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Once we got home, Scott got properly bandaged up with a splint and sling for his left arm, and we all went to bed for the night. Turns out that Scott had several broken bones in his left arm and ribcage. His right hand also had a fracture, but not anywhere that would hinder common use. He just couldn’t punch anything for a while.
Since Scott was out of commission for a while, I had to give the full written report to the Table. It wasn’t an easy report as I had to explain everything that happened, especially since I had to tell them how we may have started a war with an Elder One. Scott had also warned me to be careful about mentioning that Sir Micheal was there. I never really saw him, so there was no reason for me to mention it. The difficult part was getting it to the Table. Since mailing it would take too long, I took the train to Warwick to deliver the report myself, and hopefully stock up on ammunition.
“Okay, you got this,” I said to myself as I marched into the Table's main room. The giant circular room with various hallways connected to it glowed in its unnatural blue hue. Mordred was talking to a few agents whom I had never seen before, near the hallway leading to her and Merlin’s office. Upon finishing her conversation with them, Mordred turned to me with a surprised look. I guess that she hadn’t expected me back for a while.
“So, I heard from Iscariot that there was an issue with the one known in the papers as Jack the Ripper?” Mordred asked before I could say anything.
“To say the least,” I replied honestly. It was far more difficult than just an issue.
“What happened? If Scott’s not here, then I assume that he was injured, or perhaps he just didn’t want to come here himself. He never could stand the train,” Mordred asked with an interestingly tired look. Her attire, which currently looked similar to Elysif’s style of clothing. was plainly with brown pants and a white button-up, was a bit dishevelled, but clean.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if he had come up with an excuse just to not ride on the train again, but Scott was in fact, heavily injured,” I replied honestly. For a moment, Mordred didn’t believe me, but she quickly realized that I was telling the truth. Thus, causing her to give me a very confused expression, as she began rubbing her chin in thought.
“How could he have been injured, as powerful as he is?” The expression on her face only seemed to grow more confused with every word, as she tried desperately to rationalize it.
“An Elder One kicked our asses,” I replied, which turned her confusion into startling shock.
Finally rationalizing the situation in her head, Mordred understood that we would have barely stood a chance. “An Elder One you say? That would explain how he was injured.” Putting one hand on her hip, she returned to rubbing her chin, immersed in thought, with her other hand. “Do you know which Elder One it was that you fought?” Mordred asked, finally coming to terms with the situation.
“We believe that it may have been Freya from Norse mythology, but we aren’t entirely sure,” I answered with what Sela had told me earlier. It was probably the closest we could come to figuring out who the Elder One was.
“That is disturbing,” Mordred said, before crossing her arms and rubbing her chin. She seemed to be deep in thought about this information. For what reason, I did not know.
“How so?” I asked curiously. The idea of an Elder One on the loose was scary, but her voice seemed less worried and more speculative of my answer. There was something else going on in her thought process.
“Freya was the one who crafted all of the swords for the knights of the round table. We all knew of her as the Lady of the Lake,” Mordred replied. That had come up before, but now, I was hearing it from a first-hand witness, so it had to be fairly true.
“But, someone inherited her power, right?”
Mordred seemed to be pondering this question herself, as she gave me an unsure look, “That power was supposed to be inherited by Merlin, since he was closest to her, but since he already had the abilities of his mother, Helen of Troy, he couldn’t have another. It seemed as if the power had vanished entirely,” Mordred said with an interested and thoughtful look.
“So we don’t know who inherited it?”
“Nobody knows. We have no idea how the inheritance process works, and neither do the Elder Ones. Some can pass their powers down to their children while they are alive, and others will seemingly disappear out of existence or appear again at random,” Mordred explained with a saddened demeanour. Leading me over to a bench, she sat down, so I sat down as well, honestly worn out from the past month of constant pain and stress.
“So even now, we can’t figure out who it was that attacked us?” I asked with a defeated sigh. My back leaned up against the wall in an uncomfortable position for my neck. However, it made me wish that I had some time to finally relax.
“All you can do is wait... though we have some news you may want to hear. After your encounter with the dwarf named Rubin Reuben, we sent some agents to talk with him. They found all of the Willowisps missing, and the dwarf impaled on a pike within his library,” Mordred said with a heartfelt tone to change the subject. Though this was not a better topic at all. The Elder One had told me that Rubin was dead, but I didn’t want to believe it.
