"One, two, three, four!"

Tag was the game, and the two children, on the nice wide landscape near the Loud family estate, were up and playing much to their hearts content. It was Lincoln Loud who was counting behind a tree. He, being a tidy, clean-cut boy with a very unique set of white hair which anyone can debate over if it was a good thing or a bad thing, was the only son to two rich parents, Lynn Loud, who had theatre ownership of the whole estate, and Rita Loud, once McElroy, who had married into the rich family.

Lincoln wasn't just the only son of the family, but he was the only child altogether. He hadn't been too lonely, with all the butlers and kids providing him a healthy childhood, as healthy as it could be.

And then there was the other girl, his friend by the name of Christina McAlister, a local redhead who lived in the small town of Royal Acres just down the many steeps hills from the estate. She was still quite the cute girl Lincoln thought she was when they first met. That was many months ago, but no one was really counting. Her hair was curled up quite lovely, presentable and formal-like, one could say, meanwhile her attire, an elegant blue dress that fluttered about in the wind, was the perfect attire she had loved.

"Five, six, seven, eight!"

Here she was, trying to find a good hiding spot as he, her secret crush, kept counting away. She wandered away into the nearby forest, and crouched within a bush. He had become faint, not being able to be hear now. A good sign for Christina as she giggled in amusement. He'd never find her there, was what she was thinking aloud. She didn't see the slithering snake swoop in from behind, but hsd heard the faint rustling where it was moving.

"Linky?" He couldn't have already found her, so she was rendered astonished that he had. She carefully turned around. "Looks like you caught-"

The snake rose up and met her on head-level, opening its mouth and hissing away a hostile greeting. Sensing worse from the animal, Christina let out a shriek at the top of her lungs, and, once falling right on her ass, she began crawling away backwards frantically, exiting the forest. "Lincoln!"

The short white-haired lad was met with a worrisome welcome into his arms when he found her behaving erratically. "There's a a-snake!"

"A snake?" He repeated back, looking over the rest of the forest. "It's where they live, silly," he laughed to himself.

"H-hey, that is not funny!" Christina had let go of him, pointing a finger to make a point. Literally. "I'll gave you know I could have died back there!"

"Oh, you are so dramatic!" The boy further joked, sprinting away from her once she began giving chase.

"Curse you, Lincoln Loud! Come here, you!" She yelled behind him, as they ran back toward the estate.

The place was rather busy now. No kids running around outside, but in their place were a bunch or workers around the mansion, remodeling the rooms, renovating the structure, and replacing or upgrading a variety of things, from the chandeliers to golden door knobs. All the finest the new Lord had to have, offered in this new generation.

He was Lincoln Loud, now in his early twenties. The young lord of the estate still dressed the same, and kept his trademark look of short hair and freshly shaven, having never let it outgrow so that he could always be looking exquisite here, there, and everywhere, awake or asleep. The young man was wearing a black waistcoat and some brown trousers, part of the look that scramed, "I'm business fancy!" to the town of Royal Acres.

He looked over the mansion from the outside, watching it undergo heavy construction. The mansion itself, a huge part of the Loud estate, was not as big from the inside, but it sure as heck was a wide place to live in. The mansion was of a rectangular, two-floor variety made of red brick. An assortment of windows decorated the mansion only, for there was nothing really worth calling unique or artsy on the outside. It was dull, with a dull roof and a chimney on one end, but that was fine by Lincoln's standards.

On the inside, things were of a different spectacle; the floor was made up of ceramic tiles, which Lincoln believed best suited this big place. Next were not one, but two sets of chandeliers that were plainly white and older than he was, hence the change-up into a lively pair of new orange ones. These were located right at the entrance, coming in, and the second one was hovering over the kitchen table.

From the entrance, a wide set of marble stairs led up to the second floor. The higher floor had two wooden doors with a window right on them, placed on the far ends near the side walls. Below on the main floor, it was the same case as well. From below, the two white doors led to a depressingly sad orange color that had a red carpet that ran all the way to the end. In between the hall were just a bunch of storage closets, mostly filled with equipment and such.

