Prying Eyes

My office was almost empty. I had not yet had the time to decorate it. To be truthful, I had no plan to do so. The New Military Council had been courteous enough to provide me with the office to make me feel at home. The carpet was royal red. The walls were velvet black. It really served the purpose of readily displaying trophies, medals, plaques, and other sentimental objects of achievements. So far I'd achieved very little. Hanging the dagger that killed me on the wall seemed like an insult than a feat. Technically, I died that day. But if there was something in my possession that deserved to be on the wall, it would have to be Tina Branford's diary. Unfortunately, that would only be a sign of personal achievement. It wouldn't be outwardly impressive to those who would gaze upon it. Nonetheless, I hoped that Tina Branford's journal would answer a lot of my questions. I couldn't wait to read it.

I sat down at my desk getting ready to read her journal when somebody from outside my office knocked on my door. I closed the journal and hid it in my desk drawer.

"Come in." A sharp-looking soldier entered my office carrying several folders under his left arm. He had close-cut blond hair, a sharp nose, and deep blue eyes. He saluted, and I promptly acknowledged. I'd seen him before. My memory was still fresh. He was the same person who warned Cid about my first visit to Magitek Lab Alpha… and failed to mention the name of the new general. "Lieutenant Skarman. What a surprise!"

He smiled back. "Lady Chere, General Cristophe has ordered me to be your temporary personal aide to assist you in any tedious clerical task that you may have. I'm honored to oblige. If you have questions, I will answer them. If it is beyond my knowledge, I will research them for you. You will find that my expertise on many military-political proceedings to be extensive. I will not disappoint."

He spoke quickly and eloquently. I could tell that he was not easily daunted by multiple tasks. Working with the most notable general in Vector must've given him the experience he'd ever need in a lifetime. I was flattered.

"Thank you very much, Lieutenant."

He bowed reverently, and wasted no time. "These reports arrived at my desk while you were gone. I believe you made a request for them."

"Reports?" I asked, confused.

"The preliminary report on Warehouse 5, background checks of the colonels, reports on the meatpacking plant, the two explosives factories--"

"Ah, yes! I did not expect that they would be sent to me."

"I took the liberty to have them sent to your office after seeing your schedule for the day," he replied.

"My schedule?"

"Y-yes," he replied. My ignorance on the matter made him uneasy. "You noted them down on your computer."

My eyes widened in realization. "You read them?"

Skarman swallowed nervously. "Was I not supposed to? I assumed that since I was to be your temporary aide I could--"

"Yes! Of-f course," I interrupted nervously. "My itinerary. Forgive me. I did not expect anybody else to be reading it."

"It is public knowledge to personal aides by default. My security access card grants me rights to it unless otherwise specified," he said pulling out a card from his pocket.

"I understand. Tell me, Lieutenant Skarman, what did you see on the itinerary?" I found no way to ask the question inconspicuously.

He was alarmed at the question. He read my mind. He knew then that there were things on the list that he should not have seen. "W-whatever it is that you say I did see," he answered dexterously. I could tell that he'd kept secrets before for General Cristophe. I assumed it was part of the job.

I frowned. I made sure that he noticed my disapproval. I stood up from my chair, walked around the desk, across the room, past the lieutenant, and to the door. I had a glimpse of the other people working outside my office--my own secretarial staff hired by the New Council. I closed it with deliberate care. I turned to him slowly, wearing a dangerous look. He was nervous, I noticed.

I approached him, reaching for the folders. He obligingly handed them to me. My eyes, however, remained fixed on his face.

"I do not wish to make this unpleasant for you," I started to say calmly, "but unfortunately, the message wouldn't be the same if I were to simply write to General Cristophe."

"Do I not meet your expectations, General?" he asked softly.

"That is the problem, Mr. Skarman. I had none. General Cristophe made no mention of you being my personal aide," I said in a dangerous tone of voice. Even I was fearfully anticipating the moment when I would lose my temper.

"I-I understand, General."

"Very good, Lieutenant. And now I want to make sure when you return to General Cristophe--"

"Back to Doma?" he interrupted. He bit his lip when he realized his error.

I glared at him. I inhaled and sighed heavily. His eyes were apologetic, but I did not heed their request for instant forgiveness.

"Yes," I repeated dourly. "Back to Doma! I want you to tell him that though I appreciate the gesture of lending me a helping hand from the other side of the world, I do not like the idea of decisions being made without my consent most especially when the decision itself concerns me," I said firmly. Skarman opened his mouth to apologize, but I squelched the words before the air reached his voice box. "Thank you, Lieutenant Skarman, for your help. Please deliver my message to General Cristophe. Tell him that I've made quite a bit of progress in my mission, though it's only been my second day.

"T-the general would want to know what progress you speak of, Lady Chere," he asked. His inquisitive nature was forgivable.

"Tell him that that information is highly confidential even for his own personal aide," I hinted.

"Very good, General Chere!" he replied in comprehension.

"Good! Now, just so we understand each other, Lieutenant, there was nothing on my itinerary. In fact, you haven't even seen it. Is this clear?"

"Yes, General Chere."

"You were never here. We've never had this conversation. It was not you who handed me these reports. Is this clear?"

"Yes, General Chere."

"Now ready your self. I am reassigning you to General Cristophe. You are to board the first ship to leave for Doma. Dismissed!"

