AN: Sorry for the delay! I've been busy being a responsible adult and hated every minute of it :'D Anyway, hope you enjoy reading~

Chapter 20:

When they reached the inn, Bertrand and Hrothgar took the recipes and Grimoire stones to store them in Bertrand's room. With Fafnir staying in Flavio's room, there was not enough room to store them there.

There was also the matter that Fafnir said he needed to speak with Flavio about something important. In private.

That could only mean something had come up during his conversation with Hrothgar back at the ruined restaurant. What that could be, Flavio could only speculate. And what he came up with, he did not like.

Flavio stepped up to his bedroom door and plunged his hand into his pocket to dig around for his room key. As he did so, his gaze involuntarily trailed up to look at the telling nook in the wood. Where he had been 'gifted' that knife with his name engraved upon the blade.

But as he wrapped his fingers around the key, his eyes widened.

There was a second mark on the door. Right next to the first.

Flavio trailed his fingertips over the second notch in the door. It was just like the first. Same size. Same length. Even looked to be to the same depth.

Which meant…

With a lump in his throat, Flavio immediately turned to Fafnir. But Fafnir looked back at him. His gaze soft but knowing.

Fafnir took the room key from him. "Let's get you inside."

He already knew.

Fafnir wrapped an arm around Flavio's waist and pulled him close as he unlocked the door. As he was ushered inside, he instinctively glanced down at the floor in search of a letter or note. Nothing was there, however.

"There was another knife, wasn't there?" Flavio blurted out as Fafnir closed and locked the door.

"There was," Fafnir admitted immediately. "Hrothgar found a venomfly pinned to the door with a knife."

…What?

"He disposed of the venomfly and hid the knife in his room before anyone else could stumble across it," Fafnir continued. He then paused for a moment; his lips pressed together. He then uttered a sigh, and added, "There was also a note."

Flavio took a half step forward. "A note? Do you have it? What does it say?"

Fafnir reached into the pocket of the coat and pulled out a small, folded piece of cardboard. "Here."

The moment Flavio saw the white piece of cardboard his stomach clenched. He retrieved it from Fafnir, nausea rising when a familiar scrawl greeted him.

'Why are you surrounding yourself with such venomous people? I'll be more than enough for you.'

Flavio grimaced and snapped the card shut. They could not be serious. They truly were delusional.

"It's the same," Flavio murmured. "Same card, same writing." He furrowed his brow and glanced out the window. "But…it's daylight. They've never…"

They had never done anything in the daylight before. But…they had not burnt down a building before, either. They were upping their 'antics'. Embolden by the success of their bold and violent act.

Fafnir walked over to him and wrapped his arms around him, to comfort him. "We didn't want to tell you out in public. In case that bastard was watching. We don't want them seeing just how much they affect you."

Flavio dropped the note onto the desk, not wanting to touch it let alone look at it a moment longer and sunk listlessly into Fafnir's strong arms. He wished he could just stay in Fafnir's embrace, stay there, disappear until everything blew over. Until everything was back to normal.

But he couldn't.

"What do you think they'll do next?" Flavio asked quietly.

"I don't know," Fafnir admitted. "I wish I did. I wish they would just show their face to me."

"So you can punch it?"

"So I can punch it."

Flavio uttered a small laugh. "I wish you could, too. It would end things so quickly."

So easily…

Flavio's expression crumbled a moment later and he pressed his face against Fafnir's shoulder. "I hate this," he murmured as he grasped desperately at Fafnir's back. "I hate this sneaking around. This unknowing. This…mystery. I've gotten so used to facing things head on. That's what we do in the labyrinth all the time. Stand firm and fight back. I just want to do the same here. Just get things over with."

Fafnir pressed his lips against Flavio's hair and tightened his arms around him, holding him closer. "I know."

"I don't even know who they are. Who they could be. They could be anyone."

He hated that the most. He hated being suspicious of everyone. Of every face he encountered. Second guessing their motives.

"You don't think it's Mandelson?" Fafnir asked.

Flavio lifted his head to rest his chin on Fafnir's shoulder. "No, I don't believe he's behind these notes. I don't know what he wants with me, but I don't believe he has any role to play in this."

He was just…a strange man who mourned the death of his wife in a very, very strange way.

"I don't trust him," Fafnir murmured.

Flavio could not help but smile at the protectiveness in Fafnir's voice, as subtle as he tried to make it. "I know. I don't either. Something about him is unsettling. His eyes, especially."

His eyes…were so unnatural. So strange. They made him so uneasy.

Flavio wondered if others felt the same whenever they looked into his eyes. Or were gazed upon by Mandelson's eyes.

A loud creak of the floorboards outside of the room caused the both of them to tense. Flavio out of fear and Fafnir out of protective anticipation. When a loud knock at the door followed, Flavio unconsciously sought further security in Fafnir's arms.

