"Alfred!" Someone was shaking him awake and he began to groggily come from his dreams, "Alfred! Jeez, you are a deep sleeper. Come on!"
"Wha...?" He blinked his eyes open, his vision coming into focus. Elizabeta stood over him, grinning, and he squeaked and pulled the blankets to his chin, "Miss Héderváry! What are you doing in my room?"
"Oh my goodness," she chuckled, "You're a little girl, you know that?"
"What do you want, if I may inquire?" Alfred narrowed his eyes.
"It's about the fortune," Elizabeta explained, "It seems he left all his inheritance to be dealt with by his brother - Lukas?"
"Okay? And?" Alfred rubbed his eyes.
"And," Elizabeta concluded, "He's called anyone interested to come to the cellar for a séance. He says he's gonna call upon Magnus to see what to do with the money."
"You don't believe that, do you?" Alfred rolled his eyes.
"Not in the slightest," Elizabeta agreed, "But it wouldn't hurt to get into his favour, yeah?"
"I think I see where you're going with this," Alfred grinned, "Let me go find my brother and I'll meet you there."
"I really don't want to go, Alfred," Matthew muttered, tapping his fingers together, "You know how much I dislike this sort of thing. It gives me the chills."
"For the last time, Mattie," Alfred said, "It's just a bunch of cheap tricks and candle flickers. Nothing to worry about. It's for a good cause, anyways."
"What cause?" Matthew wondered.
"My wallet." They reached the cellar doors and Alfred hesitated, remembering the scene from yesterday.
"Scared, are we?" a voice behind them asked, making both boys turn around, startled. Arthur stood, a smirk across his face and his arms crossed.
"No!" Alfred answered, quickly.
"A little," Matthew mumbled, too quiet to be heard.
"You should be," Arthur came up, resting his arms on either of their shoulders, "Have you boys ever been to a séance before?"
"Nope," Alfred shook his head, "It's a bunch of baloney."
"Alfred doesn't believe in this supernatural stuff," Matthew explained.
"Really?" Arthur turned to him, "Well, he should."
"What? Why?" Matthew asked.
"Because it's all real," Arthur explained, "In my youth, I used to dabble in it. Dark stuff. I nearly died trying to summon a demon once."
"You did?" Matthew's eyes widened into saucers.
"He's lying, Mattie," Alfred warned.
"I swear it on my life," Arthur insisted, "I was sitting in a cellar much like this one. Things started flying around the room and something hit me in the back of the head. I was in a coma for nearly three days. It's just fortunate that I didn't die."
"You probably did and the doctors revived you," Alfred pushed him away, angrily, "That would explain the brain damage. You're scaring him, you dick."
"My apologies," Arthur brushed down his shirt, smugly, "Perhaps you should take him somewhere else during the séance and leave the fortune to someone who actually deserves it."
"Come on, Mattie," Alfred took his brother's wrist, glaring daggers at Arthur and then descending the stairs.
"What if he's right, Alfred," Matthew whimpered, shaking, "Maybe this isn't safe."
"I've already told you, Matthew," Alfred gritted his teeth, "It's just cheap tricks and flickering candles. Don't be such a baby." They weaved through the cellar until they came upon the place where Alfred had found the body the day before. Magnus had already been moved, but an array of cushions were set in a circle, some occupied, others not. Elizabeta waved him over and he happily crossed the room, sitting beside her.
"Glad you could make it," she smiled, "This must be your brother... Is he okay?" He turned to look at the man beside him, who was looking around in paranoia, his eyes wide and terrified.
"He's just a little shaken up because Arthur was trying to get us to back out," Alfred slapped a hand on his back, making Matthew jump and squeek in fright, "But we're alright. Right, Mattie?"
"Uh... Yeah. Sure," Matthew placed a hand on his chest, willing his racing heart to slow down.
"So, how's the competition looking?" Alfred leaned forward to whisper with her.
"Not good," Elizabeta replied, "We've already got quite a few people here and more are coming. Ivan is here, which is terrifying. And then General Ludwig brought Kiku and the Italian brothers."
