Chapter 2
It turned out that the use of village was rather apt for Knothole. The local shops and other such buildings were rustically designed and closely resembled a renaissance fairground. Even the street lamps were really just big torches, and a number of folks were riding around in actual horse drawn carriages. However, that was not what had enraptured the three teens as they hid in the shadows of a building's roof. A large banner was currently being hoisted up in front of a little church, and upon it were the words,
"Welcome to the Day of Arthur."
Sonic was bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly, small strays of blue lightning surging from his body.
"Oh boy, oh boy! Looks like they're about to have a festival, and it's gonna be about the awesomest guy in the history of awesome guys: King Arthur."
"I do not get it." Knuckles said. "What is so special about one earth king?"
Sonic stiffened, looking at Knuckles as though he had committed blasphemy.
"Dude, didn't you watch Camelot with us the other night? King Arthur was THE king! The guy is like the biggest legend in the history of the entire planet!"
"Sonic, neither of us have been on earth near as long as you have." Tails reasoned. "How about you fill us in."
They descended down into an alley, using a dumpster for cover.
"The legend of King Arthur talks about a time when England didn't have a king. It was a dark age of war, violence, and all around bad vibes. The previous king had died and he didn't have a son, so there was no one left to take over the throne. But there was a magic sword in a stone that, if anyone could pull it out, would make you king instantly."
"That does not sound like it should work." Knuckles said dismissively. "How does a sword define who is worthy enough to rule a country?"
"Give it a second, Knucklehead." Sonic grumbled at him. "The sword couldn't be pulled out. Several tried, all failed, and eventually people forgot it. Well, one day they hold this big tournament, and a squire forgets his lord's sword. Everything was closed, and Amazon didn't exist yet. Looked like the kid had royally screwed up, right? Well, enter the sword in the stone, which he tries to pull out, and it does because, plot twist, he was actually the long lost son of the dead king!"
He paused for effect, waiting expectantly for their reactions. What he got was just more confused faces.
"That still does not answer my question." Knuckles said. "This boy might be untrained, and therefore unfit to lead."
"How does pulling a sword out of a rock prove you're somebodies son?" Tails added. "Where's the science in that?"
"It's not science!" Sonic exclaimed, flabbergasted. "It's magic! We literally just went on a journey to collect a giant magic rock, and you're telling me a magic sword proving your lineage is that hard to believe?!"
He took a second to calm himself, and he cleared his throat.
"Anyway, that's not the important part. I mean, technically it's pretty important, but it's not the whole story. The reason Arthur was so great was because he believed in sticking up for the little guy and that everyone should be treated equally and with fairness. You see, during those days, it was a time of might makes right, and the strong prayed upon the weak to feed their greed and selfishness. Arthur created the round table for his knights so that he could look them all in the face at once rather than one at a time, wanting to treat them all as equals in a much bigger job than merely running a kingdom. He wanted to make a better world for himself and his friends."
Knuckles hummed a tune as he cupped his chin.
"That does sound idealistic, but not entirely realistic."
The air hissed out of Sonic's lungs, and he shook his head.
"No, you know what? You're not ruining this for me. It's gonna be a festival celebrating one of my all time earth heroes, and I'm gonna enjoy it."
Tails grinned.
"I can't say that I fully get it, but if this Arthur guy is your hero, then he's my hero too. This'll be fun."
"Well you can count me out of it." Knuckles said. "I have no time for such nonsense, especially if witches are involved."
Sonic stared at him blankly.
"Witches? What're you talking about?"
Knuckles pointed to a store across the street. At one time it had been a bakery, but now the shelves were bare and the lights were dark. Plastered all over the windows were posters, printed upon them being the words,
"Property now owned by Witchcart Industries."
Tails frowned, and then he looked up and down the streets. To his surprise, there were more of those posters on a number of businesses, all now closed.
"Odd. It looks like half the town is now owned by this Witchcart Industries."
He dug out his Miles Electric computer, and he dug up some information.
"It looks like its some sort of railroad company. They've been in business all but since the industrial revolution, and they're one of the biggest companies in England with a net worth of thirty million pounds."
Knuckles blinked.
"Those must be very heavy trains."
Sonic frowned as he studied the signs, and the many locales where they were posted. Now, Sonic wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but he knew a pattern when he saw one, and this was a pattern he didn't like.
