My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World



We didn't actually need to walk that far to get where we were headed for.

Surprising, I know - especially in this conglomerate in what was essentially the biggest frat party of the year. You wanna find a specific someone, then you're practically scrounging around for a needle in a haystack.

However, none of that basically applies, when the aforementioned needle you're looking for was the most prestigious, classy, and sharpest - no pun intended - needle around.

Ria directed us to where she had last spotted him, and without even a moment to glance about, we spotted the bright gold glimmer of his embroidered winter suit.

"There's the man!" Ria proclaimed, doubling her pace, and waving to get his attention. "Pretty cool guy, actually. Didn't even mind when I accidentally singed some of his facial hair sneezing at him."

I don't think there are many people out there that could sneeze and caramelize some stubbles out of a head mobster and live to tell the tale, let alone walk out there making friends but - sure whatever… as far as batshit goes, that ain't even close to cracking into the top twenty.

There the man was, tapping his walking stick against the bare earth, as impressive and intimidating as ever, standing beneath a wide, open tarp, which I immediately recognized as being recycled from one of the games for the contest Adalia and I took part in last Christmas.

But instead of being a venue for one's beauty to be judged without mercy, for New Year's, he had turned the entire thing into an outdoor restaurant of sorts, consisting of the standard things you'd come to find in high dining: fancy waiters, professional chefs, and lots and lots of expensive food that'll make the most modest of bank accounts whimper and tremble.

The moment he spotted us, he smiled, an eerie yet kindly grin showing right beneath a partly-shriveled 'stache. 

"Ah…" He sounded pleased, approving, and locking eyes with mine - very much delighted. "A pleasure once again. I'm happy to see that us meeting is quickly becoming a habit of ours. I pray it becomes quite the occasional one." 

I really don't.

"Well," I shrugged, forcing a smile out of courtesy. "Wouldn't be here in the first place if it were up to me, trust me. Nice celebration, though. Really stepped it up from last time."

He inclined his head down in appreciation.

"Dave!" Ria then went up to him, fist-bumped him on the shoulder, and I felt my ears writhe a little shocked at how quick they were to first-name-basis. "Gotta thank you again for being so accommodating. Don't really get many folks here taking a gal like me in stride." 

Dave humbly tipped his head again, pleased to have pleased.

"Any friend of my friends is naturally a friend of mine too," he said, and as he spoke, caught the piercing scowl of the detective beside me. "And I supposed that courtesy now extends to you too, Detective Madison."

It was perhaps only natural that the both of them would have already long known about each other. A police detective, a criminal kingpin. It's like cats and dogs essentially. However, that didn't stop the chill surging up the back of my neck hearing her name resound through such venomous politeness.

"Never in my wildest dreams could I have ever imagined our city's great ace detective would turn out to be more than meets the eye," He went on, admiration and awe echoing in a subtle calm. "Irene. Irene… the moment I heard that name. Why, I still can't believe it's you of all people."

Somewhere between the bumps and jolts of the past few months, I did eventually wind up telling Irene about the wiretaps that used to be installed around the house, and after calming her and talking her down from an outrage regarding breaches of privacy, I swore on my life that her secret identity was more than safe still. Probably.

Nevertheless, when it came to trusting a mobster's word, I can wholeheartedly understand her maintaining some distrust, as well as some lingering sense of resentment for him.

"Then again, I suppose it should come as no surprise," Dave said, clacking his cane forward for a closer step. "All you've accomplished, the reputation you hold, at times… it feels as if you're not even human at all." 

Irene looked past his eyes, surveying the surroundings, the rampant bustle of service, before falling back with a sterner glean to her gaze.

"781PHZ," she muttered, each letter and word with increasing intensity. "It's a time for change tonight, so I'll be lenient. Tell him to park somewhere proper, or I'm afraid he'll be getting his first arrest warrant of the year for the parking fines he probably hasn't paid for yet."

"Oh, detective, detective…" He snickered out, wearing a smirk worthy of a devil. "Just what would we do without you?"

In an instant, he raised his arm, and snapped his fingers loud enough to be almost mistaken as a muffled pop of a gunshot, and from the crowd, more specifically from the service side, a figure began to shuffle forward. 

For the second time in less than a minute, I felt goosebumps raise right up deep down in my soul. The figure emerged, appearing before us in all of his shot, stubby, and slimy glory. I knew those beady eyes, that shifty smile, and especially those grimy fingers… always counting and taking what little I had scraped for the month and then some.

