My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



Michael kept walking closer, his footsteps masked by even louder splashes crashing against the pavement. 

It wouldn't be long until he was noticed, but not so soon, not just yet, Michael kept his distance, following the thief into the compound, waiting for the perfect chance to finally intervene. 

Closer now, Michael was able to discern more from the culprit. They were tall, lanky, and his mind fought fiercely to dismiss it as mere coincidence - if they'd just turn around, if he could only just see their face - he still might be able to. 

The thief eventually reached the entrance of the shop, a flash of lightning briefly smearing their silhouette against the rattling shutters. 

Michael entertained another notion; the lock would take a while to pick loose, and expending the effort to break it would be risking discovery… yet for a thief, any typical thief… surely those were the only two options available. 

Then the thief quickly drew something out of their pocket, falling onto one knee. The raging storm nearly blotted out all sight, almost drowned out all sounds… just almost… and past the rumble of thunder, the splatter of raindrops filling his ears… Michael faintly heard the releasing click of the lock. 

With a groan of metal, and for seemingly the thousandth time, Michael saw the shutters clatter wide open. And the figure directly beneath it, almost certainly, indisputably, he had seen a thousand times more. 

He decided to give it one last chance. Taking a deep breath, Michael yelled, shouting into the darkness, into blind hope, "Rudy!"

The thief reacted at once, and Michael heard them yelp, the same yelp he was all too used to hearing from Rudy whenever Matt playfully fired up the drill in surprise, always followed up by that distinct look of terror - the same look of terror that now stared back at him through the pelting rain. 

"M-Michael?" 

Even in the dark, Michael could see the color drain from his horror-struck expression. His eyes darted frantically, presumably scouring for an excuse, any excuse, that he would then deliver in a rather unconvincing stammer. 

"I-I was… I left something in the shop… I was just trying to… I was gonna get it back, and - " 

Michael closed the gap between them, grabbing hold of Rudy's wrist as he neared them, and muttered only one word, disclosing his intent. 

"Inside." 

One by one, Michael flipped the light switches for the room, accidentally kicking something hard and toppling it over with a deafening crash. The fluorescent lights soon flickered on, revealing a cluttered mound of various tools spilling out of Matt's toolbox that now lay sprawled on its side.

A mess. One that needed clearing as soon as possible. Only later. For the moment, however… 

Rudy managed to slip free from his grip, staggering muddied prints deeper inside the shop, before immediately stopping, turning, and still helplessly stammering. 

"Look - listen, listen! I know what this might look like, but… Michael, man, you gotta believe me, I was just - !" 

"Stop talking," Michael said, expelling a hard voice that overwhelmingly smothered his. "You've lied enough."

He looked weak, pathetic, fidgeting in place and soaking wet. Rudy ran his hands through his hair, gripping soggy clumps and shaking anxiously. Michael could see him thinking again, harrowed eyes searching for any possible escape, before bitter realization bore through, ultimately finding none anywhere in sight. 

"Don't tell anyone. Please just don't tell anyone," Rudy pleaded fervently, the desperation brimming in his eyes. "I'm begging you, Michael. Michael, please, I-I was just - !"

"You had your chance to tell me before," Michael interrupted again. "When I asked, when I insisted." 

"I know! But you couldn't - ! Y-You don't… you don't know, Michael! I just - I didn't want to drag anyone into this! That's all! Please, I didn't mean to - !"

"Breathe." 

Michael watched as Rudy struggled and failed to settle himself. He was still shaking, still panting. Had he really been stealing for his own personal gain, then all he had to fear was the shame, the guilt, and yet here he was, pleading as if fearing so much more. 

Briefly, he took his eyes off Rudy, giving their surroundings a quick encompassing glance. There were no new shipments today as far as he could remember, and most parts they did have in keeping were barely worth anything of value… 

"Tonight," Michael looked back at Rudy, keeping his tone as light as he could in an attempt to assuage him. "What were you taking tonight?" 

Rudy gulped visibly, nearly choking on the lump stubbornly wedged in his throat. "It was a mistake. You're right. I made a mistake." 

"What were you taking?"

"Parts!" The bottom of his lips quivered. "T-They wanted parts, anything, as much as I could. I don't know what for."

Michael paused, deliberating what next to ask him out of possible hundreds before eventually deciding on, "What happened?" 

