Hail to the Mechanic
By Sailor Lilith-chan
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The Highwind Theory of Mechanics and Engineers: Named for the legendary pilot, mechanic, and lancer Cid Highwind. The theory that all mechanics and engineers are geniuses up to a certain point. When it comes to naming their creations, they usually give their creation an extremely unoriginal name, as seen in Cid's airship, SBC (Shinra Battle Class) Highwind. -An Excerpt from "Understanding the Mind of a Mechanical Genius", Esthar Publishing.
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Edgar Roni Figaro was many things.
Idiot was not one of them.
Unfortunately, neither was he a ladies' man.
A little known fact was that all of his pick up lines were memorized from books of bad sonnets.
His milady compliment had been picked up from his father, the late King Reginald (Known to his wife and close friends as Reggie) Patrick Figaro. "Son." His father had said, as young Edgar poured through ancient tomes of mechanical lore. "You can't just learn the ins and outs of mechanics. After all, what good is all the knowledge in the world, if you do not know the ins and outs of a woman's heart?" His father prided himself on being a ladies' man and wanted to pass on the noble art of skirt chasing to at least one of his offspring.
Of course, King Reggie had just as much trouble finding love and he was thirty-two when he finally met and married Domani Passacaglia (later Queen Domani Passacaglia-Figaro) of Jidoor and thirty-five when he fathered the twin princes, Edgar Roni and Sabin Rene. Even during the last year of life, at the age of fifty-two, he was still bright of eye and hair, with not a wrinkle marring his boyish face; blonde and blue-eyed just like everyone in the family. And he would have been youthful till the day he died. However, the Malabro toxin, General Palazzo added to his wine on Edgar and Sabin's seventeenth birthday, made a mockery of his looks. It had made his skin pale and pasty, his sparkling eyes dull, and caused his long curly blonde hair to fall out in clumps. It ate the marrow from his bones, stole his strength, made a ruin of his lungs, and left him a hollow thing by the time he uttered in his last breath that his sons rule the kingdom together.
The funeral service was closed casket for that reason.
Edgar much preferred to remember him not as the withered shadow of a great man, but as the laughing father who looked more like an older brother than a parent, stealing his books and teasing him with, "You'll never get a girl if you keep your nose in one of these things." All in fun, of course.
He would have told Sabin those things, but Sabin was gone.
So he told his best friend Locke instead.
Edgar was many things.
Idiot was definitely not one of them.
He knew a murder when he saw one.
And he knew Gestahl had murdered his father.
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The House of Figaro can trace its ancestry directly back to two of the warriors who defeated the legendary warrior Sephiroth, Cloud Strife and Tifa Lockheart. The side effects of the Soldier process (i.e. the Mako and Jenova infusions) can still be seen today, since none of the family line has ever aged past thirty. Which could be considered as a Goddess-send, since a good portion of the Figaros tend to be vain. Of course it should also be noted that the Strife family name did not immediately change to Figaro, but Dincht. Also, none of the family line has managed anything beyond beard stubble, while the majority of the family cannot even manage stubble. This can also be attributed to the high degree of Mako and Jenova cells that Strife was exposed to which messed up production of male hormones, a quite vexing matter when King William Fitzpatrick Figaro wanted a goatee. -An Excerpt from "Famous Families of the World of Balance: Volume VI", Vector Print Press.
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The carriage and chocobos that drew it were as black as the lump of coal Gestahl claimed for a heart. Which was not at all ironic since it was he of the black coal heart that resided within. Today, the young King of Figaro had been ruler for six months. It meant it was time to propose the alliance of the two nations, which the late Reginald Figaro had refused. Too bad for him. The toxin of a young Malabro, harvested under a new moon in August had been his end.
The same thing would happen to the young Edgar, should he choose to refuse the alliance. But he was a young King, Gestahl reflected, a naive skirt-chasing seventeen year-old, who according to his sources, wanted no part in ruling Figaro. A leader like that would be easily swayed by those much older and wiser than him. But still, just in case, he had Kefka behind him, carrying the same powdered Malabro toxin that had took his father's life, six months earlier.
Figaro Castle loomed on the horizon. For some reason, the castle looked as if some one had sunk it down a few stories. Gestahl blinked once, twice, thrice. It wasn't an illusion. The castle was now four stories shorter, since that ring of small towers had not been there. "General Palazzo." He murmured, and the clown-garbed mage drew his multicolored Chocobo near. "If he refuses, you know to do."
