Upon entering the police station, Elizabeth is greeted by the somber gaze of Officer Bleier emerging from the office room. His expression is grave, and his voice is laced with concern. "Jules was attacked. The Storyteller was at the scene and is the only suspect."
With an air of disbelief, the mayor strides into the hallway lined with cells. She methodically checks each one until her eyes land on Lleuad, seated quietly on the bed. Taking a moment to gather her thoughts amidst the chaos of confusion, Elizabeth returns to the lobby room. From a neighboring cell, Edmund watches intently, curiosity piqued by the unfolding drama.
Elizabeth finally speaks, her voice steady but searching for answers. "What happened..."
Hugo's voice takes on a measured tone as he recounts the events of the night. "I was walking down Lumber Street when I heard a child's scream. Without hesitation, I sprinted towards the source of the noise. En route, my path crossed with Mr. Sulienson—he was fleeing the crime scene, an unsheathed sword in hand, its tip marred by fresh blood. I commanded him to stop. But for only a heartbeat did he comply before dismissing my order and sprinting back into the alley where the attack occurred. I pursued, driven by urgency, and found Jules lying there, grievously injured. Mr. Sulienson had already scooped up the kid, seeking directions to Dr. Remy's. After ensuring Jules was cared for, the Storyteller surrendered himself to me. By the time I escorted him here, past midnight's cloak had settled over our town. "
As Hugo finishes his account, Elizabeth asks the most pressing question: "How's Jules?" Hugo's expression turns somber once more. "Marguerite couldn't give a straight answer when we were there. She needed more time to examine him."
With an air of determination, Elizabeth presses on. "What did you get on the suspect so far?"
Hugo rummages through his notes, pulling out a small notebook and flipping through the pages. "Name: Lleuad Sulienson. Age: 23. Occupation: Storyteller and... Huntsman?" He gives Elizabeth an identification paper with a hint of confusion on his face. "I found this paper on him that confirms he's a government-sanctioned Huntsman. The document looks like it was issued by our kingdom, but I've never heard of such an occupation..."
Elizabeth raises an eyebrow, reviewing the identification paper while Hugo continues. "He has a Semblance, which he showed to me – some kind of Specter he can summon at will. Claims he arrived the previous night. Apart from the ID and the sword, I also found some... unusual items in his possession. He said they were tools for work, but didn't give more detail."
Elizabeth glances over at the assortment of trinkets spread out on the reception desk, her eyes narrowing with intrigue. Each item is an enigma—unfamiliar and intricate, unlike anything she's encountered before in their small town.
Hugo's tone shifts slightly as he continues, his skepticism thinly veiled. "When questioned about tonight's events, Mr. Sulienson insisted he was merely tracking the attacker who had harmed Jules and managed to graze them – hence the blood on his sword. He maintained that during our confrontation, he was in pursuit of the culprit—though I saw no one else." Officer Bleier pauses, a shadow of doubt crossing his features. "Beyond that, he insists our town is in peril unless we allow him to aid us in capturing whoever committed this crime."
The mayors mind races as she tries to make sense of the new information. Her gaze lingers on the items before her, searching intently for any hidden clue or subtle hint that might illuminate the Storyteller's identity and true intentions.
"Thank you," Elizabeth tells Hugo, her eyes still fixed on the contents of the reception desk. She calmly walks down the dimly lit prison hallway, each step echoing with a quiet determination, and stops in front of Lleuad's cell. The mayor faces the Storyteller with a stern gaze; her arms crossed in frustration as if daring him to lie again. Her presence exudes great authority, one that she has honed over the years to intimidate wrongdoers in this town.
"I knew Storytellers were good at telling fairy tales," Elizabeth's voice carries an edge as sharp as a blade, "but I wouldn't have thought they'd use them to lie about themselves. Makes it very easy to tell." She pauses, allowing the gravity of her words to settle in the air before continuing. "I will give you one more chance to come clean. Who are you and what were you doing at the crime scene tonight?"
