Loudest Dungeon: Ch.5 - This Sepulcher Called Hope

Williams regarded the broken land before him with the same steady, hungry gaze as the crows which circled overhead. The mutterings of ill omens and the like had since abated but even now he would catch others glancing furtively up to the sky, wringing their hands and hunching their backs. He’d have to keep an eye on them, otherwise they might turn tail and run.

Couldn’t be having that, the Ladies would be awfully upset with him should that happen. Production was behind schedule as it was and the midget with the glasses had made it abundantly clear this wouldn’t be tolerated.

The men could hardly be faulted for their lackluster performance though. It had been some time since the last Lord of the land (may the Devil chew up his soul and spit it out into the primordial fires of Hell) had been around to order the men and it’d be easy to condemn them for their inactivity.

Williams shuddered as he looked at it, the brown-green pastures of rotting grass that slowly gave way to the inexorable presence of the dead lands. For here lie The Ruins, crumpled and left to scatter the landscape, all that remains of what was once a mighty castle and its own Hamlet, or so the legend goes. He didn’t doubt it, certainly looked like there was enough rubble to go around.

These lands and relics of a bygone age were all that remained, dotting the acres as they burst from the ground that had swallowed up the land following an Earthquake some years back. The castle was fine though, as the tales told of long-winding labyrinthine halls deep underground, naturally filled to the brim with all sorts of ghoulies and beasties and the like. He didn’t doubt that either. And neither did the local Lords, Barons and Dukes, many of whom no doubt held some claim on the land, though none had tried to collect it. None had been foolish enough.

“Damn fine day for it, isn’t it, Will old boy?” Lambert asked. His blue eyes twinkled from within the weather folds of his face and his graying mustache twitched as he smelled the air. The smile on his face seemed inappropriate for the situation, the fact that it literally stretched from one ear to the other bordered on disconcerting.

“Yes, sir,” Williams replied, casting a wary side glance at the aged veteran standing next to him. “A damn fine day,” he said. What he didn’t say was that it would be an even finer day for being somewhere else. Somewhere far away. Like, say, the tavern, or better yet the brothel. Not that he’d say this out loud of course, the last time he’d voiced such concerns the addled old man-at-arms had taken it as quite the jest and clapped him in the shoulder hard enough to dislocate it.

That had been a little after their first little excursion. The mistresses called it excavation, a fancy word for treasure hunting as he understood it. All perfectly safe, they had assured him after he became aware of the location, they had been through their earlier several times and more or less cleared out the west wing.

That first night young Thomas had been devoured by spiders the size of dogs. The beasts had been put down by the panicked workers and the job postponed. Williams cursed his luck, it had taken days to get the boys together when they were too made aware of the location and none of them would work again after the incident, swearing up and down that they were leaving for home the very next day.

The oldest of the Family came by the next day to make sure the work had started. When told of the incident she alone walked down into the dark, and by the time the sun had begun to set, and the men had packed up camp back for the Hamlet, she emerged from the gloom covered in green ichor and wearing the most terrifying scowl Williams had ever seen. She spat bloody phlegm at their feet and told them to get back to work, and shamefaced the men obliged to the young Lady’s request.

Williams shuddered as the memory ran its course. That family had always been cursed, and he still had dim recollections of the old Lord from his childhood, but those were dim and fogged by time. This was fresh and raw and bloody and the look in that one eye haunted his dreams through the long weeks of labor that followed.

A sharp bark of laughter tore the rattish man from his reveries and he cast an irritated glare at the back of Lambert’s head as the old codger toddled off to bother some other poor worker. The man had been sent to the camp the day after the Mistresses’ visit, a security net she called him, as if that could be believed. Williams snorted and reached into his pocket, pulling out his trusty flask. With a wrench of his teeth the cork was torn free and Williams gulped down two shots in quick succession.

“Bit early for that don’t you think,” a worker called out from behind, and a chorus of snickers followed his jest.

“Isn’t that what the midwife said to your mother?” Williams called back, not even turning around as the men behind him jeered and laughed.

Not for the first time Williams cursed his lot in life, his dependence on the bottle and his temper. But most of all Williams cursed his greed, greed for the gold and silver, for the shiny baubles hidden away under the earth or in long forgotten places, places like these. It was that very same greed after all that brought him here, that made him accept the sister’s demands to have the Ruins excavated.

"Who knows what’s down there," they whispered, their voices like honey as the cajoled him with flattery and bribes and maybe even a threat or two. It was hard to remember, he vaguely remembered the oldest pouring him a glass and things got a bit fuzzy after that.

Williams re-corked the flask and stuffed it back into the coat with a huff. It didn’t matter how he got here, all that did matter was the he was here, and he had a job to do.

And, all things considered, their little operation was running much smoother than he had anticipated. Disregarding the first night’s rocky start it seemed that the girls had gone through most of what was down there, and whatever stragglers were left were mopped up by the oldest the next day. The team had already unearthed several lovely chests and the odd relic here and there. These were to be stored and gifted to the Ladies after the week when they would call for their due. Normally Williams would pocket and artifact or two but then he remembered just what family he was dealing with and wisely decided to stuff them all in a safe only he had the key to.

They could have the cursed things for all he cared, just so long as he was getting paid for this. Still, the girls had promised to use the money to fix up the Hamlet, and while Williams trusted a noble about as far as he could toss one (no small feat given their general proclivity for corpulence) it was a thought worth entertaining if only to keep his mind occupied.

There was a crash and Williams spun to see that a column had fallen. Several workers milled about the pile of rubble, a couple still on their backs having just narrowly scrambled away from where it almost collapsed on them.

“Watch what you’re doing,” Williams hollered, fixing the sheepish looking men with the hardest glare he could muster. “Damn place is a hundred years old, one wrong move and what’s left will come down on top of us.” Williams waited for the men to nod in agreement before turning away with a huff. But not before getting a good look at their faces, there was no way he was letting them go below ground. The last thing he needed was to have his illustrious career cut short by a cave-in.

Moving along the ranks Williams watched as the men worked. They weren’t the brightest lot, nor the hardest workers, nor were they even dependable in all but the most benign of scenarios. But they were cheap, and for Williams that was the best price. You get what you pay for really, and in the event that some of them might perish that just means one less person to pay. There’s always more where they came from in the slums after all, and it wasn’t like the Hamlet had anything in the way of professionals, volunteer work was the best you were going to get ‘round these parts.

A scream brought everything to a standstill. Men dropped shovels, crates, and armfuls of rubble and Williams swiveled on his heels towards the source of the noise. He already had an inkling he knew as to where its origins lay and much to his dismay saw he was correct.

The mouth to the Ruins entrance, what no doubt was once a great and noble gate now long since reduced to debris and half-sunk into the ground, lay before him, foreboding and ominous. Darkness was all it offered, and death was all it promised, like some forgotten passageway into Hades itself.

And apt description, Williams had heard of the rumors. The mutterings and the whispers of the local peasantry. Drunken tales of the walking dead, of phantoms returned to haunt their living descendants, of corpse-eating child-snatchers with lantern eyes and a ghoulish countenance.

He believed them of course, every word.

Still, he had a job to do, and maybe it was just the nips of whiskey from earlier, but all the same Williams found himself walking towards the entrance where by now a sizable crowd of men had begun to spill forth. The men fled with wild abandon, dropping their shovels and pick-axes to the ground as they raced wild-eyed and shrieking into the camp. At first the other workers could only stare at the commotion, but it didn’t take long before they too dropped their supplies and began to flee, one by one.

With a snarl Williams reached out and snatched up a young boy by the arm, hauling the squealing youth towards him so he could more properly grasp him round the shoulders.

“Right then, where the bloody ‘ell you think your off to!” Williams shouted, roughly shaking the wide-eyed boy to-and-fro. Trembling like a leaf the boy answered, extending an arm and pointing a shaky finger back off to the entrance.

Williams turned, and his mouth fell open. His hands opened, and the boy tumbled to the ground in a heap. He was distantly aware of the boy at his feet scrambling away on all fours, the screams drowned him out to be honest.

The dead were walking. White bone gleaming underneath rotting scraps of ruined leather, their hideous grinning skulls bare of flesh and muscle, bones rattling and rusted armor creaking as the creatures stalked forward.

An unearthly silence had choked the life out of everyone. What few men who hadn’t fled yet or those who hadn’t gone far dropped their tools and stood there, still as statues, unable to move or make a sound as the unholy procession poured forth from the open gate, skeletal limbs jerking like poorly animated marionettes as the skeletons forced themselves into the camp. Many waved wooden clubs or hunks of stone in their bony fingers, others clutched swords and axes, others still held lances and halberds, maces and flails, weapons they held dear in life and even in death kept them close.

Alone and separate from the others stood one lone worker, his shovel held up in defense though his hands were shaking, and tears were pouring from his eyes. A skeleton wearing an iron cuirass and a tin helmet approached him. It regarded the man silently for a moment, and then with a creaking of its limbs raised its crossbow. There was a ‘fethewp’ sound, followed shortly by a ‘thwack’, and with something like a moan and a grunt the man fell to the ground, his hands clutched around the bloody shaft of the crossbow bolt sticking out of his stomach.

Somebody screamed and just like that the spell was broken. Williams turned on his heels and ran as the men around him screamed and followed suit.

