Chapter 1: The Policeman
Notes:
Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction based on characters from Dream SMP, QSMP, and other Minecraft SMPs. It is not about the content creators; please refer to my expanded disclaimer for more information.
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Hello! This is an AU I’ve been working on for a while now. It’s a longer one, but hopefully quite plotty and enjoyable :-) Before diving into the story, a few notes:
First and foremost, there will be descriptions of violence and other potentially disturbing themes in this work, so please read the tags and decide whether this story is right for you. While most of the story is not particularly gory (and probably would just be rated ‘Teen’), things will change. I’m aiming for this to be a slightly (at least) scary fic, and hopefully I succeed in that!
Second, one of the key inspirations for this is the Spanish-language series Gran Hotel about (among other things) a mysterious crime wave around a lavish hotel in turn-of-the-20th-century Spain. I need to explain how ridiculously addictive this show was – I know only very basic Spanish, and don’t usually like continuously reading subtitles. I also don’t usually go for shows with a lot of romance. But! The plot seriously had me binging all three seasons. However, this isn’t a crossover, but an inspired-by. The story is quite different, and won’t spoil Gran Hotel if you’re interested in watching it at some point. Without giving away too many spoilers, I basically plucked my favorite elements (a historical setting on the verge of modernity; an elegant hotel filled with dodgy characters and classist nonsense; an intersecting crime drama with secret identities) and then excised all romantic subplots (very unlike Gran Hotel, there is no sexual content in this story, and almost all relationships are platonic). Then I added in a few fun horror elements for good measure and SBI-ified it :-)
Third, this is now my fourth foray into pulling QSMP characters into Tommy-centric SBI stories! While this story is very much an AU, I did have fun embedding some allusions to longer-ago canon events (I’m interested to know how many of them folks spot!). However, this story will definitely not discuss canon or intentionally spoil any ongoing QSMP lore (I’m not up-to-date on it anyway …)
Now on to the fic! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :-)
Story soundtrack (for both mood and content): Jackrabbit and Cairo, both by San Fermin.
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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy had never seen a palace before, but as he stared at the Hotel Royale in the distance, he felt sure that this is what one must look like.
Tall and elegant, the cream-colored building perched atop the highest hill rose above the surrounding rolling countryside like the sails of a mighty galleon above the waves. It had four – no, five – stories, and in the center of its grand facade was a massive marble staircase leading up to an archway of the same stone, framed by broad pillars.
On the second floor was a huge terrace with an ornate marble railing that wrapped around practically the whole building. He could see small figures seated at canopied tables studded across the terrace. Tommy tried – and failed – to imagine what it would be like to just sit at one of those tables and look out over the surrounding undulating hills, with the vast Forest of Baden rising on one side and the town of Snowchester on the other, nestled in the valley below.
The closest thing to a terrace in the rickety apartment building where he and Wilbur lived, back in the decaying fishing village of Logstedshire, was the communal porch that overlooked the alley. That was where everyone would hang their washing on days when it looked like it might rain, when the roof wasn’t an option.
But these people had a terrace that was just for sitting … and probably ignoring the view, mostly, while they ate weird foods, drank fancy drinks, and smoked cigars. From the distance, Tommy could make out tiny people dressed in dark blue – probably waitstaff – darting around the terrace carrying serving trays.
If all went according to plan, Tommy would soon be one of those busy waiters.
And this was a hotel, not even their home, he thought disbelievingly as he trudged onwards, up the hillside, keeping parallel to the cobblestone carriage road. That meant that these rich bastards all had homes somewhere else, and that those homes were probably similarly fancy if they could afford to travel all the way to this remote part of Essempi to stay at the Hotel Royale for a fucking holiday.
It was just mind-boggling.
Tommy startled as he heard the sound of an approaching motorcar. He quickly ducked behind the hedge bordering the road, and peered at the vehicle that rumbled by. It was a dark red-colored car with a pull-back roof, one of the most modern kinds. Very expensive-looking. During the few hours he’d spent in Snowchester before starting to climb, Tommy had already seen more cars than he’d seen in his entire life before then. None of them had been like this one, though. As the vehicle bumpily rolled down the uneven road, he saw that it held only the driver and a single occupant in the back, a teenage boy or young man with fluffy dark hair.
The hotel guests, Tommy thought as he turned away and continued to walk, were definitely all rich enough to hire a car or carriage to take themselves and their luggage up and down the winding road from the town several miles below. They definitely wouldn’t be hiking, like him. It wasn’t an easy trek for sure. The hills were steep and the long grass was slick with dew. He’d already stumbled and fallen a few times, his clothes now damp with sweat and covered with mud- and grass-stains.
Luckily he’d had the forethought to keep his good clothes – the single pair of pants without any patches and a white shirt that Wilbur had outgrown but was still overlarge on Tommy – in his knapsack. The plan was to find a quiet spot to change before finding the hotel manager and begging for a job.
Wilbur had explained that it was important to dress in your best clothes when asking for a job. His brother had certainly gone to a lot of trouble to dress fancy – even borrowing their landlady’s son’s old dress jacket – before he went to talk with the captain of the merchant ship. It seemed to work, though, since Wilbur had then gotten a contract to sail with them for the trading season. But it still seemed weird to Tommy. Obviously people looking for jobs needed money, and if you didn’t have a job, you probably didn’t have money, so where would the nice clothes come from?
Speaking of clothes, it was finally time to change. Tommy had almost reached the top of the hill, and he could see the hotel looming just around the bend.
After some hasty neatening behind a convenient hedge, he stepped onto the broad circular drive. The cobblestone looped around an elaborate center fountain bordered by carefully maintained shrubbery and floral arrangements. There was a bored-looking guard in the dark blue uniform of Hotel Royale standing at the base of the sweeping marble staircase.
Tommy hesitated. Should he try to use the main entrance, with its grand foyer? He felt suddenly conscious about how … obviously not rich he looked, even post-neatening. The guard might turn him away, or worse, chase him back down the hill. Then he’d have to climb back up later, again.
No. There must be a side entrance that the staff used. Tommy set off to find it.
A few minutes later, Tommy had just raised his fist to knock on the service door when it was suddenly torn open. A blond boy wearing the dark blue Hotel Royale uniform, who looked about Tommy’s age but was a bit shorter than him, blasted through the doorway and stopped just short of barreling straight into Tommy.
“What the – who are you?” the boy demanded, glaring at Tommy. He looked, Tommy thought bemusedly, like an angry blue honey badger.
Tommy had a flash of inspiration. “I’m here for my job interview,” he announced.
“Job interview?” the boy repeated in disbelief.
Tommy planted his feet firmly, drew himself up to his full height, and stared back at him with the most confident expression he could summon.
“Yeah, my job interview.”
“No one told me anyone was coming for an interview,” the boy said, narrowing his eyes.
“Guess they don’t tell you everything,” Tommy replied loftily, crossing his arms and returning the look challengingly.
They stared at each other for a beat.
Then the boy pursed his lips disbelievingly, taking in Tommy’s appearance and the deserted area behind him.
“Did you walk up here from town?” he suddenly demanded. “By yourself?”
“Yeah …” Tommy said, frowning. “Why?”
The boy let out a startled laugh and shook his head. “What the fuck, dude. You’re either super brave or super dumb. Aren’t you worried about the marauders?”
Tommy reflexively bristled and then blinked as the boy’s words registered. “The what now?”
The boy laughed again. “Okay, you know what, you’re clearly having a lucky day today. I’ll go get the maitre’d, just wait here.”
Tommy blinked again as the boy vanished inside, the door closing behind him. The who? Didn’t he need to talk to the manager?
… He hoped the other boy wasn’t going to go tell the manager about the interview bit. Why couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut?
A few minutes later, the door opened again, and a tall man stepped through. He had smooth golden hair, and wore a crisp suit and a stern expression. The man gave Tommy a quick once-over, taking in his messy hair, rolled-up trousers, and his overlarge shirt, which Tommy had belatedly discovered was missing a few buttons. Tommy twitched at the obvious scrutiny, but forced himself to keep his expression earnest and polite-looking.
“You’re interested in the apprentice footman position?”
Footman? Tommy had planned to ask for a job as a waiter. He wasn’t sure what the hell a footman did – did they help people with their shoes? But hey, if that was the job they had, he’d take it.
“Yes, sir,” Tommy replied, in his politest, most sincere voice.
The man peered at him skeptically.
“Do you have any experience working in high-class hotels similar to the Hotel Royale?”
Experience?
But didn’t the man just say it was an apprentice position? From what Tommy remembered in Logstedshire, people who got apprenticed to bakers and blacksmiths and shit didn’t have any experience to start with. Wasn’t the whole point of apprenticeships to gain experience?
“Er, no, sir,” Tommy admitted reluctantly, then added, “but I’m a quick study! I swear I’ll work hard and learn anything I need to know.”
He stared up at the man pleadingly.
The man stared back at him for a long, tense moment.
Then his face relaxed into a smile.
“Well, we’re always looking for young blood. Why don’t you follow me, and I’ll get you a uniform? You’re here at a good time – we’re having our mid-morning staff meeting in just half an hour, and you can get started.”
Tommy gaped at him.
“What? I mean – really? I’ve got the job?”
The man laughed. “You’ve got the job. Congratulations, you’re an apprentice footman. I’m Sam, the maître d'hôtel – or the steward, if that’s easier to say.”
“I’m Tommy,” he replied dazedly, as he followed the steward into the hallway beyond the service door. He couldn’t believe it – he’d done it! The huge gamble – leaving home with just what he could carry, begging rides on passing wagons from town to town until he finally reached Snowchester, trekking up that stupid fucking hill – it had all paid off!
Now all he needed to do was figure out what being a fucking footman involved, save his paycheck, and wait for Wilbur to come home. Then, between Wilbur’s earnings from his season at sea and whatever Tommy earned here, they could finally do what they had always planned, and leave the dying dregs of Logstedshire behind to move to the capital city of Manberg.
Then Wilbur could follow his dream of going to university instead of the random, back-breaking jobs he’d taken for years to afford food and rent for them. And Tommy could do … something, once he figured out what he actually wanted to do. But the key was getting to Manberg. Once they did that, everything would be fine.
And now here he was, one big step closer to that goal.
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A few minutes later, Tommy was scrunching up the sleeves of the gigantic Hotel Royale uniform jacket he had been given, trying to make it less obvious how much they trailed. The uniform pants were a lost cause – he’d had to roll the cuffs up a few times, or else risk tripping.
“Hmm,” Sam said, eyeing him critically. “It will have to do for today. Charlie will help you get a properly tailored uniform later. Come now, we must start on time.”
Tommy nodded wordlessly and trotted down the hall behind the tall man, pausing when they entered a room where a bunch of other uniformed people were already waiting, standing in a neat line. Sam raised a hand to indicate a seemingly random spot in the middle of the line and the people on both sides stepped apart, making room for Tommy to squeeze in.
“Good morning everyone,” Sam said, and then started barking out a rapid-fire list of names and tasks that made Tommy blink. No one else seemed surprised, so this was probably normal. He couldn’t follow everything the man said, but he hadn’t heard his name yet. So hopefully that meant he hadn’t missed anything?
Then Sam began pacing in front of the group, and said more slowly and seriously, “As you should all remember, the Countess of Aux and her retinue will be arriving in a few months, and she will be staying with us for a full month.” He looked up and down the row of neatly-dressed (almost; Tommy anxiously glanced down at his ill-fitting uniform) servants.
“This is her first, long-awaited visit to Hotel Royale. As you know, the Countess was a close personal friend of Mr. Ponk, and she was greatly distressed that she was unable to visit and appreciate his grand endeavor when he was with us. Therefore it is incumbent upon us to make proper preparations to ensure her stay is truly exceptional.”
Curious, Tommy tried his best to peer up and down the assembled line without obviously turning his head, since everyone else was standing stock-still like a regiment facing their drill sergeant. No one seemed confused by anything Sam had said; they all clearly knew about Mr. Ponk, whoever he was, and his ‘grand endeavor,’ whatever that was. And they all knew what had to be done to make this Countess lady’s stay ‘exceptional.’
That was okay. It was literally just his first hour here. Tommy would figure things out.
“Finally, we have a new face today,” Sam said, his serious expression lightening into a smile. “Everyone, this is Tommy. Today is his first day as an apprentice footman at the Hotel Royale, and I trust you’ll all join me in making him feel welcome.”
Tommy managed an awkward smile and nod as the others, up and down the row, now leaned forward to look at him. A brief, soft chorus of “‘Hi Tommy’s and ‘Hello’s” followed.
Sam paused to peer at his pocket-watch and then replaced it in its tiny pocket in his vest, the golden chain making an elegant loop.
“We’re currently a little behind schedule. I must attend to some urgent business. Charlie, Niki, may I leave you in charge of assigning the rest of today’s tasks, and getting Tommy situated?”
“Of course, sir,” said Charlie, who turned out to be the sturdily-built young man who stood at the end of the row. He looked to be about Wilbur’s age, had sandy hair, and was wearing a fancier version of the Hotel Royale uniform than the one Tommy had on.
With that, Sam nodded at them once more and strode briskly out the door.
As soon as it closed, the line immediately relaxed and everyone began to shift.
“So, Tommy,” Charlie began, coming around to approach him. “Uh, welcome. Like you heard, I’m Charlie. Maybe first you can meet everyone, and then we’ll show you around?”
The group was technically divided into maids and footmen. Niki, a pink-haired young woman who looked about the same age as Charlie, explained to Tommy, “The titles are mostly for show. We’re always shorthanded, so pretty much everyone does whatever needs doing, except if a guest calls and requests a maid or a footman or a valet specifically.”
Niki was the most senior maid, followed by two girls in almost evenly descending heights and progressively darker brown hair. The middle one, Hannah, looked a little older than Tommy. The smallest girl, who barely came up to Tommy’s elbow and who Tommy seriously doubted was old enough to be working anywhere, waved cheerily at him and said her name was Tallulah.
Charlie was the most senior footman (“I’m training to be a valet,” he added importantly; Tommy, who had no clue what a valet did or how it differed from whatever a footman did, simply nodded), followed by the red-haired Connor, who looked about the same age. Then there was Tubbo, whom he had met outside, and a tiny blond boy who was also probably not work-legal, who chirped, “Hi Tommy, I’m Chayanne!”
Charlie looked at Niki and shrugged. “It’s been a while since we had a new person. Do we need to do some … orientation or anything?”
“I think the best thing would just be to have Tommy tag along as we work,” Niki replied, turning to look at Tommy with a friendly smile. “That way you can get an idea of where everything is in the hotel, and learn about the routine jobs as you go. How does that sound?”
Tommy nodded earnestly and trailed after them as the group filed into the service hallway.
Tommy’s confidence that he could easily master whatever this involved quailed slightly when he got his first look inside the public areas of Hotel Royale. If he’d thought the outside looked fancy, nothing could have prepared him for the opulence of the interior. Nearly everywhere he turned, there were shining marble surfaces, sparkling crystal accents, deep plush rugs, and precariously-placed, fragile looking vases and sculptures. By the time he followed the others into the first guest room they had to ‘refresh,’ he felt petrified of touching anything.
The rest of the day passed in an incredible mixture of befuddlement and boredom. In room after even fancier room, Tommy and the others made beds with sheets tucked in and pillows arranged just so, rearranged furniture with centimeter-scale precision, polished bathroom surfaces til they gleamed, folded towels into origami shapes, tied bows around curtain drapes to hold them open just so, rolled trays of used dishes with plenty of food left on them into the kitchen, polished silverware, folded dinner napkins into different origami shapes, delivered fresh dishes of delectable-smelling meals upstairs to guest rooms, untied the bows around curtain drapes to let them close and carefully stowed them, and –
Who lived like this? Tommy didn’t think he and Wilbur even owned napkins, much less ones that had to be folded into a precise origami shape to be deemed usable (and unfolded anyway, to be used?). These people were all batshit crazy.
“I’m doing this for Wilbur,” he whispered fiercely, after he finished drawing the drapes in the last room. He leaned against the hallway wall and squeezed his eyes shut. “It’s all for Wilbur. And it’s just a few months. I can do this.”
“Who’s Wilbur?”
Tommy jumped. He swiveled to see the little boy, Chayanne, standing at his elbow, beaming up at him.
He managed a lopsided smile in return. “Wilbur’s my brother, big man. I was just thinking about him.”
“Oh!” Chayanne nodded earnestly, so fast that his blond bangs flew. “Is he coming to work at the hotel, too? My sister Lulah and I both work here.”
Wait, the two littlest kids were siblings? Tommy blinked. Maybe their parents worked here too, as cooks or some other group Tommy hadn’t met yet, and that was why …?
“No, my brother’s a sailor,” Tommy said, grinning as Chayanne’s eyes grew huge with amazement. “He’s off having adventures on his ship,” he added, warmed by the boy’s enthusiasm, even though he knew that Wilbur’s job mostly involved carrying cargo on and off the merchant trading vessel at each port and doing inventory.
“That’s – so – awesome!” Chayanne exclaimed, bouncing on his toes. “I want to go sailing on one of those huge ships, like caravels or galleons! But I’ve never seen the ocean –”
“Chay? Are you done with your rooms?”
Tommy looked up to see the second oldest guy – what was his name? Oh yeah, Connor – standing a little way down the hallway, staring at them.
“Yup!” Chayanne said cheerily. “I drew all the curtains and pushed all the chairs in –”
“Good job,” Connor said, smiling at the boy.
“Niki!” Chayanne exclaimed, catching sight of the pink-haired woman and darting down the hallway after her. “Niki, did you know Tommy’s brother is a sailor –?”
Tommy grinned as Chayanne vanished around the corner, and then turned to look at Connor as the older teen cleared his throat.
“Hey, since we have a few hours free now, a couple of us were going into town, riding along with the supply wagon,” Connor said. “Do you want to come?”
“Sure,” Tommy said immediately. He didn’t particularly want to see Snowchester again, nice as it was, but he had to get out of this stifling place. He had to remind himself that the world outside was still normal.
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A short while later, Tommy dug his fingers into the rough wood of the rear bench to desperately hang on as the supply wagon bounced wildly down the cobblestone road. Either he risked a nasty splinter as the wagon jerked, or else being tossed off entirely.
He noticed Charlie, seated on the bench across from him, was saying something to him. The sound was lost, however, among the clatter of horse hooves on the cobblestones and the ominous creaking of the wagon itself.
“What?” Tommy shouted, leaning forward to try to hear.
“I said, this supply wagon will come back up to the hotel tonight at 8pm,” Charlie shouted back, barely audible, pointing at the wagon they were sitting on for emphasis. “You can come back on it. Otherwise there’s carriages for guests that go back and forth, and you can ride on one of them, outside with the driver, okay? But you have to come back one of those two ways, got it?”
“Okay!” Tommy shouted back, nodding. He didn’t particularly want to climb back up the hill anyway, especially once it started getting dark.
“Don’t try to walk back alone again!” Charlie called, settling back in his seat, and then added something else that sounded like ‘fodder’ or maybe ‘broader,’ but was unintelligible against the background racket.
“What?” Tommy asked again, confused.
But then the carriage was rattling onto the high street of Snowchester, and Charlie and Connor both immediately hopped off.
“We’ll see you later, okay?” Connor called, waving at Tommy and turning to jog after Charlie, who was making a beeline for a nearby pub.
Tommy took a step after them and then halted. Okay, well, he didn’t seem to be invited along there. What else was there to do here in Snowchester, anyway? He started walking, a bit aimlessly, down the bustling high street.
Maybe he should go to the pub anyway. He was definitely hungry but … obviously he hadn’t been paid yet, it was still his first day. All he had were the few coins he had carefully rationed during the journey from Logstedshire. And they would probably have food for him at the hotel, right? Yeah, he shouldn’t waste –
Tommy’s thoughts came to an abrupt halt as he turned a corner and slammed hard into something – no, someone.
“Ooof!” the other person exclaimed in surprise as both they and Tommy staggered and fell hard onto the cobblestone path. Tommy’s knee banged painfully into a stone – why was everything here freaking cobblestones, anyway? – and then there was the sound of fabric tearing and objects thumping onto the path.
“Are you alright, mate?”
Tommy looked up into the face of a tall man with longish blond hair that was tied back, facial scruff, and striking, icy blue eyes.
“Yeah, I – I’m really sorry,” he said hastily. The man, who was already back on his feet, reached out to help him up.
Tommy looked around. The bag the man had been carrying – yup, that was what he had heard tearing. Two loaves of bread were laying on the ground, caught in the fabric, and some eggs and a few dozen strawberries and oranges were rolling around nearby. Luckily the man had managed to keep hold of the glass jar of milk he had been carrying.
“Oh shit,” Tommy whispered, grabbing for the oranges. What if the man was furious and demanded he replace all the ruined food? Tommy couldn’t afford all this stuff. “Sorry, sir – here, let me get these for you –”
“Don’t worry about it, mate,” the man said as he, too, began to scoop up the fallen items. “You took a hard spill there. You’re not hurt, are you?”
“No …”
Miraculously, only four of the eggs had smashed and the fruits all appeared undamaged. Tommy bundled everything he had collected into his arms and made to give them to the man, but hesitated when he saw that the man too had his hands full.
“I could help you carry these back to your house?” he offered. Hopefully that would be it –
“Oh, I live right up here, actually,” the man said, gesturing towards a narrow stone staircase behind a wrought-iron gate next to them. “But if you wouldn’t mind, could you bring up what you have?”
“Sure,” Tommy said, relieved. He trailed after the man up the staircase, careful not to drop anything else.
Once inside, the man carefully laid out the items he was carrying onto a broad wooden table in the kitchen, and gestured for Tommy to do the same.
“Thanks, mate!” the man said, turning away to move a few items to a far counter.
“Uh, sure. Sorry again,” Tommy said, edging back towards the staircase.
“Oh, wait, hang on for a minute!” the man said, looking up from where he was putting the eggs away. “We didn’t even meet properly. I’m Phil, by the way.”
“I’m Tommy.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Tommy,” Phil smiled at him as he walked back towards the table. Smile fading slightly, he nodded towards Tommy’s crumpled, ill-fitting Hotel Royale uniform. “So you’re working at the hotel?”
“Yeah, as a footman. I just started. Uh, today, actually,” Tommy added, shifting awkwardly. He glanced around the small but cheerfully appointed kitchen with interest. It was definitely cleaner and neater than his and Wilbur’s kitchen, but had the same cozy feel.
He shuffled his feet, casting for any further topic of conversation. “So you, uh … like fruit?”
Phil looked amused. “Yes, I like fruit, but it’s mostly for making jam,” he said, nodding towards an adjacent shelf near the window.
Tommy stared at the row of colorful glass jars lining the shelf and then back at Phil, wide-eyed.
“Wait, you made all these?” he demanded.
Phil smiled at Tommy’s dumbfounded expression. “Yes, jam-making, it’s something of a hobby of mine. Very soothing. And there’s food at the end, as a bonus.”
“That’s amazing,” Tommy said sincerely. He loved jam. Who didn’t? Only wrong’uns, that’s who.
Then to Tommy’s surprise and delight, Phil said, “Here, try some.” He opened one of the jars and spread a bit of dark blue jam on a small piece of bread.
“It’s blueberry,” Phil explained, offering it to Tommy, who took it hesitantly. “It matches your uniform,” he added, his mouth twisting into a wry smile.
Tommy’s eyes widened as the taste of sweet berries burst in his mouth like a song. As a response to the refrain, a memory surfaced – Wilbur and Tommy at the seashore on a lazy summer day, years ago, finding bushes laden with sun-warmed wild blueberries and sitting underneath, eating as many berries as they could and then smashing quite a lot into each others’ faces and hair –
Phil’s eyes crinkled as he watched Tommy’s expression. He reached for another jar, this one containing a red-colored jam, and began cutting additional slices of bread.
“Why don’t you come back in a few days, when you have your next break? The marmalade from the oranges I bought today will be ready by then, you can try it.”
Tommy’s eyes widened even more. “Really?”
Phil laughed. “Really. I make a very nice orange marmalade, if I do say so myself. It’s won the cooking contest at the Snowchester precinct two years running, now.”
“Precinct? Wait, you – you’re the police?” Tommy choked out, nearly dropping the bread and looking around frantically for the exit. Oh shit, was he about to be –
“Hey, hey, you’re not in any trouble, mate,” Phil said, looking amused. “You’re new in town, so isn’t it good that you know the police here? Now you know that if you have any difficulties, you can just come find me.”
… right. Tommy stared up at the blond man in disbelief.
“I’m serious,” Phil said firmly. He pushed the platter of strawberry jam-covered slices towards Tommy. “Here, try these.”
Eventually, Tommy had munched his way through several slices of strawberry jam-slathered bread and drank a glass of milk while Phil ate his own slice and talked genially about all the different kinds of jams he’d made so far. Catching sight of the fading light out of the window, Tommy suddenly remembered the supply wagon. Oh shit, what time was it, anyway?
“I should be heading back to the hotel,” Tommy said regretfully, pushing his chair back. “Thank you – thanks for all the food, it was great,” he added, remembering the manners their landlady had tried to drill into Tommy and Wilbur, alongside her son.
“Wait. I’ll escort you back,” Phil said, standing briskly.
Tommy blinked at the man. What?
“Uh, no, it’s fine. There’s a supply wagon going back up to the hotel and –”
“The supply wagon?” Phil repeated, frowning. “If it’s just you and the driver heading back, well … it’s not the safest, mate.”
Tommy blinked again and narrowed his eyes. He had seen the supply wagon driver when they came down – an elderly, bushy-bearded man who looked like he was already half-drunk. If it was the same guy, why wouldn’t it be safe going back?
“What do you mean?” he asked carefully.
Phil gave him a rather sharp glance.
“This just isn’t the safest area, mate,” he repeated after a pause. “Indulge me, alright? I’ll feel much better if I know you’ve reached the hotel without any problems.”
Tommy gave him a disbelieving shrug. “Suit yourself, big man,” he said, following Phil down the stairs and towards the courtyard of the stables. “But Snowchester seems like a pretty safe place to me.”
“It used to be,” Phil said as he vanished into the darkness of the stables. He returned a moment later leading two horses, one jet black and one chestnut. After giving Tommy a leg up onto the chestnut, he easily swung himself onto the black horse and they trotted out of the courtyard.
The moon rising overhead was in its third quarter, and it illuminated the way clearly. Phil kept up a steady stream of conversation as the horses slowly climbed the winding road up to Hotel Royale. Tommy ended up telling him all about Wilbur and Logstedshire and how he’d managed to slowly make his way to Snowchester over the last week and snag the footman job that very morning. And Phil, Tommy learned, had been a policeman in Snowchester for about four years. He had a partner named Techno, who lived with him in the second-floor flat where Phil had just fed him jam and bread. Phil and Techno had been best friends since childhood, and they had moved out to Manberg to become detectives together.
“Wait, you lived in Manberg?” Tommy’s eyes widened. “And … you left? But why?”
Why the hell would anyone who had managed to escape to Manberg want to come back out to the countryside, to here, of all places?
Phil laughed.
“It’s a fairly long story, mate,” he said, his tone dipping into something thoughtful. “I’ll tell you another time, alright?”
Tommy frowned, but didn’t press further. They fell into a peaceful silence, broken only by the gentle clatter of the horses’ hooves on the cobblestones and the periodic hum of crickets and other twilight insects in the shrubbery bordering the road.
“So … uh, being a detective, that’s why you know it’s not safe here, then?” Tommy asked after a few minutes, looking around doubtfully at quiet countryside surrounding them, the dark edge of the Forest of Baden in the distance to their right. “Is it like robbers and shit, because of all the rich people staying at the hotel?”
Phil was silent for long moment.
“Not exactly,” he said finally. “There are some things going on in and around Snowchester that are … complicated. I’ll explain more about that too later, okay? When you come over again for the marmalade.”
“But you have to promise me, Tommy,” Phil continued, the sudden steel in his voice making Tommy blink. “Promise me that you won’t wander off by yourself, okay?”
“Okay …” Tommy said slowly.
“I mean it,” Phil turned in the saddle and fixed him with an intense blue stare. “Wherever you are, whether you’re inside the hotel or outside, in town, in the woods … wherever it is, don’t go off by yourself. Don’t go even with just one other person, do you understand? You need to stay in a group, always.”
“Okay,” Tommy repeated, feeling slightly shaken by the vehemence in the man’s voice. Stay in a group? How large a group? But it was just the two of them here now, and that seemed fine …?
But Phil was still staring at him.
“I promise,” Tommy said. Phil nodded, seemingly satisfied.
Suddenly, Tommy flashed back to Tubbo’s words this morning … it felt so long ago already. “Aren’t you worried?” the other boy had said, “you’re clearly having a lucky day …”
And then he had used some other word, about something he thought Tommy should have been worried about – what was it again, bandits? Outlaws?
But weren’t those all just different kinds of robbers?
But before Tommy could ask anything more, the horses turned the final bend. Hotel Royale, its grand facade dramatically lit up by both gaslight torches and even some electric lights, appeared before them.
To Tommy’s dismay, unlike when he’d been there that morning, the front entrance was now a hotbed of activity. There were numerous gleaming motorcars and flower-adorned horse-drawn carriages in the cobblestone roundabout, with fancily dressed guests walking up and down the stairs. Many were pausing to smile and exchange words with an equally-fancily dressed man with dark blond hair and vivid green eyes who stood at the base of the grand marble staircase to greet them. The bored-looking guard from earlier was nowhere to be seen.
Belatedly, Tommy realized it must be dinner time. Why on earth did Phil come around this way? They should have gone around to the service entrance –
Unperturbed by the overdressed crowd, Phil confidently led his horse to the base of the grand staircase. Despite Tommy’s urgent tugging on the reins, his horse automatically followed.
The green-eyed man’s eyes immediately snapped up to regard Phil.
“Captain,” he said coolly. “What a surprise. To what do we owe the honor?”
Captain? Tommy blinked at Phil, startled. Then he flinched as he saw Sam, who was standing a little behind and off to the side, staring up at Tommy with a very odd expression on his face. It was like a mixture of shock, anger, and … fear?
Shit.
Had he messed up on his very first day? Maybe he hadn’t been supposed to go down to Snowchester? But Charlie and Connor had seemed to think it was fine. Or maybe the older teens had different rules, and they’d been trying to set the new kid up for trouble –?
“Dream,” Phil said, giving the green-eyed man a curt nod and a smile that came nowhere near his icy blue eyes. “Tommy and I met in town, and I thought I’d escort him back to the hotel. One can never be too careful these days, you know.”
“Of course,” Dream said with a chilly smile, his gaze now shifting to include Tommy, who twitched uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “We appreciate your consideration, don’t we, Sam?”
Sam murmured “Of course,” and urgently motioned Tommy to dismount. Tommy scrambled off the horse and handed its reins up to Phil.
“Goodnight Tommy,” Phil gave him a genuinely warm smile. “Keep safe, alright?”
Tommy nodded and mumbled “Goodnight. Thank you,” before turning to follow Sam up the grand staircase and into the hotel foyer.
Sam motioned Tommy to join him behind the reception desk and then reached out, a hand closing urgently over Tommy’s shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked, studying Tommy’s face intensely.
“Yeah …” Tommy replied warily. Was he in trouble, or not?
“Good, that’s good,” Sam said, sounding both relieved and distracted.
Then the steward’s face tightened. “We’ll talk more about this later.” He opened a door partially hidden behind a large plant pot and waved Tommy into the service hallway beyond. “For now, go find the others and see what work is pending tonight.”
Notes:
So in the end notes to “In the Right Light,” I mentioned that “between Secret Ingredients, this, and a yet-unpublished fic, Phil holding out food towards Tommy and being like "psp psp psp!" is becoming a recurring theme in my stories.” This is that story! Cooking!Phil-feeding-Tommy is a favorite theme of mine, and this is now jam!edition. Like Tommy said, only wrong’uns don’t like jam (apologies to nice non-lovers of jam).
The county of Aux was randomly named after a place in SMPEarth. The Forest of Baden is named after Baden-Württemberg, the state in Germany where the Black Forest is located.
Chapter Text
“Of course you’re allowed to go into town,” Tubbo said a little later, giving Tommy a strange look as the two of them sat in a quiet corner of the kitchen, folding sets of silverware into cloth napkins in a just so pattern. “You weren’t on shift, so why wouldn’t you be?”
“Sam seemed pretty upset, though,” Tommy said doubtfully. “It was like when he saw Phil –”
“Wait, Phil? As in Phil Craft, the police captain? He’s the one who brought you back?” Tubbo said, eyes-widening.
When Tommy nodded, Tubbo continued, “Well, shit, that’s the problem, isn’t it? The hotel bigwigs don’t want the freaking police showing up around here, the guests won’t like it. Sam probably thought you’d gotten in trouble or something.”
“But he told them –”
“Doesn’t matter. They probably still thought you’d done something,” Tubbo said, shaking his head. “How’d you become all buddy-buddy with the police captain, anyway?”
“Ran into him,” Tommy admitted. “Like literally. Knocked him over. Made him drop all his shit.”
Tubbo snorted. “And then instead of arresting you –”
“He gave me jam and bread.”
Tubbo laughed out loud. He then immediately clapped a hand over his own mouth, muffling it, as some of the cooks still at work in the other sections of the kitchen turned to look in their direction.
“I’m serious,” Tubbo chortled in a low voice, shaking his head, “You have the craziest fuckin’ luck of anyone I’ve ever met, boss man. In just one day, you evaded the marauders, talked your way into a job at the Hotel Royale, and got rewarded for mowing down the police. Hopefully some of that luck will rub off on the rest of us.”
Torn between amusement and annoyance, Tommy pursed his lips and began to retort, but then paused. Marauders. There was that word again. That was what Tubbo had said before, not ‘bandits.’
“You said that before, too. Who the fuck are the marauders, big man?”
Tubbo stared at him. “Seriously?”
Tommy raised his eyebrows in response.
“Shit,” Tubbo muttered, reaching up to rub his chin as he shook his head in disbelief. “The marauders – well, it’ll take a while to explain completely, but long story short, they snatch people, okay?”
Tommy startled, eyes widening. “Huh?”
“They’re some kind of gang,” Tubbo added in a low voice, casting a furtive glance around the now sparsely-occupied kitchen. “Nobody knows who they are, or what they’re doing with people once they grab ‘em … but they’ve been snatching people in Snowchester and the smaller villages nearby for years now.”
“They murder them?” Tommy whispered, horrified.
“No one knows,” Tubbo repeated. “But probably. The people who get snatched by the marauders … well, they don’t come back, that’s for sure.”
Tommy sat back in his chair, shaken. So that was why Tubbo had thought he’d been so lucky, making the trek across the countryside up to the hotel alone. And Phil’s insistence on escorting Tommy back, and the promise the blond man had extracted – it all made sense now.
He had just opened his mouth to ask another question when Connor suddenly materialized next to them, making both Tommy and Tubbo jump.
“Come on, you two, we need to finish the table settings,” the older teen exclaimed, looking extremely bright-eyed and cheerful despite the hour. He grabbed as many of the wrapped silverware bundles as he could carry and hurried out the door.
“I thought dinner’s over?” Tommy said, confused.
“This is for breakfast,” Tubbo explained, shaking his head when Tommy groaned and rolled his eyes. “No, seriously! It’s better this way. Between inside and outside there’s like a hundred tables, otherwise we’d have to get up even earlier and do this in the morning.”
“Okay, okay,” Tommy sighed, grabbing a handful of the silverware bundles and trailing after Connor and Tubbo into the dining room.
The room was deserted except for one table in the corner. The teenage boy with dark fluffy hair – the one Tommy had seen in the car in the morning – was sitting by himself. He had some books and papers spread out in front of him, as if he were studying. He looked up when he saw Connor, Tubbo, and Tommy enter the room, smiled faintly at them, and quickly gathered his items and left.
“That kid,” Tommy said, nodding towards where the fluffy-haired teen had vanished. “He was sitting here by himself at lunch, too. Weird, innit?”
“Not really,” Tubbo muttered, giving him another odd look. “That’s Ranboo.”
When Tommy looked at him blankly, Tubbo elaborated, “Ponk’s son, Dream’s cousin. I keep forgetting you don’t know stuff.”
“Oh,” Tommy said, wrinkling his nose as he remembered the green-eyed man standing outside, and the cold, almost serpent-like expression with which he’d regarded Tommy and Phil earlier. “Dream’s the hotel manager, right? So his family live here?”
“No, no, the other way around. Dream works for Ranboo –”
“Wait, what?” Tommy asked, startled yet again.
“Shhh!” Connor hissed, looking around the – apparently empty – dining room apprehensively. “Keep it down, you two.”
After the three of them finished laying out the batch of silverware in silence, they retreated back into the kitchen to restock. The head Cook, an elderly woman who Tommy observed would keep a sardonic eye on Tubbo whenever he ventured anywhere near any food, was rolling out some dough on the counter. The look emerged again when they entered. Tubbo straightened and stared haughtily back. Most unfairly, Tommy thought, bristling, the range of the look then expanded to include him.
“Dream is Ranboo’s cousin,” Connor explained to Tommy in a low voice as he handed the two boys more bundles of neatly wrapped silverware from the supply closet. “He’s around ten years older than Ranboo, I guess; they didn’t grow up together. He was away at some fancy university overseas, and came here a few years ago to help his uncle by taking on the job of general manager.”
“It turned out to be very timely,” Cook added darkly, not even pretending to not listen in, “what with poor Mr. Ponk passing away so soon afterwards. He was so young, too, the poor man. I know you young rascals think all adults are teetering at death’s door, but he was really in the prime of his life. So tragic. Mr. Dream has been such a great help and comfort to young Mr. Ranboo ever since.”
“Wait, so Ranboo’s dad was the owner?” Tommy repeated, wide-eyed. “But now –”
Connor shushed them again as they once again trekked out into the dining room and placed the rest of the silverware. After they again returned to the kitchen, he continued explaining.
“Yeah, so technically Ranboo owns Hotel Royale,” Connor said, nodding at Tommy. “But because he’s still a teenager and he’s still studying, Dream runs it for him. That’s what was in Mr. Ponk’s will.”
“So once Ranboo finishes studying, he’ll take over running this place?” Tommy said doubtfully.
“Eh …” Connor again took a quick look around the kitchen, making sure they weren’t being overheard by anyone besides the head Cook, “… maybe. Obviously the hotel’s been doing really well with Dream at the helm, so once Ranboo reaches his majority, he might just keep things as they are. Or he might decide to take over and run it by himself. Who can say?”
“It’s not for us to speculate on such matters, that’s for certain,” Cook said severely. “Now, enough gossiping! Off with you lot, don’t just stand there –” she shooed Tommy and Tubbo towards the back stairs.
“Oh, wait!”
She reached into a large bin and handed them both and Connor paper-wrapped bundles. “Here, take these.”
Tubbo’s eyes widened.
“Thanks Cook,” Connor flashed Cook a charming grin and reached out to peck her on the cheek. “You’re the best!”
The Cook swatted at Connor, but she was smiling. “Now, off to bed with you!”
Clutching their bundles, which to Tommy’s delight turned out to each contain a chocolate bundt muffin, Tommy and Tubbo dashed up the stairs.
Tommy wasn’t exactly sure where he was supposed to sleep, so he just followed Tubbo, which turned out to be the right choice. Tubbo led the way up several narrow flights of stairs and into a small room set up with two neatly-made metal beds and some sparse furnishings. He collapsed onto the farther bed and immediately began to open his muffin package, leaving Tommy to gingerly sit on the nearer one.
“So yeah,” Tubbo said after a moment, chewing on a large piece of muffin. “Ranboo’s dad, Mr. Ponk, he’s the one who built Hotel Royale. But he died – hmm, about three or four years ago, I think? It wasn’t long after the hotel opened. I wasn’t here yet. Dream was already in charge by the time I got here.”
Tommy hummed noncommittally, stuffing most of his chocolate muffin into his mouth in one go.
“I didn’t know Dream got here before Ponk died, though. It’s weird, isn’t it?” Tubbo said thoughtfully. “Dream comes back to help, and then Ponk just happens to keel over just a little while later?”
Tommy shrugged as he chewed and swallowed. He said thickly, around the remaining muffin mush, “I guess. I mean, Cook said he died right after that, yeah? Maybe the guy knew he was sick, and that’s why he called Dream to come help in the first place.”
“Maybe …” Tubbo said slowly, holding the last half of his muffin without eating it. Tommy eyed it covetously.
After another moment, while he chewed on the rest of his muffin, Tubbo added, “I wonder what’s going to happen when Ranboo comes of age. I bet Dream won’t be too thrilled to give the hotel up, not after he’s put so much work into it.”
“Rich people shit,” Tommy said scornfully, as he picked the last few muffin crumbs off his bedspread and ate them.
“But what do we care?” he continued. “That’s like three or four years from now, innit? We’re not going to be here.”
Tubbo didn’t say anything. Surprised at the sudden silence, Tommy looked up at him.
“I don’t know, boss man,” Tubbo said finally. “I’ll probably still be here. It’s not like there are a lot of better jobs around Snowchester, you know?”
Tommy frowned. “But you could –”
“And what about you?” Tubbo interrupted. “Like, I get that you said you’re working here while your brother’s off at sea. But what if he decides to go back for the next trading season?” he continued, eyeing Tommy curiously. “Would you stay here, then?”
Tommy paused, startled. In truth, he had never considered the possibility that Wilbur would leave again after coming back. This was supposed to be a one-time deal, right?
… what if Tubbo was right, and Wilbur decided to make a career out of being a sailor?
“Naaaw,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t do that. He promised me that once he did this one season and got his pay, we’d move to Manberg.”
“He did,” he insisted, bristling at Tubbo’s skeptical expression. “And the money I’m making working here, that’ll help us get a place there.”
“In fact,” Tommy added, “once we’re settled there, you should come join us, big man. What do you want to hang around here for, making origami ducks out of napkins for these rich bitches for years and years? We could be living in the big city! There’s so much shit we could do there –”
“Maybe,” Tubbo said, a small smile tugging at his lips at Tommy’s enthusiasm. “We’ll see.”
“We’ll do it,” Tommy vowed, falling back against his lumpy pillow and staring up at the cracked plaster of the ceiling. “You’ll see.”
---
A few days later, Tommy rode the evening supply cart down to Snowchester for the third time. He was quickly becoming used to the bumpy ride along the cobblestone road, and now knew exactly when he had to hold on tight and when he could relax.
His second trip into town had been just the day before. Yesterday morning, Tommy and Niki had been serving breakfast en suite in one of the biggest, most lavish guest rooms, to the family of a rich industrialist from … somewhere. Business Bay, maybe? Tommy had nearly dropped the heavy porcelain serving platter in alarm when one of the women in the family suddenly began shrieking after biting into a pastry she had just selected from it. At first, Tommy had been sure there must have been a razor or something baked into the flaky crust that had cut the guest’s mouth open, because the offending food item she threw at Tommy was blood red. The other family members had also started shouting then, and a few more things had been thrown before Niki managed to calm everyone down. Then they’d learned that the problem was that the pastry was strawberry jam-filled, while the guest had wanted the apricot jam-filled kind. Unfortunately, only the strawberry kind had been delivered to the hotel by the bakery that morning, so Tommy had been dispatched to fetch apricot ones right away, Madame.
In the bakery, he’d run into Phil again – though luckily not literally, this time. The blond man had been waiting for his order and had actually looked really pleased to see Tommy – which, Tommy had to admit, cheered him up, especially after a trying morning of being assaulted by pastry. The list of people genuinely happy to see Tommy was actually pretty short (i.e., just Wilbur, and maybe the Schlatts). Although, he had to admit that Tubbo, Sam, and the other hotel staff might be adding on to it. And now Phil. While they waited in line, Phil had repeated his invitation to visit, reminding Tommy about the orange marmalade. So … today, after a little more dithering, Tommy had decided to take the detective up on his offer.
He carefully pulled open the squeaky wrought-iron gate and climbed the narrow stone staircase up to Phil’s flat. He had just raised his hand to knock on the already-ajar door when he saw someone sitting inside, at the long kitchen table.
“You must be Tommy,” the broad-shouldered, pink-haired man said, removing his reading glasses and gazing at him calmly. “Phil said you might be stopping by. I’m Techno.”
This was the other detective, Tommy remembered, as Phil’s words during their horseback-ride up to the hotel came back to him. Techno, Phil’s partner and best friend.
“Er, hi,” Tommy said, shifting uneasily under Techno’s gaze. “Yeah, I’m Tommy. Is this a bad time? I can come back –”
“No,” Techno replied.
They stared at each other for a beat.
“I mean, it’s not a bad time,” Techno said, sounding slightly amused. “Come in, have a seat.”
“Phil’s around,” he added. “He should be here in a few minutes.”
Sure enough, Phil soon appeared and gave Tommy a cheery smile that almost immediately turned into a frown.
“You didn’t come by yourself again, did you?”
“Just around the corner from the high street,” Tommy protested, looking up at Phil. He half-regretted telling the man he’d come to town alone yesterday. “Caught a ride in the supply cart, it was me and Charlie and Niki and the driver today.”
Phil nodded, but still didn’t look very satisfied. He headed into the kitchen and reappeared a few minutes later with a pot of tea and three cups, a tray of bread and pastries, and a jar of the promised orange marmalade. Tommy’s eyes lit up.
“So – when you’re worried about it not being safe here, it’s because of those marauders, right?” Tommy asked after a few minutes of happy munching, with his mouth still half-full. Phil hadn’t been overselling the marmalade, that was for sure. “My friend Tubbo at the hotel told me about them, and how they vanish people.”
Techno paused in spreading marmalade on his scone, and he and Phil exchanged a glance.
“What else do you know about the marauders?” Phil asked, somewhat guardedly, as he put down his teacup.
“Not much,” Tommy admitted. “Tubbo said that they’re this gang that snatches people, and that nobody knows what happens to the people who get snatched.”
He nibbled at the remaining marmalade-slathered crumbs on his plate and looked up at the two men.
“D’you know who they are, then, and what they’re doing with the people?”
Techno leaned back in his chair and crossed his massive arms, frowning. Phil cleared his throat and seemed to carefully chose his words.
“Unfortunately, no one knows for sure who the so-called ‘marauders’ are, or what their motivations are. But the situation in Snowchester and the surrounding countryside is very serious.”
Tommy leaned forward with his elbows on the table, listening raptly.
“The reason I told you to always stay in a group,” Phil said slowly, turning to fix Tommy with a serious stare, “is because over the last three or four years –”
“Since Hotel Royale opened,” Techno interjected mildly, and he and Phil gave each other a look.
“In the last three or four years,” Phil continued resolutely, “there have been a lot of disappearances around here. And the people who vanish are are vanishing one at a time. They were last known to be doing something or going somewhere alone. So obviously, it’s better to avoid being on your own, as a general rule.”
Tommy nodded; that made sense. He peered up at the men. “So how many people have vanished?”
“That,” Techno replied dryly, “depends entirely on who you ask. According to the mayor of Snowchester and the regional police commissioner in Manberg, zero people have disappeared. They’ve all just … moved away. And conveniently have never been heard from since.”
“And according to you?” Tommy looked between the two men.
After a pause, Phil replied, “At our last count, almost forty people.”
Tommy’s eyes bugged out.
“What the fuck? Forty – how could – what the hell, how could they not notice that many people are missing?!”
“That’s about one person per month since it started,” Techno said clinically, resting his elbows on the table. “And interestingly, that’s also the approximate interval between each disappearance. It used to vary more, but it’s settled into a cycle that repeats every 28 days or so. It’s not fixed, though. The gap between disappearances has occasionally been as short as 15.”
Tommy stared at him, speechless.
“They also seem to have missed a few months here and there,” Techno observed. After a brief pause, he added darkly, “Or more likely, there might be some people whose disappearances we just don’t know about yet.”
“So … is this like, some kind of full moon-related shit, then?” Tommy finally managed. “Snowchester has werewolves or something?”
Phil choked on a sip of tea and Techno snorted.
“If that is the problem,” Phil began, his voice wavering with amusement as he looked up at Techno.
“I bet it’s the mayor,” Techno said, his eyes gleaming as he leaned forward. “Have you seen the guy? I’m telling you, he definitely looks undead –”
“Undead is vampires, Techno,” Phil said with a snicker, “or zombies. Not werewolves!”
“You never know –”
“Okay, okay,” Tommy said grumpily, cutting into their mirth. Old people. “If it’s not werewolves, then what is it?”
The two men sobered, and Phil set down his tea cup with a sigh. “Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?”
“And you said it’s since the hotel opened. How’s it connected?” Tommy persisted, staring at them.
Phil and Techno exchanged another annoying, seemingly telepathic glance.
“It’s not hard evidence, but more about the timing,” Phil replied carefully. “But the fact of the matter is, these periodic disappearances began shortly after Hotel Royale was built. Prior to that, the last time anyone disappeared around here was –”
“A few years before that,” Techno supplied, pouring himself some more tea. “It did happen from time to time, it’s true. In fact – Phil, you remember, right? There was that case of a husband and wife who both disappeared in the woods. It was a few months before we moved out to Manberg.”
Phil nodded and Techno continued, “Everyone knew they used to travel fairly far into the Forest of Baden to hunt and gather herbs and other supplies. It was risky and, well, their luck may have just run out. There are bears, wolves – real wolves, that is – and other predators in these woods, you know. So yes, things would happen. But they were rare, and not periodic.”
