Chapter 32

The Aged Admiral

Watched by Admiral Ramius on the satellite feed, the western crews were securing transport to the capital. The gargantuan Galbadia Garden had glided to the west of the city, many of its cadets and its remaining heavy weaponry disembarking before it had departed in the direction of Wilburn. The flying fortress would be of limited use in the city battle.

After a lifetime of military service, the Admiral's dark grey hair was neatly waxed. He boldly wore his navy officer's uniform with a trailing blue cape. Ramius had a thick moustache with pointed ends, which was a darker shade of grey than his hair. At his waist was a broad cutlass. He held himself proudly, as though permanently at attention. Ramius had started as a green marine Lieutenant nearly four decades before, during the twilight years of Sorceress Adel's seemingly eternal rule, and he had commanded the Adel Unit's Boat Troop in its inception. Despite his advanced age, Ramius still spent a few weeks per year training with the Boat Troop to better lead from the front, as there were no rear echelon commanders in the Esthar war machine. He had high command of the navy, answerable only to General Zebalga.

Ramius had gradually risen the hierarchy of command during the peacetime of the Loire regime and had considered the approachable Laguna a friend – along with Kiros and Ward. Now serving the Empress, Ramius was ultimately loyal to the Motherland, and would never forgive the Empress for having Kiros and Ward put to death.

In the absence of the Empress, and with Leviathan's disappearance, Ramius grounded all air units and gave the command for all functioning ships to approach land. His marines easily established a beachhead several miles from the abandoned western ships, as there was no opposition. Old sea-defense methods from the First Sorceress War war, such as pillboxes and concrete bunkers, were ineffective in a restored melee era and operated by only skeleton crews. Although the Esthari would still have to contend with trenches and veiled heavy weaponry in addition to minefields further in land, these would only slow them.

When most of the fighting force had disembarked, Ramius tried to raise his daughter, Krysta, on the radio. The Empress had abandoned her Praetorians in the sea battle. Ramius presumed that Reinhardt, gifted Leviathan in past battles, had followed her. Yet when the Admiral reached the Twelve, he could see that the giant highlander was with them, glowering at a campfire.

The only one other than Krysta to acknowledge him was Ialantha. Ramius had rarely seen the Grandidi warrior without face paint, but it was absent on this night. She was the eldest of the Praetorians, at half a century, but her beauty was only slightly faded. Like Ramius, she was also a widow. Like the much younger Rillina, she spoke with an exotic accent.

'Good evening, Admiral,' she said, giving him a glowing smile.

Krysta approached her father.

'I have heard nothing from the Empress,' Ramius informed them.

'Leo went after her,' Krysta said.

'Who might that be?' Ramius wondered.

'Leonidas,' Reinhardt grunted. 'Her Knight.'

Ramius was confused, having never heard of such an individual. The Empress had always maintained that she needed no Knight, as had her mother and predecessor.

'I will request that you all march with me in the Boat Troop, until the Empress returns,' Ramius said.

Gabranth rose, the horns of the Judge's helm shining in the firelight by his feet.

'We cannot take the city without her, Ramius,' he said evenly, his diction as well-rounded as Ramius'. 'Sorceress Selphie has been freed. Quistis and Rinoa stand before us, as does the Lionheart. Akechi and Domitian are dead, their GFs lost in addition to Leviathan.'

'The west has grown too powerful,' Cullyn agreed, with his guttural Trabian growl. 'Unless General Zebalga pulls back, our forces will be annihilated, and our enemies will reclaim every Province of the Empire.'

Lani concurred, firelight flickering upon the keloid lines on her dark face. 'You can march, Admiral, but it will be without the Twelve! We shall await the Empress!' she said forcefully, in her heavy accent.

Ramius looked at Krysta. 'And you?'

His daughter looked torn, but said, 'The Twelve must remain as so. I am in the Boat Troop no longer, father.'

The Admiral was not going to argue further. As it turned out, he did not need to. There were cries of alarm as a winged form appeared in the sky, but as it came closer, the Esthari cheered as they recognised their Empress. Many had seen her struck by that comet, and even Ramius had feared for her wellbeing. She hovered several metres in the air, above the fire. The Praetorians and all surrounding soldiers took a knee, as did Ramius. Yet he was shocked at the change in her appearance. Although she had retained her beauty, she looked much more demonic. Ramius could no longer think of the Empress as human. Her commanding voice sounded long and far, though her speech was also different.

