Weeks later, Archibald was with his father in the carriage. After the war meetings ended, their excursions were less often, though Archibald’s father had taken him to the capital again.
“Father, why are we going?” Archibald asked as he changed into a black tunic. He steadied himself against the wagon’s bumping.
“There’s a funeral,” his father replied, absent-mindedly wrapping a black cape behind his back.
“Oh.”
There was silence as Archibald’s father buckled the cape around his neck. Then, as Archibald asked, “Whose funeral is it?” the carriage came to a sudden stop.
“We’re here,” Archibald’s father said, “Behave yourself, Archie.”
“Of course, Father.”
They stepped out onto the cobblestone. As nobles brushed eagerly past, they turned to the castle, as majestic as ever. Following along with the crowd, Archibald’s father said, “Follow me, Archie.”
Archibald followed him.
When they found their way indoors, a servant took them to a massive hall. They took their seat in the pews, and Archibald leaned around the hundreds of people to try to see the the front. A picture was framed of a dashing young man with sandy hair bound into curls. His brave smile was unlike any Archibald had seen.
Thinking he would never recognised the unfortunate man, Archibald examined the walls. At the tops were windows, with crowds gathered looking down.
“Father, whose funeral is it? Did you know him-”
His father hushed him as a man took a stand at the front. “He was... a great man,” the speaker said, “Through his leadership, we fought through many trials, and without him I fear we may not make it much further. No one could encourage men like him. I fear we’ll never find a successor worthy to continue his legacy. Now, for a minute of silence.”
In the quiet, the speaker discreetly dabbed his face with a wet hankerchief, letting a drop of water run down his face.
“Now,” he said with a fake tear running down his face, “Our next speaker. Lord Brumble.”
Unlike his predecessor, Brumble took no effort to hide his smile. “We will certainly miss him,” he said through chuckles, “Though I believe it is soon time to move on and find someone to take his place. As his seventh cousin, I nominate myself to take the king’s place-”
“The king’s dead?” Archibald exclaimed.
“Archibald!” his father said.
“Oh, sorry,” Archibald murmured, sinking far into his seat.
“If children will stop interrupting, I would like to continue,” Brumble said, “So, I think we should elect me as the new king.”
“As if!” cried out some other noble, “I’m his sixth cousin!”
“I’m his tailor’s brother!”
“I met a servant from his palace once!”
Cries errupted like the seeds of trees bursting open in the heat of a wildfire. But those seeds were consumed in flame, and it was the tree that waited for the fire to die down that could take the most advantage.
Archibald’s father grabbed Archibald by the wrist, saying, “Follow me.”
They wove through the rioting crowd to find their way to the front. At the front, Archibald’s father pushed Brumble to the side and said to Archibald, “Can you quieten everyone for me?”
Archibald clapped, and a thin wisp of air clasped each pair of lips closed. Archibald’s father smiled before turning to the unruly nobles. “Men, women, we must be civilised. I understand there is an open spot each of us wants, but I suggest we find some logical way to sort this. If anyone here truly believes they could lead the country, please step to the front with me.”
There, twenty or so people found themselves. Most notably, Greystone and Brumble squabbled quietly like siblings, and many recognisable nobles from the war meetings stood in silence. The rest of the nobles found seats.
“To all you who did not nominate yourselves, I suggest a vote,” Archibald’s father said, “We will hold a meeting next week and cut the choices down to five or so.”
“Father,” Archibald said, “Shouldn’t you also be nominated? Surely? You defeated the demons.”
“I suppose so,” Archibald’s father said with a nod, “Consider me a part of the choices. Vote wisely!”
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At every chance Archibald got over the next months, he found his way to the cave. The dragon’s voice was soothing, like butter melting atop a fire; everything metled away, and Archibald felt unrestrained. From up on the back of the dragon, Archibald gently stroked the green scales. Underneath he could see some kind of fur. “Are you a reptile or a mammal?” Archibald asked.
“Neither. I am a dragon.”
“But what class are you? Mammalia? Reptilia? You have both scales and fur.”