Lleuad seems unfazed by the mayor's stern demeanor. Instead, he regards her with a gentle, pleading smile. "I am a Huntsman," he says calmly, "and your town is in grave---"
Elizabeth slams the prison bars with agitation, interrupting the Storyteller. "This is no time for jokes!" her frustration boiling over. "I have four other kids missing! I need to find them for the sake of their parents and what we've discovered today is not giving me much hope. Either you come clean now, or I will make your life a living hell!"
Lleuad's expression remains calm, his eyes fixed on Elizabeth. "You have to believe me," he implores earnestly. "There is no time to waste. If we don't find the culprit soon, more lives will be lost." His words are laced with a quiet urgency that seems to seep into Elizabeth's pores.
With a mocking tone that belies her growing frustration, Elizabeth retorts, "And what kind of culprit is a 'Huntsman' like you pursuing?"
"A human with Grimm powers," he says with a straight face, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's.
The mayors voice drips with sarcasm. "You mean like the one from the fairytale about the Grimm Count?"
The Storyteller nods, and Elizabeth's grip on the prison bars tightens until her knuckles turn white. "That's enough... If you don't want to be honest, I have nothing else to talk about with you."
Desperation creeps into Lleuad's tone as he pleads once more. "Please! You have to believe me!" His hands gesture frantically, emphasizing his sincerity. "Jules was hurt not by a blade but by claw marks!"
Elizabeth's patience has long evaporated, yet within her, a flicker of hope for some misunderstanding still lingers stubbornly. Her voice takes on a defiant edge as she responds, the sound of steel hidden beneath layers of exasperation. "Very well! We'll see if you are right."
With those words hanging in the air like a challenge, Elizabeth turns sharply on her heel and marches out of the police station with purposeful strides. Hugo watches her go, his expression one of sheer dumbfoundedness as he processes the entire conversation he had witnessed.
The mayor strides purposefully toward the hospital, nestled at the intersection where two large streets converge—merely a short walk from the nearby railroad and situated in the northern part of Clairforet's central district. To an untrained eye, the hospital blends seamlessly into the fabric of towns historic neighborhoods, its grey walls and gabled roofs mirroring those of the surrounding homes. Each house, with its delicate trim and ornate windows, sits shoulder to shoulder, echoing the architectural harmony that defines the town. The only discernible difference between these and their neighbors is the gentle swing of the medical cross sign above the main entrance, its simple design exuding a sense of quiet dedication.
Elizabeth glides past the main entrance of the corner building, her footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the night street as she makes a beeline for the adjacent home's emergency entrance. One of the windows adjacent to the door casts a warm, golden light onto the cobblestone sidewalk, illuminating the shadows that dance at its edges.
Without knocking, Elizabeth pushes open the door and finds herself enveloped in the sterile silence of the operation room. Jules lies motionless upon a gleaming steel table that stands as a silent sentinel amidst the shimmering array of surgical instruments. The soft glow of the fire-dust lamp suspended above him casts a warm, golden light across the space, revealing a model of cleanliness that disguises the lack of personnel. The air is heavy with the scent of antiseptic purity, as if the very essence of medicine had been distilled within these walls.
Dr. Remy was just about finished bandaging Jules' wounds when the mayor walks up to her. "Ah, Mayor," Marguerite says softly. "He's still unconscious. The boy lost a lot of blood, but I was able to stabilize him. He should be able to recover... given time." Her gaze flickers to Elizabeth's face, then back to Jules' motionless form. "His wounds though are quite unusual. As if he was mauled by claws of a beast bigger than a bear. But I'm not aware of any animal that would cause injuries like these. What happened to him?" Elizabeth's expression mirrors her own confusion and concern. "That is what I would like to know myself."
As the two women finish exchanging words, Jules' eyes flicker open, and he lets out a blood-curdling scream. The mayor instinctively reaches out to hold him down, while Dr. Remy rushes to check his vitals.
"Calm down, Jules," Elizabeth says, her voice firm but soothing. "You're safe here."
Jules, still thrashing about, ignores the mayor's words. His eyes are wild with fear, and he murmurs something incoherent. Dr. Remy finishes checking his pulse. "His heart rate is too high. Looks like a panic attack. Keep talking to him. I'll go get a sedative," she instructs calmly.
