-16-
The young man sat in his usual booth, he was surrounded by books, composition notebooks, and loose leaves of paper that were filled with scribblings. Exams were upon him and regardless of how much he told himself to prepare for the end of terms, he was, somehow, always left scrambling.
He was trying to organize the notes he had taken in class, inwardly cursing his determination to write down lectures the old-fashioned way and not use a laptop.
Finally getting a hold of the papers he needed, he bent his head and began writing, his eyes moving from notebook to textbook to some random loose sheet, all the while writing at top speed. His dark hair fell over his eyes and the curtain they provided shielded him from seeing a lanky figure in a gray suit approach his table before sitting down in the chair opposite him.
"Good morning," the man in the suit greeted him.
The college student jerked upright, a yelp of surprise caught in his throat, and he instinctively clutched at the pen in his hand, holding it like a weapon.
"Who are you?" He managed to say.
"Oh, pleasantries," the visitor said. His voice was cultured and the young man, used to answering professors who exuded the same kind of dignified importance, sat up straighter and squared his shoulders as he did so.
"I suppose one must be polite." The man gave a genial smile and held out his hand. "Very well, I am Kilgarrah."
The student took the gentleman's hand and shook it, surprised that such a genteel-looking older fellow had such a strong grip.
"Hello, Mr. Kilgarrah," he said. "I'm Galahad."
Kilgarrah's eyes shone with amusement.
"Yes, I suppose you are."
Galahad immediately became suspicious. 'What's this bloke want?' He mused.
He took in the gentleman's clothes, his posture, the amused expression on his face, and how his eyes never wavered as he looked at him.
Oh, God.
"Look, Mr. Kilgarrah," Galahad began, nervousness making his voice shake. "I don't know..."
"Relax, boy," Kilgarrah waved a hand. "And it's just Kilgarrah, no Mr., no sir. Just Kilgarrah."
Kilgarrah's eyes now bored into him and Galahad swore that he saw flashes of fire in his irises.
"You don't know yet, do you Galahad?"
His previously-amused tone had been replaced with one that sounded like it was forged in steel.
"Tell me about yourself."
A few blocks away, Elyan Leodegrance woke to a bright morning. He was in his old bedroom in the home he grew up in, only this time, in place of the books and piles of clothes that were once strewn about, boxes piled five-high were carefully placed along his walls.
Moving day had begun.
He strode to the bathroom he once shared with his younger sister, remembering how it was once the hotbed of yelling matches between the two of them. It seemed alien, somehow, to now be the only one using it. He still fully expected Guinevere to walk through the connecting door, curls wild about her face, yelling at him to hurry up because he "wasn't the only one who needed to use the loo."
He looked in the mirror and stared at his reflection. Dark skin, hair still cropped close to his head, but the amused glint in his eye had been replaced with something harder, less forgiving. He supposed looking death in the eye every day for years was the cause of that.
Elyan sighed, closed his eyes briefly, and then turned to step into the shower.
Later, as he walked to the small dining room, he saw his father sitting at the table. Tom had his usual mug of coffee and plate of toast in front of him. The drink gone cold because he was too busy going over the pages of his newspaper.
"G'morning, pop."
Elyan strode to the older man and placed a kiss on the top of his head. Tom grunted a good morning and smiled at his boy.
"'Morning, son," he said, looking at Elyan as he poured himself a cup of coffee. "Still up to helping me clear out?"
"You're on, old man." Elyan gave a little laugh as he, too, sat at the table.
Both men sat quietly, each drinking from their respective mugs and going through sections of the newspaper, they both looked up when the phone rang.
"I'll get it," Elyan said as he stood up. "Go drink your coffee, pop. And get some proper breakfast."
He pointed to the untouched pieces of toast on Tom's plate. They were already cold.
Tom harrumphed as Elyan went to answer the phone.
"Hello?"
"Mr. Leodegrance?" A female voice said on the other line.
"Thomas or Elyan?"
A pause, and then, "Elyan, please."
"This is he." Elyan was puzzled. The voice was not familiar to him.
"Mr. Leodegrance my name is Morgana le..."
He didn't allow her to continue.
"Arthur Pendragon's solicitor," he cut her off. "How can I help you?"
Elyan's tone was clipped and he hoped his brusqueness sent the message that her call, while tolerated, was not completely welcome in their home.
"I would like to meet with you, Mr. Leodegrance."
"I believe that all business dealings between my father and your boss have been resolved. I see no reason for further contact."
"This isn't about business, Mr. Leodegrance," Morgana's voice had grown icy as well. "It is of a more personal nature."
Elyan's eyes narrowed.
"How personal?"
"It's about your sister."
Elyan sucked in a breath. How was Gwen involved in this? He took a quick look over his shoulder and saw that his father was absorbed in reading the news. He turned his attention back to the phone call.
"Time and place Ms. le Fay."
He committed the details she rattled off and said goodbye. He schooled his features into a neutral one as he walked back into the small dining room.
"Anyone important?" Tom asked his son, not looking up from the paper.
"Not particularly," Elyan said. "Just a potential business contact."
"Will you be going out today, then?"
"No, pops," he smiled at his father. "Today's for you."
Tom grunted and said, "Well, just let me know."
"Don't worry about it."
Elyan sipped from his cup of now lukewarm coffee and wondered what it was that Morgana le Fay wanted to talk about. The hollow feeling in his stomach told him that it was not good. Elyan tended to follow his gut, it got him out of a lot of potential trouble while he was still in the army.
Morgana 's voice rang in his ear.
"It is of a more personal nature."
Elyan frowned.
"It's about your sister."
He was sure about one thing, though. Harm any of his family, and you pay with your life.