“But –” Tommy struggled to collect his thoughts. “But – okay, Snowchester isn’t tiny, but it isn’t huge either. Forty people – that’s so many freaking people! But you said the mayor and this other police guy claim nothing’s happening?”
“It’s not just residents of Snowchester proper,” Phil explained. “Many of the people were from the surrounding villages and the countryside. That gives them … well, something of a technical ‘out’.”
“The rural villages also don’t have their own police forces,” Techno noted. “So any incidents should be reported to and recorded by the Snowchester police … if they weren’t blocking the official record.”
“We’re both originally from this area, though,” Phil said, looking up at Techno. “So we know a lot of people in the surrounding smaller communities. Even if there’s no official report, word gets to us. Mostly, anyway.”
Phil rose to his feet and strode over to a bookshelf, where he pulled out a large, leather-covered volume and carried it over to Tommy.
“We’ve been keeping track of things on our own.”
Tommy accepted the book hesitantly, not sure how to tell the two men that his reading skills were, at best, rudimentary. But when he opened it, it was not full of tiny, hard-to-decipher print. It was more like a journal. Each page held an ink sketch of a missing person and hand-written notes about them – when they disappeared, their last known location, who had last seen them, where they were from, and so forth.
“There are so many,” he murmured, slowly flipping through the pages. “So many people.”
Some of the sketches were very detailed and portrait-like, as if drawn from personal memory, while others were simple. Like Phil had said, the group was mixed. Many of the people hailed from tiny villages and hamlets in the surrounding countryside, while others had lived in Snowchester.
“There’s only one attribute that we can find that seems to link all these people,” Phil said seriously, looking down at Tommy. Tommy tore his gaze away from the sketch of a young girl with curly pigtails to meet Phil’s eyes. “Their ages.”
“They’re all either young or elderly,” Techno said, leaning back in his chair, his keen eyes studying Tommy.
“Most of the people who have vanished are young – in their early 20s, teenagers, or even younger children,” Phil added, nodding. “There’s also a smaller number of older people who have disappeared, people who were in their 60s, 70s, or older. For some reason, middle-aged people seem to be fairly safe from whatever is going on here.”
Tommy pressed his lips together, an icy blade of doubt and fear sinking deep into the pit of his stomach. So that was why Phil had been so adamant in all his warnings. Because at 14 – almost 15 now – Tommy was solidly in the age range of the younger people who were going missing.
But he couldn’t say that. Admitting fear, Tommy had learned while growing up in Logstedshire, rarely helped and usually made things worse. So instead, he looked up at them and smiled crookedly. “So you’re both in danger, then?”
“Heh?” Techno said incredulously, as Phil’s eyebrows shot up.
“I’m just saying,” Tommy protested, fighting back a grin. “At your ages, you should be careful –”
“Listen here, you little shit –” Phil began, shaking his head and clearly fighting back a laugh.
“It’s really risky for you out there!”
“Okay, so we’re going to just stop that line of reasoning right here,” Techno sounded amused. “But back to the issue,” his voice grew more serious. “The demographics also give people like the mayor and the commissioner some plausible deniability.”
A sneer curled his lip. “An elderly person? Maybe they just passed away. Whoever reported them as missing was probably mistaken. A young adult or older teenager? Maybe they ran away, to look for better work or to be with someone their parents didn’t approve of –”
Tommy blinked as his last memory of Wilbur – waving at him from the deck of the merchant’s vessel as it pulled out of port, simultaneously excited and worried and hopeful – flashed before his eyes.
“And a younger kid –” Techno continued darkly.
“Maybe they got lost in the woods,” Phil finished softly, exchanging a knowing glance with Techno. The air in the cozy flat suddenly seemed heavy, oppressively thin. “Maybe they succumbed to exposure, or were attacked by a wild animal.”
Tommy stared down at the book, his fingers tightening on the covers.
“But … you’re the police,” he said finally, staring up at them. “Can’t you just, like, question everyone in Snowchester and at the hotel? Or arrest the whole lot and then sort it out?”
Phil and Techno exchanged another look.
“We’re trying, kid,” Techno said, straightening and shaking his head. “You’ve got to understand that there’s politics involved. People don’t want to hear it, and they don’t want to talk about it.”
“But –”
“There’s little appetite in the town, the local government – or even the regional government, beyond – to look too closely at the hotel,” Phil added, his eyes hooded. “It’s too important for the local economy. Snowchester lacks other industries or rich farmland, so the town was dying a slow death before Hotel Royale came in. It essentially revived and rejuvenated the entire region. Now there are too many livelihoods at risk. Not just the people who work for the hotel directly, but also the town craftspeople and merchants.”
“The bakers, the dairy farmers, the carpenters, the tailors, the carriage operators and tour guides,” Techno noted. “They all supply to the hotel. For some of them, it’s their single biggest client.”
“And they aren’t exactly interested in being forthcoming with us. After all,” Phil’s expression was dark, “if their loved ones haven’t gone missing yet –”
Tommy swallowed, feeling shaken.
“Or even if they have been affected,” Techno continued, turning to Tommy, “sometimes people look the other way, in exchange for financial stability or other reasons. You’ve been to the bakery?”
Tommy blinked at the apparent change in topic but nodded. “Just yesterday. Phil was there, too.”
“Oh, was he? I’m shocked,” Techno continued in a drawl, amusement flashing in his eyes. “The high street bakery? The one that he visits nearly every day and single-handedly keeps in business by buying all their bread to go with all that jam?”
Phil sputtered.
Tommy’s eyes widened as he remembered the very friendly man, the assistant baker – what was his name again? Oh yeah, Fit – who had leaned over the counter and insisted on giving Phil several extra dinner rolls for free. Then he looked up at the Phil’s indignant expression and snorted.
“I do not buy all the bread, Techno, and it’s the only good bakery in town, everyone goes there –”
“Ms. Bothry, who owns it, only moved here last year,” Techno continued loudly, talking over Phil’s objections. His eyes danced as he met Tommy’s half-bemused, half-delighted gaze. “Before that, her grandmother ran that bakery for decades. Crotchety, unpleasant old woman, but amazing bread.”
His voice sobered and his expression grew serious again. “Old Mrs. Bothry up and vanished one day. Just like the others. Her granddaughter actually came here from Manberg to help search for her. Then, after the trail ran cold again, she decided to stay and take over the family business. And as you may know, she sells a lot of bread and pastries to the hotel these days.”
Tommy was silent for a moment as he digested this.
“We’re still trying, Tommy,” Phil said quietly. “We haven’t given up. But … it’s been very difficult to make inroads. Whatever is going on here, whoever is responsible, they’re powerful and devious.”
“Sly,” Techno supplied blandly.
“Yes. It’s been very hard to pin them down. We had reasonable evidence the last several times we tried to arrest a suspect. But it was never quite good enough. They managed to hush things up. When we try again, we need to have a much stronger hand.”
Tommy worked his jaw. Powerful people getting away with nasty shit … why did this sort of thing happen everywhere?
But at least back in Logstedshire, people hadn’t been fucking vanishing like clock-work.
“Do you think the marauders work at the hotel, then?” Tommy asked after a beat. His eyes darted between the two men. “Do you think it’s dangerous to be there?”
“They likely are associated with the hotel, somehow,” Phil said evasively, carefully not looking at Techno. “But … to be fair, the real risk is honestly just being in or near Snowchester. Only one of the people who have vanished so far actually worked at the hotel. Besides the age aspect, we still don’t know how the marauders are picking the people who go missing, how they stalk them, where they take them ….” his voice trailed off.
“We don’t even know that the marauders are a gang,” Techno pointed out. “Someone came up with the name years ago. Naming them let people fill in the blanks, make up their own details, essentially.”
“Exactly. For example, people decided a ‘gang’ like the marauders couldn’t possibly be hiding in town, so they must camp out in the woods,” Phil offered dryly. “And therefore, people must be safe as long as they don’t go in the woods.”
“But if you look at the actual data, most of the people who vanished weren’t anywhere near the woods when they were last seen,” Techno observed. “But does that mean that the woods are safe? Not … necessarily.”
“And similarly, people have decided that since it’s a gang, anyone who vanishes must be getting dragged away by a group of armed men,” Phil added. “But – especially given the demographics of the people who are vanishing – it’s quite possible that a single person might be the perpetrator.”
“If you’re carrying off a kid or a little old lady, you don’t need multiple men to do the job,” Techno agreed. “One would easily do. And if they really are a gang, it may not even be the same man each time.”
“Or even a man,” Phil pointed out. “It could be a woman.”
There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment.
“The only real safe thing would be to just go home, kid,” Techno said finally. “Get as far away from this place as possible. Unless – where is your home village, anyway? There haven’t been any disappearances there too, have there?”
“I can’t just go home,” Tommy exclaimed, his voice tight with tension. “Wilbur’s away, there’s nothing there for me to do. And I need to earn money for us, I’ve got to help –”
“I get it, kid,” Techno said, cutting him off. “I do. But you understand why we’re telling you all this, right? You’ve got to know the score, yeah? You’ve got to be vigilant.”
“Yeah …”
“If things are okay at the hotel now,” Phil said quietly, “I suggest letting things be and staying vigilant, as Techno said. But … listen, Tommy, if you do end up having to leave the hotel and need somewhere to stay until your brother comes back, you’re always welcome here with us, okay?”
It was a breathtakingly kind invitation. Tommy stared at Phil, then at Techno who nodded in confirmation. He slowly nodded.
“Thanks.”
“In the meantime,” Phil continued, “you just need to exercise some common sense.”
“Now, we just met, but I can already tell that may be difficult for you,” Techno drawled; Phil laughed as Tommy’s eyes popped in outrage, “so let me lay it out clearly. First – don’t go off on your own. Anywhere. Ever. Full stop,” Techno fixed Tommy with a hard stare, and Phil nodded approvingly.
“Everyone who’s vanished so far, it’s been one person, one at a time. They aren’t disappearing in groups. So stay in a group.”
Tommy nodded again.
“Second, that about-once-a-month frequency has held pretty constant over the years. Occasionally they miss entirely, but it usually holds. So you need to be even more vigilant around ‘vanishing week’, when most of the incidents have happened. That’s usually between the third quarter and the new moon.”
Wait, the full moon was coming up in a few days, wasn’t it? Tommy shifted uncomfortably. “So has anyone vanished yet this month?” he demanded.
“Not that we know of,” Phil said grimly. “Which could mean that it’s about to happen, or that it’s already happened and we don’t know about it yet. Or maybe this is one of those odd months that for whatever reason, they’re skipping.”
“Exactly. So third –” Techno paused and looked at Phil.
“And third,” Phil took over, his voice quiet but firm, “Be careful about who you spend time with, even in the hotel.” His eyes flickered to Techno. “Especially in the hotel. Whoever is responsible for this … like I said, we don’t have solid evidence, but our gut feeling is that they probably hold an influential position there now.”
“Otherwise we’d have caught them by now,” Techno finished darkly.
“And obviously, if anyone suspicious approaches you or tries to grab you –” Phil added.
“Run like hell,” Techno cut in bluntly. “No one’s ever credibly come to us saying they were almost taken by the marauders but got away. So clearly, there’s no second chances. You’ve got to run. Run fast, and don’t look back.”
Tommy nodded again, numbly. Then he glanced at the window, where the direct glare of the evening sun had now shifted.
“Oh shit,” he hissed, his eyes widening. “I’ve got to go back or I’ll be late for table settings again –”
“We’ll take you,” Phil said in a tone that brooked no argument, and Techno nodded, straightening.
Later, in front of the side service entrance, Tommy clambered down from the horse and turned and looked up at the two mounted men; at the calm, steady presence of the massive horses, jet black and chestnut.
“Thanks,” he said, his voice subdued. “For bringing me back. And for telling me about all this.”
Phil gave him a strained smile. “Of course, Tommy. And please … be careful. And remember, if you ever get into any difficulties –”
“Or see anything strange,” Techno added.
“Come find us, or send us a message,” Phil finished, and Techno nodded firmly. “Anytime, and we’ll help. Okay?”
Despite everything – the constant pang of missing Wilbur, this insane job, and now the truth about what was going on in this fucking crazy town – Tommy felt a warm glow settle in his chest at the words. He nodded.
“Thanks,” Tommy said again, and then hastened up the narrow staircase to the service door.
Notes:
Well, Tommy's learning more about what's going on, at least? Next chapter up is 'The Heir.'
Chapter Text
There were heavy thunderstorms overnight, and the next day dawned overcast and gloomy.
Between his circling thoughts, ruminating on everything he’d learned from Phil and Techno the previous day, and the jolts of thunder rattling the thin plaster of the dorm-room ceiling, Tommy had not slept well. Consequently, when he took his spot in line for the morning staff meeting and Sam’s assignment of tasks, he was not at all happy to hear Tubbo and Connor discussing who might be assigned to go out into the woods to fetch some random shit –
“Into the woods?” Tommy demanded incredulously. “You mean the Forest of Baden? But why the hell d’you want to go in there for? It’s dangerous –”
“Don’t want to, we’ve got to,” Tubbo said with a shrug. “Supplies and shit.”
“But – but even apart from, like, everything wrong with going into the woods, it’s been storming all night,” Tommy pointed out, dismayed. “Any trails would be like, literal mud pits right now –”
“I know,” Tubbo grimaced. “But we don’t have a choice. Well, whoever gets assigned it, I mean. Which will probably be me and one of you two, to be honest.”
“We don’t know how long this weather will last,” Connor explained to Tommy, looking resigned, “and the herbs and things we need to get from the woods are for the spa, so the timing isn’t up for debate. If the spa says they want it now, we’ve got to get it now.”
The spa? Tommy scrunched up his face in disbelief. He hadn’t been to that part of Hotel Royale yet, but how the hell could ingredients for random tonics and perfumes and shit possibly be worth the risk of going into the Forest of Baden? Or be so urgent?
But before he could ask anything more, Sam swept into the room.
“Good morning, everyone,” the steward said briskly, giving their neatly uniformed appearances a quick once-over before jumping straight into the day’s task list. It was a little different from the last several days because Niki and Charlie were apparently dedicated to updating and beautifying a very fancy suite of rooms reserved for the approaching visit of the Countess of Aux. That left Connor and Hannah to handle the rest of the routine tasks for the day, to be joined by Chayanne and Tallulah after the younger children finished their morning lessons.
And Tubbo – just as he had predicted – was assigned to ‘collect shit from the woods’ duty, although Sam phrased it something like “replenishing raw ingredients for the stores of Spa Elisabeth.” And Tommy was to accompany him.
“Just the two of us?” Tommy blurted out, as everyone else quickly filed from the room.
Tubbo’s eyes widened and he shook his head urgently as Sam turned to focus his stare on Tommy. “Is there a problem?”
Tommy went rigid under the steward’s scrutiny. Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. He couldn’t refuse to go, could he? What if he lost his job? He would be fucked –
But … just him and Tubbo out there in the woods, all by themselves? Phil’s voice echoed in his head: “Don’t go by yourself,” the policeman had warned him. “Don’t go even with just one other person … you need to stay in a group, always.”
And the woods were dangerous on their own, even without considering the marauders. And considering the marauders, the full moon was in two days.
“Tommy? What’s wrong?”
Tommy lifted his head to meet Sam’s questioning gaze. At least the steward looked more perplexed than angry – for the moment at least.
“It’s just that … uh, is it safe? For just the two of us to go? I mean, with the marauders and all that?”
Sam’s expression cleared, the confusion immediately replaced by impatience. At Tommy’s side, Tubbo grimaced again.
“Tommy, collecting local ingredients from the forest for Spa Elisabeth is a routine task undertaken by the Hotel Royale staff. How many people do you suggest I send to pick flowers and herbs? Do want me to send Charlie and Niki with you and Tubbo as well? Or Connor and Hannah? Or perhaps shall we all go, as a group outing?”
Tommy winced at the gentle, chiding sandpaper of the man’s tone. “No Sam, it’s just –”
“And with everyone out in the woods, how are today’s tasks in the hotel going to be accomplished?”
“I’m sorry, I just –”
“I understand you’re concerned about the marauders,” Sam cut in, frowning at Tommy. “And while it’s not wrong to take sensible precautions, may I suggest that … perhaps your fears are being excessively fanned into flames by the Snowchester police, with whom you’ve been spending much time, after all.”
Tommy’s eyes widened. Sam knew that he’d been meeting Phil and Techno? How?
“People do get absorbed in their work, you know,” Sam gave him a slightly crooked smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “There’s an expression you may have heard – ‘when one has a hammer, every problem looks like a nail’. So it’s perhaps … unsurprising that the police are seeing potential marauders everywhere. It’s their duty to apprehend these villains, after all, and unfortunately they have continued to fail at that job for years now. But the rest of us can’t pay the price for their inaction by halting our normal lives and abandoning our duties, wouldn’t you agree?”
Tommy blinked at this characterization of Phil and Techno, and flushed. “Yes sir. Sorry.”
“Good lads,” Sam said, giving him and Tubbo a brisk nod and turning away, his attention clearly already on another task.
Then suddenly he paused and swung back. “If it makes you feel better,” he said, quirking an eyebrow, “why don’t I ask if Mr. Reese or Mr. Punz are free to walk with you down to the woods? I doubt they have the time to stay with you while you work, but they may be able to escort you there.”
Tommy nodded hesitantly as Sam turned away.
“Why the fuck did you do that?” Tubbo hissed as they scuttled out towards the courtyard. At least, Tommy observed dismally, it wasn’t raining anymore. There were still puddles standing everywhere on the stones of the courtyard, though, which didn’t bode well for the situation in the woods.
“I didn’t know I shouldn’t care now,” Tommy replied acerbically. He now felt more annoyed than rattled. “You’re the one who was so freaked out about the marauders before –”
“Yes, but –” Tubbo shook his head, exasperated. “It’s one thing for us to be freaked out, and it’s something else to bother Sam about it, don’t you get it?”
“Uh, no,” Tommy replied hotly. “Why don’t you explain –”
But then Tubbo waved his hands at Tommy in an urgent shushing motion as they entered the courtyard; Tommy followed his gaze and immediately saw why. Seated at one of courtyard tables under a canopy were Ranboo and a friendly-looking dark-haired man who must be his tutor. A huge pile of books was next to them, along with the remains of a breakfast service. At the adjacent table, to Tommy’s surprise, were Chayanne and Tallulah; Tallulah was sticking out her tongue in concentration and Chayanne was kicking his feet as both children carefully traced fancy cursive-style letters onto crisp pages.
“The kids have their morning lessons with Ranboo’s tutor, Missa,” Tubbo muttered to Tommy under his breath as they approached. Tommy felt both boggled and impressed that the two smallest children were sharing a teacher with the owner of Hotel Royale, even though he had to admit the tall, fantastically rich teenager didn’t look all that intimidating up-close.
“Hi Tubbo,” Ranboo said with a slight smile. He looked over at Tommy curiously.
“Hey Ranboo,” Tubbo said – quite casually, Tommy thought in consternation, considering that Ranboo was technically their ultimate boss.
“Hi Tommy!” Tallulah called cheerfully, waving. “Hi Tubbo!”
Next to her, Chayanne’s head snapped up and he waved wildly at them, his forgotten page nearly blowing away in the breeze. Missa’s arm shot out, rescuing it at the last second.
“Ayup, tiny children,” Tommy called back, grinning as they both began to complain indignantly in high-pitched voices that they were not tiny. Ranboo shot Tommy an amused, interested look.
“Well, that’s it for the morning,” Missa said pleasantly, closing a book and rising to his feet. “I’ll see you in the afternoon, Ranboo? Don’t forget to do the readings from the Ender essays, alright? And let me take these two troublemakers with me,” he added with a laugh.
“Thank you, Missa,” Ranboo said, his expression soft.
“I’m not a troublemaker,” Tallulah said indignantly as she hopped off the chair. “Chay’s a hooligan, though,” she added matter-of-factly after a beat, nodding at her brother.
“Tallulah!” Missa laughed. “That’s not very – okay, your vocabulary is getting quite good, sweetheart.”
“I am not a hoo-lee-gun!” Chayanne protested, lunging after her. “Lu, take it back! Missa, make her take it back –!”
“We’ll see you later,” Missa said cheerfully, waving as he departed, herding an arguing Chayanne and Tallulah ahead of him.
Ranboo waved after them. After they turned the corner, he turned back, his smile fading back to his usual somber expression.
“I don’t think you know Tommy,” Tubbo said, and Tommy gave Ranboo an awkward nod.
“It’s nice to meet you,” Ranboo said, rather formally. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your work here?”
“Uh, yeah, it’s been great,” Tommy replied in a hopefully convincing tone. “Really poggers.”
It apparently wasn’t convincing enough, since Tubbo snorted and Ranboo’s lips actually twitched.
“What are you both doing out here so early, anyway?” Ranboo asked.
“It’s woods duty today,” Tubbo said briefly, and Ranboo nodded with some sympathy. “We’re looking for Mr. Punz or Mr. Reese. One of them are supposed to go with us til the trail.”
“Mr. Reese should be coming back this way soon,” Ranboo reported. “He went out to the stables, something about dealing with a guest request. If you want, you can wait here for him.”
Could they? Tommy shot Tubbo a questioning look, but Tubbo just nodded. Then the shorter blond boy actually hopped over and took a seat at the table next to Ranboo.
Tommy stared at Tubbo in horror, sure he was about to witness him being screamed at – or worse, fired – by the owner of Hotel Royale. But Ranboo’s only response was to turn towards him and say politely, “Tommy, won’t you please sit down?”
This was really fucking weird, Tommy thought as he gingerly slid into the third seat, staring at the two other boys.
“You just joined us a few days ago, right?” Ranboo asked, moving to offer Tommy a cup of tea as if he were the waiter, what the hell –
“Er, no thank you,” Tommy managed.
“Are you from one of the villages near Snowchester?” Ranboo asked, peering at him. “I don’t remember seeing you around town before.”
“No, I’m from Logstedshire,” Tommy replied. “Out on the south coast?” he added, when Ranboo looked a bit blank.
“Ah, I see,” Ranboo said, his expression clearing. “So did you move up here by yourself, or together with your family –?”
“It’s just me,” Tommy said abruptly, a twinge in his stomach. He had been trying his best not to think about Wilbur, since every day now marked a new record for the longest they’d ever been apart. Despite being surrounded by the other hotel employees and guests all day long, the realization that he was all alone in this place still hit him like a gut-punch, from time to time. He wondered if Wilbur felt the same way, wherever he was. “My brother’s off working at sea.”
Ranboo nodded thoughtfully, pouring himself some additional tea.
“My family’s from a village a few kilometers away,” Tubbo put in cheerfully. “We’ve been here for like, ten generations.”
Ranboo laughed softly at that, looking up at Tommy. “I’m more like you than like Tubbo, then,” he said wryly. “We have no family ties here, either. My father just felt it was a beautiful place to build the hotel. And now … well, it’s just me, as well.”
“And you know, Ranboo,” Tubbo added, sounding for all the world as if he were continuing a prior conversation, “We heard just a few days ago that Dream was here while your father was still running the hotel. I hadn’t known that before.”
Tommy felt like he was stuck in a loop of horror-whiplash. Hadn’t Tubbo just been lecturing him not five minutes ago about what he could and couldn’t ask Sam? And now here the blond boy was, casually chatting to fucking Ranboo about his deceased father as if they were best pals?
But Ranboo simply nodded and said, “Yes. Father was really pleased when Dream agreed to come here.” His eyes flicked between them quickly and then dropped back down to his tea cup.
Tubbo seemed to at last come to his senses and said apologetically, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to –”
“No, it’s okay,” Ranboo said with a slight smile – which Tommy was coming to realize was the most the older teen ever smiled.
“We didn’t have any other family left anywhere, actually,” Ranboo explained, looking between Tubbo and Tommy. “My father’s brother died when he was just a teenager, and my father’s sister – that is, Dream’s mother – passed away about … five years ago, I guess? Dream was still in university then. And Dream’s father died even before that.”
“I’m sorry,” Tommy said quietly, and Tubbo nodded in subdued agreement.
“Thanks. I mean –” Ranboo gave them a twisted smile and shrugged. “I didn’t know any of them well.”
“So you met Dream when he came to work here, then?” Tommy asked, curious despite himself.
“No, I’ve known Dream since I was little,” Ranboo replied, shaking his head. His face relaxed minutely as he continued, “I remember – he was always so much fun to be around back then. I don’t have any siblings, and I remember wishing so much that he was my older brother and not my cousin, so he could stay with us always. I was so disappointed when his family moved away. For a while I hoped we’d move too, and join them, but Father’s businesses were always in Manberg. And then he decided to open the hotel and we moved out here instead …” his voice trailed off.
“So yes,” Ranboo said, shaking his head slightly as if to clear it. “It worked out really well that Dream agreed to come here after he finished his studies. His parents’ company was running smoothly under the Board they’d set up – my father used to sit on it, too – so Dream didn’t need to work there unless he really wanted to. And if he took a role here instead, well, we could all finally be together again.”
“Oh … well, it must be nice to have him with you again, then?” Tommy said, feeling a pang of sympathy for the painfully reserved, obviously lonely teen. He and Wilbur didn’t have any other family left either, but they’d always had each other. But at least Ranboo still had Dream?
Although from what little Tommy had seen, Dream wasn’t anything like Wilbur. Remembering how those cold green eyes had pinned him in focus, Tommy felt a shiver run down his spine.
But for Ranboo’s sake, hopefully it was still something? The black-haired teen seemed to spend a lot of time with various adults like his tutor and his driver and even Sam, but he nonetheless seemed to haunt the hotel like an absentminded spirit.
“I guess,” Ranboo said with an uncomfortable shrug. “He’s been … well, he’s here, anyway.”
“What do you mean?” Tubbo asked, frowning.
“Well, I hadn’t seen him in about a decade before he moved here,” Ranboo pointed out, twitching slightly. “Obviously he would have changed. But –” he hesitated.
Tommy shifted as he waited for Ranboo to collect his thoughts.
“But what?” Tubbo pressed.
“Dream used to send me letters, you know?” Ranboo looked up at them briefly, and then picked up the spoon from the saucer and began to stir his tea again, even though he hadn’t added anything to the cup.
“Ever since I was little, he’d write to me every few weeks … at least once a month. I was always counting down the days to when his next letter would probably get here,” Ranboo smiled more broadly at the memory, and Tommy was struck by how much it warmed the teen’s face.
“He would write about his school and his teachers and funny things that he did with his friends, and he knew I wasn’t allowed to eat sweets, but he would always sneak me these little chocolates in the envelopes …”
Ranboo’s smile faded.
“And obviously he’s not sending letters now, since we both live here. But …. it just feels different to be with him in person now, you know? I know we’re both much older than the last time we were together, and he’s really, really busy now. I know he was never supposed to have the entire hotel business just dropped in his lap, but that’s what happened when my father –” Ranboo’s expression tightened and he carefully laid the spoon back into the saucer, staring down at his cup again.
When he looked up again, his expression was uncertain.
“It just … well, he’s just different now. It’s probably because he’s an adult now, adults are always a bit – you know. But it’s like he doesn’t like anything anymore. I mean – for example, he used to love horses and riding, just like me. One of the things he wrote to me, right after he decided he would move here, was that we could ride together in the countryside all the time once he arrived. But we’ve never gone, not even once. He’s always been too busy …” Ranboo’s voice trailed off.
After a pause, he continued, “And he seems to have lost touch with all his old school friends, too – the ones he used to write me stories about, George and Sapnap and Karl. Right before he moved here, in one of his last letters, he had written that he was looking forward to inviting them all up here to visit the hotel, so I could finally meet them in person. But he never did, and he became very upset the one time I mentioned it. I never brought it up again.”
Tommy and Tubbo exchanged a glance.
“Maybe … he quarreled with them about something?” Tubbo suggested tentatively.
Tommy looked at Tubbo skeptically. Fighting with one of your friends was one thing, but all of them? Dream must have done something really nasty to piss them all off.
“Maybe,” Ranboo said, sounding similarly doubtful. “But also –”
He took a long, slow look around the terrace, as if to make sure that they were not being observed.
“His friends here,” Ranboo murmured, so softly that Tommy and Tubbo had to lean in to listen.
“Mr. Punz,” Ranboo continued in a whisper. “Dream never mentioned him to me before, but he’s really, really close with him now. And he’s close with Ms. Sofia and Mr. Reese as well.”
“Ms. Sofia?” Tommy echoed, confused. He thought he had met all of the staff now –?
“She runs the spa,” Tubbo explained to Tommy in a low voice. After a beat, he added, “People say she’s a witch.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Ranboo hissed fiercely, scanning the apparently empty courtyard with clear trepidation.
Tommy eyed him with alarm; Ranboo’s obvious wariness even more chilling than the damp, cold breeze that was blowing across the courtyard. The dark-haired teenager fucking owned the entire place, what the hell did he have to be worried about? And if he was so nervous –
“She and my father started Hotel Royale together,” Ranboo said in a bare whisper. “My father built up the hotel side and Ms. Sofia did everything for the spa side. They were good friends – or at least I thought they were …”
“But now you don’t think so?” Tubbo asked, perplexed.
Ranboo stared fixedly at the marble inlay of the table. “I don’t know. I just – I don’t know. Adults can be strange, right? Even about their friends. They fall out and act weird and – but anyway. Missa told me I was probably reading too much into it, that everyone grieves in their own way, but I really felt … it just didn’t seem like she was all that upset when he died.”
He looked up and met Tubbo’s eyes squarely, then Tommy’s.
“And neither did Dream,” he whispered. “Sure … one time, right after, we were sitting together in my room and he cried too, but …”
Ranboo swallowed, and then after a moment he shook his head fiercely.
“You know what – never mind. Never mind. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say so much or – or burden you. I apologize.”
Tubbo shot Tommy a worried look.
But before either of them could say anything more, there was the sound of approaching footsteps and their heads all snapped up.
It was Mr. Reese, who had just stepped into the courtyard. His usually expressionless face seemed to flicker in surprise when he saw them all there, before returning to its customary blankness.
“I guess we’d better go,” Tubbo said reluctantly, standing up. Tommy also hopped to his feet.
With a conscious effort Ranboo seemed to gather himself, and he smiled at them hesitantly. “It was nice to, to talk with you both. Perhaps we could meet again? And maybe – if you want to, that is – we could go riding together sometime? Or go clay pigeon shooting?”
He looked so earnestly hopeful that Tommy’s stomach clenched.
Tubbo nodded firmly. “Whenever we have break and you’re free too, just let us know.”
Tommy had only been on a horse twice ever – both times with Phil – and he had no idea why anyone would want to shoot ‘clay’ pigeons, but he smiled back as well. “Sure thing, big man. Anytime.”
---
Mr. Reese – Ben, Tommy learned his name actually was – didn’t utter another word after curtly introducing himself to Tommy. Tommy and Tubbo trailed after the dark-haired man in silence as he escorted them down and across the steep, rain-slicked hills and up to a trail-head at the mouth of the forest. The way into the woods looked, as Tommy had expected, mostly like a giant mud patch.
The man spoke again only as they approached the trail-head.
“You can manage from here?” Mr. Reese asked. The man’s voice was deep and gravely, and Tommy observed that his eyes were brown, just a few shades too dark to be called hazel like Wilbur’s.
“I must return now,” he continued gruffly. “I have tasks to attend to.”
“Yes,” Tubbo said, his voice subdued. “Thank you.”
Without another word, Mr. Reese turned and departed the way they had come.
“Friendly guy, eh?” Tommy muttered as he looked out into the dark forest.
“The friendliest,” Tubbo agreed dryly. “Just wait until you meet Mr. Punz – or wait, don’t.”
Tommy snorted and shuffled in place as he watched Tubbo dig in his uniform pockets, looking for something. A moment later he pulled out two neatly folded burlap sacks and handed one to Tommy.
Then the shorter boy took a deep breath and stepped determinedly forward into the trees. “Well, come on then. The faster we get started, the sooner we can leave.”
Notes:
Poor Ranboo is really just lonely and desperate for company. Unfortunately all of his prospective friends are busy working. For him.
Chapter Text
The Forest of Baden, Tommy recalled from his long-ago lessons in the ramshackle Logstedshire schoolhouse, was the largest and oldest forest in Essempi, forming the visceral core of the continent. If one entered near Manberg and kept walking through it, across hundreds and hundreds of kilometers of treacherous wilderness, eventually on the other side they would reach the prosperous port city of Business Bay.
Not that anyone ever went through the forest to go anywhere. The near-impossibility of crossing the dark and tangled interior of these perilous woodlands was the reason that seafaring traders, like the merchant vessel that Wilbur was currently on, were so vital to regional commerce. Although many had tried over the centuries, there was simply no safe, reliable, and faster land route connecting the major cities.
Every now and then, Tommy knew, you would still hear stories about people who ventured a little too deep into the wood and never came out again – like that married couple Techno had told Tommy about just a few days ago. Even in Logstedshire, which was some distance from the periphery of the great forest, everyone knew that you didn’t go too far in. If you absolutely had to, you just crept along the edges of the treeline, grabbed what you needed, and got out as fast as you could, praying that nothing – and no one – inside had noticed you.
Now, Tommy swallowed hard as he followed Tubbo into the forbidding darkness under the trees of Baden.
Almost as soon as he stepped onto the trail, his shoes sunk deep into the root-clogged mud. Tommy grimaced. It was going to be a nightmare to get them clean again when – if – no, when they got back to the hotel. Tommy pulled his shoes out of the muck with grotesque squelching sounds as he hurried to catch up with Tubbo. His friend had determinedly slogged through and was already standing near a curve in the path, squinting at a piece of paper.
“This is a list of things we need to get,” Tubbo said, handing the sheet over to Tommy. He then stepped a few meters off the trail and began to carefully inspect the foliage for the required items.
Tommy stared at the paper in his hands in dismay. The day had already been overcast, and here under the dense cover of the trees, it was almost too dim to read the writing. Not that sunlight would have helped much, though, because the paper listed words like ‘Tansy … Asphodel … Lady’s Mantle … Ginger … Haementeria … Belladonna … Realgar … Aconite’ and a bunch of other long words written in neat cursive writing that Tommy could barely decipher.
What the fuck? Were these all flowers? The only flowers that Tommy could reliably identify were sunflowers, alliums, and dandelions.
“Tubbo!” Tommy hissed.
“What?” Tubbo replied, rather irritably, as he rooted around by some bushes.
“I don’t know what any of this shit is,” Tommy protested. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Seriously?” Tubbo sighed. “Okay, look –” he reached into his burlap sack and pulled out an ordinary-looking plant.
“This is tansy,” he explained. “We need a lot of it. It grows in patches like these –” he pointed at a section of random-looking green plants by the side of the path. “So just collect as much as you can find, okay?”
Tommy took the example tansy, glared at it dubiously, and began walking along the other side of the path, looking for similar plants.
… fuck, they all looked pretty much the same to him.
Maybe it was all tansy? Yeah, Tommy decided, it probably all was. He grabbed as many of the plants as he could, yanked them out of the ground, and stuffed them, roots and all, into his burlap sack. After clearing the patch, he saw another in the distance and headed over to it, and then another a bit further down the trail.
Aside from his heavy, squelching footsteps as he moved from patch to patch and the persistent drip of rainwater from the leaves above, the woods were forebodingly silent. This was nothing at all like the trailing arm of forest near the Logstedshire coast, Tommy thought, his eyes darting around. Those borderlands weren’t technically forest at all, but open, glade-filled woodlands that were full of sunlight and birds and deer and rabbits and townspeople going rambling. Hell, even he and Wilbur used to occasionally go.
But here …
A sudden sharp crack, like a twig snapping, somewhere to his right, broke the ominous stillness. Tommy jumped and cast a nervous glance into the shadows cloaking a particularly thick copse of trees that was garlanded in dark-leaved vines and creepers.
There was no sign of movement, not even squirrels or birds. No indication of what had caused the sound.
Yeah, no one would come out into these woods here to go rambling, that was for sure.
… except maybe the marauders.
After another quick look towards the source of the cracking sound, which didn’t come again, Tommy bent down again and continued to uproot another patch of the hopefully-tansy plants as fast as he could. At least his bag was getting pretty full now, so hopefully they could leave soon? Out of the corner of his eye, in the far distance, he caught a flash of dark blue; it looked like Tubbo was crouched down, industriously harvesting whatever plants he had found.
In his distraction, Tommy didn’t notice that the border of the tansy patch he was plucking was growing over a half-rotten log. Or that the log in question was at the edge of a crevice.
He took a step and the damp, rotting wood gave way like sodden paper under his weight. Tommy cried out in surprise as he fell, his palms scraping painfully on the rocky slope as he scrambled unsuccessfully for a foothold. Something sharp scraped a fiery trail down his leg and he rolled, landing with a heavy thud on his back. Luckily, a pile of rotting leaves at the bottom of the crevice – which was maybe a shallow creek bed in the wetter seasons – somewhat cushioned his fall.
Thinking back, Logstedshire honestly didn’t seem so bad, Tommy reflected as he lay still, staring at the dense web of dark branches overhead as he tried to catch his breath. He shifted and then flinched as he noticed several large black millipedes crawling through the pile of decay next to his head. Yeah, why had he been so desperate to leave, again?
“Hey, you okay?”
A jolt of terror shot through Tommy as two heads appeared at the edge of his field of vision. No one else was supposed to be out here –
Fuck, was it the marauders?!
“Get the fuck away from me!” he shouted hoarsely, sliding on the damp leaf cover as he struggled to his feet, his ankle twinging painfully. He seized a random stick – which turned out to just be around a foot long and soft with decay – and brandished it towards the strangers like a weapon.
“Whoa, whoa! Calm down, kid,” the dark-haired man said, stepping back a few paces and holding up his hands in a gesture of peace.
“Who the fuck are you?” Tommy demanded. “Are you marauders? Back the fuck up!”
… wait, would the marauders bother to ask how he was?
“Uh, no. I’m Quackity,” the dark-haired man said. He then nodded towards his companion, a tall man with a shock of silvery-blond hair with eye-catching green streaks, “And this is Etoiles. We run the apothecary in Snowchester.”
“We were over there,” the second man, Etoiles, said, pointing vaguely into the forest, “harvesting some herbs, and we saw you fall. Are you alright?”
“Oh,” Tommy said, his heart starting to return to its normal pace. He tried to put some weight on his ankle and winced. “Uh, yeah, I’m okay.”
“It looks like you twisted that,” Etoiles said, watching with concern.
“You out here alone, kid?” Quackity asked with a frown.
“It’s dangerous to wander alone,” Etoiles added gravely before he could respond. “Even apart from the marauders, you should know that there are witches in these woods.”
Tommy paused. Witches?
… Pog. He could add them to the list, behind the marauders and – what else had Techno said was out here? Oh yeah, wolves and bears and other predators.
“No, Tubbo’s here too,” he replied after a beat, nodding back towards the trail. “Somewhere up there.”
“Ah, Tubbo,” Etoiles smiled. “We know him well. You’re out here collecting ingredients for the potions used in Spa Elisabeth, then?”
Potions? Tommy blinked as he haphazardly tried to brush mud off his hotel uniform, succeeding only in adding some smears of blood from his scraped palms. He had thought the spa was mainly like, perfumes and shit, but he guessed it made sense that they would have potions there too.
“Yeah,” he replied dispiritedly. “Well, trying to anyway. Do you know if this is tansy, by the way?”
He pulled a sample plant out of the burlap sack and held it out towards the two men.
Quackity and Etoiles exchanged a glance.
“Uh, that’s dandelion, kid,” Quackity said politely.
Tommy frowned at the bundle of greens in his hand. “But there’s no little yellow flowers,” he objected.
Etoiles appeared to stifle a laugh and Quackity replied carefully, “Sure, but this is the plant. The flowers aren’t there all the time.”
Tommy sighed and let the handful of dandelion greens fall to the forest floor. “I’m no good at this, I don’t know why the fuck they sent me.”
“It just takes some practice,” Etoiles said reassuringly, his lips twitching. “Here, what else are you looking for? Maybe we can help.”
Tommy fished the crumpled list out of his pocket and handed it over to the man. Etoiles smoothed it out and studied it, frowning; Quackity came to peer over his companion’s shoulder at the paper.
“This is … an interesting list,” Quackity said after a pause while Etoiles stood, staring fixedly at the sheet. “Are these items that you always collect for the spa?”
“I’ve got no clue, big man,” Tommy said aggrievedly. “This is my first time doing this. Tubbo might know –”
“TOMMY!”
Tommy jumped and looked up to see Tubbo’s face, looking both worried and furious, peering over the edge of the ridge from where he’d fallen.
“What the fuck, I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Why’d you go so far? What the hell are you doing down th– oh, hi Quackity, Etoiles,” Tubbo’s voice suddenly turned polite when he caught sight of the two men.
“Tubbo!” Etoiles said cheerfully. “How are you, my friend? Are you still –”
The man suddenly broke off, his face going still, as if listening to something. Tommy and Quackity both looked at him questioningly.
And then, from somewhere in the distance, Tommy heard it too.
It was a thud.
A loud one.
A few seconds later, then came another.
Tommy tensed. What was that? The sharp sound was as incongruous as the snapping twig earlier, but even more alarming because whatever was causing it, it was clearly far away … and so it must actually be really loud.
The thud came again, and then again, and again with ever-shorter intervals, and then the sound resolved into multiple, rhythmic thuds. And all the while, the sounds were getting louder and louder.
… because something deep in the forest was running. It was coming closer and closer towards them.
“It’s horses,” Tommy whispered, looking at Tubbo, who had gone very still and pale. “Right? It’s got to be. Do people – I mean, are there riding paths out here?”
“In the forest?” Tubbo said faintly. “No, I didn’t think so –”
“We should go,” Etoiles said abruptly, exchanging a sharp look with Quackity and making urgent herding motions with his hands. “Let’s go, let’s get back on the trail, quickly now –”
There was a shallow slope a short ways away, and Tommy clambered awkwardly back onto the main trail, followed rapidly by Quackity and Etoiles.
Once up, Tommy looked at the muddy, treacherous path before them in dismay, the trail-head tiny in the distance. He had definitely underestimated just how far into the woods they had come.
“Let’s go,” Etoiles repeated, his voice growing more strained. “Come, we need get out of the trees, fast –”
The thuds were coming faster and faster and louder and louder. The group abandoned walking for jogging (Quackity and Etoiles) or trying to run (Tubbo, half-dragging Tommy behind him). Tommy, limping on his progressively-more-painful ankle, was trying desperately to keep up.
The thuds were now so close and so loud – Tommy felt a nearly-overwhelming temptation to turn and look, to see how much distance they still had ahead of their pursuers. But he knew if he turned now, he would lose his balance, he would fall, he would pull Tubbo down with him –
“RUN!” Quackity shouted.
And then the horses were upon them.
The dark tree cover gave way to cloudy gray sky as Tommy stumbled out onto the muddy trail-head, at the same instant that several riders mounted on huge horses with flaring lips flecked with foam and wild, rolling eyes swept past them. Somewhere to the side, he heard Quackity cry out in pain and Etoiles shout something indiscernible.
“GO!” Tubbo screamed from right next to him, sliding in the mud. Tommy’s ankle felt like it was on fire –
Run like hell, Techno’s words echoed in Tommy’s mind as he scrambled desperately up another hillock, using any shrubs to haul himself up as the damp grass slid under his feet. Run, and don’t look back.
But Tommy couldn’t help himself; he looked back.
Two dark horses were galloping along the treeline, their manes and tails flowing, the dark cloaks of their riders billowing through the air behind them.
The riders were masked.
Suddenly someone grabbed his shoulder, and Tommy nearly screamed – but it was Tubbo.
“Holy shit,” Tubbo whispered, dropping down next to him and clutching at Tommy’s shoulders convulsively. “Holy shit, Tommy, those are the fucking marauders –”
Tommy felt horribly exposed, sitting on the grassy hillock halfway between the treeline and the road. If those riders just looked over, they would see them in an instant; if they turned, they could run them down without any effort.
But by some miracle, the riders turned down another, barely visible trail-head instead, and they disappeared into the trees.
Tommy lay where he was for a long moment, gripping Tubbo’s hand and trying to catch his breath.
He could here the thudding of the horses’ hooves still, but now they were fading away.
Then Tubbo started again with a hoarse cry, and Tommy’s heart seemed to spasm –
But it was just Quackity and Etoiles coming up next to them, looking as bedraggled and shaken as Tommy felt.
“Here, let’s –” Etoiles looked up at Quackity’s pale face and shook his head. “Let’s just all walk back up to the hotel together, okay? After you two get inside, we’ll get a lift back to town.”
---
“What on earth happened to you two?” Niki demanded, her eyes widening as she took in their mud-caked clothing and the blood smeared on Tommy’s hands and uniform.
“Did you fall in a ditch or something?” Connor asked, amazed.
Tommy shook his head wordlessly. He still felt a bit too shaky to explain. Absentmindedly, he moved to brush some dirt off his uniform, but then, catching sight of the pristine marble floor, he stopped.
“You won’t believe it,” Tubbo began urgently, “it was –”
“Be quiet, all of you!” Hannah whispered, from where she and nearly everyone else was crouched behind a display of potted plants. “I can’t hear them!”
“Hear who?” Tubbo asked, coming over to crouch next to the others. Tommy trailed behind him.
“Shhh!” Hannah hissed.
Tommy peered over her shoulder and jerked back in surprise – that was Phil and Techno, standing there in the foyer, talking to Sam.
From the way they were angled, he couldn’t see their faces clearly. But the postures of both detectives looked tense.
Sam, who was facing them, looked angry … and worried.
“What are they doing here?” Tommy murmured.
“Someone got taken,” Hannah whispered back.
“What?” Tubbo asked, startled.
“By the marauders,” Hannah clarified grimly. “The police are here investigating.”
Tommy swallowed hard and exchanged a wide-eyed glance with Tubbo.
“Shhh,” Niki hissed this time, glancing meaningfully at Chayanne and Tallulah, who were listening avidly. Connor immediately rose and began to usher the two children down the hall; Tommy could hear their high-pitched voices softly protesting as they went.
Charlie suddenly appeared behind Sam, handing a sheet of paper to the steward. Tommy watched as Sam quickly glanced at it and nodded at Charlie, who retreated. He then handed the paper over to Techno.
Meanwhile, Tubbo scooted over to allow Charlie to come join their crouched huddle; the sandy-haired young man looked stricken.
“It was Bobby,” Charlie whispered. Hannah gasped in horror and Niki bowed her head.
“He works at the bakery,” Tubbo explained to Tommy in a whisper, looking just as white and shaky as when they’d just got out of the woods. “He’s a bit younger than us. He brings – brought – the morning bread and pastry deliveries.”
“The detectives were asking Sam what time he left the hotel after his last delivery,” Charlie murmured. “I just gave him the delivery signature sheet. They’re trying to pin down when and where it happened.”
“But –” Tommy’s head swiveled as he looked at all of them. “How do we know for sure he was taken? He could just be somewhere else, right?”
“Apparently Bobby didn’t come back to the bakery to pick up his afternoon deliveries, like he was supposed to,” Charlie said grimly. “Fit thought he was just running late or maybe skiving off with his friends, but then someone came by the bakery to complain they never got their morning order. So Fit went looking for him, but he wasn’t at home and no one else seems to have seen him since before dawn, when Fit sent him off on his route. He definitely came here and left, but we’re the very first stop on his route. So …”
“And there hasn’t been a disappearance for a while now,” Hannah added in a hoarse whisper. “So … it seems more likely than not.”
Tommy swallowed. “He was doing deliveries all on his own, then? No one was with him?”
“Most jobs here are like that, Tommy,” Niki said quietly. “This isn’t a big city with lots of people. We’ve got to split up to get things done.”
Tommy’s eyes flicked up at a motion; Phil and Techno had just nodded to Sam and were rapidly striding out of the grand front doors.
“We’ve got to go tell them about what just happened, that we saw the marauders in the woods,” Tommy said, rising and making to hurry after them.
“Tommy, wait!” Tubbo whispered, hastening after and grabbing at his arm. Tommy turned back questioningly.
“The Captain – listen to me, Tommy. Sam told me about him,” Tubbo whispered urgently, yanking sharply on Tommy’s sodden uniform sleeve. Tommy’s eyes widened when he heard some stitches pop and he hissed, batting Tubbo’s hand away from the already-damaged fabric.
“He used to work in Manberg,” Tubbo continued fiercely, glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot. “But then he got caught in some scandal or shit and got demoted and sent here instead.”
Phil? In a scandal? And demoted?
Tommy was already shaking his head before Tubbo finished. “Nah, you’ve got to be mixing him up with someone else, it can’t be –”
“No, I’m sure,” Tubbo insisted.
“But Phil’s the police captain, big man,” Tommy objected. “How can you possibly become captain as a fucking demotion?”
“Because,” Tubbo hissed, tugging Tommy away, “he was supposed to be the next police captain in Manberg. Isn’t a fucking demotion to be named the police captain of fucking Snowchester instead?”
Tommy found he had no response to this.
“Tommy –” Tubbo’s hand tightened on his elbow as he tugged him along. “Are you sure we can trust him?”
Tommy gaped at him.
“Well, yeah –”
“No, seriously, think about it!” Tubbo whispered. “You even told me he said so, right? It’s someone influential and respected, someone who’s been here for about three or four years – around the same time he got here? Tommy, how do you know it’s not him, him and his partner, that are disappearing people? They could be the marauders, Tommy!”
Tommy stilled.