The mayor leans closer, her voice steady as she meets his eyes. "Jules! Look at me. Breathe. Nobody here will harm you." The boys' eyes lock onto hers for a moment as he seems to calm down a bit. Then he starts mumbling softly to himself. Elizabeth moves closer to discern what he is saying. "It's our fault," Jules whispers, almost inaudibly. "We brought this upon ourselves."
Eager to understand more, the mayor asks. "What happened?" Jules clings to the mayor, his voice tinged with delirium and fear. "A monster! A black monster! We're being punished. She's come to pay us back for what we've done!"
"Who!? Who is she?" Elizabeth presses urgently. But the boy continues repeating himself, caught in a loop of terror and confusion.
Marguerite returns, sedative ready in hand. "I need to administer this," she insists firmly. "His wounds are reopening." Elizabeth's voice is tinged with desperation as she replies, "Just a bit longer! I need to hear more!" But Marguerite is insistent. "He'll die if his wounds open again! Let me do my job, Mayor."
With a heavy heart, Elizabeth nods reluctantly. Marguerite administers the sedative, and Jules' eyes flutter shut, his body relaxing into unconsciousness.
"Did you manage to glean something from him?" Dr. Remy asks with curiosity. "I believe so..." Elizabeth replies, thinking over what she heard. "I will be heading back to the police office. Please call us if he wakes up again." Marguerite nods as the mayor walks out of the hospital with a resolute stride.
Elizabeth bursts through the police station doors with an air of urgency. Her eyes are laser-focused on a singular goal—the keys to Edmund's cell. With swift, practiced motions, she retrieves them from their usual resting place and heads straight to his confinement, ignoring Hugo, who is dazed by her behavior. The mayor unlocks the door and steps inside. Edmund sits up on his bed and looks up at her with a mixture of fear and confusion, still trying to process the sudden invasion of his personal space.
"I just checked up on Jules," Elizabeth begins abruptly, her voice steady. "He will live." At these words, Edmund's shoulders slump in a tentative sigh of relief, though his unease remains visible as he takes in the cell's oppressive air.
"But there was something else he mentioned—something peculiar," she continues, her tone sharpening with intrigue. "'Being paid back for what we have done'... You wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?"
Edmund places his hands on his head, a gesture of sudden realization etching itself onto his features as though an invisible weight had just settled upon him. His eyes dart around the cell as if searching for an escape route or a way to hide from the mayor's piercing gaze.
Elizabeth's patience wears thin; she sees through his attempts at concealment and her frustration boils over in a moment of unbridled anger. She grabs Edmund by the collar of his shirt, pulling him harshly against the wall. Her eyes bore into his with an intensity that leaves no room for denial or deceit.
"Damn it, Edmund!" Elizabeth's voice is fierce, tinged with desperation and resolve. "Four of your friends are DEAD! If you don't tell me everything RIGHT NOW, I will leave you to meet the same fate as them!"
Edmund snaps back defensively, his voice strained with fear. "I couldn't stop them! When I got there, it was already too late." Elizabeth's grip tightens. "Stop what?!" she demands, a mix of confusion and urgency in her tone.
Silence falls between them; Edmund's eyes widen with terror, the weight of unspoken horrors lingering heavy on his conscience. But Elizabeth is relentless. She presses him harder against the wall until the boy can bear no more. With a defeated exhale, he murmurs the dreaded words. "Anne's humiliation..."
Elizabeth releases Edmund abruptly, her mind racing to comprehend what she's just heard. The mention of her daughter's name catches her off guard—she had never considered Anne entangled in this nightmare. Her heart tightens at the thought as she struggles to maintain composure.
"What happened!?" Elizabeth demands, her voice barely above a whisper but tinged with steel. Edmund quietly replies. "Anne tried to reign in on the delinquents. Especially Wil and Pete. The two got very pissed and decided to humiliate her in front of everyone."
Though Elizabeth subconsciously understands the gravity of Edmund's words, her mind struggles against the incomprehensible reality unfolding before her. "What did they do?" she insists sharply. Edmund remains silent, his eyes locked on hers—a plea for mercy amidst the unspoken horror that has passed between them.
