Imaginary Friends Agency

Chapter 1

Present Day

The great man paced about the room, fist pounding palm with every point he made. Doffed of top hat and leather kid gloves, he still cut an immaculate figure, suit remaining unwrinkled and pristine while he kept arguing. "This goes against every law known to man! There has never been any scientific proof. Magically, we only have theories. What precedence is there for any of this?"

Other figures sitting in the room nodded and whispered, worry and concerned stamped upon many a brow, the room's solitary lamp doing little to lessen the solemn atmosphere or bring the dark fabric of their attire out from the shadows. Quiet protest rose against their predicament, each conversing with his neighbor and going over, again, the fact and reality of it, the whispered questions "Why?" and "What can we do?" being repeated the width and breadth of the hall.

Sitting apart on a long bench running alongside the wall, four figures watched the proceedings. First in the row was a peddler. Long, dexterous, craftsman fingers clutching the brim of a felt cap, as weathered and sun browned as the cap was worn and discolored. The rest of his clothes were no better. Worn out from constant use, old mud splatters stained the legs and knees of his pants. Patches from where holes had been repaired bespeckled every garment, the new repairs bright and vivid, while the older repairs had grayed and faded into mostly blending with the other fabric. Keen eyes watched intently, noting and keeping track of the reactions and responses of the gentlemen.

To his right sat a young woman, back ramrod straight against the wall, only her face and tightly clasped hands giving away the concern she felt for the discussion. Primly dressed, her appearance was better put together, and maintained, than either of her companions, having taken pains to pat down the skirt till only a faint ghosting of the dirt from travel showed. At her feet snuffled a curiously shaped animal, plump body slumped languidly to rest against her leg.

Leaning slightly towards the man, she murmured anxiously, "Why must they ponder on trivialities? They're wasting too much time!"

"To them, these aren't trivialities," his low baritone replied, matching her volume. "I've spent my life pursuing this reality. They've spent their careers building up logic and facts to safeguard themselves with in their profession."

"Even though the proof sits amidst them?" she demanded, incredulous, gaze darting to their third companion.

At her feet, as if sensing what they spoke about, the animal glanced up, eyes gleaming intelligently, but the young girl to her right remained oblivious. Expression passive, dreamy eyes turned unobserving across the hall, following some internal train of thought, her small fingers twisted the hem of a sleeve unconsciously.

"Have patience," the man cautioned. There's little else for us to do until they accept our word, he thought, wearying himself of the constant bickering. "The time for action will come soon enough," he added. "And who knows what will come then."