EDGAR – FROM NOW ON

Copyright 2025 Brent Alles / Just B Cuz Productions

“Make sure you keep it away from the Necromancer section. Don’t want my cloak touching that filth,” Blunderbuss snapped.

Edgar, Wyvernwood Magic Club cloakroom attendant, nodded solemnly. Being ordered around by a gnome half his height didn’t really sting his ego after twenty-five years of service. He carefully placed the cloak on a hook and handed Blunderbuss a numbered tab before the gnome stormed into the shadowy club for libations, sensations, that would stagger the mind.

The attendant balefully regarded the current patrons on the premises: wizards, sorcerers, enchanters, and necromancers showing off their latest and greatest spells. Humans, elves, gnomes, halflings, and even a few orcs drank heavily as flashes of light and hallucinatory images dotted the room. Seasoned mages rolled eyes at excitable acolytes.

He knew how the older members felt. His wife always wondered how he could come home from such a place and not have any happiness. No sense of wonder. Edgar supposed it was mainly a lingering frustration from not being able to join the WMC when he was younger. He wanted it badly but lacked aptitude. Joining the club as an employee at least kept him close to what he loved. Over the years, that love had turned to resentment.

“Edgar!” a voice boomed. “Still working the cloakroom. After all these years!”

It was Muzzleplik, a human sorcerer of great height and even greater width. His dark hair had gone white, and the twinkle in his eye only added to the Father Christmas resemblance.

“Hello, Muzzleplik. Your usual table?”

“Always, dear Edgar.” Muzzleplik observed the room beyond him. “Hmm. I recognize less people in the club these days. Few of us older members remain. A younger person’s world, I suppose. You know something about that, eh?”

“I do,” Edgar replied.

Muzzleplik chuckled. “Still, I come here for one reason,”

“What’s that?”

“To see if you actually crack a smile. That is my wish.”

Edgar’s mouth twitched slightly. “You can wish in one hand and defecate in the other. See which one fills up first.”

Muzzleplik guffawed. “Oh, Edgar, you always make me laugh. Well, I suppose I’d better hand you my cloak.”

Edgar noticed that Muzzleplik wore something different today: shiny and a bright shade of purple. Edgar looked up from it and directly into the sorcerer’s plump face.

“Ah, I suppose you’ve noticed the newest addition to my wardrobe. Recently acquired on a quest of great peril. Gained a few more scars. Still, I’m hoping it was worth it.”

“What does it… do?” Edgar asked.

“Well, other than keeping me partially warm, I really don’t know. I hope to find out some day, though. Perhaps today will be that day.” Muzzleplik smiled.

“Perhaps.”

Muzzleplik touched a finger to his nose and bounded into the club. He patted Blunderbuss on the head, which always caused no small level of annoyance to the gnome.

As Edgar turned to place the cloak on the hook, it glimmered. Edgar blinked, surprised. He then heard a voice, seemingly in his head: “Put me on.”

Edgar looked around. A joke of a ventriloquist spell, perhaps? Perhaps Gromgold Gigglesworth, the halfling trickster wizard, was behind this.

“No spell,” the cloak continued. “The voice you hear indeed comes from me. And as I said… put me on!”

“Why should I?” Edgar said aloud. He immediately regretted talking to clothing.

“To see real magic!”

After twenty-five years, magic no longer amazed him. While a talking cloak momentarily surprised him, even that couldn’t really raise his sense of wonder a miniscule amount.

He shook his head. “If you’re going to talk, make sure you don’t talk to the other items in there. The witch Grizelda’s hat is up above. It talks, but it doesn’t like being addressed. You’ll definitely learn some new words if you try.”

“To be sure,” the cloak replied. “But come now. I know you admire me. Why not try me on?”

Edgar hesitated. The garment, big enough for Muzzleplik, now seemed like it would fit Edgar’s gaunt frame perfectly. Would Muzzleplik mind? Likely not. He’d probably just roar with laughter.

“Well, what’s the harm in it?” Edgar made his first impulsive decision of many years. He slipped it on.

A blinding light!

Edgar blinked and cleared his vision. He felt a peculiar sensation. He looked down. Nothing below him. He was in the air!

Edgar screamed, but he realized that he was NOT falling. He began to marvel. He was… flying!