In a moment of fury fueled by confusion and rage, Elizabeth slams her hand against the wall next to Edmund's head, making him jump in fear. The impact echoes within the confines of their grim surroundings, punctuating her demand. "What did they do!?" she roars, her voice echoing against cold stone walls.
As Edmund's face contorts with shame—a reflection of his own helplessness—Elizabeth's mind pieces together the unbearable truth: Her daughter had been violated. Her heart plummets into an abyss of despair as the weight of this truth settles over her like a suffocating shroud.
In the oppressive silence that follows, Edmund notices the mayor's hand clenching into a fist, fingers tightening until blood begins to seep between her knuckles. Fear grips him as he gazes up at her now ghastly pale face—a visage consumed by fear and rage.
Without warning, Elizabeth bolts from the cell as though released from an invisible fetter. She rushes past Hugo, and sprints through the night streets with a single-minded focus: the need to reach home, to find her daughter, to ensure she is safe amidst this chaos that now engulfs her heart.
As Elizabeth exits the police station with hurried steps, Hugo quietly walks up to Edmund's cell and locks it. Though he has gleaned the essence of their conversation, words fail to ease the gravity of the boy's situation. Understanding that comfort is elusive in such dire circumstances, Officer Bleier retreats silently down the corridor.
Inside his cell, Edmund finds himself huddled against a cold stone wall, enveloped by an overwhelming sense of despair. Guilt gnaws at him for not sharing what happened to Anne with Elizabeth sooner, yet paradoxically, he also feels remorseful for being the one to bring the truth to light. His mind whirls with these conflicting emotions until Lleuad's voice across the wall pierces through his dark reverie.
"I only saw Anne twice," the Storyteller says with a thoughtful tone. "Didn't get to talk with her much either time but she left a strong impression on me. Spitting image of her mother, she exuded the same strength and confidence."
Attempting to distract himself from the dark thoughts swirling in his mind, Edmund responds. "You got that right. She is the most hardworking person in the town. Despite being the youngest child in the Granger family—where all her siblings are exceptional—she didn't fall behind any of them." His voice is laced with a hint of pride. "Anne is soon to become the youngest person from our town to enroll into college, joining at only 17 years of age."
Lleuad's interest is evident as he replies with admiration, "Wow! Sounds like she is quite talented." Edmund's expression turns wistful; his voice filled with a deep admiration. "You got that right! On top of that, she is earnest, dedicated, focused —everything that I cannot be. She's always straightforward, not afraid to speak her mind to others. Yet she's extremely caring, even gentle… in her own way."
Lleuad's gaze narrows slightly as he listens intently, his tone taking on a hint of curiosity when he asks, "You seem to know quite a bit about her." Edmund's cheeks flush a deep crimson, his voice barely above a whisper. "Eh... Em... We were childhood friends. I spent a lot of time in her house. Our families are close and both of us were the youngest children in our families."
"So you have quite a history, eh?" Lleuad teases gently. Edmund shakes his head with a small, wistful smile. "N-Not like I could ever be close with someone as perfect as her. After all... I'm just a prankster... Causing trouble for everyone and always taking the blame for others... It's the best I can do... " Edmund pauses, his voice barely above a whisper, laden with regret and wishful thinking, "Yet… I wish I was more than what I am. Maybe then I'd have been able to protect her and prevent all of this..."
A dreadful thought seizes him as he considers the implications of their situation. His voice breaks with urgency, "You said you were a Huntsman, right? Can you really stop the monster?" Lleuad's response is firm and steady, imbued with determination. "Yes."
"Is it possible that Anne is the monster?" Edmund asks, his voice trembling. A tense silence hangs in the air. "If that is the case," Edmund presses on, his heart racing with fear, "would you have to kill her?"
The question seems to linger between them for a moment longer than necessary. Then Lleuad's voice carries a conviction that cuts through Edmund's despair like a beacon of hope. "I will do everything in my power to save her."
Edmund feels a flicker of reassurance ignite within him, bolstered by the steadfast confidence in Lleuad's words. He lies back on his bed, gazing out through the barred window as he processes this promise—a glimmer of hope in an otherwise dark reality.
