Hershel's office was nearly unrecognisable. He'd had his suspicions about where they were headed as they turned down the corridor, but he'd expected it to still look somewhat like his messy workspace.
Every shelf was lined with some kind of artefact, all labelled with names and dates. There was several cork board on the walls, each filled to the brim with post it notes detailing locations and newspaper clippings. The threads leading between them gave it the distinct look of a conspiracy theorist. Apart from a small pile of books in the corner, the floor was clear, and there was no sign of a sofa that could be slept on after a long day. Hershel figured that Rosa must prefer Randall as a tenant.
The only thing that made it obviously an office was the desk in the corner, on top of which was a small blue item. Hershel tried not to give it to much attention, but positioned himself of the side of the room closest to it. He needed to confirm his suspicions.
As they sat in the office, Hershel quickly learned that Randall's tea was better than Angela's, but not by much.
Did this universe just have a different kind of tea? Was he doomed to drink bad tea until he found his way home?
As Hershel placed his mug on the table, and took one of the cakes from the plate beside it, he zoned back into Randall's conversation, making sure it wasn't obvious that he hadn't been listening for the last minute.
"- been hard to hard to keep up with it all."
"I can imagine." He had no idea what he was imagining.
"At the very least the students seem to like what I'm doing, even if I have to take all the time off." He laughed, then seemed to realise Hershel hadn't spoken in a while. "But hey, what about you with your history class, how are they doing?"
"They're good, very quick learners." He could see Randall still listening, clearly expecting more information. Hershel panicked. "We're looking at doing a trip to London, part of the reason why I'm here. Planning some historic locations for them to visit."
"Oh, are you here for a while then?"
"Just a few days, Angela said I can use the spare room." Randall clapped his hands together, grinning.
"Brilliant, I can show you round! You'll love London- very different to Stansbury though" the idea of pretending to be shocked by the place he used to live in didn't sound like an easy thing to do, but Hershel supposed he could manage. "So what's the other reason you're here, if that's only part of it?" Herhsel saw his opportunity.
"The article, I see you've found something quite impressive." He gestured to the desk; Randall looked at it proudly.
"You're damn right I did, glad all that research was worth it."
"Do you mind if I take a look?"
"Go for it, I don't think it's dangerous." He added, though he seemed to keep a wide berth of the item.
Hershel walked over to the artefact and felt an odd wave of nostalgia and guilt as he saw it properly. Even if he hadn't seen the Azran eggs for years, it was difficult to forget how they looked- he'd spent many days studying them. They were fascinating relics, but he knew the power this rock could unleash, and the trouble it would bring if certain people were aware of it.
"Have you managed to figure out what it is?" He asked, pretending to be ignorant.
"Definitely Azran- The same civilisation that built Akbadain, remember that?" Hershel nodded, how could he forget. "I'm almost certain there's others like it, I've theorised-" He stressed the word, to give indication that he wasn't certain -" that it might link to other similar artefacts and unlock their secrets."
"I'm assuming you have a reason to believe there are others." Randall unpinned a couple of notes from the wall and handed them over.
"Froenborg, a town in Austria. Got tipped off that someone was asking around about the egg a few years ago." There was a few photographs of the town, and handwritten note, detailing the claim. It didn't seem to be addressed to Randall and appeared to be more of a report. It was signed 'Avocet'. Hershel didn't recall the name, though the mentions of Azran interested people in Froenborg was a red flag.
"Intriguing."
"I found that artefact there in a whole other country, I doubt someone's research would lead them that far out. Unless.."
"They were researching a different one."
"Exactly." He took the photos off of Hershel and pinned them back up "There's probably a couple out there, and I think they're a clue or something." He pointed at a photograph, a sketching of ancient technology "And that could be the key to finding the Azran Civilisation."
It hadn't been found. Hershel tried to hide his expression as he learned this fact. He needed a way to check his theories.
"I think you may be on to something."
"I know I am." Randall said, quietly. He looked at the watch on his wrist, then began gathering up his bags "The cleaning lady's gonna be here soon, we gotta get out before she tells me off for eating cake in here again. Can give you a lift back?"