The pandemonium was immediate and intense. People scrambled, throwing co-workers and friends to the ground as they fled for their lives. The dead moved as one, unnatural and jerky, but faster than Williams had expected. A man to his right was skewered with a javelin and pinned to the ground, squealing like a hog as his hands clawed at the dirt.

Williams cursed but kept running all the same. All around him he could hear similar fates befalling his crew, men screamed and cried out for help, their strangled curses and howls cut short with the wet sound of rending meat and the clang of steel.

The dead surged forth like a tidal wave, deceptively quick, unremittent in their onslaught as they furrowed through the panicked crowds and into the camp. To Williams horror he found it still inhabited, the men that had fled from the ruins had been stopped by their curious fellows and all had gathered in a large mob. Williams screamed at them to run but the sight of the dead paralyzed them much as it had those who’d first caught a glimpse back at the mouth of the tunnels.

Williams turned his head off to the side just in time to see the skeleton of what in life must have been a man of Goliathan proportions bury a flail into a man’s head. The weapon crushed the skull, fragments of bone and a surge of blood and brain exploding outwards in a shower of gore, and surged down into the chest with a wet, churning sound. The weapon tore free of the stomach with a squelch as intestines and poured out into a quivering heap as the man’s carcass was sent careening off a few meters from the sheer force of the impact.

Williams felt hot bile rise in his throat and he turned his head away from the sight. He wanted to cover his ears to block out the screams but felt it’d be pointless. There was a flash of light in the corner of his eye and Williams realized that one of the tents had been set alight, ignited no doubt by a kerosene lamp carelessly knocked over in the struggle. The fire spread quickly, racing from tent to tent and before Williams eyes the entire camp was cast in a baleful orange glare as men screamed and ran, caught between the fires and the monsters pursuing them.

Many of them choose the inferno, and Williams found their screams to be all the more horrifying.

Some of them had even begun to take up arms, fear and desperation fueling the ever-present instinctual desire to live. With pickaxes and shovels the men armed themselves and waded into the dead, letting their horror and anger overtake them in one last bitter struggle to survive.

A fool’s errand, the dead overwhelmed them with their numbers and their weaponry. The horde pursued, walking through the flames like some Demonic incursion from the very fires of Hell, unperturbed by the heat and the very slaughter the caused.

It shook Williams to the bone that. The indifference to it all. Bandits would’ve screamed and roared and even laughed but this? This was nothing, they weren’t eve aware of what they were doing. These old dead things were incapable of such things.

And it was here, trapped by a burning tent, huddled around the meager remains of his workforce, surrounded by the grinning dead, that Williams beheld the very visage of Evil.

It came gliding from the maw of soot and flame, a red cloak shielding its form from the world, head obscured by a hood and features encapsulated so thoroughly in darkness Williams could not make it out. Around its neck the thing wore a collar so heavy it bowed the head, a thing of twisted metal spikes warped into the shape of Terror. Williams recoiled at the unholy symbol and a sort of realization came over him that he was looking at the cause of all this.

It was a Necromancer.

The dead thing glided towards the group and the skeletons followed, heading their master’s silent call to arms, mere puppets under the inexorable will of this dread sorcerer, this God-forsaken aberration. It spoke not a word as it approached, cloak billowing, arms outstretched. The robes parted, and Williams saw only the heavy darkness of oblivion waiting for him. The peace of the dead to greet him and the promise of nothingness to embrace him. All that he ever was would be forgotten and not even his bones would get to rest, his carcass made to serve an all-together different purpose after he was expunged.

A roar cut through the silence, banishing the sway it held over Williams who could only cock his head at the noise. Diminished and faded at first, but growing rapidly in cadence and volume, communicating its power through its resolution.

Williams could scarcely believe his eyes as Lambert, the brave old fool, burst through a burning tent, mace and shield held aloft and a fire in his eyes. The first two skeletons were destroyed before anyone could even react, their skulls crushed to fragments of bone under the weight of his weapon, and the old man-at-arms continued his onslaught unabated. With all the traditional fervor and resolute determination of a soldier Lambert hacked his way through the undead mob, his mace striking out at exposed skulls and snapping rusted weapons while his shield protected him from their bony claws and swords and spears. In such close range their weapons proved fruitless as Lambert shoved the last few aside and closed in on his prey.

Williams could see now that the Necromancer was just as tall as Lambert, who despite his age was a strapping tower of a man himself. Lambert reared his mace back over his shoulder and swung his weapon at the fell thing’s hooded head. Williams had to have been standing a good ten meters away, but he could still hear the sound that mace made as it tore through the air, descending upon the vile creature responsible for all of this.

The Necromancer reached out and with one hand caught the spiked ball. With its other hand it lashed out and knocked Lamberts shield out of his grip before applying its fleshless talons to the old man’s throat. Lifting him high above the ground the Necromancer cocked its head and slowly pulled the mace from Lamberts slackened grip.

Williams felt his chest tighten as the weapon clattered to the ground and all around him the palpable sense of hopelessness weighed heavily in the air.

Slowly, the Necromancer turned to face them, its skeletal horde copying its movements. Williams and the men huddled closer, trapped between a wall of flame on one side and an army of the damned on the other. Given the choice, he liked to think he’d choose the fire. The Necromancer floated towards them, deliberately, still holding the kicking and grunting Lambert in its iron grip.

The Necromancer held Lambert out, facing the crowd of horrified onlookers, all of them much too terrified to even say a word. With its other hand it reached out and grabbed his flesh tight, going right for the clothe under the breastplate. It twisted its wrist, digging its skeletal digits deep into the flesh, and then it wrenched.

There was a sick, wet, tearing sound as Lambert’s skin was ripped off his frame, exposing the glistening red muscle underneath. The man’s screams were muffled by the grip around his throat but that in no way lessened his thrashing as he kicked out his legs and howled. The Necromancer took no real notice, its gaze focused squarely on the men watching the whole spectacle. With a talon it reached out and dragged the point across Lambert’s red belly, the organs spilled out onto the ground in a steaming pile and Lambert went still.

The men moaned and cried and even laughed as they succumbed to their terror. Only Williams stood apart from the throng, silent and unmoving, shock and sorrow rooting him to his spot. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. The old man was really gone, he had always seemed so invincible, but he was… gone. Just like that. A shudder ran down his spine and Williams suddenly felt very sick and he looked up to see the Necromancer staring right at him. It held up Lambert’s skin and waved it at him.

Lambert jerked in the Necromancer’s grasp and there was a crunch as his elbow slammed into whatever peered out from the empty blackness beyond the Necromancer’s cowl. With an inhuman scream the Necromancer dropped Lambert’s quivering body and reared back, hands retreating beneath the hood as it screeched and moaned.

Williams stared for a few seconds then noticed something very important. The skeletons weren’t attacking. In fact, they weren’t doing much of anything. Just standing there, motionless. Several had even dropped their weapons and a couple went limp to fall apart on the ground. He glanced at the army, then back to the Necromancer, then his eyes flickered over to Lambert…

Williams reached out and smacked the man nearest to him. Then he pushed him off to the right, where even now the fires had begun to recede as the tents smoldered. The man didn’t need to be told twice and took to his heels. Williams smacked a few more idlers, he pulled hair and shoved and kicked and even bit to get them moving but once the first couple had taken flight the rest caught on quickly enough and raced off to freedom.

Williams was right there with them, laughing and crying as the heat from the burning campsite behind him slowly abated and he could no longer hear the wretched undead things chasing after them. He’d leave them behind, he’d leave it all behind. Except for Lambert, that he’d take with him. For the rest of his years and down to the very grave.

For now, though, the Hamlet beckoned him. Promising a warm bed and food and safety, shelter from the night and all the terrors it brought with it. Williams sobbed and ran faster than he’d ever run in his whole life.
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Lucy Loud sat silent in her chair as her sisters hustled and jostled around her. Her leg hurt, and the noise wasn’t exactly helping her headache, but it was nothing she wasn’t used to. And to be honest, hearing her sister’s voices, even if there weren’t as many as there should’ve been, was appreciated, comforting even. Why, if she closed her eyes she could almost pretend she was back home.

Not that she got the chance. Ever since she’d woken up Lucy had been accosted near endlessly by her sisters, all of them eager to greet her with hugs and squeals and rapid declarations of love and regrets and further affirmations that everything was going to be fine because they were together now. Lucy knew better of course, but she let them have their fun.

She was still… adjusting really. Being told that you’ve been taken to some mysterious eldritch hamlet in the middle of a Lovecraftian hellhole to fulfill a prophecy laid out by an ancestor you never knew was a lot to take in. Being told that you were almost sacrificed to a demon by a necromancer was another matter entirely. Lucy, having studied and largely obsessed over the occult all her young life, took the news with all the grace and stoic consideration she was known for. Then she passed out.

She woke back up in the bed sometime later. Leni must’ve settled her back down, but it wasn’t the bubbly fashionista keeping watch over her as she rested. Rather, Lucy had woken up to the sight of her oldest sister, Lori, keeping a faithful vigil over her sister. She hadn’t recognized her at first, decked in her armor and weapon at her side, but then she saw her face and in horror and relief called out to her. Lori saw her awaken and touched her face with a tenderness Lucy hadn’t come to expect from her oldest sibling. Then she pulled her in for a hug, it was tight and bespoke not of comfort as Leni’s had but of a fervent possessiveness, like a man who had gone without water and now clutched at a jug. Lucy sobbed like a child and Lori stroked her hair and pressed the child close to her bosom, soothing her with calm shushes and gentle words.

