Chapter 2- Misthallery's Guardians

"P-professor! Look at that house!" Emmy cried. "It's been torn to pieces!"

Indeed, the pile of rubble and broken glass that had once been someone's home was a sad testament of the destructive power of…what exactly? They had no idea. But there was no denying that the destruction was very real. It was so senseless and absolute… and yet: the destruction was only limited to that area in rest of the town and the woods around the house seemed to be mostly fine at a glance.

"So…is this what Clark was warning us on his letter?" Layton mused, for there was not much he could do instead.

Emmy, on the other hand, took out a camera from her pocket and snapped a picture of the destruction.

"Emmy? Why did you-?"

"As your assistant, I have to keep a record of things, right?" she clicked another photo. "We need evidence to examine this case."

Smart. Hershel was starting to like her company more and more.

Then something among the pile of useless trash caught his eye.

"Emmy, what do you make out of that?"

The lass turned to see what he was talking about. On what had most likely been the door of the house, a strange carving was made. The mark was made to resemble something… though the exact word escaped her the moment she saw it. It was a crude carving of a being with four extremities, though not quite human. Judging from where the peephole and the remains of the doorknob were, the aforementioned being seemed to have been upside down. Though the handiwork was a bit too coarse to be completely certain. In fact, Emmy wouldn't have been surprised it wasn't even part of the original décor. She knelt down to see how deep the craving went…

"Don't touch the Witch's Mark, unless you want to end like that poor Brock!" a boisterous boy with bouncy curls giggled "By the way, I'm Brock. Nice to meet you and all that."

"The 'Witch's Mark'?" Emmy sat up and turned towards the boy that had come from seemingly nowhere.

"Witch's Mark, the Sigil of Destruction, Herald of Misfortune…it's all the same. Ironically enough, if turned right side up it's the exact opposite. Though I can hardly complain about being on the receiving end of it's power. After all: I used to complain about this dump all the time!" Then…the boy began to laugh. His reaction only startled the two visitors. "I guess I had it coming! Hahaha! Look at how ruined it is! Haha!"

"…Was this your home?" the professor asked, feeling quite self-conscious at how the victim of a catastrophe seemed to be taking the destruction of their house quite well, to say the least. "I'm truly sorry-"

"Haha! There's no need for you to feel bad for me! You can even laugh along! Hahaha!"

Emmy glanced at the professor sadly. Regardless of what the curly-haired Brock said, she couldn't quite bring herself to laugh along. In fact, she couldn't quite see how he could laugh with so much enthusiasm.

"Brock, are you scaring people again?" A plump woman with a rather motherly vibe called at the boy. She dragged a cart filled to the brim with all sorts of house appliances and clothes down the road. "You know that most people would think you're crazy if they saw you like that!"

"Oh, pipe down Jasmine! They are nicer than most outsiders!" Brock chortled. However he was kind enough to calm down his boisterous laugher. The Londoners couldn't help but feel quite grateful about Jasmine's intervention. "They are smart enough to not try to make me stop laughing: so they must be trustworthy."

"…Please forgive him," Jasmine wheezed as she turned her attention to the professor and Emmy. "He always takes things lightly, even when they happen to him."

"It's fine madam," Hershel Layton tipped his top hat. "If you don't mind my asking… are you moving?"

Jasmine seemed a bit reluctant to say, though after casting a long look at Brock (and the rather obvious cart she was dragging about), she came to a decision. "You could say so. I'm evacuating. Just for tonight, then I'll go back home…if it's still there."

"Is there an emergency?" Layton grew wary. Was it a natural disaster?

"The specter has been appearing and destroying the place!" Brock cried, a bit too cheerfully and one would expect "Not to mention that the Witch's Mark has been popping all around the place! Things are certainly not boring around Misthallery anymore!"

Jasmine sighed.

"The police told me to evacuate, so I did." The plump woman concluded firmly "If I may…"

With almost inhuman strength, she readied the cart and began walking down the cobble walkway without any sign of feeling the strain of such a heavy load.

"Madam? Would you like any assistance?" Emmy piped upon noticing that the cart contained things that one would normally not be moving around: like a refrigerator, the dishwasher and living room furniture.

"I'm fine!" Jasmine yelled back "Just do what you must and leave as soon as you can!"

Wordlessly, Layton took a few steps back and walked away from the ruined building. His assistant followed him closely.

Once she deemed that they were out of earshot, she asked him a question.

"Professor, what do you think is up with this whole specter business?"

"There is clearly something causing chaos in Misthallery. However, we should investigate further before drawing any conclusions."

"Right!" Emmy energetically agreed "Don't want to miss the forest for the trees, eh?"

"Hm…" Layton smiled slightly "I suppose that's one way of putting it."

As they walked on, the pair found themselves on the western side of the Grand Bridge District, which was more nature than building. In fact, only one building was there.