Phil and Techno? No way, no fucking way. It couldn’t be. They were so nice, so helpful, so –
“Don’t get too close to any strangers,” they had said … the two men Tommy had just met. The two men who kept going out of their way to help him. The two men who knew more than anyone else in Snowchester or in the Hotel Royale about the disappearances –
“No,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “No fuckin’ way, Tubbo. What the fuck? It’s not possible. It’s not them.”
“We literally just saw the marauders, Tommy,” Tubbo hissed. “There were two riders! And then we came back to the hotel and they’re here? Think about it –”
“No,” Tommy practically shouted, and then repeated more calmly, “No. You’re wrong, Tubs. Just wait, I’ll prove it. But we’ve got to tell them what we just saw, okay? This kid – Bobby – there might still be time to save him, you know?”
Before Tubbo could say another word, Tommy twisted out of his grip and sprinted outside, into the courtyard.
Phil was just swinging up onto his horse as Tommy reached them; Techno was already mounted and ready to depart.
“Wait!” he shouted, and both men turned towards him.
“Tommy?” Phil’s eyes widened in alarm as he took in Tommy’s bedraggled, mud- and blood-covered state.
“What happened? Is that your blood?” Techno growled, making to dismount.
“We saw the marauders,” Tommy blurted out, holding out his hands to forestall them. “They were on horses – wearing masks – they were in the forest by the trail-head just now!”
“What –?” Phil hissed.
“You were out in the forest? By yourself?” Techno demanded incredulously, his brows drawing together.
“Yes – no!” Tommy said, frazzled. “Tubbo and I went in together –”
“Tommy!” Phil sounded appalled.
“We met Quackity and Etoiles there!” Tommy added urgently. “From the apothecary! They saw the marauders too. The riders – they came out of the forest along the trail, and then rode along and went back in a little further down. Maybe they were heading back to – or back from – wherever they took Bobby?”
Phil and Techno exchanged a glance.
“When did you see them?” Techno asked intensely.
“About half an hour ago, we came straight back here –”
Phil and Techno immediately began to turn their horses.
“Thank you for telling us,” Phil gave Tommy a quick nod. “Now go back inside, alright? And stay there. We’ll deal with this.”
Before Tommy could say another word, the detectives had urged their horses into a swift canter down the cobblestone road and then off and across the hillside, towards the woods.
There was no further news that day. After delivering their haphazardly-filled burlap sacks to one of the employees working at the spa, Tommy and Tubbo spent the rest of the evening trying to dry and repair their uniforms.
Later that night, as Tommy lay in bed and listened to the gentle snores drifting over from Tubbo’s side of the room, his stomach clenched painfully. He desperately wished Wilbur were here. He wasn’t sure what his brother would do in this situation – besides probably insist that Tommy leave, to be honest – but it would mean so much to just not be alone. To have someone here with him whom he could trust wholeheartedly.
Now, he liked and trusted Tubbo, for sure. Tubbo was his friend. But Tommy didn’t believe the blond boy’s claim that Phil and Techno had any involvement with the marauders and the disappearances. He didn’t. It was ridiculous.
But –
He couldn’t stop replaying the sight of the marauders. The two dark horses galloping along the treeline, the capes of their masked riders streaming out behind them.
One of the horses had been jet black, hadn’t it, and one had been brown. Almost chestnut.
Notes:
“There are witches in these woods” is a line from yet another amazing and eerie San Fermin song, The Woods, off the same album as Jackrabbit.
Chapter Text
The following week, the guests occupying one of the fancier suites vacated after nearly a month’s stay.
As he lugged a heavy trunk towards the waiting motorcar, Tommy surreptitiously peered at the sole adult man among the departing party. He was a wealthy industrialist from … somewhere. Maybe Business Bay? Tommy had forgotten. While he’d seen the guest before, of course, this was the first time Tommy had paid him more than a passing glance … and he thought the man looked different, somehow. His hair looked evenly black, with no speckles of gray and white like before, and his face also looked, like, kind of firm and non-saggy. If he hadn’t been wearing exactly the same suit as always and accompanied by exactly the same three other members of his family (an elderly lady, a young women – the strawberry pastry-thrower – and a toddler boy), Tommy would have wondered if this man weren’t actually the industrialist’s adult son, come to join them on holiday.
As if he could sense Tommy’s gaze, the man looked up at him, frowning slightly. Tommy immediately looked away. He busied himself with grabbing more of their luggage and bringing it over to Charlie and Connor, who were loading it onto the rear carriage of the motorcar.
A few minutes later, the luggage was all securely tied down. Tommy, imitating Charlie and Connor, gave the man and his family a polite half-bow, and listened as Charlie formally thanked them for their patronage of Hotel Royale. Then the motorcar shuddered into motion and departed down the cobblestone road.
“Didn’t he look different?” Tommy asked. “It’s the same guy, right?”
Charlie and Connor both gave him a questioning look.
“The old guy, the father,” Tommy clarified. “Didn’t he used to look … well, even more wrinkly and shit?”
Charlie’s face cleared, and Connor laughed. “Oh, you mean compared to before he went to the spa.”
Tommy crinkled his nose. “He went to the spa?”
“Well, yeah,” Connor said, clearly amused. “You know men go to Spa Elisabeth too, don’t you, Tommy?”
“Yeah, but before his hair was all like gray –”
“And you know there’s such a thing as hair color potions, don’t you?” Charlie drawled, and Connor laughed again.
“He just didn’t look the same, okay,” Tommy said, disgruntled. “I mean, his daughter was at the spa all the time, right? But she looked about the same just now, and he looked different.”
“His daughter?”
“The one who threw the pastry at me,” Tommy clarified. “The one with the fancy hat?”
“Oh, that’s his wife,” Connor said. Charlie snorted as Tommy wrinkled his nose.
“See here, young Tommy,” Connor continued seriously, struggling unsuccessfully to not smirk, “you need to understand people come on holiday to Hotel Royale to be refreshed. In particular, many of our older guests who are interested in looking a bit younger come to take advantage of our excellent selection of spa shit –”
“It’s not spa shit, my good fellow,” Charlie cut in playfully, “It’s liquid gold! Our man Tommy here is providing the best testimonial Spa Elisabeth could ever ask for – ‘Even the staff won’t be sure you’re the same guest once you’re done with our treatments!’”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, you fucks,” Tommy narrowed his eyes as Charlie and Connor both chortled some more.
The trio migrated inside, where they met Niki and Tubbo on their way to the kitchens.
“I’m famished,” Niki said ruefully, and Tubbo nodded vigorously. “Have you lot had breakfast yet?”
Tommy, Charlie, and Connor had not, since the industrialist had wanted to leave immediately after his own family had breakfast, so the three of them had been carrying luggage down from their rooms since before dawn. So the group migrated to the still-busy kitchens and huddled around a small table in the corner with their food.
Unsurprisingly, the conversation soon turned again to Tommy and Tubbo’s fateful encounter with the marauders.
“That,” Niki said darkly, “is why no one should go too deep into the woods.”
“But what about Bobby?” Tommy asked a bit hesitantly, looking around at the others. “He wasn’t in the woods, was he?”
“We just don’t know where he went after he left here,” Connor said, shaking his head.
“But if it’s so dangerous, then how come they’re sending us out there, just for all this spa shit?” Tommy objected.
“It’s always been this way,” Charlie said gravely, exchanging a glance with Tubbo, Niki, and Connor.
After a pause, he continued, “Listen, Tommy – don’t say anything in front of them, but that’s actually what happened to the twins’ parents.”
Tommy’s eyes widened.
“Their dad was a hunter –” Charlie continued.
“And their mom was a witch,” Tubbo murmured, prompting Connor to hiss at him to be quiet and Niki to glare at him.
“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing!” Tubbo protested. “She made healing potions and stuff, she was a nice witch!”
“Anyway,” Charlie said, sounding slightly impatient, “the way I heard the story, their father went off on a solo hunt into the woods and didn’t come back on schedule. The twins were really young at the time, just babies, really. Their mother waited for a day or so and then left them with a neighbor while she went out to look for him. She didn’t come back either.”
Tommy grimaced.
“Chay and Lulah were raised by some relatives – maybe their grandparents? – after that,” Charlie continued, “but a few years ago they passed away as well. Some of their neighbors looked after them for a bit, but they were old too and couldn’t take care of them long-term. One of the villagers knew Sam, so they asked him if the twins could live here, and work here once they got a bit older. Sam talked to Dream and Ms. Sofia and got them to agree, and they’ve been here ever since.”
“That was nice of Sam,” Tommy said approvingly.
“For sure,” Tubbo nodded firmly. “Otherwise they would have got sent to an orphanage or some shit. Here they’ve got all of us, we’re their family.”
The others also nodded, murmuring agreement.
“But … I’m just saying,” Tommy said, watching the others’ expressions closely, “it sounds like a lot of people go missing around here. Back where I’m from, that doesn’t really happen.”
The others looked at each other for a moment again before responding.
“It’s like Charlie said … it’s the way things are. My parents say it’s always been happening, more or less,” Niki said, shaking her head. “The Great Forest and those who live within have been taking sacrifices for as long as anyone can remember.”
“There are witches in the woods,” Connor said gravely, nodding in agreement. Tommy twitched at the echo of Etoiles’ words, from that terrifying day in the forest.
“But the witches … are they the same as the marauders, or not?” he asked carefully.
The others fell into silence, exchanging furtive glances.
“I don’t know,” Charlie admitted after a moment, looking up at Tommy. “Definitely there are people who’ve disappeared recently who weren’t near the woods. But others – like Bobby, right? We just don’t know. He might have been in the woods when he vanished.”
“But I don’t get why would he go into the woods, anyway, if he didn’t have to?” Tommy demanded, baffled. “It’s not like he would have had a delivery there, right –”
“It might have called to him,” Connor replied, and smiled faintly at Tommy’s puzzled look.
Tommy’s questioning expression turned into horror as Connor continued, “The Great Forest sometimes lures people into it, my grandma used to say. It calls them and traps them, to feed its witches and the other creatures inside it, when they get too hungry.”
“It’s like an ecosystem,” Tubbo agreed, nodding sagely.
Troubled, Tommy sat back, chewing on his bread roll as he listened to the others continue to talk.
---
“Before …” Tommy began, scooping up a stray bit of jam and butter with his last piece of flaky crust as he eyed Phil. The man was standing in front of the stove, staring rather blankly at a bubbling pot that contained the preparatory mix for a new batch of jam. Blackberry, Phil had said, he was trying today.
Phil gave him an encouraging hum, without looking up.
Tommy could see what Phil meant about jam-making being stress relief. It had been more than a week, now, since the last marauder attack. Since Bobby had vanished, apparently into thin air. Since nearly everyone in the hotel and in town, from what Tommy could see, had accepted the situation rather resignedly and moved on. And Tommy could now recognize the grim weariness in both Phil and Techno’s eyes. It had always been there, Tommy realized, but had deepened every time he had visited.
Yeah, no, Tubbo’s theories were full of shit.
“That first day we met,” Tommy said bluntly, “why didn’t you want to tell me about the marauders? And how do you really think the hotel is connected?”
Phil looked up at him in surprise.
“It’s not that I didn’t want to tell you,” he said after a pause, turning towards him and leaning against the counter. “Techno’s right, you need to know as much as possible in order to keep yourself safe. But … I’d wanted to tell you a bit more carefully. I didn’t want to scare you,” he added with a wry smile. “And also –”
“I wasn’t scared, old man,” Tommy retorted, straightening indignantly. “What do you think –”
“And also,” Phil overrode him, looking both amused and chagrined, “I’ve gotten a bit used to people not putting much stock into what we say about the disappearances, these days. And cutting us off when we try to talk about it.”
Tommy fell silent. Phil and Techno had said that they’d tried to arrest people before, hadn’t they? And that no one believed them and the people responsible had hushed it all up, right?
… had Phil thought Tommy wouldn’t believe him? That maybe he wouldn’t come around again? Looking over at the blond man, who was studiously stirring the boiling jam mixture and carefully not looking at him, Tommy felt a rush of affection.
“My friend at the hotel, Tubbo, he said –” Tommy paused, but Phil looked up and gave him an encouraging nod.
He said you might be the marauders, Tommy thought but didn’t say. Did Phil know that some people thought that? Despite the doubts that had crept into his mind the night after the forest incident, Tommy had never really believed it. And now, in the golden light of the evening, sitting in Phil and Techno’s kitchen, looking at that damned look in Phil’s eyes – well. Tommy didn’t think the blond man should even be bothered with hearing the rumor.
Phil was still looking at him expectantly.
“He said you used to be high up in the police in Manberg, and then you got caught up in some weird scandal and got in trouble and got demoted and that’s why you’re here now,” Tommy said in a rush, half-regretting the words as soon as he said them.
Phil nodded again, thoughtfully. “That’s true, more or less.”
Tommy’s eyes narrowed at Phil’s immediate agreement.
“But a scandal?” he scoffed scornfully. “You? Phil Craft, the fuckin’ kingpin! What’d you do, forget to return a library book?”
Phil let out a startled laugh. “Not quite. Actually, it all happened right here, in Snowchester. Techno and I – well, we were still posted in Manberg back then. But we were sent here to investigate an unusual murder. While we were here, we also learned about the disappearances. They had just started to become more frequent then, but a pattern hadn’t emerged yet. People hadn’t coined the name ‘marauders’ yet, either. But, well, it was obvious to us that something strange was going on. Another odd disappearance happened while we were here, and I suspected both crimes were part of the pattern. But it turned out I … was wrong about that. And I accused the wrong person. After that, things took a bad turn.”
“What happened?” Tommy stared at him, wide-eyed. “What went wrong? Who’d you accuse?”
“It was a strange situation,” Phil said again, his eyes narrowing in memory. “As I said, we were in Manberg then. The only reason we were assigned this case was because the murder was particularly grisly –” he shot a quick glance at Tommy and paused.
“What made it grisly?” Tommy demanded, leaning forward onto the table. “Phil!”
Phil ignored him and kept stirring. After a moment of listening to Tommy whine, he continued, “While we were starting the investigation, we ran into someone we didn’t expect to see here. A man named Amon Dermot. He was a person of interest back in Manberg.”
“Person of interest? You mean like a criminal?” Tommy asked, rapt. “Was he a gangster?”
“Yes. Well, sort of. Not exactly the most-wanted criminal or anything, but someone we knew was connected to quite a few crimes and shady dealings. A minor kingpin, as you would put it,” Phil flashed Tommy a grin. Then he sobered, continuing more seriously, “But interestingly, he was also someone who had clashed with Ponk on numerous occasions. There was definitely bad blood between those two.”
“Ponk,” Tommy repeated in surprise. “Wait, Ponk, Ranboo’s dad?”
“The very same,” Phil replied, nodding. “Before he came here to build Hotel Royale, Ponk was a major player in Manberg. He made his fortune there, and he had his hand in many different enterprises, some above board, others … not so much. And not too surprisingly, he made some enemies.”
“One of them was Amon,” Phil continued thoughtfully, picking up the wooden spatula again and slowly stirring the bubbling mixture. “That’s why it was so surprising to see him here. There’s really nothing of interest out in Snowchester and the countryside for someone like him besides Hotel Royale. But the man held so much animosity towards Ponk that it was impossible to believe he was here to patronize the hotel, or do business with it.”
Tommy frowned. “So why’d he come here, then? Or –” his eyes widened. “Is he the guy you accused? Was he the murderer?”
“No. Well, actually, we think he was murdered himself,” Phil said, his eyes crinkling.
“Wait, what?” Tommy gaped at him.
“He vanished,” Phil gave Tommy a helpless shrug, “along with his grandson. Literally never heard from again, here or in Manberg. Even though he was a ‘minor kingpin’, when someone like that vanishes, people notice. I think Techno and I may actually have been the last people to see him alive. Well, besides whoever killed him.”
“Did the marauders get him?” Tommy whispered. “But wait – was he really old? And his grandson? Or wait, no, you said the marauders weren’t even here yet then, right?”
“He was elderly,” Phil admitted, his eyes narrowing as he thought. “But we didn’t know about any of the age or timing patterns back then. So yes, it’s possible that he and the little boy were some of the earliest victims of the marauders. But getting back to what went wrong – well, there was a young man we had seen speaking with Amon earlier. And several witnesses placed the same man near the scene of the other murder, the one we’d actually come here to investigate. There was also some other evidence, near the body … anyway, he was the person I accused.”
Phil looked up and smiled ruefully when he met Tommy’s dismayed stare.
“At about the same time, Ponk’s nephew, Dream, arrived to take over as the new general manager of Hotel Royale. He’d recruited a few of his friends to come work there, as well. And … well, it turned out that the man I accused was one of those friends.”
Tommy sat bolt upright. “Wait, you mean you got in trouble because the guy was all buddy-buddy with fucking Dream?” he demanded, incensed.
“He had a lot of connections,” Phil replied wryly. “One thing led to another … Dream got involved on behalf of his friend, then Ponk intervened on behalf of his nephew. Then the mayors of Snowchester, Manberg and even the regional police commissioner all got involved. Dream swore up and down that his friend had been with him the entire time, and couldn’t possibly have any connection to any murders. And the police commissioner agreed that Ponk could vouch for his nephew’s friend, and concluded that I must have overlooked some other obvious suspects.”
Phil paused.
“After that,” he continued, “we were never able to get support from the commissioner or the regional police to investigate anyone connected to the hotel, regardless of any suspicious behavior. It was as if they’d been given blanket immunity.”
Tommy was silent, trying to absorb all of this.
“What about the first guy? The one whose murder you came here to solve in the first place?” he asked finally.
“It’s still unsolved,” Phil replied, shaking his head. “He seemed to be a traveler, passing through. A young man. But the damage to his body was – well, he was never identified.”
“So … d’you think the same person killed that guy and Amon and the kid?”
“It’s possible,” Phil allowed.
“And the guy you accused … Dream’s friend. Does he still work at the hotel now?” Tommy whispered. Ranboo’s words from the courtyard on that cold, misty morning whispered back in his memory. “His friends here … Mr. Punz. And he’s close with Ms. Sofia and Mr. Reese as well.”
Phil met Tommy’s eyes, his gaze serious. “Yes.”
“I’ve spent a lot of time since, thinking about what went wrong,” Phil continued after a brief pause, his eyes hard and his voice low. “And –”
He broke off, suddenly, looking over Tommy’s shoulder.
Tommy twisted in his chair to see Techno pulling open the front door. The pink-haired man offered them both a small, slightly tense smile as he came inside, and then held the door open for someone else to follow.
Tommy blinked, surprised, as he recognized Etoiles. The silver-haired man looked startled to see Tommy as well, but he smiled in greeting.
“We were having a little chat,” Techno said by way of explanation, “about the sort of things the hotel has been buying from the apothecary.”
Phil wiped his hands on the kitchen towel and nodded, giving Etoiles a rather cool look.
“When we tried to investigate that angle before, Quackity refused to provide us with the order lists,” he commented in a carefully neutral tone.
Etoiles shifted uncomfortably. “I know … and for what it’s worth, I did try to convince Quackity to agree to your request. But his argument has merit, don’t you agree? We’re a small private business. If it becomes known that we’re providing our clients’ information to the authorities without a legal order to compel it, well, it could ruin us. Our major clients may just seek other suppliers.”
“So what’s changed now?” Phil tilted his head, eyeing Etoiles curiously.
“I’ve been doing more research into the items on your list,” Etoiles said, nodding at Tommy, who straightened in surprise.
“List?” Phil repeated, turning to look at Tommy. “What list?”
“When they sent me and Tubbo into the forest to gather shit,” Tommy explained, “there was a list. I didn’t know what most of it was, though.”
Etoiles nodded. “Tommy showed Quackity and myself the list when we met that day in the forest, in case we could help him find any of the items. And in all the commotion that followed –”
Tommy grimaced, remembering the sheer terror of running through the darkened woods, slipping and sliding on the mud and the wet plants and the fiery pain in his ankle as the pursuit was upon them – commotion, right.
“– it was in my pocket and I ended up taking it home with me. I found it again later, and took a closer look. Many of the items were … rather unexpected.”
“Unexpected in what regard?” Phil asked suspiciously.
“Could they be poisons?” Techno’s red eyes were keen and intent.
“Well, yes. There are many poisons made with ingredients on the list,” Etoiles said slowly, “and also other potentially dangerous potions and spells. Some ingredients, like the belladonna, are quite normal for a spa to stock, but others …”
His voice trailed off.
“The reason I ask is because last year,” Techno said, still studying Etoiles intently, “there was a witness who came forward to the Manberg authorities. He claimed he had information linking Hotel Royale to the disappearances of children in this area.”
Etoiles looked startled. “Really? Who? What did he say?”
“He was murdered before we could travel there to interview him.”
Tommy blanched, staring at Techno.
Etoiles’s expression was similar appalled.
“Our colleague, who took his initial statement,” Phil explained in a low voice, “contacted us because she knew of our investigation. She’s a veteran detective and – and she’s a good friend of ours, so we place a lot of trust in her account. She told us it was the strangest case of poisoning she had ever seen. He was a middle-aged man, hale and healthy, when he first sought her out, at a function. Then when he didn’t show up for the follow-up interview, she went to his address. She said it was as if the body had just … shriveled. The body was definitely his, but it looked like it had aged several decades. Obviously magic was involved.”
“Are you saying this man was murdered to keep him from speaking about goings-on at the hotel?” Etoiles said incredulously. “But if he went to the Manberg police, how would someone here at Hotel Royale even know –?”
“They must have informants,” Techno said with a shrug, “either in our office here, in the Manberg precinct, or both. And given how the higher-ups in Manberg have essentially blocked us at every turn from investigating anyone from the hotel, that’s not too surprising.”
Etoiles shook his head, looking troubled.
“So do you think Quackity will be open to sharing the hotel purchase records with us now?”
“Yes,” Etoiles replied flatly. “I’ll go speak with him now.”
“Do you mind if we come along?” Phil asked, exchanging a glance with Techno.
---
A short while later, Tommy found himself seated on a high stool at the inner corner of the apothecary’s long front counter. He had tried to follow Phil, Techno, and Etoiles into the back office, where they were having a discussion with a displeased-looking Quackity, but the door had been firmly shut in his face with instructions to “Wait here, Tommy.”
Seriously, what the fuck? They only had the list of forest shit because of him!
But his justifiable annoyance was soon forgotten as he became absorbed in watching the card game the two girls behind the counter were playing. They both looked to be a few years younger than him, but a few years older than Chayanne and Tallulah. After finishing the previous round, the one with sandy brown hair with trailing red and blue streaks had waved at him cheerily and introduced herself as Pomme, Etoiles’s daughter.
“So are you Quackity’s daughter?” Tommy had asked the other girl, who Pomme had said was named Juanaflippa. She had chestnut brown hair the exact same shade as Tallulah, except for the pink streaks that echoed her friend. Absently, Tommy wondered if Juanaflippa was related to the twins.
Juanaflippa had grinned at him. “Nope,” she had replied, popping the ‘p.’ “Pomme’s my best friend, so I hang out here and we work here after school.”
School? Tommy felt a wave of startlement that everyone – even Chayanne and Tallulah – seemed to be attending school in some manner. Well, aside from him and Tubbo. For a fleeting, wistful moment, Tommy wondered what it would be like if Wilbur were here; if they both lived with Phil and Techno in that homey second-floor flat and if he could go to school too, instead of working long days at the hotel. An instant later, he ruthlessly quashed the thought. Yeah, no, he didn’t need any more fuckin’ school. He was a big man with a real job, working hard to support his family.
He dragged his attention back to the card game when a groan from Pomme and a triumphant shout from Juanaflippa indicated the outcome of the current round. Instead of setting up for another game, Juanaflippa leaned against the counter and peered at him with interest.
“So you work at the hotel?” Juanaflippa asked. “Do you know Niki and Tubbo?”
Tommy nodded. “Yeah. I’m roommates with Tubbo, and I see Niki every day.”
“Niki’s really nice,” Pomme said, Juanaflippa nodding in agreement. “Tubbo’s full of hot air.”
Tommy twitched in indignant defense of his friend as they both laughed.
“So what do you do here, anyway?” Tommy asked, in an effort to change the subject. “Do you sell things, or make potions and shit too?”
“Both!” Juanaflippa said, her eyes flashing with enthusiasm. “We ring up customers when they come in, but when it’s quiet we work on our own potions. Etoiles and Quackity teach us when they’re free.”
“What kind of potions do you make?” Tommy asked curiously, leaning against the counter. He knew literally nothing about potions, except that the ones Wilbur would make him drink when he was sick always tasted foul.
“They can do lots of things,” Juanaflippa replied sagely, “depending on the ingredients and the magic spells that go with them.”
“Magic spells?” Tommy echoed, startled. “But I thought potions are just like, mixtures of shit.”
“There’s different levels,” Pomme explained. “Some potions are just simple mixtures of things. Like water mixed with an herb, or boiled to make a tea for a sore throat. Those are the easiest kinds. But more complicated ones use lots of different ingredients, and they’ve got to be made in a really specific order with a ton of steps. The complicated ones use magic spells too, on top of the ingredients and the steps. It’s kind of … to anchor the power of the potion.”
“The power?” Tommy repeated, frowning.
“Potions can be really powerful,” Juanaflippa nodded so fast her curls bounced. “They can be used to do tons of stuff. Like, there’s a potion that if you pour it into a lock’s keyhole, it can never be picked, ever, by anyone. I have a secret box that’s like that! Or like more advanced ones, there are potions that can turn people invisible for a while, or even make them look like other people. And there’s lots of practical ones, too, like ones for cooking and cleaning –”
“Loads of people in town buy Dad and Quackity’s potions for that sort of stuff,” Pomme nodded wisely. “The bakery buys potions that help yeast grow and make stuff extra tasty, the police buy potions that help track down people so they can catch criminals, the dressmaker buys potions that keep clothes from leaking dye or wearing out quickly –”
“That’s really poggers,” Tommy said, impressed despite himself. “You know how to do all that?”
“Not yet,” Pomme admitted. “My dad and Quackity definitely do spells for some potions, but we haven’t learned how yet.”
“Etoiles said he’d teach us how to do our first spell-potion this year!” Juanaflippa added, her eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “We’ve just got to master some more of the water- and oil-based recipes first.”
Pomme reached under the counter and retrieved a corked glass flask containing a clear liquid that looked almost like water, but sloshed with a different viscosity. On its side, something Tommy couldn’t read was written on a carefully-affixed label.
“Look, see, this is a potion I made,” she explained as she placed the flask on the counter between them. “Do you want to try some?”
Tommy blinked, regarding her suspiciously. “Why? I’m not sick.”
They both laughed.
“You don’t have to be sick to take a potion,” Juanaflippa said. “We just told you, remember? Potions do lots of different things.”
“So this one, it’s like an energy potion,” Pomme said earnestly. “If you’re even a little tired or sleepy, and you take just a little, it’ll wake you right back up and give you loads of energy. Do you want to try a bit?”
Tommy looked at the potion dubiously. It probably tasted terrible. But on the other hand, Pomme and Juanaflippa were both staring at him with hopeful expressions. And Tommy did have to help with clearing the dinner tables and setting things out for breakfast once he got back to the hotel in a few hours, so he could use a little boost …
“Okay,” he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. Pomme beamed and popped the flask open, pouring a tiny amount into a cup that Juanaflippa passed her.
Bracing himself, Tommy accepted the cup and raised it to his lips. But to his surprise, the potion didn’t taste awful. It was actually lightly sweet and pleasant, like diluted fruit juice.
“Do you feel different?”
Pomme and Juanaflippa were both leaning forward, staring at him intensely.
Tommy frowned and assessed himself. Was he less tired? Maybe? But he hadn’t been that tired to begin with, so maybe it was hard to tell the difference?
“Not really …” he said doubtfully.
Pomme and Juanaflippa exchanged a glance, the former somber-faced and the latter’s eyes dancing, before turning back to him.
“It might just take some time,” Juanaflippa said kindly. “It does for some people. You’ll definitely notice the difference after a bit.”
Tommy nodded. Then their attention was caught as the door to the back office suddenly swung open. All four adults emerged into the main area of the shop and paused at the sight of them.
“I see the two of you have been having fun,” Quackity drawled, while Etoiles said, “Pomme!”
Pomme and Juanaflippa both burst out laughing, ducking behind the counter in their mirth. Tommy’s eyes narrowed.
“What?” he demanded, looking from Phil, who had covered his mouth with one hand, to Techno, who wasn’t bothering to hide his smirk.
“Nice hair,” Techno said. “I like the color.”
Tommy’s eyes widened and he looked around the apothecary for a reflective surface. He spotted one and hopped over to look and –
His hair was now a solid bubblegum pink, an even brighter shade than Techno’s.
He swung back around to glare accusingly at the two chortling girls.
“Pomme,” Etoiles repeated, exasperated. “How many times have I told you before, dearest? You cannot trick people into taking potions! When administering a potion, it’s our duty to be honest about its effects –”
“Maybe it was just labeled incorrectly?” Juanaflippa suggested, her face set in an innocent expression.
“Then the two of you need remedial courses in labeling your potions,” Quackity said dryly, “before you advance to the next stages.”
Juanaflippa half-groaned, half-laughed. Pomme turned to Tommy and said, “I’m sorry,” although her shoulders were still shaking slightly.
Pomme retrieved another potion – this one milky white – and poured a little bit onto a soft cotton cloth and handed it to Tommy. “Here, this is a canceling potion. If you rub it on your hair it’ll cancel out the effects of the other one.”
“I thought you had to like, pour hair-color potions on your hair,” Tommy said grumpily as he rubbed the damp cloth vigorously over his curls.
“Most of the time you do,” Etoiles agreed with a half-amused, half-sympathetic smile. “But this is a new class of potions that the girls have been learning – internal consumption for changes in external appearance. It’s more advanced than topical potions.”
“Is it gone?” Tommy asked, turning to Phil and Techno.
“Completely back to normal,” Techno replied gravely. Behind him, Phil’s lips twitched.
Techno turned back to Etoiles and Quackity. “Thank you,” he said bluntly, indicating the papers in his hand. “We think this will help.”
“Of course,” Etoiles replied, while Quackity nodded briefly. “Please let us know if there’s anything else we can do.”
“Bye Tommy!”
Tommy waved back to Pomme and Juanaflippa as he followed Phil and Techno out of the shop and back onto the high street of Snowchester.
Notes:
And so the plot thickens slightly ...? :-)
Chapter Text
Phil and Techno were villains. Total wrong’uns, Tommy knew it now. It took almost two weeks for the pink streaks he had missed with the canceling potion to completely wash out of Tommy’s hair.
It’s not, he thought irritably, like he had time to scrub his hair with soap everyday. But as an unexpected side benefit, Tallulah had been so enamored of the pink locks that she kept begging Tommy to take her to visit the ‘secret shop’ so that she, too, could try some of the ‘magic potion.’
This turned out to be very handy bargaining power, because as Tubbo gleefully informed Tommy a few days later over breakfast, the hotel staff’s semi-annual knucklebones tournament was about to begin.
“What the fuck,” Tommy said incredulously, “is knucklebones?”
“It’s a board game,” Charlie began.
“Uh, excuse you?” Tubbo interrupted incredulously. “It’s only the best board game ever!”
“And I’m the best at it,” Tallulah said smugly. Chayanne booed loudly while his twin reached out to high-five Hannah.
“… that may be true,” Tubbo admitted grudgingly.
“I beat everyone last year!” Tallulah exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Even Niki, and even Sam.”
“Sam said he’s not playing in the tournament this year,” Niki said studiously, trying to hide a smile.
“See, you scared him off,” Tubbo told Tallulah gravely, and she preened.
“The point is, we’re going to do teams this year in addition to the 1:1s,” Charlie explained, bright-eyed. “And maybe have a kind of tournament against the cooks and groundskeepers, yeah? It’ll be fun!”
“If you’re on my team,” Tommy said immediately, leaning across the table towards Tallulah, “I’ll get you the pink hair dye.”
An immediate outcry resulted, with Tubbo and Connor exclaiming that Tommy was cheating, and Niki pointing out that she, too, could get pink dye for Tallulah but –
“They’re all fakers,” Tommy said, waving his hand dismissively. “You know I’ve got the real goods. My supplier won’t hand it out to any of these clowns.”
“Tallulah, don’t listen to him!” Hannah exclaimed. “Niki and I’ll get it for you –”
“Fakers,” Tommy said, holding Tallulah’s gaze without blinking.
Tallulah hesitated, then stuck out her hand.
“Deal.”
They shook on it.
“This is so unfair!” Connor exclaimed.
“Ranboo and I are on Tallulah and Tommy’s team,” Tubbo said immediately.
“No, I am!” Chayanne protested.
“What? Hey, no, team assignments are supposed to be random –” Hannah exclaimed heatedly.
---
Later that evening, the group played a rousing first game of knucklebones to introduce Tommy to the rules. It was immediately clear that Tallulah was just as skilled as she claimed. When Sam poked his head into the staff room, the group reluctantly dispersed to finish up the rest of the day’s tasks.
The twins, however, were done for the day. Tommy helped Niki walk them back to their bedroom, slightly bemused when he noticed Sam following them.
“Will you tell us another Wilbur story before you go?” Chayanne asked sleepily, shifting under his blankets to blink up at Tommy pleadingly. Tallulah hummed in agreement.
“A ‘Wilbur story’?” Sam repeated, amused.
Tommy shuffled in place awkwardly. “Oh, uh, Wilbur’s my brother. I, uh, sometimes tell them stories about him, and stuff at his job.”
“Wilbur’s a sailor,” Chayanne looked up at Sam, eyes shining.
“He’s a captain, off having adventures on his ship,” Tallulah added seriously.
Niki stifled a laugh.
“Is he now?” Sam smiled and reached out to tousle the twins’ heads. “Well then, I’ll leave you to it then. Tommy, why don’t you stop by my office later, before heading to bed? I wanted to have a word.”
“Uh, sure,” Tommy said, thinking frantically about reasons he might be in trouble. He couldn’t come up with anything that didn’t implicate Tubbo to the same or greater extent. What the fuck had he done?
---
“So how’s your brother actually doing?” Niki asked with obvious amusement, as they headed downstairs afterwards to join the others. “When he docks in Manberg, will you go visit him? Or d’you think he might pop by here to surprise you?”
Tommy frowned as they stepped into the dining room, where Charlie, Connor, Hannah, and Tubbo were still dealing with cleaning and prepping the array of tables.
“No, how could he?” he asked. “I’ll only get to see him again once his contract’s done and his ship goes back to Logstedshire at the end. He wouldn’t come here, he doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“Wait, what?” Niki said, startled. Charlie, Connor, Hannah, and Tubbo all paused what they were doing to stare at Tommy, too.
Tommy stared back at them. What?
“Your brother … doesn’t know you’re here?” Hannah asked slowly, disbelief written clearly across her face.
“Well, that’s obvious, innit?” Tommy said defensively. “I left Logstedshire after he did. How was I supposed to tell him where I’m going while he’s off at sea? He hasn’t exactly got an address.”
“But Tommy,” Connor said bemusedly, “he does have an address. His ship is his address. Merchant trading ships … they dock at ports. That’s like, all they do. And sailors pick up their mail there and send letters from there. The port-masters keep all the mail addressed to people on different ships sorted and waiting for them.”
Charlie swiveled his head to look at the others’ expressions and laughed, a bit nervously. “Mate, you’ve been here for months now. And if your brother’s been writing to you at home all this time, and he hasn’t heard back …”
An icy feeling was rapidly spreading in the pit of Tommy’s stomach. For all the time he’d spent thinking about Wilbur, and missing Wilbur, since he’d arrived in Snowchester, it had never once occurred to him that Wilbur might be waiting to hear from him. He’d genuinely thought that life on a ship was some kind of forced isolation, and that they both just needed to wait for it to be over. What if Wilbur had been mailing letters to their flat all this time, from every port he visited? What if their landlady had been collecting and setting aside all his letters, waiting for Tommy to return and reply to them? Or – what if their landlady had replied herself?
Tommy had told Mrs. Schlatt before leaving – well, technically he’d left her a note on the kitchen table before sneaking out in the pre-dawn hours to hitch a ride with a departing caravan. Surely if she’d written back to Wilbur, she’d have told him that Tommy had gone off to look for work? But … what if she hadn’t seen the note? What if Wilbur only knew that Tommy had left Logstedshire, but had no idea why?
… and also technically, Tommy hadn’t mentioned Hotel Royale in his note. He hadn’t known for sure then that he’d manage to get a job here, after all.
Shit.
“Tommy, you should write to your brother as soon as possible,” Connor said seriously, breaking the awkward silence. “He’s probably worried, you know, especially if all his crewmates are getting mail from their families and he hasn’t got anything from you yet.”
“I will,” Tommy replied, his throat tight. “But –” he paused, looking up at the others, “but how the fuck do I even know what port to write to? I’ve got no clue where his ship is now.”
“Sam might be able to help you with that,” Niki offered hesitantly. “Those merchant ships, I think they usually follow a fixed schedule. So if you tell him the name of the ship, he may be able to figure out what port it’s due to dock at next.”
---
After the group finished the evening’s tasks, Tommy slowly made his way upstairs to Sam’s office, his stomach twisting painfully. He felt shaken … no, more than that. He felt completely stupid. How the hell had he not thought of writing to Wilbur at a port before? And why hadn’t Wilbur talked about that, either? Had Wilbur just assumed that Tommy knew to do that?
But maybe, if he’d stayed in Logstedshire even just a few days longer, Mrs. Schlatt would have explained it to him. Maybe she would have helped him mail Wilbur a letter.
Tommy swallowed hard and raised his fist to knock on the ornate wood of Sam’s office door.
“Enter,” he heard, and he pushed it open.
Sam looked up and smiled as he edged around the door. “Tommy, come in. Please, have a seat. How was the bedtime story routine?”
“It was fine,” Tommy said awkwardly. “The twins, uh, like the stories.”
“Yes, I’d heard about your brother being a sailor before,” Sam said, his lips quirking. “Chayanne talks about it rather a lot, but,” he laughed, “I thought he was embellishing things a bit.”
“No,” Tommy admitted, twitching. “I mean, yeah. Well, I may have uh, made up a few things to tell them. My brother is really a sailor, but he’s in the crew on a merchant ship. Not, uh –”
“Not a brave explorer sailing a galleon into parts unknown, and also a reformed pirate captain who – let me remember – was the former first mate who led a mutiny?”
“Umm,” Tommy flushed as Sam laughed.
“But one thing I heard recently did concern me,” Sam leaned back in his chair. His manner was relaxed and casual, but Tommy watched warily.
What was this about? He didn’t think he’d done anything a guest might complain about, but you never knew what some of those rich berks would take offense to. Maybe he hadn’t bowed deep enough or some shit after dropping off food? He smiled nervously, waiting for Sam to continue.
“I didn’t realize you plan on leaving the hotel as soon as your brother finishes his sailing contract.”
Tommy paused, flummoxed. What?
“It’s nothing to worry about, Tommy,” Sam said with a soft smile. “It’s just that you’ve fit in so well here. You’ve really become part of the Hotel Royale family. I’d hate to think you have one foot out the door already.”
Pole-axed, Tommy stared at the steward. Sam smiled steadily back, and Tommy managed a tentative smile in return.
“If you stayed here long term,” Sam continued musingly, toying with a pen on his desk, “I know without a doubt you’d have a bright future here. For example, in a few years you could advance to being a valet, like Charlie’s doing now. Someday, far down the road, you might even become the steward yourself!” he added with a laugh.
Tommy smiled back shakily, and hoped it didn’t show on his face how much the idea horrified him.
But Sam was looking back at him expectantly; it was clear the man was waiting for an answer.
“That’s … uh, that’s really nice of you to say, big man,” Tommy said awkwardly, “really. But the thing is – well. I don’t think Wilbur’ll want me to stay here, once he’s back, that’s all.”
“Oh?” Sam tilted his head as he regarded Tommy. “Why not?”
“Well …” Tommy shifted uncomfortably, “we’ve kind of always been planning to move to Manberg, eventually? We’re already from a little town, so he wouldn’t really want to move to another one, yeah? Even though Snowchester’s bigger, it’s not, like, a city. And plus Wilbur wants to go to university, y’know?”
“He could still do that,” Sam said mildly. “That doesn’t mean you need to do the same, of course. You’re what now, 15 years? That’s more than old enough to choose your own path, blaze your own trail.”
“But even more than that,” Tommy said in a rush, not bothering to correct his age, “it’s kind of dangerous to live here, innit?”
That, Tommy thought with some relief, was at least an uncontroversial reason. But to his surprise, Sam frowned, twirling the pen between his fingers as he thought.
“Well, I don’t think you’re really being fair to our little town, Tommy. Crime, sadly, is a constant in civilization. There isn’t a single region or city or town in all of Essempi that one can point to and say, oh, now this is a completely safe place. After all, doesn’t Manberg have crime?”
“Well, sure,” Tommy said gruffly, “but it’s different here, yeah? With the marauders, and these disappearances and shit, them being periodic and all.”
Sam frowned further at that and put the pen down, steepling his hands. “Periodic? What do you mean by that?”
“Well, the marauders snatch someone pretty much once a month, right?” Tommy tilted his head, his eyes wide. How could Sam not know this? “About 28 days, actually. That’s what Techno said. Er, Techno the detective. Phil’s partner, you know?”
“Yes, I do know him,” Sam said with a nod. “And … that’s very interesting, actually. I knew the marauder attacks are sadly frequent, but I didn’t realize the police had discovered they operate on such a fixed interval.”
He paused, considering. “But nonetheless, disappearances have always happened. Here, the Forest of Baden is the main culprit. Its dangers have always been known, and far predate the marauders. I’m not sure if you’re already aware, but one such tragedy struck Tallulah and Chayanne’s family.”
As Tommy nodded, Sam continued, “But similarly – where you’re from, Tommy, down by the coast – don’t fishermen and sailors vanish, from time to time? Does that mean it’s a dangerous place?”
Tommy’s stomach clenched. It was true, but he had spent months now carefully not thinking about how sailors sometimes vanished. It didn’t feel good to hear the words given voice.
“I guess not,” he said gruffly.
“In any case,” Sam said with a soft smile, “think about it, why don’t you? I think I can safely speak for the rest of the staff in saying we’d love to have you stay on. And when your brother returns from sea, if he’s interested, I’m sure we could find a role for him here, too. Just keep it in mind, alright? I’m happy to talk to you – both of you – before you make any decisions.”
Wilbur … working at the Hotel Royale? What the absolute fuck. If the idea of himself working here forever unnerved Tommy, the idea of his brave, clever, talented brother being sucked into this life – perpetually scraping to and cleaning up after rich strangers, dancing to their whims and catering to their entitlement –
No. Tommy would never let that happen.
But he smiled back at Sam and whispered, “Alright. Thank you.”
Sam smiled again and nodded. Clearly dismissed, Tommy scurried out of the office.
It was only after he’d walked halfway back to the servants’ quarters that Tommy realized he’d forgotten to ask Sam how to send a letter to Wilbur’s ship.
---
A few days later, Tommy was standing with Tubbo and Ranboo on the open lawn behind Hotel Royale in the mid-morning. Breakfast had wrapped up and they had a little free time before lunch service would begin, so Tommy was finally learning about Ranboo’s favorite sport.
“That’s not a pigeon,” Tommy said, staring at the clay object in Ranboo’s hand.
Tubbo laughed aloud and Ranboo’s lips twitched. “It’s a clay pigeon,” he began to explain.
“Nope,” Tommy said, shaking his head. “No way, big man. I know birds, and that looks nothing like a pigeon, what the fuck? If you’re going to call it that, you’ve got to make it at least slightly pigeon-shaped –”
“This is modeled after the type of pigeons that are native to Snowchester,” Tubbo explained seriously while Ranboo stood to the side, making a constipated face. “They’re all short and round like this. You haven’t seen them yet because they’re migrating now. But they’ll come back in a few months, and then you’ll get it.”
There was a pause as Tommy considered this, suspiciously eyeing Tubbo’s calm, matter-of-fact expression.
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“Of course not,” Tubbo replied instantly.
Tommy looked at Ranboo for confirmation, and the tall teenager just shrugged with a half-smile.
Suddenly, there was the sound of thudding feet and they looked up to see Connor jogging towards them.
“Hey you two,” he said to Tommy and Tubbo. Then he suddenly seemed to realize Ranboo was there as well, and nodded to him awkwardly.
“We just got word that the Countess of Aux’s retinue is approaching Snowchester,” Connor reported. “They’ll be arriving at the hotel in a few hours. We’ve got to finish getting everything ready, and then Sam wants to have all the staff assembled in fresh uniform to greet them.”
Tubbo nodded and reluctantly dropped the clay pigeon back into the bucket.
“I guess I’d better get ready too,” Ranboo said dispiritedly. “She’s my father’s old friend, I’d best be there to welcome her alongside Dream.”
The group slowly began to migrate back into the hotel.
---
A few hours later, Tommy stood in the Great Hall along with the rest of the staff, the freshly-starched uniform collar digging painfully into his neck.
The Countess of Aux turned out to be an elderly woman with faded chestnut-brown hair. She had an almost frail appearance that was emphasized by how the heavy furs she wore seemed to swallow her. Dream was bowing over her hand, saying something – presumably greetings – that Tommy couldn’t hear from his vantage point. No matter. Bored, he let his eyes wander over the Countess’s retinue. There were a couple dozen people of various ages accompanying her, with some in fancy attire and others dressed more obviously like servants.
It was going to take forever, he thought sourly, to carry all their luggage into all those rooms.
Now it was Ranboo’s turn to greet the Countess. Her hand, Tommy noticed as Ranboo bent over it, was rather shriveled-looking, with dark spots. Liver spots, he remembered they were called. One of their elderly neighbors back in Logstedshire had those. She used to give Tommy and Wilbur freshly-baked oatmeal cookies, from time to time.
The Countess of Aux, Tommy thought as he stared at her imperious expression, didn’t seem like the type of person to ever slip sweets to children.
Now yet another person from the Grand Hotel side was stepping forward to welcome the Countess. Tommy blinked and nudged Tubbo, who stood rigidly next to him. “Who’s that?”
“That’s Ms. Sofia,” Tubbo muttered back, barely moving his lips. “She runs Spa Elisabeth.”
Oh, Tubbo’s witch, Tommy thought in amused interest as he regarded the woman. Now that he took a closer look, he realized he had seen her before on occasion, dining in the grand hall. Ms. Sofia cut a striking figure, with an expensive-looking gown and jewels setting off carefully-coiffed strawberry-blond hair, glowing skin, and vivid hazel eyes. But there was something about her, Tommy thought, chewing at his lower lip as he watched Ms. Sofia exchange air kisses with the Countess. She looked surprisingly young – younger than Sam, younger than Dream, even. If he’d taken just a quick glance, he would have guessed she were maybe just a bit older than Niki. But he had time to look more carefully now, and there was something … something about her didn’t feel young. At all.
But now Sam had stepped forward to greet the Countess, and then he turned to gesture at the assembled staff. Suddenly, on a signal Tommy hadn’t caught, everyone around him did a simultaneous half-bow. Eyes-widening, Tommy hastened to do the same.
When they straightened, the Countess of Aux was already strolling out of the reception area towards the dining hall, hanging on Dream’s arm. They were trailed by Sam escorting Ms. Sofia, then Ranboo with some young lady accompanying the Countess, and then by all the rest of the Countess’s hangers-on. As soon as the retinue were past the threshold, the staff broke formation and hurried away to their tasks.
Grimacing, Tommy followed the group that was headed for the small mountain of luggage loaded on the carriages outside.
---
With all the activities going on with the Countess of Aux and her companions, it was several days before Tommy again had the chance to visit Snowchester – and Phil and Techno, as well as his new friends at the apothecary.
When he did, it was with company.
“You owe me,” Tallulah said imperiously, putting her hands on her hips and glaring up at Tommy.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tommy said with requisite grumpiness, waving the twins onwards towards the waiting supply wagon. In truth, he felt a warm glow at the idea the twins wanted him, rather than one of the others whom they’d known for much longer, to take them on this little expedition. Plus, even though the knucklebones tournament was temporarily on hold while the staff dealt with the increased demands of the Aux retinue, Tallulah had been as good as her word. Their team currently led by a large margin.
They arrived in downtown Snowchester mid-afternoon, with the apothecary as their first stop. As Tommy pushed open the shop door with a tinkle of the attached bell, two colorful heads turned to greet them from the counter. Tallulah’s face lit up immediately when she saw the streaks in Pomme and Juanaflippa’s hair.
While Tommy huddled defensively in the corner – a passing Etoiles laughed at him – Pomme and Juanaflippa explained their various hair-color potions to the twins, and then carefully streaked vivid pink through both sets of chestnut-brown and blond locks.
“Your pink’s looking a little faded over there, Tommy,” Pomme said sweetly. “Are you sure you don’t want a touch-up?”
“Come on, Tommy,” Chayanne urged, “we’ll all match!”
“No,” Tommy glowered at them while the others laughed, “thank you.”
Next, Tommy led the freshly-colored twins down the cobblestone streets to Phil and Techno’s flat.
“You make jam?” Chayanne breathed, his eyes wide as he regarded Phil as if the man had just admitted to being a magician.
“That’s awesome,” Tallulah exclaimed, staring open-mouthed at the row of colorful jars lining the kitchen.
Phil, crouching eye-level before the twins, asked with – in Tommy’s opinion – completely oblivious hopefulness, “Would you like to try some?”
