The Seventeenth Chapter - An Unavoidable Destiny
There was an army of soldiers surrounding the center tent, many squadrons with steel bared and lines drawn in the snow. The elite of the elite, personal bodyguards to some of the most powerful people in the world, commanders of highly recognized squadrons, pilots of some of the most renown Magitek Armor squadrons... everyone was screaming at each other and blaming all but themselves.Ranks upon ranks of soldiers were positioned aggressively in battle formations. There had been no bloodshed yet, but tempers ran hot and conflict seemed inevitable. Magitek Armors were powering up and Terra recognized several of the chocobo knights by their famed emblem: the Triple Triskele. With three interlocked drinking horns -- like a crescent with one end abruptly cut off -- of the colour crimson upon deathly black, the Knights of Odin were unquestionably Remiel Lilienthal's finest soldiers.
Thick black knots of smoke still rose from the tent, but the inferno that had raged was long gone. The scene near the now-broken circular table was exposed to the outside world for all to see. The assassins had struck not only at heart of the camp, but the heart of each faction.
There would be no forgiveness.
A path parted through the mass of angry men as Terra marched through. Near the tent, there were a few guards that looked like Magitek Knights, but their uniforms were strictly ceremonial. Terra could sense no magic in them and she doubted that the Empire had enough of their kind to spare on such a trifle job -- those mages still remaining would likely be similar to Norris; commanding their own units, not acting like grunts. Most likely these were elite soldiers trained to mimic Magitek Knights, the threat of force rather than force itself.
Even elite bodyguards scrambled aside when they saw the dark look on Terra's face. Those with nerve found themselves withering under the force of her angry glare. The few who paid her no attention discovered her protective shadows -- Locke, Sherwood and Catherine -- to be even less patient than the Lady they escorted.
Of the five dead bodies, Terra identified two wearing the grey of the Guild. Her blood boiled upon seeing those distinctive sashes again. She should have known that the Maverick's forces had infiltrated this encampment with more than subterfuge in mind!
"Locke, please take care of the security of this tent," Terra ordered. "Catherine, help him."
Twin nods and her three escorts spread out to ensure her safety.
Terra did her best to avoid running, it wouldn't be good if anyone saw how distressed she truly was. Grey hair fluttered behind her back as a nigh-visible magical aura made the air quiver around her. Her leather boots dipped into the icy ground, leaving melted pools of water rippling in her wake.
"Anson!" she called out when she saw his crumpled body.
"Sophis," Anson bowed his head as he sat atop of the broken centre table. Pierce, a Magitek Knight with long dark hair that was Catherine's equal, was tending to the burns on the First Citizen's arm.
"Are you hurt?" Terra asked as she hurried to his side. The wounds looked superficial.
Anson gestured behind him. "They need your help, not I."
On the opposite end of the table, two more grey-robed cadavers laid sprawled on the frost-covered dirt. A bloodstained blade still stuck out of one's back while the other's face had been burnt to a crisp; no one could ever identify that body. Beside the slain, a red-haired woman was hunched over. Her brown uniform fluttered in the breeze as light blue sparkles danced from her fingers, twirling around the body of-
"Farin!" Terra dashed beside Danielle.
Farin Starson had a weak grin on his face. He was propped up against the broken table, blood running down the side of his face, plate armor ripped apart by inhuman strength and his right arm a mass of blackened, leathery skin and melted metal. "Good day, Ms. Branford," he coughed in pain.
Terra put an arm on Danielle's shoulder. "You're doing it wrong," she told the General sternly. "If you don't heal the flesh beneath those burns, the cost will be his arm and perhaps more."
Instead of a snappy response, blue sparkles faded away as Danielle scurried aside. She gestured at Farin. "Please," Danielle asked simply.
An unnatural wind swirled around Terra as a bright azure aura surrounded her and Farin. The skin on his right arm, burnt to a crisp and of such expanse that it was doubtful whether it could ever heal again, flaked aside and floated away in the updraft. Healthy flesh appeared beneath, muscles visibly weaving around exposed bone, as more and more blackened pieces of skin were gently ripped off Farin's arm.
"Thank you," it was not Farin who spoke, but Danielle behind her.
Terra ignored the General of Tzen until she was sure that Farin's injuries would not hamper him. The melted armor was a grave problem, but she had some experience healing such injuries and worked as quickly as she could. Gritting her teeth, she willed the metals aside. "I'll deal with the rest when we have more time," she smiled and reassuringly squeezed his leg.
Farin grimaced.
Terra let go quickly. "Is there a wound-?"
A devious turn of the lip. "I'll be fine, Lady Terra," he stressed the appellation. "Go! There are more important matters today than a stupid warrior who decided to throw away his sword before fighting a man encased in a wall of flame."
Terra shook her head and chuckled despite herself. She carefully drew a sheathed dagger from an inner pocket in her white wolf mantle. The yellow gemstone that sat amidst an embroidered star glinted in the sunlight. "Perhaps you need this more than I do," she answered slyly.
Farin snickered for a moment and then doubled over as it became a ragged cough. "Please," he groaned with a straight face. "Now you're just insulting me. Go on Terra, all your sacrifices will be for naught if you keep delaying. There is a treaty to be made, traitors to hunt, and an Empire to spread goodwill and cheer."
Terra rolled her eyes at his formality, but took his words to heart nevertheless. She stood up and addressed Danielle. "Are you injured?" she asked as she slipped the dagger of the Starson household back into its secret pocket. It was only then that Terra finally noticed that despite Farin's near-crippling wounds, Danielle was largely unscathed. There were a few smudges of ash across her armor, but that had been from trying to heal her executive officer. The red-haired General was only slightly shaken from the attack.
"I'm fine," Danielle folded her arms and shook her head in clear disapproval. "He should have let me handle it. It's supposed to be magic against magic, not bare hands against scorching flames." Her fingers rapped rapidly against the broken table. "Damn chauvinistic fool," she whispered under her breath.
"You know, my hearing is still fine," Farin interjected from below them.
Terra chuckled again as she looked down at Farin's flatly shaven head of hair. "General Starson," she began in a formal, almost haughty voice. "Might I inquire as to the location of Donnach and Reinhardt? Are they not the comic relief?"
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Danielle had smiled.
---
Locke found himself with little to do. Highly competent soldiers, unlike most of the rabble he had waded through, had already formed lines of defence. The situation had changed since they just arrived. Instead of blaming one another, the three factions had apparently worked together and formed a safeguard of several hundred elite soldiers, including the mounted, and even had Magitek Armors clearing a zone around their leaders.
"You there, just from the tent, what is the status of General Starson?"
Locke folded his arms and sighed. All his efforts and yet the Guild was still threatening Terra. Damn the Maverick and his underhanded methods! He wondered what Norris would have thought of the situation. The Maverick had sent in quite a number of Magitek Knights on suicidal missions. What kind of leader would do such a thing?
"I say you there, soldier! Get over here!"
Locke turned towards the sound, frowning. Though he had worked with Norris for several months now, the last thing he ever wanted was to be called an Imperial soldier. Who did the arrogant officer think he was?
"Dammit Locke," Sherwood was suddenly by his side. "Are you trying to piss off every single person of importance around here?"
Locke muttered under his breath as the man who had shouted approached them. When he saw the single star hanging from his armor, Locke mentally kicked himself. A General?
The brown-haired officer was young though, barely Locke's age. And behind him was...
