All the characters appearing in Gargoyles and Gargoyles: The Goliath Chronicles are copyright Buena Vista Television/The Walt Disney Company. No infringement of these copyrights is intended, and is not authorized by the copyright holder. All original characters are the property of Spacebabie

by: Spacebabie

Email: spacebabie@hotmail.com

Reviews can be found athttp://pub17.ezboard.com/bgargoylesx

Feedback is not only welcome but greatly appreciated.

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Spears

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Particles of dust hung in the air, dancing and floating around like tiny snowflakes. The tiny specks that fell to the top shelves and stacks of cardboard boxes of the Into The Mystic’s store room created a thick yellowish layer and added to the dirt and clumps of dirt on the floor. The leather bound boks in the storage we covered with a layer so thick it was impossible to read the titles.

Morganna "Morrey" Kennedy coughed as she entered the room carrying an armload of cleaning supplies. She was asked by Una to take inventory of the items in storage. She had only made it halfway through the first shelf, coughing and sneezing, when she couldn’t continue. She couldn’t breath through her nose and her throat was dry and itchy. Her vision was blurred from the moisture produced by her watering eyes.

Morrey felt it would be better for her health if she cleaned first. She opened the back door leading into the alley, a crack to let in fresh air and used the dark gray feather duster to wipe up the thick coats of dust from the tops of the shelves. She was impressed with how well the real feathers in the duster picked up more grime than the synthetic ones she was more used to.

"That has got to be the stupidest thing I have ever heard!" The voice of a pre-adolescent male carried down from the floor above. Morrey turned her head to the doorway way. The stairs leading to the second floor was near the storeroom. It sounded like Colt and his friends were getting rambunctious.

"Not as stupid as the time you landed near Buckingham Palace," the second voice belonged to Colt.

""I was after a pick pocket."

"You could have been more careful, Mum and dad told us we can not let anyone see us."

"The crooks see us."

"You two are going to get us in trouble," the third voice belonged to a female from Colt’s rookery.

"He’s the one who is going to get us in trouble," Colt’s voice became even more shrill.

"Boys will be boys," Morrey rolled her eyes. She closed and locked the back door and raced up the stairs. She was glad she didn’t wait any longer to intervene. A stack of books was knocked from one of the end tables. Morrey had to wade over them to approach the two boys. The one resemvling an equine was holding the wolf like hatchling against the wall.

"Look what you have done," Colt snarled. His white equine form was lot like his mother’s but lacked a spiral horn in the middle of his forehead. His mane was more of a rich gold color like his father’s own leonine mane. Bluish black feathered wings were folded over his shoulders. His turned apologetic when he turned towards Morrey and the deer like female a sheepish smile

"Get off," the other male youth coughed. He reminded Morrey of a young wolf cub, albeit she never seen one with light blue fur. Dark gray curls covered the top of is head. His own wings, the color of liquid mercury, were spread out.

The third of the hatchlings stood far away from the boys. She was still and unmoving. Her large brown eyes locked on the young males. The way her large ears were pinned back and her shocked expression reminded the human of the expression why it was a deer caught in the headlights.

"That’s enough," Morrey clapped her hands. "I don’t know who started it, but you better end it before I finish it."

"You hear that?" The wolf like gargoyle said. "Your pet human is telling you to back off."

"Pet?" Morrey blinked in disbelief.

The female gargoyle gasped as her hands flew to her short muzzle. "Remus!"

Colt growled and pulled Remus back and shoved him in the wall again. "Take it back!"

Remus closed his eyes and grunted from the impact. "Sorry". He opened one of his golden eyes. "Sorry Morrey, It was mostly aimed at him. I didn’t mean for any cross fire."

"Nothing was damaged," Morrey sighed. She had wondered how the rest of the British clan had thought of her. Did they all view her as a servant or a pet? "Now I want you to stop this fighting, and I don’t want to hear who started it first. That whine was good when you were six or seven but you are now twelve-"

"Twenty four," Colt corrected.

She rolled her miss matched eyes. "The point is you are too old to be fighting like that."

"Sorry," Remus spoke with a petulant tone.

"Don’t get cocky," Colt poked him in the shoulder. "Just because your mother is the clan leader does not give you permission to act like you are better than everyone."

"You are right. Maybe Morrey can return to the Chapel’s with us. We got this wicked guest."

"The snake man?" Colt’s ears twitched. Ever since Arthur and those two archeologists brought the serpent-like human home he been wary of him. He didn’t know if it was the pale yellow eyes or the fangs of if it was when the folds on the side their guests head unfolded into a hood whenever he got upset.

"What snake man?" Morrey asked as she picked one of the fallen books.

"There was this archeologist who worked with Dr. Duane and Dr. Morwood-Smyth." Remus explained. "All three of them fought this monster in Egypt and it bit him. He went to bed and when he woke up he was turned into a snake man. The Chapels and mum are helping him with trying to cure him. In the meantime the clan is helping him cope with his new form and new abilites."

"Abilities?"

The wolfish youth nodded excitedly "He’s a bit stronger than human and he can make his own venom. Flo is asking him to gather some into a jar so she can make some medicine. They got him wearing this necklace with wards. It’s supossed to keep that snake monster from summoning him incase it wakes up again."

Morrey did feel her curiosity peaking. "I would love too, but first I have to finish inventory and we need to clean up these books."

"Good idea," Colt relaxed his grip on Remus’s collar and bent down to pick up the nearest book. "We better clean this up before anyone see’s us, especially--mum!"

Remus’s pointed ears twitched slightly at his friend’s outburst. He turned to see what Colt was staring and felt his lower jaw drop along with the others. The white unicorn like gargoyle glared over her tea set she held at chest level. Her lips were sealed, but not pursed, and she breathed through her large nostrils in deep, loud snorts.

The place had become too quiet for her son. All he could hear were his own heartbeat, mother’s breathing and Arthur announcing he and his knights have returned "I can explain," Colt held up the book and his other hand frantically. "Remus and I was rough housing, honest."

"We was just playing," Remus smiled. His golden yellow eyes shifted to stare at the two young females.

"It’s the truth," the deer like gargoyle nodded her head. "The boys were practicing some fake kun fu moves and got a little rough, too rough for me. We had just started to clean up."

"You don’t have to cover up for them Faline," Una said. "I know they were arguing, and they became too loud. Came to the point where it bothered Morrey."

"It wasn’t a bother," Morrey tried to interject, but Una kept on talking.

"She helps out more with the store than you or your sister does, and here you are distracting her."

"I wasn’t really distracted, I was mainly cleaning the place. It was a little dusty."

Una shook her head. "Tabby was supposed to be keeping the place clean."

"I was what?" A young female adult gargoyle asked as she climbed the stairs. Her lithe body was covered with a thin layer of brown fur. Light blond hair flowed from her lioness-like head down to her shoulders. A golden tuft of hair was at the tip of her long thin tail. The gargoyle paused as she reached the top step and studied the mess on the floor. "What is all this then?"

Una narrowed her pale blue eyes at her daughter as she studied her from head to toe. Tabitha insisted on wearing a deep blood red tank top covered in a black mesh shirt. Her purple skirt was several inches above the knees and the seams were held together by safety pins. Several black, red and purple bracelets hung around her left arm. Tiny gold hoops hung from the lobes of each ear while the tops had a red plastic piercings that looked more like a thick squarish tag an environmentalist would put on an animal to keep track of it.

"Your brother made bit of a mess when he and Remus got over a most hatchling like argument and you were supposed to be keeping the storage room clean."

Tabby shrugged her shoulders. "Hard to keep track of something with all the hard work I do."

"All the work you do?" Una nearly dropped the tray she was holding. Faline had raced over to help her steady it. "You don’t do any work around here."

"She means the work she does when she helps us," Griff explained as he climbed up behind her. The greenish griffin-like gargoyle approached the older female. "Would you like me to give you a hand with that?"

Una’s expression turned around in reverse, a smile replaced her scowl as her eyes brightened. "Thank you Griff," she handed him her tea tray. "Set it up at the table. If only you could teach Tabitha to have manners like yours."

"She’s always polite to me, Arthur and the others," Griff said. "She treats you different because you are her mother."

"That may be true, but in this home I am in charge. Tabby I want you go see if Richard is awake from his nap and place him in his highchair. Colt, I want you and your friends to finish cleaning up the dust in the storage."

"But that’s Tabby’s job," Colt protested before he stared at his mother’s narrowed eyes.One look at the way her eyes blue eyes seemed to bore into his heart he shook his head. "Never mind." He climbed down the stairs, followed by Remus and Faline. The three of them squeezed past Arthur as the once and future king made his way up.

The unicorn like gargoyle smiled at Arthur before she turned to the teenager. "Morrey you wouldn’t mind to finish cleaning up the books? I have to finish setting up tea."

"You are serving your spice cakes?" Arthur asked hopefully. He was dressed in a neatly pressed indigo suit with a pale silver shirt and black tie. His two pony tails were tied into one, but he left the two smaller tails near his temples flowing freely.