"Damn," Alfred muttered, "I was hoping Kiku wouldn't be involved."
"You know him?" Elizabeta inquired.
"We're old friends," Alfred answered, "I don't mind competing with him so much as I don't want him working with Ludwig the ass and the mafia bros."
"Hehe. I could see why that might be a problem," she understood, "But they're also our biggest threat."
"Arthur came in behind us," Alfred noted, "And Francis certainly won't pass up a chance like this. I hear Yao had a rivalry with Magnus, so he will probably join in, too."
"And Feliks will be late, as always, but he'll definitely show," Elizabeta added, "But other than that, I think we're going to be-"
"It's alright everyone!" a loud voice called into the cellar as they came into view, "I brought enough awesome for all of us! You can thank me later."
"Oh no," Elizabeta pulled Alfred to hide her, "What is he doing here?"
"What is who doing where?" Alfred looked over to the man who had arrived and was busy trying to talk up Lukas, who mostly ignored him. Gilbert flashed a grin in Alfred's direction that promised bloodshed and he quickly averted his eyes, "Oh. Him."
"Yeah," she grumbled, "Ignoring him, I was going to propose something to you, Alfred."
"What?" He wondered.
"Well," she explained, "I have reason to believe that there's going to be a competition of sorts to determine who will get the money. I was thinking maybe, if one of us wins, we could split it between the two of us, but that way we can help each other out. Matthew can join us too, if he would like."
"Sounds great!" Alfred beamed, "What do you say, Mattie? You in?"
"Um... I suppose," Matthew agreed.
"Thata boy," Alfred approved. He stuck his hand out to her and she took it, shaking it, "It's a deal, Miss Elizabeta."
"Pleasure doing business with you, Mister Alfred," she replied. He winked and they both were forced to stifle their laughter from the ridiculous action.
"What are you love birds giggling about?" Feliks plopped down on the cushion beside Matthew, startling him, "Oh. Did I scare you? Whoops. I don't believe we've met. Feliks is the name. Feliks Łukasiewicz."
"M-matthew," he replied, "Matthew Williams."
"Nice to meet you, Matthew," Feliks leaned towards him, grinning devilishly.
"Hi," Alfred tugged Matthew away from him, glaring, "Alfred Jones. Matthew is my brother."
"Oh, I know you," Feliks smirked, "The one with the red outfit the other night. I picked on you a bit, but I must say I can respect a man who isn't afraid to wear what he wants."
"Really?" Alfred blinked, surprised by the sudden compliment.
"Oh, yes," Feliks confirmed, "I rather liked the-"
"Feliks!" Lukas snapped from across the circle. Everyone was beginning to settle down and all eyes turned to them at the shout, "Leave the Americans alone."
"Actually, I'm not-" Matthew began, but he was cut off.
"Aw, come on, Lukas," Feliks pouted, "I just was having a little fun."
"We're about to start anyways," Lukas huffed, "Take your seats." Some grumbling and a few purposeful shoves later, they were ready. Taking a wine glass, he placed it in the center of the circle and pulled a few candles out of a box he had beside him and placed them in around it. He then produced a wine bottle, handing it over to Feliks.
"For me?" he accepted the bottle, "Oh, you shouldn't have, Lukas... I have no idea how to repay you-"
"Oh, shut up," Lukas scowled, cutting his dramatics short, "The wine isn't for you, it's for my brother. In order to perform the scéance, we need to offer his spirit something. He would have prefered something a little more to his tastes, I'm sure, but he'll have to deal with this as he drank everything else last night. If you can manage, how about putting the wine in the cup."
"You really don't like me," Feliks pouted, removing the cap and pouring the alcohol into the glass."
