Hello to all! I wasn't planning on making an author's note, but due to the fact that it's been more than one year since the last update to this story I figured that an exception was justified. Moreover, I got several anonymous reviewers that since I cannot respond to their messages directly, I decided to write here the answers. Feel free to skip forward for the chapter if you don't wish to read this. I'll go in chronological order:
James Birdsong- Thank you. I appreciate it.
Abrian- Hopefully this chapter will help you answer your question. The answer is, indeed, yes. But this goes into a bit more detail about the matter. Thank you for the encouragement. It was really uplifting and I'm sorry I was unable to answer to you before.
IAmBehindYou- I'm sorry I haven't updated in a long time. I hope that you will be willing to stay around for the rest of the story as I do plan on finishing it now that I've started. Also, the woman at the end of Chapter 4 (5th according to the site because it considered the Prologue as a chapter) is not exactly a character from the game, though technically she was a part of it… it is complicated, to say the least. I hope to elaborate further on the matter in the following chapters.
Guest- Thank you for your review! I'm glad that you like the suspense of the story, as that's the part that I need to balance the best. Keeping things still mysterious without being too mysterious, you know what I mean? I'm glad you like seeing the point of view this AU is going on with.
Chapter 5- The Town of Water
"Are you ready professor?" Emmy asked as she knocked on the door of the guest room right in front of hers.
"Just a moment, Emmy. I do believe that I found a puzzle underneath the bed and it's a perplexing one."
"A… puzzle underneath the bed?" the young woman opened the door, not quite believing what she had just heard.
Apparently, some kind (or devious) soul had left a sliding puzzle underneath the bed. The professor was now kneeling down, working furiously to solve it. How cute, Emmy found herself thinking. However, she was soon completely mesmerized at his quick and unwavering movements. For a long time, the only sound on the room was the gentle shuffling of wooden tiles as he moved the sliding blocks around. This was broken by a squeal of delight from the young lady and a cry of joy from the man when the professor managed to place the last part on place. After clapping at such a magnificent display of puzzle-solving skill, she then remembered what she was supposed to do before being distracted.
"Professor!" she exclaimed with sudden dread "It'll get late and the specter might appear and leave if we don't hurry!"
"It's all right, you will be able to see it." Luke Triton appeared behind her. To say that Emmy jumped to the ceiling in surprise was an understatement. As usual, she didn't hear his steps as he walked up to her. Rather, it was almost as if he had glided through the air like a ghost...Emmy immediately regretted thinking that. Luke, either with complete ill intent to scare her some more or too blissfully unaware of the effect he was having on her, kept on looking at her with his unnerving bright eyes. "I am going to accompany you."
Did this boy just… invite himself over?
"Luke, does your father know about this?" Emmy asked, a frown on her face.
The boy shook his head. "Don't worry. He's on his way back, so…"
"So what? You're going to ask him for permission?" The young woman asked as she placed her arms akimbo. Maybe Mr. Triton would be delighted to hear that Luke would step out of the house after such a long time, but Emmy really didn't like the thought of having the mayor's son stepping on their heels.
"That's a good idea," the Professor suddenly said as her train of thought was interrupted "if Clark allows it then we will love to have your company."
"P-Professor? Really?" Emmy asked.
"Of course. Luke's insights into the town might prove to be useful. Remember that it's thanks to him that we have a lead."
She remembered it. She just couldn't help but feel that everybody in Misthallery was trying to either trick then or lead them on…. the young boy that was referred to as the town's oracle above them all. But maybe it was hopeless to even try to avoid him. If Luke truly was that much of an oracle as their first meeting showed, then it was unlikely that were any blind spots for him.
"You don't have to believe," Luke said hurriedly. "Just follow what I say through and we'll all make it."
"For the love of-" Emmy interjected. "Do I have to repeat myself, Luke? Don't speak as if people already know what you're talking about. Express all of your ideas clearly if you want people to understand you."
The boy's bright eyes suddenly looked a lot more droopy and...sad. Like a puppy left in the rain. However, he nodded and in a very quiet voice said: "I'm sorry…I forgot I hadn't told you about it."
