On the way out Nathan stretches his arms and realizes he still feels like shit, and is late for work besides. Between catching a ride back home, getting changed and driving back, it is more than ten thirty when he reaches his office, cursing himself for not taking a day off. Nathan called in advance to say he had been “Unavoidably detained”, not that it matters. Upon arriving, he realizes his credentials have been cancelled and is escorted by an apologetic Lucas to a meeting with the store leader and the head of HR. He is informed that due to recent events including agents questioning employees, his presence was deemed “disruptive” and his contract terminated, albeit with a very generous bonus. Nathan is then escorted out with his belonging and left on the parking lot.

During the whole thing he may have uttered three words.

Exhausted and nauseous, he drives home to a parked car. A tall woman with brown hair and icy blue eyes stands at the top of the entry stairs like a temple guardian, face twisted in displeasure. Her dark gray coat does little to hide the fact that she is lean and rather muscular.

“Mordred Nathan Turner!”

“Hey Mom.”

“Why do you never pick up your phone?! That is so annoying, young people have access to this amazing piece of technology and instead of being available, you spend your time watching kitten on the internet!”

“Sorry Mom I was driving.”

“Never mind that then, do you know that I can’t enter the house? What’s wrong with your door and! Oh sweety what happened!”

“I just got fired.”

A small “o” of surprise cuts all signs of impatience and his Mom’s expression turns sympathetic.

“You’re kidding.”

“Alas. No.”

“What happened?”

Just then Nathan’s discomfort turns to pain, the physical blow of it threatening to overwhelm him.

“Later” he says.

Nathan does not remember climbing the stairs to his bedroom and collapsing in his bed.

First comes the febrile heat and aching bones, then the headache and dry mouth. Nathan stretches his hands outside of the cover and into the merciless cold. It is dark. A light shines downstairs through the opened door but the house is as silent as an old wooden house can be.

Nathan stands up and piles on clothes including his comfiest hoodie. The mirror in the bathroom shows a tired man with deep pockets under his eyes and in dire needs of a shave. Nathan gets down the stairs to find out what woke him up: his kitchen is the scene a classic Mexican standoff.

Ladies and gentlemen! On his right Diana Turner, of undetermined age since it’s not polite to mention that a lady is fifty three, definitely undisclosed weight, PhD in medieval studies with a focus on lost technologies. Hobby: blacksmithing. On his right, Gwahin of the leaves, somewhere over three centuries old, weighting two hundred pounds of assorted groceries, at least. Hobbies: snide remarks and veiled threats.

Truly a fight for the ages.

“I don’t know who, or what, you are but I suggest you get the fuck out of my house.”

Gwahin speaks without even looking at Nathan.

“Dear host, every time I think you have displayed the full extent of your stupidity you manage to go and reveal some more.”

“Mom, drop the steak knife, Gwahin please be slightly more direct in you insults I’m not in the mood.”

While his mom looks at the knife in her hand with a frown, Gwahin takes what he recognizes as the “patronizing” posture. She insists it’s called her “teaching” posture but Nathan knows better.

“Are you feeling in discomfort at the moment?”

Nathan looks down at his messy clothes and remember the horror show the mirror showed him.

“How can you tell?”

“Do not play coy mortal you are exhausting my patience. Yesterday you claimed this house as yours and less than a day afterward, you did not resist when rival forces came to take you.

"Resisting the cops would have been a very stupid mistake."

"I think so too. That said, the weave does not think. You claimed a land, and then you did not defend it. Your only saving grace is that they left without claiming or sacking it, and now I find that you allowed someone else in, someone who just claimed that home as hers."

"First thing first that’s mom. My casa e her casa."

"You are not listening."

"Hum…"

Nathan and Gwahin turn to Diana who has had enough of trying to pinch herself awake.

"Or maybe you’re feeling discomfort because you are eating trash? I opened your pantry and you know what I found? Carbs and proteins and that’s it. Even the cans of peeled tomato are approaching the expiration date."

"Seriously there is a nature spirit right in front of you and your first concern is my eating habits?"

"Mortal I am not a spirit or a dryad I am Yol, stop using your pitiful terms to refer to my higher existence."

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

"Higher existence? Lady you’re dressed like my garden’s fence, talk back to me when you’re at least dressed like my curtains."

Nathan can feel the beginning of a headache.

"Ust-Nach! Watch your words or I shall wear your skin instead."

"ENOUGH! Gwahin stop threatening mom. Mom, I invited Gwahin here, she’s been incredibly useful over the past few weeks.."

"Well… Alright… But I wonder what your cousins will say about that."

"They can say what they want it’s my name on the property deed."

"His mom crosses her arms but says nothing, while Gwahin looks vaguely pleased."

"So… Anyway… What is going on here exactly?"

"I’m going to need a pot of tea for that one."

Nathan goes to grab his brand new set.

“What happened to the Chinese set did you break it?”

“Huh no it’s being used right now, look just go sit down I’ll explain everything.”

After half an hour of messy explanations and about ten more minutes of incredulous questions , Nathan’s mom is ready for a verdict.

“Well, this all sounds crazy but… After seeing Gwahin with my own eyes, the only think I can’t believe is that all that junk food is for her."

Just on cue Gwahin appears from the kitchen and shoves a last fistful of glazed pig jerky in her maw before dramatically informing the room.

"Weoofffruoiggherfffy."

Diana blinks and turns to her placid son.

“I believe she is trying to communicate."

"She said: we are out of pig jerky."

Gwahin nods and attempts to put a smile on her bulging cheeks, looking all the while like the world’s deadliest hamster.

"How can you even tell?"

"Habit."

"I think I believe you now. And I still don’t get why can’t you swallow your pride and work for that Mr Chauham, wouldn’t it be better to trade magic for backup and a salary? Not to mention dental."

