‘From the skyway one came, from the skyway one returned.’
That thought crossed Grillby’s mind when he was delivered back on the rooftops of Alphys’ Lab. As convenient as this method of travel may be, he much preferred staying close to the ground.
When the blindfolds came off, he winced from the sudden bright rays. It reminded him of the first time he stepped out of the Underground.
“Are you alright?” asked Lady Lucidia.
“…Yes… I’m already getting used to it… What about you?… I thought Overburn causes photosensitivity?…”
Touching the side of her mask, she explained: “There’s no need for concern. I’ve installed tinted lenses in all of my masks.”
“…Ah…” he commented, “…That’s very helpful…”
Grillby checked his phone. It’s ten minutes to four. Time seemed so abundant yet so scarce.
“…It’s already so late… I’m not sure if I can sleep tonight… Considering the number of hours I was under…”
“My apologies.” she replied. “Remaining awake would have conflicted with the data extraction. Also, it would have been rather painful.”
“…Ah… …Please don’t apologise… I’m grateful for your thoughtful care… At least I’ll be on the same timescale as Judge Thyme… The exorcism takes place at a late hour, does it not?…”
“Affirmation: it does indeed. I shall now go check on my husband. After that, I will begin preparations for Papyrus’ surgery.”
“…Will you perform it here or at The Spire?…”
“Here. I have already transported the necessary equipment to Doctor Alphys’ Lab. Ebott Town is safer than The Spire at the moment. In addition, Sans cannot be moved in his current state.”
“Be sure to show my letter to Gaelic. He will understand from there. And, please look out for his needs. I know he hasn’t slept the whole night, taking care of the nameless girl.”
Sticking out of his shirt pocket was the object in question: a hand-written letter of recommendation, signed and sealed by the lady’s own hands.
“…Yes, Lady Lucidia…” He bowed down to her. “…I will make my leave now too… I wish you good luck…”
She returned the sentiment with a curtsy. “As with you. Godspeed.”
After the two walked down the stairs, they each went their separate ways. Lady Lucidia continued further down to her husband’s temporary room, while Grillby headed to the makeshift ward for the nameless girl.
There, he found Gaelic asleep by the side of the bed, exhausted. This outcome was exactly as Lady Lucidia expected: she’s no stranger to his habits.
…Perhaps I should let him sleep for a little while longer…
Alas, it was too late to think that way. Gaelic stirred awake from Grillby’s presence alone. He raised his hands in anticipation of tackling an intruder, though he soon lowered his guard, realising that he wasn’t actually in danger.
After rubbing his eyes, the other greeted: “Good afternoon, Sir Grillenn! Sorry fer sleepin’ on the job. Me eyelids got heavy before ah realised it. What matters ye need of me?”
Usual speech quirks aside, he seemed eloquent and clear. It’s good tidings so far.
Handing over Lady Lucidia’s letter of recommendation, he said: “…I have news for you…”
“A letter? Wait, this smell… It be M’lady’s ink!”
Gaelic jolted out of his seat and took the envelope. His eyes shifted left and right as he read the contents from top to bottom. By the time he finished, he looked up at Grillby with joyful tears.
“These words, they be true?”
“…Yes…” Grillby replied, bowing his head down. “…My registration should be ready after the exorcism--”
Next thing he knew, he was being hugged with the strength of a beast. It’s almost suffocating.
Gaelic exclaimed: “What joy! What elation! Me prayers fer a worthy peer be answered today! Praise, praise! M’lord and M’lady not be alone anymore!”
“…Uh… I appreciate the welcome… But, we don’t have much time… Lady Lucidia wants you to brief me… About the circumstances behind the nameless girl…”
The rush of euphoria ground to a halt. Gaelic let go of his grip and settled down to a more professional state.
“Aye. That be why M’lady granted her authority to ye. Since ye will soon be Knight o’ Berendin, ye now be privy to confidential intel. What ah share not be fer public ears. Fer formality’s sake, could ye swear upon ye soul?”
“…Understood…” Raising his palm, Grillby declared: “…I will swear upon my soul to maintain confidentiality…”
“Good, good! Now with that aside, I can show ye why ah did me best to hide this girl’s face. ‘Twas part a breach o’ sensitive data, and part to save her from shame…”
Thinking back, Grillby remembered that the girl’s mask remained on until her section was curtained in the school infirmary. “…I see… I thought it was strange… that you were so adamant about hiding her face…”
“Come,” Gaelic beckoned. “Ye may conclude the same once ye see this.”
Grillby was taken aback by what he saw.
Etched and tattooed into her forehead -- not her neck or anywhere else easily hidden -- was a serial number.