"You forgot?"
Luke crossed his arms and looked away. Without having those large eyes taking up all of their attention, both adults noticed that the boy had an ashen—almost gray— complexion. There were also bags underneath his eyes. He seemed to be very sick. Or at the very least, not as healthy as he should be.
"Luke, my boy…" the professor said "Are you feeling all right?"
The oracle moved his eyes up to look at the man. They were as bright and lively as before. As if that boy they had seen mere seconds ago was not the same Luke. He tilted his head. It was obvious that he didn't really understand the question he was asked.
"You seem to be sick. Are you sure you want to go outdoors?" The professor tried to explain himself.
Luke seemed to finally understand the question and straightened his head. Then… he let out a small smile. Layton recognized that smile. It was the same smile the boy's parents gave the archeologist when they showed him their newborn son. Soft, reassuring and –well- very tired. It felt wrong to see such a tired expression on a child's face. But Luke didn't speak nor communicate more than that.
"…Well, it seems that Luke's steadfast on coming. But we still have to ask Mr Tri—"
Emmy's sentence was interrupted by the sound of the heavy wooden door opening. Luke perked up and sprinted off towards the entrance. The two adults followed closely behind him.
"Dad!" Luke cried out to the bearded man that was just stepping through the threshold. "I'm going to go with Mr Layton and Miss Emmy!"
Emmy's guess was wrong. Luke didn't ask for permission. He simply said what he was going to do. Luke's father stared blankly at him. It looked like still hadn't registered what had just happened. But Emmy was sure that if she had to guess what the father was surely thinking, it was probably along the lines of: Luke? Going outside of the house out of his own volition? Just what is going on?
The boy cleared his throat and reworded his statement, in a more calmed voice: "I want to go with Mr. Layton and Emmy."
Now, he seemed to finally be able to react. Clark's eyes grew wide. But instead of a great grin of relief appearing on his face, a slight frown distorted the man's features. Not the kind of reaction either of the visitors were expecting. After all, it wouldn't be bad for Luke to go outside… right?
"But Luke, you're still—"
"I have to go with Mr. Layton and Emmy." Luke restated once more with the same tone. "Please, Dad."
The mayor sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, as if praying to some unseen force for serenity. Apparently, Clark's prayers were answered because when he opened his eyes he was no longer frowning. True, he wasn't exactly beaming with happiness, but he wasn't frowning. "If it's something that you must do, then I understand. Try to be home before sunset, I don't want you taking them to see the specter; it's too dangerous."
"Don't worry. We will be on its blind spots."
The father didn't seem particularly reassured, but he still sighed and nodded. As if he knew what Luke was going to say, but still had the ephemeral hope that it wouldn't happen.
Luke nodded back at him and opened the door of the house. Emmy followed behind the boy, but the professor stayed behind.
"…Clark, if you're not comfortable letting Luke go then we understand. Emmy and I… we think that he's sick—"
"Listen Hershel, if I had any choice I would take my son as far away from this godforsaken hole as possible and take him to the best hospital of London. I know that he's not well!" Clark suddenly snapped back at the man. Layton himself was startled at his reaction. Clark was normally one of the most laid-back and understanding men that he ever knew. He never lost his patience. At least, not during the time Hershel knew the man. But now, the mayor before the professor seemed completely different to the young man he once knew: stern, busy and constantly worried. A far cry from the prodigious and easy-going young man that no matter how busy things seemed to get he could always make some time for his friends and family in his life.
"Clark?" His old friend asked, trying to unravel the reason behind the other's outburst. Stress? Perhaps. But the magnitude of the problem had to be considerable. Something so unfathomable that just couldn't be expressed with clear words. Hershel wanted to have a grounded and honest talk with his friend, like they used to do when they were younger; about their hopes, dreams and frustrations. Yet… he wondered if the spirited young man he had talked to all those years ago was no longer there.
"…Forgive me." Clark said as he turned his eyes away from him and at the hallway. Perhaps he was looking at one of the few clocks that remained. Or maybe, he was looking at the unused nails that lined the walls. "Things have been… complicated here in Misthallery. As the mayor, I'm expected to fix everything. Do you have any idea of how it feels like, to have such responsibility when I can't even take care of my own son?"
