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Thrusting out my knife at Scott, the blade passed by him as he dodged to his left. While my arm was extended, I swung the blade towards him while rotating my back leg to apply more force. Scott reacted by slamming a glass bottle into my wrist and knocking the blade from my hand. Then followed by thrusting a second bottle at my face with his left hand. I ducked quickly, and attempted to kick him with my left leg, but Scott was already prepared and blocked it by swatting my knee with the bottle. The pain of having my kneecaps struck froze me for a moment, which Scott used to bring the bottle he had thrust at me before down on my head, shattering the bottle, and causing me to crumple down to the floor. I had lost.
“Good job, kid. And what, it only took you two months?” Scott chuckled to himself as he took a swig of the bottle he blocked my knife with. Thankfully the one he broke over my head was empty.
“Don’t get sarcastic with me. I know I still suck. I can’t even land a good hit on you,” I replied sheepishly, as I picked the little bits of glass out of my hair.
“Yeah, you still suck, but you came close to landing a hit, and that is better than most,” he said, offering me some of his rum. I gladly accepted and took a good swig. As soon as I had my drink, I waved my hand like I had some kind of telekinetic power or something, and my knife flew off the floor and onto my hand, where I promptly returned it to its sheath before getting up.
“Now go get ready for the banquet,” Scott said, as if I was supposed to know what he was talking about.
“What banquet?” I asked with a somewhat confused tone.
“Oh right, I forgot to tell you. Mama Louise invited us to a banquet as honored guests,” Scott said, realizing that he never told me.
“For what?” I was now worried for my life. Mama Louise was no joke, according to Scott, and if we refuse, there is the possibility that she might start a war.
“You know that Succubus. What was her name? Isabell. When we had that whole fiasco, it ultimately resulted in the discovery of a plot that would end with Mama Louise dying. A small group of Leprechauns wanted to take control of all that Mama Louise had. The majority of Leprechauns had decided that war with Mama Louise was out of the question, so they had the splinter group taken care of, and the two were able to talk it out with no unnecessary casualties,” Scott explained nonchalantly.
“Wait, then why are we involved?” I asked. It had been two months since that had happened, and in those two months, a lot had been done. Elysif and I had become great friends, Iscariot had taught me more magic, and I had gotten a lot of time to train with Scott. Otherwise, nothing else happened, the changeling hadn’t shown itself in a while, and the only thing we’d really done was become third parties for small squabbles between monsters.
“We started it. And not only that, she also invited Elysif and Iscariot,” Scott said with a strangely worried look.
“Did you remember to tell them?” I asked, expecting him to say no.
He stopped and thought for a moment. Taking a bigger swig of rum, Scott looked into the distance deep in thought. I could see the gears turning in his head, before he finally looked at me and, for a moment, I thought he was going to say yes. “No,” he said. I sighed and walked to my room.
“I’ll go and tell them. I just got to get changed first,” I said as I shut the door behind me.
***
I knocked on the door of the apartment below us and, within a few seconds, Elysif had already opened it. “What is it? I’m working on something that is very delicate,” she said in her usual brash manner.
“We have a banquet to get to,” I replied, ignoring her “very delicate” issue.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, blushing, simultaneously placing a stern, sassy hand on her hip. Though she also looked equally as confused as I was a few minutes ago.
“Scott forgot to tell you, me, and Iscariot that we were invited as honored guests to Mama Louise’s banquet. As you probably know, we can’t tell Mama Louise no without good reason,” I explained.
“... I’ll be ready in a minute,” she said, before slamming the door with a worried and very shocked look on her face.
I waited a solid fifteen minutes before she came back out, only to run back in for another five minutes saying she forgot something. To be honest, she looked more well dressed than I think I've ever seen. She had replaced her usual suit with something you would see a celebrity wearing to their opening night. A modest red dress with no sleeves, long red gloves, and a black shawl.
“You look stunning… My Lady,” I said with what was supposed to be a serious bow, but instead, it came out sounding sarcastic.
“You look good as well… Sir,” she replied with a curtsy, before stifling a giggle. Did she change her attitude with that dress? It doesn't matter, we needed to leave! We quickly headed towards Iscariot’s place.
“I wasn’t expecting you to respond like that,” I said, as we rushed out the door of the building, chuckling a bit before I realized I doomed myself.
“How exactly were you expecting me to act?” she asked with a fairly menacing scowl.
“Oh, thank goodness, I thought maybe you weren’t the real Elysif there for a second. Like, maybe you were a changeling or something,” I said jokingly, in an attempt to stop her bloodlust. God, if you exist, please keep me safe. She attempted to stifle another giggle.