"Flavio, dearier!" Hana's voice rang out, cheerful and completely benign. "We finally got down those Christmas decorations from the attic!"

Decorations?

Oh!

Flavio pulled himself slightly, but not fully, from Fafnir's arms and turned toward the door. "Oh, thank you! I'll be right down!"

"Take you time, dearie! They're not going anywhere, oh-hoho~!"

The floorboards creaked again as Hana happily ambled away from the door and down the stairs. Her movements and steps were so obviously hers; each step loud, purposely, and carefree. Uncaring that the boards creaked beneath her steps, knowing full well that they did. The floorboards almost sound cheerful as they creaked beneath her weight, responding to the presence of the maternal woman herself.

Flavio breathed a sigh of relief.

"Decorations?" Fafnir asked, his eyebrow arched in question.

"Oh, Hana has a couple of Christmas trees now," Flavio began. "After learning that I've never actually decorated one, she said I can decorate the one in the tearoom. She said it should be a good distraction for me, though I don't know how good it would be."

Fafnir listened to him prattle, and as the words sunk in, he nodded his head in acceptance. "That's a good idea, actually. It'll be good for you."

"Yeah." Flavio nestled himself back into Fafnir's arms. "I'll probably start it tonight."

There were still a few hours of sunlight left in the day. While it was oh-so tempting to stay locked in his room and nestled in the safety of Fafnir's arms, there was something he would like to do. It was a long shot, but they had nothing better to go on.

"Faf, I'd like to try searching that wall of photos at the bar again."

… … … … …

It seemed that no matter the time of day or night, the Stickleback Bar was always busy, bustling with explorers who were relishing in the warmth the bar offered from the bitter cold winter winds. Or nursing cold alcoholic drinks after a hectic day in the labyrinth.

Bertrand and Hrothgar joined Flavio and Fafnir as they weaved their way through the crowds and toward the infamous wall of photos toward the back of the bar.

A few somewhat familiar faces, those Flavio definitely served and helped out at the restaurant, greeted him during his walk, and he, naturally greeted them back. He noticed that a couple greeted Hrothgar as well, yet none seemed to acknowledge Fafnir or Bertrand. Was that because the two were never really at front of house at the restaurant, not at the frequency that Flavio was?

Flavio also noticed that Cass had gotten into the festive spirit, too. There was a yet to be decorated Christmas tree in the corner, baubles and ornaments hung from the rafters and from fresh green garlands.

Yet, there was one piece of festive and jolly decoration that was separated from the rest. Hung before a Christmas backdrop, celebrated and publicized, making no secret to its identity or existence.

It was a piece of mistletoe.

Oh, he could imagine Cass and his band of trouble-making drunkards having fun with that little piece of plant-life.

"So, this is the wall of photos," Bertrand said as they reached the back of the bar and rubbed the back of his neck wearily. "This might take some time."

Yeah, probably longer than the few hours they had left in the day.

"It's a long shot, I know," Flavio agreed then shrugged. "But we've got nothing else to work with. Since I'm the only one who came face to face with the guy, you guys can ask around about the restaurant, if you want. Or just relax. It's up to you."

No point in having everyone as tense as Flavio was.

"I'll stay with Flavio," Fafnir immediately stated. "But you two can ask around. They might be more willing to speak with you than with the guards."

Bertrand sighed and raked his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, that's probably true. Wouldn't hurt to have a drink or two while I'm here, either."

"I'll see what I can do for you," Hrothgar promised before he and Bertrand turned to rejoin the masses, to start their information gathering session.

And with Fafnir close by, Flavio turned to the wall of photos and began his own inspection.

Flavio wanted to try and track down Mr Conspiracy Theorist. The guy was right about Mandelson having a mole under his left eye. Though, he had not met with the man since to confirm or deny that.

He just wanted to know who he was, why he had a hatred for Mandelson. He remembered his previous conversation with Cass. He did not like the Viscount, either.

Mandelson, Mr Conspiracy Theorist, Violent Arsonist…they had to be connected somehow.

If he could find the names of the latter two…

A loud ruckus of playful goading and cheers pulled Flavio from his inspection. He turned to look to his side, toward the unashamedly publicized piece of mistletoe, just in time to watch as a tall medic dip a shorter, but flustered survivalist and kiss them on the lips.

And Cass was there, taking a photo of it with his Polaroid camera.

Flavio could not help but smile at the playfulness of it all.

Ah, Cass was charging folks for photos under the mistletoe. Of course, he was. That cunning entrepreneur. At least everyone was having fun.

That was what the Christmas season was about, wasn't it? Having fun, having a good time.