A white manor; two stories, a basement and an attic; its roof was lovely red brick. Isolated from the rest of the town by the woods surrounding it, the estate inspired reverence and tranquility that seemed almost ethereal. Hershel Layton knew that he was at his old friend's house before reading the mailbox in front of the house that had "Triton Estate" engraved on it. The home was exactly how Clark had described it to him, many years ago.

"So, this is Mr. Triton's house? Emmy smiled "It feels so nice and peaceful here!"

"The perfect place to raise a family, wouldn't you say?" Layton agreed with her. A melancholic smile seemed to cloud his features when he thought about his old friend. They had shared a similar formation at Gressenheller College, but it was plain to see that their lives had turned out quite different. He was a full-time professor and even had an assistant. Clark settled down with his old sweetheart and decided to make a family. However, he wasn't jealous of his friend. If anybody deserved a happy life, it was Clark. After dabbling in such thoughts for a few moments, he walked up to the house's porch.

Emmy was also smiling, but her smile was brighter and hopeful.

-oooooooo-

"You have visitors."

Clark Triton rose his head from the paperwork he was signing and carefully set the golden-nib quill he was using down on the inkwell.

"Visitors, you say?" Clark asked without rising from his seat.

"Yes." The old man before him said simply. "From outside, too. A certain Hershel Layton and a woman that was accompanying him but didn't introduce herself. They say that you summoned them there with a letter."

"Oh, now did I?" Without another word, Clark rose from his seat and walked towards the man before him. If he was surprised upon hearing his old university friend's name, he did not show it at all. In fact, Clark seemed to be perfectly calm about the news.

"It seems you have," the old man pushed back his glasses to the bridge of his nose. "Should I send them away?"

"No. Tell them to wait in the parlor. It's rude to not treat one's guests. Especially if they come from so far away…"

"As you wish." The butler left the study, not before giving an awkward little bow.

Clark waited, by the door, until he was certain that the butler was out of earshot. Then, Clark walked out of the study and down the hall. He stood before the familiar door he had seen closed for the past two weeks.

"Luke, a friend of mine just came to visit."

Nobody answered on the other side of the door.

"Do try your best to treat him well" Clark continued "Hershel Layton is a good man, as I've told you before. Remember what your mother used to say all the time about guests? 'Be not inhospitable to strangers'"

"… 'lest they be angels in disguise.'" The father heard Luke murmur on the other side of the door. It was as if he was reciting a prayer underneath his breath and accidentally spoke a bit louder than intended.

-oooooooo-

To say that the Triton parlor was fancy would have been an understatement. The room was decorated with all sorts of expensive-looking knickknacks (as confusing as that may sound). On the coffee table, a lovely vase of azure crystal held a bouquet of wheat-colored wild flowers.

Before either the professor or his assistant could take a closer look at the rest of the room, the door opened and a man with a tired expression and groomed beard stepped inside. As soon as he saw his guests, his eyes brightened up a bit.

"Hershel! How long has it been? And…who's that lady accompanying you?"

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Triton," Emmy offered her hand to the man as soon as she realized he was talking about her. "My name is Emmy Altava and I'm the professor's assistant. Please, call me Emmy."

Clark shook her hand and turned to his friend.

"An assistant? You seem to have made a name for yourself already!"

"Emmy was assigned to me today," Layton explained. "Either way, she has already proven herself to be m equal in several areas."

"Really?" Clark grinned. Though he had seemed tired, talking to his friend had an almost magical rejuvenating effect on him. He turned to the lass. "Emmy, Hershel and I met in university. Back in the day, we were had the same goal of becoming elite archeologists and making significant discoveries. So far, it seems that he's still going for that dream. I, on the other hand, have been elected mayor of this scenic little town. It's a full-time job, I'll give you that. But enough about that… I was told that you came here because of a letter that I sent you?"

"Yes. We were meaning to ask you about-"

"May I read it?"

The professor handed the mayor the letter, somewhat intrigued by why the sender of the letter would want to read it.

Clark's smile disappeared and was replaced with the tired expression he had when he walked into the parlor. However, he made no remark about it and handed it back to the professor.

For a moment, both Layton and Emmy were confused beyond relief. Whilst the latter could have assumed that Clark Triton was merely an odd individual, the former knew that he was not acting like he normally would.

"There are many legends handed down here in Misthallery," Clark sat down on the sofa and made a gesture for Layton and Emmy to seat in the opposite one. "The most popular and well-known of said legends is the one of Misthallery's specter. While the other legends also are important and in fact compliment the legend of the specter, they are not quite as prominent."

The guests sat down and listened attentively.

Clark sighed and began to recite.

"A long and harsh war had just ended and Misthallery had begun to show signs of prosperity and peace. However, because of this a pack of bandits arrived to attack the town and plunder it. Before they could set foot on it, the sound of a flute was heard all around the town and the player was nowhere to be seen. While the bandits were surprised by the music, the fog thickened. A great monster appeared from the mist and defeated the invaders. Once the attack had been pushed back, the sound of the flute slowly stopped and the specter disappeared along with it. Since then, it is said that Misthallery is protected from all outside harm by the work of the flute player and the specter.