When Lucy had calmed down Lori gave her a kiss and took her out of the room to an extravagant washroom where started a bath for her. She washed her hair for her like she used to when Lucy was but a toddler, and as she brushed her off Lori began recounting the strange circumstances by which the Loud family had been brought to this awful place, a sordid tale of woe and terror, one of violence and evil and Lucy could scarcely believe that her own sisters had committed the ultimate sin. It was inconceivable, especially for Leni, sweet Leni who wouldn’t even kill a centipede if she could get someone to take it out of the house. But shock and fatigue had worn down her spirit and Lucy found herself unable to voice these concerns, and moreover found herself powerless to question the incogitable tale her sister had relayed. Instead Lucy just nodded her head, and Lori looked down on her with an odd wistful expression before kissing her again. Then she dried her off, gave her a fresh robe to wear, and brought her down for breakfast where the rest of her sisters waited for her with baited breath and earnest hope.

Lucy looked at Lori now. She had changed, Lucy thought. Physically there were subtle differences, the way she moved for one. Confident as always, but more fluid. When she moved it was with grace and purpose but otherwise she was as immobile as a statue, and Lucy’s mind likened it to a crocodile; always tense and ready to strike. She observed the supple muscles on her sister’s arms as she reached out for the pot of coffee, the slight bulges rippling under the skin. Nothing grotesque or unnatural, rather the opposite. These were the kind of muscles people who had to fight would come by, not some lump of flesh sculpted by vigorous routine and dieting; practical muscles not for show but for survival. Then Lucy looked at Lori’s face and in spite of herself shuddered.

It was an ugly thing, that scar. Started at the hairline it raced down the right side of her face, ducking under the eyepatch covering her right eye, clefting the lip before reaching the chin, running all the way down her face. It was little more than red line and was probably much better off than it had looked like before (or had any right to look like for that matter) but it was still ugly. Lori had always been something of a… well, it was hard to explain. When Lucy looked at Lori she didn’t see something vulnerable, her older sister always seemed so in charge of everything; powerful, strong-willed, invincible even. But she wasn’t, she was flesh and bone and she could get hurt and even die.

Lori told her the scar had come from the Ghoul, the same monster that had attacked Lucy in the dark tunnels. The dull, throbbing pain in her leg reminded her of what that monster was capable of and it saddened her to know that it had crippled more than one Loud. That Leni of all people had been the one to destroy it, with help from the others of course, was a source of great satisfaction for the young goth.

As Lori drank her coffee, pointedly ignoring whatever it was Luna was yelling at her about (and Luna’s temper was another thing Lucy noticed, the rocker had always been fiery but now it seemed like she almost wanted Lori to get angry with her) Lucy realized Lori had also changed mentally. She seemed… distant. Not necessarily cold but she held the others an arm’s length away, like they were precious china and she had to be careful with them or else they’d break. It was a disconcerting thing to witness, and when Lucy saw the strained look in Lori’s eyes she wondered just how she was really faring. Lori caught Lucy staring and gave the lass a wink, bringing her hand up and clapping the thumb and four other fingers together. Luna caught the sign and redoubled her noise, and Lucy couldn’t help but chuckle.

Grabbing her fork Lucy speared some eggs of her plate and stuffed them into her mouth, chewing with gusto and a rare smile on her face. Dad’s cooking was good and all, but whoever did the cooking here had to be the best chef in the whole wide world! I mean, eggs, sausages, ham, bacon, flapjacks and French toast, who has time to make all this!? And it’s real meat too!

Sigh~

“So then,” Lucy muttered through a mouthful of eggs, “what now?”

Luna and Lori stopped arguing and turned their attention to their younger sister. Across the table Leni, who was trying to coax Lola into talking, also looked over and Lisa peered over her book at her sibling.

“What do you mean,” Luna asked.

“Well, you found Lola and I didn’t you? That must mean the others are here too.”

“Oh, well, yeah,” Luna replied, shrugging her shoulders. "We haven’t found anyone after you though, but we’re still looking. We’ll never stop.” Lori grunted in affirmation and Leni nodded. “We’re just taking it one day at a time really,” Luna continued.

“Well, you’re doing a good job,” Lucy said, reaching over to pile some more food onto her plate. “I mean, we’ve only been here for, what, a few days? You’ll find the others soon, I’m sure of it.” Lucy resumed eating and might’ve enjoyed her breakfast for some time if Lola’s stare hadn’t caught her eyes.

Lucy tried to hold back a shudder as Lola stared at her, wide-eyed and impassive, a small frown on her face. Lucy wasn’t one for getting scared easily, but she didn’t like people looking at her in the best of circumstances and seeing Lola, one of the loudest little girls Lucy had ever known, act like this was unnerving. She looked… lost. Broken even. Not physically like Lucy had been but mentally. Lucy could only recall brief snippets of her tenure in the Ruins but for Lola it was all still fresh. Poor thing didn’t even have her twin with her and Lucy felt her heart pang for her little sister’s plight. Nobody should have to go through what happens down there, she wouldn’t wish it on even the worst bully.

A cough caught Lucy’s attention and she turned her head to see the others reacting oddly. Lori was frowning, her brow knit tight and fists clenched. Leni looked downtrodden, like her somebody had just told her that her newest dress had been eaten by Charles, but it was alright because the dress didn’t even look good anyway. Luna wouldn’t even look at her, preferring to stare down at the table biting her lip. Only Lisa met her hidden gaze, staring evenly ahead as she dabbed a napkin to her mouth before sighing and crossing her hands across the table.

“Well, dear shibling,” she said with her usual lisp, “I musht regretfully inform you that what you have said is unfortunately false. You see, your injuries at the hands of the Cult of Flesh left you, shall we say, catatonic.”

“You were, like, in a comma,” Leni chirped.

“Coma Leni.”

“What does grammar have to do with this?”

As Leni and Lisa argued Lucy sat there, slack-jawed and eyes wide under her bangs. Actually, now that she thought about it, her hair did seem longer, her nails too. And she did seem quite weak, especially in the joints. Was it true then, she’d read stories of waking up from comas before to find their families changed, their estates haunted, the usual stuff. It all added up quite nicely in her case.

“H-how long was I out then?” Lucy asked, and her siblings flinched at the question. Nobody said a word until finally Lori sighed and pushed her chair out to stand up. The oldest Loud walked over to her sister slowly, methodically, and Lucy shivered as Lori knelt in front of her. She tried not to, but she just couldn’t help but look at Lori’s eye patch, knowing that under there she’d find nothing more than a vacant hole.

“Lucy,” Lori whispered, grabbing her sisters gently by the shoulders. “You’ve been out for a few weeks. We’ve literally been stuck here for a little over a month now.”

Lucy’s mouth opened but the slam of a door being thrown open cut her off and everyone at the table spun around to see the spindly, misshapen form of the caretaker shambling into the room.

“Yes, yes, hello, hello,” the Caretaker giggled, stuffing his knuckles into his mouth and biting down on them hard enough to draw blood. He looked down at Lucy who had launched herself into her sister’s arms at the sight of the odd and frightening man and the wizened creature cocked his head at the sight.

“There’s one more,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Are you just bringing in street urchins now?”

“Where’s the fire old man,” Lori snapped, and the Caretaker started cackling and fidgeting in place.

“Terrible news,” the old man whimpered. “The team sent down to the Ruins seems to have been destroyed, devoured, maimed, and otherwise indisposed. There’s a couple of the men what are still left running about the town and causing a scene. Might have a riot on our hands soon mistress. Haven’t had a good riot in a while, think they’ll use torches?”

“Goddamnit!” Lori snapped, grabbing Lucy and placing her back in the seat, carefully making sure her leg was okay before standing up and marching out the door. There was a clattering of silverware as Leni and Luna scarfed down what was left on their plates before rushing off after their sister, begging her to at least give them a chance to change into their uniforms.

Lucy stared at the empty doorway were her sisters had vanished from for some time before slowly looking up at the leathery face of the Caretaker, taking in his rictus smile and yellowed skin. She looked over at Lisa who had already resumed her breakfast. The little genius caught Lucy’s stare and merely shrugged, pointing at Lucy’s plate with her fork in an effort to encourage the girl to resume her meal. Beside her Lola sat, still as a statue and just as pale.

“I say,” the Caretaker suddenly said, placing his hands on his hips. “How is it that you girls always seem to forget to invite me to breakfast every morning?”
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“The End is Night! The End is Nigh! Our doom approaches and there is naught we mere mortals can do but despair!”

This speech was hardly new for those who frequented the Hamlet, anyone who had lived here for more than three minutes had already heard this spiel before. Still, there was something just slightly more disconcerting about the way this new one was carrying on. A little more animated than his fellows, a little more terrified, fueled by something much fresher than decades of despair and general disquieting horror.

Williams ran through the square with wild eyes and flailing arms, grabbing passerby as they tried to duck into alleys or shops, so he could scream in their faces about the dead things that walked by the old ruins, of the things beneath the Earth that had come back incensed by the new land owner’s unwavering probing of their hidden depths and their attempts to discern their terrible secrets. He was thrown of, punched, kicked, had rocks thrown at him, but nothing dissuaded him from his cries, his warnings, his tales of what he had seen just a few scant hours ago. The men sent to the Ruins had all died, had been murdered by the dead and the foul sorcerer that had reanimated them, an old horror from the days of the Ancestor and His foul experiments.