'The Empress that you knew as Reina died with the petering out of that pathetic shooting star! I am now Sorceress Ultimecia, reborn to bring forth the dawn of a new era!'

Ultimecia, Ramius thought, as the soldiers cheered. He had heard that name mentioned before, towards the end of the Loire regime. Before the Cry. But the Admiral still found himself caught up in reverence of the Empress, as he always did whenever she made one of her public speeches. Adel used to have the same effect on her subjects. On the cusp of her words, every single one of these soldiers would unequivocally march toward certain death if it would please her.

'The final battle commences on the morrow!' she said, the fourth word with an unusual hard 'k'. Ramius had sailed every sea on the Planet, and had never come across a cilvilisation that spoke like that. Not even in the most isolated and remote of lands. 'The Children of Fate will fall, and the Planet shall be ours! You shall witness the genesis of the Age of Ultimecia!'

The Empress gave the command for the troops to retire to their tents. They would be breaking camp before first light, closing the ten miles to the north of the city. The Praetorians stood as this altered Reina landed in their midst.

'Are you truly unhurt, Your Grace?' Nero asked her with earnest concern, peering at her burns.

'Of course, Nero,' she replied. 'Rinoa's poor command of sorcery is but a shadow of my own. I shall have her writhing in agony before I take her power; the Two Halves of Gaia shall either bend or break! Then I will confront the Blue Mage!'

'Where is Leo, Your Grace?' Ialantha asked.

'Carrying out a very important command,' the Empress said simply. 'He shall rejoin me at the city. Rest, my Twelve! We will be marching at the front come dawn!'

With renewed vigour in the predawn light, the amphibious troops made excellent time. At their head was the Empress, walking purposefully on those startling feline paws with her Praetorians in two diagonal formations either side of her. Yuki, the strongest healer of the Twelve, had restored her charred and blistered skin to its former smoothness before her sleep, yet it remained a ghostly white in tone.

The Esthari were not impeded by the first minefield, which lay before the first series of enemy trenches. The Empress merely sent a shockwave through the earth, calmly watching the mines detonate before giving the command to proceed. Were any missed, if any unfortunate marines not killed outright, the Empress was able to restore their lost limbs as the rest of them watched in awe. Just as she had done twenty years before, healing maimed victims of the Lunar Cry to bolster her following, regarded as a deity thereafter.

The trenches might have a stalled an invading force absent the Empress. They had been hastily dug into the plains every kilometre or so, with strategically placed heavy weapons camouflaged within them, which would have been able to overpower the lesser shields protecting the marines on foot. The Empress would take to the sky herself, obliterating particularly hardy sections in an impressive display or scarlet and violet. Then the Praetorians would pour through the breaches. The trenches were ultimately surmountable as the Esthari hovercrafts simply glided over them, and the Galbadians would quickly become trapped within. Still, some persistently escaped south to bolster the next line of defence, tempting fate on their own minefields.

Ramius approached his daughter after they took out the last trench, but she would not meet his eyes, moving away with Kain, Angeal and Rubicanta. The Admiral knew Krysta would have thrived in the special forces, but the rank of Praetorian was the highest honour one could achieve in the military, and he expected Krysta to remain in the Twelve for many years. Krysta's mother had prematurely fallen victim to cancer in her childhood, which even the Esthari therapies could not eradicate. Had it been a few years later, the Empress could have saved her. Remaining in the navy, Ramius had seen little of his daughter afterward, and he had been surprised when Krysta had enlisted in the marines at just fifteen. He and Krysta were still estranged ten years later, as they had always been. But on amicable terms, Ramius liked to believe.

By noon, the marine force was within view of the city suburbs. After a welcome respite, the force began singing as they proceeded down the six-lane motorway, passing a gas station at the city limits. When they reached the woodland on the mid-eastern ring of the capital, Ramius' objective was to peel away and take one of numerous small contingents to infiltrate the vast sewage network. They sought to remerge behind the entrenched westerners, sallying them from behind as they were engaging the main Esthari force.

