to answer the call. “Forgive me. This is coming from a very important channel. I cannot ignore it.” Cid flicked a switch and spoke. “This is Professor Marguez. Who’s speaking please?”

       “Good evening, Professor. This is Skarman, General Cristophe’s personal aide,” answered the voice.

       “Good evening, Mr. Skarman. What can I do for you?”

       “I’ve just been informed that the new general has scheduled an appointment to go to the lab today. It is most likely that the general will want to have a guided tour of the lab.”

       “Indeed?” Cid asked worriedly. “I was not aware of it, sir.”

       “I apologize, Professor. It was rather sudden for us, too, but General Cristophe is confident that you will make everything ready for the V.I.P.”

       “Goodness! There is so much to prepare! What would the general like to see?” Cid asked.

       “Actually, I--“ Celes started to say but Cid urgently motioned--begged--for her to be silent for just a few more seconds.

       “Do not concern yourself very much, professor. This is supposed to be an informal visit,” Skarman answered.

       “Yes, yes… of course. Thank you very much, sir. I shall make the preparations immediately!”

       Cid flicked off the comm device and got up quickly.

       “I’m sorry, Celes. But there is much to do at the moment!”

       “But, Cid I--“

       “Excuse me a second, dear,” he said quickly as he walked past her. “Joshua!”

       His assistant appeared at the door seemingly out of breath. He carried with him two empty glasses and a bottle of champagne.

       “Joshua!” Cid exclaimed. “What are you doing with that thing?!”

       “But, professor, you--“

       “Never mind that, Joshua! Didn’t you hear? The new general is coming! Spread the word to the entire science team immediately!”

       “Y-yes, professor. B-but what about the--“

       “Oh, give me those!” Cid said in irritation as he took the bottle and glasses from his assistant.

       Celes tried to say something again. “Cid, I have to tell you something.”

       Cid handed her the bottle and glasses suddenly that Celes almost dropped them. “Please, dear, put that some place, will ya? Careful now!” He didn’t’ give her the chance to speak after. He went out the door, pushing his assistant on the way.

       “Cid!” Celes called out after him but either he didn’t hear or he ignored her. Celes followed him outside and through the corridors.

       It was a different kind of corridor. It was bustling with activity. The walls had large glass windows where one could look into and observe the scientists working on different machines, and counting numbers. He tapped on each one of them as he passed by them making a deliberate signal with his hands. It was a signal Celes wasn’t familiar with but she discovered for it to mean “Look busy!” or “Hurry up!” when the people inside seemed to hasten their work.

       “Joshua, I want you to get down to the M-Level and tell them that the new general is coming. Tell them to drop the new prototypes their working on and bring out last week’s prototypes instead. Particularly the ones that are big and shiny, and that make loud sounds, and drill holes through slabs of metal.” He glanced towards Celes and added, “Military freaks love that kind of stuff.”

       “Cid, this really isn’t necessary. I--“

       “Joshua, what are you still doing here?! Go! Run! The new general will be here any minute now!”

       The assistant ran ahead of them.

       “You were saying something, Celes?” Cid asked without stopping in his quickened pace. Celes was still clutching at the glasses and bottle.

       “We need to stop, Cid. It’s ver--“

       Cid stopped abruptly in front of a large door that Celes almost bumped into him from behind.

       “What kind of clearance did you say you have?” Cid asked again, interrupting Celes.

       “Er…”

       “Never mind. I trust you anyway!” Cid said as he turned towards the door, pulling a key card from his lab coat. He swiped it across a slit on the door and the door beeped loudly. The door hissed and slid to the side.

       “Cid--“ she started again.

       “What are you people doing?!” he exclaimed at the top of his lungs towards a team of perplexed scientists. “Clean up this mess right now and look busy! Don’t you know that the new general is coming to visit the lab?”

       “Professor, we were just making those calculations that you--“

       “I did those calculations already in my office. Now put on some lead suits and everybody jump into the fryer!”

       The scientists all scrambled to remove the paperwork off a huge desk and started to evacuate the room.

       “Fryer?” she asked with uncertainty.

       “It’s just a nickname for the Level-three radiation room. Being there makes them look like they’re doing something,” he said with a wink. “Anyway, you were about to tell me something? Speak up fast, Celes, and--what are you still doing with those?” Cid asked as he noticed the bottle of champagne.

       “I-uh--“

       “Those aren’t allowed in here. Quickly… find a waste basket. No, wait! Those are expensive. Give them to me.”

       Celes held them out for Cid to take but Cid got distracted again. She sighed loudly in exasperation.

       “Fischer! You’re coming with me!” he said as he walked past Celes. She could do nothing but follow them again. “The new general is coming. You’re coming with me to greet him outside. What is that thing you’re wearing? Is that coffee stain? Good grief, man! Put on a lead jacket!”

       “The new general, sir? I did not know he was coming in today,” Fischer said nervously.

       “Nobody did. You know how these big military freaks are. You think they own the place. They like to surprise us now and again to check up on us. No offense, Celes.”

       “None taken,” she said with a smirk on her face.

       Cid walked out of the room and the two followed him.

       “Cid, would you please listen to what I have to say?” Celes pleaded.

       “In a minute, Celes. I need to practice my introduction. Darn it! I need my key staff with me! Where the hell are they?”

       Fischer was ready to answer. “Sir, Samar and Jade are in the C-Lab. The others are all over the place.”

       “Ugh!” he said in disgust. “Never mind I’ll find a replacement. It’s only for show anyw--you!” Cid shouted as he saw a young man emerge from what looked like a broom closet. “You’re coming with me!”

       The puzzled gentleman did as he was ordered without a word. Celes found it rather amusing how Cid managed to form a new Key Staff within seconds just by pointing at the people he saw on the way. After capturing about five hapless people with him he started to explain the situation.

       “All you need to do is nod and smile. I forbid you to say anything. I do the talking. The new general will be shaking your hands. Are your hands clean? Good! Maybe you may say something like how it’s an honor to have him here with us and--confound it!” Cid stopped in his tracks again and turned towards the people behind him. “I forgot to ask for his name! Celes, do you know the new general’s name?”

       “As a matter of fact, I do, Cid! It’s--“

       “You! What are you doing with that thing?! You’re supposed to be my C-Lab key officer, for crying out loud! Drop that mop and bucket! And you! Put away that sandwich this second!”

       “But, sir, I’m just with the maintenance crew,” the man tried to explain.

       “Well, I just promoted you as one of my main officers. Your first job is to nod and smile and agree with me, do you understand?! You get your pay at the end of the day and then you’re fired,” Cid said firmly. With that he turned around and started to walk again.

       “So you know the name, eh, Celes? Good. Perhaps you can do the introductions instead. What are you still doing with those?” he asked again, eyeing the champagne.

       “If you’re not going to liste--“

       “Oh! Great idea, Celes! We can tell the new general it’s for him. But we need more glasses.”

       “No, we don’t, Cid! We only--“

       “You’re right!” Cid said quickly as he took hold of the glasses. He spotted a waste basket on the side and threw them away. “Let’s just tell the new general that the bottle is a gift. Is it still chilled?”

       He didn’t wait for Celes to answer that question. Cid led the way to the main entrance of the building. It was the same entrance that Celes took. It was the entrance where Jasom Keep was stationed at. The four interior guards stood up when they saw the group of scientists arrive. They all saluted at the same time. Cid was taken aback at the gesture when he thought that they were saluting to him but then he remembered Celes behind him.

       “At ease!” she said simply.

       The guards opened the door to the lobby. They saw Jasom Keep behind the guard’s desk outside. Jasom stood up to salute but Celes motioned for him to remain at ease.

       “Jasom!” Cid called. “Is the general on his way here?”

       Jasom, looking confused, nervously asked, “The general?”

       “Yes!” Cid answered impatiently. “He’s supposed to visit the lab today.”

       “I was not aware that General Cristophe would be--“ Jasom started to say.

       “No, no! I’m talking about the new general!”

       Jasom was more confused than he ever was now. He leaned to the side a bit to look at Celes, who was rolling her eyes up at the moment.

       “Professor, the general is here,” Jasom answered.

       “He is?! Where?” Cid looked around like a prey would after detecting a predator nearby.

       Jasom raised his hand hesitantly and pointed past Cid and the other people behind him. The ‘key staff’ parted to the side to look behind them. In the middle stood Celes, leaning on one leg, her arms folded across her chest and her right hand still clutching at the bottle of champagne by its neck.

       Cid could not understand it at first but then his face paled and his mouth hung open in realization.

       He was speechless.

       “Can we toast to my big promotion now, Cid?”

****************************
****************************

       They walked through the corridors in haste leaving the soldiers and the ‘key staff’ behind. After Celes’s announcement, Cid’s reaction was not what any of them had expected. Cid held Celes by the wrist and led her through the corridors again and back to his office. Celes obligingly followed. At one point, Cid was hurting her wrist and only when she mentioned it to him that he eased his grip. It was obvious to Celes that something had upset him.

       Cid closed the door behind them and locked it. Celes watched him intently, still holding the bottle of champagne rather awkwardly.