"Well what a surprise. It's a pleasure to see you again," said the woman with two-stars on her chest. She put an arm on her fellow peer's shoulder and pulled him back. "Terrance, this is Locke Cole," Karen Alysworth explained. "He's a civilian," she added meaningfully.
Terrance seemed to catch her meaning. "Sorry about that, Mister Cole. I thought you were one of the Guard, considering you just accompanied Lady Terra."
Beside Locke, Sherwood straightened. His legs snapped together and he saluted. "General Alysworth!" Sherwood barked.
"Lieutenant Sherwood, I do believe it is?" Karen waited until he nodded. "At ease," she ordered. "Now where is your commander? He's late and there's one hell of a mess here that he needs to sort out; it's about damn time he started earning his pay-grade."
"He sends his regrets, ma'am," Sherwood was clearly uncomfortable. "A few issues in Halstead required his personal attention and he was unable accept your invitation. I was sent in his place."
Locke folded his arms. Perhaps he should have gone to the last meeting with Norris, he wondered what was so engrossing to the old Magitek Knight that he would skip out on such a historic day.
"That's awfully fortunate for him," Karen grumbled with a slight frown. "Very well, if you were sent in his place, then you will take over in an official capacity. Speak with the Captain over there and ensure the security is up to your high standards. I do not want anymore mistakes and I expect a man of your experience will not tolerate further transgressions from the Guild."
"Yes ma'am," Sherwood spun on his heels and marched away. Locke pondered if he should help his friend, Terra had already asked him to do the same thing anyhow.
"Wait, Locke Cole?" Terrance repeated with the voice of a man who just connected the obvious.
"Locke," Karen gestured at the officer beside her. "This is Brigadier-General Terrance Cassidy. Terrance, Locke is a highly valued guest of Albrook, if not of the Empire proper. He is under my protection, do you understand?"
Terrance cleared his throat. "I was just surprised. Lady Terra, one the Emperor's finest, I could understand. But this rebe-"
"General Cassidy!" Karen raised her voice.
"-I was merely wondering if General Starson is safe," Terrance quickly changed the topic. Karen was clearly in command of the situation and held the younger general's leash.
Locke shrugged. "I doubt Terra would let him die," he answered to nods all around. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened here? Terra asked me to secure the area, but it doesn't look like I'm needed. There must be several hundred soldiers gathered here."
"Just over a thousand, actually, and many more on the way," Karen pointed at the smoking tent. "As for your question, Magitek Knights managed to sneak by disguised as Imperial Guardsmen here to defend Mister Tilton," Karen answered. "Five of them came in unannounced, though I don't know how many had magic. Danielle's bodyguard, that living statue over there," she gestured at the tall form of one of the two men Locke had long since given up hope of distinguishing between, "pulled me out of there."
"Considering Mister Tilton, his bodyguard and General Meras are all Magitek Knights, I dare say it was the right choice," Terrance interjected. "Your safety was paramount, and they could not defend you and deal with the traitors."
"Yes, well it would have been fair odds had we stayed," Karen growled, clearly annoyed at the way she had been babysat. "We were all very lucky that General Starson had just arrived, he dashed in there like a man possessed with his blade thundering... literally," she added.
"What happened then?" Locke asked.
"I'm not sure, all I saw was the aftermath," Karen gestured back to the still-smoking tent. "General Cassidy arrived recently as well, reinforcing our positions here. No one gets through without being triple-checked by all three factions now," she growled. "The Maverick will not play us against each other."
"Knowing General Starson and the manner in which he behaved during Third Reddenhurst, he probably charged headlong into a blast of fire with his sword swinging," Terrance surmised. "He is a warrior of renown; honour would have dictated nothing less than self-sacrifice."
"The good General's guess isn't far from the truth."
The three of them turned around. The newcomer was accompanied by two men. Locke gritted his teeth when he saw the black trim lining the Imperial brown leather, he didn't even have to note the insignia of twin-swords upon the men's shoulders. He knew where the loyalties of these men laid: the Imperial Guard, Kefka's favourite minions. They were the same bastards that had protected the Emperor on the Floating Continent; nothing more than fanatical sheep that were blindly dedicated to the safety of the Empire's leadership.
"Generals," the newcomer nodded respectfully. "Locke, I do believe your name was?" he held out his hand.
Locke folded his arms and glared at the evil looking man; moustache and all!
"Ah, so you are the Returner. I thought you looked familiar," the new arrival took back his hand, un-offended by Locke's rebuke.
"The Major is in charge of the real Imperial Guard," Karen added, gesturing to the long-haired moustached officer.
"Here to defend the First Citizen," the Major acknowledged. He had a peculiar accent that was foreign in the Empire. "Though we were too late and our names tarnished by those traitors of the Maverick's. To answer your question, Mister Cole, apparently General Starson killed one mage by throwing his sword like a dagger, and then charged into a column of flames with nothing but his hands."
"What valour," Terrance whispered in reverence. "Truly a great man."
Locke's eyes were still narrowed on the Major of the Imperial Guard.
"And please Mister Cole, any more intensity and I fear you would kill me with your gaze. I have no relation to the former leader, Nairne. Actually, I was sentenced to death for refusing to follow some of his illegal orders. I have the Long Night to thank for my survival and subsequent promotion. I feel nothing but hatred for Palazzo's pawns. That makes us friends, I believe. How does the old saying go? The enemy of my enemy is my friend?"
Locke's retort was quickly cut short. He spun around as he heard Magitek Armors powering up their elemental cannons. The whine of such weapons was impossible to forget.
"You there! Stop or we'll shoot!"
At southernmost of the checkpoints, a number of soldiers had already drawn bows and crossbows. One of the smaller Magitek Armors, three times a man's height but hundreds of times his mass, barricaded the road. The pilot inside pulled shut the clear enclosure that protected the cockpit.
Fast approaching was a chocobo rider. He was galloping towards them with such fury that the bird's legs were kicking up packed snow from the well-trodden ground.
Sherwood, almost forgotten amongst the higher-ranked officers, took a few aggressive steps forward instinctively. Karen Alysworth was his superior's superior and even if that were not the case, Norris would likely flay him alive had he failed to keep her out of harm's way.
"This is your last warning!" the voice came from an armored Knight upon an equally armored chocobo. A great black cape, bearing a symbol of three horns twisted together, flapped behind him. "PFC, fire when you have range!"
The Magitek Armor took aim.
Karen stepped out front to everyone's surprise, breaking Sherwood's grip on her shoulder. "Belay that order!" she barked.
The checkpoint was likely an amalgamation of men from all three factions, but when a Major-General gave a direct order to soldiers that would likely never reach the rank necessary to polish her boots, they obeyed. Enough ammunition to flatten a charging behemoth remained trained on the chocobo rider, but that was obviously unnecessary when they saw how injured the rider was.
"Lieutenant, get up there, now! That's one of ours!" Karen shouted.
Sherwood strolled through the blockade of archers without a second question and he was not alone. Locke followed his friend and the Imperial Guard's new commander also gave into curiosity. The three men advanced, the chocobo slowing down as it reached them.
The rider was injured, blood dripping down his side. It didn't look like he was capable of hanging onto the chocobo, and Locke nodded to himself when he noted that the soldier's arms had gotten caught in the bird's reins.
"Oh no," Sherwood whispered as they saw the bloodied face of the rider. He was long since dead.
