Inked Eidolon (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
inked_eidolon) wrote2013-05-12 05:49 pm
inked_eidolon) wrote2013-05-12 05:49 pm
Entry tags:
Imperial Will - Final Fantasy VI
Title: Imperial Will
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Characters/Pairings: Celes Chere, Cid del Norte Marque
Rating: PG
Summary: The torching of Maranda.
The front door slammed shut in the way that Celes had come to recognize, the way that told her that running to greet Cid happily and ask him about his day was not what she ought to do right now. The servants knew it too, and put his dinner in the warming oven while Celes ate alone, reading her books on military strategy.
She saw the lamps from the greenhouse still lit when she was ready to go to bed at ten in the evening. For a moment, she lingered outside the door, wondering if she ought to disturb him. But a day of research and lab work could be just as strenuous as military training, in its own way, and she ought to at least have more courage than a maid who was more afraid of getting shouted at than her master missing his supper. That thought propelled Celes inside at last.
Cid's scientific brilliance had made him wealthy enough to afford a greenhouse that was almost the size of a family's house in itself--she moved quietly through the rows of greenery and brilliant flowers, everything from orchids to cycads, and found him at the other end, staring at a rosebush with a pair of pruning shears forgotten in his hand. "Cid," she said softly. "It's past ten."
He turned to her with a bleak face that had frightened Celes the first time she'd seen it as a child. "Is it? Then I suppose I had better go to bed."
"You should eat first," she said, letting him go ahead of her in the narrow rows. "Your supper is still in the kitchen."
"I'm not hungry tonight."
There was a flatness in his voice that told her arguing would be pointless. Celes clasped her hands behind her back, trying to figure out what she could say that could at least lift his black mood. "You've done some marvelous work on those roses," she said after a moment. "I know orchids are supposed to be the pinnacle of the horticulturalist's art, but I have always liked roses the best."
"They are lovely," he agreed, but dully. "Did you know that roses are related to apples? As well as strawberry and almonds. It is an eminently useful family."
She did know that; he had told her more than once over the years, but she didn't remind him of that now. "Sometimes I think you should show your roses," she said. "You could put the hobbyists in Vector to shame with the things you have done in here."
He shook his head, holding open the greenhouse door for her. "No, Celes. I do not keep my greenhouse for Gestahl or for Vector. It is only for me."
*****
The door of the mayor's house slammed behind General Celes Chere. She stood on the stoop, quite still, unwilling to let her troops see anything of anger, frustration, or shame in her manner. When she was sure she was composed sufficiently, she turned to Captain Pierre, her adjutant. "We will go back to camp," she said. "The mayor of this town does not wish to welcome Imperial troops tonight."
"Ma'am."
If he had any opinion, he was careful not to show it, but Celes thought she knew what it was--the same opinion that she had heard whispered whenever she was in Vector and said outright to her face by the mayor at the end of their five-hour negotiation. "Why are we even having this conversation? They might call you a general, but you're not even twenty years old. Everyone knows you're just the Empire's pretty little Rune Knight. As far as I can tell, your only qualification for the job is that you're not insane. So to your offer of pretending that we are a valuable part of the Empire while you rob us of our property and dignity: thank you, but no."
"We'll be here another day," she announced when they had walked the short distance back to their encampment--she had taken only two squads of men with her to bring Maranda to heel. There had been no reason to think she would need more than that. After ensuring that there were no troubles, she retreated to her tent to consider her next move, except that her mind kept on circling around the mayor's words. A pretty little toy, was she?
She knew she was, in some ways, a figurehead. She represented the success of Cid's research, the first successful Magitek Knight. But that was not all she was. She had put down would-be insurrectioneers, captured bands of highwaymen, fought monsters that plagued the wilds nowadays... she was not just a decoration for the Imperial agenda. Emperor Gestahl had given her this rank for a reason.
She almost jumped when her steward called "General Chere?" in his soft, polite voice. He brought a plate of chicken and fresh vegetables when she told him to enter, and ducked out of the tent unobtrusively. She had completely forgotten about supper. Now she listened to what she could through the tent as the other soldiers ate around their campfires... they didn't sound concerned or uncertain about her, just making remarks on the town's attitude, and natural curiosity about the General's next move.
By the time she called for her steward again, she was fairly sure she knew what that would be.
The next morning, Celes walked into Mayor Porten's house without knocking. "Good morning, mayor," she said as the man rose from his breakfast table. "Please stay seated. I am only here to talk."
He sank back into his chair. Early in the morning though it was, he now looked fully alert and ready to reject any offer she had to make. "Talk, then, General."
"Mayor Porten, yesterday I was being magnanimous. I can still be magnanimous, if you make the wise choice and accept Imperial rule."
"What will happen to us if we refuse?"
