Chapter Text
Ledore estate
"... that is how it went." Hershel put down his tea, watching Henry in anticipation. He didn't react.
"Really, professor? You, running away from a tomb?" Luke seemed completely baffled at the concept of Hershel daring to run away. "I'd never have guessed. You're so calm and collected, not even when Emmy kicked you did you flinch..."
Henry raised an eyebrow, but remained quiet. Right, no one knew of the whole fiasco with Scotland Yard and Misthallery when the spectre was still a tangible threat. Hershel would prefer it if that stayed between only those present for that moment. The list was already too long.
"Either way," Hershel began, "how has everything been? The past years... You out of everyone knows why I couldn't keep in contact."
Hershel did not resent Angela, nor did he resent Henry. His resentment was still only reserved for himself, and what Angela had said those many years ago was still true. In fact, Hershel had expected the letter to him to say he deserved pain.
Henry looked Hershel over, studying the shorter man.
"Life has been... decent. After the incident, Angela and I married, founded this city, then found ourselves changed from who we once were." Henry looked towards a pair of doors, something akin to sadness filling his features. Hershel felt sick to his stomach, knowing where this would lead. "I cannot speak for Angela, but I went through a long journey of introspection. After it, I came out on the other side, wishing to write you an apology. But I've been too much of a coward to even find out your adress." Henry closed his eyes.
"Shameful of me, really."
"I have to disagree, Henry." Henry opened his eyes, watching Hershel. Hershel grabbed the dagger Randall had given him once, holding it up. "There is not a single day I still do not blame myself for what happened there, for it was my fault. You all had trusted me to ensure... and yet I..."
Tears welled up in his eyes.
Despite the years the wound had to heal, it was nothing more than a mere bloodclot, ripped open every time Hershel held the knife. Outside of Hershel himself, the only other person who had ever known what the blade had meant to him was dead. Henry wouldn't understand, but he knew that it was a gift from Randall.
"I failed everyone that day. I would never ask or even wish for forgiveness." Hershel couldn't make out Henry through the blur. No matter how long, the wound was still open, the wound still itched, and there was no cure. One could only bandage such a wound and hope time would make one forget. "For I can never forgive myself, so your own forgiveness is wasted. Do with it what you will, I want no part in it. Let me steep in misery of my own making."
Henry had gotten up at some point, only a few steps away from Hershel. Henry looked equally ready to hug or grab him, face as stoic and unreadable as ever. There was a slight blush on his cheeks, though.
"I do not need to be cared for, Henry." Hershel put back the knife on his belt, letting his hand rest on the ancient atrifact. Luke seemed transfixed by it. "You can sit back down."
While Hershel knew Henry had always been fond of caring for others his whole life, being cared for was not something he wanted. When he was younger and not taken seriously, it was fine, but he was almost forty now. He could care for himself.
"Apologies," Henry said tonelessly and sat down.
For a moment, everything was silent. Then, a quiet creak. Had the room not been quiet from earlier, it would've been when Alphonse entered the room from the double doors. Upon seeing Hershel and Luke, he looked between them, very confused.
"Uh... Hey there..." Alphonse sighed, his ears twitching. "I have'ta leave. I've got things to... do."
Hershel made a mental note to check up on Alphonse the next morning. He seemed drained, and Hershel could most likely accurately asses what, but it would be better to simply make sure he wasn't in any pain the next morning.
"Well, then. It was Angela you came here to see, right?" Henry filled the salver without asking. "Go on in, she should be available now. I'll... do taxes."
Hershel frowned, but complied. He wrote down a few notes in his notebook.
Henry Ledore: Strange behaviour
Henry is utilitarian in nature, but he does care for others. However, when describing his life over the past 18 years, he glosses over it as if it is nothing noteworthy. He was also erratic in mood, changing drastically when Alphonse entered the room.
While I do believe Henry to be a changed man, I find it hard he'd gloss over something as life-changing as founding a city.
Notably enough, Henry didn't even notice Luke's owls. While they are trained to be on better behaviour indoors, they are usually given at least a glance.
Monte D'or outskirts
Hannah woke up when someone shook her lightly. She'd never been the type to shoot up from waking or stretch, she simply opened her eyes. Beside her, Inspector Grosky was still driving, but she could see Leonard's movement in the corner of her eye. When he had fully retracted his hand, he leaned back in his seat.
"We're almost at Monte D'or." Hannah didn't need night vision to see that Leonard was most likely sick or having another migraine, or both. He looked the same too-grey he always did when that happened, and he was shaking. "Thought I should let you know."
"Thank you, Leonard."
Hannah ignored Inpector Grosky's grunt, focusing instead of putting on her hat and coat. In the rear-view mirror, she could see Leonard massaging his temples, eyes screwed shut.
"I do have some paracetamol if you want. Maybe some leftover Ibuprofen."
"No, just..." Leonard sighed. "I really don't want to have to talk to the chief. I feel like I'm about to have another damn migraine."
Inspector Grosky for once didn't correct Leonard on the 'swearing issue'. Hannah didn't say anything and merely held out two blister packs for Leonard to take. He gave them back soon after and Hannah tried not to think too hard about the fact that her friend swallowed medicine dry.
Grosky stopped the car. They were now in Monte D'or, and the road in front of them was blocked by masses of people.
"Kobrinsky, Bloom, go find our hotel, I'll sit here."
Hannah nodded, leaving the car and opening the boot. Leonard took his bags, while Hannah took everything else. They waded through the streets filled with people, squeezing past multiple drunk groups that spread out past a reasonable space.
The tram ride was far more comfortable than Hannah expected. Even with Leonard having passed out on her shoulder.
Ledore estate
Angela sat on one of the couches, folding up a blanket that was placed in her lap. She looked little different from her younger self with a darker tan and a few wrinkles from age, but remained otherwise nearly the same. She still wore that ancient coin around her neck, and her lips were still covered in faded scars. She had a few bruises on her legs, most likely from climbing on top of roofs again.
So much had changed, yet something remained the same.
"Angela, I got the letter."
"Hersh- sorry. Layton, hello." Angela gestured to the sofas across from her, glancing above both Luke's and Hershel's heads for only a second. "Please, have a seat."
Hershel sat down first, followed by Luke. Angela's smile grew stiffer.
"I would like to preface this all by saying I'm sorry, for everything." Hershel did not want another useless apology.
"Ang-"
"He- Layton, no." Angela glowered, her gaze something akin to a spear piercing everything in its path. "I won't pretend that you don't blame yourself, I also won't pretend I never did. What I said must've hurt, even if you refuse to acknowledge it. I hurt too, that day, but I was out of line. There is no apology for what I said or did, but I must apologise. Even if you don't believe me now, I don't think it's your fault."
