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The Mind of a King	By : Resting-Madness Category: Final Fantasy Games > Final Fantasy VI Views: 326 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own anything that creates the wonderfully sculpted world of Final Fantasy VI. I do not own nor took part in the character creation. I make not one cent from this story, it's just for fun. And possibly a review from my kind readers.

Chapter List
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Commentary: I am by no means a royal buff, so if I get titles or anything wrong, please feel free to correct me. I'm not that weirdo who chews someone out just because they are told they're wrong. Also, I have this from 2 scenarios one sometime after my other story Split Decisions, and this as a satire, like my story Imagine Me With You. I'm going with satire because I'm not in a heavy mood right now. And with that, onto the story.
X x X
Locke Cole stood before another of the revolting flyers put up.
Attention:
Ladies ages 15 to 30 are to report to Figaro castle
Requirements are as followed: You must be unattached. Medically clean. Not of nobility. And fertile.
You are to audition as the King's courtesan. You will aid in production of the future King of Figaro.
The treasure hunter doesn't know whether to be seething with rage or relieved. Was there a silver lining he could take up residency? If there is, it would have to be explained to him. He can't get off the seesaw, otherwise. He drew in a breath through his nose then shot it from his mouth; he reached up and snatched the offending thing from the side of the potions shop. It made no difference, the damned things were everywhere! He can take possession of one.
Cole took the flier into a small brush of trees and tacked it to one's bark with a pocket knife. He then proceeded to hurl his favored Dirk at it until the tattered paper quit holding itself up due to abuse. He released a calming sigh. He needed to stop. This was not proper behavior from someone whom, at the start of it, agreed it was a good idea for his beloved boyfriend to take a courtesan. It was a very... brow-raising conversation, to say the least. It was presented to them during lunch, one even last week.
The king and his lover walked into the solarium of castle Figaro, where a round table was set for use; it's topped with a meal of roasted ham-steak, lump potatoes, and carrots, with a basket of freshly baked bread and a dish of butter. All the finest for the diners. Locke and Edgar were having a nice light chat about a play they had seen, training moves, then a new street food that must be tried once Edgar has free time from work. They were in the middle of discussing going to an opera when they noticed the royal chancellor standing just out of view in the main sitting room of his Majesty's rooms.
"Can I help you?" Edgar asked, he doesn't want his free time intruded upon, nor does he want to make the man uncomfortable while he wait. Plus, he'd like to quickly shoo the man away to better enjoy the dessert after the meal.
Having been found-out, the chancellor entered the solarium, squinting as the elevated sunlight hit his eyes. "Yes. Your Majesty, I've come to present you with a court order."
"A court order?" He took the thin scroll opening it up right away; he felt the need to laugh.
The last time he was given a court order it was because they felt the castle was over staffed with useless women, just because the king deemed them attractive. He would have rhetorically asked for what is the order about, but he read it easily enough to get it right away.
"Are you serious?" He questioned, looking the chancellor in the eye.
Locke picked up the curled paper and read. "Wow..." What more could be said apart from an expression of stun?
"Your Majesty, you must understand my reasoning..." pleaded his court. "You are with a consort. You cannot expect his highness to conceive a child, it is not possible. And you have firmly refused to simply take a wife and have Mr. Cole as your affair; thus we must think first of the future of Figaro castle, lest we be overthrown by another territory."
Edgar hated how right Laveau was. Doma has been restoring it's existence among the land. The new ruler is 'wet behind the ears' so naturally he's looking for recognition ASAP. He will desire conquer and flourish. The growth of his court. He is but a babe of 19 years old, but very ambitious. Edgar met with him twice this year. Once as introduction then a second time for a luncheon with a Duke. He seemed rather snickered to the fact that Edgar has a King's consort rather than Queen. To which King Figaro responded that not everyone has the same heart about love.
Hugo Iniesta has three cortesans and harem of women in his court. Even his chancellor is female! Edgar has surrounded himself with beautiful women, yes, they are a treat to the eyes; however, they mean nothing compared to Locke Cole. His beloved has been with him since he was a minor, his truest friend. His greatest secret to well-known love. Everyone knows of the King's consort. But, this court oder is very much unwanted. He has no desire to procreate anytime soon. Why should he have to?
"I refuse." He stated.
Chancellor Laveau looked ill. "Sire, reconsider..."
"No."
He again looked floored. "Please? We have discussed that it's not something we should let go." He rubbed sweaty palms together to dry them. "We decided that we have to take away reasons why, to prevent refusal." He glanced an apology at Locke. "You either follow the court order, or take a wife and lose his highness."
"I think you should do it." He looked at the surprised boggled eyes aimed at him. But he wasn't lying. "Hear me out, this isn't a panic of being denounced, but.. Ed... Figaro needs a ruler. And you won't always be it."
In a disgruntaled panic, he asked. "What about my brother?"
"Prince Sabin refused all rights of title before taking his leave as a teen. He is unfit your place should something befall you. He also very firmly stated that he won't produce an heir." The man looked pained as though the situation had been physically rebuffed rather than verbally.
