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.

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       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!”