Final Fantasy - All Series Fan Fiction ❯ The Celestial Rise ❯ It's About Vengeance ( Chapter 16 )

The soldiers congregated in the Assembly Ground before a grand platform decorated with red and black banners. Their presence was mandatory. They formed massive and decorated ranks as though in preparation for an invasion. But this was no invasion. It was the day when the rumors about the new general were to be confirmed.

It was a short ceremony. It was a mere formality. Celes Chere was already a general whether or not she was properly introduced to the army. She was already a general with or without being sworn into generalship. In the eyes of the Emperor, the New Council, General Cristophe, and even Kefka, Celes Chere was already a key player in the future of Vector. However, for the sake of those outside the inner circle (including Celes herself) it was for formality of recognition.

The ceremony started with a speech from General Cristophe about the reformation of the Military Council. Gradually, his speech steered towards the Council's plans to root out the so-called malignancy within the military ranks. He had declared a war to be waged between the corrupt and the incorruptible. Then the soldiers were reminded of the basic principles of the chain of commands. They were prompted to "know" their places and to never question the hierarchical ruling. As a finale, General Cristophe introduced the new Knight of Vector--the one to replace General Fencross.

There were no gasps. The soldiers all kept their surprise to themselves, if any remained. The high ranking officers, particularly the colonels, kept their disappointments and aversions towards the Council's decision in check. It was not the place to show their displeasure. They all saluted to the feminine figure that came to stand before them all at the center of the platform wearing a decorative suit of plate armor of polished silver and gold. It was definitely for ornamental purposes such as the ceremony. It was light and provided no real protection. No doubt her real battle armor would be even more impressive. The figure stood in front of them all--poised and confident. She wore a silver helm laced with intricate gold patterns that were unmistakably the Empire's emblem and crest of high power and authority that only generals had the honor of bearing.

She returned the salute to the soldiers. Celes's eyes went straight into the horizon and never into the eyes of soldiers. She didn't want to get distracted. She wanted to remain calm and focused for she had to recite her Oath to the Empire as the newly-favored Servant of the Emperor. Normally, the Oath was recited before the emperor himself, but the emperor was not present at the ceremony. General Cristophe had reasoned to her earlier that the emperor's absence was due to high security concerns. Celes was more relieved than disappointed. She had never seen the emperor face to face before. She imagined that his presence would've made her more nervous. Instead, the Oath was said before General Cristophe himself. After all, it was just for show.

She removed her helm. Her hair (no longer fastened to a bun as was required for a low-ranking soldier) was half-braided to a dignified fashion as semblance of her rank. She was a remarkable sight to see. Her blue eyes reflected the bright lights surrounding the platform. Her face, unblemished and betraying no emotion, looked stone-cold calm but not in an arrogant sort of way. In fact, even General Cristophe was taken aback when she saw her face. He was usually adept at detecting fear and unease just by looking at people. In his slight and quiet astonishment, he could not see either from her face. It wasn't at all that she looked perfectly calm, but rather her face simply didn't allow the slightest hint of emotion from her--any emotion. Her face was completely unreadable.

General Cristophe cleared his throat after realizing that he had been staring at her for an awkward length of time. "Are you ready to give your Sacred Oath to the Empire?" General Cristophe asked.

"I am ready," she replied, her voice, clear, unwavering, and composed.

A flash of lightning came from above followed by a roll of thunder. Both Celes and General Cristophe glanced up. Storm clouds were forming high above. Rain was inevitable.

"Then let us proceed," General Cristophe said, wary of the unaccounted weather formation. "Kneel, Celes Chere and--"

Celes blinked in confusion. The world around her became silent. General Cristophe's mouth was still moving, but she did not hear words coming out from it. She no longer heard the wind, or the banners flapping in its mild torrent. It was almost as if she had been stricken deaf. And yet, she remained calm. It was an odd sense of feeling for her as though it was somewhat expected.

Celes followed the last order that came from General Cristophe. She knelt down on both knees instead of one, as was traditional for female soldiers. She held her helm firmly with both hands and held her chin up. When she saw that General Cristophe had stopped speaking, she knew that it was her turn just as they rehearsed it.

She started to speak the first words of the Oath. She did not hear her voice, but she knew that she was speaking them in utmost and dignified eloquence. She just knew somehow. The words of the Oath stayed with her in her mind. Her memory did not falter. Her tongue--though she could not hear her own words--did not slip.

Celes's skin started to feel numb. She started to feel weightlessness. Her mind felt completely detached from the body, and yet she did not faint as she had expected. She knew that she was still kneeling down, reciting the Oath.

It was then that she heard a familiar voice--one that was only supposed to exist in her dreams. Three voices in unison. Ominous, gentle and solemn, all at once.

What good is a sword when devoid of forged strength? When it is as weak and brittle as the bones of a child? What good is a sword deprived of a sharp edge? When it cannot cut through the flesh of your foes?

What good is a soldier without a weapon? Or a general without an army to lead? What good is a castle without its battlements? Or a campaign without a cause?

What good is a world without magic, Celes-child? What good is a world stagnant of its corruption? There is a war brewing, Celes-child. The tides are closing in. Yet the knights are looking to the wrong direction. With this blade you will find sanctuary. With this blade you will find the answers. Take this blade, and no path will darken.

Evil will touch you not. The truth, you will see. Take this blade, and you will be safe from the Three.

