The Return #4

Ellis opened her eyes to be greeted by the tall ceiling, its metal frame, and the temporary storage created in the extra space. She was unfamiliar with the color scheme and the design, in her curiosity and confusion she rose from the bed she had found herself to be on.

It was soft and comfortable but not overly luxuriously decorated or embroidered, it was just plain white sheets fresh from the laundry. Her surroundings were modestly furnished, with polished bright birch wood for flooring and grey metal beams for pillars. If Ellis were right, the entirety of the floor she could see was the bedroom as explained by the lack of walls or separators of any kind, just furniture or storage, and a few decorative plants.

“Wow,” Ellis awed as she looked at the walls, exposed brick, and neutral colors seemed to be the theme, which was not painfully bright or lacking in any way. She was surprised that the lack of luxury and the emphasis on simplicity was ironically luxurious in its unique way.

“Incredible, I have seen nothing like this before.” Ellis had also come to the discovery that the large second-floor living space was actually a balcony, with a section of the center overlooking the floor beneath, which were the rest of the necessities.

She descended the metal spiral staircase on the southeast corner, which was farthest from the bed, and entered the lounge or living room. Ellis was greeted by the large windows and the darkening sky.

Unlike the second floor, the first had dividers but they did not fully divide the space, instead, they were like windows for viewing the other sections of the first floor.

“Good evening, Ellis.” A voice greeted, in the same direction of the delectable aroma of herbs and spices with a hint of smoke.

“Arthur,” Ellis acknowledged, “Is this your home?”

Arthur exited the white, silver, and black kitchen with a smile. Wiping his hands, he looked up at her descending the staircase, “Yeah, impressive bed hair by the way.” he joked, removing the stained apron. “Perfect timing, dinner had just finished resting.”

Ellis frowned at Arthur as she set her flowing black hair as neatly as she could with her hands. “You have a unique home, perfect incorporation of brick, wood, and metal. Very impressive, is this what busied you throughout your suspension?”

Arthur nodded, neatly folding the apron away into a laundry basket, and straightened his clothing, which was just pants and a large button-up shirt a size too big for him.

“Where is Francis?” Ellis asked, finally arriving at the first floor, still admiring the clear glass railings and the tinted windows. “And how long have I been unconscious.”

Arthur huffed, “You have a lot of questions. Francis is at the police station across the street, reporting to the authorities about the highway incident, and will contact your father, the duke.” he listed out, “I think he already contacted him.”

Ellis’s ears perked up at the sound of her father. “Is he coming personally?” she asked, puzzled and alarmed.

Arthur, oblivious to her plight, just nodded as he sourced white plates and cups from the cupboard, “Yeah, He’ll get here in a few minutes. Go sit anywhere on the kitchen table. I’ll be there with the food in a bit.”

Ellis just watched Arthur’s nonchalant attitude and gaped, “Are you not nervous?! He is a duke!?”

“Cool. Iced tea or Alcohol?”

Ellis facepalmed as she retreated to the table, which was made of solid glass and legs of marble and polished mohagony. The clock ticked and a small convoy of three vehicles in red, decorated with gold, proudly bore the crest of the Simmons House.

The three cars parked orderly on the sidewalk directly across from Arthur’s residence. The two cars leading and following the vehicle open their doors and eight knights pour through, wearing the Simmons crest on their red and gold uniforms. The driver exited the red car and walked around it, with long and powerful strides, to open the door for Duke Simmons.

“Sir, we have arrived at the residence of the student called Arthur Haile.” The butler said, motioning to the building with his free hand.

Creak!

The suspension of the car squeaked in relief as a heavy load finally alleviated its chassis. A large, sophisticated man rose from the vehicle, standing under two meters. His broad frame, built from years dedicated to the word, overshadowed the asphalt he walked on and his shadow loomed over the sidewalk with each step.

Four knights were stationed to guard the cars while the Duke, his butler, and the other four followed him across the barren street. The Butler knocked on the large door, and it was opened to him by Francis.

“Good evening, Francis.” The larger butler greeted.

“Ah! Sir Fulton, glad you could make it.” Francis bowed respectfully, “I shall call the young mistress—”

“There will be no need, Francis.”

The Butler shivered before he bowed as low as he could standing upright. “Y-Your grace! My sincerest apologies! I was not aware of your presence!”

The duke’s raven-black hair shone slightly under the lightbulb of the entrance, “I have been informed by you, that Ellis has made an acquaintance.” He said, sounding quite intrigued and hostile at the information. “He is a commoner boy, no less.”

Francis paled, even shedding a few strands of his white hair in fear and worry. “A-Ah! About that, you are pertaining to a boy named Arthur. You needn’t worry about the lad, he is as straightforward as a sword’s cutting edge.” Franchise shook his head, “Arthur is not approaching the mistress for any lecherous or heinous intentions. I assure you of that.”

Francis seemed right in his educated guess as to why the duke was here, all to correct. His neck hair stood straight up, as magic slowly swirled around the duke’s arms.

“I will be the judge of that.”

“Arthur, lad, you’ve lived an eventful sixteen years. My apologies and condolences.” Francis woed in his heart, feeling apologetic despite everything the boy has done. “T-This way, your grace.”

With a huff, the duke deflated and entered Arthur’s abode, with Francis leading the way. Despite his size, and to Fulton’s credit, the wooden boards were solid and the place was sparkling clean of dust or grime and the air was filled with the aroma of finely-made steak.

