After only a few short minutes of walking, the attendant opened a grand door and Archibald ran in.
It was split into three layered rings of seats. The centre ring was on ground level, with the second elevated and the third practically touching the roof. The centre ring was labelled A, and each chair moving away from a throne at one end was numbered higher. “You’re in seat A15,” the attendant said, pointing fifteen chairs from the throne.
“With accommodation for my son?”
“Yes, we’ve given you two chairs.”
“He doesn’t get his own place?”
“Well, he’s just a guard,” the attendant said, “He’s lucky enough to be in the room at all, let alone the centre ring with you.”
“He’s the general of the largest military force, and one of the only people in the world with a shot at even hurting a demon. He gets his own seat.”
The attendant sighed and ran off.
“General?” Archibald murmured.
Leaning close to him, his father said, “I just decided. Don’t worry about it.”
When the attendant came back, he said, “Sir Archibald, we’ve given you seat A21,” pointing to a spot a few chairs around the ring from his father.
“Not next to me?” Archibald’s father asked.
“Sir, we’ve done all we can, but we’re at our limits. A21 is as close to the king as your son is getting.”
The attendant disappeared to tend to other guests. As Archibald was shown to his seat by his father, his father said, “Hey, Archie, this is just like one of our private lessons. Just listen and try to keep up with what’s going on,” and his father moved to his own seat closer to where the empty throne sat.
The nobles all moved in. The room was quickly filled before a man approached Archibald’s seat. Lord Brumble stood behind Archibald.
“Out of my seat, boy,” Brumble mumbled.
The guards straining to hold him up managed to face their spears towards Archibald.
“Th-th-this is m-my sea-”
“Boy, I will give you no warnings, leave my seat before I have you executed!”
Suddenly, the attendant came up to them. “Sir, your seat has been moved. This boy is necessary to the meeting, but he was given this seat impromptu, so I understand any frustrations. Your new seat is B154.”
“How dare you!” Brumble erupted, “Do you know who I am? I’ll have the king execute you!”
“Settle down, seventh cousin,” said a lady sitting beside Archibald.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” Brumble yelled, “I’m the king’s closest political ally! He’ll have all of your heads!”
The lady shot a look at the attendant, who hurried off. While Brumble threw shouts and slur at the lady, the attendant came back with a collection of guards.
“I’ll have you dead! I’ll take your land and show you!” Brumble spat as the new guards replaced his old guards, carrying him away, “You’re dead! Don’t think you’re getting away with this! I’ll tell the king about this! Just you wait. When he finds out—"
“The king approved this boy being given the seat,” the attendant said, “I’m sorry, sir.”
Brumble scowled at Archibald as he was forced away.
“Are you okay?” the lady asked him.
“I’m fine, miss,” he said, “Thank you. Who are you?”
“Ylvia Greystone, Lady of House Greystone,” she announced, “And don’t worry about Brumble. He’s full of empty threats. Our provinces are neighbours, so I’m used to his outbursts.”
“Sorry, I didn’t…” Archibald muttered, “I didn’t say anything.”
“I get it,” Greystone said, “You’re just a child. In any case, what is a child doing here? This is a war meeting.”
“I’m the, uh,” Archibald said, thinking hard on how to introduce himself, “I’m General… Archibald. Of Sorcerer Tolvaj’s army.”
“Sorcerer Tolvaj? You’re with him?” she said, “Well, well, very impressive. In that case, why don’t you rank above me? You’re one seat below.”
“Yes, that is true,” Archibald stuttered, “Thank you, Lady Greystone, for helping me with Lord Brumble. I think the meeting is starting soon though.”
Greystone nodded, turning her attention forward. Finally, after all the people had settled, the king stepped through the door. As he walked around the ring, Archibald caught the scent of wine; fruity and strong, but with undertones of earthiness, like a gathering of flowers on a moist forest floor. But once again, like cologne cutting through musk, Archibald caught the sterile smell.
The king kept as strong of a slouched stature as he could, strutting along the ring. Thousands of nobles watched in silence. His curled beard flowed elegantly as he walked, diseased and spotted skin showing through the edges where the beard thinned. When he got to his seat, he took a graceful, strenuous bow and sat.
He was elegant, but Archibald couldn’t help but compare the king to his father, and no one was better than his father.
“We are here to discuss the matter of the demon king and his army,” the king’s weak voice boomed, “To begin, I would like to call Doctor Waver to share his study on demons.”
