IV. In Which People Promptly Forget What They Have Promised Themselves And Save Everyone Involved Sizable Quantities of Confusion

ooo

Terra hadn't expected to feel so refreshed after such a short night's sleep, but she woke up ready to run all the way down to South Figaro if she had to. A few kind words had done more for her than any real rest.

She leapt back into the closet for another wardrobe raid, looking for something slightly more coordinated (but only slightly). To her disappointment, the floppy hat was gone, but she found a suitably folksy-looking bonnet.

Today is going to be a great day.

What was it about talking that made it all good again? Why did people naturally want to be alone when a single conversation could fix everything? She'd spend the morning downtown, then come back to the castle to talk with Edgar to finish making their arrangements.

"Hey, are you awake?" She could hear Sabin outside the door. He sounded just as gung-ho as she felt. Terra raced to the door and flung it open.

"Let's go!"

"What is it with you and hats?" he grinned.

"Hats make me happy," she declared, not knowing it was true until that moment. "So we're off!"

Together they raced down the stairs, and all the servants who saw them marveled at their eagerness. Even the castle's greatest celebrations were held with dignity and restraint, but here were two people being so outrageously exuberant over running errands.

Edgar was waiting for them at the front gates. He held a thick envelope with the royal seal stamped firmly over the back. "I suppose you'll be taking a meal in town?"

"Uh, yeah," Sabin said absentmindedly, taking the envelope. "If that's all right with you, Terra?"

"Of course." Salmon and capers was all well and good, but she was really looking forward to tomatoes on wheat toast.

"Then by all means, I won't keep you." Edgar signaled for the guards to break rank, and as Sabin and Terra set out for the southwest he couldn't help but feel like a father watching his children go out to play. Perhaps he should've packed sandwiches.

He briefly recalled his own childhood, when even then there had been an obvious distinction between the two of them. Edgar would be paraded around like a precious jewel, passed from one admiring relative to another, while Sabin would pretend to be a bear and go around biting unsuspecting adults in the leg.

Matron hobbled up to him and he instinctively took her by the arm. It was a pity she hadn't married, any grandchildren of hers would be worth more than all of Figaro. "You should warn me in advance before you approach like that, you know. Your beauty is absolutely breathtaking."

She just shook her head at him. "You don't ever intend to stop, do you?"

"Never. What's the occasion?"

"I've been sent to tell you that the Countess Marcellina has set out from the northen territories, so you should be expecting her tomorrow morning. I haven't heard from Owzer and his family..."

"They go out of their way to be fashionably late, I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't show up till the day of the banquet. Has there been any word from the others?"

"The delegation from Albrook claims to be en route, but they've been saying that for almost two days now. I don't know whether they're delaying or actually being delayed."

"Probably the former. Thank you, Matron. Could I persuade your grace for a spot of lunch before we attend to the wolves? I imagine they have a few questions about that announcement I put out yesterday, and I could use all the extra nourishment I can get."

"Why, no, Your Majesty, I'm afraid you're just going to have to starve. Now, really! I've been taking care of you since before you can walk. Why are you so apologetic about asking me to do my own job?"

He flashed her his most infamous smile, the one that charmed the corsets off the ladies and made the less staid men weak in the knees. Matron was unfazed, having seen it more times than she could count.

"I do hope your future bride is strong enough to hold her own against you and your looks."

"Nonsense, my good lady. The instant any woman realizes the extent of the power she holds over me I'm as helpless as a newborn." He gave a theatrical sigh to emphasize the sad fate of his poor tender heart, and Matron couldn't help but pray that the new queen of Figaro would have a high tolerance for drama.

ooo

The shifting dunes made Terra feel as though the world was moving under her feet. She shut her eyes to keep out the intermittent storms of dust, checking only to make sure she hadn't wandered off.

Sabin must have noticed because he deftly stepped in front of her, blocking most of the rising sand. "Just stay close behind, all right?"

She noticed the gusts that blew around her forehead were just up to his midsection. He's so useful! Oops, that's not very nice. "Thanks!"

