Toriel had polished the same plate for twenty minutes, lost in worry.

In front of Frisk she’d pretend the day went by fine… but the moment they retreated for the night, the ex-Queen fell into an absent-minded listlessness.

She couldn’t help but to wonder what other secrets hid right under her nose.

At first, she thought she knew everything.

Sans? He was her long-time joke buddy. Back then, they never saw each other face-to-face, but they shared a close bond. He made a promise to her and kept it, unlike that coward of a husband.

Papyrus? Sans’ adorable little brother. Forever up in the clouds about his greatness, pasta, and the wonders of them both combined. Wherever he walks, a happy sunshine will follow. Provided his over-enthusiasm didn’t override his sense of logic.

…Was that the truth? Toriel once thought she knew her King Fluffybuns through and through. How grave was her error.

It made her think.

What much does she know about Undyne and Alphys other than their relationship and the fondness for anime?

Their family background?

Their childhood?

Their life before they met her?

Toriel tried to recall as much as she could, but… she drew a blank.

“Some mother figure you are…” she chided herself. A part of her wondered if she was too strict with Asgore.

The recent events reminded the ex-Queen that she had failed to live by her own personal standards.

A loud buzz snapped Toriel out of her stupor. The phone vibrated against the kitchen counter. She placed the plate on the drying rack and answered it.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, Madam Toriel. Cenna Caraway here.”

“Oh? How did you get my number?”

“I asked Frisky for the most trusted adult, sans Sans. The answer was you.”

Before Toriel could reply, Cenna added: “But, I need to know something first: do you trust them?”

That was… more ominous than required. Toriel responded with full honesty. “Of course I do. They’re very matured for their age.”

“Ah, sorry for the strange question. Just checking my bases before I enlist your help. You see, I have a really tough customer badgering me. He wants Frisky way more than anyone else.”

“It would help if you hear his side of the story too, yeah? You’re Frisky’s mom after all. Thought we should make an objective decision together. He’ll make his call at eleven.”

Eleven in the night?

That would take place in five minutes.

Toriel asked, “Where should we meet him?”

“Eh? Nowhere,” Cenna replied. “I’m gonna hook you up to my phone and relay the call. You won’t be able to speak with him, but not like he’s gonna to talk to you anyway.”

“You want me to… spy on the conversation?”

“Nice to know you’re catching on, Madam Toriel.”

The monster matron’s lips turned downwards. This cunning, forced intel-gathering reminded her too much of the War days. She had a mental image of this Magus grinning ear-to-ear at the other end.

A Queen cannot be too trusting, Toriel told herself: more so when one’s ex-husband had a history of being a softie.

But… Frisk trusted this woman enough to hand out ‘Mom’s’ number.

“Miss Caraway,” she thus said. “I’ll let you know that my will is not yours to bend.”

“Hey, I’m counting on that. Oops, time’s running out. Talk to ya later.”

Cenna ended the call there. Toriel hurried to the living room to search for her ‘earphones’. Frisk and Sans shared their money to buy these for her as a gift. They proved handy to cut out unwanted noise. She wouldn’t want to miss out a single word of the upcoming conversation.

Breathe in, breathe out. Nerve wrecking it may be, she needed a clear head. So she sat down on the armchair and mentally prepared herself.

The hands of her old-fashioned analog clock ticked closer and closer to the eleventh hour…

Five minutes past the hour, the phone buzzed in her fuzzy hands. She answered it posthaste.

“Late as usual,” said Cenna.

This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author's work.

The gruff voice of a male human huffed at her statement. “Says the person who ditched all the paperwork to me. Have a shred of responsibility for once, Judge Cenna Caraway.”

“Chill, Judge Mezil Thyme. Being high-strung is bad for sleep. Learned that in the police force.”

Toriel frowned. They had rather heavy titles. Being called ‘Judges’ indicated that they were far from rank-and-file wizards.

An annoyed sigh breathed through the microphone. “Fine. What’s your verdict?”

Cenna replied: “We should leave Frisky in Ebott Town. The people there are kind, wonderful, and rather colourful: both in a figurative and literal sense. I couldn’t ask for a better place to raise anyone.”

An air of disbelief hung in the air.

“…You’re telling me that we -- the custodians of this era -- should leave humanity’s ultimate weapon in the hands of our former enemies?”

Weapon? Toriel didn’t recall buying any sort of armament, or finding one for the matter.

“Yessir.”

“Preposterous!” Anger resonated through the other end of the line. “Do they even know how to care for a human?”

A casual answer followed right after. “Yep. They did their research. One of them knew that human hair length is genetic in nature. How many humans bothered with that?”

"Judge Caraway, need I remind you--"

“Hey, hey,” she continued. “Don’t start railing me about allegiance. We can say the same damn thing about every country on the planet. Wars come and go. Nations move on. We shouldn’t be holding a grudge against them just because they’re not blood and flesh.”

Unable to debunk Cenna’s logic, Mezil grumbled under his breath.

Toriel raised a brow out of slight amusement. At least she could confirm that Cenna’s teasing, casual behaviour was not a farce.