And the more Williams raved the more his words stuck in the mind of the peasantry. The more it settled into their hearts. The more it stirred things up. Soon there would be whispers, then shouts, and then the warnings would follow with torches and pitchforks in their wake.

Lori could see it all unfolding before her eyes and was thankful the Caretaker had made her aware of the situation. The whole thing was a powder keg just waiting to go off and the last thing she needed was for some upstart peasant to get a big head and go all Robespierre on their collective asses. Taking stock of the scene Lori found herself recognizing the portly fellow. That was what’s-his-face! The fat guy she bought to oversee the whole excavation operation. Where was the other guy, the old soldier?

“Hey!”

Williams turned his heels at the noise. He wasn’t the only one, the crowd of people that had begun to gather around him also turned and Lori found herself alone amongst a crowd of scared civilians. For a moment Lori regretted not waiting for Leni and Luna to get ready before heading out, but the oldest Loud swallowed her worries and stepped towards the shivering man.

“You!” Williams shouted, pointing a shaky finger at Lori. “I know you, you’re the one that sent me into the serpent’s den, into that nest of horrors!”

Lori shrugged. “Yeah, so?”

“…Well it was a shitty thing to do!” Williams cried, throwing his hands up. “We were slaughtered like lambs led to the butcher’s. Only a handful of my men are left. All of our gear, our findings, gone!”

Lori bit her bottom lip and nodded her head. “Look,” she said, glancing at the muttering crowd that surrounded her, “why don’t you just explain to me what exactly happened.”

Lori’s attempt at trying to diffuse the situation went right over William’s head as the man began to laugh. “What happened? What happened! In our hubris, under YOUR orders, we delved into that unholy place and paid the ultimate price. The dead swarmed out from the darkness and were upon us like rats over a lame hog!” The man’s cries suddenly degenerated into sobs and he doubled over. Lori felt a pang of something in her chest go out for him and she took a step towards him.

William’s hand lashed out and grabbed Lori’s wrist with a strength she hadn’t expected from his pudgy frame. He pulled Lori in and gave her a wide grin, showing off all his teeth as his wide-eyes bored into hers.

“You don’t get it. IT’S out there. I saw IT!”

Lori fought the urge to deck the man in the face as she nodded her head and leaned in.

“The Necromancer?” Lori asked, and grunted when the man whimpered and shrank into himself at the mere mention of that horrible creature.

Satisfied with her answer Lori grabbed the man’s face and shoved him away, already on her feet and turning away when he hit the dirt. As she stalked off down the road the people parted before her, their whispers and mutterings clear in her ears though she gave not one of them the time of day.

“W-wait,” William cried after her, hauling himself to his feet as he watched the Lady of the Hamlet walk off. From her stride alone, he could tell she meant business and her intentions were as clear as lamplight in the dark of night. But still, he had to ask, he had to make sure. For surely, she couldn’t be so foolish, so headstrong as to assume she could…

“You’re not, you’re not going to fight that thing!?” Williams cried, sucking in a breath when Lori stopped and looked at him over her shoulder. “A-are you?”

Lori narrowed her eyes at him and kept walking. The murmurs increased, but there seemed to be the hint of something else there. Not the sharp edge of hostility, but against all odds, admiration. Respect even.

And perhaps, against all reason, just a hint of hope.
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Lucy observed the library, reveling in its spaciousness and taking in all it had to offer. Which was, to say, books. It offered books.

And not just the average selection either. Great tomes of laws and guidelines, records and deeds, names that went back as far as generations, detailing explicitly who owned what and where. And right there in the center of it all Lucy saw hers.

Lucy Loud, Lori Loud, Leni Loud, Luna Loud and all the way down to Lisa. Why not Lily, Lucy wondered before putting the thought out of her mind. She wasn’t sure if she could bear knowing Lily was in this mess too, it would be too much.

It was almost too much knowing that after a month the others still hadn’t been found yet. Were they even alive?

Lucy shook her head, trying to dispel such thoughts. It wouldn’t do any good to think like that, not for her and not for them. Imagine if her sisters had entertained such delusions, then Lola and her would still be down there, moldering in the darkness.

And on that note Lucy found herself yet again regarding her younger sister. The fashionista had seen better days, he hair in disarray and features lacking the makeup Lucy was accustomed to seeing. Not that she was ugly of course, but Lola prided herself on upholding a high-maintenance lifestyle so seeing her like this was a rather uncomfortable wake-up call for Lucy.

She just sat there, staring at nothing. Her eyes wide and baggy, hair disheveled, tiny body trembling as she wrenched her hands together. Occasionally, she’d suddenly stand up and make for the door, but Lisa would quickly abandon her tasks and race after her, pulling the silent blonde back in without fuss or restraint and setting her down where she was.

A safety precaution, Lisa had told her. Lola had developed a habit for wandering and it made the staff nervous. The two Chefs had repeatedly told Lisa to keep their sister away from them (they found her creepy) and just the other day Lori had found her standing on a windowsill looking down over the Hamlet. That had been quite the scare and it was agreed that until such a time it was no longer deemed necessary Lola was not allowed out of anyone’s sights and that it would be the responsibility of Leni to look after her. Of course, Leni also had to go on missions. Which meant that when she wasn’t here it fell on Lisa to look after her older sister.

Joy.

And it was for this reason, among others of course, that Lisa was most thankful she had her spooky elder sister back home. Though the morbid little lass wasn’t much for following anyone anywhere the goth was entrusted with the sacred duty of watching Lola like a hawk while Lisa poured over the documents procured for her by the local fiefdoms, duchies, townships, merchants, constabularies, pie shops, and what-have-you’s. Such exciting activities including taxes, reconstruction of the town, treasury management, and a wide assortment of other odds and ends were entrusted to the little genius and while she might’ve been in her element it was somewhat frustrating for the four-yr. old that it fell on her to make sure this absolute hovel they owned didn’t go bankrupt. Frankly the place was hemorrhaging funds at this point, and if she wasn’t so certain the key to departing this wretched land lay in repairing it.

Lisa stopped writing to turn her head up and look at Lola, who to her immense satisfaction was still sitting there. Lisa then cast her gaze over to her other sister in the room, eyeing Lucy intently as the raven-haired neophyte of darkness read some no doubt macabre tome she’d selected from the library around her. The library had been mostly bare when Lisa and the others first got here but after making her rounds around town and receiving generous “donations” from the locals Lisa had managed to build up something resembling the beginnings of a decent collection.

“How’sh your leg,” Lisa asked, and Lucy slowly turned her head up to look at her sister.

“As black and twisted as my soul,” Lucy said, as monotone as ever, and went back to reading.

Lisa snorted at her sister’s tone and words. At least she seemed to be getting on well enough. Granted she was used to disturbing themes and imagery, but it probably helped that Lucy couldn’t really remember what had happened to her. According to the goth it had felt more like a dream than reality, and Lisa was thankful for this. She shuddered to think what might happen should Lucy be forced to bear the full brunt of what she had endured, and Lisa shuddered as she cast a quick sidelong glance over to Lola still sitting there silently in her chair.

Lisa went back to her writing and endeavored to experiment more on her medicines. They had proven quite capable both in and off the field, though she couldn’t quite pinpoint what exactly made them so effective. Same with her Blight potions, though the technical minded Loud wisely decided to desist in persisting the issue concerning her unlimited supply of glass bottles.

Best to just chalk that one up to the anomalous qualities of this particular dimensional sub-space, the same force that no doubt governs Leni’s nebulous mystical abilities, Luna’s infinite ammo supply, and the moving skeletons of course. Can’t forget the moving skeletons!

No matter how hard you try…

Lisa quickly glanced at Lucy from the corner of her eyes and only when she was absolutely sure that Lucy wasn’t watching did she reach into her robes and oh-so-discreetly fish out a small metal flask. With a quick tilt of her head Lisa downed a sip and hastily stuffed the container back into the confines of her cloak. She took a deep breath, held out her hands until they stopped quivering, and picked her pencil back up.

Nothing wrong with it, she thought to herself as she resumed her work. Just a quick little pick-me-up, something to settle her nerves. It wasn’t like she was actually a kid, she could handle a sip or two if she felt like it. It was just like home, if these people wanted to saddle her with all the responsibilities of landownership then they had no reason to question her maturity!

Unbeknownst to Lisa as she fidgeted and muttered to herself Lucy’s eyes flickered unseen beneath her long bangs, fluttering away from her sister. For a brief moment they settled on her leg, and Lucy’s hand traveled down, slowly, until it hovered just over the twisted thing. She examined it, taking note of the way the bone pushed against the skin here, how the muscle had been deteriorated and altered. Her hand slowly descended onto the limb and she winced as flare of pain raced up her spine into her brain. She stuffed a fist into her mouth to stifle her whimpers and screwed her eyes shut.

There was the faint squeaking of leather and wood, a general rustling of cloth, and finally a light pressure on Lucy’s shirt, a mere tugging soft enough not to prove annoying but incessant enough to ensure it didn’t go ignored. Lucy opened her eyes and beheld the visage of Lola in front of her, the waifish little blond said not a word as she stared straight at her older sister. It was so odd, Lucy thought to herself, Lola had always been one to voice her mind but from what the others had told her she hadn’t said a single word for over a month now.