"Well why don’t you swallow your pride and work for professor Maretti ?"

"My life is not at stake son! And don’t you sass me in front of our guest!"

"Ok this is all well and good, now we can talk about all of this tomorrow, I need a break."

Nathan goes to his bedroom and fires up his desktop computer. He considers refreshing his resume before laughing softly and firing up a game instead. He picks an old turn based strategy game, giving him ample time to reflect.

It is actually a boon that he got fired. He gets one year of salary in advance if he accepts the deal, and he would have had to quit anyway. Between the magic messing with his mind and the need to practice he would have run at of time. There probably isn’t such a thing as a part time wizard. Given how the weave works you probably cannot give anything but your full commitment. No, the real issue is income. He has bills and taxes to pay, not to mention the cost of feeding Gwahin.

On the screen, a squad of WW2 soldiers mows down a group of pike wielding men. Nathan sighs.

The best solution would be to become a consultant of sorts, only, he cannot rely on just Chauham. If the crafty agent finds out he has Nathan by the financial balls he will end up just as dependant as if he had accepted the offer, minus dental.

He pauses the game for five minutes to browse his favorite websites. All the online advertisements are for porn and fast food delivery, Ah, Nathan sighs, they know me so well.

To go back to the topic, perhaps the house of Mirrah and Z need people on the supply side? Perhaps they need help on an ad hoc basis. Perhaps he can convince the Varog-slaying crew to join. He will probably need starting fund for that, and even has an idea where he might get it.

On the screen, computer controlled Ghandi unleashes the nuclear fires of apocalypse on civilization.

Nathan considers going to bed but decides against it. Just one last turn then he’ll sleep.

Nathan opens his eyes to the pale light of winter. He’s feeling much better than the day before, although a bit dehydrated. It is the post job honeymoon, the feeling of not having to go to work anymore. In about two days it will be replaced by the cold awareness that his bank account is an ever smaller safety cushion but for now, it feels amazing.

Ten minutes later Nathan sits on the living room couch with a cup of coffee, an apple and his last bagel, which he had to hide from Gwahin in a drawer labeled “lettuce”. On his lap: a sleepy Bismark, his two phones with seventeen missed calls and more than sixty texts and assorted mails and a cream colored envelope. His mom is out on an errand and Gwahin is probably filing her teeth or something, so he has the house for himself.

It’s easy enough to sort through the polite messages from former coworkers. Alan, Lucas and the member of his team, sorry, former team are particularly moving. The kind words bolster his mood until he is ready to face the more serious matters.

“Hey, sorry for the job thing buddy. We should lay low for a while but I will keep an eye open. My brother is moving to Hallows and will assist us. Keep an eye on Seren. –M.”

Laying low sounds fine right now, as for Seren she’s a big girl. Still, better send a message just in case. The next text is from Sarah.

“Heard you got your ass fired. Well done boss. Will be back in three days. Maybe I can find a way to comfort you.”

Nathan’s mind plunges straight to the gutter and his memory provides helpful flashes of their lovemaking. No, need to calm down. Just think random words. Accordeon. Tundra. Nipples. Arg!

Nathan shifts uncomfortably, hoping the next messages will provide a distraction from that mole on her lower back that looks like a drop of ink on a the pristine canvass of her perfect skin. And those thighs. Hhnnng. In the end, it is Bismark’s judgemental look that saves him, although to be fair Bismark always looks judgmental.

There are a few mails from his relatives, and one from Ambrose.

“Nathan my friend I got a promotion and a transfer, it’s all very hush hush right now but as soon we can let’s catch up, you won’t believe your ears!”

Nathan has a sinking feeling in his stomach and a suspicion that his friend may have been poached.

The last message is the cream envelope. Nathan turns it around to reveal a wax seal with the now familiar M and Z logo. Why do those people have to be so extra? What’s wrong with Fedex and UPS. Well, whatever. Nathan opens the carefully folded letter to reveal a hand written note. The smell of incense assails his nostrils as Bismark jumps away in disgust. Perfume.

The black letters striating the paper speak of elegance and inhuman precision.

“Knight Turner, greetings.

You will find below your invoice #KNMT0001 for service rendered on November the 19th.

Debit:

Crime scene cleaning detail USD 11,700

Express service fee USD 8,000

Credit:

Assorted Eater organs USD-2,700

Tattoo of unknown origin USD -5,000

TOTAL BALANCE: USD 12,000

“

Nathan coughs as tea goes down the wrong way. Twelve fucking grand? On his first day of unemployment? Fuck! And it would probably be a piss poor idea to default on this one particular debt. He remembers the square teeth on Agrias. Maybe it’s standard protocol for the venerable house of Mirrah and Z to show up on the first day with their collector, just in case you get any ideas. What are even the payment terms? Please anything but cash.

“Our manager and account holder Jin Mirrah has decided to wave the cost as a commercial gesture since this is your first order”

Woooooow. Fucking hell. Saved. What a roller coaster of emotions there. Still the message is clear, if he wants anything from them it will cost him dearly, on the other hand if he can sell them magic…

“ Best regards,

Leila El Filali”

Nathan sends the appropriate replies including a short message to Seren and makes a check list.

* Contact Jin Mirrah, get full range of services, ask if they are looking for something themselves

* Acquire currency using that secret opportunity I just thought of

* Create a magical consulting company

* Make contact with Chauham as a potential client

* Find a way to contact the newly rescued people

* Arrange communication with everyone involved

* Organize group training

* Arrange more personal training with Gwahin

* Get laid

* Survive

* Carrots

* Onions

* Simmer twenty minutes in olive oil…

Nathan realizes he is hungry and sidetracked but anyway, that ought to do it. Might as well get started.