It was a dream of a hazy memory.
The soft comforts of a bed did little to allay the pain and suffering.
It hurts to move.
It hurts to breathe.
It hurts to exist.
Yet, the dreamer had no voice to cry.
In the background, a mother wept beyond the door. A few floors down, two men -- a father and an uncle -- duelled magic. One could feel the anger all the way to the upper apartments.
A doctor, tall and lanky, opened the window and yelled to the men below.
“Egads you two, fight elsewhere! The boy needs rest! Or do I need to get down there to beat some sense into you???”
The noise moved away.
“Ugh, those hotheads.”
The doctor walked over to the bedside. He inspected a hanging bag filled with a glowing white liquid. A long thin tube led towards the bed.
“Oh dear. The ruckus woke you up. I hope you’re feeling at least a little better. Though, I know you can’t answer. Just relax.”
There’s a cordialness in his manner of speech. It was the polar opposite of the fierce exasperated threats he made to the noisemakers below.
“Curious about this bag? It’s an ‘intravenous drip’. Something I adapted from studying human medical practices. Directly feeds magic and medicine straight into your body.”
“Science is wonderful, isn’t it? Wait. N-nevermind. Don’t force yourself to reply just yet.”
“Hmm… what a strong will you have. All this and yet you didn’t cry. That’s a very, very good thing. You don’t want to injure those vocal chords any further.”
The doctor read the report. His skeletal hands squeezed on the sheet. Frustration threatened to crumple through the sheet.
“…I’ll call your mother now.”
* * *
The deed was done.
Grillby doesn’t know how long Lady Lucidia took to complete his request. It could be an hour. It could be more. At least the clock won’t tick in the physical world.
By the time he returned to the Prosecution’s chambers, it was empty.
Grillby looked around. “Where did they go?”
Lady Lucidia answered: “They had gone ahead, waiting for us.”
“I see.”
The fire elemental rubbed his throat. It’s strange to hear himself with a functional voicebox: it was as though he had become a totally different person.
The woman squeezed her hands, anxious. “Sir Grillenn, may I have a word with you?”
“Yes?”
“Your organ was scarred from a lack of proper treatment. It’s a miracle that you didn’t sound feeble. Or were rendered mute.”
“I have removed the damaged tissue and weaved a new implant based on your Psychia’s data. However… there was always a risk that the procedure might fail. It’s better to have a quiet voice than to have none at all. That is why I never attempted this surgery in the physical world.”
“Hmm,” Grillby mused. “If that’s the case, I won’t know if I could keep this result in the first place.”
Lady Lucidia nodded. “Accurate. Therefore, do not overstrain. Please exercise caution.”
“Understood. Thank you for your concern.” Grillby bowed down, alleviating her concerns, before walking his way toward the court.
A plan had already sprung in mind. Queen Toriel might have thought of the same, albeit for a different purpose.
He stopped before the final door. A sudden wave of doubt gripped his heart, making him hesitate for a moment as the demons of ‘what if’ played their mocking tune.
…Get a grip… Grillby thought to himself.
Grip, he did. Right on the door’s handle. Then, it’s onwards to the Crimson Hall.
His patrons waved for his attention from the gallery. They dispensed words of support. Something along the lines of ‘kick his butt’ and ‘do your best’. The warm sentiment was much appreciated.
The two Kings of Magi and Monsters sat on their respective thrones: Supreme Judge Mezil Thyme and His Majesty Asgore Dreemurr. The contrast between them was akin to light and dark.
Though his days as a Captain had long passed, Grillby saluted the King as a sign of honour.
Asgore smiled and returned the gesture. But, the moment he lowered his hand… his expression turned sombre once more.
Frisk, this court’s current judge, seemed to be configuring something on their phone. Were they taking pictures? Scanning? They had exhibited the same behaviour in the resting lobbies as well. It won’t surprise Grillby if they installed a new tool for this case.
…I shouldn’t keep anyone waiting…
Grillby went over to his bench. From here, he observed Sans standing beside Toriel: the Queen of his own nation.
He admitted that didn’t hold her to the same level of reverence as King Asgore. After she returned to the community, Toriel likened herself more of a mother than a ruler. Quite a terror with alcohol too. Still, she’s been stepping back to her former role in the light of the recent crises. Not an opponent to be underestimated.