Edgar could have slapped his dear younger brother up the back of his head. Why does he get to live his life as pleased, but he's strapped with mistresses and heirs and such the like? And what will happen once he has a child? This woman will be forever by his side? Is that no different than acquiring a Queen?
"We have too much at stake. There is a new castle under construction near Tzen as we speak." Chancellor informed.
"Fine." Edgar ground out. "But... I have conditions."
And the fate of Locke's sanity was sealed. He can't complain. He doesn't like to complain. These things are expected of a King without a Queen. At least of a King with no intention of ever having a Queen. Locke sure could use a wandering monster. Resting his troubles against a tree via forehead, he sighed again.
'Alright, Cole, enough taking it below the belt. This is happening. Deal with it.' Straightened up, he slapped his hands to his cheeks, then let his worries go. His Dirk removed from the suffering tree, he stuffed it back into the sheath, then walked back to town to distract himself with anything readily available.
"I'm gonna go." A woman stated to her friend.
Locke noticed the two ladies were standing before one of the fliers. Whispering about it. Not many of the curious women could speak about it in their normal volume. They whisper. A bit embarrassed. Who wouldn't be? But they go. All dolled up and uncertain; Edgar is a kind man, he'd never make them feel uncomfortable with his acceptance or rejection. But, the women are still awkward and embarrassed.
"I'm not certain I can pass the second requirement, I've had a cough recently." Said the woman's friend.
"That's really too bad." She sounded like she was relieved, most likely thought she wouldn't measure up to her friend. "What if he picks me?" She blushed from a dirty thought running through her head.
"Pssh." Locke stepped into a pub. He can always count on good ol' liquid joy. "A pint, please."
His light brown gaze stared around the dimly lit room. His attention lingered on a group of three patrons seated together, hooded and robed, drinking red wine from glasses. Probably land scoutters. He really hoped there wouldn't end up being some conflict for territory. The planet is large enough that no one's paths need cross unless they wanted. He was about to ask the bartender about them, but the man beat him to speech.
"My daughter's presenting to the King today." He smiled warmly. "Do you, uh, think you could put in a good word for her? The name is Smithwright."
Was he serious? Locke only blinked. Once his drink was downed, he made a small belch into his fist and shrugged out his hand. "Sure. Why not."
"Say, thanks!" The man reached over the counter, clapping Locke on the shoulder. "On the house." He dropped a glass of scotch on the table for him.
"Thanks." That, he was sincere about. He tossed the drink down his throat then stood. With a point via his chin, he asked. "What's that bounty about?"
"Oh, that," the bartender folded his arms over his chest, and looked at it himself. "Yeah, there's someone going around doing sick things to people. Slicing open their throats and draining them nearly dry. The one living victim said she could only remember his ice-green eyes."
"Goddess..." He muttered. His gaze lingered on the silhouette with nothing colored in but a chilling green stare.
For a bounty of 700 gold pieces, that guy won't be on the streets for long.
Time to go home.
...
"Now she looks ready to bear children." Chancellor nearly applauded verbally.
Edgar raised a brow over the portrait of a hippy young woman. She certainly was lovely, and proportionate. Tracey Galloway. Age 22. Blonde hair. Brown eyes. Born in Nikeah but moved to Figaro to take care of her ill mother. Health records are fine. Yes. She would make a fine choice. Her stats were placed in the possibility pile. It's currently housing three others out of twenty eight whom auditioned.
"I liked this one, as well."
"Linette Stevens. She's pretty, but perhaps not right for such projects." He placed the paper into the rejects pile. "We don't want to mix."
"Mix? She's female, healthy, eligible."
"Yes, but let's view others."
Edgar squinted at his chancellor, but left the matter alone - for now.
The king and his court turned their head when the doors opened allowing in another candidate. A red-haired woman entered, alongside a male. The sketch artist entered past them with her quickly drawn sketch to hand to the king. He then exited.
"Well, you're certainly a lovely lady." His Majesty greeted the timid woman.
The 'lovely lady' looked worried. Her fingers twitched and worried. "Your Majesty, my name Mia Oswald. My husband was wondering.."
Chancellor Laveau stepped in immediately. "I believe it was expressed that we are only accepting applicants whom are single."
"Yes, but, please hear me out."
Edgar raised his hand to silence his court from speaking again. "Go ahead."
"My husband is very sick, he needs constant medical care. The money could help us greatly."
Edgar could empathize. However... "I'm sorry, Mrs. Oswald, but as stated we must only look into applicants who are unattached, for that very reason you've stated."
Her husband looked at her. "I don't understand." He spoke up. "She's clean, able, and would not be a burden."
"Mr. Oswald, your wife would essentially be the mother of my child.. What's to stop you from attempting to continually squeeze Figaro for money? The involved party will always be the child's mother; however, the heir will be completely within the control of Figaro. My son cannot become a bargaining chip for money."