"Sure thing."

In this slow but steady manner they made their way through the desert's steepest slopes. Terra realized that despite her best efforts she was watching the bob of his ponytail again. Unlike Edgar's hair, which was perpetually brushed, tied and off-limits (Setzer and Locke had scars to attest to how seriously the king treated his coiffure), Sabin's was ragged and unruly. He would go for months without so much as a shave because it simply didn't occur to him to cut it.

Her motherly instincts decided he could use a quarter-inch trim. The next time he came to Mobliz she'd strap him to the dining room chair if she had to.

It wasn't easy to hold conversation in single file, but now having guaranteed that everything between them was completely normal and not different at all they felt free to talk even more than usual.

"So what are we going to pick up?"

"Just clothes, I think. Edgar always orders a lot before a big formal event. Whatever else we need is in this letter here. There might be some other last-minute supplies he wants, too."

"Do you think he bought something for himself?"

"Definitely. The tailor in town makes his favorite shirts. He won't buy them anywhere else."

"What about you?"

Sabin usually made himself scarce at the mere mention of court ceremony, but he wanted to a good look at any potential sisters-in-law. Still, the very idea of spending an hour getting dressed made his skin crawl. "Yeah, I guess so. I haven't gone to one of these things in ages. I doubt any of my old stuff even fits."

Terra tried to put Edgar and Sabin together into a hulking, good-natured mass of well-groomed masculinity. It didn't work. "Will you be there for the whole dinner and the meeting afterwards?"

"I'd planned to. Why?"

"Because..." She thought of everything Edgar had told her the previous night. Would it be easier or harder to have Sabin there watching? "Um, it's nothing. It just seemed kind of boring to me."

"Oh, there's no denying that. What, you plan to skip out? I could catch up with you after the meeting if you want."

I can't, Edgar and I are going to---But she'd also promised him to not say a word to anyone, not even Sabin. "No, I thought I'd stay too," she said. Her heart sank in her chest and she hoped he wouldn't ask any questions.

By the time they reached South Figaro Terra's hunger had eclipsed her worry. The sight of the corner delicatessen made her jump. "Sabin! Sabin, what were you thinking about doing for lunch?"

"Food," he said valiantly. Then, following her gaze, "Did you want to go there? It's a nice place, it's fine with me."

"Yes, let's!"

Although the deli was well-stocked, and Sabin easily polished off an entire cornish game hen, Terra was overjoyed at her piece of toast with its single tomato slice. The cooks had been perplexed by her request, but nobody had any reason to deny her something so simple. Sabin figured that somewhere during their travels she'd tried to make a sandwich on her own and the end result was her unusual creation. She had a knack for getting things almost-but-not-quite-right when she first tried them; the inn at Narshe still had water damage as a testament to her early confusion with faucets.

Five years later, she was a grown woman, and those lingering touches of early ignorance had given her a peculiar allure (it sure was nice to be able to think about someone like that and know it didn't mean anything). She was a parent, a mother, and an equal, even if she didn't quite understand what a "window of opportunity" was.

After lunch they went off to the tailor's, eager to see what Edgar had ordered. The clerk recognized Sabin immediately and went to the back room, calling, "His Royal Highness is here! Bring out the boxes!"

"His Royal Highness'?" Terra repeated. "Isn't that...isn't that Edgar's title?"

Sabin growled, but he was more annoyed than upset. "It's mine. I'm the heir apparent until he's got a kid of his own." He kicked at the ground. "Selfish, isn't it? I don't have to do anything anymore, and I'm still bitter about it. Meanwhile, my brother's locked up back there and he doesn't say a word."

"That isn't..."

The clerk returned with an armful of dress boxes. "Excuse me, Your Highness, and permit me to apologize for not having welcomed you with the necessary respect and honor deserving of someone so high a station. His Majesty paid ahead of time. Should you be able to accept a departure of my person for a brief period of time I will most gladly fetch the rest of your order."

"Yeah, thanks." Sabin moved to take the boxes, but the clerk motioned for him to wait.

