Chapter 21, Insomnia king

Edgar looked very tired where he stood before his people, the throne of Figaro standing empty and slightly dusty behind him. Not dusty in the normal sense, but since it hadn't been used by its owner for a long time despite the fact that he had been back from the empire's clutches for a few days already.

The ribbon did all it could to give the matted hair life, but it lacked its usual shine. Dark rings adorned the man's eye, shining on the pale skin.

But the lips bravely smiled and he stood straight, determined to give them the courage they needed and deserved. Along with renewed instructions.

"The last two hunting trips were successful just as the first one," he reported to the hopeful faces that filled the throne room, civilians and soldiers alike, "we now have enough dried meat to supply us for a couple of weeks. As before the sick, the old, children and pregnant women will be allowed a little extra food if needed, but we still need to be careful."

He stifled a convulsive yawn into a deep breath, glancing at the main Returners that stood in two groups on either side of the thrones' platform. Sabin's worried glare burned the king's skin but Edgar pushed the knowledge into the corners of his mind and went on with the report.

"Secondly, as you probably have heard a few healers have been given our last piece of healing magicite to learn curative magic, which will improve the hospital wing. Again I want to remind you all that these magic rocks are vital to our cause, and must be handled with outmost care."

Just to make sure. Especially the thought of curious children made him nervous, and more worries was the last thing that Edgar needed.

Things were finally starting to look brighter, but there were still a lot of things to do. "Defeating the empire" had been pushed down on the list of priorities for now.

"Out of safety reasons the Falcon will be flown away from Figaro for a few days since it's impossible to hide on the ground and the empire will surely have a look at the desert in the search for me and the other refugees," Edgar continued, smiling slightly as claps and whistles were heard from the people upon the last words.

They still hadn't quite let go of the euphoria of having their king and prince back safe.

"The Falcon will be used for a rescue mission in Maranda. The empire will soon discover our aircraft no matter what, and we must strike before they can handle. The mission will be lead by Locke Cole and only people with good knowledge of both magic and battle will follow, as it will be very dangerous. No matter what we do we'll be putting our resources and warriors at risk, but since Vector most certainly will be looking in this area soon the Falcon will be safer abroad."

Edgar took in a deep breath to hold up for the last part.

"We cannot feel safe just yet, we won't be able to until Gestahl and Kefka are dead, and the empire destroyed. Therefore, remain ever on guard, I am counting on you," the king of Figaro ended his speech.

His people cheered him and his friends on as they walked down the room, the crowd helpfully splitting in two to let them pass. Applauds followed the main Returners as they continued out of the throne room, the calls more sincere than anything Gestahl ever could hope to receive – if he'd bother to care.

Edgar suppressed a wince as he heard the whistles and calls around and behind him. He had been very groggy in the Coliseum and the memories were blissfully blurred, but two things he remembered where the boos from the audience and Kefka's voice.

Kerr. Right, Kerr was his name. Heh.

It was still a truth hard to grasp, but one Edgar hardly cared about any longer. He had more important things to do than worry about his enemies' family ties.

Right then one of those things was to keep walking straight.

The rescue raid he had mentioned to the people had been planned as well as possible. Locke would be in charge, but Shadow would be responsible for infiltrating the once fair town while the others waited outside.

Maranda had been the dukedom that had fought the hardest against Gestahl during the first part of the war, and now the citizens paid for it. Their hometown had been reconstructed into a prison city where the empire dumped everyone they didn't want, who for some reason wasn't worthy of the Coliseum. Or ready yet. The arena didn't have much storage space for prisoners with all the monsters. And while Kohlingen was closer it had as earlier mentioned been pretty much erased from the face of the earth with only a few survivors rebuilding stick sheds for themselves – and their animals as the escapees thankfully had noted. The spoils were still guarded, but fixing up Maranda had been simpler and cheaper. Shipping dying prisoners southwards only took one and half a day after all, a time span the convicted surely regarded differently.

