Author Note: Sorry this chapter took so long readers. Life is kind of a dumpster fire right now. Hopefully I'll get things back on track soon.

Thinly Veiled Reality

The rain poured all night and into the next day. Shane knew that Violet planned on purchasing some chickens from Marnie for him to care for soon, so even though the rain freed up a lot of time, he needed to get one important errand out of the way before most of the other villagers were awake. Not to mention there was no telling when it would rain again and Shane did not want to wait until Spring.

Stepping onto the firm, wet sand of the beach, Shane walked briskly toward the eastern beach across the plank bridge. The droplets of water pelted his raincoat, drumming a steady pattern onto the hood of his jacket. He scanned the tree line, searching for the person rumored to appear only on rainy days.

Sure enough, there was a crusty seaman standing under the canopy of leaves at the northern edge of the beach. Shane inhaled deeply, trying to muster up his courage. This was a big step, but he loved Emily and he could not imagine life without her anymore. Even with everything that had gone wrong lately, she always helped him through it all. It proved to Shane that he could do so much more than he ever thought possible. Maybe now he was close to the kind of man that Emily deserved.

So, with conviction in his stride, Shane approached the Old Mariner. The man's face, wrinkled from years in the sun, broke out into a grin when he saw the younger man approach. Before Shane could even say a word, however, the bearded fisherman immediately declined to sell. "I can see that sparkle in yer eye, lad. Ye must be head over heels in love," he said with a chuckle. "But I'm afraid a bigger house is essential for a happy marriage."

Shane scowled. "What the hell?! You're seriously not going to sell me a mermaid pendant over something that stupid?"

The seaman shook his head knowingly. "Trust me, lad. Ye'll thank me for not rushin' these things."

The would-be customer growled angrily. "But technically it's not even my house!" Shane argued. "I can't upgrade a rental and I can't buy any land to build a house myself since the former mayor won't surrender all the paperwork to do my job!"

Adjusting his hat, the mariner cackled, exposing a mouth of crooked teeth. "It sounds like ye've got a lot of work to do, lad."

Shane could not believe this guy was serious. "What if it doesn't rain again before Winter hits?" he demanded to know. He should have known that the guy who only came out to sell his one special item would be eccentric.

"Oh, it'll rain again," the man assured Shane so confidently it was hard to doubt he was right. Still, Shane resented the guy for being so picky about these surprise terms to conduct business.

"If I at least have the land for a new house, will you sell it to me?" Shane tried to bargain with the mariner. "Besides, Emily hates big houses because they're a hassle to clean. And you even said you can tell I love her enough."

"So I did," the old mariner admitted. Shane was not sure whether the sailor was just humoring him, but the older man tapped his chin contemplatively. "I s'pose, lad. But get here early or someone else might beat ye to it." The salt-stained man chuckled and part of the mayor wondered if this guy was going to try and play a trick on him to up the sale price, but he could not worry about that now.

"Fine, I'll be back again before the season is over," Shane vowed in exasperation, turning back toward town and trudging through the rain. He had a mission - and that involved harassing former mayor Lewis until the guy finally gave Shane what he owed him as the new elected official in town. The days of coddling the old man's ego were officially over.

Marlon shifted the weight from his injured leg as he sat himself at the round table in the gathering room of the Adventurer's Guild to write a letter to his liege. The retired warrior produced his finest fountain pen from a slim wooden box and smoothed out the parchment with his rough hands.

Sir:

You expressed utmost displeasure at my indiscretion and the potential case of incidental eavesdropping by a certain member of the community earlier this season, so I have taken it upon myself to write to you on my findings instead.

As I asserted previously, I have no doubt that Janelle Allard was a stage name for the mysterious actress that supposedly bore Prince Lothaire an heir. And while everyone who was anyone in high society at the time claimed to know or at least have met the celebrity, no one else seemed to know her by any other name than her famous alias.