       “Sit down,” Cid said almost inaudibly then he started pacing back and forth right in front of her.

       Celes sat on the chair nearest her. She was nervous. She hadn’t seen Cid this upset before.

       “Cid… what’s going on?” she asked.

       Cid continued pacing back and forth, seemingly in deep thought. Whether he was too preoccupied with his thoughts or he ignored her question, she couldn’t tell.

       This is happening too quickly all at the same time. The change… the cycle… the promotion. It’s all too convenient.

       Finally, Cid stopped and looked at her.

       “Who promoted you?” he asked.

       “The New Council chose me,” Celes answered promptly.

       “Who is the head of this New Council?” Cid asked almost immediately.

       “G-General Cristophe is.”

       Leo?

       “So General Cristophe promoted you?”

       Celes felt like she was being interrogated.

       “Yes. Cid, is anything the matter?”

       “Who else knows about this?” Cid asked.

       “Cid! Tell me what’s wrong,” she demanded.

       “What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! The Empire just promoted you to a general and you ask what’s wrong? You-you-you’re too young to be a general. Too inexperienced! Celes, just yesterday you were a First Lieutenant. Now you’re a general! This is not normal. It’s highly irregular, and that is what’s wrong!” Cid returned heatedly.

       It was the first time Celes had seen him like this. It was almost as if Cid was deeply offended at the idea of her being a general. This was not the reaction she had in mind.

       “Cid… i-it’s okay. I was just as surprised as you were when they told me but they explained everything to me. I think everything’s going to be fine. I’ll deal with this. General Cristophe said they will train me.”

       “Who else knows about this?” Cid asked again.

       Celes shook her head. “Why does that matter?”

       “Just--!” Cid started with a raised voice. He caught himself just in time. He took a deep breath and asked again, calmly. “Just answer the question, Celes. It is very important. Who else knows about this?”

       “Plenty of people--the Council, the officers in the military, the Emperor and a handful of guards--and you. Tomorrow, everybody in Vector will know.”

       “Does Kefka know?” Cid asked. He bit his lip after but it was too late.

       “Kefka? Maybe. But what’s he got to do with anything?” she asked, puzzled.

       Everything! He’s the center of the classified information 'solar system.'

       “Nothing, of course!” he said, turning away from her suddenly. “What do they want of you?”

       “General Cristophe said they needed a new type of leader in Vector. They did some research and they chose me--to make the long story short.”

       But why Leo? Why is he involved? Why was the Council changed? Was it changed solely for her?

       “Why did the New Council choose you?”

       “I… I can’t tell you that, Cid. I’m sorry,” she said mildly.

       “Why not?” he asked in alarm.

       “It’s… classified information,” she said simply, feeling quite proud of herself for finally having the authority to say those words.

       Classif--those bastards! What gave them the right to hide things from me?

       “Classified? Are you hiding anything from me?” Cid asked, tactlessly. He was too upset to catch himself in time.

       Idiotic!

       This time, Celes pounced back. Standing up, she retorted, “Yes, Cid! That’s what classified information means! You know… like the ones you keep hidden from me when you’re working on your… classified projects! Did you think it was something personal?” Cid immediately regretted asking the question even before Celes answered it. Now both of them were upset.

       “Well, did you, at least, take the time to ask yourself why they chose you?”

       “Of course, I did, Cid. I’m not stupid.”

       “I didn’t say you were,” Cid said defensively. “But you have to think about this very carefully. Unless… they didn’t give you that chance.”

       “Of course, they did, Cid. And, yes, I have thought about it. Many times. General Cristophe helped clear out my doubts. The more I thought about it, the more it became clear to me that I wanted the job,” Celes said.

       “I don’t like this one bit. You don’t even have battlefield experience,” Cid argued.

       “Yes, I do. I went to many field missions before.”

       “But never into battle,” Cid noted quickly.

       “It doesn’t matter. I will be trained and readied.”

       “For what?”

       What did they tell her?

       “I-I can’t tell you,” Celes replied.

       Cid sighed in exasperation. “I don’t like it at all,” he muttered under his breath and he was sure this time that his voice was not loud enough for anybody else to hear. But Celes did hear him.

       “Well, then you’ve got nothing to worry about because I didn’t come here for your permission!” she said angrily.

       Too fast… too early… I have to stall or else I’ll lose her.

       “Tell them that you change your mind!” Cid said suddenly.

       “What?!” she exclaimed, looking at Cid incredulously.

       “Tell them you’re not ready to handle the responsibilities.”

       “I am not going to do that! Cid, what on Terrae is wrong with you?”

       “Being this high up in the military is dangerous business, Celes. Trust me. I know! I have a feeling that they’re not telling you everything you ought to know.”

       “I am aware of the danger, Cid. I am aware of the hardships. But I am confident that I can do this. General Cristophe and the New Council are behind me all the way. Besides, if I let this opportunity pass me by then it goes to the next person,” she said grimly.

       “Let it pass,” Cid said. “Let the next person handle the immense responsibility of being a general. It’s safer--“

       “Safer--?!”

       “You won’t be burdened with the tedious military affairs. You’ll be happier.”

       “Happier?! What do you know of things that make me happy, Cid? I joined the military not so long ago. You wished me luck on my next promotion just yesterday over dinner. Did you think I enlisted because I needed to? This is what I want to do, Cid. I want to be a soldier. I am happy here.”

       “I remember that day, Celes and--“

       “You were happy for me.”

       “Yes, I was!”

       “Then why can’t you be happy for me now?”

       “Because… because…” Cid had the word in his mind.

       Stop, fool! You cannot tell her! Not yet. Not like this!

       He wanted to say it out loud but he could not. Saying it out loud was out of the question. Celes noticed this. She examined the expression on his face intently. She felt like he was hiding something from her. “Because I have a terrible feeling about all these! It’s highly illogical for somebody like you to be a general just like that.”

       Cid and Celes both fell quiet. The angry look left her face. Now… she was wounded.

       “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Professor. I thought you’d be thrilled. You were the only one I could possibly share this supposedly exciting news with, and here you are acting like a… like a…” Celes couldn’t possible think of an analogy to complete the sentence. She was not used to saying mean things… not especially to the only man she considered family in Vector. “…like an overprotective parent!” she finished triumphantly. She had no time to assess whether it was the smartest thing to say. She thrust the bottle of champagne into his hands and she went for the door.

       Go after her! Don’t lose her now!

       “Celes, wait!”

       “That’s General, to you,” she snapped.

       Don’t lose her now.

       “Celes--“

       “General Celes Chere,” she insisted, sternly.

       Hide your concern. You’re scaring her away.

       Cid sighed.

       “Celes,” he said calmly and thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. I panicked. It’s what scientists do when something big happens that’s totally unexpected no matter how pleasing it looks. I wanted to be sure it’s real, but most of all, safe.”

       Celes stared at him for a moment, checking to see if he was being sincere. She bit her lip when she realized that he was.

       “Please have a seat, Celes. No, no… use my chair behind the desk. It’s more comfortable.”

       Celes did so. She didn’t care where she sat down. She just wanted to give Cid another chance. She wanted to give herself another chance.

       Cid looked at the bottle in his hand and smiled.

       “Well, I must admit, Celes, that I still have a lot of questions in mind. But I’ll put them all away for now. After all… a promotion is a promotion,” he said cheerfully as he walked to a breakfront situated close to his desk. He opened the front glass door by its little knobs and pulled out two empty sterilized beakers.

       “I don’t believe in collecting wine glasses just for show,” he explained with a smile.

       Celes didn’t say anything. She was still licking her wounds from the quarrel. She felt awful at what she had done. She felt bad about raising her voice and assuming the bitter tone of discourtesy in spite of his reaction. He was the only person she could trust and what had just occurred was something she hadn’t counted on ever happening. She felt betrayed by his questions and reaction.

       Why did he have to act like that, anyway? Why couldn’t he just be happy for me? she thought, trying to rationalize her actions. Well, he didn’t give me much of a choice she concluded. But somehow, even her defensive reasoning didn’t give her much comfort. She knew that she still should’ve reserved her best judgment in the situation.

       “It’s supposed to be my working formula for the next experiment,” Cid said as he placed the beaker filled with champagne on the table in front of her.

       Celes looked up and asked suddenly, “What?”

       “That paper that you were staring at,” he pointed out. “I was working on it before you came.”

       Celes looked at the desk again and saw right in front of her a piece of paper with numbers, equations and symbols written by hand so fast that it was almost illegible. She was deep in thought about feeling guilty that she hadn’t noticed the paper at all.

       “Oh, I wasn’t looking at it,” she quickly explained, blushing. She pushed it aside and took a hold of her beaker. “I was just thinking.”

       Cid raised a brow. “Oh? About what?”

       “About me saying how you were acting like an overprotective parent.” She sighed before she continued on. “I’m sorry, Cid.”

       “Now, now, Celes. The apology should come from me, not you. I was acting like an overprotective parent; you were right.”

