Gloop.
Back to the more serious stuff! You guys might be surprised.
Hollyshadow the medicine cat: I haven't ever raged at a puzzle! *awkward pause* Well, maybe once. Maybe more times. I don't know XD
GoldGriffin: It's actually not too obvious. The first time I mentioned that Tom knew Flora was waaaaay back in Chapter One, right after Tom shows Claire the poem. The second was at the very beginning of Chapter Seven. Only a really sharp eye would have caught either, I think. I'm glad you enjoyed the humor!
Shimmering-Sky: It seems that you were trying a bit hard XD and since I didn't bet anything, you didn't win anything! MUAHAHAHAHAH
Oh, and one question for you guys. I haven't decided what I wanted to write for next chapter. I have two options. One, I can continue with Tom's travels and send him to Monte D'Or. Two, I can insert a chapter in which the Professor visits Misthallery again. Which do you want? Let me know in a PM or review!
Enjoy Chapter Eight! This one was pretty hard to write for me.
Chapter Eight
Hershel
It was almost 8:30 in the evening when Tom arrived at a large manor. Its exterior looked quite dark and somber, and the gate was beyond repair. The estate as a whole seemed to be in poor condition, with weeds and moss growing everywhere.
But Tom knew better. Within the mansion lived a genius. An enigmatic genius who once used the pretense of evil to protect.
A fascinating man, I must say.
He walked along the overgrown path and knocked on the oaken door, listening to the reverberation of the wood.
An old looking butler opened the door and noticed Tom standing there.
"Good evening, sir. The master said to expect you. Please, come this way." The servant led Tom down a hallway to another door. "The master is in here."
Upon entering, Tom found himself in an old-fashioned parlor of sorts. There was a fireplace at the far side of the room, a red carpet on the floor, and a large table surrounded by couches in the middle of the room. A man in an armchair with his back turned was reading a book.
"Hello, Time Guardian. Please, take a seat. I received your letter. You said you wished to see me?"
Tom chose a seat directly in front of the estate's owner. "Indeed I do, Hershel Bronev."
The man scowled. "Do not call me that!"
"If you so wish...Descole."
"Enough of these games," Descole demanded. "What do you want?"
"Your assistance, of course."
"And what would a Time Guardian such as yourself need from me? I'm sure there are less hate-driven and more righteous people in the world. Such as my brother."
"You seem to underestimate yourself, Descole. You have your own share of strengths." Tom counted them off on his fingers. "One, you have cunning. I would say more than your brother. Two, you are a master of disguise. Pairing that with your cleverness makes you unrivaled in deception...a strength that you must agree your brother lacks."
Descole grudgingly admitted that Tom was correct.
"Three, your technical skill. Your mastery of machines is incredible for a man of science and archaeology. Four, you know how to pull the strings. Though your methods may be considered immoral, they are certainly effective. Your manipulation of Clark was most efficient. And finally, you, like the others I've met, are extremely mentally strong. You overcame your troubled childhood without having to repress your memories like Professor Layton did. You, in fact, continued to protect him while pretending to be his enemy-which I am sure was not at all easy for you."
"That is quite true." Descole put down his book. "But it was the only way to prevent him from being dragged into my conflict with my father and his damned organization. I never wanted to really harm him in any way; but sometimes I deemed it necessary if I was going to get my revenge. Looking back, I feel almost sickened. Trying to kill my own brother! It seems monstrous."
"Perhaps. But it was understandable, at least from my perspective. You tried to help your brother. There is nothing wrong with that. I might have done the same in your position...though perhaps I would have taken less extreme measures. Sometimes the ends justify the means, at least temporarily."
"I suppose. But back to the main topic. What is the problem?"
"I take it you are familiar with the Oculus and its purpose?"
"Yes, I am. In fact, when your letter stated that you were a Time Guardian, I began to wonder whether your 'dilemma' had something to do with it."
"Your intuition is spot on," Tom said. "However, the problem is not with the Oculus itself, but rather with its location-because no one knows where it is. It will probably appear some time in the future, but I have no idea where or for how long."
Descole stared. "The Oculus is missing? That could potentially have-"
"Universe-threatening consequences? Yes." Tom sighed. "Yes it could."
"And I assume you came because you need me to help retrieve it?"
"Once again, you are correct."
Descole contemplated what he had just heard. "Very well. I will assist you in recovering it. I take it my brother has also been notified of this?"
"Indeed he has."
"Not surprising. He must have been the first person you sought."
"Actually-" Tom stopped. Best not to tell him about Claire for now. "Yes, he was."
"Hmph." Descole smirked. "Who could resist requesting the help of the great Hershel Layton?"
"Are you...jealous of him?"
Descole laughed coldly. "You'd be surprised how many people are. The man is practically a saint! The media is practically in love with him and his exploits! His adventures! It only makes it worse that he's my own brother, that his life could just as easily have been mine if I didn't let Hershel get adopted in my place!"
"Fallen angel," Tom murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Descole ended his ranting. "So, what will you do first?"
"Infiltrate HM Prison Belmarsh."
"What!" Descole shouted. "Are you mad!?"
"I'm sorry if there are two people I need there. One's your father."
The silence that followed was absolute. One could hear a pin drop. Then Descole growled, "My father...that traitor..."
"He was kidnapped. He didn't join Targent willingly."
"So!?" Descole was livid. "He didn't care about either of his sons! He forsook both of us to research the Azran Legacy! He cared more about a civilization from millenia ago than he did about his own flesh and blood! And what the hell did he get out of it?" Descole's hand was shaking violently at this point. "The Azran Legacy was world destruction! Decades of his research! All wasted! Decades that he could have spent with us! With his sons! We could have been an actual family! He left us and what did he accomplish? Nothing!"
"He feels remorse now, you know. That is as good of a first step as any."
"One step in the right direction does not compensate for a million in the other!"
"No, it doesn't. The same, however, could be said for you."
"How?"
"You had good intentions, but ended up hurting so many innocent people. The inhabitants of Misthallery still remember you. So does Randall in Monte D'Or. But they've forgiven you, Descole. The Professor told them about your story. Forgive and forget, Descole, and look upon your father not as an ambitious criminal, but as a passionate do-gooder. Remember, he wanted to use the Azran Legacy for good purposes, he just had no idea what it was. None of you did."
Descole had calmed down by now. "So be it. Who is the other prisoner you seek to free? You mentioned two."
"Clive Dove."
"The one who tried to destroy London?"
Descole put on a pensive expression. "He reminds me of me. A person who was probably once good at heart, but twisted by his goals and dreams. And...the loss of loved ones." Tom realized Descole was referring to his wife and daughter.
It then occurred to Tom that loneliness must be the worst disease in the world, turning great minds such as the Bronev brothers into husks.
"There is one other similarity. Both of you recognized the errors of your ways and have rectified them."
"I suppose. I hear he's quite shrewd as well. I found his Mobile Fortress quite impressive."
"Quite a work of engineering, that. You and he will make great friends."
Descole scowled. "I don't have friends. Merely acquaintances."
"We shall see." Tom chuckled. "We shall see."
Tom stepped out of Descole's manor and saw a full moon in the sky. In the distance, he could hear the howl of a wolf.
Claire's probably already slept by now.
Oh well. Next stop, Monte D'Or.
But for now, Tom was content staring up at the night sky in wonder, watching the twinkle and shimmer of the stars.
So, yeah, please tell me what you think I should write in Chapter Nine! Either I can continue with Tom's travels and send him to Monte D'Or, or I can insert a chapter in which the Professor visits Misthallery again. Please fav, follow, and/or review! It really helps! Bye!
Wotterkresce Salid