‘070987-070993-071013’
He took a moment to observe the girl’s other features. She didn’t look menacing at all. Considering her prowess in battle, he expected someone rougher, stronger. Yet, this war machine had a cute, almost cat-like face. Even her cheek holes were rounded, unlike Papyrus’ more angular shape.
She looked like someone who would go to the same school as his niece. Seeing her in this state hurt his very SOUL.
“Raises many questions, aye?” said Gaelic.
“…It does… The numbers… what do they mean?…”
“Hmmm… from me experience it says… father be number 987, mother be number 993, child be number 1013. All be from colony number 7.”
“…Colonies?!… Seven of them?!?…”
Grillby needed a moment to swallow that information. He already expected some kind of farm or lab to exist by this point. But, seven whole colonies of them?
It brought back plenty of unpleasant memories: from Sans’ mad-scientist writings on the wall, to the Philosopher’s Stone he so briefly touched.
In that discarded timeline, Sans had intercepted the nameless girl and managed to tally the remaining people within the stone. It was about 986 blanks and 25 Seers.
“…Over a thousand… Everyone except for her… Absorbed into the stone… I think that colony is long gone…”
How many people know this? It would be limited to those who had permanence of memory and access to Lucidia’s findings.
On the top of his head, he could count Gaster, Lady Lucidia, Judge Thyme, Sans, and himself. Gaelic was injured, and Cenna was not around.
Even though he was there, Papyrus wouldn’t remember. He didn’t have anyone’s Mark at that moment.
As for Frisk, they were too busy tackling the Kaiju problem. They might have heard a passing mention that Sans did some mad scientist stuff… but they wouldn’t know every detail.
Imagine how demoralized they would feel if they heard of these horrors so soon after their victory.
…Keep it together… Maintain emotional distance…
After he settled down, Grillby said: “…Thank you… For keeping this a secret from Frisk and Papyrus… They don’t need to know this yet…”
Tapping his skull, Gaelic replied, “Heh heh, ah still have sense. Though ah know it dinnae always look so.”
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“…Do you encounter cases like these often?…”
“Aye, aye. Many, many times I did. A big part o’ me job be to hunt the heretics and destroy their dens. It be why M’lady sent ye to me. If ye want to know more about them, it be me duty to explain.”
Grillby pulled a chair and sat down beside Gaelic. “…I’m ready…”
“Alright. We begin first with the basics. Most commonly, these colonies be established from the remains o’ humans. Aye, many die without ever being found or known. A shallow grave at troubled borders, fer example. Or warzones. Or the lonely poor. Or simply missing runaways. Their corpses be converted into me kind, and so a new village be made. They also tried to grow regular monsters in the past, but history said it failed. Unlike humans who can survive being captive, kidnapped monsters rarely last long. The stress be too great, and thus they fall ill and die.”
“…The suffering ends quicker… Yet they won’t live long enough to be freed… I’m not sure if I can call that a good thing…”
“Aye indeed, they die before the rescue. Yet who’s to say if rescue will ever come? Choosing between the grave and a waking hell not be a place of envy. Call it a boon or a bane, this frailness made the heretics stay away from the natural monsters. Skeletons and Liches start with no memory, no stress, and plenty o’ power. Humanity has grown into the billions, ripe and plentiful fer harvest.”
Gaelic continued, “These colonies know nothing about the outside world. They be fed many lies: from them being servants o’ humanity to being on an alien planet. The less they know, the better. Keeps them content and discourages escape. From there, a breeding program commences. Liches give birth to Lichborn, and from Lichborn come forth Seers. Just like that, the power o’ the Seer’s Eye be in their grasp, studied and refined in hopes that they be useful against The Association. M’lady had contended against their Chronographers before, however fledging or inferior they were.”
“…What happens to these colonies when they’re discovered?…”
“Depends on their luck,” the Tracker replied, “At best, the whole colony be saved and transferred to the monster nations. At worst, some kill-switch be flipped and they dust in a blink. Ah have witnessed both. It all depends on the depravity o’ the heretics managing that colony.”
Recalling an unpleasant detail, the man growled. “That ain’t counting those blasted Gungnir scum. We be forced to keep the existence o’ these colonies a secret, lest the loudspeakers whip the public into a frenzy. Aye, ye have already seen their fetid claws on ye town. Instead o’ celebrating the end o’ an ancient grudge, they harped yer people’s valiant defense as proof o’ danger against humanity.”
“…That’s true…” Grillby dare not check the internet at the moment. He’s not a heavy user either. He could do without it. “…Human awareness of these colonies would perpetuate anti-magic sentiment…”
Gaelic continued: “M’lord tries to ensure the victims’ survival, but alas he cannae always guarantee. Many a time there be accidental casualties, or a deadlock that cannae be resolved. Ah recall being blamed fer bursting their comfortable bubble.”