Lucy couldn’t help but gasp as Lola leaned in and wrapped her tiny arms around her sister’s body, pulling Lucy in for a tight but gentle hug, leaning in just enough to sink into her but holding her legs away so they wouldn’t brush up against Lucy’s. And in spite of everything Lucy held dear the morbid little girl couldn’t find even the barest inclination to stifle the tears billing up in her eyes, and so instead she returned the gesture and held her little sister close to her chest in a warm embrace.

Off to the side Lisa watched them, her mouth set in a tight, thin line. Suddenly she slammed her pen on the table and stood up. “That doctor,” Lisa began, “wouldn’t know a tibia from a tuba. Let me see that leg, at the very leasht I can fashion shome kind of shplint for you.”

As her sisters fussed over her Lucy couldn’t help but let a ghost of a smile grace her pale features.

Somehow, it just felt so much better than being unseen.
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The non-too subtle stench of rot permeated the air for miles around, a thick miasma that settled in the lungs and made you cough up thick wet ropes of phlegm. Lori had smelt it enough that she couldn’t remember how she reacted the first time, all it meant to her now was a beacon to lead her in the right direction. Not that she really needed directions, she’d been to the Ruins so many times now that she had no need for maps or compasses, the route inlaid in her brain.

Still, perhaps she should’ve waited for her siblings, if only because the greater numbers might’ve dissuaded those bandits earlier. Then again, it didn't really matter in the end, they went down all the same. Lori had no problem fighting the living anymore, as far as she was concerned they were the same as the dead, just squishier. Made more noise too. She left their broken bodies lying in the road, hopefully her sisters would see them and hurry the hell up, as brazen as she was she didn’t fancy entering those underground crypts without them.

But she would. She had to. This might be their only chance to nail that bastard.

The Necromancer, one of three according to that lunatic housekeeper of theirs but who knows if he was telling the truth or not. She was inclined to believe him all the same, if only because it made some sort of sick sense.

She’d been hunting him… it? Whatever. In the dark she searched, scrounged, scouring hidden byways and dank tunnels for the faintest hint of its presence. All that could be found were the moving dead and other unsavory creatures that dwelled in the dark, with the odd bandit clan or cultist camp to liven things up.

Finding him it was their goal, but things had gotten personal. It had taken Lucy from her. Lori could still remember her tiny, broken, still body; her pale flesh marred with red. It was almost too much sometimes, she honestly hadn’t expected her to ever wake up. Now she was back, her baby sister was back, and she was never losing her again. She wasn’t losing any of them ever again. And now the monster had been found. Drawn out into the open. This was just her lucky day wasn’t it, almost made her want to smile.

When she came across the camp Lori felt the stirrings of something in her chest, the very same something she felt when Williams sobbed as he recalled the fates of his men. And just like then Lori shoved it down her throat and back into her stomach where it welled up and settled, thick as tar. She couldn’t let herself feel it, not now. If she did…

Lori’s hand raced up towards her face and the teen grunted as her mailed fist collided with her jaw. With her ears ringing and lip bleeding Lori spat onto the ground as her face fell back into a frown and her eyes narrowed.

…It didn’t matter. The men served their part. Better than expected too, they’d even managed to secure some treasures apparently. She’d have to take Lisa’s suggestion to use them as excavation seriously now. After all, after she’d taken care of this Necromancer there’d be no need for bait, and it’d be safe enough to leave them on their own. Yes, this could work out!

>Trouble yourself not with the cost of this crusade - its noble end affords you broad tolerance in your choice of means.

Feeling unexpectedly chipper and overall pleased with herself Lori picked up a brisk pace as she sauntered into the ruined campsite, taking in the still smoldering remains of tents, turning her nose up at the smell of burning flesh and leather. There weren’t any bodies, plenty of evidence that something had happened, viscera and the like scattered about, but no bodies. She wasn’t surprised, making dead stiff’s get back up again was kinda this thing’s M.O. after all, and it made getting around this place a little easier too.

Lori kicked at the dirt and felt a ghost of a grin scrawl its face across her scarred face. It wasn’t like she needed the bodies anyway, they’d have made a nice trail sure but the sheer amount of people that had been through here had left ample physical evidence. All she needed to do was follow the footprints and hopefully they’d lead her to the right place.

“Hey, Lori, wait up!”

Lori felt her eye twitch a bit and she sighed as she glanced over her shoulder at the noise. Yep, here they come, ‘bout time her sisters showed up. Leni was looking about the ruined remains of the camp with a frown on her face, no doubt trying to see if she could find any survivors or people to help. Luna didn’t bother, her narrowed eyes were focused right on Lori as she half-marched, half-sprinted up the hill towards her older sister. Lori snorted and shook her head, kneeling at the ground to get a better look at those footprints.

It took them a minute or two to reach her, and by the time they’d made it Luna had worked herself up into a tiff. It was one thing for Lori to go off before them even when she told them she’d wait, it was another for her to get the crowd’s riled up back in town and leave them to deal with it, but it was something else entirely for Lori to just ignore her like that.

“Well, I hope it was worth it,” Luna chirped, her face set in a strained smile as she stared down at Lori. “Get everything you need? Learn a lot from that dirt there? Because we might’ve learned a lot more from the man in the square if you hadn’t just left him there! I mean really Lori!? You didn’t think to ask him any other questions, didn’t think to bring him along? No, of course not, why do that when you could just run off ahead of the rest of us! Did you even have a plan, dude!”

Luna paused for a second to put her hands on her hips and glare down at her sister, her foot tapping away. If Lori had even heard any of that she wasn’t paying it any mind, her sister’s rant going right over her head as she poked around in the dust, her hand tracing the boot prints back towards the ruins.

Luna raised her hands up high in the air and closed her mouth as a muffled scream filled the air. As Luna punched at the air and snarled swears under her breath Leni delicately skirted around the irate rocker and stood over her kneeling sister with a soft smile only slightly hindered by the look of quiet desperation in her wide eyes as she reached down and grabber her older sisters shoulder.

“Now Lori,” Leni began, calmly, gently, like talking to a wild animal, “I think what Luna is trying to say is that we all work best as a team, and for the team to work we all need to, like, be reading the same book.”

“On the same page, Leni.” Lori said, not even looking up.

“Right. So, what is the plan then?” Lori looked up at that and stared into Leni’s open eyes as the fashionista tried her best to smile without it coming across as completely forced. It didn’t work but Lori appreciated the effort all the same.

With a groan Lori planted her mace into the ground and pushed herself to her feet, all the while her eyes trained on the clear path that had been made in the ground. The footprints had been somewhat hard to follow, what with the terrified workers running helter-skelter, but then Lori realized she’d been looking at it all wrong. She didn’t need to try and find out which came from the workers and which came from the skeletons, all she had to do was follow the mass. After all the skeletons had chased the men out of the ruins, right? And to think she was making this way harder than it had to-

“Lori?”

The oldest Loud blinked and twitched a little as Leni’s hand gripped her shoulder and the second oldest quickly let go and backed up a step or two. Behind her Luna tensed but slowly eased when Lori breathed out and turned around to face her siblings.

“Right,” Lori began, “I left because we needed to hurry. That dead bastard has been dodging us for a month now, no matter how many skeletons we kill or totems we smash he’s never there. This time though we got a lead, and we need to get down there and follow through with it before he gets away again. We literally can’t lose this guy again girls, and I don’t want to wait around for another month for him to show up again.”

With that said Lori turned on her heels and began following the impression left in the dirt from dozens of skeletal warriors. It led to one of the openings in the Ruins, though one she couldn’t really recall using before. Not that it mattered, there were literally hundreds of open doors and passages plunging into those forgotten depths, and Lori would personally go through each and every one of them if it meant nailing this creep. Behind her Leni and Luna both looked at each other, Leni’s expression one of concern where Luna’s fell somewhere more along the line of exasperation.

“You want a plan?”

Both sisters turned their heads back towards Lori who was looking at them from over her shoulder. She looked at them in silence for a few seconds before her one eye narrowed and she turned her head back forward and began walking again.

“Don’t die. There’s your plan.”

Leni sighed, and Luna growled as their sister’s words reached them and the second oldest Loud flashed her rockin’ sister a half-lidded glare as Luna brushed past her after Lori. Leni couldn’t understand this, this tension that had built up between them, such blatant and omniscient hostility was unknown to her and it was starting to take its toll on the young girl’s sense of hope.

On the one hand, yes, things were strange, and they were scary, and she knew this was serious. She wasn’t stupid for God’s sake, she’d almost died enough to understand the severity of it all! But it should’ve brought them all together, not torn them apart. But now things were different, Luna was getting testier with each day, butting heads with Lori, sneaking off into the Hamlet after fights. And Lori wasn’t much better. The oldest Loud had turned cold, distant, ever since she lost her eye especially. Lori’s temper was always bad but lately it had gotten even worse, she was always tense and on-edge, like she was wound too tightly and left on a hair-trigger’s notice. Leni worried about her the most, ever since she’d first let her hear just how bad she was feeling after that first experience in the dungeon; she worried how Lori felt, how she seemed to laugh sometimes when she fought the skeletons, how sometimes Leni heard her whispering to herself like she was talking to someone-

“Leni! Hurry up!”