Between the two, she was more worried about this ‘Mezil’ fellow. A person in charge of major paperwork tends to have the organization’s respect. Respect translated to influence, and thus support to his cause.

“Did you test them?” Mezil asked.

“Yup,” said Cenna. “I straight up threatened a fight. The Queen immediately tried to protect the kid like a good mom will do. I thought the King would have gotten soft from all those years of peace, but heh. Guess even fluff can fight back when the stakes are high.”

“Then he sent the tall Lichborn against you.”

Toriel realised that Mezil was referring to Papyrus. What a terrible title for such a sweetheart.

“Hah!” Cenna called out, “A confession at last! You sneaky bugger, spying on me even after promising otherwise. I didn’t even report that he’s a Lichborn. And yet you knew. That means you saw his orange Eye?”

She added. “You don’t need to worry about him. Seriously. He’s crazy powerful, yes. But he’s more innocent than a child. Spared me just because I claimed to be Frisky’s aunt. Heck, he didn’t even try to verify the truth.”

“Hmph,” Mezil huffed. He was not convinced, but he had other matters to tackle.

“Let’s assess our next threat then: Undyne the Undine. She intercepted our reclaiming operation. Our scouts detected elevated levels of willpower when she did her… ‘suplex thing’.”

Toriel covered her mouth, trying to muffle her horrified gasp. That kidnapping attempt was not a random grab for money.

“Has she suspected you yet?” he further enquired.

A chuckle escaped from Cenna’s lips. “What do you think? I’m the walking definition of ‘suspicious’. We’re both from law-enforcing backgrounds, and that’s double the doubt. Our careful steps were mutual.”

“Don’t worry about me, Mez. Just because I quit the police force, doesn’t mean my skills vanished along with the badge.”

The stern voice grew heavier than before, issuing a grim warning: “Judge Cenna, don’t fall complacent. If I were you, I’d get out of town as soon as possible. That short Lichborn is not like the others. He will kill you.”

The ‘short Lichborn’ must refer to Sans. Toriel wondered why the humans speak such ill about her joke buddy. It was so difficult to imagine that pudgy, eternally-grinning bloke as anyone dangerous.

Cenna snickered in response. “Yeah, yeah. As if he haven’t already tried.”

Sans tried to do what?

When Toriel heard the last line, she stopped breathing for a second. Her fur started to stand and puff up in response to a dark chill in the air.

The heater didn’t malfunction.

“Thanks for the concern,” said the human lady. “But I need to rebuild some long-lost family bonds. Have some proper communication for once. Otherwise I’ll just run into another bad end. Like most of your ideas.”

Mezil groaned in the background, knowing he couldn’t change his stubborn colleague’s mind.

“Did you disclose the child’s background in full?”

“Ahuh,” Cenna replied. “Told everyone that their parents died on a geological job. And also that their idiot, immature-aunt dropped them into ‘The System’.”

“Liar.”

The male Magi outright accused his colleague. No sugar-coating. No mercy.

He said: “You had neglected the key details. For example: you didn’t tell the child that their parents were Magi. Brilliant ones, if I must add. Their dual disciplines with geology played a key role in maintaining the Barrier.”

“Judge Caraway, I hope you realise that their welfare should have been in our hands. Not Monsterkind. The foster parents agreed to keep their true identity a secret for their protection. Once they were of age, they would then be formally invited into our school. …Now the plan is ruined.”

“I ask you again: can Monsterkind truly raise humanity’s greatest weapon without jeopardizing the world as we know it?”

Toriel felt her world sway as magic drained from her head. She would have fallen out of her armchair if she didn’t grip the handles in time.

‘Maintaining the Barrier’

‘Died on the job’.

The details clicked together: the ‘mountain accident’ took place on Mount Ebott itself.

It can’t be true, Toriel thought.

This was too much of a coincidence with that popular wizard movie. Frisk was just a human child. A special human child, but human nonetheless.

They couldn’t -- shouldn’t be a magical weapon of some kind.

How could this happen?

“…Hey Mez,” said Cenna. Her tone darkened. “I got two words for ya: Chara. Incident.”

Mezil went silent.

The poor mother’s heart ached.

Why must Chara get involved in this cascade of misfortune?

Was their tragic end not enough?

“You and I don’t agree on a whole lot of things,” she continued, “But hell, we both thought that place was psychoville!”

“Tell me this. How many folks get so bloody scared of their own shadow that they set their own village ablaze? Wait. Scratch that. More like: anywhere with golden flowers.”

“Those fires raged on for days, sir. Us Magi were supposed to prevent such madness. Whatever happened to that? Humanity ain’t infallible, y’know. If Monsterkind suits Frisky’s needs better, it’s better to cooperate. Why should we rip them out of capable hands?”

Toriel didn’t think the tragic deaths of her children affected the Surface as much as it had affected the Underground. A part of her expected life to resume in blissful ignorance.

It didn’t.

Once upon a time, she knew almost nothing. Now she had heard too much.

Toriel breathed deep to regain her composure. For her child’s sake, she will continue to listen to this grim debate…