       “It wasn’t an excuse--“

       “My reaction was unjustifiable either. I should’ve been more careful with how I reacted,” Cid said, stealing the moment of guilt from her obligingly. “Besides, I took your criticism as a compliment.”

       Celes smiled slightly and stared down at her beaker. She watched the bubbles in the champagne form on the sides of the clear glass, gain enough volume and rise up to the surface only to disappear.

       Cid raised his beaker and made his toast.

       “To your promotion--I wish for you happiness, good health, and all the rewards of being the great leader in you.”

       Celes smiled, raised her own beaker and acknowledged the honor. Both of them took a sip from the beakers and talked calmly the rest of the evening.

****************************
****************************

       The soldiers congregated in the Assembly Ground before a grand platform decorated with red and black banners. Their presence was mandatory. They formed massive and decorated ranks as though in preparation for an invasion. But this was no invasion. It was the day when the rumors about the new general were to be confirmed.

       It was a short ceremony. It was a mere formality. Celes Chere was already a general whether or not she was properly introduced to the army. She was already a general with or without being sworn into generalship. In the eyes of the Emperor, the New Council, General Cristophe, and even Kefka, Celes Chere was already a key player in the future of Vector. However, for the sake of those outside the inner circle (including Celes herself) it was for formality of recognition.

       The ceremony started with a speech from General Cristophe about the reformation of the Military Council. Gradually, his speech steered towards the Council’s plans to root out the so-called malignancy within the military ranks. He had declared a war to be waged between the corrupt and the incorruptible. Then the soldiers were reminded of the basic principles of the chain of commands. They were prompted to “know” their places and to never question the hierarchical ruling. As a finale, General Cristophe introduced the new Knight of Vector--the one to replace General Fencross.

       There were no gasps. The soldiers all kept their surprise to themselves, if any remained. The high ranking officers, particularly the colonels, kept their disappointments and aversions towards the Council’s decision in check. It was not the place to show their displeasure. They all saluted to the feminine figure that came to stand before them all at the center of the platform wearing a decorative suit of plate armor of polished silver and gold. It was definitely for ornamental purposes such as the ceremony. It was light and provided no real protection. No doubt her real battle armor would be even more impressive. The figure stood in front of them all--poised and confident. She wore a silver helm laced with intricate gold patterns that were unmistakably the Empire’s emblem and crest of high power and authority that only generals had the honor of bearing.

       She returned the salute to the soldiers. Celes’s eyes went straight into the horizon and never into the eyes of soldiers. She didn’t want to get distracted. She wanted to remain calm and focused for she had to recite her Oath to the Empire as the newly-favored Servant of the Emperor. Normally, the Oath was recited before the emperor himself, but the emperor was not present at the ceremony. General Cristophe had reasoned to her earlier that the emperor’s absence was due to high security concerns. Celes was more relieved than disappointed. She had never seen the emperor face to face before. She imagined that his presence would’ve made her more nervous. Instead, the Oath was said before General Cristophe himself. After all, it was just for show.

       She removed her helm. Her hair (no longer fastened to a bun as was required for a low-ranking soldier) was half-braided to a dignified fashion as semblance of her rank. She was a remarkable sight to see. Her blue eyes reflected the bright lights surrounding the platform. Her face, unblemished and betraying no emotion, looked stone-cold calm but not in an arrogant sort of way. In fact, even General Cristophe was taken aback when she saw her face. He was usually adept at detecting fear and unease just by looking at people. In his slight and quiet astonishment, he could not see either from her face. It wasn’t at all that she looked perfectly calm but rather her face simply didn’t allow the slightest hint of emotion from her--any emotion. Her face was completely unreadable.

       General Cristophe cleared his throat after realizing that he had been staring at her for an awkward length of time.

       “Are you ready to give your Sacred Oath to the Empire?” General Cristophe asked.

       “I am ready,” she replied, her voice, clear, unwavering, and composed.

       A flash of lightning came from above followed by a roll of thunder. Both Celes and General Cristophe glanced up. Storm clouds were forming high above. Rain was inevitable.

       “Then let us proceed,” General Cristophe said, wary of the unaccounted weather formation. “Kneel, Celes Chere and--“

       Celes blinked in confusion. The world around her became silent. General Cristophe’s mouth was still moving but she did not hear words coming out from it. She no longer heard the wind or the banners flapping in its mild torrent. It was almost as if she had been stricken deaf. And yet, she remained calm. It was an odd sense of feeling for her as though it was somewhat expected.

       Celes followed the last order that came from General Cristophe. She knelt down on both knees instead of one, as was traditional for female soldiers. She held her helm firmly with both hands and held her chin up. When she saw that General Cristophe had stopped speaking, she knew that it was her turn just as they rehearsed it.

       She started to speak the first words of the Oath. She did not hear her voice but she knew that she was speaking them in utmost and dignified eloquence. She just knew somehow. The words of the Oath stayed with her in her mind. Her memory did not falter. Her tongue--though she could not hear her own words--did not slip.

       Celes’s skin started to feel numb. She started to feel weightlessness. Her mind felt completely detached from the body, and yet she did not faint as she had expected. She knew that she was still kneeling down, reciting the Oath.

       It was then that she heard a familiar voice--one that was only supposed to exist in her dreams. Three voices in unison. Ominous, gentle and solemn, all at once.

       What good is a sword when devoid of forged strength? When it is as weak and brittle as the bones of a child? What good is a sword deprived of a sharp edge? When it cannot cut through the flesh of your foes?

       She felt her body again. The platform stung her knees despite the padding on her armor. It was not as comfortable as anyone was led to believe. All eyes were upon her still, as well as the ears of those close to her. She was still reciting the words of the Oath. She could hear her own voice once again as she uttered the last line.

       “For the Glory of the Empire, I, Celes Chere, Servant of the Exalted Emperor, so swear to the last of my dying breath,” she finished flawlessly. Nobody else noticed what happened. Nobody else heard the voices.

       General Cristophe drew his sword from its sheath and raised it high above everybody else. Then with careful handling of his sword, he did the ceremonial tap on Celes’s shoulders with the flat of its blade as he said, “Then by the power vested in me by our Great and Righteous Emperor Gestahl, I dub thee Lady Celes Chere, Knight of Vector.”

       Two soldiers walked up to her from behind carrying a thick, white cloth of strong fabric. It was a cape. The cape bearers fastened the ends to her armor’s shoulder plates with ease. Another thunder, much louder than before, rolled above. She felt a disturbingly familiar presence nearby. It made her glance over her left shoulder, catching a glimpse of the two soldiers returning into the background. They were wearing full helms themselves, and she could not see their faces.

       “Rise, Lady Chere,” General Cristophe commanded, “and take charge of the Authority. Lead your followers unto victory, and bring swift justice to Vector’s foes. The time of purification is at hand. Herald for us a new age of might within and without. Let the traitors and rebels perish under your valiant command.” And with that, General Cristophe stood in the background with the cape bearers and his personal aide on the back edge of the ten-foot platform. It was Celes’s turn to take center stage and shine.

       Celes stood up and forced herself to ignore the odd wariness that she was feeling. The white cape on her back waved gently in the wind. She faced the mass of soldiers again. They all stood like lifeless monoliths in an expansive burial ground. At least, they looked to Celes like that in the darkness of the evening. The atmosphere felt eerie to her especially after hearing the voices come alive from her dreams.

       She shouted on the top of her lungs, “Devenias Gastra!”

       The monoliths moved at the same time as the final salute of the ceremony and cried out in unison, “For the Empire!”

       “Devenias Gastra!” she cried again. Lightning flashed dangerously close.

       “For the Empire!” the soldiers shouted again but their voices were drowned by the rolling thunder that followed. The wind whipped around them in a sudden violent stream, sending the banners, flags and the generals’ capes up into the air.

       “Devenias Gastra!” she shouted for the last time. Her voice, muffled by the weather’s own clamor. The soldiers weren’t sure whether they’d heard right.

       “For the Empire!” they shouted in disarray and uncertainty. Even General Cristophe himself was one of those who were unsure.

       And in the pinnacle of the confusion, a cry was heard from behind Celes. Celes spun around in alarm to look. It was Lieutenant Arnold Beigeletter, disguised as one of the cape bearers, charging towards Celes at top speed, holding a long, pointy dagger by its hilt and an especially large pommel. It was a killing charge. Celes recognized the type of dagger he held in an instant. It was the kind that could pierce through regular plate mail--and she was wearing something less protective!

       It was too late for her to draw her own sword. Beigeletter had already cut a dangerous distance between the two of them. It was simply too late for her to react. She met the moment of impact with wide, horrified eyes. The dagger pierced through her ceremonial armor as though it were made of paper. The dagger bit through her flesh just below her heart. The force that Beigeletter initially carried sent the both of them off the platform and into the hard concrete floor below in front of everybody. Everything happened so fast that Celes only began to feel the pain after hitting the ground.

       It was a terrible pain, the likes of which she had never felt before. It was a mortal wound. Death was imminent. She clutched at the pommel of the dagger with her bloodied hands, trying to remove it. The dagger was stuck; the plate armor did not permit it to be pulled out easily. Though she was not aware of it then, this proved to be a good thing. Often times, removing a dagger proved to be more fatal.

