Pierre-Pascal Frankling
OUI!!!
OR DANS LA BRUME!!
OR DANS LA BRUME!
After fate had been spun such that little Pierre-Pascal was to be known as La Garçon d’Or, every step he took, every word he uttered was received with praise. Ambition has led him to High Frankonian Society, and launched him into politics. All he lacks is an indisputable reputation!
Personal history:
Precocious as a child, Pierre-Pascal favoured the tongue rather than the sword when nuisances arised. This meant not that when all other rowdy siblings of the Franklings were sent to squires that Le phare doré Pierre-Pascal was left untutored. In fact, he was placed at the foot of the mountain of Franconian High Society - in the hands of The Garderique Dynasty. And upwards he climbed through and out; on the other side of it La Garçon d’Or had become a well-founded noble, well versed in philosophy, history and Old Franconian.
At 18 years of age, he was sponsored by his lineage to attend the Constitutional State Academy. There, his name had preceded him. Soon, he dabbled in both fencing and rhetorics, where his peers in les vieux Gardes championed him. To this day these peers will adamantly assert that were it not for his le vieux Garde sharp rhetorics, Solomon Strong-Arm’s rise to power would not have been so smooth, having The Golden Boy’s words to read from during public addresses. Indeed, Pierre-Pascal had become the leader of the Golden Circle’s Student Association after a mere 90 days, in his 2 year long attendance at the Academy..
At this point in time, he had proven to possess both tongue and sword. Now he needed a shield to defend his future aim to become leader of the Frankonian folk. The shield took the form of a two year long service at The Republican Guard. During his patrols, people of the city of Ponvarus would shout “J'aperçois de l'or dans la brume ! Mais c'est le phare doré ! Le Garçon d’Or!”. Not so surprisingly even Gael Prometteur, the Captain-Investigator of the Constabulary, took a liking to him. And so, the rug of politics were laid out for him, having not only the good word of his family, the heavy-weighing mold of one of the Seven Families, but also the external word of faith from the force that guards Frankonia.
Realising that his potential was wasted serving in the Republican Guard, Captain Gael referred Pierre-Pascal to the newly-appointed Steward-General Lothaire LaFlamme, who struggled (and still struggles) to keep the Guard from picking battles with the Septemvirate dynasties. Lothaire, in his capacity as a Serene Councillor of the Republic and representative of the Merandures, suggested that Pierre-Pascal should pursue a political career instead. He personally offered to arrange for Pierre-Pascal’s name to appear on the ballots, but he would still need to excel in, and win, a fierce election campaign. Pierre-Pascal was honourably discharged from the Republican Guard and served as (A RELEVANT POLITICIAN’S) assistant for about a year, learning the practical fundamentals of Frankonian parliamentary politics (of which a cornerstone are the public bathhouse debates). Naturally, Lothaire asked for an exchange in this arrangement: if elected, Pierre-Pascal would work to ease tensions between the Republican Guard and the Septemvirate.
The rug of politics was in a way swept away right under him during a mid-week late-night bathhouse debate on Frankonian affairs. Having had his reputation ever so slightly questioned when discussing a potential balancing of the interests of The Republican Guard and The Septemvirate Dynasties, Pierre-Pascal felt (as) a boy. The scheming and bureaucracy had become a mist, thick as mince, and had denied him his shining glory. He realised that his hands had become tied. His actions when set to spring forth in parliament were instantly dulled and slowed to a halt. The mist had now shrouded his whole life. The uncertainty of accomplishing his aims were now getting uncomfortably large.
In a moment of clarity, The Golden Boy realised that he had from birth been locked up in a noble bureaucracy and that he never even had control over where he should put his silver fork on the table. He was still, by some accounts, a boy, having not reached his full potential. He had tongue, sword and shield but he was not the champion behind, clutching these!
But he remembered the cheers of peers in the drunk tank while at the Academy. Oui, he was in the midst of the mist, Mais la brume! And oui, he needed an undisputable reputation to further his position as a candidate for the upcoming election. So he decided to reach out to his beloved sister Chevalière banneresse Geneviève, and were now heading to Vael’s Rest. To forge greatness!
OR DANS LA BRUME! C’EST LE PHARE DORÉ!
(Gold in The Mist! It’s the golden lighthouse!)
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