Chapter Text
Southern Monte D'or
Lights were bright, the music and people loud, and if Hershel didn't know Luke any better, he'd probably have assumed the little boy was lost in the crowd. No, the boy was never lost when Hershel could see that owl in the night sky. Just the outlines of a pair of wings, hardly visible in the night, was all Hershel needed to see to know Luke was safe. Travelling with the birds had been tedious, but paid off in the end.
He looked over the windows he passed: cafés with tacky names, niche shops that only sold one or two things, and the occasional grocery. Which wasn't even acknowledging the housing that spaced the storefronts apart. Despite the people around him, and the constant noise, a familiar dread pooled in him.
As he'd done many times before, he gripped a stray lock of hair and swallowed the feeling down.
Upon looking back into the sky, he saw the owl look at him. One flap, two flaps, then she dove. Civilians cleared, some ducking while others moved to the side, until the owl finally landed on his shoulder. She held a paper in her beak, most likely written by Luke. Hershel took the paper and read it.
Professor, I shall be waiting for you at Celebration Boulevard.
My personal goal has been fufilled for the moment, and you may find me a street or two south of Celebration Boulevard if we meet up early. I have not gotten a response from Emmy yet.
Redwood should accompany you.
Your apprentice, Luke.
A smile formed on his lips.
The owl on his shoulder didn't move, staying seated on his shoulder. The people around him were more interested in the parade than him and his newfound companion, but that didn't stop a child or two from gawking. Luckily, no one asked questions. Slowly, Hershel made his way to Celebration Boulevard.
South-eastern Monte D'or
Emmy looked over her notes once more. Out of twenty people questioned, only a single local. Almost all tourists came here for the miracle, either hoping to see it or even be a party involved in the miracle. Was that a new trend? Be part of dangerous public figures' plans?
Emmy sighed.
"Is everything alright?" Emmy's head snapped to the voice - a man older than her. He wore a pair of glasses that reflected away from his eyes, but everything below his shoulders was shrouded in shade. "It's not normal to see a tourist in these back alleys, especially during a parade." The man frowned. "Are you lost, or hiding? Either's fine, y'know."
"I'm fine, really, just looking for information on the Masked Gentleman." He frowned deeper, grumbling something. "Do you know anything?"
"Yes, I will admit. I've... I know for a fact that whatever mask the Masked Gentleman has isn't the mask of chaos." Emmy scribbled it down, not caring how sloppy her handwriting got. "Henry and Angela couldn't have recovered the mask but not..." He shifted, and for a moment his glasses weren't reflecting the lights from above, and his eyes were filled with tears. "... especially with what happened afterwards. Hershel was not the kid to suddenly snap."
She bit her pen. Hershel, Hershel, Hershel. The name burned in her skull. Emmy and the professor might've not been the closest, but she was close enough to be able to drop the 'professor' without him reacting, but calling him by first name even with every honourific under the book was problematic. Just who the hell was this?
"How..." Emmy considered for a moment just to quit while she was ahead, leave the mystery to the professor, but what if it was someone dangerous? "How do you know the professor well enough to call him that?"
"Hershel? I- oh, well, I guess I should stop. Truly, falling from grace does that to a man..." he grumbled some more, biting his lip a few times. "Her- Layton. Layton hasn't spoken to me in years, just as with everyone else. Hell, he hardly spoke before that, too. I'm guessing you'll see him later, if your wording is anything to judge on, but give him a hello for me. Say it's from Mr-"
A loud bang made Emmy pivot. Leaning on the wheelie bin in the alley were two men(?), one who had a hairdo reminicent of a bird and one who... well he looked like a typical henchman of some evil cartoon villain. The henchman had a knife to the bird-hairdo, snarling.
"You. You have something I need, and I've been nice long enough." Bird-hairdo clutched the end of the bin as well as his(?) bag. "Hand it over, or you'll join the music."
"Hell nah," bird-hairdo responded. Bird-hairdo reached out, but the henchman picked him(?) up and hoisted him(??) far above the ground. The bag fell to the ground. "Ungh..."
Within a second, Emmy launched for the henchman. He let go of Bird-hairdo, waving his arms around to try to push Emmy off, but she kicked him in the stomach. He let out a pained whine, falling to the ground. Emmy turned back to Bird-hairdo.
"Are you alright?"