Leni jumped a bit at Lori’s voice and hiked up her habit as she scurried off after her sisters. The opening to the dungeon was dark and foreboding, even in the gloomy light of day, and the torch Lori was holding did little to offer any sort of solace or comfort in the face of such unrelenting darkness. Leni followed her sisters in without even a flinch, she had no cause to fear the darkness.
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 “You said something about a doctor?”

Lisa tapped her pen against the table a few times in frustration as she poured over the documents piled on her desk. The local watering hole was requesting funds to help repair, well so was literally every other building in the town. They were all too willing to let their businesses fall to ruin on their own but the second an authority figure steps in suddenly it’s their fault and they need to help fix it all.

“Lisa?”

Lisa blinked and slowly raised her head up, straightening her glasses as she looked over at her black-haired sibling. Lucy was fairing a little better now with a splint secured tightly to her leg, it was probably too late to truly fix the limb and Lucy didn’t exactly seem keen on the idea of breaking it again and trying to set it properly, but hopefully this way she’d be able to walk a little better. Perhaps in time, and given the right resources, Lisa could furnish some sort of device to help expedite the process of movement, some sort of leg brace to-

“Are you okay?” Lucy asked, bringing the book down to her lap and leaning forward to peer at her distracted sister. Next to her Lola sat on the ground drawing on a piece of paper, either unaware of the conversation or uncaring.

Lisa coughed into a fist and looked up at her gothic sibling, flashing a sheepish grin as she put her pen on the desk. “Err, yesh. What’sh thish about a doctor? Is your leg hurting again?”

“No, it’s fine,” Lucy said, shifting her leg and hoping her sister didn’t see her wince just then. Truth be told her leg was fine so long as it wasn’t being moved, Lucy didn’t know much of anything concerning surgery, but she did know her leg probably wasn’t well taken care of while she was in her coma. Granted, the fact that she was still alive considering the lack of medical equipment, proper staff, and the fact her sisters were just as clueless as she was, is nothing short of a miracle. Her sisters were all likely too preoccupied with making sure she stayed alive to pay much attention to her leg.

“Hmm, right,” Lisa muttered, narrowing her eyes and looking altogether unconvinced. Lucy gave her a nervous smile and the tiny genius finally snorted and shifted her eyes back down towards the papers on her desk. “Then I’m afraid I musht ask you to repeat the question,” she said, picking up several documents and patting the edges against the desk until they were all nice and straight.

“You said something about a doctor earlier, right?”

Lucy’s question hung in the air for a few seconds as Lisa mulled it over. “Ah,” she finally said, “yesh, the one in town. We took you to see her after we retrieved you from the Ruins.” Lisa nodded her head and picked up her pen again.

“What town?”

Lisa blinked once, twice, then her face screwed up in confusion before the enormity of Lucy’s question finally dawned on her and Lisa could only slowly raise her head and look at her clearly confused sister.

“Did we sherioushly forget to mention the Hamlet?”

Lucy slowly nodded, and it was all Lisa could do but smack her head and groan in frustration.

“Right. Of course, we did. You’ll have to forgive ush shibling but we’ve been a bit, well, out of sorts as of late.” The young genius paused for a bit to wipe off her glasses and with a sigh and flourish of her cloak Lisa laid her chin in her hands and began her tale. “Now then, Lori no doubt told you the tale of her ventures here. How the three of them made their way through the road until they met me and came into possession of this castle, correct?” Lisa waited until her sister nodded before continuing. “And she told you of this Anceshtor, yesh?”

Lucy nodded again, but knew she’d have to press that particular issue again. It was a frequent fantasy of hers to learn they had a long-distant family member that possessed a dreaded and haunted castle for them to inherent, but now that it’s actually happened Lucy wondered if they could possibly put up a for-sale sign.

“Well then, it would appear that all she forgot to mention wash that in addition to this opulent reshidence of ours we are also in posseshion of a Hamlet. Beyond these walls lie many homes and businesses, a church here, a tavern there, I believe a smithy as well, some shops and a marketplace, an old harbor down by the coast, the usual fare I sushpect.” As Lisa talked she waved her hand about in what no-doubt passed for her as a dramatic flair and Lucy had to admit she seemed somewhat more animated than usual. “All very boring shtuff really, just more for me to manage. Nothing I didn’t already do at home jusht at a larger scale you understand.”

Lucy pondered this information for a bit. It was one thing to inherent a castle, but a whole town? They were just kids; shouldn’t there be a mayor or a senator in charge or something? Does that make them royalty? She could get used to being called a countess all things considered. Also, it was no small wonder Lisa seemed so stressed.

“Well,” Lucy finally said, “can we go see it?”

Lisa snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Now? Certainly not, at least not until your leg is feeling better. I’ll have to scrounge up some material to make you a proper brace, I think. Also, I don’t think Lori would be all for it, she’s not too keen on the idea of us being out and about in that place without her, and from what I’ve seen of it I don’t blame her. Thish place is sick Lucy, and the further we stay from it the better. Perhapsh later, when you’ve healed, you can ashk her to walk you about, or maybe Leni.”

Having said her peace Lisa turned her attention back to her papers and picked up her pen, eager to resume her work. It was a thankless job, but somebody had to do it. Preferably somebody with the necessary intelligence to properly assess the incessant-

“What do you mean?”

Lisa dropped her pen to the table and let out a quick, sharp sigh as she turned her head back towards Lucy, who quite frankly didn’t seem to give half a shit about the fact that she was distracting her sister. This was because she didn’t, Lucy had been stuck in a coma for a month and woke up a cripple after being attacked by a monster and stabbed by a cultist; as far as she was concerned she could ask whatever damn questions she felt like and Lisa would just have to get over it.

The two of them stared at each other for some time before Lisa’s eyes suddenly swerved back to the table and the young scientist seemingly shrank into herself.

“Can’t you feel it?” Lisa asked, and the croak in her voice gave Lucy pause. From the corner of her eye Lucy could see Lola suddenly stiffen, the pen she’d been using to draw with fell from her hand as she went completely still.

Lucy licked her lips and asked, “Feel what?”

Lisa didn’t answer immediately, looking down at her open palms as if the answer could be found in the tiny calluses on her hands. It worried Lucy that Lisa couldn’t quite explain what was happening to her, Lisa always knew what was going on and for her to be unable to put into words, to even recognize this, was something that troubled her greatly and for the first time in her life Lucy wished that Lisa would start going off on one of her tangents-

“IT!” Lisa shrieked, slamming her fists onto the table and scattering her papers off the side. Lucy jumped in her chair and Lola crawled over to the chair and pressed her face into her sister’s side. Lucy opened her mouth but found nothing coming out as Lisa turned to look at her, her eyes wide and face set in a grimace.

“Everything!” Lisa continued. “Nothing is right here. It’s all wrong, it looks wrong, it feels wrong. Have you noticed the sun hasn’t risen, not once?! It’s either pitch black outside or just dark, one or the other! Why does Luna’s gun never run out of ammo, why can Leni set things on fire by shouting Latin, why do skeletons walk, why do I hear the unceasing, incessant, unrelenting noise of it all?!”

Lucy grabbed Lola and pulled the whimpering child onto her lap, ignoring the stabbing pain in her leg as she tried to shuffle further back into her seat as Lisa leapt onto her desk and started waving her arms around.

“It’s impossible. None of this can possibly be real, and yet, here we are! We cannot argue that this isn’t reality, but it certainly isn’t the one we’re accustomed too. Is that the lesson here, is there even such a thing as reality? Or is it all in our heads, is it all just a dream? A dream of our making?” Lisa whimpered and buried her heads in her hands before looking up at her sister again.

Lucy’s mouth opened in a silent scream as Lisa regarded her with empty, black eye sockets.

“Or is it something else’s dream entirely, and we’re just its nightmares?”

There was something like the sound of thunder as the door to the study was literally kicked open with enough force to send it slamming into the wall. Lisa blinked at the noise and Lucy gaped as she saw her little sister’s eyes go back to normal and the young girl rubbed her head with an expression of both confusion and perhaps a little pain.

“Aha, there you girls are,” a voice racked by age and infirmity croaked out, and Lucy turned to see the strange old man from earlier come waddling in, bowed by the weight of the tower of books he held in his arms. “Heard strange voices coming from in here. How lovely! Been a while since I’ve been possessed myself,” he chirped, setting the books down on the desk next to Lisa who was now seriously wondering how she got up there. The Caretaker looked over at Lucy and gave a wistful sigh. “Ah, memories.”

Lucy gave the odd man a strained smile and quickly nodded her head, not entirely sure what he was talking about. Lisa had filled her in on the strange fellow, he was obviously addled but ultimately meant no harm, so long as you didn’t sneak up on him… or look him in the eye… or get too close to him.

At Lucy’s side Lola started shuffling and heaved herself over the side of the chair and to the ground where she continued her drawing. Lucy wondered why Lola had joined her to begin with, or when she did for that matter. It was odd, but she just couldn’t remember, and the more she tried the more it eluded her…

Lisa coughed into her fist and brushed off her cloak with all the dignity a four-yr. old can muster, slowly getting on her hands and knees and easing herself off the desk and back into her chair.

“Y-yes,” Lisa stammered, “well then, er… What do you have for ush then?”

The Caretaker grinned down at the small child with something like a mix of affection and disdain in equal measure. Lisa in turn scowled right back and snorted at him.