"Not this time Arthur. A fresh baked lemon sponge cake is cooling on the rack, and you can have a piece after you finish the rest of the meal."

"And that is?" Arthur raised his eyebrows as he reached down to pick up one of the books.

"Roast beef sandwiches with chips drizzled in malt vinegar."

"My mouth is watering just thinking about it."

"You always have a kind word about my cooking," Una said as she slowly backed away towards the kitchen. The sour mood she was in when she discovered the mess had faded away.

"Anyone who has tried some of her cooking would say nice things about it.," Morrey said as she deposited a small stack onto the table.

"That’s Una’s cooking for you," Arthur replied. He picked up a book that was lying open on the floor. He almost placed it on the table along with the others when something had caught his eye. A small sketch of a broadspear at the bottom of the page. "Rhongomyant?"

"Pardon?" Morrey raised her eyebrows.

"This book has a picture of my spear, Rhongomyant."

"The one you have been searching for?"

"Yes indeed," he suddenly felt embarrassed. "Please tell me this book wasn’t here the whole time."

"I won’t," she smiled while brushing a few mouse brown bangs out of her eyes. "This is part of the shipment that arrived a few weeks ago. Do you think it is a possible source, after all it’s just a drawing."

"Look how accurately detailed it is," Arthur bought the book over to her and pointed out the image. It was a well drawn broad spear. The once and future king pointed at the small row of interlocking rings carved into the spear’s head, and the two notched on each side of the metal point. "Look at the Celtic band and the notches." He pointed at the middle of the spear. "Look how the grip is even thinner than the rest and the bands on each end, three copper rings each." He tapped at different part’s of the drawing indicating while describing the details. He closed his eyes and remembered riding a top of his horse with Excalibur in it’s sheath and holding on to Ron by it’s leather bound center. With one shout he lead his men to battle.

"King Arthur," Morrey’s voice brought him back to reality. "How could this book, or the person who wrote this book have found your spear when Merlin couldn’t even remember where it was?"

"Don’t forget Merlin has trouble remembering what happened to him before his battle with your ancestor."

"I know," Morrey placed her hand on the image and closed the book. She turned the cover and first few pages to find the copyright date. "This was originally written in 1767." She opened back to the picture. "Back then it was owned by a French aristocrat who called the spear Le Tresor Celte."

"Le Tresor Celte," Arthur scoffed. "The French are the same no matter what century."

"I wouldn’t know if his family still owns it or if they donated to a museum. I could do an Internet look up real quick. Colt and the others are still cleaning up storage."

Arthur opened the covering of his golden pocket watch. "Rory and Merlin should be back from the store any minute, but the are probably arguing about how much cigarettes Merlin is stocking up."

"Right. It won’t take too long. I know how to google."

"Google?" Arthur raised his eyebrow while trying to figure out what she meant. He decided to not ask and follow where. The seventeen year old would probably end up showing him what she meant.

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In less than two minutes Morrey had the computer in her bedroom turned on and logged on to the net. She typed in the address for google in the address bar and pressed enter.

Arthur blinked at the image of brightly colored words spelling out the word he was trying to figure. "I thought google was a large number."

"Number and a search engine. We need to get Rory to show you how to work the net." She typed in the name of the spear from the book in the search bar and clicked the arrow over the search button. "There are dozens of search engines like this one. Just type in a key word or phrase and it will find you everything you need."

"And this will help us find Rhongamant by-" He made a circle with his hand, urging her to explain.

"Giving us a list of web addresses," she explained while the page they were viewing changed to one with a list of links written in blue font. She read through the descriptions and clicked on the first link that looked like it had what they were looking for. "The family used to own it, but they lost it after the second world war."

"Does it say where to?"

She shook her head. "Nada."

It took her ten minutes of clicking at glanced through a few promenant links to figure out what happened to the spear. "It went to Russia, but they don’t have it . They gave it to Germany after the fall of the wall as a gift."

"Does it say where in Germany?"

"Frankfurt to be exact."

"You know how to purchase plane tickets on the computer?" Arthur pulled out his wallet.

She nodded. "You want me to buy you and the others a few tickets."

"Three tickets. Merlin has a practice session with his band scheduled for tomorrow. He can shook himself for a later flight."

"Better make it two then."

"You are not coming?" Arthur frowned slightly before he remembered an important detail and smiled. "I nearly forgot about school. I’m sorry you won’t be joining us."

"My father was stationed in Frankfurt once. Remind Rory to bring his lap top and I can communicate with you much better, and probably cheaper than using the phone and cell phone."

"You know what to do," he placed the card on the table near the mouse pad. "I’ll tell Una you are doing something important for me.

She immediately picked it up. "You are trusting a teenager with this?"

"I’m not trusting a teenager," he chuckled. "I’m trusting you." He drank in the affectionate warmth Morrey held in her eyes as she smiled at him. Her parents probably never trusted her to borrow the credit card, but how can a person establish trust if they are never given the chance?

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The man Rory flagged down was not the usual friendly cab driver who Arthur usually chatted with and invited over for tea. He was a younger man who had been seen driving around, but never stopped to chat. His head was covered with a leather cap with a few ginger colored locks peeking through.

"Where to gov?" The cabby asked as he stepped out to help the men with their bags.

"Airport," Rory answered as he placed his lap top back pack over his shoulders.

Arthur bent down to pick up a bag and turned to face Morrey. "You will be fine?"

"No problem," she yawned. "Shop is closed on Sunday anyways. I can fix myself breakfast in the morning and I know my way to school." She reached into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "Before I forget I want to give you this map of Frankfurt. I have highlighted all the places you might want to visit. The one in silver pen is the Historisches museum. It's where your spear is located in."

"Thank you," Arthur accepted the map from her. "Any other places of interest?"

"There’s a walking route if you want to enjoy the architecture, the Gothe house, a theater where I watched my first symphony and this great little bakery that sells the sweetest pastries in case you develop a sweet tooth. I hope it still there"

"We’ll bring you back a few tarts." Arthur picked up the small bag he planned on carrying on to the plane and climbed into the back of the cab with Rory. "Goodbye Morrey."

"Take care lass," Rory waved along with Arthur as the cab pulled away from the curb.

"I hope she will be fine by herself."

"She’s not quite by herself," Rory said, choosing his words carefully. "She’s got Una and Leo with her and for the times she’s home alone she can take care of herself. She’s seventeen. I’ve been home alone when I was only fourteen."

Arthur laughed weakly. "This was back when you were a trouble maker?"

Rory did not reply to him, just smile sheepishly and stared out the window.

"Traveling to Germany?" The cab driver asked. "I couldn’t help hearing your conversation with the girl."

"Yes we are," Arthur nodded. He may not be the driver he was friends with, but he still believed in having a polite conversation.

"I hear it’s beautiful this time of year. Are you going for business or pleasure, or visiting relatives?"

"I thought visiting relatives was a pleasure."

He fought back the urge to laugh. "If ye knew me mother in law you would understand."

"Actually we are going for both. I’m a historian and I teach History to high school students, this is a working trip, but I also want to enjoy myself."

The conversation continued between the cab driver and Arthur while Rory tried his best to stay silent. He didn’t want to talk too much and only spoke when either the driver of Arthur would address him.

Rory didn’t bother to wait for the driver to open his door when they pulled up to the airport. He leaped out and waved his arms trying to flag down a skycap.

Arthur took his time to help the cab driver take out the bags. "Thank you for the ride."

The driver shook his head and held up a hand. "All in a day’s work gov."

"And it was good work," Arthur nodded and paid the fare with a few extra pounds for the cabby’s tip.

"Enjoy your flight," He held up a hand and waved slightly as both men entered the terminal. The second the doors closed his smiled faded and arm dropped. "Arthur Pendragon." He quickly slipped behind the wheel and pulled out his cellphone from his side pocket. "Sir, I just took Arthur and one of his modern knights to the airport." He didn’t even wait for the person on the other end to answer it.

"Where are they headed this time?" The voice on the other rich and thick and spoke with a dignity. He almost sounded bored, like he shouldn’t even be bothered the where abouts of King Arthur.

"Frankfurt, Germany. I heard them talking about the Gothe house at their place. I don’t know what’s there, but I thought you would like to know."

"Thank you. I will alert the head of the European division." He didn’t even feel he should have been bothered with a proper goodbye before he hung up.

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The victorian style doors lead into the only entrance of the board room of the European division of the Illuminate. The small room did not even have windows but several ceiling lamps to provide sufficent light for the meetings held at night. The walls were bare of any art and floor was covered pale gray carpeting an inch thick. The long wooden table that took up the center of the room was carved out of fine oak with spiral twists in the middle of each leg. The chairs with the tall narrow back and red padding resembled thrones. There were over a dozen, but only six would be used that day.

The air of the board room smelled just as stuffy as the last time to the small group of six men as they entered the room and gathered around the wooden table. Everyone of them was dressed in a somewhat stylish suit and each one had at least a single bolt of silver and gray in their hair.

