But Sire, the dragons

He had enjoyed ten years of being totally irresponsible, but now the kingdom was falling apart. 

It was literally falling apart, too, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Cracks had split across the ground, the mountains were falling upon themselves, valleys were filling with water and becoming lakes, the lakes were drying up and becoming dangerous swampy bogs, and old creatures from legend were waking up and coming far too close to humanity for anyone’s enjoyment. But still wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that Gero had forgotten how to be king. 

He had become king twelve years ago, after his father fell during a boar hunt and injured himself so greatly many of his men thought his screams were those of the dying boar and not their king. The screams didn’t last long and neither did he, and Gero was promptly crowned and given the seat of power. The kingdom was in a good place, with many advisors who were unselfish and cared greatly about the state of their citizens as well as for the peace of the surrounding kingdoms, and Gero found there wasn’t much for him to do. He spent two years trying to do a great deal, but realized that people were more happy when there wasn’t a king greatly involved in their lives. They just wanted to live in peace and as long as the taxes weren’t too bad and the wizards kept the cracks held together, all would be well. 

Turns out, all would not be well. 

It began on a Tuesday, as the most unlikely day for bad things to occur. Of course, it had been falling apart for some time, but King Gero was only aware of the ruin on that Tuesday. 

“My lord, the pit dragons are eating all the sheep,” said Lesser Dan, one of the king’s favorite counselors. 

Gero had been drawing a painting of a field of flowers, rather poorly he would readily admit, while lying on a soft bed while a blind old woman named Sofit massaged his shoulders. Gero had rather let himself go in the past ten years, and Sofit was one of the few masseuses in the kingdom who could deal with rubbing the king’s back, even through the loose tunic he always wore, on account of her not having to see the man. 

“I suppose we should share,” answered Gero, flicking his brush here and there in an attempt to add bits of white pollen to the air. “Lamb is quite tasty, you know?” He paused for a moment unsure if the type of dandelion he was drawing had pollen. Then he doubly paused, unsure of what type of dandelion he was even drawing. 

“Mount Rivenfell has, well, fallen, my lord,” went on Lesser Dan. 

“A bit easier for the hikers, no?” answered Gero, chuckling a little to himself as he changed brushes and adjusted in his bed a little. 

“The pit dragons, my lord,” urged Lesser Dan, and if Gero were looking up he would have seen the ripe beetedness of the man’s face, a man who was usually so pale he often lost his own hands in snowstorms. 

Gero was about to begin adding a tree to his field of flowers, when the man’s words finally seemed to catch up with him. “Sofit,” he whispered to the old woman, “give us a moment.” 

“Of course, my lord,” answered the masseuse, perhaps a bit too eagerly. She may have been blind but her nose worked just fine. 

When they were alone, Gero sat up with a bit of struggle and waddled out from his lounging room to the summer balcony. It was indeed summer, though it very much looked like winter outside. Of course, if winter was white instead of black, and very cold instead of very hot. At least, that’s how it was supposed to be. 

Ash rained from the sky and great clouds raged above them. Long rivers of fire and lava coursed through the ground and sure enough, the mountain range within view, one of the best views that Gero had in the castle, was currently sending up great clouds of dust and dirt as it collapsed. 

“I thought you said Mount Rivenfell had fallen,” Gero managed to say.

“It’s mostly fallen,” countered the counselor, resting his old hands on the railing. 

“What’s happening?” asked the king, feeling very unkingly in that precise moment. He looked away from the ruin of the world, careful to ignore the great flying shapes that seemed expert at silencing any bleating sounds out in the countryside, and into the wise old face of the man brave enough to tell him it was all going bad. 

“You’ve stopped being king,” said Lesser Dan, as softly as a pillow but with as much weight as a pillow filled with bricks. 

“What does me being king have to do with pit dragons and lava and,” he glanced back outside, “oh my is that a giant chicken with a sword in its mouth?” 

Lesser Dan nodded, sadly. “The Tower of Minoc has been busy these past years.” 

“Busy!” shouted Gero, more angrily than he meant. “They were just a few fringe oddballs who liked to wear black capes and pretend to be able to control fire and talk to the moon.” 

This seemed to be the wrong thing to say, for Lesser Dan cringed a little. Timing was sometimes impeccable in the kingdom, for Gero watched a light glowing in the man’s eyes and turned quickly to see a flaming ball of rock fly through the falling ash and crash into what used to be a pinnacle of good mountaining. 

“It seems they can speak to the moon and have convinced her to send little bits of herself down to us.” 

Gero felt panic bloom in his chest. “Why are they on fire!” he cried. 

“Something about the atmosphere,” began Lesser Dan. “I’m not sure, many of our astronomers have fled. It seems they saw something coming that most of us did not.” 

Gero sat down in a nearby lounge chair, needing a break from his legs but not feeling in the slightest like lounging. “What can we do?” he asked. 

“What king’s have always done,” answered the man, and though Gero didn’t point it out, he thought he heard a tone that made the man’s words sound very rehearsed. Perhaps it was what he needed. “Lead,” he said simply. “The people need a leader, someone to look up to. When good men do nothing, fools in black robes start breaking off pieces of the moon and give pit dragons names and teeth sharpening kits.” 

A terrible screech of some terrible shadow monster boomed outside. Gero cringed and tried not to look into the gloom for fear he might see a shape with wings. 

“The Sisterhood of Reading decided there were other things to study than how to keep all the magic in its place, and so it was all free and loose and the Tower people got a hold of it. The Knights of Gon have done just that, it seems we might have seen that one coming, for they have gone to a kingdom where there are tournaments and ladies to give laurels to and mead houses where they can lose all their tournament winnings in. The owners of the mead houses have decided they don’t much like making mead anymore and most of them have turned to growing vegetables. Which, no word against a carrot or a cabbage, but it’s not exactly mead, is it?” 

“I didn’t do my job, and they stopped doing theirs?” Gero asked. 

“It seems that way,” answered Lesser Dan. 

“And now there’s no one left to put the magic back in place or to stop the monsters or the Tower of Minoc?” 

The counselor just nodded. 

Gero thought for a second. Then, he stood and went back to his massage table. “Tell Sofit I would like the second half of my massage now.”

The End