Journal

-/-1960

Recorded some new information on the Stag's Horns. This cult was apparently some ancient cult back during the early settling ages of the country, back during the suspicions of witchcraft and folklore still new and being written down. Mostly made for profit and recognition in the minds of the people, this cult practiced magical enchanting, becoming famous for their specific article enchantment. With a high enough price, they would enchant whatever the buyer wished. However, this soon became out of hand, people eventually spilling out where their magical artifacts came from, resulting in the finding and expulsion of the order. In the wake of the destruction of the order, some very few survivors gathered back together for a final sentiment. No longer granted the title of magical power, they would now let no one learn their secrets so they wouldn't gain the power and fame that they have so long craved.

Some say before they all took their lives, they hid their artifacts, guarding with their souls passage to their ultimate source: their knowledge. Some claim that this never happened, having gotten rid of both their power and knowledge, hiding fake clues to bring them down to their demise. Others deny these completely, saying that they never died, but are still out here, causing all of the medleys and havoc in the weather in revenge. Night is getting long,

Sincerely, Professor Layton

P.S, Luke today asked me what a blend of a tiger and a lion would bring out, and I wasn't sure what to tell him. Adorable tyke. Might be a wonderful mind someday if he puts in the eager effort.

Luke held the teapot for the professor to pour from, the overhead lights swinging on their stands with the shaking. Luke held onto his cap with another shake, this time quaking down the entire wooden and brick frame, rocking the carpet below their feet slightly. Luke nervously turned his head to face the large window, showing streaks of violent rain as it hammered hard on the window. Luke's immense wings set behind on his back ruffled in nervous excitement, accidentally bumping the table, spilling the contents of the table onto the floor.

"Heavy wind, isn't it today, Luke?" Layton replied calmly to the storm outside.

"Y-yeah, Professor. It has been this way for a long time, hasn't it?" Luke replied, shakily.

"No need to fear, Luke. These people have adapted here, and these structures were built to maintain their ground even in the most violent situations."

Luke cast his black eyes down, "Professor, why are we here?"

Layton opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by another bang at the door, a soaked parcel being thrown in from the outside. Going over to pick it up, Layton showed the letter to his ward, "This, my boy, is the reason why we are here."

Blinking, Luke gazed down at the letter, "But...I am still confused…"

"Luke, do you remember the big debate just a few weeks ago about the two companies?"

"Yeah, but what does that have to do with the large travel up here to this cold and wet town? Couldn't we have stayed in London instead?"

Muffled footsteps tap on the cobble stretches of street down the alleys of London as a man in a patterned trench coat paced up the musty shade of worn out red stairs and promptly turned the fine silver plated door handle. Revealing his soaking wet figure, all heaving and panting with exasperated effort to try and reach here urgently, he plodded forwards, leaving muddy trails of puddling shoe prints, "Professor Layton! I need your help!" the man half yelled in alarm, waving a sodden newspaper, wrinkled and twisted inside the man's white-knuckled grip.

"Calm yourself, good fellow," Layton jumped up, steading the shuddering individual into a spare armchair.

Luke hurried to throw a blanket around the man's shoulders, nervously pouring him a cup of steaming tea while giving him narrowed looks.

The man's brow wrinkled in a deepening concern, his eyes wide and erratically twitching without blinking. A long tense moment lingered, Luke mumbling an excuse to duck out of sight on the stairs while the professor watched the building frame of the sodden individual shuffled tiny, booted feet compared to the extra skin, which hung off either side of the groaning chair limply. Finally, after a series of thumb twiddling, he spoke in a low, raspy voice, "I don't like it...I don't like this at all…"

"Like what?" Layton asked.

"This whole problem. This whole shabang of activity! This was a rigged contest from the start! I...I need your help, Professor Layton, and I just don't know who else to turn to!"

"Why? Because you are turning to us for help when you lost fair and square? You are one of the company's CEO's, correct?" Luke blurted out, feeling much safer in the seclusion of the stairwell, having now recalled.

"No...that book..." The man began, but trailed off.

"What book?" Layton pressed.

"The book that my rival, Jame Harrison had purchased! It is ridden with black magic, I swear it! The greedy slime!"

Layton pressed a fist under his chin, thinking, "The book that Millionaire James Harrison had that he claimed to have given him the key to success?"

"Yes...that book wasn't natural...it wasn't right! He shouldn't have bought it! First, he hid it from the public's eye, telling me all about how he is going to crash my business with it! Now, he reveals it, and how much he brags on spending his money on it!" The man across from the tea table shouted, the chair beneath him showing signs of heavy cracking, "Now, the lunatic is also saying how much he had learned from it! Learned?! From a blank book! He showed me it, and he laughed at me and called me daft, even when the pages were clearly blank!"

"Yes...James was very specific on that as well in the papers...I don't like it either…" Layton said, closing his eyes in a deep reverie.

"And that's not all! I've just got news from the headquarters! He's won it! He's won the whole battle! I've lost everything to that blasted book!"

"Well...why should we even help you in the first place! You lost! Big deal!" Luke protested, looking to the professor for assistance with his argument.

"Well, my boy, if this is where our mystery is taking us, then let us continue. There is no one way to solve a crime, but…" Layton said, turning back to the amber envelope in his hands, "There is always some risk."

"Oh...my letter...Blast that mail! I mailed you that letter ages ago, and I didn't get a single response in a week! Blast these storms! Make it impossible to live a daily life here!"

"Well then, we might as well see what we have in here anyways.

With wide eyes, the shivering guest snatched the letter away, throwing it underneath his foot, "Daft fool of a letter! I have all the information that you need! I made double copies of it since I figured that the information might be sabotaged. My former competitor is now crazy, and everyone is blaming me! I wouldn't even harm a fly if you ask me, so I am imploring you to help me prove my innocence! Please! I will pay anything! I just know that someone is framing me!"

Luke remained in a heated stare at the man, but sighed, knowing that it is the professor's call to accept or deny. Layton was handed a soaked newspaper, which the ink in some places ran together in great splashes of ink.

Luke peered over the suited shoulder, looking down from a chair at the paper, reading the headline out loud, "Billionaire Wins auction for Prized Book of 723, 000 GBP…"

"Blimey jove! He stole it from me with just the skin of his teeth if you will! I hate that man and his greed! Won't stop at nothing, that lunatic of a man if I ever have seen one!" The company CEO replied, huffing through three dimpled chins.

Layton however wasn't listening, his thoughts coming into order. Staring out at the window, he paid no heed to the protesting for immediate assistance from the desperate victim, and was handed his contact card with a sweating palm. Pressed into a deeper meditation, Luke got out the paper and pencil, ready to write down the oral thoughts soon to occur.