Hershel considered it for a moment, but he needed to check something else out before he lost his train of thought. He felt as if any further questions would make his friends suspicious.
"I just need to run some errands round town first, but thank you. Tell Angela I'll be over later today." He put his hand on the door, but turned round as he remembered something. "Do you have a spare notebook I can borrow?" Randall fumbled around in the top drawer of the desk and pulled out a small brown one with the Gressenheller insignia, a pencil attached. He also packed a few of the cakes into a small tub ('for the road' he'd said) and handed them both to him.
Hershel slipped it them into his pocket and thanked him, then headed out of Gressenheller.
It was only a short walk from the office, but all these short walks were hell on Hershel's legs. He missed his Laytonmobile.
Ignoring how tired his legs were, he was relieved to find that Scotland Yard looked more or less the same, even down to the people. He could see Chelmey outside giving orders to officers, and Grosky chatting to Hanna on the steps outside. He slipped past them all, and assumed they didn't know who he was. A sad feeling, but he had no time to dwell on it.
In the reception, he was thankful to see Barton behind the desk. The man was engrossed in a document from a teetering pile of paper next to him and didn't seem to notice Hershel enter. When he appeared in front of him, Barton jumped back and knocked part of the pile over.
"I apologise!" Hershel offered to help pick them up but Barton waved him away.
"Oh blimey, that was my fault sir, nothing to worry about!" He began scrambling to collect the pieces together "What can I help you with?"
Hershel noticed Barton didn't use his name. it seemed he wasn't as frequent a visitor as he'd expected. Though he supposed he had no need to if he didn't live in London.
"I need access to the Archives" At Barton's hesitant reaction, he realised he needed a better reason "I'm on an investigation." Barton still seemed hesitant. Hershel felt for the man, having an apparent stranger demand entry would be stressful.
"I probably need to talk with the inspector-" he looked over at Chelmey, who was still discussing things with Colby, then back at the scattered papers.. "Oh but he'll be mad that I got these all mixed up."
"I'll only be a few minutes, I simply need to grab a case file." He pulled a small tub from his jacket pocket "I can offer you this as a thank you."
Barton eyed the cakes. He was still for a second, then pulled a key off the hook next to him. It was clear the constable hadn't lost his love for food.
"It's just down the hall, but please be quick!" he said, handing the keys over and swapping them for the tub. Hershel made his way down to the room, keeping a confident walk. He assumed that if he acted like he was supposed to be there, no officer would question him.
He made it to the Archives uninterrupted, and was immediately overwhelmed but the sheer amount of documents and dust. He knew what cases he was looking for, but worried that they would be listed differently. Before, he was able to just ask someone- that didn't seem like a smart decision here.
He scoured through the shelves, going over dates and locations in his head. Each one he recognised, he plucked out of their spot and laid on the table next to him. There were definitely a few missing that he was certain he'd read before, but he'd searched the entire room. Settling down with the unfinished collection, he opened the first file- Dated about 8 years earlier. It was hard for him to remember the specific details of the case, but it was easy to see the glaring differences.
Misthallery
-Disturbances in area
-Severe Damage to town
Culprit: Alias of Jean Descole (Identity not yet found)
At Approximately 13:00, disturbances in Misthallery came to a conclusion when revealed to be the result of unregistered mining experiments by a guest to the town, this resulted in large damage to the town and the death of an endangered animal. The case was solved by Visiting professor Randall Ascot, but the culprit was not apprehended.
The report seemed factually the same, though there wasn't explicit reference to the golden garden. He hoped it had still been opened, he'd have to ask Randall- Who apparently was there.
The second file was dated more recently.
Crown Petone
- Abduction of Audience
- Kidnapping, one still suspected but unconfirmed
Victims:
-Members of the Crown Petone Audience on the date of the crime.
