My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



Michael hoped the rest of his day would suffice to offset the morning he was greeted with. 

Talks of boredom, contentment… children…

They weren't unusual per se - each of the three their own separate conversations and jokes already long worn down from overuse. He had heard them all before. 

But never together, and never especially in that way. He didn't know what to make of it yet. He didn't know whether he even should. 

Under the blazing summer heat, the rattle of metal, and the screeches of drills, no doubt any semblance of abnormality would simply end up diluted by the sheer monotony of it all. 

Yet alas, the afternoon did not shape out to be as ordinarily grueling and mundane as he had hoped or expected.

Just yesterday he had seen to a delivery of parts, wheeling a stack of packages into storage, with his signature at the bottom of countless invoices. Today, falling into regular routine, he pulled open the storage shutters, the sunlight spilling into a concerningly bare space on one of the racks… and no signs of any newly arrived parts to be found anywhere. 

Michael knew he couldn't have misplaced them. His mistakes were much grander, extensively more consequential. This was far too simple, far too minor to be his doing. 

Someone broke in. Somebody stole the parts. 

The question was how?

"You sure you locked it good last night, Michael?" Jamie stepped forward out from the gathered circle of his employers, pulling and pushing the shutters with heavy scrutiny. "The lock might've been loose, some desperate guy noticed last night, saw his chance, swiped his fill… and of course, the bastard just happens to make out with the more costly stuff we got." 

"Fucking hell, I'll go ring up Mrs. Keats," Matt grunted in dismay, shambling tattered, oil-smeared jeans all the way toward the office. "Someone's gotta tell her she's gonna be visiting her niece with a train instead. Shoulda' probably invested in one of those fancy cameras like you said you were going to, eh, boss? " 

Charles just frowned, wearing the same puzzled face everyone else was.

Meanwhile, Rudy's round eyes were wide and sympathetic, landing a light pat around Michael's shoulder.

"Hey, don't sweat it," he told him. "This is like - what - your first screw-up after how many months here? Trust me, dude, I've screwed up way worse than this many times over." 

"I didn't screw up," Michael simply retorted. 

"In that case, shit just happens," Rudy said, flailing his arms. "Either or, live and learn, right?" 

After Jamie had finished assessing all he could, he stepped back, his mustache skewed at a troubled angle before easing loose with a long heavy sigh. 

"Honestly, I can't even begin to imagine someone like you making a mistake like this," Jamie said, vaguely echoing his own sentiment. "So let's just move past this. Could be the lock, had it for years, must've have clicked it all the way past due, maybe. I'll go buy a replacement as soon as lunch rolls around. Problem solved." 

That was the general consensus. A bustled lock, an unfortunate mishap - end of story. Michael, however, believed otherwise. And truly, how deeply he hoped that his suspicions be proven wrong. 

Weeks later, when the prior incident had already been mostly forgotten, misfortune struck twice. 

The unknown culprit had stolen a set of tires this time. Once again, a recent acquisition. Nothing too crucial, however, and yet still a concern enough to fill the air with a sense of disquiet for a few days. 

Coincidentally, Matt had lost his keys just a few days prior, and so after hefty lecture on responsibility, Jamie set in place a new policy: all employees were to relinquish their keys to him before they were to end their shifts. No exceptions. 

Like before, everyone believed that this was the end of it. And just like before, Michael thought otherwise.

Weeks later, it happened again. 

More parts, and even more empty shelves, despite being bolted behind the most secure lock Jamie could possibly afford. Various explanations have been suggested by everyone before being thoroughly debunked, and with seemingly no answers to turn to, that's when suspicions began to stir. 

No one dared express it, but everyone thought it. The culprit, whoever it may be, had to be someone working here.

"Rudy," Jamie's head jutted out the door of his office, the distant expression on his face uncharacteristically somber. "A minute, please?" 

Rudy was in the middle of his break, lifting his head up like a deer in headlights at the sound of his name, cheeks bulging with half his lunch, before quickly deflating with a heavy swallow. 

"Oh boy," he muttered darkly, leaving his seat beside Michael's. His figure looked just as dispirited as it promptly disappeared behind the echoing slam of the office door. "I'm really in for it now." 

"Yep, knew that one was coming," Matt tutted his lips, leaning over to snag a piece of sausage from Rudy's still-opened lunchbox. "Hate to say it, but not like there ain't no other prime suspect around here." 

Charles just shrugged in agreement, plunging a fork into Rudy's rapidly dwindling lunch.

Michael quietly bit into the meat and greens of the sandwich Lilith had made for him, stuffed in a paper bag that always came with a handwritten note that was different every day. Sometimes they were just quips, other times she wrote heartfelt wishes. 

Today it was a short poem. 

"To my darling husband, whose lovely smile I melt in witness. His body toned and the epitome of thickness. Have a wonderful day today, my hopes, I express… as well the health of our family, currently two, perhaps three, I hope you'll bless." 

He didn't know what to make of it nor did he even have the time to. Right then, far grander circumstances beckoned his attention.

"Why Rudy?" Michael asked. 

"Why?" The lines on Matt's forehead grew more pronounced, utterly baffled by his inquiry. "How long you've been here - you still don't know? Never bothered asking anyone's story? Not even once?" 

"I didn't think it was any of my business." 

"Well, now here you are trying to gossip about it," Matt pointed out. "I'd make you a pretty blatant hypocrite talking about it now, right?" 

Then before Michael could respond, Matt's lips broke into a smirk, flashing a withered, partly missing set of teeth.

"Christ, Michael, do you ever fucking smile? Any sense of humor in that meaty head of yours or no?" After having his fun, Matt settled down again. "Anyway, Rudy, right… long story short… the boy's a crook, alright? A thief, thug, delinquent… whatever you call them these days… Rudy was just a mess when he was younger. Getting into all sorts of troubles, charged with every petty crime in the book, and he wasn't the consequence-learning type either." 

"I see," Michael said, taking the revelation as anyone would to knowing the current state of the weather. "What changed?" 

"Eh, his folks had enough, given up - toss him to the streets - no more bails, no more fallbacks, and the people he thought were his friends had hung him out to dry the moment the slightest bit of trouble came up. Then just when he thought he was done for, suddenly dear Uncle Jamie shows up out of nowhere, covered all the expenses, every fine, every charge, and the rest is history." 

Michael felt an eyebrow twitch upward. "Jamie did that?" 

"Oh yeah," Matt nodded his head vigorously. "The man may be cheap when it comes to the normal expenses. But when it comes to family, no price is too high for him. After bailing him out, he made Rudy swear that he was gonna give it all up. No more stealing, no more chances. He has to stick firmly on the straight and narrow, and so far, he's been keeping good on his promise ever since… or until now, that is." 

Michael paused to think, recalling that kind, friendly young man that had spotted him loitering around the entrance. The same young man that had been the sole reason for his employment here in the first place. 

"You think he did it?" 

Matt shook his head.

"I don't think so. I never want to think so. The Rudy I know, he's a good boy. Poured blood, sweat, and tears wanting nothing else but to make it all up to his uncle Jamie…" his voice trailed briefly, and for once, the old man gave a harrowed sort of look. "...but at this point, if it really was him that did it, then I wouldn't be surprised one bit."