While her eyes had softened a bit, Angela had not taken her gaze off Hershel for a second. She did not offer tea, she did not introduce herself. Hershel wasn't sure what to think of her.
"With that out of the way, I think som introductions are in order." Angela looked at Luke. "I am Angela Ledore, you may just call me Angela, though. Who may you be?"
"Well, I'm the professor's apprentice! Luke Triton!" Luke smiled, his ears wiggling. "I'll become the best puzzle-solver out there one day!"
Oh how did Hershel end up knowing the smartest 10-year-old on the planet? Not asking about the clear tension between Angela and Hershel, not asking what was going on with Hershel's soured mood. Then it hit Hershel Luke could have seen the answers in some form in a vision.
"That's admirable. I used to know someone..." for a moment, Angela seemed long gone, far into the past, her hand holding her coin necklace. "... who liked puzzles. He'd hide puzzles all over the place, and I once found a puzzle hidden in my room. But, we're not here to reminiscence. I told you of the masked gentleman's appearance here, did I not?"
"Yes, very crudely, but you got the point across." Angela most likely made a mental note about that. Hershel had always been proficient in the Azran language and cipher, while everyone else he knew who learnt it always had some difficulties. "Your very sloppy handwriting was intentional, if I had to guess. Most likely to pad out space for what you were too afraid to write of, I assume."
"You'd be correct. He publically appeared about a week ago. However, signs of him were seen before that, only obvious in hindsight."
A shade fell over Angela's face.
"About one month ago, sombody broke into my room, stole the mask of chaos, and gave me a calling card. The first miracle was not the miracle of a mystery fog that turned people to horses, it was entering the Ledore estate and taking something. Smaller things such as kidnapping people in the midst of night only for them to appear days later thinking no time had passed at all and petty pickpocketings that had the items returned moments after they were reported. The biggest crime though... oh, it scares me to think of..."
"The Masked Gentleman has yet to achieve his darkest miracle: forcing Monte D'or's time to run out."
Angela brought out her pocket watch, studying it for a minute. She shivered, and her breath hitched.
"It's late, you two should go to the hotel - I believe I mentioned it in the second letter."
"You did, Angela." Hershel stood, and Luke followed to do the same soon after. "You booked us two double rooms, I believe? Thank you, you didn't have to."
Angela didn't respond with words, letting herself smile. It seemed so empty, so lifeless. As if she was but a husk of a human, masquerading life like a marionette master controlled a marionette.
Hershel and Luke left Angela in silence.
Camel's hump hotel
Upon entering, Hershel saw how Emmy stood at the reception desk with a shorter person. They both turned towards the duo, Emmy smiling while the other person blinked a few times.
"Professor! Luke!" Emmy waved them over. "His name's Hershel Layton, the rooms should be booked in his name?"
Luke stopped right by the desk, watching the receptionist leave for the key box in the back. Emmy patted his head.
"Professor, Luke, allow me to introduce you to Nils - an aspiring detective whom I saved."
"Hello." Nils looked between Hershel, Luke, and their respective owls, a slight blush creeping up their cheeks. "I'm a big fan of the solved mysteries, professor. You're very... logical."
Emmy took the keys when they were given to her. Everyone began walking towards the lift, carrying their own bags with varying amounts of luggage. Luke's three owls were all perched on different shoulders, jumping between the shoulders at a consistent rate. Hershel took a sip of his until-now forgotten water bottle, thinking of a puzzle.
Puzzle 002
Shoulder-jumping owls
30 picarats
The Professor, Emmy, Nils, and Luke all have three owls jumping between them every five seconds. Currently, the black owl is on Emmy's shoulder, the white owl on Nils' shoulder, and the blue/brown is on Layton's shoulder. One owl moves every five seconds to the empty pair of shoulders in this order: black, white, blue/brown. The white owl has just moved. Will Luke's shoulders be taken up by the same owl in 10 seconds from now as the owl 25 seconds from now?
It turned out Hershel's guess had been correct when they inevitably reached their rooms.
Emmy unlocked the two rooms at the same time, opening both doors. The owls flew into room 307, making a space for themselves on the large desk. Emmy let out a snort and Nils chuckled. Luke began shouting about 'cleanliness' and 'hospitality'. One of the owls took Luke's bag without him noticing.
Nils was about to enter room 308, but stopped when Emmy put her hand on their shoulder. "Hold on. You're part of our make-shift crew now, we all work on the game plan together."
"I wouldn't put it that crudely, but yes." Hershel grabbed the hem of his hat and turned around. "Luke? You had a vision earlier, should we discuss it now?"
Hershel surpressed a cough.
"It's not that important, professor. Plus, I have yet to superthink it, so it's nonsense until I've gotten some sleep."
Right, Luke was still too young to use his abilities for an extended time. No matter, that would come with age, and Luke would have to learn how to handle that later. pushing his limits more before that time came would have disasterous concequences. Sometimes Hershel forgot minor details like that.
"Don't forget to brush your teeth," Emmy teased. Luke stilled at that, turning towards Hershel's company.
He ran towards them, and both Emmy and Nils ran into their room, laughing. Luke tried to open the door, but it was stuck. He grabbed onto the handle, but couldn't open the door despite pushing it down.
"Emmy! Come out here!" Luke growled. "Not funny!"
Hershel looked into room 307, surprised to find the room covered in feathers all of a sudden. Beneath a few piles, Hershel could spot some of Luke's possessions, like Luke's notebook or a spare shirt.
"Luke, my boy, you should probably focus more on your own possessions."
"Hm?" Luke turned around, then screamed. "No, no, no! I thought you all knew how to behave!"
Apparently, the owls were not completely tamed yet.
Layton's office
The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and the night's rain had left the air just humid enough for Hershel's throat to be soothed at all times. So long as he didn't need to shout, or no cars with faulty exhaust pipes drove by, he'd be fine.
The gentle breeze from the open window flew through his curls, a soothing feeling for the man. Behind him, Emmy was quietly writing whatever she wrote most of the time - the office had already been cleaned earlier that day, and Hershel had no lessons. Wednesdays, one of the better days of the week.
An owl landed on his desk, carrying his mail.
Hershel made a mental note of the lack of a paper-wrapped box, putting a call to the post office on his to-do list. He looked behind him, but Emmy was completely enraptured in whatever she was writing, so there was no need to worry yet. Hershel pat the head of the owl, watching the night-coloured feathers fly out. He spread out his mail; seven envelopes.
