Disclaimer: Final Fantasy 9 belongs to Square Enix. However, any original characters mentioned in this story are mine, as is the plot.

Knightwatch
By Saffire Raynius

Chapter Seven

"Good morning, my lady."

Freya sat straight up. "Fratley! What in the nine hells is…?" She blanched, but only halfway; the stupor of sleep lingered as a shade over her mind.

"You seem to be displaying none of the symptoms, my lady."

"What kind of symptoms? For the love of Gizmaluke!" She hurled herself out of bed. Slipping a pair of trousers beneath her nightshift, she turned to face the bedside warrior. "Tell me, what is happening?" She did not enjoy his humorous expression.

Fratley grinned in response to her question, which only agitated Freya further.

"What is so damn funny?"

"My lady, I do believe you have a case of bed-head."

Freya threw herself facedown onto the bed. She screamed in mock frustration into the pillow. "Just kill me, Fratley. Just kill me."

His eyebrows rose at that statement. Fratley struggled to remain sober. "If you must be informed, Lady Freya, one of your soldiers disobeyed orders given after last night's peril. Now he is paying for it."

Something tore at her chest. She straightened and slid from the mattress. "Beni?" she asked, a terrible feeling encroaching upon her mind.

Fratley nodded somberly. "The healers believe it is nothing more than a case of the childhood weasles, but poor Beni thought he was going to 'twitch and explode' after yesterday's example."

Freya nodded as relief washed over her. "Ah, I see. The disease is devastating to fiends, but practically harmless to Burmecians. Where did it start?"

The warrior offered his hands in a gesture of helplessness. "It is anyone's guess, although I believe it may be the fire's doing. All soldiers present at the gate last night were supposed to be observed for any signs of abnormal illness."

"Turn around."

"Pardon?"

Freya shook out a white shirt. She turned her back to Fratley. "I'm going to change. Unless—unless you wish to watch, Sir Fratley?"

A slight redness nipped at his expression. "That is an intriguing notion, my lady, but I believe I shall pass." He scooted his chair to face the wall, more than a little embarassed. Freya eyed him from the mirror as she buttoned her blouse. She ran a comb through her hair rather haphazardly, and then she donned her jacket.

"Done." She inspected her lance, which had somehow cleaned itself of the previous night's filth. Fratley shut the door behind them.

"So, what's on the schedule today, Sir Fratley?" They shared a smile.

Fratley opened the palace door to allow Freya passage. "Breakfast, then development on the firey mystery. We sent out scouts this morning, but they have yet to return."

Freya paused to buy bread from a food stand. She split it in half and shared it with the warrior. "I'm sure they're fine," she said confidently. "Unless they're afraid of me."

"The longer they delay, the worse the return beating will be," Fratley laughed.

They finished the bread before arriving at the gate. A professional demeanor surrounded them as usual; it was well known that although Freya and Fratley were "involved" once, they never joked around while on duty. Like most people, they had two sides: the person on duty, and the person off-duty.

The guard posted at the gate, a shy man by the name of Ker, waved timidly as they approached. "Good morning, Sir Fratley and Lady Freya."

"Have you received any word of the scouts?" Fratley inquired. Freya glanced around as if looking for something.

"Where is the other guard?"

Ker tilted his head. "I beg your pardon?" His helmet threatened to fall off.

"I asked for two guards when the Guard is on high alert. Where is the other guard?" she repeated. She crossed her arms, waiting for the answer.

"Uh… he's, er… he's off chasing skirts again," Ker admitted. He shuffled his feet. "He asked me not to tell."

Fratley arched a single brow. Freya contained her anger, but her displeasure was evident. "I shall await his return," Freya stated flatly. "And the scouts', of course." She leaned against the gate column and crossed her arms.

"Thank you for being honest, Sergeant Ker," Fratley said apologetically.

A feminine scream erupted from nearby. Freya jumped up. A maiden darted from an alley, pursued by a half-dressed soldier. Freya grappled the soldier's ear as he attempted to run past; fear gripped the young guard, causing him to turn several shades of gray.

She leveled her eyes with his. "Do you have any idea of how much trouble you have caused? State your name and rank, soldier."

"S-S-Sergeant Joe, ma'am!" He quivered.

"Where are the others?"

"Others?'

Freya yanked both ear and hair. Joe cried out, and several townspeople cringed. "Don't play dumb with me! Kei and Dru. Where are they?"

Weakly, Joe gestured to the alley from whence he came. Freya dragged him along. A minute later, the knight emerged with three red-faced, rather fetching young men by the ears.

She threw them down before Fratley. "That's it. I'm done. Your turn, Sir Fratley. Raging male hormones is something I've no experience with." Freya glared at each of the boys in turn. They reeked of trouble, and somehow reminded her of a certain blonde thief's younger days. She spat. "And for the love of Gizmaluke, get some pants on!"