Unsurprisingly, he was met with a hyper-enthusiastic, high-pitched response.
“Phil’s got himself some new worshippers,” Techno fake-whispered to Tommy, who snorted loudly. Phil shot them both a warning look as he began to lay out plates for the jam and bread over a background of excited chatter from the twins, making Tommy laugh more.
---
After dinner (which included some substantial, vegetable-containing items in addition to the jam and cake, not even just bread, Phil had gone all out), the two detectives escorted the group back up the winding hilly road to Hotel Royale. By the time they arrived at the grand entrance, dusk was giving way to darkness, and both Chayanne and Tallulah were obviously dragging.
“Thank you, Cap’n Phil and Techno,” Tallulah managed sleepily, as Phil carefully lifted her off the horse. “We had a really nice time.”
“T’ank you,” Chayanne echoed, smothering a yawn as Techno gently helped him down.
“Oi,” Tommy exclaimed, “what about me?”
Phil laughed. “You’re very welcome. It was so nice to have you lot over. Please come visit us again soon!”
“Anytime,” Techno confirmed with a nod.
“Thank you,” Tommy repeated, flashing a grin at them both. “It was really great.”
“We’ll see you soon,” Phil said with a warm smile. Techno tousled Tommy’s hair in passing, and then the pair waited to watch them enter the hotel before departing.
But the euphoria of the day came to an abrupt end. After Tommy steered the twins upstairs and got them tucked into bed, he tiptoed into his and Tubbo’s darkened room. Tubbo was snoring enthusiastically and the water jug, unfortunately, was empty. Tommy sighed, picked up the jug, and ventured back downstairs to refill it. There, in the darkened kitchens, he found Niki and Charlie huddled together at the counter.
They both looked up when they saw him, their faces wan.
“A child in town vanished this evening,” Niki whispered.
Tommy’s heart plummeted.
“The marauders?” he whispered, his fingers tightening around the jug handle as he looked between her grave face and Charlie’s stricken one.
Niki nodded resignedly. “It seems that way.”
“Do you know who?”
“Her name was –” Niki began.
“Is,” Charlie cut in, distraught. “Her name is Juanaflippa, Niki! We don’t know for sure that she’s gone yet! Don’t say that –”
Tommy’s blood abruptly turned to ice.
“You’re right, you’re right, I’m sorry,” Niki said, shaking her head sadly. “We have to stay hopeful. She’s a bit younger than you,” she continued, turning back to Tommy, “and works in –”
“The apothecary,” Tommy filled in numbly. “I know her, I know Juanaflippa. What the fuck – I just saw her this afternoon!”
“She’s our friend’s daughter,” Charlie added hoarsely. “He’s been looking everywhere for her, he came up here to the hotel looking for her, that’s how we even know. We looked around here, just in case, and then the three of us went down into town to help him search.”
“We only got back here a little while ago,” Niki added. “Connor’s still in town, looking.”
“But I just saw her this afternoon,” Tommy repeated, stricken. “She was fine! And wait – fuck, Phil and Techno don’t know! They just dropped us off here, they definitely haven’t heard about this yet. They just left, we need to go after them, and tell them –”
“It’s no use running after them in the dark,” Charlie admitted with difficulty. “If they’re on horseback, they’ll be back at Snowchester way before we could catch up with them. And I’m sure they’ll hear as soon as they get there.”
“We can’t just sit here and do nothing!” Tommy exclaimed hotly. “We’ve got to go help, go search –”
“But where, Tommy?” Niki asked helplessly. “We’ve already looked around town, everywhere we could think of. And it’s impossible to go into the woods at night –”
“I don’t know, anywhere! We can’t just give up,” Tommy ground out. “We’ve got to do something!”
His words seemed to echo in the silence of the kitchens.
“My friend’s little sister was taken by the marauders two years ago, back in my home village,” Niki whispered. Her words dropped like stones into the terrible stillness. She bowed her head under the weight of memory. “We looked and looked and looked, but we never found any sign of her.”
Charlie drew in a harsh breath and clasped his hands together, white-knuckled.
“But we’ve got to do something,” Tommy repeated helplessly.
“Maybe the morning will bring good news,” Niki said softly.
But her eyes and voice were devoid of hope.
Notes:
… sorry? *hides*
The name ‘knucklebones’ is stolen from Cult of the Lamb, but this is not the same game as CotL knucklebones at all. I envision the game the gang is playing here as something more Monopoly-esque, but didn’t feel like coming up with an original name.
Tommy’s musings on Ms. Sofia’s appearance borrow from Lois M. Bujold’s phrasing in the oft-overlooked but awesome Vorkosigan novel ‘Cetaganda’ while describing the haut women – very polished and staggeringly beautiful, but something about them did not suggest youth ...
Chapter Text
The next morning dawned grim and menacing. Tommy opened his eyes to look at the gray ceiling of the dorm-room in the dim morning light and thought – Juanaflippa.
Tubbo was nowhere in sight. His bed was neatly made, so that meant the blond boy was probably already down in the kitchens, grabbing food and getting a head start on the day’s chores. Tommy sat up in bed in silence for a few minutes before getting dressed and following suit.
Tubbo had still been sound asleep when Tommy had finally crept into bed the previous night. Looking at his friend’s peaceful face, Tommy had decided not to wake Tubbo then to tell him bad news. But now, it felt like ants were tracing fiery trails under his skin – he had to talk to Tubbo.
Tommy hurried downstairs and sure enough, discovered Tubbo in a corner of the kitchen along with several kinds of muffins and a basket of freshly laundered, to-be-origami’ed cloth napkins. The blond boy smiled when he spotted Tommy, but his face immediately dropped as he took in his friend’s expression. Tubbo’s lips tightened even more unhappily as Tommy rapidly filled him in on the previous evening’s events.
“If it’s the marauders –” Tubbo began thickly, breaking off when Charlie suddenly descended on them.
“Have either of you seen Connor?” Charlie demanded, looking between Tommy and Tubbo.
“Today?” Tommy asked, looking over at Tubbo, who was shaking his head. “No …”
“I don’t think he came back last night,” Charlie clenched his jaw, frowning. “When I woke up, his bed was made. I thought he’d just gotten up really early, but if he’s not down here –”
“Maybe he’s still out searching?” Tommy offered. Then he perked up. “Hey, after we’re done with this shit, let’s all go down to Snowchester and help look for Juanaflippa, what do you think?”
Charlie grimaced, raking an agitated hand through his hair. “I can’t. I’ve got to quickly turn around that last suite – the one we’d closed up on the fourth floor because we planned to renovate. It’s for a new guest.”
“What new guest?” Tubbo demanded, frowning. “I thought we were all booked up, what with all the Aux people.”
“I know, but this is some super rich guy that showed up from the Outer Islands,” Charlie said, his voice brittle with stress and impatience. “Sam just told me. We’ve got to get that suite ready for him, like really quickly. Since Connor’s not here, could you two help?”
“Sure,” Tubbo said immediately. He dropped the origami napkin he was working on and stood. “C’mon, Tommy, we can finish this shit later.”
---
“Passable,” Sam said several hours later, casting a critical eye over the vigorously scrubbed and freshly-decorated suite, “but just barely up to the standards our guests expect from Hotel Royale. Charlie, why don’t you –”
“Come on,” Tubbo muttered under his breath, grabbing Tommy by the elbow.
With a smidgen of guilt for abandoning Charlie – outweighed by the desire not to spend another minute in that guest room – Tommy and Tubbo quickly made their escape. As they hurried down the curving staircase leading to the Great Hall, Tommy saw a familiar figure and brightened.
“Hey, look! It’s –” Tommy stopped abruptly.
But the person standing by the front desk wasn’t Connor, as he’d thought. For one, this person was dressed not in the blue Hotel Royale uniform or in ordinary clothes, but in an expensive-looking suit. He was also obviously being attended by a meek-looking servant wearing a hunted expression. Additionally, when Tommy caught a closer glimpse of the man’s face, it was obvious that this was an old guy. But – that reddish hair, those brown eyes and that build. If it wasn’t for the fact that this was obviously some random rich douche, Tommy would have guessed that the man was a relative of Connor’s – his father, maybe, or an uncle.
“What?” Tubbo asked, looking at him oddly.
“Nothing,” Tommy whispered. “Never mind.”
He followed Tubbo in silence to the kitchens while a newly hatched inkling wiggled and grew, scratching at the back of his mind.
“Tubbo,” he said slowly. “About Bobby. I never met him. What’d he look like?”
“Bobby?” Tubbo repeated blankly, as he returned to robotically folding origami birds out of the cloth napkins. “Well, he was about our age. Maybe a year or two younger, I’m not exactly sure. He was shorter than me, and he had really dark hair, almost black. And I think his eyes were brown?”
Tommy nodded slowly, the information coalescing like raindrops; still insubstantial, but slowly, slowly forming a pool that he felt, instinctively, would eventually reflect … something.
“Why?” Tubbo asked, turning to frown at him.
“Just curious,” Tommy said vaguely, turning away to go collect more silverware.
---
By the time the staff convened for their typical mid-afternoon meal, after lunch service for the guests was completed, Charlie was practically vibrating with tension. Niki looked equal parts annoyed and worried. In the charged silence, Tommy, Tubbo, and Hannah found themselves looking nervously between the pair, like children eyeing their obviously angry parents.
“This isn’t like him,” Niki said finally, drumming her fingers on the table. “Connor never just goes off without saying anything.”
“I’m going to go into Snowchester and find him,” Charlie said abruptly, rising. “If anyone wants to come along –”
“I will,” Tommy said immediately. “I want to talk to someone about Juanaflippa, too.”
“Go,” Niki said with a short nod. “The rest of us will handle whatever comes up this afternoon. Just be back before dinner service, please?”
Charlie and Tommy ducked out of the service entrance, to ensure no guests – or worse, Sam – would stop them en route and waylay them with additional tasks. As they loped across the grounds towards the road, a familiar dark red car rumbled to a stop in the front roundabout. But to Tommy’s surprise, it wasn’t Ranboo who emerged – it was Missa. The tutor waved to them cheerily.
“Shit,” Charlie murmured, but he turned back to give the tutor an amiable-enough wave in return.
“Where are you two headed?” Missa asked, smiling.
“Snowchester,” Charlie replied briefly, turning away to look at the road.
“We’re looking for Connor,” Tommy added hastily, feeling that Charlie’s response had been a little too unfairly curt for the friendly tutor.
“Connor?” Missa looked surprised. “But didn’t he already leave?”
Tommy’s eyes widened. What?
Charlie swung around so quickly he nearly whacked Tommy in the face. “What?”
“I thought Connor already left,” Missa repeated confusedly. “Left Snowchester for his new job, I mean. I saw him earlier down in town, near the train station, and he told me –”
“No way, big man,” Tommy exclaimed, wide-eyed.
“No!” Charlie snapped, then moderated his tone. “No, that’s not possible, Missa. There’s no way Connor would leave. There’s definitely no way he would leave without saying anything to us, to me –”
“Maybe you saw someone else?” Tommy tried anxiously, looking up at Missa.
“Oh, no,” Missa said, clearly taken aback by their reaction. “It was definitely Connor. He wasn’t wearing his hotel uniform anymore, of course, but I saw him in the clear daylight. And I spoke to him, just as I’m now speaking with you.”
“That’s just – not – possible!” Charlie’s clipped voice dipped into a growl.
“I don’t know what else to tell you,” Missa said, eyeing Charlie and Tommy’s faces with growing concern.
“Charlie,” Tommy tugged on his sleeve urgently. “Charlie, look, if Missa saw Connor at the train station, that means he probably got on a train someplace, right? Let’s go talk to Phil and Techno, they can help us figure out which train he took, and track him down –”
“Here,” Missa said immediately, motioning to the still-ajar car door. “Let me come with you. The driver can take us back down to Snowchester.”
Staring at Charlie’s pale face, Tommy barely spared a glance at the immaculate, plush interior of the vehicle as it rumbled smoothly into motion, following the winding road down the hillside.
---
“There’s just no possible way,” Charlie ground out, as the three of them sat in front of Phil’s desk in the police station.
Tommy glanced around in covert fascination; this was the first time he’d actually been in here. The Snowchester police station wasn’t very large. He could see two other officers busily working at their desks. In between, a few other desks were empty. Perhaps those officers were out, Tommy thought, looking for Juanaflippa? He didn’t see Techno anywhere.
He snapped his attention back to the current conversation.
“Did he seem at all upset?” Phil was asking Missa. “Off, in any way?”
Missa shrugged helplessly. “I don’t know him very well, but … he did seem a bit off,” Missa paused to consider. “Rather cold, and abrupt in his speech. He didn’t seem pleased to see me, that’s for sure. And he clearly didn’t want to linger. But then – something must have happened, I assume.”
“Like what?” Tommy demanded. Phil glanced at him and made a covert calming gesture with his hand.
“As I said, I don’t know him well enough to say,” Missa shook his head, “but – it stands to reason that something must have happened? Something serious enough to make him decide to leave very suddenly, with speaking to anyone else? Wouldn’t that also put him in a strange mood?”
“If something like that happened, we would know,” Charlie said flatly, and Tommy nodded vigorously in agreement.
Missa shook his head again, while Phil’s frown deepened.
“Is it possible he quarreled with someone?” Phil asked, without much hope. “Your steward, or perhaps the manager? Could he have been let go?”
“No,” Charlie repeated vehemently. After a pause, he burst out, “And even if that did happen, he wouldn’t have left without talking to me! Or to Niki or the others. Connor’s my best friend, he just wouldn’t.”
“Okay,” Phil voice was calm and reassuring, “Look, Charlie, we’ll figure this out, alright? Let’s head over to the train station and speak with the station master. Ideally, they’ll have a record of what ticket Connor purchased. And if not, they’ll definitely have a record of which trains passed through the station around the time Missa spoke with Connor. Regardless, we can try to track him down from there.”
Charlie hesitated, then nodded jerkily.
“Come on,” Phil said, rising. “Missa, will you able to join us?”
“Of course,” Missa said quickly, pushing his chair back.
“Tommy –” Phil turned to look at him, and hesitated. “Do you want to come along, or wait for us here? Techno should be back soon.”
Tommy hesitated in turn, taking in Charlie’s tense, combative expression and Missa’s worried one.
“I’ll wait here,” he said, looking up to meet Phil’s eyes, which – most unfairly, Tommy thought – immediately narrowed.
“You have to wait right here,” Phil said sternly. “In the station, with these other officers. Do you understand me?”
“Jeez, I will!” Tommy exclaimed. “Now just go, okay? Figure out where Connor went, then drag him home, alright?”
He settled back in his chair and crossed his arms, scowling up at Phil. The blond detective sighed and ushered Charlie and Missa out the door.
---
Tommy didn’t stay in the station. Instead, he waited five minutes to ensure Phil would be out of sight, and then he scampered outside before either of the other officers took notice. Then he turned and jogged a few blocks down the high street.
There, Tommy gingerly pushed open the door to the apothecary, wincing as the bell attached to the top jingled. The sign said ‘Open’ but the shop itself was in shadows; the evening lanterns near the front hadn’t yet been lit. Deeper inside, behind the counter in the corner, Tommy could see a lone figure sitting.
“Hi Pomme,” he whispered.
Pomme slowly lifted her head and stared at him.
“Hey Tommy,” she replied, her voice hoarse.
Tommy grimaced.
“How are you?” he tried.
“Okay,” she replied tonelessly.
Tommy swallowed. He had meant to come here and ask if there had been any developments, but the answer was already obvious.
“It’s all my fault, you know,” Pomme said blankly, staring into the shadowy alcoves of the shop.
“What?” Tommy replied, startled. “Pomme, no. No, it wasn’t –”
“It was,” Pomme insisted, her voice low and harsh. “I should’ve gone with her, yesterday. The marauders wouldn’t have grabbed her if she hadn’t been alone! She said she was going straight home, it was just a few streets over, but I had a weird feeling, I should have known –”
“Pomme, no!” Tommy said fiercely. “Stop it, okay? It wasn’t your fault. You don’t know how or why it happened, none of us do. If you’d been together, maybe they’d have grabbed you both, y’know? You can’t –”
“But that would’ve been better!” Pomme burst out.
Tommy stared at her in dismay.
She paused and continued in a wobbly voice, “If they’d grabbed us both, I could’ve helped, you know? Juanaflippa, she gets scared sometimes, like of the dark, and of strangers. But if I’d been there, I could’ve calmed her down and we could’ve both gotten away.”
Tommy’s throat grew tight. “Pomme, no –”
He swallowed hard. He didn’t know what to say, but he knew he had to try and steer her off this train of thought. “Did you see anyone, yesterday evening? Anyone strange wandering around near the shop, maybe?”
“Techno and Captain Phil asked me that, too,” Pomme whispered. “But there’s always lots of people who walk around on the street in front of the shop, especially in the evenings. A lot of them I recognize, but there’s always some strangers too.”
Tommy pressed his lips together in disappointment and frustration. What else could he say, or do? Then, seemingly out of nowhere, his inkling wiggled again, catching his attention.
Impulsively, he said, “This is going to sound weird, but could I have some more of that canceling potion you gave me before?”
Pomme blinked sluggishly in surprise. “Sure, why?”
“There’s something …” Tommy struggled for the words to describe his inkling, which still hovered insubstantially, just beyond his grasp. “I think someone’s doing something weird at the hotel.”
“Like weird with a potion?” Pomme tilted her head curiously.
“Yeah, maybe,” Tommy said evasively, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I think it might help to have some.”
“Okay …” Pomme said, bending to reach behind the counter.
Then there was a series of rapid thuds, as if someone was running up a staircase, and the side door was torn open in a sudden burst of light.
“Pomme?” Etoiles called urgently. “Sweetheart, who are you talking – oh, Tommy, it’s you.”
Tommy grimaced at the disappointment in Etoiles’s voice. He couldn’t take offense, he’d felt the same just a few minutes ago.
“Tommy,” Quackity repeated, having followed Etoiles up the stairs. “Did you come here by yourself?”
The expressions of both men, Tommy observed, were tight and grim.
“Just from up the street,” Tommy said, subdued. “I was at the police station.”
“Why are you both sitting in the dark?” Etoiles sounded agitated as he pulled a box of matches from his pocket and lit several of the lanterns, bathing the room in a warm amber glow. Then he went around the counter to stand next to Pomme, putting an arm around her shoulders and tugging her close.
Meanwhile, Quackity was shaking his head at Tommy.
“It’s not safe, kid,” he said harshly. “Not even for a few blocks. Not even … whatever the fuck week it is, in this so-called goddamned vanishing cycle. I’m going to walk you back to the station, okay?”
Tommy nodded silently.
“Tommy, wait –” Pomme pulled away from her father to root around under the counter for a moment. She reappeared with a handful of vials filled with a milky-white potion. “Here, take these.”
“What do you need those for?” Etoiles asked, his eyes narrowed as he watched her hand the vials of canceling potion to Tommy.
“It’s just –” Tommy paused, uncertain how much to reveal. “I think there’s some shit going on with bad potions up at the hotel, big man. It’s probably not a big deal.”
Etoiles nodded distractedly. “Let us know if that doesn’t work, or you need something stronger, okay?”
“Come on, kid,” Quackity said, motioning to Tommy. “Let’s get you back before it gets dark.”
---
Neither Phil nor Techno were at the station. One of the officers – the cranky sergeant called Arin – said that Phil, Charlie, and Missa hadn’t returned yet, but that Techno had come back with the search party a short while ago, and had then taken some witness statements home to review. Quackity had then taken Tommy by the hand and marched him straight to the second-floor flat.
Techno yanked the door open after the first knock, stared down at Tommy, and then turned to Quackity. “Thank you.”
Tommy scowled, his ears reddening.
Quackity nodded back to Techno and then paused, seeming to steel himself. “Is there any word on Juanaflippa?”
“Unfortunately not,” Techno said heavily. “We’ve searched every building in town, residences included. Today we expanded the search to the nearby villages. Nothing so far.”
“What about the hotel?” Quackity pressed, his dark eyes intense. “Before you seemed really convinced that the hotel is involved in a lot of these disappearances –”
Techno grimaced. “We didn’t get permission to search the hotel. But,” he emphasized before either Quackity or Tommy could protest, “we did suggest to the kid’s father that he go ask there. He told us he’s friends with some of the employees there, the ones Tommy works with –”
Charlie and Niki’s friend, Tommy remembered suddenly, was Juanaflippa’s dad.
“– but he said they looked and told him there was no sign of her in or near the hotel.”
“They might be holding her somewhere else,” Quackity’s eyes flashed. “Maybe somewhere in the forest. Did you use the tracking potions?”
“Yes, all the standard ones,” Technoblade tilted his head, considering Quackity. “Unless there are other, better ones you can provide?”
Quackity pressed his lips together, thinking. “There are others, but they’re difficult to make, and the ingredients are even harder to procure. But I’ll look into it and get back to you soon.”
“That would be very helpful.”
Quackity nodded abstractedly, turning to leave. Then he paused to stare at Tommy. “Don’t,” he said rather menacingly, “go off by yourself anywhere again.”
He turned and hurried down the stairs.
“Phil’s going to be pissed you snuck out,” Techno observed, closing the front door.
“I didn’t sneak out,” Tommy said aggrievedly. “I just needed to find out what was going on with the search for Juanaflippa.”
He turned to look at Techno, eyeing the deep shadows under the man’s eyes. “So there was really nothing at the hotel?”
Techno shook his head, and then regarded Tommy carefully in turn. “Unless you saw or heard anything to suggest otherwise?”
“No,” Tommy murmured, unable to articulate his inkling to Techno any more than he could to Pomme. After a moment, he lifted his head and looked back up at Techno. “But Phil told me he thinks it’s people who still work at the hotel. He wouldn’t say names, but I know he meant Dream, and maybe Punz. Why can’t you just, I don’t know –”
“Kid …” Techno hesitated, eyeing Tommy as if he wasn’t sure how much to share.
Tommy glared at him mutinously and crossed his arms. He wasn’t budging off the topic until Techno talked.
Techno’s lips twitched as he regarded Tommy’s warlike expression. Then he said finally, “Phil’s a great detective, you know.”
Tommy nodded.
“He’s brilliant, really,” Techno continued, “Amazing eye for detail, talented at solving puzzles, great at talking to people –”
“But he still got demoted and – and exiled,” Tommy pointed out, his tone subdued.
Techno fixed him with a keen, appraising look. “What do you know about that?”
“Not that much,” Tommy shrugged. “Tubbo told me about it first. I didn’t believe it, so then I asked Phil. He said that … well, he said a few years ago he made a pretty big mistake. Accused the wrong person in a murder case or some shit.”
He looked up at Techno, who was still regarding him gravely.
“That’s the problem,” Techno said, shaking his head as he took a seat at the paper-strewn table. “Phil accused someone, and they got off, they got away. And so all these years, he’s been balancing on a knife’s edge, half-sure he was right but half-convinced he went wrong somewhere. And, okay, so maybe he was wrong. God knows the man’s been wrong about plenty of other things, down to his opinions about – well, never mind. The point is, he’s not superhuman. None of us are. And as detectives, it’s our responsibility to keep an open mind on cases, consider all the possibilities. But it’s also highly probable that he was right, but the criminals were just too slippery. Too good at covering their tracks.”
Tommy blinked, trying to make sense of all this.
“So … d’you mean you think Phil was right?”
“I do.”
“Then why the fuck is Phil worried he’s wrong?” Tommy demanded, confused. “Haven’t you told him you think he’s right?”
“I have.”
“But then why does he –”
“It’s a combination of things,” Techno said, shifting in his seat to face Tommy. “First, there are our colleagues in the Manberg force, people whose opinion he respects a lot. Too much, in my opinion. Most of them think he screwed up, and that he ruined both of our careers by getting us reassigned here. So he feels guilty about that –”
“But did he?” Tommy asked, tense and doubtful.
“He doesn’t realize that it doesn’t matter. I would go with him no matter where he was sent.”
Tommy blinked again, then stared at Techno with silent approval. Their eyes met, and at that moment Tommy knew they understood each other on a fundamental level, one reserved for the deepest, most vital things.
“And second …” Techno paused. “One of the problems with being good at solving puzzles is that you tend to look at things in terms of the puzzles you’ve seen before. You look for patterns. Sometimes that’s extremely powerful. But sometimes things are shifted in unexpected ways. Sometimes you need to look at things from a different angle.”
“So what d’you think the angle is here, then?” Tommy asked apprehensively.
“I’m not sure yet,” Techno gazed into the empty fireplace, abstracted. “But the answer is right in front of us, I know it. I can feel it staring us right in the face. But we’re just not – look. Phil might be hedging, and others can say whatever the hell they want. But I know those bastards running the hotel are behind all of this, somehow.”
“Then why not just arrest them?” Tommy pressed, his eyes flashing. “Arrest Dream and Punz and make them –”
“But on what charges, Tommy?” Techno turned to look at him gravely. “On what proof? They’d get out of it, just like before. And there’s still the problem that we don’t know if it’s only Dream and Punz. What if the marauders really are a larger gang, what if they have accomplices? Imagine if we arrest the pair of them and while we’re holding them, another disappearance happens. They’d claim it was absolute proof they aren’t involved. We’d lose all leverage.”
Techno paused, taking in the despondent look on Tommy’s face, and then continued in a low, fierce voice, “No, we need to find something concrete, some evidence that can dismantle their entire scheme. Otherwise it won’t stick. These are powerful people. If this was something we could do single-handed, believe me, kid – we’d have done it, long ago.”
Tommy swallowed hard, then squared his shoulders and said determinedly, “I can help figure it out. I can poke around at the hotel –”
“No.”
Tommy looked up, startled at the sharpness in Techno’s tone. The pink-haired man was staring at him, his expression unexpectedly fierce.
“That is not what I meant. Tommy, listen to me, and listen carefully. These people are incredibly dangerous. If we’re right – and I truly believe we are – they’re responsible for the deaths of an enormous number of people. You are absolutely not sticking your nose into this, do you understand? We do not need or want you to do that.”
“Techno –”
“The only thing we need you to do is keep your head down at work, stay out of trouble, and spend as much of your time as possible here with us, away from that goddamned place. Do you understand me?”
“But –”
“Do you understand me?”
Techno’s eyes bored into him like red pokers, and Tommy nodded slowly, grudgingly.
“I understand.”
---
But despite Tommy’s best intentions, things came to a head just a few days later.
Breakfast was being served in the grand dining hall. It was a lively, cheerful affair with almost all the guests of Hotel Royale present. Chief among them was the Countess of Aux, newly returned from her sojourn at Spa Elisabeth.
Tommy stared at the woman. She was laughing with people in her retinue, casually holding a champagne glass in one hand while she gestured with the other. Tommy watched her face and hands as an odd, low roaring seemed to fill his ears. Jewels glittered at her ears and fingers. The wrinkles and liver spots he knew he had seen when the woman arrived were gone, replaced by an even, flawless complexion. The skin revealed by her fashionably-cut dress was smooth and glowing.
An ornamented hand reached up and adjusted a lock of rich chestnut-brown hair.
Tommy knew that color. He had seen it before.
He thought of Juanaflippa’s mischievous expression that first day they met, the pink streaks in her chestnut-brown hair and how he’d ended up with matching ones. He thought of the devastation on Pomme’s face. He thought about that dark-haired industrialist who, according to Connor and Charlie, had been to the Spa around the time Bobby had vanished. He thought of Connor, now gone for days, and the red-haired guest, the old rich bastard who’d checked in at almost the same time ago. He thought of the worry he saw invading Charlie’s expression every few minutes, before it was shoved back behind stoicism.
It was too much.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out the vial of canceling potion he’d begged from Pomme, and surreptitiously poured it into a pot of cream.
And then, just as he casually approached the table where the Countess and her companions laughed and chattered, Tommy … tripped. And fell.
The pot of cream went flying – and like a ball aimed true, upended itself on the Countess’s head.
The Countess screamed.
Around the table, her companions all recoiled, letting out little shrieks or appalled gasps of their own.
As everyone turned to look, the conversations and scraping of cutlery ground to a halt. The grand hall fell into dead silence.
Still sprawled on the ground, Tommy stared blankly up at the Countess. After her initial cry, the woman sat gasping wordlessly and trembling, white liquid dripping down her hair, skin, and dress. The bitch was carrying on as if it were boiling oil, not cool cream, that had been dumped on her, Tommy thought scornfully.
He glared at her, willing the potion to work. To change, to erase. To reveal what was truly underneath.
Seconds ticked by and –
And the frozen moment ended. People – including Dream and Ms. Sofia and Sam, to Tommy’s dismay – were jumping up and rushing over to help the Countess, whose sodden hair was still a deep chestnut brown and whose damp skin was still smooth and even.
“My lady!”
“Our deepest, most heartfelt apologies –”
Tommy moved his head a fraction and met Tubbo and Hannah’s identical, horror-stricken gazes. At a table beyond, Ranboo was frozen and wide-eyed in his chair. Strong hands seized Tommy under the armpits and abruptly set him on his feet. He looked up into Charlie’s unsmiling face as the young man brushed past him to join Niki, who was fluttering at the periphery of the crowd surrounding the Countess, trying to pass through several cloth napkins.
“Tommy,” Sam hissed in a tone Tommy had never heard from him before. “Go wait in my office. Go – just go –”
Tommy turned heel and fled from the dining hall.
---
A few minutes later, Tommy leaned against the hallway wall in the wing that housed Sam’s office and breathed deeply, trying to still his trembling hands.
Okay. To say he was in disgrace would be a mild understatement. He was definitely, completely, 100% fired.
He should just go. His time at Hotel Royale was obviously over. He should just run up to the dorm, grab his shit, and head down the hill to Snowchester, leaving on foot just as he’d arrived all those months ago. He could take Phil and Techno up on their offer to live with them until Wilbur came back. They wouldn’t turn him away, right? Unless, he thought with a sudden flinch, what if they were mad? Mad that he hadn’t listened to them again, that he’d taken matters into his own hands despite all their warnings? If Phil and Techno did close their door to him – he blinked hard, his chest tightening painfully at the thought – then what?
Maybe … maybe he could ask for shelter with the apothecaries? But he didn’t know Etoiles and Quackity that well. And once word got back to them of what Tommy had just done, and if they remembered the canceling potion he’d begged from their shop and put two and two together, they might be mad, too.
Where else could he – okay, maybe he could take the train to Manberg? Or no, maybe just hitch a ride with a caravan like when he’d come here, that’d be much cheaper. Then he could try and find Schlatt, who Tommy knew was living somewhere in the city. Now, Schlatt was really Wilbur’s friend, not Tommy’s, but maybe he’d help Tommy out? Even if Schlatt just got mad and dragged Tommy back home to Logstedshire by the ear, that’d still be better than hanging around all alone in Snowchester, a sitting duck for the marauders.
Yeah. Okay, he had a plan, and backup plans, so now –
Tommy pushed away from the wall and hesitated, his throat constricting. But if he just left now, hiding out until everyone dispersed and then sneaking back into the dorms, he might not get a chance to say goodbye to Tubbo and the twins and the others. His last interaction with Sam would just be seeing that awful look on the steward’s face. And –
And.
If he just left, all this would’ve been for nothing, wouldn’t it? His plan may not have worked, but he was still convinced there was something there. His inkling was still as strong as ever, thrumming in the back of his head. And didn’t he owe it to Juanaflippa to keep trying – and Connor, too, if the worst of his suspicions were right?
He swallowed grimly. He would at least try one more thing before leaving. As Mrs. Schlatt would say, in for a pinch, in for a pound.
He crept across the hallway, past the ornate wooden door to Sam’s office, and hesitated for just one moment before stepping up to the next, even fancier door. It was locked, but Tommy hadn’t been friends with Tubbo for months now without picking up a few tricks.
Dream had to keep some incriminating shit in his office, Tommy thought as he slipped inside. Criminals always got tripped up by what they hid, right? If Tommy could find a clue about where the marauders took their victims, maybe there was still time for him to go rescue Juanaflippa and Connor. Or at the very least, if Tommy could just find something that positively linked Dream to the disappearances, Phil and Techno could convince their fellow officers to help them arrest all the Hotel Royale assholes.
But the problem was finding it, whatever it was. Tommy had never been inside Dream’s office before. Only Charlie and Niki were even allowed to clean in here, and that too, only under Sam’s personal supervision. So Tommy was coming into this totally blind. He hurriedly opened and shut drawers, rifled through papers, and even looked behind the books in Dream’s bookshelf.
Nothing.
His heart pounding, Tommy swiveled his head around to look at all corners of the office. Fuck, there had to be something in here. Anything!
Then he froze.
There were footsteps coming down the hall. Loud ones. There were no guest rooms in this wing, it could be no one else but –
Without pausing to think, Tommy dived for the closet and pulled the door shut behind him. It was in the nick of time, because the office door opened with a bang. Multiple footsteps overlapped as two people strode inside.
“They know,” Sam said flatly, “about the interval. The boy told me.”
“That’s alright,” Dream replied calmly.
“What? How the hell can that be alright?”
“The police have nothing actionable,” Dream said impatiently, “and they’ll continue to have nothing, if you keep your head and stick to the plans.”
“I told you before,” Sam ground out, “that it’s a mistake to take people from the hotel. Connor’s disappearance has caused a real stir, it’s been difficult to explain to the staff –”
What? Tommy clutched at the closet wall, feeling like all the air in his lungs had abruptly vanished.
So Connor hadn’t just left. He’d been taken, just as Tommy feared. And Sam – Sam knew?
No –
“Sam,” Dream’s voice was steady, and more than a little chiding. “You’re never going to get where you want to be if you keep losing your head and panicking over minor hiccups. This is an important client we’re talking about. Sometimes you’ve got to go the extra mile, make some sacrifices, don’t you agree? And we’ve already gone to a great deal of trouble to smooth things over. As far as the police are concerned, the boy took a train and left Snowchester. Reese made sure of that. And as far as the fucking staff are concerned, if they ask questions, you fired him. Or hell, you can blame me, I fired him. What else is left to worry about?”
After a moment of silence, Sam said tightly, “Of course, sir. I apologize.”
“Good man. Now go handle that idiot servant boy, and I can smooth things over with the Countess at luncheon. Remember, we’re in a good spot right now. We don’t need to harvest again until next month, and then everything will be back on schedule.”
Tommy drew in a tiny, hitched breath.
“Yes, of course –” Sam broke off suddenly. “Did you hear that?”
Oh no.
Tommy looked around frantically for another exit, another hiding place – but it was just a closet. A small one. Where else could he –
The closet door was torn open.
Sam stood there, staring down at him grimly. Tommy stared back up at the blond man, wide-eyed and petrified. Behind Sam, Tommy could see Dream walking around his desk to peer at him, with those cold, poison-green eyes. Serpent eyes.
“Tommy …” Sam was shaking his head, his expression somehow even more terrible than back in the dining hall. “You shouldn’t have done this.”
Before Tommy could say or do anything to defend himself, a powerful hand closed around his upper arm like a vise.
Notes:
Due to the, ahem, difficulties our usual POV character is facing, the remaining chapters will be divided among a few different POV characters.
Chapter Text
“Excuse me?”
Phil looked up from the jumble of train station logs and schedules to see a tall, agitated-looking young man with curly brown hair standing in front of his desk in the police station. A few feet behind him, a stockier man who looked about the same age hovered.
“Yes?” Phil set aside the papers he had been studying and straightened in his seat. “How can I help you?”
“We’re looking for my little brother,” the young man explained, his posture painfully stiff and his voice tight. “He’s missing.”
Phil’s heart immediately sank. Another one? The new moon marking the end of the usual cycle had been just a few days ago. And there had been two disappearances this past month. How the fuck did this keep getting worse and worse?
Although, he had to remind himself, disappearances could still happen for other reasons.
“Please,” he said, motioning for both young men to take a seat. “Tell me more. When did you see him last?”
“It’s been … several months, actually,” the curly-haired young man – barely out of his teens, Phil thought – admitted as he drew a chair back and gingerly sat down. “Uh, I’ve been away for work.”
Anxious hazel eyes flickered up to meet Phil’s gaze. “You’ve got to understand, I’d never left him alone like this before, ever. But our landlady –”
“My mother,” the other man interjected blandly.
“She was looking after him! He was supposed to stay with her, and she’s not some stranger, he’s known her his entire life. But he ran away. She said he’d left a note saying he was going off to find work, and –”
“Where did he run away from?” Phil asked, frowning as he reached for pen and paper. Neither of the pair seemed local. While there was something oddly familiar about the curly-haired young man, Phil didn’t recall seeing him before …
“We’re from Logstedshire,” the curly-haired young man replied, and Phil stiffened. No, it couldn’t be –
“We were just up at the big hotel,” he continued, his mouth twisting in frustration and fear, “and they told us they didn’t know him, that he never worked there. So now I don’t know where else to –”
“What’s your brother’s name?” Phil demanded, fighting back burgeoning dread.
“His name is Tommy,” the curly-haired young man replied, and Phil felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked from his lungs. “He’s got blue eyes and curly blond hair, and is about yea high –”
“The hotel told you Tommy didn’t work there?” Phil growled, dropping the pen as he stared at the young man – at Wilbur, Tommy’s Wilbur.
Hope flared in Wilbur’s eyes and he leaned forward. “Yes!” he said, staring at Phil with new intensity. “Do you know Tommy? Have you seen him?”
“And when?” the other young man demanded.
Tommy was missing? Since when? Phil and Techno had seen the boy just yesterday. He’d had dinner with them at their flat, and then they’d taken him back to the hotel as usual. And the Hotel Royale fucks had said what, now?
Phil pushed his chair back with a screech and abruptly got to his feet, motioning Wilbur and his friend to rise as well. They did so, with a look of confusion.
“Come with me,” Phil said quietly, casting a wary eye around the half-empty department. Techno was out running down a possible lead on the missing little girl, together with Sergeant Ayala. Arin and Alicia were both still at their desks, and looked absorbed in their work.
But as always, he couldn’t shake the feeling that unfriendly eyes were watching.
He ushered Wilbur and his friend out the door and down the street towards the flat, murmuring, “We need to speak in private.”
---
“How did you realize Tommy was here?”
Techno was eyeing Wilbur and his friend, who had introduced himself as Schlatt. They were seated at the dining table in the second floor flat, steaming cups of tea ignored in front of them.
“It was a hunch,” Schlatt said. He was watching Wilbur, whose face was tight with tension. “My ma, she owns the building where Wil and Tommy live, back in Logstedshire. The plan had always been for her to keep an eye on Tommy while Wil was away at sea.”
“I’d been writing to Tommy,” Wilbur said, his voice uneven, his hands clenched around the cup. “I was posting a letter in every single port, but I never got any letters back, ever. At first I thought maybe – maybe he was mad at me for being gone so long. Ignoring me or shit, you know? But then it just went on for too long. Tommy never stays mad for long, not at me. I started getting really worried. Then a letter from Mrs. Schlatt finally caught up to me – and one from Schlatt, both at the same time. That’s when I found out Tommy had fucking run away. I talked to my captain straightaway about taking leave, and getting passage back home on one of the faster courier ships. But we were on our way back to Manberg by then anyhow, so it wouldn’t have saved time. We finally docked in Manberg a few days ago, and I met Schlatt –”
“I live there,” Schlatt added. “And my ma, I’d arranged for her to come down for a couple of days when Wil’s ship would be here. She’s been feeling pretty guilty and worried, y’know, and we wanted to talk to Wil together and figure out what else we could do to find Tommy. She wrote to me right after the kid took off, y’see, and I made a missing person’s report with the Manberg police straightaway. But they never came up with anything.”
He stared hard at Phil and Techno. “They told me they’d sent out notices to other towns, too, but I’m guessing they didn’t contact you, either?”
“We never got any missing person’s notice about anyone with Tommy’s description,” Techno said flatly. Phil nodded confirmation, his eyes hooded.
“And Tommy never even hinted to us that he’d run away. He’s told us a lot about you, of course,” Phil added, nodding at Wilbur. “He talks about you all the time. But he never told us that he didn’t tell you – or anyone – that he was here.”
“Knowing the kid, we should have asked,” Techno said dismally, and Phil grimaced in agreement.
“I’d already been looking for him around Manberg,” Schlatt added after a pause, “in places he might have found a job, but no dice. And I mean, I knew the kid might not even be in Manberg at all. He’d have known I’d box his ears and send him home if I caught him, right? But then my ma remembered Tommy talking about some big fancy hotel one time, and well – there aren’t that many places like that. I’d already been ‘round to all the posh hotels in Manberg, so once Wil arrived we decided to check out some places further out. Yesterday we tried the Grand Hotel up on the coast, then we took the train here.”
“I need to see him,” Wilbur’s voice was strained. “I’m so, so glad you’ve seen him, but I need to see him. I need to see for myself that he’s okay. If he’s not working at the hotel, then where is he?”
Phil and Techno stared at each other.
“Why,” Phil asked Techno, holding his voice deliberately steady, “would Hotel Royale claim that Tommy was never there?”
“So Tommy did work there,” Schlatt cut in, his eyes sharp.
“Yes. He got a job there his very first day here in Snowchester.”
“And how do you know him?” Schlatt’s eyes flicked between Techno and Phil. “Has the kid been in trouble, or some shit?”
“No,” Phil said tightly. “No, not at all. We met right after he got here and – and Tommy’s a wonderful kid. We’ve been trying to look out for him, especially considering the situation here. We had him over here for dinner just yesterday –”
“What situation?” Wilbur broke in, looking more worried then ever.
Techno, who had been standing very still in thought, turned abruptly to Phil. “We’ve got to assume the worst. That means we don’t have much time, and need to act quickly. We need help from people we can trust.”
“What?” Schlatt frowned, exchanging a glance with Wilbur.
“We need find a way to get a message to Puffy without it being intercepted,” Techno continued, “but we also need to start moving now, without waiting for her.”
“There’s already been two this past month,” Phil said tensely. “Would they really –”
“Two?” Wilbur demanded, looking back and forth between Phil and Techno. “Two what?”
“We can’t do this if we play by the rules,” Techno fixed Phil with an intense stare. “We’ve tried that before and failed, so many fucking times. And it’s Tommy. We’ve got to –”
“Can you please just stop talking in riddles, and just tell us what the fuck is going on!” Wilbur shouted. He flushed as they all looked at him, but glared steadily back.
“We’re fairly certain that someone in Hotel Royale is holding Tommy,” Phil said after a pause.
“Holding him?” Wilbur’s voice cracked, angry and fearful. “Like – like kidnapped?”
“What the fuck for?” Schlatt demanded. “We’re not rich –”
“It’s going to take a long time to explain all the background,” Techno said grimly. “Time that we don’t have right now. But there are two important things you need to know. One, Tommy’s being held captive by someone at the hotel. Two – there are people in the police force, both here in Snowchester and also in Manberg, who are on the take. We have suspicions of who they are, but not definite proof. But we do know that whenever we try to officially request aid from Manberg on missing persons matters, something always goes wrong.”
“But we need backup,” Phil continued, his voice low and intense, “if we’re going raid the hotel. Even if we can trust all three of the other officers here, we need more help. So we need someone we can trust to take a message to our colleague in Manberg. We know she’ll help us, as long as the commissioner’s office doesn’t find out about it first and interfere. But neither Techno nor I can leave Snowchester without people noticing, so one of you needs to do this. Will you?”
“I’m not leaving here without Tommy –” Wilbur began hotly.
“I’ll go,” Schlatt said in a tone that brooked no argument. He placed a reassuring hand on Wilbur’s shoulder. “I’ll catch the next train back to Manberg and deliver your message, then come back here straight after. Who do I need to give it to, when I get there?”
“Thank you,” Phil said gravely.
Techno, who had already fetched a pen and paper, sat down at the table and began to write quickly.
---
A short while later, the four of them emerged from the flat and split up – Techno to escort Schlatt to the train station and then continue on to the next essential errand, and Phil and Wilbur to Hotel Royale.
The sun was beginning to descend in the sky. It was, Phil thought grimly as the horses made their way up the cobblestone road, an uncomfortable parallel to the first time he had escorted Tommy back to the hotel, all those months ago. During that journey, Phil had told Tommy the bare minimum about the situation and how to keep himself safe. His throat tightened. Would things have gone better if he’d said more, that first day? And in all the months since, he should have said more, done more to convince Tommy to quit the hotel, to just come live with him and Techno. But would the boy have even been safer that way?
Meanwhile, Wilbur was absorbing the news about the marauders and the history of disappearances in and around Snowchester with abject horror.
“What the fuck,” Wilbur choked out, “what the absolute fuck. All these kids have been disappearing? For years? And you don’t know who or what – why the fuck didn’t you tell Tommy to get the hell out of this hellhole! Why didn’t you tell him to go home?”
Phil grimaced. “For what it’s worth, we tried. He was insistent on staying, though, and keeping the job. We told him everything we knew about the pattern and what seemed to be the high-risk behaviors. But I know it wasn’t enough. I’m sorry, I know –”
“No,” Wilbur broke in, more subdued. He swallowed hard and continued, “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – look, you’ve already helped us more than practically anyone else. And I’m glad you’ve been looking out for Tommy all this time, really I am. It isn’t your fault he’s in trouble. It’s mine.”
He stared fixedly at the advancing edge of the Forest of Baden in the distance, knuckles whitening as he gripped the reins. “If I hadn’t gone to sea, if I’d just stayed home – or if I hadn’t talked so fucking much about how hard-up we were! If I hadn’t planted the idea in his head that we needed a bunch more money to move to Manberg, then he’d never have run off like this.”
“Wilbur –”
“He’d have been safe then,” Wilbur’s voice faltered. “And none of this would be happening.”
“You don’t know that,” Phil shook his head. “Anything can happen, everywhere. Do you think anyone thought it would happen here? When Techno and I were growing up, Snowchester was a safe place.”
Then the cobblestone road curved, and Hotel Royale loomed into view.
---
As they waited, Wilbur was glaring around at the opulent decor of the Hotel Royale reception area as if it personally offended him.
The rapid clicking of footsteps down the hallway came to an abrupt halt as the man Wilbur had met before – that lying bastard steward – appeared at the threshold and caught sight of them. They slowly resumed as he approached, with obvious reluctance.
“Captain,” he said, giving Phil a brief nod that Phil returned in an even more abbreviated form. His gaze traveled over to Wilbur, rather grudgingly. “Mr. Innit-Soot –”
“I’m here for my brother,” Wilbur said flatly, dispensing with any pleasantries.
Sam bristled. “I already told you –”
“No,” Wilbur said, drawing himself up to his full height and staring down at the steward. “No! You lied to me. You told me before that Tommy didn’t work here.”
“You must have misunderstood,” Sam replied coolly, his eyes darting to Phil and then back to Wilbur. “I said Tommy doesn’t work here anymore. He resigned.”
“What? When?” Phil demanded, eyes narrowed.
“This morning,” Sam said curtly.
“Why would he do that?” Phil’s voice was clipped.
“Well, I’m not sure,” Sam said, irritation creeping into his tone, “but it’s probably due to the utter debacle he caused with the Countess at breakfast. It’s a miracle that one of our most important guests didn’t decide to immediately depart, following such disrespectful and demeaning treatment from an employee. And with Connor suddenly leaving too, Tommy has left us short-handed at an extremely awkward time –”
“Uh, what the hell? I don’t give a fuck about your fucking guests or your hotel!” Wilbur snapped. “What the fuck did you do to my brother? Bring him here to me, right now –”
“Young man, lower your voice!” Sam hissed, his eyes flicking around the empty reception area. “This isn’t a pub or tavern like you must be used to, but a highly respectable establishment. And as I told you before, your brother isn’t here any longer. He resigned and left –”
“I don’t believe any of this,” Phil cut in flatly. “Even if Tommy had resigned, he would have come to me and Techno. He hasn’t, so he must still be here at the hotel.”
“That’s not –” Sam began, and then stopped abruptly as another man strolled into the room.
Wilbur stared as the newcomer, a blond man in a crisp suit with striking and frigid green eyes, nodded briefly at Phil.
“Captain.”
Phil stared back impassively. “Dream.”
The man – Dream, apparently – let his gaze pass over Wilbur dismissively before turning to Sam.
“What’s all this, then?”
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Sam said stiffly. “These gentlemen were just leaving –”
“No,” Wilbur snapped. “I’m not leaving here without my brother!”
Dream turned to look at Sam.
“Tommy,” Sam explained curtly. “The servant who –”
“Ah,” Dream said. “I thought that, given the circumstances, he agreed to resign quietly and left our premises?”
“He did,” Sam said tightly, “but for some reason his brother isn’t understanding this, though I explained it to him when he came by earlier today as well. Now he’s returned, with the police –”
“You fucking lied to me then,” Wilbur growled, “and you’re lying again now. Tommy isn’t in Snowchester. So where the fuck is my brother?”
“Captain,” Dream turned to Phil and made a conciliatory gesture, “as my Steward informed you, the boy in question is no longer an employee here. Now, will you please remove this man from our premises before he causes even more of a scene? We have our guests to think of, as I’m sure you’ll understand. They would be shocked by being exposed to such base, uncouth language.”
Wilbur wheeled around to turn his glare on Dream, but Phil spoke first, his voice glacial.
“It appears to me that he’s asking all the right questions, Dream. Surely you have some care for your employees, especially the children? If Tommy hasn’t been seen elsewhere, he’s surely still here at the hotel. The most reasonable thing to do is conduct an immediate and thorough search of the premises.”