The night envelops the city around Elizabeth, as she sprints through this cobblestone maze of shadows and echoes, every step driven by an urgent desperation that propels her forward like a force beyond her control. She is a solitary figure against the backdrop of an uncaring night, moving with the relentless determination of one who knows there is no time to spare.
The mayors heart pounds in rhythm with each stride, a frantic drumbeat echoing the terror and resolve churning within her soul. The thought of her daughter consumes every fiber of her being, igniting a fierce fire that propels her through the darkness.
Elizabeth struggles against the tide of disbelief as Edmund's words swirl around her mind like a malevolent storm. She desperately searches for reasons why he would speak such a distasteful lie. But deep down, she knows Edmund—kind-hearted, prankish boy that he was—would never intentionally deceive her.
Yet, there are fragments of his confession that gnaw at the edges of her certainty: "I couldn't stop them." Those words pierce through her denial like shards of glass. She recalls the faint bruises marring Edmund's face and sees them in an entirely new light. It was not mischief or carelessness that left those marks—it was a violent struggle to protect Anne from Wilhelm and Peter.
As she runs, fueled by panic and urgency, Elizabeth's mind races back over recent days with Anne. Subtle shifts begin to surface: Changes in her daughter's smile, the irritability creeping into her once cheerful demeanor. It all began five weeks ago.
Then there was a momentary darkness in her daughter's expression when she heard the tale of the Grimm Count. Elizabeth berates herself for missing these signs, for not recognizing the danger that crept so quietly into their lives.
Lost in a whirlwind of emotions, Elizabeth finds herself jolted back to reality with the sudden clatter of opening doors. Her heart pounds as she bursts into her daughter's room, only to find it hauntingly empty—a sight that confirms her worst fears. The commotion echoes through the house, pulling Felicity from the depths of sleep and sending her rushing to investigate.
Felicity's eyes meet those of Elizabeth at the threshold of Anne's vacant chamber. Her heart sinks as she sees the despair etched deeply into her daughter's face. It is clear to Felicity without a word being spoken that something catastrophic has befallen her beloved granddaughter.
Before Felicity could gather the words, Elizabeth crumples to the floor, overwhelmed by an emotional storm too fierce to contain any longer. The truth Edmund had shared hung heavy in the air, undeniable and crushing.
Felicity kneels beside her daughter, enveloping her head with gentle hands that seek to offer solace amidst the chaos of grief. In this moment, questions hold no power; all Felicity yearns for is to provide comfort to Elizabeth, to be a pillar of strength in her time of profound sorrow. She simply sits there, allowing her daughters to weep without constraint, embracing her as they both face an unimaginable reality together.
Time seems suspended as Elizabeth spends it within the comforting embrace of her mother's arms. She feels gentle calm wash over her turbulent emotions, allowing her to gather herself once more. Her daughter is still out there; there are mysteries yet unsolved that must be faced with resolve.
With a mixture of sorrow and determination burning in her eyes, Elizabeth wipes away lingering tears and leans into Felicity's comforting hold. With gratitude for the love she has received, she stands up, drawing strength from her mother's support. It is not time to grieve—not yet—but time to act. Determined, the mayor heads towards the police station once more.
Hugo sits diligently at his desk as he documents the day's events in meticulous detail. The station door swings open, and Elizabeth strides in, her determined face a mask that brooks no pity or sympathy from her surroundings. Hugo stands up to offer condolences, but his words die on his lips as he takes in her resolute countenance. The mayor strides past him, making a beeline for Lleuad's cell.
Inside the cell, Lleuad sits on his bed, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight that filters through the bars. As he hears approaching footsteps, he rises gracefully to his feet and turns to face the prison bars. Elizabeth's figure fills the frame, her eyes burning with a fierce intensity. "What happened to my daughter?" she demands, her voice low and urgent.
Lleuad, his posture calm yet resolute, replies softly, "The Grimm Count granted her powers." Elizabeth snaps back instantly, her disbelief clear. "Stop bullshitting me!" Her words echo off the cold walls, filled with fury and incredulity.