"…No. I can't say I understand." He was a university professor, but his charges (if you wanted to consider young adults studying in university as such) were mostly able to look after themselves. Being the mayor of such a small rural town, Layton supposed, was almost as if you were the surrogate father of all the townspeople. However, even if he had no idea of what was going on, it was plain to see that his new profession wasn't good for the mayor's mental —and perhaps even physical— health.
They stood there for a few seconds, in silence. Tense, heavy silence, filled with the silent words that both friends wanted to exchange but could not, for some reason or other. They would have stayed there for several hours if it weren't for Emmy opening the door and asking if the professor was going to come or not. Hershel said yes and was about to step out of the Triton house before turning back to his friend.
"I'll see you later, Clark."
Clark looked at him. There was a glint on his eye, trying to communicate with his friend. Perhaps if they had had closer contact through the years Hershel would have been able to decipher it. But as it was now, the message was lost to him and it showed in Layton's expressionless face. Clark opened his mouth—and closed it. Then, he nodded at his friend.
Hershel Layton stepped out of the house, the wooden door creaking as it gently closed. However, just before the door was completely closed, the man could most certainly hear his friend whisper: "Take good care of Luke."
-oooooooo-
"Alright then, let's begin!" Emmy said as the hopped down two steps at the time from the entrance. "We first have to—"
Luke, who had been a little ways ahead of them, let out a small cry and suddenly broke into a dash.
Considering his friend's latest request to take care of Luke; the professor immediately ran after the boy to make sure that he didn't get into any danger. Alas even if he seemed to be sickly Luke was a deviously fast runner. The professor, while not out of shape, found himself pulling for air desperately to just try to keep him in his line of sight. Fortunately for them, Emmy herself was quite fit and she managed to run past the older man and shorten her distance to the young oracle.
She followed the boy into the woods. Chasing after the small blur of white and blue that was running amongst the trees like a stag. However, she soon found herself in a clearing.
"Luke? Where are you?" She called out.
Instead of getting an answer, she heard a soft mewl. The young lady spun around and saw a graceful cat looking up at her with yellow eyes. Even if it wasn't her target, Emmy still smiled. She knelt down, slowly, in hopes to pet the animal when… it turned and left. But it didn't quite dart away. It just walked a bit and turned to look back at her.
"What, do you want me to follow you? I'm sorry, but I have to find Luke." Emmy said. The cat mewled again, a bit more intently.
Sighing, the young woman followed the animal.
The cat led her to another clearing. In it, there was a young boy with a blue cap was looking up at a building that was in disarray. The young boy, being of course…
"Luke! There you are!" the young woman cried as she saw him and ran to him. Luke didn't seem to react until she took him by the shoulders roughly and shook him vigorously. "Why did you run away like that? You gave us a huge start!"
"…I'm sorry." The boy said. His eyes turned to the abandoned building once more.
Emmy looked at the building. Unlike her assumption, there were no 'claw' marks on the building that would indicate a 'specter attack'. There was just some good old weathering from the elements. It had moss growing on it, like every other building in Misthallery. But for some reason: instead of giving the impression of just being over the building like a thin layer of paint… it seemed as if the moss was slowly crushing and consuming it. Could it be compared to the way mushrooms grow on decayed trees?
"What do we have here?" asked the professor, who had finally managed to catch up with his two younger companions.
"This was a research lab," Luke answered. "They used to do experiments and observe native fish. But it has been abandoned since things went bad."
"Things went bad?" the man asked. "What does that mean, Luke?"
Luke rubbed his face, as if he were trying to keep himself awake or starting to come down with a terrible headache. But he still spoke.
"…Misthallery has been going through a lot." The boy with the blue cap said. "Before now, things were much worse."
"What?" Emmy was quick to react "What could be worse than the 'witch's mark' and 'specter destroying the place'—?"
"The canals were frozen for months. A-and people... were wasting away."