He whooped and surged forward, feeling the thrill of acceleration. He swooped and dived like an eagle.

This was the joy of magic. He regretted not experiencing it sooner.

“Glad you’re having fun,” the cloak said. “But there’s something you need to do, isn’t there?”

Yes. He had a quest. Someone to rescue!

The cloak urged him towards an ominous castle. As he neared the battlement, he saw her outline in the window. An elegant princess. Her back was turned from him. He innately knew she was the most beautiful woman ever.

She turned.

Edgar’s face betrayed brief disappointment as he realized… it was his wife.

But oh, this wasn’t who he had dutifully kissed before heading off to work today. This was the woman he married twenty-five years ago. Why she’d said yes, he never really knew.

“Edgar, look out!” Doreen screamed, and that’s when he felt the heat and smelled the foul stench before he barely dodged the dragon fire. Edgar knew the beast’s name from local legend: Gravemire. Heavy, brooding, ancient. He barely escaped being incinerated, but he knew the beast could also slither, wormlike, to coil and crush him.

“Defend yourself!” said the cloak. To his surprise, Edgar could. Magic witnessed over twenty-five years was available to him now.

“Mantellan Umbra!” Edgar incanted, and a shimmering shield erupted, protecting him from the lashing dragon’s tail. Other incantations followed as the fierce battle erupted. At times, Edgar thought he would be slain but somehow found the stamina to fight on.

Finally, he had the beast stunned. “Velos Aeternum!” An “arrow of eternity” materialized, a weapon formed from years of repressed dreams and idle fantasies. For the first time in over twenty-five years, a smile formed on his face as the magical missile struck the wyrm dead center in the chest. The dragon screamed a thousand agonies before it collapsed.

Unfortunately, this also began the collapse of the castle around Edgar’s head.

Edgar felt the ground give way. Clutching at the rocks above, he cursed the cloak for not giving him a saving spell.

Suddenly, a hand reached out and grabbed him. Doreen.

Years of working on their farm had made her strong enough to lift him up. She pulled him to safety. They embraced. Once again, he felt the ground give way beneath him. This time, the cloak kept them aloft.

They kissed in the air. He couldn’t remember a kiss that great. Maybe even better than their first. Close enough.

“Edgar!” Doreen finally said. “I was milking the cow, and suddenly there was a flash of light. Then, I found myself in this getup, stuck in that castle. Gravemire said I couldn’t escape. Thought he was just a legend!”

“Oh, he’s real enough,” Edgar responded. “This cloak… showed me real magic.”

“So, this is not a fantasy?”

“I think it’s real.”

“Is this… how you see me? Someone to rescue?”

“No. You’re as beautiful as our wedding day. I may have saved you. But then you… saved me.”

Doreen smiled. “Suppose I did.”

The cloak floated them to the ground, onto a dusty road. The road forked: one path left, one right.

“Before you is the ultimate decision, Edgar,” the cloak said. “Go left and continue a life of adventure. Danger and peril certainly await. However, go to the right and back to your previous life. You’ll be safe there, at least. Whatever you choose… your decision will be final.”

Edgar considered. He looked at Doreen. “We’ll decide together.”

Doreen smiled and put her hand in his. “We’ve always made decisions together. After twenty-five years, we know each other’s minds.”

Edgar smiled. They strode confidently. To the left. Whatever dangers and perils awaited, they would face them… together.

—-

Back at the WMC. A smile was still on Edgar’s lips, but a blank look was now on his face. Muzzleplik chuckled softly and gently removed the bright purple garment from Edgar. “I’m afraid he’s gone away from us, Blunderbuss.”

“You put a cursed cloak on him?” the gnome exclaimed.

“It wasn’t cursed!” Muzzleplik retorted. “Every decision Edgar made was his own.”

“And his spouse?” Blunderbuss asked.

“If the magic worked, then she’s with him. If not… Well, I’ll think of something.”

Blunderbuss sputtered. “I ought to report you to the guild!”

“If you must. But I did this for a friend… and most stalwart club employee.”

Blunderbuss stormed off. Muzzleplik smiled and turned back to Edgar, whose corporeal form was slowly vanishing into the ether.

“Fare thee well, Edgar. Fare thee well.”