Flavio sighed as he turned back to the wall of photos. It was a shame that he could not really get into that state of mind. He had tried. He really did. But it was hard to simply ignore his current situation. It was always there, at the back of his mind.

He steeled himself. He may be the unfortunate victim to a stalker, to a violent one at that, but he was no longer a passive one. The smallest piece of information could prove crucial. Anything, anything at all could help bring an end to it all.

Flavio went from photo to photo, quickly but carefully inspecting each face. He could easily dismiss some, while others he had to move in closer to get a better look.

He then reached a photo with three subjects. A guild of three, most likely. A tall make with black hair and brown eyes. A slender female with dark wavy hair with dark green eyes. And the third had a slightly misshapen nose, as if broken by a past event, and eyes of silver sheen. Eyebrows were thick and unkempt, much like his brown hair. A scar marred his cheekbone to his jawline. He wore a broad, goofy grin. An expression vastly different than what Flavio had seen. But everything else about the man was familiar.

It was him.

Mr Conspiracy Theorist.

Flavio's hands shook as he reached forward and plucked the photo frame from the wall. "I found him."

Fafnir immediately came up behind him, a hand on his back as the other rested on his side as he looked over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

"I can't be a hundred percent sure," Flavio admitted, but still pointed at the shorter male figure in the photo. "But I'm fairly sure he's the conspiracy theorist. It's a start, right?"

"Let's ask Cass."

The two of them hurried over to the bar, purposely choosing a far quieter to prevent gossip mongers overhearing. Though, it did take them a few moments to grab the busy and popular bar-keep's attention.

Flavio showed him the photo, purposely pointing at the third figure. "Cass, do you know who this guy is?"

"Eh?" Cass arched an eyebrow, no doubt bemused as to why Flavio was asking about some random guy in a photo. But when he actually laid eyes on the subject of Flavio's questionings, his gaze softened sadly. A noticeably change, even as he tried to hide it.

"Ah, that's Connolly," he revealed easily, shaking his head. "Poor guy. Lost his sister and best friend, Siska and Grant, under mysterious circumstances, and lost his marbles soon after."

Flavio lowered the picture frame onto the bar counter. "What happened to them?"

Cass shrugged dramatically before he folded his arms across his chest. "Who knows. The guy claims that the Sidero family had something to do with it, but good luck accusing someone of the upper crust. Especially a Viscount! He's been rambling about them being behind it ever since. The guy is a few sandwiches shy of a full picnic, that's for sure."

"Grief makes a guy do strange things," Flavio replied absentmindedly.

He could not help but wonder what it was that Connolly was accusing the Sidero family of doing. What was it that he told him, again?

Mandelson was not the same man. Essentially stating that they had replaced Mandelson with another man that looked just like him?

But Mandelson was not of the Sidero family. That was his deceased wife's last name, wasn't it?

"Now that yer brought him up, yer look like his sister," Cass revealed suddenly. "The lass was a lot more brash and adventurous, but yer look like her in appearance."

Flavio picked up the photo to gaze upon it once more. The young woman in the photo must have been Connolly's sister. The young woman was tall, slender, and rather pretty. Other than the wavy hair and dark green eyes, he did not really see it.

Fafnir, his chin on Flavio's shoulder as he studied the photo, unexpectedly made a noise of agreement. "She's not as tall, but there is a minor resemblance. But…Did Connolly's sister also look like Mandelson's wife?"

Flavio snapped his head up to stare straight at Cass. And the bar-keep had his hand on his chin, his stance that of contemplation. "Hm…she did, actually."

Wait, was she also-?

"Yer know…" Cass drawled slowly, purposely so, to get their attention. Their interest. He looked around at the bar, to see if he had anyone else's interest, before he leaned forward, prompting both Flavio and Fafnir to do so as well.

"Some time ago, Mandelson's wife had fallen ill, the two disappearing from public eye to deal with this difficult time. But ol' wifey made a miraculous recovery shortly after Connolly's sister and best friend went missing."

"Oh, really?"

Cass abruptly straightened his postured and waved his hand dismissively. "Just a bit of interesting gossip. Not sure if that's any use to yer."

"Hey, Cass, a fresh new round of drinks over here!"

"Yer got it!"

Without another word or a second glance, Cass walked away to attend to another bar patron. Leaving Flavio and Fafnir to contend with the information he had given them.

Interesting how Cass did not ask them why they were asking or why they wanted to know. The man had been around explorers long enough to know not to ask too many questions, he supposed.

Fafnir leaned against the bar and waved an arm to gain the attention of Bertrand and Hrothgar. No point in raising his voice as he was unlikely to be heard over the usual ruckus of the bar. Thankfully, Hrothgar had caught sight of him and soon caught Bertrand's attention. Only a minute or so later, the two reached them at the bar.