Frisk put the phone down and asked: “Is everyone ready?”
Queen Toriel straightened her back. “The defense is ready, Your Honour.”
Grillby responded in like. “The prosecution is ready, Your Honour.”
The whole court uttered a soft gasp. Though puzzled at first, Grillby then remembered that he had his voice fixed.
Somewhere in the background, Mettaton fancied about a ‘dashing dasher’. Doctor Alphys couldn’t stop squealing either. The man of fire did his best to ignore those reactions.
“Eherm,” Frisk faked clearing their throat. “Court is in session. Sir Grillenn, please make your opening statement.”
“Your Honour,” said Grillby, “The plaintiff observes that Tactician Sans Serif has yet to explain himself for his seeming acts of treason. His bouts of personal attacks against the prosecution and the judicial body served as mere distractions from the truth. We demand that he testify about his movements: from the creation of the Seraph System, to the conclusion of incident. That is all.”
Frisk lifted their phone towards his direction. After a brief check, they nodded. “Okay. Queen Toriel, please make your opening statement.”
And so she said: “Can this court handle the truth they seek? My client has plenty of reasons to doubt, considering the lack of experience of those involved. As Tactician, he’s also obligated to keep secrets. The defence proposes that we postpone this hearing to a later date. Preferably after the imminent Ocean Battle. This is a waste of precious time.”
Both sides were frank about their thoughts. This may not ever happen in a human courtroom. But, this is the court of magical monsters. They do things differently.
“Objection,” said Grillby, keeping his tone level so that he doesn’t overstrain. “The prosecution insists otherwise. We’re missing vital information that could turn the tides of battle. Who could we enlist? What is the true nature of the technology that Sans Serif created? What was that strange light that almost killed us?”
“There are many questions in need of answers. The prosecution therefore requests the culprit to testify.”
The defense did not reply. It’s up to the judge now.
Frisk checked Toriel with their phone. The more Grillby watched, the more he’s convinced that they had installed a type of scanner.
“Objection sustained. Sans Serif will testify.”
The man in question walked over to the witness stand. “Finally, kid. Got the right guys for the job. Thanks to Tori and Grillby, I can finally get into the marrow of the matter.”
… So he antagonized everyone else to force me into this position…
Sans continued: “Welp if you really wanna start from the beginning, let’s go back to the time when my Eye got sealed. How about that?”
“Sealed?” Grillby asked.
“Yup. Lil’ Miss Lucy and I struck a deal in one of the past timelines. See, back then things didn’t go so hot. The Dreemurr Nation rejected the Magus Association’s help. Gungnir found the Six, and then the media frenzy exploded into an all out riot. Dead End.”
“Why did you make this deal?”
“Because the alternative would be Papyrus getting a crash course into becoming a proper Chronographer with no guarantee that he’ll ever remain sane. Not gonna put my little brother through that kind of hell.”
…Ironic coming from you…
“Please elaborate to court about the nature of this deal.”
Sans replied, “Lil’ Miss Lucy would plant a Seer’s Seal on my Eye, preventing me from using my usual tricks. Half-blind, I’d be forced to travel deep into her territory: the Spire’s Library.”
The story continued: “Up there, I met the lady. She completed her end of the deal: to teach me everything related to Determination. It was her best bet of finding a solution. A new, unexpected path. Too bad she was wrong in thinking that her efforts would change anything.”
“Why wouldn’t it?” Grillby questioned.
“Us double Tacticians once brainstormed a bit. It all boils down to three questions.”
Sans then lifted his hand to show his index finger: the sign of ‘one’. “Will legal rights protect us? Nope. Ain’t anything in the universe could prevent anyone from changing their mind. There’s always a risk of corruption and fanaticism.”
Two fingers. “Can the Magus Association do their job? Depends on who’s in charge. Mezil’s going grey, so I estimate that he’d hold out maybe a decade or two at most. That’s not taking into account any threats that may cause premature existential failure. Which brings us to…”
Three. “Can Their Honour Frisk succeed him? Big question there. Tell me, Sir Prosecutor, what’s your answer?”
Grillby remained silent. He knew full well it was a trap: a rebuttal waits at every path.
“That look on your face…” Sans said, “Tells me that you’re not confident either. Which proves my point: Their Honour is in hot water if any scandal gets out. Like say, a dusty history swept under the rug.”