"No, Your Highness, this is base work. Allow me." Within minutes the whole countertop was piled high with clothes with no sign of stopping.

"How much did he order?" Sabin ripped open the sealed envelope. There were two letters inside. One appeared to be a standard order form, while the other was a handwritten note:

Please present this receipt of delivery to the tailor after verifying the contents of the packages.

Sabin glanced from the boxes to the letter to the boxes again. "That's going to take ages!" he fumed, as if Edgar could hear him. He continued to read:

I know it's going to take ages. Ask Terra to help. Oh, and do bring her back home at your earliest convenience. You, of course, have the freedom to wander as the unwashed heathen you are.

- ERF

And people said there was no magic left in the world.

Terra had opened the ends of one box and was peeking inside. "Wow, this is beautiful. It looks comfortable, too. I'd like to wear something like this."

Sabin looked for himself. To his horror, the royal seal of Figaro was emblazoned on the front. "That's a maid's dress!" he cried.

"Is that bad?"

"If it means what I think it does, then he ordered dresses for all the maids in the castle. We'll be here forever." He opened the delivery receipt to see just what they would be bringing back. "He can't be...this is...three hundred and nineteen articles of clothing?!" he roared, having skipped to the bottom line.

Terra was barely visible behind all the stacks. "Um, I don't think we're going to be able to carry all of these."

"His Majesty has ordered a drawn cart to bring the wares home. Of course we'll provide an escort with the cart, as we feel it our responsibility to assure your utmost comfort."

"No, no, that won't be necessary." Sabin couldn't bear the clerk's overly fawning language any longer. "Instead of going over all this, why don't we just assume that everything's here, and if it's not I'll come back and deal with it myself. We'll drive the cart home and I'll bring it back. Understood?"

The clerk gulped, not wanting to know just what it meant when Sabin René Figaro dealt with something. "I assure you everything is as it should be, Your Highness. I'll bring the cart around so I can set to work, so if you and your esteemed lady would excuse me..."

"We can load it ourselves---"

"Who's anybody's lady?" Terra wanted to know, slightly insulted by the idea that she belonged to anyone other than herself.

But the unfortunate clerk had already raced outside. He hollered at the workers to move and wailed that the prince's wrath would be on all their heads if they failed. In his desperation he forgot to lower his voice, so he could be heard clearly from inside the shop.

"Go faster, you filthy wretches! Surely you know His Royal Highness could beat us all within an inch of our lives using his bare hands!"

Terra saw Sabin's shoulders slump and she cringed. "Um, Sabin," she said, fidgeting with her fingers, "I...I think some of my hair is caught. Could you...?"

He stared at her for what seemed like an eternity.

"Okay," he said at last, moving to untangle the bonnet strings. He deftly undid the knot with a swift roll of his fingertips and separated her hair as gently as strands of silk. Terra knew he was as dextrous as he was powerful. She'd seen him break bones and set them, just the same way she could wield a double-handed sword and an embroidery needle. If I hadn't met people willing to look beyond what they saw in me, I'd still be the Red Witch of the Empire.

Having untangled the snarl, he put the bonnet back on and secured it with a ribbon tie under her chin. "Is that better?"

"It's just right. Thank you."

Sabin was so disoriented by her little act of kindness that when it came time to leave he forgot to duck and ended up hitting his head on the door frame. He didn't even notice the workers avoiding him as they loaded up the cart.

"And you, ah, you're sure you don't want an escort, Your Highness?"

"Positive." What was all that stuff? Where was he? Oh yeah, he was in South Figaro to help Edgar get...something...for something. "I'll, uh, I'll bring this back myself."

"Yes, you did say that," the clerk said, frightened with his sudden disinterest. "Is there anything else I can do for you, sir?"

The chocobo squawked and Terra took the reins. "I think that'll be all," she said. "Thank you for everything! Sabin, do you want to sit up here or walk? I won't go very fast."

Did he remember how to do that? "I...I'll walk. Walking is fine."

ooo

Terra's stressful evening eventually took its toll, because she quickly nodded off behind the chocobo. Sabin didn't have the heart to wake her up and just plodded alongside them, immersed in thought.