Taxes, love letter from a student, threat from Paul, some more taxes, Azran cipher, threat fron Jean-
Azran cipher?
Hershel looked the letter over, very familiar with the blue paper his childhood friends had agreed to exclusively write the cipher on. On the front, in big letters, stood a name in the cipher:
Angeja Jezhore. Angela Ledore.
He had long since forgiven Angela for her words - they were true, after all. He did commit murder, and while his 'book' had not seen use before those words in a long time, her words did not affect his choice in drawing another two marks. Where had that book disappeared to, anyway? He misplaced it some time ago and never found it. About a year, if he rememebred correctly. While he'd preferrably never need it again, anyone could figure out what it was or who that old teacher had been.
Hershel shook the thoughts away, looking over the cipher letter once more. In the envelope was a second letter, formatted like a post card, but told of Angela's anxiousness regarding the situation in Monte D'or. The envelope itself was sealed with a wax that glowed in the dark, and could be mixed with other pigments to change the colour. Hershel gently pried the wax of both parts of the envelope, putting it on a towel next to him.
The world grew distant as Hershel read the cipher.
Two sets of steps approached him from behind.
"Professor, what is that? Scribbles? Has someone sent you a nonsense letter?"
"No, Luke-" Hershel could hear the eye roll in Emmy's voice "-that's a language. The Azran language, to be specific. Had to learn to read a bit of it when I became the professor's assistant."
Ah, yes, to most people it was called the Azran language, not the Azran cipher. Hershel had to remember that.
"Emmy." Hershel held out the letter to Emmy, who took it. "I've already read this letter, but could you find a word for me?"
Solve the puzzle!
"I know you do not know every word of the language, but you should know enough about the writing rules to translate people's names to and from the cipher. Here's a reminder of our names as written in Azran: Herezhe, Emmy, & Juke. Knowing this, could you point out Monte D'or for me?"
Jezon-ka'zha ,,ninozhahe. Mazke Jhenzeman-mhuve', memhyva io. ,zhe,-,zhe,. Monze Z'zho ngukre Jezon-ka'zha. Haha-mory'hange kekura,. Nahe kre Jezhore-az'va yka io. Ovho-mory'hange ninozhezhuzarizha Mizzajery hange-hange-hange: Herezhe Jezon, Emmy Azava, Juke Zrizon.
He'd have to figure out what 'Masked Gentleman not calm' meant after he'd packed.
Camel's hump hotel
Luke opened the door to the roof, feeling the warm breeze hit his face. He'd already slept for a bit before, about an hour. Being a psychic had its moments, he knew, and the sleeping issue certainly was a benefit. The roof was barren of many things, but had a railing, some plants, and a few different seatings.
Luke sat down on a bench.
Upon fastening the empty paper to his specialised writing disc, he brought out his mechanical pen. He always preferred writing with fancy pens, because Crow could somehow always tell, which made no sense. His psychic ability had to do with illusions, and nothing else. Crow wasn't like Luke in that regard.
Dear Crow,
A good start, Luke decided. Not much had happened since the case of the illusory forest, except for getting food poisoned like a week ago.
Not much has happened since I last wrote to you.
Yes, great job, Luke. He smiled, continuing.
I have no clue what to write about except for being food poisoned.
Luke bit his lip, staring at the paper. There truly was nothing to write about. Crow already knew everything Luke knew, there was nothing new he could tell Crow. Except...
I met another psychic - one who knew the professor. My ability triggered the moment I entered the room, despite trying to push it away. It was like there was something that forced it to activate, like a dry tree hit by lightning. I couldn't see Mr Ledore's ears, nor Angela's ears. One of them must have some sort of ability that forces abilities around them to activate. Like Lacy.
Telling Crow of his vision wouldn't do anything - Crow was just creeped out by the non-linearity of it all. So, Luke signed it off.
Love, your Bluebird.
Luke smiled and put the writing disc next to him, looking towards the endless night. The breeze was nice, calming. His fingers twitched with the phantom sensations of Misthallery days, but Luke ignored it.
He could stay here for a few more minutes.
Luke sat on a bench in the void, a puddle beneath his feet. It wasn't his reflection in it, though, no, it was Crow's. His face was obscured by non-existant illusions, taking the shapes of feathers and wax-sealed letters. Crow reached through the puddle, until finally he cupped Luke's face with his half-turned claws. In the soft bed of a distant future, with a set of arms around Luke's body, Crow still held his face, mouthing unsopken 'I love you's.
"APOSTLE. FINCH. MYNA. PITTA. GANNET. ROBIN. MACAW. GROUSE. PLOVER."
Luke fell through the flock of birds, spinning endlessly in the air, until he suddenly stopped and fell face-first. Below him fell a boy almost a decade older, red hair suffering from a severe case of ruins' dust. Luke turned around. Above him, in an eternal eclipse sky, fell Emmy - her shape only coming around from the shadows of birds merging.
Luke was laying in a field. It was sunny. Steps approached him, then Crow's face came into view.
'Consider writing to me, Bluebird.'
"HONEYEATER. SWIFT."
"Gazhi io." The girl cried, her eyes blinded by her settled dust.
The professor was teaching Emmy how to dance, guiding her while counting. Emmy was too focused on her feet to not notice how both she and the professor were being led away, down the street. Luke followed them, watching the two spin. Watching the father teach his daughter to dance the waltz. Slowly, Emmy eased into it, focusing less on her feet and more on the band. The father-child duo rounded a corner.
When Luke rounded the same corner, his eyes met with the statue of a woman nearing her forties. Around her neck hung an old coin, and her hair curled at the ends. Around her three kids formed a circle, humming. Ten pairs danced the waltz around the kids, the statue:
The father and child. The young, unadmitted lovers. The golem and the champion. The bird and the mystery lady. The scientists. The psychic parents. The good friends. The mirror image. The fakes. And the repenter and remorseless.
Luke blinked.
His hands had turned into stone, and he couldn't move. The people were dancing around him, but their faces were now covered by masks, all smiling straight at him, not caring for the integrity of their necks. Past the dancing people, at the edge of the alley; the world itself...
A watch, held up by a masked man standing on a middle-aged woman with a coin necklace, was covered in feathers.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.
"Tick, tock. Come find me already," the brunette whispered. She hung from a tree branch in the forest, a wrench in her mouth. "It's getting boring here."
Luke was drowning in ice, watching a young girl paint a London filled with gears.