“This world is too set in their own traps to get anywhere.” Sans added, “That’s why I gambled it all into my final gambit. To make sure I wouldn’t get tempted to turn back, I burned my entire wardrobe and a few other belongings. Ask Their Honour. They can confirm it.”
Toriel was horrified by the revelation. “Your Honour, is that true?!”
Frisk nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mom. It’s true. I was there to witness it.”
Shooting a mother’s glare of massive disapproval at the witness, she said: “Well Sans, looks like I will have to drag you to the clothes store once we’re done with this trial.”
“Appreciate it, Tori. But that’s gotta wait until after I finish the Seraph System. Really working overtime on that.”
…This deadlock… I should take note of this…
It’s fortunate that the court supplied a pen and paper. He made a quick reminder.
‘Eye sealed - deadlock - circumstances won’t change.’
“Sans Serif,” Grillby said,“Please resume your testimony. What happened after you met Lady Lucidia?”
“I built the Seraph System,” the skeleton replied. “Version 1.0 that is. To be honest it's a little on the shoddy side. I hammered it together with whatever spare parts I could get my hands on.”
“What is it made of?”
“A bunch of complicated electronics, lots of skeleton code, and Determination-imbued steel. The casing was the only thing useful from the old Chronograph. Rest of it, perma-junk.”
…Should I question where he obtained that?…
…No… The source is not important…
Grillby asked: “What’s the purpose of the Determination-imbued steel?”
“Protection and preservation. I know folks would think that it prevents the device from unravelling, but nah. Once I go back ten years, it’s gone. But the setup ensures that I retain my memory.”
So, this involved time-travel after all. “That was your plan all along?”
“Yup,” Sans nodded. “Well. Plan A anyway. The idea was to prevent The Core Incident from ever happening. No bad science, no murder attempts, no collateral deaths, and Their Honour gets to live happily ever after with their biological parents.”
“On my end? I would have perfected my wormhole theorem: bypassing the Barrier without any need for human SOULS. You saw it happen, Grillbz. Again, that is all thanks to Lady Lucy’s study, and some live tests.”
…I don’t quite grasp the scientific details… but…
Another note, jotted down.
‘Eye sealed - deadlock - circumstances won't change.’
‘Core Incident - undone - memory preserved.’
“What did you do after you completed the device?”
“Tested it on Muffet’s DT Doughnuts,” said Sans. “Worked perfect. Then, I moved on to my next target: Doctor Gaster himself. Why him, you ask? Because that man is a conscious Amalgamate. He’ll remember every incident of time travel. There’s no guarantee that he won’t try to stop my plans, so I made sure to silence him first.”
Gaster was an ‘old friend’ by technicality. Even though the relationship had soured over a particular incident, Grillby wouldn’t want any misfortune to befall on his skull. “Did you try to kill him?”
Sans shook his head. “Nope, because I know it won’t. It takes more than a drain to finish an Amalgamate. The only way to kill them is complete obliteration: SOUL and all. I’d need to use Karma for that to happen, giving him ample opportunity to run away.”
“Interesting.” Grillby crossed his arms. “And would he still remember in that case?”
“Eh, maybe? Nothing past the point of his own death at least.”
…Should I ask further?… Is there anything useful?… Or am I getting distracted?…
……………………
…Toriel is being too silent… If there’s anything incriminating to be found here, she would have stopped me long ago…
…Something doesn’t add up… Lady Lucidia prevented him from using his usual tricks… But his Eye was burning in his gambit…
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
…Then…
Grillby asked: “Sans Serif, who removed your Seal? And when?”
Sans responded in his usual nonchalant manner. “I did. With Muffet’s boatloads of DT. As for when? Right before I started the construction of the Seraph System. After all, I needed the Eye to trigger the secret truth first. And that’s when I realised that the full extent of our crapshootery.”
“Why didn’t you explain this earlier?”
At last, Toriel stepped in. “Objection! Your Honour, explaining every detail will bog down the testimony. My client deems that the exact methods of removing his bindings to be unnecessary. What’s important is that he sees a hopeless future. Besides, he's meanwhile clued us in on another vital detail: the poor baker Muffet was an unwitting collaborator.”
Frisk furrowed their brows, thinking hard. In the end they decided: “Objection sustained.”