When we finally arrived at Iscariot’s home, we made a very common mistake. The family that lived in the apartment that also led to Iscariot’s personal dimension was currently blocking the door. To be honest, I wasn’t sure whether it was another dimension or not, but that’s what I’m going to refer to it as. The family had smoked out their home with a chimney sweep gone wrong. Usually one would have to wait for the door to be closed to meet with Iscariot, but we couldn’t wait, lest we face the wrath of Mama Louise
“Well, what now?” Elysif asked me as we stood around the corner.
“... I could try something with my knife?” I pondered while stroking the hairs of my chin, which I realized was starting to become a little too long for my taste.
“Great Idea! Let’s just murder the innocent family so we don’t miss a party. Genius plan, Agent,'' Elysif said with a hushed voice. The amount of snarky sarcasm she spewed with that statement, though, was enough to make me want to use the knife on her. But you know, pride and decorum, right?
“No… I’m going to use my knife to shut the door. We then run up and hopefully get the door opened to Iscariot’s before they open it back up again,” I said, correcting her assumption.
“That’s... not a bad idea… But what happens if they open the door while we have the door opened to Iscariot’s place?” Elysif half-heartedly agreed.
“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Iscariot probably has something to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I said, though I was not too sure about that last statement.
“Fair enough,” Elysif said.
Pulling my knife from its sheath, I threw it at the door while increasing its speed and force with magic. The blade stuck into the wood and yanking my hand towards me as if the knife was attached to an invisible rope, I pulled the door shut. Once it was shut, Elysif and I bolted towards the door. I held the door closed as Elysif fumbled with the key, trying to get it in the hole. We could hear the family on the other side asking who closed the door. One of them was marching towards the door as I could hear their footsteps. “Hurry!” I whispered, while Elysif was putting the key in. Her only response was to give me a death glare. Just as the footsteps were at the door Elysif had turned the key allowing me to release my grip on the door and gave it a knock.
After a few short moments, we heard the sound of ten or twelve locks being opened. Iscariot was surprisingly overcautious, which made me wonder why he was that way. My train of thought was disturbed by the door finally swinging open, and there stood Iscariot, but far younger than his normal old self. Rather than looking like he had a foot and a half in the grave, he looked like he was around thirty, I even questioned whether it was Iscariot or not until he spoke. His muscles had expanded and his stature had grown tremendously. The wrinkly old man's skin had been stretched and smoothed out. Lastly, the hair on his body turned from an off-white grey into a lusciously smooth black.
“What are you doing here?” he asked in his usual scratchy pubescent voice.
“Scott forgot to invite you as an honored guest to a banquet hosted by Mama Louise, and we’re here to get you,” I said.
“I’ll be ready in a moment, but why am I an honored guest? I don’t remember doing anything for her,” he asked precariously.
“She believes you helped Scott and me with something, and as such wants you as well. Either that, or Scott convinced her to let him bring some people so he wouldn’t be alone with that woman,” I replied with the sudden and fairly realistic revelation that Scott was probably the only one invited.
“What do you mean alone? Weren’t you going with him?” Iscariot asked with a confused look. The gesture he made were far more expressive than his usual self, but I guess that’s just a side effect of whatever this was.
“I didn’t even know about it until today, so I assume no,” I said.
“Alright, just let me shut the door,” Iscariot said. He probably forgot about his room being in a time-altering dimension.
“”No!”” Elysif and I both said to stop him.
“You can’t shut the door or we will be here for hours, old man,” Elysif stated, angrily. Thankfully he had stopped just before the door was shut.
“I understand, but who are you calling an old man?” Iscariot asked, offended by the mere mention of the word old.
“”You,”” Elysif and I both replied in very monotone but stern voices.
“I have created a spell that temporarily reverts me back to my younger years. I'll have you know,” he said as if he were a reality TV celebrity.
“I don’t think you realize that the keyword there is temporarily, old man,” Elysif said in her usual snarky attitude.
“You have a death wish or something, witch?” Iscariot said angrily.
“Would you rather me call you a eunuch?” she asked, now egging him on.
“Guys, can we go now? We'll all be dead if we don’t please Mama Louise.” The two looked at each other, then turned away. Iscariot toddled inside and began changing. Within ten minutes, we were finally leaving.
***
Scott Langston sat on his couch, the last bottle of rum he had left laid empty in his hand. With his other hand, he rubbed his forehead. “I need to pick up more on my way back from the banquet. Speaking of that, I should probably be on my way. Plus, they have booze there,” he said to himself as he stood up and straightened his tie as best he could without a mirror, and opened the door to leave.
Standing on the other side of the door, about to knock on it, was a slender but muscular black man wearing a brown suit with some small rips and tears in various places. His face had not a single blemish, and he wore a pure, innocent, and friendly smile. The short dark hair contrasted with Scott’s oily blonde ponytail. Scott knew exactly who this man was. In fact, the two knew more about each other than anyone else alive. However, the two hadn't seen each other in a while so it was a strange surprise.
“What are you doing here, Ten?” Scott asked with a surprised look.