Camel's hump hotel
"And I've already superthought about it, and almost all I can tell is that there were seven different subjects, plus the ten duos again." Luke bit into his marmalade-covered sandwich, clearly not caring if crumbs got on the rest of his breakfast. "Pretty sure the masked gentleman business is the next miracle."
"Statues, huh?" Emmy bit into her own sandwich, although instead of marmalade there was butter and cheese. "Wonder where that'll happen."
"Most likely in a crowded area, possibly with alleys nearby, depending on the mode of transportation for the statues." Nils had some unidentifiable soup for breakfast. "We should also consider the sewers - because they do actually exist, believe it or not."
"Let's not be hasty, we have a whole day of exploring ahead of us." Everyone's ears twitched, trying to hear the Professor's voice over the bustle of a regular volume of a breakfast hall. "There are plenty of things we do not know yet. We may have a lead now, but let us wait until we can make a more informed assessment. Luke, was that all you managed to discern from your vision?"
Luke continued chewing his sandwich, most likely considering things for a moment. Eventually, he settled on an answer.
"Nothing relevant." Emmy stared at Luke, who pondered for a bit. "Unless any of you are planning on trying to drown me only to freeze a lake, that's all."
"How would we even manage that, Luke? We're psychics, not gods." Emmy did sometimes wonder what it would be like to be a god, usually not over a delicous cheese sandwich, though. "Feels a bit weird to admit that we're psychics and not have to immediately deal with some adult stomping over and talking about youth and corruption."
The Professor flinched at that. Right, Stansbury never had that issue, and London made it illegal to speak of psychic abilities outside clinical or educational settings. She'd never understand how someone forgot, but then again, she was psychic. It was her life.
"What about Henry? We never got around to talking about that."
"Oh, right. I have some notes on him." Nils brought out their notebooks, flipping for a bit before laying all seven on the table.
Each notebook had a different nature of notes, filling out the pages. One of the notebooks even had a few drawings of him, speculating about his ears. Another held a schedule of meetings for about two months after Monte D'or's founding. Everyone picked up a separate notebook and began reading.
"'Can multitask very well according to eyewitness accounts'...?" Luke put his sandwich down, drinking some soup from a bowl of unknown origin. (It certainly wasn't from the breakfast hall's selection). "'Including rivals.'"
"'Henry claimed to have found the mask of chaos, yet refuses to let anyone study it closer. He grows defensive when archeologists are suggested.'" Emmy's ears twitched.
Then, she picked a random passage from her book. "'Funded laws protecting and nurturing the rights of psychics regardless of ability, in the name of an unknown person or party. When pressed, both he and Mrs Ledore refuse to answer any other questions until the following day.' Why is he called Mr Ledore in this one?"
"Oh, I wrote that before I came to Monte D'or for the investigation." Nils frowned, their 'wings' falling like a pair of ears. "I've yet to correct that."
Emmy hummed, puffing up her cheeks. She didn't understand any of this, Henry Ledore became more of a mystery the more Emmy learnt about him. He started as a butler, but now he owned a city.
Emmy didn't like the feeling that whirled in her stomach in the slightest.
"Wait," Luke began, "Professor, did you ever get a substitute for your lessons? You have lessons today, and tomorrow."
The Professor didn't respond, and instead drank some water from his water glass.
"Professor, haven't you said it's ungentlemanly to not respond?" Emmy was pretty sure she remembered him saying something like that during the 'Emmy nearly killed the Professor' incident. "You're being oddly ungentlemanly."
He still did not respond.
"With all due respect, Professor..." Nils moved their finger in a circle, snatching back their notebooks. "... do you not have a history of abandoning your lessons?"
He put the glass down and took a silent bite out of hash brown form his plate. Emmy tried to think back if she could remember any substitutes being mentioned, but her mind came up blank.
"Professor you did hire a substitute or at least tell someone about this, right?"
Emmy looked into the Professor's dot eyes.
"Right?"
"I was in a hurry, Emmy."
Monte D'or outskirts
Hershel rang the doorbell, studying his company's reaction. Nils wrote something in their notebooks, using their telekinesis to do so. Emmy fiddled with her pin, looking into the distance. Luke was trying to calm down his owls. Everyone was as ready as they could possibly be to meet Alphonse, he knew. Somebody approached the gate from inside.
"I'm sorry, at current, no visitors of any nature are allowed." Hershel couldn't recognise the man at the gate, but he appeared nice enough. "Not even business partners."
"Then can you relay a message?" The man nodded. "Please tell Alphonse that Hershel Layton is worried about him, and would like for him to take care of himself."
The man left again, but as his company tried to leave, Hershel stayed still. No one said anything, and Hershel didn't move from his spot outside the gate. Alphonse had written a letter after Hershel left Stansbury. He knew very well why Alphonse lived out of the way, isolated and what most would consider lonely, and it was a saddening truth.
Then, the front door opened, and Alphonse approached the gate, a hot cuppa in his hands.
"Oi, Layton." He'd never been Hershel to Alphonse, he'd always been Layton. "Knew something was afoot when I sensed you come here."
"After seeing you at the Ledore estate last night, I was worried. I know how little company can give you migraines." Hershel drank some water from his bottle, ignoring the slight taste of honey. "You must have one by now."
"Yeah, you'd know that, wouldn't ya?" Alphonse let out a laugh, one that Hershel would never understand. The moment of their meeting was not some joke, yet it always made Alphonse laugh, as he'd mentioned once or twice. "I'll be fine by the evening. The parade attracted most people, so it was really only having stayed there for five hours that caused-" Alphonse vaguely gestured to the general air "-this."
"I hope you make a smooth recovery."
"I will, don't worry, Layton. Oh, actually..." Dalston whistled. "Take Bulldoze and Ham with you? The girls are... a bit much at the moment."
Two dogs came running - one a breed of rottweiler and german shepherd, the other a very hairy chiuaua - and sat down at either side of Alphonse. The mixed breed glared while the chiuaua looked around. Around the neck of the chiuaua was a dog tag with the word 'HAM' inscribed in cursive.
"So long as they don't attack Luke's owls we can bring them."
Dalston looked at the mixed breed. "Bulldoze, best behaviour, okay?"
Alphonse opened the gate a bit and the dogs walked out, both seating themselves next to Hershel. The mixed breed glared at everyone, but didn't growl or even show her teeth.
"We'll take care of your girls, don't worry." Hershel grabbed teh hem of his hat. "They won't be hurt."
Alphonse didn't say anything, instead turning back to the mansion and walking back inside. The dogs looked up at Hershel, then began circling him, whining. If he could, Hershel would indeed call back his friend, but Alphonse needed rest and recovery.