…Perhaps she’s right… It’s not when or how… But who… Muffet is nothing more than a distraction…
…When did exactly did Sans Serif notice that the seal on his Eye?… Who would he turn to?…
…It’s difficult for me to continue because I wasn’t deeply involved in the pre-Spire incidents…
…What do I know so far?…
Grillby remembered a time when he found Sans in his bar, drenched in seawater and beach sand. He took him to Alphys’ Lab… that was when he met Doctor Gaster for the first time in years.
Then, the ‘exorcism’ happened. At first he didn’t quite understand the full scope of the task, but he had a better idea after witnessing Frisk’s past actions. That child was a DEMON possessed by another DEMON. No wonder they had to purge the parasite out of their being.
After that event was over, he went straight back to his bar. Perhaps he should have congratulated Frisk on their newfound cleansing?
The next day, the Magi and their police colleagues appeared in town. All premises that dealt with lodging, food, and drink saw an increase in customers and revenue. Grillby’s establishment included.
The situation soon soured. Sunday. It coincided with his fire arts practice. The regular red-feathered patron ordered the strongest booze first thing in the afternoon. Not a good sign. Told him that an anti-magic cult had terrorized Mettaton’s studio. It was exactly one week before the Crimson Hall, Grillby remembered.
From then onwards… it’s bad to worse. The Royal Guard found themselves shorthanded. It spurred the call for volunteers to help maintain the watch. Grillby now recalled Papyrus’ enthusiastic yelling across town. Quite the living police siren. Helped deter many possible troublemakers.
The bar closed down during the curfew. He became way too busy with security. Furthermore, no one should be out more than they needed to.
…The next time I saw Sans… He carried an unconscious Papyrus on his back… I was looking for Captain Undyne and the King to report about Gungnir…
…He didn’t teleport at all… Which means his Eye was already sealed back then…
…I think I have a new line of questioning…
“Sans Serif,” he began. “I remembered that you and Queen Toriel went to Mount Ebott for something technical. Papyrus got injured in that event. Could you elaborate?”
Toriel blinked. “Objection. How does this relate to our current case? It’s going off-topic.”
“It’s related.” Grillby retorted. “Your Honour, we need to establish a clear timeframe of Sans’ Eye unsealing. This will clue us to the people he had met.”
Frisk nodded. “Objection overruled. Sans, please answer the question.”
Sans remained calm as he explained: “I worked with Gaster to set up a Chronoviewer. See, we needed a device to project Paps’ visions on a screen. Otherwise whatever he sees will be his exclusive knowledge. Kinda troublesome, right?”
Grillby wasn’t happy to hear that. What’s the use of prison if it only served as a second home? “I thought Doctor Gaster was under arrest for the mishap of The Core Incident?”
“Yep. But, he had a bright idea and he roped in a willing participant. Papyrus went and got Gaster all the material he needed.”
Even harder to believe. “No one had any objections that a prisoner started a science experiment. Unsupervised?”
“About that…” Sans glanced at his defense. “Tori, you wanna explain? Or should I?”
At first, she was puzzled. But then the details clicked in her head. “Dear me! You’re right, Sans. Sir Grillenn, I was the one who endorsed Doctor Gaster’s project. He proposed the idea to King Asgore, Frisk, Papyrus, and myself. We thought that this ‘Chronoviewer’ would become a vital tool for our Kingdom’s survival.”
Grillby questioned: “Do they function just like Lady Lucidia’s screens?”
“Yes, that’s a fair comparison.”
…Aha… That explains why the Magus Association allowed Doctor Gaster to build it… They too would be interested in Papyrus’ visions…
The list of notes:
‘Eye sealed - deadlock - circumstances won't change.’
‘Core Incident - undone - memory preserved.’
‘Chronoviewer - Papyrus - ended in injury.’
…I think I’m ready build the bridge…
“Sans Serif,” said Grillby, “Of all the people present in the experiment, how many of them knew about your Eye being Sealed?”
Sans’ lips curled upwards. “Probably better if you give me a list of names, Grillbz. Maybe you saw something I didn’t.”
…Doesn't look like he’s willing to give me a straight answer. Instead, he’s testing my memory…
Annoying. Nonetheless, Grillby agreed. “Very well. Does Frisk know about this?”
Sans replied: “Yup. One of the first. I was working for the kid back then.”
“Papyrus?”