That was where the dining hall was, and it was surely a big one. Entering it, you'd see a long table made of spruce wood in its entirety, but wasn't perfectly symmetrical, considering it was carved all unevenly. Looking past the table was the complete layout of the kitchen, lined up with the stove, the sink, cupboards, etc. Three long oval-shaped windows were the only windows of in the dining hall, and if Lincoln would eat from the direction forward, he could see the landscape of places he hadn't been in since long ago. The fireplace was built to the left hand side, with a charcoal dark mark left around where the wood would be. Too many Christmases had been endured for it.

From the second floor, the hall above was filled with eleven rooms, five on each side, and the last one, being his, was the biggest one in the whole mansion. The place was enough to fill ten families, if he had ten other siblings.

"Mr. Loud, I do so kindly insist that you take leave for a couple of days," one of the workers had suggested to him. "Might I recommend the McAlister family inn?"

"The one at the far end of town?" Lincoln asked. "That's the only one there is, right?"

"Yes, sir! The Antonuccis are set to take towards the east, and the Johnsons are struggling to fix their own place after that heavy storm knocked over their tree just two weeks ago. Their little girl was terribly injured, from what I heard."

"Oh? I sure hope she'll be okay," Lincoln prayed. "God is a Merciful Lord and Savior, I'm sure He'll watch over little Agnes Johnson."

"He shall indeed do so! Without the Lord, where does our faith go to?" The worker, a young lad with dark work trousers and a green vest, then went away once he felt his break had been wrapped up.

"Thank you sonny, I might just take a leave after all," Lincoln finished. All the rooms, including his own, were the rooms that were under heavy maintenance, apart from the kitchen and the house entrance. He was strictly booming to make sure they did not break anything around his room when they moved the stuff. His bed, dusty knick-knacks and trinkets of all sorts, and even a painting of Mona Lisa, the real one, had hung on his room, making it lively as much as he could.

They'd be left back at the place as he had already packet clothes into two separate briefcases. A carriage manned by two horses was set to collect the young man of the mansion away to settle in a smaller abode until the renovations had finished. That could have been days, maybe weeks, or even up to months. No matter, for he had the time and money to wait for the finalization of the upgraded mansion.

He got into the carriage, setting the luggage at his feet. The carriage's driver, an elderly man with a top hat, sat firmly on the outer end of the naturally-powered vehicle, and whipped at the two horses tied to the carriage to get them mobile again. "Yah!"

Off they went, leaving the Loud estate, and Lincoln could only watch the mansion go out of view, with the multiple workers he had hired about scrambled all over the place. He pressed a hand on the window, saying his temporary farewell in the meantime. It felt weird to him, having never really been away from the mansion for an overextended period of time before. Even the vacations with his family would often take less than a week, never really going too far from home. Strangely... Off-putting.

The horses pulled the carriage through a narrow dirt road, passing through the side of a forest. Lincoln turned his attention to the treelines, having faint memories of being in such a place when he was young. He'd often go wandering into the forest mainly to resupply on wood to keep himself warm and toasty, as well as to supply fuel source to the stove. Being rich did not mean that he was having the whole world to his life biddings. Something as simple as even sweeping the floors was simple enough to get to do by himself, despite his own parents having more than enough manpower to get someone else to do it. But it was in his childhood when this was practiced, and now that Lincoln had been named Lord of the Manor, due to his parents having died from a plague, may God rest their souls, he changed things up, more or less.

He changed things up, but had not started to fully shift what had already been established by mother and father. They had died just a few months ago, but Lincoln had been done with the grieving and mourning, lust with a degree of the power and riches at his disposal.

One of the final chats he and his parents had shared was about marriage; Lincoln was to find a wife, a great woman so that the Loud bloodline never die out. Of course, this was bound to happen in his life, but Lynn Loud, who was losing his hair at the time, had urged Lincoln to do so before they got too old or developed a form of sickness, so that they can approve and accept, or deny, she whom he had chosen to wed. It was more of a forced thing that was founded on keeping the Loud name to never be desecrated or soiled by reputation.

