The Ancients Part 1

The Ancients

Chapter 1

A Party in the Lounge

A beam of light streamed in through the trees canopy directly into my waiting eyes. My conscious mind had been awake for a short while so it did not bother me as much as it would have if I had been sleeping.
Thoughts about many things ran through my mind, tonight’s party, the truck, the lovely female specimen lying next to me, a full bodied curved goddess with flawless blue hair that trailed all the way down to her waist.We’d shared an intimate night together. Full of techniques that have been long forgotten and a few modern ones, of course her being a water nymph as well as young had made the night that more pleasurable, with youthful stamina and naïve approach to the techniques, I knew she had been thoroughly spent by the time our night had come to an end. I’d worry about attachment yet she was bound to the spring of water far from my home, she would have left already had we not fallen asleep.
Sitting up my eyes caught sight of one of my two roommates sitting on the end of the bed. A small grey feline with black stripes covering her body, more commonly known as an American Shorthair, was staring at me with questioning eyes as if I’d done something unacceptable. Her name is Victoria. “Meow?”
“It is perfectly acceptable for a man of my age to indulge a young water nymph”
Nevertheless she pawed my lover and sniffed her hair, hissing at the unnatural scent coming from her, looking to me voicing her complaint. “Rraow!”
“I do not have to explain my actions Victoria, you have seen me with far worse”
Her tail turned up and she leapt off the bed making her way down the iron spiral staircase as if in disgust, although with her feline features it’s sometimes hard to tell one expression from another.
Getting up and over my sleeping companion without disturbing her rest, standing on the floor, stretching my muscles from the long rest, then to my wardrobe which stands up against the wall, opening up the doors, stepping in to the deceptively deep walk-in-closet, selecting a pair of jogging shorts then stepping out of my wardrobe to dress.
Downstairs to the backdoor, noticing my morning paper delivered and the plastic container that had a piece of pizza was empty.
Taking a deep breath, the chilly mountain air falls into the valley around me, the world beginning its ritual, greeting the sun, leaves with dips of dew falling off of them. Animals already awake foraging, running around, hunting far off in the distance, gracing on the grass.
Starting out on my morning run through the forest around the base of the mountain, taking me to the rockslide on the far bend of the mountain and back again, taking only an hour and a half of my morning. Leading me by many creatures up earlier than me and past various clues that told me many wolves and one mother bear and her two cubs were in this vicinity, a regular sight in the spring months.
Back at the house I proceeded to do my morning exercises, hand stand push ups, regular push ups, one handed, sit ups, squats, and various other exercises to keep my body at this physical peak it is now. A full body tanned six feet two inches, with a physic to match many professional athletes, built for endurance and speed more than brute strength. With brown hair and deep green eyes I’ve managed to blend in with most white North American, and European cultures.
Standing on my backyard porch made of some local wood, a fire pit on one side with three wooden chairs and a table on the opposite side with three identical wooden chairs. Turning back to the house sliding open the glass door with the morning paper under my arm, Victoria lounging on the stone fireplace indoors looks up immediately, stretches then makes her way to me purring as she rubs up against my leg.
“Has our guest left yet?”
A soft meow was my answer. I proceeded to my room.
Up the cast iron spiral staircase my mattress lay as untidy as before with no young nymph lying in it.
Making the bed and lying down the paper on top of it, thanking me for a wonderful night, tossing the shorts into the laundry hamper inside the wardrobe, and then to the washroom to take a shower in the bathroom upstairs before heading downstairs to eat my breakfast.
Just eggs with spices some bacon and toast while Victoria had already caught her meal and devoured it as her bloodied mouth showed.
Reading the morning paper noticing the article that had been keeping my interest, the war abroad had taken a turn for the better, although in my opinion war was never for the better. It seems some leader of the Middle Eastern army had been found dead although they were still investigating his remains to determine if it was that person.
The American paper was calling it a major victory in the war on terror. One could only imagine who the people in the middle east thought were the terrorists, the ones bombing there cities or the one who came in to strip them of their food and land to liberate them from the bombs.
I decided to put the paper down and get some clothes to go work on my truck that needed a tune up, and repair the suspension that had been worn away over many years.
My garage was about two hundred and fifty metres away from my house meaning it was quite the walk, before walking to the garage first the garden needed to be checked.
My plants that had been in the soil no more than a month, they were getting enough water and had sprouted well enough and so far all the weeds that had been removed were not coming back.
Taking the well trodden dirt path, the garage had a concrete base and a two level interior, three helicopter pads and a cleared concrete ‘parking lot’ waited beside the garage with one chopper on the lot. Inside I went to the generator checking the gas turning it on and then grabbed the ladder and climbed up to where my 1995 Toyota Tacoma sat without any usable suspension and all four tires leaning up against the railing.