"W-wasting away…?" The man couldn't help but stutter as he thought about it. Why hadn't anybody noticed the dire state of Misthallery? There were no news reports, no rumors… absolutely nothing. Did nobody care about this small town?
"It was a plague." The child turned away from the building and looked up at the man in the eye. His face was calm, even as he said such dreadful truths. It was wrong. A child so young shouldn't be saying such things with such a calm— such an unfeeling face. "People who got it started having nightmares so horrible that they'd wake up without remembering a thing. These nightmares caused a feeling of dread and panic during their waking hours, without any exception. The next few days, they'd get a slight fever and start having 'nightmares' despite being awake. But, like the nightmares from before, they were unable to remember what the nightmares were about. After three days or so of this, they'd fall into a deep sleep. No matter what you did to them, they wouldn't wake up. As time went on, more and more people got sick and nobody could do a thing about it. Misthallery also got so cold, those that didn't fall sick with the strange plague usually got colds or even pneumonia instead. We were close to completely disappearing until the candle was lit."
"The candle was lit? What is that-"
Luke continued on, ignoring the question. "Since then, the last people to have fallen ill started to wake up and shared their experience of the sickness. Everybody said that they couldn't remember a thing. But… maybe it was better that way."
The professor cupped his chin. So, Misthallery was attacked by a strange disease that caused people to get nightmares and would eventually result in a coma. Not to mention, it got extremely cold that winter, which considering the humid environment must have been very uncomfortable. Also, the canals were frozen back then. All of these calamities were destroying the town, yet everything stopped after some candle was lit. Or at least, the more urgent problems the town had. Emmy was standing to his side, diligently taking notes. Even if she had been reluctant to accept everything that was told to her, she seemed at least convinced that there was some truth in it.
"Do you know what these people were having nightmares about, my boy?"
"...Misthallery. All of it: the people, their actions and all of the possibilities that could happen hanging upon every small action each person took. It was so much information, their minds wore out."
"Wait." Emmy scratched her chin with the cap of her pen. "If 'nobody remembers' what they were having nightmares about, how can you even know what they were dreaming about?"
"I believe the answer to that question is quite obvious, Emmy." Layton said, turning to his assistant with a quiet smile. Then, he turned to the boy. "Luke, my boy: did you get this strange illness?"
The young oracle bit his lip. He closed his eyes and remained like that for a minute. After that, he nodded. "I was the last one to get it. But unlike the rest of the townspeople, I could remember what the nightmares were about."
"So would it be too much of a stretch to deduce that your status as the town oracle and all the benefits of this 'candle being lit' are correlated?"
"I…" Luke pressed his closed eyes even tighter. Since he seemed so concentrated, neither adult decided to try to rush him. "I don't know anything about the candle, other that it's lit and working to cleanse the town. I can see through most of Misthallery, but not everything. There is a very thick fog surrounding the candle, I can't even see it's exact location. However, I can tell that it's somewhere in Highyard Hill."
"What do you mean by fo-?"
"Fog is used to conceal." Luke explained before the professor could finish his question. "All of Misthallery is foggy because nobody from the outside should see it clearly. It wouldn't bode well. Please… believe me. I can't say anymore. If I did, everything would shift out of order."
The boy squeezed his eyes further shut, muttering another please underneath his breath. He almost looked in pain as he did so.
Emmy glanced at Layton. Her eyes were asking: Isn't he such a weird boy?. He nodded. But tried to make his nod subtle enough to not offend his friend's son.
The professor cupped his chin and looked at the child. "My boy, if you can tell us about it: are you acquainted with the Barde family?"
Luke's eyes opened. They weren't anywhere nearly as bright as they had been back at the Triton Manor or just moments ago. However, they were still clear enough to distract from his ashen complexion. "…Yes. Everybody in Misthallery knows who the Bardes are."
"And who are they?"
"Just the most influential family in all of town. The generation before, they owned practically all the land the town is built on!" After that remark, the child looked away at a leaf that was stuck on the side of his shoe. "It was a really bad problem because lots of people had to pay them rent…"
"And why do you think that the inverted Barde family's sigil is used to indicate bad luck?"