Unfortunately, the pseudonym itself bears very few leads. House Allard has existed only in name since it was extinguished by a lack of viable heirs and intermarrying into other, more important houses, several hundred years ago. After digging into the history at your request, I realized I had forgotten that several commoners over the course of their nation's history claimed to be "lost descendants" of House Allard in the hopes of reclaiming the family's old estate which had unbeknownst to them already been absorbed by several surrounding nobles. I believe this is why the name still rang a bell despite my lack of attention toward the entertainment stars of the late monarchy. But I digress!

The maid who came forward with the original letters has vanished without a trace. Due to motives unknown, she approached us indirectly, and did not give any indication to the identity of her mistress. Why this maid wished to send us on a wild goose chase rather than tell us the name for a proper investigation, I cannot say, Your Majesty.

Since Your Highness' first request, I have had my men review census data to find any potential royal niece or nephew based upon the timeline on which His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Lothaire - May He Rest in Peace - could potentially father a child before his untimely demise. As you know, there are several older heirs that you have previously disqualified for various reasons that were not included in this current inquiry.

To address this new rumor, I conducted a thorough search. There were many children born in the conceivable timeframe, but we narrowed it down to those of women in a younger age range and high social status due to Your Royal Brothers' usual preferences.

Several names struck me in particular, as I recalled seeing those ladies with the Crown Prince on at least one occasion. I interviewed those women quietly and explicitly did not reveal the nature of my inquiry, but rather disguised it as a distant, unnamed relative claiming the heir to the family fortune to be illegitimate. One lady had an irrefutable alibi as she was away on holiday in Tukoa, which was well-documented in a photo album she felt the need to share with a charming story to accompany each picture. I am sure Your Majesty can guess from which House my talkative host belongs.

As for the others, most women had proof their child's parentage was indeed that of their spouse. Several others confessed to shameful adultery, but revealed the name of their child's father, and begged me to keep their secret. As it is none of my business and not the objective of my search, I vowed silence on the matter.

A short aside, Your Highness: I took it upon myself to quietly discourage the recently announced engagement between young Master Armstrong and Miss Baldwin with the incidental information I received during this mission. I assure you, Sir, that no insubordination was intended, but rather the long-term health and happiness of the young couple.

In the continued search for this potential new heir, one lady that did strike me as suspicious, Sir, was Jane Montmorency. The lady declined to see me or any of my agents. I do not know if word went 'round that I was conducting these interviews under the guise of social visits regarding such sensitive topics, but I was personally barred entry to the Montmorency manor.

This is why I wish to inform you that I speculate that Crown Prince Lothaire's heir may coincidentally also live in Pelican Town, rather than in NuNu City as originally assumed. The man does bear a striking resemblance, do you not agree, Sir? While his younger brother Edmund is the spitting image of his father, the eldest Montmorency takes after his mother, but bears some distinct similarities to His Royal Highness Lothaire - May He Rest in Peace.

Your Majesty, how is it that you would like me to proceed?

Your Humble Servant,

Marlon

Violet huffed in annoyance as she inspected her harvest for the morning. Her grapes were incredible, but Pierre had specifically ordered high quality vegetables and she did not have as many bok choy that were up to snuff. To make matters worse, Pierre insisted that none of the crops could be ones Violet already had on-hand, only autumn vegetables. Sure, he gave an entire season to complete the order, but seriously?

Then again, once Violet began to question how crops, fish, and food items from last season were perfectly preserved in the wooden chests she made without any special treatment, lots of strange little things came to mind. The local farmer was also able to grow crops and trees faster than her competitors, Violet recognized after simply talking to some of the other competitors for the grange display. Had it always been this way, or was her power enhanced by the farmland? I've always had a green thumb, the professional gardener mused silently. Is this why my grandparents left me the farm instead of Zach?

While her grandparents never explicitly stated why they left Violet the farm and not her older brother, perhaps there were early signs that she had some sort of magical ability tied to the land. Maybe I just didn't notice it was unusual because I never knew anything different? She only recognized things in Pelican Town as strange, such as the creatures in the mines for example, because she had not grown up in the Valley like Sebastian or Abigail. And Sam? Well, Violet got the impression that Sam was the kind of guy who believed in Bigfoot. Nothing fazed him.