“…You may be saving them from a terrible fate… But it would still be their home… Their known life…”
“Aye, aye. But I be used to scorn. ‘Tis fine, ‘tis fine.”
Grillby frowned. The veteran may say so, but beneath that brave front lay a deep, deep hurt. Imagine putting yourself through the harshest of elements to rescue these people, only to be slapped by them across the face.
“…It is not… fine…”
“Ah thank ye fer ye kindness,” replied the other man, “Well… now ye know. The modern times had long been considered the gentlest age. Yet, there still be hidden pockets o’ great cruelty.”
Gaelic gazed at the sleeping nameless girl, thoughtful and ponderous.
“Sir Grillenn,” he said, “I had wondered… perhaps me mother be a descendant from these colonies. See, as me name suggest, me father was a Blanc. ‘White’. Pure as snow, devoid o’ Humanity’s Fire. His genealogy stretches far back, without a hint o’ Lich in his line. ‘Tis same fer all Blancs. Me Eye cannae come from him. But Mother? Mother dinnae know her own mother, let alone her mother’s mother.”
“…Huh?…” Grillby blinked. “…What about Garamond?… …Isn’t he your cousin?… A Blanc just like you?… How is it possible for a Blanc to have two Seer’s Eyes?…”
“He be a cousin by name and not by bone. Adopted, he was. But there be no truer brother than he.”
Speaking of parentage and lineages… He thought this would be the best time to ease into the mystery. It’s on topic, and Gaelic appeared emotionally stable at the moment. “…About the nameless girl… Why do you think she’s your daughter?…”
The man carefully tilted the girl’s head to the side. “Look here at her ear. See that little groove that looks like a curly hook?”
Indeed, there was such a detail. The unusual shape was not etched by a tool. It’s their version of a birthmark, in a way. “…Yes… What about it?…”
“Me former lover had that too.”
How can he put this without being too insensitive? “…Wouldn’t that mean… She’s genetically related to your former lover… and not you?… It’s also possible that the traits were artificially inserted…”
“Sir Grillenn,” said Gaelic, “Ah know ye worry about me. As does M’lord and M’lady. But… it dinnae matter if she truly be me child. Gene or no gene, seed or no seed, ah will take her as me own.”
The thought brought jarring discomfort. Just a day ago, they struggled against a fight to the death. And now he’s just going to adopt her? She’s not the same as Frisk.
“…I’m sorry… But I suggest against it…” said Grillby. “…She may not accept you… Especially after what happened…”
That response seemed to have caught Gaelic off guard. “Oh, here ah thought ye gonna call me a nutter. Ye be right. She may hate me. Reject me. Still, ah dinnae wanna leave her. Let her decide her future later. If she has one…”
“Me parents had me rather elderly. Death claimed them while ah was a teen. Ah know being an orphan be lonely, painful. When I look at this pitiful discarded weapon, lying here with no identity or memory, ah thought it be cruel to abandon her. Reminds me too much o’ meself. Silly, ‘tis not? Me sentimentality be all o’er me head.”
Grillby expected a more emotional outcome, heaped with double-down denial. Yet, the reasoning was sound and compassionate. He couldn’t fight back against that.
“…Do you have a name for her?…”
“Hmmm,” the other tilted his head. “Me younger lass be named Matilda. ‘Twas a tribute to me hero’s own daughter. But fer this Kaiju girl, ah dinnae want to use a human name. Let’s see… if me name be Gaelic, the theme should be language. Hmmmm… where have ah heard this girl’s tongue before?”
Perking up in epiphany, he exclaimed: “This be it! The land o’ M’lord’s favourite curry! The name fer that tongue be called Malaya. I be imagining it now, the blooms o’ champak and frangipani. Have ye e’er smelled their flowers? ‘Tis sweet perfume, a beauty matching their form, so prized and praised. Perfect, ‘tis not?”
“…Malaya, huh?…” Grillby smiled. “…That’s a nice name for a gentler future…”
“Aye, aye! That be great. That… be great…” The joy faded, replaced by anger. “If only me Eye dinnae scar this much, ah would have gone and ripped those heretics who ruined her to shreds. From limb to limb, ah shall! Be it human or monster, dust or blood, ah shall feast on their mangled corpses out o’ spite.”
Hearing Gaelic’s threat raised alarms. It’s not because of the casual mentions of cannibalism either. Those could just be dramatic exaggerations, though that’s never quite certain with someone as wild as him.
“…Wait… hold on…” Grillby lowered his voice and glanced cautiously. “…Did… did you just say… ‘Monster’?”
“Aye, ah did. The Fire o’ Humanity be coveted by both sides. Growing me kind to form an army also meant that natural monsters dinnae need to risk death. Remain safe and sound while scheming in the shadows. Fer greater good, they say.”