Here was Lincoln, who had failed that simple task to court a fair lass from town before their time was up. He felt sorry for that reason alone, but now that they were gone... He felt a little free from keeping up the charade of playing the role. And yet... And yet, on some degree of reasoning, he knew they were right in general. He could not hold off searching for a lover forever. It would come down to that.

Another problem was that he had not enough knowledge in that aspect. It was always studying, learning to be formally civilized and the whats-its on how his life was to be like. Yes, he had come to know what crushes and faint love interests were in between then and now. Never allowed to have that at all, not in the age he had been when they formulated as butterflies inside of him.

Hopefully, he'd get it right the first damn time it would happen. Little did he know that the first time would change everything.

He had only packed four sets of clothes, and nothing more to pass the time. Perhaps he could end up being occupied around town, spending more time with the good old townspeople of Royal Acres. He would go down there often, to buy fresh food and sometimes new tools when it called for it. He was well-known by the majority of the townsfolk, despite him not knowing every single resident of the small town.

The origin of how the Loud family had come to be rich was simple enough; on Lynn Loud's side of the family, one of the family members, an explorer, had inadvertently stumbled across what was believed to be a cave. Being a fearless man, that particular relative had a Gatling gun readied when he and his crew had ventured inside, only to find that the cave was actually a gold mine. Signs of several missing miners were apparent, but that remained a mystery to this day.

Five family trees had gotten rich from the gold trade since that faithful day, and Lincoln had the armed explorers to thank for that. He had them to thank for the good life had. A good life that would come across a series of obsessive occurrences.

The small town of Royal Acres had yet to expand out, but it was a fairly good size as it was. Why, the town had a radius of two miles all around. The layout of town had the stores and shops centered further into the center, a crowded populace where every single one of the townsfolk corssed and scattered all around, coming to buy goods they needed, while carriages moving about were being blocked to a halt. This was daily life for them in the center of town.

Meanwhile, in the outer layer of Royal Acres, the houses of many shapes and sizes had belonged there. Housewives attended to their young as their husbands would do the regular chores and errands that needed attending. The reason the houses were further away from the center was so the cattle that farmers had would be able to move around more freely in the vacant grassy fields of the endless earth. Pigs, cows, and chickens have had their own homes in with the people who tended to them daily.

The far end of town where Lincoln was going to happened to be just south, where the McAlister place was located. The McAlister abode was a small one that didn't look like an inn at first glance; being a simple house fully made of wood, Lincoln thought they were in the incorrect place when they had stopped right outside it. "Why did we stop? Are- are we here?"

He got out, took his luggage, and inspected the inn. Surely this sturdy house could not have been the inn.

"You are here, young lord," the carriage driver informed him. "Be on your way, young lord."

Lincoln Loud walked up to the house and set his belongings on either side of the doorway and knocked. "Hello? Is this the McAlister Inn?"

It took seconds for a young woman, a redhead who was slightly more plump than that of his own body build, to open it up. A bell rang out at the top of the door as the woman did so. "Oh, I'm delighted to have a client-" Her eyes fully met the man. "Lincoln Loud, is that you?"

At first, he didn't recognize the fair plump redhead, but after studying her clothes, a long blue dress with some yellow flowers decorating it. It happened to be that same girl he had come to call a childhood friend in the early years of his life. Pity he forgot about her somewhere along time. "Oh, I remember you! You're... Christie, was it?"

Christina merely giggled at the failed attempt. "You're close, actually. It's Christina, but I am humbly charmed you've kept a place for me in your heart."

"Ah," Lincoln was utmost embarrassed to forget the name of such a pretty childhood friend. He rubbed the back of his head, letting out am awkward chuckle. "My apologies! It has been too long! Might I request we should catch up for ol' sakes?"

Christina lightly gasped, getting the feeling she was being asked out discreetly. Christina merely giggled and blushed. "I'd be ever so delighted to accept your request!"

They stared for some prolonged seconds, closely looking at one another in the way people would when reuniting with old acquaintances and friends. Then, Lincoln coughed intentionally and remembered why he was there to begin with. "Ah, I'm here for a room... Ms. McAlister," he inquired with a cheery chuckle.