“For the last time, it’s Compton, not Ten. And how is that a way to greet an old friend?” Compton replied with an annoyed tone.
“It doesn’t matter how I greet ya, Ten. You know I’m always happy to see you, but you still haven’t answered my question,” Scott replied, blowing off his remark.
“I wanted to see how you were doing. I just had to deal with a necromancer unblessing the rain in western Africa and summoning a small army of undead. There are several priests now fixing that, so I was on my way to report it to the Table,” Compton grinned as he pridefully explained.
“What happened to your messenger bird?” Scott asked, wondering why he was going there in person.
“I lost it in a bet. Plus, telegrams are much better than the birds now,” Compton said with a look that Scott knew well. He had no plans of telling the Table how he actually lost the bird. He was only telling him because he knew Scott could be trusted not to tell the Table.
“Oh,” Scott replied.
“What happened to yours? I don’t see the feathered-ass around,” Compton asked curiously, as he peered inside the flat.
“The Table revoked my messenger bird privileges because I kept sending messages asking for a raise. Now I have to use magic items that my sorcerer has, send a letter, telegram, or go there myself,” Scott said with a disappointed look in his eyes.
“Fair enough,” Compton said, knowing that it was just him getting on the Head Consul's nerves.
“Now, tell me, why you're really here,” Scott said, pushing past the fact that Compton had been lying, and he knew it.
Compton let out a sigh. “I heard you had a run-in with the supposed Sir Micheal, and I was worried. Very few members of the Table have met him, and even fewer have survived their meeting,” Compton said with a glad expression.
“Yeah, I know. But I think that a lot of those encounters were made up by idiots to explain an issue that would otherwise make them accountable for it. Strangely, Sir Micheal actually saved my life, as well as my new partner's. What I want to know is, how you knew that I was attacked by him?”
“A few shadows that are on good terms with the Table saw it and reported it. But did you say, new partner? I never thought you would ever take on a partner after what happened to Silva,” Compton said.
He gave him a look that said I don’t want to talk about that. “That makes sense, and yes, I got a new partner. Although he lacks the knowledge we gained from years with the Table, he learns quickly. He even got Iscariot to give his weapon a magic enhancement and is coming close to mastering it,” Scott said with a bit of pride.
“Yeah, how is the Dimensional Devil Sorcerer?”
“Iscariot... He’s still as old and decrepit as you remember him, but he’s staying proactive, at least. He claims that he’s working on a way to reverse aging,” Scott said.
“That’s good to hear,” Compton said with a caring look.
“Anyways, I have a banquet to get to, and I would rather not keep the host waiting. It has been good seeing you. Good day, Ten. If you want, we could get a drink at Monty’s place after I get back,” Scott said, before moving out of the doorway and closing the door behind him.
“For the last time, it’s Compton. Though I would love a beer, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to stay today,” Compton replied as Scott plodded down the stairs with nothing more than an apologetic wave over his shoulder.
Compton stood there for a moment in silence. With a sad chuckle, he ambled down the stairs and out the door, inconspicuously tailing after Scott. After a while of following, Compton stood in an alleyway two blocks behind Scott. He had been tailing him as effectively as he could, but was struggling to keep up with the drunk agent. Whether Scott was drunk or sober, he knew that if he got too close, Scott would notice him, and all that did was make it difficult.
“I don’t understand why you’re having me tail him instead of getting a shadow to do it,” Compton said into the front of his pocket watch. The face of an old man on the inside of the watch shook its head.
“No shadow wanted to follow my son-in-law for fear of their own life. I figured you could do it since both he and I trust you,” the old man said from within the watch.
“I understand, sir. But tell me, do you really think he could be working with this Sir Micheal? I thought we all agreed that those were just myths from the Head Consul's past trauma?” Compton asked, as he didn’t understand the motive.
“No, Silva loved the Table, and Scott would never do anything that could bring harm to what she loved. He loved her too much. But the higher-ups believe it to be a possibility, so they wanted someone to keep an eye on him. I personally agree with you, but there’s always the chance that the Consul's fears are realistic,” the old man said earnestly.
“I see, but there is one thing that now has me concerned. Why did he keep his experience with this supposed Sir Micheal character a secret?” Compton thought out loud.
“I don’t know, but keep following him and maybe we’ll find out,” the old man mumbled tiredly.
“Yes, sir,” Compton said, before putting the watch in his vest pocket. It fell out of the pocket through a hole he forgot was there, and the watch shattered on the ground.
“Damn it, that was worth more than a year's wages. The director’s gonna kill me,” he said, as he picked up the pieces and put them into his other pocket.
When he stood back up and returned to the street, he had lost Scott. “Oh, bugger. Where'd he run off to now?” Compton said, taking off in a sprint toward where he thought Scott had gone. He should have asked him whose banquet he was going to.
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