The head of the European division entered the room last. His own neatly cut hair was a shade of gray so pale it looked white. He was dressed entirely in a white suit, even his tie was eggshell. With his pale complexion the man looked like a classic ghost as he strode across the maroon carpet and took his place at the head of the table.

He was followed by a man dressed in an white outfit similar to a waitor's a button down shirt with a white apron around the waist and a pair of black slacks. The man pushed a cart topped with a steaming pot of coffee and bowls of sugar and tiny pictures of cream.

"Good afternoon gentleman," He spoke politely once he had sat down. His narrow fingers laced over each other, dispalying the pure platinum Illuminati ring. "I have only called a few of you here and not everyone." The servant pushed the cart to his chair and placed a coffee cup in front of him. With carefull grace he poured the rich brown fluid into it.

"I have heard King Arthur is traveling to the main part of the continet," the man with the Belgium plaque in front of him said. Hes scrawny boney fingers tapped the top of the table in quick random beats. It was a nervous habit the rest of the men knew he had but didn’t annoy them that much.

"I’m still not convinced this Arthur is the real King Arthur," Switzerland said. His handlebar thick mustache looked like the wings of a flapping bird when he talked. "Why should we waste man power if he turns out to be false?"

"There has been so much evidence," Netherlands said. His hair had the least amought of gray, only a few streaks were seen amongst the waves of chesnut, the same color as his neatly trimmed beard. "He has been seen with a glowing sword, he journeyed to Canada to fight the questing beast."

"Still not enough." Switzerland slammed a fat fist onto the table, nearly upsetting the cups that had already been placed.

The man in white held up his hand to silence them. "Gentleman please. We should not argue amongst ourselves. Now Heir Switzerland, the grandmaster himself has confirmed this Arthur Pendril is Arthur Pendragon. He is also known to go by the name of Arthur Drake." He took the sugar bowl from the servant and placed two cubes into his cup before he stirred it and took a sip.

"The point is he can cause trouble," France said while he sat back to allow the servant to add cream to his warm beverage. He slid his horn rimmed glasses further up his long beak like nose. "It doesn’t quite matter if he is the real one or not, what does matter is we have to figure out his agenda."

"Heir France is correct," The division leader said. "He is on his way to Frankfurt."

The leader of the German chapter nodded while the servant filled his cup with coffee and placed the porcelain sugar bowl and miniature tongs, made out of pure silver. His large green eyes sparkle as his thin lips pulled into a smile. "Do you suppose he is after the spear?" His question silenced the men for nearly a minute.

"I believe that is the most likely reason." His frost like eyebrows raised, asking the German leader for his plan.

"I will send word to our men. One of them is a curator in the museum."

"Should we send some of our men?" Belgium asked while he added the sugar to his cup. "Or does this fall on the German chapter?"

"The German chapter," The leader waved the servant away once all the cups were full. "We are investigating Arthur’s actions. We are not going to try to wage war on him." He kept his hand raised signifying the impact of his words before he swept down and grabbed his cup by it’s curved handle.

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The servant took the sugar bowls and pictures back once all the men had flavored their cups and placed it back on the cart. He slowly wheeled it out of the room and put it back into the kitchen to wait to be cleaned.

The kitchen was as large as the kitchen in four star resteraunt and fully stocked with several ovens and stoves, dishwashers, sinks, fridges and shelves full of pots and pans. There were several other employees cleaning dishes or preparing dishes of cheeses, sandwiches, minature pastries and other types of finger food. Hardly any words were exchanged. The only ones who spoke were those who could not see. The Illuminati were very careful when they hired their employees. They only hired those who were either deaf, blind, or mute.

He himself was struck mute when he was attacked in a back alley by a mugger and had his throat cut. He felt it was a miracle he had survived and promised the medical team who saved him would do anything.

Anything came when he clocked out for the day and entered his car. He wanted to drive a few kilometers before pulling out his brand new phone, complete with text messaging.

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He knew if anyone saw him the would be slightly curious as to why he was answering his cell when he told his secretary to hold his calls, but the phone the Director of the Alliance held was not his usual phone. It was the one he used to maintain contact with his plants. Those he instructed to take up work with the Illuminati and spy on them for him. So far not a single one had been caught.

He pushed his glasses up his nose as he read the words as they appeared on the screen.

"Arthur is going to Germany. Searching for Spear. German chapter will spy on him."

"We will send some of our own to spy on them," He typed into his phone and pressed send.

"Is there anything you want me to do?"

"Just keep an on eye on the leader of the European division." He bid the plant a goodbye before he hung up and grabbed the phone on his desk. Just because he asked for no calls didn’t mean he could make them and who cares if he broke his own rules. He needed to call one of his best agents.

"Hello?" The British voice asked groggily on the other end.

"You shouldn’t be asleep Mackenzie. It’s nearly nine am where you are." The Director grinned as he heard the Scotland yard captain smack his lips.

"A bit of a nasty case. Wait who is this?"

He brushed his hand through his light brown hair. "This is The Director."

"Director," the voice seemed to travel far followed by a shrill whistle and a bang of plastic landing on the floor. Mackenzie’s voice picked up a few seconds later. "Sorry sir I had a bit of trouble with the phone. I dropped it."

"Perfectly understandable. You were telling me about a case you were on?"

"You wouldn’t want to know the details. It was a bit messy, as in bisection."

"Very well, I need you to send some of your team to Frankfurt. They need to watch over a man by the name of Arthur Pendril. I will fax you over a picture. He sometimes goes by the name of Arthur Drake and is usually accompanied by the following-- You do have a pen and pad?"

"I’m writing it down, Arthur Pendril or Drake?"

"Good. Those who are usually part of his party include Rory Dugan, a greenish gargoyle that looks like a griffin, a brown female gargoyle that resembles a lioness and Gray Kiteson."

"Gray Kiteson? That name sounds a bit familiar. He’s a rock musician?"

"He’s better known as the lead singer of Osprey. Like I said I will send you the photos. The Illuminati will be trying to spy on him. I want you to be on a look out for them."

"We will. Is that all?"

"Just the usual becareful and check your own people for Illuminati spies.I will also be joining you shortly form now." He hung up and pressed the intercom for his secretary. "I want you to fax the photos of Arthur Pendragon and his entourage to Interpol and send out a message to some of my best troops."

"Yes sir," The voice on the other end confirmed. "Fax photos of Arthur and his company to Mackenzie and round up your troops. Do you want the Redemption squad?"

"I believe they are on their way home from Malaisa. They are going to need some time off. " He ended the link.

__________________________________________________________________________

He and only a select few owned a key to The Room. He entered inside and turned on the only light switch in the room, illuminating the area near the door. He could not risk the treasures to be exposed to too much of the artificial light. He walked towards the only object that made a sound. The sound of liquid trickling down was emitting from a spear set in the middle of a tripple tiered stone water fountain. Wood that was nearly two thousand years old was kept in perfect condition and the red blood on the lead tip never stopped dribbling down like wax from a candle.

He ignored the bleeding spear and stopped in front of the other broadspear kept in a glass case. Metal, hewn out of polished silver with a leather bound center, more slender than the rest of the weapon. The base ended in a thick oval bulb. The metal arrow shaped point of the spear itself had several interlocking circles of a Celtic band.

The director removed his eyes from the weapon and stared at the painting hanging above it. A pale man dressed in a full set of armor stood poised with his sworn particle drawn from his sheath. His chin was trimmed in light brown hair and eyes of calmest blue stared out from under bangs neatly brushed back.

"Don’t worry honored ancestor. I’ll make sure old Ron here will go back to his owner." He pet the top of the glass frame while he kneeled in front of the painting. The calm eyes seemed to stare out at the room and his expressionless mouth had the corners slightly pointing down. The knight was painted to look heroic, but whenever the director stared at his face he felt disapointment.

__________________________________________________________________________

A few leaves showing the first sign of brown fluttered to the ground in front of the steps of the Frankfurt Historisches Museum. Several people, including tourists from around the world created a slow walking line while several cabs stopped to pick up people or let them off on the curb.

Arthur Pendragon stepped outside of the cab first followed by Rory. "This is the one Morrey told us about?"

"This is the exact location and exact name," Rory said while he paid the driver. As soon as the young Irishman and Arthur had checked into their hotel room he plugged in his laptop and hoped Morrey was on line. He had informed her he and Arthur had landed safely and checked into their hotel.

"Any news about Merlin?"

"He’s on his way to the airport." Arthur responded with only a nod.

They had only waited for twenty minutes before they reached the head of the line. Rory paid for there entrance and after they entered inside waited for a tour guide to take the two of them, along with a fifteen others, through the museum.

"They are lovely displays," Arthur commented on a few of the ancient tools placed neatly on velvet cloths of various colors. He pointed at several sharp implements used for mending clothes. "I remembered using some of these."

"You used to sew?" Rory raised his eyebrows.

