When I awoke, I tussled around, as one who desperately wished to find a more comfortable sleeping position. The headache I felt was bad, but not the worst I’ve ever had. Even so, I had no desire to get up. I had yet to even open my eyes, believing in my subconscious that the last day had been a very lucid dream. That is, until I heard something familiar.
“Hey you, you’re finally awake,” a voice that sounded like a scratchy mix between an old man and a pubescent boy said.
After hearing this, my eyes shot open, half expecting to wake up in a moving carriage as if it were the most natural next part of my lucid dream. Instead, I was in a yellow, candle-lit room with no windows. A desk sat on one end of the room, covered in old papers and books, while on the other, a lavishly designed door stood with more locks on it than on that of a paranoid crack-head. Otherwise, the room had nothing but the cot I was laying on, and the person whose voice I heard upon waking up.
He was rather old, or at least I thought it was a he, with long white hair and a rather younger-looking face. He adorned a grey robe that made me think that he was a cosplayer, or part of a cult. Actually, with all that has happened to me recently, that would be the least surprising thing I would’ve seen. Along the linings of his robe were interwoven gold markings that looked like a mix of old norse, latin, and Greek. It stood out a bit, but not as much as the creepy smile that he wore.
“I was worried that you might be extremely hurt the way Langston brought you here, the drunk bastard, but you seem alright.” the man said with a now more caring than creepy smile on his face. I sat up in a slight rush so as to not show him any disrespect before speaking.
“Where am I, and who are you?” I asked calmly but with a wince of pain from my hangover.
“You are in the safest place in all of the world, my bedroom,” he said before waving his hands around to show it off, but I was not impressed. “And my name is Iscariot, master of sorcery.”
To be frank, not much surprised me at this point, but something about this guy was giving me a ton of mental red flags. I don’t know whether it’s his insanely scratchy voice, pride in his bedroom, or the fact that he unironically called himself a sorcerer, but it was creepy. Instead, I figured I should ask why I was here. That’s logical right? Just avoid the crazy and get straight to the point.
“What am I doing here?” I asked.
“Well, as I said before, Mr. Langston brought you here unconscious. Don’t know exactly why, but I think it’s because he wants me to look you over. What I want to know is, are you from the future as he said? Other than your watch, I could find nothing on you that seemed futuristic.” Iscariot said with a curious and dubious tone.
“Yes… I am from the future. That watch is digital and solar-powered, something that isn’t available in the 1880s,” I said with a sigh.
“Okay, you’re from the future. I believe that, but how can you obtain power from the sun?” he asked in the same way a science teacher would ask the class idiot. It was as if he was completely disregarding the fact that I was actually from the future and just wanted to know how the technology worked.
“... The sun generates solar rays, and that watch collects rays and converts them into electricity, or energy. It then powers the watch and shows the time on the screen, I don’t know any more than that. I am not an expert on it,” I said, hoping that would quell his desire for knowledge of future machinery.
“Fascinating, the future holds such great things. I just hope I will live long enough to see it,” Iscariot said with mild enthusiasm.
“I doubt it. That’s over a hundred years in the future,” I said, instantly crushing his dreams. He kinda looked depressed when I said this. Maybe I should have encouraged him rather than stomping on his dreams, or so I thought. He got happy again, almost joyous even after a second. I don’t know what made him so happy, but I could tell it wasn’t good; Screw me for pitying him.
“If you time-traveled then maybe others could too?” he almost yelled. “What caused you to time travel?”
“I-I don’t know, I kind of just walked through an alley and the whole world changed on me,” I stammered out as I didn’t have the slightest clue.
“Oh, well that’s disappointing…” he said redundantly.
“Ya, sorry,” I said, feeling a bit sorry for the guy.
“Mmm… So have we been across the galaxy by the 2000s?” Iscariot asked, reluctantly curious.
“No, we only got to the moon, and the Americans do it first,” I said with the thought of that giving him some hope for the future.
