We're Burning (Frerard)

17.The Gift of Gifting Gifts

„Love cures people - both the ones who give it and the ones who receive it." - Karl A. Menninger

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Frank didn't bring up the mystery man from the suburbs. Bag of money with the King's symbol or not, he couldn't risk angering the King nor giving him more reasons to distrust him.

Though Frank tried his best, the King was not entirely a fool, and so he had to be his fair share of careful. He knew the King was already discontent with the elves he had "discovered".

The fact that they were making him undo a piece of the rule he's been building for years, while he had only met a lowly representative, since Jamia could not risk sending someone of high rank and importance though they had Frank's protection, was not helping ease the King's anger. 

And after he consulted Ray and Pete - though Pete didn't help much beside feeding his anxieties - Frank decided to lay low for a while. Either way, they had bigger concerns than some troublemaker, so he just let the King believe he was his good, loyal son.

Frank wasn't, of course, at least not by the King's criteria, but after what Jamia and her people showed him… Frank considered that a good thing.

It made Frank shudder with discomfort, knowing that the man who had raised him and comforted him when his first pet died, and held him close when he lost his mother, was capable of such horrors. It was disturbing.

Frank breathed in deeply to shake off the troubling thoughts and stretched his arms above his head, hearing his joints pop. He grimaced when he felt some places that he wasn't sure were supposed to pop, pop. He had spent his entire day in meetings, from waking moment until sunset, and now winter's late evening light shone outside.

In other words, the streets were in complete darkness, aside from the few street lights, but once those will burn out, the only light outside in the streets would be that of the moon and stars. Unless you had a higher view, which meant the torches lighting the dark would be no problem.

Making his way through the halls, Frank nodded politely to those he passed, both humans and elves. The warm smiles he received in turn from those who didn't have to keep a professional face - and even from some who did - were enough to help lift his spirits after a long day.

Any other evening, Frank would have gone straight to his room, locked his door and fell face first on his bed, immediately falling into a deep sleep. He would have liked to do it today too, but his day hadn't ended yet, and neither had the things that had to be done.

Looking outside again, Frank saw that the first stars of the night were beginning to peek out from the dark sky and the coverage of the clouds, and he hurried his steps. There were many things to be taken care of, only one person to tend to them, and so little time.

The hallways were dimly lit, and Frank's shadow danced across the walls as he made his way to the kitchen. Only a few people were left in the room, the most of them having retired for the rest of the night.

In one of the corners of the kitchen sat an older human with a bright bald head, their legs elegantly crossed before them and a half eaten apple in their hand. Frank sighed in relief, he was afraid they might have left already. In that case he would have needed to come up with an entirely new plan and execute it in just a matter of hours.

"Chef Morrison," Frank greeted them politely. "Good evening."

The chef turned to Frank, their eyebrows raised with a touch of pleasant surprise. They smiled at him and said, "Prince Franklin, a pleasant night it is."