"…I can't say." Whether the child meant that as not feeling comfortable talking about it, couldn't speak about it even if he would like to, or sincerely had no knowledge remained uncertain.
-oooooooo-
The city hall library was an unsettling place. Yes, it was well-lit. Yes, there were almost always people in it. And yes, anybody that hadn't been there personally would assume that it would probably feel like a peaceful place to be. But even so, entering that space always made a shiver run down his spine. It was probably one of the reasons why Clark Triton had avoided that place since being chosen as the mayor. Other reasons in the list might have been looking after Luke in his somewhat delicate state, not having enough time to come all the way out here amongst others he could make up when people asked for him to visit the city hall library.
However, now that Hershel Layton was in the town and had asked questions that Clark had forgotten to ask when things were happening, the mayor felt a second wind coming along. A thirst for knowledge that he had thought lost since he had last been to the dig site in Misthallery. He'll have to thank him later for that, once everything was fixed. Yes… everything was going to be fine. Luke might have grim predictions almost all the time, but there was always a slim chance of success. And as long as they remained in the range of that chance, it was good enough for the man.
Clark put on some latex gloves he had stashed away on a drawer inside the house. He opened the thousand-year old manuscripts with great care. The now-mayor was used to handling ancient artifacts thanks to his years as an archeology student and being Dr Schrader's assistant. He could remember that old man's glee when he told him that he'd be moving from London to join the archeology team that was set up in his father's old hometown. 'Misthallery is one of the oldest known cities in Britain!' the old short man had said with a glint in his eye 'Do they speak a dialect?'
As it turned out, they did. Or used to, until Evan Barde sought out to modernize the city and make it a shining beacon of modernity out in the idle countryside of the West Midlands. Being both the legal landowner of Misthallery and mayor for several elections, his actions resulted in the people of Misthallery now embracing English as the one and only language to be spoken.
Despite the abrupt change, all of Misthallery had been perfectly adapted, as if English had been the norm for centuries and not just twenty years at most.
And yet, the people didn't look back on Evan Barde with any sort of resentment. His death was met with much… respect. Not grief, just a polite sort of reaction that would be expected of an acquaintance of the deceased. There were no black bows, no half-mast flags. There was just a gentle quiet hum, akin to that of bees. Then came the reading of the will. And in the ensuing months…
Misthallery came close to being erased from the map with a quiet whimper. And it all started with an early snowfall, almost a year from now.
Clark had heard from Doland that early snowfalls were not seen as meteorological curiosities in Misthallery. They were omens of hardships. Clark had thought that to be natural in a rural setting where crops would die when struck by the sudden cold. But alas: if only this snowfall had only brought that sort of hardship and nothing else!
Clark scoured the tomes for the old dialect's word for oracle. He wasn't fluent, but he had the word written down on a notebook by his side to which he compared the letters on the tome to the word. He had to find it. Any sort of recorded evidence of an oracle in Misthallery. A reason as to why Luke seemed to know things yet have so little information about them.
The man turned another page and found series of detailed drawings with inscriptions. The first had the image of some kind of frozen land and people seeming to kneel down in prayer. The next, a celestial being of some sort appeared before the people. Was this some kind of religious text? Clark tried looking over the text for anything mentioning the oracle, but didn't see the word amongst the text. He did recognize the dialect's word for wick but without his notes on hand; it was going to be impossible to translate everything. He glanced at the drawings as he skipped through that part, deciding that it was probably about some local Saint's life considering that one person was consistently depicted with an aureola.
At long last, he found a page in which the word oracle kept popping up. Unfortunately, there weren't many illustrations, so it was a hefty bit of text. And it had only taken an hour! Now he just had to translate the entire passage to modern English.
This was one of the times that Clark felt quite glad that he had studied archeology and the regional languages. It's not like he'd get much help from his friend (he always struggled when it came to languages) so Clark would have to hit the books to decipher this one. He prepared his soft, golden-nib pen on his notebook and began to transcribe the script. Since the manuscripts were too precious to be moving about town or even photocopy it. Not like there were any in that small town: he had to work like this. This was going to be a long night, from the looks of it.