The original suspension was destroyed, from driving along a rough off road ‘road’ that has never seen a paving or even smoothed; it helps to deter the unwanted. Of course the truck was brand new in 95 but it had been the better part of a decade and a half and it was worn down. A mechanic whom was showed pictures said he could fix it himself and offered to increase the ground clearance by three inches and get me new tires for a more rugged riding, more expensive but well worth the cost.
So, with his help, I picked out the suspension and the tires as well as hired a pilot to fly them out here along with the mechanic. His initial reaction had been overwhelmed shock.
Going over the frame one last time visualizing the changes he was going to make, as well as reaching into my mind to get the list of tools and equipment we needed to apply the lift kit. My overhead crane that can easily lift up the truck for us to work underneath, even on the second floor, and a cart to haul the equipment into the garage and any tools we’d need to make the switch.
Overhead helicopter blades announced their arrival with a characteristic chopping.
My radio inside immediately went off in buzz of words and codenames, my privacy here demands a special entrance code that is left with a few select pilots and people.
We exchanged the passwords and he was allowed clearance to drop cargo and land. So I pushed the large cart out to the parking lot, looking at the tree-line where the characteristic chopping of the helicopter could be heard getting closer, and trees waving back and forth from the pressure of the wind.
The cargo was dangling on a line tied up in thick straps and mesh netting meant for hauling heavy cargo. Positioning the cart underneath the bundle and unclipping the hook to the helicopter signalling to the pilot to reel in his line. Afterwards he landed the chopper allowing his passenger to get out, a smiling fifty something white man wearing a dirty pair of overalls and carrying a bag full of tools. The pilot gave me the thumbs up as it was returned he lifted off and left us in the silence of the forest.
“Mr. Gerson it’s a pleasure to see you again”
He was preoccupied with my garage combined with the ride and my apparent wealth, yet he managed to reply, “Yeah, likewise”
Wheeling the cart into the garage he received several more surprises at the small car collection. Cars from the forties thirties and even a model T that had completely rusted through yet it stayed, for sentimental reasons, one of my favourite cars.
We got to work at about twelve o’clock and finished at around four in the afternoon, allowing us some time to examine some of the cars before he left.
He looked over my collection with that desire all collectors have for the classics. A 1948 Dodge tow truck, 1949 Buick Special, 1955 T-bird, 1958 Cadillac, a 1930’s Bugatti, one 1930 Cadillac Sixteen Convertible, and two modern cars a Bentley coupe four door and Land Rover SUV. Most of these cars were brought into the garage while the road was still smooth enough to drive over without a hassle. The Bentley had taken a much longer time to drive over the rough road.
He gave an appreciative whistle at my small collection. “Guess you got more cars in some big city”
I trailed my hand over the hood of the 55 T-bird, old memories resurfaced. “No good sir these past ambitions are the only vehicles I own”
He looked to me quite confused, and then looked up at the broken suspension upstairs we had just dismantled and removed not half an hour ago. “But how’d you get those cars here? You said the road was too rugged for any normal car. You must have had them flown in by chopper”
“My dear sir no one person would fly these cars into a remote area in the forties. Most turned down my offer suspecting it to be illegal and most likely their last flight” A small smile to deter him from the truth. His mouth turned up in a smile, which eventually developed into a laugh making him admire my sense of humour, while also diverting his attention away from the subject.
He patted his stomach and spoke with the age an wisdom of a tired old man, “Well I think it’s time for me to take you up on that offer for supper” Giving him a smile and patting his shoulder, we walked out the open door and down the gravel path to my home.
A handmade log home, with a steeple roof, a deck with chairs and a fireplace on the north side, a dragon lay’s on the south side of my home, often mistaken for a wooden carving. To the right were the road was, there are two large wooden doors that lead down to the ‘basement’ of my home, flanked on both sides by two large statues. Right next to the basement doors are the front doors, two large mahogany affairs with intricate carvings and wooden handles, large and sturdy perfect for my lifestyle.
We however took the back entrance, going in through the sliding glass door, which was made to withstand weapons fire and not shatter when broken. My home was made into a fortress for very specific reasons.
I have enemies with various amounts of power and influence that could wish harm to me or my guests. One might think I’m paranoid, being this far out into the wilderness and surrounded by nothing but trees at every turn, yet my enemies are not easily deterred.

We shared a meal by the large fireplace in the centre of my living room where we talked about cars both old and new for a few hours before the pilot returned to pick up him and the cargo netting. Bidding the mechanic a farewell, returning everything in the garage to its proper place, locking the garage again and walking back to the house, my behaviour changed from eccentric millionaire to serious businessman, as tonight’s party demanded a guarded and confident attitude.