"Guys, let's go ahead and head back to the house. Something about this ain't sitting right with me, and I think we need more info."
Knuckles and Tails nodded, and they quietly sneaked their way out of town and back into the forest.
…………………………………….
Meanwhile, back at the manor, Tom and Maddie were helping out in the stables. As it turned out, Anny the mare was in perfect health, albeit with an added gift. It seemed that Sir Charles personal stallion had, at one point in the night, gotten out of the paddock while Anny was grazing. What they had found was the results of their little rendezvous.
"Oh, a new foal! How delightful!" Rosie tittered, tenderly rubbing Anny on the nose.
"Still got a spark for the ladies, eh old boy?" Sir Charles chuckled as he fed his horse, Chester, a carrot. "It isn't a cigar, but I doubt you'll mind."
Maddie put her stethoscope back into her bag, smiling widely as she stood.
"Could be soon, too. I'd suggest holding Chester in the barn or somewhere else. Anny's gonna need her privacy for the next couple of days."
"Jolly pip!" Sir Charles declared, and he took the lead rope on the horse's harness. "Come along now, old soldier. Doctor says mummy needs her beauty rest. Stiff upper lip."
Chester didn't take be being taken from his lady too kindly, but he no less relented to the man's authority. He was led out to the barn where he was left in one of the stalls. Once the gate was secure and it was clear Chester couldn't and wouldn't escape, Sir Charles stepped back out to find Tom leaning on a fence post overlooking the pasture. The young man seemed wistful in his musings, and he had a large smile on his face. Sir Charles couldn't stop himself from grinning, and he trotted over to join him.
"It's a shame your father couldn't be here, Tommy Boy." He chuckled. "He wanted ever so much to take you and your mum up here, but money was always tight."
"Comes from living in a small town, really." Tom said with a shrug. "That and cops aren't paid near enough back in the states."
"Nor are the bobbies here, if I may." Sir Charles said.
Like Tom, his father, and his grandfather, Sir Charles had once been a member of law enforcement. A detective of Scotland Yard, in fact, with many exploits in the preservation of peace that earned him a knighthood. In truth, law enforcement had been in the entire families blood, starting with how Tom's grandparents met. Tom's grandpa was a member of the CIA whilst his Gradma was MI6. The story went that they met on a mission, and it was love at first sight, the two going back and forth from one country to the other. But, tragically, the love between them had faded, leading to a divorce and a separation of their two sons: Tom's father and Charles. It's how Tom's family had eventually moved into Greenhills, leading to fifty years of service to the sleepy little town. But, like always, family meant everything to a Wachowski, and the brothers still talked across the years, Charles even coming to visit now and again when he found the time to get away. Sir Charles was, in many ways, a second father, always being there for him now that his father couldn't be.
"I wish dad could be here." He mused openly. "He used to tell me stories of how he lived out here, and I can almost see it for myself. This place just feels so…magical. Like something out of a book."
"Mum said something like that herself all the time." Sir Charles chuckled. "Aye, your father and I had a grand old time back in the day. 'Twas a life of wonder it was."
Tom tossed his uncle a grin.
"Who knows? Maybe someday me and my own kids will be leaning on this fence, hearing those stories about you and pops as well as some new memories we'll make out here."
A pained look came to Sir Charles' face, making him look away. It brought Tom pause, and he offered a confused look.
"Uncle Chuck, are you alright?"
Sir Charles looked back to him, but the pained look remained.
"Tommy boy, there be something I've been needing to tell you, but bollocks if I've been able to find the words."
Tom straightened, waxing concerned.
"Hey now, you're not sick are you? I can have Maddie look you over. Sure, you're a person and not an animal, but she's got a normal first aid kit too and…"
"Now don't get your dander up, son." Sir Charles said, cutting him off. "I'm fine. In the best health of my life, really. It's just that…well…it's not an easy thing to explain but…"
Just then, a sound touched their ears. A vehicle had pulled past the gate, and it was making its way up the road towards the front of the house. Tom turned to see a brilliant black limousine pulling up, halting just behind his truck. On the door of the passenger's seat was a logo showing the silhouette of a wicth's head with the words, "Witchcart Industries", wrapped around it. The door opened, and out stepped a woman about Tom's age dressed for business with her white hair done up in a pixie cut. She pulled down her sunglasses, glancing about until her eyes settled on Sir Charles. She adopted a predatory grin, and she began to traipse her way over to them in a fast gait.