Locke held out a hand. "We should be careful, it could be trapped-"
Sherwood's eyes were wide-open in surprise, a naked expression that Locke had never seen. The Imperial archer spun around. "General Alysworth!" he shouted unnecessarily, for the Major-General was already trailing them with ten of her own bodyguards as well as the two remaining Imperial Guardsmen. The blockade of soldiers remained in position, they knew better than to get involved.
"Damn," Karen whispered. The premature wrinkles in her face seemed to deepen as she closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "War," she breathed.
"Sherwood," Locke growled quietly.
"We're in trouble," Sherwood answered Locke's question with a low voice. "That's the Captain of the General's personal guard."
Locke didn't need it stated explicitly. He knew the problem now, though he wasn't sure he understood the full effect it might have on the affairs of the Empire. Yet the sinking feeling he felt at the bottom of his stomach was likely correct.
General Remiel Lilienthal was dead and with him, the prospect of peace.
---
The noble houses would refuse to follow the treaty. In turn, their connections would turn the majority of the Imperial industrial base at odds with whatever ruling council could be cobbled together. With the Empire's economy already at the brink of collapse, the last thing anyone wanted was the forceful state seizure of thousands upon thousands of businesses. Not even the military could accomplish such a task, even if there were no defections amongst enlisted personnel, and any attempt would surely be the deathblow for the Empire.
A new dark age: the collapse of civilization. Vector and Fanshaw would be just the beginning. Not even the Generals of the Empire could hold their armies together once the factories closed and necessities of life became scarce. They would turn inward and fight over scraps.
Anarchy. Chaos. Savagery.
Terra's eyes met Anson's, his soft brown eyes telling her what she already knew.
"Not even I can do anything about it," Terra groaned.
Remiel Lilienthal was dead. His carriage was burnt to ashes and his personal guard slain upon the sides of the road. A battle had been fought here; blades, arrows and sorcery intermixed to take the life of one of the most powerful men in the Empire. He had been the only person capable of convincing the nobility to set aside their differences, ignore grudges that ran generations deep and throw their unequivocal support behind him.
And now he was dead.
"Find me the Duke of Mansfield!" Anson ordered one of his bodyguards. "And hurry!"
Terra was crouched over, almost ready to cry. She wiped her eyes and blinked rapidly to clear her vision, focusing on the crippled body that had been a keystone of their truce. A man who had promised her that he would end civil strife and usher in a new age of peace...
She had held up her end of the bargain and he had done the same. Yet fate had conspired against them all.
Remiel was recognizable for only one reason, his clothes. There were few that dressed in the same manner, a military General whose uniform was a contradiction of the term.
Anson delicately put his hand on her shoulder. "Lady, please let us handle this."
Terra shook her head. With a deep breath, she regained her composure and coldly examined Remiel Lilienthal's corpse. It looked as if his flesh had been devoured from within, his skin hung off bones like rags and his face was nothing but a gaunt, wrinkly mass. He was housed in plate armor, but his body was so thin that it looked like a metallic cage rather than protective gear. He ranked of decay, like a corpse several days old despite the fact that there were still pools of blood not yet dry.
Only his eyes were untouched, but no longer were the jade orbs more unnervingly-aged than any other part of his body. Indeed it was the opposite, for his skin was wrinkled, his body skeletal, and even Remiel's long brown hair had turned an ashen grey.
Like hers.
Terra bit down on her lip. Focus! Yet even her willpower was insufficient, for her vision began to water again. She shot to her feet, frustrated and shamed of her inability to calm the torrent of emotion within. There were others depending on her for guidance here! She could not break down into tears at this moment, not even if this meant that war would begin anew. The soldiers would see her insecurity and weakness. They would pounce and exploit it, causing only further death.
Another deep breath and sparkles began to dance over the corpse.
Remiel was saturated with magic; perhaps a trap? The residual aura about him was what made him seem like a Magitek Knight to the casual scan. But there was nothing to fear here, because Terra was sure that no ruthless mage had spelled the body. It was merely Remiel's... uniqueness.
Terra took another deep breath in a futile attempt to calm down. Her gaze drifted, but quickly averted from the huge swarm of Imperial activity. She chose to focus on the texture of the frost-covered road.
"First Citizen, orders?" it was the leader of the Imperial Guard, his thickly accented voice stood out amongst his brethren.
"I have no need for your fine abilities as of the moment. However, perhaps General Alysworth could use the extra men on security detail?" Anson was, as always, composed and thinking politics. "The area has yet to be secured."
"Speak with Lieutenant Sherwood over there," Karen pointed, "I have placed him in temporary command. I trust that you will offer a hand, rather than attempting to pull rank?"
"I wouldn't dream of it, sir."
As the Imperial Guardsmen left with their leader, Karen and Anson began exchanging quiet whispers that Terra could not overhear; not that she cared to, there was something about Remiel's death that was on the tip of her tongue. Her eyes glazed over as she let her subconscious mind wander.
"-command falls to me! I don't care for appearances. My priority is to locate these assassins and deal with their treachery!" Karen barked. "I've had enough of these ridiculous games."
"General Alysworth," Anson growled. "If you do not turn your mind to placating your own soldiers and reassuring them that the assassins were of Drummond's command-"
"We don't know that!" Karen interrupted.
"You wouldn't insinuate-"
"No, but I will not lie to my men! The last thing they need after dealing with the death of their General is a deceitful replacement. I will not throw away decades of my reputation in the army to pander to your little schemes, Tilton."
"Two words: mass defections. They'll start within the day if you don't address these issues! Unless you wish to deal with another war, you're going to have to take his place completely, not just as a military officer!"
"Anson," Terra's voice was low, certainly without the passion that gripped the two embroiled in debate. But nevertheless, Anson Tilton's attention was immediately directed towards the grey-haired half-Esper.
"He was poisoned," Terra declared. She turned away from the corpse of Remiel Lilienthal and into the First Citizen's soft brown eyes. Her long grey hair fluttered in the chill breeze of winter. "That's what sapped his strength."
Anson took a few steps forward, almost glowering at the dead body of the noble-born General. "Do you mean this was no assassination?"
Karen's ears perked up. "What's going on here?"
Terra shook her head. "I don't even know how you came to that conclusion, Anson."
"At a glance, it looks like his corpse has aged beyond the mortal coil. If you're telling me that it was merely his decade-old affliction that finally took his life, then that is good news... in a manner of speaking."
Terra narrowed her eyes, a chill travelling down her spine as she glared at Anson. "How did you know?" she asked.
"The same way you did?" Anson replied back, oblivious to her suspicions.
Terra folded her arms. "I highly doubt that."
"General Lilienthal's affliction was no secret, Lady Terra," Karen interjected authoritatively. "It is rather difficult to hide the fact that one does not age, especially when one is in the public eye as often as Remiel was."
"Though this was a special case, as most of the public didn't really make the connection. They just assumed he had youthful good looks," Anson finally perceived Terra's confusion. "But for the nobility and most of the commanding staff, it wasn't exactly a secret that Remiel had been 'poisoned' early in his career. Although most failed to see why it caused him misery rather than joy..."
"You mean people knew he had eternal youth and just accepted it? That's unbelievable," Terra pointed out in shock. This kind of talk was coming from the Empire, from no less than the lead scientist of the Magitek Labs? Preposterous!