"I know how to make a few quick stitches," Arthur wagged his finger. "They were necessary whenever my clothes had a few snags and tears and I was in the middle of a battleground."

The tour wound through many halls displaying masks, jewelry, armor and paintings depicting how people used to live. There were also weapons: swords, axes, arrow, spears and lances. Arthur knew the museum had kept them in the preserved state they were found in, but he wished they cleaned them and gave them the proper maintenance. He couldn’t stand the sight of the tarnished metal. Those that were helmed out of copper had longed turned green. The leather was worn and faded and the wood was rotted and cracked. Whatever feathers were used for some of the decoration were long gone.

The guide’s voice broke the men’s focus from the weapons. "This way to the armor worn by the ancient Saxons." The guide repeated herself in Italian before she began walking to another part of the museum.

Arthur noticed the wary glance Rory gave him and shrugged. "It has been centuries since I fought against them. I bear no grudge."

"I just wish Griff felt the same," Rory said as he they followed the crowd. When they had told the greenish gargoyle knight where they were flying to a sour look had crossed his face. His eyes narrowed and the expression his beak gave him the appearance he had tasted something rancid.

"He will learn to not see them as the enemy. From what I have seen they are very peaceful and friendly nation."

The armor was in no better condition than the weapons. Even though they were worn by the soldier he once fought over a thousand years ago he wanted to take the dented metal into his own hands and hammer them and polish them to their original sheen.

"Their glory that once glittered had faded away." He sadly shook his head before he followed Rory and the others to the next display.

___________________________________________________________________________

There were many people at the museum that day and several curators smiled and greeted some of the visitors with a friendly Gutten Morgan and a handshake. One of them also made it a habit to been down to look children in the eye and greet them the same as he greeted the adults.

His hazel eyes brightened when he came across Author's group. He adjusted his horn rimmed glasses over his plump nose and smiled at everyone. Even offered to kiss a few of the female visitors hands, even the girls who blushed at the idea of a grown up treating them as equal.

"If you need anything remember to ask for Deidric." He gave the group one last smile before he slipped around the corner and quickly hurried to his office. He immediately locked the door behind him and snatched the phone. The friendly esxpression he once had was repalced by surprise and urgency. He quickly dialed the nubmer for his boss, not the one who writes his paychek but the one instructed him to be on the look out for Arthur Pendragon.

"May I ask who’s speaking?" The man on the other end sounded too bored to barely offer a friendly greeting.

Deidric glanced at the glass window near his office door. "Sir, its me Deidric Perdle. I’m at the Historisches Museum. I have come across two of the men you have told me about. I am certain one of them is Author."

He was certain her heard the clatter of a pen being pulled out of it’s holder. "Are you sure?"

"Ja, I’m certain. He is not doing anything suspicious. Just he and his knight are acting like normal visitors."

"Try to folow them without being seen. I am certain they are going to want to see the spear, but nt try anything, not in front of a crowd. Call me after they have left."

"I will sir, good day." He waited for the other end to become silent before he hung up. He removed a kleenaz from the small cardboard boac in the center of his desk and wiped his forehead. He could not greet the visitors with a face covered in sweat.

__________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t the last stop of the tour but it was near the end. The main reason Arthur and Rory paid admission to entered the building was set in it’s clear Plexiglas case like the rest of the weapons, but it also was surrounded by a square fence made of velvet rope and brass poles. Rory stood as close as he could to the display without falling face forward over the rope. The spear was exactly like the drawing in the book, but he wondered if it was authentic. It was in much better condition than the rest of the weapons on display. It wasn’t gleaming from where the lights had struck it, but there was hardly any tarnish on it’s surface at all. The leather bound grips was still a deep blood red and not all faded.

"Rhongomyant," Arthur whispered. "Could this truly be it?"

Rory noticed the way Arthur’s eye sparkled and the satisfied smile on the older man’s face. It was the same expression Rory had when he was helping his father clean out the attic during the past weekend and he came across a toy boat he had lost when he was twelve. He cleaned off the dust and gave it a fresh paint job before he gave it another sail in the nearby river for old time’s sake.

"I donae want to disappoint ye, but I donae think this is authentic."

The joy melted from Arthur’s face. "What makesyou say so?"

"Notice the condition it is in. Weapons made centuries after it are in a much worse shape."

"When in doubt, ask." Arthur held up his hand and waved it around until he captured the tour guide’s attention.

"Ja?" The woman nodded her head as soon as her round blue eyes picked up Arthur.

"My assistant and I were discussing the quality of this fine weapon. We have read it is over many centuries in age, yet it only appears as if it is a hundred years old." His questione several other heads to turn back to the spear. Their eyes either widened at the surprise of what Arthur said was true or narrowed in suspiscion of the spear’s authenticity.

"Ah," the guide smiled. "It was owned by a private citizen in France. The family kept it cleaned and polished until they gave it up decades ago. The spear is still in the same condition it was in when they were taken by the Russians."

"That makes perfect sense," Author nodded. "Thank you."

"You are welcome," the guide waved her hand to the people, who like Arthur seemed to have bought her story. "Move along now. We have a few more things to see."

"Now what?" Rory asked.

"We just had to confirm if it is Ron or not, and nothing more," Arthur held up a finger before following the moving crowd. "but I believe our next stop is the bakery Morrey had been talking about. We’ll pick up a few pastries and head back to the hotel. Merlin should be arriving soon and we will plan our next course of action with him."

__________________________________________________________________________

The Director sat up on the soft leather seat as his ride neared his hotel. His flight had been jarring and there were two layovers, but he had made it. He had arrived in Frankfurt and he can check in to his hotel and take a long relaxing shower. The limousine driver had been waiting to pick him up. He was instructed to hold up a large sign for a Mr. Gregarino. He wasn’t going to let anyone see him answer to his real name.

His light brown eyebrows raised slightly when he noticed a pudgy, middle-aged man dressed in a tan suit waving with a scrunched up brown hat in his hand. "Stop here!"

The limo pulled up the curb near the hotel while the main in the suit ran over to The Director’s side. The limo driver held up a hand in front of the pudgy man, keeping him from approaching the car door, and opened the door for the director

"Thank you," the director barked before he turned to face the man in the suit. "I didn’t expect you to actually be standing out here to greet me."

The plump man smiled, making it appears as if the ends of his mustache curled up. "I know Mr. Dul-"

"Gregarino!" The man with glasses shouted. "I am Mr. Gregarino," he stepped closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "While out here. When we are in my room you can address me by my true name."

"Sorry Mr. Gregarino," the other man apologized. "Would you like me to give you a hand with your luggage?"

The Director shook his head. "We’ll let the bellhops get it." he reached down and picked up a long rectangular shaped suitcase. "Except for this one." He set down near his feet as soon as he felt a yawn overtake his jaws. "I want to see my room. I had a tiring flight."

"I can sympathize. I have been in horrible plane flights myself. Well the last flight," he shrugged. "We had a co-pilot who refused to shut up. Talked about weather every ten minutes, the ocean and several other dull topics."

The director stifled a yawn before he nodded. "That is good, Mackenzie Hold this." He handed the other man the longest suitcase he was carrying and approached the shortest line in front of the desk.

Mackenzie felt the weight of the package in his hands and shifted his legs around to maintain balance. "Sir," his voice dropped. "Is this what I think it is?"

The director leaned in close to him. "Yes it is and I trust it in your hands. The box is sealed with a combination only I know."

"Very good sir," Mackenzie wobbled after his leader.

"How many of your agents are here?"

"There are two dozen from the UK and about ten stationed here. How many of your soldiers are here?"

"About the same amount." He approached the front desk and pulled out a his wallet. "I have made the arrangements for a room for one under the name of Vincent Gregarino."

"Your credit card?" The director slipped a card across the desk along with a photo ID "You are staying in room 316." He slid the I.D along with two electronic key cards . "Enjoy your stay."

The director only nodded when he received his keys and took the package from Mackenzie "Do they have any plants set up?"

"We have couple checking on the Illuminati in the city. I will contact them and let them know they have a mission. One of them is in the museum as we speak. He is an employee there, goes by the name of Oskar Kemplar."

"Good. Speak with them and the rest of your people before you report back to my room in a couple of hours."

"Should we meet for dinner?"

The director shrugged. "I do not see why not." The elevator doors opened and both men stepped inside.

__________________________________________________________________________

Gray Kiteson heard the door to the room being unlocked but did not budge from where he was lying. He had collapsed on the middle of the bed and spread his arms before he dozed off. Because of his tight recording and jam schedules he barely received any sleep. He was more than thankful when his old pupil had announced they were traveling to Germany. It gave him plenty of time to sleep on the plane, on the ride from the airport and when he checked into the room.

The opening of the door alone wasn’t what fully aroused him from his sleep, but the aroma of baked pastry and warm rich scent of chocolate. "Rugala?" His intense blue eyes opened. "Do I detect fresh baked rugala?" He sat up. His shimmering white hair flowed past his bare naked shoulders to the center of his back.