"Oh, right. This way, if you will." Christina then began to lead him away from the living room, directing to the hall that became narrow past the living room, which itself was shaped like a frontal rectangle. She passed by two rooms on either sides of the hall, but stopped at the second pair of rooms before they could reach the end of the hall. Ahead was a third pair of them, followed by the end of the hallway. Surely that led to the kitchen.

Christina opened her arms, motioning to both of them. "These two happen to be vacant," she informed him. "Which one would you like?"

Lincoln chose the room on the left, and Christina showed him his current quarters. "My only regret is that I have not tidied up the room, should I have known we'd have a nearly full house this week."

Lincoln examined the room. He had access to a king-sized bed, faced on the right side of the room, with a flower-centric cover, and a light-blue pillow resting flat over it. There was also a nice black coffee table to one side of the bed, and a nightstand with a purple lamp standing proudly on it. At the opposite end of where he stood, was a window with nice lavender curtains hanging about. There was also a short drawer on the left side, facing against the bed.

He didn't know what Christina meant by tidying up until he set his two briefcases down near the nightstand. He noticed that it was covered highly with dust when seeing it closer now. "Oh," he simply replied. "We can't have that now, can we?"

"No, we cannot," Christina answered with a bit of shame detected. "I will have this cleaned up in a jiffy-"

"Oh, no need," Lincoln decided. "I can clean up the dust easily. Um, where are the rags, if I may?"

"I'll go fetch some right now," Christina notified, heading away from the room. Lincoln took the time to check out the dresser. The thing had four separate drawers, all empty when he pulled on them. Then, he began to load his clothes into the two top drawers, and then set his briefcases on top of the dresser.

Christina returned when he had finished, carrying a bucket with a couple of wet rags. "Here you are!" She set it down near the bed. "If you'll excuse me, I must attend to my culinary duties for my other clients."

"But of course," Lincoln faced her with a firm position. "Thank you for your hospitality, Christina."

She admired not only the formality she sensed from him, but his good nature, which also meant the manners he displayed. Just like the good old days, Lincoln Loud, the man from a wealthy family, was still the kind-hearted, but mature man she could still remember fondly. Still the man she found attractive, before she moved away for a long while. She brought herself to smile greatly at his gratitude, and said nothing afterwards, taking the exit to cook up the afternoon meals for the other four guests of the inn.

He wasn't that hungry, but there was no need to rudely turn down the offer if she would ask of him. Besides, maybe he would wind up accepting so that he could meet the other guests Christina had implied there were.

He wiped away the dust from the nightstand and the purple lamp alike with one of the towels from the bucket, and then checked around the rest of the room to see what else needed a dust-up. He did a cleanse on the dresser as well, wiping at the top and then working his way down to three of the four sides of it, from up to down.

The door had been left opened, as he didn't have a reason to close it, should Christina have stopped by to let him know that lunch had been done, whatever it was.

It came alright, but she first advised the other patrons, knocking on three rooms, and ending with Lincoln. "So, I've stewed up some clam chowder and baked some delicious cornbread, if you're hungry. I was sure to make more of each this time, if you are... Hungry." Neither of them had even felt that Christina herself was already being beguiled by some butterflies. She wasn't just looking right at Lincoln, her eyes scattering also to the floor, but shifting about in a purely girly way.

"Oh, thank you," Lincoln expressed further gratitude. "I'll be right there."

After Christina had left a second time, Lincoln sat on the bed, testing the level of comfort it displayed. It felt fine, but he laid in it completely, turning from side to side. Now, he wanted to test it in his underwear, a real uncommon habit among his many others.

He got up to close the door, when an old fart had passed by.

Sir Grouse, who wore the same shit in the main show, save for the addition of a top hat and a cane, walked by in a grumpy manner. "Dagnabbit, if it isn't the rich boy from the Loud estate? What's a man like you doing in a low-end place such as this one?" Sir Grouse raised his cane and stuck in close to Lincoln's face. "You and your cursed family are nothing but abominations, sitting high and mighty in the big mansion up in the north!"

"Sir, please, there is no need for such hostility," Lincoln pleaded, raising his own hands against the cane.

"Grouse, stop chasing away my customers!" Christina yelled from the end of the hall. "Your chowder will get cold!"