"Most didn't care, and those who did wouldn't dare touch House Lilienthal. In addition to that, Remiel was once a close friend of Emperor Gestahl; perhaps even still in the last days of the late-Emperor's rule. It was absolute folly to move against him, even if he held the secret to eternal youth. But that's beside the point; I've seen the scars upon his chest." Anson pointed at the thick grey skin that hung from the bones of Remiel's corpse. "Now that you point it out, I have to agree: this doesn't look much different."
Terra nodded. "There's more though," she pointed out. "It's rather deceptive. Look for yourself."
"Perhaps it would be worthwhile to take his body into the labs. We'll look into cause of death in detail there," Anson said as he knelt down and began scanning at her behest.
"Lady Terra," Karen interceded. "Now that the Mister Tilton is looking into the death of the General, I was hoping you could turn your talents to the injured."
Terra nodded. They would have deal with politics later. "Lead the way."
"My Sophis," Anson made eye-contact just as she was just about to leave. He knew what was going on in her heart. "I'm sorry," he said simply.
Terra hesitated; she could feel tears welling up just beneath her eyes again. She took the time to calm herself, hoping that Anson assumed she was deep in thought. "Let's just make sure we find out what killed Remiel; this poison should be of utmost priority," she said at last. "Afer that, then we'll deal with the future."
"That is an excellent plan, my Sophis."
If only she believed it herself.
---
Locke waded deeper into the frozen bush. Remiel's convoy had been rather large; a number of knights on chocobos as well as wagons and carriages had been escorting the General. Since he, Terra and the rest of the Imperials had arrived with a force equal to the number dead alongside of Remiel, Locke was more than a little uneasy.
Whoever had attacked had done so efficiently and quickly. Then they had disappeared into the wilderness.
Locke's bow was out; the chance of encountering enemy soldiers was high. Some might have been left behind, similar to the way the Maverick had left units guarding the rear after sacking Fanshaw. Locke would not be surprised again.
Sherwood had asked him to scout the perimeter. Locke had grudgingly followed his friend's suggestion after losing the two inexperienced soldiers that tried to tag along. It was obviously safer to take care of threats before they could become a menace, and with Terra, Karen and Anson all in the same area, they couldn't take any chances.
So it was that Locke, alone and following a trail of broken branches, footprints in the snow, and instinct when all else failed him, heard a pained cry just over the crest of a hill.
Arrow nocked, Locke crept up the hill inaudibly. Two chocobos were lying upon the ground, their blood seeping into the thick snow. He counted seven bodies and noted that three bore a symbol Locke had seen only in one place. Neither the New Order nor the symbol that Lilienthal's forces had worn, he realized that just like in Vector, the Maverick's forces had been forced to retreat without taking the bodies of their comrades.
His ears twitched when he heard another groan of pain, weaker this time, barely audible even to him. Locke gritted his teeth and ignored the dying man's suffering, choosing to encircle the area first. He moved as quickly as he dared and when he finally felt it was safe, he lit a rocket from his backpack and sent into the sky a blazing red flare.
Keeping his bow between him and the corpses, Locke advanced carefully. Both chocobos were long dead, one rider had been crushed beneath the armored bird while another had landed upon his back and split his head apart. The remaining two soldiers had died with swords in them, taking to the afterlife three of the Maverick's men. Locke kicked aside a cloven shield and heard another groan of pain.
Around a dead chocobo and through crimson snow, Locke's mouth dropped open.
Both brown hair and beard had been soaked in blood, now frozen and matted solid. A large gash had opened the man's abdomen. The life was bleeding out of him; painfully and slowly. He wore not the armor of an Imperial soldier, but a simple tunic and white coat beneath a thick winter cloak. Woven above his breast pocket was a coat of arms that had been burnt into his memory, such was its prominence in the Lilienthal Mansion.
"Kenneth," Locke whispered.
The doctor's eyes opened with great effort. He looked up at his rescuer.
"Locke?" it was definitely his voice, though faint and trembling. "Locke Cole?"
The hairs on the back of his neck rose. Faint words drifted out of his memories, innocent on their own but the picture they painted when brought together... the specific, rare herb from Alfort-Brougham; the insistence on a storefront-only purchase; the already-prepared reports on all the Returners; the incredibly detailed dossiers on their movements starting within Nestil.
"Kenneth," Locke repeated louder. "It was you."
"I'm glad-" Kenneth coughed, splattering fresh blood onto his clothes, "-that you're alive."
Locke replaced his bow, hooking it behind his brown leather armor and white Imperial cloak. The doctor was beyond his ability to save, even if he had the supplies to bandage a wound of that size. "I can't believe it. It was you the entire time, a doctor!"
Under the grey winter sky and surrounded by dead soldiers, Locke stood over the doctor of Nestil. He knelt and looked the man in the eye. "Tell me the layrl was actually necessary. Tell me that all that I've gone through -- all that I've suffered because of you! -- tell me it was all for a good cause!"
Kenneth's head lolled to the side, he had not the energy to match Locke's gaze.
Locke grabbed the doctor's hair and pulled. "Answer me!"
Kenneth nodded as well as he could. "I couldn't cure Setzer otherwise..."
"You were the one who told Danielle!" he screamed. "You were on her side the entire time, you two-faced bastard! You sold us out!" Locke's hands were trembling and despite the obvious pain that Kenneth was in, Locke still grabbed the man by the chest and shook him repeatedly. He knew he was shouting. He knew it was a dangerous act.
He didn't care.
"No!" Kenneth gasped. "Never that scheming bitch," he coughed. "I never worked for her."
"You liar! You almost killed Terra and Relm!" Locke's sleeve fell down and revealed his wrist-mounted crossbow. Yellow gauze glinted off the sharpened, metallic end. His fist almost touched the doctor's nose, the deadly weapon filling all of the traitor's vision. "Stayed in Nestil out of the kindness of your heart, did you? Didn't care for money, right? How much did she pay you? How much did you sell our lives for?"
"Lord Lilienthal honoured me," Kenneth said in a pained whisper. "So that I could... be what my father was. To make amends for..."
Locke shook with rage. The more he thought of the past few months... the closer his fingers came to the trigger.
But he couldn't.
Locke laid Kenneth back against the side of the dead chocobo, knowing that the corpse was still warm and the soft yellow feathers a comfort in the man's dying moments. Locke stood up and wiped the tears off his face, smearing dirt across his cheeks.
He couldn't bring himself to do it.
"I'm sorry," the doctor whispered. His voice was barely audible.
Locke stared into the sky, took several deep breaths and sighed. "I forgive you, Kenneth," he whispered as he stared back down at the dying doctor. "I forgive you for betraying my trust, for your lies and treachery... for hurting me, for getting me killed."
Locke Cole closed his eyes. He could feel the phantom blade on his insides, cold metal against moist flesh. He could feel it twisting still.
"I forgive you, Kenneth," Locke said at last. "Because if it wasn't for you..." he looked down at the pathetic, last moments of the dying doctor. "If you didn't betray us, Terra would never have stopped the Civil War. She would never have met Farin, or Norris, or even Anson."
Locke licked his lips.
"She would never have smiled when thinking about her heritage, or when talking about the future."
Locke wasn't sure if Kenneth's eyes were dilating because the life was draining out of him, or whether the doctor even heard him. But it didn't matter. Locke knelt down once more and looked Kenneth in the eye.
"Thank you, doctor. You healed her as well."
Silence.
Locke didn't know how long it was before he heard them arrive. He had remained still, watching impotently as Kenneth laboured to stay alive. But he was in motion the moment he heard chocobos charging down the same path that the deceased used in their attempted escape. His bow was out and crossbows clear, but he relaxed when he saw long locks of grey hair flowing in the wind.