"Of course." Palazzo giggled beneath his breath, the very image of insanity, which had formerly been the warrior Sephiroth. Mother's boy compared to Kefka. If you rolled all the psychopaths of history together and created one Super-psycho, you came nowhere close to the level of insanity that was General Kefka Palazzo. Although he garbed himself in the costume and makeup of a clown, he was hardly the friendly circus clown. He was the evil clown that threw acidic cream pies and wielded a chainsaw instead of the trademark seltzer bottle. But intelligence gleamed alongside insanity, and Kefka pulled out the small vile of the Malabro toxin, before tucking it back into his robes. The Chocobo carriage arrived at the gates of Figaro Castle.
However...
No young King waited at the gates.
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"Where is Edgar?" Matron, the King's former nurse cried, as she looked through the castle. "The Emperor of Vector is here and he knows he's supposed to be there to great the guests. It's his duty as King of Figaro."
Edgar wasn't there in his best, ready to great a man he hated. Instead he was gone. Probably to make the Emperor mad, Matron reflected.
The real reason was entirely different.
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In the former throne room, Edgar slid under the machinery that made up the engine, blowtorch in hand to weld in some new wires to the system. Cheerfully he sang to himself. "Yeah, she steals like a thief, but she's always a woman to me." The chancellor cleared his throat and Edgar poked his head out, "Chancellor Vellorum." He called, all mirth and ice blue eyes aglow (both figuratively and literally). "Just the man I wanted to see." He gestured with the blowtorch over to the toolbox. "Just hand me some of those wires there."
"Your Majesty..."
"A few more wires and I'm done for the day." Edgar made a grand little sweeping motion over the engine. "Now, I know I've finished the engine, but I want to have several redundancies in case of failure."
"Edgar..."
"If you insist." He pulled himself out from under the engine. The chancellor watched the young king put away the blowtorch and welder's mask. At the moment, he looked nothing like a nobleman, just a sweaty seventeen-year-old in worn clothes, battered leather boots and gloves, long hair piled awkwardly into a messy bun. "It's my sixth month anniversary as King of Figaro. Right? I remember. You have called me out for you have a present for me." He tapped his forehead with a finger and as closed his eyes in concentration. "Let me guess. You brought me six strippers in a cake."
"Your Majesty, if you would listen..."
"That couldn't be it." Edgar mused to himself. "You're too much of a stick in the mud to get me something like that. Er... power tools, you got me a set of power tools, personalized ones with my name on them. In silver, no, gold, no, platinum." He hugged himself, mighty pleased with his answer.
"Emperor Gestahl is here regarding the treaty between Figaro and Vector."
Edgar's eyes flew open. "What? Gestahl? Here? Now?" He wrung at his bound hair miserably. "Vellorum, if they find out I'm a fully qualified mechanic..."
Vellorum tried to calm the younger man down, "Now, now, there, there, King Edgar. Everything will be okay."
"No, no, no." Edgar moaned. "It's not 'okay'. I projected the persona of a know-nothing skirt-chaser. And I'm sure he probably has doubts about the kind of person I am, after he saw the modifications I made on Figaro Castle." He leaned against the wall, eyes squeezed shut, arm thrown dramatically over his face. "Oh, Vellorum, you better just kill me now, because we both know that is what Gestahl will have his pet circus clown do."
The Chancellor said, a little more than annoyed, "Now your majesty, that's just over reacting." Edgar opened one eye slowly. "Look if you hurry, you can get ready." The King of Figaro went from moping to beaming and rushed up the stairs. "For the love of the Goddesses, Edgar, take the secret passage. If they catch you in those clothes, then the whole deception is over."
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Edgar slipped from the secret passage, to hear Locke's voice call out cheerfully. "You smell like a Chocobo, Eddie. When's the last time you took a bath?" Locke Cole sat on the edge of Edgar's bed, loot piled all around him. "The Emperor and his pet have come to pay you a visit."
"You think I didn't notice!" Edgar snapped, fumbling with the zipper on his pants while pulling off his shirt and kicking off his boots, all at the same time. He tripped on the hem of his pants and fell along side Locke on the bed, "You can stop laughing Locke." He told the younger man, who was currently rolling around in a fit of laughter. "You'll piss your pants... thief."
His friend stopped laughing and glared at him. "That's Treasure Hunter to you, King of All Things Perverted."
He continued to grin as he managed to finally get the outs and ends of his clothing. "Just jealous. I'm taking a bath." Edgar declared as he finally kicked off his pants. "If I'm late, Gestahl will think it's because I'm so utterly vain, that I take hours to get ready..."
"You are vain..."
Edgar grinned, "Of course." He gestured at his nude body briefly. "This, Locke, is the body you wish you had." He ducked into his private bathroom, as one of his pillows sailed past his head.
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"Where is the king?" Gestahl asked. "It has been two hours and we grow impatient."