The elder lowered his cane, but had still maintained his eyes to be locked onto Lincoln, narrowing them with a vulgar sense of hatred. Then, he stripped off, mumbling gibberish as he disappeared into the dining room/kitchen. "Damn young rich snobs..."

Lincoln wasn't exactly scared, for he had come to know and take on some aggressive people of all sorts who had the same reason for despising him; he was born of a wealthy family, but that had never gone as far as to have murder attempts on his life. And neither that with his parents, for they had indeed lived far from Royal Acres, and it would basically have cost people too much to rent or buy a horse, and travel alone just to even cause damage to the mansion. There was more people who had some degree of respect for the family, over the amount who would antagonize the Loud name. Lincoln turned it around due to his different nature that strayed away from that of his parents; he simply wasn't greedy to the heart.

He just shrugged it off as quickly as it happened, and stepped back into the room, when someone else from down the hall had exited their room.

It was a pretty woman, and by the look of it, she was not at all from around here. Stella Cheng was of a foreign nationality, and had a plain tan-white dress that made her near lifeless with the color scheme. Either she was color blind or had the good clothes due for a good wash. Either way, she looked fairly fine. Her long hair reached down and past her slim shoulders, her skin was of a tan Lincoln had never seen before, making her even more unique in his eyes, and then there was the perfect smile she formed when meeting his gaze. It was heavenly, a type of angelic smile that he had never grown to know before.

It got to him, and made his heart beat right out of his chest. The woman was too pretty to wander among the heathens of Royal Acres, and somehow she did just that. "Hello," Stella greeted him warmly. "I take it you are a new one."

"You would be correct," Lincoln laughed, extending his hand out. "Hi, I'm Lincoln. Lincoln Loud."

Stella took and shook the nice man's hand. "Stella. Stella Cheng. And I know who you are."

"Cheng? Isn't that Chinese?" Lincoln wondered, not detecting an accent from her.

"Now you would be correct," Stella flipped on him. "I was born here, if you're wondering why I don't have an accent."

Stella kept moving to the kitchen, and Lincoln, still mesmerized by the pretty lady, finally followed along. If only someone could tell him how goofy he was at the moment.

They seated themselves at a long rectangular table, which was less long that the one in Lincoln's mansion. It was enough to seat eight people. Sir Grouse had taken his seat at one end of the table, eating his serving of chowder and cornbread viciously away, with his eyes never looking up at Lincoln again.

The white-haired wealthy man had sat down in the middle, and Stella arranged to be seated across from him, patiently waiting for their servings. Lincoln continued from where he left off. "Were your parents born here, too?" He didn't know it, but he had a hunch that she was pretty much kind, kind enough to be open about such things. If it were the case, he would return the notion.

"No, they are immigrants," Stella answered quickly. "They were travelers who settled around the southeastern area for awhile, worked their way up to Michigan. I was born before coming here, but..." She paused, and her expression shifted into a gloomy one. "My mom died of an illness when I was nine and got here in Royal Acres, and my dad stopped wanting to keep traveling upwards. I couldn't blame him, so we remained here thereafter."

Lincoln drew silence from her backstory. "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. It must have been awful for you." He couldn't relate, for both of his parents had died after his own childhood ended.

"I would say my dear old dad was hit the hardest with the tragedy," Stella continued. "But he ended up raising me all by himself, and for that, he is a strong man I'm proud to call my father."

Lincoln nodded once, still following along. "He sounds like a tough father, all in good tidings." Hmmm, many times coming around Royal Acres, and he had never seen her before, which begged the question. "You've lived here since you were nine, huh? How come I've never see you before?"

"Oh, maybe you've never seen me, but I've seen you buying some meat from Chunk's Meat and Greet shop often. I'm usually helping my dad out, he's had an accident that rendered him immobile."

"Oh? And what brings you here?"

"He has persuaded me to- Ha, get this- He's hired a maid named Lynn Dole to take care of him for awhile, and tells me to take a vacation or something. I feel like I should remain around just in case."

"Ah, it sounds like one that you might be deserving of, if you have taken care of him over the years, however many," he agreed.