Terra arrived with her blond Magitek Knight bodyguard and a few soldiers. She dismounted and exchanged words with Catherine, who directed the escort into establishing a perimeter.
"As happy as I am to see you, Terra, I didn't expect you to follow the flare," Locke pointed out. "Where's Anson or Karen?"
Terra shook her head and ignored his question. "I just needed to get out of there," she exasperated. "Karen's a nice woman, but she's been in the military too long. I don't think she realizes how much it hurts to know that everything I've worked for is about to fall apart."
Locke put a hand on her shoulder. "It'll be fine. I'm sure things aren't as bad as you think they are. The world has a funny way of making things right. I mean, just a few months ago, we were prisoners of Danielle. Now look at us."
Terra sighed. "I suppose," she admitted reluctantly. "It's just frustrating. Sometimes, I wish I could just take command of all these armies myself and order them to stop."
With a leery glance, Locke decided to change the subject. "How are you feeling right now?" he asked. "You look tired."
"I said I'm just frustrated," Terra grumbled. "Anyhow, there weren't many of Remiel's guard that needed healing, most were quite dead."
Locke felt his hopes rise knowing that Terra was well-rested. "Come on, you need to help someone we know."
Terra shot him a questioning look. "Who?" she picked up the pace and followed Locke around the dead chocobos. The sight of Kenneth froze her in her tracks.
"We have to save his life."
The animosity on Terra's face set Locke back a step. "No," she growled.
Locke took a deep breath. "I know what you're thinking Terra, believe me, I thought the same thing. But we have to save his life. It doesn't matter if he betrayed us, we're better than that."
Terra glared at him. "It doesn't matter?" she echoed. "Are you listening to yourself, Locke?"
"We're better than he is," Locke repeated. "Please Terra, just forgive him and-"
"Forgive him?" Terra snapped. Her eyes blazed with anger. She pointed at Kenneth. "How can I forgive a man like that? You know what's he's put me... no, what he's put us through! Everything that's happened since we entered Nestil -- everything! -- has been his fault!"
She was furious. Locke shot a glare at one of the soldiers who dared look in their direction, the Imperial quickly glancing away once caught. The others were smart enough not to make the same mistake.
"Terra, what he's done is inexcusable. But we can't simply let him die."
"Why not!"
Locke swallowed, he had never seen Terra so angry, so emotional! "He's still human," Locke reasoned quietly. "He's a doctor too, so if we save his life, he'll help others in turn. Please Terra, just find it in your heart to forgive him and-"
"I won't forgive that thing!" Terra screamed. "I won't excuse a doctor who broke his promise to allow no harm to come to his patients. I won't forgive someone who's betrayed us!"
She pointed at the dying man. Her deep blue eyes blazed with anger, almost seeming to glow crimson with fury. "He endangered our lives and nearly killed all of us! We trusted him, and all he gave us in return was pain!"
Even her hand seemed to glow now, the air wavering with unnatural heat. "It's an unforgivable crime!"
His heart skipped a beat. Locke turned away in shame as his face went red. He felt nauseous and he held his stomach as it seized up.
A man who betrayed those who trusted him.
"Locke?"
Locke turned back to Terra. She had calmed down, but his vision still wavered for some reason. "Please, for me... just save Kenneth's life," he begged.
Terra took one last look at Kenneth. Her face was impassive. "I can't."
An unforgivable crime.
"You can't, or you won't?" Locke snarled.
Terra was taken aback by his sudden outrage, but only for a moment. "What did you just say?" she snapped. "He's dead Locke! I can't resurrect him!"
Locke didn't miss a beat. His hand tapped against the phantom wound on his chest. "You brought me back from the dead! Bring him back too!"
"I can't simply bring back the dead!"
"You mean you don't want to!" Even as the words left his mouth, Locke knew he had gone too far. But it had been too much; his heart ached in pain and all he had left to hold onto was the red-hot fury of righteousness.
Terra glowered at him. "How dare you," her voice was deadly cold. "How dare you question me."
Locke folded his arms. His heart was pounding, the blood rushing to his head was causing him to go dizzy. But still he scowled at her.
"You have no idea what it cost me to resurrect you," Terra growled. "You have no idea how much I sacrificed in order to save your life! After all we've been through, after all that I've done for you..." she paused in disbelief. She rubbed her temples and grimaced in disgust.
"How dare you question me!" she screamed at him.
They glared at each other for a moment, time seeming to slow as their twin tempers boiled. Locke's scowl weakened through, and Terra's sapphire eyes broke contact shortly after.
"Terra," Locke started.
Terra twisted aside, her grey hair flying in the wind like a curtain between them. "Catherine, we're leaving!" she barked as she marched away.
---
The world was a daze as Terra rode back into camp. She remembered vaguely asking about Anson's whereabouts and being told that he had left with Karen. She remembered that Remiel's body had been missing and that apparently, one of Anson's Magitek Knights and several of the Imperial Guards had seen to taking the cadaver away. Something about an examination, Terra didn't remember much of the explanation.
The Imperial Camp was in an uproar, but Terra paid little attention as she rode through the thick of things. Catherine proved her worth as she and several of Terra's escort cleared the road, deftly handling hostile soldiers -- many drunk -- that crowded their path. The blond Magitek Knight did not kill anyone of course, but her magic was more than capable of decisively expelling the rabble. They dismounted as a group and marched through the blockades that protected the central tent.
Terra tried to clear her head. It would do her no good to be emotional when she returned to deal with Danielle, Karen and Anson. There was still the truce to be signed, and she would not allow Remiel's death destroy the only hope they had for peace! She knew that it was the right direction for the Empire to follow, knew it with every fibre of her body.
She didn't care what anyone else thought or what they wanted. Vengeance? Power? Money? Her teeth grated together. No, they would have peace, dammit. The Empire would have peace!
There was still much work to be done and she had to have her wits about her. Yet she could do nothing but think about what Locke had said; what he had accused her of. Her cheeks still felt red from his rebuke.
So it was that she walked directly into the red and black of the Empire. Backing up a step, she noticed the silver and gold trim too late.
"Lady Terra," the Duke of Mansfield steadied her with gentle, wrinkled old hands. "Are you alright?"
"Charles!" she stammered. "I'm terribly sorry, I don't know what came over me," Terra quickly apologized.
Charles smiled. "No harm done, I take it that you just returned from the horrifying scene?"
Terra pressed her lips tightly together, afraid of her own voice, and nodded.
"Such a display of barbarism, these traitors. Damn the Maverick and his men, to think we once thought of them as fellow peers!"
She glanced around and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Does everyone already know?"
"Of course, news as such would spread like the wildfire," Charles frowned. "It is a sad day indeed, that such a fine young man was taken in his prime. He was a magnificent leader, a genius who was unappreciated for much of his career."
Terra nodded half-heartedly. Her eyes stayed glued to the ground. She had only scraped the surface of what Remiel Lilienthal had done for the Empire; her knowledge of those matters had been cut short because Anson told her there was too much to learn. The House of Lilienthal was a nexus of power that had been concentrated in a single individual. To lose that had been unthinkable.
"You are worried," Charles remarked.
Terra nodded, barely catching herself before she snapped at the obviousness of his comment. Manners, she reminded herself. Charles was still the Duke of Mansfield, no matter how he much he resembled a doting grandfather, it was not wise of her to relax in his company.
