It was a Saturday; I had the day off and was enjoying being the only one home. Chris was out with his girlfriend, and Doug was attending one of the rallies in favour of the King, something I still wasn’t too keen on.

So, what was I doing while one friend was enjoying a romantic day out, and the other was trying to influence the direction our country would take?

“Oh, come on! Hades would trounce Anubis’s ass! Undead Spartans clearly trump animated mummies!”

I was enjoying a read-through on the ‘Divine Versus’ on the internet. It was a rather silly website that had sprung up in the wake of the gods’ return. Basically, it used all the available public knowledge on the various gods that had been interviewed, worshipped, or simply observed, to make a guess as to the outcome of hypothetical battles. There was a rather complex rating system that assigned numerical values to each of the powers of the gods in question, based on previous feats that had been confirmed. In the case of gods that hadn’t shown up in the mortal world yet their myths and legends were used to approximate what they might be capable of. It was by no means perfect, and a large part of the site was taken up with members arguing over the validity of just about everything, but that was part of the fun.

I had just finished reading through a match between the Egyptian God of Mummification and the Greek God of the Underworld when I heard the knock.

What surprised me most about it was hearing it at all. After all, there was a doorbell right next to the door; one that had been painted a bright, fluorescent blue by Doug so that there was no way that it could be easily missed. For someone to be knocking, it meant that they were wilfully ignoring it.

But that was the only really surprising thing about it. With the way the world had been going getting used to interruptions by people at the door was a regular thing. There was always someone coming round, preaching for one god or another, suggesting ways that your soul could be saved, telling you that you were damned, declaring that the world would soon come to an end. It seemed interminable.

Lots of shops were now selling these little plaques that you could attach to your front door, plaques that said that they weren’t interested in preachers or doomsayers. I’d kept meaning to buy one, and at that moment I was regretting not having got one yet.

I quietly made a bet with myself as I left my room and went downstairs to the main door. I decided that if I could guess the religious denomination of whoever was knocking then I’d treat myself to one of the little tubs of ice cream that I kept in the freezer for a special occasion. As I got near the door, I decided that I’d go with Christianity.

All right, Christianity it was. Now, who was knocking on my door?

Opening my door, I found a very pretty blonde girl dressed in plate armour and with a sword at her hip. Had I known, then I would have been a great deal more eager to answer the door, let me tell you.

This wasn’t some fake armour either, I could tell that the steel she wore looked tough and solid. And even though the breastplate was moulded to cover a feminine chest it wasn’t the impractical fantasy armour that had a boob window, or anything like that. Though unquestionably made of metal the armour was a sort of pearly white rather than silvery and decorated with golden filigree along the edges of the plates and seams, but that didn’t detract from the clear functionality of its design as protection. Underneath this, she seemed to be wearing a combination of chainmail and a close-fitting leather bodysuit that hugged her snugly from what I could see.

Her hair was the most golden blonde that I’d ever seen and was cut in a fairly short bob that framed her face. Her eyes were a blue that could only be described as rich and sat in a face that I would have expected to see in a starring role on tv, not on my doorstep. If I had to guess, I would have put her age as about my own and as far as height went, I only had a couple of inches on her. I was a fairly tall guy, so that would have put her at something like five foot nine, but there was something about her that made her seem even taller. The clear confidence with which she held herself seemed to radiate off her, and between that and her looks, I was momentarily speechless.

“Bonjour. I am here to meet with Adam, could you please summon him for me?”

Her voice was as pleasant as the rest of her appearance and had a light French accent to it. It took me a couple of moments to get my wits together and answer. A beauty in armour with a sword at your door and looking for you is a good reason to be stunned.

“Uhh . . . yes, that’s me! Umm, how can I help you?”

In response, the armoured woman just looked at me and blinked. Then she sort of leaned to the side as though trying to look around me, as though expecting someone to be hiding there.

“There is not another Adam in this dwelling? You are the only one?”

That was enough to shake me back to full senses. I mean, it wasn’t asked in a deliberately cruel manner, but still, ouch!

“No, I’m the only Adam that lives here. Now, might I ask who you are and what you’re doing here?”

She didn’t answer immediately, instead, she took a step back and took a moment to look over both me and my home. I could hear her murmuring to herself, as if to order her thoughts.