“I believe I’m a bird,” the dragon said.
“Okay, bird,” Archibald said.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“What would you prefer?” Archibald asked, leaning over the dragon’s head to look him in his eyes.
“Would you like to hear my name?”
“Yes, I would, thank you very much.”
“Sutsugua.”
Archibald fell lazily onto his back. “Hi, Sutsugua.”
“Do you not care what it means?” Sutsugua asked.
“Survive.”
Sutsugua was silent. He turned his head carefully to Archibald.
“Sutsugua means ‘survive’, doesn’t it?” Archibald said, “I heard you calling to me.”
As Sutsugua’s nostrils flared, he gave a gentle smile and asked, “You speak draconic, Archibald?”
“I do, and I know with you I’m gonna survive, Sutsugua,” Archibald said, rolling down from his back, “Do you reckon there are any other dragons out there?”
“If they are, they’re in hiding or dead,” Sutsugua said, “If they can feel the dark presence in this world, they’re too hidden to be found.”
“Dark presence?” Archibald asked, “You mean the demons?”
“Something demonic, yes, but not those demons you sealed away,” Sutsugua said, and he snuck a look at the mouth of the cave before continuing, “Someone is making more demons, and these are much more powerful than those you fought. They are even strong enough to kill dragons.”
“Who is doing this?” Archibald said, stepping closer to Sutsugua, “I’ll stop them.”
“I don’t know you very well, Archibald, but I reckon you’ll be seeing this new demon king quite soon,” Sutsugua said, “I’m sorry, but I fear you’ll meet him face to face. I hope you make the right decision when you do.”
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With the tower in his sight, Archibald ran from the cave, seeking his father’s advice. At the base of the tower, he saw his father searching.
“Father!” Archibald yelled as he ran over, “Father, I have urgent news.”
“Oh, Archie, where have you been?” his father said.
“I met a dragon, and he said that-”
“Archibald, the dragons died off millenia ago,” his father cut him off.
“No, Father, please just listen.”
“Entertain me then. What did the dragon tell you?”
“Someone is making demons!” Archibald said in exasperation. His father’s eyes widened.
“You’re serious?”
“Father, at least look into it,” Archibald pleaded.
“Of course, Archibald,” his father replied, shaking his head solemnly, “After this upcoming meeting to decide the heir of the king, I’ll begin searching for this person.”
Archibald gave a weak smile. “Thank you, Father.”
“Of course. Go eat now.”
Archibald strolled up to the cafeteria. When he took his seat opposite Veronica, he took a moment to eat. However, he paused as he saw Veronica barely noticing her food.
“Are you okay?” Archibald asked. She nodded gently.
When she turned her head to face him, she was looking past him. Her eyes seemed lifeless and pale in colour, and her skin was covered in light marks.
“No, seriously, Veronica, is something wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said, her voice wobbling weakly.
Before Archibald could pry further, he heard Peter exclaim to his side, “Did you hear about Father?”
“I already told you,” Archibald yelled, “Father didn’t do anything!”
“I hear he’s the leading candidate for king!” Peter said, “Isn’t that great?”
Archibald paused. “... I suppose it is...” he said, and he turned to Peter.
“I really hope Father becomes king,” Peter said, “He’s such a good leader. Plus, that would make you general of the whole country.”
Archibald leapt out of his seat. Pushing past Peter, Archibald ran down the hall. Down the spiral tower he went, and when he came to the dormitories, he burst open the door. Inside was a dozen beds. Archibald dove onto his bed and wrapped his pillow around his head.
It wasn’t right. Everything felt off, and he couldn’t explain how. He was confident in his father, so he couldn’t fear the new demons. And Veronica was acting strange. Lifeless, empty, not her usual self. The last time they had talked, she insisted on protecting him, but now she barely seemed like she could protect herself. And Peter. Peter was the strangest. He was suddenly being kinder with Archibald. He was even happy to congratulate Archibald’s position as general, but more than that were his eyes. His blank, white eyes.
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