The entrance to my mine, the source of my wealth, had been transformed into a basement lounge for the upper crust of society from all over the whole world, although most of the guests comprised of regulars from both sides of the border. The mine itself had been filled with a very thick vein of gold, unnaturally, which was mined by my hand alone for forty years prior to the eighteen hundreds. A large deposit of gold bullion is in a secret location, which is occasionally transferred into cash when the need arises.
The many years in the corporate world has given me vast connections with many important, powerful, and influential people around the globe, making me better connected than most intelligence agencies in the world.
Of course those who know me only know me as a wealthy businessman who owns many companies under false names and puppeteers many CEO’s to do his bidding. All of these rumours are of course false, someone with that many business deals would need an army of secretaries to keep track of it all as that kind of imprint in the economical world would leave me suspect to suspicion, something that simply cannot be allowed.
My anonymity must remain intact if my life’s true goal is to be achieved.
Although all the rumours concerning my reach, when it comes to certain individuals threatening me in the corporate world, however gruesome or horrific are all true.

Upstairs in my wardrobe smoothing out the wrinkles in my tuxedo and neatly tying my tie, a skill many men in this world are missing, folding a handkerchief in my right breast pocket, it would be a splendid night. Once more consulting the image in the mirror, of a slightly tanned man in a white tuxedo with a black handkerchief my roommate informed me that my chefs and waiters had arrived.
“Your slaves are here” My other cat Elizabeth a tabby of the orange colour sat at the entrance to my wardrobe, herself disliking anything magical along with Victoria.
“They are valued employees, Elizabeth”
She stretched out on the floor yawning acted as disinterested as only a cat can do, “Whatever,”
Walking down, making sure that air of anonymity had the desired effect on my staff. Outside flanking the basement doors my two statues, carved of pure silver with various cuts and dents created by one creature or another, both animated by jade stones imbedded in their chests.
They stand rigid waiting for orders from myself, while two tree nymphs along with fairies with my live band, all of them ready to wear glamour’s so that they may look human on the outside. “It is good to see you all as usual, your services are invaluable to me” Each gave me a customary smile, if not half heartedly. Turning to the two statues standing before us, speaking in an old tongue few remembered. “Arise from you slumbers”
The twin jade stones began to glow then the stone skin became distorted by the light until it was covered from head-to-toe in a human glamour designed to fool sight, touch, and smell, right down to the very last detail. They have served as butlers, doormen, bouncers, as well as a personal bodyguard, more for appearance sake than personal defence.
Both wore their human, ‘skins’ as if it were the most natural thing in the world, acting, talking, reacting as a real human being would. They have been in my service for just under two hundred years.
“Gentlemen, how were your slumbers?” Handing them suits I’d taken from the wardrobe before leaving, designed and fitted for them especially.
“You know we don’t dream like humans do Master, we simply remember you putting us to sleep last night” He dawned his suit nevertheless with smooth practiced motions.
“It is a gentleman’s occupation to always be polite and to never forget his manners, especially to loyal servants such as you” Waiting patiently as they finished dressing.
“It just seems such a waist of breath master to say it each and every day” He smoothed the suit where it needed it then checked his twin, as was the normal way of things.
“I shall try to refrain from it in the future” A fruitless attempt on my part, as the manners of a gentleman have been embedded in me to deep to pry out for even a day.
Both said nothing. Reaching into my pocket I handed one the key the iron key, he unlocked the iron lock on it, and lifted the large wooden doors leading down a set of stairs, into what was affectionately known as The Lounge.
A large metal staircase wide enough for three people to walk abreast of each other comfortably made of wood steps and iron frame work holding up the whole contraption. This statement lets all Fae who come to my lounge knew whose house this really is.
A touch to the iron staircase was enough to kill some Fae and enough to discourage those who wanted to start a fight, although not all of the party goers where as deathly allergic to metal as the rest.
The design is all upper class, the light fixtures and a few decorations stay completely gold. The vein that had been created in the ground was thick and deep, so it was only natural that something’s I would simply carve into existence, rather than have them fabricated and brought here.
It was designed as a Restaurant mainly, with tables and chairs made of the surrounding wood and then crafted into existence. They ran all around the room, underneath the staircase and over to the dance floor, which had a stage behind it. Immediately beside the stage is a platform, wide enough for a couch some chairs a table that lay folded up and behind the couch. And on the wall are two stone hands reaching out of the wall that held something very precious to me.
Beside the platform on the left was the bar and restaurant, which was mostly hidden from view, as all kitchens are, and has been outfitted with chimney’s so that all the smoke could be aired out, and most of the kitchenware is crafted from the stone of the cave, my cooks have very delicate constitutions when it comes to any man-made metals.
The bar is carved stone and has been treated and polished to a shine. The money it costs to actually bring in the food and the liquor is a small fortune pulled out of my own pocket, mostly from the gold fortune.
