CHAPTER FIVE
THE CHARMING KING
Figaro Castle looked completely out of place in the middle of the desert. As Locke and Terra approached with weary Chocobo and parched throats, they saw mounted guards coming towards them. They rode on Chocobo, except for the captain, who rode a horse. They were not dressed like the tracker had been, but wore dark red uniforms and had long, thin sabers. Judging from Locke's calm demeanor Terra was assured that they were not of the Empire.
"State your name and business, sir," said the captain when they were in earshot, not in a tone of hostility but one that was firm and routine.
"Locke, son of Cole. The king is expecting me, as I'm sure you've been told."
"And her name?"
"Her name is no concern of yours," said Locke with equal firmness and with a casual air, grinning in his way. Terra found that Locke's grin did not actually denote mischievousness, though it certainly looked like it. It appeared on so many different occasions that it made his true thoughts quite unguessable.
After a tense moment, in which Locke and the captain stared hard at each other, the captain relented and said, "Very well. This way." The mounted soldiers silently escorted them back to the castle.
Soon Terra found herself being helped down by Locke, as men led their Chocobo away, and standing before the doors of the castle. It was gray and weathered, with many turrets, though not very large as castles go. Now that Terra had dismounted, she realized just how tired she felt, and how unfit she was at that moment to meet a king.
It was a mercy that Locke said, after they entered the hall, "Why don't you get something to drink and rest for a while? I'll go and talk to the king; you can come when you're ready."
At this point Locke passed Terra off to a servant woman, who led her away to another part of the castle. Terra was too exhausted from heat to be much surprised by how well Locke seemed to know his way around. She found herself in a large bedroom, though she did not remember being led there. She found herself being undressed by gentle hands, and not long after that she sunk into a soft, big bed—she was too tired even to bathe first—that instantly swallowed her into folds of oblivion.
When Terra awoke, she was still groggy, not because she had not slept well—for indeed she slept a long time, as evident by the morning light outside the window—but because the desert heat had taken its toll on her body. And perhaps she had not yet recovered from her long illness as completely as she had thought.
There was a knock at the door, but before Terra could respond it opened and a matronly maid, the same one (she recognized) that had taken care of her earlier, backed into the room with a tray in her hands. She was perhaps fifty years old, with brown hair streaked with gray and tied up tight, carrying a tray with something steaming on it. Following behind her were two younger maids, seemingly not much younger than Terra, perhaps nineteen or twenty, and carrying pitchers of steaming hot water to a bath in the middle of the room.
"Had a nice sleep, dear?" said the older maid, with a benign smile. "Tea or coffee?"
"Tea, thank you," Terra replied.
All of a sudden a burst of giggles issued from the girls pouring the bath. Terra caught part of the conversation as they left to get more water. "I don't believe you, you little hussy!" said one.
"He's such a man!" said the other. "It happened when I when I was bringing him wine. He gave me a drink and then—"
"But Edgar is such a playboy!"
"He's enamored of me!"
"He sweet-talks all the girls." The other, prettier maid looked outraged at this as they left to get more water and closed the door behind them.
After tea and cookies, Terra let herself be undressed by the old maid and she slipped into the hot bath. It was strange, Terra thought, how familiar it all seemed, as if she were used to being waited on. Another woman might have been shy to be attended thus, but Terra inhaled the steam deeply, completely relaxed.
A few minutes passed before the young maids returned with more hot water. The pretty, blond girl looked much more sullen and sulky; apparently she had been disillusioned about this Edgar of hers. As the maids poured the water and stayed to help, the blonde one struck up a conversation abruptly with Terra.
"So you've come from Narsha, have you?" she said so suddenly and curtly that Terra was taken aback.
"Yes," said Terra, not thinking it prudent to say anything more.
"With that Locke fellow?" she went on. Her friend gave her a hard look that meant to make her drop the subject. Terra merely nodded, wondering what the girl was getting at. "He's handsome, in a grungy kind of way, if you don't mind my saying so," said the maid insolently.
"We're not lovers," said Terra curtly, surprising herself by her defensiveness. This apparently was not the response the blonde maid was looking for, because a malice sprung into her face, though she immediately suppressed it.
"I suppose that means you're free, then," said the maid snidely. "I'm sure you're Edgar's type too. Apparently he likes all types."
At this the old maid snapped at her: "You wicked little girl, don't you take that tone with her!" Immediately the blonde maid threw down her sponge and stomped out of the room, bursting into tears. Her friend looked pale, but the matron simply rolled her eyes. Terra was at a loss for words. How dare that girl assume she was some love-starved slut, ready to throw herself at the first man who took interest in her! Who was this Edgar, anyway? Probably some stable boy.
When she had bathed, Terra was dressed in a fine emerald green gown and borrowed jewelry. Apparently the king had invited Locke and her to an early dinner. Terra looked at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself. The dark red-haired woman in the glass looked to her like a queen or a fay of legend.
There came a hard, rapid knock at the door, which Terra guessed to be Locke. The maid went to the door, looked back at Terra with a look that seemed to say, "Let's see his face when he sees how beautiful you are!" and opened the door. Before she had done so, Terra looked at herself one more time and touched her hair, before realizing with a shock that it was Locke she wanted to look good for. When the door opened, Locke, who had been tapping his foot and looking the other way, spun around and stepped into the room.
There was a pause in his stride the moment he set eyes on her, but he promptly recovered and assumed his casual demeanor again. "You look good, kid," he said.
Terra smiled. "You look nice too, Locke."
"Yeah, I clean up nice, don't I?" he said with mock arrogance (to hide the real arrogance), turning up his collar and striking a pose in front of the mirror. Terra laughed.
Locke offered her his arm, and she took it, but stopped for a moment to fix his collar.
"Thanks, mother," he said, leading her out of the room. They passed through long halls filled with elaborate carpets and red tapestries depicting the wars of the kings in the line of Figaro. There were side chambers, halls, passages without number. The castle looked much larger inside than it had from the outside.
They reached a door guarded by strong men with spears and shields; the latter were as colorful and intricate as the tapestries. They uncrossed their spears before them and allowed them to enter the king's banquet room.
Inside there was a long, candlelit table; a gold-wrought high-backed chair at the far end, in which a man sat; and a file of eager servants standing in a line near the wall. When they entered, the king—a handsome man, tall and broad-shouldered, with long, blonde hair tied up—stood up immediately and came to greet them.
"Welcome, friends," he said, but looked only at Terra and he kissed her hand. "I am King Figaro, but please call me Edgar, my dear." And suddenly it all made sense; this was the lecherous sweet-talker the maids had been talking about. And indeed, even after this, Terra found it hard to remember that she should be on her guard, for the king was so amiable and good-natured. "You are even more beautiful than Locke described," he added.
Terra raised her eyebrows at Locke, who merely shrugged and grinned innocently. While Edgar's eyes were still taking in the woman who stood before him, Locke cleared his throat impatiently. Edgar tore himself away from her to shake Locke's hand, and said, "This way, please." With one hand he ushered them toward the table, the other on Terra's back as she passed.
There was one awkward moment when they reached the table: Locke and Edgar both tried to pull out Terra's chair for her. Edgar laughed and conceded the honor to Locke, who helped Terra into her seat with his inscrutable grin. Terra noticed how gentlemanly and protective he was all of a sudden, and she was amused. She liked the attention, although in truth she didn't have feelings for either one of them. At least not romantic feelings. And this struck her as rather odd; for here were two men who, in different ways, were very attractive.