The knight then returned to her post, scanning the rainy prairie for signs of the scouts. Time crept by, and her search became fruitless. At last, she glanced to Ker. He was fidgety, but he managed to perform more consistently than those who were perhaps more "qualified".

Kei, Dru, and Joe were absent, as well as Fratley. She could only assume that he was taking care of their punishments.

The noon sun soon peeked through the clouds. Rain chilled her face, while the sun warmed it. She shook her wet bangs from her eyes and looked to Ker once more. "Sergeant?"

He shivered. "Y-yes? My lady?"

She shifted with a smile. "Your watch is over. Have a good afternoon."

He glanced at the position of the sun. "Why, so it is. Th-thank you, Lady Freya!" He darted away with a light dance in his step.

A small growl burrowed deep within her stomach. She considered taking a break; instead, her gaze swung onto the field once more. She eyed it carefully. Something called to her from the long, swaying grasses.

She turned her gaze west. Smoke lazily drifted over the forest in a misty blanket. Freya furrowed her eyebrows, feeling a pang of worry. Where could the scouts be? Protocol said that if the scouts did not return, Freya would have to send out a search party.

The knight kept watch well into the afternoon, and still, she spied no sign of the scouts. Eventually, a soldier offered to take her watch. She found herself idling by a food stand; her eyes moved to the direction of the gate.

"Is something bothering you, Lady Freya?"

The knight twitched. She glanced quickly to the passing soldier who addressed her. "Any sign of the scouts, Officer?"

The soldier shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Do you think they got caught in the—in the fire?"

Freya straightened her hat. "Do not fret, Officer. We shall find what happened to them tomorrow morning, for sure."

He hesitated, and then nodded. "I hope you're right, m'lady. My best friend is with them…"

"Do not fret," Freya repeated, with more confidence than she felt. "Go home, get some rest, and try to forget the troubles of the world for one evening."

"Yes, ma'am!"

She finished her business at the food stand and made her way towards the Palace. She hadn't seen Prince Puck for a while, and quite frankly, an active young boy like him needed daily attention.

Freya knocked on the large, ornate door. "Prince?" No reply came from within. Her heart lurched as she pushed the door open.

The room smelled of sweet things and moisture. Belongings lay strewn about the room as if there had conspired some sort of struggle. Freya tossed Puck's bedsheets from his mattress and called his name, and then she checked the closet.

Soon, the knight burst out of the master suite, startling a passing servant.

"Where is Prince Puck?" she demanded. "He is not inside of his room!"

The servant shrank against the wall. "I don't know, m'lady—"

"The servants received the order to keep the Prince under constant supervision, did they not?" Her tail lashed against her own legs.

The servant only cringed more. "N-no, m'lady!"

Freya spat. "I'm going to find him. He may have simply wandered away, but someone could have easily strolled into his room and kidnapped him." She left the servant speechless in the hall.

The red-clad knight halted a passing soldier and his family. "Have you seen Prince Puck?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not. Sorry," the soldier sad apologetically.

"I shall continue my search," Freya offered. "Please tell me if you see him."

"Will do."

A string of similar answers continued for at least an hour. No one, it seemed, had seen Puck. She kicked the station's doors open, practically muttering in a low scream. "Whose ass do I have to kick, and how many times, before you boys learn how to process an order?"

A dozen pairs of eyes blinked in unison.

The soldier next to the door arched an eyebrow. "What are you talking about?" he said, some apathy in his tone.

Freya narrowed her eyes at him. "The order to keep—"

"—the prince under watch?" a young voice finished. "Yeah, they got it, but I decided to come here anyway." Puck leaned heavily on his crutches to navigate the cluttered, smelly office.

"Prince Puck!" Freya cried. "What are you doing here, and why are you out of bed without an escort?"

It was Puck's turn to furrow his brows beneath his mess of muddy hair. "Sheesh, Freya. I was only here to talk with some guys that just got back from Lindblum…"

The knight sighed with a mixture of exasperation and relief.

So this is why the King gave up trying to control him, she thought. He shies away from the captive hand like a jaded bird.

"Fine," she said at last. "The order is lifted, but you must have a soldier with you outside of the palace gates. For your own safety, m'lord."

Puck frowned and shifted his weight. "Aw, why?"

"Don't thank me, Your Highness, or the Prime Minister might think I am giving you favors. What unlucky soldier shall be dragged along for the day?"

The eyes of the soldiers in the room averted elsewhere. Freya had already made her choice. "Lieutenant Zet!"

The soldier who had spoken earlier stood reluctantly. "Yes, my lady," he said monotonously.

