Tales of the Abyss, Frings/Peony, a dutiful man in uniform -1/2
The knock on the door goes unanswered. Once, twice, three times. At this point any ordinary soldier would’ve valued the skin on his back and fled but Frings is no ordinary soldier. He takes a deep breath, offers up a prayer to Lorelai to give him strength, and breaks through the door to Emperor Peony IX’s bedroom.
His abrupt intrusion causes a startled herd of rappigs to bolt for all corners of the room seeking refuge behind fallen chairs or piles of discarded palace finery. Peony was nowhere in sight. The horrifying idea occurred to Frings that they had all waited too long leaving him alone and the rappigs were feasting on the emperor’s corpse as he hastened towards the spot the rappigs had scattered from. Frings had to scramble over a desk -there was no going around it – to reach that side of the bedroom, and breathed a sigh relief to see the emperor sullenly slouched in a corner behind a dangerously teetering bookshelves with a lone rappig in his arms. Frings didn’t need to see the name on the collar to know which one it was.
“Sir, I know you instructed that we not disturb you until we had good news to report but there’s no reason to give up hope yet. Eye witnesses report a ship that matches the description of the Tartarus before the catastrophe. The Tartarus is equipped to withstand the force of falling such a distance and if Colonel Curtis managed to make it onboard before the collapse he may well be alive and sailing the Qliphoth as we speak.”
When Peony did not stir, Frings took another deep breath, offering a prayer that today’s Score not contain any ominous portents of his imminent demise, and approached his majesty picking his way through the scattered books that lay where they had fallen and taking care not to bump the unstable bookshelf. The despondent rappig in Peony’s lap snuffled Frings’ hand in search of food as he knelt on the floor and Fring’s offered an apologetic shrug that he did not have his usual crackers or orange peels in his pockets.
When he tries to lift the emperor’s hands from the starving rappig he is met with resistance. Peony latches on tightly to the rappig’s fur causing it to squeal in terror and Frings lets go, not wanting to add to the poor creature’s pain. He tries to stare into Peony’s eyes but they were hidden behind long matted bangs so he reaches up to brush them aside.
“This cannot go on any longer. It’s been three days and the staff tells me you haven’t taken a meal since. There’s not just your health to consider. You’ve got an empire to run. People are frightened and upset as you are about the accident at Akzeriuth. The people of this country need you.” I need you. he almost said before checking himself.
“Don’t touch me. It’s high treason punishable by death to touch me without my consent.” These are the first words uttered by his majesty in Frings’ presence and they fill him despair. He has never heard Peony use that tone of voice on him before and Frings can feel his resolve crumbling, his fantasy falling to dust, and his heart being crushed by a cruel fist. But he does not snatch his hand back in reproach for he must soldier on for the sake of his emperor.
Kind words and gentle reassurances are not going to work and Frings has one last trick up his sleeve. He takes one final breath, offers up a prayer to Jade Curtis’ poor departed soul to not take offense for what he is about to do, and launches into his best imitation of a drill sergeant tirade loaded with as much scorn as he can muster.
“Have you looked in a mirror and seen yourself? I’ve seen beggars in the streets of Grand Chokmah that look more respectable than you. You think you’re fit to wear a crown or order men to their deaths in this state? No! You’re an insult to all the emperors of Malkuth that came before you. You’re an insult to the men who wear Malkuth’s uniform and you’re an insult to the memory of the man you mourn this very minute.”
Peony is shaking and Frings lifts his head up in panic. “Thanks, I needed that.” The emperor is laughing, not convulsing or sobbing, but laughing. It’s a raw cackling sound, a far cry from his usual rich booming laugh, but it’s still music to Frings’ ears.