"Er... yeah, thanks." Bird-hairdo picked up his(???) bag and slung it over his(?????) shoulder. Emmy had wapped positions with him(????), she noted. "I'm Nils. You shouldn't turn your back on your attacker, and also, what are you even doing here?"
"Asking about the Masked Gentleman, of course." Nils blinked, Emmy blinked. Two pairs of ears twitched. She looked behind Nils, the mysterious man who knew the professor was gone. "There was someone here a moment ago, claimed to know my-" many words passed through Emmy's mind "-employer."
Nils schoffed, but in a neutral way.
"Well, I've been doing my own investigation into... the masked gentleman." Nils took out a small notepad, flipping between three pages. "What I've reached is pretty inconclusive, but there should be something here of use."
"Let's leave the alley first, Nils." Emmy looked at the henchman, he was still on the ground, but a black owl was sitting on him. "I've had enough of the stench of rubbish for one night."
"Oh, alright."
Southern Monte D'or
"Professor! There you are!" Hershel looked towards the voice, recognising the blue-wearing boy easily. On Luke's shoulders was an albino owl. "Didn't think we'd encounter each other before Celebration Boulevard, but who am I to complain?"
Hershel began walking, Luke followed, continuing, "I found out so much about the miracles! If I had more energy, I'm positive I'd think through what I know and I reach some conclusions, but the mystery adds some mysticality to it, don't you think? The miracles are just as magic as Monte D'or itself!"
Luke smiled, happily talking without response in the start.
"Indeed." Hershel surpressed a cough, the dry desert air was not doing his throat any favours. "In only 18 years, this little oasis has grown into quite the tourist attraction."
Luke's ears twitched.
"I heard about that! Apparently, some even call it the city of miracles!" Hershel nodded, as a confirmation of Luke finding the correct information. The boy smiled even brighter. "One of the locals told me there was a mass-migration a few years back from a nearby town, and how there's another town not too far away. Ooh, and there's this place with great- ACK! HAWTHORN! THAT'S MY HAIR!"
The albino owl was pecking at Luke's skull, preening him. She let out a quiet coo, most likely telling Luke to quiet.
"I'm not dirty, Hawthorn! I'll take a shower later anyway! Get-" Luke shook himself violently, and Hershel had to stop to not leave the boy behind. "Stop!"
The albino owl let out a disgruntled coo, flying up and landing on Hershel's empty shoulder. Luke huffed, glowering at the albino owl. Hershel did nothing, waiting for Luke to slowly approach him, walking right next to him. Then, they continued towards the boulevard.
"Anyway, I asked a parrot I saw about the Masked Gentleman, but she knew nothing. Almost no one knew anything about where he came from." Luke put a hand on his chin before continuing, "when I asked what idea anyone had, they metnioned that Monte D'or had multiple hidden streets. Apparently, those streets aren't cared for by the city. I haven't exactly considered it, but what if..."
Hershel nodded, understanding what Luke was trying to say.
He brought out his notebook and wrote down what he knew of Monte D'or.
The Miracle City: Monte D'or
Monte D'or started as a humble inn but grew into a prospering city within the span of 18 years. There are hidden streets not cared for by the city, but planning would know of these streets. Are they actively neglected in favour of the rest of Monte D'or? If so, why?
Hershel tapped his pen on the edge of the paper, then added a note.
Neither Henry nor Angela would let forgotten streets remain. Henry's too utilitarian, Angela cares too much for people's safety
Luke snapped his fingers, and the albino owl landed on his shoulder again. The boy smiled, letting out a light chuckle, and Hershel realised the owls had most likely said something humerous. A smile fell upon Hershel's lips.
"What'd she say, Luke?"
"Just that there's so many people to steal food from. I would like to look at a things instead, professor. I'm pretty sure there's an endless amount of things to do here."
Hershel grabbed the Hem of his hat, shielding his eyes as he looked up. "Yes, it certainly feels that way." On a ledge, he swore he could see movement, swings from side to side and up and down. Another gesture, although more of a rotation. "I've heard Monte D'or is quite the exciting town."
"You said the letter told of terrible things happening here, but It's hard to believe." Luke grabbed the letter in question - undecipherable to anyone who had not seen Randall's extensive notes on the Azran language - from his bag. "I couldn't get close enough for anyone to tell me about the miracles, and no one talks about them. The closest I got was a bobbie trying to ask me about my parents."