       Lying on her back and bleeding to death fast, she gasped for help, with a voice nobody heard. She waited for General Cristophe to rush to her side and to rescue her but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, she saw only Arnold Beigeletter, picking himself up from the ground as he drew his sword. He stood above Celes and raised his sword in the air as an executioner would with an axe. He was going to finish the job in front of everybody.

       “I win, Celes! I am the better swordsman!” he shouted, wearing the face of a madman.

       Celes held out a hand above her as a futile defensive gesture. She tried to scream but the pain would not let her. She vomited blood. Her entire body was rigid and her face was contorted to a mask of agony.

       “Help me,” she mouthed. Even she could not form the words as whispers. Nevertheless, her prayer was answered.

       A soldier from the assembled crowd reached them finally and tackled Beigeletter to the ground. It was Colonel Harold Llurd. The two of them wrestled for the sword that Beigeletter was wielding. Llurd eventually wrested it away, and used it against the assassin. Llurd stuck the sword through Beigeletter’s heart. He died instantly.

       The other soldiers who arrived late at the scene gathered around Celes and examined her wound. She was covered in blood, and losing more with every second that passed. Her senses were slowly diminishing. The shouts around her seemed muffled and distorted. Her body was becoming more and more numb. Her surroundings were losing color as they gradually faded to gray. She stared straight up at the sky. The storm clouds loomed above them all. A rumble cued the fall of the rain. Water mixed with her blood as light mixed with darkness to form the dullness--the numbness--of gray.

       Celes died at the very second her hands went limp--confirmed after a full minute without a pulse.

****************************
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       She stood there in front of the numbers. She was one of the prime now. She was on the same level as he. Leo watched her from the back edge of the platform as she saluted to the Army--also hers to command to bring Vector to their goals.

       Leo sighed and frowned. He was aware of how difficult the appointed task would be. He had lied to her about almost everything. He had lied about how the New Council had chosen her because of her special ability to rapidly cope and absorb knowledge. He had lied about the reason why she had been chosen as the new general. He did it for one purpose only--to protect her from Kefka.

       Kefka’s mind-controlling device is much too powerful and ultimately dangerous, he thought. I see why the Emperor fears his reckless behavior. Kefka could well be the end of the grand campaign.

       Leo reached into his memories dating six years ago when he had first heard about the Slave Crown Project. He was personally opposed to its completion. To rob somebody of their will was something he considered more heinous than murder. Coming from an honorable soldier, he regarded the project as an arsenal of atrocity and a silent threat.

       It was he who had summoned up the courage to face the Emperor himself and to discuss with the Emperor his thoughts about the matter. It was he who had made clear to the Emperor of how powerful the Slave Crown Project was and how its mere existence could be a threat to the Empire itself. The Emperor meditated on the subject for days. Leo thought that the Emperor had completely dismissed his opinion. To his relief, however, the Emperor gave the order to stop the experiment after a week. It was the day when he thought he had seen the last of the accursed project.

       But the present was a different time. Apparently, the past events had no impact to what has been culminated by Kefka’s own research team. Kefka’s own research team had no regard for the Emperor’s decree. The threat was very real now. A working prototype had been created. Worse still--it had been utilized.

       Though he did not know (or chose not to know) how the Slave Crown operated, he shuddered at the thought of Tina Branford--also known as Subject B--wearing it. He had worries of the Slave Crown being used on him for he did not trust Kefka. He assumed that the Emperor was wary about the same thing. Taking away the charge of manufacturing the Slave Crowns was a prudent move for the Emperor. Kefka should not be allowed access to them.

       Thunder rolled from above and the wind whipped around them in a sudden gale force that drowned Celes’s voice as she shouted the last responsorial salute. He muttered a curse on the weather under his breath. Yet, he was glad that the ceremony was short and at its end. All that was left to do was for the cape-bearers right beside him to escort her off the platform.

       He looked to his right. The cape bearers seemed to be unsure of what to do next. The wind and the thunder had drowned Celes’s voice which was supposed to be their cue to move.

       Leo leaned to his right and said in a clear voice, “Now! Escort her down now!”

       The cape-bearer closest to him turned his head to face him slowly and deliberately. Their eyes met. Leo saw the eyes of the cape-bearer. They stared into his with hate. He puzzled over this for a split of a second. The cape-bearer looked awfully familiar to him. Then--

       “You!” he gasped.

       Leo’s right hand went for his sword but as he was pulling it out, the cape-bearer gave him a mighty shove. Being at the edge of the platform, Leo lost his balance and fell. With a desperate move, his left hand caught the banner fluttering in the wind. Unfortunately for him, the banner was an insufficient support.

       Leo fell ten feet below, taking with him the banner. The banner fell on top of him like a trapper’s net. Under the thick fabric he heard a cry from above and some incoherent shouts from the guards. General Chere was in danger.

       He struggled to get it off himself. It proved to be more difficult than he imagined especially with the wind bearing down on him. He managed to tear through the fabric with his sword. He ripped it open and stepped through the hole. He was greeted with a few soldiers coming from around the platform.

       “General! Are you--“

       “Celes!” Leo shouted as he dashed past the soldiers who came to see if he was all right. “Celes!” he called out again.

       He went around the first corner of the platform. From behind he could not see what was happening, but he could hear a commotion coming from the front. With his sword drawn he ran around the last corner just in time to see Colonel Llurd slay the cape-bearer with a sword.

       His eyes went to General Chere who lay on the ground, barely moving. He stared with horror at her bloody hands and the dagger. Her face twisted to the most painful mortal wound known in battle. She was dying fast. Blood colored her lips morbidly redder. No sound came from her lips. Every breath she took was accompanied with violent, painful spasms of the stomach.

       Leo rushed to her side. He held her by her temples and made her meet his stare, but her eyes never met his. She stared straight beyond the dark, cloudy sky--into nothingness. Her lips trembled with every breath. Her fingers still gripped the dagger’s hilt in a futile attempt to will it away.

       “Stay with me, Celes! Stay with me!” he pleaded. He almost choked the words because of his rapidly growing apprehension. He was horrified at the thought of losing her. He had seen this type of wound many times before in battle. But he had never seen anybody survive it. Many times he had made the terrible decision of ending the life of the mortally wounded with his own sword rather than to witness that person suffer. If he had that choice, he would’ve done the same for General Chere. But General Chere was not allowed to die. She was his responsibility. He was supposed to protect her. It was a command that came straight from the Emperor’s lips.

       He turned to those around him.

       “Somebody, call a medic!” he roared. “Alert the Infirmary! We have an emergency situation!”

       Soldiers trained to handle minor medical emergencies on the field stepped in to see what they could do to help as they waited for the real emergency crew to arrive. As soon as they got a good look at the wound, they knew that it would almost be impossible for them to treat it. The dagger had pierced through the thin plate. Before they could even start to, at least, suppress the bleeding they had to remove her armor. But before they could remove her armor they had to pull the dagger out which was simply out of the question. None of them looked optimistic. They needed a miracle to pull this off even through the aid of magic. The wound was just too severe.

       “We can’t do anything for her here, general. We need to take her to the Infirmary so we can cut through the armor without removing the dagger!”

       From a distance, the sirens of a medical emergency vehicle was heard.

       “Make way! Commanders, get your men off the Assembly Ground now!” he bellowed. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of Colonel Llurd standing nearby, staring indifferently at General Chere. Though he was the one who stopped Arnold Beigeletter from finishing her off, he shed no sympathy for her, whatsoever. But in that fleeting second of observation he also sensed worry coming from the Colonel.

       Leo shook the thought off and concentrated on the matter at hand. The medical vehicle drew closer as the throng of crowd parted to make way.

       “General!” a soldier called back his attention towards General Chere.

       Her lips trembled no more, and her bloody hands had lost their strength to the hopeless battle. She stopped breathing. Life had left her body, confirmed by the absence of her pulse, and the deathly stare of her empty, blue eyes.

       “She’s gone, general,” the soldier announced solemnly. “She’s dead.”

       Leo shook his head defiantly. “Not yet!” he said fiercely. The vehicle stopped a short distance from them. “Help me carry her!” he ordered the soldiers around him. They all followed without question. They did not even wait for the stretcher.

       They brought her inside the vehicle and strapped her to the stretcher. Once they made sure that she was secure, an angry voice penetrated the din much like how the dagger penetrated through Celes’s armor.

       “Stop!” the voice commanded. Everybody turned towards the source of the voice, including Leo. It was Kefka, fighting his way through the crowd, savagely pushing aside the unsuspecting soldiers who got in his way. Leo waited for Kefka to reach him though he did not exactly know why.

       “Where are you taking her?” Kefka asked, positioning himself in front of the vehicle.

       “To the Infirmary,” Leo answered impatiently and then added, “Get out of the way!”

       “No! Take her to Omega! I can help her!” he said.

       Leo’s face contorted to an ugly frown of anger.