"Mr. Wachowski! Good day to you. I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time."
Tom noticed that his uncle was shaking. Not of fear, but of rage.
"Well actually…"
"Splendid! I'll just get to the point then. I've been considering our last conversation, and I realize that I have made an error. Now I should note that this is putting me out, but I really shouldn't let a few little setbacks like that put a dampener on things. I am prepared to triple my asking price and…"
"Now hold on a minute!" Tom snapped, stepping in between them. "Who the heck are you supposed to be and what the heck is going on?"
The woman, not one to be interrupted, eyed Tom with obvious contempt.
"I could ask you that first question myself, Mr…"
"Wachowski. Tom Wachowski. Sheriff Tom Wachowski of the Green Hills police department."
The woman's brows rose, and she rolled her eyes.
"Oh good lord, he's a cop. Well, officer if you must know, I am Wendy Witchcart, and at present I am the president of England's largest and most lucrative railway company. Did you not see the sign on the car?"
"I usually try to ignore things bought through indulgence." Tom stated bluntly.
"So you're one of those kinds of men." Wendy said with contempt. "As for the why I am here, I would have assumed your uncle would have told you about his outstanding debts and the impending foreclosure of his home."
"His what and his what?!" Tom exclaimed, whirling on his uncle. "Uncle Chuck, what's she talking about?"
Sir Charles let out a sigh, and he massaged his temple to ward off the coming headache.
"Jiminy Crickets, this is not how I wanted this to go. You see, Tom, Knothole is my home. It means a great deal to me, as I'm sure Green Hills means to you. Used to, it was a popular tourist spot, people coming from far and wide for the regal architecture and, of course, our yearly festival dedicated to King Arthur. But over the last several months there had been a number of burglaries and a series of accidents that have scared off tourists. This led to a number of businesses foreclosing out of safety reasons as well as a loss of business. I did my best to help keep things together, to keep the town alive, and in turn I wound up in a lot of debt, even mortgaging the manor."
"Which has led to a tidy sum of fifty thousand pounds to be applied to your uncle." Wendy piped in. "Now, I myself have taken a particular interest in this town, not for the culture or the history, but for the land. I've been tasked to construct a new express line, and the shortest route would be right through these lands."
Tom scowled.
"That sounds like motive to me."
Wendy rolled her eyes.
"Oh, please, I did that particular song and dance aplenty when I and your uncle first met. He's lucky I didn't sue him for trying to besmirch my character."
She then weaved around Tom, and she looked Sir Charles in the eye.
"Now Charlie, dear, be reasonable. The money I'm offering isn't just enough to cover your debt, but it will make a lovely life for you, your wife, and the disgusting animals you see fit to keep. It's really a generous offer."
Sir Charles got a dry laugh out of that.
"Generous alright. As generous as a vulture cleaning up roadkill. I told ya before and I'll tell ya again! I ain't selling and that's final! This has been my family's home for years, and I ain't about to turn it over to a money-grubbing harpy like you. So with what little respect I can muster for your sake as a woman, madam, kindly take your overpriced suit and your gas guzzler hearse offa my property."
If looks could kill, Tom would have had every authority to arrest the woman for murder. Wendy straightened, turned and she started back for her car.
"Such a shame, but I can just wait to buy the property from the bank at the end of the month. Could probably get it a lot cheaper, too. So go ahead and enjoy your little house for what little time you have left with it. Oh, and officer,"
She paused at the door, looking back to Tom.
"I suggest you watch yourself while you're staying here. Knothole is far from the peaceful little village it once was."
With that, she got into her car, and she drove off, but not before the drive blitzed through the grass, leaving long streaks in the dirt before going down the path and through the gate. Tom watched her go with obvious distaste, but he had to stomach the bile for now when Sir Charles suddenly collapsed. Tom was quick to catch him, holding him tightly to keep him steady. He still had questions, but they would have to wait. The two men slowly began to march back to the house, unaware of the three sets of eyes that had been watching, and the angry pulses of blue, red and yellow at the bad woman's threat.
