Rexque Futurus, Rex Hic (A Merlin Fanfic)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Are you alright, Mr Emrys?" Julie asked as she lead him back into the post-office, out of the crowd which was slowly dissolving after witnessing the strange occurrence of the morning. "It's not even nine am! He was off his rocket, wasn't he? Imagine that! Attacking you! The nerve of him. Youngsters have no respect these days."

Julie had dipped out to grab a snack before the next scheduled post delivery arrived and had witnessed the strange man in the suit of armour rampage in the square.

"Bloody tourists." Julie continued as she sat lead him to a seat behind the counter and poured a glass of water for him, "They will charge him for being a public nuisance. That's for sure. I have a cousin who works in the police force here and he says that they're intolerant of misbehaviours. I think they're scared it will drive the other tourists away. Personally, I think they should be caring about us lot first. We have to put up with that rubbish all year around, don't you reckon Mr Emrys? Mr Emrys? Mr Emrys, are you alright?"

He wasn't but he couldn't tell Julie just why that was. He nodded and that seemed to be enough for Julie who continued to rabbit on.

"It's just you looked a little pale, Mr Emrys. But then, it's a cold day. The whole town is looking a little pale."

"Mm." He agreed in response but he had not really noticed. Everyone in Glastonbury looked pale, heck, everyone on the whole island looked pale! Who cared? Julie the lady from the post, apparently. He got up from the chair, turned to Julie and said quietly, "I will be off now."

"Alright then, Mr Emrys." Julie smiled kindly, "I will see you sometime soon."

He didn't look back at her when she spoke. He had put his glass of water down on the counter and had limped out of the little post office, picking up a free newspaper as he walked out. He was not fond of sympathy; he was well aware of Julie and the town personalities giving him a fair dish of it. No one could comprehend that he was satisfied with living in isolation, no one could comprehend that it had been this way for most of his life.

He made his way through the crowds again and opened out his news-paper which was just full of Brexit propaganda. When would people ever learn that nothing was a permanent fix? When would society learn to expect change?

"Ha." He laughed to himself as he realized just how hypocritical he was being. He wanted to live to see the day the masses would realize how little their impact on the world was but then here he was denying the fact he had perhaps witnessed the biggest change he had always hoped for.

After all those years, he had been too shaken to even react to Arthur's apparent rise from the dead. He had been so shaken he had felt that he could not move. Julie had come to rescue him in a sense.

And now what?

Did he walk home and pretend that today had not happened? Did he forget about his long-dead friend? Did he forget about his once-destiny? If he did try and forget everything was it giving in to defeat? Would all that waiting he had done be for nothing?

He chuckled to himself again. He was too old for this!

Despite that internal admission, he turned on his heel and headed back into the town square. A cautious bounce found its way into his step. This was new, this was scary, this was exciting!

He avoided walking past the post office by taking the side walk on the other side of the square. He did not have the patience to see Julie a third time in one day nor did he have the patience to engage in small talk with the busy bodies at the bakery or reject another dinner invite from Ms Stevens who always sat at the bus stop but never caught a bus.

The police station was an inconspicuous building, hidden behind an office building in the corner of a parking lot. This was little old Glastonbury. The only incidents the police dealt with involved tourists.

The building itself was looking worse for wear. Its light blue paint coat was peeling across the bricks. It looked like a shoebox; square and rather small which was alright because it only housed seven officers. Between them they had two cars; a little one for the highway and a van for the unruly. He had been there a lot in recent times to complain about how horrible the roads were. He had hoped they would pass his concerns over the uneven roads to the shire council but nothing had come of it yet.

For a man as old as he was the door to the police station was a bit of a hassle. It was a heavy thing and had automatic hinges which were timed wrong so often he would find himself almost wedged between the door frame and the door itself. A few times an officer had to rescue him by opening the door and standing in front of it so it would not close on him again. Usually the saw him coming a mile away nowadays and had the automatic motion sensor turned off so it would be easier for him to open and get through.

"Ah, Mr Emrys." Someone spoke from behind the desk. "Are you here to give a testimony to the incident this morning?"

He couldn't see whoever was speaking from behind the desk and it annoyed him a bit. He was a short man, he knew that but this was a bloody big desk and for what? Maybe to hide from angry old men who complained about the uneven surfaces of roads?

"No." He muttered as he took a seat along the box-room wall.

"The roads then, Mr Emrys?" the officer asked.

"No." he said again.

"Oh, my apologies then. How may I help you?"

'You can start by making an appearance.' He thought to himself but he was not in the mood to be pedantic. He just wanted to gain some sense from this sudden situation and then go home and sleep. He cleared his throat, "I am here to collect my...my great nephew! Yes, my great nephew. I believe you brought him in this morning."

"You knew the offender?"

"That is what I said, isn't it?" he snapped.

"At the moment," the officer muttered, "we are running him through a drugs and alcohol test. It shouldn't take long but it is protocol."

"He isn't on drugs." He protested but he had not really thought just what he was doing. Everything was a mess. Surely attempting to rescue a friend he had known was dead was the right thing to do. He could have walked, he could have forgotten but he hadn't and he didn't. "He...he has forgotten to take his medicine today."

"I see." The officer said, still not making an appearance from behind the counter, "Can you tell me his name, Mr Emrys? He has been insisting it is 'Arthur Pendragon'."

"Arthur...Arthur King." He decided but then wondered if that sounded strange, considering Arthur was not doing himself any favours it seemed by telling the truth.

"Arthur King, alright." The officer seemed to accept the name as genuine, "I will run it through the system and if all is clear I suppose we can free him."

He sighed in relief knowing all too well Arthur would be clear of everything. Arthur's presence in the world was something that had been for centuries trivial; a bedtime story. His existence on this earth was nothing more than legend; that is all early history fizzled in to.

"He's clear." The officer said from behind the counter, stating what the elderly man had expected. "I can take you through to see him if you would like."