Ramius himself would be heading to President Caraway's manor, which was expected to be empty, and find the President's personal escape route into the sewers. Caraway himself, along with his whole cabinet, was expected to be taking shelter either in the old nuclear bunker beneath the presidential palace, or within the vast tunnel network beyond Wilburn.

The suburbs were eerily silent. As they advanced, the Esthari noticed that the sky was clearing, bathing the road in moonlight. Except for a stretch of sky directly north, where the black clouds seemed to gather. Lightning split the sky all at once, filtered by their headgear. Shortly after, the broadest lightning bolt Ramius had ever seen reached down, followed a couple of heartbeats later by crashing thunder.

They had been informed the Thunderstroke had been killed on the Great Plains, but perhaps his Feathered Snake had found a new vessel, conjuring that storm in a bid to slow General Zebalga's advance. Upon viewing the storm, Ramius could see the Empress saying something to her Praetorians. Advancing again, he expected a ruse or ambush, but nothing came as they approached the woodlands ahead. The sizable woodland was surely concealing thousands of enemy troops, poised to attack the Empress as she boldly entered the thicket first.

Surely 'Ultimecia' would not just walk into those trees, Ramius thought. She answered his misgiving for him. With upwards sweeps of her taloned hands, the entire woodland was ablaze with scarlet fire. A chorus of panicked screams came from within. The Praetorians took two lines in front of the Empress, and dozens of marines got into position at their side, covering the breadth of the road.

A first wave of Galbadian light infantry emerged, charging. They were effortlessly cut down by the Praetorians, who moved so fast with their augmented agility and power that they could each match an enemy GF bearer. The Twelve were unfazed, but the line of marines began to recede at their sides. The Empress flew a few metres into the air, tearing into the beasts with her mystic arrows. They were charged by the reptilian SAM bioweapons next. More Galbadians emerged, but not as a cohesive unit, more to escape the flames than as an organised charge. They were of the blue and red-clad variety, interspersed with uniformed cadets from Galbadia Garden, many of whom would be experiencing their first taste of battle – and last. Every single one fell before the Empress, the Twelve and the marines.

The woodland continue to burn, giving command for the force to proceed to the east of the city. With another sweep of her arm, the Empress made a few narrow lines of fire within the burning woods disappear, clearing the way for Ramius' unit and the sewer infiltration teams.

Just as the command was given for them to embark, the moonlight in the mostly clear sky seemed to intensify tenfold. They all looked to the heavens to see the supernatural cause of this light, a figure hovering in the sky like a seraph, white wings gleaming.

Sorceress Rinoa!

The thick smoke above the woodland subsided, and an instant later, The crimson fire vanished as though Leviathan himself had enveloped the forest with one of his tsunamis. Rinoa hovered defiantly above the trees, descending slightly, her pale blue attire unmistakable. The Empress spread her own wings in answer to the challenge.

'Like to play with wishing stars, do we?' she called. 'I shall conjure one of my own to crush you and your precious lion!'

'Your Grace!' Gabranth protested. 'It could be a trap!'

'The Blue Mage could be with her!' Nero cried.

She did not listen, swiftly ascending to Rinoa's level. The Praetorians were in clear disbelief that the Empress would abandon their protection twice in two days, as was Ramius. And this time, her Knight was absent. Additionally, the Twelve's buffs were courtesy of the Empress' time spells, and they did not last forever. Once they wore off, they would prove only as much challenge to the Galbadians as the Boat Troop.

No more enemies emerged as they watched the battle in the sky. Likely, the Galbadians had fled in other directions. Ramius repeated the command for his squads of Adels to move forward. The Twelve stood aside to let the infiltration units through. He chanced a glance at Krysta as he passed her, meeting her eyes.

'Hynespeed, father,' was all she said.

'Be careful,' he returned.

Ramius lead the way east, snaking away from the Arch of Triumph opposite. He took point, thirty Adels from the Boat Troop jogging behind him. They met the occasional straggling Galbadians, mostly Garden cadets, many with horrible burns and looking younger than Ramius had been when he had first enlisted. Most of them were cut down before even realising that the Adels were there. Ramius reached the pavement opposite the manor with his whole unit intact.

'Excellent work!' he appraised them.