Christina, having listened in, placed two white teacups, and served up some herbal tea. "I see that you two are getting along well," she cut in, pouring away from the teapot in her hand. "No need for me to establish an introduction between you two. Here you are."

Lincoln took a sip of the tea right away, not waiting for it to cool down a little. His tongue burned, but he held it from making it obvious. "Mmmm... Thank you."

"My pleasure," Christina said charmingly. "If you would like more, need just ask."

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

"Yeah, thanks Ms. McAlister," Stella added in.

"You are welcome!" Christina returned to the kitchen on the right, a smaller area than that of the dining hall. She set the teapot back on the stove, and then began to serve her own platter of clam chowder, and then seated to Lincoln's right. "I hope I'm not intruding."

"Not at all," Stella assured. "I was just telling Lincoln about how I came to stay here, even though I could have simply traveled to any place I dream of going."

"I hear the northwest is great to visit," Christina chimed in. "If you're still thinking..."

"Well, I do have a place in mind, but as I've mentioned before, I must remain around in case there's an emergency. Uh, not that I don't trust personal assistants." And then she laughed, followed by Lincoln and Christina.

"I've had many butlers and such growing up, but never a caretaker as such," Lincoln said as he took a spoonful of the chowder.

"I don't know if I should be surprised or not," Stella thought. "This particular young maid my father has hired strikes me as an unjust tomboy with a somewhat hyperactive tendency. I sense it to be troublesome, but hey, if she does a great job, then I'd have wrongly thought ill of her."

"It is a strong opinion to have of a stranger," Lincoln decided. "Might as well give the lass a chance."

Stella sipped a spoonful of the chowder gently, before continuing. "Perhaps so, but I'm still sticking around, and what I say and believe is final."

"Well, in any case, it is a turn of events that proves to be beneficial for us. Why, if not for that, you would not be here, would you have?" Lincoln brought upon another godly smile that formed from Stella's lips.

Christina only caught a whiff of something faint between the two. Lincoln and Stella were hitting it off rather quickly, much to her surprise. She enjoyed the idea of the two socializing as they were now, but there was an odd thing that she found herself disliking about. And she could not exactly put her finger on it, but it started as Lincoln and Stella were enjoying their conversation, each other's company also. No, mainly. They were mainly comfortable each other at this point, and it had made her tick under the surface, but it was an irrational thing, so she shrugged it off as nothing reasonably serious. And that was what she thought at first.

"I suppose you're right," Stella seconded. "I've never had clam chowder before, and it's really good! You are a great cook, Ms. McAlister."

"Why, thank you! And please, you may address me as Christina."

"Ms. McAlister was your mother's name," Lincoln mentioned. "Now it feels rather strange that it is your name now, Christina."

Stella raised an eyebrow, and then studied them both when they gave each other looks. When Lincoln returned his face back to her, he figured there might be some missing context that would leave her out.

"Oh, where are my manners?" He addressed the missing info that had her stop momentarily. "Christiba here just so happens to be an old childhood friend, whom I have not seem in years."

"Oh? Well, I rather say that the world is not a big world. What's the story?" Stella had a keen interest in hearing the life stories of people for the sake of learning much about them. She was a woman who loved to hear, slightly more than she would enjoy sharing her own. Beyond the basic level, she secretly felt that she didn't have enough life stories, and those she had involved recounting the tragedy of losing a parent. While she was willing to share that fact, she would do so if she knew, sometimes felt, the person she'd tell would do an equal exchange of sharing.

"Well-" Lincoln began, but was then interrupted by Christina, who felt more fitting to be the one to venture into their mutual backstory.

"Well, I'm sure you are made aware of Lincoln's lineage, as the whole town does."

Stella gave a firm nod. "Indubitably."

"Weve met through our parents. My father was a carpenter, you see, and a damn good one at that. He built a shed for them out back, despite-" She let out a laugh, one that sounded more forced than a willing one. "-They had more than enough room to keep tools indoors."

"I see..." Stella commented. "Go on."

"Around the time, I showed some interest in following in my father's footsteps, so I'd follow him to see him at work after school would end. Came to the Loud mansion, met Lincoln for the first time."