The farmer could not help but wonder again why her mother stopped their summer trips out to see her parents. How would Violet's life be different if she had been allowed to stay here with them, like she always begged at the end of each summer?

Violet still had so many unanswered questions that she wished her grandparents were still around to provide some guidance. She could use that right about now. Without them, the only other source of information on their family history was… Mom, Violet shuttered at the image of her mother's icy stare in her mind's eye.

Her mom was the last person she wanted to see right now. Well, maybe other than Kyle. No, that's definitely a tie, Violet decided confidently. Seeing either of them before she was ready would inspire intense discomfort. Still, the farmer was slightly unnerved that her parental unit had not called to "encourage" her to move back to NuNu City. Violet could not remember the last time she had gotten away with being what her mother would call "willful" in polite company without a word of complaint.

Violet heard Robin tapping the nails into a wooden board in the distance, constructing the coop she ordered for Shane to tend. Combined with the patter of the raindrops on her umbrella, the pastel-haired woman did her best to work to the rhythm of the complementary beats to keep her focused on the task at hand. Thanks to Sebastian, she had another batch of magically mutated crops this year in a small plot segregated from the edible crops.

The black pumpkins were especially intimidating and would have been perfect for Spirit's Eve decorations - if only they could be safely touched. Maru did not have the time to examine them with her job at the clinic and all her own personal projects, so Violet rather than risk endangering a neighbor, she could only assume they were just as toxic as their Summer counterparts. Krobus seemed all the more eager to place call dibs on the crops ahead of time and Violet had slowly been churning out "Cursed 'Kin" ale - at least that was what she intended to call it. It sounds badass, she decided with satisfaction.

Mutated corn, however, was more dangerous because it looked so inviting. Once she peeled away the husk, Violet spied jewel-toned kernels, giving the cob the appearance of hundreds of tiny gems collected in an oddly-shaped tube. She wondered what it tasted like, but stopped herself from conducting that experiment personally. The farmer would have to wait until the sentient shadow could describe the flavor himself.

Violet sighed wistfully and gently re-wrapped the glittering corn cob in its husk before adding it to her inventory. As she finished her work, the wavy-haired woman decided to go back inside and curl up with a book next to the fire. Bruno had the right idea in this kind of weather. I wonder how Sebastian's day is going? Violet pondered. As much as she disliked the idea of him moving any distance away, it was probably for the best. She did not want him out driving his motorcycle in weather like this and the Winter was only going to make driving along the mountain roads more hazardous.

We'll still see each other on the weekends, Violet reasoned, though her heart sank as she could not help but recall all the times people made those kinds of promises and did not really mean it.

Harvey pressed firmly onto the woman's abdomen as she lay flat on the makeshift medical table. She winced in pain and the doctor shook his head. "I know it's difficult to stay hydrated," he conceded to his patient. "But you need to drink more water," the mustached man instructed seriously. "If you don't, you're going to develop more kidney stones and if any of them become too large, they may be impossible to pass naturally."

The black-haired woman winced as she sat up in the lantern-lit tent, but nodded. "I guess it's true what they say," she muttered under her breath. "The bullets aren't the only killers out here."

Pushing his wide-rimmed spectacles up the bridge of his nose, Harvey nodded. "Infection and disease are the silent threats that take the majority of lives lost," he agreed gravely. He handed the woman a large canteen. "Drink every last drop. I added straight lemon juice to it from a shipment we just received, so be warned it will be sour. I'll make sure to set aside a few more for you." The doctor assured the soldier. "You'll also need to reduce your protein and sodium intake until the stone has passed, as well as any foods high in oxalates."

Her lips twitched into an irritated frown and her deep earthy eyes glared at him. "Please speak fucking English, Doc," she begged, gripping the canteen as she braced herself against the pain. "I feel like I'm dying."

Harvey flushed, embarrassed for not remembering that most people did not know what that meant. "Right, of course," he apologized. "Avoid foods like spinach, beets, and almonds."