How does she know to be so considerate? Were all moms that way? No, it couldn't be that; she had been unfailingly kind from the beginning. Still, the gesture and its message (I know who you really are) was comforting in the face of so many strangers who saw nothing more than an overgrown brute.

Did she feel that way too? There were certainly people still living who had seen her devastation firsthand. Did she think everyone who met her saw a tool of the Empire?

Thanks for remembering who I am, Terra.

By the time they arrived back at the castle she was stirring again, rubbing her eyes and moving around in the saddle. "Oh, did I...? I'm sorry..."

"Not a problem. I'll bring this home and come on back in time for dinner."

The very mention of the word filled her with anxiety. "Actually, Edgar and I were going to...I mean, if it's okay with you, we just have to talk about some things, and..."

"Sure, that's fine!" he assured, completely free of suspicion or even curiosity. If Terra said she was having dinner with Edgar, that was more than enough for him. His utter lack of guile was so endearing. I'm sorry I can't tell you the truth, not yet. "Have a good trip back, okay?"

Edgar appeared at the gates to oversee the castle workers unloading the cart. "Well, then. Did you have a pleasant trip? I hope it was suitably relaxing, as we've got quite a bit of work to do."

"Yes, it was nice. Sabin's going to take back the cart." Terra swiftly dismounted without the help of Edgar's outstretched hand. "Is there a place you wanted to start, or...?"

"The dining room will be more than adequate. Please, come along. Have a safe trip, Sabin."

The younger brother just waved agreeably, jumped onto the cart and seized the reins. "You guys take care of yourselves. I'll be back whenever, so don't wait up."

Just once before he died Edgar would like to say those words in that exact indifferent tone of voice, to brush past all the senators and lords in the world with a lazy "don't wait up". The mere idea gave him chills.

They set off for the dining room, now with their arms linked in the proper western fashion. "I know you're a marveously independent young woman, but you've got to accede to tradition if you don't want them to raise unnecessary questions. We can't allow them to be down our throats about protocol and politics."

"Is there anything I shouldn't do?" she asked.

"My dear, there are so many things you shouldn't do that we're going to work our way from the ground up. If I don't permit it outright you can assume it's forbidden."

"What if I mess up?"

"You won't, I promise. All it takes is a very determined will and careful attention to detail. We have several days to prepare, which will be just enough time if we work at every available opportunity."

Planning, scheming, and a grand performance: it was like the old days all over again. She was nervous, but how could she fear anything with Edgar at her side? He wouldn't let her stumble. Every available opportunity... "And I still can't tell?"

"Not a word. In fact, the less said about yourself at all, the better. There are more than one hundred servants in this castle, and if so much as one of them overhears you we'll have a lot of explaining to do. It would be best if you simply didn't..." He saw the look on her face. "I'm so sorry. If you don't wish to---"

Terra shook her head firmly. "No, Edgar. I'm going to do this. It's the least I can do. I want..." She clung to his sleeve to convince him of her sincerity. "I want to make you happy."

"Pássara..." He smiled, but there was a sad compassion in his eyes.

When they reached the dining room he sat her at the head of the table and went to the wine cabinet. Terra shifted in the chair, wanting to stretch her legs after having been seated for so long.

"How does a '32 Quiphs jolf sound to you? It's perfect for those nights you'd rather not remember."

"I don't drink very much." She was reminded of Edgar and Setzer's talk of their card nights. Was not drinking another sign of her immaturity? Should she pick up drinking? How was she supposed to do that with a household of rowdy children? She quickly dismissed the notion. "That is, except for when you hold those reunion parties."

"Ah yes. I'll provide ample quantities of water, but it wouldn't do to raise any eyebrows about drinking etiquette. After, all, each course must begin with wine. Do you think you can handle one glass for the occasion?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Very well then. Let's begin."

ooo

Together they passed the days in constant company, only leaving for sleep and meals. At times Terra felt her head would burst from the sheer amount of effort. Now she understood why Edgar looked so tired. Meanwhile, the castle welcomed the arriving ambassadors and their ladies. If there had been a buzz about the king's impending marriage before, it was now at fever pitch.