"Did... did mister Dalston just dump two dogs on us?" Emmy's eyebrows twitched. "Who does that?"
"Alphonse needs some time for himself," Hershel laughed.
He began walking towards the city, and his company followed him. Luke had started talking with the dogs, mainly about food. Emmy and Nils both remained quiet, but Emmy was distracted by the owl on her shoulder, while Nils was unfolding the 'map' of the 'forgotten' Monte D'or. That was their next stop: the dark alleys of Monte D'or.
Eastern Monte D'or
"The entrance should be around here." Nils looked between three notebooks plus their map, completely unaware of how complicated the whole setup actually was.
"We are in one of the most well-lit streets of Monte D'or, Nils." Luke pat Hawthorn, who was on his shoulder putting her white feathers in his hair. "I wouldn't hide a black market or secret society anywhere close to here."
Not even the kids back in Misthallery had hidden the black market in some obvious place. They had hidden the actual black market behind the black market they had let the professor find. Luke remembered sleeping there once, in one of Crow's designated tents.
"Well the enterance itself is most likely hidden, but this street holds one." Nils brought a notebook and the map closer, studying them intensly. "We, according to my research, should be standing right over it."
Nils put bookmarks in their notes and forced everything into their bag. Everyone looked around, Emmy high, Nils in the windows, and Hershel at darkened alleyways. Luke looked down, staring for a moment at what was at his feet. He looked around, the crowd was busy with the shop windows and other things.
Luke bent down, looking at the Azran text inscrybed on the edges. If only he could figure out what it meant...
"Emmy?"
"Hm?"
"There's a word I don't understand here."
Everyone in the group looked at Luke. In an instant, Emmy was down next to him, her finger moving beneath the alien characters. The Professor also looked over the writing, although he moved his mouth silently. Nils just looked over the drainage cover with interest.
"It translates to 'You found me, welcome to the black market'." The Professor picked up Luke, not caring for Hawthorn's angry cursing. "It appears we found the enterance. Great work, my boy."
"Well then," Emmy said as she lifted the cover, "looks like we've gotta jump down."
Emmy grabbed the two dogs and put one on each shoulder before scooting down into the endless dark. Luke couldn't see any further than a metre, and even then it was a fight to see things despite the overhead lighting. Luke's owls all flew down next, followed by Nils throwing their things down the hole.
"Do close after us, would you, Nils?" The Professor said before he took a step, letting gravity pull him down the hole.
Luke looked at Nils, who didn't blink. They gestured for Luke to go first.
Luke sat down at the edge of the hole, letting his feet dangle into the infinity pit. He looked around again, but no one paid them any attention. It was as if the general crowd couldn't even see them. Luke pushed off the edge, falling into the pit with closed eyes.
His back hit something metal, and he began sliding. Fast.
Luke opened his eyes, watching glowing rings, pipes, decorations, chandeliers, and so much more all fly past the edges of the slide. The slide itself was made of metal, but cool compared to the desert shade above the drainage cover. Luke was suddenly thrown up into the air, then landed on a sharp corner in the slide before continuing down the ride.
When Luke tried resting his legs on the slide, they burnt and he had to lift them into the air again. Oh, blimey, he was going fast then. Luke hadn't really been able to tell before, as there oddly enough was very little wind despite the speeds Luke was going at.
Then he was in the air again, and he saw two slides right above one another. The bottom one glowed cyan, but despite the brightness didn't hurt Luke's eyes in the slightest, it reflected off the top slide, which was made of polished stone.
Luke ended up on the top slide.
"Luke!" Through one of the small holes in the edge of the stone slide, he could see Emmy on a platform led to by a glowing slide. "Luke!"
She flew past him, becoming nothing but a memory. He'd ended up on the wrong slide. Tears filled Like's eyes as he slid further down the slide, getting turned around at multiple points.
He crossed a thick level of rock, which multiple people stood on as if it was a floor. The slide let Luke off again for a second before he ended up on more of a slide.
Then, the slide dropped him onto a pile of wheat bags.
The world around him was too dark for a person without psychic abilities to see, and Luke only realised it when he saw his night vision and regular vision fight for dominance with the wheat bags. His regular vision tried assigning colour to the near-pitch black, but his night vision tried to actually see the bags. Luke turned away.
A courtyard filled with a few desks and tools, but almost nothing else. The walls were all made of stone and reached about two and a half metres in height, then followed by pillars reaching into a... stone ceiling? Was this place multi-leveled? Yes, Luke realised upon seeing the house wall. There were doors on each wall, but only one had a roof and windows.
Inside the windows, it was dark, but there was a kitchen and a living room. Neither had any form of life in htem, and the only sign of anyone even living there was a mug. Luke tried the doorhandle that led to the house, it opened.
"Hello...?"
Silence. Luke's ears twitched violently, searching for something within his hearing range. But not even a mouse's steps, nor the people from the other levels. All he heard was his own breathing.
A chill crept up his spine, but ignored it and walked right, into the kitchen. Counters lined two walls and an island stood in the middle, with cabinets hanging above everywhere something could be put. There was a coffee machine, a dishwasher, laundry machine, stove, and a refrigerator, but nothing else. Not even a sink. Next to the counters was a door. Luke opened it, but it only led to an empty storage closet.
Luke turned back, but ignored the stairs, going instead to the living room. It was big and open, with paint chipping off the walls. The single sofa with its back to the window had the whole seat ripped to shreds, replaced by a pile of empty wheat bags. The coffee table was far too short and didn't even reach Luke's body, awkardly only going up to his legs. There was a large TV, unplugged from the wall with all the wiring falling to the cabinet it stood on. The rug was matted and dirty, stacked with books that the empty bookshelf should have held. If Luke looked to his right, he'd see the front door.
Luke walked over to the enterance hall, ready to leave, but the door was locked. The inside of the door held a lock, the type that required a key. A very large key. Luke looked over the living room, but there was nowhere to hide a key. He looked into the kitchen cabinets, but besides from a few bowls and some cutlery, it was barren. Nothing in the coffee machine, either.
Luke looked up the stairs, into a hallway that continued. There were no other places to look.
Slowly, Luke ascended the stairs, hearing the loud creaks of each step scream at his weight. But he needed to do this. Houses led to streets, which led to home. Luke took a breath and climbed the last steps.
The hallway reached far, and four doors total waited for him. Two on each wall, separately styled desks between each pair. Luke could only go forwards or backwards. The end of the hall led two different ways, though, and had a bit of a... protruding window. If the window was open, Luke could get out that way.
Luke began walking, but he heard something. He stopped, listening. Nothing. It was probably just the side-effects of daily visions for such a long time. Luke continued.