“Nope. Didn’t want to put him on Mezil’s radar more than he already was.”
“Undyne?”
“Nope. But she was already suspecting it. Almost got busted.”
“Cenna Caraway?”
“I sure hope so. Otherwise she would be putting herself in danger. Lil’ Miss Lucy sent her there to watch me after all.”
“Queen Toriel?”
“Nope. Sorry Tori.”
“Doctor Alphys?”
“Nope. She wouldn’t be able to help.”
“Doctor Gaster?”
“Oh come on. Now you’re just guessing.”
“No. Your avoidance is telling the truth. It’s a ‘yes’. You hoped that I would forget about Doctor Gaster, did you not? If you had truly broken the Seal alone, as you have claimed, Gaster wouldn’t be a problem to your plans.”
Grillby pointed his finger at Sans to raise the heat. “The only reason he’s in the loop is because YOU needed his assistance!”
The gallery gasped. Undyne yelled a ‘YEAH’ somewhere. Then the people began chatting among themselves over this new revelation.
The defendant meanwhile wiped off a bead of sweat on his brow. “Hey, ever thought of signing up for law school?”
“No distractions, please.” Grillby would have none of that. “Tell me, Sans Serif, how much DID Doctor Gaster know about your predicament?”
“A lot I’d say. But I’m not exactly the right person to answer that question. If you know what I mean.”
…Heh… He didn’t even try to lie or deny… This is what he wanted after all…
Grillby raised his head high to make his declaration: “The plaintiff requests Doctor Gaster to stand as a witness.”
“The defense would like to request the same.” Toriel added posthaste.
Frisk granted permission, Sans returned to Toriel’s side, and Undyne -- as Captain -- escorted Doctor Gaster to the witness stand.
Round Two of questioning.
Doctor Gaster put up his best appearance for the proceeds. With the witness stand covering his lower half of the body, he appeared as solid as his former self.
Reading from the same instruction note, Frisk said: “Witness, please state your name and profession.”
Doctor Gaster bowed.
“I am Doctor Wendell Dominic Gaster, former Royal Scientist of the Dreemurr Nation.”
Raising his arms, he continued: “On the left is Roman. On the right is Helvetica. They are the parents of Sans Serif and Papyrus.”
“Thank you.” The judge nodded. “Skeleparents? Sorry for dragging the both of you into this.”
They signed back. Though Grillby doesn’t understand, he knew that they didn’t blame the court for any inconvenience.
It’s back to prosecution. “Doctor Gaster, did Sans Serif ask for your assistance?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“When and under what circumstances?”
Right off the bat, Gaster presented his words with charismatic eloquence. “It happened two weeks ago, soon after Frisk’s exorcism. Sans had enlisted Papyrus as a glorified taxi to my prison. When he didn’t teleport past the bars, that’s when I realised something was off. How right I was: his Eye had been sealed tighter than an airtight lock!”
Not quite what Grillby expected. “I thought you two hated each other to the bone?”
“Well, yes we still do. But that doesn’t mean I could turn him away! Aside from Papyrus, I also have his parents to oblige to.”
“…The two citizens you hold in hostage as Amalgamates.”
Flustered, Gaster exclaimed: “Grillby! It’s complicated! I thought you would understand my position from our, eherm, strained friendship.”
…Strained is an understatement… I sometimes wonder it’s one-sided after all…
A flash of memory slipped by right after that thought. He recalled a lanky, encouraging doctor with similar a flair for words, though that person's face or name eluded him.
…Why am I thinking about that now?…
Toriel scoffed out loud. Someone had stoked her ire.
“Complicated?” she questioned. “Dangerous I’d say. Unsafe experiments? Hostages and blackmail? Not to mention how you almost turned us all into a massive Amalgamate!”
“It’s regrettable that Sans chose the most violent path. One has to wonder, however, what would have happened to the rest of us if he had stood by and done nothing.”
The witness liquefied from the Queen’s sheer glare.
…I guess Gaster is an expert in digging his own grave…
…A part of me wished that he had stood on trial like this years ago… That would have been true ‘justice’…
“Queen Toriel,” Grillby proposed, “Would you like to cross-examine the witness in my stead?”
Delight was written all over her face. “Why, of course. Thank you.”
…This would be a good time to rest my throat too…
…Hm?… A mild discomfort already?… We’re nowhere near done…
Grillby frowned as he touched his throat. The action didn’t go unnoticed, as a bottle filled with green magic soon spawned on his table.