Rory turned around at the sound of Merlin’s voice and nearly dropped the brown paper bag. "When did ye get here?"

"I dunno," Gray Kiteson scratched his chest and blinked. He turned to glance at the digital clock placed on the night stand. "About nearly an hour ago. So," his snowy eyebrows raised. "Rugala?"

"Yes, We have Rugala," Arthur entered carrying a flat cardboard case supporting three steaming cups. "We also have some apple strudel and a few bagels that looked too good to pass up, and some coffee and tea to drink."

"Is it the way I take it?"

"Vanilla cappuccino, with a spoon of regular sugar and enough cinnamon to completely cover the foam?" The once and future king held out the tray in front of him and pointed at the cup near the front.

"Thank you, my good lad." Merlin took the cup from the tray.

"My good lad?" Arthur chuckled. "You haven’t called me that in centuries." He reached into the open bag Rory had set down and pulled out a bagel glistening with a sweet clear syrup and covered in almonds.

"Bit of a day for remembering?" Rory suggested. He took his own cup of decaf from the tray last and sat on the other bed in the room.

Merlin arched an eyebrow at the young Irishman’s words. "I take it you found Rhongamyant?"

"Yes we did," Arthur said before taking a bite from the pastry in his hands.

Merlin chewed the bottom of his mouth. "I think I know how it ended up in France. Only I and one other knew where the location spear in the lake. And it was the same bint who trapped me in that tower." He reached into the bag and pulled out a piece folded pastry.

"And wich bint is this?" Rory asked. He usually did not want to hear about Merlin’s woman troubles, but if it had happened centuries ago he was eager to listen.

Merlin waited until he swallowed before he spread out his arms. "Viviane. Happened twenty five years after I defeated Morgana. I sought her out, see if she wanted to to remember a few of the good times and possibly go for a shag."

"I do appreciate a good story." Arthur raised his hand while holding onto the pastry with the other. "but you could leave out some details."

"I understand," he nodded. "She had aged herself till she had the appearance of a grandmother. I saw her beneath the wrinkles and liver spots and remembered the woman I once fell in love with. She did not believe it as me until I displayed my power. She did not want to have anything to do with me and well I was a bit persistent. Since I didn’t take no for an answer she sealed me inside a tower of air."

"Well," Rory blinked. "I’m sure ye learned yer lesson."

"Oh I did. It made me question what I saw in her in the first place. I had plenty of time to dwell." He took a sip from his cup and slammed on the table, spraying up coffee and foam. "Do you know how bloody hard it is to escape form a tower of air? She could have sealed me in a glass cage and plunged me into the ocean. She would have gotten her point across and I wouldn’t have spent five centuries locked up."

"How did ye escape?"

"It took me a while but I found a weak spot and I began chipping away at it using my poweres. The end result was a tornado that touched down in the Austrian wilderness and left me unconcious in the field, and on top of that I was buck naked. Anyway, back to Ron."

"We are discussing on which is the next course of action." Arthur took a napkin from the stand. "We can’t just take it, and I just can’t walk up to them and tell them I am king Arthur and ask them to give me my spear."

"I could try to summon it," Merlin suggested. "But I doubt Ron would go to me. Your weapons only would answer to you, not to mention it would cause a bit of alarm when the museum people discover it’s missing from it’s display."

"They see us wit it and immediately throw us in jail," Rory added.

"Right. I could ask them if I could buy it from them."

Rory wasn’t sure he heard the halfling correctly. "Did you say buy it? Are you aware of how next to impossible that is?"

"You forgot how wealthy I am. I make rock star money."

"Are you sure the would sell it too you?" Arthur asked.

"You would be surprised on what some celebrities have bought." He took out another piece of rugala and bit into it.

________________________________________________________________________

The warm meal in his stomache had added wieght to the directors eyelids. As soon as he had returned to his room he climbed into bed and watched a few minutes of TV before he allowed the power of slumber to overtake him.

He felt he had only been asleep for a few minutes when the phone rang. "Vinnie." The name stumbled out of his mouth as he sat up. Despite his blurried vision he could read the numbers of the digital alarm clock next to it. He had been sleeping for nearly three hours. "Hello?"

"Mr. Dulac?" The heavily accented voice on the other end was unfamiliar to the director.

"Yes?"

"Is it safe to call you that now?"

"It depends," the director yawned. "Are you alone?"

"In my apartment and I have already checked for bugs. I always make a sweep when I return home."

"You have some information?"

"At exactly seven minutes after four the man known as Arthur Pendril and Rory Dugan were seen entering the museum. The left around eleven minutes after six."

"Do you know wich hotel he is staying at?"

"We do not have those exact details yet sir. I know of the identity of the Illuminati member who works in the msueum. His name is Deidric Perdle."

"I want you to keep an eye on this Perdil person at work and I want you to send information to Mackenzie . He will set up interpol agents to conduct an wiretap."

"I have one more bit of information for you sir. Merlin had landed at exactly four twenty one today."

"Find out the information of the hotel and call me, but wait until the morning. Only call me in the middle of the night if you have any extremly important news."

"I understand. Gutten Nach."

"Good night," he hung the phone back up and fell back against his pillow, blissfull slumber returned to him a few minutes later.

___________________________________________________________________________

Gray Kiteson took the bristles of the paddle shape brush through his mostly dry hair while wiping away the steam induced fog clinging to the bathroom mirror. The clean scented humidity of his post shower clung to the air while he dried his body and hair. He was wary of using the blow dryer for fear of waking up his room mates but they did not even stir, or at least he couldn’t hear them.

The night before the went to a little bistro near the hotel for dinner. The baked goods sweetened their mouths but did little to satisfy their hunger. After they returned to the hotel Merlin had set up a place for him to sleep on the floor citing he was so tired he could fall asleep standing up in the shower. Both Arthur and Rory offered to take his place, but he pretended not to hear them.

He could not remember the last time he had ten hours of uninterrupted sleep. He had awaken at seven thirty feeling fully rested and alert without the aid of caffeine. He quietly removed a few clothes from his suitcase and entered the bathroom.

Gray wanted to appear distinguished and well groomed when he approached the curators and possibly the managers and owners of the museum. He did not want to appear like he usually does when he steps off the stage. He chose an outfit he would wear to a fancy banquet dinner or when he would attend an award show. Sleek black dress slacks with a matching jacket, and a thin black tie and a purple dress shirt. He shaved and applied both deodorant and after shave before he took two elastic covered headbands. He tied his hair into a ponytail near the back of his head and placed a second tie around the ends of his hair.

Arthur and Rory were both still asleep when he exited the bathroom. He placed his wallet into his back pocket and had his hand on the doorknob when he could hear stirring behind him. "Morning?" He whispered as he spun around and saw Arthur sitting up.

The once and future king rubbed his eyes and yawned. "Morning Merlin. I take it you slept well?"

"Best sleep I had all year. How did you rest?"

"Bed is not as comfortable as my own back home, but it was comfortable." He blinked when he noticed Merlin was completely dressed and ready to leave. "Where are you going?"

"To buy Ron. Except I should get you and Rory something to eat first."

"I’ll take care of breakfast for us. You are leaving right now?"

"Sure," Merlin shrugged. "It will be over that quick and we can use the rest of the time we have the room reserved to see the sights."

"Are you sure you don’t need us?"

"I will be fine."

___________________________________________________________________________

Deidric spritzed Windex onto the soft rag before he took it to one of the glass display cases. The ancient warrior masks seemed to smile at him as he wiped away the dust and few finger print smudges. He liked the fact that children were curious to learn about the past, but he wished they were more careful. They were always touching the display cases and occasionaly sneezed on them. With the case for the masks cleaned he made his way down the halls, spray cleaning the display cases that are not surrounded by velvet rope.

He had arranged it so he would work backwards for the cases near the back of the museum to the entrance. He had carefully timed it that way so he would be able to see the first guests when they entered the building when the museum opened for the public at nine o clock. As usual there were very few people entering.

One of the tour guides approached the tourists with his hands raised. He spoke to them in German and French first. "Please do not wander off. Once we have a group of seven we can began to tour." He repeated the message in a handful of languages.

"Sorry mate," a man from England held up his hand. "I’m not here for the tour. I wish to make a purchase."

A purchase? Deidric slowed down his cleaning as he turned to the crowd. The man speaking with the guide was the third human who’s photo was faxed to him. The flaxen white hair pulled back into a ponytail and the intense steel blue eyes were the features that leaped at him first followed by the sharp nose, high cheekbones and the mouth with slightly pouting lips. He had seen the same face staring back at him on posters and cardboard display cases in music stores. There was no question on what he wished to buy. He quickly cleaned up the last bit of dust and raced back to his office.

He forgot he was carrying the cleaning supplies and set them down before the picked up the phone and quickly dialed the number of his superior. He didn’t wait to for the man on the end to address him. "Hello? This is Deidric Perdle of the Historical museum."

