Hershel is 35, Desmond is 39.
Stansbury— I doubt anyone has heard of it these days. It's a ghost town, once renowned for its archaeological lore. Most of the villagers who knew me have moved on. No one talks about the Ascot tragedy anymore. No one mentions Desmond Layton, suspected murderer.
I do have somewhat fond memories of the place, as much as I try to block them out. Reading alongside my teenage brother, sitting down for dinner with the Laytons, training under Mira, Autumn walks with Raymond, chatting to Dalston, trading comebacks with Randall, even Uncle Doug's insufferable fishing trips... All before Targent stepped in.
I remind myself that we're not here to reminisce. Raymond and I are just passing through to check the Norwell Wall, and then to pay a quick visit to Ness's grave. It's still at the Memory Knoll, but it's overshadowed by another grave stone: Randall Ascot's. If there was a funeral after I left, they couldn't have found the body...
They couldn't have found the Mask of Chaos. When utilised with its twin, the Mask of Order, another Azran Legacy will be revealed. Targent were always after something far greater than Akbadain's gold. Where we find Randall Ascot, we will find the Mask of Chaos.
Our next stop is the ruins of Akbadain. If we're lucky, we may also come across the Mask of Order there, or at least uncover clues to its location.
Travelling is no problem thanks to the Bostonius, though Raymond insists on scaling the ruins with me this time. As we have the proper tools and knowledge now, I suppose there shouldn't be any... slipups. (Besides, I need Raymond's help carrying my supplies.)
There are signs that other explorers have scoured the ruins before us, like the mummies' absence.
In the final chamber, I see that the entirety of the Azran treasure is gone— right down to the last gold coin. This isn't the work of Targent, but a very loyal and determined friend.
Raymond and I stand on the edge of where Randall fell... where I let him fall.
Why didn't you save him?
Tossing a rock into the ravine, Raymond whistles. "That's a long way down..."
"I'm going down," I say, pulling some rope out of my pack. I spear him a look when he opens his mouth to protest. "Alone. Keep the rope secure." I'm not so selfish that I would risk my companion's neck.
I descend into the pit that haunts my brother's nightmares... and I discover an underground river. If the Mask of Chaos was consumed by the current, it could be lost forever. But what's that further up ahead? Faint daylight— a way out of the cavern!
Just where does this river lead...?
Tracking the river's course, we end up in a remote village called Craggy Dale. More like Bumpkin Hell. At least it will be easy to blend in dressed as farmers.
When picking along the riverbank proves fruitless, we ask around if a golden mask has ever been recovered in these parts. My interrogations leave the villagers scratching their heads, but Raymond gets talking to an old farmer who could really use a shave. (And I thought Roland Layton set the record for the world's largest beard...)
The farmer, Tannenbaum apparently came across a golden mask eighteen years ago, washed up on the banks of Craggy Dale... in the hands of a teenage boy.
Randall Ascot is alive! All this time he has been alive, working here as a farmer! I feel a surprising weight lift off my shoulders. This is better than I ever expected— he must still have the Mask of Chaos...
Of course, of course, there's a catch. My grin slides into a frown as Tannenbaum continues. Randall— known as 'Lando' in Craggy Dale— may have survived the fall, but he lost his memories in the process. (That explains why he never tried to contact his family and friends.) It can't be helped. As long as he held onto the mask, we can retrieve it.
Tannenbaum invites us back to his cottage for pastries in the hopes that we can enlighten 'Lando' of his past.
A coarse greeting— not the excited voice of a boy— confirms he's back from working in the fields. The ginger pest I once abhorred has turned into a tanned man with unruly red hair. His dark eyes have dulled with age, but I'd recognise him anywhere.
Randall looks from Raymond to me when he slopes into the sitting room.
"Who's this?"
Tannenbaum rasps, "These two reckon they've mit ye before, lad."
"You appeared on Craggy Dale's shores eighteen years ago, so discombobulated that you couldn't recall your own name," I tell Randall. "Correct?"
Rubbing the back of his head, Randall nods dubiously. "Go on..."
"The truth is, you ended up in this state due to an accident at the Akbadain Ruins."
"What would I want with some old ruins?" he snorts.
"Don't believe me?" I prompt, "Haven't you ever wondered why you were found clutching an ancient mask for dear life?"
"The mask..." For a moment, there's a flash of familiarity in his eyes, the old spark of an adventurer. But just like that, it's gone again. He shrugs. "It doesn't mean anything to me. I threw it away years ago."
"You what?" I bristle.
Randall frowns. "Why does it matter? I don't care about ruins or masks. I'm happy where I am." He stretches, yawning. "Now, if you gents don't mind, it's been a long day. I'd rather have this conversation some other time..."
That's our clear cue to leave, but I'm not moving until I know where he put the mask. "You must remember! Your real name is Randall Ascot. You were obsessed with archaeology—"
Randall growls, "I told you, I don't care!"
Tannenbaum goes to place a hand on Randall's shoulder. Muttering that maybe this was a bad idea, he informs Raymond and me that we've outstayed our welcome. Raymond apologises, bids the pair farewell and drags me out of the house before I can knock some sense into Randall.
My efforts to restore Randall's memories don't stop there. Next, Raymond suggests I try recounting Randall's life through a series of letters. (If this doesn't work, I'll build a Detragon Mark II and force the memories of him.)
"In this case," Raymond recites, "words may speak louder than actions."
When did he become a fortune cookie...?
However, Raymond's idea turns out to be a success. One week of letter writing later, I receive a reply: 'Meet me in Tannenbaum's barn.'
I enter the rundown barn to find Randall sitting on a haystack, a pile of letters beside him. He's staring at something golden in his hands— the Mask of Chaos!
Resisting the urge to pinch it from him then and there, I clear my throat. "You got my letters, I see."
Randall looks up and he sighs. "Honestly, I started to remember the minute you said my name. But when I read your letters, everything came flooding back." He fumbles to pick up a letter. "Growing up in Stansbury, what happened at Akbadain, all that I've lost..."
"You could get it all back."
"How would you know?" he hisses, glaring at me. "Who are you?"
I need his absolute trust. This might be possible if he believes I'm the only person from his past who never abandoned him. Slowly, I peel back my mask.
He stares me in the eyes, shaking. "Des... Desmond Layton."
"In the flesh." I smile grimly. "Though, I don't go by that name anymore."
When the shock has worn off, he seems to recall his grudge for me. He grits his teeth and snaps, "Back at Akbadain— you nearly killed me!"
"Oh, please..." I roll my eyes. "You doomed yourself when you dragged us into those ruins."
"Where's Hershel? Henry and Angela? My parents... Wasn't anyone else searching for me?"
I shake my head and his shoulders droop.
"After a while, they all gave up and left you for dead. Hershel forgot about you in university, Angela grew tired of waiting, and Henry—"
Randall crumples the letter in his hand. "Henry stole everything from me? I want to talk to him—"
"You'll require an elaborate setup if you wish to get the message across." I gesture to the Mask of Chaos. "I can arrange that..."
"You hated me when we were younger!" Randall narrows his eyes. "Why would you help me now?"
Because, as much as I deny it, I feel slightly guilty about letting you fall.
"Because," I answer sincerely, "I know how it feels, being betrayed by someone I once called brother."