Edgar and Sabin

The Kindred Lights



The sun rose slowly over the desert, which was not at all to the liking of the man robed heavily in cloth standing atop the tallest tower of Castle Figaro. The night guardsman (as he called himself, the official term had been changed to watchman, but old habits die hard) would've given up all his limbs if it would just make the sun come up faster. No small price for him, seeing as how he couldn't feel them anyway. He breathed hard into his bare hands. The warmth was extremely refreshing but not very long lasting and within seconds he was hugging himself again and shivering despite the large layers of clothing he was tented in.

Yet despite his apparently poor lot in life, the guardsman (hmph, watchman indeed, there's nothing to watch in the desert!) felt not the least bit sorry for himself. Aside from being the proud fella he was, he also understood there were more than a few other guards who were going through the same torture and if they could weather it, there was no reason he couldn't either. Besides, he had something none of them had.

Company.

Behind him, the trapdoor to the roof was unlatched from below and slowly opened up. The guardsman paid no heed to it. Out of the hole came a man, tall, blonde, dressed in dark green clothing.

"You know Ralse, you are a lousy guardsman." The man walked up to ledge next to the accused.

"Oh really?" the guardsman replied, still staring at the sun, as if eyeing it longer would make it rise faster, "Is that why they call me a watchman now?"

The young man sighed, "You're just never going to give that up are you?"

"No sir." Ralse spoke with strong conviction in his voice, "I never saw the point in the change in the first place my liege."

"A sign of the times my old friend. To guard is to defend against those who trespass against us. And who now is left that could endanger the kingdom?"

"Aye, I suppose that's true. But for me, it's the principle, if ya take my meaning."

"I do. I do. It was the chancellor's idea, so I'm afraid your gonna have to take it up with him." Suddenly he shivered, "Whew! Is it ever cold out here."

"Yeah," the guardsman quipped, "but it's a dry freeze."

It was a bad joke but they both laughed nonetheless, it kept them warm. Edgar Figaro talked with the guard for the next hour or so before getting ready to head back down. It was mostly nonsense talk, complaints about living in the desert and no longer getting proper night clothes from Narshe, and whether the people up there really breathed steam.

"I just can't believe it sir." The guardsman protested, "I mean, it's just as cold out here as it is up there, and you don't see us spewing forth vapors like some kinda dragon."

"You don't see ice forming on our battlements either, despite it being well below freezing. Moisture, my friend, is what they have and we don't. You said so yourself, it's a dry freeze. Hah, who would ever guess that a desert could be one of the coldest places on earth?" Edgar stared at the now fully risen sun. "But not for long. Well, I'm off Ralse, and by my clock, so are you. Care to come down with me."

"If it's all the same to you sir, I'd rather stay up here. The morning watchmen should've been here a half hour ago, and I have a few choice words to speak to him. But I would like to ask you a question before ya go."

"Shoot."

"Well, sir, yessee…well. I'm just curious, mind you, as to why you're always coming up here to the center tower in the morning. You have access to the roof of your room after all, but besides that, I just can't understand why anyone would possible come up here if they could help it."

The young king paused before answering. "Ralse, how long has it been since you've had day duty?"

"Oh, well, hmm… I'd say, three years."

"Really. Why so long?"

"Oh I don't know. Got used to this I guess."

"Well, you go to sleep before that sun there shows it's true face. It's just as hot during the day, as it is cold during the night, and one thing that helps get people through the day is waking up early to feel that last chill bit of night before the sun rises so you have something cold to remember for the rest of the day. So, I wouldn't chew out your replacement too much. He's gonna regret being late ere the day is over, more than I think you can imagine."

With a smile Edgar climbed down the stairs and closed the trapdoor behind him. He wondered, as he often did after his visit's to the tower, whether anyone would think it odd that a royal guard could speak so leisurely to their own king. And Ralse was one of the more reserved ones, there were guards who would called Edgar by the name Eddie. Eddie the Engineer.

Edgar chuckled as he walked down the stairs to the second-floor hall. He liked that name immensely, and he began to think about how lucky he was. In no other country that he'd ever visited in his life was the king ever treated like a normal person. They were always revered, and to a not-so- small degree, feared as god-like icons of power and authority. Whether for good or ill, they were seen as a better people than everyone else. The idea always made Edgar extremely uncomfortable and grateful that things were different in Figaro. There he was king, but he was also Edgar.