       “Never! What sort of fool do you take me for, Kefka?”

       “The most idiotic of all if you believe that the Military Infirmary can do anything to bring her back to life! The Omega Lab is her only chance!” Kefka replied.

       Leo refused to listen. Accepting Kefka’s assistance was out of the question.

       “Get out of the way or I’ll have this vehicle run you over!” Leo said as a real threat. Kefka held his ground. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you, Kef--“

       “Sir!” called out a soldier from outside the vehicle. He was running towards him carrying a mobile comm device. The soldier saluted to him and then gave him the comm device. “Sir, his lordship, the Emperor is on the channel!”

       Leo picked up the receiver of the comm device and spoke.

       “My Lord?”

       “Leo,” the Emperor’s voice said calmly.

       “I am here, my Lord.”

       “Is Celes dead?” he asked.

       “We are on our way to the--“

       “Is she dead, Leo?” he asked again, still in his calm voice.

       Leo swallowed nervously before he answered.

       “Yes, my Lord. She is dead.”

       “Then take her to the Omega Lab. Take Kefka with you,” Emperor Gestahl said.

       “Are you sure, my Lord?” Leo asked in disbelief.

       “I am very sure, Leo,” the Emperor answered patiently.

       “I… understand, my Lord,” Leo answered drably.

       He handed back the comm device to its original bearer and then turned to Kefka. He looked at him grudgingly before he submitted to the will of his emperor. Leo surrendered his seat and moved to the back of the vehicle beside Celes’s stretcher. Kefka hurriedly climb the vehicle on the passenger side.

       “Magitek Lab Omega,” Kefka said to the driver. “They will wait for us there. Make haste!”

       The driver hesitated and glanced back towards his general. General Cristophe nodded solemnly.

       The vehicle started with a jolt and sped at top velocity towards one of the most restricted Magitek Facilities of the Bronze Compound, sirens blaring.

       Leo looked at General Chere again. Her eyes were still open, staring into the realm of the dead. Her body exhibited no signs of life. The medical officers within started the process of dismantling her armor with extreme care. He wanted to close her eyes but he didn’t want to tempt fate. He let her eyes remain open because that was how they were supposed to be.

****************************
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       The stretcher rolled fast through the twisting corridors, pushed by scientists headed by lab directors. General Cristophe and Kefka trailed them closely. Red lights flashed in the corridors that they took. A few soldiers, General Cristophe’s select few, followed lastly.

       The lab director communicated orders between the scientists. General Cristophe felt it odd that for such an emergency real medical doctors were not at all present. But it all made sense. Doctors would not be able to do anything to help her. The problem was beyond their expertise. Medical doctors prevented death to the best of their abilities.

       But these people? Is it their job to prevent the permanence of death?

       “Tayan!” Kefka bellowed. In an instant, a Devout materialized beside him, dispelling the magical barrier of Invisibility.

       “I am here, Master.”

       “Send for Cid and his team. Waste no time and make sure they don’t either!”

       “At once, Master,” replied Tayan with a bow.

       They arrived finally at a large open room. An operating table was situated at the very center. The lights on the high ceiling provided ample light for the people below. General Cristophe found himself a corner to let the scientists do their work. They removed her armor by completely cutting the plates off with a small circular saw. The dagger remained stuck in her belly. Kefka had given the order not to pull it out just yet.

       After cutting through Celes’s armor, they lifted her up from the stretcher and placed her carefully onto the operating table. The scientists started to strap on odd-looking devices on different parts of her body, particularly her head, chest and wrists. The director then injected her with a vial of blue liquid. Another made sure that her eyes were as wide open as they could possibly be before placing a kind of goggles over them. All the devices were hooked up to the computers located on the walls of the room.

       Kefka watched with impatience. “Stand aside! Let us handle this one!” he snarled.

       The scientists stopped and stared at him in confusion. Kefka stepped towards Celes’s body, pushing aside a scientist who was holding a tray of equipment. The scientist dropped the tray and the equipment scattered on the floor, some lay broken and permanently useless.

       Enraged, General Cristophe stepped in-between Celes and Kefka. He grabbed Kefka by the collar, lifted him off the floor and slammed him against the closest wall.

       “You are not touching her!” he said fiercely.

       At the next second, five Devouts materialized around both of them with raised arms. Their fingers, glowing blue with magical energy, all pointed towards General Cristophe. In response, General Cristophe’s own Elite Guards drew their swords and held them threateningly pointed to the backs of the Devouts. None moved. It was a stalemate. The scientists moved a safe distance from them, but they did not leave the room. They watched nervously.

       “You are making a terrible mistake, Leo!” Kefka hissed. “Unhand me now!”

       “The Emperor may have ordered me to take Celes here instead, but that does not mean you are in charge!” General Cristophe replied angrily. “Continue with the recovery process!” he ordered the scientists.

       The team hesitated for a few seconds before they started to move again.

       “Fool! If you do not let me and my men work then she will be lost to us forever!” Kefka said as a warning.

       General Cristophe simply glared at him and refused to let him go. He ignored the Devouts, menacingly pointing their bolt-charged fingers at him. He knew that they would not be foolish enough to risk harming their Master. With a command, he could order his men to slay the Devouts.

       “Order your men to stand down. Then tell them to leave the room,” General Cristophe said through gritted teeth.

       “I’d sooner order them to kill you. My Devouts are her only salvation, Leo. They know the magic to bring her back to life!”

       “So do these scientists!” General Cristophe argued.

       “These scientists rely on obsolete means. We have mastered the spell!”

       “Tell your men to stand down!” General Cristophe roared.

       General Cristophe would not hear of Kefka’s lies, and Kefka knew this. He grudgingly motioned for his followers to stand down. The Devouts did not hesitate. They moved obediently and without question.

       “Tell them to get out of the building,” General Cristophe added, still not easing his grip on Kefka’s garment.

       “Do you really think that I want her to stay dead, Leo? You and I both know that she’s of no use to us as a corpse,” he reasoned fiercely. “Why did you think the Emperor ordered you to take her here instead?”

       General Cristophe thought about what he said but made no betraying reaction. At that moment, Professor Marguez walked in the room after battling through the guards stationed outside. Tayan was behind him.

       “Celes!” he cried out in tears. “How is she? Is she all right?”

       Celes’s lifeless and bloody shell caught his blurry line of sight. The air in his lungs was snatched away by a specter of his past sins. He fell completely silent--as silent as those around him. He choked. He felt nauseous. Taking a step forward, he staggered and almost fell to the ground if it weren’t for two of the scientists’ rescue. The two supported him up.

       Professor Marguez found his strength again. His eyes saw all--the blood, the dagger, and her eyes.

       Those eyes! Those same eyes!

       Professor Marguez began to sob. His trembling hands held her by the temples. He shifted her head so that her lifeless eyes stared into him--past him and into nothingness.

       “Oh, Celine!” he wailed. “I have failed you again.”

       His sobs turned into uncontrollable blubber. “I’m sorry!”

       General Cristophe and the scientists around were sympathetic. Kefka was disgusted at the undignified display.

       “Imbeciles! You’re all wasting precious seconds! If you’re going to try to revive her then do it now. You people make me sick!” Kefka yelled harshly.

       Professor Marguez stopped crying and turned to the people around him. “Why aren’t you people doing anything?! Help her!”

       “Professor,” said General Cristophe, “you’re in charge of the process!”

       “You win, Leo. I’ll give Cid a chance. But if he does not bring her back in five minutes, we’ll try it our way.”

       General Cristophe had to agree. He shoved Kefka to the side forcefully. Kefka had his Devouts to thank for catching him.

       Professor Marguez started barking out orders. Though his tears were still there, his sobs were gone. His mind raced and focused on the task at hand. He was now the scientist that everybody had come to rely greatly upon. Professor Marguez knew this. There was simply no room for grieving. It was not the time. There was still hope for Celes.

       There was still hope for him.

       Tayan shuffled closer to his master, past the scientists at work. “Master, it has been too long. If we let them try this process to the finish there’d be nothing left for us to revive,” Tayan said, informatively.

       Kefka watched Professor Marguez’s team intently. They fiddled with the awkward contraptions strapped on Celes’s body. The computers on the wall hummed to life.

       Idiots! When will they ever learn that to get the full effect of magic it needs to be done by flesh and blood--not machines?!

       The contraptions on Celes glowed blue as energy poured from it and into her body. It was magical energy--truly a miracle of technology to many. To Kefka it was not enough. He knew that the magical energy provided by the machines weren’t enough. A long time ago, Cid proposed to the emperor the systematic development of the magic-aided recovery process through the heavy use of technology. Kefka proposed the opposite. He proposed to train medical practitioners in the mastery of the Revive magic. Back then, researchers had no luck, at all, in casting such a complex spell. Nobody ever had the success to make it work correctly due to the overwhelming magical energy involved in the process. Hence, the emperor favored the professor’s method.