"She did not tell me much in her letter, but she undoubtedly knows more." Hershel coughed a single time, and Luke reached for something in his bag. The movement continued in a hasty manner. "Speaking to her may reveal some truths."
The movement stopped.
Luke looked towards where Hershel was looking. "What are you looking at professor?"
"A trick of the eyes, I believe. Come, Luke, let's continue."
Luke held out a water bottle for Hershel, but he declined. A gentleman didn't need water at the slightest throat irritation, after all. Plus, he'd need to acclimate to the desert, he would be here for at least another day.
His ma would get angry with him, sending him to bed rest instantly and making him some well-strained tea with too much honey.
"Oh, I think Celebration Boulevard is just up ahead, professor!" Luke grabbed Hershel's hand, pulling him along without a care in the world. No matter how much a child knew, a child was still a child, he supposed. "It's colourful! Look at the lights! Oh! Oh! Professor, the circus performers are all practically glowing!"
He could hear distant laughter and nearby gasps of joy. This seemed like the perfect place to forget one's own worries and let all bad things wash away. Had Hershel come here for any other reason, he'd fully believe that nothing bad could ever happen here. It was all so peaceful, so protected from pain and sadness. But, Angela had called him, so he knew better.
"PROFESSOR, I THINK I SEE SOMETHING!"
That was all Hershel heard before he had to dash after Luke. The albino owl had flewn up and the young boy's sudden dashing away, hooting loudly. Some crowds dispersed as the two ran. Luke towards what he inevitably saw, and Hershel after the boy he was meant to be looking after and Brenda and Clark would know had he not done that.
"Luke! Luke, wait!" He surpressed the sudden need to cough, knowing he was straining his voice far too much. "Luke!"
The boy stopped with a flinch, looking back at Hershel.
"Sorry, professor. Forgot I have to stay in your sight." Luke frowned, but perked up as the albino owl landed on his shoulders again. "I just saw something I wanted to take a closer look at."
"Well then, my boy, let us not wait." Luke frowned and held out the water bottle from earlier again, this time Hershel took it. "Don't worry, I'm not hurt from that little scream. What was it you saw?"
Luke pointed towards a stall, next to it stood a clown, but behind it stood a lady with an apron. On the stall's plates laid small biscuits in the shapes of different animals, and cakes were listed on signs. One sign, however, said 'free biscuits'.
"Oh, customéers! Hello there!" The lady smiled. "Tonight we have a special offer: solve this puzzle, and everyone in the party gets a free biscuit packet!"
Puzzle 001
How many horses?
20 picarats
A, B, C, and D all want horse-shaped biscuits, but a very specific amount. A wants three or six, B wants two more than A but three less than C, D wants one less than C, and no one may have more than ten biscuits. How many biscuits does C have?
Luke gave his answer.
"Correct!" The lady took out two packets and handed it to Hershel, they were hot to the touch. "Be careful when eating, okay? Those just came out of our minature oven!"
Hershel handed Luke one of the packets, smiling. Luke opened his, closing his eyes when the heat of steam assaulted his face.
"We should probably sit down if you want to eat those, Luke," Hershel mentioned. When the coughing sensation began creeping up his throat, he took a swing of his water bottle. "Or maybe we should hurry to Angela's home. You can eat your biscuits there."
"Right, then, lead the way, Professor!"
Ledore estate
Hershel climbed the stairs with Luke hot on his heels, but stopping upon hearing a hoot. An owl landed on the railing with a letter in its mouth. Luke took it, read it over, then gave the owl a letter from his bag.
"Emmy's going to the hotel, she's got a guest with her."
Hershel nodded then continued upwards. The doors to the estate were lavishly decorated, a masterpiece in both carving and smithy, featuring flowers, vines, leaves and trees in many formations. At the top, however, the wood grew into a darker shade of pine, small, glittering gemstones adorned the doors, looking vaguely like stars in the southern hemisphere.
Hershel let out a nasal laugh, remembering the comment Alphonse had made that night those many years ago. He knocked on the door once.
It didn't take much time for it to open.
"Henry...?" Hershel spoke as loud as he could without forcefully coughing, the other man furrowed his brows, looking to Henry's left. "I have to admit I thought Angela would open the door."