His patient took a swig of water and her mouth puckered from the taste. "Ugh, well good thing none of those things are part of our rations anyway. The salt and meat thing is going to be more difficult, though..."

"I understand, but if you hope to pass this stone without surgery, you're going to have to take a shot at this," he reasoned gently, offering her a small tablet for pain relief. "Report back to me tomorrow as we'll assess the progress."

The soldier grumbled under her breath as she downed the prescription before stumbling out of the tent. She did not say another word to him directly, but instead gave Harvey a nod of acknowledgement before she disappeared outside.

After quickly writing a few notes on symptoms, treatment provided, and recommendations given to the patient, Harvey called in his next client.

The blond man's blue eyes glanced around anxiously. "No one else is in here, right, Doc?" he inquired urgently. His gaze kept darting back and forth, as if wary that someone might pop out from behind a storage crate.

Nodding in confirmation, the medical professional assured his patient that they were alone. The soldier checked a few corners just to be sure before he began to unbuckle his belt. "Doc, I've got it bad," he declared in a shaky voice. "I ain't a lady, so I ain't supposed to bleed outta there, you know?"

He dropped his pants and Harvey's eyes widened at the sight. "I see you're experiencing some discomfort…" the doctor remarked, clearing his throat. He began to rummage through his boxes of supplies. Harvey quietly interrogated the embarrassed soldier on his other symptoms and wrote down the names of anyone with whom his patient had sexual relations with in the last month, just to be safe.

The medic was slightly discouraged by the length of the list. This was only his first day in this new location and Harvey realized he already may have to deal with an outbreak of STIs. "I'll send notices to these people discreetly," Harvey told his client, who shifted his weight anxiously from one foot to the other.

"Just tell me how to get back to normal, Doc," the blond whined.

Harvey gave the man a small sample cup. "Pee in this and I'll confirm for sure, but I'm fairly certain you have gonorrhea based on the indicators you provided."

The man's blue eyes darted toward the physician sheepishly. "It hurts to piss," he disclosed in a whisper.

"Do you want to find out what it is so I can treat you or not?"

Eyeing the sample cup in his hand, the man pulled up his pants and went outside to find a place to provide his sample for the doctor. He returned shortly and Harvey was disturbed by the color of the specimen. "I'll get this tested and confirm my diagnosis in a few days," he explained. "It's treatable," Harvey assured his client. "And I'll do my best to make sure things don't progress while we wait for the results."

"Am I gonna lose my dick, Doc?" the soldier whimpered pitifully.

Harvey held back his grin, since that would be unprofessional. This man was clearly still rather young and he was genuinely afraid of what was going to happen to him.

"It's highly unlikely once you're treated with the antibiotics," the medic assured the blond. "But I hope you've learned a lesson about using protection from now on." While he did not expect the soldier to need them any time soon, Harvey did slip his patient a few small packets for future use.

"Yessir!" the blue-eyed man answered, pocketing the goods with a salute. Harvey could tell the Ferngill Republic warrior had the fear of Yoba in his eyes and he would probably heed the clinician's advice.

When Harvey was finished with his notes, he noticed the soldier was still standing in the middle of his medical tent. "Oh, uh, you're dismissed…" the practitioner articulated in military fashion, caught off-guard by the blond's behavior.

Rigidly, the man rotated on his heels and exited the shelter, walking funny, Harvey noticed.

As he completed his notes, the practitioner was about to call in his next patient when Talla entered unannounced. "You've been busy today, Doctor," the syren smirked with amusement. "But the queue outside is finally no more."

Harvey sighed with relief, resting his elbow on his makeshift desk, and placed his head in his open palm. "I have to admit this is not what I expected. I imagined there would be a lot more…" he paused, not sure what to say.

"Gore, perhaps?" Talla offered with a melodious laugh, taking a seat on a wooden box of vaccinations against various common diseases. The demigoddess shook her head, her curly teal hair bouncing with the movement. "I am sure we will get to that at some point, if that is what you so desire, Doctor."