“Pour quoi mon Dieu? Pour quoi l’Angleterre ? Sûrement une bonne famille française aurait été beaucoup mieux. J'aurais certainement préféré travailler avec un français !”

I understood some of it, but I have to admit that my French is not the best. Still, I got a bit of it. She was saying something about God, why God did something? And there was also something about a good French family, but most of the rest I didn’t understand.

She went quiet for a bit, before she stepped in close again, then bowed her head slightly as if in apology.

“Please forgive my rude manners. I am afraid that I was taken somewhat by surprise to find that you are the one I was called to find. I confess that I was expecting someone . . . different.”

Well, okay then, at least she seemed to have some decent manners.

“Okay . . . Ummm, how can I help you?”

“I have been sent here on a mission of divine mandate! It is essential that you come with me immediately, you are no longer safe here.”

Really, what was I meant to say to something like that? I freely admit it, my brain sort of froze up, and I just blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

“What?!”

“I have been assigned a divine mission to see to your safety and education,” She explained, her voice earnest and sincere. “There are forces that seek to do you harm, and it is my duty to ensure that you remain protected until such time as you are ready to defend yourself.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

I just stared at her, my mind going over her words and trying to process them. She was here to protect me? From what? Why would I need to be protected? And she was on a divine mission? For a bit, my brain just spun, like a bunch of gears that had lost their grips and were just wheeling in place. Then a thought occurred to me. It was that thought that let everything else click back into place.

This was a con!

When the supernatural had been confirmed as real there’s been plenty of assholes willing to take advantage of it, even if it got people hurt. It eased off after some gods proved they didn’t appreciate their name being taken in vain, but there were still plenty of them out there.

This girl . . . she hadn’t mentioned any gods by name, just spoken of her ‘divine’ mandate or mission. Clever. Well, that was one way to avoid trouble and draw me in. Then there was the talk about me being in danger and needing to be protected. It was a good con, one that worked on both fear and pride. Fear that something or someone meant me harm, pride in that it implied that I was special, that some divinity regarded me as important.

Well, I wasn’t going to fall for it.

“Look, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying, okay?”

I didn’t wait for a response; I just closed the door in her face. Then the knocking came again, this time more forcefully. As I opened the door I knew this wasn’t going to be pleasant; the forceful ones were always hard to deal with.

“What?!”

“You have to come with me!” She insisted, her brow creasing slightly and her eyes narrowing.

“Are you deaf? I said that I’m not buying it, so why are you wasting both our time?”

Perhaps it wasn’t my smartest move, taking that tone with someone that had a sword, but I was convinced I was just dealing with a conwoman.

“I am being completely serious in this matter!” She wasn’t quite yelling it, but her voice was starting to get louder. “You are in danger, and it is my duty to safeguard and teach you!”

“Look, if you really want me to believe you then why don’t you show me something that’ll convince me? There’re way too many liars and con people around these days for me to take anything at face value.”

There, nice and simple. Now, with any luck, she would leave me alone.

“Ah, I see,” It was a bit unnerving, just how she calmed down so quickly, and she was smiling. I hoped that meant there wasn’t going to be any violence or unpleasantness. “It is only sensible that you would require proof that I am no charlatane. Alors, have no fear, the Lord provides!”

It would have been sensible to stay quiet, to not engage her further, but I confess that my curiosity got the better of me.

“And what Lord would that be? Are we talking Lord Zeus, Shiva . . . anyone I’d know?”

“I was charged not by one of the lesser gods,” she declared as she turned away from me and started to look around. “Once I would have called them false idols, though now I know better. They have as much of a place in the divine order as do the angels, but I do not revere them. I was placed upon this path by God Almighty himself, the Creator of all and the father of our Saviour.”

Ah, so she was of the Judeo-Christian persuasion. I guessed I won my little bet with myself. It was also an interesting choice, especially since some angels had proven themselves to be . . . vindictive when dealing with ‘false prophets’, enough so that most conmen tried to steer clear of invoking such authority. Perhaps I was dealing with well-meaning delusion rather than malicious intent. It would be easier to deal with her if that was the case, and that was something to be thankful for. Now, I just had to see what she-

The sight of a sword made of light forming in the armoured girl’s hands managed to bring my train of thought to a halt as thoroughly as if it had run into an imaginary mountain.