"I am here." Edgar said cheerful as he entered the new throne room and sat on his throne. Clad in fine blue velvet and silk, heavily embroidered cape draped around his neck and flowing down his back, he knew he projected the right image, that know-nothing persona. "I had some modifications done to the castle as I grew weary of its current design." He added, as a young female servant passed with a water jug. He broke off and turned to the maid, grabbing both her hands, causing her drop the jug, which shattered on the stone floor. "Do I dream or I am awake?" He crooned to the woman, who was used to Edgar's antics. Even though he was a mechanic, he loved to love the ladies and he knew they all loved him back. So what if they didn't know how express it right. "For an angel has fallen from heaven and landed safely in the comfort of my arms." Here, he fluttered his long eyelashes and raised an eyebrow.
"Your Majesty!" The maid huffed, tearing away. "I don't care if you are the King of Figaro. Touch me like that again, I can assure you will never sire heirs." She stomped out the room to get a dustpan, a broom, and mop.
Kefka leered at him and Edgar gulped nervously. As long as he could remember, that clown had always been around. He had to be as old as Gestahl, although he didn't look it, but he thought that maybe it was cloaked by layers of stage make-up. It was hard to believe that this man was a brilliant General. He kept glaring at him and once again Edgar gulped. "We have many things to discuss." Gestahl said. "Perhaps we discuss things over dinner."
"Of course."
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He regretted his decision when the chief dumped a squid on his plate. It was a traditional Jidoorian dish that his late mother and apparently the Emperor both enjoyed. However, despite having Jidoor blood in his vein, Edgar was also Figaroan and detested anything came from the sea. Especially anything with that many arms. He poked it with his fork and swore to the Goddesses that it moved. "Is the food alright?" Gestahl asked.
Edgar looked up and saw the Emperor was not even eating his meal. "I ate a little while before."
"Yes, yes, yes." The Emperor nodded. "But we have many things to discuss."
He wanted to say, like how you killed my father, you dog faced fool, but didn't. Instead, he blinked innocently and said, "What?"
The Emperor pulled a scroll of rolled up paper out of nowhere and set it in front of Edgar. "The alliance, boy, the alliance. Don't be a fool like your father. You may be young, but I know in the end you will make the right decision." He pulled out a pen and a bottle of ink from the same place he had obviously got the paper from. Edgar stared at the paper for the longest time. "I feel for you, young Edgar, to take the throne at such a young age, being the only one of your family alive."
"Sabin's still alive."
The Emperor looked surprised, "I heard he had killed himself."
"My brother," Edgar said, dipping the pen in the ink well before signing his name at the bottom of the paper. "May have been the emotional one, however, he is gone, which is a lot different than being dead. Pray tell where you have heard this?"
The Emperor paused for a few seconds, "From rumors."
"But, you are a ruler, don't you know not to take rumors seriously."
"I have heard other rumors, that you, yourself are more than what you seem." Gestahl added.
"I don't what you're talking about." Edgar said innocently.
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"I feel sorry for Eddie. Cause first his mom died and then a year later, his father."
"I heard that his baby brother, Prince Sabin, killed himself, because he couldn't deal with the pain of losing both parents."
"But what about the funeral for him?"
"They already had one funeral. Didn't need another one on their hands. Probably was a private affair, being suicide and all."
"Can you be sure?"
"Of course. He's a Prince, trained to inherent the throne. A person like that doesn't just run away from that kind of responsibility. Unthinkable." -Gossip regarding the whereabouts of the missing Prince Sabin Rene Figaro.
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Kefka Palazzo came out, with a bottle of wine and two glasses. The Emperor took the more opaque looking one, despite Kefka trying to pass the glass over to Edgar. "General Palazzo, you may leave."
Kefka laughed and Edgar wanted nothing more than to cut out that idiot's tongue, have his best chiefs boil it, and then he would serve the general his own flesh on whole wheat. But the clown left before he acted on that thought. The Emperor had already poured him a glass. "To the alliance of Figaro and Vector." Edgar said raising his glass.
"Of course. To both our nations. Long live the King." And with that he drank, back the glass. In a few seconds, he seemed paler than before. Edgar knew then that Palazzo had tried to poison him. "I must be going." The Emperor said, before rising, shakily to his feet. "General, we must head back to Vector."
Edgar helplessly lifted his wineglass, "But will we do about all this food?"
"I am sorry to be a trouble to you."
"No problem." Edgar said, waving with the still full wine glass. "No problem, at all. Just warn me in advance. Okay?" Gestahl was already out the door. "Bloody murdering bastard."
Locke poked his head out from behind the tapestry, "He's gone?"