Celes spread her hands on the table. "No harm will be done to you and the rest of the townspeople." He eyed her suspiciously at that statement. Celes wondered what he was thinking--there was an obvious trick in her words, but she was just the Empire's mouthpiece, wasn't she? Two squads of soldiers didn't exactly make for a conquering army, even if they were barging into his house. Probably, he was thinking that he still had some time.
"We have always been a free city," he said. "And we have been trading with the Empire peacefully. All we wish is for that state of affairs to continue."
"This is not possible for us to accept."
He sighed. "Then there is very little for us left to discuss."
Celes nodded gravely. "Regrettably, that appears to be the case." She stood up. "Men, escort the mayor and his family outside."
"What?! Unhand me, you Imperial dogs!" the mayor snarled, fighting the iron grip of the two soldiers without success.
Celes kept her face impassive. "Captain Pierre, turn the townspeople out of their houses and gather them outside of our encampment. All of them--men, women, children."
The mayor's face went pale. "What are you going to do to them? No! Kill me if you want a demonstration, but you can't--"
Celes made a dismissive gesture. "They will not be harmed."
"I don't believe you!"
He could believe her or not; he woud see her intentions for himself soon enough. Celes led the way outside, carefully refusing to make eye contact with any of the townspeople--crying children, shouting adults, people begging for their lives as they were herded to the entrance of the town. That didn't matter, as long as they didn't give the soldiers any trouble they couldn't handle, and they weren't. A pack of sleepy civilian families was no difficulty to them after all their time clearing the roads of bandits and rebels. It was their own fault.
No... Celes had to admit, it was not entirely that. If the Emperor had sent General Leo, he probably could have had Mayor Porten convinced that annexation had been his own idea all along.
On the other hand, he could have sent Kefka, and there wouldn't be a town left. No, there was no point in starting her regrets before the business was even done. The next community would think twice about being so disputative with her.
"Make sure your men check the attics and cellars, Captain," she said as the activity began to settle. "Do not make assumptions about my intentions," she went on, turning to the townspeople and raising her voice to be heard over their noise. "None of you will be harmed, so long as you don't resist."
"What are you going to do?" shouted a man in the crowd, angry and afraid at the same time. Celes did not acknowledge him.
Over the next hour, her men turned out everyone who had thought they'd been particularly clever in their choice of hiding places, hauling them to the rest of the crowd--a few of the men wore agonized looks under the brim of their helmets. Celes shook her head. She could sympathize. This was different from fighting those rebel bands--even when she had the hated order to leave none alive. They were enemies. She couldn't see a frail old woman wrapped in a quilt and put her in that class.
Celes ordered her adjutant to count the number of gathered citizens against the town's latest census, obtained from the mayor's house, and ensuring that any discrepencies were accounted for by other means. There was absolutely no margin of error. When she was finally satisfied, she could give her order.
"Captain, set fire to the buildings."
"No!" The roar came from Porten, still restrained nearby, to be instantly taken up and multiplied by the townspeople. The spell of terrified uncertainty broke then--suddenly citizens were pushing back against the soldiers, grabbing for their pikes and swords. Celes raised a hand and threw a spike of ice into the air. The shouts of anger turned into yelps of surprise and fright halfway through, and the struggling ceased. The sight of the Rune Knight's power was enough to stop them in their tracks--Celes supposed that they were imagining a merciless ice storm from her fingertips, the sort of thing that Kefka might conjure. She was glad it was enough.
"Proceed, Captain."
There was no more fighting as Captain Pierre set his men to their task. Maranda's houses had plenty of oil for cooking and lamps, lots of tinder for their stoves and fireplaces. When everything was ready, Celes produced a box of matches from her belt and handed them out to the captain and his squad leaders. A delicate crackling noise snaked through the air as they applied them--little flowers of orange and yellow taking root in the wooden houses. The flames grew like ivy, hungrily spreading up the walls and over the rooftops.
As the heat expanded outward, pushing her hair back from her face, Celes turned to the townspeople--now stunned and weeping as their homes were destroyed before their eyes. "Maranda, I gave you the opportunity to avoid this outcome." Her gaze lingered on Mayor Porten, now looking weak and deflated. "An Imperial General does not take no for an answer."
*****
A week later, Celes hurried through the streets of Vector wrapped in a cloak as the autumn winds chilled the metal city to its bones. A piece of bold print caught her eye: TZEN ANNEXED, and a reprint of her official portrait beneath in the state newspaper, praising her for making an example of Maranda to the point where Tzen had rejected their own resistance fighters and capitulated without a sword drawn.
Cid arrived home an hour later to a house full of opera. He hesitated before going upstairs and looking around the open door to Celes' room. She sat in her rose-patterned wingback chair, eyes closed, knees drawn up to her chest as a soprano and baritone soared from the gramophone's trumpet, lamenting their tragic soon-to-be deaths.
