The daunting task of finding the Daleks that the soldiers came from began with the TARDIS using the names uttered by Alpha as reference points.
From its initial findings, the TARDIS revealed that these Daleks weren't the norm.
A different sect, not uncommon with Daleks, they're highly opinionated as it is, it's as easy as the wrong sneeze sending them into different sects.
Going to war with each other when they're not after something or the Doctor, especially.
However, with these ones, they're a more academic sort, Paul had to look at the screen twice over just to be sure he wasn't imagining it.
Academic Daleks.
Who knew?
Still the murderous sort that he and Taylor were familiar with, but they were tasked with an important mission.
Obviously, that failed with what he saw at Doctor Ivo's complex.
Hush about their mission, not even the TARDIS could ascertain, and it been trying ever since Paul put it to task.
During this, Paul desperately kept his fears from spilling out, trying to follow his father's words, not letting it take over him.
Unable to hide it from Taylor, she held him close to her every night, softly stroking his back, humming a song that her mother taught her when she was a child that she would sing to her whenever she was stressed or sick.
It certainly helped alleviate some of the internal fears that clawed at Paul, he thanked Taylor every morning, a well-placed kiss and a warm embrace.
So far, their efforts bore no fruit, the TARDIS even far as reaching out to different Doctors traveling the universes over, but even they couldn't come up with an answer.
Daleks aren't known for their cleverness, but keeping a secret's a different story all-together, even Daleks weren't the types to keep secrets from each other.
Hell, they would fight each other over them.
Almost impossible for a Dalek to keep a secret for long, especially one tangible to put in the throes of succession as Dalek Supreme.
This wasn't going to be, and as his father taught him, nothing ever is, especially in the life as the Doctor.
For now, while actively waiting for something to fall into his lap that gave him the answers he needed, Paul does what he does best, adventuring with Taylor throughout the worlds over, meeting allies, making enemies, the usual things in life.
Their latest adventuring took them to a hamlet with an overlooking castle in the distance, accessible via carriage ride, and despite their initial glances, the hamlet's much more modern than either expected.
At least around the 1980s, the TARDIS confirmed this when they double-checked.
They're in the Viper Hamlet, a remote hamlet that rarely saw foot traffic, unless there were curious visitors wanting to know the history of Castle Viper.
Thankfully, Paul and Taylor didn't need to look far for answers, there were plenty of plaques detailing different points in history scattered around the hamlet for them to read as they walked together.
The titular Baron Viper T. Nice settled in the area centuries ago with his family, of course, his last name became a misnomer.
It was said that upon arriving with his family, his beloved wife had suddenly passed from an illness she contracted during the journey, leaving the baron to raise his two sons, alone.
A struggle at the time, the baron hired servants to ease the load, while he oversaw the hamlet, but tragedy seemingly followed him.
His oldest, Frederick, went missing after his carriage was caught in the floods during a massive storm that came over the area.
It sent his youngest, Morgan, into a deep-seated depression that could not be broken, despite Viper trying, and it culminated with the young man committing suicide by throwing himself off the side of the castle, plunging into the dark waters of the loch.
The once diplomatic baron turned horrid towards his servants, falling to the bottle, whereupon it drove him into dying by it, as he was found dead from what was later determined alcohol poisoning.
Per his wishes, he was buried beside his love on a hill in the hamlet cemetery with their children next to them.
Currently, a novelist claiming to be a descendant of the baron lives in the castle, preferring to go by his pen name, Prospero, and he had steadily brought tourism to the sleepy hamlet by the way of his books since claiming the castle as his.
Nobody minded him, since he preferred the solitary life in the castle, only seldom did he come down from the castle to fetch things from the marketplace.
It'd appear he's looking for his next inspiration, having "drained every inkwell from here to Welshland" as he put it.
Starving for inspiration, Prospero worked tirelessly, and running on fumes as it seemed.
One woman called him the next Edgar Allan Poe, even, though worried he'd drink himself to death trying to force an idea out of his head and onto the paper.
"Fascinating!" Taylor found it as she walked with her arms interlocked with Paul's, both absorbing the hamlet as they passed by different storefronts, hardly unchanged since their inception, so much Paul mused that he saw windows that are over a hundred years old!
Eventually, they caught whiff of freshly baked goods, and well, they done their service walking around the hamlet, that the pair treated themselves some coffee and fresh baked scones with homemade fillings.