"Has Arthur returned?"

"No it is the musician wizard, Gray Kiteson."

The other end was silent for a few minutes "What is he planning?"

"He’s approaching someone to make a purchase. He is going to try to buy the spear."

"Go and speak with him. Lead him back to your office."

"I will," he turned to glance at the door and saw someone running away. Someone was spying on him. "I think someone saw me." His voice had dropped down to a whisper.

"Do you know who it is?"

"I’m not sure. It looks like one of the tour guides. Do you want me to find out?"

"Yes and becareful. Now go and find Merlin." Deidric hung up and exited the his office. If anyone asked him about the supplies he will just tell them he was trying to clean up his desk, but that was not important. He had to find Merlin and possibly who was spying on him.

__________________________________________________________________________

Oskar was sure Deidric had seen him peering into his office and immediatly ran for the back alley. He had to inform Dulac of what he had seen and heard. Merlin was in the museum and wanted to buy the spear. Feeling the Illuminati will try to prevent it, he pulled out a cellphone and found a section of the building that was empty.

"Hello?" Dulac greeted on the other end.

"Heir Director" Oskar whispered. "Merlin is in the museum. He wishes to purchases the spear." He smoothed back the dark hair that had fallen out of place.

"Is Arthur with him?"

"Nein, I believe he is alone. The Illuminati member also knows. He reported to his superior officers."

"Try to keep tabs on them. Did you find out where Arthur is staying?"

"Ja, the are in the Dorint Niederrad. Do you want me to call Mackenzie?"

"No, I want you to keep tabs on both Merlin and the spy. Call me if they have done anything drastic. Are the wiretaps set up?"

"Ja, and I don’t think he checked."

"Very good." Dulac hung up.

Oskar turned off his phone and slipped it into his pocket. It was time for him to perform a job for the Alliance, but first he had to adjust his suit. He had to atleast look good for his museum job.

___________________________________________________________________________

The tour guide was barely into his twenties. He had experienced annoying and obnoxious guests before. A few brats who spat their gum out on the middle of the floor, and a few children who vomited on the floor. He once had to take care of a woman who fainted, but he had never came across a person who wanted to buy something from the museum.

"You want to buy Le Tresor Celte?" The young guide blinked.

The British man nodded. "That is correct."

"I don’t think anything thing here is for sale," the guide tried to smile polite, but his smile came off forced, barely covering the fear he was feeling.

"I know it is going to be very expensive," the other man reached into his pocket. "But money is really no object for me."

"Even if you are a millionaire heir..." He raised his brows waiting for the Englishman to answer.

"Kiteson, Gray Kiteson."

"Heir Kiteson, but I feel the owners will have to have the final say."

"I’m not asking you to sell it to me. I want to speak with the owners."

"I can speak with the owners," an older man with hair slicked back and wearing a thin pair of glasses approached them. The young guide smiled with relief at the sight of one of the curators.

Gray matched his smile with his own. "You can speak with the owners?"

"Ja. My name is Perdle." He held out a hand.

"Pleased to meet you sir. I know this doesn’t happen that often for you."

"You are not the first," Perdle held up a finger. "And you are probably not the last. In my years of being employed here I remembered two others who bought a few of our displays. Come this way top my office." He lead Kiteson away from the entrance, hearing a relieved thank you from the guide.

_________________________________________________________________________

Perdle lead Kiteson to his office, often pausing to apologise for the long walk. Gray had told him it wasn’t a bother and he was going to walk around the museum anyway. He paused in front of his door and and held up a hand. "I hope you don’t mind, but I am going to ask you to stay here while I call them."

Gray narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Is there any reason why?"

The man’s smile had returned. "I do not want anyone to see the state my office is in. I am not finished straightening up in there."

Gray flashed him a grin fully of pure white teeth as he chuckled. "It’s probably cleaner than my crib, but I understand."

Perdle held up a finger indicating it would only take a minute or two before he slipped into his office and locked the door. He couldn’t risk Merlin following him. He kept his eyes one the man while he quickly dialed his superior.

"Guten morgan?" the man on the other end greeted first.

Perdle glanced outside his clear door, hoping Kiteson was not staring back at him."Merlin is right outside my office," he whispered while keeping his mouth hidden by the receiver. He was not sure if the other man could lip-read or not.

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I was calling the owners." He glanced out the door into the hall again. Gray was too busy staring at his watch to even look at him.

"We cannot allow Arthur to have the spear. Tell him you are going to sell it to him. Accept his check and give him the weapon, but take your time. We will have the real owners notified and have the authorities sent over."

"Agreed."

___________________________________________________________________________

"We cannot allow Arthur to have the spear. Tell him you are going to sell it to him. Accept his check and give him the weapon, but take your time. We will have the real owners notified and have the authorities sent over." The conversation carried through a small bug-- no larger than a house fly--installed in the phone. The message was loud enough to be readable, despite the heavy static. A strong jawed man held onto the foam covered earphones and pulled them tighter to his ears to listen.

"Agreed." The reels of the tap recorder turned, imprinting each word onto the film.

"You are doing a good job. I am sure you will move up a level. Good day and good work."

"Danke. I appreciate it." Perdle’s voice ended the conversation.

The man with the strong jaw stared out the window of the office building at the museum before raising his hand. "That will be it." They had slipped into building disguised as employees. It was easier than the task they had the night before when they disguised themselves as nigh watchman and broke into Perdle's office to install the bug.

"Should we call the director or Mackenzie?" The other man asked as he removed his headphones and rubbed his fingers of his nearly bald head.

"We’ll call them both."

__________________________________________________________________________

The fae halfing wondered if she should call Arthur on his cell as he followed Perdle down the long hallways. The man almost seemed to be gushing when he stepped out of his office with the information he can buy the weapon. He wasn’t too sure if it was a good sign or not. The man seemed highly suspicious when he was in on the phone. He could even feel the man’s beady hazel eyes starting at him, watching his every movement.

"You don’t mind if I make a quick call?" Merlin asked. "It’s the person who I am purchasing the spear for."

Perdle raised his eyes suspiciously and shrugged. "It would not hurt I guess."

"Thanks mate." He quickly dialed the number of Rory’s phone. Someday they are going to convince Arthur to own a cell of his own and teach him how to use it.

"Hello?" Rory answered. "May I ask who’s speaking."

"Hullo Rory. It’s me. Where is the lad?" He could hear the Irishman chuckling on the other end.

"I take it you are referring to Arthur? He’s sitting right in front of me."

"I got good news. The owners are willing to sell me the spear." He listened while Rory told Arthur the information. His eyes had never left Perdle. The curator kept rubbing his hands together nervously and glancing at his wrist watch.

"We’ll be there soon."

"I’ll see you soon." he closed he case of his phone and placed it back into his pocket.

Perdle’s smile returned. "The spear is this way." He resumed walking.

He lead Gray to the room where they had many Celtic weapons on display and pointed to the clear case surrounded by the barrier of shining red velvet rope. He held up a hand, keeping the musician from following further and approached the case while reaching into his pocket.

"I believe now would be a good time to pay you," Gray said while he pulled out a checkbook. "Do you take checks?"

Perdle paused while holding onto the set of keys he had extracted. "Ja. Make it out to the Historiches Museum for about two million Deutche marks."

The white-haired man nodded while he pressed the button of his pen and wrote out the exact number on his check with the image of a Yellow Submarine.

___________________________________________________________________________

After hanging up with Gray, Rory chugged down the remains of his breakfast sandwich and last of his coffee. He was removing the red stubble from his chin with his electric razor when the knocking began. The buzz of the razor drowned out most of the sounds.

"I’ll get it," Arthur answered.

"Make sure ye check them out through the peep hole," The Irishman said as he ran his fingers over his chin. He did not cut himself anywhere, but a few parts of his face had a few rough parts where the razor did not completly remove the stubble. He was going to have to change the blade before he went to bed that night.

The One and future king rested his hand on the brass handle while he squinted is eyes. On the otherside of the door he could make out two men dressed in neat and almost identical suits."They look like businessmen." he replied before rasing his voice. "May I ask who you are?"

"Interpol. We need to speak with you on an important matter." The accented voice on the other side nearly caused Rory to spill his cologne. He quickly sealed the cap before he ran out of the bathroom.

"What is interpol?" The once and future king whispered.

"They are like a detective agency that tracks down international criminals." Rory explained whil trying to hide hsi fear. He had no idea if the agents were real or not and much less knew if they were friend or foe. You knew the game Colt and Morrey like? Where they have to find Carmen Sandiego? The agency they are helping are like Interpol."

"I see." He unlocked the door and slowly opened it crack, allowing him to study the badges even more thoroughly before he opened the door all the way. "You may enter.

The detectives on the nodded as they put away their badges. The taller of the two smiled at the two of them "Danke heir Pendril."

"How do you know who I am?" Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Have you been tracking me down?"

The detectives looked at each other. "Our agency has been following you since you have fought the mysterious monster in Canada. We feel your enemy may be working for a secret organization."

