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At first, it had seemed bizarre that the normally level-headed Celes would risk a fifty-fifty chance of having to marry a wild gambler like Setzer. Sabin supposed that she'd get the use of the airship either way, so in that sense it was a win-win situation. But even so, it didn't fit with Sabin's image of her.
Things started making a lot more sense once Setzer noticed, post-toss, that the coin was double-headed.
It had been dishonest, yes, but given that it would get everyone to Vector as planned, Sabin wasn't going to complain.
But...
In the years Sabin had spent with Master Duncan, honing his body and mind alike, he'd often wondered what things would have been like had the coin come up tails.
He'd found it hard to imagine. His life on Mount Koltz had been present, vivid, and gloriously real. The could-have-been life back in Figaro Castle felt as insubstantial as mist.
It almost seemed, he'd thought once, like the result of the coin toss had never been in question--like it was fate that had led him to the foot of Mount Koltz, and that there was no way things could have happened otherwise.
But it appeared that fate had nothing to do with it.
---
After the ship took off, Sabin noticed that his brother had slipped off somewhere and went looking for him.
Predictably enough, he found Edgar in the Blackjack's engine room, examining the airship's inner workings.
Edgar looked over his shoulder briefly as he heard Sabin enter. "Ah. Come to see what's keeping us in the air?" He didn't wait for an answer before turning back to the whirling gears. "You know, some of this isn't all too different from what makes Figaro Castle run. If I could get the schematics of this thing back to our engineers..."
Sabin walked over, standing beside his brother. "You want an airship of your own?"
"A whole fleet, preferably," said Edgar. "I expect they will become a necessity, in the future. There's only one in the entire world, right now. Airship technology is too new, and seen as too dangerous. Something to be used only by a man willing to risk life and limb for fast travel and freedom. A gambler."
"Yeah," said Sabin. "But you're no gambler. Or at least not as much of one as I used to think."
"...no," said Edgar. "I suppose I'm not."
"All those years ago," Sabin continued, "after Dad died, when I wanted us both to run away, you rigged the toss with that double-headed coin--the one you gave to Celes--so I'd go and you'd stay," Sabin continued.
"Yes," said Edgar, simply. "I did."
Sabin spent a few moments hunting for words. "I think... you were right. You were right, that we couldn't just leave. And you were right, that you were the person who should stay and rule. I'm sorry that it had to be that way." He rubbed the back of his head. "And thank you. Because I don't think I was ever much of a prince, you know? I was never good at diplomacy, or any of that stuff."
"You're a good person," said Edgar. "And at times a blatantly honest one." One side of his mouth quirked up. "Perhaps that's not always the best quality for a ruler."
Sabin laughed. "Maybe not. But you--you're good at knowing what to say. You always used to charm the visiting nobles when we were little kids. Remember that one lady--can't remember where she was from--she had the hairdo that looked like--"
"Like a sweetbun? I remember that." Edgar grinned. "And you asked her why."
"I thought maybe she just really liked them, or something. And then our tutor sort of hustled us off out of the way and said that it wasn't good manners to compare visitors to pastries." He shook his head. "Heh. Seems like it wasn't that long ago. But... twenty years, give or take."
Steam hissed from the boiler in the corner, and something rattled. Sabin wondered, briefly, what that meant--but the airship didn't seem to be falling out of the sky, so it was probably nothing seriously wrong.
"You know, I'm sorry I didn't write," said Sabin. "I meant to, at first. But I never knew what to say. I'm not so good with words, sometimes." He shrugged. "I felt kind of guilty, too, leaving you behind."
"A deal's a deal," said Edgar. "Like you said. It worked out for the best. I like to think I've done a decent job holding Figaro together. And you..." He clapped Sabin on the shoulder. "You look like you could benchpress a mammoth. Rural living certainly seemed to agree with you."
"It did." Sabin grinned. "It was different, at first. Figaro Castle's not so decadent as some palaces, I hear, but even so, training with Master Duncan was a shock at first. He worked us hard. But he never asked more than I could give, even when I didn't realize I could give it before actually doing it. You know what the worst part was, for me? It wasn't getting up before the sun to go running, or the muscle aches when sparring got a bit out of hand. It was the meditation exercises."
"You don't say," said Edward, raising an eyebrow.
"No, really," said Sabin. "It's one thing to go out and actually do things. Running's never been my favorite thing in the world, but I know how to do it--and I've learned to push past discomfort when I have to. You just keep moving. But sitting down and trying to clear your mind--now that's hard. I was bored out of my skull, at first."
"A lesser man than I," Edgar said, deadpan, "would imply it might be easier for you than me."