He was about to go when she opened her eyes, giving him a bleak look. He nodded, almost wanting to apologize to her. "I'll shut the door."
"Thank you, Cid."
Fandom: Final Fantasy VI
Characters/Pairings: Celes Chere, Cid del Norte Marque
Rating: PG
Summary: The torching of Maranda.
The front door slammed shut in the way that Celes had come to recognize, the way that told her that running to greet Cid happily and ask him about his day was not what she ought to do right now. The servants knew it too, and put his dinner in the warming oven while Celes ate alone, reading her books on military strategy.
She saw the lamps from the greenhouse still lit when she was ready to go to bed at ten in the evening. For a moment, she lingered outside the door, wondering if she ought to disturb him. But a day of research and lab work could be just as strenuous as military training, in its own way, and she ought to at least have more courage than a maid who was more afraid of getting shouted at than her master missing his supper. That thought propelled Celes inside at last.
Cid's scientific brilliance had made him wealthy enough to afford a greenhouse that was almost the size of a family's house in itself--she moved quietly through the rows of greenery and brilliant flowers, everything from orchids to cycads, and found him at the other end, staring at a rosebush with a pair of pruning shears forgotten in his hand. "Cid," she said softly. "It's past ten."
He turned to her with a bleak face that had frightened Celes the first time she'd seen it as a child. "Is it? Then I suppose I had better go to bed."
"You should eat first," she said, letting him go ahead of her in the narrow rows. "Your supper is still in the kitchen."
"I'm not hungry tonight."
There was a flatness in his voice that told her arguing would be pointless. Celes clasped her hands behind her back, trying to figure out what she could say that could at least lift his black mood. "You've done some marvelous work on those roses," she said after a moment. "I know orchids are supposed to be the pinnacle of the horticulturalist's art, but I have always liked roses the best."
"They are lovely," he agreed, but dully. "Did you know that roses are related to apples? As well as strawberry and almonds. It is an eminently useful family."
She did know that; he had told her more than once over the years, but she didn't remind him of that now. "Sometimes I think you should show your roses," she said. "You could put the hobbyists in Vector to shame with the things you have done in here."
He shook his head, holding open the greenhouse door for her. "No, Celes. I do not keep my greenhouse for Gestahl or for Vector. It is only for me."
The door of the mayor's house slammed behind General Celes Chere. She stood on the stoop, quite still, unwilling to let her troops see anything of anger, frustration, or shame in her manner. When she was sure she was composed sufficiently, she turned to Captain Pierre, her adjutant. "We will go back to camp," she said. "The mayor of this town does not wish to welcome Imperial troops tonight."
"Ma'am."
If he had any opinion, he was careful not to show it, but Celes thought she knew what it was--the same opinion that she had heard whispered whenever she was in Vector and said outright to her face by the mayor at the end of their five-hour negotiation. "Why are we even having this conversation? They might call you a general, but you're not even twenty years old. Everyone knows you're just the Empire's pretty little Rune Knight. As far as I can tell, your only qualification for the job is that you're not insane. So to your offer of pretending that we are a valuable part of the Empire while you rob us of our property and dignity: thank you, but no."
"We'll be here another day," she announced when they had walked the short distance back to their encampment--she had taken only two squads of men with her to bring Maranda to heel. There had been no reason to think she would need more than that. After ensuring that there were no troubles, she retreated to her tent to consider her next move, except that her mind kept on circling around the mayor's words. A pretty little toy, was she?
She knew she was, in some ways, a figurehead. She represented the success of Cid's research, the first successful Magitek Knight. But that was not all she was. She had put down would-be insurrectioneers, captured bands of highwaymen, fought monsters that plagued the wilds nowadays... she was not just a decoration for the Imperial agenda. Emperor Gestahl had given her this rank for a reason.
She almost jumped when her steward called "General Chere?" in his soft, polite voice. He brought a plate of chicken and fresh vegetables when she told him to enter, and ducked out of the tent unobtrusively. She had completely forgotten about supper. Now she listened to what she could through the tent as the other soldiers ate around their campfires... they didn't sound concerned or uncertain about her, just making remarks on the town's attitude, and natural curiosity about the General's next move.
By the time she called for her steward again, she was fairly sure she knew what that would be.
The next morning, Celes walked into Mayor Porten's house without knocking. "Good morning, mayor," she said as the man rose from his breakfast table. "Please stay seated. I am only here to talk."
He sank back into his chair. Early in the morning though it was, he now looked fully alert and ready to reject any offer she had to make. "Talk, then, General."
"Mayor Porten, yesterday I was being magnanimous. I can still be magnanimous, if you make the wise choice and accept Imperial rule."
"What will happen to us if we refuse?"
Celes spread her hands on the table. "No harm will be done to you and the rest of the townspeople." He eyed her suspiciously at that statement. Celes wondered what he was thinking--there was an obvious trick in her words, but she was just the Empire's mouthpiece, wasn't she? Two squads of soldiers didn't exactly make for a conquering army, even if they were barging into his house. Probably, he was thinking that he still had some time.
