The King's Collie

Part VI, Chapter 2: A Sparrow's Just Blade

Felix tucked his wings in, shimmering their bright shade of blue behind him as he walked. He looked around, seeing such a bustling and calmly-processing city of angels. Nobody looked worried or weary, and song filled the streets, serene yet celebratory, never extravagant yet never solemn.

He looked around, at the silver-gilded marble buildings, and all the homes and halls, and of the towers that peeked out from the horizon. They were so tall, and reached so high into the sky. Nobody could ever replicate something like this; nobody could even try to.

He looked around further, and saw spirits and forms of all sorts that once walked the earth. It was often canids and lions that graced angelic icons, but here Felix saw every sort of type he could imagine. Each had their own set of wings, and each conversed happily.

There were some who seemed to step down to lower levels, beneath the cloud floor. Felix followed them, and saw that they were watching the Earth below, with no need for lenses. Amazed, the king stepped over, and, though there were many people, there was room for everyone to watch comfortably. Some did so serenely. Others wept. The lion was still in disbelief, squinting down.

However high up he was from the ground, he could still see each and every detail, and find exactly what he wanted just fine. He looked to the center town of Valentia, finding it relatively empty. Where was everyone?

Ah. The king was dead; where else would they be pouring in for his funeral. He turned his able eyes to the Church now, seeing what occurred there:

—

Iago took the podium, ready to speak at this massive gathering. Felix's own earthly remains laid, lavishly decorated, in their proper place. The sanctuary shined brightly, a brilliant sunny day.

Marco took a handkerchief and sniffled as he dabbed his eyes with it. He never thought he'd see this day come so soon, and in such an absolutely unheard of manner. Lætitia didn't cry, however. She simply looked down, contemplating the future without anyone she truly knew except her own love.

"This is your king, Valentia!" the red avian now said, raising his hands with a strangely accusational tone. "Sin manifest! We are too late!" he continued, spreading his arms and making his scarlet sleeves hang and fan dramatically out over Felix's casket.

Marco's fists clenched in rage as he listened. He muttered quietly, and lowered his ears, resolving  that this was to be the last time he'd tolerate hearing such a brutal lecture from His Holiness. How dare he spew such fiery things over a fallen king! Lætitia, equally unamused, still looked up to listen.

"And for this funeral," Iago then said, "you will hear how it happened from the trusted doctor himself."

A cloaked crow gulped as he got up from the audience, making his way slowly up to the pulpit, and taking it, with Iago stepping aside. Indeed, it was Doctor Scarpezo, with a paler-than-usual face, and a frightened look beneath his feathers.

"It has barely been time at all," he started, reading from a scrap of parchment, "since our beloved Ophelia had died, and now Felix has in anguish followed. I have no explanation," he said, then cleared his throat, "other than that this is the consequence of a higher disapproval. We allowed a deep festering, and it was too late by the time we felt it. This is what we are. We are all sinners at the will of our Creator, and an annus horriblis is the only punishment fit."

The crowd, shocked at this doctor's diagnosis, started to converse quietly, as Scarpezo hesitated continuing. He had only gotten a few more murmurs out before an unexpected noise arose.

"Boooo!" Rhys the otter yelled out, his hands cupped around his mouth to perhaps point his howling of discontent.

Marco turned, then, perking his ears and forming a stern scowl, also stood. "OFF WITH YOU! NOTHING BUT A QUACK, YOU ARE!"