The day of the banquet she woke up sweating. Why had she agreed to do something so drastic and daring? She had to find Edgar and tell him to call the whole thing off, that she couldn't go through with it, but he was nowhere to be found. He was probably off assuring all the visiting dignitaries of his intentions, fighting down last-minute measures in Parliament, and overlooking decor in the Great Hall. I'm trapped! What am I going to do? I can't do this!

Terra's resolve wavered further when she saw Sabin that afternoon. He was holding a pair of white knee-length boots in both hands and shuddering in disgust. It took all her self-control to not run to him and confess everything. "Ah, Sabin..."

He looked so glad to see her she could have cried. "Oh, hi! It's been a little while, hasn't it? You've been pretty busy."

"I'm looking for Edgar. Do you know where he is?"

"Well, actually..." He led her to the king's room and pushed in without so much as a knock on the door. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere."

"Truly beautiful."

Terra blinked. Then, from farther down in the chamber, the same voice spoke again with the same affectionate murmur: "Yes, of course...more lovely than you? No, never..."

"Sabin!" Terra whispered, shocked. "Sabin, there's---there's a woman in here!"

"No, there's not."

"But then...?"

"He's in the bathroom, and that's a mirror. Say, shouldn't you be getting ready?"

Right. The dress Edgar had arranged for her to wear had been waiting in the corner of her room, modeled by a tailor's mannequin. The night before Terra had dreamt of the bodice flying out and throttling her. "That's true. I'll see you at dinner, then?"

"If it makes you feel any better," and he leaned all the way down to look directly at her, "I'm going to be wearing a purple satin tie."

"It does," she laughed. For the first time that day she felt some confidence. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. She'd have Edgar to steady her and Sabin for moral support. It couldn't possibly be harder than making dinner for babies, teething toddlers, children and adults.

The first omen that she was very wrong came while being fitted into her dress. Terra had always been slender, but the maids tugging at the back of her corset and saying "a bit tighter, miss!" made her wonder. The thick hoop skirt was so heavily weighted and unruly she lost her balance just trying to sit down. She inwardly screamed every time the maids brought her a new article of clothing, and they just kept coming.

"Your gloves, miss!"

"Your bracelets, miss!"

"Your earrings, miss!"

"Your tiara, miss!" No matter how she protested, they insisted every single piece was entirely necessary. It came as a strange relief when they draped the golden Figaro seal around her neck.

She spent several minutes tottering back and forth across her room for practice. The tiara had seemed heavy at first, but the seal alone was three pounds. When the trumpet heralded the call to banquet, Terra let one of the maids support her for the first few yards and all the staircases. She wasn't sure if she'd live to trip down a flight of stairs in her current outfit.

Terra reached the first-level foyer and nearly keeled over. Just around the corner she could hear the king and his guests sitting down around the front table. Soon she would be there, at his cue, and everything would...How can I do this? I can't! I can't! Someone help me!

No. This was no time to panic. She envisioned Edgar as she'd seen him that night, aging and sorrowful. How could she not be strong for his sake, after all the times he'd sacrificed so much for the people he loved? I don't need help. I'm coming, Edgar. I'm going to be there with you. She leaned closely against the wall to listen in for her cue.

"...and so you've accepted?"

"As a matter of fact, I have not. Our most recent round of negotiations were hardly stellar."

"Then what does Your Majesty propose? We have made promises far beyond our means. The Lady Francesca has no objections."

"I assure you, Countess Genevive has a much more---"

"In terms of magnitude---"

"---providing more for a---"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Edgar said disapprovingly. "I expect you to afford one another the same respect you provide me. And, if you must know, I have found a bride-to-be whose wealth and influence far exceeds any of your offers." He went on despite the shouts and gasps of indignation. "If I may..."

Terra took a last deep breath and stepped out into the banquet hall.