5 : A Mysterious Light

Drakon left the office after having finished all the pending work, and walked across the dark corridors of the castle, deep in thought. He continued, with his hands deep in his pockets, his shoulders hunched, as he stared at the ground, not bothering to look where he was going. He knew the castle corridors too well. After all, he'd spent hours roaming in the secluded hallways. Suddenly though, he saw a hazy glow at a distance in that hall. He frowned. What was that?! It had not seemed like any bulb or lamp! The mysterious, unnatural glow flickered for a moment before vanishing.

Drakon walked faster until he reached that spot. It was totally dark! There was no sign of that glow. "Was it a mere illusion or was it real?" he wondered. He was so confused! Disturbed as Drakon was, this time he was more cautious. His eyes continuously darted around, and his stance was tense, as he stalked forward.

"Drakon, what are you doing all alone in this deserted hallway?" He heard a voice speak behind him. Despite his cautiousness, he was caught off guard. He hadn't expected someone to speak up, let alone for the person to call him by his real name. He immediately became defensive. "Who are you? Show yourself!" He said, or more likely, growled. The glow still hadn't left his mind.

"It's me, Thorne Smithe," the voice said, coated with something that could well be called amusement.

Drakon hastily turned. Yes, it was him. He was one of the high-court ministers...and the one and only person Drakon ever bothered to talk politely to, though they rarely met. Mind you, he deserved it when no one else did. He was never scared of Drakon, unlike most other people, including his own father, were. And he never spoke to him as if Drakon would rip out his throat. Yes, people thought that whenever they saw him, ever since word had gotten out that it had been him who had killed more than a hundred people - innocent civilians as well as guilty patriots - in the previous year's battle with the North.

"I could ask you the same question," Drakon replied, raising an eyebrow. "What are you doing here?"

He laughed at his polite yet defensive tone. "Oh, I had come to meet your father, who I hear is very sick."

And then Drakon realized...though he had laughed, it had held no humour or joy. Rather, his laugh had been saturated with deep sadness. It had been a forced laugh. No wonder! Smithe and King Rupert were very close. They had been friends even before the current King ascended the throne.

"What do you mean by 'very sick'?!" Drakon asked nonchalantly. "He was pretty good in the morning. Just had a constant case of coughing." Rather, an annoying case of constant coughing.

"Maybe, but his condition is worsening with every passing minute, trust me. When I had entered his room, he was at least able to walk. But now he's in bed."

"I see..." Drakon answered distractedly, owing to the mild headache he could feel approaching. "Well, nothing can be done about that, I guess. I'll see you later, then."

"Drakon, why are you leaving?! Don't you want to see your father? When I was leaving, all he was doing was calling your name. He wants to see you. This is a large castle, so nobody knew precisely where you were. Luckily, I'm meeting you now. You should go and see your father," Smithe said, his eyes pleading.

Drakon frowned. Why wouldn't the old man leave him alone for even a single day?! "I'm in no mood to speak to him now," he said shortly, patience having left him. He turned to leave.

"Drakon, wait!" Smithe said, grabbing his hand to prevent his from leaving. As soon as his hand came in contact with Drakon's skin though, he let go with a shock. His eyes bulged out and his long, brown beard twitched. "You're - you're freezing!" he managed to say.

The Crown Prince of Harkenland became paler than he already was. Shit! What'd he do?! Now he would find out who Drakon really was! They both stared at each other warily for a moment.

Fortunately for Drakon, though Smithe's eyes narrowed, he did not speak about his ice-cold temperature, but said, "I know you don't want to speak to him now, Drakon, but you must. I mean, you should. After all, looking at his current condition, no one can say how long he has got left. According to the doctors, he will get better soon, but nowadays how can you even trust them? So when you finally wish to see him, you may be too late." Then he promptly left him.

Drakon stood there with his thoughts, without moving.

The previous "glow" had completely left his mind.

All he wondered then was - Was the king about to...die?