The King's Collie

Part II, Chapter 6: The Knight's Confession

"Good morning, Felix," Cameron barked, walking into the King's room.

"Agh. Five more minutes," the lion groaned. Even though he got his sleep, and it had been three days since the party had left, not even counting the times before this that he had traveled, Felix was not at all a morning person at sea. The stowaway collie, however, had apparently gotten his full sleep, all bright-eyed and tail-wagging like that. The very sight encouraged the lion to get his lazy body up, stretch, and roar softly in a yawn worthy being described as royal. His upper body was all exposed, and covered in that telling blond-beige fluff.

"Majestic," the collie sarcastically chortled.

"I woke up like this," the King joked. "Now, leave for a bit, I have to get dressed," he then described, motioning away.

Of course, the dog respected His Highness's privacy, and obviously didn't want to see anything more, but he couldn't shake the image of what he just laid his eyes upon, for the reason of shock more than anything. Felix wasn't all to muscular, having had a cushy castle life, but it was clear he wasn't plain fat, either. A most regal body. The new news soon distracted from the collie's wandering thoughts, though, perhaps saving them from any undesired deviation:

"It was in the early morning that we passed through the strait, with no issues to report, and we now head south, the shore being imminent," one of the knights relayed from the captain, with hearty cheers as replies. Hearty cheers from all but Afon. The corgi seemed lost in thought, and not in the good way. He ate half his late breakfast ration, and handed the rest to Cameron, never having the appetite to finish anyhow.

"Thank you kindly, Afon. Hey, what's the matter?" the younger dog asked, taking a bite.

"Nothing. I'll— talk to you later about it, perhaps," the knightly Cambrian dog replied, turning away. He obviously didn't want to talk at the moment.

—

It was not until much, much later that the knight would reveal what was troubling him. That evening, Afon approached the collie, asleep in the same barrel he stowed away in, snuggled up with a quilt.

"Cameron?" the corgi whispered, looking down at his own feet.

"Mm... Yes, Sir?" Cameron replied, one eye open.

"I'd like to talk about what I mentioned at breakfast. You seem like the kind of person to tell," Afon shyly said.

"Do tell, then, please," the smaller dog beckoned next to his unusual barrel of a bed.

Afon sat down, and took a deep breath, then stammered a little, ending up whining and covering his face. "Tell nobody of this."

"Be quiet, then, Sir Afon," the collie drooped his ears, then perked them back up to listen.

After mustering his noble courage, Afon opened his mouth. "I hate war," he began. "And I'm afraid every single time I'm involved in it. I hate war, I do. I damn it. Damn war," he settled heavily upon these words, then continued to the startled collie: "I hate it as someone who's lived through it, and fought fight after fight as a volunteering soldier like I do now. I battle to assure the least amount of battles can take place, for peace. I've seen war on the land, and upon the seven seas. I've seen the wives of soldiers weep for their fallen betrothed, while their children starve because the crop were burned down in sheer spite," he started to sob a little, trembling. "I've seen friends suffer and die for it. But I come in the name of God, and not any nation, not Valencia or even Cambria... to assure nobody suffers as such upon my watch."

Cameron stopped to think. "Much different than they make it out to be in the books," he shortly said.

"Very much so," Afon agreed shortly. "Thank you for letting me ramble like that."

"That was not rambling, Sir, that was a very necessary description," the collie assured.

"I... I'm so tired after saying that, my friend," the corgi then stated, bowing his head. "I really must rest for tomorrow," he said grimly.

Cameron thought of one last thing, however. "Afon. I know a prayer, and you remind me greatly of it, if it would help. A blessing for those who come in the name of the Lord, for what I imagine would be that sort of purpose. At least, I would assume." he hushed. "The Sanctus. You know it?"

"I do. I do, indeed," the knight recited the brief assurance before reciting the short prayer.