-Unknown Teenage girl
- Janice Quatlane
Culprit:
Oswald Whistler
Jean Descole (Identity not yet found)
At Approximately 20:00, An opera Performance at the Crown Petone Theatre ended with known criminal Jean Descole and Musician Oswald Whistler forcing guests into a life threatening 'Game'. Whistler was arrested on a island not far from the Theatre's initial location. Jean Descole was last seen fleeing the scene with a teenage girl, witnesses claim she was in the audience, but her identity is unknown. At the time of this report, no person matching witness descriptions has been declared missing. It is unconfirmed whether she was an accomplice or a victim.
Hershel reread the report several times. The Crown Petone seemed to have gone as intended, but he couldn't place who the girl was. Surely someone like Amelia or Janice would have been quickly reported as missing? And the lack of updates seemed to suggest she was still missing.
He opened another case file, only a few years ago. It wasn't as explicitly linked to his theories but it might clear up some of his own questions.
St Mystere
Assault of a man, motive unknownVictim: Simon Reinhold
Culprit: Unknown
At Approximately 16:30, the Nephew of the Late Baron Augustus Reinhold was attacked in the family house, presumed dead initially. The motive and culprit are still unclear. The case was investigated by Professor Ascot and Engineer Paul Dante.
It seemed as though the mysterious nature of St Mystere had gone unreported, listing Simon as having very human injuries. Though perhaps their secret hadn't been discovered. He didn't want to sound boastful, but it was possible a different team of investigators may not have come to the same conclusion.
The other name mentioned in the report caught his interest, that was one he hadn't heard since his University days. Something else he could ask Randall.
Throughout all the cases, even the ones that directly affected them, he couldn't find any mention of him or any of his assistants. Luke, Emmy and Flora received no reference in any of the files. He worried about what this meant for their whereabouts in this odd world.
He also couldn't find any information on the Azran Legacies, aside from the implications of the Golden Garden and Ambrosia. He couldn't tell if they were being kept secret or if they were undiscovered.
Though many cases had obvious inconsistency with his memories, He'd found reports about Labrellum and Folsense cases that seemed to be mainly unchanged. He assumed somebody there must have simply taken on his role in the investigation, as Randall had appeared to in other cases. He couldn't however, see any passing mention of Monte D'Or or locate anything referring to an Underground London.
The latter should definitely have had information, it was only a year or two ago, and the legal procedures seemed to still be ongoing. The rebuilding efforts were only recently nearing completion. As he thought over why there wouldn't be any information on it, he found his hands closing around another file. Dated much further back.
He knew it was unlikely, but he had to know. He grabbed it, and pulled out the contents. It was much older, and the information was laid out differently. He couldn't find the names of the victims or the culprit, so began to read it in it's entirety.
Institute of Polydimensional Physics
At Approximately 17:06, an Explosion occurred after a failed Time Travel experiment. 11 people were killed: 10 civilians and 1 Scientist working on the experiment-
He stopped after the first line. He was sure he'd started to get over it, but it seemed his was mistaken. He couldn't bring himself to read the rest. He resisted the urge to crumple the report, instead placing it carefully back on it's shelf. He supposed not everything could have changed.
Hershel pulled himself together, going back over the files he did have, trying to get himself back on track.
One thing he noticed was that after the Crown Petone case, there was no mention of Descole at all. All files had him listed as an 'unknown identity' and didn't seem to have been updated, meaning he'd never made his true name public. He didn't appear to have gone after any other artefacts, but Hershel didn't believe his brother would simply give up on finding the Azran.
He appeared to have just vanished with his false identity intact. With Randall mentioning people in Froenborg, Hershel had to jump to the worst possible solution. Something had happened to him after he escaped the Detragen. He wondered if that could be the cause of the inconsistencies in the reports. It would explain the lack of information about his other crimes.
But would that explain why I'm here?
Hershel pulled the notebook out of his pocket and began writing down key information that was different in his cases, also adding information about Randall, Angela and Henry.
When he'd jotted down anything that was immediately different, he opened a fresh page, writing 'MYSTERIES" in large letters at the top. He noted down each unusual circumstance and numbered them, leaving a space to fill in the solution when he came across it. Usually he'd do it in a much more professional way, using his journal and seals, but this worked well enough for now.