If there ever was anything more unforgettable than your first love, then it's definitely gotta be your first debt collector.

Except someone seemed to have changed his ugly trench coat for a chef's uniform, and the distinctly bowler hat on his bald patch for a tall chef's hat. Clearly debt collector he was not tonight. 

"Boss," He grunted in greeting, wrinkling his large, hooked nose at the rest of us. 

"Your car," The big boss spoke, surfacing an impervious air of authority through his nonchalance. "Is it too much to ask that for a night for you to be on your absolute best behavior? Or at the very least, to simply follow proper parking etiquette? You have two minutes." 

"Yes boss," the non-bowler hat man replied, looking ruffled and apologetic. "Sorry boss."

"It is not me you should be asking for forgiveness here." 

Flicking his small, round eyes, the little chef narrowed his gaze toward Irene, wearing a grimace that implied bitter history, and grudgingly bowed his head. 

"My bad, detective," he grumbled, barely audible. "Promise it won't happen again." 

And with that, he strode off, waddling and racing against his two-minute timer all the way out of the tent. He barely even looked at me. I guess your five-hundred-and-eighth scammed victim won't be as memorable as your first.

"Forgive him," Dave said, seamlessly falling back to a more amicable tone. "He just tends to forget where he stands in the eyes of the law on occasion."

"Yes," Irene said dryly. "The crooked ones always usually do."

He raised his cane at her, his standing as skewed as his leer toward her. "Now that's just mean."

"It's quite the celebration you've assembled, nice of you to give back to the community you constantly extort from for once," she said without a hint of caution. "In a perfect world though, a joyous occasion such as this wouldn't have your men's hands all over it." 

"No such thing, unfortunately," he said, taking her snide in stride. "You should know better than most, detective. We all need our necessary evils, don't we?" 

"Hey Dave," Ria wedged herself into the discussion, her attention having drifted elsewhere for the past few exchanges, and with her eyes still set off to the far horizon, it seems that it still is. "Those drones of yours… all the lights changing shapes and stuff… you got someone controlling them all from somewhere?" 

"A team, yes," he responded. "Why do you ask?" 

"Do you take requests?" 

"Requests?" Dave raised a brow. "I'm afraid not, no. It's all pre-arranged, preprogrammed." 

"Can you make an exception?" Ria whirled her eyes at him, batting them sweetly. "You know, for a friend of a friend?" 

In the same calm and collected fashion, Dave took a moment to consider. Giving me ample time to wonder what the hell else this girl had up her fiery sleeves.

"What are you planning this time?" I asked, leaning heavy on suspicion and alarm.

"A surprise, as usual, same ol' Ria up to her shenanigans again," she said monotonously. "And yes, following standard routine, I ain't telling you a damn thing about it 'till the last minute." 

"Ria…" Irene huffed, but right before she could speak, Dave was just about done with his internal affairs.

"Alright, follow me then," he said, leading with a hobble. 

We turned, followed, but before we could even take our first step, Ria slid over and used her body as a firewall.

"Last minute I said," she repeated, widening her eyes. "Meaning to say - both of you mind your own business." 

I didn't see any value in arguing, and apparently neither did Irene. The both of us sharing a weary sigh as we remained in place. 

"In that case," Dave put his fingers to his lips and let out a quick, shrill whistle, and once again, like before, a figure began to approach from the distance. "I'll have you two seated, order what you like - free of charge." 

Just as I thought the surprises ended there, the figure showed up - in a suit, exuding a regal air, and fluttering handsomely with wavy locks of bright blonde. 

"Leon, my dear boy," Dave said, giving his son a brief, endearing glance. "Seat these lovely pair here somewhere that's quiet and nice, won't you?"

I can only imagine what he was thinking right about now. Leon, in his bowtie and vest, wearing an incredulous expression on his face not too dissimilar to mine, seeing me here, and for what has to be the hundredth time already, in the company of another woman that wasn't Ash. 

"Okay, Dad," he muttered weakly, blue unblinking eyes trying to communicate something with mine. "I'll… I'll get right on it." 

Never mind the literal girl on fire right next to her father. No, me and this illustrious vixen beside me was what mattered the most now to him. 

"Welp," Ria proclaimed, seeing us off with a smile and a backward wave. "Guess I'll see you all in a bit."