"We would never -.."
"That you know of... Mr. Oswald, you are ill.. Your wife just stated that it is progressive, once the surrogacy money runs dry taking care of you, what else is there that you would do?"
There was silence as possible and impossible scenarios ran through his mind. He lowered his eyes. He understood.
"Thank you, for wanting the task. But, it's an immediate no." Edgar stated.
"Yes. Sorry for wasting your time."
He and his wife took their leave.
"Perhaps we should be more specific in our rules?" Laveau commented.
Perhaps. Thought the king.
The pairs attention returned to the opening door. Edgar smiled with relief, announcing a break.
Locke Cole had passed through the hall, watching out for admirers of Edgar's, hopefuls, and antiquests. The castle has a ton of them. Each visitor has a reason to be at the castle, which from 12-7 pm is open to the general public. The guards are stationed at every entrance and exit; some may see a guard looking out of place in random locations in rooms or halls, but Locke knows those are where the secret passages are.
He'd of liked to steer Edgar through into one.. However...
"Your Majesty!" An antiquer waved when spotting the king and his consort.
"Aa, Charlton, it's good to see you again." Ever gracious to duties, the king greeted the man. He hoped for a short chat. "I'm actually a bit occupied at the moment. Can we be brief?"
"Of course, but hey, save some for the lucky winner - eh," he laughed at his own jest.
"No, I only meant that -..."
The man waved off being corrected on his assumption. "I would just like to know if I could make an offer for this vase?"
"A vase?" He left out the: this time. Each time the antiques man comes through the castle on open hours, he has his eye on something or three.
"Ed?" Locke tried to interject to rescue his lover before his attention could become too distracted.
"Yes, the one from 1640; the Marlino Quail." He pointed just off in the distance to a gorgeous green, cream, and royal blue vase.
The vase is rather large. How did the man expect to get it out of the castle and to his museum or personal collection at home? Edgar eyed it. He wasn't sure how he felt about the vase. The decorator pulled it out of storage seasonally. It drifts from room to room as a statement feature, as it has no match.
"Truly, I don't mind. Take it, but, you really should speak with the man who handles the money to make the purchase."
Locke through up his hands in a inward celebration. Charlton got what he wanted. He can leave Edgar alone, and they can get back to their needed chat.
"King Figaro!" A sultry voice cooed from somewhere in the scatter of young women.
He and Edgar looked for the voice seeing a hand elevate and give a cutesy wave that didn't match the voice. Edgar grinned handsomely. "Please, into the main receiving room for auditions, m'lady."
She pouted; it made Locke's skin crawl. Who was this lady trying to turn on? A guy she wants to make baby's with or one who'll take care of like she's an underage daughter? He liked it better when the applicants were embarrassed and shy about being in the castle alone, nevermind the reasons why.
"Edgar?" He gestured that they need get a move on, before the impromptu break was official over.
"Right, sorry." He says to Locke, then to the sultry maiden he says. "Right up through there. Excuse me."
Edgar and Locke walked down the hall together. They passed into a chamber then right around behind a large tapestry to gain access to a secret room.
"I missed you. You've been gone since noon." Edgar kissed his consort on the ear then lips. "What have been doing?"
"Avoiding auditions." He replied honestly. Why lie?
"That's too bad. I don't want to miss you until the evening. Why not stay and sit in with us?" He rubbed Locke's shoulder. "Help me choose."
Locke replayed those words, because surely he'd misheard. Help him pick someone out?! As in: I'm essential going to cheat on you, but to soften the blow, you can pick with whom. Oh great. "You know I'd choose fat and wart speckled. Maybe missing teeth." He crossed his arms.
"Oh, stop." Edgar smiled. "You would not."
"Wouldn't I?"
"No." Edgar cocked his head. "Locke, you can't really be upset by this?" He assessed the embittered posture. "You know it's important to the future of Figaro... You agreed - you got the ball rolling on it."
"Stop making sense; just understand that I'm a little uncomfortable, even though I get it."
"I do understand. Believe me. I have to bed someone that isn't you to produce a child... It could fail to happen multiple attempts. I'm not at all comfortable with that."
Locke hadn't thought of that. He'd only been consumed by his feelings. Edgar really has the short stick here. He has to do the deed. "I'm sorry." He apologized.
"No need to be. It's understandable." Edgar looked towards the exit. "I have to go. The sooner this is done, the sooner we can get back to being us." Save aside the random duty of bedding a stranger. "Will you please go easy on me?"
"Yeah. Again, sorry. I'll be more forgiving. And when I'm not.." He shrugged his shoulder. "I'll just make myself scarce - politely. I won't sit stewing in anger."
Edgar smiled; he kissed Locke's jawline with little pecks. "Thank you."
Locke gave his love's arm a squeeze.
"I'll see you at eight?"
"Yeah."
Edgar took his leave.
Locke waited a moment. Just a moment to confirm to himself that he's fine with it.
'I'm fine. I'm fine. I'm fine.'
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The Mind of a King