What a Dragon Must Do Pt. 3

The door broke in half, the top half shooting out the window, causing shards of glass to rain outwards onto the gardens below. Imps dove into the kitchen, armed with tiny knives, bats, and broken glass. Tendrils wrapped around Scribe as the Shadelings pulled them down into the shadows while Lew shot orbs at the imps.

Scribe pulled at the shadowed bindings to free themself while the imps rushed Lew. At one point Imperick, with his green elf hat askew atop his head, yelled a charge, and the rabble divided into two platoons. One advanced against the dragon while Imperick and the others fell back to rescue Scribe.

Chaos ensued. Lew trumpeted in challenge to his adversaries while the imps jeered back and shoved their knives, bats, and broken glass bottles in their various containers. An imp in a red fisherman sweater hollered, "For Mischief!" and imps following his command responded, "And glory!" as they flew in battle. The two sides clashed in grey swirls of glittering magic and fiery orbs as the opposing sides darted around the kitchen.

It had been a long time coming. The imps were in charge of security and this little pipsqueak of a dragon thought he'd be able to replace them! They had the perfect job. The imps here got paid to to be themselves and prank thieves, troublemakers, and even teach classes on how to prank at The Whimmery during Hecate*. Sure, they had to patrol, which was boring, but overall, they were paid to make mischief! This was a dream come true for them.

Meanwhile, Imperick and his platoon were launching spell after spell at the Shadelings. Unfortunately for Scribe, they were hit time and time again. The side effects included turning purple, green, and polka-dot. Barfing. Which was caught in a tiny bag one of the Shadelings thoughtfully provided. Contracted or not, Shadelings were the best ones to remove hostages.

Part of what made Shadelings so highly sought was a centuries-long streak of exemplary customer service. A history of honorable and ethical conduct, as well as the mandatory certifications on handling various types of customers. These classes and training sessions were held quarterly, in addition to the ongoing, constant traditional hostage rescue exercises. After all, they had a reputation to uphold.

As things were taking a turn for the worse, Jake and teams 1 and 2 burst into the kitchen, warriors upfront, swords at the ready. Behind them, Wranglers began their work, roping the imps in clusters like a cowboy dealing with an ornery steer. The mage-like nullifiers spread out around their room, working to cancel out the magical warfare in the small kitchen.

It took a grand total of thirty minutes to secure everyone, well, to secure Imperick. Everybody else was secured, hog-tied, or put in a time-out cube within the first five minutes. Imperick had come by his position honestly, being the most mischievous one of them all. Between attempting to free his brethren, get Scribe out of the shadows, and avoid the angry little dragon, the warriors, wranglers, and nullifiers eventually overwhelmed Imperick.

Jake slid sheathed his sword and touched his earpiece. "Area secured.Teams 3, 4, and 5, 0.1.1.1.X, I repeat 0.1.1.1.X."

That done, the warrior turned to a lone shadow on the floor and bowed slightly. "Shadelings, thank you for your hard work. Please return to the Emergency Response Department for debriefing and payment. We look forward to working with you in the future."

Slowly, Scribe appeared out of a shadow on the floor, and the tendrils released their grasp and disappeared into the shadows below. Jake walked over to Scribe and helped them sit up and gently removed the tape from their mouth.

"Apologies for such treatment. Do you have a writing book, or would you like for me to bring a telepath in?" Jake asked as he checked for any wounds.

"No. No, I would not. Who are you and what are you doing here? If I am not satisfied with your answer, I will contact your superiors for breaking and entering." Scribe tugged their hands away, dusted their now multi-colored robes, and stood up.

Jake stared at Scribe in shock. "Excuse me, customer, I was told that you were nonverbal and we were contacted on the basis that you required an imp removal. Midway through the phone call, the line was disconnected. As related with all imp-service calls, anytime a call is disconnected, we are required to send out an emergency responder."

"Now then, I will take these imps with me-"

"You can't!" Scribe interrupted, hands pulling at the warrior's cloak. "You can't. These imps are our security force and are under contract. If you need, I can provide contracts for each individual so you can verify." The scribe pulled a leather necklace out from under scorch-marked robes and unhooked a charm-like bookcase and quill. Scribe gingerly touched the tip of the miniature quill to a book on the bottom shelf and a green book appeared with a thud on the floor next to Scribe's feet.

They bent down, picked up the book, and handed it to Jake. "Please review pages two through one-hundred-seventy-five-thousand-three-hundred-and-twenty-seven, please."

Jake's eyes widened in despair, but ultimately, took the book out of Scribe's hand. He pressed his earpiece and murmured a few words. Minutes later, a mage dressed in loose-fitting burgundy robes ran into the room and slid to a halt.

"Jake, you called?" Osian asked, his blue eyes glittering in hope. Osian was a support mage specializing in contract magic for the teams, in other words, a bonafide magical lawyer. Usually, Osian spent his days working behind a desk buried somewhere on the third floor, as he had only been with the company for a decade. So this was the first time that Osian had been called to the field.

"Here, read this." Jake shoved the enormous tome into Osian's arms and the mage fell to the floor. Jake bent down and picked the mage up, this time not letting go of the diminutive spell-caster.

"Ack, just put me back down on the ground. If you let go, I'll just fall again."

Jake carefully set the mage back down. "How long will this take, Osian?"

Osian was frowning as he skimmed through the huge book. "It shouldn't take long, just a couple of hours."

"Hours? Osian, that is more time that we-" Jake stopped talking when the mage leveled a look at him.

"Would you like to read this?" Osian quirked a brow at the tall warrior.

Jake shook his head frantically. This would take him two years to read, and more to make sense of it.

"Do you believe that sparing a few hours is unreasonable?"

Jake shook his head again.

"Okay, would you check on our Dear Customer? I noticed that there was a dragon in the time-out cube. Why don't you see if he can be let out now, hmm?"

Jake nodded and turned back around to see Scribe staring aghast at the mage. Few people were willing to study contracts and having to read over one-hundred-thousand contracts at the spur of the moment was enough to cause any reasonable being to panic and run away.

Scribe tried to get a few words out but eventually turned around, opened the broken cabinet door, and grabbed three slightly chipped teacups.

"Tea?"

Jake nodded, and they pulled out a small tin. "I hope you're fine with Oaken Days. It has been a long day, and I could use some calming down."

"Oh, the dragon. I need to-"

"No, it's quite alright, this situation happened because of Lew, so please, let him sit in there and stew. Trust me, this will be the only break that drakling will have for some time to come." The scribe said coolly, their normally dark eyes flashing red briefly as they handed Jake his tea and set the other cup next to Osian.

Jake stared at Scribe, took a sip of his tea, and said the only thing he could. "Okay".