The last thing he knew was a breath next to him.
MD'or B4
"Luke!" Emmy had not been prepared for that slide she experienced, but to see Luke come from above only to end up somehwere else was worrying. "Luke!"
He flew past.
Emmy looked up at the part of the slide she could see, searching for a familiar face. The Professor had not ended up on her slide, and landed in the slide everyone was meant to get on from that drainage cover. Jumping had landed her on the edge, which knocked her and the dogs onto another slide. Nils' face came into view, sliding even faster than Luke.
"Nils!" They looked over, then went onto the next slide: the glowing one, due to weighing more than Luke. "Luke's off-course!"
Nils didn't have time to respond - disappearing into the loop-de-loop. The dogs pulled at Emmy's pant legs, knowing all her company had arrived. Smart doggies.
Emmy began running, making a mental map of wherever she was. The dogs easily kept up, barking at anyone who tried to approach her. She had no time to stop and appreciate the world, no time to talk to anyone: she had to find Luke. He had neither his owls nor someone to protect him should things go awry. Nils had the Professor, and Emmy hadn't beaten half the police force out of bordom two years ago for nothing.
She jumped over a line of crates meant to block the way into an alley. She does not care for the screams about 'where she was going'. The rock slide Luke had ended up in was still in sight, and Emmy planned to follow that.
Emmy took a left turn, then stopped at a hole. Five different slides went into it, and one glew. Emmy picked up the dogs, preparing to jump, but she heard something. Two things. Two someones, actually.
Past Emmy, Detective Kobrinsky and Detective Bloom flew, screaming.
Emmy jumped, aiming for Luke's slide. She ended up in the detectives' slide. Well, shit, she didn't accound for the dogs' weights. She began sliding, Luke's slide disappearing to her right.
"Inspectors!" Detective Bloom looked back and stopped screaming after a second, his eyes regained focus. He covered Detective Kobrinsky's mouth. "We need to find Luke! He's disappeared on another slide! He's got no one with him!"
Detective Bloom spoke.
"Alright! We'll just-"
Both detectives huffed as they landed on hard ground, Emmy landed a moment afterwards and they let out another set of huffs. The dogs got away, and Emmy wasn't sure if it was Kobrinsky or Bloom her leg was stuck beneath, but Bloom's hand had somehow caught his hand on her belt from being landed on.
"Well, guess we somehow managed to reunite." Emmy looked at Nils, behind them stood the Professor, all of Luke's owls on his shoulders. "We should start our search for Luke."
North-western Monte D'or
Hannah stretched her arms above her head, ready to finally start her day. She'd gotten delayed due to needing to update her notes on Inspector Grosky's behaviour and having to deal with him attempting to convince her to share a room for the rest of their stay all the while. Leonard had been in the breakfast hall, eating something.
Now, Inspector Grosky had ran ahead, and Hannah was walking towards the police office. Leonard, still eating some of his breakfast, walked next to Hannah. Neither had said anything, but that was for the better. The loud people were just stimulating enough for Hannah.
A group of kids a bit ahead caught her eye, as the gour of them kept signing. Hannah might not have know BSL fluently, but the frequent use of a sign roughly translated to 'goods' was a tad concerning. Northern Monte D'or only had two grocers - both of which were rather close to the hotel Scotland Yard had gotten the group. This road was nowhere near the hotel.
"Psh, Leonard." He didn't say anything, but looked at Hannah. "They keep signing suspicous words, should we follow them and see what that's about?"
"... yes."
Hannah nodded and walked closer, knowing full well Leonard would follow her. The kids entered an alley shrouded in darkness, and Hannah followed them. They took a few turns, until Hannah followed them around a corner only to come to an empty street.
"What the...?" Leonard stepped forwards, studying the walls and roof edges. "No, they couldn't have gone up, could they?"
Hannah looked down, onto the ground. "Leonard." She grabbed his head and turned it towards the drain cover. "They went down."
Hannah looked at Leonard. Leonard looked at Hannah. They both looked at the drain cover.
Leonard bent down and pried open the cover while Hannah removed her heels. Out of all trips to have 'magically' lost her sneakers, why the one to a desert sewer?
Hannah put her shoes in her bag, then sat at the edge of the hole. She couldn't see the ends of her legs, and her feet had all but disappeared into the dark. Leonard crouched down next to her, right hand on his chin. Sometimes, when seeing smaller habits like these, Hannah wondered what he gained from their friendship - she was not someone people just became friends with for the fun of it.
Something hit Hannah in the back, and Leonard grabbed her shoulders.
"Hannah!"
They both fell into the darkness.
And hit metal, the began sliding. Hannah wrapped her arms around Leonard, holding him. Intellectually, she knew he'd never hurt her, but it was a reflex to restain. Leonard began shouting, and Hannah joined. They were going too fast.
The world around Hannah blurred, becoming nothing but a mix of colours and memories. She knew it made no sense, but she swore she could smell old, half-burnt corpses and tree bark. Something covered her mouth, and she quited.
"It's outside the house, okay?" Nieznajomiec coughed, blood trickling down her cheek again. "Just be quiet and you'll be fine. Carel, if she can't be quiet, just muffle her scream, okay? Daddy and I will soon enough be back."
Hannah landed on something rough, then something else landed on top of her. She rolled away, into something static, and the world had stopped. Slowly, everything separated and became actual things, athough in somewhat low light. She was laying at the feet of Mister Layton.
"Well, guess we somehow managed to reunite. We should start our search for Luke."
Next to her, Leonard and Emmy were in a predicament of Emmy crushing Leonard, but unable to get up because Leonard was awkwardly twisted over her leg. Hannah could hear dogs panting. The person next to Mister Layton went over and undid Emmy's belt with the wave of a hand, causing the lady to dash a metre away. Leonard held up Emmy's belt for her to take.
"And now that you're separated, we can actually start looking for Luke," The mystery person spoke, a certain march-esque lilt to their words. "Emmy, what sort of slide did Luke slide on?"
Hannah didn't pay attention to Emmy, but rather looked over at Leonard, who had his brows furrowed, like he was nervous or worried. His eyes lingered on her, as if she'd disappear the moment he looked away.
Hannah stood up, then helped Leonard up.
She looked around: more interested in her surroundings than the conversation. There wasn't much to look at. The floor was made out of some dark teal stone, with carvings of square-ish letters llining some, the slide illuminated about fifty metres, give or take. At the edge of the dark, Hannah could see movement on occassion, swallowed by the mysterious shade.