Dream bristled. “Absolutely not.”
“Why?” Phil raised a brow, his eyes cold.
“Hotel Royale is mine, and my responsibility,” Dream snapped. “I will not tolerate you and your people gallivanting about and disturbing my guests -”
“Disturbing your guests,” Phil said, his voice soft and dangerous, “is the least of my concerns, mate. This is a missing child we’re talking about – again. I’ll have them all dragged out of their rooms and stood outside all night if I have to, while every inch of this fucking place is searched.”
Wilbur curled his fingers into fists in the fraught, tense silence that followed. Sam was also watching Dream warily as the man stared back at Phil, venom in his eyes.
“Enough. I’ve tolerated this absurd hostility for far too long. I’ll be sending immediate messages both to the mayor and to the commissioner in Manberg. I need to put a stop to this endless campaign of harassment by the Snowchester police, once and for all. Sam, have these men escorted out of my hotel, then come see me in my office.”
Dream swept out of the room without another word.
“Charlie,” Sam said sharply, “Benjamin. Please come see that the Captain and Mr. Innit-Soot leave the premises –”
“I’m not leaving without Tommy,” Wilbur growled as a solidly-build, sandy-haired young man about his own age and a much older, burly man suddenly entered the room, from where they must have been hovering in wait.
Phil put a half-restraining, half-supportive hand on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Wilbur.”
“We’ll handle this, Sam,” the sandy-haired man said flatly. Sam nodded and hastened out of the room. Coward, Wilbur thought contemptuously, watching him flee. He turned back to the two other men who were advancing on them, clenching his fists again. He would punch his way past them if it came down to it.
But to his surprise, the sandy-haired man turned to the other one and said, “It’s alright, Benjamin. I’ll see them out. You can go back to the stables.”
The burly man hesitated, but then nodded and left. The sandy-haired man – presumably Charlie – then turned back to Phil and Wilbur. “Come with me, please.”
“Absolutely not,” Wilbur snapped. “I’m not leaving –”
“I know,” Charlie hissed, making a hushing motion. “Just – just shut up and follow me, okay? I need to talk to you. To both of you.”
Wilbur shot Phil a sharp, questioning glance. Phil, who looked unsurprised but intent, gave Wilbur a small confirmatory nod. Without another word, they followed Charlie out of the grand double doors.
---
A few minutes later, they were walking past some tall hedges near the border of the grounds, following Charlie’s brisk pace. The sun had now met the horizon, and shadows were rapidly spreading.
Wilbur glared at the sandy-haired man’s back. If this was his idea if escorting them off the premises, he had another thing coming –
But then Charlie stopped abruptly and turned to face them.
“This is a good spot. Probably no one will hear us here.”
Wilbur shifted uneasily, looking between Phil and Charlie. Who did he think would be listening?
Charlie turned to stare fixedly at Wilbur. “You’re Wilbur, right? Tommy’s brother? I heard what you said before, about Sam telling you Tommy never worked here.”
“Charlie, what happened?” Phil demanded. “Tommy was fine yesterday –”
Charlie grimaced, raking a hand through his sandy hair. “It all went down this morning at breakfast. Sam sent Tommy to go wait in his office right after. I assumed he’d been confined to his dorm or assigned some chores, just being disciplined, you know? We all did.”
“What?” Wilbur looked furious. “Why the fuck would he be disciplined?”
Charlie sighed aggrievedly. “He spilled some food on a guest. A really, really, important guest. But … it was an accident. It had to have been. And it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”
“That bastard Sam didn’t say Tommy was fired for that, though,” Wilbur stared at Charlie. “He told me Tommy was never here, I swear it.”
“I heard you,” Charlie said grimly. “And I don’t – look, even if Sam misspoke, none of this makes any goddamned sense. First off, Tommy’s not in his dorm. I know because Tubbo went up there earlier to take him some food and check on him, but couldn’t find him. And he’s definitely not in Sam’s office, or anywhere else in the hotel I’ve been today. So if he’s really being disciplined, where the hell is he?”
“But –”
“And even if he were fired for this bullshit,” Charlie pressed on determinedly, “he would have been escorted out, right? None of us saw that happen, for sure. And Tubbo said all his things are still in their room.”
“Charlie,” Phil said after a pause, his voice gentle but with threads of steel woven through it. “You remember what I said to you before. Surely you’ve had enough time to think things through by now.”
“I know,” Charlie said, his voice tight with frustration. “And I – look, Phil. I’ve known Sam for years. I’ve been working here since the hotel first opened. Niki, Connor, and me, we were the first people Sam hired. And if anyone asked me even a week ago, I’d swear up and down that Sam’s a good guy – no, a great guy. He’s always looked out for us, always.”
“But –” he broke off, shaking his head. “But now this whole shit with Connor, and with Tommy too? Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong.”
“Connor?” Wilbur repeated uncertainly, looking between Charlie and Phil.
“Connor’s my best friend,” Charlie replied flatly. “We’ve been best friends since we were little kids. He works – worked – here, too. But according to Sam and Missa, I’m supposed to believe that Connor just up and left, the hotel and town, without saying a word to me.” He laughed harshly. “If it was your best friend, would you believe that?”
Wilbur thought of Schlatt, of all the man had done – and indeed, was still doing, right at this very minute – for Wilbur and Tommy. He shook his head.
Charlie’s voice dropped to a furious whisper. “And when I pressed Sam on it, he told me Dream had fucking fired Connor? Like, what the fuck for? Nothing happened! And even if something did happen, like with Tommy – why all the secrecy? Connor tells me everything. And all his stuff is still here, just like Tommy’s. If he was really leaving, why wouldn’t he take his clothes and shit? None of it makes any sense.”
He swallowed, looking out into the darkness. “I haven’t told Niki or any of the others about this bullshit Sam said about Connor being fired. They’d freak out and I – I just don’t know what to do.”
“So yeah, I didn’t believe you before,” Charlie looked at Phil. “Like I said – I’ve been working here since the hotel opened. I’ve never,” his voice caught, “I’ve never seen any of the missing people around here, ever. I swear. And besides Dream’s office and Sofia’s office in the spa, I’ve never seen any rooms with restricted access. But there’s nothing weird about those rooms either – I have been inside both of them, it’s just that they don’t want any of us coming in and moving their shit around while cleaning. I’ve never seen any place in the hotel where people could be like, locked up, or any suspicious shit like that.”
Charlie broke off, breathing heavily.
“But the people –” Charlie’s voice caught. When he looked back at Phil, Wilbur could see that his eyes were wet. “Dream and Punz, Sofia and Reese – it’s like – okay, they were always weird as fuck, but we were never their people, y’know? We’ve always been Sam’s people. But … but now it feels like Sam doesn’t think like that. Like he doesn’t care the same way anymore. I don’t know if they’ve done something to him, or threatened him or some shit, but – whatever. Something’s definitely wrong with him. Something’s really fucked up.”
“I’ve battled my doubts,” Phil’s voice was low and intense. “I’ve spent many nights over the last years wondering whether I had it wrong, whether I made the wrong call before, and whether that screwed everything up, for everyone. But Hotel Royale is involved in these disappearances, Charlie. I don’t know how they’re doing it, but Dream and Punz are involved. And I think it’s safe to say now that Sam is involved, too – either directly, or covering for them, or somehow. Tell me then, how much longer can this go on? Every single month, every single fucking time this happens, Techno and I swear to ourselves that we’ll stop them. That we won’t let them get away with it again. And we’ve tried, we’ve tried everything we can fucking think of, but somehow they always fucking slip away!”
“No, Phil, it’s not –” Charlie shook his head in frustration. “I know, okay? I know you and Techno are trying. Hell, it feels like you’re really the only ones in Snowchester trying at all, these days. But –”
“But this time things are different,” Phil said grimly, taking a determined step closer, “and Connor and Tommy are your proof. There’s no more time for doubt, Charlie. Will you help us now?”
Charlie nodded brusquely. “Yeah. I might get fired too, but to hell with it. Yeah, I’ll help. As long as we get them both back, none of that shit matters. So what do you need me to do?”
“Hire Wilbur,” Phil said.
Wilbur and Charlie both gaped at him.
---
When Phil walked into the Snowchester police precinct later that night, after a quick pit stop at the apothecary, it was to a crowded scene of confusion. He caught Techno’s eye across the room, and his partner returned his look grimly before turning away.
“Captain Craft,” Alfred, the mayor of Snowchester, said irascibly as he heaved himself out of the chair where he had been waiting. “Do you care to explain this?”
“Explain what, sir?” Phil asked blandly.
“This!” the mayor shook a piece of paper at him. “Why have I received yet another missive from the manager of Hotel Royale complaining about you, claiming police harassment and intimidation? He tells me you threatened to drag his guests from their rooms and interrogate them? This is really too much!”
“I am simply investigating,” Phil replied tightly, “the disappearance of yet another child. This is the third child to go missing in less than a month, Mayor.”
“Nonsense!” the mayor waved his hand, and the paper with it, again. “Dream told me you’d say that, but he explained to me very clearly that two of these allegedly missing children were employees of the hotel who quit! They simply left, presumably to return to their hometowns. How on earth is that ‘going missing’, Craft?”
“Mayor –”
“And the other one is a child who probably just wandered off into the woods and got lost there! The child was working for those apothecaries, people who venture into the woods all the time. Tragic, but hardly an unheard-of event, don't you agree? In any case, there’s no connection whatsoever to Hotel Royale, and no reason to harass its employees and guests –”
“Mayor!” Phil growled, exasperated. “That is simply not true –”
“And,” the mayor cut in coldly, brandishing the letter again, “Dream has informed me that this time, he felt forced to contact the Manberg police commissioner, on behalf of the peace and safety of his employees. He reluctantly asked them to consider all appropriate disciplinary measures. You’ve gone too far this time, Craft. This is out of my hands now!”
“Indeed,” a neatly-dressed brown-haired woman stepped forward, a dark-haired man at her side. “My name is Captain Puffy, and I represent the Manberg regional police. This is my partner, Detective Cellbit, and our team. Oversight of this matter is now in my hands.”
The mayor stared at her in confusion. “But how did you arrive here so quickly – actually, never mind. Yes, Captain, please. I’ll leave this matter in your capable hands, and get back to my own duties of actually governing Snowchester.”
He swept out of the precinct without another word.
“Captain Craft,” Puffy said after a pause. “Is it true that you visited Hotel Royale again and threatened the manager and other employees?”
“I didn’t threaten them,” Phil said stiffly. “I simply made it clear that we consider the cases of these missing children a priority, and that searching the hotel is imperative –”
“Is it true that you have repeatedly attempted to search Hotel Royale – which is, after all, a privately owned and operated business – without a legal warrant? And that you’ve repeatedly encouraged or enticed private citizens to do so on your behalf?”
Phil stared at Puffy, then Cellbit, and then at Techno, standing behind them.
“What’s going on?” he said finally.
“Captain Craft … Phil,” Puffy shook her head, finally, regretfully meeting his eyes. “This has gone on far enough. You’re a gifted investigator, but there is a clear pattern of unprofessional behavior. Despite repeated efforts from all your colleagues to guide and redirect you, you’ve persisted.”
“Puffy – Captain –”
“You’ve allowed yourself to become obsessed with the perceived wrong-doings of the Hotel Royale management. There also seems to be some personal animus that has clouded your professional judgement – particularly in the matter of these so-called marauders, but also more generally. Detective Techno, does my summary align with your own observations?”
Phil stared at Techno as the pink-haired man gave him a look and then reluctantly turned to Puffy. “Yes, Captain.”
Phil felt like an electric shock had jolted his nerves. He inhaled sharply, painfully. “Techno –”
“Phil, listen to yourself!” Techno hissed, turning to glare at him. “I’ve told you time and time again that we need to be more careful, that we need to be smart about this. But you’re making the exact same mistakes, all over again! Haven’t we gone through enough because of all this?”
“That is not true,” Phil said hoarsely, feeling his stomach drop away. “Techno, we’ve got to –”
“I’m sorry, Captain Craft,” Puffy said formally, her eyes filled with regret. “But in light of this and other collected testimonies, I must request that you relinquish your badge.”
Dead silence ensued.
Phil didn’t want to look at the others in the room – his officers Arin, Alicia, and Ayala, as well as a stocky, dark-haired figure and many others in Puffy’s retinue. He knew they were all watching the scene, agog and with various degrees of horror.
“Detective,” Puffy said briskly, turning to look at Techno, who stood rigidly. “You are hereby re-assigned to the Manberg homicide unit, effective immediately. Please empty your desk here and report there by tomorrow evening.”
Phil stared at Puffy in complete and utter disbelief.
He shifted his gaze to stare incredulously at Techno. The pink-haired man was steadily staring forward and carefully not looking back at Phil. At Puffy’s words, Techno nodded slowly, saluted, and quickly turned and left the room.
“I will be taking over as the interim Captain of the Snowchester police force with Detective Cellbit as my deputy, until a permanent replacement can be named,” Puffy said quietly.
“But –”
“Captain Craft – Phil,” Puffy said heavily, “please don’t make this any more difficult than it already is.”
Notes:
So yeah, things are not going that well?
Benjamin, Alicia, Ayala, and Alfred(o) are all named after Gran Hotel characters.
Also, due to some shuffling of sections, this fic is now 14 chapters, not 13 :-)
Chapter Text
Tommy shifted, and the metal bars of the fucking cage he’d woken up inside pressed painfully against his shins. Dark, heavy fabric was draped over the enclosure, but even through the gaps he could see that the room outside was also dark. The air smelled stale and oddly sour. His head still throbbed, a remnant of the attack that had brought him here, and the weird smells were making it worse.
In the time since he’d woken up, he’d already gone over every square inch of the cage. He’d found the latch, but his pockets must have been emptied while he was unconscious. He had nothing on him now to pick the lock. Kicking at the hinges also hadn’t worked. Then he’d looked for weak spots, and failing that, he’d tried shouting for a while.
That, at least, had yielded a response. After a while, a very scary-looking man – who Tommy registered only after the fact was none other than Ben Reese – had stuck his head in the room and growled, “Shut your mouth or I’ll cut out your tongue.”
Shivering at both the memory and the chill permeating the dank room, Tommy curled himself into a more comfortable position and hugged his knees as he thought.
So …
It was kind of obvious now that Phil and Techno had been right that Hotel Royale’s management were actually the marauders. And while Tommy still didn’t have conclusive proof for his inkling – Pomme’s canceling potion hadn’t worked on the Countess, after all – the very fact that he was now locked up here, wherever here was, meant he was on to something, didn’t it?
… didn’t it?
Tommy jolted as the door suddenly opened, and the room was flooded with light. Blinking in surprise, he peered through a gap in the fabric and recoiled, sucking in his breath sharply.
It was Dream. And Punz.
The memory of the last time he had seen the blond manager – with Sam, Tommy physically flinched, no, he wasn’t ready to think about that yet – seemed to freeze his blood in his veins. With effort, he forced himself to pay attention to what was happening in the room outside the cage.
The men clearly didn’t remember that Tommy was locked in there, or else didn’t realize – or care – that he was awake. And Tommy needed to keep it that way, staying as still and quiet as he possibly could. This was probably the best chance he would have to learn more about what they were planning – and what was his best hope of escape.
“The full payment came through. The client was very pleased,” Punz reported. Tommy heard a creak, as if someone settled themselves into a chair.
A drawer thudded shut. Tommy cautiously peered through the gap and found an angle where he could see them both.
“He’d better be,” Dream said coldly. “This was much more hassle than warranted.”
“What’s got you in a snit?”
“Seriously?” Dream turned to face Punz, clearly annoyed. “I’ve told you, over and over, not to fucking take people from the hotel, but you still did. I’ve had to spend so much fucking time calming Sam down about it, but that sad bastard’s right, in a way. The staff are going to talk! People will get spooked and start quitting, or worse. And I’ve just handled this latest fuck-up with the police, I don’t want to go through that again. And I’ll need to get Sam to hire a replacement.”
“These are all short-term problems,” Punz replied, shaking his head. “We’ll handle it. You need to think more about the long-term.”
“I am thinking long-term,” Dream sounded exasperated. “What else do you –”
“I’m talking about the kid,” Punz said, the irritation clear in his voice. “You need to take care of this sooner rather than later, you know.”
Tommy flinched away from the gap. The kid? Were they talking about him?
“We could have dealt with it by now, you know,” Punz continued. “That last Business Bay client would have been perfect if you hadn’t bailed – he had dark hair and a similar body type. Sofia said it would have been easy.”
Tommy breathed out slowly, his hands trembling. Okay, dark hair – if his inkling was right, that wasn’t him. But then who –?
“You’re too impatient,” Dream replied, shooting Punz a cold look. “All of you. Handling Ranboo is without doubt the most delicate part of this entire business. We can’t just do it in whatever random way seems convenient. And I honestly don’t think it should be part of the spa operation, at all.”
Ranboo? Tommy’s throat tightened convulsively as Punz said incredulously, “What? Why the fuck not?”
“After his chump father, it’s too much of a coincidence if anything even remotely questionable happens to him,” Dream shook his head. “He certainly can’t just disappear. It’s best if it looks like natural causes. An accident might work, but it would have to really be a freak accident, witnessed by a lot of – no. No, all in all, I think something that looks like natural causes will be best.”
“Okay, Mr. Natural Causes,” Punz said, rolling his eyes. “How, then?”
“Sam had some suggestions,” Dream said musingly, rubbing his cheekbone thoughtfully. “Sofia could maybe make some very slow acting poison, something undetectable. It would look like a wasting illness or something. The kid’s always been reedy and frail anyway.”
Punz raised an eyebrow at him.
“Okay, first off – now you’re taking suggestions from Sam? About the kid? He might have stepped up with Ponk, but the man’s not exactly an impartial observer here.”
Dream gave him a wolfish grin. “Don’t count him out, he can be very helpful when he tries.”
“I still say we should have just killed him.”
Dream tsk’ed reprovingly in response. “You can’t just kill everyone who doesn’t see eye to eye with you, you know. This is why you get into trouble.”
Punz scoffed. “And you’re fucking naive. Can’t you see he’s essentially trying to blackmail us?”
“It’s the mark of a good negotiator,” Dream narrowed his eyes. “And who can blame him, don’t you think he’s sick of corralling servant boys and chambermaids after all these years? No, he has potential. We just need to guide him.”
“Well, I don’t think he’s ready to be a partner. He just puts us at risk.”
Dream waved his fingers dismissively. “Once I take over as full owner, we can put him off for a few years with the general manager position. You can see it in his eyes, he’s panting after that title and prestige, and they’re almost within his reach. We can keep him in check.”
Bile rose in Tommy’s throat as he listened. Obviously Sam had been a key part of the whole sequence of events that had ended with Tommy locked in this little cage, but –
But some tiny part of him had still clung to the hope that this was all a big misunderstanding. That the stern but smiling man who’d taken one look at Tommy all those months ago and given him a job, who’d always encouraged and supported Tommy and all the others in his charge, who’d –
Surely that man didn’t know the whole story. Surely he’d be appalled when he figured out what Dream and the others were really up to. Surely he’d come to rescue Tommy when he realized –
But no. Sam was obviously neck-deep in all of this this. That man Tommy had thought he knew didn’t actually exist. Sam had helped them grab Tommy – and clearly Connor, too – and now he was giving these bastards suggestions on how to fucking murder Ranboo? Because of what, because he wanted to be the fucking hotel manager or some shit? Shuddering, Tommy peeled himself away from the betrayal that seared like a fresh, bubbling burn and forced himself to focus on what Punz was saying now.
“I’m sure Sofia can whip up whatever you need – but. No, seriously, listen to me. If the kid starts getting sick, you’re going to have to put up a whole performance about taking him to this doctor and that specialist. You’ll need to be the concerned, devoted cousin who’ll leave no stone unturned to cure the brat. It’ll be a lot of work, and maybe a lot of travel. And people will talk if you don’t play that role to the hilt.”
Dream leaned back with his arms crossed and frowned. “You have a point. I need to think about this some more.”
“Just don’t think too long,” Punz advised dryly. “There’s only about two more years til the kid reaches his majority, right? It’ll be cleaner all around if he just doesn’t. Even if he bites it shortly after that, people will start noticing that it’s pretty convenient, and start asking questions.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Dream said impatiently, rising to his feet and walking towards the door.
“Hang on, what about the other kid?”
“What other kid?”
“Seriously?” Punz glared at Dream. “The one you and your new pal Sam dragged down here. The blond one, the servant. Now we’ve got an extra this month, and you know this place isn’t meant for long-term storage.”
The blond servant. That was him, he was the ‘extra.’ A tremor ran through Tommy as he struggled to parse the words. So the cage he was in wasn’t meant for ‘long-term storage’? That was a relief, in a way. But then how short –?
“Oh, right,” Dream frowned. “Can’t we just make it work with one more? Do we have all the supplies?”
“The supplies are there, but she’s not completely done processing the last one yet. And we’re also missing the right client.”
“But we have the client coming in from Manberg in a couple weeks, don’t we?” Dream objected. “I saw the dossier, that guy’s a natural blond, it should work.”
“She’s not happy with the idea,” Punz said, shaking her head. “The client is blond but he’s apparently got brown eyes, and this extra kid’s got blue eyes. It doesn’t match. And she says blond and blue is a rarer combination, so it doesn’t make sense to use it here.”
Blond and blue. Tommy dragged in a shallow breath. So he didn’t match. So this was it – this was the proof at last that his inkling had been right. Bobby and that industrialist, Juanaflippa and the Countess, Connor and that red-haired old man – even though the canceling potion hadn’t worked like he’d hoped, Tommy had been right. Somehow, the appearances of the kids who went missing – and their resemblance to the guests who visited Spa Elisabeth around the same time – mattered.
“That’s shouldn’t be a deal-breaker,” Dream protested, sounding annoyed. “She’s managed to adjust stuff like that before –”
“Also this kid is twice the age of the one we had picked out originally, and the client is pretty up there already, in his late 80s. You know she says the older clients are harder. Having a bigger age difference and an exact match makes the whole process smoother. So she doesn’t like the idea of switching, and wants to stick with the original plan. So we’ll have to find someone else for this extra kid.”
“Wait, she wants to use that kid here? Didn’t you hear anything I just said? That’s going to make it three in a row from the hotel. It’s going to attract way too much fucking attention! It’s not going to work.”
What? Tommy could barely breathe. Three in a row from the hotel? That was Connor, Tommy, and – and someone else?
Someone who was also blond but with brown eyes, not blue. Someone younger than him. But that could only mean –
NO.
Terror seized Tommy as he imagined bright, bubbly Chayanne locked up inside another cage like this.
“You’ll need to talk to her then, and convince her. She’s already angry she couldn’t use the other one – the girl – for the Countess. You know Sofia, she keeps going on and on about how it would have been perfect, that it was exactly the kind of golden opportunity we’d been keeping the kid for. But then that kid went missing that day and we had to get the other one from town instead, on really short notice, remember? That kid was older, too, and Sofia was livid.”
Tommy felt utterly paralyzed with horror. What the fuck? What the absolute fuck? Were they talking about Juanaflippa and Tallulah? Were they saying they’d been intending to grab Tallulah, but she hadn’t been there – because she’d been out with Tommy instead that day? That cheerful day when he, Tallulah, and Chayanne had visited Pomme and Juanaflippa at the apothecary and then had dinner at Phil and Techno’s flat?
… and then they took Juanaflippa that evening instead, because they couldn’t find Tallulah? Tommy swallowed a sob, feeling bile burn again in his throat.
“I’m telling you, too many from the hotel won’t work –”
Punz made an impatient noise. “It can’t be helped. Sofia and Ben handled matters with the last kid. They said they made sure it looked like he just quit and moved, so it’ll be fine. Do we need to do that with the extra kid too? I can let them know.”
“I don’t know. Ask Sam,” Dream said sulkily.
“Look, once the thing with the third kid is done, to make up for it we’ll stay away from the hotel staff, okay?” Punz said in a conciliatory tone. “Let everything calm down, at least for a couple of years. And on the plus side, the other business worked like clockwork, so the police won’t be an issue. Arin confirmed that Captain Asshole’s out of the picture – not just demoted this time, but out. His partner’s been sent packing too –”
A fresh wave of fear washed over Tommy, leaving him shaking in its wake. What did they mean, out of the picture? What had these bastards done to Phil and Techno?
… Tommy had been sure, he suddenly realized, that Phil and Techno would come for him. That’s how he’d managed to keep the worst of his panic at bay, so far. He’d been positive that they would look for him, that they’d somehow rescue him. The knowledge that maybe they wouldn’t – that maybe they couldn’t – felt like a deep black abyss had just opened underneath him.
And Wilbur –
God, why hadn’t he had some common sense and written to Wilbur earlier? Wilbur might not even have gotten the letter Tommy’d finally sent, yet. He still might not even know Tommy was here at Hotel Royale, much less about any of this other shit.
Who else could possibly help him? Tubbo and the others had no clue what had happened to him. And Sam obviously knew, but –
No. Tommy was really, truly, utterly fucked.
“That woman from Manberg is interim Captain but she’ll leave soon, and they’ll appoint the official replacement,” Punz continued. “If things go as planned and Arin gets the slot, we won’t need to go to so much trouble from now on.”
“That is true,” Dream murmured, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. Then he slowly smiled. “You know what, I’ve got the perfect idea about who to match with the extra.”
---
Tubbo stared dismally at the wall as everyone lined up in preparation for the evening staff meeting. He was dead on his feet. There was nothing he wanted more, he thought longingly, than to collapse on his bed as soon as this final meeting was over.
Except – Tubbo’s stomach twisted – he might be going back to an empty room. Or maybe Tommy was back by now, his punishment finally over?
“I miss Connor,” a small voice whispered at his elbow.
Tubbo looked down at Chayanne and gave him a tight smile. “Me too, boss man.”
Chayanne shuffled his feet, looking unhappy. “D’you think Tommy’ll be back in time to tell us a story tonight?”
“I hope so …” Tubbo’s voice trailed off, his eyes widening in surprise as a tall stranger dressed in a crisp blue Hotel Royale uniform followed Charlie into the staff room.
Who was this guy? What the fuck, had they already replaced Connor? Tubbo thought in disbelief. This was so not good – did this mean Connor really wasn’t coming back? He let out his breath in a pained huff, feeling Chayanne press nervously against his side. Clenching his jaw, Tubbo leaned forward slightly to peer at newcomer. From the other end of the line, he could see Niki and Hannah doing the same, with Tallulah cleaved to Hannah’s other side.
Tubbo frowned some more as he took in the stranger’s profile and his dark, curly hair. He was sure he’d never met this guy before, but he seemed weirdly familiar. There was something about him, something about his face, and the shape of his eyes …
Then the door opened again and Sam swept inside, wearing the same grim and imperious expression that seemed to have been painted onto his face since Connor had so suddenly left. He looked up at them, mouth already open to speak – and then he stopped short, staring.
The new guy stared back at Sam with a surprisingly defiant expression.
“You,” Sam said, taking a step backwards. “What are you – Charlie?” he turned to stare at the sandy-haired young man.
Charlie gave the steward a rather bland look that had all of Tubbo’s hackles rising. “I beg your pardon, Sam, there wasn’t time to tell you before. What with Connor and Tommy both going missing, we’re severely short-staffed and need extra help urgently to keep up with our core tasks. My friend here happened to be looking for some work, so I spoke with Ranboo and brought him on board.”
Sam stared back at him. “You … you spoke with Ranboo about this appointment,” he said flatly.
“Yes sir.”
“You bypassed me.”
“It was necessary, sir,” Charlie said blandly. “We’re extremely short-handed, and it’s a temporary hire.”
“Very well.” Sam gave Charlie a jerky nod. “Thank you for taking the initiative.”
Sam glanced quickly at and away from the new guy, not quite meeting his eyes. “Welcome. I’m sure Charlie and the others will instruct you on your duties.”
Just as suddenly, Sam swept back out the door and let it slam shut behind him.
As the others began to shift from the line and move to greet the new guy, Tubbo stared at the closed door speculatively. That … was weird. But then the rest of Charlie’s words registered in Tubbo’s brain. Wait, why had Charlie said Tommy was missing? What the fuck, wasn’t he just off doing extra chores?
Or – shit, what if Tommy had freaked out about what had happened, and actually ran away?
Tubbo’s stomach clenched at the idea of Tommy wandering out in the darkness somewhere, easy prey for the marauders and witches and whatever the fuck was lurking out there. But … if he had run off, wouldn’t he have run to his police friends? And if he hadn’t, shouldn’t Tubbo and the others go out looking for him?
Or wait, no, maybe Tubbo was overreacting. Maybe all Charlie had meant was that Tommy was missing just from their regular work rotation at the moment. Yeah, that must be it. Everything would be fine as soon as Tommy’s punishment was done. It had to be.
Tubbo snapped out of his thoughts when Charlie suddenly appeared in front of him. He’d just opened his mouth when Charlie spoke first.
“Tubbo, I’m bunking with Niki tonight, okay?” Charlie said, his face as strained as Tubbo had ever seen it. “I’ve got to talk with her about … some stuff. Can you share with him today?” he gestured at the new guy. “I just can’t –”
“No problem,” Tubbo said immediately. “But what about –”
“Thanks,” Charlie gave him a wan smile and hurried away before Tubbo could ask about where Tommy would sleep then … assuming he came back tonight. Maybe Tommy was sleeping in a dank storage room or some shit, as extra punishment?
Regardless, this was just for today. What about afterwards? If Connor really had left for good, Tubbo thought grimly, he couldn’t imagine Charlie wanting anyone else to move into their dorm, ever.
The atmosphere was subdued as everyone filed out of the staff-room. Tubbo wordlessly led the new guy up the multiple flights of stairs, back to the dorms. He looked around dismally on entering – it was still Tommy-less. He sat down on his bed with a sigh and began to ease his feet out of the pointy uniform dress shoes and then –
Tubbo’s eyes snapped up at the sound of the door latch sliding into place. He frowned – why the hell was the new guy locking the door? How presumptuous could this fuck be? He’d just opened his mouth to say so when the new guy spun around.
“You’re Tubbo, right?” he said urgently, quickly walking around Tommy’s bed and taking a seat facing Tubbo. He was so tall that his knees almost hit Tubbo, even across the nightstand-wide gap. “You’ve been rooming with Tommy?”
Startled, Tubbo nodded slowly, taking a proper look at the new guy’s face. He did look really familiar, somehow –
“I’m Wilbur, Tommy’s brother,” the new guy explained, leaning forward and staring at Tubbo intently. “I’ve come here to find him. Can you help me?”
Tubbo gaped at him.
---
“I don’t believe you,” Tubbo said flatly some time later, after Wilbur finished his story. “I don’t believe Sam has anything to do with – with anything.”
But even as he said the words, his stomach churned uncertainly. Sam had been so strange and agitated, for days now. What had really happened with Connor? And where the fuck was Tommy?
Wilbur glared at him. “I’m telling you the truth. Why would I make something like this up? Sam tried to send me and my best friend off, telling us that he doesn’t even know Tommy. That Tommy was never here. And then when Phil and I came back here afterwards, he backtracked, and tried to say that I misunderstood. But then he told us that Tommy had quit and left. Do you believe that?”
Tubbo opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it abruptly. Why the fuck would Sam say that? Any of that? And … it was a fair point. What reason could Wilbur possibly have to lie about it?
“No,” he admitted finally, raising his eyes to meet Wilbur’s intense stare. “No, even if Tommy wanted to leave after that shit this morning, he wouldn’t just go off without telling me. And – wait.”
Tubbo jumped up and hastily rummaged through the haphazard pile of Tommy’s laundry and assorted knickknacks. He felt a rush of relief lanced with unease as his fingers closed around a small canvas pouch buried in the pile. Stuffed inside, Tubbo knew, were Tommy’s carefully sorted and saved earnings. He shoved the pouch deeper into the pile and artistically re-rumpled the top layer.
He swung back around to face Wilbur. “Look, the main reason he was even here was to earn money for you guys to move to Manberg. If he really quit, why the hell would he leave all his money behind?”
A bleak expression settled onto Wilbur’s face, and he curled forward, as if in pain.
“He was never supposed to come here,” he said softly. “He was supposed to stay put at home, and wait for me.”
“Tommy’s not exactly a stay-put-and-wait kind of guy,” Tubbo observed carefully.
Wilbur looked up at him, startled, and then huffed a laugh. “He isn’t,” he agreed, straightening. “So look, I’m not here for money, or a job, or – or anything else. I just want Tommy. I just want my brother back. I need to know he’s safe. That’s all, okay? Can you help me? Please?”
Wilbur’s eyes, as Tubbo looked up to meet them, were wide and beseeching. It suddenly struck him that even though they were a different color, they were shaped just like Tommy’s.
Slowly, Tubbo nodded.
“I’ll help, but … I really don’t know what else to tell you, big man. All this shit – it just doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know why Sam would lie to you. Or that Sam’s somehow involved in all the shit that happens around Snowchester?” Tubbo’s voice rose in growing disbelief. “Like he knows the marauders? Or that he is one? I just can’t believe –”
“Forget about Sam for now,” Wilbur said, running an agitated hand through his hair and beginning to pace. “Let’s focus on Tommy, okay? Where could he be now?”
“I don’t –”
“When did you last see him? Where was he?”
“That was in the dining hall, during breakfast,” Tubbo’s throat tightened in memory. “Everyone saw him there. That’s what he’s getting punished for. Or,” he added quietly, “that’s what I thought was happening.”
“What happened?” Wilbur pressed. “Charlie said there was some kind of accident, with some guest?”
“He poured a pot of cream on the Countess of Aux,” Tubbo said reluctantly.
Whatever Wilbur had been expecting, it clearly hadn’t been that. He wrinkled his nose. “What?”
“It could’ve been an accident,” Tubbo replied, rather defensively, “but … yeah, okay. From where I was standing, it kind of looked like he threw it at her on purpose.”
“Why would he – okay, never mind,” Wilbur was still for a minute, thinking intently. “Okay, so that happened. Then what?”
Tubbo shrugged. “There was a big commotion, with the Countess and her people screaming and freaking out and Dream and the other hotel honchos trying to calm them down. Sam told Tommy to go wait in his office. But that’s normal. If any of us get in trouble, we usually go to Sam’s office and talk about it.”
He paused. “But to be fair, none of us have really been in that much trouble before, though.”
Wilbur’s eyes sharpened. “Okay, so Tommy went to Sam’s office. Are you sure?”
“Where else would he have gone?” Tubbo demanded.
“That’s what I’m asking,” Wilbur said, exasperated. “And he never came out of there?”
“I don’t know …” Tubbo frowned. “He must have, right? Sam probably sent him to do some chores. Like maybe muck out the stables or deep-clean all the chamber-pots – something gross like that, as punishment?”
“But if that’s the case,” Wilbur said, “someone should have seen him somewhere in the hotel, or on the grounds, right?”
“Right,” Tubbo hesitated. “Well, I mean, sometimes we have to go into the forest. But I don’t think Sam would send Tommy there on his own, not even as punishment. That’s really not safe.”
“Go into the forest?” Wilbur repeated incredulously. “You mean the Forest of Baden? Did Tommy go? What the fuck –”
“Just sometimes,” Tubbo said defensively. “We have to go there to get shit for Spa Elisabeth.”
Wilbur sat back down abruptly, looking disturbed. “Okay, but we’ve established that Sam wouldn’t have sent Tommy out there – or at least,” he added darkly, “he’d better not have. So then Tommy must be in the hotel or on the grounds, right? But then – remember Sam said Tommy resigned.”
“Yeah,” Tubbo swallowed. “I don’t know why –”
“But no one saw Tommy leave, right?” Wilbur stared at him intently.
“Right …” Tubbo scowled.
“So he must still be inside the hotel, maybe not even on the grounds – someone would have seen him out there,” Wilbur concluded. “He’s got to be somewhere in the hotel that no one else usually goes. This is a pretty big fucking place. If someone wanted to hide a person in here, how would they do it? Are there any secret rooms, hidden passages, shit like that?”
Tubbo paused, thunderstruck.
“I … actually don’t know,” he said finally. “And I don’t know why I never thought about that before. But I know who can tell us.” He shoved his feet back into his shoes and made a beeline towards the door. “Come on!”
---
Phil sat on the steps of the exterior staircase leading up to the flat and leaned forward, hugging his knees as he stared up at the stars.
The flat was empty and devastatingly silent. Techno had left a note saying that, given everything, it would be best for him to go meet Puffy and Cellbit at their traveling lodge tonight. That it was to further discuss the marauder situation with them. A handover, of sorts.
As part of it, Techno had taken the book with him. The book containing the pictures of everyone Phil had failed to save.
It was probably for the best. Phil hadn’t been able to bring himself to write pages for the latest probable victims, Juanaflippa and Connor, quite yet. And he knew he would never find the strength within himself to write a page for Tommy.
Yes, he thought, staring up at the brilliant, benignly twinkling sky. It was for the best.
Notes:
On the cusp of the chapters that give this story its rating ...
Chapter 10: The Imposters
Notes:
So – as I mentioned at the end of the last chapter, these next few chapters are more intense. I honestly don’t think it’s that extreme, in the context of this fandom overall, but decided it’s better to err on the side of caution with the rating. So please be mindful of the tags and the chapter-specific content warnings before choosing to read.
Content warnings: character death, blood, gore, cannibalism, non-consensual (strictly non-sexual) touching, alcohol
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tommy sat up abruptly, wincing at the pressure of the metal bars on his limbs. He was definitely covered with criss-crossed bruises from them at this point. But something else had woken him out of his admittedly listless sleep – what? He peered through the gap in the curtains, and his eyes widened.
It was Sofia.
His throat tightened as he remembered Dream and Punz’s conversation. This woman was undoubtedly the most dangerous of them all. This was the person who had murdered Juanaflippa, and maybe Connor as well.
Tommy’s hands shook again, this time from rage, as he watched her move around the room where he was imprisoned. Her long strawberry-blond hair gleamed in the torchlight as she rummaged in the cabinets lining the walls. Ignoring the voices inside his head shouting at him to keep his mouth shut – which sounded oddly like a combination of Wilbur, Techno, and Tubbo – Tommy said as loudly as he could, “You’re a fucking witch, aren’t you?”
Sofia looked up, startled. Then she gave a short laugh as she moved smoothly from one station of cabinets to another.
“‘Witch’ is such a plebeian term, little boy. Witches are humans. I am far beyond such labels.”
“Whatever. How old are you, really?” Tommy asked, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m sure little children such as yourself cannot possibly count that high,” she said absently, sorting through a set of glass vials containing mostly red- or black-looking gelatinous substances.
Tommy sneered. “You’re probably ancient, like a hundred or something. You fucking look it.”
Her face twitched but she didn’t respond, instead continuing to peruse the vials in silence.
“After all, how many kids have you sucked dry over all those years?” Tommy retorted, his voice rising. “You’re just a fucking vampire. Or a giant mosquito, really. Buzz, bitch. Just waiting for someone to finally come squash you.”
Something – perhaps shock, perhaps amusement – finally sparked in her eyes. She turned, and they stared at each other.
“Oh my, you are a bold one, aren’t you?” she said softly.
“Things have been getting a little repetitive, here,” she continued, strolling over to stand in front of the cage. She drew aside the fabric cover to better regard its occupant. “It’s astonishing in itself how all things can become routine and mundane, even chasing eternity. But there’s always something new to liven things up. For instance, you … your processing will be enjoyable. I’ll make sure of it.”
She leaned forward, so their eyes were level.
“You do know that I’ll use every last part of you, right?” she said softly. “Your blood for the potion, your offal for my brother, and,” she grinned, lashing a sharp tongue over her lips, “the very tastiest cuts saved for me. Waste not.”
Tommy glared back at her defiantly, trying his best to hide his trembling.
“Now, as entertaining as this is, I do have tasks to attend to that are more urgent than conversing with my raw ingredients. And as for you … well, the first potion will be ready in only a few hours, child. You have but that long left in this body. Perhaps you have other things you would like to spend your remaining time reflecting on. Family? Friends? Regrets from this life? Hopes for the After?” she smiled at him, almost sweetly, before turning and walking towards the door.
Tommy’s chest tightened. He had been determinedly pushing down his thoughts of Wilbur, of Phil and Techno, and of Tubbo Ranboo Tallulah Chayanne the Schlatts, as well as Charlie Pomme Niki Hannah, but now –
But now his heart felt like a pressure cooker with too much steam trapped in it, pushing the lid back up, impossible to contain –
What if she was right, Tommy thought distantly as his breath seemed to catch on something at every inhale, somehow unable to fill his lungs completely. What if he was really out of time? What if no one came for him? What if he was really going to die in just a few hours, his blood drained for whatever vile potion and his organs chopped into tiny bits to feed this monster and no one would ever know what happened to him? Just like no one would ever know what had really happened to Juanaflippa, either, or Connor, or the others –
Tommy felt oddly like he was floating. What if Wilbur came back from sea expecting to find him safe and sound at home but then searched and searched and searched and found him nowhere? What if Phil and Techno also searched for him but found nothing, and he became just one more entry in their book of missing people, one of the pages with a very detailed portrait, drawn from memory and –
She paused at the door and looked back at him, her eyes gleaming like embers in the dim light.
“Think, little boy. After all,” she laughed, deep and throaty, “higher levels of fear in your blood will make it all that much more potent. They’ll love the taste.”
They? Tommy crashed back down to earth and stared, petrified, as the door closed with a soft click.
---
“I do need to be closing up soon, Captain,” the barkeep said awkwardly.
Phil nodded absently towards the man, his thumb tracing orbits along the rim of his empty glass, not bothering to correct the freshly obsolete title.
The barkeep looked like he might say something else, but instead he simply swept his dishcloth over the counter and moved on.
He should move. He shouldn’t linger here into the midnight hours, in the way of the worker who was trying to close up shop for the night.
And while he did have an appointment with Wilbur – which he swore to himself that he’d keep, police and captaincy be damned – he still had time to spare. But where else could he go in the meantime, besides wander around the dark countryside? He no longer had the precinct as an option. The only thing Phil knew for certain was that he didn’t want to go back to the second-floor flat. He couldn’t face the terrible silence of that empty flat, that didn’t have Techno in it.
And would it ever have Tommy in it again? Phil’s thumb trembled in its trajectory around the rim of the glass. He should have said more, and done more, taken Tommy home when he’d had the opportunity –
The door opened, bringing with it a gust of brisk night air.
“Uh, we’re about to close, sir,” the barkeep said helplessly.
“I won’t be long,” a cool, horribly familiar voice said.
Phil’s shoulders stiffened, but he resolutely didn’t shift his gaze from his glass.
Dream settled himself onto the adjacent seat and waved the barkeep away with a faint smile. The barkeep smiled back nervously and hastily retreated into a backroom. The door shut with an audible click behind him.
“So … Phil,” Dream said musingly, shaking his head. “Phil, Phil, Phil.”
“That’s me,” Phil said laconically.
“You know, I’m not actually happy to see you reduced to this,” Dream observed.
“Then fuck off,” Phil growled.
“Come now,” Dream scoffed, brushing some imaginary lint off his pristine jacket. “You’re like some pathetic scarecrow, right now. You don’t think I came to this establishment to drink, do you?” he cast a contemptuous look around the tiny room, seemingly empty but for them. “I’m here because I want to help you. Genuinely.”
Phil narrowed his eyes. “Why the fuck would you ever want to help me?” He shook his head and picked up his glass again, wondering if he should reach behind the bar and help himself to a refill, since the barkeep had clearly absconded.
Dream smiled and leaned languidly against the bar. “Because I like you, Phil.”
“No, truly,” Dream continued as Phil snorted derisively. “I admire your grit, your resolve. But all that energy and determination, up til now it’s just been misguided. Now there’s an opportunity to correct course. I think we can help each other.”
“I’d never help you,” Phil said flatly, “and there’s no way someone like you could ever help me. Well, not unless you’re planning to make a full written confession to the police.”
Dream tsk’ed. “Now, that’s just rude. And patently untrue. You’ve helped me before.”
Phil stiffened. “No. No, I haven’t.”
“Yes, you have,” Dream drawled, smirking openly. “You just don’t remember. Look at me, and think back. Tell me you remember.”
“I don’t –”
“Look at me,” Dream repeated. His smile transitioned into something predatory, almost vulpine. “Look properly, and tell me you remember.”
Phil twisted in his seat to face the man and –
For seemingly the first time, there in the dim lit of the decrepit Snowchester bar, Phil looked and then he saw. And like the keystone of an arch being placed, or the critical piece of a jigsaw slotting into position, recognition bloomed and gave the world a new hue.
Green eyes, set in deep, almost sunken, sockets. Phil knew those eyes. He had seen them before, staring at him out of the deep shadows.
From the depths of his memory the answer came surging to the surface. The space was dimly-lit, just like this bar, except even more cramped. It was the worn interior of a once-elegant carriage. The curtains looked moth-eaten and the once-red velvet of the bench seat faded to a dusty rose. Those mocking, sunken green eyes and the half-white, half-blond hair of the impeccably-dressed elderly man. The frightened expression of the similarly green-eyed blond boy seated next to him – his grandson, from the resemblance.
Green eyes, glowing in the dim light. And that same mocking, knowing expression.
Phil’s own eyes widened.
Amon Dermot.
“You,” Phil breathed. The bar-stool legs screeched against the floor as he flinched backwards, even as he stared fixedly at Dream. “It was you, that day in the carriage, with that child. It was, wasn’t it?”
Dream-Amon – Dreamon? – smiled.
“But – but you disappeared! Or no, you –” you changed, Phil filled in silently, deeply shaken. How could this be?
Amon Dermot had been old enough to be Phil’s father – maybe even his grandfather, at a stretch. But the man sitting before him now was easily more than a decade younger than him. Was Phil going mad? Had he had much more to drink than he’d thought? How was any of this possible?
“Look at you, Phil,” Dreamon cut him off, leaning forward to meet blown-wide blue eyes with the calm of a patient predator. “Just look at yourself. Once the golden paragon of the Manberg police, celebrated by admiring colleagues and a grateful community, the entire world at your feet. And now here you are – all alone at midnight in a reeking, decrepit countryside bar, abandoned by all your friends, booted from your post, your reputation in tatters. Half-drunk and halfway to oblivion.”
“What the fuck do you want?” Phil grated out.
Dreamon leaned forward, his face inches away from Phil’s.
“In my world,” he murmured, “we don’t talk about oblivion, Phil. We talk about eternity. Doesn’t that sound better?”
“I –”
“Look at yourself, Phil. You’re already well into middle age,” Dreamon sat back, regarding him coolly. “Your job is gone. Your partner is gone,” Phil swallowed hard while Dreamon continued remorselessly, “All your friends are gone. Even that child you were looking after is gone, run far away from you. What else is left for you here? What, you’re going to drink yourself to death in this little town? Or maybe in some other little town, where no one knows you?”
“What’s it to you,” Phil replied stiffly, reaching out to grip the glass again, letting the feel of the cool, slick material ground him, and soothe the minute tremble in his hands. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”
“See there,” Dreamon smiled broadly. “I like that. I agree with it. But don’t be hasty.”
He leaned forward again. Phil stared into the sly, dancing green eyes with a pungent mixture of shock, revulsion, and reluctant curiosity.
“You have the chance for a new life, Phil,” Dreamon whispered, his tone honeyed and beguiling. “A new, spectacular life. You have a chance to finally seize all the opportunities that were denied to you – no! That were stolen from you. And if you would only just extend your hand in friendship to me, I can give you everything. I can show you the way.”
“What –”
“I can show you the way,” Dreamon murmured, “to have the same second chance I did. But you have to muster the courage to walk the path. So tell me. Do you want it? Do you have the courage? Or will you let yourself waste away, a pathetic little scarecrow left to rot in the fields, alone and forgotten in the hinterlands?”
They stared at each other, vivid green eyes meeting exhausted, washed-out blue.
“Yes,” Phil whispered. “Show me.”
Dreamon smiled, slow and satisfied.
“Then come to the entrance of Spa Elisabeth in the evening, just after dark. We’ll talk. Your future will be waiting for you there.”
He rose lithely, tapped the bar counter twice, and departed.
Phil stared after the man, feeling oddly mesmerized, as the door swung shut again and the room fell back into silence. He sensed, rather than saw, a dark figure rise from a slouch in a dark corner and slide into the seat next to him.
“Now, that was interesting,” Schlatt whispered. “And, y’know, totally fucking creepy.”
“So it was,” Phil murmured, pressing his thumb hard against the rim of his glass. “It really was.”
---
“Wilbur,” Tubbo hissed, glancing wildly up and down the deserted, dimly-lit hallway as the curly-haired man continued knocking incessantly on the door Tubbo had indicated. “Wilbur, stop knocking so fucking loud, someone might hear –”
“Let them,” Wilbur said bluntly, without pausing in knocking.
The door being knocked on suddenly swung open.
Ranboo peered out at them uncertainly, blinking back sleep. “Tubbo? And … Wilbur, right? Charlie told me you were – what’s going on?”
“We need to talk to you,” Tubbo said abruptly. “Right now.”
He pushed past Ranboo into the room beyond without waiting for a response. Bemusedly, Wilbur followed.
Ranboo’s suite, Wilbur noted absently, was full of elegant-looking furniture and abstract wall-hangings. It looked very different from the spare, sparsely-furnished dorm where Tommy and Tubbo had been staying. However, aside from a few neat bookshelves, it also looked disturbingly identical to the other guest suites he’d seen over Charlie’s shoulder earlier today.
