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Episode
133 |
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“You can’t make an omelet without breaking
some eggs.” Old Adage Alan opened the door to the club’s
office to find Eliot sitting at the desk, a detached look on his face. He wore a jester’s enigmatic smile, but a
burdened brow at the same time. Alan
hesitated before he turned to Ryoko, still in the hall. “Give us a second, will ya?” he
ventured. She glanced warily at Eliot
and turned away. Alan shut the door, sealing the
two in alone. “What happened?” he
asked, the air vibrating with the power of the distant music, but at the same
time, strangely quiet. Eliot smiled, still not looking
away from the nothing he focused on.
“I had a, a bit of an adventure in persuading Morgan Brandywyne.” “You did persuade him?” Alan asked
hopefully. “In a manner of speaking,” the
shorter knight said. He leaned back,
staring up at the ceiling. “Do we have
anything to drink?” “What, you want water?” Alan asked
with a confused laugh, mixed with growing concern. “Something stronger.” Eliot sat forward with a sudden burst of
motion and turned on the chair to Alan.
“I’ve spent the last several days, as you know, reading over the notes
we had received from our dear inside agent.” “Rebecca’s very talented at
research and reconnaissance,” Alan said, crossing his arms. He leaned back against the wall as if not
quite able to fully frame Eliot in his mind.
“What’s going on? What happened? Is Morgan joining us or not?” “Oh, I don’t believe so,” he said
with a smile. “Though I do think he
may solve one of our biggest problems for us.” “And that would be?” Alan asked,
his patience beginning to wear thin. “The Blue Knights,” Eliot
smiled. “I believe that Morgan shall
take care of them.” “Eliot,” Alan prompted,
standing. “What. Happened.” The light skinned knight sighed
again. “After reading the reports that
Rebecca had graced us with, I learned a great deal about Mr. Brandywyne that
I doubt anyone really knew. For one,
are you aware that he, not Everett, was the one who killed Jericho Kingston?” “I’d heard,” Alan said curtly. “Did you also know that he’s
adopted?” Eliot ventured. “Or that he
is awful at video games, but loves them none the less?” Alan was about to speak up when Eliot said
“Or that he hates knights of all varieties?”
Alan paused. “Yes,” Eliot said
with a wide, disconcerting smile.
“Morgan Brandywyne wants nothing to with any knight, Red or Blue. He wants to wash his hands of Chivalry and
of knighthood and all that comes with it.”
He turned a bit in thought.
“Pity too. He’s such a shining
example of what a knight ought to be.” “I’d love to know where this is
going,” Alan said. “After studying up on Morgan,”
Eliot said, “I began to follow him firsthand.
He’s very vigilant and very aware.
It was quite difficult. But I
did get to watch him live out his life.
And quite a life it is, too.
You’re right that we needed to make him a priority. He’s very strong, in just about every sense
of the world.” “Eliot,” he warned. “And part of that strength means
that he wouldn’t join us,” Eliot summarized.
“No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
He will have nothing to do with any knights, of any variety, for any
reason.” “He backed those he believes are
his friends,” Eliot corrected academically.
“He is a man who is very much defined by the shadows of his past and
the harder he tries to get away from them, the more he gets roped in. Or so he feels.” “And?” Alan prompted. “And so,” Eliot said
carefully. “I asked you what was more
important; that he join us or that he not join with them.” “I recall.” “After you chose what I believe to
be the best course of action, which was to make sure that he distrusted or
even hated the Blue Knights,” Eliot said.
“After all, this is a man who, even though he was not a knight, donned
black and red for the cause of Chivalry when they took on the Brotherhood of
the Sun’s fortress. It was he who
donned black and red for the cause of Chivalry when he killed Jericho
Kingston.” “So even though he doesn’t like
them, he might side with them on rare occasions,” Alan said, connecting the
obvious. “Yes, on such an occasion as a
perceived invasion by so-called ‘evil’ knights,” Eliot said with a
smile. “He couldn’t just be
indifferent to the two, he couldn’t just be slightly peeved at the Blue
Knights. He had to think they were as
evil, or more evil, than he could be persuaded to think we are.” “And so you…” Alan prompted with a
gesture of his hands. Eliot smiled with memory, staring
off for a moment. “I decided to frame
the Blue Knights for crimes against Morgan.” Alan’s heart stopped. “Eliot,” he said cautiously, “what
have you done?” “What are the most precious things
to a knight?” Eliot asked rhetorically.
“His home,” he said, turning and looking Alan straight in the
eye. “And his mother. Women and the cult of women are the very
foundation of modern chivalry. Almost
every knight reveres his mother, more than any other woman. She is the giver of life, the nurturer of
wounds, and the ideal against whom all others are and shall forever be
measured.” Alan said nothing. He simply stood, listening, his heart in
his throat. “To harm a knight’s home is an
egregious offense,” Eliot went on as if discussing possible recipes for
dinner. The sick smile returned to his
face. “But to harm his mother…” He turned in his chair, his eyes glazed
over with disgusted pride. “What I
did, I did to make certain that our quest for the knights’ ascension did not
fail because of some overzealous fool.” “What did you do?” Alan asked, his
voice barely a whisper. “Morgan has a lovely house, or it
used to be,” Eliot said with a smile.
“Now, most of it has been reduced to rubble. Rebecca was remarkably happy to assist me
with this. She knew so much about the
knight she had welcomed into her…life, that she made the vandalism truly
special.” Alan’s cutlass was at Eliot’s
neck. “The law I know,” he said, his
voice shaking with rage, “can afford me no greater insult than this…” “Careful, Alan,” Eliot said, not
bothering to move away from the sword or the attack behind it. “Think about what you’re about to do and
why.” His words took affect inside
Alan’s soul. “I’ve made certain that
Brandywyne goes against the Blue Knights.
I’ve taken care of two birds with one stone.” “You killed an innocent woman!”
Alan screamed. “I sacrificed one life so that we
could save millions and millions of future lives!” Eliot yelled back,
standing in a flash. “Or did you
forget what it is we’re going to do?
Did you forget the cost of our plan, of our immaculate proof to the world
that knights belong on the frontlines of every military worldwide? Did you forget just what would be
entailed?” He shook his head, smiling
with disapproval. “We are
knights. We are warriors. And all wars require sacrifice.” “Not that,” Alan said. “Not that price. Nothing is worth a price so high.” “I beg to differ,” Eliot said
confidently. “One life, to forge a
clear path on our way to our destiny?
Isn’t that what the Alan Ivers’ books told you? That your work, your deeds, would be key to
instituting knights in the most elite military group in all the land? Didn’t that crackpot here, in this very
city, Madam Kieri, tell you precisely the same thing?” He stepped back, his smile never
stronger. “I have done nothing but
play my part that the hand of fate dealt me.
I have done nothing but guarantee that we shall see victory on this
night, for all knights.” Alan, pale in the face, shook his
head. “Eliot, you frighten me,” he
said quietly. “Never have I heard a
knight speak as you do.” Eliot smiled. “And never will you again, I should
imagine.” He breathed out with relief
as he turned to the door. “Let us be
off, then. We have a world to conquer
and a military to bring to its knees.” |
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