They saw no resistance as they crossed the empty road and walked down the paved path to the manor. Ramius noted the closed-circuit cameras above the main entrance. They stopped before the giant double doors of the main entrance, and Ramius commanded a demolitions expert to place the plasma explosives that would force entry. As the Adel tacked it between the doors, Ramius led the remaining twenty-nine back down the path.

The fire might be gone, but the smoke was heavy here, veiling the moonlight gifted to them by the cloud manipulation and the more intense light from Sorceress Rinoa's wings. The whole unit had their eyes on the flashes of magic in the sky.

'Fire in the hole!' the Adel called, sprinting to them.

The compact but deadly explosives placed at four points destroyed the aged door in a brilliant flash of blue plasma. With weapons drawn, the Adels proceeded into the manor on his command, and he entered last. The wide lobby was elegant, with a massive rug bearing the Galbadian standard covering the marble-tiled floor. There was a winding staircase leading up to a broad balcony, which they ignored for now.

Ramius remembered a story Laguna had once told him. That of a drunken G-Officer boasting about a secret entrance to the sewers in Caraway's study, accessible by placing a filled goblet in the hand of the statue of Sorceress Matoya. The statue had been recovered from Centra and depicted the ancient Sorceress before her uncomely transfiguration, before she had been forever parted from her dear Knight Zefer.

They would have to secure the whole manor before heading into the sewer, but a spy had secured captured blueprints of the building predating its construction. To the left was the ballroom where the late Julia Heartily had once performed for many private events, before and after accepting Fury Caraway's hand in marriage. The door was standing slightly open. Ramius led the Adels to it, cutlass in hand.

He was shocked to see the President, standing ready with four bodyguards on the far side of the ballroom. Though Ramius did not falter as he entered, bowing his head to Caraway, as the Adels wordlessly poured in behind him. They had first met on the field of battle during the First Sorceress War, and again at the signing of treaties before the emergence of the Empress.

'Mr. President,' Ramius said respectfully.

'Admiral Ramius,' Caraway replied.

Evidently, Caraway had refused to flee his capital should it fall to Esthar. He knew his Sorceress daughter, her Knight and Vice President Martine would continue to stand against the Empire in his place. The other Galbadians stood two apiece, either side of Caraway. Two men and two women; no doubt handpicked from Garland to give their lives for their Commander-in-Chief, they would be the best of the best. On a table behind them was an open bottle of aged scotch, about a fifth of the bottle consumed, with five empty tumblers around it. Enough to settle their nerves, but not to inhibit their reflexes. Outnumbered by Ramius and the Adels six to one, they did not expect to survive.

The President boldly strode forward in his old officer's uniform, adorned with medals. He had a sabre in hand, and took the high guard favoured by Galbadians. He stood ready, not cowering behind his protective detail, but at the centre of them, his lined face set. As Fury Caraway was no coward. The youngest to ever achieve the rank of General in the Galbadian military, he had fought in every major engagement of the First Sorceress War. In hatching the plot to assassinate Sorceress Edea, he had essentially started the Second.

'For Mother Galbadia!' he cried, darting straight for Ramius.

The two groups rushed at each other, meeting in the middle, the ringing of blades reverberating through the vast chamber and almost as loud as the war cries. The Garlands fought valiantly, each taking down at least two Adels before they were overwhelmed, butchered like animals as they fell. Ramius and Caraway duelled in the centre of the hall as fiercely as they once had as young officers, evenly matched, their skill only slightly diminished by their advanced age. They were surrounded by a circle of bloodthirsty Adels as they hacked and thrust at one another, whose number had been reduced by a third.

When it seemed that Caraway might have the upper hand, a dishonourable Adel darted forward and unloaded all three barrels of his stubby gunblade into his back. Ramius watched the life immediately go from Caraway's eyes and stepped over his falling body with disgust.

'Caraway deserved a noble death!' he admonished, staring the Adel down before looking at the remainder of them evenly in turn. 'I am not General Zebalga! Never presume to interfere in one of my duels again! If I am to die, then that is what the Great Hyne has decreed!'

Some of them nodded. Others made no outward gesture at all as they said, 'Yes, sir.'

'Secure the rest of the manor, and find the statue of Matoya!' Ramius ordered.

The Admiral reached for his earpiece, unsuccessfully raising the General he had just openly disrespected in front of the unit.