"Every time someone tried to conquer the town, the mist would blind them, the canals would slow them and even if that failed the specter would definitely push them back. However, the power of the specter was made only to protect the city. If the flute player were to summon the specter for impure reasons, most obviously to conquer other towns, it is said that the specter will destroy everything to rebuild the world anew."

"So, the specter is like a guardian of Misthallery?" Emmy asked.

"According to the legends, the specter is the most prominent guardian, though there are other beings who protect the town along with it. While the specter was a physical manifestation to protect the city, the other beings played a lesser yet still effective role: like they would sabotage the enemy with sickness as soon as they came or maybe make the weather conditions so unpleasant to be in that it would dissuade any invaders.

"However, the townspeople say that lately the guardians of Misthallery are revolting against us: people have been falling sick, yet doctors can't quite treat their illness; the canals froze during winter, something that is associated with great misfortune in another legend of Misthallery; and at night a giant appears out of nowhere to destroy our homes. Some say that it's the specter of the legend. I'm not so eager to believe that, myself.

"However, it's obvious that there is mischief afoot. I've tried calling people outside of Misthallery for help, but the telephone lines have been obstructed. People who tried to leave the town to relay messages were inconvenienced in all sorts of ways. All of the letters I've sent out of town were returned to my house, unopened."

"But the letter that you sent to me," Layton pointed out "It arrived just fine!"

Clark stroke his beard and sighed.

"I didn't send you that letter. I prefer writing my letters by hand: you know that. Though I wonder how the person who sent it managed to get it delivered without being returned…"

"Have you made any enemies lately?" The professor asked.

His friend replied with a bitter and forced chuckle.

"More than you'd think. I wouldn't be surprised if some of the townspeople told you that I'm the reason everything seems to be going wrong."

"Why would that be, Mr. Triton?" Emmy spoke up.

"On the day I was declared the winner of the election…well, suffice it to say that one of my contenders was less than satisfied. Not only because he lost, but because he has an idea that anybody that wasn't either born or raised in Misthallery is worthy enough to manage it."

"Oh… well this is a small town, isn't it?" Emmy commented. "It's normal for small communities to be more conservative, right?"

"Yes, I guess." Clark said noncommittally.

Noting his friend's odd behavior when talking about the election and his responsibilities, Layton tried a change of subject.

"By the way Clark, how are Brenda and Luke? They are not accompanying us today…?"

The question, though well meant, brought a pained grimace to the mayor. However, he was quick enough to dispel it.

"My wife is… away, taking care of family matters. Luke, on the other hand, has been inside his room since this whole disaster began…"

"Really? That's unusual," the professor's gentle smile fell a bit "I was under the impression that he was a very lively and happy boy form the letters that you used to send me"

"It's all my fault…" Clark mumbled.

"What did you say?" Emmy asked.

"Nothing," the mayor quickly replied "Though now that you are here, I suppose that we can finally work together to fix this mess and-"

"Master."

Clark gave the butler an annoyed look. Despite that the old man had shyly interrupted him, he was not intimidated by the glare he was receiving.

"I know that you must be so excited to see your university friend and his delightful company, but there are many preparations to take care of before the celebration of your first year anniversary as mayor of Misthallery. Surely, you remember how unpleasant it was when you took office, almost one year ago? I'm certain you wouldn't want that happening again."

"…"Clark closed his eyes shut and, as if he was taking a long sip of bitter medicine, he reluctantly said: "You're right. We are running out of time. Hershel, this is not how I would like things to go but…if you could…?"

"Of course I will investigate the matter. You must be very busy, so I'll try to help in any way I can to lighten your burden."

"Thank you…" The bearded man seemed reluctant to entrust the duty to his friend, but seemed unable to think of any other arrangement. "Also, if you need to stay overnight you can use the guest room here…or go to the hotel. Do as you please: my house is open for you, my friend."

"Thank you for your hospitality, Clark." The professor smiled gently at his friend. "Say, may I go see Luke? I haven't seen him since he was a baby…"

"…If you must," Clark uneasily stroked his beard "I'll warn you, though: he might not answer the door nor let you into his room."

"Duly noted. Let's go, Emmy."

-oooooooo-

Luke laid on his bed, his eyes open and his mind restless. He had tried to take a nap, like Doland had kindly suggested to him when Luke mentioned that his head had been hurting to a while. Unfortunately, even though he was tired and hadn't really been sleeping very well, he could not quite bring himself to fall fast asleep and just forget about the world outside his window for just a few hours.

How unfortunate…

But now there was no more time to try to rest: he had to take action. The window of opportunity to save Misthallery was drawing near. Knowing what was on stake, it would preferable for him not to miss the chance.

With this little thought of encouragement, the boy got up form bed and walked over to his door.

He set his hand on the doorknob and listened.

His excitement was only shadowed by his exhaustion.