“What’s going on?” Ranboo repeated confusedly, closing the door and turning to face them.
“The plans,” Tubbo repeated intensely. “We’ve got to see them, Boo. It’s really urgent.”
“The plans?” Ranboo looked baffled. “What –”
“The building plans,” Wilbur clarified, looking between the two teens, “for the hotel.”
Ranboo blinked, screwing up his face in confusion. “What? Why?”
“We need to see,” Tubbo said grimly, “if there’s any secret places in here where Tommy and Connor could be locked up.”
“Locked up?” Ranboo repeated, horrified and now wide-awake. “What –”
“Look, Boo,” Tubbo said, staring at the taller boy urgently, “I know you think the idea of the marauders being connected to the hotel is bullshit, but we don’t have time to argue about that right now. Tommy and Connor might be in real trouble! We’ve got to try, right? We’ve got to try everything we can, even if it seems like a long shot.”
There was a beat of silence as Ranboo considered them both, lips tightening as his eyes lingered on Wilbur’s face.
“But Captain Craft and Detective Techno already looked at the hotel plans,” Ranboo said finally.
“But we – wait, what?” Tubbo visibly faltered as he processed Ranboo’s words, and he and Wilbur exchanged a dismayed glance.
“It was years ago,” Ranboo said, shaking his head as he lit an oil lamp on the table. He took a seat on the edge of the sofa, and gestured for them to sit as well. “I just don’t know what else you think you’d find, that they didn’t.”
“I remember it because –” he paused, clearing his throat. “Well, my father was still alive at the time. I remember because they came to his office one day when I was in there. I often used to study there while he worked. My father … he seemed angry with Captain Craft and Detective Techno, though he was quite courteous. I know he was offended at the idea that Hotel Royale was in any way connected to disappearances. But I remember he shared the building plans for the hotel and outbuildings with them. He retrieved them immediately, and they all looked over them together. They confirmed they’d checked every place in Hotel Royale for the missing person they were searching for at the time. There were no hidden rooms or spaces, nothing the marauders might be using in secret.”
Ranboo’s words fell like stones into Wilbur’s heart, and he swallowed. It felt like everywhere he turned, every path that might lead him back to Tommy was being actively blocked off.
“Maybe they weren’t the real plans?” Tubbo offered, looking back and forth between them. “Or maybe those were incomplete?”
“Why would my father show the police fake plans?” Ranboo asked defensively.
“Wait,” Wilbur said, raising a hand and cutting off Tubbo’s retort. “Wait a minute. You said that the plans were for the hotel and outbuildings, right?” he turned to Ranboo.
“Yes,” Ranboo said slowly, “like the stables and carriage house, for example.”
“What about the spa?” Wilbur asked. Tubbo’s eyes widened, and he looked back at Ranboo.
“Those plans don’t cover the spa,” Ranboo admitted, “but –”
“But that’s got to be it, then!” Tubbo exclaimed. “Right? We just need to look at those plans, and then we can –”
“But I don’t have those plans,” Ranboo cut in frustratedly, “and neither did my father, I’m sure of it. It’s what I told you before, Tubbo – my father built up Hotel Royale, but Ms. Sofia handled everything for Spa Elisabeth. Everything, including the construction.”
There was a heavy silence.
“So the police might not have looked in all the spa rooms,” Tubbo said finally. “Maybe –”
“That’s impossible,” Ranboo shook his head. “Spa Elisabeth is small. It’s nowhere the size of Hotel Royale. Have you ever been in there?”
“No, but –”
“There’s an open reception area,” Ranboo continued doggedly, “and there’s about three or four private rooms. Those are all the same, with only a bed and bath and sitting area inside. Then there’s a small lab, where Ms. Sofia prepares her treatments. There’s nothing else there. Even Ms. Sofia doesn’t stay there, you know. Her lodgings are here in Hotel Royale.”
“But there could be a secret room,” Tubbo persisted. “We don’t know for sure that there’s not, right?”
Ranboo sighed aggrievedly. “Alright, maybe there could be one. But –”
“So this Sofia, she would have the plans for the spa, then,” Wilbur interjected. “Can you get hold of them?”
“I – maybe,” Ranboo frowned. “It would be hard. The buildings are adjoining, but like I said, technically they’re separate. And I … technically I own Hotel Royale, right? But Spa Elisabeth belongs to Ms. Sofia. So I could ask, but she isn’t obligated to give them to me. And she and Dream would probably both ask a lot of questions about why I need them.”
“That’ll all take time,” Tubbo said darkly. “Too much time.”
There was a dismal silence.
“But Tommy was in the hotel before,” Wilbur said, his voice tight. “Right? So how would they have taken him to the spa, if that’s where they’re holding him? Without any of you seeing him?”
“Wait,” Ranboo was shaking his head. “Just – wait, please. Holding him? What exactly is going on? I knew Tommy was in some trouble because of the incident with the Countess at breakfast, but that doesn’t mean –”
“He’s missing, Boo,” Tubbo said bleakly. “He really is, just like Connor. He’s not in our room, he’s not in Sam’s office, he’s not anywhere. None of us have seen him. I don’t know exactly what, but there’s some really, really fucking weird shit going on here. You’ve got to trust me on this.”
“I just need to find Tommy,” Wilbur said, staring earnestly at Ranboo. “That’s all, really. I’m not here to cause any trouble. I just need to see him, and make sure he’s okay.”
Ranboo stared back at him. Then, after a moment, he nodded jerkily. “How can I help?”
“Can we search Sam’s office? That’s the last place we know for sure Tommy was, after all. Maybe there’s a way there to go from the hotel to the spa without being seen,” Tubbo’s eyes gleamed, even as Ranboo made an aborted noise of protest. “A hidden way, right, leading to a hidden room.”
“I know that you think this is crazy,” Wilbur leaned forward, maintaining eye contact with Ranboo, “but – please. I have to find Tommy. So please? Can you help us?”
“But there’s definitely no door to the spa in Sam’s –” Ranboo broke off with a sigh at their expressions. “Okay, fine. Let’s go look, alright? But I’m telling you, there’s nothing there.”
“Thank you,” Wilbur shot to his feet and strode to the door, trailed closely by Tubbo. They waited, bouncing impatiently, as Ranboo donned a robe and slippers, rooted around in his desk drawer to retrieve a key-ring, and then hurried after them.
---
Tommy was having some trouble breathing. It probably wasn’t because the witch had done anything to him yet, he realized distantly. It was more due to his own steadily spiraling panic.
During the hours or days – he wasn’t sure anymore – that Tommy had spent locked in that fucking cage, he’d spent a great deal of time thinking about how he’d escape. He’d had it all planned out. The instant whoever it was unlocked the cage door, he would lash out at them with his feet. Then, when they were staggering back, he’d somersault out of the cage, punch them again for good measure, and then dash to the door –
But when the moment finally came, all his plans fizzled like a candle under a single, precise raindrop. Ben Reese had suddenly appeared in the room, unlocked the cage, and dragged Tommy out as if he were no more than a kitten, or maybe a rag doll. Tommy had been so tired and hungry, his limbs so stiff and cramped, that he could barely unfold his legs to stand, much less kick or do any of the other shit in his plan.
His inability to stand hadn’t ended up mattering because Reese had then dropped him on a fucking gurney and briskly restrained him to it with a bunch of leather straps and metal buckles.
And Tommy couldn’t do anything at all, except protest.
“Let me go, you fucking bastard,” he croaked as Reese pushed the gurney down a dark hallway. “What the fuck do you sick fucks want with me? Let me go –”
Reese said nothing. Instead, he wheeled the gurney into another, even darker room.
Tommy’s throat tightened. Didn’t these fucks have torches or candles in here? Or was all the good lighting reserved for the Hotel Royale, while they did … whatever the hell they were going to do to him down here, in near-darkness?
Reese arranged the gurney to his satisfaction and then strode out of the room without a word.
Tommy shifted, trying to test the restraints. Unfortunately, they held tight, the edges of the hard leather biting into his arms and legs as he strained. He looked around, but it was too dark to see much. The only thing he could sense, compared to the cage room, was that this new room smelled bad.
Really bad.
A particularly pungent whiff of something, a mixture of blood, chemicals, and rot, drifted over to him, and Tommy gagged.
Before he could figure out what the source of the smell was, the room instantaneously became extremely, painfully bright. Tommy flinched back, blinking hard. Were those electric lights? Like in the fancy part of the Hotel Royale foyer and in the grand hall? Those were super expensive, why the fuck did they have them down here, in this crazy dungeon room –?
The door opened with a bang. Sofia strode briskly into the room, grim-faced and trailed by Reese.
Tommy swallowed hard and shifted his head, trying to quickly orient himself before something else – anything else – happened. There was a cream-colored curtain serving as a divider between Tommy and whatever was in the rest of this room on his right. On his left, he could see rows of wooden cabinets along the walls and a setup that reminded him of the fanciest section of the Hotel Royale kitchen – a broad open counter next to a sink with plumbing.
What the fuck was this place?
“Is the potion ready?” Reese asked, sparing Tommy an impersonal, appraising glance.
Tommy flinched instinctively, but there was nowhere to hide from it. After many months in Hotel Royale, Tommy was used to rich douches looking through him as if he were an object, like one of the many sculptures or vases decorating Hotel Royale’s public areas, except more functional and less pretty.
But this felt different. The indifference in Reese’s gaze … it felt as if Tommy were an animal. A lamb trussed for slaughter. He trembled.
“Of course not,” Sofia replied impatiently. “I just now set it to the final brew, it will take another hour to be ready.”
Another hour. That meant he had at least another hour to do something, to think of something, Tommy thought, feeling rather lightheaded.
“I’m telling you again, this is really too much,” Sofia said with an edge to her voice. “I was supposed to sup leisurely with the Countess and her niece tonight. Instead, look at me!”
She gestured angrily to their surroundings, and the utilitarian apron and gloves she was wearing.
Reese shook his head. “You’ll have to take it up with Amon and Sam,” he replied in his typical monotone.
“Those bastards. I should just kill the boy,” Sofia said grimly, as Tommy tensed, suppressing a cry. “That’ll teach them.”
“Amon already has a client lined up for this one, though,” Reese said.
“To hell with the client. But – but just look at him, Ben,” Sofia gestured over her shoulder at where Tommy lay, bound to the gurney. “Blue eyes! You know I – well, alright. It’s over and done with, now. But you tell Amon from me that the next time he brings me extra work and makes demands, I’ll simply slit the child’s throat and leave the body to bleed out in his office, all over that lovely mahogany desk of his. You tell him that from me.”
“Alright,” Reese replied.
“You tell him from me,” Sofia repeated. “This is all – it’s all getting too much.”
“They’re greedy,” Reese observed.
“I know,” Sofia said, leaning forward on the sink edge with locked arms. “This is the third in less than a month. I don’t have time for all this. Even the monthly routine … it’s too much. It’s just too much. I don’t need to feed this frequently, neither do you. It’s a lot of work for no other reason but to line their pockets.”
“You know,” Tommy watched as she turned to face the man, “I’ve been thinking for a while now whether the usefulness of this arrangement has run its course.”
Reese stared back at her. “What do you mean?”
“Ponk was a different issue,” Sofia said with a dismissive flutter of her hands as she turned away towards the shelves. When she turned back, she held a knife with a stone blade. Tommy swallowed, eyeing it; it looked really sharp.
“We needed Amon then, that I’ll acknowledge. But perhaps what Amon is bringing to the table now … the wheels are already well in motion. How much do we really need him anymore?”
Reese looked … startled. It was, Tommy absently noted with the small portion of his brain that wasn’t utterly petrified, the most expression he’d ever seen the man display.
“You mean dispose of Amon? But –”
“Exactly,” Sofia exclaimed, turning back to face him eagerly. “All this time, we’ve been supporting his grand endeavor, and for what? For him to treat you like a lackey, and to treat me as if I’m some, some common laborer, banished to the basement to spend my days and nights processing ingredients? No. No, this is not acceptable.”
She slammed the knife down onto the workbench and walked back to the sink.
Reese’s expression settled back into its usual implacable demeanor. “What do you have in mind?”
“Dispose of Amon,” she said briefly, “and his friend with him. It’ll be easy. We only need to get hold of their vials. Let the boy take over. He’ll be easy to control.”
The boy? Tommy thought, swallowing hard. Not him – did they mean Ranboo? Wait, hadn’t Dream and Punz been going on about how they were planning to murder Ranboo, too? Another shudder racked Tommy. And who the fuck was this Amon guy they kept talking about? The name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t place it. Was he maybe the head of the marauders or some shit? Up til now, it had seemed like Sofia was in charge, but maybe …
“I’m convinced,” Sofia declared, turning back to him with her eyes bright. “It’s really the best way forward.”
“But without Punz, harvesting will be harder,” Reese observed.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sofia insisted, “because we would be dialing back. No more of this intensive monthly regimen. We can return to the old ways – once every three months, maybe even four. That’s enough for me. And since we won’t be going through as many specimens as now, you’ll be able to handle harvests yourself. Or,” she smirked, “I can craft you an assistant of your very own.”
Reese nodded slowly. “That is true. Ponk’s boy is useless, though.”
“He doesn’t need to be anything but a body in a suit to shake hands at the front door,” Sofia said with a dismissive wave. “He needs only to listen and obey. And if we start him on a regimen now, without Amon’s interference, we can have him fully reliant and pliable for decades to come.”
“We’ll need to dispense with Amon and Punz soon, then,” Reese pointed out. “I know they’ve been considering ways to handle the boy. We need to move first.”
Sofia nodded pensively.
“And we don’t have their vials, correct? They aren’t with those of the clients?”
“Obviously not,” she said impatiently, her face darkening. “You know I was forced to make that concession at the time.”
“What about Sam?”
“Sam can stay,” Sofia said with a shrug. “His loyalty is not to Amon, for sure. He may be useful for a while yet.”
Reese nodded briskly. “I’ll start preparations then. Amon may have hidden his vial in his quarters. Punz as well.”
Sofia snorted. “Not if they were intelligent, which means you will likely find them there. Go search.”
“Yes. Do you need anything else?”
“This boy,” Sofia said gestured vaguely at Tommy, “it seems he worked at the hotel also. Apparently they want it to look like he departed from the town, so you need to deal with it like with the last one.” She nodded to something on her right.
Reese spared another brief, indifferent glance at Tommy, and nodded.
And then, to Tommy’s horror, the man approached the gurney.
“No,” he managed to spit, his voice hoarse. “No! Stay away from me, you sick fuck –”
But Reese leaned in close and proceeded to sniff Tommy, from head to toes, as if the man were some kind of demented bloodhound.
Then Reese took out a pocketknife. Tommy flinched away, as far as the leather straps would allow, but he couldn’t escape its bite on his forearm. Reese pulled the knife away with a thin coating of blood on its blade. Sofia handed him a glass containing what appeared to be water, and he stirred the knife in it. But as Tommy watched incredulously, the liquid did not change color even slightly, even though the blade was clean when Reese removed it. The contents of the glass remained clear and crisp-looking.
Then Reese lifted it to his lips.
“It’s late, but you’ll need to talk to some people, maybe at the rail station,” Sofia added, watching with heavy-lidded eyes as he sipped.
“I know what to do,” Reese replied flatly, placing the empty cup on the table.
Then the man shook his shoulders loose and rotated his neck. Then, with a series of uncomfortable popping sounds, like knuckles cracking all over his body, he changed.
Rigid with horror, Tommy looked up at … himself. Curly blond hair and blue eyes in a very familiar face stared back at him, above a body clad in the now ill-fitting dark suit of Ben Reese.
“You’ll need different clothes,” Sofia commented, wrinkling her nose. “The boy is too small. Here, just take his, he won’t be needing them.”
“They smell,” Reese-Tommy commented, but reached towards Tommy nonetheless.
“Don’t touch me!” Tommy screamed. “Fuck you, you bitches! Get the fuck away from me –”
But it was no use. Between the two of them, they manhandled Tommy out of his Hotel Royale uniform, leaving him shivering in his underwear. Tommy felt like he was watching from a distance, floating again, as Reese-Tommy shed his suit and put on the blue uniform. Whatever further words Sofia and Reese-Tommy exchanged, Tommy could barely register them over the muffled ringing in his ears.
Then Reese-Tommy was gone, and he and Sofia were left alone in the room.
Sofia muttered something inaudible and then stomped towards the right side of the room, shoving the curtain aside with a rattle. The smell was much worse now. Tommy turned his head to look and –
He screamed.
There, on another gurney that was identical except for the sheets streaked reddish-black, was a corpse.
Or rather, what was left of a corpse.
Tommy had stumbled upon the near-skeletal remains of a stag once, years ago. It had been out in the prairie near Logstedshire, while he and Wilbur were out on a ramble. The bulk of the animal’s flesh had been gone, consumed by larger predators. The remaining thin layer of tissue on the bones was slowly being picked clean by crows and carrion birds. Tommy had never seen anything like it before, and he’d stared for a few minutes in horrified fascination before Wilbur had pulled him away.
This … looked like that. Except that these remains were clearly, very obviously, human. They were from someone who had been bigger and taller than Tommy, someone who had once had red hair – there were still tufts of it sticking to the skull –
At the corner of his vision, Sofia tsk’ed and bustled around, heading for a set of cabinets on the far side of the corpse-occupied gurney.
“Stop making so much noise,” she said impatiently as Tommy drew in huge, sobbing breaths, “or I shall have to stop up your mouth. No one can hear you down here, you know. This last boy, he was also very stupid, and kept crying like that.”
Tommy, whose horror capacity had now fully saturated and transitioned into numbness, could only wheeze. And he could only watch as she reached into Connor’s rib-cage – it must be, who else could it be – and peeled off a small chunk of flesh, absentmindedly raising it to her mouth.
Congealed blood glistened on her lips as she chewed. In the sharp light, the color and texture reminded him of nothing more than Phil’s dark berry jam.
Lightheaded, Tommy flinched from the thought. The leather straps dug even more painfully into his now-bare skin. Bile rose in this throat, despite his cramped and empty stomach. He stared up at the ceiling, sucking in air as he struggled to keep himself from retching. Phil. He wanted Phil. He wanted Techno. He wanted Wilbur. He wanted someone to come save him, someone had to come save him –
In the background, Sofia began to hum as she worked.
Notes:
The secret identity tag finally comes into play!
Chapter 11: The Leeches
Notes:
Content warnings: blood, gore, non-consensual (strictly non-sexual) touching
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“I have every right to do this,” Ranboo muttered as he fiddled with the key-ring, trying to find the key that would open the lock on Sam’s office door. It sounded as if he were trying to convince himself.
“Of course you do, boss man,” Tubbo said in a supportive voice that utterly failed to mask his anxiety as his eyes darted up and down the – for now – empty hallway. “You own this place. You can go wherever you want.”
Wilbur stood behind them, tall and grim-faced like a sentinel. Even if Sam – or worse, Dream or one of his cronies – were to come around the corner now, Tubbo felt sure the curly-haired man would choose violence. They needed to get out of this hallway, and quick.
“D’you want me to, uh, pick it?” Tubbo asked delicately as Ranboo hissed in displeasure as yet another key failed.
But to his relief, the next sound they heard was not footsteps coming down the hall, but the soft sound of a lock disengaging. Ranboo made a soft, satisfied exclamation, turned the doorknob, and stepped into the dark office. Tubbo and Wilbur hurried in after him, and Tubbo prudently shut the door behind them.
Ranboo switched on the expensive electric light on Sam’s desk and looked around dubiously. “Okay, what now?”
Wilbur looked around, eyes narrowed as he tried to orient himself. “Which way is the spa?”
“I think those windows face west,” Ranboo said doubtfully, “so … that way?”
Tubbo frowned as he surveyed the wall in question. There was no obvious door, but if it were leading to a hidden room, wouldn’t the door also be hidden? There was a bookshelf on one side of the wall, and a large wooden cabinet on the other. “Maybe it’s behind one of those?” he suggested.
Without another word, Wilbur stepped up to the cabinet and muscled it a few inches forward and to the side. Tubbo and Ranboo crowded in next to him to peer into the gap. Tubbo blew out a frustrated sigh. The wall was smooth and pristine, with no hint of a door.
They repeated the process with the bookshelf, and Wilbur ran an aggravated hand through his curls. “Is there any other way Tommy could have left this room without someone seeing him?”
Tubbo shook his head. “Not unless he like, fuck, jumped out the window or something. If he left this wing, he’d had to pass the grand staircase and go back through the dining hall to get back to the servants’ dorms. One of us would have seen him. Otherwise the only other places to go would be into the guest wings, which, why, or out the front door. And someone would definitely have seen that.”
“Maybe he never came here at all?” Ranboo offered. “If he never came up to this wing, there are other places he might have gone –”
“Then why would Sam say Tommy had resigned?” Tubbo cut in before Wilbur could retort. “He’d had to have talked to Tommy to know that, right?”
“Sam said Tommy resigned?” Ranboo’s eyes widened. “But –”
“It’s bullshit, Boo,” Tubbo said impatiently. “If Tommy really did quit and he decided to run off without saying anything to any of us, why the hell wouldn’t he take his stuff with him? Everything’s still up in our room – his clothes, all his money, everything.”
Ranboo shut his mouth with an audible click. Then he said, somewhat reluctantly, “The only other room in this wing is my father’s old office.”
“Dream uses it now,” he added when Wilbur and Tubbo looked at him.
---
A few minutes later, Ranboo looked even more uneasy, his expression oddly crumpled, as he looked around Dream’s office.
“I used to come in here all the time,” he said softly as Wilbur examined the wall-to-wall built-in bookshelves on the spa-facing side of the room. “When my father was here, I’d –”
He broke off with a surprised sound and plucked a small, ornate wooden box off a bookshelf.
“What’s that?” Tubbo asked, craning his neck to see.
Ranboo actually smiled as he turned the box over in his hands. “I gave this to Dream, years ago, when I was little. My mother helped me pick it out at the shop. It was for his birthday. I didn’t know he still had it.” He handed it over to Tubbo to look.
“It’s locked,” Tubbo frowned, tugging at the lid. “But wait, there’s no key hole?”
“There’s no key. It’s a puzzle box! You open it by pushing these hidden buttons –” Ranboo reached over and fiddled with something Tubbo couldn’t see, and the lid of the box popped open with a soft click.
Wilbur turned to look at them.
Then Ranboo’s smile abruptly faded. “Oh, he’s storing some things in here,” he whispered guiltily. “I should have thought – I shouldn’t have opened it.”
“What is that?” Tubbo asked, frowning. Then his eyes widened. “Holy shit, is that blood?”
Nestled in a bed of crumpled velvet cloth was a single glass vial. It had a simple cork stopper, and inside was a dark, reddish liquid. A small label was pasted on it, with the letters A.D.
Wilbur’s shadow fell over the box as he came to look.
Ranboo frowned and delicately picked up the vial, holding it up to the light. “It’s not blood, I don’t think …”
“Can I see it?”
Ranboo hesitated briefly, then handed it over to the curly-haired man. Tubbo watched as Wilbur inspected the vial closely, turning it in his hands.
“This is important,” Wilbur said after a moment. “I can’t explain it but – this feels powerful. It feels like magic.”
“How can you tell? Are you a magic-user?” Ranboo asked, looking startled, as Tubbo blinked at the man in surprise. Magic-users were rare, and Tommy had never said his brother was one –
“I – no. Or I don’t know? But I can tell. This is important,” Wilbur hesitated, his fingers closing over the vial. “We should keep it.”
Ranboo’s brows drew down and he held his hand out imperiously. “No,” he said flatly. “It belongs to my cousin. I shouldn’t have even opened the box, it was an invasion of his privacy. You don’t have any right to it.”
“Listen –” Wilbur began impatiently.
“I’ll hang on to it,” Tubbo interrupted, plucking the vial from Wilbur’s fingers and pocketing it. He met Ranboo’s indignant eyes. “Just for a bit, okay? If it’s not important we can sneak it back into the puzzle box later.”
Ranboo didn’t look happy, but after a moment he nodded.
Wilbur turned back to the bookshelves, where he continued nudging books out of the way and shifting assorted objects to peer at the wall behind them. He had just reached the third out of four bookshelves and Tubbo’s spirits were flagging again, but then –
“Oh shit!” Tubbo yelped as Ranboo jumped. Wilbur hastily backed away from the third bookshelf, his hands up defensively. There was a low, horrible grinding noise and one side of the bookshelf swung forward, as if on a hinge.
“Shit,” Tubbo repeated breathily as they all tiptoed closer to look. The bookshelf didn’t hide a door. It was a door. Beyond it, a set of stairs descended into the darkness.
“What –” Ranboo clutched convulsively at Tubbo’s arm. “What is this? I don’t understand. How can there be a door here–”
“Should we go down?” Tubbo whispered, half-amazed and half-frightened, as he grasped Ranboo’s hand back tightly. What the fuck was going on here?
“I’m going,” Wilbur said grimly. “Tommy might be down there.”
But then he made an aborted move and turned back to them, grimacing. “I … what time is it?”
“Almost 1 am,” Ranboo said in dismay, peering at the small antique clock on Dream’s desk.
“I’m going down there now,” Wilbur repeated. “But will you go let Phil and Techno in?”
“Wait, what?” Tubbo drew his stare away from the newly-revealed passage.
“They should be waiting outside now,” Wilbur said matter-of-factly, and Tubbo and Ranboo exchanged a wide-eyed glance.
“Waiting outside?” Ranboo repeated incredulously. “At this hour?”
Wilbur nodded. “That was another reason why I came here, pretending to be hired. If I didn’t find Tommy straightaway, the plan was for me to open the service door for them and some of their colleagues late at night, once everyone else was asleep. It’s so they can come in and search properly.”
Tubbo and Ranboo stared at each other.
“But –”
“I’m here for my brother,” Wilbur stared at them, his face pale and determined. “I’m not leaving here without him. And I think you both know now that something really weird and fucked up is going on here. So if you care about Tommy at all, please do this for us? For him?”
“I’ll go let them in,” Ranboo said after a pause.
“And I’m going down there with you,” Tubbo said, squaring his shoulders.
“No,” Wilbur said, so vehemently that Tubbo actually backed up a step. Then he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. But no. This could be dangerous, and you’re a kid. Just – just go let Phil and Techno in, okay? Tell them where I went. They’ll know what to do next.”
Without waiting for a response, Wilbur struck a match and began descending the staircase. Partway down there must have been a curve, because after a moment both he and the tiny flame vanished from their sight.
---
“I like blue eyes,” Sofia said conversationally as she worked. “They’re my favorites, to be sure.”
Tommy twisted his head to look at her disbelievingly. Was she really going to chat while he was tied to this gurney?
“My mother’s eyes were blue when I was growing up,” she continued in a reminiscent tone. “My own turned out to be this bland gray color, though. I hated them. I wished they were like hers. But like she said, I only needed to tolerate them for a while, until I found better ones. I finally got my blue eyes when I was a teenager.”
Tommy stared. Her eyes were not gray or blue, but darkish hazel. Like those of her – assistant? friend? – whatever – Mr. Reese.
Or … at least like Reese’s had been, until the man had somehow fucking shapeshifted into Tommy.
“I have these brown ones now though,” she said, almost regretfully, “and I have to keep them for now, since I collected them from a quite competent witch.”
Collected them? Tommy’s breath hitched.
“He possessed a rare gift, a form of witch-sight. It allows one to more deeply understand the inner workings of potions, and intuit how to manipulate them. His power had become imbued into his eyes. So now that gift is mine. It helps a lot, with my work. So even though I quite like the color of yours,” she said with a quirk of her lips, “it’s not worth it to switch. Although …”
She turned to inspect his eyes with interest. Tommy recoiled, blinking rapidly as if he could hide them.
“If I can figure out a way to somehow transfer the color from your eyes into these,” she mused, tilting her head thoughtfully. “Hmm … that just might work. Maybe I will keep them, after all. I can just hang on to them until I’ve perfected the process. And it could be profitable too – yes, color transfers would undoubtedly be very popular from a cosmetic perspective. Yes. Yes, that’s a good plan, let’s do that –”
She rose and began moving some tools around on the far shelf, near where a pot had been simmering on a low flame. Tommy watched, his throat constricted so tightly he could barely breath. What the fuck? What was she doing? Was he about to lose his eyes? He had to get out of here, he had to, he had to move, he had to move, but he couldn’t move, the straps were too tight, he couldn’t do anything, but he had to move –
But when she returned, she didn’t have a scalpel or anything that looked like it might be an eye-removal tool. Lightheaded, Tommy felt a rush of relief, despite everything. Instead, she was holding a large metal pail in one hand, and what looked like a paintbrush in a flask of slimy, yellowish liquid in the other.
“Don’t worry,” she said, smiling sweetly. “The potion also numbs the skin where they’ll latch on, so it won’t hurt much. The effect will deplete as they continue to drink, of course, but by then … well, you won’t feel anything much.”
She extracted the brush, tapped it a few times to shake away excess, and then painted a stinging stripe on his bare belly, a few inches long. She then reached into a metal pail, retrieved something small and dark and wriggling, and placed it on the spot where she had dabbed the potion. Tommy flinched in horror at the cold, slimy touch, and he craned his head in time to see –
The leech dug its jaw into the skin of his belly with odd, almost kneading motions. It began to drink. Tommy watched, petrified and lightheaded, as its body began to immediately engorge with his blood.
Then Sofia painted another spot, a few inches away, and reached into the pail again.
---
Phil crept around the border row of hedges and peered up at the specks of torchlight framing Hotel Royale. The night was cloud-clogged and heavy, without a hint of starlight or moonlight.
Spa Elisabeth was a small structure jutting off the far side of the huge cream-colored building, beyond the stables. It was a place Phil had seen in the distance dozens, if not hundreds of times, while passing by Hotel Royale en route to nearby villages or skirting the outskirts of the Forest of Baden. It was a place he’d barely noticed.
And if Phil had any luck left in this world, it was where he would now find Tommy.
He still hadn’t had time to process everything that had happened in the last day – no, even in the last few hours. The original plan had been simple – for Wilbur to infiltrate the hotel with Charlie’s help, and then open its doors to them during the witching hour. Then they, Puffy’s team, and their other friends could finally conduct a thorough and hopefully unimpeded search.
But then things had been swept far off course. On one hand, now that he’d had some time to reflect, Phil was almost certain that the entire business – Puffy’s grim interrogation, the gut-wrenching spectacle of his partner’s testimony against him, the loss of his captaincy – had all been a ruse, a vital improvisation that Techno hadn’t had time to fill him in on. But on the other hand, that remaining shard of uncertainty, that painfully tender patch of quicksand in his mind, threatened to swallow all and overwhelm him. Techno must be tired of this endless, fruitless, punishing quest – who wouldn’t be? And Phil’s decisions had already cost them both so much. And what if he really did think Phil had gone ‘round the bend, but had felt unable to say so? What if –
Phil shook his head minutely, yanking his thoughts out of the quagmire.
But then there was the other shock of this night. Phil had never expected that Dream would seek him out. And he could never have imagined that Dream – or Dreamon – would unmask himself, or what true face lurked beneath.
But ultimately Dreamon had erred, with his claim that Tommy had run away from Phil, with his belief that deep down, Phil was somehow like him. In showing his hand, the monstrous man had inadvertently soothed the persistent fear that had gnawed at Phil for years, that niggling doubt about whether he was, in fact, mistaken about Hotel Royale.
Phil took another step forward, almost out into the open courtyard. Then a powerful hand closed on his shoulder and yanked him backwards.
He spun around, ready to fight, only to be instantly pulled into a familiar, tight embrace.
“What the fuck took you so long to get here?” Techno growled. “Are you alright?”
Phil breathed out, feeling the last remaining uncertainty wither and shear away into the night breeze, revealing fresh new skin. “I will be.”
Techno pulled back and stared at him. “Were you seriously … okay,” he shook his head. “We’re going have a talk about this later.”
“Later,” Phil agreed, giving his partner a crooked, half-maniacal smile, “after we get Tommy back. Tech, we were right. We were right! But in a way we never imagined –”
Without pause, Phil launched into the story of the bar, Dreamon, and the invitation. Meanwhile, Puffy, Cellbit, and everyone else Phil had hoped to see here tonight emerged from behind the hedgerows and crowded around to listen.
“Dream … is Amon Dermot?” Techno stared at Phil in slack-jawed disbelief.
“What the – what the absolute fuck?” Cellbit choked out, looking back and forth between Phil and Techno, wide-eyed. At his side, Puffy was staring at them, speechless. “Dermot’s been missing for years! He was legally declared dead! Phil, are you sure?”
“He admitted it,” Phil said, shaking his head. “And he claims this – this magic, this rejuvenation – it’s something he can provide to others. Something he can trade, or sell.”
“He kept going on about eternity and ‘the way’ and how he’d gotten a second chance at life,” Schlatt confirmed, looking around at the others. “It was super fucking sketchy. But like Phil said, he pretty much straight up admitted he was this other guy.”
“It feels like –” Puffy bit out, looking shaken. “Do you remember that witness who was killed, a few years ago? It feels like that. A young man suddenly grew old. Now you’re telling us an old man became young. It feels the same. Like some – some evil magic.”
“It has to do with the kids, somehow,” Techno said grimly. “It’s got to.”
Meanwhile, Quackity and Etoiles were staring at each other in mute horror.
“Is it … perhaps a potion to rejuvenate?” Etoiles finally whispered. “But somehow using children?”
“I’ve only heard of shit like that in folktales,” Quackity murmured, shaking his head. “I can’t –”
“Whatever it is,” Phil cut in, “he has Tommy, I know it. And he told me to come to Spa Elisabeth in the evening, that is, almost a full day from now. So –”
“So we need to get in there right now,” Techno finished grimly. “Let’s go.”
“Juanaflippa might be in there, too,” Etoiles said desperately. Quackity nodded, pale-faced.
“We’re going to look for them both,” Phil said firmly. He felt Techno gave him a look, which he avoided meeting. He knew what his partner was thinking, since he also shared that fear – the chance of finding the little girl, after so many days missing, was vanishingly small. But they had to try. After all, hope was all they had now.
“Should we all just go to the spa, then?” Cellbit asked, turning to Puffy. “Or split up?”
“Split up, I say,” Puffy said decisively. “We have a lead, but we shouldn’t put all our eggs in one basket. It’s like we planned. Since our suspects believe Phil and Techno are out of the picture now, they’ll hopefully have let their guard down. Cellbit, you and I will lead our team into the hotel. We’re more likely to meet resistance there, and we have the credentials to combat that and distract them, if needed. That also leaves Phil and Techno free to take a stealthier route.”
Phil nodded in relieved agreement, then turned to look at Etoiles and Quackity. “Did you bring the potions?”
“We brought all the standard ones,” Etoiles replied, “and a few extras that may be useful. Here, we should all take them now.”
He opened a small bag and began passing pairs of potion vials around to all assembled.
“What is this shit?” Schlatt asked dubiously, holding up the vials he’d received. One of them was filled with a dark potion, the other with a transparent one.
“The black one is notice-me-not,” Quackity said, “for obvious reasons. The other is an infusion made from Eyebright. It helps improve night vision.”
“Isn’t notice-me-not a controlled potion?” Cellbit drawled as he popped the cork.
“Tonight we follow the spirit of the law,” Puffy replied dryly, downing the clear potion.
Phil drank both vials quickly. The black one burned like acid, going down, while the clear one tasted oddly like peaches. The landscape around him immediately brightened, as if the crescent moon had suddenly bloomed full and emerged from behind the clouds.
Suddenly a light flickered in the distance, and everyone turned to look.
“Let’s go,” Techno repeated. The group began to move.
---
“Let’s go find the police. But first we’ve got to put everything back the way we found it,” Tubbo said, his head swiveling back and forth around the room. “The puzzle box goes back there, and let’s close the door –”
“We can’t close the door,” Ranboo objected. “What if it’s a dead-end, something left over from construction? Wilbur could be trapped down there.”
Tubbo hesitated, taking in his friend’s pale face. There was no way the door was a remnant … not with everything else that was happening. But he said, “Let’s just push it forward so it’s not obvious it’s open, okay?”
Ranboo nodded, and the two of them combined to shove at the heavy bookshelf until only a tiny, near-imperceptible gap remained.
“Okay. Let’s go,” Tubbo nodded and they hurried out into the deserted corridor. “He said they’d be outside the service entrance, right?”
“Right,” Ranboo said slowly, pulling the door to Dream’s office shut softly behind them. “Let’s leave this unlocked … just in case.”
---
Wilbur pressed himself against the frigid stone walls of what felt like a tiny alcove, fighting back waves of an almost existential terror.
He had been slowly making his way through the pitch-dark corridors in this underground labyrinth when he’d heard it. No, it wasn’t even that he’d heard a sound, exactly – it was some kind of indefinable sense that alerted him, something that fell between intuition and observation.
Whatever it was, he knew that a Presence was making Its way towards him in the darkness.
As he shuddered against the creeping, near-paralyzing dread, he was startled by an odd sense of familiarity. He had sensed not-whispers of this kind before, back when he was a boy and had walked within eyeshot of the Forest of Baden. Something had pulled at him at those times, urging him to come closer, while something else had seemingly pushed him away, in warning. Yes, he recognized this strange not-sound, but couldn’t name it. And he’d sensed something similar just hours ago, as he rode near the border of that accursed wood with Phil. But he’d barely noticed then, as his fears for Tommy had overwhelmed everything else.
Tommy.
Tommy was down here somewhere, all alone. What if the Presence had already found him, had done something to him? The pressure in Wilbur’s head and heart grew near-crushing.
His throat closed, and the Presence approached.
Don’t notice me, he thought frantically, trying not to let out any hitched breaths escape his lungs and draw Its attention. Don’t look, don’t notice, there’s nothing here –
It felt like his heart was pounding out of his chest, each beat as audible as the strike of a drum. Surely the noise of it alone would attract the Presence’s notice?
It came closer, and closer, and then –
Time seemed to stretch into an eternity. All of existence seemed to hold its breath, fate balanced on the tip of a spindle.
And then Wilbur could feel It move past him, continuing on along the dark path, the way he had come.
Slowly, it became quiet.
After a few more beats of silence, he slowly let out his breath and pushed away from the wall. His legs trembled beneath him, and he nearly stumbled. Then he moved, walking in the opposite direction of where the Presence had gone, towards where It had emerged from.
---
The light that had flickered earlier had not come from Spa Elisabeth, Phil realized as he crept down the path, keeping low. It had come from the stables.
He turned to look back at Etoiles and Schlatt, who were following close behind, and jerked his head meaningfully.
They turned around the corner of the structure to peer inside and –
“Tommy!” Phil exclaimed, relief crashing down like collapsing rocks and rattling his bones. He rushed forward, ready to seize the boy in his arms and not let go until they were safely home, back in the second-floor flat.
But then he abruptly halted in his tracks as Tommy, who was incongruously saddling a horse in the middle of the night, looked up in surprise and seemed to … flinch back?
Something was wrong.
That niggling uncertainty in Phil, which never seemed to completely die and stay dead, raised its head again. Could Dreamon actually be right? Was Tommy trying to run away from them all? Even from Phil and Techno?
“Captain,” Tommy said with a nod. “Phil,” he added after a beat. His eyes passed dismissively over Etoiles and Schlatt in the background.
Phil stared at Tommy. Captain? That was –
New. And different.
And wrong, something deep in his core insisted. Something was very, very wrong.
“Mate, where have you been?” Phil asked slowly, looking Tommy from head to foot, searching for any injuries. He looked fine …
“Kid,” Schlatt said from right behind Phil, uncertainty also ringing clearly in his voice. “What the fuck? We’ve been looking for you for ages! Are you alright?”
Something was wrong, Phil could tell. Not only in Tommy’s words and tone, but in the way the boy moved. The way he tilted his head.
The way he looked Phil directly in the eyes and said, “I was just coming into town to tell you I’m leaving. I’ve decided to leave.”
“Leaving,” Phil echoed flatly, after a beat. There was an odd roaring in his ears. “Leaving the hotel?”
“Yes,” Tommy replied. “And Snowchester. I’m going to look for work elsewhere.”
Memories of Missa’s words, that day in the precinct – it felt so fucking long ago, now – drifted to the surface of his mind. “He did seem a bit off,” the kind-faced tutor had said, worry crinkling his brow, as he recounted his conversation with Connor. “He didn’t seem pleased to see me, that’s for sure.”
Phil shot Etoiles, who was watching the conversation with narrow-eyed concern, a look. He shook his head minutely before turning back to the boy.
“Look for work?” Schlatt repeated incredulously. “Uh, hell no. We’re getting you back to Wilbur, kid. And then you’re going straight home!”
“No,” Tommy replied flatly, staring at Schlatt blankly. “I’m leaving Snowchester now, and will travel.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate,” Phil said calmly, taking another step forwards towards the boy. “And what about Wilbur? Didn’t you want to meet him? He really wants to see you.”
Tommy hesitated.
“I can’t wait for Wilbur,” he said after a beat, taking a step backwards, away from them. “I’ll write to him once I reach my destination.”
With that, all the suspicion that had been gathering like an insubstantial cloud in Phil’s mind coalesced into diamond-hard certainty.
This wasn’t his Tommy.
… but how could this be? Was this some other bizarre magic? Was Tommy under the influence of something? Perhaps because of the potions running through Phil’s own veins and the knowledge that another potion was probably running through Dreamon’s, it seemed very easy to believe.
“What the fuck –” Schlatt began hotly.
“Well, the good news is that you actually don’t have to wait,” Phil cut in, staring at Not-Tommy fixedly, watching his reaction. “Wilbur’s right here, mate. He’s come here, looking for you. He’s right here in the hotel, actually. We can take you to him now.”
Not-Tommy’s gaze moved uncertainly between Phil and Schlatt. “Oh.”
Phil felt Etoiles push something small and delicate into his palm. A vial.
Phil didn’t hesitate. He popped the cork, lunged forward, and threw the vial of milky-white potion straight at not-Tommy’s face. The splash caught him on the right side of his face and chest. The boy tilted his head, staring in confusion at the growing dampness.
And then he flickered.
Phil inhaled sharply, watching as half the familiar, beloved features seem to melt away, revealing the dark hair, angular jaw, and a single sharp brown eye of someone much older, someone Phil had seen before –
Ben Reese.
“What the fuck?” Schlatt repeated, this time in a hoarse croak.
Rage and fear unlike anything Phil had felt before consumed him.
“Mate,” he said dangerously, “you’d better tell me what the hell you’re doing, masquerading as Tommy.”
“I don’t know what you –”
Before he knew he had moved, Phil had seized Reese-Tommy by the collar and slammed him into one of the barn posts with a thud that made straw rain down. All around them, horses woke and began whinnying in alarm. The one being tacked bolted out the door, the unfastened saddle thudding to the ground.
“Tell me where Tommy is! What did you do to him?”
“Let go of me! You’re insane!” Reese-Tommy snarled, nearly twisting straight out of Phil’s grasp before he was shoved back. He gasped as his head thunked hard against the wooden post.
“That,” Phil hissed, “is for impersonating my kid. Now where the fuck is he?”
“Phil, look out!” Etoiles cried.
Phil jumped back as a viciously sharp dagger with a suspiciously slick blade suddenly swept out towards him. The attack was made even more sinister by the half of Reese’s snarling face that still looked like Tommy. They grappled, and then –
“Oh shit!” Schlatt said faintly. “Shit, shit, shit –”
Phil stared down at the dagger that was now embedded in Reese-Tommy’s ribcage. The dark, wet spot on the blue Hotel Royale uniform was quickly spreading. The shock and pain in the single familiar blue eye looking up at him made Phil stagger back, swallowing bile. It’s not Tommy, he told himself, trying to slow his frantically beating heart. It’s not Tommy, I didn’t just stab Tommy, it’s not Tommy –
“She shall endure forever,” Reese-Tommy wheezed, his mismatched eyes rolling sickeningly out-of-sync, “and it will be because of my sacrifices. And thus, I shall endure forever.”
He slumped to the ground, eyes closing.
“No!” Phil grabbed the man and shook him. “No no no – wake the fuck up, goddamn it! What did you do to Tommy? Tell me where he is!”
“Phil!” Etoiles grabbed his shoulder urgently. “Phil, look, he’s not dead yet. We can still use a tracking potion on him, use it to retrace his steps. It might lead us to Tommy. Quick, pull out a bit of his hair and mix it with this, it’ll reveal the path –”
Phil swallowed hard and followed Etoiles’s instructions, yanking out a few dark strands on the not-Tommy side of Reese’s head and dropping them into a greenish vial the apothecary held out to him. This was standard enough, a tracking potion that would magically illuminate the routes that suspects and missing people had taken – assuming the subject was still alive. Phil had used it many dozens of times in recent years, and occasionally it had even worked.
Schlatt exclaimed as a gray haze seemed to rise off of Reese’s crumpled body and extend out towards a dark corner of the stables. It marked, Phil knew, the path the man had taken to get to the spot where he now lay bleeding.
“Come on,” Etoiles dashed to the spot where the trail seemed to vanish, which was inside one of the far stalls. He looked back, beckoning urgently to Phil and Schlatt. “This tracking potion is more potent than the usual formulation, and there’s always a trade-off between the power of such a spell and its duration. We have to hurry!”
With a grimace, Phil turned away from where Reese slumped on the floor. Shaking off the phantom memory of Tommy’s face and Tommy’s blood, he hurried after Etoiles.
---
Wilbur cursed softly, feeling the solid stone in all three directions before him. It was another alcove, a dead end. He must have taken a wrong turn.
Part of him longed to light another match, but he knew it wasn’t worth the risk. At best, he might see only a few feet further into the darkness. And at worst, if there were other terrifying Presences lurking down here, they would be drawn to it like moths to a literal flame.
He took a step backwards, the way he’d come, and hit something large, solid, and warm.
He screamed.
Powerful arms grabbed him, and a muffling hand immediately clamped down over his mouth.
“Shhh!” a familiar voice hissed.
Wilbur twisted to squint at …
Techno?
“The kids showed us the door behind the bookshelf,” the pink-haired detective whispered, releasing him, “and told us you came down here. You okay?”
Wilbur swallowed and nodded, then realized Techno couldn’t actually see him.
“It’s a fucking maze down here,” another voice said from behind Techno, and Wilbur jumped. “Here, drink this.”
Wilbur fumbled for something – a vial – that was pushed at him. Unfamiliar hands gently stabilized his own.
“Drink,” the second voice repeated. “It’ll help you see in this hellhole.”
Wilbur obeyed, and then blinked in astonishment as the room brightened around him. It wasn’t light, by any means, but he could clearly make out things several feet in front of him now. He could see Techno’s face and that of another, dark-haired man, both staring gravely at him.
“I – thanks,” Wilbur said, pocketing the empty vial. “I turned left back there, so let’s go try the right?”
---
They had followed the trail of gray haze through a cleverly-hidden door inside a supply closet in a far corner of the stables. It had led them down a long staircase into corridors that were obviously running underneath the grounds, towards the spa. Vibrating with tension, Phil had cursed the entire way. How the fuck had they not found this place before? The spa, the stables, the oversight –
“Fuck,” Schlatt whispered, as they turned a corner and saw a long, deserted hallway in front of them, a few doors speckling its edges. The gray haze they had been following was rapidly dissipating, fading into patches. “Are we sure this is the right way?”
“It has to be –” Etoiles was saying, but Phil’s attention was caught by what looked like a blip in the remnants of the haze. It dipped to the right by one of the doors in the distance, as if Reese had gone in and out there. Phil hurried towards it. He hesitated at the threshold for a second, bracing himself, and then turned the knob.
Then Phil froze, staring at the sight in front of him.
It was Tommy – the real Tommy, he was sure this time. Tommy was laying on a gurney, leather straps binding him in place. The boy was clearly unconscious and mostly unclothed. His exposed skin was covered with –
Phil’s eyes widened in horror. There were hundreds of black writhing things, each about the size of a pulsing thumb, one for nearly every square inch of Tommy’s exposed skin. In the gaps between them, he could see bright red blood pooling.
What the fuck was this?
He found himself at Tommy’s side before even registering that he’d moved.
“You’re okay,” Phil whispered frantically, trying to brush away the swathe of bloodsucking creatures with one hand – it was useless, their jaws were firmly clamped onto Tommy’s skin – while undoing the leather straps with the other. “You’re okay, you’re okay –”
He wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Tommy or himself. Or if, through his words, he could somehow will the magic he felt hanging heavily in the air, like a dense fog, to make it so.
“Oh my God,” Etoiles breathed as he skidded to a halt in the doorway, looking stunned.
Behind him, Schlatt made a choked noise. “Fuck! Is he –?”
“Do you have healing potions in there?” Phil demanded, motioning urgently towards Etoiles’s bag.
“Yes – I – okay, this won’t fix everything, but it’ll help –” Etoiles fumbled with his bag, retrieving several more vials filled with different colored potions and sorting them out.
“Give some to me –!” Phil barked, reaching out to grab the nearest vial.
“No, wait! We need to get the leeches off, first,” Etoiles said urgently, batting Phil’s hand away. “Otherwise, whatever spell is on them may interfere with the potion. Here – this is saline, pour them on first, and then –” he pulled some clear vials out of his bag, retrieved his pocket knife, and demonstrated. The blood-engorged creature started twitching under the effects of the salty liquid, loosening its grip. Etoiles levered his knife under its jaws and carefully pried it the rest of the way off Tommy’s skin. Fresh blood immediately began to pool at the bitten spot. He tossed the creature into a nearby empty bucket, then reached for the next.
