Stirring amidst his slumber, Medwyn rolled onto his stomach and wrapped his pillow around his head to block out Alistair's shouting. However, this did very little as the Welshman could hear the elder swinging open the door to every room and calling for Arthur. Much to his annoyance, Wales was now awake, though he momentarily snuggled into the warmth of the duvet before forcibly sitting upright. If the man had to hazard a guess, Alistair's bellows were the result of an argument between him and Arthur.
Speaking of Arthur, the miniscule man had at last reached Medwyn's door, panting and gasping for air at the energy expended to get there. Slipping underneath the door, he observed his brother in bed, only he was now wide eyed and bushy tailed. This was his chance to get Medwyn's attention, yet Arthur knew hollering and screaming would do nothing from his encounter with Alistair earlier. This time, England came prepared with a new plan in hand. Mustering strength, Arthur clasped both his hands together. Then, he thrust them up above his head, a flurry of red sparks scattering high into the air and falling all around him. This was repeated countless times in the hopes that Wales would take notice.
Amidst the level of ruckus Alistair was causing, Cian decidedly abandoned his desk in favour of joining in the hunt for Arthur. Somewhere, in the back of the Irishman's mind, he pondered if the potion had miraculously worked. If so, it would lend reason as to why no one could find the blond. As Cian hurriedly approached the staircase, he almost bumped directly into Medwyn, who looked extremely tired and rather irritated.
"What on earth is Scot banging about for? I'm pretty sure the whole of Europe can hear him!" Wales exclaimed, crossing his arms as he marched down the steps, with Northern Ireland hot on his trail.
"Arthur took a funny turn a short while ago and went to lie down. When Scot went to check on him, he wasn't in his room and by the sounds of it, he still hasn't found him." Northern Ireland explained briefly, his nose picking up on the scent of cigarette smoke. Wales wasted no time in following this, with Northern Ireland in tow, where the pair happened upon Scotland at the back door with a cigarette positioned between his lips.
"Scot! What're you playing at?!" Medwyn moaned, puffing out his cheeks to evidence his bemusement. Alistair withdrew the cigarette from his mouth, exhaling a large cloud of smoke before dropping it to the ground and stomping on it, extinguishing its flame.
"I've searched this place high and low, and there's no sign of England. He isn't here." Alistair gritted his teeth together, turning to face the two with a scary look upon his face. "He's obviously slacking off! The bloody git..." Cian couldn't help but shudder as Alistair slid past him, exchanging wary glances with Medwyn; an angry Alistair was not a force to be contended with.
"Well, he might of nipped to the shops. You know what a workaholic Arthur can be, I highly doubt he's just sitting off somewhere for the fun of it." Medwyn sighed, reaching out to place a hand on his elder brother's shoulder to attempt to quell the latter's temper.
Tilting his head to one side, Cian found himself suspended in deep thought. It absolutely sounded like the potion had done the trick only, this didn't feel as amusing as he'd originally anticipated. In fact, the situation that was unfolding felt concerning more than anything. Suddenly, Alistair's voice broke Cian free from his line of thinking.
"Do you know something about this? You've been awfully quiet." Alistair stated matter-of-factly, the Scotsman's voice holding an accusatory tone. Stunned, Cian questioned what to do. Should he come clean and tell his brothers everything? Or should he play dumb and brush off Alistair's remark? Before Cian could open his mouth to respond, Alistair cut in, "you two in on something? I can see you're hiding something Norn, so don't even think of lying to me." Cian audibly gulped, averting his gaze so that his eyes did not meet the sterm, cross look that was prevalent in Alistair's. There was no use in denying it now. Medwyn nudged Alistair with his elbow, frowning, "accusing others won't help us, will it? Come Scot, you know this isn't like Arthur" The Welshman spoke softly to appease the Scotsman, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. "Actually, he isn't wrong Medwyn. I may have some idea about what happened..." Cian awkwardly shuffled his feet, internally praying that his two elder brothers wouldn't be too harsh given their reactions to England's mysterious disappearance so far.