“Really? How did the colonies get more advanced than us?” he asked angrily but his scratchy voice made it sound utterly hilarious, like a bog witch shrieking about not getting tax benefits.
“I don’t know, I’m not a history nut,” I replied, as I wasn’t exactly a model student. At this point, the conversation had gone in a strange direction and the news about the space race seemed to anger Iscariot, thus I wasn’t going to continue. Thankfully a knock at the door ended the conversation.
“Who is it?” asked Iscariot.
“It’s Scott, the code is rapture,” replied the knocker, who I was not pleased to hear was Langston. After hearing this, Iscariot hobbled over to the door, spending roughly thirty seconds unlocking the insane amount of locks adorning it, and opened it. In stepped Scott, smelling of booze, his clothes ragged, carrying a faint scent of the docs' water, and looking fairly tired.
“Well…, is he from the future?” he asked with a raspy tired voice the moment he was inside and the door was shut behind him.
“Yes,” Iscariot replied with a very monotone voice. He barely asked me any real questions, yet he was so willing to accept it as fact... Was he actually crazy? Scott sighed, took a deep breath, and as he released his breath, a word escaped his lips.
“Bollocks…”
The room was quiet for a while, too long actually. Iscariot and I could tell that Scott was contemplating things, and neither of us was going to interrupt. I thought about asking Iscariot if he was up for a game while we waited, but that didn’t sound very mature, and I didn’t want to make a fool of myself in front of a sorcerer and a monster hunter. The good news was that Scott finally spoke before I had the chance to make a fool of myself.
“Iscariot, what have you learned from him?” Scott asked.
Iscariot turned from facing me towards him before saying, “Not much. He has a watch that works far differently than anything I have ever seen that was either magical or normal. Also, his knowledge of machines from the future is rather small, as he can’t tell me how to recreate them, but his basic knowledge surpasses that of common scholars of today.”
“So he’s a bloody genius here, but in the future, he’s an idiot?” Scott asked rhetorically.
“Hey, I’m right here,” I protested.
“And I couldn’t care less,” Scott replied with more sass than a mom after their child talked back.
“Yes, you could say he is a genius to us because of his future knowledge. Although, that doesn’t matter. The fact that he is from the future in itself is a danger to the universe. He could accidentally alter the timeline without us knowing that it was even altered,” Iscariot said to try and get the conversation back on track.
“Then he needs to be quarantined until he dies, is what you’re saying?” Scott asked.
“I don’t wish to be quarantined,” I interrupted.
“You don’t have to go that far. He is dangerous as an existence, but nothing happens without reason. I believe it would be more beneficial to have him join the Table and shadow you until we can figure out who or what caused him to come to this time period,” Iscariot said. Scott looked like he was about to say something, but then he stopped, taking a long pause before speaking.
“Well, I was already planning on taking him on as an apprentice. I want him to join the Table, but I want to send him to the Table for his training. I already know that I would be an awful teacher,” Scott finally said. I was starting to think that his slower reaction time was due to him being drunk.
“You do realize if you don’t train your own apprentice soon, the Table heads are going to force one on you. Your father-in-law can only bail you out for so long,” Iscariot replied.
“Don’t talk about that, please... I get it, I will contact the Table about registering him as my apprentice. But he needs to stay here until then,” Scott said, finally giving in.
“That’s fine. You know time is altered in this room,” Iscariot said.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, not because of the Table discussion, but because of the comment about the room I was currently in.
“This room was created in a synthetic dimensional space where time is far slower than the outside. Just since we started this conversation, which has only lasted a moment, an hour has passed outside. It also cannot be opened except from the inside or by using a magic key, which is why this is the safest place on earth,” Iscariot answered. I was unsure of how to react to the bomb that was released from Iscariot’s mouth; it was something that seemed impossible except to the imagination of theoretical physicists.
