Episode 134

                “Sorry, but I’m not handing you anything but a hard time.”
                                Cammy, Cammy

                “Five knights, four beds.” Vincent said, as he stood over the railing of the second floor of the trashy hotel. “And no one’s going to sleep with Lilah, so that means at least two guys get the floor. That’s assuming that two guys are willing to share a bed.”

                “Well, I bet Jason would love that.” Morgan said, shaking his head. He looked back into the open door of the room as Lilah sat on the bed, working tirelessly with her hair. “Okay, it’s eleven o’clock at night. What the hell does Arthur want us to do?”

                “He takes us all out to dinner after a successful mission.” Vincent said, shaking his head.

                “How does he afford all this?” Morgan said, looking around. “He’s paying for the trip, he’s paying for the rooms, the food. Is he that rich?”

                “His parents died in a plane crash I think.” Vincent explained. “And they left their whole fortune to him. So he’s got this massive trust fund that’s all invested, and he just lives off the interest.”

                “We should all be so lucky.” Morgan grumbled bitterly. “A buddy of mine’s a college professor and the rest of us have to remind him every now and then that for most of us, twenty bucks for gas or something can make the difference between whether or not we eat at the end of the month.”

                “Sounds familiar.” Vincent griped as well. He looked out over the parking lot, out at the mountains. “Atlanta tomorrow, right?”

                “That’s what Jason said.” Morgan nodded.

                “I’m not complaining.” Vincent went on. “I love traveling. I love seeing other places. And hell, if it’s to stop the Brotherhood, so much the better.” He smiled, looking at the mountains. “The scenery’s nice too. You got to admit that.”

                “I have to do no such thing.” Morgan grumbled, standing up from the railing.

                “You’re a cynical bastard, you know that?” Vincent sent after him as he walked into the room.

                Morgan stepped into the single hotel room, as Lilah put her hair up in a high ponytail. “I can never get a notch top to come out right.” She said, staring at herself in the room’s mirror. “I saw a girl at the rally in Louisville the other day and I loved her hair.”

                “I think that was Sydney.” Morgan observed as he looked around the room.

                “You know her?”

                “Yeah.” Morgan said, pulling his bag out from the corner of the room. He tossed his Grosse Messer over onto the unused bed and started digging through the clothes. “Where did you study?” He asked to the dame after a moment. He turned on the bed, looking at her as she still struggled with her hair. “Did you apprentice or what?”

                “Only a few knights apprentice any more.” Lilah said knowingly. “My dad taught me. He wasn’t a knight, but he knew about them. When I told him I wanted to swear, he put me through six months of hardcore military training he learned back when he was a Marine and then said he’d let me swear.” She looked over at Morgan, smiling. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him I already had.”

                “So, you come from military.” Morgan nodded. He looked at the mostly closed door. “What about the others? Did they apprentice?”

                “Vincent, no.” She said. “I don’t know where he learned, but he didn’t apprentice. Jason, I have no idea. If he did, I don’t think it shows.”

                “And Arthur?” Morgan asked, looking back at Lilah.

                “To my understanding, he apprenticed.” The girl answered, standing up. “But I don’t know under who.” She turned to Morgan, the red blouse standing out prominently against her black skirt. “How do I look?” She said, holding her arms out.

                “Just lovely.” The former knight said, turning back to his sword.

                “You don’t sound impressed.” She said.

                “I’m not easily impressed.” He countered.

                “Well, what does it take to impress you?” She asked, as if trying to discover an enigmatic piece of trivia.

                “More than I think Arthur can manage, I’ll say that.” Morgan grumbled under his breath.

                “What do you think of this guy?” Jason asked, as he lit a cigarette, the glow giving off a harsh waft of smoke into the mountain breeze.

                “Who? Morgan?” Vincent asked as he appraised the choices in the vending machines. “I like him. He seems like a decent guy. I just want to know why he doesn’t like Arthur.”

                “From what I hear, this Morgan cat’s got a major stick about knights.” Jason offered cynically, biting down on the taste of the cheap tobacco. “You remember all that bit of the ‘net a few months back about that knight who actually at the balls to take on a direct assault to the Brotherhood?”

                “Oh yeah.” Vincent laughed. “Oh my god, if he had actually pulled it off, he’d be . . .”

                “Word has it,” Jason interrupted. “Morgan’s the guy who stopped him.”

                “Arthur’s just a bit, I don’t know, dedicated.” Lilah explained as she lay on the inner bed. Lying narrowly in the very middle, with her head propped up on a balled-up pillow; she laid her hands tightly together on her stomach. Meanwhile, Morgan was sitting on the outer bed, working on the edge of his sword. “He’s always been really intense and everything. He’s just a natural leader.”

                “Is Arthur even his real name?” Morgan asked as a thought. “I know some knights change their names upon swearing. He didn’t, did he?”

                “I don’t think so.” She said, staring up at the ceiling. She looked over at Morgan. “So, what’s your team like?”

                “My team?” Morgan chuckled.

                “Yeah, back at your city? Are you a defender?”

                “I was a knight-errant.” Morgan said, emphasizing the past-tense nature of his role. “There are six knights in my city. Everett’s the leader. You’ve probably heard of Edgar. He’s a historian. There’s Sydney, Ledger, and Roland.”

                “Ledger’s the knight who trained with Ethan, right?” Lilah asked.

                “I have no idea. Who’s Ethan?”

                “I’ve never met him.” The dame said. “He’s some gun-toting psycho who lives in South Carolina. Columbia, I think. I think even Arthur dislikes him. He’s supposed to be really racist.”

                “Is he black or white?” Morgan asked.

                “Does it matter?”

                “I’ve met white, racist knights.” Morgan explained, sliding the strip of leather down the blade of his sword.  “I don’t think I ever met a black, racist knight. I guess I assumed they all just joined the Black Panthers.”

                “No, he’s black.” She said. “But he and Ledger are like the only two knights who carry guns.”

                “Oh yeah.” Morgan sighed. “The knights’ general, unexplained dislike for firearms.”

                “They’re the weapons of cowards.” Lilah argued, her temper flaring.

                “A weapon’s a weapon.” Morgan retorted. “It could be argued that you’re a coward for even using a sword, that any weapon’s cheap, gun or no.” He looked back at the dame, then went back to the sword.

                “Anyway.” The dame said, lying back down. “So, that’s five in your city. Who’s the sixth?”

                “Armand.” Morgan continued. “He’s from Boston, I think. He came down to apprentice to Everett.”

                “Wow.” She laughed. “That’s awesome. But all that and you’re still not a knight?”

                “No.” Morgan said. “Nor do I ever have any plans to be one again.”

                “Then why are you here?” The dame asked.

                “Because I don’t like the Brotherhood.” Morgan maintained, uncaring of the obviously faulty logic. “I’m not revitalizing old alliances, I’m joining against a common foe.”

                “But you swore once.”

                “Words, Lilah. Nothing more.”

                The dame sat in thought about that. The hum of the air conditioner kept the two company as Morgan continued to focus on the sword.

                “You don’t believe that.” She finally announced.

                “Very good.” Morgan said, turning the blade of his sword into the light.

                “So, if you’re here and you at least believe in part of what we’re doing, what don’t you help us?” She asked.

                “I am.” Morgan defended.

                “You didn’t go in tonight.” She pointed out.

                “I was ordered not to.” He said. “Despite whatever stupid plans you guys may throw at me, as long as it’s your show and I’m just a consultant, I will simply sit back and do what I’m told.”

                “Even if it makes the difference between success and failure?” The dame asked.

                “If you fail,” Morgan said with an unsympathetic smile. “That’s your own damn fault.”