Sabin paused a moment, considering this. Then, with a sudden guffaw, he clapped his brother on the back, making Edgar stagger forward a bit.
"Easy, there!" Edgar said, wincing as he rubbed his upper back.
"Sorry," said Sabin, still grinning. "Forget my own strength, sometimes."
Edgar smiled back, still rubbing his shoulder. "Somehow, I doubt that. But I think I understand what you're saying, about clearing one's mind." He looked back at the machinery. "Though... the task seems akin to focusing on a single thing."
Sabin nodded. "In the mornings, when I'd be running down the trail, and it was cold as anything and I was tired and possibly sore, I realized that, after a while, I forgot all that. I just kept moving. One step after another. There wasn't anything else. I wasn't thinking about, you know, all the stuff your head gets crowded with when you're not doing anything. Worries. Memories. Stuff you wish you'd done differently, and stuff you want to do later that day."
"I'm not much of a runner," said Edgar. "Or I wasn't, at least. Traveling with all of you has given me more exercise than I've had in years."
"Hah, I'll bet. You had the cushy life, back in Figaro. Nothing but piles of paperwork and diplomacy." Sabin leaned back and stretched. "I'll take pummelling monsters, any day."
Edgar shook his head. "What I was getting at," he said, "was that I've felt that way while working on some project in my workshop. Time seems to disappear, when you throw yourself into work that fascinates you." He leaned forward, his hands on the guardrail. "Luckily, I have people to remind me when something important comes up. One of the perks of being king." He glanced sidewise at Sabin. "Speaking of which. Once this is all over--once we've won, the world's safe from the Empire, everyone gets to go home--what is it you're planning on doing?"
Sabin furrowed his brow, and spent a few moments watching the airship's gears spin.
"I hadn't really figured it out, yet," he admitted. "Master Duncan's gone. He was... he was a good man. A good teacher." Sabin shook his head. "I should have seen how bitter Vargas was getting, even when there was no reason for it. I don't know. It feels like I should have known, somehow. Should have figured out how to stop him, before it was too late."
"You couldn't have known. You--we loved our father more than anything," said Edgar, quietly. "So you couldn't imagine that someone would go so far as to kill theirs, out of misplaced jealousy."
"Yeah." Sabin inhaled, then exhaled slowly. "I guess I could go back to my house at the foot of Mount Koltz. But... it's been ten years. I'm not the kid who just wanted to run away any more. I am who I am. I can't just pretend that being born royal doesn't give me responsibilities. And whether I like it or not, Dad wanted us to rule together. But I really don't think I'm king material."
"I think you might underestimate yourself," said Edgar.
"I'm not so sure," Sabin replied. "I think... I can't run away from Figaro forever. But I don't know what I'd do, if I went back."
"There will always be a place for you in Figaro Castle, if you choose to return," said Edgar.
"I know," said Sabin. "I've never doubted that. But you've been a good king. Figaro has prospered under your leadership, and I don't know if you really need a spare prince running around. I think..." He gathered his thoughts. "I think... even if there's not a war going on, there'll still be the need for warriors. There's always monsters about, for one thing. I can't replace Master Duncan, but maybe I can carry on his legacy, as best as I can. I've learned a lot, in the last ten years. Maybe I'll see if I can pass it on. I can make Figaro stronger--better able to keep itself safe. What have I been training for, all these years, if not to help protect people?"
"I can set you up with funds, if you wish to start a school," said Edgar.
"I'll think about it," said Sabin. "Heh. Sabin's School of Martial Arts. Has a nice ring to it." He rolled his shoulders. "But first, we've got to defeat the Empire."
Edgar nodded. "Yes. After that, who knows?" He glanced upward, as though he could see the clouds through the ceiling. "It's beginning to look like the sky's the limit."
Provided they both survived to see "after," of course. For all that they both kept up a brave front, Sabin knew, and knew that Edgar knew, that there was always a chance that one or both of them might not make it.
They were taking on the most powerful nation in the world, after all. It was a war. People would die--and they knew well that rank was no obstacle to death.
"Edgar... thanks. Again," said Sabin. "For... you know."
"Don't mention it," said Edgar. "It was..."
"Not nothing," said Sabin. "Everything."
Edgar smiled. "Very well. In that case, you're most welcome, brother."
Sabin clapped his brother on the back once more--a bit less forcefully than last time. "Come on. I bet we're practically there by now, with all this time we've spent chit-chatting."
The two brothers made their way to the bridge. Vector loomed in the distance.
They had a great deal of work ahead of them.
Duty called.