       Professor Marguez’s method worked better than Kefka’s in the past. But it was far from perfect. For years, they were able to bring people back to life but the conditions were numerous. First of all, it was only possible to bring back people within twenty-four hours after their moment of expiration. Beyond that, it would all be too late. Second of all, recovery past the tenth hour was rare. Thirdly, ninety percent of the subjects successfully brought back to life died within a span of a week. Five percent suffered major psychological disorders. The last five percent encompass the lucky few who truly got a second chance at life. Fourthly, the statistics mentioned, thus far, did not take into account the severity of the subject’s expiration. It meant that a person who died due to a cardiac arrest had much better chances of being revived than a person who died due to a severe mortal wound--almost impossible.

       Celes’s case scenario fit the latter.

       Things were not looking up. Professor Marguez and General Cristophe knew it. But Kefka knew something that the others did not. Kefka had continued his proposal to the emperor a long time ago. He trained his own Devouts to learn the complex spell. It was something he was free to do (unlike the Slave Crown Project) since the emperor did not specifically forbid him to discontinue the proposal. In fact, Kefka had his suspicions that the emperor wanted him to continue it.

       Kefka had been successful but in secret. Kefka’s Devouts were able to bring people back to life to nigh-complete health and with no psychological disorders. The condition, however, was that the spell needed to be cast within the hour to guarantee a complete recovery. It also took several spell casters to do it.

       “Master?”

       “I know!” he hissed. “But we cannot cast the spell with that ignoramus in the way,” Kefka said in a whisper.

       “Master, her wound is… very severe. We’ve never tried the spell on--“

       “I am aware of that, Tayan. Which is why we must cast Heal at the right time.”

       “Simultaneously?” Tayan gasped. “But… it might disrupt the Revive spell.”

       Kefka stood silent for a few seconds, thinking.

       “It is a necessary risk.”

       Tayan bowed, and then waited.

       The scientists shouted back numbers from the computer. Professor Marguez coordinated the effort by reciting numbers back. The scientists took those numbers and fed them into the computer, and each time they did it they waited for a response from Celes’s lifeless body.

       “Increase the output by three hundred percent. Remove the shielding,” Professor Marguez barked.

       “Shield is at zero percent, sir. Output is rising… two hundred… two hundred and twenty…” echoed a scientist.

       “Sir, I’m getting a reading!” cried another.

       Professor Marguez walked to the person staring at the console.

       “Pulse?” Professor Marguez asked, excitedly.

       “I don’t think so, professor, it’s far too--“

       “Brain waves?”

       “No, sir.”

       Kefka raised a brow. He did not expect them to get this far into the obsolete process. But he was doubtful that it would still succeed.

       Professor Marguez looked at the graph on screen. It was erratically spiking up and down.

       “Wait… that’s not--“

       The room went dark. Just like that. The lights from the machines blinked out; they were gone with their soft hums of promised solution. The glow on the contraptions was the last to be seen. It faded slowly to join the blackness that had suddenly decided to reign over them. It was uninvited and unneeded.

       Professor Marguez’s racing mind halted. The flooding thoughts were effectively stopped by the new problem. The critical process just reached a newly, unexplored level of criticality.

       “What happened?!” Professor Marguez shouted. “What happened to the power?”

       “Professor?” the general asked with uncertainty.

       Kefka himself had his arms in front of him as he blindly moved closer to the computers. “What is going on, professor?!” Kefka demanded.

       “Somebody get the power back on now!” General Cristophe roared.

       Professor Marguez clutched at his hair with both hands. It was a sign of frustration and helplessness. Tonight was truly a nightmare. The scientists moved about the room, searching for an emergency lamp.

       “This isn’t happening,” Professor Marguez whispered in denial. “We haven’t had a power failure in years. Why now?!”

       “I smell the stench of a saboteur,” the general remarked, hinting at Kefka.

       “Move her to a new room!” Professor Marguez shouted.

       “No! There’s no time!” said Kefka urgently. At that point the light in the room came back but it was a lot dimmer than before. The computers, too, restarted.

       “Backup power has kicked in, Master,” Tayan reported.

       “Is that enough power to resume the process,” asked the general.

       Professor Marguez ignored the question. He was busy at a computer screen with his fellow scientists.

       “Impossible!” Professor Marguez exclaimed. “Primary power’s been drained from all reactors!”

       “What?!” roared Kefka. He pushed the scientists aside to get a good look at the screen. His eyes widened in disbelief. “The person responsible for this will learn unimaginable pain!”

       “What is it, Kefka? Answer me!” General Cristophe asked uneasily.

       Kefka turned to him and obligingly answered, “This was no accident, Leo. Ten reactors simply cannot shut down at the same time.”

       “Which reactors?”

       “This lab has its own reactors, general. They’re all dead.”

       “Can we use the reactors outside of the lab?”

       Professor Marguez thought for a second. “I would need the authorization access code of--“

       Kefka madly punched in cryptic commands into the computer. His fingers made no costly flaws. Kefka had the authorization key that Professor Marguez needed. The screen flashed messages, too fast to see to the untrained eyes. Professor Marguez and Kefka read them all rapidly.

       “The saboteur will pay!” Kefka hissed as he continued to punch in commands. The computer didn’t seem to be cooperating.

       “What are you up to, Kefka?” the general suspiciously asked him.

       Kefka didn’t answer. Instead, Professor Marguez explained, “It’s not looking good, General. Whoever did this did his homework. This laboratory is virtually dead!”

       “But we have power,” the general reasoned.

       “Backup power. It’s not enough, General,” Tayan explained.

       General Cristophe looked at Professor Marguez for confirmation. Professor Marguez nodded his head solemnly.

       “Then where can we continue the process?”

       “I-I don’t know, General. This is the only place that is aptly equipped.”

       “Then let’s move them all to the next building that can provide us with power. Make haste! Somebody hand me a radio!”

       “No! There is no time. We must try it our way now, Leo!” Kefka exclaimed almost pleadingly.

       “Like hell, I would!”

       In a fit of rage, Kefka sent a lightning bolt to the main computer in the room. The surging electricity tore its shielding apart and fried its circuits. Smoke billowed from it and up to the ceiling.

       General Cristophe took hold of Kefka as he drew his sword. He held it menacingly above Kefka, who held a stern composure.

       “You destroyed the only thing that can bring her back to life!”

       “And now I am her only salvation. Will you take that away from her as well?” Kefka challenged. “Go ahead, Leo. Kill me and she’s gone forever!”

       General Cristophe gritted his teeth and glared at Kefka in a primal mask of anger. The sane side of him wrestled with his hatred for the man in front of him. Kefka sensed this. The general was torn deep inside. Kefka found it highly fascinating. Deciding to amuse himself, he wore a toothy grin. Kefka sneered in the general’s face, teasing him, daring him to strike him down. He began to laugh. His cackle tormented General Cristophe.

       The emergency smoke detectors sensed the smoke and activated the flame retardant devices above. The sprinklers turned on and drenched everybody in the room. Kefka stopped laughing but held his sneering face still before the general. General Cristophe regained full control over his anger. He shoved Kefka back and then stepped aside.

       “Do it,” General Cristophe said almost inaudibly.

       “Save her please,” Professor Marguez begged.

       The falling water felt like a natural downpour. Blood mixed with the water, creating a red pool on the floor. Kefka walked dignifiedly towards Celes. His Devouts did the same, surrounding her in a perfect circle. The other people, including General Cristophe and Professor Marguez, stepped back, giving the cult enough room to work their magic. The dim light flickered for a few seconds and then held. Nothing else could be heard but the trickling of water and the siren.

       Kefka motioned to his Devouts. Tayan stepped out of the circle formation and stood behind his master as instructed. They raised their hands above Celes’s body and closed their eyes in concentration.

       The cult recited a web of ancient chants. Their hands glowed with a warm yellow aura like the sun’s. Professor Marguez watched intently, prayed to the power that be. He pleaded to the goddesses of magic. Such action coming from a man of science, was highly unusual, to say the least. But there he was, abandoning his principles and logic.

       General Cristophe swallowed nervously. The situation has escalated beyond his control. He considered it a failure. He would have to face the emperor with his head hanging in shame. His lordship’s plan had barely begun and already, Kefka was in charge… or so he thought.

       Kefka was as worried as General Cristophe, if not more. Losing Celes would be disastrous to his plans. He needed her alive and well. The spell that they were casting was difficult to pull off. But he was confident that he could do it. The only real problem was her mortal wound. A second spell needed to be cast immediately after the Revive spell. If the mortal wound remained long after reviving her, then she would most likely die again. That was why he asked Tayan to step out of the circle. He needed him to cast that spell and the timing would be critical. Too early and the Heal spell would disrupt the Revive spell, possibly producing a disastrous result. If cast too late, then the Revive spell will lose its hold on Celes’s anima. There was no room for error.

       The cult blocked out the outside world--the siren, the cold water, the people. They proceeded with the spell as they had done before in secret. Magical energy surged in-between Kefka and the Devouts. The circle contained violent magic that was being rapidly calmed by their chants. Kefka felt the power in his entire body. It spoke to him. He spoke to it.