Alternate World
Azran Eggs
Descole
The case was getting more confusing as he went on, but he knew discovering just one of the these would lead him to an explanation. He was just finishing off the last line when someone appeared in the doorway.
"What the hell do you think you're doing down here?" Hershel quickly shut the book, seeing Chelmey looking mad. The inspector leant against the doorway, seething. "This is for authorised personnel only."
"Very sorry Inspector, I just needed-" Chelmey smacked his hand against the wall.
"Put those files down and explain to me what in the blazes you think you're playing at." He did as he said, not eager to be yelled at by someone he considered a friend. He worried for how poor Barton was feeling.
"My name is Hershel Layton" he held his hand out, and Chelmey shook it unenthusiastically. "I'm working on a case and needed to gather some information."
"If it ain't a police matter, it's not authorised. I can get in big trouble with the higher ups if they learn there's civilians snooping down here." Hershel looked down at the desk, trying to find a quick cover. He spotted a name, and knew he had to run with it.
"Sir I'm looking into leads for the identity of Jean Descole." He saw Chelmey's anger dimmer slightly, he inwardly sighed in relief. He was glad that was realistic. "I believe I'm close to uncovering it, I just needed to gather some vital statistics."
"Descole?"
"I believe he's been a large presence in a number of unsolved cases" Chelmey nodded. "I may be able to locate him." Hershel had to maintain hope that he was still alive, he didn't want the alternative to be true. In his timeline, they hadn't seen eachother in years but he got an occasional postcard from an unknown address, signed with a little drawing of a mask. He liked to think they were still on friendly terms.
And if he was dead, he had no way to figure this all out.
At the very least Chelmey didn't seem to think he was dead. The Inspector was silent for a second, seeming to cool off.
"That Descole Fellas been a pain in our neck for years, Comissioner's always yammering that they never caught him." Hershel watched as Chelmey looked round the room. "Alright. You leave the files where you found them, and I'll pretend you were never down here. But if you find a scrap of information on that man, I expect to see it immediately. "
"Of course, I'm trying to find him for the sake of public safety." He technically wasn't lying, the Azran legacy was very dangerous to the public. "I'll be sure to keep you updated."
"Hrmph." Hershel placed the files back, aware of the fact that Chelmey was watching his every move. He handed the key over to him when he was finished and left the Archive. He passed Barton on the way out, who had a defeated look on his face and an empty tub of cake. Hershel felt bad for putting him in the situation, and vowed to bring him more food in the future.
It was nearing midday when he walked out, meaning he still had time to investigate, especially with his new leads. He figured the most obvious Azran related case to look into without giving away too much information about his odd alternate memories, was the closest one. If the case was mostly the same, then the rebuilt Crown Petone would only be a short bus ride from there. There would almost certainly be someone there who was part of the Game for Eternal Life. If he could just find a single lead, he'd be able to find Descole, find out what happened to the Azran Legacy, and find out what on earth l he was doing in this alternate universe.
As he turned the corner to head towards the bus stop, a teenager came running at full speed into his chest. The boy managed to keep his balance, but dropped his bag that went spiralling across the street. As the boy rubbed his head, Hershel went to pick it up. He made sure nothing had fallen out and turned back to hand it to him, he stopped dumbfounded when he caught a glimpse of him.
"Luke?" The boy looked confused, then Hershel quickly realised his mistake. For a short moment, the outfit made him believe it was his apprentice. But this character was much too old, and the hat was slightly the wrong style. But the similarity was there, and for a good reason.
Hershel looked into the face of a boy who was nearing adulthood, dressed in a button up blue shirt and cap. A boy he'd seen flashed on every newspaper and tabloid in the country for the last two years.
At a glance he seemed very much the same, but a longer look showed just how different he was. The most distinguishing features were the faded but still very noticeable blotchy scarring that ran up the right side of his face, and one glassy eye.
As Hershel stared, Clive Dove apologised, taking his bag. Hershel didn't have time to speak before Clive ran past him, headed further into town.
Hershel didn't like the idea of a confirmed criminal running into London, but a part of his conscience told him that this wasn't the Clive Dove he was used to.
For a moment, he wished that he'd read the entire file about the explosion.