"It's unavoidable, considering..." Charles trailed off. "Still, you must be strong. The common man depends on you and I. They will not panic so long as we do not panic. We must always guard our emotions."
"Of course, Charles," Terra took out a handkerchief and dabbled at her cheeks. "I apologize for bothering your Lordship."
"Please! It is fate that I was here to receive you during your time of need," Charles gestured around them. Terra suddenly realized that despite being in the heart of the Imperial camp, there was not a soul within earshot. The Duke of Mansfield's soldiers along with Terra's personal escort had cleared a protective cordon around their charges. "My faith has been shaky as of late, but I remained true and I still believe."
Terra blinked blankly.
"Lady Terra, I understand at last why we met. It had seemed like such coincidence, but truly this was a meeting ordained by the Gods."
Terra glanced quizzically at the old nobleman's face. He smiled softly at her. "What do you mean?" she asked.
Charles gestured around them, his grandiose cape swirling about as he did so. "All this, the Empire, teeters at the brink of further warfare. To lose a leader such as Lord Lilienthal, at this hour, should have been the killing stroke. However, we, despite the vast number of differences between our two stations, have been brought together not once, but twice on this historic day!"
Terra shook her head. "I still don't understand."
Charles smiled thinly. "Remiel must have known the risk. That is why he sent you to hold Anson Tilton's leash for so long, that is why he took your hand as his consort at the Messis Luna. All is clear to me at last."
"What are you talking about, Charles?" Terra exasperated.
The Duke of Mansfield bowed deeply once more. "Why Lady Terra," he said after he readjusted his hat again. "It is simple, really! Lord Lilienthal intended for you to replace him as the voice of the nobility. And after witnessing your glorious actions, I fully agree with the late Governor's intent. You have my wholehearted support, Lady Terra, as well as all the nobility!"
"Charles," Terra felt shivers run down her back. "Please tell me you're joking."
The Duke of Mansfield glared at her, reminding her that he was still an aristocrat that was not to be trifled with. "I do not 'joke' about such things, Lady Terra. You have my blessing, and I will ensure that all shall know what I have decided. The House will not opppose you."
Terra found it hard to breathe. What was going on here?
"The Empire shall grow strong with your assistance!" With that, the Duke of Mansfield left her alone, his bodyguards trailing after him. Terra wiped away the wetness in her eyes with her almost-forgotten handkerchief, frozen in mute astonishment. Her assistance? His support?
Terra found herself staring at the back of the elder noblemen, towards the west. Warm rays of afternoon light gently caressed her face. Something had stirred deep within her soul and the feeling worried her.
For some reason, it felt like the sun was still rising.
---
Sabin found Siana standing outside, alone in the cold. Her cloak was loose and snowflakes were piling on top of her. She was staring into the east.
Towards the Empire.
"The Elders have accepted my offer," Sabin remarked. He followed her gaze, but there was little to see. The sky was grey with clouds and flakes of snow poured endlessly from the heavens. Furthermore, they were in a valley. Even had it not been snowing and the thick forest before them was cleared of its canopy, she still wouldn't have had a view of anything! "They also said they understand your outburst," he added.
Siana shifted and the snow that had piled upon her shoulders and hair cascaded to the ground. "That's kind of them," she murmured indifferently.
Sabin frowned. "Don't tell me you disagree."
Siana shook her head. "No, you did the right thing," she sighed. "We had no choice... still," she sighed and turned around and faced him. There were streaks of dirt running down her cheeks.
She had been crying.
"Hey, what's wrong?" Sabin asked, concerned. He knew she wasn't injured.
Siana gestured back to the village of Dorset. It was a tiny little place, located at the bottom of a valley far away from civilization. Equally distant from both the Empire and the former Kingdom of Maranda, it had been neglected and forgotten. There were barely two hundred people, many of whom were farmers, though some were of the skilled trade by inheritance.
They had been utterly defenceless against an organized military squadron. They could fight off the occasional monster of course, but men of the Empire? Even the smallest unit could have slaughtered the inhabitants with relative ease.
"I just wish we didn't have to teach these people how to fight," Siana whispered. "They seem so happy, so naive..."
They had been overjoyed to see their children back and accepted Sabin and Siana with open arms. There had been a feast that very night and afterward, Sabin had approached the Elders to try to learn what the Guild and the Empire had intended with Dorset.
"Everyone knows how to fight, they've survived for generations despite monsters," Sabin pointed out.
Siana's lip quivered. "It's the Empire's fault that they were hurt... my people brought this upon them..."
Sabin remained silent. He couldn't console her. It was, after all, the truth.
Imperial troops had arrived in Dorset only a few weeks ago. They had declared the village to be theirs, and then forced the people to swear allegiance to the Guild and the Empire it represented. The people of Dorset had been weary of the strangers and eventually, the elders described how the troops had taken the children. There had been a brief struggle, but they couldn't fight trained military men. Ben's father had been crippled when he tried to fight back, losing his arm and almost his life. How ecstatic he had been when he saw his son back!
Sabin felt there had been no choice. He had offered to help protect the village. In addition to their skill, they could train a small militia to keep the valley clear of future Imperial aggression. After Sabin had offered, Siana had been quick to convince the elders of Dorset. She revealed that she was a former Imperial pilot and explained how the army worked.
For whatever reason they wanted children, Dorset was still too far away for any serious force to be sent to pacify resistance. In addition, the valley was difficult to cross as well. In the summer, the forest was overgrown and roads would disappear as quickly as they were made. In the winter, snow piled up and swallowed men alive. Crossing the wilderness, Sabin and Siana had almost died twice, and they had been lead by children that grew up in the area.
Siana concluded that the Empire would only send a token force. If a squad disappeared, they might send another. But they would quickly lose their nerve with every additional soldier lost. Dorset was simply unimportant.
The only danger was if some arrogant commander made it his personal mission to avenge his fallen men. But that was an easy thing to fix; they just had to make it seem like the squads had died from the journey and not by the villagers. It wouldn't be hard; the militia was going to create traps wherever it seemed safe to descend into the valley.
Sabin had deferred to her superior understanding of the matter, but had been left alone in the company of old men when she suddenly stalked off, overcome with emotion. He had been left bewildered by her display.
"Sabin... be honest with me," Siana eyes were downcast, staring at his feet.
The son of Figaro, far away from his element and deeply missing his friends, looked into the former-Imperial pilot's eyes. "What is it, Siana?" he asked.
"Why did you come back for me?"
Sabin inadvertently inhaled a snowflake. He coughed.
Siana's pale lips twisted. She turned her back to him, looking east again. "We've never really been friends. Why would you risk your life to come back for me? I was the one that brought Godric down on us, separating you from your brother, the Relentless and the other Returners."
He was silent. Sabin didn't know how to answer her.
Her voice trembled. "You hate me," she whispered. Her arms wrapped around her waist protectively. She wandered forward, further away from Dorset.
"Siana," Sabin said. "Don't-"
Siana spun around, twin trails of moisture running down her cheeks. "Don't what? Go back to the people that tortured me for months on end? Go back to the people that think I'm a traitor, or my former-friends that would gladly throw me to the courts and laugh as they sentence me to death?"
She pointed east. "Do you think I want to go back to the dark, evil child-stealing baby-eating Empire that I spent my entire life protecting?"
"Well? Don't what?" Siana screamed. "Don't what?"