Then there are the four booths over in the last corner of the room. Four half circle booths that stretch up to the roof, each has black curtains that are pulled around the front if privacy is needed, which serves as they’re main function.
Finally there is a large tunnel, which is closed off to all humans during these parties, a large curtain covers the entire entrance off from view and most stumble upon it by accident, in the midst of the party.
Stepping down we began preparations, myself being a gentlemen helping in what was necessary, such as cleaning the bar and sweeping the floor of dust or dead bugs. Afterwards each of my not so human employees put on their human glamour. The two tree nymphs became two beautiful twenty year-old women, as well as my fairies became very energetic men and women in waiter and waitress outfits. My bands glamour was that of a well dressed restaurant band as it was necessary not to scare the humans of this world, thus causing suspicion.
Not too long after, the second twin announced that the first had set up the lit road through the forest, by planting a walkway of small battery powered lights along the gravel road to lead the way from the helipad to the lounge. And was currently manning the hangar to guide in the helicopters, as well as greeting the guests upon their arrival. “Excellent work let us prepare for the guests”
As my chefs made the arrangements for the menu and the band fine tuned their instruments I sat at the bar and remembered the very long list of business acquaintances made over the many years, which were attending so the second Twin could write them down. The fact of the matter is over the long years, which remain to be counted by some historian, memories and data collected in my mind could put the library of congress to shame.
Thankfully my creators gifted myself and my opposite, with the ability to store all this rather invaluable information away from my current consciousness so as to keep myself sane around the populace. Yet they included the foresight to bring up any memory if one was to concentrate hard enough, as it seems an easy task to any outsider there are literally millions of years of data to sift through to gain the correct memory. It is not noticeably time consuming, yet the time one spends in the deep contours of the mind can seem months, in the span of minutes.
Many of the current guests are relatives or acquaintances of each other, so the specific names and occupations can get muddled. Yet not matter how many times any of them are here their names and occupations are constantly forgotten. After a few moments they finally spring back up to me in the same order they’ve always been recalled. This information was passed onto Lok for the guest list, allowing me to return upstairs to fetch a rather important piece of equipment.
Running my fingertips along the rack with five canes held by my wardrobe, finally deciding upon the rosewood handled one with the single edged blade, and a matching rosewood sheath to disguise the sword.
Polished and cleaned it was ready for the night.

Men and women, all arriving by personal helicopter from some nearby city, as they are either passing through, or have a permanent residency in said such city. Each was checked off the guest list as they arrived, as they descended the stairs I was eating at the bar, my late night meal, and managed greet or acknowledge each one by name. This was a place to relax, titles and power need not matter here.
It seemed the visiting royalty of Thailand had arrived as scheduled; they seemed very impressed when greeted in their native tongue on their first visit to my lounge. Her grandfather had been a very well known king and quite the strategist if my memory serves.
Many of the regular businessmen and women of the nearby cities, were delighted to have royalty in their midst’s, and treated the staff and the Lounge as their own.
They mingled as best as royalty could, many an important men and women drank, some without reserve, others with some restrain.
The King and Queen became divided, myself watching all of this from the bar holding a glass of scotch in my hand.
They acted like kids more than royalty it seemed the regulars were reminding them that this was a place to be enjoyed, not a place to be on your guard. The two large men they arrived with they tried to blend in, only as sharply dressed and visibly sober bodyguards can. They reminded me of large obelisks, tall stone works like the Washington monument, which where painfully obvious to everyone.
Yet giving the crowd the once over, mostly to keep an eye on the regulars, and to keep myself amused. A collection of Armani and Gucci suits holding glasses of Sleeman, and Budweiser and acting like teens at a house party, it was something that hardly got old. A very interesting individual seemed to stand out from the regulars in this little gathering of friends and enemies.
A woman wearing a charming black dress, which hugged her curves to stop at mid-thigh, she carried a small but noticeable matching handbag hanging from her right shoulder. Red shining hair came off her head, hiding a smooth feminine neck, to end just below her shoulder blades with a slight curl, everything highlighting her face and drawing attention to her brown eyes and dark shade of lipstick. She smelled of perfume, very expensive perfume, although she herself stood out in this crowd.
The way she acted was out of tune with the rest of the party, while the rest of them were laughing out loud and shaking off the rough edges of their duties with old friends. She walked with the air of a middleclass women, trying to fit in at a party she wasn’t invited to. Her movement’s rather nervous unsure of where to go, or what to do, darting eyes trying to take in every detail, more prey than predator, while her one hand held her purse strap with caution, the other held her hair toying with the end to keep her hand busy. Fair skin, it seems she moisturized, as well as a body kept in check by diet and exercise.
She spotted me as one of the bartenders handed me another glass of scotch, nudging my arm to get my attention, then the bartender returned to a lonely business woman with a liking for long island ice-tea’s. “You behave yourself she’s human” The nymph said nothing to me, her eyes locked to the woman in front of her.