He left my office hastily. As the door opened, I noticed that the people outside were facing my way, expectantly. Apparently, the door did nothing to prevent my voice from being heard from the outside. The gawkers quickly went back to pushing papers. I didn't even have the slightest idea what those papers were for. Finally, the door closed behind Skarman. I was left alone in my office once again.

I didn't know whether it was paranoia or my heightened sense of alertness. I needed to be away from that place. A place where I could read the journal in private. Furiously, I crossed the way back to my desk and took hold of the journal and the box. Then I stormed out of my own office, leaving the bewildered staff behind. I was tempted to fire them all on the spot, but I thought better than to call more attention towards myself.

**********

"Postpone?" Cid asked dubiously. "Are you feeling well, Celes?"

"Of course," I answered without hesitation through my comm device in my quarters. "It's just that I'm really busy with the preliminary reports from my investigation. They need to be sorted out as soon as possible."

"If that's what you want, Celes. I suppose I can have the magic infusion chamber ready for tomorrow."

"Tomorrow would be fine, Cid. Thank you. Oh! And may I make a special request?"

"What is it?"

"I was wondering if we could possibly skip to Invisibility."

"Sure thing, Celes. That won't be a problem at all. May I ask why?"

"Let's just say that it would help me in my investigation."

"I think I understand. I'll write the request up for you immediately."

"Thanks again, Cid."

"Goodnight, Celes," he said softly.

"Wait!" I said quickly before his signal died.

"Yes?" he asked.

I couldn't help myself. I had to ask. "How are you feeling today, Cid?"

There was a short pause. "Rather well, Celes. Thank you for asking."

"Are you sure?" I asked again.

"W-why wouldn't I be?" he asked, chuckling nervously.

Obviously, he was intent upon hiding the truth about his secret meeting with Kefka. "I, er… I heard that you got hurt yesterday."

"Oh, that!" He laughed to cover his nervousness. "There was an accident in one of the experiments that we were conducting. I was wearing the proper protective gear. I'm fine now, Celes. It happens all the time. There's no need to worry." He paused, thinking. "How did you find out that I was hurt?"

"Word of mouth," I answered, sounding indifferent. "I'm glad to hear that. I'm sorry that I haven't had much chance to visit you lately."

"You're a general now, Celes. I understand," he replied thoughtfully. With that, we both turned off our devices.

He spoke so convincingly as if his meeting with Kefka never took place. I never would've suspected a thing if I weren't never there to witness it. I had reservations about the fact that he was still not completely honest with me. I thought it was very clear that the slave crown was for me. I wondered if he was wrestling with his own demons as we talked over the radio, fighting to find the courage that would make him give up the charade. In any case, I was glad that he was alive.

My room was safe from many prying eyes and probing ears, except for Guardian's. But there was little I could do about that. She was the one who encouraged me to follow this path of investigation. I doubted that she would try and stop me now. I wondered if she knew about the journal.

I shut all the doors and windows of my quarters. I had a lot of reading to do. But first, the black box tugged at my curiosity most for it required only a quick look, unlike the journal. I sat down at my desk and pulled the box closer to me. I opened it with care. To my disappointment it was empty… but not entirely empty. Inside was a foam material molded to cushion delicate objects. It didn't take me long to figure out what they were. I had seen boxes like those before, as I walked the streets of the City Circle.

The box, I believed, once held a necklace and a pair of earrings. These items weren't on the list of items that once belonged to Tina Branford. This meant that, like the journal, they were probably hidden somewhere still. Could she have been wearing them when she got caught? I made a note of it on my itinerary. This time, I restricted its access to be completely exclusive to my self alone.

I set aside the box, making room for the journal. It had no seal for me to break. Just a red ribbon to keep it closed. Before unraveling it, I examined the journal. It was definitely hand-made. Most likely, it was a school project. The hard cover was made of regular cardboard cut out from a box, wrapped with measured brown textile fabric. Unraveling the ribbon, I opened the journal. The leaves of the diary were made of homemade paper, cut carefully on the edges. The pages were purple. She must've added in the purple dye while mixing the ingredients of paper before drying. The edges were sewn together quite expertly with strong strings before being bound with the cardboard covers by glue. A smaller pink ribbon stuck out from the top of the spine and served like a bookmark to the last entry.

I opened the journal to the pink ribbon's separation. It only seemed logical to read the last entry, right before she 'died.' To my dismay, the writings were indecipherable. The alphabets she used, perhaps the language also, were foreign to me. They were written with deliberate strokes of a pencil--and with tiny symbols. Stromsburg was so sure that Branford was born and raised in Vector.

Where did Tina Branford learn the symbols? I wondered. After a moment of thought, I realized that I held the answer in my hands. I flipped the pages back, tracing the chronology of her cryptic life back in time in a matter of seconds. The very first page showed words in normal Vectorian alphabets--still in the same tiny letters. All I had to do next was figure out when Branford had decided to use the symbols.

Perhaps it would show me the date, or even the key to deciphering it, I hoped. Maybe, she was in the library at the time, reading books of translated languages. Maybe, she wrote which language it was.

I found the exact date of the transition. Reading it quickly, I figured that she started using the symbols immediately after joining the Imperial Military. Clearly, she was not going to make it easy on me. What I wanted to know was hidden behind her secret code.

But I got this far simply by starting from the beginning.

I have all night to live her life and learn.