"It's not that I want more blood and guts," he clarified immediately. "I just worried my patients' lives would be in more urgent danger."

The syren's sea-blue eyes settled on him and Harvey wondered what was going through her mind. She was radiant today. The gold flecks of the demigoddesses' true form reflecting the lamp light through her weakened humanoid veneer in a hypnotic manner. "I have no doubt there will come a time when you will be faced with difficult choices, Doctor. Consider these cases a way of easing you into this world of violence that humans have created."

Harvey pouted, the tips of his mustache drooping slightly. "Yes, I suppose you're right, Talla." He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. I wish I had more natural light in here for writing my notes, but I need to maintain as much privacy for my patients as possible, he grumbled to himself.

When Talla rose to leave, Harvey recognized that his companion looked even less human when he put on his glasses again. He could see the frills on the side of her face where human ears would normally sit and while her slitted pupils were widened in the dim light, they were not round like a mortal's eyes. This time, the physician thought to investigate the problem.

"Talla, I've noticed your human disguise is fading in and out lately," Harvey indicated softly to make sure that others outside the tent would not overhear. "Is everything okay or do you know these soldiers?"

The ridge of her brow twitched. "When did this begin?" the demigoddess demanded sharply.

Harvey reflected for a moment. "Well, I've noticed little things every once and a while - even a few times in Pelican Town." His mouth pursed as he recalled the instances. "Usually just a flash of your real eyes," the medic mused aloud. "But it's been happening more and more since you recovered from your -" he stopped, knowing that his companion did not care for discussing her moment of weakness, "illness in the desert."

Talla appeared to be processing the information introspectively, her shark-like eyes fixated on him with serious intent. While Harvey used to be terrified of such a look, he found that he was less and less afraid of the syren now. Whether it was for better or worse, the physician could not say.

But the demigoddess said nothing on the topic, instead changing the subject completely. "I suggest you get some rest while there are no more sickly humans lined up outside your dwelling, Doctor," the syren advised. "It would be a disservice to your fellow countrymen should you give poor treatment because of your own fatigue."

"I suppose a short nap couldn't hurt anything," Harvey acknowledged, slightly put out that he did not receive a proper answer to his question. Removing his lab coat, the clinician took up his water canteen and took a drink. As he wiped his mouth, Harvey noticed that Talla lingered in the entryway.

"Is there anything you need, Talla?" She withdrew from the shelter like a startled minnow. I suppose not, then.

Normally on Wednesday mornings, Abigail visited the library to see if she could find any clues as to what Violet's weird tapestry could mean. But so far the only snippets she found were in a dirty old book that the farmer found buried in the middle of town by some guy called "M. Jasper."

For now, the trail led to a dead end. The "goblins" in his writings looked nothing like the figures in the tapestry at all, though. When she had approached Gunther to inquire if the mysterious author had any other books, the denim cowboy sighed deeply. "We used to have a few of his works," the librarian informed his patron, stroking his goatee. "But they were all lost during that break-in at the beginning of the year. Perhaps some motivated young villagers will stumble across it somewhere." He winked at her and Abigail exhaled sharply in irritation.

Knowing Gunther, the underlying message was: I'm too old for this shit. Go hunt for it yourself.

So today, Abigail had a different mission. After the wizard approached her to offer magic lessons and then was swiftly dragged off by her mother at Stardew Valley Fair, Rasmodius had not come back to give her further instruction and Abigail could only assume it had to do with Caroline.

Abigail stood in her father's store, stocking the shelves, and waiting to ambush her mother when she came to help them. It was Wednesday, so the shop was closed to the public, but that meant more work could be done without anyone messing it up. And while normally Caroline enjoyed her weird-smelling tea in her sunroom mid-week, it was raining, so she would probably help the rest of the family.

Yet after an hour, there was still no sign of her green-haired parent. Abigail probed Pierre for her mother's location. "Dad, where's Mom?"

Pierre frowned. "Your mother is feeling too ill to help in the shop today," he grumbled.

