"Welcome to the old Money Bin, former home and workplace of our deposed king and his family, current home and workplace of Gladstone and Lena, Inc. Don't go looking for any spare cash, though. If there was any left, with my luck, Lena and I would have found it by now…"
But Lucas wasn't listening. Something about the Money Bin seemed almost familiar, somehow. Being there brought him to another time, that elusive time before he could remember. The faded wallpaper, the dusty dishes still sitting on the tables, even the musty smell were all like faded old friends. He saw flashes around him: the spectres of men and women dressed in fine suits and glittering gowns; the tinkling sound of gold and silver coins delicately falling against each other; an old man laden with rope and tools and maps, his face vague and blurred by time.
Lucas found himself drawn to a table underneath a portrait of the royal family and picked up one of the plates. It was beautiful; he couldn't imagine anyone ever eating off of it. He wondered if anyone ever had. He blew off the dust so he could see it more clearly and was immediately hit with a burst of what was nearly a memory—familiar faces, the stars in the sky, the smell of the sea. Love. A few strains of a melody floated through his head, dim and indistinct and just out of reach. But suddenly, a phantom scream broke into his thoughts, and the plate nearly fell from his hands.
"Hey, kid!" Gladstone was snapping his fingers next to Lucas' face.
Lucas blinked. "What?" he said sourly, putting the plate down.
"I said, tell us a little about yourself," Gladstone said.
Lucas shrugged. "There's not much to tell."
"Come on, kid, don't sell yourself short," the girl—Lena—said. "Why don't you start with your name?"
"I don't know my name."
"You...don't know your name?" Lena said. She and Gladstone exchanged a look.
"Can't remember it," Lucas said, voice gruff. He avoided their eyes.
"You've got to have a name," Gladstone said.
"They gave me the name 'Lucas' at the hospital," he said. "That's the closest thing I have to a name."
"Just 'Lucas'?" Gladstone asked.
"Just 'Lucas.'"
"No last name to go along with that?" Lena asked.
"Nope. No last name."
Lena and Gladstone exchanged another look.
"How is it that a nice kid like you doesn't have his own name?" Gladstone asked.
Lucas shrugged again. He was starting to feel self-conscious. "I don't remember much of anything before the Revolution."
"Nothing?" Lena asked.
"Nope. I'm a blank slate," Lucas said, repeating the words that had given him a sick feeling in his stomach all those years ago. "Well, not so much anymore, since my memory's been fine since. But before that? Nothing, not before the hospital." Lucas paused. "Sometimes, I have these dreams…"
"I told you he's going to faint on us," Lena muttered. Gladstone elbowed her in the side.
Louie shook his head, ignoring her. "It doesn't matter. I never remember anything when I wake up, anyway."
"I see," Gladstone said thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "That does complicate things. And where is it you want to go?"
"Duckburg."
"Duckburg?" Gladstone's eyes lit up. "Why do you want to go to Duckburg?"
Lucas slipped his hand in his pocket, comforted by the feeling of smooth, cold metal inside. "Well, that's the one thing I do remember, so I figured I'd go and see if I can get some answers." He frowned. "Can you two help me or not?"
The duo looked thoughtful.
"I don't know…" said Gladstone. "Funny thing is, we're actually going to Duckburg ourselves; we'd sure like to help you, but…"
"We do have three tickets," Lena said.
"Yes, but one of those is already spoken for." Gladstone gestured to the huge portrait on the wall.
Lucas turned around. Sure, he had seen pictures of the royal family before, but they were small, blurry, black-and-white newspaper pictures, nothing like the full-color portrait before him.
King Scrooge sat front and center, with a pickax on the ground in front of him and a glass dome covering a coin on a pillow at his side. He was flanked by the Crown Princess Della, wearing an aviator's outfit, and her brother, Prince Donald, wearing a sailor's outfit (the newspapers did so like to go on about their "frivolous hobbies"). In front of the Crown Princess stood three ducklings, clad in red, blue, and green, and by far the most regally dressed ducks in the picture. And behind Prince Donald were two more ducks, one dressed in red and wearing a stocking cap that did nothing to contain his crazy, untamed head feathers, and the other dressed in a smart green suit, the feathers on his head forming a very dandy—and very familiar—curl…
"Is that you?" Lucas asked.