Grillby lowered his head and sighed. He had heard so many tragedies and cruelties from The Surface, he was not surprised anymore.
“…Has Judge Thyme tried to expose them?…”
“He did,” the Tracker replied. “Yet obstacles stand in his way. Investigations, frustrated. Evidence, erased. Witnesses, silenced. Proposals, lawyer-talked away. Mighty suspicious. Smells o’ rats and rot. Older than dirt too. M’lord thinks that his predecessors gave up on that pursuit, lest they be left high and dry at the worst o’ times. Strange fer Determinators, ah know. Yet ‘twas a choice between a rock and a hard place.”
In other words, this nameless girl was a warning to the Dreemurr Nations. The Surface rejected their ideal of co-existence: both from the humans and from the monsters.
He clenched his hand into a fist, shaking with disgust. The flames on his head flickered in proportion to his inner fire, riled and roiled.
“…Damn it!…” The flames on his head burst into a great flare, grazing the ceiling with its tips. “…No wonder Sans thought we should flee into another dimension…”
With a slight hiss, Gaelic commented, “That ketchupy heretic’s dastardly ride to alternate dreams and whims? Bah! What about that tomfoolery?”
“…Thinking back… He used the Seraph System to analyze The Surface… He must have at least seen some of the politics… In doing so… he realised that The Surface survivors will not welcome us… Instead, we’re seen as a threat… Our existence reveals that monsters aren’t a myth… This puts pressure on Lemuria… If the Dreemurr Nation goes extinct before public eyes… No one will search for monsters anymore… And the world can return to the status quo…”
Realising the full implications, the skeleton grew perturbed and shrank into his seat. “I see. That be so. ‘Twas logical. M’lord and M’lady must have worried the same. That be why they kept ye under that mountain, despite having the power to release ye anytime. The so-called right timing will never happen.”
It was a lot to take in. Grillby stood up. Walked for a bit. Breathed. Sighed. Whatever he could do to let the rage burn without expressing magic.
Once the fires of rage burned their fill, what remained were the embers. Grillby lifted his head towards the ceiling. “…So… This is what I’m getting myself into…”
“Um, Sir Grillenn? If this all be too much fer ye, then ye can focus on other duties. Be the vanguard o’ your town, fer example. A defender. Being a Knight o’ Berendin can mean many things. Ye need not dive into this dark matter.”
“…No…” The knight of fire turned towards to his new peer. “…I’ve already made up my mind… I won’t let one person handle everything anymore… Be it King Asgore… or Frisk… or Papyrus… or Undyne… or even Sans…”
Gaelic placed a hand on his chest, surprised. “E-even me? This wretch?”
“…Of course… And please don’t call yourself a wretch… You’re my peer… Keep your chin up high…”
Extending his hand towards Gaelic, Grillby said: “…How about this?… From now on… We split our work… You will be my eyes and guide… and I will be your sword… We will destroy this evil together… That is my oath…”
The offer made the skeleton blush bright orange. That’s an odd reaction. As far as Grillby could tell, nothing romantic was involved.
“…Is that too forward?…”
“Nay! Nay, nay, nay…” Gaelic sputtered. “It just… Um… Few be willing to be me partner. Mhmm, aye.”
And after that, they shook hands. The skeleton’s strong grip transmitted the feelings of grateful appreciation and plenty of admiration. Intensely sentimental. No wonder people mistake him as a scary or unsavoury person.
“I look forward to our jolly cooperation, Sir Grillenn.”
That’s all for serious business. Grillby switched to a mundane yet important subject. “…Sir Gaelic… Have you had lunch yet?…”
From the way he touched his belly, the answer would be no. “W-worry not about me. I’ve gone without fer longer.”
Perhaps company would be a better enticement. He did promise that he’ll watch over Gaelic in Lady Lucidia’s stead. “…I haven’t had mine either… Though by now… I guess it’s more of a heavy teatime snack…”
“Oh. Very well then!” Gaelic replied, “I not be a picky eater, so I’ll have whatever you have. Ye should order something fer M’lord too. Ah heard his mullings o’ waking earlier.”
That’s quite a pickle: he could only buy for two at most. Then again, the Dreemurrs should be almost done with school. Perhaps it’s better to ask for their help.
“…I’ll need to arrange something with Frisk’s family… though I want to discuss matters with them anyway… Don’t worry, it won’t be about the colonies…”
“Mmm, ah trust ye. Carry on. I be here, waiting for yer call.”
And so Grillby left to make mealtime arrangements.
…Papyrus… I didn’t forget my promise to you…
…That is why I’m going to places where you can’t go… And do what you can’t do…
…Captain Undyne…King Asgore… Everyone…
…I’m leaving the town to you…