Phil cursed, pulling out his own knife before grabbing for a vial of the saline solution and getting to work. At his side, Schlatt did the same. There were so fucking many of them –
Tommy’s eyes were shut, and he hadn’t stirred despite the undoubtedly painful process. It was horribly fitting, then, Phil reflected, that Wilbur’s first sight of his brother in months was Tommy laying unconscious on a gurney, covered with hundreds of squirming, swollen leeches.
“Tommy –!” Wilbur choked out, his voice tight with terror. He stumbled to his brother’s side and sank to his knees next to Schlatt. His hands hovered, terrified, as he tried to figure out where he could safely touch his brother. He settled for burying one hand in Tommy’s curls and cupping the boy’s limp, leech-free face with the other as the three men continued to diligently remove the blood-slick creatures.
“Is Tommy al – what the fuck! What the fuck are those?” Techno barked, eyes widening with horror as he entered the room and stared down at Tommy’s still, leech-covered form. He stepped up next to Phil, his hand closing convulsively tight on his partner’s shoulder.
“Leeches,” Quackity said faintly, stepping into the room behind Techno. “They must be for the spell.”
“What spell?” Wilbur demanded hoarsely, his grip on Tommy’s hand white-knuckled. “What is all this – all this shit – what’s it doing to him?”
“This, eventually,” Quackity said, his voice deathly quiet, as he pulled aside a curtain.
The rancid smell intensified, but Phil didn’t turn to look. Instead he remained grimly focused on his task of efficiently prying off the remaining leeches and tossing them into the bucket, where they landed with soggy thumps.
But next to him, he heard a low, vicious curse from Techno, a choked noise from Schlatt, and a faint moaned “Oh my God,” from Wilbur.
And then, finally, finally, they were done. Phil tossed the last bulbous creature into the bucket and quickly checked Tommy for any last lingering leeches. Finding none, he turned to Etoiles, who handed him a vial of purplish potion.
“Have him drink this,” the silver-haired man ordered. “And pat this one onto the bites,” he handed another bottle to Wilbur and Schlatt, “to clean them and slow the bleeding.”
Techno immediately wrapped an arm around Tommy’s shoulders and lifted his upper body at a gentle angle; Phil pressed at the hinge of Tommy’s jaw to open his mouth and slowly poured the potion down the boy’s throat.
He watched as Wilbur, Schlatt, and Etoiles worked quickly, dabbing the other potion on Tommy’s skin around the profusely bleeding bite sites. Quackity hovered, adding pressure on the most vicious ones.
It was only then that Phil turned and saw what the others had seen earlier: the corpse on a second, identical gurney, its skin and most flesh removed, picked nearly clean to the bone.
He jerked backwards, horrified eyes meeting Techno’s grim ones.
He knew what his partner was thinking of – that day near Snowchester, nearly four years ago. That grisly murder. That nameless, eviscerated corpse.
Notes:
Leeches are actually very fascinating creatures, and leechbite has a long history in medicine as well as some more nefarious associations :-) Leech saliva contains anticoagulants that keep the bite wound open and bleeding. Saltwater/saline is actually an effective means of causing leeches to relax and release their bite. However, there is a risk of saline shocking the leech into vomiting back into the wound, which can increase the risk of infection. Now, if I haven’t completely traumatized you and you’d like to learn more, here is a good review: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK518971
Eyebright is a plant from the amazing game Strange Horticulture, where the lore specifies it will improve night vision, even in the darkest places.
In other news, the gory bits are now (almost) over. There’s only a few murders left, and they’re ones we’ve been looking forward to …
Chapter 12: The Friend
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Phil wanted nothing more than to take Tommy straight home, far away from this accursed place. But the child was still unconscious and still bleeding from a multitude of bite wounds. He needed rest and quiet care, not a bumpy journey across the countryside.
And, Phil thought grimly, their business with Hotel Royale was not yet complete.
As Techno carefully lifted Tommy off the gurney, wrapped in Phil’s cloak, Phil’s eyes were drawn back to the occupant of the other gurney. It didn’t take a master detective to make an identification, he thought sourly, closing his fists over a tremor. Tufts of soft red hair still protruded from tissue sticking to the skull. Grief riddled with guilt rose like bile, and Phil turned away.
It was with similarly mixed emotions that he observed there were no other bodies in this room. There was no sign of any another gurney bearing the corpse of a small child.
“There are other rooms down the hallway,” Etoiles said in an uneven voice. “She could still be here –”
“Your kid?” Schlatt asked uneasily, looking between the two men.
“Our friend’s daughter,” Quackity said bluntly, “but – yes.”
“I’ll stay here and help you search,” Phil said, exchanging a quick look with Techno, who nodded back grimly. He didn’t particularly want to let Tommy out of his sight, but knew his partner would look after their boy – and his distraught brother.
“No,” Quackity said, to Phil’s surprise, shaking his head. “You lot get the kid out of here first, and then go –”
“Go arrest those bastards,” Etoiles broke in hoarsely, “and make them tell us where they’ve got her.”
“We will,” Phil said grimly.
“Yeah,” Quackity was already standing practically in the hallway, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. “We’ll keep searching in the meantime. If we don’t find – the best thing you can do right now is grab those bastards and make them tell us where they’re holding her, eh? And send some of those other cops down here to help search, okay?”
“I can stay and help,” Schlatt offered tentatively, looking at Wilbur, who was still staring at Tommy’s still face.
Quackity and Etoiles paused at the threshold and looked back at him.
“Thank you,” Quackity said with a jerky nod.
“Wait!” Wilbur looked desperately between Quackity and Etoiles. “Please. Tommy – why isn’t he awake yet? Does he need more of that potion you gave him before?”
“He should wake up in a while,” Quackity said hedgingly, exchanging a glance with Etoiles. “It’ll take some time for it to work. With that many leeches, he’s probably lost a fair amount of blood.”
“Here,” Etoiles fished a few more purple vials out of his bag and handed them to Phil. “Give him these, once every two hours, okay? It’s not good to dose too frequently, that could hurt rather than help.”
“We’ll send more help soon,” Phil promised.
---
It wasn’t yet dawn when they stepped out of the stables, but the horizon was brightening. Phil took a deep, grounding breath and spared a moment to be thankful that Tommy was now out of that hellish place and breathing the crisp air of morning as well.
Then he cast a quick look back into the shadows at the other end of the stables. The crumpled form was still where he’d left it.
“Let’s go,” Techno said flatly. He adjusted his hold on Tommy and set off briskly towards the hotel.
“Where are you going?” Wilbur demanded as they hurried after him. “Wait – you’re not taking him back in there, are you?”
“We have to,” Phil said grimly. “Tommy needs a bed, and the closest one is here. And we need to find Puffy and Cellbit, inform them what’s happened, get additional officers down in that fucking dungeon slaughterhouse to search for the little girl and any other victims. And we need to track down Dream and his accomplices, and finally put an end to all this.”
“Including that bastard Sam,” Wilbur hissed, his eyes flashing.
But the first person they encountered near the grand entrance to Hotel Royale wasn’t Sam, Dream, or anyone else on their list. It was Missa, casually dressed and apparently setting out for an early morning constitutional.
The tutor nodded to them absently. A moment later, it seemed to register that it was Phil, Techno, and a blue-uniformed stranger who were striding purposefully towards him, not some random, early-rising Hotel Royale guests.
Then Missa’s eyes fell on the teenager-shaped bundle in Techno’s arms – and the dark stains mottling the cloak. His expression transmuted to horror.
“What happened?” Missa demanded, hurrying towards them. “Who is that? Are they –”
“It’s Tommy,” Phil said bluntly. “He needs help.”
“Tommy? Good Lord, what happened? Was it the marauders? Wait – here, follow me. Bring him this way, quickly now –” Missa beckoned them urgently inside and up two flights of stairs. After fumbling with a key for a moment, he unlocked a door and ushered them into a comfortably cluttered bedroom.
Techno gently laid Tommy down onto the neatly-made bed. Wilbur immediately dragged a chair to his brother’s side and took up his vice-grip on Tommy’s hand again. Phil poured a glass of water from the nightstand jug while Techno again lifted Tommy’s head and neck so he could drink.
“Will you please tell me what happened!” Missa exclaimed, leaning over Phil’s shoulder to peer worriedly at the sluggishly-bleeding wounds revealed where the cloak had slipped off of Tommy’s shoulders. “Does he need a doctor? Healing potions? I can fetch some –”
“He already took one,” Wilbur said tightly, “a little while ago. They said not to give him another for an hour or so. But he needs bandages, and food when he wakes up.”
“I’ll bring some now,” Missa said firmly, and hurried out of the room.
Only a few minutes later, the door flew open again. Charlie hurried in, followed closely by Niki.
“You found Tommy?” he cried, hurrying up to Techno’s side to peer at the unconscious figure, and then at Wilbur’s grim face. “We just saw Missa, he said Tommy was hurt –”
“What happened to him?” Niki whispered fearfully, hugging herself as she stared at Tommy. “Where’d you find him? Is he –”
“He’ll be fine,” Phil said firmly, willing the confidence in his tone to actually penetrate his brain. “He’ll recover. He just needs healing potions and rest.”
“Where was he? And what about Connor?” Charlie demanded, reaching out to grasp Phil’s arm. “Did you find Connor, too?”
“And Juanaflippa?” Niki looked-up at Phil, pale-faced.
Phil exchanged a quick look with Techno. His partner grimaced, busying himself with adjusting the blankets over Tommy. Phil steeled himself and turned back to the two young people.
“Let’s talk outside. Tommy needs to rest,” he said quietly, ushering them both outside and leading them away from Missa’s room. Halfway down the hallway, near the staircase, there was a small alcove. In it was a plush settee next to a porcelain floor vase filled with tall, decorative grasses. He gestured for them to sit.
“Phil –” Charlie’s voice was agonized.
“Please,” Phil said softly. “Please sit, both of you.”
---
Schlatt wasn’t sure if the night-vision potion was wearing off, or whether it was really just extra dark and creepy the further they went down the hallway. They’d found three more rooms so far, past the one where Tommy had been.
The first two had been empty except for random crates and shelves packed with papers, strange jars, and bundles of odd-smelling herbs. They’d looked inside all the crates, just in case. The third one was locked – a fact that made both of the apothecary men brighten with hope. Schlatt and Etoiles had taken turns trying to batter down the door. When it finally splintered, Schlatt had stumbled into the dark interior, carried by his own momentum. He’d cursed, hoping he wasn’t about to fall into some fucking leech pit, but he didn’t seem to?
And then Etoiles and Quackity hurried in after him, squinting into the darkness. Then Quackity reached over and fumbled with the strange electric light switch on the wall and –
But the sudden, unnaturally bright light only confirmed their initial look. This room, too, had no occupants.
“Fuck,” Quackity whispered, slumping against the wall.
Etoiles, breathing hard, said nothing.
Dismally, Schlatt walked the perimeter of the room. There was a chair, a few open shelves, and what looked like an empty metal cage, the kind they used at the goddamned circus, half-covered with a ratty canvas cloth. Then there was a closed cabinet which he hurriedly opened – maybe someone was hiding inside? But it, too, was empty, except for dozens of neatly-arranged and labeled potion vials in small cubbies. A few vials were empty, but most were filled with some dark substance.
“This is it,” Etoiles said. He sounded oddly calm, though a rage blacker than pitch colored his tone.
“There might be more rooms,” Quackity was watching his friend with trepidation. “They might be hidden, there’s so much hidden shit down here –”
“No,” Etoiles said. “No, you came that way before, remember? No. This is it.”
Schlatt jumped as Etoiles suddenly lashed out at the cabinet. The violence of the blow sent a dozen or so vials from the upper cubbies crashing to the floor in a tinkling of shattering glass.
Then he screamed, clutching his silvery hair. It was an agonized howl, filled with a rattling grief that took Schlatt back to his darkest days.
“Etoiles, no!” Quackity lunged forward, seizing his friend around the waist and dragging him back. That way, Schlatt noted distantly, when the man’s knees buckled, at least he didn’t collapse onto the broken glass.
Or touch the strange substance that was now leaking amidst the shards. The dark liquid spilling from the broken vials and tracing the veins of the uneven stone floor looked thicker than blood, Schlatt noted uneasily. He stepped further back and away.
Then the smell reached him. His eyes crossed, and he gagged. What the absolute fuck – what the fuck even was that? It was like the Manberg Fish Market on a hot summer’s day, only like, ten times worse. The room where they had found Tommy and that terrifying corpse had stunk, but this – this was something else.
Covering his nose and mouth to block the smell and also to somehow shield his guilt, Schlatt sent up a silent prayer of thanks that they’d found Tommy alive, if not quite well; that it wasn’t Wil crumpled on the ground in this hellhole, weeping; that it wasn’t him, trying to provide comfort but crying as well.
Schlatt knew his best friend, and he knew that Wilbur would never, ever have recovered from that blow.
“She – she’s not here,” Etoiles choked out. “Not anymore. We’re too late! We’re too fucking late, Q! Why the fuck didn’t we break in here earlier? Why did we wait so long to figure it out, why?”
“I don’t know,” Quackity’s face was damp as he drew his friend into a tight embrace, sinking down to sit at Etoiles’s side. His eyes, when he looked up to meet Schlatt’s frozen gaze, were grim and hollow. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I have to tell Pomme,” Etoiles said brokenly, pressing one hand against his eyes while clutching at Quackity’s shoulder with the other. “I have to explain – why the fuck did I tell her to stay hopeful, that Juanaflippa might still come home? Why? And Mariana, I’ve got to tell him –”
“We’ll do it together,” Quackity’s arms tightened around his friend. “We’ll do it all together.”
---
Everything hurt.
Tommy shifted, wincing. This didn’t feel like his bed. What had happened? Where was he?
Then memories came rushing back in a flood – the cage, that room, the witch, those horrible squirming, biting creatures. His eyes popped open.
Fuck! Was he dead? Or about to die?
Blinking, he registered it was still dark but – no, wait. It wasn’t as dark as before. There was actually a light shining from the side, but it wasn’t one of those weird, sharp electric lights in that dungeon room. This was softer, like the light of the sun through a window. But it was weird, shifting, like it was being half-blocked by something, no, someone who was moving. Oh God, was it the witch?
Tommy flinched, squinting at the face hovering over his – and then froze.
“Wil?” he choked out, his voice faint and crackly and incredulous.
Was – was he dreaming? Or no – what if he was dead? But did that mean Wilbur was, too? No, Wilbur couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t be. But wait, why the hell would either dream-Wilbur or also-dead Wilbur be wearing a fucking Hotel Royale uniform? Maybe Tommy was having a nightmare? But no, if it was a nightmare, why did dream-Wilbur look so fucking happy?
Wait – was dream-Wilbur happy? Tommy blinked; it looked like he was crying …
Then there was a solid weight on his chest, fluffy hair brushing his chin as very-real-Wilbur bent over Tommy, gathering him into an embrace as he wept.
“You’re real,” Tommy croaked, slowly raising an arm – it felt like it weight a literal ton, seriously, what the fuck was wrong with it? – to pet at the familiar soft brown curls. His face and neck were getting damp from tears that he didn’t think he was crying. “Wil, you – you’re really here?”
“I am,” Wilbur said thickly, pulling back slightly, “I’m here. I’m sorry it took me so long, Toms. I’m so, so sorry.”
“What – what happened? How’d you find me?” Tommy choked out. The flood of memories was becoming easier to parse. He remembered sitting in the cage in the darkness, wishing desperately that his brother wasn’t in the middle of the ocean somewhere, that Wilbur could hold him like he was holding Tommy now. But Tommy still didn’t understand how he’d gotten from there to here, or how Wilbur had gotten from there to here, or –
“We looked everywhere for you,” Wilbur’s voice cracked. “And then we finally came to look here, and – and then we met the police, Phil and Techno. They helped me find you. They rescued you, Toms.”
“You met Phil and Techno?” Tommy whispered, stunned. “Where are they? Are they here, too?”
“They were here just a few minutes ago,” Wilbur said, wiping at his eyes. “You were still asleep, and they had to go outside and talk to the other police.”
“Other police?” Tommy echoed faintly. He could barely believe it. His brother was here, Wilbur knew Phil and Techno, they were all here. And … he was safe now? How much time had even passed, since he’d been dragged down into that hellish dungeon?
But suddenly all his recent, pressing fears were overshadowed by one implanted months ago, left over from a long-ago conversation with Tubbo.
“Don’t leave,” Tommy breathed. “Please – don’t go back to sea and leave again.”
Wilbur leaned forward again and hugged him so fiercely that Tommy squeaked – everything hurt, really.
“Never. We’re staying together from now on, Toms. No matter where we go, wherever we end up, we’re going to be together, okay?”
Tommy nodded into his brother’s shoulder, and finally let himself cry.
---
“We’ve detained Punz,” Cellbit said with satisfaction. “Our officers are holding him in Dream’s office.”
“Excellent,” Phil replied, his eyes sharp. “Did you ask him about the child, Juanaflippa? Did he say if she –”
He broke off, heart falling as Puffy and Cellbit exchanged a heavy glance.
After a bleak pause, Techno asked, “What about the others?”
“Less good news there,” Puffy said grimly. “Dream isn’t in the hotel – apparently he went to spend the night with a friend in Snowchester, and he hasn’t yet returned.”
Techno frowned fiercely. “Could he have realized that we’re here, and run off?”
“Hopefully not,” Puffy shook her head. “Between the notice-me-not and the plainclothes, we’ve managed to maintain a fairly low profile thus far. But I’m also concerned that there’s been no sign of Sofia, Sam, or Reese.”
“Reese is dead,” Phil said, realizing belatedly that he’d not had a chance to update the others on his, Etoiles’s and Schlatt’s encounter with the imposter.
Techno raised a sardonic eyebrow while the others turned to look at him with various degrees of consternation.
“The body’s in the stables. Ah,” Phil added after a pause, “Puffy, it might be good to post someone there until it can be removed, so no one stumbles on it.”
“Right,” their old friend gave him an equally sardonic look and nodded to one of the officers hovering a few feet away. They nodded back and hurried off.
Another officer came rushing down the hallway towards them at the same time.
“Captain!”
Puffy made a shushing motion at them, and the man nodded apologetically, dropping his voice low.
“Sorry, Cap’n. I just finished interviewing Dream’s driver – I pretended to be a guest, wanting to speak with the manager. They said they’re scheduled to go pick Dream up in Snowchester in less than an hour. So he’ll be back, very soon.”
“Excellent work, Andres,” Puffy nodded briskly. “Please go tail the driver – make sure they actually pick up Dream, and that he doesn’t go anywhere else. Go with the sergeant to the stables, you can borrow a horse there.”
Officer Andres nodded and jogged off.
Turning back to the others, Puffy began, “The priority now is finding –”
“Captain Phil! Detective Techno!”
They all turned to see a pale-faced Ranboo rushing up from the opposite direction. He skidded to a stop at Phil and Techno’s side, looked at Puffy and Cellbit and hesitated, then turned back to them.
“You’re back! I’ve been looking for – did you find Tommy?” he asked anxiously.
“We did,” Phil gave the teenager a tense but reassuring smile. “He’s hurt, but he’ll be alright.”
Ranboo’s face immediately eased. “Oh, thank goodness. I’ll tell Tubbo, he’ll be so relieved.”
“He’s still sleeping, so you can see him later, okay?” Phil made a gentle shoo-ing motion with his hands. “But if you’ll please excuse us, Ranboo, we have to deal with a few urgent things now –”
“Oh, no, wait! I was actually looking for you for something else, too. We need help. One of our guests – the Countess of Aux,” Ranboo swallowed. “She was just found dead in her suite.”
Phil, Techno, Puffy, and Cellbit looked at each other in consternation.
“Her traveling companions are really upset,” Ranboo continued in a tone of earnest explanation. “Uh, obviously. And they’ve been trying to find Ms. Sofia, or get Sam to call the doctor up from Snowchester. I mean, she’s definitely dead, so I’m not sure what the doctor would do … but maybe they can figure out what happened? But anyway, uh, they couldn’t find either of them, so then someone came and fetched me but I’m not sure what to do, either. Do you know where everyone is? Or … if you could maybe go up to the Countess’s suite and take a look …?”
“Of course,” Puffy managed. “I – we’ll send someone, alright?”
“We’ll send someone,” Techno repeated, looking at Ranboo gravely. “Why don’t you go wait in your room until then?”
Ranboo hesitated, then nodded and hurried back down the hallway.
Phil stared at Techno, who turned to him and said grimly, “We need to interrogate Punz. Right now.”
---
Wilbur was just helping Tommy lie down again after drinking another of the purple health potions and some water when the door opened again. He tensed, in case it wasn’t Phil or Techno, and –
But it was Schlatt who poked his head through the doorway, smiling wanly when he saw Wilbur.
Wilbur smiled back, relief mixing noxiously with guilt. The last time he’d seen Schlatt looking anywhere near so haggard, Wilbur thought with a grimace, was back when old Mr. Schlatt had passed away.
But Schlatt’s expression eased as he walked further into the room and saw that Tommy was awake.
“Hiya, kid,” he gave them a lopsided smile.
“Schlatt?” Tommy whispered incredulously, his eyes shiny as he struggled to sit up again. “What are you doing here?”
“Tracking down your sorry ass, of course,” Schlatt said, dropping into the empty chair. His eyes sharpened, inspecting Tommy’s face. “You feeling better, kid?”
“Yeah …” Tommy said slowly, his eyes darting between Schlatt’s face and Wilbur’s. Then he frowned, and seemed to look around properly for the first time. “Where are we, anyway?”
Wilbur and Schlatt exchanged a glance.
“Someone’s bedroom?” Wilbur said with a helpless shrug. “I didn’t catch his name. Tall guy, with dark hair?”
“Oh … Missa?” Tommy frowned again, looking between them. Then his eyes widened. “Or –”
But before his brother could demand more of a description, Wilbur asked Schlatt softly, “How’d it go?” His eyes darted between Tommy and his best friend.
Schlatt cast an uneasy glance at Tommy before replying in a low voice, “We didn’t find anyone else.”
“You mean down there?” Tommy demanded, shifting with a wince. “In that creepy fucking dungeon place? Were you looking for – for –” he broke off abruptly, his eyes filling with tears.
“Toms –” Wilbur leaned forward, tense and worried.
“Connor’s dead,” Tommy whispered brokenly, shaking his head and reaching up to clutch at his curls. “And Juanaflippa, she – she’s got to be dead already, too. They murdered her, Wil! They murdered her for that, that fucking Countess, to make her look young again. And Connor too, they murdered him! That fucking witch and Dream and Sam – Wil, they killed all of them –”
His face crumpled, and he curved into Wilbur’s side and wept for the second time in just a few minutes.
“They would have killed Tallulah and Chayanne too, if they’d the chance!” Tommy sobbed, as Wilbur wrapped his arms tightly around his brother. “And Ranboo! I heard them, they said so! And they would have killed me, if you hadn’t come –”
“I know,” Wilbur whispered. He tucked Tommy’s head into the crook of his neck and buried his nose in the blond curls as they rocked back and forth. “I know. I’m sorry, Toms. I’m so sorry.”
“I just talked to Phil and Techno,” Schlatt said tightly as Tommy struggled to catch his breath, “and they’ve caught one of the bastards. Not the steward or the manager, another one. They’re going to interrogate him now.”
Wilbur met his best friend’s eyes steadily, not breaking his hold on Tommy. “Will you go listen?”
Schlatt nodded grimly. Then he stood, ruffled both Tommy and Wilbur’s curly heads, and strode towards the door.
Tommy turned his head fractionally under Wilbur’s chin, watching as Schlatt pulled the door open – and abruptly jump backwards as someone barreled headlong into him. “Fuck!”
“Who the fuck are you?” a familiar voice demanded. Then, “Tommy?!”
Tubbo dodged under Schlatt’s elbow and hurried to the bedside.
---
“So,” Phil said flatly, “you are the marauders.”
Punz was seated in one of the two chairs in front of the broad wooden desk in Dream’s office, his wrists shackled. Two of Puffy’s officers flanked him.
Punz’s eyes sharpened. “Very good, Captain,” he crooned, making both Phil and Techno bristle. “You finally figured it out, after all this time. Took you a while, didn’t it?”
“Shut up,” Techno growled. “Just answer the question.”
“Oh, was there a question in there?” Punz’s lip curled.
“Tell us what you’ve been doing here,” Puffy cut in grimly before Phil or Techno could advance on the prisoner. “Describe everyone involved in this kidnapping and murder scheme.”
“For the kidnapping bit, it’s usually it’s me or Reese,” Punz said easily, leaning back in the chair with a languid shrug. “Sometimes we both go, or else we have a few contractors out in the villages. The actual murders are all Sofia’s department.”
Everyone in the room stiffened at the cavalierness of the response. Out of the corner of his eye, Phil saw the door open and Schlatt edge inside, to stand behind Quackity and Etoiles.
“But why?” Puffy’s voice cracked. “What’s the purpose of all this?”
Punz gave her a sardonic look. “Are you serious?”
“Answer the fucking question,” Phil snapped.
Punz huffed a laugh. “Uh, to make money, obviously? We provide a very unique and highly sought-after service.”
“Youth,” Techno said flatly. “Rejuvenation.”
“Exactly,” Punz nodded.
“But how?” Puffy demanded. “And why the children?”
Punz shrugged again. “The children are needed for the potion, for the spell-work. As I said, that’s all Sofia’s department. I’m not a magic-user, I just facilitate.”
“Facilitate?” Phil growled. Techno gripped his arm in restraint, though his eyes were also flashing.
“But how is it done?” Quackity asked, his voice faint.
“I don’t know the details,” Punz repeated. “Only that the key is the Haementeria.”
“The leeches,” he added, when all the others except Quackity and Etoiles looked baffled. “She collects wild specimens from the Forest of Baden and then breeds them here, to maintain a special strain.”
“Why does that –” Cellbit began.
“First the leeches feed on the kid,” Punz cut in, his tone almost bored. “Then, once they’ve drained a good amount of blood, there’s some spell she does. Then the leeches are put on the client. The spell forces them to regurgitate the blood they sucked from the kid into the client –”
Phil felt ill, listening. He looked up to meet Techno’s gaze, and saw the grimness in his partner’s eyes. He knew they were both remembering the masses of leeches they had pulled off of Tommy. Puffy and Cellbit were looking on, horrified, while their assembled officers looked exceedingly green. Quackity’s expression was also appalled, although tinged with reluctant technical fascination. At his side, Etoiles looked … blank.
“There’s some things that live inside the leeches,” Punz continued with a shrug. “Bacteria and poisons and shit. Like I said, I don’t know all the details. But they get put into the client along with the blood. That forms the framework of the last spell she uses, to amplify the blood-magic from the kid. The spell also puts all the aging-related shit from the client in a little sealed-off area, along with the leech shit, and holds it all in stasis. That’s how the control is implemented.”
“The control,” Techno repeated. “What’s that?”
“We’re obviously going to lot of trouble for this, it won’t do anyone any good if some client gets second thoughts afterwards, right?” Punz said blandly. “They’d still have their new youth, but we’d get screwed? No, that wouldn’t work at all.”
“Wait,” Puffy said, her stare intense. “Wait – are you saying that all your clients knew what the process was? That children were being murdered for it?”
“Well, no,” Punz admitted, wincing slightly as he adjusted his arms in the restraints. “People would ask, all the time, of course, what’s your secret. What literal magic does Sofia do in Spa Elisabeth. When you get results so amazing, it’s inevitable that there’ll be curiosity, right?”
“Then why?”
“These are all very wealthy people, detective,” Punz drawled. “I mean, sure, Sofia did a few jobs on steep discount for people we know, but generally this process is very, very pricey. I mean, come on.”
“So what you’re saying is –” Techno began, his stare intense.
“What I’m saying,” Punz cut him off, “is that these are people with resources, and connections. If they really wanted to dig and find out what was going on, it’s possible that they would. And that wouldn’t work for us, obviously.”
“So this control, it’s an insurance policy,” Phil said flatly. “To ensure clients keep their silence.”
“Exactly. If something goes wrong, it’s just a matter of breaking the seal on the client’s spell-vial that we store here. Then the spell framework disintegrates, the kid’s blood … vaporizes, or something. The old-age shit and toxins that were held in stasis by the spell get released, it all floods the client’s system. From what I’ve seen, it can kill in minutes to hours. Maybe a day, at most.”
“But – but wait. If it’s just a matter of blood,” Puffy said unevenly, “why were those children all killed? Why not just draw some blood and be done with it?”
Punz shrugged. “Well, the spell does need a lot of blood. More than the kid could spare and live, I guess. And the rest is for her.”
“For … her?” Cellbit echoed faintly.
“You mean Sofia,” Techno stared hard at Punz. “Why?”
“Well, she’s not really human, right?” Punz raised a mocking brow. “She needs to feed off them. She shares some with Reese, as I understand.”
The others exchanged horrified looks.
“Feeds – what, so she’s like a – a vampire?” Cellbit croaked.
Punz shrugged again. “No idea. I know it’s not just the blood, though. She says every part of them is used, in one way or another. Nothing is wasted.”
“But why?” Puffy repeated faintly. “Who is she? Or – or what? And how did this all start?”
“Amon and I came to know her only after she’d already established Spa Elisabeth,” Punz’s eyes grew distant. “As to who or what she really is, I couldn’t say with certainty. All I know is that she’s old. Very old. She told us once that it’s very hard nowadays to get enough sustenance from people who wander into the Forest of Baden. Not enough people go in there anymore. She said that over the generations, humans have grown much warier.”
Phil and Techno shared a grim, desolate glance.
“But in this place, she told us, it’s not up to the vagaries of chance, like hunting in the wild. Here, it’s like her garden,” Punz said thoughtfully. “Here, she can harvest leisurely.”
---
Wilbur leaned back heavily in his chair, listening as Schlatt recounted Punz’s testimony in a low voice. A few feet away, on the bed, he could see his little brother and Tubbo watching and listening, looking angry but unsurprised (Tommy) and utterly horrified (Tubbo).
“It was weird, the way he talked about those vials,” Schlatt said gruffly after a pause. “That they’re the insurance, or control, or some shit.”
“Yeah,” Wilbur nodded.
“You know – I think I saw vials like that, down in that creepy dungeon hellhole, back when I was down there with Quackity and Etoiles. Or at least, what he said, it reminded me of the ones we saw there.”
Wilbur frowned more fiercely as he listened to his best friend describe the cabinet packed with dozens of neatly-labeled vials. Then his eyes widened.
“Tubbo,” he said urgently, turning towards the two boys on the bed. “Do you still have that vial we found, before? The one that was in that puzzle box in the office?”
Tubbo looked startled. “Uh, yeah, I think so?” He rummaged in his pockets and then fished the vial out, holding it up to the light.
“Shit,” Schlatt hissed. “Yeah, it was like that. The ones in the cabinet looked like that.”
Wilbur made an aborted, alarmed sound as Tommy reached out and plucked the vial from Tubbo’s fingers.
---
The ornate door of heavy, carved wood swung open.
Phil watched, eyes narrowed, as Dreamon strode in, confident and arrogant. He heard Techno hiss in displeasure as Ranboo hurried in on the heels of the monstrous man.
Then Dreamon froze mid-step, staring in honest shock at the crowd of people crammed into his office. His eyes immediately darted to Punz, who was seated near the center of the room.
“What in hell’s name – what are all you people doing in my office?” Dream snarled. “Punz?”
Punz shrugged laconically and lifted his arms, displaying the handcuffs.
“It’s over, Amon.”
“What? What are you – you,” Dreamon growled, wheeling to bare his teeth at Phil. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? We had an agreement –”
“Needs must, mate,” Phil replied, his eyes very cold.
“Dream?” Ranboo asked uncertainly, looking around at the assembled adults. “Captain? What’s going on?”
“Ranboo, come over here, please,” Phil said firmly, gesturing for him to step away from Dreamon.
“No, Ranboo,” Dreamon’s hand snapped out and seized Ranboo by the upper arm. “You stay here, by me.”
Ranboo froze.
A displeased murmur rose from everyone in the room except Punz. Phil and Techno both took a menacing step forwards.
“You stay here by me,” Dreamon repeated, flashing the circle of officers an oily smile. “Then we’ll talk.”
Notes:
Hmm, despite what I said last time, I guess that was only one (observed) killing here, and not even really a murder. But there's still two chapters left, we'll get there!
Chapter 13: The Stranger
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“What is that?” Tubbo asked, his eyes wary as he stared at the vial in Tommy’s hands. “Is it really some kind of magic shit?”
Tommy turned the vial slowly; the cloudy glass still caught a spark in the sunlight. The label was yellowed with age, but the writing on it was still crisp and legible – two letters. A.D.
A.D.
A, for Amon.
Tommy shivered. He’d heard that name recently – but where?
Then it suddenly came rushing back to him, along with the memory of that horrible smell, of that hellish room, of Connor. Amon, Sofia had said, when talking to Reese. She’d said that name in the same breath as she talked about Punz. As if it was someone in charge, or who thought he was in charge. And before that –
Tommy’s eyes went wide. Amon Dermot, hadn’t Phil said, all those months ago, that day in the second-floor flat?
“Who’s Amon Dermot?” Tubbo whispered, and Tommy realized he’d spoken aloud.
“Tommy,” Wilbur’s voice was strained as he held out his hand. “Give that to me, please.”
“Amon?” Schlatt repeated blankly, then his eyes went huge with horror. “Fuck! That’s the guy! Dream, right? But Phil said it’s not him, it’s this bloke Amon.”
“What?” Tubbo demanded, looking between them all in confusion. Wilbur screwed up his face as he turned to look at this best friend.
Tommy’s hand spasmed. Amon may have hidden his vial in his quarters, Reese had said to Sofia. The vials are the insurance, or control, or some shit, Schlatt had just said.
“Where’d you find this?” Tommy asked Tubbo in a whisper.
“Tommy –” Wilbur repeated, urgent and insistent, as he turned back. His brother’s face was tense and worried, and his hand was extended to take the vial.
“In Dream’s office,” Tubbo replied cautiously.
“Dream,” Tommy repeated flatly. His fingers closed around the vial in a fist. “Amon. Dream.”
Almost before he registered what he was doing, Tommy had lobbed the vial as hard as he could against the nearest wall.
In his weakened state, his throw wasn’t all that hard. But it was enough. The vial struck the wall plaster and shattered, its contents smearing the wallpaper red and spattering onto the floor.
Wilbur sucked in a sharp, dismayed breath while Tubbo yelped in surprise and Schlatt swore.
A foul stench filled the air.
---
“Mark my words, I’ll be calling the mayor and the commissioner and I’ll have all your credentials revoked. None of you will ever work in –”
Ranboo stared at his cousin fearfully. The detectives and other officers packed into the room were staring at Dream with varying degrees of fury and contempt as the man ranted. While Dream was certainly an intimidating person, Ranboo had never felt scared in his presence before. But then, his cousin had never seemed this angry, this … unhinged, ever before. Ranboo wished fervently that someone he could rely on – Missa or Sam, or even Tubbo or Niki – were here in this room with him now. Instead, he was surrounded mostly by strangers, and his cousin at the strangest he’d ever been.
Because while Ranboo might feel unmoored and lost, he wasn’t stupid. The fact that all these people were in here, crowded into Dream’s personal office; that Tommy had really been kidnapped and injured and then miraculously rescued; that just a few feet away from where Ranboo stood now was the bookshelf that hid a door that led somewhere – it wasn’t a coincidence. While dread made him shy away from the thoughts pressing in on him, he couldn’t stop his brain from connecting the obvious dots.
However, the picture it drew was still incomprehensible to him. How could Dream be linked with the disappearances, with the marauders, in any way? By most conventional measures, his cousin was a very successful man – educated, wealthy, well-respected. How could someone like him possibly be associated with a gang kidnapping local children? The entire idea was ridiculous. But … Ranboo couldn’t fathom why Dream would be so combative towards the detectives, otherwise. Surely they were here trying to help?
Or wait – maybe Dream had knowledge that some of their guests were criminals, and involved in all this marauder business? But it wasn’t Dream’s place to defend psychotic guests. It was actually his duty to turn them in, if he came to know of wrongdoing under their roof. Hotel Royale shouldn’t be affiliated with such people, at all. So why wasn’t Dream trying to be even a little bit conciliatory to all these assembled police, or –
Dream abruptly halted, mid-sentence.
Ranboo’s eyes snapped up and he stared at his cousin’s face, which looked … startled?
Around the room, the police shifted rather menacingly.
Then Ranboo’s eyes widened like saucers. Dream had slowly lifted up his hands in front of his face and was staring at them. And it looked like they were … shriveling? Before Ranboo’s eyes, plump, healthy flesh was collapsing into a mass of wrinkles and protruding veins.
Ranboo cried out in alarm as Dream abruptly collapsed – first to his knees, and then onto his side. Dream was shaking, curled up and making pained noises, as if he were having some kind of fit –
“Dream!” he shouted. He lunged forward towards his cousin, arms outstretched. But before he could reach the man, massive arms grabbed him around the middle and yanked him backwards.
“No!” Ranboo cried, twisting frantically to escape Detective Techno’s hold, but to no avail. “Let go of me! Please, someone – please, he’s sick! Help! Why aren’t any of you helping him?!”
“No,” Techno hissed in his ear. “Wait. Watch.”
And Ranboo looked and saw –
Dream was writhing on the decorative rug, his features twisted in a horrible, agonized grimace. And then – and then …
The convulsing figure seemed to be aging before his eyes. The skin of his face had changed now, just like his hands – and his hair was changing color, too, from the familiar dark blond to a faded, yellow-tinged white. In what felt like just a few moments, it was no longer Dream – or no longer a Dream whom Ranboo recognized, anyway. It was now an old, old man who was shuddering on the ground before them.
“Shit,” Puffy breathed. “Holy shit. It’s him, it really is him! It’s Amon Dermot.”
What? Ranboo stared shockily at the police who ringed the room, but who were making absolutely no effort to assist Dream’s still-spasming body. What the fuck was happening here? Why wasn’t anyone helping, even now? And who the fuck was Amon Dermot?
“Please!” he choked out. “Please! I don’t understand what – why aren’t you helping him?”
Techno’s arms tightened around him, but the hold now had a more supportive and comforting quality than a pure restraint.
“I believed you, Phil,” Cellbit said, utterly stunned. “I totally did, but, but – fuck! To see it myself is just –”
“I don’t understand,” Ranboo croaked, his voice wobbling up and down. “I don’t understand! What’s happening?”
Had some strange magic sickened Dream, made him look old and – Ranboo flinched – nearly dead? But in that case, why wasn’t anyone helping? Or – or was this not Dream? But in that case, who was this man? Where was Dream?
He must have stammered some of these thoughts aloud, because a reply came from someone Ranboo had almost forgotten was in the room.
“Your cousin’s dead and rotting, kid,” Punz said with a casual shrug, from where he had been reclining in the chair and watching the proceedings without much expression. “Has been for years.”
“You goddamned bastard –” Phil growled.
Ranboo choked, open-mouthed. If it wasn’t for the vice-like grip of Techno’s arms around him, he surely would have collapsed on the spot.
---
Schlatt had opened the large window to the side of the bedroom, and the worst of the smell had now dissipated.
Tommy watched mutely as Wilbur carefully picked shards of glass off the floor while Tubbo rubbed a cleaning solution-soaked rag against the new stain on Missa’s wall. Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have thrown that shit. But … honestly, it had felt like the right thing to do. Something deep in his mind still seemed to whisper to him that he’d been right to destroy it.
“Tommy!”
Tommy looked up as the door opened and a familiar face poked inside. Wilbur and Schlatt both turned sharply towards the newcomer, but Hannah paid them no mind as she hurried to Tommy’s bedside.
“Are you alright?” she demanded, perching on the edge of the bed and peering at Tommy’s face worriedly.
“Hey, Hannah,” Tommy said, mustering a smile. “Yeah, getting better.”
“Tubbo!” she wheeled to face the shorter blond boy who was still holding the cleaning rags. “Why the hell didn’t you come get me before? Here you are, just hanging out with Tommy all easy-peasy, but I had to finish so much shit on my own before coming up here!”
“I didn’t –” Tubbo began to protest.
“Did they hurt you?” Hannah turned back to Tommy, her brows furrowed. “You look … well, kind of really sick. Your skin’s all weird and – anyways. Did Sam give you a couple days off, to rest?”
Tommy went rigid.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw Wilbur stiffen, and Schlatt turned to stare at the three teens.
“Hannah …” Tubbo said cautiously.
“What, hasn’t he been here yet?” Hannah frowned, looking between Tommy and Tubbo. “But he said he was coming up to see Tommy, just a while ago?”
---
Ranboo sat numbly on the broad leather sofa in Dream’s – in his father’s office, tucked into Missa’s side. Someone must have gone and fetched his tutor; Ranboo hadn’t registered it. He was still staring at the spot on the decorative rug where that old man’s body had lain, until the officers had removed it a few minutes ago.
The old man. The stranger.
“So Dream … Dream was never actually here,” he said finally, lifting his eyes to meet Phil’s gaze. The captain’s eyes were bright blue, he noted distantly, almost like Tommy’s. They were staring back at him now, filled with sympathy.
“No,” Phil said quietly. “I’m sorry.”
“He left to come here, but he didn’t make it. They murdered him,” Ranboo continued in the same blank, observational tone. Missa inhaled sharply and pulled him closer, rubbing a soothing hand up and down his arm.
“We believe so,” Techno replied after a pause. “We think – uh, there was a murder along the road to Snowchester, almost four years ago. The victim was a young man, who was never identified. We think … we believe he may have been the real Dream.”
Ranboo swallowed hard.
“Then Dream …. if that was him, where is he now? His body, I mean?”
“Because there was no identification, that man was buried in the potters field,” Phil replied softly.
“When you’re ready, we can arrange to have him exhumed,” Techno said gently. “Now that we have a basis for comparison, we can try to confirm the identity. Then he can be laid to rest properly, in your family plot.”
Ranboo nodded jerkily.
---
“When did you talk to Sam?” Wilbur demanded, hurrying towards Hannah.
“And where?” Schlatt added as he followed at his best friend’s heels, his eyes dark.
“Sam?” Hannah looked at Wilbur and Schlatt uncertainly. “It was a while ago. A bunch of us were in the kitchens having breakfast, and Missa came rushing in and told us that Captain Phil and Detective Techno had rescued Tommy from the marauders.”
“But –” Schlatt began.
“I was so scared when I heard,” Hannah continued, staring at Tommy, wide-eyed. “I hadn’t even known the marauders had snatched you! Missa said you were hurt, that he’d come down to fetch some bandages and medicine and food for you. I really wanted to come up straightaway to see you, but Charlie and Niki were off somewhere, so I had to deal with a bunch of stupid guest requests all by myself. But Sam and the twins left almost right after Missa did. I thought they were coming to see you. But … didn’t they?”
Tommy drew in a sharp breath and turned to look at Tubbo, who stared back in horror.
---
The kid was obviously in shock, Techno observed grimly. It was no surprise.
After another moment of glassy-eyed silence, Ranboo whispered, “I never …”
His voice trailed off.
“It’d been so long since I’d seen him,” Ranboo continued after a pause, a tremor creeping into his voice. “It never occurred to me that it wasn’t him. Now it’s so obvious. He acted so different. How could I have been so blind –?”
He stopped abruptly, hiding his face in Missa’s shoulder and breathing in hard shudders as he tried to gather himself. Missa rubbed circles into his back, murmuring soft words of comfort as they rocked.
“Dermot and Punz and their conspirators counted on the fact that none of you had seen the real Dream for many years,” Techno said, his tone somber and gentle. “The basic physical resemblance was there, due to the spell. They knew any smaller differences in appearance and changes in personality would just be chalked up to time.”
“But my father,” Ranboo said waveringly. He lifted his head to stare, red-eyed, at Phil and Techno. “My father, he died not long after Dre – the imposter came here. Did he – I mean, was it related?”
“It’s … possible,” Phil acknowledged with a nod. “He may have been their victim as well.”
Missa made a soft, horrified noise and squeezed Ranboo even more tightly.
“Was it because he began to suspect?” Ranboo asked in barely a whisper. “That that man wasn’t Dream?”
Phil and Techno exchanged a look.
“It’s impossible to say right now,” Phil said after a pause. “There will certainly be a very thorough investigation into everything that happened here. We may find some evidence, as the investigation continues.”
There were other, more likely possibilities, Techno thought, hearing the practiced diplomacy in Phil’s tone. After all, the hidden door leading to the labyrinth below was here, in what had once been Ponk’s office.
But Ponk’s son, who hadn’t even been a teenager at the time the hotel was built, and who was now struggling mightily before them not to cry, didn’t need to know that.
---
A few minutes later, Missa helped Ranboo to his feet and took the dazed teenager away to rest. The door swung gently shut behind the pair, leaving Phil and Techno standing alone in the grim silence of the Hotel Royale manager’s office.
A monumental wave of exhaustion swept over Techno, and he turned to look at Phil.
“C’mon,” Techno murmured, reaching for his partner. “Let’s get out of here. Let’s go see Tommy.”
Phil nodded jerkily, the stress lines seemingly carved into his face. But they had barely made it to the staircase when their plans were derailed, yet again.
“Captain Phil! Detective Techno!”
Techno looked up to see Tommy’s friend Tubbo and a brown-haired girl about the same age – one of the Hotel Royale staff, he remembered they’d seen her before – come thundering down the stairs. At their heels was Schlatt.
Shit, were they coming here from the room Tommy and Wilbur were in? Techno’s stomach clenched.
“What happened?” he demanded.
“Is Tommy –?” Phil asked urgently.
“Tommy’s okay,” Tubbo said breathlessly. “It’s the twins! Chayanne and Tallulah –”
“And that bastard Sam,” Schlatt finished grimly. “He took them.”
“I didn’t know Sam was working with the marauders!” the girl exclaimed tearfully. “I didn’t think anything weird about it when he walked off with the twins!”
“Go back upstairs,” Phil ordered the children, shooting Techno an apprehensive look.
“But –” Tubbo began hotly.
“Go!” Techno barked. “And stay there.”
“Tommy’s doing better,” Schlatt reported as the three of them hurried downstairs, leaving Tubbo and the girl standing frozen in the stairwell. “Wil was practically sitting on him, to keep him from getting up and running down here when we heard about those other kids –”
They had barely made it out of the grand double front doors when Puffy intercepted them.
“There you are,” she exclaimed, her face pale and stern as she motioned for them to follow. “I’ve been looking for you! We finally got a lead on the steward and the witch. My officer saw them near the stables, but he was attacked and –”
“Did they have two children with them?” Phil asked urgently as they jogged at her side. “A little boy and girl?”
Puffy’s eyes widened.
“I don’t know,” she said grimly, “I heard there was one child there – they were sitting with Andres and crying for help. That’s how we found them.”
One child. Where the fuck was the other? Techno gritted his teeth and picked up the pace.
“Cap’n Phil! Techno!”
Tallulah’s face was still tear-streaked as she turned to them, as soon as they rushed into the stables. Cellbit and several of Puffy’s people were huddled around one of the officers Techno and Phil had met before. The man was propped up against a stall door, his shirt blood-stained and his expression vacant.
To the far side of the stables, a body was covered by a sheet – presumably that of Reese, Techno thought grimly.
There was no sign of Chayanne.
Phil shot Techno an alarmed look as he knelt before Tallulah.
“Sweetheart, what happened?”
“Chay’s gone,” she cried, lunging into Phil’s arms. “They took him! Sam and Ms. Sofia. Sam said we were just going for a ride, but it was all wrong.”
“For a ride,” Techno repeated urgently, squatting next to Phil and Tallulah. Puffy hovered anxiously over his shoulder. “To where, kid? Did they say anything else?”
“To the forest, I think. Ms. Sofia kept shouting,” Tallulah whispered. Her fingers tightened, white-knuckled, around Phil’s sleeve. “About the forest, about Mr. Reese, and – and other things. She was really, really mad. Then Sam made me and Chay get on a horse, both of us. That was fine, but then he got on behind us! There wasn’t enough room for all three of us, and I fell off.”
Techno grimaced, exchanging a look with Phil. There were indeed scrapes and bruises on the child’s face, arms and legs that aligned with a fall from such a height.
“Chay was trying to get down from the horse and help me,” Tallulah continued in a wavering voice, “but it was really high up, and Sam kept stopping him. And then Ms. Sofia was shouting at Sam to ‘hurry!’ and ‘leave her!’ and that’s when that man came in,” she pointed towards the officer on the ground.
“He shouted at Sam and Ms. Sofia to get off the horses,” she stumbled on, “but then … then it looked like Ms. Sofia threw something at him, and then something happened! I didn’t see what it was. But then the man fell down, he was bleeding, and –” she broke off with a sob, “and then Ms. Sofia just left! She rode away on her horse, and Sam rode off behind her, with Chay. They just left me here!”
Tallulah’s tumble off of that horse, Techno thought grimly, was possibly the best stroke of luck they could have hoped for. If only her brother had fallen, too –
He immediately rose and strode over towards the horses that Puffy’s officers had tacked earlier, and led two of them towards the gate.
“I don’t know why Sam wanted to take me and Chay into the forest anyway,” Tallulah added, looking up at Phil with wide, watery eyes. “We’re not allowed to go in there! It’s dangerous!”