Turning my attention back to the woman she was standing in front of me, as if she’d found the gold at the end of the rainbow. She seemed too struck with my actual being to ask any questions, mouth smiling eyes wide taking in every detail, her nervous nature was gone now, replaced with confidence. She was beaming with excitement about...something.
I obliging her curiosity, as well as my own, taking her hand that had been toying with her red hair, holding it in front of me and kissed the back of her hand, slightly bowing as in the old days. “Lance, my lady” She blushed, not used to being treated as such.
“Be careful governa’” The bartender no doubt, sniping me with a well timed joke at my expense.
“Perhaps you’d like to talk over here, away from prying ears” My scotch and cane in one the other holding the ladies hand, as I dare not look back into the mischievous face of the forest nymph.
Sitting her down in one of the many booths, setting the cane on the seat beside me, within easy reach, and took a short drink of my scotch before talking to her again, “I do believe you’re not on my guest list”
She seemed to regain her composure, “I’m sure I’m not, I came with a friend”
Although guests were permitted the two doormen had obviously not meet this particular woman before, a testament to her, stealth and skills for entering my home. A flaw that had been carelessly over looked, “My my you’re certainly have your connections. Not many come to my house without my knowing about it”
“There’s a lot you know of, I’m certain” She looked across the lounge at all the different guests assembled, landing her eyes on the royal pair quite a few times. “You have quite a number of friends in high places Lance”
Taking a sip of my scotch she did not allow me to add my thoughts.
“You also have a house right beside a mountain out in the middle of the forest. With three helipads, a large garage and a parking lot beside it, not to mention the large and luxurious bar/restaurant with, a live band, electrically lit lights, a bar fully stocked, and a kitchen fully staffed” She let all of those facts gain momentum as my lips sampled more of this fantastic alcohol. “Not to mention everyone I’ve talked to has had a personal interaction with you in one form or another. Many you’ve helped with financial dealings, some advice on merges or deals, or intimate prospects. You seem very well informed in all aspects of the upper-class” She caught a waiter’s eye and ordered some white wine for herself.
“Am I to understand that you would like to know, something about me?” Not the least bit concerned about her or the investigative nature she was probing my life with. As always my paperwork has ended in a dead or has been personally destroyed.
“Yes”
Considering this endeavour brought a smile to my face, it would be fun to have another mortal wonderstruck at my various connections throughout the world, perhaps a few meaningless tidbits here or there could entice her for a frolic in the bed-sheets.
She unceremoniously put her purse on the table and pulled out a photocopied piece of paper. The waiter returned with the wine as she thanked him, taking a rather sizable mouthful, she then breathed deeply and looked at me with a smile on her face. “It seems you’ve left a piece of evidence as to your existence”
This made my mouth perk up in amusement, what could have possible been overlooked that could make this woman think she has something on me?
Clearing her throat, “This receipt was given to you after you purchased a Martini at a rather upscale nightclub in my home town of Denver. A receipt you signed and gave back to the bartender, as proof that you could indeed write Latin as fluently as if you had been born speaking it. The bartender, described a man of your age and looks as well as the security camera positively ID’s you” The triumphant look on her face was well deserved. This information had shocked me enough to make me choke on my scotch.
Recovering from my cough then snatching the paper away from her to read it quickly, searching my memory was not needed as it was recorded with precision.
A picture taken from the camera in the bar on a Denver high-rise building, the sentence written for the bartender, as well as a written statement about the conversation we’d had.
My identity had been pegged down with a pin and tacked to a wall, it was out there, and this woman was the one who owned the wall to which all of my life was probably hanging from.
Taking a few calming breaths, keeping my composure it took me a few minutes to regain the confidence and look of disinterest. However the damage was done. “I suppose you have many more documents pertaining to my identity, or perhaps the lack there of?”
She smiled devilishly “Of course, I will give you props for hiding it this well. This is the only piece of evidence I could find that actually links a name and a face together, before you’d been a face in the upper class crowd. Now it all comes together”
Curses and damn my need to show off, it seems we were past hiding our true intentions. Then we would need some privacy, and more alcohol. Moving out to stand beside the booth I signalled a waiter and ordered a bottle of red wine for the lady and a bottle of scotch to be brought to us. Then stepping back into the booth, I closed the curtains creating darkness in our booth. “Do not be worried, we simply need privacy to discuss such affairs” The small candle in a cup was unlit, the waiter came with our drinks, I asked him to take the candle away and bring an electric candle in a cup. He nodded and moved with the nervous energy they all have. We sat in silence until the electric candle came and lit up our little booth, showing her scared face.
Dismissing the waiter and opening the bottle of scotch, sniffing the lip of the bottle to judge the taste of the scotch and then poured myself a few fingers.