“If you think that’s amazing, Iscariot should tell you the story of why his voice is that of an old man who somehow hasn’t reached puberty,” Scott said with a chuckle.
“I don’t think I want to tell him that story, for my own pride's sake,” Iscariot replied sheepishly.
“Well, now I want to hear it,” I said hoping to coerce Iscariot.
“Yeah, tell the twit your bloody hilarious story!” Scott said, encouraging him more.
Iscariot sighed. “Fine, I was messing around with an alchemical experiment and caused an explosion that sent my family jewels into my stomach permanently. This gave me a very high-pitched squeaky voice and the older I get, the more insane I sound,” he said with an almost reminiscent tone.
“But you are insane, so it’s more like a warning siren,” Scott said jokingly.
I did everything I could to not chuckle, so instead, I just acted concerned. “Remind me to never mess with magic,” I said with a pained look of warning.
“Oh, I wasn’t using magic. I was experimenting with gunpowder,” Iscariot corrected. Well, now I think he might just be more idiotic than he is letting on, or maybe he’s just eccentric, as Scott said.
“With that, I will take my leave. I leave the future twit in your hands, Iscariot. I will return with news from the Table,” Scott said, adjusting his coat and then unlocking the many locks on the door. Once he had left it was just me and Iscariot in an uncomfortable silence yet again.
“Want to play chess?” he asked, to finally break the silence. Apparently, when I was wanting to ask if he wanted to play a game, he was thinking the same thing. Wait, if he's thinking the same thing I am, and he’s insane, what does that say about me?
Nearly four hours had passed since Scott left, three of which included an impromptu lesson on how to use a magical chess set. It’s pretty much the same as regular chess, except the pieces are controlled with your mind. Of course, this also came with an explanation of how magic worked. The way how Iscariot explained it, was that magic and science share one commonality.
They have a mathematical formula explaining their existence. For example: if fuel is equal to F, the air is equal to A, and ignition is equal to I then would produce a form of Fire. The only difference between the two is that the fuel used by magic is an energy that flows through all living things, whilst in science, the fuel can be practically any flammable substance. By imagining the formula and focusing my energy on an item or a certain area I can create or control what the given formula allows for.
Although, there are many tools, like the chess pieces, that have formulas inscribed into them, making it so that you don’t have to imagine said formulas as you use the magic every single time. These are usually wands or staffs, though, that can be used to cast spells. Of course, Iscariot explained that magic items are not tools with multiple capabilities, so they can only have one single purpose. That and these items can only be used by someone who has fused their life with the item. In other words, they have to rub some blood, or other vital substance, on the item in order for it to become theirs. I had to rub some of my own blood on the bottom of each chess piece before I could use it. Controlling a specific piece with my mind was a lot harder than I had originally thought.
I tried moving a rook, and instead I ended up flinging a knight across the room. What's worse is that the chess pieces cannot be lifted from the chessboard without magic. The chessboard itself was a magic item that was imbued with energy beforehand, kind of like a magic battery. Honestly, I think he was trying to gauge my magic power, like at the beginning of a video game. The only difference was I couldn’t control shit, unlike every main character ever.
As we played, I wondered aloud if Scott used magic. Iscariot frowned dismally and told me that Scott hated magic, not because of religious or moral reasons, but because he couldn’t imagine the formulas properly. Scott also refused to use magic tools because his body couldn’t handle them. He didn’t seem to be telling me everything about Scott’s refusal of magic tools, but I didn’t think it was wise to ask what it was that he was hiding. Eventually, I got the hang of it and was able to actually play the game. I lost due to being so focused on moving the pieces, rather than the game itself. During the game, though, I had a thought.
“Hey, Iscariot, if I’m going to be hunting monsters, shouldn’t I have a weapon?” I asked, as it was something that would probably be necessary.
“Yes, but I am not going to give you one. That’s Mr. Langston’s job,” Iscariot replied.
“I understand but once I have a weapon, could you place a magic formula similar to that of the chess pieces on it for me?” I asked.