The contents smelled of coconuts: one of the first new oils he sampled on the Surface. Sweet, rich, and smooth. Great for drinking.
Toriel thus resumed: “Doctor Gaster, would you kindly inform the court about your ulterior motives in assisting Sans Serif?”
Gaster refused to let the accusation get the better of his image. “I assure you the only ‘ulterior’ motive I had was ‘reconciliation’! My boy Papyrus has shown me a path unimaginable: Mercy! I expected him to cast me back into the Void, and yet he did not do so. Don’t you think it’s only fair that I try to make amends?”
Both the defense and prosecution pondered over this fact.
…I can tell Gaster is honest about this… Although it may not convince Toriel…
She asked, “In what ways have you tried to reconcile?”
Gaster answered, “For one, I willingly surrendered myself to the law. I came forth with my ill deeds and let myself be incarcerated in Snowdin. Then, I tried to help those who’re dear to Papyrus’ heart.”
“For example, Judge Mezil Thyme -- friend and mentor to our young man -- his love of spice can get him into tremendous trouble. So we three tried to find a factor that maximizes taste and minimizes poisoning. Alas, it wasn’t successful.”
Gaster’s friends both signed their thoughts. Even the man connected to them had trouble translating their flurry of wavings.
“S-slow down, Helvi. Roman, you too. Right. Yes I understand you’re both frustrated that we couldn’t solve the curry problem. But sometimes the path you choose doesn’t lead to an answer. Roman? I’m not sure if we can ask Sans directly. Might as well, I suppose.”
“Sans!” he said, “Your father wonders if Determination would have ever worked?”
Their elder son replied, “Sorry, Dad. Extensive testing proved that the ‘DT taste improvement theory’ is a bust. Might be a good preservative if you could drain the red stuff before consumption, though.”
Roman snapped his fingers in frustration: it was a futile quest in the end.
“Anyway,” Gaster continued, “In return for his assistance I helped Sans about the matter of his locked powers. I have the ability for both telescopic and microscopic sight. Therefore, that’s what I used to find the root of the problem.”
“Analyzing the Seer’s Seal, I noticed two major points of interest. First, the Code utilizes a constructed language that served as a cipher. Second, it’s filled with refined intricacy. Weavings and threadwork, reminiscent of my departed mother’s tailoring skills. It was then I concluded that the person who applied it had to be a woman of great knowledge and talent: a Seer working with the Magi.”
The defense listened with great interest. “That’s quite the analysis. So, did you or did you not play any part in breaking this Seal?”
“I did. Sans and I worked backwards. Though we could not read the synthetic language, I knew some ancient procedures. However… that’s also when we discovered that the Magi refused to let us have an easy victory. Thyme’s trademark butterfly rewound every effort. Such an annoying little insect.”
…Interesting… Sans would indeed be forced to research Determination… and meet Lady Lucidia…
…It matches his testimony…
“So,” said Toriel, “After this, Sans roped poor Muffet into his schemes, broke the Mark in secret, and then began construction of the Seraph System. I presume that’s also when he took action against you?”
The scientist answered: “Yes indeed! He waited until I ate Muffet’s doughnut to confirm that the Seraph System worked as intended. Then, he closed in for the kill. Stabbed a Mark on my chest and turned the three of us into stone!”
One more piece of the truth was revealed to all. Noise levels increased in court. Still, the full picture remained hidden.
“How odd.” Toriel mused. “I do recall several ‘unexplained phenomena’ accredited to your name. Care to explain why that may be?”
Gaster responded, “Well… I thought that I would entrust our future to Papyrus alone. But! Sans Serif’s diabolical plans failed to take a particular ‘quirk’ into account.”
“As you know, The Magus Association defines Determination as the ‘Will’ of a person. Therefore! When Sans drained me, he inadvertently absorbed my very consciousness! An unexpected, golden opportunity! Alas, the inner workings of this lifeless machine were still safeguarded by Sans himself. I found myself helpless. Trapped. A mere tagalong! At least, I could badger him with words to no end.”
“And badger him I did!” The doctor hollered. “It’s all due to my shrewd genius! In the end, I managed to sweet-talk Sans into a trap.”