"Enemy?" Arthur blinked. Are there people out there who know who he truley was?

"Does he mean that Mystic fellow from over an year ago?" Rory asked as he inched closer to his king. He still didn’t trust them.

"We believe this criminal is bigger than the one you refer to as Mystic. We are speaking of a group with members over the world. One of them is a curator in the historeches museum. The same one who agreed to sell your friend the spear you seek."

Arthur felt a sense of urgency develope inside him. He may have to consider another plan to retrieve his spear, but he was more concerned about Merlin. What was the so called enemy planning on doing to him? "You are telling me he has no intention of selling it?"

The heavier detective shook his head. "The man had told him the owners were willing to sell. In truth he called the leader of the German division of this organization and not the owners."

"How did ye come about this piece of information?" Rory asked. Arthur may get on his case later about being so skeptical, but he felt it was better to be safe than sorry.

The shorter of the two dtectives stared him with an understanding look. "We placed a bug in this curator’s phone and overheard his converstaion with his superiors."

"If what they are saying is true, Gray could be in trouble," Rory said. He still did not trust the two strangers, but he could not dismiss what they were saying. He couldn’t risk Merlin’s safety.

"We are willing to give you a ride to the museum," the shorter of the two detectives offered.

"Thank you," Arthur nodded before he quickly grabbed onto his coat and followed Rory and the detectives.

___________________________________________________________________________

Gray knew he should of asked for something to carry the spear with. Even if it was an old towel or a bunch of rags wrapped around it like a mummy it would be better than just walking around with it out in the open. One of the early tour groups paused and gaped at him. The guide just nodded. It was the same young man from before. Gray heard him address the crowd in his native tongue. Probably told them he had purchased it. One guide knew, but the second group he came across wouldn’t.

"Say, heir Perdle?" Gray paused. "Could I have something to conceal this with?" He turned around when he didn’t receive an answer. The nervous curator was gone. "Now where did he go?" It looks like he was going to have to continue with the spear naked after all. Hopefully his former student will have something to cover it when they meet up outside.

There were several more people gathered around the entrance than when he had first shown up.Some of them looked like they were going to be part of a tour group. The were chattering amongst each other while pointing at glancing at the group of people in the uniforms of the local authorities. Their talking ceased when Gray entered the area. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the broadspear in his hands.

"Halt!" One of the officers shouted when she noticed him. The other officers raced after her. "Put down the weapon at once."

They didn’t have to repeat it in English. He recognized what they were saying. He quickly bent down and placed the spear on the floor. "May I ask what this is about?" They didn’t answer him.

The female cop pushed him towards the wall and pressed her weight against his back. "Spread your arms and legs." She hissed into his ear.

"What the bloody hell is this about?" Gray asked as he complied. He got a good lok of the female cop. She had instense silver eyes framed by thin lashes. Her facial features reminded him of the attractive and deadly women from spy movies. The classic femme de fatale who would stroke the hero’s chin with thier long fingernails promising their bosses they would get the hero to talk.

"You are under arrest." She answered as she frisked him, feeling his chest, back and legs.

"For what?" If he was being frisked outside one of his concerts he would play up to the crowd by spouting a few jokes and and give her a wink that was more swarmy then Trip’s entire porn collection.

"He’s the one!" Gray didn’t have to see who it was. He could tell by the voice it was Perdle. "He stole the spear!"

"Bollox!" He tried to slip his arm from the officer’s ice cold hands but couldn’t, she pinned him to hard. He had to settle by sticking his elbow out, hoping he was actually pointing at Perdle. "He sold it to me. Search him you find the check, and if you don’t find it on him you can search his office."

"Ja, he gave me a check," Perdle greed while a pair of silver handcuffs were placed on Merlin’s wrists. "I told him he cannot have it but he insisted I give it too him. He dropped the check on the floor as he walked off with the spear."

"It’s a lie," Gray was turned around. He was able to glare into the curator’s eyes. A second cop grabbed his left shoulder while the female officer held onto his right. "He told me the owners agreed to sell me the broad spear."

"Nein," Perdle shook his head. "I told you they refused. He threatened me with a knife."

"Now they know you are lying," Gray laughed while shifting his directions to the female officer. "She searched me."

"He had no knife," She frowned at Perdle.

"I did not say he pulled it out." Beads of sweat formed on his forhead "He said he had it in his pocket. I did not want to take a chance."

"You can clear things up in court," the female officer said as she and her partner pushed Gray forward.

The halfing looked back. "At least give me my check back!" He paused before he was pushed even further.

________________________________________________________________________

Dulac leaned back against Mackenzie’s rental car. The crimson Volkswagen was parked several feet away from the two police cars, but he had a good view. He watched as the officers dragged Merlin away from the museum while a few of the tour guides and one of the curators followed. Dulac ran his fingers through his hair, signaling to Mackenzie that he and his interpol agents were to react now before he raced up to the steps. He watched as the agents flashed their interpol badges at the officers as they ran past them to Perdle.

"What are you doing?" Perdle asked as the two Interpol agents grabbed on to him. "I didn’t do anything wrong."

"Deidric Perdle," Mackenzie strode up to him flashing his badge. "You are placed under interpol arrest for conspiracy." He ignored the gasps and questions uttered in German while he stared at Perdle.

"Conspiracy?" The curator blinked. A large droplet, glistening under the sunlight slowly tricked down his temple.

Mackenzie nodded and pointed at the German officers. "Let that man go. He is innocent. After hearing the wiretap we believe he was being set up by this member of a criminal organization."

"Organization?" the female cop repeated while glancing at both Gray and then Perdle. "Do you have proof he is guilty of this crime?"

The mustached man nodded and waved his hand around. "I have the evidence with me." He signaled the two detectives that followed behind him too approach him. One had pale blue eyes and a strong lantern jaw. The other had ginger colored hair in a buzz cut. The man with the stronger jaw pulled out a tape recorder from his jacket pocket.

"Nein!" the curator slipped out of Mackenzie’s hands. He tried to sntach the tape recorder from the other detective’s hands but the one with the buzz cut held it high above his head, and out of reach. "You can’t do that." He turned towards the cops. "They can’t do that."

"They can and they did," the female officer said coldly. "I don’t trust you."

Mackenzie met her glance. "Play it for them."

"Ja," the interpol detective nodded as he pressed the button. The wheels spun slowly as a wave of static crackled through the tiny speakers.

"What did you tell him?" The voice through the static was unrecognizable to everyone except for Perdle. Mackenzie studied his expression as his eyes widened in shock and and more trails persperation travled down his face, saturation his round noe and cheeks and becoming trapped in his jowels.

"I told him I was calling the owners." Perdle voice was easily distinguished. The officers who were holding gray turned to the curator. The male officer raised an eyebrow while the females narowed into slits of liquid mercury.

"We cannot allow Arthur to have the spear. Tell him you are going to sell it to him. Accept his check and give him the weapon, but take your time. We will have the real owners notified and have the authorities sent over."

"Agreed."

"You set me up!" Merlin snarled. The officers let go of him, but not until they were sure he wouldn’t strike the curator.

Anger permeated through Perdle’s fearful glance. "You cannot do this. You had no right to tap my phone. I will sue!" The heels of fancy loafers scratched against the ground as he was dragged away, causing him to loose his step. The man stumbled and nearly fell out of the arms of the detectives. Both of them grunted and quickly grabbed him.

"You are not suing with my check," Gray said. "Check his pockets he probably has it in one of them."

"Can’t let him walk away with your money," Mackenzie nodded and pointed at his two agents who carried the tape recorder. Both men chose a side and slipped their hands into his shirt and pants pockets. The one with the lantern jaw extracted a slip of paper.

Gray immediately recognized the image of the submarine and took it from the detective’s hand. "Thanks mate. I wouldn’t want to end up loosing money over this." He ripped it half and placed the pieces into his own pocket.

Mackenzie ignored him as he pointed to the officers. "Make sure they put the spear back in it’s case. You don’t have to close the museum down today." He quickly turned towards the musician. "I know today was a trying time for you, but do you think you can manage to come down to the station around this afternoon? We need to hear your testiment." He removed scrap a piece of paper and a pen from his pocket. After scribbling down an addressed he slapped it into Gray’s palm.

"Didn’t even wait for my answer," Gray shrugged while staring at the address. "But I want to see that lil bugger get’s what coming to him."

The men dragging Perdle towards one of their detective vehicles did not acknowledge Dulac. The didn’t even noticed the man was there. The man also known as the director didn’t care if they glanced his way or not. He had to speak with the man falsely accused of theft. His eyes locked into Mackenzies for a few seconds before he approached Gray Kiteson. Mackenzie nodded before continuing to talk with the two officers.

"Mr. Kiteson?" Dulac held his hand to the British man.

Gray stood back up and glared at the brunet. "What do you want?" he snapped.

Dulac held up his hands defensively. "I just want to offer you a ride to the hotel I’m staying at."