“I shwear to God if you jusht came in here to piss on the rug again-

The Caretaker held out his arms and unceremoniously dropped the pile of books onto the desk, scattering and flattening the various document and papers she had already stacked. From there he began to rummage through the pile, throwing old and dusty tomes to the floor as he tried to find what he needed. Lisa looked ready to object such barbarous literary treatment but as cut off by a shout of triumph and all the girls in the room watched as the Caretaker grabbed up a moderately thick grimoire and held it aloft with a savage grin.

“Here we are,” the man chuckled, setting the book down in front of Lisa who now seemed quite interested in what the Caretaker had delivered to her. “A little something the Master had during his time in charge, it certainly helped speed things along,” the man continued, opening the book and showing Lisa its contents. “Had to dust it off, fix it up a bit, but I do believe it’s more or less restored.”

Lisa straightened her glasses and stood up in her seat, peering over the contents with a critical gaze. From her seat Lucy sat up and with a grunt slowly heaved herself off the chair and onto the floor. She flinched as her leg was forced to bear her weight, but the pain abated after a fashion and Lucy began to hobble over to the desk to catch a peek herself.

It was a large, black, thick book; one with an ornate cover of golden sigils and runes, a veritable tome though not the sort Lucy had suspected. This wasn’t some ancient thing of forbidden knowledge; why, there wasn’t even a single spell or dark ritual in the whole thing! No, from what Lucy could tell as her sister flipped through the book it was filled with nothing more than… pictures? Yes, pictures. Incredibly detailed drawings of buildings and people. Yes, images of houses and businesses, usually in threes, in varying stages of disrepair until the final image wherein she could only assume opulence had been restored. The people that accompanied these structures were all dour looking unwholesome creatures, shadows covering their eyes and each with a grim countenance to their person.

Lisa muttered to herself as she turned page after page, eyes flickered between images as she scanned the scattered text on each page. As she combed through the tome Lisa found that some pages were not part of the book proper, additional documents and papers stuffed between the pages haphazardly. Lisa would pick these up as she came to them and Lucy noticed that with each one Lisa read her smile became just a bit wider, her hair a bit more disheveled, and a growing manic energy in her eyes and her movements.

“Ish thish,” Lisa finally said, lowering her glasses and peering at the book, “ish thish really it?” Lisa lifted the documents and Lucy stared at them, spying such prevailing keywords like ‘Deed’ or ‘Property Lease’. The whole scenario felt almost unreal for the young goth, and she was at once reminded of the usual contrivances her own preferred genres were rife with, or one of Lori’s teen drama shows, or Lincoln’s comics…

...Lincoln...

Lucy brought a hand up to her heart and grabbed her nightgown tight, squeezing the cloth so tight her little fingers ached. With a shudder Lucy blinked away the stinging wetness welling up in the corners of her eyes and moaned into an open palm. She wanted Lincoln back, she wanted Lynn back, she wanted to see Lana again, she wanted to hear one of Luan’s corny jokes.

She wanted her family.

Lucy’s outburst went unnoticed by her siblings, Lola, who wasn’t aware of much of anything at the moment, was far more interested in her drawings of gore-encrusted skeletons and the profane rituals of those who dwell in darkness, and Lisa was currently too busy flipping through the pages of her new favorite book ever.

“So, I don’t need to go through all these shtupid documents, no more long nights searching unceashingly for deeds or contracts, no more lettersh or whiny peashants?!” Lisa all but squealed, her tiny voice shaking with beatific excitement.

The Caretaker giggled and scratched his backside. “Nope! The late master had the good sense to keep copies lying around, so all you need is right there, just make sure you have the gold and I’ll make sure it happens.” The Caretaker’s grin was all jagged, yellow teeth but Lisa was so happy she decided against giving him another lecture of the benefits of proper oral hygiene.

“Also,” the Caretaker suddenly whispered, giving Lisa pause as the leathery creature bent over the desk with a sharp crack, “don’t put much stock into what the riff-raff say. I don’t mean to be rude, but sometimes I feel they might all be-” and here the Caretaker paused to glance around the room suspiciously before whispering into her ear, “-just a bit crazy.”

The old man stood back up, patted the by now thoroughly nonplussed Lisa on her head, and with a jaunty little wave over the shoulder skittered out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him. Lisa straightened her glasses, gave a little cough, and searched her mind for something appropriate to say, preferably something long-winded and concerning the fickle fates and the minds of men. After a good thirty seconds she had nothing and so conceded defeat with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Well, at leasht I no longer have to concern myshelf with unneceshary legal procedures and subshidiaries, freedom never tantalized the tashtebuds so enthushiatically!”

With a bit of a cackle Lisa flipped through the pages of her book, noting the detail put into just how much treasure would be needed to upgrade the Hamlet. This place was a cesspit, a literal hell on earth as far as she was concerned, but perhaps with enough gold she could make it a little presentable. Getting the gold might be a problem, especially if the teams she sent out kept dying, but that could be handled with time if need be…

Lisa blinked and reared her head back, pushing her glasses up her nose and staring down at the book with wide eyes.

“Uh, Lucy, some asshistance please.”

Lucy sniffled and hastily drew the back of her hand across her eyes before brushing down her bangs and turning back to her sister. As she joined Lisa behind the desk, she peered at the book Lisa held out for her and drew back with a gasp.

It was them, there they were plain as day. Their names on the paperwork, on the deeds and the leases, on the contracts and charters. Lori Loud. Leni Loud. Luna Loud, Luan Loud, Lynn, Lincoln, Lisa!

…Lucy Loud

Neither said anything as Lisa rifled through the book. Trembling fingers plucked desperately at old leather, wide eyes frantically scrutinized and scoured the yellowed pages for names and references to their family, shallow breaths soon filled up the room to accompany the sounds of creaking paper as the flickering candle light cast a grim pallor on Lucy and Lisa’s faces.

And all the while Lola watched from the corner, her eyes wide and limned red as she stared unblinkingly at her sisters.

Lisa turned another page and stopped. There, tucked into the book, was another loose document, a large piece of parchment folded in half. Her breath stopped in her throat, the blood in her veins froze, and a shiver crawled its way down her spine.

She was afraid. She didn’t know why but she was afraid. There was something here, she didn’t know what or how or why, but she knew there was something and every instinct in her head and her chest warned her that if she opened this, if she saw what was inside, it would destroy her.

By the time Lisa had realized she was picking up the parchment she knew it was too late.

The paper unfolded with a series of gentle cracks, it’s dry, rough skin crackling from disuse and age. Lisa glanced at the contents and she heard static, only distantly aware of her sister hovering over her shoulder behind her, peering down with bangs held up and mouth hanging open.

It was a family tree.

Their family tree.

Lisa couldn’t breathe, her chest tightened until it ached, and she could feel each heartbeat reverberate in her bones, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from what she was seeing.

There they were, plain as day. From Lori to Lily the entire Loud Clan had been named with exquisite penmanship and above each name she could see a portrait of the corresponding sister. Each girl had been gussied up in some atrocious excuse for fanciful airs, dresses more frills and laces than anything else, and were posed in manners that could only be described as regal, dry humorless gazes fixed on their face and Lisa could only focus on the wrongness of it all. These weren’t them, these weren’t the Louds! Lisa glanced at each portrait, gritting her teeth at each passing second, and moved up the chain of command, so to speak.

What she found proved her hypothesis, and for perhaps the first time in her life she cursed her prowess of scientific inquiry.

“Mom and Dad,” Lucy whispered, her voice tiny and frail as she pointed a trembling finger at the portraits of their parents situated just above their children. Lisa swallowed the rising bile in her throat and merely nodded her head, eyes glancing over to their father’s entry in the family tree.

Sir Lynn Loud Sr., the ornate writing so lovingly detailed, and were it not for those words Lisa would have had a hard time making the connection. This man was not her father; it looked like him, it had his nose, his face, his male pattern baldness, but it wasn’t him. Her father didn’t scowl, her father didn’t have such cold, dead eyes, her father was loving and boisterous and passionate not this stuffy beast! Wearing the clothes of a duke or some other variety of noble the man that shared her father’s name but was not her father was poised rigidly, her eyes cold and hard and mouth pressed into a tight grimace as he glared out of the page and for a second Lisa was filled with the irrational fear that he was looking at her and that he was disgusted!

Lisa glanced over to the right and immediately found that whatever hopes for comfort she so instinctively sought in the familiar visage of her mother were to be dashed. This woman, this Lady Rita Loud, was no more her mother than the other man was her father. Dressed in all the fine airs of a countess Rita lacked the fierceness of her husband’s gaze but made up for it in coldness, in unwavering disinterest. Lisa looked into those eyes and found them lacking, there was no love in that gaze, no mother’s grace or compassion. There was ice in those eyes, and it was enough to make Lisa tremble at the very thought of that steely gaze ever being focused on her.

Lisa tore herself away from her parents and took in the rest of the document. There were others, so many others, names and faces covered each and every inch of the paper. Some she could put names too, faces she only barely recognized at the occasional family reunion, distant relations the family only passingly kept in touch with. But there were others, people Lisa knew she wasn’t related too, people she knew were intruders on her life, on her history, on her family!

The thought of it made her blood boil. The very suggestion that this was possible, that some book could just say these things, just show these things that weren’t true, that would never be true, and say that they were made her feel… made her feel…

VIOLATED!

Lisa tracked this… this thing to its source, her eyes flickering to the very top.

And there he was.

The Ancestor.

