The King's Collie

Part III, Chapter 8: Felix's Decision

It was one rainy April night that Felix had the disposition of not being able to sleep, a rarity for him. He laid next to Ophelia, and held her close as ever, brushing her fur with his whiskers. He still felt awake as ever, though, and decided that any further attempt would be futile.

He got up, and headed to his favorite spot to go at a time like this: a round balcony, near the library, facing away from the city. There was decent railing, which was good, for it was high, and overlooked a good portion of beach. All he could see was, beyond sand and knoll, sea. It was enjoyable in the summer months, but the King had more important things to do than swimming and beach-lounging.

He simply looked on, and found the sea calming, smiling. He knew that it was truly a sea, and sailing all the way east would only bring you to Sardinia, but he felt as though, if you sailed on forever, it would bring you to Heaven, especially during the moonlit nights like this.

"So pretty," Cameron softly barked. Shocked by this unexpected company, the King jumped a good foot or two in the air, the collie having startled him.

"Hello, Cameron," Felix now greeted, once he regained his composure.

"Why are you up, Felix?" the dog asked.

"I could ask the same," the King retorted, raising an eyebrow.

"You woke me," Cameron answered simply. "Your turn."

"My apologies, before I say anything else," the lion looked down a little, then lifted his chin and answered. "I was just— too occupied in thought to go to sleep. And it's a wonderful night. One of the first ones that aren't freezing."

"What're you thinking about, if it's not to much to ask?" the canine pried.

"Putting it shortly... You, Cameron," Felix answered. "It's nearing a year you've been around here, and you've already done so much. You've saved us, really. Ophelia is much, much happier. Marco is, too. He says to me that you're a fine, fine friend. And I must say I agree," he elaborated.

The collie began to blush, and smile, covering his face. He felt proud, but still embarrassed. "Stop, really...!"

"And, remember, you quite literally saved my life in Mauretania," the King reminded. "I really do think I would be a dead man, if not for your sharp shooting!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" Cameron shrugged, and chortled.

"You're so humble about everything, young collie," the King chuckled. "You're kind, too, and smart. Virtuous, for sure." the lion raised an eyebrow. "I've known younger knights, too. What are you, now, twenty?"

"To be twenty-one. To my knowledge, at least. It's a week, and a day or two, from now," the collie answered. "Though if it's a wedding you're planning up for me that you think me fit for, I want no part of it!" he very suddenly and sternly clarified.

"I'll keep that in mind, Cameron," Felix promised.

"For what, exactly?" the dog then whined, now feeling such a terrible curiosity.

Before he could ask any further, Felix was heading back to where he came from, that place being his bedroom. Cameron made no objection, as he was also quite tired. "Goodnight, then, Your Highness," the collie softly gave this farewell, then did the same.

—

"You're ridiculous," Iago shortly and crossly stated, interrupting his own sipping of his tea.

"My decision is serious, Your Holiness," Felix responded. The two were in the small dining hall of the church, which looked like it had gone a century without significant alteration. The King got better sleep than he did last night.

"But what has he even done for the Kingdom in the first place?" the cardinal raised his arms as he asked.

"He saved me in Mauretania, Iago," Felix quietly answered yet again. "And he has wonderfully served for the year he has," he elaborated.

"Oh, stop. If you're going to knight one of your musicians, at least make it Marco!" the holy bird cawed.

"Marco is one of my greatest, indeed, and a good leader," the lion sighed. "But Cameron has been somewhat of a miracle. He's helped the poor—" he continued.

"You shouldn't ever let peasants in the castle, and the assistance for them shouldn't come out of the royal fund," Iago changed the subject with this notion.

"You never seem to help the poor like he does, Iago! And what kind of a King doesn't pick up where the church thus fails?!" the King just as suddenly returned.

"You take that back! It is impossible for the church to fail, Felix!" Iago yelped, holding that final 's' sound like a snake.

"It is impossible for royalty to fail, by that logic, too, but at least I admit my mistakes in that regard, Iago," the King dared to say.

"You shall address me by 'Your Holiness,' Felix!" the Cardinal warned.

"You shall address me by 'Your Majesty,' Iago," the King mockingly copied in reply. "Nobody is above that."

"Nobody but your little pet, indeed! A collie, pah! Hardly a knight!" Iago rebuked. "Across the lands, Valentina will be known for the Knight of the Mangy Breed, will we?"

"As if everyone has to be the perfect breed for the role?" Felix shouted.

"Lions are kings! Those dogs you liberated were savages! Corgis are court-jester pets! Wolves make better knights than collies, ones that belong in field and filth!" Iago now deeply cawed. "To everything there is a season."

"And cardinals are Cardinals, aren't they." Felix smirked in huffing out.

"No mere coincidence," the red bird arrogantly raised his red beak.

"What might you say to a sheep becoming a shepherd, then?" Felix asked.

"A preposterous idea," Iago said.

The lamb in the stained glass window above him bore a cane.

"I'm too tired to deal with this. Your rants aside, I truly think that divine authority is at the higher hand here," the King sighed, "but all I'm asking is that you preside over the accolade, Your Holiness," the king exasperatedly said.

"No," the bird said in a word.

"Then I guess I can find a more cooperative holy man, hmm," the King smirked, and looked backward. "I guess you wouldn't have to preside. It's a more kingly duty. But I guess this just goes to show how uncooperative of a bird you are. Perhaps I can get that mustelid. Farewell, then."

Once the King left, the Cardinal quietly sat at his desk, and pounded his fist against it in this frustration. Kingly duties, divine authority. What nonsense. He knew that it was the Church that deserved all the power, for holy reasons and otherwise. He then looked in his wastebin, and then made the unrelated realization that it was empty.

Felix clutched the slightly faded but still legible leaflets in his hands that he had spied and clutched from the trash, and planned to make a quick delivery to the lawhouse this afternoon, after having made the quick observation that royal documents were sitting to fade in a wastebin. How did that Cardinal even get a hold of them? He guessed he'd have to deliver these sorts of things himself from now on, if he wanted them to meet their destination. He reckoned he'd have to do a number of holy things himself, too, like what he had planned for a fast-approaching day.