The halfling raised an eyebrow and laughed weakly. "First off all I’m not the one who sleeps with all the fans. Second of all I don’t swing that way, and third I am not in the mood."

Dulac leaned over to him. "I think you want to come with me Merlin, since Arthur and Rory will be there waiting for us."

Gray stepped back, blinking from the shock he had received .His mouth kept fumbling over the words that were barely forming. He didn’t know what to ask the stranger. "Who are you?" The words finally came out.

"Let’s just say I’m on your side." His voice dropped to a barely audible tone again. ‘And you don’t want that spear in there. It’s a duplicate."

"How do you know?"

"I’ll answer those questions on the way over to the Maritim."

"I guess if you try something I could take care of you. Just one question."

"And that is?"

"You don’t mind if I smoke?" He pulled out a package of cigarettes and a lighter.

__________________________________________________________________________

As soon as the detectives car pulled into the Maritim parking lot Arthur became suspicious. He hated to think Rory had the right idea in the silent treatment and not trusting anyone."What are we doing here? I thought you said we were going to the museum." Rory did not say anything, but folded his arms in a defensive mannor and glared at the backs of the detectives heads.

"We said we are going are going to see Merlin. Merlin will be here."

Arthur grimaced, but kept his tongue in check. The men were right after all about not saying they were going to the museum. "You have barely said a word about him. What kind of trouble is he in?"

"It should not be any of your concern. He is out of it by now."

"Are you sure?" Rory asked. "I don’t see any proof that he is otherwise."

"We cannot tell you anymore. Except for one small detail. You will find what you seek with The Director."

"I don’t like the sound of this Director person," Rory mumbled. "It’s a pity I didn’t bring any weapons along with me."

"I feel it is a good idea you didn’t bring them We don’t want to threaten them if they turned out to be telling the truth."

"Silence!" The tall detective instructed."You don’t want to rouse suspicion from the ones out of the loop do you?"

The rode up the elevator in silence. Both Arthur and Rory not taking their eyes of the detectives for a split second. They were not going to take any chances. They didn’t speak as they walked down the hallways and were silent when they stopped out side the room numbered 316.

The silence did not bother the Irishman as much as the waiting Rory kept staring ath the detectives and checking his watch for ten minutes. He could not take it anymore. "Why aren’t we going inside?"

The detectives stared into each other and shrugged. "We don’t have the key."

Rory clenched his hands into fists. Arthur may be a bit too much of a gentleman, but he was not going hold back. "Ye don’t have the ruddy key? Give me one reason why I sholdna-"

"Hullo Arthur, Rory!" Merlin raced up to them. His eyes sparkling and a smile on his face. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Merlin?" Arthur forgotten all of his suspiscion as he embraced his former teacher. "Thank goodness you are not hurt."

The singer pulled away from Arthur. "I’m glad to see you too, but not that glad. The only roughing I received was from that female cop when she pushed me to the wall and frisked me She was a bit of a pretty bird though." He silenced himself when he saw the two detectives looking at him boredly and Rory narrowing his eyes. "Is something wrong Rory?"

Rory needed something vent his frustration at. He stared past the hafling and saw a tall man approaching them from behind the wizard. His light brown hair was styled neatly with a few stray bangs. His brown eyes were framed by oval shaped glasses. He was dressed in a neatly pressed dove gray suit. Rory’s anger was replaced by curiosity. He stared into the stranger’s eyes questionly. "Who the devil are ye?"

"Rory," Author’s voice was low. "Although I do want to know who this man is."

The stranger nodded as he pulled out the key to his hotel room. "Out here I am the Director. I want the three of you to enter my room with me."

"I’m sorry Arthur," Rory tried to pull in his temper. "Who is this fellow, Gray?" He pointed at the man who called himself the Director.

Gray tapped his mouth before slipping the room behind the stranger. He waited until Arthur and Rory had followed him in before he spoke. "Lets just say there is a dark organization that is literally in control of the world. This man is in charge of another organization to counteract with this dark group. Their main goal is to stop this other groups attempts and seizing power and to inform the world of their existence."

"As much as I would like to take credit for finding The Alliance I cannot accept," the Director said as he uncovered the cloth from the sealed box. "That credit goes to my ancestor." He pointed to the foot of the bed, indicating to Arthur to take a seat.

"Your ancestor?" Arthur asked.

"A man by the name of Lawrence Dulac." The Director quickly twisted the combination lock back and forth until he managed to get the box open. "He used to be a part of the enemy organization till he realized who the leader was, and who his ancestor was and he couldn’t go through with it anymore. He started the Alliance." He pulled something long and coverd in a deep plum colored velvet cloth. He bent down on one knee in font of Arthur and held out the continents of the package before him. "King Arthur Pendragon, I Lance Dulac present to you your broadspear, Rhongamyant."

Arthur pulled back the cloth and gasped. The cloth was covering a long four foot spear of silver. The lights from the lamps shone on it’s polished surface and cast a small gleam on the leather bound grip. Arthur counted three rings above the middle and bellow. He fingered the bulb like end at the bottom and the Celtic band down the center "Rhongamyant." He grabbed the spear by it’s center and raised it above his head. For a brief second he had forgotten he was in the center of a hotel room and was in the middle of the field of battle. The moment the glory had ended he glanced at the weapon in his hands and at Dulac.

"This cannae be," Rory shook his head. He glanced breifly at the spear becore starring accusingly at the director. "What about the one in the museum?"

"A decoy," Gray chuckled. "A hollow decoy that contains a map to the location of the bleeding spear."

"The one that stabbed Jesus?" Rory blinked. He beleived the weapon existed but he had no idea if it had been found. Once he heard about the map he was more surprised no one had sought it out.

"They very same," Ducal nodded. "What they don’t know is that spear is also part of Alliance property right now. You can have it if you want."

"No," Arthur lowered his spear. "This is what we came for. This is Rhongamyant."

Gray stared at Arthur, waiting for him to make the realization."I can’t believe you haven’t noticed it yet," Gray shook his head. "Dulac is not a very common last name is it?"

"So you know who Lawrence Dulac’s ancestor was?" Arthur asked while Dulca slowly stood back up.

"He was pretty much a good man."

"You knew him?" Arthur asked. He was not surprised his fomer teacher had know him. There was a possibility the halfing and dulac’s ancestor had crossed paths before Merlin’s battle with Morgana.

"You knew him too."

"I knew him?" He blinked while staring at both the halfing and Dulac.The name of Dulac and his first name raised a flag in his mind. "I should have noticed it sooner. The name Dulac! Your Lancelot’s descendant."

The Director sighed."Please forgive him for what he did to you in the past your highness, but his crime pales to the one of your knights had committed. The one who betrayed you and who will betray this planet one day."

"I do not blame the child for something their parent had done.You are forgiven."

"You are welcome. I shall arrange for your ride back to your hotel. You are welcome to keep the cloths and the box."

"Thank you, but I hope will accompany us. I wish to treat you to dinner."

"Make it a late dinner," Gray stared at his watch. "I Have to go down town to give the Interpol blokes my side of the story so they can lock Perdle up."

Arthuir shrugged. "A late dinner. We don't return back to London until Friday."

Dulac bowed once more."Thank you my liege." He remained in the position until the once and future king gave him a lihgt touch on his shoulder.

__________________________________________________________________________

Oskar skipped up the steps leading to his apartment. He felt good to be part of the team doing good and right thing and almost felt sorry for Deidric. Almost, he knew what he was doing was wrong. He should have none better than to assist those in setting up Gray Kiteson. One of the Illuminati was arrested and The Director was a happy man.

"Oskar Kemplar?" a man who’s voice he didn’t reconize asked from behind

Oskar turned around to see a man he had never seen before. "Yes?" The man was a pale as a peeled egg and just as bald. His pale skin was the only way Oskar could identify him in the dark. The suit he wore as as black as the night sky.

"All I needed to know." He quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket and shot Oskar in the chest before the other man had a chance to blink. Blod spurt out through his back along with the exit wound while more trickled through the hole in the front. Oskar’s body slumped forward and fell on the hard ground. He was dead the instant the bullet had pierced his heart.

The gun was quickly slipped into his pocket before he ran for his car. As soon as he slid behind the wheel he pulled out his phone The acrid scent of the gunsmoke was still fresh in his nostrils as he dialed the number.

"Gutten nach?" The leader of the German division greeted on the other end.

"This is seventeen. I am calling to tell you the deed is done. The man known as Kemplar is dead."

"Good, we are still trying to find out who leaked the information into the head of the Alliance in the first place."

"Are we going to try to get Perdle out of prison?"

"Nein. He should have been more careful. I am going to order everyone to make clean sweeps through their homes, cars and offices. We are not going to allow them to spy on us or tap our phones again."

"Have you called the Grandmaster?"

"No, I don’t think he wants to know."

"I understand," Seventeen said as he slipped his phone back into place. He had a long drive to make, but he was ready for any other assingment the Illuminati might give him.

The End