Grillby squinted in disbelief. It’s correct that Gaster is prone to honeyed lips. But to have that work on Sans of all people? That idea casted a dark shade of doubt.
So the fire elemental interjected: “Doctor Gaster, please explain the nature of this trap.”
“Believe it or not, Papyrus would have won the battle fair and square. Never underestimate a clairvoyant fighter! Alas, time ran out too soon. Sans was mere seconds from activating Judge Thyme’s pre-Core SAVE… The situation became one that was ‘cheat or be cheated’. I thus offered Sans my help, requesting ‘explicit permission to control the Seraph System’. Quote for quote.”
“The moment he handed me the steering wheel, I primed the Trap Harvester to freeze his sense of time, and rigged the Seraph System to feed him visions of the hypothetical path he tried to take.”
“A hefty serving of humble pie.” Toriel’s lips pouted with skepticism. “Is that the absolute truth, Doctor Gaster?”
“Why would I lie? There’s nothing to gain.”
“Hold it!”
All attention turned square on Sans.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Jeez, why are you guys so surprised? I’m still my own defense. Nobody removed my barrister status. Anyways, Gaster said he trusted in Papyrus to beat me. Welp. I call that a lie.”
“On what grounds?!” Gaster exclaimed.
“If you really trusted in him, you wouldn’t have buttered me up for your fancy trap. You could have done nothing. Let Papyrus win, ‘fair and square’.”
Gaster widened his eyes in shock. The alternative didn’t even cross his mind. “You--!!!”
Sans cut in before the witness had a chance. “But you did. You helped me plant the WESS: Lil’ Miss Lucy’s ultimate anti-DT weapon. Why don’t you tell the court what happens if the victim is a Seer?”
“You put him through that hell!”
“Yep. A hell that I intended to revert. But for your plan to work, whatever damage inflicted had to stay. In other words…”
With a chilling tone, Sans accused Gaster; “You sacrificed Papyrus to defeat me.”
…………………………
Grillby shook his head. Gaster made Sans appear to be a hero. He would pass the Crimson Hall at this rate.
…Gaster, you really are an expert in digging your own grave…
…Sans, are you trying to sacrifice your mentor to escape?…
…Hmm… No… That is far too small a goal… This is but a stepping stone, although I don’t know where it leads…
The Amalgamate dripped. Roiled. His face changed to one of shock to indignance. He slammed the side of his fist on the table.
“SANS SERIF!!!” He yelled. “You DARE turn me into a scapegoat?! Again?!?”
The short skeleton laughed. “Nah, Ol’ G. It’s the other way round. I’m the one on trial here. Wouldn’t it be convenient if all your wrongs were pushed on me instead? Sans Serif, mastermind extraordinaire. Yep. That’s a nice narrative.”
Grillby switched his attention on Frisk. They began to lose their cool. Soon, their control too. Would they be tempted to rewind time?
Crimson Keeper or not, they’re still a child that’s new to the job. They need help, and help Grillby will give.
The prosecutor thus yelled: “Objection!”
They couldn’t hear him. Gaster was so riled up, he continued arguing with Sans and Toriel without cease.
…Ngh… This is bad…
“Objection!!” He repeated his stance with greater volume. Still drowned out.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Grillby raised his hand above the table. Inhaled deep. He will yell louder than he ever had in his entire life.
He slammed down. Hard. And right after that, his voice rang into the Void and beyond.
“OBJECTION!!!”
A sharp pain stabbed his throat. The implant could never replace the original, just as Lady Lucidia had warned.
He heard the worried calls of his name. Not important. He must follow up on his objection.
“Defense. You may not.”
Cough. Hack.
“Disrupt court. With slander.”
Wheeze. Cough.
“Evidence. Needed.”
In his coughing magic got pushed upwards, filling his mouth. Disconnected from their host, the escaping substance destabilized and crumbled into dust.
Due to sudden injury, the judge declared an emergency recess.
* * *
It’s the bed again.
The soft comforts complemented with the strange haze. It’s difficult to focus, and he was feeling more content than he should.
The pain was more bearable than he expected: a little on the ‘annoying’ side of the meter. It reminded Grillby of getting a moderate bruise. Or an intense workout after missing too many days.
In the background, he heard many arguments. They’re too jumbled to make sense. Nonetheless, one could feel the conflicted emotions all the way from his location.