"You're right," Lukas agreed, taking the bottle back there after, "I don't. Now, as much as I despise this, we'll need to hold hands for this next part." Everyone linked hands with the persons beside them as Lukas lit the candles he'd assembled. Arthur and Francis squabbled about sweaty hands and the Italian brother's peered around Ludwig in fear at the Russian man who smiled sweetly beside him. Alfred juggled between glaring daggers at Feliks' advances and a silent competition of awesome with Gilbert, who sat on Lukas' far side. Once he took both Gilbert's and Feliks' hands, a look of disgust on his face, the side conversations settled down and everyone waited in anticipation for the one thing that brought them all together.
Who would be getting the fortune.
"No one else must ask any questions of Magnus' spirit," he explained, "He was an idiot in life and we can't expect him to be any different, now. He'll be easily confused and if any of you speak, you'll probably just fuck this up. For all our sakes, keep your mouths closed."
Seeing nothing but a few irritated eyes in response to his instructions, he began to yell into the empty cellar, speaking in a language none of them knew.
"Magnus du røv. Hele denne spil er dumt..."
"What're you saying?" Arthur demanded, not recognising the language.
"I'm using an ancient language from before any of our time," Lukas growled in answer, "Now, I told you to shut up." Arthur huffed, but obeyed.
"Hvis du ikke møder op om fem sekunder vil jeg fortælle alle om den raserianfa-" Lukas was cut short by a loud knocking on one of the walls. All heads shot towards it and Alfred could feel Matthew's grip tighten. Elizabeta, on the other hand, was fascinated.
"He's here," Lukas explained, the candle lights flickering over his face in an eerie manner, "If you have any questions, now would be the time to present them. I will translate and he will answer."
"What was he doing in the cellar?" Ludwig was the first to speak up. He didn't quite believe this whole charade, yet, but he was convinced enough to play along - For now.
"I know that one!" Alfred spoke up, "They ran out of drinks upstairs. He was getting more."
"Who told you that?" Ludwig inquired, earning a smug look from the American.
"Some ass named Philip," Alfred replied, "Told me Magnus was down here getting drinks when I asked. I came down here to speak with him and that's when..."
"When you found the body," Matthew concluded.
"Exactly," Alfred confirmed.
"But how do we know you didn't kill him?" Yao interjected, "You are obviously only after his money - You probably killed him just to have a chance at his fortune. American scum like you are not above it."
"Like you're one to talk," Alfred scoffed, "Kiku told me all about your competition with him and how you were eying those trophies last night. You probably took one and did him in out of jealousy!"
"You also mentioned the trophies to me, Yao," Arthur said from beside him, "You were incredibly angry when I asked you about your soccer competitions this year."
"I would never!" Yao gasped in indignanty, "How dare you accuse me of such a thing!"
"I agree," Kiku nodded, "While Yao is very nosey, he does not murder."
"So if it wasn't you, maybe it was the mafia bro," Alfred chimed in, "I wouldn't trust them as far as I could throw em..."
"Pfft. Our American friend is sure quick to jump to conclusions," one of the Italians, whose name was Lovino, pointed out, "And you and your brother scampered off somewhere right after the incident - Perhaps to hide evidence?"
"Mattie wouldn't hurt a fly!" Alfred shouted, starting to pull out of the circle to teach the snide Italian a lesson, but said brother and Elizabeta held him back.
"A quiet act would be the ideal cover for a murderer..." Ludwig noted.
"It wasn't him!"
"If you are all done playing the blame game," Lukas broke in, impatiently, "We could just ask Magnus."
"Yeah!" Alfred agreed, "Go ahead! Ask him!"
"I was planning on it," Lukas grumbled, "Unfortunately, we are only capable of asking certain types of questions. I will asking him a yes or no question and he will respond with one knock for yes. One for no. No answer will indicate he does not know or cannot answer. Are we clear?" Everyone nodded.
"To begin, we will ask him if the murderer is on the property still," Lukas continued, "Magnus! Er du et røv? To slag betyde ja. Et slag betyde nej." Two knocks sounded after a minute, putting everyone on the edge of their seat.
"Ask him if they are in this room!" Arthur prompted.
"Kan jeg selv bede om, at? To slag betyde ja. Et slag betyde nej," Lukas translated.
There was silence.