I don’t mean that she drew her sword and it was now catching the light from the sun overhead. No, what I saw was light spring from seemingly nowhere between her hands; a light that shone brightly, then dimmed to a strong glow as it condensed, for want of a better term, into a classic European longsword. I could see it from where I stood, the light taking the form of a blade, cross guard, hilt and pommel. I could see the detail of a Fleur de Lis worked into the guard, the leather around the hilt, the carving on the pommel. I could see all of that, but I could also see that it wasn’t made of metal, it was made of light. Hell, I could actually see through it since it was slightly transparent.

I could only stare at it in stupefaction for a moment though, because the girl wasn’t just standing there holding it up for me to see. She was moving.

The house I lived in faced onto a fairly quiet street, more of a side road really, so it didn’t see masses of traffic. There was the front lawn and drive to the garage, then the pavement. Along my street, there were several trees.

Just by our lawn, there was a lovely chestnut tree. It wasn’t particularly tall, but it was pretty sturdy, enough for some drunk driver to have driven his car into it, and for his car had come out the worse off.

The girl’s arm swung, the blade made of light flashed, and the tree fell over.

It was at about this point that my brain finally started to work again, shocked back into action by the felling of the tree. This wasn’t some cheap trick, this was the real deal!

No, no no no! I had to be rational about this. Was this a trick? Some overly elaborate con? I had to be sure. My legs, somewhat more unsteady than I would have liked, took me over to the tree.

I took a look at both the fresh stump and the fallen tree. Fortunately, it had toppled backwards so that the spread of branches now took up a good portion of the front lawn of my house and that of our neighbours. The armoured girl saw me coming and stepped aside, the sword of light fading as she allowed me to take a look at her handiwork. The cut was smooth as glass, with no splintering, no burning. A little bit of sap was starting to leak out, but aside from that there was almost no sign that the wood had been cut just seconds before, instead, it looked as pristine as something on display at a museum exhibit.

“I kinda liked that tree, you know.”

The words just slipped out on their own, little more than some random thought that was verbalized due to shock and confusion, but the girl turned to look at me as she heard them.

“Je suis désolée. It is unworthy to use His gifts in such a carelessly destructive manner. Allow me to correct it.”

I just stared at her, not really getting what she was saying. My head was still a scrabbled mess as I tried to organize what I had seen into some semblance of order. Those attempts were thrown into further chaos when she reached down and just picked up the severed top of the chestnut tree.

She lifted the trunk, then took it in both hands and placed it back on the stump, twisting it a little so that it was aligned properly with how it had been. Her eyes closed and from her hands, a soft blue light began to emanate soaking into the tree where she was touching it. Right there, right in front of my eyes, I watched as the cut went fuzzy, and then vanished. She stepped back, letting go of the trunk, and it stayed in place. A breeze moved the leaves and branches, and I waited for it to fall, for it to overbalance and break again. But it didn’t.

It . . . it was fixed. It wasn’t an illusion or a trick, she had cut the tree down, and then she had put it back together!

Oh God, she was for real! This was for real!

“I . . . I . . .”

Words just wouldn’t come. All I could do was stare at her as though she were an oncoming train rather than an oddly dressed young woman. Some of that must have shown on my face because her features softened as she looked at me.

“I understand that this is a lot to take in. Perhaps we should retire into your domicile? It will allow us to converse in more detail.”

The way she spoke was a bit odd, some part of my mind noted. It made me think of someone that had been . . . over-educated? Was that even a thing? Strange what one’s mind would latch onto in the face of a situation that it was having trouble getting a grip on.

“I . . . sure. Please come in.”

Well, if nothing else then bringing her in would give me a chance to get something to drink. Yes, coffee, that was a good idea. With any luck, a good cup of the strong stuff would be able to help me jump-start the old grey matter, because up to this point I was, quite frankly, embarrassing myself.

And as a bonus, it would get her off the street. So far nobody had come out yet, but that tree had made a rather loud noise when it went down. If she felt that she had to do something else to prove herself she might end up doing something more drastic, and I really didn’t want the whole neighbourhood knowing that it was all about me.

“I would be honoured.”

With a smile, she turned and walked over to the door, and into my home. Watching her move was interesting. I had expected her to be heavy on her feet given the armour she was wearing. However, she moved with the sort of casual grace that I would have expected from a professional dancer.

And I’ll be honest, the fact that she filled that armour out pretty nicely might also have caught my eyes.

Shaking my head, I followed her in.