A/N: Hello everybody! Haven't seen me in a while, huh? :'D Well, this is a new story I'm starting, I'm really excited about it, and I figured after my LaL story… incident I needed to post something new. Besides, I'm on a fking art block. FFFFFF.

Short prologue is short. R&R- I should have more chapters up soon! Things will make more sense as the next chapter comes up.

I do not own Layton. I WISH I did, but I don't. Sniff.


"This is pathetic, I tell you. They expect us to do this shit,"

"Literally."

"…Yeah. This sucks."

"Minimum wage, man. Minimum."

A greased, sweat coated man wiped away at the moisture on his forehead, then proceeded to continue digging half-heartedly. His companion, years younger than him, dug adamantly at his portion of manure. The air reeked of farm animal, a stench that would not douse easily or be forgotten. Dusk was setting in as visibility levels slowly dropped. Dropstone was not a bright town- the stars were prominent, but they would not provide the light the diggers required.

"When was the last time this place was cleaned out?" One worker asked, stepping awkwardly over the filth.

"Damn." The other replied, swatting flies away from his face. "From the looks of it, years."

The elder worker shoved his shovel into the manure, leaning against it to support his weight. "And now they decide to clean it out?"

"There was no need before. Now there's regulations and health laws and all that junk. We just happen to be the unlucky souls who get the job. Y'know, if you shut up and got work done old man, maybe we could actually get this done in time."

The other grumbled, stepping on his shovel and pushing it as hard as he could into the earth, then was abruptly stopped as his shovel hit a harder surface.

"Some hard shit down there," He said under his breath, nearly falling over. He pulled his shovel out ever so slightly, then thrust it back down, hearing a knocking noise and feeling a similar barrier.

"Hey," He said, fatigue slowly fading away. The other looked up, a disinterested expression spread across his face.

"Gonna complain some more?"

"Naw, c'mere." He beckoned him over with his hand, fingers flexing. The other rolled his eyes in annoyance and dragged his shovel over to the older man.

"There's something hard down there." He said, finger waggling at the pile of manure. "Help me dig it up." The other wasn't falling for doing extra work and shook his head.

"This is your side- that one's mine."

"I know that, blimey. Listen." He thwonked the hard item again and the other's ear's perked.

"There really is something down there."

"Buried treasure, maybe?"

"I doubt it."

The two began digging, giant portions of manure piling themselves in a different locations from the frantic flinging of the flith. After several minutes the two had finally come across several more knicks, and after tearing the dirt away with their own hands they stood up in astonishment.

"B-bloody hell…"

Pieced before them, withered with age and dirt, was a human skeleton.