Abigail's cerulean eyes lit up at the opportunity. She feigned concern. "And you left her all by herself?!" the amethyst-haired woman scolded her father. "I'll go check on her!"

Before Pierre could protest, his daughter fled to the residential section of the building and slammed the door shut to discourage him from following her. When Abigail was sure she was not being followed, she strode toward her parents' bedroom to confront her mother.

Tapping her knuckles gently on the door, Abigail pushed through without waiting for her mother's reply. The young woman felt the plush purple carpet beneath her feet as she walked toward the bed where Caroline was supposed to be resting, but the red coverlet was laid out smooth, with no trace of a sickly occupant.

Scowling, Abigail headed for the kitchen, wondering if Caroline had gotten up to make herself some soup or hot beverage. However, she found the kitchen equally deserted. Abigail was about to let out a scream of frustration when she heard her mother beckon her from the sunroom. "I'm in here, Abby."

Abigail twirled and burst through the door in one fluid motion, stumbling into the windowed room clumsily. The room, lit only by a few candles Caroline had lit around the room, was cast in eerie shadow due to the storm. Rain splattered violently against the glass above their heads, but their invisible shelter kept the sunroom dry.

She discovered Caroline sitting on the edge of her fancy indoor fountain on the far wall, sipping her homemade green tea and admiring the weird orange fruits that grew out of the giant planter beside the water source. They gave off a fragrant, tantalizing smell that indicated their ripeness.

"You took longer than I thought," Caroline stated simply, releasing her hold on one of the fruits and allowing it to sway back into place on the vine.

The young woman growled in frustration. "Then why didn't you just call me in here to talk?!"

Caroline pressed a finger to her lips and bobbed her head in the direction of the door to quiet her daughter. "Because then Pierre would eavesdrop." The older woman shook her head, "He's so nosy..."

Abigail noticed two strange details in that sentence alone. First of all, Caroline always referred to Pierre as "your father" when talking to her daughter. Secondly, her mom was actively excluding him from the conversation. "So this is a secret?"

Her mother bowed her head in confirmation. "Now come sit with me, won't you, dear?" Caroline's free hand tapped the ridge of the fountain beside her.

While Abigail desired answers, it was weird for her mom to act so chummy. Not to mention the whole atmosphere was giving her cult vibes, and not in the fun messing with a Ouija board at midnight on Spirit's Eve kind of way. Hesitantly, the woman lowered herself to sit beside her parent. "Am I… in trouble?" the pale woman asked reluctantly.

"No." She set down her teacup in its saucer and it quickly disappeared in Caroline's shadow as she placed her drink neatly on the ledge next to her. "I'm afraid I'm the one in trouble this time, Abby." Caroline took her daughter's hand in her own and Abigail felt oddly relaxed now.

"Sweetheart," the woman's emerald green eyes, somehow so clear in the dim room, gazed into her daughter's bright blue ones. "I have something to say to you…" When Abigail did not speak up, her parent took that as permission to continue.

"When we first moved to Pelican Town, your father would make trips to Grampleton - the next town over - to buy supplies in bulk for the General Store." Before Abigail could interject, Caroline added an important detail. "This was before Robin and Demetrius moved in, so we didn't have a town carpenter to buy from directly..." The emerald-eyed woman bit her lip. "Sometimes these business trips would go well into the night and there were a few times Pierre did not come home until early the next day, so I got suspicious…"

Abigail felt a pit forming in her stomach, but remained quiet to urge her mother onward. Caroline resumed her story. "One night, I followed him and found him in bed with another woman. Part of me wanted to break into the building and confront him then and there, but another, stronger part of me believed hurting him back would teach him a real lesson."

The newly-minted magic user began to realize where her mother was going with all this. "I'm not actually related to Dad, am I?"

Caroline sighed, her shoulders drooping low as she came clean. "No," she whispered over the patter of the raindrops overhead, twiddling her thumbs in her lap. After gathering up a bit of courage, she looked her daughter in the eyes and made her confession. "Rasmodius is your father."