After dispatching the nosy Valon on a bogus errand, Deirdra typed 'Liam Flanaghan, duelist' into the Google search bar on his laptop and hit 'search'. 137,093 results were returned. Great, just great, she thought. It would take days, possibly weeks, to check them all. And she wasn't even sure exactly what it was she was looking for. Perhaps something linking him to Dartz or Paradius. Or some shady dealings he had been involved in or accused of. Really, anything that made him stand out from the crowd. She checked his wikipedia entry and the international duelist database first for some background information. The facts presented on both the former and the latter did nothing but provoke her admiration and sympathy. He was a country boy. Born and raised in Eyrecourt, a rural town in County Galway, Ireland. At 15, he was the second youngest of four children. His father had been shot in a protest in Dublin some years before and his mother was semi-bedridden. He was a practicing Catholic and attended mass every Sunday. When he wasn't at school or dueling, he raised sheep and grew vegetables to sell to contribute to the household earnings. When interviewed after winning a local tournament, he had said that he would save the prize money as he hoped to someday buy his family a larger home. How noble, Deirdra thought. Now for the dirty laundry. She began checking the online tabloids, the messageboards, and the chatrooms. But there was no dirty laundry to be found. It seemed Mr. Flanaghan was beyond reproach. No one had an ill word to say about him anywhere. He was known for being a kind-hearted, cheerful lad and a formidable yet honourable opponent. To sum up, he was held with high regard among other duelists and in his own community. Deirdra was about to give up and accept defeat when something caught her interest. It wasn't much. Certainly not a smoking gun. Just a little blurb in an online newspaper. But it gave her something more to go on. Something to investigate further. The blurb stated that a few years ago, shortly before he became an overnight success, young Liam had unearthed a strange stone on his farm. Scientists had been called in, but they were unable to identify its age, origin, or value. Or what it was made of, for that matter. It was apparently unlike anything they had ever seen before. A small photo of Liam with the stone was shown. The rough-hewn stone was large and heavy, as it was obvious that the boy had had some difficulty supporting its weight. It was a pale opalescent purple colour. Deirdra excitedly jotted down the phone number of the newspaper's editor. She would call him/her later and see if she could get any additional details about the news story. She was particularly interested in knowing if the stone was still in Liam's posession. Just then, she heard some noisy footsteps approaching the door. She quickly deleted her browsing history and closed out of the page. And not a second too soon. Valon walked through the door. He was panting. "I went down to that Handy Mart on the corner like you said, but they didn't have any Clinique lip gloss. Then I rode to the other Handy Mart down in the east end in case they had it, but no luck there either. Sorry, mate. I did my best", he said. He collapsed on the bed. Deirdra felt guilty for sending him on a wild goose chase but she couldn't have taken the chance of him telling Dartz what she'd been researching on the computer. "Well, thanks anyway. I appreciate it. I guess I was wrong", she said, getting up to leave. "Don't mention it. Anything for a pretty gal", Valon responded, winking. She blushed and made a speedy getaway.
She opened the door to her room and came face-to-face with a frightening sight. There sat Alister in a chair opposite where she stood. "How did you get in here?", she asked. She had locked her door before leaving earlier that morning. As usual, Alister ignored her. "Where the f-k have you been? I waited for 2 hours!", he shouted, fists clenched. He was livid. "I-I'm s-s-sorry. I-I was with Valon", she sputtered. The minute she said it, she knew she'd made a mistake. Alister's face grew redder and his voice went up by several decibels. "That bastard! I'll kill him!", he raged, taking off out the door. Deirdra didn't need to ask where he was headed. "Alister, stop. It's my fault. He didn't do anything! Stop!", she yelled. Her pleas fell on deaf ears. She raced after the infuriated redhead, hoping she got to valon before he did.