It is a grotesque force, a mighty blast of sound. It is the human roar. Just like one horse is simply a horse and ten is a herd, a thousand is a monster, the power behind which is unimaginable, unable to be harnessed by human hands or minds. One human yelling is a madmen and ten is a madhouse, a thousand is a crowd of voices bearing down on him, hands reaching for him, eyes staring through any excuses given straight on to the truth.
A democracy, said Winston Churchill once, is the worst form of government short of all the others humanity has attempted. It seems fair on the exterior, but in reality is a monarchy, a monarchy where the majority, the crowd with the loudest roar, reigns supreme. Humans were always cruel masters, but especially in groups.
But through the years Arthur was able to stay hidden, to stand to the side as the crowd roared for his queen's attention or for the head of a criminal. He was able to watch on and be nothing short of immensely grateful there were no eyes on the somewhat scrawny looking man standing at the edge of the stage. But never before had he thought that for once in his lifetime, he would be more famous than his beloved queen. Always in attendance, he used to say about coronations, but never the one allowed to sit in the big chair. And he was fine with that. The world had revolved forever with complete dependence on the fact that their kind remain hidden.
But then, one day, all of that ended out of the blue. Someone in America's senate, in an interview, agreed that there were many supernatural occurrences within the White House walls. "Abraham Lincoln supposedly wanders around at night," they'd said with a laugh. "But the strangest of all by far is this one old tale... we call him the White House mascot."
"Mascot," questioned the reporters. The footage showed the cameraman leaning in to hear better. "The president's dog?"
"No," He had said quietly, leaning in himself, "But you have to promise not to publish this..." He'd begun. The news station's logo flashed on the screen, and the footage was paused before it could get any worse.
"Was he drunk," America leaned back in his chair, his palm pressed against his forehead.
"I thought you'd be more offended to be called a mascot," The first lady sank down into the chair behind her.
"I guess I am a mascot," America said, "But not for the White House."
"You're a three hundred year old mascot," Said the president from his place at his desk, "Yesterday scientists all over the world were trying to find out when the first person to live to a hundred and fifty would be born. Today they're knocking on my door asking for you."
"The cosmetics companies will be next, as soon as they have your picture," Said one assistant, completely unironically.
"Forget about cosmetics," Said another, "Every political activist in the country is going to come and ask to get his opinion in favor of their cause. I think you should set up a list of all the things you do and don't support and publish it immediately, to get that out of the way."
"And see him lynched?" The first lady grumbled.
There was a hushed hiss from the radio on the belt of a security officer. A muffled voice said something into it from the other end, and was given the verbal go-ahead. Everyone in the office stiffened as the sound of footsteps in the otherwise deathly silent hall became audible, and in hushed whispers all the radios echoed one another, 'the lion has arrived, repeat, the lion is in the White House'.
"What in the hell have you done now, boy?" Arthur stormed into the office like a man with a weapon and a target. The secret service officers surrounding the room knew better than to interfere with Arthur's temper and stayed where they were, hardly noticing Matthew as he thanked the men holding the door open for them and tottered obediently after Arthur.
"Causing trouble, the usual," Alfred replied with a smile.
Arthur took his spot opposite to Alfred, beside the first lady, whom he greeted with a bow. "Before you panic, I have a plan. I've dealt with this before - an entire town's found out about the magic immortal nationmen before."
"If it's happened before," Matthew said stiffly, taking his seat as well, "Why is our secret just now being revealed to the public?"
"I said I dealt with it," Arthur said with a wicked smile, "And I intend to do it again."