She was panting hard, ragged gasps in the chilly winter air almost hiding her angry tear-soaked face.
"I don't hate you," Sabin muttered under his breath.
"What?"
Sabin took a few steps closer to her. "I said... I said I'm sorry," he put his hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry you had to find out the truth like this."
Siana tore herself from his grasp. "Damn you!" she shouted.
Sabin had been expecting to be slapped, but it never came. Instead, Siana just glared at him and panted. Sabin offered nothing in response; he just impotently stared back wondering how to calm her down. Eventually, his indecisiveness was rewarded and the anger bled from her face. She slouched dejectedly, slinking away with no destination in mind.
As he watched her walk away, Sabin thought about how she had been abandoned and betrayed by something she had trusted. For the first time, he reflected on the airship crash. Enforced discipline had allowed him to forget that disaster, so that he would no longer have to feel the heat of the Blackjack's burning corpse. So that he would not have to think of all that was lost on that day.
So that Sabin would not have to think about... him.
But watching the once-fiery ex-pilot wander off... the son of Figaro realized he was not the only person out of their element and sorely missing close friends.
"Siana," Sabin jogged beside her once more. "Listen, I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking... if it's any consolation, I never thought about leaving you behind. Not once."
Siana was unresponsive.
"These people need us, Siana. Without our help, the Guild's forces will come back looking for their dead allies. When they find out what happened, they'll want revenge. The people of Dorset need us to protect them.
"You keep saying 'us'," Siana's voice was weak, trembling with each syllable. "But we both know you don't need me. I'll just get us into more trouble. I'll just get us killed."
"I don't know how these troops think, how they'll react and what it'll take to stop the Guild from sending more squadrons," Sabin answered. He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around to face him. "We're a team, you understand? I can't do this without you."
Siana stared blankly at him. Aside from their breathing, the world was silent.
Behind Sabin's muscular form, the village of Dorset looked like a scene straight from a painting. Tiny little straw huts, whips of smoke rising in the air, all covered by a blanket of pristine white snow. A snowman had been built in front of the nearest house, an armless-father and reunited son making the best of their time together.
Siana lip quivered. "Alright Sabin. I'll stay in Dorset," she whispered in defeat.
Sabin Rene Figaro let go of the ex-Imperial's shoulder. "Thank you."
They walked back into the village together, neither sure of the future to come.
---
Locke arrived in a stupor, his heart still pounding viciously as he looked around the debris marking the site of Remiel Lilienthal's death. He frowned, Terra was nowhere in sight.
In fact, Locke did not recognize anyone. He couldn't pick out Anson or Karen, and even Sherwood was nowhere to be seen.
"Damn," he growled. He walked back into the cluster of trees where he had tethered his chocobo. "The day just can't get any worse," he mumbled. He knew he had to find Terra quickly. As much as he dreaded the likely fight, he had to make amends. Then Locke cursed himself, saying something like 'it can't get any worse' aloud was bad luck.
Fortunately, his chocobo was still waiting patiently where he left it. But the frown on Locke's face deepened when he saw that there was an Imperial Guardsman gripping the reins of the other bird beside his. After a few choice curses directed at the entirety of the Imperial Guard, Locke did his best to hide his discontent. He kept his head down and tried not to make eye-contact with the soldier.
"Hey there."
Damn. "Hi," Locke answered as non-committally as he could. He took the reins of his chocobo.
"You are Locke Cole, aren't you?"
A deep sigh. "Yes I am," Locke grumbled.
"The Major asked me to escort you back."
Locke glanced up at the Imperial Guardsman, doing his best not to look at the twin swords that he hated so much. The black trim of the leather armor was still a telling sign though. "Thanks, but I won't need it," he said before hesitating in confusion.
There was something odd. The Guardsman was young, younger than Locke certainly. He was clean shaven and his red hair was short and cropped. Locke knew he had never seen the soldier, yet there was something strangely familiar about him.
"Unfortunately, I don't take orders from you. So you're having me as company whether you like it or not," the soldier held out his hand. "I'm Stefan," he introduced himself.
Locke sighed and shook Stefan's hand. "Locke, though you already knew that."
"Well-"
"Hey! Malsbury! Stop dawdling! The Major wants that civilian back ASAP!" came a shout from the direction of the camp.
"Yes sir!" Stefan shouted back. He turned back to Locke. "Come on! We're wasting time here."
Locke's mouth was open. "Malsbury?" he echoed.
Stefan nodded as he mounted his chocobo. "Let's move before there's more trouble."
Locke shook his head in disbelief. "Was Davis your father?"
The young Imperial Guardsman froze. He looked down in surprise. "You knew my father?"
Jumping on his own chocobo, Locke grabbed the reins and hustled the bird into action. Stefan quickly followed beside him. "You knew my father?" he shouted again.
"Yeah," Locke laughed. He shook his head... it really was a small world. "Yeah, I knew your father."
"Where is he? He's been missing since the Long Night and I haven't heard a word from his unit! He was stationed in Albrook, right? And you're with Lady Terra, so you had to have come from Albrook," the hope in his voice was audible, even above the sound of their running chocobos.
Locke didn't know how to answer, and despite the surprise, his mind was still on other matters. What could he say to Terra? He had to apologize, but if he phrased it wrong... Locke remained deep in thought.
But his silence was understood and the light in Stefan's eyes dimmed. "He's dead, isn't he? I feared as much."
Locke turned to a kid he hardly knew, the son of a father he owed his life to.
"He died fighting for what he believed in," Locke answered. "He was a warrior until the end; best Magitek Pilot I've ever met. I owe him my life."
Stefan mumbled something to himself.
Locke looked the Imperial Guardsman up and down, his hatred for the black trim about the brown leather seeming to seep away. The kid looked so dejected... his eyes alternated from Stefan and the rapidly approaching Imperial Camp. He made up his mind.
"Come on, there are traitors to hunt down," Locke said as he pulled on the reins of his chocobo. The two riders stopped in the middle of the road. "We should secure this area first instead of gathering in one place."
"The Major-"
"We'll make sure there's no danger and in the meantime, I'll tell you about your father," Locke smiled when he saw the look on Stefan's face. He pressed his advantage. "There's nothing to do back at the camp anyhow, we'll just be another couple bodies getting in the way. Out here, we can do what's necessary to protect them."
Stefan nodded in agreement. "Alright, but afterwards, I'm taking you to the Major and I don't want any complaints," he said as he convinced himself.
Afterwards... yes, perhaps after the day had ended. Locke took one last glance at the shapes of the Imperial Camp behind him.
"Good luck," he whispered. "I know you'll do it. I believe in you."
Locke hustled his chocobo and rode away.
---
Terra marched into central tent, the meeting place was once again covered by canvas and surrounded by dozens of elite soldiers. Terra knew by the way these men acted -- with incredible discipline; focused on nothing but their job -- that this time, absolutely no liberties were being taken in terms of security. They were all cut from the same cloth, plate armor and blades galore protecting that which was most important.
A number of officers were within the tent, many in uniforms that Terra recognized belonging to support staff rather than soldiers. The table was overflowing with papers and Danielle stood in the middle of the chaos, giving commands and acting like the General she was.
She did not see Anson or Karen, but Farin was standing off to the side. His plate armor was still on, and he looked incredibly bored as the staff sergeant beside him droned on. Terra walked directly towards him.
A smile spread on the Major-General's face and Farin shoed the officer away. "I heard you went out there, I do hope it was safe," he said, welcoming her with open arms.