Iscariot arched his brow at this, then smiled. “I’m interested in your train of thought. I will do that for you, but only if you can learn to control this chess piece,” he said, pointing at the queen. So, I spent the rest of the time trying to make the chess piece float around and fly through the air with decent control. I had figured out how to slide pieces around, so that wasn’t the issue. He was trying to gauge my control, of which I didn’t possess much.
I did end up controlling the piece fairly well but only after nearly shitting myself just trying to magically spin the damn thing in a circle. Iscariot told me after that I didn’t need to strain myself… that it was a matter of mental focus, not muscle focus. I think the training would have gone a lot smoother had my teacher not sounded like a helium-inhaling crackhead grinding his teeth on a chalkboard. I had to stop myself from laughing multiple times, making me lose my focus.
We were in the middle of learning how to make the chess piece spin like a saw blade when Scott finally knocked at the door and gave his password. I slowly lowered the chess piece back to the board while Iscariot started unlocking the door. Once Iscariot had opened the door, Scott stood there looking more disheveled than before. This time, there was another smell coming off him too. It almost smelled like stale vomit. Neither of us knew what to think.
“What happened to you?” we both asked.
“I rode the train to Warwick in order to speak with the European leader of the Table about you. But I couldn’t sleep on the train, even on the way back. I haven’t slept in three days,” Scott said before sitting on the cot, pulling out his flask, and taking a swig.
“Oh, that’s rather unfortunate,” Iscariot replied compassionately, but it only sounded sarcastic.
“Wait, it’s been three days? But it’s only been a few hours here,” I said but they both looked at me with a look of dumbfoundedness.
“Did you forget that this room is in another dimension where time is slower or did Iscariot hit you in the head?” Scott asked as if I were an idiot.
“I did no such thing, although I did consider it,” Iscariot refuted in a way that made me warier of his presence whilst alone.
“Anyways, here's a silver knife,” Scott said, handing me a hunting-style knife in a leather sheath.
“Thank you,” I replied as I looked it over.
“You can get a different weapon once I decide your training is far enough along, or I decide to fully trust you,” Scott said, stating his expectations.
I was fine with that because now, Iscariot would have to hold up his end of our deal. Thus, I handed it to him and he, knowing what I wanted him to do, started carving on the handle. I think Scott saw this but did nothing to stop it. Probably because he was too tired to care. Within a minute, Iscariot had already inscribed the formula on the hilt and started to hand it to me, pausing for a moment right before.
“Grit your teeth,” he said in a monotone voice.
“What?” I started to ask before he stabbed my hand with his carving tool and placed the knife handle in it. This stained the handle a dark crimson but I was in far too much pain from being stabbed to care at the moment. All I could do was let out a pained yell.
“Why would you do that, you prick!?” I asked in a panicked tone.
“I gave you plenty of warning,” he said, obviously not sorry about it. What annoyed me more was that Scott was chuckling at my pain. Now that I think about it, he may not have stopped Iscariot because he knew that was going to happen. That bastard!
“Alright, Iscariot, I thank you for taking care of the kid for a while. We’re going to head to my flat for the rest of the day so I can sleep and then I will begin his training,” Scott said with a yawn.
“You’re welcome, and please don’t bother me for about a week, I would like to sleep for at least a few hours before you come knocking at my door again,” Iscariot asked with an equally tired, but slightly more energetic, sigh.
“That’s fine with me, and do you have any of those magic keys you can give the kid so he can find your room if he needs to?” Scott inquired.
“Of course. Here you are,” Iscariot said, handing me a ring from his pocket. “This is the key to my room. You will not be able to open the door, but I will know that it’s either you, the Witch, or Scott at the door,” Iscariot said, explaining it to me as if I didn’t just hear his conversation.
“Thanks,” I replied. Wait, What did he say about a witch? Is it the same witch Scott said that he knew?
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