-oooooooo-
"Hey!" A policeman called out when he saw the trio enter an alleyway. "Nobody is allowed to pass through here— wait, is that Luke?"
"Hello, Gregory Chippe." The boy said with a smile. "How have you been?"
"I've been pretty great! Feels good to help people evacuate and all. But how have you been? We thought you and your mum had left Misthallery last January because we didn't see you back then!"
"Oh, er…" Luke's expression faltered for a moment, but he managed to regain some semblance of calm. "I'm back now, mum is still busy. But we're here to investigate on the Specter's influence for my dad. Don't worry, we'll leave before it comes along!"
"For the mayor? Eh, sounds a bit strange, but you've got a good head on your shoulders." Gregory Chippe said. Why did Luke bother saying his full name? The outsiders pondered that question whilst Gregory Chippe was pondering another matter entirely. "Ok. If you ever need any help just give us a holler. You keep these tourists safe, eh?"
"Of course I will, Gregory Chippe." Luke answered in a monotone voice both Layton and Emmy were growing quite accustomed to hear.
As they walked past him, Emmy turned around to wave him goodbye. Gregory Chippe was too busy looking like he was working hard on his lookout right in front of him, so he didn't see the woman's gesture.
"So you didn't leave your house for that long?" Emmy asked, turning to look at their guide. Luke didn't nod, but he didn't shake his head either. "I mean," the woman continued "If they knew you were cooping yourself in your house then that bloke wouldn't have said that he thought you were out of the town. What's up with that?"
The boy stopped. He was standing before a hat shop. Looking into the store, at an old man that was arguing with his son. Layton tried to look at the quarreling father and son, then at the oracle that looked at them.
"...I can't interfere." The boy muttered, shaking his head slightly. "Browne would never listen... he'll be the first."
"The first what, Luke?" Hershel Layton couldn't resist asking him.
"The first one that is lost." Luke said, turning away from the hat shop to continue on ahead. Towards a large building that bore proudly a sign that read Inn. The two adults had to follow behind him, as Luke didn't even turn back to look if they were following him: he was just walking on single-mindedly. There was barely enough time for distractions.
Inside the town's only inn, a single man was nursing a bottle of wine. He barely looked up at the door after the copper bell chimed and alerted him of the presence of prospective clients. But he looked back down to his bottle. Luke stood in front of the man.
"Joseph." The youngest one of the group said, looking at his face even if the man didn't look up. "Are you still trying to forget?"
The old man nodded. And took a drink from the bottle. The liquid made a hollow sound as it splashed inside the glass.
Luke stared at the bottle. But he didn't move an inch. Joseph set down his bottle. He spoke with a strange diction to his sentences and much difficulty. English wasn't a merciful language to learn after years of only speaking the dialect.
"The damn pwca must be playing tricks on these old eyes. How can you leave milk and water when we are stifling in poison? Stop tormenting this old man. I have nothing that you would want."
"We are not pwca, Joseph." Luke said, standing in front of him. "We need you to lend us the key to room 441. After the Specter destroys the west wing, we'll leave the key on the desk."
Joseph shook his weary head. He muttered something that was incomprehensible to Layton and Emmy; but not to Luke. The copious amounts of alcohol he took made him revert to his first language. He slurred his words, resting his head on the front desk.
The boy nodded. Apparently the old man granted him permission, since he took the key for room 441 from the wall. He didn't even bother to check up on him. Like with Mr Browne, Luke ignored the man on his single-minded path and just went up the stairs…
"W-wait!" Emmy said, trying to shake the old man. "Are you feeling alright? Do you need an ambulance?"
"Emmy," the professor said, trying to calm down his assistant "I think that he's just-"
"He will live." Luke said, now almost at the first floor. As he took another step forward, his leg shook. How many times had he seen this moment? Was this really it? Or was it another—? "Let's get going."
With great reluctance, Emmy let Joseph continue his nap, to not call it something completely different. Layton let her go up the stairs first and catch up with Luke, but not before turning to look at the pitiful figure of the man on the desk. Luke's words seemed to echo in the professor's mind. Are you still trying to forget?