Edgar heaved a heavy sigh, his muscles tense and sore. He hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. And everything that had occurred between now and the last 24 hours were a medley of images and emotions that constantly ran within his head. It was like a bad dream he couldn't wake up from. Sabin's leaving, father's death, and the heavy burden that had been placed upon his shoulders. All in the span of a week.

Ruling Figaro on his own…was he capable? Or would he fail, causing the once sturdy realm to crumble before his very eyes? He wasn't ready for that kind of responsibility. He was still young, his life was just beginning.

And yet here it was, laid out before him. His past, present, and future wrapped up within the walls of Figaro Castle. Just for a moment, the thought made his stomach churn. The constant "your majesty", "your highness"s he'd had put up with for as long as he could remember. Having his future chosen for him. It was no wonder Sabin set out for a life on his own. He wanted more than this. He wanted to be remembered for more than Edgar would be. Edgar would simply be known as "Edgar Roni Figaro", the next king in line.

Would it be the same for him like when his father died? The only question on everyone's mind, "Who's next in line?" Would the only mourners of his death be those that were being paid to do it? Friends that only wanted something in return? He hated this. He didn't need all the body guards, soldiers, chaffuers…

All he wanted was someone he could turn to. A friend, one that he could lean on. But would he ever find anyone, trapped inside the high-class prison cell that was Figaro Castle?

A cell it was indeed. He couldn't run from his duties. He owed the people, his father, that much. Stuck in the role of leading a kingdom that existed in a world full of greed and power hungry maniacs. For once, he wanted to be in a different place. Where war and bloodshed didn't exist. It was too much to wish for. As long as there were humans, there'd always be anger. There'd always be spite. There'd always be sadness and death. Sabin had grown tired of these realizations, revelations. Edgar now fully understood exactly why. These thoughts made him feel hollow. Alone.

They made him feel small.

The throbbing in his head was overwhelming, pounding in time with his heartbeat. With tired legs, he rose and looked out his window, the city of Figaro a mere speck in the distance.

As downhearted as he was, he was going to make the best of it. If this is what fate had in store for him, tragic as it may be, he'd deal with it. He'd follow in his father's foot steps.

Not for Figaro's sake, but for his also.

If he stayed this way, everything would surely fall apart.