Looking at her smiling again, “Perhaps you’d like to tell me how you came upon my humble little life”
She was holding her glass with unsteady hands looking around the small booth like a nervous trapped animal. She most likely thought that she was going to die in here, “Oh I’d hardly call it humble Mr. Host. And no I wouldn’t” She took a smaller measured sip of the wine, savouring her victory more than the fragrant bouquet. “No I’d like to know who you are and what you do for a living. I have a deadline after all” Gaining focus, allowing her to move past her fear giving her power, she sat up straighter and took a drink of her wine.
A reporter who has planned for this meeting, arming herself with information about my life, details about my business deals with these people, talking to some of my friends, who are at the party, and writing it down on paper the most important part.
Well...this was turning into a rather intriguing evening. Not only does she have the scent of my secret life among the upper crust of society she has a motive to do so, she wishes to expose it to the world, through a story in the paper that will most likely make her world famous, along with myself. As intriguing as that is, it is something that could not be allowed to come to pass.
“It seems Ms we’ve reached an impasse in our relationship much sooner than expected, now what remains is what to do about this particular problem”
She cleared her throat, and looked me in the eyes. “Well we could start with what you do for a living?”
Smiling at her, several thoughts forming in my mind, “As you wish”
Feeding her one occupation after another, rather enjoying this part of the conversation, as she dismissed each occupation that would amount to the wealth and influence at my fingertips, both legal and illegal.
If there was one thing that made me happy more than anything else was toying with the minds of others, and she was willing to listen to each lie until dismissed by facts. This of course required her to indulge in several glasses of the white wine, which was until it got too much for her, “Stop!” Holding her head as a headache had likely formed by now. “Now give me a straight answer!” This attracted much attention from the party guests, but the black curtains obscured our faces.
“I’m sorry ms but I do believe you wouldn’t believe me if I told you the truth. Nothing would satisfy a curious yet obviously intelligent woman such as you. I say I’m a stock broker then why no satellite for updates on the stock market. I’m a business trader, again no contact with the outside world. A retired businessman who has made various wealthy investments and investments, again I’m too young.
“Perhaps you should save yourself the headache” Now it was my turn to smile as she leaned back against her seat and blew out a large breath it seems she’s given up.
“There’s got to be a reason” She spoke to no one in particular, as if the air itself would answer her. Not tonight it wouldn’t.
“Of course there is, but you’ll never find it”
She looked to me at her utter wits end, eyes open in shock, why would I suggest that to her? All she did was grab her wine glass and take all of the contents in a single gulp. Then she stared into the empty glass pensive for several long minutes.
While she did this it gave me time to consult my memory for the origins of that photocopied piece of paper, where the bartender had asked me to prove my literacy in Latin.
It turned out a man I recently helped with a merger, which would make him very wealthy, had invited me to the party as a gift. The bartender and I had gotten into a heated debate about ancient history, my personal speciality, and we started conversing in Latin. Being in the European continent when Latin was being spoken, I’d committed it to memory so that it would forever be with me.
He wanted to know how the language seemed to roll off my tongue like the genuine article. I’d wanted to tell him about my past and learning it among the coffee shops and streets. Instead all I could give him was a quick sentence on the back of the receipt, for the martini, to help him believe. The note itself had said in Latin, “Didici domi” which translated into English means “I learned it at home” A foolish mistake it seems.
She’s said something that only registered on the edge of my mind, compelling me to come out of my memory induced trance to listen to her repeat it.
“I guess my search has come to an end” Her face that had once been lit with anticipation and conquest, had fallen into despair and misery, one thing that hurts me more than anything. A gentleman cannot stand to see the woman he’s with sad or distraught, a weakness if you will.
Reaching out and covering her hand with mine, her dreary face looked into mine. “It does not have to be a night that ends in tragedy”
She took her hand away from mine slowly. “I don’t see how”
A gentle smile touched my face. “A gentleman could help you to find a piece of the puzzle, beyond that it’s out of his control”
Her head lifted a little sparkle of hope in her eye. “Maybe I could see these puzzle pieces?”
My mouth spread into a warm smile “An excellent decision”
Yet a small scuffle in the main Lounge area had gained momentum. Fights were not permitted here; this is a place for people to relax.
Casually opening the black curtain to see the trouble revolved around a single individual trying to attack the royal couple, many of the regulars had charged to their defence and were holding him off.
Looking to Tol the other bodyguard at the tunnel access and motioning him towards the group, he nodded and moved at a surprising speed for a stone statue.
Turning to face her “Could you excuse me for a few moments while I deal with this vagabond”
She looked to the man being held.