A man in a long white coat stood up, sheepishly looking around at the eyes that watched him as he said, “Well, to begin with, demon flesh is almost indestructible. The only way we’ve found to break down their flesh is through some form of magic. They have a particular weakness to draconic, as Tolvaj has demonstrated.”
Archibald’s father now spoke up. “Yes, my army has found a weakness of the demons, though I must be honest that the magic that they have is not yet strong enough to form a real attack on the demon army.”
“Then why does your general get to sit in the centre ring?” Brumble called from above. He had managed to get to his feet, swaying uneasily as he struggled to keep his top-heavy body upright. At the lack of response, Brumble continued, “Did you just give him a rank so he could get his own seat? Did you do that knowing that I would be forced out of the centre ring?!”
“How can we trust your army?” another noble called out from the third ring.
“Why are we putting any faith in you?”
“Are your soldiers even preparing?”
Amid the accusations raining down, the king said to Archibald’s father, “They raise good points. Should we even trust you?”
“Your majesty,” Archibald’s father said, leaning towards the king, “My army is the strongest force in the world. That we cannot yet kill the demon king is no testament to their weakness, but testament to his strength. But do not worry. I believe that several of my soldiers have such great potential, and they will be more than ready when the demon king arrives.”
The king sat up. “When is he arriving?”
“Your Majesty,” a mage in the centre ring said, standing up, “We have the latest reports from the divination mages, and we have now found a new estimate for his arrival. We first estimated two or three years ago that the seal would be broken in ten years, but almost a year ago it dropped to five years. Now, it is at three. If the acceleration of our estimates continues, he may come within a year.”
The nobles were silenced. The only noise was faint murmuring.
“A year?”
“But how?”
“Are our forces enough?”
“This situation is far graver than any of us thought,” the king said solemnly, “Tolvaj, will your army be ready by then?”
Archibald now jumped up. “I think we’ll… definitely be strong enough by then! My siblings are really strong, and they’re all getting stronger every day!” he said, and after a moment added, “Your Majesty, sir.”
“Siblings?” nobles called down.
“Tolvaj, tell me, is your ‘army’ comprised of children?” the king asked. Archibald sunk down into his seat.
“Your majesty, they have been training since childhood, and almost half of them are adults now, so-”
“Almost half?” Brumble yelled, “And how much is almost half?”
Archibald’s father answered, “Three hundred and ninety-seven.”
The nobles now began to yell. Through the outroar, Archibald’s father could hardly defend himself. The outraged crowd threw down a storm of pens and pots and paper, and through the downpour Archibald sunk low. Archibald held one hand over his head to protect it, though his back was still struck by the hailstorm. He clasped the other hand to his mouth. As he struggled to push the corners of his shameful frown back up, he saw his father collapsing into his seat from the corner of his eye. Archibald turned to see his father staring blankly into the distance.
He had to do something to help. The pens were raining down, so what could he do?
He decided to end the rain.
Archibald stood up again. He shakily rose his arms and brought his hands together. “Glortraprom!” he said, and in that instant, every item stopped in midair. They hovered for a moment, long enough for everyone in the room to notice, before Archibald said, “Hera!” and ripped his hands apart, sending each item soaring through the roof.
“I…” Archibald stammered, “I don’t… know what… I don’t… I don’t know what me being a child… I don’t know what difference it makes.”
The silence was thick enough in the air to hit someone over the head with.
“I’m young…” Archibald continued, “But I’m strong enough… I can beat him. I can beat the demon king.”
Scattered gasps and mutters sprinkled down.
“Boy, any mage could do what you just did,” Brumble called down.
“No, not quite,” the mage from earlier said, “I doubt any of you noticed, but what he just did was to apply just enough deceleration to each individual object to slow it to a stop, then decelerating enough to cancel out gravity and finally applying a calculated force to lodge each item in the roof, thus not injuring a single one of you. He’s not just powerful; he’s trustworthy. With that level of precision, he could rip you into individual cells and rebuild you into an entirely new person.”
“That sounds painful,” Archibald said, “I would never do that.”
The mage smiled, saying, “And he doesn’t deny that he could.”
“Tolvaj,” the king said, “Is he the strongest in your army?”
“Well, there are quite a few soldiers just as strong as him.”
“I want as many soldiers in your army at this boy’s level in a year’s time as possible.”
“Of course, your majesty,” Archibald’s father said with a slight bow.
ns216.73.217.120da2
and then Add to home screen.