"Entertain the Prince for the rest of the afternoon. Take him to play with the other children; show him what soldiers do during a regular day; whatever."

Zet's brows rose. "My lady?"

"Make sure he mingles with the people. Today, Prince Puck doesn't have to be a prince."

Zet blinked, and then saluted with a small grin. "Yes, ma'am!" Zet was lazy in life, and resistant to pressure—yet even he understood the value of a day off. Puck was ecstatic, but he couldn't dash out of the door without tumbling. Zet helped him traverse the room's obstacles and exit.

Freya turned her eyes toward the rest of them. "About that order… Today was a fluke, but I expect no delays in delivering orders from now on."

"Yes, ma'am," came the collective response. Murmurs crept into the room's expanse, and once again, the station became busy. She straightened her collar and slipped outside.

Freya had patrol today. The last thing she needed were more opportunities to screw up and anger the minister even more, she realized with a sigh.

Wait.

What was she thinking? The prime minister hated Freya with an ungodly passion. Another reason for him to want to dismiss her wouldn't hurt—would it?

"Damn it, Freya! Get over yourself." The cold brick of the wall stung against her wet forehead. "Find a happy medium between reckless and paranoid!"

No matter how many times she repeated that mantra in the dark, damp alleyway, Freya had to uphold her duty as a knight and soldier. She emerged from the alley as if nothing had conspired between wall and skull, but the quiet intensity of her posture showed that Freya was failing and falling rapidly.

"Help! Thief!"

Before Freya could do more than pinpoint the location of the call, someone slammed into the knight. Stars danced in her eyes briefly, but her armor had absorbed most of the impact. She recovered quicker than the runaway, fortunately, and had just enough time to swing her lance at the thief's feet.

He cartwheeled upright. Then, he sailed from alley to roof without so much as a break in pace—the sign of a skilled acrobat.

"Damn!" Freya coiled her legs and sprang after him.

The elusive black figure appeared to be neither Burmecian nor human. He clutched a bag of bread as he sprinted—and sprint he did! She couldn't keep up this pace for long!

Freya put on a burst of speed. Simultaneously, she slipped her lance toward the thief's ankles. They collided with a thwack. Unfortunately, Freya stepped on a bad part in a rooftop. The thief collapsed mid-step as Freya staggered onto him.

Her captive squirmed. Freya realized her advantageous position and held the small-statured thief in a typical tackle-hold.

A scruffy, catlike boy stared back at her with wide blue eyes. In the tumble, his black hood had fallen back, exposing his unusual pointed ears.

He wrinkled his nose at her. "Lemme go!" he shouted with a red face.

"Now, why would I do that?"

"Mice aren't supposed to catch cats, ratface!"

Freya quirked a brow. She was distinctly reminded of someone. "What is your name, catling?"

"Why the hell would I tell you?"

The knight considered. She could play with the child a little longer to wear him out, or she could tie him up and haul him in.

She flipped the boy over and bound him-- much to his dismay—and then slung him over her shoulder. Freya dropped to the street below, returned the stolen goods, and then brought him to the station.

"What's a kid doin' here?" a soldier asked dubiously.

"Find his parents," Freya ordered. "Make sure he doesn't have to steal food anymore."

That was far beyond her power. Only the nobles and the High Priest had unrestricted access to documents declaring the spread of wealth. Although only temporarily, Freya could still provide funding for the families who signed their name on a piece of parchment. New additions were made when necessary.

At any rate, welfare was far better than allowing the boy to improve upon his disgusting talent—however useful it could be in the future.

A loud horn rose from the gates. Freya lifted her head.

"The scouts are back!" someone cried as they rushed past.

"Oh, thank the gods!" a woman called.

Freya followed the people. Their excitement clearly faded and died into confused whispers as they neared the entrance, however. The rain pelted them with angry drops that harkened of hail. Freya slipped through the throng with some difficulty— and immediately understood the sudden fear that gripped all.

The dusky light that bathed the crowd held a single tattered soldier. And in his arms, there dangled the limp figure of a charcoal-smeared child.

Author's Notes: Long chapter, wasn't it? It took me three sittings to type this thing up. (As a comparison, the other chapters were typed in one.) It lacked Freya snark, unfortunately, but I'm glad I was able to put in some humor. That is, until the end…

And just as a sidenote: I don't create new characters without reason. (:

On to the reviews!

Pilotslover - Not "zombie" so much as rabid flu.
Omega Gilgamesh - I've received a number of complaints about the first chapter... so I rewrote the end. Check again, and I appreciate your constructive critiscism.
LancerZero - Edited the chapter with some corrections you suggested, as well as some of my own. Thank you for the nitpicking-- I need it!