"Okay, and based off our entrance... he should be on B5. Right in the drugden. And we're in... B7." Leonard fingerspelled 'private discussion later' before gesturing back at the mystery person. "Everyone link up. Because we're a minority in psychics, you naifs will have to go in the middle. This place is dangerous, no matter floor."
Hannah grabbed Leonard's hand, then Mister Layton's hand. Emmy walked to the back, and the mystery person to the front. Slowly, they led the 'group' into the darkness.
The tiny cellar was dark, and Carel was covering her mouth again. The room stenched of vodka and old candies that had probably moulded over. Even if Carel tried to open the trapdoor, the heavy rug with a coffee table on it wouldn't let them leave. Heavy footsteps stomped over the trapdoor, and Carel put his heavy coat around her shoulders.
Carel was too nice to her sometimes, she thought.
MD'or B6
Hershel had never been afraid of the dark. It let him shy away from prying eyes, blend into nothingness at will, and hide his wounds from those he loved. He'd walk during stormy, heavy rain nights back when he still lived in Stansbury, and get sick from not taking his umbrella with him. He was no stranger to the dark, especially without a lantern or candle.
But this darkness was terrifying hazardous forewarning odd. He could only see whenever Emmy mentally checked on somebody: her eyes glowed when using her ability. However, whever Emmy wasn't using her ability, Hershel could almost feel his senses grow stronger.
He could hear the people around him breathe, he could feel the smaller differences in Nils and Detective Kobrinsky's hands, he could smell the terrible smell of the place. It reeked of mouldy food and people. People smelled so bad, as if they never showered, and Hershel felt as if he needed a shower simply from being here.
"Stairs," Nils gently said, slowing down.
Hershel felt his way up the stairs with his foot, hoping he wouldn't step on something. He counted the steps on his way up.
Something in the distance sounded a bit like a scream.
"I heard something," Nils murmured. "Sounds like Luke. Either he managed to leave the den or he's been taken here."
Hershel stepped up on sloped ground, just like every other piece of ground. Nils slowly guided them all forwards, and Hershel heard them looking back, their scarf scraping against their jacket.
Hershel could faintly make out Nils' face by an incredibly low light emitting from their scleras. How curious.
"Okay, everyone is up, let's continue." Nils continued walking, although at a bit faster pace than normal.
The following path was very crooked, and many turns were made. Hershel stopped counting turns after the eighth one, too confused by Nils' guidance to even see a point. The group approached a shouting voice, one who kept on shouting about everything. Nils flinched when Hershel could see light in the distance.
Then, as they came even closer, he could make out the words through the thick static he didn't know his mind had been filled with.
"Huh? None of you? NONE OF YOU?" Hershel could hear Luke give a weak whine, and someone growled. "WELL CLEARLY SOMEONE HERE TOLD THE KID ABOUT OUR SECRET ENTERANCE."
"No," Hershel whispered to the owl he felt move on his shoulder. She froze, becoming a statue. "Good girl."
Another corner was turnt, and in low light, a group of people stood. Hershel let go of Detective Kobrinsky and Nils' hands to lean against the facade, studying the scene. Multiple people in thin coats stood around boxes and bags, most carrying various distilling tools. Luke was held by a man with a puzzle for a face, and Luke's expression was distant, his eyes dialated to the point of his irises being nothing. The puzzling man held Luke with an empty hand, his other was filled with syringes filled with an unknown liquid.
"He's not a psychic," Detective Kobrinsky mentioned. She had moved behind Hershel, Detective Bloom at her knees, and Emmy behind Kobrinsky. "We can rush him, procure the child, then run."
"Procure?"
"Not the appropriate time for correcting word choice, Emmy." Detective Bloom glared at Emmy, then back towards Luke. "But should we rush them? We can't see if any of his lackeys are psychics, they could be overhearing this conversation."
"Leonard, they would have already reported that by now most likely." Detective Kobrinsky looked at Emmy, handing over her hat. "Can you use your ability? If someone is psychic, they'd be thinking of us."
Emmy nodded and covered her face. Her hair and bowtie began floating, and Hershel could feel his clothes growing lighter, and even his hat almost floating away. Nils was trying to manage their scarf, Detective Kobrinsky her purse, and Detective Bloom did not have any loose parts of his outfit. Two seconds later, everything fell back down.
"No one's even noticed us, everyone's just confused." Emmy handed back the hat and held down her hand. From the dark, a partially-dark snout came and sniffed her. "We can rush them, but that might not be the best choice of action."
"I can take any guns they have." Nils pointed at the air. "But then we'll have to rush them."
It took Hershel a moment to realise Nils was looking at him. If they rushed the puzzling man, they'd get Luke, but there was always the risk of someone being grabbed by him. Sending the owls to pick up Luke could work, but then there was the question of getting out. Hershel grabbed the hem of his hat.
"Alphonse has mentioned to me, privately, that 'one of his little babies'," Hershel began, ignoring Nils' snort, "was trained to attack potential threats. Bulldoze." The dog walked up next to him, showing her teeth. "Aim for the neck."
The mixed breed launched, mouth open. She bit through the puzzling person's shoulder, freeing Luke.
Everyone dashed, and Hershel grabbed Luke while passing.
A scream erupted as everyone dashed into the darkness, letting the static overtake them. The people all grabbed any nearby rods and bags, others pointing to the dark. Something shot past the group, but nobody stopped. Luke's safety was paramount. Everyone was vaguely keeping together, shepered by the psychics and dogs.
"Straight forwards!" Nils.
Hershel suddenly had Luke taken from him, and Emmy ran ahead and slammed into the wall. Two slaps opened to a golden and cyan glow illuminating a simplistic lift.
Everyone ran inside.
Nils slammed some buttons. The owls landed on Hershel's shoulders. The footsteps of their assaulters grew closer.
The doors began closing, and Hershel let out a sigh of relief. Finally, some peace.
Something shot into Hershel's leg right before the door closed.
Southern Monte D'or
Emmy put Luke on the floor, dusting off her hands. Detective Kobrinsky and Detective Bloom both began speaking in... German? Dutch? Well, some language that wasn't English, although judging by Detective Kobrinsky's wrinkled nose, Detective Bloom was horribly butchering his sentences. The dogs were on the Professor, sniffing him and whining. Nils was leaning against the lift buttons, holding one button.
"I did not know the dogs were trained to kill, Professor!" The Professor didn't move, only staring at the floor. "Professor?"