The white-haired man hadn't the foggiest of memories to remember how exactly it went when they first met, or how it had happened, but if she did, it must've been so. He dare not question it.

"Aww, that is just admirable of you," Stella complimented. "To wish to be just like your father."

"Well, he said that it was not very ladylike, and that it would be a pipe dream in due time."

No one said anything this time.

"Running this inn has been my job here, ever since coming back from upstate. Now..." She swallowed a spooful of the chowder before it got too cold. "The reason I left was because..."

She paused, but her voice had changed to a lower, serious tone at the last second, which implied a sort of heavy reason behind Christina and family moving away. Lincoln had never come to know, for he had always believed that there was a good reason for it. Now he was getting the details behind it.

"My father, he umm... There was an-" Her voice broke indefinitely, hands extracting from her bowl. "-Accident. We left for awhile, but came back a few years ago."

Lincoln was quick to know when and how to show support. He let go of the spoon and sat motionless. "Oh, my sincere condolences."

Stella drew her hands and placed them over Christina's. "I know how you've must have felt, Christina," she whispered softly. "I'm ever so sorry."

Sir Grouse scoffed rudely as he continued to eat, but no one paid attention to him.

"T-thank you," the redhead woman returned back. "Really."

"Hey, the annual Wickers festival is tonight!" Stella then remembered.

"Oh, is that tonight? Ah, I had no idea! I love those!" Lincoln showed off his inner enthusiasm for the aforementioned festival. "The pumpkin pies the Prescotts make are always the best!"

"And don't forget the Apple-bobbing contest!" Stella added. "I can still practically see Mr. Humphrey of the barbershop struggling to get an apple!"

"Ah, so the rumors are true!" Lincoln exclaimed.

"Oh, they are," Stella laughed. "Trust me, they are."

Christina had taken silence and listened to them continue delving into their quick transitioning platonic connection. But she had more of a relation with Lincoln than this girl whom he had just met, thanks to her. But, it was that they had more to talk about than meets the eye. Christina had never gone to any of the two Wickers festivals after she had taken over the McAlister inn, which had been her mother's position that supported them after the passing of her father.

Something inside was urging her to make plans with Lincoln, but she could not, for she had this place to run. Maybe if she knew they all were going...

"Are you coming to the festival tonight, Lincoln?" Stella asked eagerly.

"I might, yes," he thought. "Missed a few, so why not?"

Christina opened her mouth to say something, but then changed her mind.

"Swell! I shall be partaking in it as well," Stella confirmed. "I guess I'll see you tonight."

Something, maybe a lung, deflated from inside the redhead. So much for her own plans to catch up with the suave, kind-hearted man.

Stella finished the rest of her food and then wiped her mouth with a napkin, tapping it right on her lips. "The food was as good as its ever been, Christina! Thank you. Will I be seeing you at the festival as well?"

"Probably not," she answered, considering Sir Grouse had told her he would not be partaking in the festival.

"Oh, that is a shame..." Christina helplessly watched as Stella took her dirty bowl and teacup to the sink, and lightly left them there to be cleaned by the innkeeper. Before Stella left, she turned around one last time. "And don't worry about the dishes, I'll clean them up after I come back from my house. Can't be too sure with this Lynnette character."

Lincoln raised his own cup above his head, saying, "Do what you must! See you tonight!"

With Stella being out of the picture, Christina attempted a comeback. "Hey, Lincoln..." She drew a bit of nervousness when trying to suggest an idea that could not be obvious; she wanted him all to herself. "You remember that forest we used to play in back when we were kids?"

He gave it some thought, but then gradually shook his head. "Christy, it's literally been years since I've seen you, and while I do remember you, I don't remember the times we've shared... You'll have to forgive my memory for that, I'm afraid."

"Oh..." She was disappointed, and he sensed it as well. He coughed abruptly, and decided to lift her up again.

"But I do know which forest you're talking about. What of it?"

"You see, I was thinking-"

Sir Grouse was impatient with the innkeeper's dramatically awkward ordeal, so he went straight to the point. "For God's sake, Loud! She is asking you out on a picnic date to this forest she's talking about!"

