My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



The first day of Michael's new job involved a lot of learning and practice, wonder and discovery, and very much to his utter dismay, the irritating roar and reverberations of roaring engines and screeching tires. 

His first lesson learned was the names and faces of his fellow peers. 

Jamie, his superior and owner of the establishment, was there to greet him the moment he arrived. From there he was introduced, shaking many hands, and exchanging just as numerous pleasantries with the rest of the team. 

The first hand he shook belonged to one elderly man named Matt. Grey-haired and with a face full of wrinkles accumulated over a lifetime, his appearance suggested a look of fragility betrayed only by the surprising robustness of his grip.

Charles was a person of little presence and fewer words. Hands blackened with grime and with a face just as much so, they found him somewhere deeper inside with his feet wedged beneath a rusted car in disrepair - absorbed in work and exuding a silent desire to be left as is, a wish that Michael had no intentions of trespassing.

Then standing in stark contrast to both, Rudy was a cheery, diligent learner, young and eager as can be. It was entirely thanks to his kindness that Michael was even employed in the first place, the young man listening to his plight and wanting nothing more but to lend a helping hand. 

Alas, when it came time for Michael to express his gratitude, he found it surprisingly difficult to do so, for Rudy had unrelentingly dominated the entire interaction with a rushing stream of excitement and enthusiasm, sparing not a breath for Michael to have his say.

Eventually, he just gave up. Always plenty more chances somewhere down the line.

And with that, the greetings were done, and promptly soon after, Michael was handed over a long-neglected set of cleaning utensils, having been delegated with the laborious task of tending to the entire premise the best he can.

This, he did so, without a single noise of complaint, pushing through the constant ambiance of metal clangs and clattering iron, delving into the muck and grime of the deepest corner, rifling through brimming shelves, sweeping up an unending deluge of small bits and debris as he combed across every inch of the place. 

Before long, in the slightest gradual decline, the ruckus that he had painstakingly grown to tolerate slowly grew mute, around him, his peers started to set aside their work, and dusk's orange shimmer would paint and glisten upon meticulously polished floors. 

"Good work today, Michael," Jamie said, patting him on the shoulder and wriggling his fluffy fleece cloak around himself. "Tomorrow. I think the back storage needs a bit of sorting done. Bunch of things there needing some labeling and organizing. I'll have Rudy help out, alright? Have a good night." 

Thus ended Michael's first day at his brand new job. Rudy threw him a thumbs up as he bid farewell, Charles gave only the slightest nod on his way out the door, and Matt playfully sniggered past that it was about damn time this place got itself a janitor. 

He was the last to leave, handed the perplexing conundrum of closing shop as they refer to it. After a few minutes of solving his way through it using pure intuition, he tossed himself out into the gray cold, the snowy streets, taking along with him only but one thought to ruminate upon as he turned the usual corners into the late evening. 

What's a janitor? 

For days, for weeks, he followed this newfound routine, working long hours deep into the evening, and it wasn't long before his duties extended beyond the shambly wooden handles of a mop and broom. 

He oversaw deliveries every now and then, made to write out his signature at the bottom of countless papers, and even fix up a few things of his own around the place. At times, he was even a helping hand to his colleagues. 

Rudy tended to have trouble transporting the heavier parts. Charles would silently hand him a wrench, pointing him in the direction of a bolt or a nut that needed an extra firm twist. Matt would ask for him too, but oftentimes for nothing more than to have a listening ear as he moped about the unforeseen delay of his retirement or to simply just reminisced about the good old days usually from under the hood of a car with a lit cigarette wedged between his mouth.

On the days he was relieved of his duties, Michael spent most of his free hours pouring himself over the contents of the largest book he could find in the local library. He'd sit there, absorbing and learning all he could before rising from his seat to find the second biggest book and starting the process again all over. 

And sometimes, he does not go unaccompanied. 

Sometimes, as he quietly flipped through the pages of his book, he'd hear the soft flapping rustle of paper right beside him, usually followed after by the sound of amusement in a light chuckle. 

He heard the turn of another page, and once more, resounded that same impish laughter. 

"Learned something interesting?" Michael muttered, invested too deeply in the physiology of sharks to tear his gaze away from the page. 

But in the corner of his eyes, he could see the distinct curl of her lips as she lifted her face up from her own studies.

"Alexander the Great," Lilith answered, staring down at her page with an odd look of interest. "He's funny." 

"Funny?" 

"A fierce warrior, a swift conqueror, and one of the greatest leaders in known history," she said, and he could feel her stare fall over to him. "What was it again that people used to call you too? I sense it's something similar along those lines." 

"Our story differs. We're nothing alike." 

"No, I know," she said, chuckling again. "I just thought it was kind of funny." 

Lilith then sighed aloud, stirring restlessly in her seat, and turning her head backward toward the rows of rows of bookshelves stretching far and expansive. 

"To think… a whole realm separate from ours, with a history as far-reaching and intricate as our own… with its own host of beliefs, culture, people… it's almost too much for one to comprehend." 

"Even for someone like you?" Michael asked. 

"Like me?" She scoffed with a smirk. "I'm flesh and bone, Michael. Like you." 

"Not quite." 

"No, maybe not," Lilith said, inclining her head in agreement. "Still, seeing all this, coming to terms with the almost limitless scope of it all… it almost makes what we've done seem so negligible." 

Michael blinked, losing the sentence he was fixated on in the vast sea of words before him. He grumbled, collected himself, and began scouring about the page. 

"Negligible," he muttered. "You really think so?" 

"Ah, but I suppose it is not really my place to think that," she said. "After all, it wasn't me that had been given the duty to stop me, was it?" 

He went quiet, sifting his eyes across sentences, realizing only too late that he's been rereading the same paragraph three times now without noticing at all. 

"I never asked you before, have I?" Lilith tilted her head to the side, a stream of deep brown falling over her shoulder. "If you regret what you've done… if, with the benefit of hindsight… you would have done things differently." 

Michael focused on the page, still quiet, still scouring. 

"Michael," she leaned closer, her words lightly brushing the skin of his ear. "Would you?" 

"No," he answered at once, lifting his eyes away from the book and gazing deep into hers. "I love you, Lilith." 

For a moment, she just stared at him, endearingly, tenderly, before her lips broke out into an affectionate smile.

"Even for someone like me," Lilith said quietly. "I still can only barely comprehend that you actually do," then inching even closer, she pressed her lips gently against his and lingered there for longer than a moment before leaning away again. "And I love you too. Flesh and bone you." 

Michael just nodded, the both of them lost and lingering deep within each other's looks before a sudden squeak of a chair from somewhere snapped them out of their stupor. 

"I almost forgot…" He spoke up, turning back to his readings again, quickly switching topics. "Tonight. We need to find a place to sleep tonight." 

"Oh?" Lilith raised both her brows. "Do we?"

"We do."

She raised her brows even higher, repeating herself again in a longer, heavier tone, "Do we?" 

Michael understood at once. "You found us a place already?" 

"Yep," Lilith said brightly. Same place."

Once again, he lost the sentence he was reading.

"Same place?"

"Yes. Mr. Baker had a change of heart and graciously decided to extend our residency. Free of charge too." 

"That's not what he told me yesterday." 

"But that's exactly what he told me today." 

Michael heard himself heave out a breath. "And how did you manage that?" 

"How else?" She said, turning back to her book, burying a small grin between its pages. "I asked nicely."