And finally, after days of silence, days of doubts, Rudy answered with the truth. 

"My uncle was supposed to retire years ago. Living it up, somewhere halfway across the world by now. Instead, he's stuck here, from day until the evening… stuck here with me." 

"Guilt, gratitude," Michael shook his head. "As I've guessed." 

"Michael, I would have been locked up for years - the stupid shit I went and done. I was on my own. Got no one, deserved no one, then…" Rudy's breathing hitched, the words leaving his lips clumsily. "Uncle Jamie. Don't think I've seen him since… since preschool. He… he showed up, didn't ask questions, didn't say why… and he got me all squared up. Present for all my court dates, paid for all the expenses, attorneys, roof over my head, and… all that money, all those years… he went and wasted it all on me." 

Outside, the rain intensified even more, with strong winds whipping at the half-opened shutters, swaying, reverberating, thunder and metal echoing in the dead silence. 

"I owe him everything. I owe him more than I could ever possibly give, and I wanted to just…" Rudy blinked hard, rain or perhaps even tears, falling from his face. "I… I met a guy, and he… he told me, showed me a way that I might be able to."

"You got conned."

"At first, I didn't buy it. But I had some cash to spare, and he said any amount was fine. Next day, next thing I knew, he came back double what I gave. So I gave a little more, next day it was the same thing, then again, and again, then just when I thought I struck it big, apparently something went wrong, some kind of mistake, and things just suddenly spiraled from there." 

Something felt off, familiar, and Michael was all too aware of it. This wasn't the first time he had listened to such a tale, the patterns were there, proceedings beat-for-beat… and coincidence felt far too generous an answer for it. 

"Before I even realized what the hell was happening, I'm getting letters in the mail, people at my door - I owed money now. And I had in no way close to the amount these people were asking for. But they said I had to, they said I didn't have a choice. One way or another, I was going to pay." 

"And that's when it all began, then," Michael said, having heard enough. "I knew I locked the storage room properly." 

"I'm sorry…" Rudy whimpered. "I… I didn't mean, I didn't know things would go this far! I thought it was just the one. The one time. Then they asked for more, I owed even more, just one more! I… they promised tonight… tonight will be the last." 

"You believe them?" 

Michael didn't hear an answer, but the look on Rudy's face, the pain engraved in every strained muscle told enough. 

"I promise I'd make up for it. Every dollar, every dime I wasted here. I swear, I'll earn it all back even if it kills me," he turned his eyes again towards Michael, his voice heavy with emotion. "Just let me fix this, please. I can fix this! Just don't tell - !" 

"What the hell's this, Rudy?" 

Both the rain and wind immediately fell from precedent. Another clap of thunder boomed across the vast skies, yet in spite of it all, the only thing Michael could discern was the sudden approach of footsteps. 

Three men emerged from the darkness. Strangers of varying heights, varying sizes, yet all three equally manifesting a look of utter malice gleaming in their eyes. 

"Backing out last minute?" The tallest one inquired, tracking grime and mud with every step he took closer. "You forgot? You don't got another tomorrow to be second-guessing now." 

"I-I'm not!" Rudy squeaked, almost seeming to shrivel at the sight of three. "I was just - "

"Busy getting caught?" The tall one stared coldly at Michael. "Still don't got an explanation for you."

"I work here," Michael simply said. "I strongly advise you leave. You're not getting anything from here anymore."

The man looked back at Rudy, barely hiding his displeasure. "You sure that's a good idea, Rudy?" 

But then Michael stepped forward, obscuring Rudy from sight, and peering up at the tall man dead in his eyes. 

"He's not the one asking." 

At once, all three men assembled around Michael, entrapping him in a circle of hostility that was dangerously growing smaller. 

"Michael, don't - !" Rudy nearly sprung forward, instead fear took hold, paralyzing him in place. 

"Michael," the tall man repeated his name. "Tell me, then, Michael. What happens if we don't leave?" 

Michael caught the faint whiff of cigarette smoke in the man's breath. Once again, the feeling of familiarity struck him. Only now more prominent. Surely something like this has happened before. 

He only hoped it wouldn't end the same way. 

"If you don't leave," Michel stated matter-of-factly. "Then I suppose you leave me no choice but to contact the police."