“I know,” Phil said, releasing her and rising to his feet. “You stay here with our friend Puffy, okay, sweetheart? We’re going to go find your brother.”
---
A few minutes later, Phil and Techno rode into the perpetual gloom under the eaves of the Forest of Baden, following the clear, recently-trod hoof-prints of two horses.
Techno urged his horse slightly ahead of Phil’s on the muddy wreckage of the trail. His partner’s face, Phil observed in the dim light, was set in a forbidding, warlike expression.
The Forest of Baden was eerily still as always, devoid of birdsong or the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Instead, the atmosphere was hushed and heavy, almost as if they were moving underwater. The only clear sound was the sloshing of their horses’ hooves as the animals struggled through the root-laden muck.
Phil jolted, startled when Techno suddenly said, “We’ve got to keep a close eye out. These tracks in the mud we’re following, they might be a false trail. I heard about something like that recently, from a hunting party. The Forest tries to lead people off course.”
“Or the Things in it,” Phil said grimly, nodding in agreement.
They returned to riding in tense silence, carefully sweeping both sides of the trail for any sign of motion or a recent disturbance and intermittently calling out for Chayanne.
The weight of seeing nothing and hearing nothing was bearing down on Phil when suddenly he did hear something – or did he?
Phil, a familiar voice seemed to murmur directly in his ear, Phil! Help me, please! Over here –
Except that the person who the voice sounded like, Phil thought rigidly, was definitely not speaking to him here, on the trail.
“Did you hear that?” Phil whispered after the second plaintive cry for help, a minute later. He wondered if his own voice sounded as strained as it felt.
Techno twisted in the saddle and gave him a grim look. “The voices? Yes.”
“Fuck,” Phil breathed, clenching his fingers around the reins. “I’d heard about this before, the voices in the Forest, but I’d never heard – what are they saying to you?”
“It’s probably because we’ve never been in this far before. And it’s nothing that matters,” Techno shook his head determinedly. “We’re together, we’re going to find the kid, and we’re going to be fine.”
Phil nodded, casting a quick, verifying glance at the weapons Techno carried and feeling the reassuring weight of his own pistol and dagger against his belt.
Hopefully those would actually be of some use against whatever Things they might encounter here.
They continued onwards, determinedly tuning out the eerie, uncanny calls for help until suddenly –
“Cap’n Phil!” what sounded like an actual, achingly familiar human voice cried. “Techno!”
Phil stiffened, exchanging a wide-eyed look with Techno, and then –
“Wait! Help!”
He breathed out a huge sigh of relief when he saw a small blond figure stumbling out of the tangled brush towards them. They hastily dismounted and rushed to meet him.
“Chayanne!” Phil caught the boy in an embrace as Techno cupped the blond head gently. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
The boy’s face was dirt-caked and tear-streaked, and smears of blood from numerous scrapes covered his arms, but he otherwise looked unhurt.
“I’m okay,” Chayanne choked out. “I’m okay, but Lulah –”
“Your sister’s fine,” Phil said reassuringly, swiftly scooping Chayanne into his arms as he and Techno hurried back to the horses.
“Let’s get you home, kid,” Techno said, looking around with heightened wariness as he mounted.
Phil, too, was practically vibrating with tension as he handed Chayanne up to his partner. After all, if the child was wandering around alone here, was Sam also nearby? The witch? She had wounded the other officer – what sort of potions did she carry, what other powers did she possess? And would they be augmented, here under the trees of Baden?
“Exactly, so hurry,” Techno growled at him, as if hearing Phil’s racing thoughts. Phil hastily remounted, and they both urged their horses into motion.
“I fell off,” Chayanne choked out as they sped back down the trail the way they’d come. “I was riding in front of Sam, but the horse was going so fast, really fast, and I couldn’t hold on –”
Phil hissed in fury. At his side, Techno tightened his arm around the boy.
“Ms. Sofia kept yelling at Sam the whole time,” Chayanne continued tearfully. “She kept telling him to hurry up, that she wasn’t waiting for him, and – and she was really mean. She said not to waste time helping me? She said if Sam wanted her help, he had to listen to her, and she said he could – he could get another one, or something? And when I fell off, I landed in this bramble patch. That’s how I got all scratched up. Ms. Sofia had ridden pretty far in front of us by then, and kept shouting that she’d leave us and –”
“It’s alright. You’re safe now,” Phil said soothingly, praying that he was right.
“Then Sam just looked down at me from up on the horse,” Chayanne said with a sob. “He was making a weird face, and he didn’t get down to help me, or anything. It was like – it was almost like it wasn’t him, like he was a stranger! He got really quiet and said, ‘I’m sorry. Run home, if you can.’ And then he left! He made his horse go really fast and he left me there!”
That, Phil thought grimly as he watched Techno urge their horses into an even faster pace, might have been one of the few good choices the former steward had ever made. A last mercy.
“He left!” Chayanne wailed. “He left me there by myself! And I was all alone in the forest, and it was so dark and scary, I wasn’t sure which way to go to get home, and then after a while I heard you calling –”
“You’re safe now,” he simply repeated as Chayanne struggled to hold back tears. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We’ve got you now, and you’re safe, and you’ll see your sister really soon, okay?”
But then, within the space of a few cycles of thundering horse hooves, a piercing voice called out from behind them, somewhere in the darkness off the trail.
“Chay,” it cried, thin and wavering. “Chay, stop! Wait for me! Help!”
“Lulah?” Chayanne whispered, twisting in Techno’s arms to look in the direction. “Lulah!”
“Phil!” the voice continued, high-pitched and wispy as the breeze. “Cap’n Phil! Techno, help me!”
Phil and Techno shared a grim look, and simultaneously urged their horses on, as fast as they could gallop. Phil prayed that the extra speed on the treacherous ground wouldn’t cost them dearly.
“Tallulah!” Chayanne exclaimed, wiggling frantically to get free. “No, wait! Techno, stop! Lulah’s back over there! Phil, we’ve got to go that way!”
“No, kid. It’s not her,” Techno said firmly, tightening his grip around the squirming child’s chest.
“But –”
“It’s not her,” Phil repeated, fighting to keep his voice calm and steady. “Your sister’s fine, alright? She’s back at the hotel, with your friends.”
“No!” Chayanne cried, struggling some more. “I just heard her! Didn’t you hear her? She must have run into the forest, after us! We can’t leave her here! We’ve got to go back –”
“No,” Techno growled, then softened his tone. “It’s not her, kid. I promise, okay?”
“The Forest is trying to trick you now,” Phil explained in a fierce whisper. “You’ve got to believe us, mate. Your sister’s fine, and you’re going to see her soon. That Thing back there – it’s not her, okay?”
Chayanne subsided, looking teary and miserable, as the horses kept up their quick pace.
Within a few minutes they were finally – finally – within sight of the trailhead. Phil breathed a heaving sigh of relief as the horses bore them out of the tree cover and under the open blue sky.
After a few minutes more, they were back at the stables and Techno was handing Chayanne down to Phil and –
“Lulah!” Chayanne cried, pulling away from Phil to dash towards the trio of figures rushing towards them. “Missa! Niki!”
Phil stroked the head of Techno’s horse as his partner also dismounted, feeling like all of the energy had abruptly drained out of him. Techno gripped his shoulder as they watched the reunion silently, and then Niki hustled the twins back inside.
“Thank you,” Missa came up to the horses and stared at Phil and Techno, red-eyed and pale-faced. “Thank you both. I can’t thank you enough. I can’t believe I was so stupid. I didn’t know then that Sam was involved in these crimes too, I spoke too freely and –”
“It wasn’t your doing,” Phil shook his head. “You didn’t know. We just need to be thankful that all the children are safe, now.”
“They’re all safe,” Missa repeated faintly, as if he couldn’t believe it. He shook his head and hurried away, after Niki and the twins.
“Thank goodness for that,” Puffy said heavily as she came up to stand beside them, in the spot the tutor had just vacated. “Was there any sign of the steward or the witch?”
Phil shook his head wordlessly.
“We didn’t go any further,” Techno replied, shaking his head. “We came straight back once we had the kid.”
Puffy nodded. “I can send some officers out to search, but you both know better than me how far they might be able to go in, and how likely they are to find anything.”
“Not far,” Techno replied grimly, “and not much.”
Phil nodded, his lips tightening.
The three of them began to walk slowly around the stables, back towards the courtyard.
“Oh, before I forget,” Puffy fished around in her pocket and retrieved Phil’s badge. “Your credentials, Captain.”
“Ah,” Phil’s mouth twisted as he accepted it from her. “Thank you. For everything, Puffy. Just – really, thank you.”
“Of course,” Puffy said, a corner of her mouth quirking. “I’d say anytime, but hopefully never again, yeah? Our little masquerade didn’t work out quite as we’d planned, but … the three children we still could save are safe, that’s the main thing.”
Phil and Techno both nodded, and Phil said tiredly, “We’ll be heading back inside now, to finally see Tommy. Is there anything else you needed from us, before that?”
“No,” Puffy said, turning to look at the other side of the courtyard. “No, go see your kid. I think we’re alright for now.”
Phil followed her gaze across the courtyard. Cellbit had just marched the handcuffed Punz out of the hotel, and transferred him to where several officers were waiting to provide a mounted escort to the Snowchester jail.
“How can I possibly ride with these things on?” Punz was complaining in the background, rattling the handcuffs as two officers shoved him up onto a horse. Phil stared at the man impassively; he felt like he had now moved far beyond his capacity for disgust.
“You’re back!” Cellbit said, hurrying over to join them. “And I saw –”
A shot rang out.
Notes:
RIP, real Dream and fake Dream. And yeah, one last cliffhanger ... I couldn’t resist 😁😈
Chapter 14: The Traveler
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The shot reverberated across the courtyard like a sharp clap of thunder.
Phil swore, lunging in front of Techno and shoving him backwards. Techno in turn seized him by the collar and dragged him behind an adjacent stone wall for cover. Once sheltered there, they both drew their pistols.
Nearby, Puffy and Cellbit, who had dived for cover after them, also had their pistols drawn. They were all looking around frantically for the source of the shot. The echoes of the blast, reverberating across the stone courtyard, made it nearly impossible to pinpoint.
The target of the shot, however, was unmistakable. Punz had been the only one already mounted on a horse. The man’s body jerked violently just before the horse reared, screaming in alarm and unseating its rider.
Punz fell hard onto the cobblestones.
The panicked horse dashed across the courtyard, away from the hotel. All the other unmounted police horses followed suit, in a small stampede.
Even from the distance and from being partially pinned beneath Techno, Phil could see that the handcuffed man was clearly dead. Blood was spreading steadily from a massive wound in Punz’s chest.
“And that,” Techno said grimly, directly into Phil’s ear, “makes three down, two to go.”
---
Hotel Royale was abuzz with turmoil.
In addition to the sudden passing of the Countess of Aux, an unfortunate number of people had peered out of their windows after the shot was fired and seen Punz’s body before it could be covered. Panicked guests were crowding the lobby, demanding information that no one could provide. The steward was nowhere to be found, and the rumor that the general manager had also suddenly passed away was spreading like wildfire. Some guests tried to leave, only to be forcibly stopped by Puffy’s officers, which did little to calm matters.
It was against that background that the regional police commissioner finally arrived at Hotel Royale from Manberg, late that evening.
“It’s quite terrible,” Ranboo said quietly, seated behind the massive mahogany desk in the manager’s office as he faced the dour-faced, nervous-looking commissioner. The teenager’s face, Phil observed, was still pale and wan, but now there was no hint of tears. Missa was hovering in the corner of the room by the drapes, an out-of-the-way but solid presence. Meanwhile, Phil and Techno stood, still and straight, a few paces behind where the commissioner sat. A few paces to the side, Puffy and Cellbit took up a similar stance.
“Many of our guests are extremely disturbed by the … incident. Hotel Royale is supposed to be a sanctuary, not a violent place.”
Phil and Techno exchanged a sardonic look.
“We do beg your patience, sir,” the commissioner said uneasily. “My people are doing everything in their power to locate and apprehend the perpetrator –”
“So then you know their identity?” Ranboo’s eyes bored into the Inspector.
“… not yet,” the Inspector admitted, rather stiffly.
“And have you been able to locate Ms. Sofia and Mr. Sam?” Ranboo inquired, steepling his hands on the desk with a barely perceptible tremor. “I understand that they, too, are missing. Perhaps the same person is responsible for their disappearances?”
Ranboo really did have an excellent poker face, Phil observed with wry admiration. The teenager maintained it steadily, despite what must be truly tremendous pressure.
The commissioner was forced to admit that the answer to that question was also “not yet.”
After expressing condolences on the unexpected passing of the general manager and providing a few more reassurances that the combined Snowchester and Manberg police forces would do everything in their power to achieve a speedy resolution, etc. etc., the commissioner rose and turned to go. He nodded curtly to Puffy and Cellbit – and then, his expression even more dour, to Phil and Techno – before striding out of the office.
“We’ll also be going,” Puffy murmured, and Cellbit nodded to Ranboo. “There are many remaining tasks to oversee.”
“Thank you, detectives,” Ranboo said quietly.
With a quick smile for Phil and Techno, Puffy and Cellbit also exited. The door closed softly behind them.
In the ensuing silence, Phil and Techno stared at Ranboo. The teenager’s serene mask had now somewhat crumpled, but he nevertheless met their gazes steadily.
“Tommy had told us before,” Phil said softly, “that you’re a keen marksman, Ranboo. I saw your medal on display earlier today – you hold a regional record in clay pigeon shooting, do you not?”
Ranboo nodded, with a faint, watery smile.
“Why yes, indeed. My father taught me. I was even a finalist in the pan-Essempi championship last year.”
“That was a very technical shot that took out Punz,” Techno observed neutrally. “From that distance, and at that angle.”
Silence ensued.
“I suppose it must have been …?” Ranboo ventured.
Missa stepped forward to stand behind Ranboo’s chair, his hand closing protectively on the teen’s shoulder. They all stared at each other.
“Was – was there anything else, detectives?” Ranboo asked finally. “If not, I have much work to attend to. The hotel must be closed down, of course, and all the staff sent home and provided for … and I must also reach out to Connor’s family and break the news and – and do whatever I can for them.”
Phil and Techno exchanged a meaningful look.
“No,” Phil replied, his eyes calm and kind as he turned back to regard the teenager, who was clearly clinging to formality like a lifeline. “Thank you, Ranboo. And we’ll assist you with communicating with Connor’s family. In the meantime, please let us know if we can help you in any other way.”
Something seemed to ease in Ranboo’s face, and he nodded gratefully.
“Thank you.”
At his side, Missa gave the detectives a brief, approving nod. As Phil and Techno turned to go, Ranboo swallowed hard and whispered, “Also, my cousin …”
“We’ll take care of things,” Techno said, returning a reassuring nod. “Don’t worry.”
“When you’re ready, we’ll make sure your cousin can be properly laid to rest in your family plot here,” Phil added, “or wherever else you choose.”
Ranboo nodded again minutely and whispered, “Thank you.”
---
“I’ll be back in just a few minutes, okay?”
“Wil, it’s okay,” Tommy said, mustering a reassuring smile as his brother hovered indecisively at the door. “Techno and Phil are both right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
Well, sort of – Techno was standing by the window, watching the scene with faint amusement, but Phil was passed out on the bed next to Tommy. The blond man was seriously dead to the world, even snoring. But it was true enough that Tommy wasn’t going anywhere. Even after Wilbur had made him drink several more of the foul-tasting potions, he still felt disturbingly weak and shaky.
At least most of the marks he could see had faded from his skin.
“Bring me back something good to eat, alright?” Tommy ordered. “I want pastries.”
Oddly, this command seemed to reassure Wilbur, because his brother rolled his eyes and said, “I’m bringing you some broth. And warm milk.”
“And coffee. I just need some coffee,” Schlatt said, his eyes half-shut as he tottered out of the room. Wilbur followed, closing the door firmly on Tommy’s protests.
His mission accomplished, Tommy immediately stopped complaining and turned expectantly to Techno.
“I see you’re feeling better,” Techno said dryly, coming over to sit down on Phil’s other side.
“Yeah!” Tommy said and then winced, glancing quickly at Phil to verify he was still asleep.
“I didn’t think he could ever fall asleep in this place,” Techno commented in a low voice, stretching his legs out as he settled down, “but it’s been a very long day. Days, really.”
Tommy hesitated, turning back to Techno. “I know you said the twins are okay, but … what else happened?”
Techno hesitated in turn, looking down at Phil’s sleeping face and then back at Tommy’s earnest one.
“Techno, please?” Tommy opened his eyes wide and beseeching. “Come on, you’ve got to tell me!”
Techno sighed. “Well, there’s no more news of the witch – or Sam,” he said reluctantly, watching as Tommy’s face dropped and went remote. “Puffy’s officers searched too, but they seem to have vanished deep into the forest. As for the others, Dream – Amon, that is – is dead. So are Punz and Reese.”
Tommy recoiled, then whispered, “How did they all – wait.”
Techno waited, watching the changes in Tommy’s expression as he pieced things together.
“Did Dream, like, grow up to be Amon? But Ranboo told me and Tubbo that Dream was really nice when they were little. Or wait, no, that doesn’t make sense. Phil said before that Amon was some criminal, Ranboo’s dad’s enemy? How could he –”
“No, they were different people. Amon and the others murdered the real Dream and stole his identity,” Techno said gravely. “It hinged on the same kind of rejuvenation magic that they were selling to the spa clients here.”
“But how’d he do it?” Tommy demanded. “I get that the potion was part of it, but … how’d he even find out about that magic shit in the first place? And how’d he decide to steal the real Dream’s life?”
“I’m not sure,” Techno shook his head. “There was likely some collusion with the witch, but … that’s something the investigation will hopefully tell us, as we dig into all the papers and other evidence here. All we can say for certain is that somehow, Amon got to know about the rejuvenation potion, and the plans for the real Dream to come manage the hotel. He must have figured out that there was a general physical resemblance – blond hair, green eyes, and so on – and he saw an opportunity. So even though Amon was an elderly man, with the help of the potion he was transformed into a young man about the real Dream’s age. And remember, no one here – not Ranboo, not his father – had seen Dream in many years, since he was a teenager. So when the transformed Amon turned up here, around the same time they were expecting the real Dream, they had no reason to believe he wasn’t Dream. After all, he looked about like they would have expected Dream to look like, after a decade or so of growing up. And he had all of Dream’s things, which they’d robbed from the real Dream when they killed him. And as I understand, there was no other surviving family to contradict it.”
Tommy grimaced, leaning back into the pillows. “So all this was for money, then? So this Amon bloke could take over Hotel Royale, steal it from Ranboo, and sell that spa shit?”
“It looks that way.”
Tommy’s eyes suddenly widened. “Wait – if it was the potion –”
He whipped around to stare at Techno, uncertainty roiling his gut.
“Did I kill Dream?” he whispered. “When I threw that vial, and broke it?”
Techno hesitated, but his silence was answer enough. Tommy stared down at the blankets on his lap, stricken. “Ranboo probably hates me,” he muttered, his voice thick.
“Hey, no.”
A warm, massive hand cupped Tommy’s cheek, forcing him to turn and meet Techno’s calm red eyes.
“No,” Techno repeated. “You helped Ranboo. That wasn’t his cousin who died yesterday, remember? That was actually the man who murdered his cousin. Even if Amon didn’t do the deed personally, he was the key part of the conspiracy that killed the real Dream.”
Tommy nodded slowly, jerkily.
“Ranboo’s probably still overwhelmed and processing things now, but I’m sure the kid realizes that, too. I don’t think he’d blame you for anything, Tommy.”
“But –”
“I’m sorry this fell on you.”
Startled, Tommy looked up at Techno, who gazed back at him seriously.
“It’s a hard thing to process, taking a life,” Techno continued quietly, “even if – especially if – you didn’t intend it. I never wanted you to get tangled in all this, or wished that kind of burden on you. Phil didn’t, either.”
Tommy dropped his gaze, blinking rapidly.
“But … that man was a murderer, kid. Directly or indirectly, he killed so many children, including some of your friends. I’d prefer you weren’t carrying the weight of it, but I’m glad he’s gone from this world. You were very brave.”
A calloused thumb stroked over Tommy’s cheek, wiping away dampness, and he swallowed.
“What’s going to happen now?” he whispered, looking back up at Techno.
“Well,” Techno released his face and crossed his arms thoughtfully, leaning back against the dark carved wood of the headboard. “You’re going to drink that broth Wilbur’s bringing, and take some more of that potion and take a nap. Then, once you and Phil are both up again, we’re going home.”
“Going home?” Tommy faltered.
It made sense, of course, that the detectives would leave now. The battle was over, the marauders vanquished. There was no reason for them to hang around Hotel Royale, right?
But then … what about him and Wilbur?
On one hand, hadn’t Tommy always said that he’d leave, too, when Wilbur came back? But now that the day was finally here, an icy pain lanced through Tommy’s heart at the idea of leaving Phil and Techno. And what about Tubbo and the twins? What about Ranboo, and the other friends he’d made here?
Should he … maybe ask Wilbur if they could stay? But could they even stay? While those sick fucks were all definitely gone from Hotel Royale now, the idea of keeping on working here like before, like nothing had happened, made Tommy’s mouth taste like ash. He didn’t like the idea of his friends staying on at the hotel, either, but it’s not as if he could force them to go. And besides, what would poor Ranboo do, if everyone just up and left?
And Wilbur wouldn’t want them to stay, Tommy was sure. Schlatt was here too, after all. He’d definitely try to persuade his best friend that they should go back to Manberg with him.
But all of these thoughts seemed to be parading clearly across Tommy’s face, because Techno raised a sardonic eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I just say we will be going home?”
Tommy hesitated, staring at him. “You mean … we’d come with you?”
“If you think we’re leaving you here, you’re dreaming, kid.”
Then, as if he’d actually been awake and listening this whole time, Phil lifted his head off the pillow blearily and said flatly to Tommy, “We’re taking you home. Wilbur, too.”
Then he dropped his head back down and closed his eyes, apparently asleep again.
Techno huffed a quiet laugh while Tommy blinked owlishly.
“But … what if Wil doesn’t want to stay in Snowchester?” Tommy asked hesitantly, looking between Techno’s amused eyes and Phil’s closed ones. “What if he wants to move to Manberg, or somewhere –”
“We’ll come with you,” Phil said, eyes still shut.
“Really?” Tommy whispered, staring at the blond man.
But Phil now seemed to truly be sound asleep.
Torn between hope and frustration, Tommy looked up at Techno, whose lips quirked in response.
“We will. Unless, of course, you want us to go away –”
“No!” Tommy said vehemently, transferring his glare from Techno to the apparently-really-asleep Phil and then back again.
“No,” he repeated more quietly.
“Good.”
They sat for a moment in companionable silence.
Then Techno added, “You know, even if you hadn’t agreed, we’d have just followed you at a distance.”
This startled a laugh out of Tommy, and Techno nodded, looking satisfied.
He then patted at the pillow above Tommy’s head, re-fluffing it. “Okay, that was enough excitement for now. Lie down and rest for a bit, okay? Otherwise Wilbur’s going to scold us both when he gets back. He’s like Phil, I can already tell.”
---
A few days later, Puffy and Cellbit returned to Manberg. They had a few people in custody – people from the outer villages suspected of collusion and, to Phil and Techno’s disgust, former Sergeant Arin – but more importantly, they carried with them a massive amount of papers and physical evidence. This included a lengthy list of old guests of Hotel Royale who had also been clients of Spa Elisabeth, matched against the initials found on the vials in the dungeon cabinet. The list included the names of many wealthy individuals, notable names in Manberg and beyond.
Before leaving, they stopped by the second-floor flat for tea and a chat.
“It was exemplary work, from both of you,” Puffy said quietly, Cellbit nodding in agreement at her side. “You never gave up. You’ve saved the lives of so many children, who would have been lost if this had gone on unchecked.”
Phil exchanged a look with Techno and grimaced. “It doesn’t feel like that,” he said, shaking his head. “This went on for so long already, and we couldn’t do anything. So many lives were lost –”
“You were both fighting an uphill battle,” Cellbit said, shaking his head. “If the commissioner had listened before, if Dream and Punz had been arrested back then, and if the hotel had been thoroughly investigated – who knows, right?”
“Or they might just have been more careful,” Puffy’s eyes were hard. “Many things need to align, to stop people like this. There has to be a limit for second-guessing.”
“That’s the truth,” Cellbit sighed.
“Even now, what might come of all this is hard to say. Getting convictions for the people on that list is going to be very difficult,” Puffy observed, “unless we can find evidence that they knew what, exactly, they were buying. The case will go on for some time.”
She tilted her head, regarding Phil and Techno. “The commissioner will likely be forced to resign in the wake of this scandal. Have you given any thought to returning to the Manberg force? You only need to name what positions you’d like, you know.”
Phil and Techno looked at each other again; rueful blue eyes meeting calm red ones.
“Thank you,” Techno said, “but … perhaps not right away. We have commitments here, at present.”
Puffy nodded, looking unsurprised. She drained her tea cup and nodded to Cellbit; they rose from the table.
“I thought you would say that. But remember, the door is always open for the two of you.”
“And let us know if you ever need anything,” Cellbit added firmly. “Anything at all.”
“Likewise,” Phil said gravely, rising. They all exchanged embraces. “Thank you both, for everything.”
---
Normalcy, it seemed, was finally creeping back into Snowchester. But it had been absent for so long that it was now ill-fitting, like stiff new clothes. For the first time in a very long time, people looked directly at their neighbors – and at themselves. Many did not like what they saw.
A few days after Tommy’s rescue, the embattled Mayor of Snowchester had held a public meeting in the town square. He had read out a curt statement from Ranboo stating that Hotel Royale was closing for the foreseeable future. Even with the help of the remaining Manberg officers, the Snowchester police force had some difficulty controlling the furious, roiling crowd in the aftermath. Some people were protesting the economic impact of even a brief closure, while others argued the hotel should be razed to the ground, and the entire hillside burned to purify it.
Tommy hadn’t witnessed any of this or the aftermath, however, since he remained on enforced bed rest in Phil and Techno’s flat. While he still had occasional bouts of weakness, he was now feeling pretty normal, so just resting all the time was truly horrible. So when there was a soft knock on the bedroom door and Tommy saw the person peeking into the room, he popped out of bed like a jack-in-the-box, ignoring the disapproving, goose-like sound Wilbur made.
“Oh, don’t get up because of me!” Ranboo said, sounding alarmed. But Tommy ignored him, bounding over to hug the tall teenager. Ranboo hugged him back, tentatively at first but then fiercely.
“I’m so glad you came to visit, big man,” Tommy said earnestly, taking Ranboo by the hand and towing him over to sit on the bed. “I’m being smothered, here!”
He saw Ranboo huff out a surprised laugh while Wilbur rolled his eyes – rude – in the background. But it was true! When Wilbur wasn’t hovering over him like an overprotective nursemaid, it was Phil being even worse. Techno was really the only sane ally that Tommy had in this household.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Ranboo smiled.
“I am!” Tommy confirmed. Then his face dropped as he peered closely at Ranboo. “How about you?”
“I’m … okay, I guess,” Ranboo said with a brittle smile, sitting down gingerly on the edge of Tommy’s bed. “The last few weeks have been really busy. I don’t know if you heard – we moved out, all of us.”
Wilbur nodded. “Phil and Techno told us they helped Missa rent a house in the next village.”
“Yeah. It’s Charlie, Niki, Tubbo, the twins, and me staying with Missa there, now. Hannah’s parents were really scared by everything and insisted she move back to their village for a while, but she says she might come back to Snowchester soon.”
Tommy grimaced. “Makes sense. I’m glad you’re mostly all together, though.”
“Yeah,” Ranboo said pensively. “We just couldn’t stay there anymore, you know? And moving into Snowchester would have been really hard, since there are so many people here demanding answers about the future of the hotel, and I just can’t –”
“Fuck ‘em,” Tommy’s eyes flashed. “You don’t need to tell them anything now. They can wait.”
“Yeah,” Ranboo sighed. “And anyway, I don’t think I can tell them anything they want to hear. Honestly, I feel the hotel … it just can’t open again.”
Tommy hesitated, glancing at Wilbur. His brother looked unsurprised, and was nodding.
“It can’t,” Ranboo repeated, shaking his head. “And I mean – even if it did, who would even want to stay there? I’ve learned a lot about the hotel’s finances, in the last weeks. I never knew much about it, before. Dre – no one ever let me. So even though most of the guests didn’t … they weren’t part of that –”
Tommy grimaced, nodding.
“They still went to the spa, for other things. Normal things,” Ranboo swallowed. “Some people just came for the countryside and the scenery, but without the spa I don’t know how many people would’ve ever come here. And now –”
“And the people who might still come now,” Wilbur said grimly, “they’ll probably be the wrong sorts, coming for all the wrong reasons.”
“Exactly,” Ranboo said, looking grateful that Wilbur had verbalized it.
“So what d’you think you’ll do?” Tommy asked, eyeing Ranboo’s tight expression with worry.
“Part of me wants to demolish it,” Ranboo admitted, his hands clenching around one of the many woolen blankets draped over Tommy’s bed. “But then I – I had some good memories there, you know? From when my father was around. And he was so proud of Hotel Royale. So I just don’t know.”
“But you know,” he added after a pause, “Missa had an interesting idea the other day. It can close as a hotel, but maybe reopen as something else. Something good, like a school, or maybe a university.”
Wilbur hummed in agreement, his eyes sharpening with interest.
“It could be something really good for the people here, you know?” Ranboo said, looking between them. “I mean … I know it’s not my fault, exactly, but I feel bad that so many people are being affected by the closure. I know the hotel was really important for Snowchester. Without it, some people might lose their businesses, or have to move away.”
“That is so not your fault,” Tommy said hotly. “Nothing about this is your fault.”
“Nothing,” Wilbur echoed firmly. “Don’t think that way.”
“But still –” Ranboo broke off, shaking his head. “I still feel responsibility, you know? And this is maybe a way I can help. Nothing can ever fix things, but maybe this could … help.”
“I think that’s a great idea, big man,” Tommy said after a pause, turning to look at Wilbur. Wilbur also nodded, smiling slightly.
“It is, Ranboo. And let us know if we can help, alright? In any way.”
“Thanks,” Ranboo looked up at them gratefully. “I think I’ll definitely need it, when I get back.”
Tommy jerked back. “When – wait, you’re leaving?” he demanded, aghast.
Ranboo lips quirked. “Yeah, for … a while, I think. You know Dream’s old friends – the ones I told you about before? The ones I thought he’d fought with, because they never came to visit?” he looked at Tommy, who nodded.
“So Missa managed to find one of them, through some of his old university contacts. He wrote a letter explaining the … situation. One of them, Karl, wrote back. He said he and Dream’s other friends are all really horrified to learn what really happened. He said they did write to Dream before, but they only ever got a single letter back. He said ... basically the letter said not to come visit, that Hotel Royale was all booked up, and that he’d reach out later. But he never did, obviously. Karl said they all assumed Dream was just really busy. He said he wished they’d just come to visit anyway, even though it’s a long trip … then they’d have known straightaway, right, that that man,” Ranboo swallowed, “that he wasn’t Dream.”
“It was probably better for them that they didn’t,” Wilbur observed.
As Tommy and Ranboo looked at him in surprise, he continued, “Considering the lengths they went to, I think Amon and his henchman would have just had Dream's friends killed, don’t you think? They weren’t going to let anyone unmask them.”
Ranboo laughed hoarsely. “That’s – yeah, you have a point.”
“So did you, um, find the real Dream’s body?” Tommy asked hesitantly. “Are you going to bury him here?”
“No, not here,” Ranboo grimaced. “It just – it doesn’t feel right, you know? That’s actually one of the reasons we’re going now. Phil and Techno helped us arrange things, we’re taking his – his coffin back to the city where his family had moved, where he went to university. And Dream’s parents are both buried there, so – yeah.”
“But you're going to come back, right?” Tommy asked in a small voice.
Ranboo’s lips quirked. “Eventually, yeah, to oversee the rebuilding or whatever we end up doing with the hotel. But I think Missa’s right, it’ll be good for me to just … be somewhere else, for a while. And I would’ve left for university in a few years, anyway, so this just moves things up a bit. Missa’s coming with me, of course. And Niki actually said she would, too. So I won’t be all alone.”
There was a moment of silence while Ranboo looked down at his twisting hands, and then back up at Tommy and Wilbur.
“And what about you two? I thought – I was afraid, actually, that you might have already left Snowchester and I wouldn’t get to see you again before leaving. Does this mean you’ve decided to stay, or …?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Tommy said simply. He turned to look at Wilbur, whose face was thoughtful, and continued, “Phil and Techno said it’s up to us. They said if we want to stay in Snowchester, they’ll just get a bigger house, one with enough room for all four of us.”
“And if not, they said they’d come with us,” Wilbur said quietly. “To Manberg, or wherever else we decide to go.”
“Whatever or wherever it is,” Tommy said, his eyes bright and determined, “we’re staying together.”
“Good,” Ranboo said softly, nodding. “That’s really good.”
---
“It’s been very hard for him,” Missa said in a low voice, glancing quickly back at the closed bedroom door to ensure they weren’t being overheard. His hands tightened around the cup of tea. “So many massive, life-altering blows, and in such quick sequence. The reality about Dream … and Sam. And even beyond that – well. Ranboo still hasn’t spoken about it much. But he’s slowly coming to terms, I believe, with the reality of what his father may have known, and been a party to.”
Phil nodded soberly, and Techno said simply, “It’ll take time.”
“Indeed. And thank you again for helping me to arrange the house, and so quickly,” Missa added, taking another sip of tea. “I felt it was very important to get Ranboo and the other children just – just physically away from that place.”
“Of course,” Phil replied, shaking his head. “I can’t imagine them ever living in the hotel again, to be frank.”
“How are the others doing?” Techno tilted his head, studying Missa.
“They’re … alright. That’s another thing I wanted to speak with you about, actually,” Missa hesitated. “As I mentioned, Ranboo and I are planning to depart for the Outer Islands soon, to attend to Dream’s funeral arrangements and meet some of his old friends. The journey is long, and it will take us away for several weeks easily, or even longer. Maybe much longer. I have contacts at the university there, you see. If he wishes, Ranboo could begin studying there early.”
“That might turn into years, then,” Phil observed. Techno leaned back against the counter, watching silently.
“Yes,” Missa paused. “Niki is planning to accompany us, because she hopes to pursue further studies as well. Charlie … I believe he has not yet decided on his path.”
“I see,” Phil said quietly.
“But regardless of whatever Charlie and Niki are planning, they’re both young people starting out in life. It’s not right to lay this responsibility on them.”
“The twins,” Techno noted.
“Precisely. Ranboo loves them, of course, and so do I,” Missa tightened his lips. “But as you know, they’ve already been through a great many upheavals. Parents, grandparents … Sam. Right now, they badly need stability. And a possibly years-long trip away from Snowchester, far away from the places and the people they know, all their friends … I believe it would be difficult for them. But if they were to stay here, they would have Tubbo and Hannah, and possibly Charlie. And Tommy, if he and his brother decide to remain. Once Ranboo and Niki are settled, I can come back for them, but … that’s still another upheaval. And the twins deserve a stable, loving home.”
Phil and Techno looked at each other.
---
A few months later
Stars twinkled brightly through the kitchen window on the night of the new moon, marking yet another month that had passed without any reported disappearance in and around Snowchester.
The aroma of a spicy stew was permeating the warmly-lit, two-story cottage on the outskirts of town. Phil watched absentmindedly from the kitchen table as Techno added more potatoes to the mixture. He’d need to clear the paperwork off the table soon, he thought, since dinner was almost ready.
“Phil.”
“Hmm?” Phil replied, shuffling another paper.
In the next room, he heard Tallulah cheer while Tommy laughed and Chayanne and Tubbo protested loudly and unintelligibly. There was some kind of tournament going on, Phil understood, with a board game that had arrived in the mail from Ranboo the previous week. He and Techno had been made to promise they’d join the next round. Phil made a mental note to get Tommy to teach him how to play the game first, before Techno learned.
“Phil.”
Phil looked up to meet Techno’s dry stare. The cheery red crow-printed apron clashed horribly with his partner’s tied-up pink hair.
“You'd said you wanted to adopt a child someday. And I'd said, that sounds nice. Do you remember that?”
“Yes …” Phil said cautiously, uncertain where Techno was going with this.
“You said a child. Singular. Meaning ‘one.’ Whom we would then outnumber, two to one.”
Phil’s lips twitched. “Techno –”
“There are four small children living in our house. And that’s not counting all their other little friends, who keep running in and out of here nearly every day.”
“Wilbur isn’t really a small –”
“Now we are outnumbered two to one. In the most generous scenario.”
Phil and Techno stared at each other.
“And …?” Phil prompted.
“And nothing,” Techno replied. “But I think it’s important to acknowledge the situation.”
“So we can be vigilant?” Phil asked, trying not to laugh.
“Exactly.”
They exchanged wry smiles.
Techno’s expression turned more serious. “Have we heard anything else from Missa?”
“There was another letter from him today, actually,” Phil replied, leaning forward on his elbows. “Ranboo seems to be doing better, he said. Niki as well. It sounds like there are plenty of distractions to keep them occupied. They both sent notes for the twins and Tommy and their friends, though.”
“Are they still talking with professors there, pursuing the idea of opening a university here?”
Phil looked up at his partner; Techno’s tone was carefully neutral.
“Do you think it’s a bad one?”
“I’m not sure,” Techno said with a shrug, turning back to the stove. “I agree that it’s better that there’s something else up on that hill, not just the ghost of that place, sitting empty and haunting the town. But …”
“Maybe they should just demolish it, right,” Phil said quietly. “Then rebuild fresh, after a few years.”
“Right. But it’s also a lot to put on Ranboo’s shoulders, isn’t it? Let the kid be free of all this for a few years, before making any decisions. Especially considering …”
Phil grimaced and nodded, easily filling in the blank. There had been no closure on that front for any of the children, since the former steward was still missing. And frankly, Phil had no hope that they would ever find the witch again.
“At least Ranboo had some catharsis,” Phil murmured. “But still –”
He broke off, his mind flashing back to that horrifying room filled with the stench of chemicals and decay, to the corpse picked nearly to the bone as if by vultures. He suppressed a shudder and sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he heard Tommy’s bright voice saying something from the other room, and Tubbo replying in an outraged tone while the twins giggled.
He swallowed, meeting Techno’s eyes. He recognized the simultaneously grim and grateful expression he saw there. He knew they had to let it go. They just had to be thankful they had gotten there in time to save their boy.
Now they just needed to move forward, and make sure all their children had healthy, happy childhoods.
… and young adulthoods. Phil and Techno both looked up as the front door of the cottage creaked open, and smiled as they saw Wilbur.
Wilbur smiled back at them, easing his way through the heavy door without jostling the bags he carried.
“How was your day?” Phil asked, shifting papers aside and motioning Wilbur to sit.
“It was good,” Wilbur said, dropping down next to him. He murmured thanks to Techno as he accepted a tea cup. “Schlatt sent a letter saying he and Charlie have scouted a few locations for the Manberg shopfront that Quackity’s been so keen on opening. And Etoiles started teaching me about this class of potions that can permanently alter the scent or texture of objects. Some of it’s pretty strange, honestly, but he keeps saying I have a real knack for it. So … yeah. It was a pretty good day!”
“Good,” Techno nodded approvingly, taking a seat at the table.
“Tommy’s going to be jealous,” Phil observed with a wry smile. “He was complaining again just today how they’re making him and his friends read about history in school, not how to make speed-learning potions or other ‘useful shit,’ as he put it.”
Wilbur’s mouth quirked. “I need to learn fast. I know Pomme’s already been teaching him quite a bit on the side. Where is he, anyway?”
Techno nodded towards the den. “All the juvenile miscreants are in there, playing that game again.”
Wilbur laughed and said, “Oh, and I stopped by the bakery. Hannah said she’s liking it there, and that it’s good to be working with Tubbo again – hang on,” he paused, digging around in one of the bags, and then pulled out a carefully wrapped parcel.
“Fit asked me to give these rolls to you,” Wilbur added, his expression studious as he passed it to Phil. “He said it’s a new recipe he’s developing, and that he really hopes you’ll like them.”
Following Ms. Bothry’s sudden and dramatic passing on the very same day they’d rescued Tommy, the former assistant baker had inherited the high street bakery, since no other kin stepped forward. While helping Puffy catalog the shattered and intact vials in the dungeon room afterwards, Phil’s eyes had lingered for a moment on a shard labeled E.B. before he'd shaken his head and continued.
Now Techno snorted, and Phil rolled his eyes fondly at them both as he accepted the warm, aromatic bundle. “Thanks, we can try them with dinner.”
Wilbur laughed and then ducked into the den, presumably to observe the ongoing game.
Then Techno headed back to the stove, and Phil watched as his partner stirred another handful of herbs into the stew. Another burst of laughter drifted out of the adjacent room.
Phil leaned back in his chair, took a deep breath, and smiled softly.
---
A few weeks later, Phil was woken by soft but persistent knocking at the front door of the cottage. He cast a quick look at the corner clock as he moved to answer; it was still the witching hour.
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late,” their visiting sergeant, Andres, whispered apologetically, “but I thought you would want to be informed of any developments immediately.”
“Thank you,” Phil replied with nod, “we’ll handle it from here. Go get some sleep, Andres.”
As he shut the door softly and turned, Phil saw Techno was already up, watching him from by the bedroom door.
After quickly getting ready, they tiptoed past the twins’ door and into Tommy and Wilbur’s bedroom, careful not to wake the younger boy. Wilbur’s eyes had still been heavy with sleep when they'd drawn him into the living room to explain the situation, but they sharpened immediately when he understood.
“We should be back in a few hours, before they all wake up,” Phil said quietly as they stepped outside into the crisp night air.
Wilbur nodded, carefully closing the front door behind them. Phil and Techno lingered outside the cottage long enough to hear the lock engage before setting off towards the stables. After fetching their horses they began the all-too-familiar ride into the darkness, towards the borderlands of the vast forest.
Soon enough, up in the hills past the derelict structures of Hotel Royale and along the edge of the trees, they found what had sparked the rumor that Andres had brought them.
“Do you think it’s him?” Phil asked queasily. He had seen his fair share of grisly sights, especially of late, but he didn’t particularly feel like dismounting and examining the remains – or rather, what remained of the remains – more closely.
“I think so,” Techno said distastefully. “Look at the blond hair, and the bits of clothes still stuck over there. He was wearing a dark suit that day, wasn’t he?”
“I think so,” Phil made a face. “Let’s head back and have the coroner come deal with this when it gets light.”
Techno nodded, and they turned to follow the treeline until the hillside road came back into view.
Phil breathed deeply of the woodsy air when they were far enough away from the body. While the Forest of Baden was never, ever safe, this felt like the safest it had been in years. It felt pleasant, to be riding here with Techno in the pre-dawn hours, just beyond the farthest-reaching branches of the trees.
Then suddenly, a few meters ahead, someone stepped out of the dense fog gating the woods.
Phil and Techno startled as both of their horses abruptly stopped in their tracks. Small mist clouds rose into the chill air with each huffing breath the animals took as they nervously shifted and stomped their hooves.
The figure resolved itself upon approach. A striking woman with black hair and blacker eyes smiled up at them, dark and lovely.
She was certainly no one Phil had ever seen before, in Snowchester or elsewhere.
“Madame, can we help you?” he asked cautiously.
“I hope so,” she said, taking another confident step forwards. “I’m searching for someone.”
Phil and Techno exchanged a wary glance. Someone else was missing? But –
“She murdered a dear friend of mine for his eyes,” the woman explained calmly, “many years ago.”
Techno shot Phil an alarmed look, and Phil felt a chill run up his spine at the woman’s matter-of-fact tone.
“Ever since, I’ve kept watch for her. But between the passage of time and the skill of her arts, her trail has been well-hidden.”
“Until now,” the woman added musingly, looking into the space beyond Phil and Techno, as if she could clearly see the mangled corpse resting in the distant darkness. Then she turned to look up towards the barely-visible Hotel Royale, as if reading something written there in the air itself.
“I only recently heard a rumor that she had come this way. But indeed, now that I see this land, the dwelling on the hilltop – well. The marks of her work are unmistakable.”
She turned back, studying them with keen eyes. “You were here when she left this place?”
Techno shifted uneasily, trying to soothe the nervous horses. Phil gave the woman a wary nod in confirmation.
“She clearly fled into the darkwood once she was forced from her misbegotten nest,” the woman continued, her lip curling, “but the forest is immense. Do you know wherein she now cowers?”
“No,” Phil replied, with more calm than he felt. “Unfortunately we lacked the resources to pursue her in the forest.”
The woman nodded in understanding. “But now, I am here. Will you aid me?”
There was a beat of silence as Phil and Techno looked at each other, as uneasy as their mounts.
“We’re not magic practitioners,” Techno said guardedly, because yes, as clearly as Phil could see the woman standing before them, it was just as obvious that she was an immensely powerful witch. The weight of her presence, her words, hung heavy in the air like the fog around them. “I’m not sure … what kind of help we could give you.”
“You are the guardians of this region, are you not?” her dark eyes bored into them. “As long as she resides in the forest nearby, there will never be a time when you will not have to fear her re-emergence.”
Phil and Techno stared at her, and then at each other.
“Eventually,” the woman continued, her eyes sharp, “her craving for young blood will grow too strong to resist, too sharp to be satiated by leeching from animals. Eventually, her piecemeal body will begin to decay and she will venture out again, seeking the elements of whatever new shape she desires.”
Techno’s eyes flashed dangerously, and Phil’s chest clenched in fear – but also fury – as his mind flashed back to their cottage, and their children asleep inside it.
They exchanged another look; no words were needed.
“We’ll give you whatever help we can,” Phil told her gravely, and Techno nodded in confirmation.
“Wonderful,” she said, flashing them a quicksilver smile, tinged with a deep mischief that reminded Phil of nothing more than a satisfied cat. “And may I know your names?”
“I’m Philza,” he replied evenly. Caution and curiosity were warring within him, along with a strong, unexpected compulsion to give her his full name, which he rarely disclosed. Phil could hear the same qualities ringing in his partner’s voice as Techno gave her his full name.
“Philza and Technoblade,” she repeated thoughtfully, with a decisive nod.
“You may call me Kristin.”
Notes:
Well, that’s it, folks!
First, thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, and especially comments (and amazing ART! Thank you so much, viaAlterEgo 💗)! Comments always brighten my day, and it’s been so wonderful to see people following along and enjoying this 💗
Now for a little navel-gazing and commentary … I’d left this story on the back burner for a very long time after finishing chapter 5, and was honestly unsure if I’d ever come back to it and complete it. It’s especially kind of bittersweet to finish posting it now, around the same time that QSMP has ended (for now). But as always, our favorite characters will live on in fandom :-)
Regarding the story itself, this fic clocks in at ~76k words, making it my longest-ever single story (so far, bwahaha). I think this is also my first story to lean so heavily into secret identity shenanigans, which I love. I really tried my best to cloak the major twist in this story (Dream(on)’s identity and the fate of the real Dream) for as long as possible, and I’m very curious if anyone figured it out early – and if so, what gave it away! Now … for those who have watched the entirety of Gran Hotel, I think it’s obvious what inspired that particular plot point x-) But for those who haven’t, I’ll say no more!
Another key inspiration for this story was historical. The Hungarian Countess Elizabeth Báthory (the "Blood Countess") was famously accused of murdering mind-boggling numbers of young girls in the 16th-17th centuries – and was rumored to have drank and bathed in the blood of her victims to retain a youthful appearance. Modern scholars debate to what extent she really was a sadistic serial killer vs. a garden variety brutal aristocrat of the era who was herself the victim of political machinations. However, it’s pretty well accepted that the blood drinking/bathing bits were a lurid, tabloid-esque embellishment that was added to the story about a century later. She is referenced here in the name of Spa Elisabeth, of course, and also the name of the bakery owner Mrs. Bothry, who was one of the clients of the spa.
At the beginning, I mentioned I had some fun sneaking allusions to longer-ago QSMP canon events into this story. The egg characters who are the victims of the marauders are obviously also some of those who died early in canon (I’m so sorry, Bobby and Juanaflippa! I’ve killed a lot of characters before, but I never felt so bad about it as I did with them and Connor). Phil battling the transformed Reese-Tommy with Etoiles’s help riffs off of the incredible Codebreakers scene at the election dinner, where the Binary Code Entity impersonates Chayanne and Tallulah, but Phil immediately recognizes that these are not his children, wtf. ‘Ben Reese’ was actually my effort at twisting ‘Binaries’ into a name, which is why Binary Code is a listed character :-) Similarly, the choice of Sofia as the name of the ultimate villain is from the powerful QSMP entity which may or may not have knowledge of the mysterious workings of the island … here, the character is a former and current dweller of the eerie Forest of Baden, which has long troubled the lives of those around it. There are a few other call-outs to {D,Q}SMP canon events embedded in here, but I’ll leave those as easter eggs ;-)
I often like to leave a few threads for potential future imaginings in these long fics – Wilbur’s status as an apprentice apothecary and his growing realization that he is a magic-user/witch is one, and Kristin’s appearance is definitely another. I’m doubtful I’ll write more in this ‘verse, but if I ever do, those two elements would be important!
So thanks again, and until next time!
Sarah_Mist on Chapter 1 Fri 26 Apr 2024 10:28AM UTC
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