Lincoln stuttered, and went a little red when he calculated it mentally. Christina pulled back and showed a degree of utmost embarrasment, gazing her eyes around her home-cooked food. "C-Christina? Is this true?"

Grouse slapped a hand to his face. "Are you blind?"

"Y-yes," the chubby redhead admitted, not making eye contact with him. "I would like to..."

"Why, I'd be delighted to take you on that offer! But..." Lincoln wholeheartedly let out a chuckle. "It is usually a gentleman's duty to ask the lady out, do you not know?"

"Erm, yes, well..." She just blushed, finally looking up at him. She wanted him to see and know that her eyes were telling him she wanted more than just a simple date with him. She thought she was making it clear to him when she was looking at him with a deep glittering glance. After they locked eyes in that eternity of a long but few amount of seconds, she brought herself to smile- And he returned the notion, which made her heart do some somersaults. It was a yes that was said with more than just words. Anymore staring and she'd probably faint, as well. "It... It's been on my mind since I first saw you again..."

"Oh? So, you've missed me that much, huh?" Lincoln thought she was being too cute. How could he not deny her a chance to reconcile a long-buried friendship? Maybe she had enough memories worthy enough to tell over their special day. "We'll set one up as soon as possible," he informed.

She liked the sound of things, and accepted that it would happen, regardless of when and where. She got up and decided that she had finished eating, despite not having eaten that much to begin with, and left her half-eaten bowl of the chowder at the counter, as well as her unfinished cornbread. The teacup remained on the table. "I'm gonna wake up the other guest," she told him.

"And tell him to keep his room clean!" Grouse began to complain. "I smell a very foul odor some parts of the night when I walk by!"

"I will let him know," Christina replied, and walked right out of the kitchen.

Grouse and Stella had taken the first pair of rooms at the inn, followed by Christina and the unknown guest Lincoln hadn't met yet taking the second pair of rooms. The one on the right was here, meaning the one on the left, which was next to Lincoln's, belonged to the other guest. Christina knocked at first, letting the guest know a second time that the afternoon supper was getting cold.

When the man didn't open, she went to the front and retrieved a chain of keys from a cup tucked away in the cabinets. With those, she rummaged through them and, once finding the aligning key to the room of the unknown guest, she went back and unlocked the room.

"Hello," she greeted the man lying in the bed, after closing and locking the door again. "Guess what? I found a new one..."

She casually walked up to the man and tugged his covers from him, only to reveal a disturbingly grotesque sight; it was a dried-up corpse that has reached paat its decomposition date. The whole skeleton visible within the dead skin had fused into it, making it a true mummy to behold.

"Well, it's not a new one," she spoke to it, as if the corpse were alive. "You remember Lincoln, right, father?" Christina sat on the bed, looking down at the thing. "He's decided to come down from his mansion, and this time fate has intertwined our paths, just like it has before!"

She brought her hands to her face and then wiggled her body around. "And he's just as cute and handsome as before!" She squeaked with content. "But... The Stella girl. I don't know why, but I should be concerned that he... He'll fall head over heels for her. I don't think that is fair, for I was there first in his life!"

The corpse just minded its own business.

"But no matter, I'll win him over. I'll win him over... Whatever it takes."


AN: Let's wind back to a century and establish a different iteration of the Loud family. A very different one, at that. This ongoing fic had come to me in the form of a dream, and I just knew I had to TLH that shit, ergo, this 1900s-set story. I was thinking as fast as I was writing, considered having aged-up girl Jordan over Stella, but it clicked when; Why not have the first girl Lincoln crushed on show-wise play mental chess against the current girl he has a crush on? I mean, I would love to give girl Jordan some love, too, but... This is final.

There are so many things that I brain spawn that can make great graphic and creepy content... If only I remember most of them. It just so happens I do have something I "didn't mean" to create that could work as a manga/anime. But I lack resources and social skills to get my Darko on. I guess I'll have to TLH that, too... Maybe.

This is my second fic I contribute for October, which was lost along the way for the recent Loan LOud fic, which is the third gift fic actually, but it was faster to write than this.

Anyways, this might be slow to update, but I'll be damn sure to boost when can and able too. Until next time.