Easily, Paul deduced the bakery never changed the recipe, the machinery they used to fold butter into the dough was at least from the 1800s, still working as bakers continuously fed it dough.
Sitting around the small table outside the bakery shop, the couple watched people going about their days, talking to each other, while Taylor mused the purpose of the TARDIS bringing them here.
After sipping from his teacup, Paul responded with, "That I don't know, but I'm willing to bet, it might be related to this Prospero."
Call it a hunch.
As she daintily picked up her raspberry cream scone, Taylor mustered in a hush tone, "I hope we aren't expecting some sort of plague!"
Can't be helped, someone calling themselves Prospero and all that, hard for Taylor not to draw parallels.
Smiling as he reached over to touch her free hand, Paul assured her that the TARDIS would have warned them if that were the case.
Slowly nodding, Taylor agreed with him, before taking bites out of her scone.
Reminded her of her mother baking in the kitchen, a younger Taylor huddled close beside her, her emerald eyes twinkling at the sight of the cooling delights her mother made, and how long she waited for them to cool before she could have one.
Picking up his, Paul went to take a bite, when he felt a presence watching him.
He followed his instinct and looked up to the green roof seeing a large raven looking down at him with curiosity in its black eyes.
It was quiet when it landed, Paul never saw it until it became intensely interested in him, for reasons he didn't know.
Seeing this, Taylor glimpsed up to the raven with its black and shiny feathers glistening under the sunlight, tilting its head attentively at Paul.
The feeling wasn't mutual with Paul.
"Not a fan of ravens, are you?" Someone called out to them, there's footsteps coming towards the table.
Turning their heads, the couple see a man strolling towards them, already he stood out compared to the natives, his curiosity drawn to Paul showing less than displeasure at the raven looking down at him.
"I have my reasons," Paul gave a brief response as he narrowed his angel eyes on the raven, seemingly interested in him.
Chuckling, the man gestures, "They're quite wonderful birds, what reason could a man detest them, so. You weren't a field mouse in your past life, were you?"
Tilting her head, her shortened ruby red hair flowing just above her shoulders, Taylor asks the man, "Who're you?"
He flashed a smile as he introduced himself, "Well, I'm Prospero. Surely, you heard of me, yes?"
A subtle shrug, her Cupid's bow lips pursed, Taylor admits, "Only recently, sir."
Glancing up at the raven as it kept focused on Paul, Prospero called out to it, "Come now, Gallico, why are you so persistent for sweets?"
Stunned, Paul echoed, "Gallico?"
Further chuckling Prospero tells him that he has a habit of naming.
Well, Gallico popped into his head when his blue eyes dropped to the raven one evening, here they are.
"You seem acquainted," Paul couldn't hide his dislike for the raven, having decided to perch itself on the empty chair in the middle of the table, further looking attentively at Paul.
Chuckling once more, Prospero noted, "He's got a bit of a sweet tooth. I'd wager he'll only leave you alone if you give him a piece."
His eyes focused on the raven looking him back, Paul pursed his fine lips as he broke apart his scone, quickly dropping half on the table.
Silently he watched as the raven began pecking at the scone, gobbling every morsel as it paid no mind to Paul glaring at it.
Once it pecked at every bit of crumb left, the raven departed, Paul watching it fly through the air, disappearing overhead, and Prospero amused how he glared at the raven as if it was a threat.
"You must have a traumatic experience!" Prospero gave his educated guess as he had his hands in his jacket pocket.
Turning his head to look at Prospero better, Paul explained once again, "I have my reasons."
Prospero found it amusing before the conversation turned to him inquiring if the couple were another pair of tourists coming to the hamlet for a story or two.
"Quite we are, a descendant of the baron, hm?" Paul raised his brow as Prospero nodded.
He was a descendant of the baron's first cousin, Warren Nice.
Of course, that's a stretch with all things considering, but Prospero dug deeply to make a connection.
And not to mention that the hamlet didn't know what else to do with the castle until he came around.
"We're quite interested in the history," Taylor summed as she wiped her hands on the napkin.
Smiling, Prospero took a hand out of his pocket as he gestures, "I'm not proficient in the history of the castle, to be perfectly frank, my dear, there's more secrets in those walls than I can reasonably dig out."
Talking with Prospero led him inviting the couple up to the castle, he grew curious about them, and seeing how they're much more different than the tourists he scarcely encountered, he figured they could help with his terrible writer's block.