Lady Lucidia opened the door. Air and gravity bent around her, floating the tips of her great curled hair.
“Silence,” she warned. “Or else.”
Intimidated, the commotion moved away.
The lady then shut the door with telekinesis, leaned her back against the nearest wall, and sobbed into her hands.
Mezil Thyme soon slipped into the ward. He took care of his wife, giving her water and consoling her. The way he acted was one of experience… as though this wasn’t a first.
While Lady Lucidia is recovering, Mezil became the spokesperson. He gave Grillby a digital screen to type out his thoughts.
“I apologize,” said the husband. “My wife is not a doctor. She’s more of a scientist.”
Though half-addled, Grillby had enough clarity to use the device.
‘What do you mean?’ he wrote.
“Lucidia can discard failed constructs without a second thought. But, that is not an option when it comes to an individual’s fate. Life after all weighs much heavier than materials and data. As such, good doctors require a balance of care and coldness. They need the heart to treat a patient, yet yield themselves to the harsh realities of mortality. Failure has to be swallowed one way or another.”
Grillby responded: ‘Maybe that’s why Gaster could become one.’
Mezil huffed. “That man is dangerously oblivious. I have no words about the poor reasoning behind his choices.”
‘Please let your wife know that she’s not to blame. It has nothing to do with her lack of skill. I overexerted despite her advice. It was my fault.’
“Your kind consideration will be appreciated.”
Three rapid knocks called for their attention. The door opened just enough for a certain small child in striped blue and purple to peek through the gaps.
“May I come in?” asked Frisk.
Their request came on quite a short notice. Still, Grillby wanted to meet the kid anyway. He sat up on the bed and beckoned them to walk on over.
So they did. With an apologetic face, they muttered: “I’m sorry, Grillby. I should have called for order sooner.”
“Good that you knew,” noted Mezil. “I take that it’s different compared to what you had practiced in the Underground?”
Frisk nodded. “Way different.”
“Not surprising. You had led, battled, dodged, and convinced… but never judged over a heated dispute of this magnitude.”
With how well they did in the field of combat, it’s easy to forget their inexperience in other areas. Even adults could fall into the trap of being too narrow. He should know it best.
So, Grillby wrote back: ‘Thank you for the apology. What do you plan to do now?’
Frisk replied, “I wonder if you want to start over. Tsunderjudge said I could preserve your memories. I can preserve everyone’s memories too! Sans included. Then, only your injury would be undone.”
A tempting proposition. But…
‘What’s the catch?’
Was that hesitation in Judge Thyme’s body language? He held his breath longer than usual.
“…There’s none,” he replied. “If it’s Frisk, they’re more than capable of supporting a handful of proxies. Otherwise, Lucidia has each session recorded. We can implant the memory back into you at any time.”
“I won’t get penalized?” the kid asked.
“No. You’re not reversing time to cover up your own flaws.”
Frisk bounced back with a positive pep. “Let’s do it then!”
“But you may need to take Sir Grillenn off the stand.”
Instant defeat. Frisk exclaimed, “Why?!”
“It won’t solve the issue of his fragile voicebox. The same problem may repeat. Do you want to put him through the pain and suffering again? Besides, Sans Serif now knows of his weakness.”
“Then we exclude Sans.”
“Now that’s grounds for a mistrial. You would be putting him under a deliberate and unfair disadvantage. He’ll figure it out sooner or later anyway.”
Grillby squinted. He therefore typed:
‘Apologies for my frankness, but you’re both overcomplicating the situation. I want to remain as prosecutor despite the risks. If anything happens to me, it won’t carry over to the real world anyway. Am I right?’
Frisk replied, “As long as Determination is not involved, you’re safe.”
‘Then so be it. I’d like to continue without further delay.’
The kid glanced between the writer and his statement. “Grillby, is this you speaking? Or the concoction of painkillers? Those things can mess with your head.”
‘Painkillers’. That explained the reduced pain and the weird fuzz in the head. Regardless, Grillby knew that he’s sound of mind.
‘Do I appear to be a passive person?’
Behind their stoic face was the intense awkward pressure to say the ‘correct’ words. In the end they said: “You were super different as a bartender. But, I guess you’re not a shopkeeper right now. You look… ‘Determined’.”
…Huh… This is strange…
…I gave up on lesser circumstances in the past…
…What drives me forward now?…