Emmy looked over the professor, her eyes landing on a small object stuck in the Professor's leg. It was long and somewhat slim, but not nearly long or thin enough to be an arrow. The end sticking out of the Professor's leg had a few waxed fishnets sticking out of it, and was beveled like a regular arrow. However, upon closer inspection, there was lined glass. Inside, Emmy could make out a clear liquid that reached to the second top line. She turned it over.
CPS. Contra-psionic solution, illegal on the market due to its severe health effects on people without psychic abilities.
Or, 'Psionots', if that druglord turned out to be American. Emmy knew the solution well enough to know the solution would not have severe health effects on the Professor, but he certainly would not be well enough to do anything. Emmy retrieved the Professor's notebook, flipping open a page.
Angela Ledore: Strange behaviour
Angela has changed a lot over the years, to the point where she is nearly unrecognisable to her past self. She has not only apologised for something that she can't be blamed for, but calmed to an unrecognisable level. Alphonse's letters did not imply she changed that much. What is causing this differing perspective?
Angela's stranger than I expected. Alphonse mentioned she didn't change much, but I can hardly recognise her in the grand picture. There are some aspects that have remained the same, however.
Emmy frowned. She was not aware that was a mystery, but apparently it was. Emmy wrote down the newer mystery.
The Miracle City: Belowground drugs
In one of the levels of belowground Monte D'or - also called the 'forgotten' Monte D'or - held a drug den. After a breif altercation, it was revealed they work with the outlawed drug CPS, and are clearly not afraid to inject people with it. How are they not only tunning the operation, but also in Monte D'or?
CPS import and export has been banned in the EU for over a decade and is a serious crime. Smuggling it in and out is not only difficult, but also expensive. America is the only country in the western world that allows it.
Muscle relaxants come in many forms, but to get one that specifically harms people with no psychic abilities can only mean ill intent.
The needle on the Professor's dose must have broken off, saving him from a dose. The 'arrows' are not professionally made, as any half-decent provider wouldn't let the arrows break.
The lift arrived at the ground floor, and Emmy returned the book before helping the Professor stand up. Nils got the clue and picked up Luke, letting the Professor be hauled around by Emmy.
Everyone exited, coming to the streets of Monte D'or. Slowly, they exited the alley they had been in, coming to a parade in full swing. Luke whined, and the Professor groaned.
It was now night.
Southern Monte D'or
Descole let a smile affix his features, watching the Masked Gentleman do that little pre-performance dance he always did. Two slams of his heels, the Azran thought it meant good luck. The Masked Gentleman began spinning his cane, careful to not trigger the wing mechanism. Then, after turning on his microphone, he began his walk to the roof edge.
"One, Two, Three, Four, did you miss me, Monze Z'zho?" Descole had always thought the spelling was a bit funny, but what was even funnier was the the Masked Gentleman always clapped or did some other manual sound during the single quotation mark. "Suprising, really, since I've been here from the start."
Descole crawled over to the edge, but far away from the light so he wouldn't be seen. In the crowd, there were many people, but a top hat stood out to him. Hershel Layton, trembling and relying on his assistant to stand, was looking at the Masked Gentleman.
"He won't die, will he?"
"Ladies and gentlemen, Welcome! I hope you enjoy tonight's grand miracle, courtesy of the Masked Gentleman. Consider what you have seen tonight as a warning: Monze Z'zho shall be unearthed once more. Those who submit to the power of the mask may be spared. But then again..." Descole looked over at the Masked Gentleman, he raised his arms and split the cane, as agreed.
Then, it disappeared seamlessly as the Masked Gentleman's wings sprout from his back.
"... they may not."
The Masked Gentleman took two slow steps forwards, then leaned over the roof edge. He flew over the masses, his pale suit blinding the onlookers. Then, a gentle flap, as promised.
As Descole watched his creation fly away, pride bubbled within him.
Camel's hump hotel
Emmy's shoulders hurt, and the professor had passed out after a while of horrible trembling. His breathing was uneven and shallow. When Dalston had seen the state of the Professor, he had wished them luck.
"So now that it's back to us and the birds..." Nils used their telekinesis to fish out the room keys and unlock the doors. "... do you want to keep watch over Luke, or should I?"
"... I'll watch over the Professor. I entrust Luke to you, Nils." Emmy looked at them. Luke mattered to her, he was like the little baby brother she had always wanted. "Don't you dare let him get hurt by anything, okay?"
Nils nodded, and Emmy walked into the professor's room, taking in the state of it. It looked just like her room, but mirrored. Crossing the floor would lead one large window, and two beds took up almost the entire floor. The desk was simple, and held nothing of notice.
Emmy walked over to the closer bed - neatly made and had the trunk next to it - and put the Professor on it. He grunted, holding himself like he needed a hug. Emmy hadn't dony any research, but it seemed as if CPS hurt for those without psychic abilities pretty severely. She'd have to ask Clamp about that later on, he'd probably know something. The police dealt with drugs, right?
The Professor let out a grunt, and Emmy's heart was stabbed. She walked closer and bent down, watching him.
"... emmy..." The Professor's voice was so quiet. "... i can't... remember anything... past... the darkness..."
"Professor," Emmy whispered. But even the whisper felt too loud, like the Professor deserved more silence. "Can I do anything to help?"
"... some water... please..."
Emmy shot up, looking around. The bathroom door was right by the enterance, just like in her room. She opened it, and immediately picked up the paper cup stationed on the basin and filled it with water. The Professor sat already when Emmy gave him the water.
"... thank you..." He coughed, then began sipping on the water.
"Is there anything else I can do to help?" The Professor was not someone that usually needed to be cared for, but he hadn't exactly taken care of himself today. Emmy couldn't help but worry. "Tea? Biscuits? Maybe a crossword?"
The Professor put the cup on his nightstand, covering his mouth with his empty hand. He looked pale.
"No, none of that. It would just make things worse." The Professor didn't move, he simply breathed. "Not the first time I've been poisoned by that, an old friend of mine used to worry about it a lot. Especially with the people who tended to harass me."
"An old friend?" Emmy tried thinking of anyone who could even begin to match that description, but the closest she got was Jeremy; no way he was the friend in question. She'd save the 'poisoned before' part for at earliest tomorrow. "Mind telling me sometime? You seem too ill currently."
"No, no... I'd rather talk about it now, before-" the Professor pressed his mouth over his mouth, bending a bit, as if he would retch. He didn't, but he stayed still for a few moments before continuing, "before he comes up in conversation anyway. Monte D'or... was built in his memory, after all."
"His memory..." Emmy knew what those words meant - she'd use them to describe her parents, after all. "And you knew him?"
"Yes."
A shade fell over his face, guilt filling his features.
"I knew him very well."