In Figaro's situation it didn't matter if its warriors were pirates, murderers or kidnappers, anybody imprisoned by the empire was its enemy and therefore a friend of the rest of the word. Besides, Edgar already commanded some of the best thieves, assassins and traitors there were and they had only been of great help throughout the entire ordeal.

Even the prisoners of castle Figaro's dungeons had been let out as the new world order was established, their anger towards Edgar only bested by their fear for Gestahl's schemes. At least they hadn't caused any trouble yet, being fairly sensible though criminals.

The plan was to try to free as many prisoners from Maranda as possible, seeking more help for the rebels' cause. Hopes to find any of the lost troops of the original Returners were faint, but it was a die-hard dream. Edgar just couldn't bring himself to give up on Banon and the others just yet. After all the king had regarded the older man as a superior as he recognized the Returner leader's skills as a leader and tactician.

Though the call of reality was harsh, hope grew in the ashes. It had to, for all occasions. It was all that the army of insects had.

Afterwards Edgar couldn't understand how he ended up in his own room.

"Come on bro, get to sleep already," Sabin murmured while a fine hand rather awkwardly pulled the ribbon out of the king's hair.

"Mrf…" Edgar murmured, looking around curiously despite his fatigue.

The movement sent his long blond hair spreading over the blue shirt covering his back.

Terra smiled tentatively, the silky strap still falling loosely from her grip. But as she met the sparkle deep within the king's tired eyes she almost smirked and shook her head.

"Oh no, sir Casanova. I'm just here to supply you with a sleep spell, nothing else."

"Never would I offend a lady's honor," Edgar tried to smile though his voice was a bit hoarse, "especially not one belonging to someone as beautiful as you. Ow!"

The last was a grunt born from Sabin's hand lightly whapping at his brother's head.

"Cut that out you lousy Don Juan," the younger of the two men chuckled.

Sighing dryly Edgar kicked off his boots and fell onto his bed, not even bothering with his clothing. Besides the fact that he was too tired to really care, he had too much respect for Terra to even make a move to really embarrass her.

The half esper stepped forwards and raised her hand to slowly move over the blond locks as Edgar settled a bit more properly. Upon her gentle murmuring, tiny blue ribbons flowed from her fingertips to melt into the king's skin.

"Sleep well, my friend," Terra warmly whispered as the blue-green eyes fluttered close and Edgar's breathing grew peaceful and relaxed.

She straightened up to find Sabin watching her thoughtfully.

"What?" she said.

"Well, you know…"

The martial artist scratched his head, a bit uncomfortable with the subject he felt was needed to be discussed.

"If you do like Edgar, you should let him know."

Terra raised an eyebrow, glancing at the sleeping king. The dark circles around his eyes and his almost grayish face made him look very frail, and she thought that she understood what had caused Sabin to say such a thing.

But, she couldn't play along.

"Oh come on, Sabin…" she said, shaking her head.

"No, I'm serious," he assured and motioned at his brother, "Edgar needs somebody to support him more than we can do as his friends. Somebody to… oh, I don't know this kind of stuff."

"I see what you mean," Terra gently said, "but I don't think I can be the one to stroke his hair and hold him until he falls asleep, I can only work magic spells for the latter. What he needs is somebody on his own wavelength."

Sabin regarded her for a moment.

"I see that you've been thinking about it at least," he commented.

Terra allowed him a nod for his hard work, but that was all.

"I think a lot about things like that, when we're not running for our lives of course," she rather dryly said, though she continued in a much friendlier voice, "but I don't believe I can ever regard Edgar as more than a friend and ally. Edgar is… well, Edgar."

Sabin let out a slow breath. Well, it had been worth a try at least.

"You always have to follow your own instincts," he admitted defeat and smiled, "I shouldn't be pushin'."

"No harm done there."

Terra smiled a bit and turned to walk out of the room. After all, she needed her rest too, especially considering the looming future.