She felt her body again. The platform stung her knees despite the padding on her armor. It was not as comfortable as anyone was led to believe. All eyes were upon her still, as well as the ears of those close to her. She was still reciting the words of the Oath. She could hear her own voice once again as she uttered the last line.

"For the Glory of the Empire, I, Celes Chere, Servant of the Exalted Emperor, so swear to the last of my dying breath," she finished flawlessly. Nobody else noticed what happened. Nobody else heard the voices.

General Cristophe drew his sword from its sheath and raised it high above everybody else. Then with careful handling of his sword, he did the ceremonial tap on Celes's shoulders with the flat of its blade as he said, "Then by the power vested in me by our Great and Righteous Emperor Gestahl, I dub thee Lady Celes Chere, Knight of Vector."

Two soldiers walked up to her from behind carrying a thick, white cloth of strong fabric. It was a cape. The cape bearers fastened the ends to her armor's shoulder plates with ease. Another thunder, much louder than before, rolled above. She felt a disturbingly familiar presence nearby. It made her glance over her left shoulder, catching a glimpse of the two soldiers returning into the background. They were wearing full helms themselves, and she could not see their faces.

"Rise, Lady Chere," General Cristophe commanded, "and take charge of the Authority. Lead your followers unto victory, and bring swift justice to Vector's foes. The time of purification is at hand. Herald for us a new age of might within and without. Let the traitors and rebels perish under your valiant command." And with that, General Cristophe stood in the background with the cape bearers and his personal aide on the back edge of the ten-foot platform. It was Celes's turn to take center stage and shine.

Celes stood up and forced herself to ignore the odd wariness that she was feeling. The white cape on her back waved gently in the wind. She faced the mass of soldiers again. They all stood like lifeless monoliths in an expansive burial ground. At least, they looked to Celes like that in the darkness of the evening. The atmosphere felt eerie to her especially after hearing the voices come alive from her dreams.

She shouted on the top of her lungs, "Devenias Gastra!"

The monoliths moved at the same time as the final salute of the ceremony and cried out in unison, "For the Empire!"

"Devenias Gastra!" she cried again. Lightning flashed dangerously close.

"For the Empire!" the soldiers shouted again, but their voices were drowned by the rolling thunder that followed. The wind whipped around them in a sudden violent stream, sending the banners, flags and the generals' capes up into the air.

"Devenias Gastra!" she shouted for the last time. Her voice, muffled by the weather's own clamor. The soldiers weren't sure whether they'd heard right.

"For the Empire!" they shouted in disarray and uncertainty. Even General Cristophe himself was one of those who were unsure.

And in the pinnacle of the confusion, a cry was heard from behind Celes. Celes spun around in alarm to look. It was Lieutenant Arnold Beigeletter, disguised as one of the cape bearers, charging towards Celes at top speed, holding a long, pointy dagger by its hilt and an especially large pommel. It was a killing charge. Celes recognized the type of dagger he held in an instant. It was the kind that could pierce through regular plate mail--and she was wearing something less protective!

It was too late for her to draw her own sword. Beigeletter had already cut a dangerous distance between the two of them. It was simply too late for her to react. She met the moment of impact with wide, horrified eyes. The dagger pierced through her ceremonial armor as though it were made of paper. The dagger bit through her flesh just below her heart. The force that Beigeletter initially carried sent the both of them off the platform and into the hard concrete floor below in front of everybody. Everything happened so fast that Celes only began to feel the pain after hitting the ground.

It was a terrible pain, the likes of which she had never felt before. It was a mortal wound. Death was imminent. She clutched at the pommel of the dagger with her bloodied hands, trying to remove it. The dagger was stuck; the plate armor did not permit it to be pulled out easily. Though she was not aware of it then, this proved to be a good thing. Often times, removing a dagger proved to be more fatal.

Lying on her back and bleeding to death fast, she gasped for help, with a voice nobody heard. She waited for General Cristophe to rush to her side and to rescue her, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead, she saw only Arnold Beigeletter, picking himself up from the ground as he drew his sword. He stood above Celes and raised his sword in the air as an executioner would with an axe. He was going to finish the job in front of everybody.

"I win, Celes! I am the better swordsman!" he shouted, wearing the face of a madman.

Celes held out a hand above her as a futile defensive gesture. She tried to scream, but the pain would not let her. She vomited blood. Her entire body was rigid, and her face was contorted to a mask of agony.

"Help me," she mouthed. Even she could not form the words as whispers. Nevertheless, her prayer was answered.

A soldier from the assembled crowd reached them finally and tackled Beigeletter to the ground. It was Colonel Harold Llurd. The two of them wrestled for the sword that Beigeletter was wielding. Llurd eventually wrested it away, and used it against the assassin. Llurd stuck the sword through Beigeletter's heart. He died instantly.

The other soldiers who arrived late at the scene gathered around Celes and examined her wound. She was covered in blood, and losing more with every second that passed. Her senses were slowly diminishing. The shouts around her seemed muffled and distorted. Her body was becoming more and more numb. Her surroundings were losing color as they gradually faded to gray. She stared straight up at the sky. The storm clouds loomed above them all. A rumble cued the fall of the rain. Water mixed with her blood as light mixed with darkness to form the dullness--the numbness--of gray.

Celes died at the very second her hands went limp--confirmed after a full minute without a pulse.