"What?" said Gladstone, caught off-guard. "Oh, yes, that's me. But I was pointing to him."
Lucas followed Gladstone's hand back to the painting, and his eyes fell on the most talked-about duckling in all of Scotland.
"We're going to reunite the lost prince with his family," Lena said.
"You found the lost prince?" Lucas asked incredulously.
"I don't know. Have we?" Gladstone gave Lucas a pointed look.
Lucas couldn't help but glance around to see if there was anyone else around that Gladstone could be talking to. There wasn't. "What? Me?"
"You do kind of resemble him," Lena said, coming up next to him.
"The same ivory white feathers," Gladstone said, running his fingers through them.
"The Duck family feathers!" Lena added.
"Della's beak!" Gladstone said. "And that tail!"
"The triplets' tail!" Lena said.
"You might even have Donald's smile, if you ever smiled," Gladstone said.
"If he ever smiled," Lena snickered.
"Besides, I saw that con you were pulling today," Gladstone said.
Lucas felt his face grow warm.
"Louie used to do that sort of thing all the time!"
"You're the same age, the same physical type," Lena ticked off on her fingers.
"You're both crazy," Lucas said, breaking away from them. "You're beyond crazy. You're—you're insane!"
"Why? You don't remember what happened to you," Gladstone said.
"And no one knows what happened to him," Lena added.
"You're looking for family in Duckburg…"
"...and all of his family is in Duckburg."
"But you're here," Lucas said to Gladstone. "If you're in the portrait, doesn't that make you his family?"
"Forget about the portrait," Gladstone said. "Just think about the possibilities."
"What, the possibility that I could be a prince?" Lucas said.
"Mmhmm," Lena said.
"There's no way," Lucas said. "Look at me! Do I look like a prince to you?"
"Yes," Lena said.
"Clothes go a long way to making a man, but they do not create—or break—blood ties," Gladstone said.
"Haven't you ever thought about it before?" asked Lena.
"Somewhere, there's a boy about your age who is the Lost Prince Louie. And who knows? It could be you," Gladstone said.
Lucas looked again at the remnants of opulence that surrounded him. That all could have been his, once. It could be his again.
"But, if you're not the prince…" Gladstone put his arm around Lena's shoulders and began leading her away, leaving Lucas staring at the portrait. "Really wish we could help, but the third ticket is for Prince Louie. Good luck!" he called over his shoulder.
"What are you doing?" Lena hissed.
"What do you mean, what am I doing? I'm getting ourselves a lost prince!" Gladstone hissed back. "Don't you remember our plan?"
"I thought our lost prince was going to be in on our plan!"
"He'll never go for it; the kid's got too much of an honest streak in him. Nobody takes that much care to only steal a few bank notes here and there out of a rich man's wallet."
"Fine. But I say we're leaving too soon."
"Don't worry; I've got it all under control." Gladstone slowed and beckoned Lena to do the same. "Three, two—"
"Gladstone!" Lucas came running after them. "Gladstone, wait!"
"I told you!" Gladstone whispered to Lena before turning around. "Did you call?"
"I guess…if I don't know who I am, then there's a chance I could be the lost prince, couldn't I?"
"Mmhmm, go on," Gladstone said.
"And if I'm not Louie, then his family will certainly know right away, and it's all just an honest mistake."
"Makes sense to me," said Gladstone.
"But if you are the prince, then you'll finally know who you are and have your family back," Lena said.
"Either way, it gets you to Duckburg," Gladstone said.
"Right!" Lucas said. He thrust out his hand, and Gladstone shook it, wincing at Lucas' iron grip.
"We're going to Duckburg!" Lucas shouted.
"Woo hoo!" Lena said, jumping up in excitement.
Up in the rafters, a raven was watching the scene unfold below him. He cawed quietly.
"Prince Louie alive?" He cawed again, shaking his head. "The prince is dead. Dead, dead, dead." Another caw. "Nevermore!"
But then, the raven began to notice a tug. A pull. It was small, but it was there. He looked towards the source of the tug, his eyes landing on the duckling's coat pocket, where he could see a faint, magical glow.
He cawed again. "The dime! The dime!" He flapped his wings, circling up towards a small window near the top of the Bin. "The dime!" He flew out the window and towards the horizon, continuing to caw. "The dime! The dime! Evermore!"