Lleuad's gaze remains steady as he responds, "How do you explain the claw marks on Jules' body? Do you think your daughter is capable of the violence required to make four delinquents disappear?" Elizabeth's gaze falters for an instant before flashing with defiance. "How am I supposed to believe that my daughter was visited by a character from a fairy tale?"
Lleuad's face hardens into an expression of grave seriousness, his eyes reflecting the depths of his convictions. "Lestat Germaine is real!" he declares with unyielding certainty. "So are the Grimm he commands! I have witnessed many lives lost by his cruel scheme." His voice carries a weight that underscores the gravity of their predicament. "I came to this village primarily to stop whoever was seduced by his power from meeting their cruel fate," he continues, his tone shifting subtly as he considers the human element of their struggle.
Lleuad's unwavering dedication stirs something within Elizabeth. The flicker of hope that emerges isn't just for her daughter but extends to every life entangled in this nightmare. With a newfound resolve, Elizabeth sets aside her doubts. "Alright… Suppose what you are saying is true. How can we stop her?"
Lleuad's eyes, sharp and focused, lock onto hers. "To avoid any more casualties, we'll have to force her to come to us," he explains with a pragmatic calm. "For that, we need to gather every single resident in one place. She will definitely attack the next night because she didn't get what she needed from Jules."
Elizabeth's brow furrows in thought as she considers Lleuad's words. "Ok. I should be able to gather most of the residents. The delinquents will be the main problem. They rarely listen to adults." Her voice takes on a hint of frustration, her eyes flashing with annoyance. "I don't know of any way to bring them over except by force. But that will take too much time, and we would most definitely miss some."
In the dimly lit cell, Edmund listens intently to the exchange between Lleuad and Elizabeth. The walls seem to close in as he realizes Anne is the very monster they're trying to thwart. Thoughts of Lleuad's promises to save her echo within him. Gathering his resolve, Edmund declares with conviction, "I can do it. I can gather everyone!"
Elizabeth and Lleuad pivot toward the cell door, their expressions etched with surprise and curiosity as they behold Edmund's resolve. Elizabeth's voice is tinged with cautious optimism, "Are you sure?" Edmund nods firmly, his gaze unwavering from hers. "Yes! Lleuad, can you really save Anne?" His question hangs in the air, loaded with hope yet underscored by doubt.
Elizabeth turns to Lleuad, her eyes searching for an answer, surprised by Edmund's inquiry. She notes a momentary hesitation in the Storytellers demeanor—a flicker of uncertainty that doesn't escape her observant gaze.
The Storyteller finally responds, his voice steady yet tinged with realism, "I will try."
"Then so will I," Edmund asserts, determination etched on every feature. He addresses Elizabeth directly, his voice resolute. "Ms. Granger. I failed to protect Anne when she needed me the most. I will not abandon her again! Please let me help!"
Elizabeth studies Edmund's intense gaze, seeing a wellspring of courage and resolve within him. With a nod, she concedes, placing her trust in his steadfast determination. "I will leave the delinquents in your hands then."
The mayor signals Hugo discreetly from across the room. Officer Bleier approaches, his demeanor composed yet attentive as he receives instructions to unlock both cells. As doors creak open, the group convenes in the lobby.
Elizabeth surveys the assembled faces, her tone pragmatic as she queries, "Where do we want to gather the delinquents?"
Lleuad considers carefully before replying, his voice thoughtful. "Someplace that can be easily protected and evacuated if needed. We should also keep the delinquents separate from the rest of the residents, since Anne will probably still target them. But we should keep both groups close enough so we don't stretch our resources too thin."
Elizabeth nods in agreement. "The Town Hall should work then. We can place the delinquents inside while the rest can gather in the town square below. That way, we will be one step away from protecting both when the time comes."
Hugo chimes in, his voice measured. "I can get in touch with every able-bodied person to secure the square. We should keep our true intentions secret from most people to avoid panic." Elizabeth nods in agreement as Officer Bleier continues. "Then we need a reason for gathering everyone in one place." Elizabeth's eyes light up with an idea, "I have something in mind already."