Or Eddie the Engineer.

He chuckled again as he approached the door to the throne room. The two door guards there smiled.

"Something funny, lord?" asked the one on the right.

"Oh, it's nothing Charlie. Just have a good feeling about this morning."

"Well then here's some news you might like," chipped in the one on the left (incidentally named Robert), "we got a messenger in here not less than five minutes ago, and he looked pretty excited. He's waiting for you in there right now."

"Really?" asked Edgar with a raised eyebrow. "Well, let's not waste his time."

"Right." Both the guards claimed at once, and with that, opened the door for their king.

Inside it was very much like what one would expect from a throne room. The long red carpet that ran the length of the outer hall continued to it's end at the foot of the small steps leading to the thrones. A line of pillars followed the edge of the carpet running the length of the throne room and at the foot of each stood the king's personal guard. Behind the thrones were draped two tapestries sewn in the red and blue colors of the House of Figaro. Walking in Edgar saw the messenger, a young fellow no older than twenty by the look of him, staring up at them. Beside him stood the chancellor.

"Oh! My liege." He cried and bowed his head. The messenger turned quickly around.

Edgar shook his head. The chancellor, who knew Edgar longer than most anyone, would never accept Edgar as anyone but the King of all the lands of Figaro. His version of formal would be to announce Edgar as Edgar of the house Figaro etc. etc. and some other such nonsense. Oh well, you can't change minds, so why try?

"Good morning chancellor. And who might you be?"

The messenger began look around nervously at anything his eyes could spot, as long as they didn't spot Edgar. "Well…uh…sir, I'm…uh…that is to say my…um…well…," the boy stammered on before suddenly shrieking, "Here's a letter for you sir! I was told to give to you personally as quickly as possible!" With a jerk, he thrust out his arm holding out the letter on the tips of his fingers. The look on his face would make you think the paper was hotter than the desert sands. Edgar just stood there, staring at the shaking stick in front of him, desperately trying to stifle a giggle.

"We-hell…ahem. Well, it looks to be of great importance. You did well to bring it here as soon as you did. You have my gratitude, young man. Thank you." Edgar took the letter in as stuffy a manner as he could muster. "You are excused."

The boy practically ran to the door.

Edgar turned to the chancellor. "Okay, I give up. What the hell was that all about?"

"I haven't the foggiest your highness. I can only assume that he must have heard false rumors about your behavior as a royal." The chancellor either didn't bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, or he couldn't.

"Then he's not from around here, is he?"

"As a matter of fact, no. By pure chance I remember seeing him once before. I believe he was one of the recruits we took in from Kohlingen. Hmm, certainly is a nervous young man, is he not your highn—"

The chancellor turned to Edgar and found him staring at the letter with wide eyes. His jaw was hanging down.

"Your highness? Is something the matter." The chancellor peered down at the letter, "Oh my, but that's the royal seal! But, but you are the only one who can make that seal. I-I don't understan—"

Edgar tore off the wax seal and practically shredded the envelope. The chancellor noticed the expression on the king's face had changed from dumb struck to anticipation. As Edgar read the letter it changed again to joy. He laughed, the kind of loud short laugh that could easily be mistaken for a cheer.

"Your highness, I ask again is something the ma—?"

Edgar was suddenly aware of the chancellor again. "Hmm? What? Oh no, of course not! Don't be stupid!"

"I beg your pardon, my liege! I'm afraid I really don't underst—"

"What's not to understand, chancellor?" Edgar asked. When the only reply he got was a blank stare, he gave and exasperated sigh then grabbed the chancellor by the shoulders and stared directly into his eyes. "Okay, if you don't understand, then ask yourself these three easy questions: 1) Who else, besides yours truly could create the royal seal? 2) What news could possibly get me in this kind of uproar? and 3) Why don't you just ask me?"

Edgar released his grip and stood in front of the bewildered chancellor with his arms crossed. The chancellor, though shaken, decided to play along and after a few moments of thought, the obvious conclusion came to him. He looked up at Edgar with a pale face.

"Oh no."

Edgar beamed, "That's right! My brother's coming to town!"