My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Wednesday morning arrived with the promise of a clear day's sky. The bright and early sunrise glistened the dew-kissed panes of my bedroom window, every few minutes, in a brighter tint as the world gradually acclimatized to the many different shades of dawn. 

I rolled out of bed to the cries and pleas of my 8 a.m. alarm. 7:55 and 7:50, though they had given it their all, sadly just could not best the insurmountable might and prowess of the fabled 'Snooze' button. 

If not for my conscience constantly pestering me about my responsibilities today, 8 a.m. would have likely wound up another tragic casualty in the War on Slumber. 

I mean, just look at that beautiful day outside. Vibrant greens, and deep hues of blue. Doesn't it make you just wanna sleep it all away? No better way to spend a day in my humble, irrefutable opinion. 

But alas, for today, the limelight awaits. 

Halfway through scrubbing and rinsing myself clean in the shower, I finally, actually woke up. From mindless zombie to sentient human being with a douse of shampoo seeping into his eyes—the sharp sting far from being as bothersome as the coming hours ahead of him. 

Acting your ass off in front of a camera guided by the hands and demands of a total totalitarian director was already bad enough, but now you just gotta add family into the mix—trying to play it cool and straight—meanwhile, your sister's busy laughing her lungs out and taking pics, and you could feel mom's eyes boring straight through you no matter what angle you try and turn to, all the while, dad's there wondering when it'll finally be all over so he can leave.

Feels like some sort of high school stage play. If only it were, 'least then it wouldn't just be me alone with my family in the audience. Everyone gets their own personalized level of cringe. 

After drying off and rifling through my closet briefly, I dusted the metaphorical cobwebs off my Chester outfit. It was pristine as ever, not a single hem or fold out of place as if just freshly plucked from a timestream into the 1800s. 

I can thank Ash for that, I'm sure. At this point, she probably knows every inch of my room and every strand in my clothes better than I do. 

It took me some time to adjust back to the tailcoats and top hat of complete elegance. A single glimpse at my reflection and the man in the mirror felt like a total stranger. It has been quite a while since Chester had a chance to unleash his charm. 

Maybe I should practice first, strike up a conversation with my own reflection. Not only does it seem oddly in character, but like hell I was gonna slip up during the middle of shooting and give Sammy enough leverage to hang over my head till the day I die. 

Screw it, let's see how we do.

"Bea… Quite the beautiful morning we're having," the man in the mirror said to me, and I did my best to ignore my own voice echoing in my ears. He turned his eyes my way, those deep, black infinite abysses with stupidity unending, and smiled. "But, of course, not quite as beautiful as you." 

Somebody please kill me now.

Suddenly, before I had the chance to chuck myself out the window, my door creaked faintly ajar, and just right over the shoulder of my suave companion, a slender, silent figure stood motionless beneath the doorway, silver eyes shimmering in the glow of morning light.

Perfect timing. 

"Well, well, well," I spun around, beaming wide, and eternally grateful that I could no longer see my own expression. "A ravishing, rare beauty first thing at my door? A blessing, indeed. But also surely not one without it's due." 

I then took a bow, hat off, and one hand in a flourish—the classic gentlemanly curtsy. When I got back up, she was still as I last saw her. The slow swirl of her eyes empty of any discernible thought. 

"And whatever it may be that you need of me, let me first assure you, my fair lady," I continued on, deciding to go all in on a spur, and gently took her hand in mine, leaning in, the tips of her claws lightly pressing into my wrist, as I brush my lips against the cold of her bare skin. "it'll be a greater blessing to just be of service to you." 

A second later, I let her hand slip away, stepped back, and patiently waited to be graded on my performance. 

She stepped into the room, not a word from her lips still… and at this point, I'd take anything. There's really no reaction worse than a complete total lack of one. 

Then, just when I was thinking that it was not too late to fling myself out the window still, I saw her lift her other hand, and there in her palm, laid the small sparkle and glitter of her prized ribbon. 

"It… fell…" she whispered, the lovely streams of silver on her head flowing free and unruly. "Please… put it back…" 

Just gonna outright ignore me entirely. Whatever, I'll take it. I mean, if there was ever a maiden completely impervious to Chester's charms, you'd be hard-pressed to find a better example anywhere else. 

"Hop on the bed," I said, Chester disappearing and my charmless, witless resurfacing. "We'll get you sorted." 

At this point, I've embroidered enough locks of hair to become quite proficient at it. Still far out of reach from opening any hair salons of my own, but I think good enough going by average standards. And indeed, it took a little more than five minutes for me to restore Adalia's crown of braids around her head. 

"Thank… you…" Adalia said, shambling toward the mirror and taking a peek. "I like… it…" 

"No surprises there," I said, catching the gaze of her reflection. "The moment I do something you come to dislike, let me know. It'll be the discovery of the decade." 

"Your… acting…" she said, peering at the man in the mirror sitting at the edge of the bed. "I do not… like that…" 

Damn, dude. I must be further past my prime than I initially thought. Welp, it was a good couple of months while it lasted, I guess.

"It is… not you…" she slowly walked back to me, looming, staring from above, the mirror-man no longer in her sights. "I like… only you…" 

Then she left. Just like that. Her request met to her satisfaction. Leaving me with the lasting wonder of whether my acting was just that bad or if it was too good for my own good. 

Either way, at least she was honest. Clearly, obviously biased, but... honest nonetheless.

After a hearty breakfast, as always, made to absolute perfection by Ash, all that I was left to do in the meantime was wait for Amanda to come and pick me up. 

When ten o'clock rolled around, she shot me a message. Just a simple text informing me that she had just left her apartment and was on her way over. And by a stroke of perfect timing, received another message immediately after she had sent hers. 

An unknown number had sent a picture. 

Curious, and only curious, I opened it. 

It was an image of my bike. Actually, scratch that—it was an image of what used to be my bike. Right now, I'm not sure how to describe what I was looking at. 

Disembowelment? Mutilation? Murder? 

Why are my handlebars leaning against the exhaust pipe? Why is my seat missing? My wheels? Why was everything scattered everywhere? 

My phone ding-ed once again, and I instantly tapped out of the image.

<<Update on ur bike, playboy.>>

<<Still a work in progress as u can see atm.>>

<<Oh, this is Derrick btw. Here's my number.>>

When I eventually recovered from my shock, I quickly followed up on him, desperate for more context. 

<<Going well, I hope?>> 

It was the longest two minutes before I finally saw the three little bubbles pop up on his side of the conversation. Seriously, did his phone drop into a wormhole for that whole 120 seconds? He was just here a second ago.

<<Tbh not really.>> he said. <<My dad's stumped, so am I. We're thinking real hard. We havent managed to figure out what's wrong with it just yet.>>

Based on the photo jutting out at the top of my screen, I can certainly think of a few things that are wrong with it right now. 

<<Nothing irreparable though, right?>> I asked, grasping for assurances of any kind. <<You and your dad will be able to fix it?>>

Another two minutes again. For real—is he the one stuck in the wormhole?

<<Yeah, its no probs>> he replied back. <<Just gonna take a lil bit longer before we sort this shit out. But u dont need to worry about a thing, thats our job.>>

Guess I'm fine with that. What's a few more days? I'll manage. 

<<Good to know>> I said. <<Keep me updated.>> 

This time, it was almost instant—hearing him ding me back.

<<Smth weird did happen though last night. Tried installing ur engine on a spare bike we got lying around. Just to test. It revved up once, died… and then never started again. Not even after we switched out the engines again.>>

I only just barely finished reading what he sent, and comprehending what I read, before he chimed in again. 

<<Its like fucking magic, man.>>

<<Fr>>