       He could feel it communicate with him--argue with him. He willed it to do his bidding. The magic resisted but Kefka held on tightly. He refused to let the magical energy slip between his fingers. Celes’s body acquired a warm, yellow aura. The magic was doing what it was supposed to.

       Kefka smiled slightly. It was easy.

       Kefka’s smile disappeared. It was too easy.

       He opened his eyes and saw what nobody else in the room saw, heard what nobody else in the room heard.

       In front of him stood an apparition, too bright to discern. It hovered above Celes’s body. The apparition spoke in an otherworldly voice. It sounded like three separate voices spoken in unison.

       “Behold, mortal! She is the instrument of our fury, and the omen to your fate! Turn away from your foolish quest, and we promise you swift, painless death. Pursue it, and you shall be cast down into the Realm of Eternal Agony.”

       Kefka’s face twisted into a defiant mask.

       “Never!” Kefka exclaimed.

       “You have been fairly warned.”

       Blinding light coming from inside the circle flooded the entire room. It was an explosion of pure magical energy. The people inside the room were thrown back against the walls from the epicenter which was Celes. The force was such that General Cristophe, who wore a protective armor, blacked out and collapsed to the wet floor. A chilling atmosphere replaced the relative comfort.

       And then… silence.

**********

       Emperor Gestahl arrived in the building, escorted by his Elite Guards. They marched through the darkened corridors of Magitek Lab Omega, following the red emergency lights that lit the path to the center of the trouble. Soldiers lined the corridors and bowed reverently as he passed by them. The crowd parted upon his arrival. A grinding noise traversed the corridors of the compound. It grew louder every second signifying that they were nearing their destination.

       The emperor arrived at the scene. The noise halted and all was silent. “Report!” the emperor commanded.

       A soldier in uniform, a captain by rank, stepped forward and faced the emperor boldly. “My lord, ten minutes after the backup power activated we heard an explosion from the inside. The fire alarm was triggered, and all of us stationed outside the room to guard were unable to open the door. It seems to be stuck from the inside. We’ve lost radio contact from the inside. No word from General Cristophe and Adviser Kefka, my lord. The maintenance crew arrived minutes ago with tools to cut through the metal door. We’ve almost cut through the thick plating, my lord.”

       “Is the medical crew here?” the emperor asked calmly.

       “They are standing by.”

       “Then open the door.”

       “At once, my lord!”

       The crew continued their work. The loud, irritating noise of the power tools resumed. The special equipment rapidly cut through the thick metal door. At a signal from one of the soldiers, the maintenance crew stopped and stood back. The captain stood before the slab of metal. All he needed was a kick from his booted foot and the slab would topple inward. He thought over the plan and decided that it would not be wise to do so. Somebody close to the door inside could get crushed. Instead, he took a long prying bar and jammed it into a crack. After setting up good leverage, he gave the bar a push with the help of his subordinates. It took a few more minutes before they made the metal slab to budge. The slab fell outward with a thud that shook the floor.

       The doorway was now wide open. Freezing air rushed out and gave the people the chill. The soldiers rushed inside first, followed quickly by the medical team. The room was completely dark. Startled cries from the soldiers who rushed inside were heard.

       “Watch out!”

       “What in the world?!”

       “Oof!”

       The emperor stood by the opening. One of his Elite Guards carried with him a lamp to illuminate the room.

       “Ice!” the emperor gasped.

       The interior of the room was indeed covered by a layer of ice. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, the equipment--even the people were covered with frost.

       “The general’s alive! Over here!” hollered one of the soldiers. A medic slipped and slid his way over to the exact location despite all his efforts to be extremely careful.

       “Find General Chere and Kefka,” the emperor ordered his personal guards. They moved quickly inside the room.

       “We have more survivors over here!” yelled another soldier. “Let’s move them outside!”

       “My lord, I have found Adviser Palazzo. He is unconscious like the others.”

       “And General Chere?” the emperor asked, almost nervously.

       “Over here, my lord,” called out the captain from the center of the room. The emperor’s eyes focused on the half-naked figure lying on the operating table. He could not get a good look at her from where he was.

       “Is she alive?”

       The medic looked at Celes’s body. Her eyes were closed and her face looked calm. However, he doubted very much that she was still alive as he checked for her pulse. She was covered with frost all over. Red crusted over where her wound used to be. The dagger in her belly had been pulled out. There was no trace of the mortal wound. Just frozen blood mixed in ice. And then… a miracle.

       “My lord, she lives!” declared the medic.

       “Move her and all of the survivors to the Military Infirmary without delay,” the emperor commanded. “Guard them with your very lives. I expect no more trouble.” He turned towards his Elite Guards and added with a hint of stale humor and disgust, “The most powerful people of Vector, save myself, are incapacitated--three generals, my adviser, and the prime lab director. I wonder how this Empire manages to stay intact with such displays of ineptitude!”

       With that the emperor and his Elite Guards left the scene.

       The captain saw to the transfer of the survivors. And then he looked after those who did not survive. There were only a few. A soldier, three scientists and two Devouts. They all seemed to have died of either blunt trauma or hypothermia.

       All except for one.

       A Devout lay face down on the icy floor with a dagger sticking out of his back. It was the exact same dagger that killed Celes. The captain puzzled over this and made sure that he included it in his report.

****************************
****************************

       Celes Chere opened her eyes and blinked a few times. Her vision met the white ceiling of the room. The first sight triggered a memory. Her mind obligingly reiterated.

       A tessellation of white squares tiled adjacently to each other. The tilers could’ve placed the rows juxtaposed to the previous one. They also could’ve slanted them, at least, with the walls as the basis so they would look like diamonds. Even the entire lobby is a square. And by the small size of it, it’s more like a waiting room in the Imperial Army Infirmary! I’m thinking too much again. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about this same old topic in my head.

       Celes closed her eyes again and explored her reconstructed mind.

       This is not the lobby of the Magitek Lab where Jasom is usually stationed. This is not the waiting room in the Imperial Army Infirmary. I am in the Infirmary. Though I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve thought about this same old topic in my head before, I remember now.

       The door to her room hissed open and in walked Cid. Celes did not move. She held her eyes shut.

       “Celes?” Cid spoke gently but Celes did not respond. “Celes, it is I-Cid. I know you’re conscious. The computers do not lie.”

       Celes opened up her eyes but she did not look at him.

       “You’re safe now, Celes. I’m so glad you’re safe! It’s a miracle!”

       Safe? Why do I doubt that very much? Miracle? I will be the judge of that.

       “Celes, please look at me. Say something. Please tell me how you feel.”

       Celes looked at him coldly and spoke finally, “The computers do not lie, Cid. You tell me how I feel.”

       Cid was taken aback. The words sounded odd--hurtful. Cid forced himself to dismiss it immediately.

       “I-uh-according to the monitors, you’re back to normal!” Cid announced excitedly.

       Normal? Being brought back to life isn’t normal; it isn’t natural.

       Cid’s eyes started to tear up. “I thought I’d lose you right before my eyes agai--“ Cid stopped himself abruptly and pretended to choke in his sobs to cover it up.

       Celes turned her head sharply. “Again?” she asked, her cold mask breaking apart to reveal an intrigued look.

       “What? Oh-don’t mind a confused and stressed out old fool like me. My guilt’s been haunting me when I saw you there on the operating table.” Cid drew a deep shuddering sigh and exhaled. He wiped his eyes--they were red. He had been crying. Celes now just noticed them.

       Celes’s face changed dramatically. She smiled weakly, raising her hand slowly to touch his.

       “I’m alive again, Cid. And I intend to stay alive. Thank you,” she said softly.

       Cid smiled back. He looked ten years older than when she last saw her in his lab. Surely, I wasn’t dead for that long.

       “I’ll personally make sure you stay alive, Celes. I promised on your mother’s grave that I’d keep you safe. And if I have to sell my soul to the fourth fiend of Ifrit’s Abyss to do it, I would without hesitation.”

       “I know you would, Cid. Let’s just hope it wouldn’t come to that,” Celes replied with her usual gentle smile.

       Cid nodded silently. His eyes examined her face and saw her mother as he remembered her a long time ago. When moment finally turned awkward for the both of them, Cid cleared his throat and took a step back.

       “General Cristophe and Dr. Deregasi outside are waiting for their turns to see you,” he said. Then he lowered his voice and continued, “I can tell General Cristophe that you’re not ready yet, if you wish.”

       Celes thought about it quickly.

       “It’s quite all right, Cid. I’ll speak to both of them. I want to be out of this place as soon as possible.”

       Cid nodded. He looked at her again--a hesitation to take his eyes off her out of irrational fear. He suspected that some demon just conjured an image of her alive and well, and he didn’t want to risk losing the image when he left her side. After feeling utterly foolish for a couple of seconds, he turned and walked out the door.

       Celes’s smile disappeared. The stoic mask was back on. She stared up the ceiling and thought. Her mind has never been so clear. One by one, she predicted what would happen.

       He will ask me how I’m feeling. He will tell me how relieved he is that I’m still alive. He will lie to me about the entire army being worried and enraged of what happened. He will vow to seek justice. And then he’ll get right to the point. He will ask me to be strong. He will try to convince me not to give up my rank. And then… I will give him my answer.