And they were soon caught up with what Cass had revealed to them.

"So, this is the guy?" Bertrand asked as he looked at the photo.

"He looks a little more rundown and ragged than in the photo, but that's roughly him," Flavio answered.

He wondered how old the photo was. Connolly looked…so happy in it. So different to the wild and crazed man that Flavio had met.

Flavio took the photo from Bertrand and gazed down at it, a frown twitching at the corner of his lips. "Mandelson approached me because I looked like his deceased wife. Did he do the same with Connolly's sister?"

Fafnir crossed his arms roughly over his chest. "Cass seems suspicious of Mandelson."

Yeah, that was much obvious, if Flavio's first conversation with him was anything to go back to. He obviously did not know why he was asking about him at the time, but he clearly did not like the guy. And it seemed the gossip around the Lower Quarters did not like him, either.

Hm, perhaps those of the Lower Quarters are somewhat protective of Connolly, in a way. Allowing him to grieve, while believing him just a conspiracy theorist.

Flavio handed the photo frame to the redheaded protector. "Do you know of him, Hrothgar?"

Hrothgar retrieved the photo of him and stared at it through narrow, critical eyes. "Hm…He does seem familiar, somehow. I do not believe I know him, though. I may have seen him a few times in the labyrinth."

Hrothgar's brow suddenly furrowed deeply and his gaze shifted to the floor as he became lost in thought, desperately trying to dredge up a lost memory. After a long, drawn-out moment, his expression smoothed out and he straightened his posture as he looked toward everyone once more. "Wait…yes, I have seen him. He's the one who is constantly gathering materials. Day and night. He appears to be searching for something in particular. Though, what that could be, I haven't the faintest idea."

Searching for something in the labyrinth? That something definitely had some kind of connection to the Sidero family and to Mandelson, but what? Had they hidden something there?

"It's clear that Connolly knows something about Mandelson that the public doesn't." Fafnir suddenly snared Flavio by the elbow and dragged him to his side. "But our main concern, as of right now, is who this person is that is sending Flavio those flowers and threats. Are they also connected to Mandelson and Connolly?"

Bertrand leaned against the bar and idly tapped his fingers against it. "Mr Flower Boy is definitely the most dangerous. Before we deal with the mystery surrounding Mandelson, we need to deal with this bastard. Before he does something else."

Flavio winced and instinctively turned to press himself against Fafnir's chest, seeking both his warmth and comfort. "But I don't even know who they are."

If he only knew what they looked like, but he had not even caught a glimpse of them. Only a shadow beneath his door. And that was hardly any use to them. They could lift fingerprints off the knife handle, but what good would that do if they had nothing to compare them to?

Hrothgar uttered a sigh. "Unfortunately, our best bet is to wait for them to make a mistake. With the public interest of the arson investigation growing, they are surely feeling the pressure."

Fafnir curled his arm around Flavio's shoulders as his gaze wandered around the bar. "This is a conversation best had somewhere more private. It's getting late. Let's go pick up the girls from the hospital and then return to the inn."

The hospital…?

"I'm…not exactly ready to face Regina just yet," Flavio murmured pathetically.

Not yet. Not hours after Arianna was to tell her that what happened to the restaurant was an act of arson, and it was because of the man that was…stalking Flavio.

"But what happened is not your fault," Hrothgar began sympathetically.

But Flavio shook his head. "But I am the reason."

Fafnir, of course, was not happy with that. "For all we know, they could have targeted the restaurant out of spite and they're just using you as an excuse."

"It doesn't really matter the semantics of his motives. Through the notes, I'm the reason. And with Regina injured and her dream literally gone up in smoke, it's not unreasonable that she would be angry. Besides, before the fire, we had a minor disagreement about my workload."

"If she's going to be angry at anyone about that, it'll be me," Bertrand said, jabbing a thumb toward him. "I'm the one who gave her the lecture."

"Still…"

The disagreement, customers actively choosing not to enter without Flavio being there to greet them, and then the fire. Anyone would feel that the world was against them. But then to learn that someone had set fire to your restaurant to 'protect' someone else would just…

"Regina has the right to be angry, but not at you," Hrothgar began, his tone firm but still gentle. "Not at any of you. You would never wish for such destructive and dangerous actions, especially with others still inside the building. But some space may be needed. Bertrand and I will go to the hospital to escort Arianna and Chloe back to the inn."

Fafnir nodded his head in agreement. "Right. I'll take Flavio back to the inn. We'll meet you there."

"I'm sorry for being difficult…"

Bertrand pushed away from the bar. And then reached out to roughly ruffle Flavio's hair. "Don't worry about it, kid."

Flavio suppressed a sigh as he patted down his hair. Everyone was so accommodating. He felt so guilty.

He had to find a way to thank them. Somehow.