Taking a moment to assess the situation, Tol was holding the young man with one hand up in the air. A pocket knife lay on the ground in front of him, with blood on it not too far away from it stood the Queen with a cut on her arm. The King was holding her, more wounds on his hands. He’d fought off the attacker it seemed. The crowd, who had previously been holding off the boy where taking a moment to relax, and adjusting their clothing, taking care of anything that had happened to themselves.
The young man was yelling at Tol demanding that he be let go, the tone of his voice sounded like it was used to ordering people around, upperclassmen not a hired thug... subtle.
Taking in a deep breath then raising my voice so it travelled over the noises in the Lounge. “What has happened in my Lounge?”
He was gasping for breath in the hold Tol had over him, the collar choking him.
“Tol let him down” He nodded and dropped the young man into a heap on the ground.
He got up straightening his black tuxedo and pants, looking at Tol with rage in his eyes, and then he turned to me.
He watched as I walked towards him my cane gripped in my left hand showing my anger. The other hand held the pocket knife that had cut the Queen and King. I was angry that someone had tried this in my club. My feet rang out in the quiet Lounge as I approached him, everyone else watching on with curiosity and awe.
Watching me he’d begun to sink back into himself, ashamed, scared and terrified at what he’d just done. “I need the money” he blurted out.
All there was left to do was laugh, long and hard.
The absolute absurdity of the situation was too much to hide beneath a calm exterior. There was probably something larger behind all of this, a power play for the throne, using this young man as a pawn, have a drunk upperclassmen kill the Queen and King so that the mysterious backer could take the throne.
He was watching me like a scared mouse. “What are you going to do about it?”
I knew what to do about it I causally tossed back the knife. He caught the knife in his outstretched hands. “I’m going to allow you one attempt to try and hit me. You’ve already broken the first rule of my club; this is your second warning”
To every man and woman present this was a serious threat towards him.
While my Lounge is a scene where many a shady deal has been done or foul deed preformed there is the three warning rule. The first warning is a month long banning. The second is a three month banning after a severe beating has been delivered to the individual. The third is the simplest of all; they die regardless of age, title or power.
His bravado of all things was wounded by my handling of the threat. It was calm, uninterested, and almost casual in tone, on the outside. Inside I knew that this needed to be handled quickly and to remove and humiliate this boy in front of the crowd so they don’t turn on him.
This was a chance for a man who thought himself twice my junior to show me how capable he really is.
Like a fool he attempts to stab me with the point rushing towards me.
All that was required was for me was to simply grab the cane with both hands, like I would handlebars, hit the knife away then throw out my leg to kick his ankle as it stepped down, making him trip and fall, as well as drop his weapon.
He fell down on the ground once again, grabbing his hand where I’d hit it.
He looked at me, surprised that his ‘attack’ had been evaded with such ease.
Undeterred he came at me again, grabbing his knife holding it in a fist so the blade pointed down, he tried to slice my from my hip to my shoulder, quicker than last time.
Yet it was a foolish attempt to try and fight me in the first place.
A quick step back, bringing up my cane with both hands, to come crashing down on the wrist with enough force to break bones, the knife dropping the floor. Then while the cane was in line with his throat, I pushed it towards his throat. Not with enough force kill him, as it wasn’t possible from this stance and with only seconds to act, the cane hit his throat.
His throat was constricted for a second in mid motion, causing him to gasp for breath while falling to the floor again. He dropped down and smashed against the floor smacking his head but not knocking him unconscious.
Everyone took in a deep breath, shocked at the sudden result, as well as unsure what happened in the process.
Reaching down my fingers touched his throat, there was faint pulse he was going into shock.
“Tol a glass of water now!” Seconds later I grabbed the glass from him set it down on the ground, rolled over the boy and then splashed it in his face. Then I held down his head.
He came up coughing, “Calm down and take deep breaths, your skull could be fractured. Don’t be a fool” I’d said it like a command, and he obeyed. Touching his neck feeling for a pulse, it was getting stronger, he suddenly screamed out in pain, his broken wrist was affecting his judgement. “Tol some ice” He went to the bar to grab it leaving me with the boy. “Take deep breaths and don’t move your head”
Looking to the crowd concern in my voice, “Someone go to the garage and get a helicopter ready, this boy is going the hospital in town. Tell them Lance will pay for the bill, go” Someone soon rushed up the stairs and outside.
Ice soon came in a cloth and I set it on the broken wrist to calm the pain.
Then looking down into the boys eyes, serious “You are beaten” he looked to me stunned for a moment.
Letting the actions sink in to reinforce the words as his eyes went around the room, searching for help, finding none from the crowd. He tried to move but my hand on his head wouldn’t let him.
Through the pain and despite his current situation he managed to look angry about it all. A deep sigh came from his lips, along with a few coughs of breath, “I give up”
We took a stretcher that I had in the garage and strapped him and put him in one of the helicopters. A local businessman decided to go with him to hospital to look after him. Everyone else calmed down and eventually the party returned to what it once was, although the conversation was bound to be different.