"We have always been a free city," he said. "And we have been trading with the Empire peacefully. All we wish is for that state of affairs to continue."
"This is not possible for us to accept."
He sighed. "Then there is very little for us left to discuss."
Celes nodded gravely. "Regrettably, that appears to be the case." She stood up. "Men, escort the mayor and his family outside."
"What?! Unhand me, you Imperial dogs!" the mayor snarled, fighting the iron grip of the two soldiers without success.
Celes kept her face impassive. "Captain Pierre, turn the townspeople out of their houses and gather them outside of our encampment. All of them--men, women, children."
The mayor's face went pale. "What are you going to do to them? No! Kill me if you want a demonstration, but you can't--"
Celes made a dismissive gesture. "They will not be harmed."
"I don't believe you!"
He could believe her or not; he woud see her intentions for himself soon enough. Celes led the way outside, carefully refusing to make eye contact with any of the townspeople--crying children, shouting adults, people begging for their lives as they were herded to the entrance of the town. That didn't matter, as long as they didn't give the soldiers any trouble they couldn't handle, and they weren't. A pack of sleepy civilian families was no difficulty to them after all their time clearing the roads of bandits and rebels. It was their own fault.
No... Celes had to admit, it was not entirely that. If the Emperor had sent General Leo, he probably could have had Mayor Porten convinced that annexation had been his own idea all along.
On the other hand, he could have sent Kefka, and there wouldn't be a town left. No, there was no point in starting her regrets before the business was even done. The next community would think twice about being so disputative with her.
"Make sure your men check the attics and cellars, Captain," she said as the activity began to settle. "Do not make assumptions about my intentions," she went on, turning to the townspeople and raising her voice to be heard over their noise. "None of you will be harmed, so long as you don't resist."
"What are you going to do?" shouted a man in the crowd, angry and afraid at the same time. Celes did not acknowledge him.
Over the next hour, her men turned out everyone who had thought they'd been particularly clever in their choice of hiding places, hauling them to the rest of the crowd--a few of the men wore agonized looks under the brim of their helmets. Celes shook her head. She could sympathize. This was different from fighting those rebel bands--even when she had the hated order to leave none alive. They were enemies. She couldn't see a frail old woman wrapped in a quilt and put her in that class.
Celes ordered her adjutant to count the number of gathered citizens against the town's latest census, obtained from the mayor's house, and ensuring that any discrepencies were accounted for by other means. There was absolutely no margin of error. When she was finally satisfied, she could give her order.
"Captain, set fire to the buildings."
"No!" The roar came from Porten, still restrained nearby, to be instantly taken up and multiplied by the townspeople. The spell of terrified uncertainty broke then--suddenly citizens were pushing back against the soldiers, grabbing for their pikes and swords. Celes raised a hand and threw a spike of ice into the air. The shouts of anger turned into yelps of surprise and fright halfway through, and the struggling ceased. The sight of the Rune Knight's power was enough to stop them in their tracks--Celes supposed that they were imagining a merciless ice storm from her fingertips, the sort of thing that Kefka might conjure. She was glad it was enough.
"Proceed, Captain."
There was no more fighting as Captain Pierre set his men to their task. Maranda's houses had plenty of oil for cooking and lamps, lots of tinder for their stoves and fireplaces. When everything was ready, Celes produced a box of matches from her belt and handed them out to the captain and his squad leaders. A delicate crackling noise snaked through the air as they applied them--little flowers of orange and yellow taking root in the wooden houses. The flames grew like ivy, hungrily spreading up the walls and over the rooftops.
As the heat expanded outward, pushing her hair back from her face, Celes turned to the townspeople--now stunned and weeping as their homes were destroyed before their eyes. "Maranda, I gave you the opportunity to avoid this outcome." Her gaze lingered on Mayor Porten, now looking weak and deflated. "An Imperial General does not take no for an answer."
A week later, Celes hurried through the streets of Vector wrapped in a cloak as the autumn winds chilled the metal city to its bones. A piece of bold print caught her eye: TZEN ANNEXED, and a reprint of her official portrait beneath in the state newspaper, praising her for making an example of Maranda to the point where Tzen had rejected their own resistance fighters and capitulated without a sword drawn.
Cid arrived home an hour later to a house full of opera. He hesitated before going upstairs and looking around the open door to Celes' room. She sat in her rose-patterned wingback chair, eyes closed, knees drawn up to her chest as a soprano and baritone soared from the gramophone's trumpet, lamenting their tragic soon-to-be deaths.
He was about to go when she opened her eyes, giving him a bleak look. He nodded, almost wanting to apologize to her. "I'll shut the door."
"Thank you, Cid."
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