“That doesn’t seem like good news to me,” I replied, wishing that she had told me something to cheer me up.
“It wasn’t supposed to be. I am simply telling you the truth. We are sorry that he is dead, but we were able to take his entire library into our possession.” She seemed a tad bit smug as she said it, but I could tell that she cared despite having a hard time showing it.
“Seems a little rude to take all of his stuff, doesn’t it?” I asked, as it felt wrong to me. Plus, what were they going to do with all his stuff? Sell it?
“Yes. Though it will also aid us, he wasn’t going to be using it anymore anyways. You may have heard that we are low on funds. It’s why Scott was the only Agent in all of London until recently, so we could use all the help we can get. I’m personally hoping there’s an ancient alchemy spell for turning items into gold among them,” Mordred said, before her stomach growled loudly for an uncomfortably long four seconds.
“Are you okay?” I asked out of concern for her health, as the loud groaning that emanated from her stomach didn’t sound good.
Holding her stomach whilst leaning forward, Mordred gave me an awkward and semi-pained chuckle. “I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten in several days because we’ve had to make a few budget cuts within the past few weeks.”
With a frankly concerned look, I turned to her. “You need to eat something! I’ll even pay for it, just don’t starve yourself,” I said in a forceful manner, as I didn’t want her to keel over and die.
Mordred gave me a thankful look. “You are a saint,” she said, trying not to tear up as it seemed that she wasn’t expecting to eat at all for another few days.
She seemed a lot happier once I mentioned feeding her, but what she said about Scott raised my curiosity. Scott had already discussed it before, but he never truly explained anything in detail about the Table and how it functioned. “I do have one question about your statement involving Scott being the only Agent in London. What about Iscariot and Elysif, aren’t they technically agents of the Table?”
As if remembering some past trauma, Mordred sat silently for a second before answering. “Iscariot is more or less on our watchlist, so Scott is making sure he stays out of trouble. As for Elysif, she does work on the side, and is mainly supported through Scott’s funding and by selling medicine, from what I know. She is not an official agent.”
“Why does Scott fund Elysif, then, if she isn’t an agent?” I asked with a curious look.
“Elysif is technically Scott’s adopted sister-in-law. Scott’s wife, Silva, had a habit of taking in children and convincing Director Langston to adopt them. Director Compton, Scott, and Elysif were adopted into the family. However, Compton’s case was… a little different, as the Director had already taken him in before adopting him at Silva’s request,” Mordred explained. I had a vague idea already about them having a family dynamic, so it wasn’t all that hard to believe. However, this information gave me a new image of Scott’s wife. The thought of her just finding kids and getting her father to adopt them was mildly amusing and a tad bit concerning.
“Okay, I think I get it now,” I replied, as it all started to make more and more sense to me. Nothing was said between us for a moment, causing an uncomfortable silence that was broken only by the sound of various footsteps around us and in the hallways.
“Before I forget, how did you and Scott manage to defeat someone with an Elder One's power?” Mordred asked. Although she was asking innocently, it felt like I was being interrogated. Her demeanor was threatening, despite her being calm and simply curious. Perhaps, it was due to her history on the battlefield? Either way, not telling her the truth felt wrong for some reason. Whether it was out of respect, guilt, or honor is unknown to me.
“We… didn’t,” I answered, as small beads of sweat began to form on my brow. I’m so sorry, Scott. Mordred looks like she wants to know, and I feel like I need to answer honestly. Whatever was causing this commitment to truth would probably bite me in the ass, but whatever.
“Excuse me? How did you survive then?” Mordred asked curiously, as she didn’t expect most people to survive a fight against an Elder One. In fact, the way I answered only made her more suspicious that something else may have happened.
“Well… Sir Micheal showed up and killed him within a few minutes,” I answered rapidly with a tinge of fear. Mordred just stared at me with cold eyes. She didn’t say anything, but strangely, I felt as if she was about to explode. Leaning forward, she placed her hands over her face, and rubbed them up and down as if she had just woken up after a strange dream.
Lifting her head after a few seconds, she turned back to me. “Did you see him?” she asked kindly, as if she wasn’t about to explode as Scott had warned.
“What?” I replied, unsure of what she meant.
“Did. You. See. Him?” she repeated, getting as close to me as she could to say it. This time, far more threatening than before. She was practically on top of me as she asked. Was there no definition of personal space in her mind?
“No, I was unconscious in a canal when he showed up,” I replied honestly. She was getting too close for comfort and I didn't feel like getting hurt today. I had had enough beatings recently to last a lifetime.