He had no lines, nothing to indicate who in the family he was related to by blood or marriage, nothing to suggest he belonged to them, or vice versa.

A trespasser.

The statue of him in the town square was a course, rough thing that only showed the barest hints of any real facial features aside from his somber eyes; the only thing it could communicate about him was his refined tiredness, and Lisa quickly found there would be no further light shed today on this mysterious figure seemingly from her past.

The face in the picture had been smudged, as if somebody had taken their thumb to the drawing and wiped it as though it were naught but fresh ink. She could make out no delicate features, no distinguishing marks, just a vague shape of a man that communicated only his dour countenance and stooped posture.

She glanced down and found that the name had been… scratched out. Not crossed out, as if with a pen, not covered in ink, not obscured by the natural passage of time on the paper; but scratched out. There was no damage to the parchment, no physical tears through it, it was as if something had reached into the very paper and run its claws through the words and torn them to shreds. The Lisa from a few months ago would have scoffed at the notion. The Lisa now knew better.

Below the scratched-out name a new one had been written in red ink in direct opposition to the uniform black around it. This new name was a scrawling mess, written as though in great haste by a shaking hand, nothing like the lovingly rendered calligraphy of all the others.

It read The Ancestor, for that was all he was. A distant memory, a faded memoir from ages gone by, a past shame on the family name, a ghost to haunt her nightmares.

The Ancestor.

The Ancestor.

The Ancestor!

Lisa sank into her seat with a warbling moan and immediately Lucy’s lithe arms came swooping in around her, swaddling her like a blanket to bulwark her troubles away. Lisa sank into her sister’s embrace, finger pressed tight against the bridge of her nose and eyes clenched tight to stem the tears that dared to leak from the corners in their mad bid for escape.

It was only when the shaking had stopped that Lisa stirred again. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve Lisa sat up with a grunt and folded up the document, tucking it safely away into the confines of the book. She hated it, she hated it more than she ever thought she could hate something, with ever fiber of her being she hated it…

But she knew she needed it.

And she hated that too.

And as Lisa grabbed the book, ready to close it and be done with this horrid business for the night, she paused for her finger had probed the next page from which the document had been found and that horrible, wonderful, indominable curiosity of hers had reared its ugly head.

Her tiny fingers grabbed the edge of the page and she began to turn-

Stop, a voice whispered in her head, this will destroy you.

Lisa paused, then sneered.

I’m already damned, she thought, and turned the page.

And just when she thought this place couldn’t take any more from her Lisa smacked a hand over her mouth and sobbed as Lucy behind her doubled over and moaned in horror.

It was a picture of Lori. Not Lori as she had been depicted in the family tree, all prim and proper and not at all her. And it was not Lori from the before, the Lori from her fondest, most treasured memories, the Lori that was her big sister and guardian and friend.

This was the browbeaten Lori. The scarred and bruised Lori. The Lori with the missing eye and the red line running down her face. The Lori that wore steel to hold herself up, the Lori that hefted a shield to protect her sisters from the darkness and those that lurk in it, the Lori that killed men and monster alike with a mace of spikes and iron. With a manic glint in her remaining eye the drawing of Lori was trapped in a perpetual snarl, teeth exposed, and lips curled back like a beast.

Below her was simply her name, Lori Loud.

And below that something else.

Man-at-Arms.

Lisa shook her head back and forth, her head felt like a hornet’s nest and her heart ached with each beat.

You couldn’t just let us have this, she thought bitterly, just one more thing to take from us. It’s not enough you take our family name, it’s not enough you change our parents, it’s not enough that you’ve twisted her into… into this… thing! But you won’t even let me have one thing to remember her by, just one thing. I hate you. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…

Lisa wiped her eyes and looked over at the adjacent page.

Leni Loud’s portrait was just as serene and beautiful as it should be, a warm, friendly smile on her face and golden hair leaking out from under her habit as she held her hands out in prayer. But… but wasn’t there something wrong, Lisa thought. Wasn’t there something off about Leni. Wasn’t there something… strained in her wide eyes, something forced about that smile of hers. Leni didn’t force her smiles. Leni should never have to force her smiles.

And below her those fateful words.

Leni Loud
Vestal

Lisa turned the page. It was killing her, seeing them like this. This was different from seeing them at the breakfast table, from seeing them around the mansion. There was a finality to this, to them. This was how they were now. The Lori that screamed at her to get out of her room only to then sneak into hers to tuck her into bed after a late night spent mixing chemicals had been murdered. The Leni that would bake sweet rolls for breakfast or surprise her with a new hand-knit sweater was replaced. The Luna that would shake the house with her loud, annoying, beautiful music was gone. Her sisters had been taken from her. This place had taken them, changed them, warped them into something else, and each page was only hammering another nail into the coffin that was everything Lisa had known and held dear.

And Lisa knew from the ragged gasps behind her that Lucy felt the same.

It was almost ironic, she had to admit. The two least emotive of the Loud family, and yet here they were, bawling their eyes out over some pictures.

Time and tragedy have a funny way of showing people what really matters, she supposed.

She glanced down at the book and saw Luna’s face staring back at her, her eyes wide and red from nerves and lack of sleep and her mouth pressed thin in a tight, white line. Luna was always the most outwardly optimistic of the Loud girls, an intriguing blend of ebullient and perpetually chill, always warm and friendly and easily the loudest of the Louds. She was the sister you went to for help, to tell a secret, to either relax or have a good time with. A big sister if ever there was one.

That Luna wasn’t here anymore. This Luna was distant, this Luna had a short fuse, this Luna was antsy, irritable, snappish. This Luna picked fights with Lori, seemingly intent on proving something. This Luna didn’t play music anymore, the only sounds she made were the crack of grapeshot to add to the din of battle. This Luna was afraid, and desperately trying to hide it.

It wasn’t her Luna, and Lisa would give anything just to hear her strum that guitar of hers again.

Luna Loud
Highwayman

Lisa ran her fingers slowly down her face, massaged the bags under eyes, and turned over to the next page.

And she stopped dead.

Luan wasn’t there. It was her, it had to be her, she was next and the name on the page said, Luan Loud, but she wasn’t there. It was a blank silhouette, a black outline of her sister’s general shape, but nothing else. Lisa glance below the name and found a similar lack of information.

???

Nothing!? Just three question marks, but what did it mean? What did any of this mean? Man-at-Arms, Vestal, Highwayman, were those… classes? Professions? Why not Luan then, why not give her a portrait? Was it because she hadn’t been found yet?
Lisa flipped to the next page and found it was the same for Lynn and Lincoln, their portraits blank and the classes unknown.

Lynn Loud
???

Lincoln Loud
???

What did that mean!?

Lisa flipped to the next page and raised an eyebrow. Well now, this was interesting…

Lucy Loud
???

Similar to the ones before her Lucy had no listed vocation but unlike Lynn or Lincoln, she had a portrait. It was as she was now, her normally sleek black hair disheveled and frazzled, her bangs choppy and uneven, and from behind the tangled mess her wide eyes could be seen staring out in obvious horror.

Lisa felt Lucy shift behind her, unwilling to look at the picture, and the tiny genius reached up to the pale hand resting on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Lisa looked to the other page and found it similar to Lucy’s.

Lola Loud
???

The picture of Lola showed her as she was, a tiny, frightened thing. So unlike the Lola she knew once, so long ago now it seemed. Lisa chanced a glance across the room and suddenly noticed that Lola was no longer drawing, instead standing in the furthest corner of the room where she stared at her siblings with wide, unblinking eyes.

Lisa found herself unable to hold the gaze and looked back down to the book. She felt tired, more tired than she’d ever felt in her entire life, but beneath the mental and spiritual exhaustion laid that ever-present need of hers to continue, to solve the puzzle, to discover what remained hidden.

To finish this!

Lisa turned the page and looked down at Lana’s empty portrait.

Lana Loud
???

Right, she thought, turning her gaze to the right and finding herself face-to-mask with the all-too-familiar plague doctor mask she had employed in her trip to the Ruins. The mask that was still hanging on her nightstand in her room. The mask she found herself holding late at night, desperately wanting to put on but too afraid to, as if believing she could stave off the inevitable so long as she never wore it again.

Lisa Loud
Plague Doctor

Plague Doctor, huh? A sardonic grin scrawled its way across her face as Lisa brought a hand up to her right cheek so she could lean against it. Suppose that explains the vials, not to mention the uniform. Funny, never imagined myself in a career involving masks and antiquated nostrums.

Lisa turned the page and was met only with blank parchment, and a sudden surge of pure relief flowed through the battered child as she realized that Lily, apparently, had been forgotten. If she was here, Lisa rationalized, the book would say so, but there was nothing to suggest the baby was even present, and Lisa was thankful; to what or who exactly she wasn’t sure, but she was thankful all the same.

“It would appear,” Lisa finally stated, her voice thin and trembling, “that things are a mite bit more complicated than expected.”

Lucy simply nodded her head, flipping back through the pages and trying to sate her loneliness on the blank images of her lost siblings. It was amazing, she thought, how one could miss their noise, their energy, their general presence, and she cursed herself for ever wishing for even a second that it might disappear.

Lucy might’ve been a sucker for dark and foreboding mysteries, but when it came to her siblings, she was quickly discovering that even she had a limit.

And try as she might she just couldn’t shake a certain ominous feeling as she thought of her sisters traversing through those dark halls below the earth.

{End of Chapter}