Episode 103 Previous Episode	Next Episode
“Good manners, madam, are never a waste of time. Civility, gentlemen. Always civility.” Cyrus Redblock, Star Trek: The Next Generation The diner smelled of grease, butter, and paycheck-to-paycheck living. The blackened stove in the middle of the short order kitchen sizzled as the cook with grease-stained pants attended to bacon. Two waitresses in matching mismatched uniforms wiped down the various empty booths while the handful of patrons up at this hour were sequestered to their own seats at polar ends of the restaurant. Everett led the way to a booth in the corner of the restaurant, situated where the two window-filled walls joined, giving both him and Alan a clear view of the mostly empty parking lot. Alan picked up the menu and scanned over it before replacing it with disinterest. One of the waitresses came over, her breath smelling of honey butter and cigarettes. “What can I get you boys today?” “Three egg whites, two eggs, scrambled, please,” Alan said. “Wheat toast and some bacon.” “To drink?” the woman asked as she scribbled down his words. “No, I’ll chew it.” Everett and the waitress both looked at him, confused. He just smiled. “Orange juice, please.” “And you, hon?” she asked to Everett. “Coffee please,” he said with a smile. “Come on, get some eggs,” Alan said with a grin. “Have an omelet. Get some onions, good for the liver.” “Coffee,” Everett affirmed for the waitress. As the woman left, Everett looked at Alan. “Good for the liver?” “I was an exercise science major for a while,” Alan said with a smirk. “Eating’s a big deal to me.” “So I gather,” Everett said. He looked at the fake texture of the table, then at the yellow and orange decorations of the restaurant. At the booth opposite, four migrant workers sat crammed together, sharing coffee. A sense of cold came over him. “Alright, let’s get to it,” Alan said. Everett turned back to him, finding a ready expression staring back at him. “You wanted to talk. Here we are.” Everett sighed, having to concentrate to keep from ringing his hands on the edge of the table. “Walk away.” He looked at Alan with all seriousness. “Alan, this is going to get uglier than either of us expected. We, the knights, have been fortunate that the authorities haven’t gotten involved, but after tonight’s fight, it’s a foregone conclusion that they’re going to come knocking.” “You want me to walk away from all of this?” Alan asked. “After everything that we’ve…” “This isn’t a business,” Everett stopped him. “This isn’t about bottom lines and losses. This is about people’s lives.” Alan leaned forward, staring into Everett’s eyes. “You’re a coward.” Everett’s eyes hardened. On the table, his right hand closed into a fist as he fought to maintain control of himself. “We’re trying to show the world that knights are as necessary now as they were a thousand years ago.” “They weren’t necessary a thousand years ago!” Everett exclaimed. “Knights were little more than mercenaries back in the day. You’re confusing the Arthurian legend with historical reality. Knights, chivalry, all of that. It was all totally different from how we see it, from how even we as knights think of it today.” Alan just chuckled. He looked away, shaking his head. “Who was that guy?” he asked. “The guy that saved your knights. This Morgan cat. Who is he?” Everett scrutinized Alan for a moment. The waitress came by, depositing the drinks. He waited until she had gone. “He’s a friend of mine.” “He’s a knight,” Alan said. “He was a knight,” Everett clarified. “He’s not anymore. He renounced the Oath a long time ago.” “You can’t stop being a knight,” Alan disputed with a smile. “Maybe not, but he’s tried,” Everett said. “And he continues to try.” “Why did he renounce the Oath?” Alan asked. “That’s beyond me to answer,” Everett said. “And it’s not really my place to even venture a guess.” Alan smiled. “Afraid I’m going to recruit him.” Everett leaned back, taking some sugar packs from the stand at the edge of the table. “You can try if you want to. I can’t say I’d recommend it.” “Did he leave for personal reasons,” Alan asked, “or social ones?” “Say what?” “Did he leave for himself, or because of you?” Alan said. “If I was a knight in a city with a knight as undedicated to Chivalry as I’m seeing in this city, I might turn my back on things too.” He shook his head at Everett. “How did you get like this? How did you go from wearing red and black to losing your spine?” “You’re already on thin ice,” Everett warned. “I don’t care if you have a sword and I don’t. Keep it up and we’re going to have trouble.” “It’s interesting,” Alan said, “that you’d stand against me. That you’d try to undermine my goals to bring the knights back to the world stage.” “And why’s that?” Everett asked with a hint of sarcastic interest. “Because you stood against Jericho Kingston.” The name made Everett’s blood boil, but he said nothing. “Explain to me again why you felt it necessary to stop him, to keep him from opening his war on the Illuminati.” “Illuminati?” Everett asked, astonished at what he was hearing. “He was possibly the most ambitious knight of our age,” Alan said. “Why did you feel so compelled to stop him?”
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