“Then who saw him?” she asked with an eager glare, her eyes practically touching my own. Disturbingly, her gaze felt as if it were peering into my soul. Was she using magic to make me tell the truth? I didn’t know, and asking would probably not be wise.
“Iscariot and Scott. They told me about him when I woke up,” I replied, hoping that she would back away from me. Sadly, she only slunk back slightly.
“Did he wield a purple-ish sword?” she asked with even more eager eyes. For some reason, it felt like there was more admiration for the knight than hatred in her question.
“Uh, yes, and he also had glowing purple armor on his forearms and lower legs according to what Scott told me,” I continued explaining, as my fears of her began to slowly increase.
Hearing my answer, Mordred sat back against the bench, giving me some space. “So it is him,” she said to herself, before standing up and calling over one of the agents in the room who looked to be busy delivering some items, ”Go fetch Merlin, and tell him it’s urgent.”
“But Merlin is currently in the study hall helping sort through the books collected from the dwarven Sorcerer’s home. He requested not to be disturbed,” the agent replied with an inquisitive tone.
“Did I stutter? Fetch him, now!” Mordred replied with a stern but otherwise calm voice. Her relaxed figure combined with her naturally threatening aura caused the agent to run off, looking quite frightened.
Turning back to me, she gave me an earnest smile. Though it was neither from joy, nor pleasure, but out of something else that I could not identify. Obsession, perhaps? “Now, Mr. Barrett, I will be accompanying you on your return to London, so that I may speak with Scott directly. Is there anything you need while you are here?”
“Just a few more silver and iron bullets will do,” I said with a vaguely distraught look, before standing up.
“Good. Why don’t you go take care of that while I wait for Merlin?” she offered with a strangely comforting tone, that confused my meager ability to understand social cues and emotions. Mordred in particular was an enigma at this point, since her emotions, aura, and mannerisms conflicted in every way that they were shown, befuddling me to no end. So I just gave a nod of agreement and hurried on my way.
Returning around ten minutes later, with my pockets now containing a few boxes of bullets, I arrived at the same time as Merlin, who had large dark bags under his eyes. Wrapped in a large blanket, Merlin wore nothing else. In his hand, as if he had forgotten that it was there, was an old book. His body seemed to be teetering from side to side, as if he were about to collapse from exhaustion. Had he not slept in days? “What is it, Mordred? You know I am busy at the moment,” he asked with an exasperated sigh that was followed by a long yawn.
“I understand, but I thought I would let you know that I am taking my leave to London, so you will have to take control for a day or two,” Mordred replied, doing her best to not leave any room for debate.
“Wait a moment. Please tell me that this doesn’t have anything to do with Sir Micheal. Also, I am up to my waist in books that need to be sorted. I don’t have time to look after the whole Table while you’re away!” Merlin complained with a tired and frustrated expression.
“It does in fact have to do with Sir Micheal, but all I am doing is following up on a lead. You’ll be fine for a day or two without me,” Mordred said, before patting him on his shoulder. He looked a bit confused by this gesture due to being so tired, but accepted it nonetheless.
“Don’t you think it’s time you stopped thinking about that man?” Merlin asked. Mordred gave him a glare that I had never seen on anyone before, and I definitely didn’t believe I would ever see it on Mordred’s face. It was one of pure blind rage. She wasn’t entirely sane, not in the slightest! Strangely, I think that Merlin knew this already.
“Did you forget what he did? How he killed my father, your friend. He lied to us, to me, and made us think he was an ally,” Mordred said in a dictatorial voice.
“I just think we need to focus on the Table for now and not on Micheal—” Merlin started to say before being interrupted.
“Please do not try and reason with me on this. I do not doubt that it is him, so I am doing what I need to in order to protect the table from him,” Mordred stated with a threatening tone. Merlin, knowing that there was no reasoning with her on this matter, quickly backed off and decided to let her do what she wanted.
“Alright then, do whatever you must. I will do my best to take care of things here,” Merlin said with a gracious, yet exhausted manner, before meandering back from whence he came.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Mordred said, as she turned to me. I wasn’t sure how to respond to her. Scott was right about Sir Micheal being a touchy subject.
“No, it’s fine. Shall we head to London, then?” I asked, hoping to not set off any emotional landmines.
“Yes, of course,” Mordred replied, before escorting me to the exit.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