“What a pleasing smell, a good combination of herbs and spices. Impressive.” Fulton muttered, much to the four escorts' agreement. They entered his house, obviously observant of their surroundings and their unique architectural style.

“What the fuck–” Someone said, making the Duke’s ears prick with annoyance, “I thought they were going to fetch Ellis, why the hell are they in my home, Francis?!”

Fulton and the Duke emerged after Francis, who just looked sorry, and after them were four knights in uniform.

Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Take a seat, wherever.” He said, walking over to the refrigerator.

“Impudent!” The nearest Knight scoffed, pointing at Arthru with his finger, “You dare speak to the Duke, like that?!”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he went to the marble kitchen, taking his full plate of steak and sauce-drenched white rice, and he walked over to the glass table to eat. “You enter my home, armed and hostile– you expect me to kiss up to you or something?” He said, “For a ‘duke’ you certainly have no manners.”

Ellis gasped, and so did Francis, and they turned to the Fulton and the four knights, who drew their swords, “Wait! Please resolve this peaceably!”

“I am sorry, Milady– but insult toward his grace, will not go unpunished.” Fulton seethed, his hands gripping his swords.

“Enough,” The duke interjected, his voice calm and plain. “He is correct. However–”

Shhissh!

“When did he–” Arthur stopped chewing, just for a second, before he continued, playing off the enormous presence that practically teleported over his shoulder, “Nice moves.”

“Thank you,” The duke blandly replied, glaring down at Arthur. “You are Arthur, correct?”

“Yep, that’s me.” Arthur swallowed, drinking from his glass, “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting company. Do you want a drink? That’s all I got to offer.”

`The duke motioned to his knights, with a hand behind his back, to stand down and observe.

“What do you have exactly?” The duke walked over, taking the seat beside Arthur, “I am quite fickle when it comes to alcohol, you see.”

“Damn, even his relaxed voice is making me weak. That’s just how strong the Lion is.” Arthur thought, getting up. “I have Iced-tea, from the cooler. It’s a personal creation.”

While Ellis nervously watched the two converse and talk for an hour, Arthur answered the duke's questions transparently while putting up a brave front against the duke's obvious oppressive aura.

"I see," The Duke hummed, swirling the circular ice cube in his glass of whiskey, "It is exactly as Francis had reported to the police."

Arthur sipped the last of his glass, watching the duke rise up from the chair and turn to his knights. "Let us depart. Ellis, it is time to go home."

Arthur turned to Ellis, who just nodded at her father, and she turned to him. "Thank you for patching my wounds," She said, her hand on the bandage of her throat.

"What are friends for?" Arthur chuckled, getting up too to follow them, "Anytime, Ellis. See ya next time Francis."

Francis smiled at the young boy, relieved at the peaceable end of a worrisome affair. "Yes, young lad. Oh, and may I keep your address? I am quite curious as to how that steak was made. I would love to learn it from you."

The entourage had made it out his front door, and Arthur smiled at the butler, who had intentionally lagged behind. "Sure, why not?" he smiled, "I always wanted a pen pal. Say, could I also talk to Ellis through letters? Telephones are not yet a thing."

"I am positive that you can, but I will check it with his grace first," Francis nodded, "Also, what is a telephone?"

The boy blinked for a second before laughing, "Nevermind that, haha–" he chuckled, "Have a good night, Francis. Tell that to Ellis for me."

"Of course, Have a good rest, Arthur."

"See you soon, old man."

Ellis sat beside her father on the passenger seat, with Fulton and Francis sitting at the front of the car. The silence was awkward, but it was understandable considering what had happened.

"I am glad you're alright, Ellis," he said, breaking the solemn atmosphere.

"You have Arthur to thank for that, father," Ellis replied quickly, her hands shaking slightly at the memory, but she also calmed down at the memory of Arthur. strange. "And before I forget, you had not thanked him verbally earlier, but were preoccupied with interrogating him."

"You must understand, I still have lingering suspicions about that boy, despite all the good he has done." The duke reasoned, "How is he able to treat himself to such an expert-like degree? You may have not noticed, but the wound on your neck was well taken care of. Those points alone make me question his identity."

"I– I– alright," Ellis conceded, "But I will vouch for his behalf, he is as trustworthy as he is blunt. It's almost rude but that's how he is." She shook her head, giving up." He drinks and smokes worse than a fish who needs water, or a human that needs air– but he is diligent and disciplined. Rumor has it that he keeps unfavorable company, but his natural disposition is not rude, just– incredulously blunt."

[ Ellis Favorability has increased! 1.32%/ 100.00 ]

"Hmm, maybe so, but manners are not too much to ask for." The duke sighed, crossing his arms, "He was one confident boy, I'll give him that."

Ellis smiled at her father, who had one particular habit that only a select few know about. When he sighs and thinks deeply about a particular subject, he stares into the distance with crossed arms, contemplating– usually favorably. Her great mood aside, she could not have been more accurate about her last comment about Arthur.

"W-Wait!" The roadman whimpered, clutching his wounded leg, where a bullet was just shot through it. "W-Why are you doing this!?"

"A ring." A masked man, dressed in black demanded angrily, pointing a large revolver at his head.

He was wearing black trousers, expensive leather shoes, a loose black shirt, and a black vest atop that. He was not wearing a jacket, but a trench coat that draped down to his calves, with its interior glinting with brass.

Bang!