       General Cristophe walked in quietly. Just like before, Celes didn’t move her head.

       “Celes… how are you feeling?”

       “I feel… normal, Leo. Thank you for asking,” Celes answered promptly.

       “Thank the Heavens, Celes! I thought for sure you were lost. You cannot possibly imagine how worried I was--how worried we all were! The entire Army witnessed the whole thing right in front of them. They are outraged by the whole thing--including the Emperor himself. These rebels--these traitors must be stopped, Celes. They are getting dangerously closer. But they failed this time. You’re alive! You survived!”

       “Pardon me, Leo. But I did not survive. I died,” she corrected. Her voice was empty of emotions.

       “They will not look upon this as a weakness on your part, Celes. They weren’t just after you. They were after all of us. Beigeletter attacked me, too. It could’ve been me lying there on my own pool of blood if I hadn’t had the stroke of good fortune to fall out of his reach!” he explained.

       You lie, Leo. Just like you lied to me about the Council choosing me as the new General. I know that you’re not telling me something. I do not yet know what that is… but my eyes are open and searching. You lied to me, and you lie to me now. Beigeletter was after me. He wasn’t a rebel.

       “But I swear on the Emperor’s Righteous name, I will find out who’s behind all of these attacks. Vector will bring them to justice.”

       Celes looked at him and simply nodded, looking almost uninterested.

       Oh, Leo. For a general, you are so predictable.

       “Celes,” General Cristophe began. “It must’ve been a terrifying experience for you to go through… all that. I mean, to die and--“

       “You’re going to ask me if I still want to be general,” Celes interrupted. It was a statement and not a question.

       “I--“ General Cristophe started. The words he rehearsed over and over again in his head vanished. He did not count on being interrupted. More importantly, he didn’t count on her to be absolutely correct. General Cristophe blushed and chuckled. “You read my mind, Celes. Yes, I was going to ask you that… but please know this--“

       “Yes, Leo,” Celes answered.

       “Pardon me?” he asked, confused.

       “Yes, I still want to be a general.”

       General Cristophe’s mouth hung open, speechless. He did not count on it being this easy. He did not know what to say next.

       Oh, Leo. For a general, you’re easy to catch unprepared.

       “I--well--t-that’s good! That’s… excellent! But… are you sure about this? I mean, I want you to think about this really carefully.”

       You lie, Leo. For a general, you’re easy to read. What do you want me to say, Leo? What can I say that would convince you that I still want to be a general? But then again… it’s not about convincing you, is it? It’s about you convincing me. Then why do you still ask? I gave you my answer--the answer that you wanted to hear.

       “I have, Leo. The Empire cannot afford another show of weakness. I am ready. I want to show everybody that I am able. I know that I can do this,” Celes said without a heat of passion in her voice.

       General Cristophe frowned. The whole thing sounded odd to him. He heard the words. He knew that she meant it. But something was missing. It seemed eerily strange to him but he felt like he was talking to a--

       Phantom. Do you sense it in my voice, Leo? I’ve changed, haven’t I? You are unsure. I speak to you, you hear the words, and you believe them. But you know that something is different. What are you going to do about it, Leo?

       “Very good, Celes. The emperor will be delighted to hear the news,” General Cristophe said. He bowed, almost diplomatically, and left.

       Dr. Deregasi came in after. He greeted Celes with the usual questions and started to explain to her the severity of her wounds and detail of her recovery. Celes tuned him out as the doctor continued to ramble on with the boring lectures of health and revitalization.

       I can see clearly like I couldn’t before. I know where the doors open and where they close. I want to learn more. I have been brought back to life for a reason. I want to know why. The people I know lie to me. The people I trust hide things from me. I want to know why.

**********

       Deep within the most restricted area of Magitek Lab Omega (also known as the Devil’s Lab) Kefka arrived at the scene of a secret interrogation.

       “Is he ready?” Kefka asked his Chosen Mage.

       “He is in the room, waiting, Master,” Tayan bowed respectfully.

       Kefka and Tayan entered the room. It was circular and dark. Five huge venting fans could be found on the ceiling like those normally used in factories. They rotated lazily. A single column of light bore down on a badly-beaten man strapped to a metal chair at the center of the circular room. He was surrounded by Devouts who kept a very close eye on him.

       His breathing was labored. The man’s head drooped like a wilting flower. He had no energy left in him to keep it up. He had been tortured, by the looks of it.

       Kefka spoke clearly, “Who do you work for?”

       “I’m not… telling you… anything,” the man replied in a hoarse whisper.

       A Devout behind him pulled down a lever on the wall. A loud crackling sound came from the metal chair and was rivaled by the painful screams of the man. The terrible sound of burning flesh and his screams mixed together and reverberated around the circular room, rising into a macabre choir that only a sadist could stomach to hear.

       Kefka signaled with his hand vaguely and the Devout pulled back the lever. The horrible sound stopped. It left the man coughing and gasping for breath.

       “Who ordered you to assassinate General Chere?” Kefka asked again.

       “I cannot tell you!” the man cried out defiantly. It was Arnold Beigeletter, brought back to life by Kefka’s Devouts in secret for interrogation.

       “Why not, Lieutenant?”

       “Because… they will kill… my family…they… they… hostage…”

       Kefka began to laugh uncomfortably loud. The room produced a piercing resonance that made everybody in the room, save Kefka, wince.

       “Oh, you poor, poor halfwit. Don’t you remember? Everybody knows that you died! Nobody else knows that we’ve revived you. Not only that. If you tell us whom you’re working for, then we’ll let you go and you can start your life over with a new identity,” Kefka promised.

       Beigeletter was silent for a moment, perhaps in thought.

       “The colonels...” Beigeletter finally said.

       “Who are they?” Kefka asked.

       “Ranger and Blaey. They held my father… hostage. They told me… that if I kill the new general… they’d let my father go… and that they’d… arrange for my… ‘release.’” Beigeletter broke in sobs. “I didn’t want to do it! I… didn’t even know that… that Chere-bitch would be the new general.”

       Kefka turned away and paced.

       “Are all of these true?”

       “Yes...” Beigeletter replied weakly.

       Kefka signaled for everybody to clear the room. The Devouts, including Tayan, left it in a single line. Kefka was the last to leave it, leaving Arnold Beigeletter wheezing on the chair.

       Tayan closed the metal door to the room and locked it tight--air tight.

       “Kill him,” Kefka ordered simply and walked away. Tayan followed his Master like a shadow.

       The Devouts manned a collection of huge pipes, gauges and valves on a wall. The pipes all led to the circular room they had vacated. A Devout flicked a switch and the fans within roared deafeningly. A second switch set the inside of the room ablaze. It wasn’t a room at all. It was an incinerator. Beigeletter’s body burned and was completely consumed by the incredible inferno within seconds, bones and all. What was left of him got sucked out by the roaring of the giant fans. When the incineration process ended, all that was left was a melted slag of metal that used to be the torture chair.

       “We cannot afford to let another stunt like that perpetuated by those vengeful colonels to pass us by. We’ve almost lost Subject A in our carelessness,” Kefka said.

       “Yes, Master.”

       “I want them taken out as soon as possible. In the meantime, have two Devouts watching over Subject A at all times.”

       “Very good, Master. And how very intuitive of you, Master, to rig the reactors so they shut down, thus allowing us to cast the Revive spell on Subject A,” Tayan complimented his master as they continued down the corridor.

       “Yes. However fortunate that occurrence may be, it was not I who sabotaged the reactors,” Kefka promptly replied with an ugly frown on his face.

       “Not you, Master?” Tayan asked, perplexed. “But who else could’ve done it?”

       “Somebody who wants to make sure Subject A is brought back to life. Somebody who knows that such an undertaking was only possible through us.”

       “The Emperor?”

       “Good guess. But, no.”

       “Then who, Master?”

       Kefka didn’t reply immediately for he did not have the answer. “I don’t know…” He hated hearing himself say the words. It meant that he was not in control of the situation. It threatened him greatly. “Yet,” he added. “I am pressed on all sides by many countless obstacles--our unknown saboteur, the Emperor, Leo, and… the Three.”

       “The Three? You’ve had an encounter with them again?”

       “Yes, during the revival process. I saw them… as I expected.”

       “What did they want, Master?”

       “They wanted me to give up,” Kefka said followed by his nefarious laugh.

**********

       The Emperor stood atop the highest tower of the Bronze Fortress looking through an astronomical telescope set up to watch a specific portion of the night sky. With it he spied three stars of equal brightness and color, equidistant to each other. The Emperor moved away from the telescope, poured himself a glass of red wine, and held it up to the sky as a toast to an unknown entity.

       "The signs are prompt. The celestial calendar is accurate. The Three have finally revealed themselves to the Mortal Plane just as the sages of old have predicted. The Realm of Magic will collide with the World of Balance and power shall pour forth onto it again. This Empire shall be at the nexus of the rupture... and I shall rule forever!"

END OF THE CELESTIAL CYCLE

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