"I... Hershel, come in." Henry didn't look at him, but stepped away to let Hershel and Luke in. He was still looking to his left, but his eye movement grew more erratic. "You've grown quiet, I hear."
Henry did the same thing as always whenever Hershel was part of a conversation - whether or not he was aware of it - and lowered his voice. When Henry shut the door, Hershel couldn't hear the outside world. He knew, logically, that neither Henry not Angela minded a lot of noise, and would not have anything against an unisolated house...
No, it couldn't have been for him, should he had ever arrived again. Henry was never too fond of him and Angela hated him at his departure.
"Please, sit, you two, I'll put on some tea."
Henry didn't wait for an answer, hurrying away past a corner or two.
Luke wasted no time in jumping onto a sofa, but on an end as opposed to on the middle. Luke rubbed his eyes, letting out a huff or two. Despite the time, it appeared his behaviour back in Misthallery still affected him. While Luke hadn't fainted or suddenly become unresponsive yet, he had also been mainly at home. If he had fallen, someone would have been able to care for him.
"Do you need sleep, my boy?" Hershel's voice almost echoed off the walls. Luke stopped rubbing eyes, catching the code. "No shame in admitting that."
"I don't think so, professor, just... a headache. Might not last long."
Henry returned with a salver filled by a tea set and ceramic cake stand. He placed down three cups, two empty and one filled, before continuing with the rest of the finer china. Hershel's cup was the one filled, and it was completely clear.
Henry sat down after pouring some tea for both Luke and himself. "Don't worry, Hershel, I made sure to include honey in your cup. Now, may I ask why you two are here?"
"Angela called us. She mentioned the Masked Gentleman." Luke nodded, only half-listening as he put three sugar cubes in his tea. Hershel tried not to wrinkle his nose, a gentleman never made rude comments of others' tea habits. "She mentioned how he has been creating these 'miracles' in public places, but told me to come for more information."
"I suppose she'd do that. She is a bit busy at the moment, though... " Henry looked into his tea. "... I never would have called you here, but I also have not looked over what has happened to anyone else over the years. If they're not in Monte D'or, they probably don't exist to me." Henry let his gaze wander to Luke, who was looking into the tea he held. "Although one does wonder sometimes about the more memorables' family."
"Oh, Luke's not my son." Hopefully, he never would be, either. "I'm only a godfather."
"I see."
The silence weighed on Hershel's mind, not filled by the usual sound of nature, Randall, or maids that he'd come to associate with Henry. He took in the living room, the yellow-coloured walls bearing a pattern of plants. The ceiling and floor were both dark, checkered similar to that of a checker board. A dusty piano stood in a corner, next to a large flowerbed, filled with bushes and plants of various kinds.
But nothing felt quite lived in. There were paintings and decorations, yes, but nothing like a smaller photo of the two of them or a handmade decoration. There were no misplaced personal objects or forgotten cup. Henry was utilitarian, but even he had to show some love to the people around him.
Eventually, with the same quiet as before, Henry spoke while gesturing to Luke, "is he alright?"
Luke hadn't moved from looking into the tea, completely still. His fingers twitched a bit, and his lips wordlessly moved. He blinked and breathed, as if nothing had changed. Yet he hadn't even reacted to Henry's words. Luke gently cupped his tea, moving in slow and sluggish movements, eyes shielded by his cap.
"He was just zoning out a bit, he's coming out of it now. Give him a second to catch up."
"Alright."
A silence filled the room once more as Luke slowly returned to the common world, growing quicker and more percise with his movements, until, finally:
"Professor, how did you two meet?" Luke put a hand on his chin in thought, for a second his eyes seemed to both glow blue and reflect the world like mirrors. "It just seems so... bizarre for you two to know each other. You have nothing in common, are clearly uncomfortable, haven't spoken in literal years, and yet you know each other very well. Henry knew to put honey in your tea, and has most likely strained your tea more than once. I just don't understand."
Henry was looking between Luke and Hershel, and it took the man a second to realise Henry had most likely seen Luke's eyes. To the common person, they'd think they hallucinated something so minor, but the saying did well in illustrating enough: if you knew, you knew.
"Would you like to know how we met, Luke? It actually includes a friend we both had..." Henry's eyes widened, understanding the meaning behind those words. "I can tell you if you'd like."
"Yes, please!" Luke's eyes filled with excitement.
"Well, it all started with a school trip I never went to..."