Arthur was deflated. Medwyn hadn't so much as cast an eye in his direction and had instead shuffled out of the door, undoubtedly to tell Alistair to put a sock in it. Exhausted, the small nation dragged his feet slightly as he made his way out of the bedroom and was now faced with his next obstacle: getting down the stairs. Each stair seemed humongous and simply jumping down each one would most likely result in Arthur injuring himself. England delved into the depths of his mind for a solution until, at last, he had an idea. The nation hurriedly took off his sweater and laid it out neatly onto the skirting board that lined the bottom of the stair rail. Then, Arthur sat crossed legged and gripped both sleeves, nervously peering ahead at the long slope set out before him. With a deep breath, Arthur shuffled forward, accelerating down the ledge and past the stairs with remarkable speed. But how was he to stop? Towards the end of his ride, Arthur dug both of his feet into the ground beneath him to attempt to stop however, he underestimated just how much speed he'd picked up. Instead of grinding to a halt, he only slowed slightly. Arthur used the sleeves to direct himself towards the console table in the hall, eventually drawing to a stop as he skid underneath the table and hit the wall, rendering him unconscious.
"Norn, how COULD you? You know how much work and energy went into making that potion!" Wales scolded, an inevitable expression of disappointment coming across both on the Welshman's face and in his voice.
"You couldn't have picked another day to do this? You had to pick today, when we're up to our eyeballs in work and with little time to do it?" Alistair rolled his eyes, grimacing at the thought of working late into the night to meet the numerous deadlines that were fast approaching.
"This isn't funny Alistair, this is serious! You'd go ballistic if this had happened to you!" Medwyn cried, missing Alistair's blatant sarcasm.
"I'm sorry, in my head I thought it'd be a lot funnier." Cian confessed, hanging his head low as a crushing shame overcame him.
"Why?" Alistair asked, raising an eyebrow inquisitively.
"I don't know. I guess, because he'd been annoying me so much lately I wanted to get back at him in some way." Cian recalled the events of the past week. Arthur had ruthlessly scolded him for accidentally misplacing his conference papers, the two had been arguing more than usual over the pettiest of matters and to top it off, Arthur had scoffed Cian's Devonshire slice.
"By SHRINKING HIM?!" Medwyn practically shrieked, the Welshman gradually losing both his composure and patience.
"Well when you put it like that, it sounds really bad." Cian mumbled under his breath.
"That's because it is really bad! We need to find Arthur and quick!" Medwyn didn't wait for a response before taking off, rushing down to the basement.
Coming to, Arthur sat up and let out an elongated groan, holding his head in his hands. At first, he couldn't quite recall where he was or what had happened in the moments leading up to him waking up. But then, all of that information came flooding in. The stairs. Being unable to stop. Hitting the wall and getting knocked out. Arthur remembered it all. The Englishman sprang to his feet, wrapping his jumper around his waist and peering out from a foot of the console table that he'd taken shelter under. The ground shook as he felt his older brothers moving around the home. From their voices and their movement, Arthur supposed that all three were downstairs with him. But how to get their attention, if only one of them?
Medwyn swung open the doors to the basement, rushing over to one of its many bookshelves to paw through the individual, hardback books that adorned the shelves. Alistair and Cian followed suit, standing quietly to one side while Medwyn bolted from bookcase to bookcase, scanning each shelf.
"What're you looking for exactly?" Alistair sneezed, the dust Medwyn was kicking up infiltrating his nostrils.
"Maybe we could ask Cathal for help?" Cian piped up, squirming under the glares directed at him from both Medwyn and Alistair- it was clear they were both still quite upset with him.
"Cathal is away on business, so that option is out the window." Medwyn muttered, selecting a tattered book from a shelf and carefully flicking through its pages. "Here! There's an antidote that can be made and its simple enough to make. I'll make a start on it, you two search for Arthur." Wales cleared some room on a nearby table and began to prepare the equipment needed to make the antidote remedy. Elsewhere, Scotland made his way to the summoning circle that was outlined in the center of the room, bowing his head in thought. The Scotsman started to chant lowly, elaborately moving his hands in a rhythmic pattern as deep blue sparks emanated from the tips of his fingers and the chalk outlines etched on the floor shone. In a flash, Alistair's eyes widened and his irises glowed a blinding white before returning to their usual emerald colour.
"What was that?" Cian quizzed, curiosity driving him forward but reluctance keeping him from drawing too close.
"I cast a temporary spell over my eyes that will grant me clearer, better vision. Hopefully this will help." Alistair stepped out of the circle, blinking hard a few times to adjust to his newfound ability. "Come on, let's get searching." Cian meekly followed Alistair out of the basement, throwing one more glance in Medwyn's direction while the Welshman worked before fully clambering up the steps back up to the main body of the home.