Terra shrugged. "I wouldn't worry," she answered before gesturing at the mass of officers. "What's going on here?"
"Danielle is doing her best to keep the men in line. After rumours spread that General Lilienthal was dead, a couple brutal fights erupted. They weren't contained in time and it spread everywhere. We had some motivated commanders fighting their own miniature war for a while. It's been chaos for the last couple of hours," Farin shook his head.
"It's already falling apart," Terra whispered. "No..."
"Well, I'm not out there taking care of errant officers, so it's not as bad as it sounds," Farin quickly pointed out. "However, you're right... we've already sent General Cassidy to take field command. Things are getting bad; it's a sign of what's to come," he sighed deeply and shook his head. "I'm not sure what we can do now. General Alysworth has eluded all attempts at contacting her. We're already planning on moving this command centre, just in case."
Terra moaned. "There has to be something we can do, Farin!"
"Yeah, well I thought General Alysworth was one of the most honest two-stars I've ever met. I can't see her preemptively attacking, but Danielle certainly won't risk it. And it's not as if your special friend is any better."
"Special friend?"
"Anson Tilton? The Emperor?"
"He's only First Citizen," Terra corrected. "What do you mean by that, anyways?"
"We've also been unable to contact him! I don't like what's happening at all. Treachery abound, we've got numerous brushfires spreading all over the place... if you want, you can come back to Tzen with us. You'll be safe there."
Terra shook her head. "No!" she said passionately. "We're not abandoning the truce, not after we've come so far!"
"There not much choice, Terra. Your Kingly-friend sailed back to his country a couple months ago, but I do believe Cyan Garamonde is still within the province. I doubt he and Relm would complain if you decided to stay with them... you would be safe. This isn't your fight anyhow."
"Farin! You can't be serious! What about peace?"
"What can we do?" Farin sighed. "We've made so many sacrifices, so many amends..." he gritted his teeth. "I've killed my own people, pushed my own morals into a corner and fought the good fight." His fist slammed against one of the rods holding the tent up. "We've endured, but we still can't calm the storm!" He shook his head in frustration. "Damn it all!"
"General!"
Both turned around as a familiar shaven-head came into view. Completely protected by plate-armor and with enough weapons strapped to his body to act as an armory for two dozen, Donnach ran into the tent breathless. In one hand was his helmet, in the other was his unsheathed blade.
"Report, Captain!" Farin ordered. "And put that sword away! You know better!" Behind them, Danielle and her staff only looked up for a moment, and then returned to their chaotic work.
"General Alysworth and Anson Tilton are coming," Donnach's face was a mask of surprise. He slammed his blade back into its sheath. "They're surrounded by escorts: Knights of Odin and Imperial Guardsmen are both out there, sir!"
That got the attention of every officer in the tent. "Are they hostile?" Danielle barked.
"Weapons aren't drawn... yet," Donnach answered.
The silence lasted for a split-second, and then the tent was a flurry of activity. Danielle had already anticipated this and her staff began to orderly clear the table of their charts, maps and reports. They filed out the back of the tent as orderly as possible given the situation.
Danielle strolled to Farin's side. She checked that her sword was clear in its scabbard. "Farin?"
"Donnach, get your men into position immediately! I want you to look like an honour guard but those chocobos better be ready if things get heated."
A salute and then the bald man ran off.
Farin glanced over to Terra. "Thanks for healing my arm again -- I'll probably need them both for the fight to come -- but I think it's time you find a safer place."
Terra shook her head. "Anson is out there," she answered darkly. "We will have peace, I swear it."
Danielle raised an eyebrow. "Very well," she said, interrupting Farin and decisively settling the matter. She twirled a lock of red-hair about her finger. "Let's go."
The three marched out of the tent and into the winter air. The skies were grey and there seemed to be a muted shadow around them; what sunlight Terra had seen before was completely gone. The blockades that had protected the tent were no longer, for those men had stopped cooperating with one another and turned inwards instead.
Donnach stood at the head of some three dozen heavily-armed men, each wearing plate-armor with their lances held high and shields ready. Terra could see there were several hundred more behind the tent -- including the gigantic Baldric -- escorting Danielle's staff away, and the unmistakable sound of Magitek Armors powering up was all around them.
War was but a single gesture away.
Karen and Anson stood side-by-side, a good sign to Terra, but it drained the colour from Farin's face. Danielle was unreadable, but Terra could sense that she was reaching deep into her own powers. The female General had many spells prepared.
"Karen," Danielle growled as the three leaders of their respective factions, in addition to Terra, met in a no-man's land centred between the Imperial Armed Forces' most elite units. "What's the meaning of this?"
The air was thick with tension. Terra caught Anson looking at her though, even in a time like this! His soft brown eyes conveyed his apologizes.
Chills ran down her back as her eyes widened in fear. What was he sorry for now?
Her mind stretched out and recoiled, the number of Magitek Knights present was absolutely unbelievable! There were dozens, perhaps even numbering over a hundred soldiers capable of spell-casting. It must have represented a significant fraction of the Empire's magical capabilities, because Terra had never seen so many gathered in a single place before. She doubted there were more than a thousand ever created... and how many of those still lived, no one knew.
That so many were gathered together... Terra shuddered. They were all going to die. War was about to erupt and a destructive battle to be fought, the likes of which had not graced the world since the War of the Magi.
Anson Tilton's eyes were still locked on hers.
What are you doing Anson! She screamed back inaudibly.
Farin's hands hovered above his hilt. Danielle's spells began to take form. Terra held her breath as the power within rumbled to life. Peace, they would have peace!
Major-General Karen Alysworth lowered to one knee. Her sword was held out in offering.
"Hail Imperatrix," she declared.
Danielle's mouth dropped open.
First Citizen Anson Tilton knelt as well, his head bowed. "Hail Imperatrix," he proclaimed. "Thou Conquerest."
"No..." Danielle whispered.
Several thousand soldiers ready to slay each other looked at their leaders in shock. There was silence, real silence, in the war-zone that was the Empire.
And Major-General Farin Starson grinned as he lowered to his knees as well. "Hail, Danielle Imperatrix! Thou Conquerest!" his voice thundered as he laid down his sword before her.
It spread: as Danielle's staff followed their executive officer's actions, as Anson Tilton's circle of followers knelt and the Imperial Guard laid down their arms, as the Knights of Odin swore allegiance to a new commander, it spread at last like a wildfire; several thousand of the highest ranking men and women of the Imperial Army all of one mind at last.
"Hail Danielle Imperatrix!"
"Thou Conquerest!"
And finally, there was but one person still standing. A woman that had been seen by tens of thousands standing beside dead legends; by the honourable Leo Christophe, the pure-hearted Celes Chere, and the august Emperor Gestahl. A woman whose actions had widely been accepted as the reason for the temporary truce.
Terra Branford. The Sophis.
She saw Anson's eyes again. He had known. He knew that she represented the nobility, for so said the Duke of Mansfield, Earl of Castille. Anson had been one of the few that had been told.
Her eyes drifted over to Danielle Meras. Terra swallowed as she made her decision.
Wings were spread wide, white feathers exploding outwards as a collective gasp came from the thousands that were witness to the appearance of an angel. Purple hair fluttered against the wind and crimson eyes glowed brightly.
Her knees touched the snow.
"Hail Danielle Imperatrix, Lady and Empress regnant."