"Yes. He's gone. Good riddance to Vector trash. How long have you been here anyway?"
The thief grinned, "Long enough. Must been hard to keep up the empty-head persona."
Edgar groaned, burying his face in his hands, "You have no idea."
The servants were already coming in with little, icy dishes of... "Is that ice cream?"
He nodded.
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Edgar and Locke managed to get the basket of food out to the balcony outside the King's bedroom. Between the two of them, they finished ice cream and threw the Calamari to the desert cats. "I don't know how you keep ice cream in the desert."
"One of my inventions." Edgar mumbled around his spoon. "I call it 'Cold Storage'."
"Couldn't you have come up with a better name?" Locke asked.
"Why?" Edgar removed the spoon from his mouth and let it drop to the table. "Why name it something complicated?" He tried to laugh, but it turned into frustrated sobbing, "Do you know hard was to sit in front of the man who ordered the death of my father?" He got up and wandered over to the balcony's edge.
"Edgar..." Locke said softly, before joining his friend.
"He ordered General Palazzo to poison my father. On my birthday, the Emperor handed him a wine glass and said 'Long live the king'. I hate this alliance, Locke, but if I don't, Gestahl orders my death. I love my twin and my country too much to let it happen. But you know what?" Edgar closed his eyes and rested his head on the top of Locke's, "I hate him, Cole. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him. And believe me, I'll make him pay for what he's done to my family. I kill him. I swear by the Highwind, I'll kill him." Somewhere along the line, his arms sort of settled themselves around Locke's neck in an almost hug. "I will kill him." He muttered to himself, seeming unsure about the whole situation, a teenager forced to become an adult by an uncaring world. Someone who wanted revenge, but had no idea how to do it, so it simmered inside, a cold fire that did not burn. "But it's so hard to keep a steady head. I wanted to use my fork to gouge out his eyes."
Palazzo tried to poison me, he wanted to add, but he didn't want to worry Locke.
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Well, fuck, I don't think there is anything more potent than the goddamned thing we call revenge. You just knew Sephiroth was screwed, every time that spiky-haired nimrod said his name. I'd bet my airship, that anyone who's felt that kind of loss, why, hell, he'd be just pissed as Strife. -An excerpt from "Man on the Moon: The Cid Highwind Autobiography", Rocket Town Ltd.
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Locke pulled himself from under Edgar's arms. "Eh, thanks for the ice cream, Eddie."
Edgar gave him a slight wave and rueful grin, "Was nothing. Oh and give my love to Rachel."
"How I am supposed to do that?" He asked.
The King of Figaro kissed him full on the lips. For several seconds he felt the pressure of Edgar's mouth on his own, but than he pulled away and gave Locke a hug. "One of those is for Rachel, the other is for you. For listening. The problem is I'm too tired to figure out which is which. I'll let you figure it out."
He walked back into his bedroom, leaving Locke confused and with swollen lips.
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The Emperor Gestahl sat wearily in his carriage. The Antidote spell he had cast on himself after ingesting the Malabro Toxin had neutralized it, however he was still tired. "Kefka. I said if he refuses, not poison him anyway. You're lucky, that I caught your little trick. Malabro toxin gives the glass a milky tint."
Kefka mumbled under his breath.
The Black Chocobo carriage rode off in the distance.
The End
Author's End Notes: Some people if they connect the game will connect them in the order they were released. But why go with flow? So I have chosen the following games of the series and placed them in this order (VII - VIII – VI). With the war of the magi occurring after the events of Final Fantasy VIII. You hate VIII, I hear you say. Well, tough I liked it, so bleh to you. And the whole concept that VIII runs on makes a good lead in to the whole War of the Magi, so there. Hope you enjoyed HttM.
Did you know? - The title "Hail to the Mechanic" is a takeoff of "Hail to the Chief"- The theme of the president of the United States.
The Highwind Theory of Mechanics and Engineers is a little joke regarding Edgar's choice in a name for his disguise. Gerad is an anagram of Edgar. Poor lech tried so hard.
Since the surname Figaro deals with music, the name Passacaglia is a slow stately Italian dance.
This doesn't have any effect on the fic, but Setzer's last name Gabbiani is Italian for "seagull".
Tifa Lockheart, Zell Dincht, and Sabin Rene Figaro are all martial artists. But you already knew that.
"Famous Families of the World of Balance: Volume VI" has the number six in the title. Final Fantasy VIVolume VI.
...under a new moon in August had been his end.- Edgar and Sabin were born on August Sixteenth.
Chancellor Vellorum is from Star Wars. If we can have a Wedge and a Biggs, we can have a Vellorum.