Officer Corpse - Fret Ful

Officer Cadet Fret Ful was not made for this.

In fact, she had no idea why Captain Seventeen had chosen her to become an officer and take on that mantle of responsibility.

This was not a role for her. This was a role for someone brave and confident, someone smart, someone who took a hit and got up and kept going.

She sighed wistfully. Someone like Empress Fenfang.

At least this job had one big advantage. She was the one in charge of Yu Xiang's undead spy network, and that meant that she had to keep close--very close--to the centre of power in the city, because that was where all the intrigue and such was centred.

At the moment, that meant that her office was in a quiet, forgotten attic, right above the Empress's bedchamber and office.

It was a nice enough space. A little dusty, and there hadn't been any light in this room for what must have been decades, but that was acceptable. A ghost did not need light to see.

Speaking of which, a ghastly form pressed its way through one of the walls and hovered closer and Fret Ful quickly shifted her veils and made herself ready for a report. She was getting used to these, now.

At first, when she knew that she was waiting for a report, it would make her so anxious that she'd disapperate into nothingness for a while. Later, she'd just fret and be fitful until the report was delivered. What if she said something stupid? No, no, she wouldn't ever say anything stupid, because she imagined every possible scenario, one after the other, a multitude of times before the ghost who was going to report ever appeared.

Now, after a few days, she could sit still and process everything her subordinates said. It was only after that she'd have a minor freak out, especially whenever she made some gaff. What if that ghost remembered? What if they spoke to each other?

They'd call her a failure. They'd question her. They'd report right to Captain Seventeen, and then she'd be fired! They'd hang her... again!

She shook herself and took the ghost's report. It was verbal, of course. That was the best they had at the moment, but it was okay.

Fret Ful might have been bad at people and such when she was in person, but when it came to writing them? Oh, she was very very good at that!

It was one of the leading factors to her inevitable demise!

Being able to carry one of her living passions into undeath was quite nice, actually. She took notes as the ghost spoke, then nodded and gave it instructions to return to its quarry and continue to listen to everything that was said and remember all that was done.

Once the ghost was off, she eyed the page she held with its carefully written text.

Most of the time her reports were moderate and uninteresting. On rare occasions she'd discover that someone important was sleeping with someone, embezzling funds, or generally being a nuisance.

Their spy system was still quite new, so for now all she did was take notes on people's activities. Sometimes she'd open a person's drawer, read all of their activity logs, then compile a summary, just in case Captain Seventeen needed to know something.

So far, her business remained in the realm of spycraft, which suited her just fine.

It meant more time for her hobby.

Fret Ful giggled ghostlily and shifted over to her second desk, this one hidden behind several cabinets and drawers where no one would ever, ever see it. It was where she did her writing. Not reports... well, not real reports. These were fiction. Interesting fiction, about the people her network of ghosts spied on.

It wasn't necessarily the kind of fiction that was... appropriate for public consumption.

Fret Ful giggled to herself as she hopped back into a slightly exaggerated but far more colourful recounting of a meeting between a recently-hired maid and the Empress, an encounter that started with surreptitious eye contact and quickly evolved into something more... physical, and carnal.

Her giggles continued for a very long while, and had she any blood in her ghostly body, it would certainly all have relocated itself to her face by now. Oh, this was one of her spiciest stories yet!

Fret Ful had died because of her art.

Well, no, technically she'd died because she was caught following a noble lady one time too many. So what if some of that lady's clothes were found in her home? And so what if--when the constable had read the fanciful stories she wrote about their would-be trists he had had a fatal heart attack?

Her work was just too... avant-garde for such a plebian mind, that was all!

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She set down her quill and sighed contentedly, the thrill of her writing still buzzing through her. The soft murmurs of the ghosts in the attic had become a familiar and comforting background noise. But her peace was shattered when a ghost she recognized as one of her more urgent messengers burst through the wall, its form flickering with distress.

"Officer Fret Ful!" it hissed, its voice carrying a desperate edge. "The Empress is in danger!"

The words hit her like a physical blow, her ectoplasmic form shimmering with shock. "What? How?" she stammered, her mind racing. This was not one of the scenarios she had meticulously prepared for. This was real, and it was happening now.

Fret Ful's first instinct was to disappear into the shadows, to let someone else handle the crisis. But she remembered Captain Seventeen's trust in her, however misplaced she believed it to be. And she thought of the Empress, brave and steadfast and pretty.

She couldn't let her down! Not now!

Although... would the Empress become a ghost if she... No! That was wrong! "Report," she said instead. "Everything you know!"

The report came, and she found herself calming a little. The assassins were disguised as two serving men visiting the compound for repairs to one of the mantis' rooms. They carried carpenter's tools, but beneath that knives and the tools of assassins. It would be some time before they found their way closer to the Empress.

Taking a deep, steadying breath that hissed out of her, she nodded at the ghost. "Stay close and report any changes immediately." The ghost vanished, and Fret Ful gathered her courage. She floated down through the floors of the palace, her form passing through walls and ceilings until she reached the Empress's chambers.

Fret Ful slipped through the walls of the Empress's chambers, her form shimmering as she hovered at the edge of the room. The Limpet, as the Empress was affectionately known among her close circle, was practising her Eldritch Blast against a dummy. Each blast was precise and powerful, leaving scorch marks on the target.

Fret Ful watched in awe for a moment, the sight of the Empress in action both inspiring and intimidating. Finally, she mustered the courage to speak. "E-Empress Fenfang," she called, her voice trembling slightly.

The Empress paused mid-blast, turning to face Fret Ful with a calm, steady gaze. Oh, what pretty eyes! Fret Ful would have to revise so many of her stories! "A ghost?" she asked. "Did Seventeen send you?"

Oh no! Fret Ful's imagination hadn't accounted for this scenario. She fluttered this way and wavered that way. "I... I am officer Fret Ful, the city spy master," she said.

"Oh," the Empress said. "Well, I suppose as a spy it would only make sense that you be discreet. Can I help you with something? I've got twenty-two and a half minutes left to practice time."

Fret Ful floated closer, her form flickering with nervous energy. "Empress, there are intruders in the palace. They're disguised as carpenters, but they carry the tools of assassins. They mean to harm you."

The Empress's eyes narrowed, but she remained composed. "Thank you for informing me, Officer Fret Ful," she said.

Oh, that coldness to her voice, it sent shivers down Fret Ful's back.

"Did you have a way to capture these assassins?" the Empress asked.

"Ah, no? I mean... I could ask some of my spies?"

"No, no, it's fine. Rem! Rem! Where are you now?" the Empress called.

There was a clatter, furniture being thumped, then a mantis stomped into the room. "What do you want, stupid?"

"There are assassins around, could you capture them for me, please?" the Empress asked.

"I don't want to," Rem said.

"Please?"

The mantis squinted, tilting her head to the side. "There's more than one?" The Empress nodded. "Rem will eat half."

"Fine. But only if you mean half of the total number of assassins, don't eat half of each one, that'd just kill them all. And leave the more important, stronger one alive."

"But those are the tastiest!"

The Empress turned back to Fret Ful a small, reassuring smile on her lips. "Thanks, Officer, I appreciate the help."

Fret Ful bowed deeply, her ghostly form shimmering with a newfound resolve. "Yes, Empress." She floated back through the walls, her thoughts racing. She had faced her fear and delivered the news, and now the palace was in capable hands.

As she returned to her attic office, she couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride. Perhaps Captain Seventeen had seen something in her after all. With renewed determination, she settled back at her desk, ready to continue her work... and eagerly awaiting her next break. She was so inspired!

***