He was welcome to leave as long as he did not return for three months.
The two royals had gone as well mysteriously disappeared, I’d personally apologized for the event and had told them I would pay for the hospital bill and call someone better than their bodyguards to look after them.
My guest in the booth had watched all of this without saying a word.
Most likely taking in everything she could, as well as she could through the wine, and managed to smile at me sincerely, although drunk, it was cute.
She tensed as my hand reached out for hers, still more afraid than calm.
Realizing the dilemma, caused by my earlier actions, instead of an expected awe and gratitude after that attack on the royals, her face was a blank slate of emotion. She was in shock of what just happened, in a public place, at a party of all places, something she had not experienced previously and therefore was not ready to deal with the emotions afterwards. So I smiling gently at her, in an attempt to shrug off the incident and create a calm atmosphere, all the while searching for the right words to use. “I do hope my invitation to show you my homestead is still open?”
Her face told me the whole story.
Those eyes, wide pupils because of the alcohol, her rational mind not working the way it normally does. She was thinking of the right thing to say, weighing the options, wrestling with her instincts about the matter.
“That is if you still want to leave?” A sly smirk on my face, baiting an adversary was usually the best way to capture them.
Her face suddenly went into deep concentration locked on me.
She seemed to put the pieces together rather quickly, she then answered right away. “I’ll go with you”
“Splendid” Reaching out once more with my hand to escort her “Shall we?”
She gathered up her notepad placing it in her purse, after a few attempts, then took my hand and followed me through the Lounge up the stairs to my home.
We entered in through my large wooden double doors carved with a specific point in my life.
The encounter between me and my friend Ruzgar, the one on the left door showed the first time we met when he was a wee egg in a forest. The door on the right showed us year’s later standing side-by-side as he’d finally reached his full size.
She looked at the carving with wide eyes trying to take in every detail, while swaying in her high heels. “Whoa, you’re very full of yourself”
Ignoring that remark I simply opened the door.
The living room is an impressive size for being homemade out of logs.
A large fireplace sat in the middle with two curved couches flanking the circular fireplace as well as a regular couch that you’d find in any home on the other side of the fireplace, and a few cushy recliners sitting between us and the fireplace.
A large bookcase to our right held several recent as well as ancient books, along with a reclining chair to read them in.
A small bar sat in the far right corner of the room with a neon light below the surface of the bar itself. Several unique alcoholic beverages brewed by various nations and species, sat ready to be used behind the bar.
To our left up a small set of steps to fully stocked kitchen, directly across from it sat the first floor bathroom and right beside it wedged into the corner sat the spiral staircase leading up to my room.
Although the door seemed narcissistic to her the inside was magnificent.
Everything reflected me, the kind of man I’ve been my entire life, refined, cultured, sophisticated everything my other half is not.
“Perhaps you’d like a drink?” Gesturing towards the bar,
“Uh huh” hardly paying me any attention.
I moved over to the bar, putting my cane up against the wall beside a chair.
She looked over everything in astonishment, “How much did this all cost?”
Perhaps she’d like a Cosmopolitan. “I wouldn’t know, I built most of it, the rest I had someone buy for me, she has quite good taste”
She came over to me and took the drink. “A Cosmo?” her face grinning as she took the margarita glass “A perfect Cosmo out here in the wilderness? You’re quite the individual”
A small night cap of vodka for me leftover from one of the previous parties, presenting to her a smile that would throw any suspicion off until the morning, while moving out from behind the bar next to her “It’s one of my many talents”
She only grinned at me, trying for coy, but came out drunk. “I’m sure it is” drinking her drink.
She had not completely given into the ideas that her body and mind where telling her, still fighting to keep her womanly composure in front of the total stranger.
More than likely to complete the story she had written in perfect, or had been at one point, handwriting in that notebook she seemed proud of. There is something to admire in a woman who goes for what she wants, that was the strong attraction about her. Along with a physical one, that was drawing me to her.
“Then shall we continue to the puzzle piece I had graciously offered before?” Gesturing with my now empty hand to the spiral staircase, which lead to my bedroom and rather large collection of rare antiques.
She nodded. “Oh, yeah” It seems in all the fun we’d lost track of the number of glasses of wine she’d consumed beforehand, as she’d all but forgotten her primary goal.
As we walked up the stairs she had taken it upon herself to talk at a rapid pace about the number of luxurious homes she’d gone to, belonging to senators, doctors, businessmen and women, all of them larger and more exquisite than my lodge.
By the time she’d finished her rather long tail of unimportant stories linked to this or that in each aforementioned home, we’d been standing in my room for nearly half an hour. Her Cosmo was thoroughly drained, although it remained in her hand as she had forgotten to put it down.