Volanta

"This is stupid. She gets a party for spending the summer learning how to curtsy."

Oliver stayed at the large plush seats by the fireplace, away from all the crowds around the music and dancing, nursing a glass of brandy. His best friend, Derek Silver, sat beside him with a glass of his own, though his was empty. It didn't take much for Derek to start feeling the effects of the liquor, but it was harder for Oliver. He'd always been taller than average and held his liquor well, and unfortunately it took a lot before he could start enjoying himself. Twice as much if he was going to dance.

"People will jump at any opportunity to throw a party," Derek said, stretching out his back. "Besides, it's not just completing finishing school. It's her birthday, too."

"No one threw me a party," Oliver said, raising the glass to his lips. "All I got for getting my doctorate at the age of fifteen was a pat on the back."

"You got your name in the paper," Derek reminded him.

"I didn't get my name in the paper because of graduating," he smirked. "I got my name in the paper because Mr. Glasswell took me in. The article was about him."

Oliver's family had always been close friends, but he'd gotten even closer ever since Nigel Glasswell took him in as an apprentice. The man was a celebrated historian and did quite a bit of adventuring in his youth, and Oliver's doctorate revolved around ancient civilizations. He knew his parents would have wanted him to use his brains for something like law, but there was something about lost civilizations that Oliver was extremely passionate about. He was lucky to have Nigel Glasswell educating him further, and as of recent, helping him with his latest, unannounced project.

Oliver glanced up as someone new approached, trying not to grin in amusement as his irritated older brother plopped himself down in a chair across from Oliver. Elliot had always been bigger and better than Oliver in every way, other than school. Elliot needed intense private tutors his entire childhood, and dropped out completely around the same time Oliver got his doctorate. When it came to socializing, however, Elliot was the charming one. Oliver didn't bother to try anymore. He knew he bored everyone, because the only thing he liked to talk about was science and history.

"Facing rejection, Elliot?" Oliver teased.

"Shut up before I knock your teeth out," he snapped. "It's not me. That girl is impossible."

Oliver turned to watch Pippa floating around among the crowd. She'd certainly grown up. Oliver had known her since they were both babies, and he could vouch that she didn't age quite as gracefully as the other girls did. However, he'd noticed that she'd definitely grown to be quite the beauty. Good things took longer to create, he supposed. Not that her looks made much a difference in their relationship. He and Pippa never got along, and it had nothing to do with the way she looked. She was always too loud and reckless, and she found him to be stubborn and impossible to talk to. Nothing had changed. Oliver was still stubborn as hell. Pippa still didn't think before she acted. Unlike the other young men there, who couldn't see past her pretty face, Oliver had no interest in fawning over her and getting painfully rejected. Looking like an idiot was Elliot's job.

"If it makes you feel any better, I saw Lydia Ingerson looking at you," Derek pointed out to Elliot. "Or is she no longer relevant, now that Pippa is some kind of goddess trapped in a mortal form?"

"Not you too," Oliver groaned. "Derek, I spend time with you because you're not stupid."

"I'm twenty two years old," Derek reminded him. "Sometimes I forget that you are, too. You act like you're fifty. You should be experiencing the same thoughts and urges the rest of us do when we see a beautiful girl."

"That's not some pretty girl, that's Pippa Glasswell," Oliver scowled. "You morons keep forgetting that. If she hated you before, she's going to hate you even more now."

"Well I hope someone puts her in her place before she gets out of hand," Elliot grumbled.

"Pardon?" Oliver snapped suddenly, glaring at his brother.

"You heard me."

"Women don't need to be 'put back' in any place, you primitive bigot," Oliver said, standing up and pointing a finger at him accusingly.

"If you don't get that finger out of my face, I'll break it," he threatened.

"Alright, alright, that's enough," Derek said suddenly, standing and shoving them away from each other. "I don't care how either of you feel about Pippa, you're not going to have a fist fight at her birthday party."

Elliot shook his head and walked away from Oliver with a chuckle, off to bother a girl he actually had a chance with. Oliver didn't sit back down, downing what was left in his glass and fixing his hair and adjusting tie.

"Why do you pick fights you can't win?" Derek asked.

"What makes you think I wouldn't win the fight?" Oliver frowned.

"Seriously?" Derek smirked.

Oliver rolled his eyes and messed up Derek's perfectly combed blonde hair. He swatted Oliver's hand away and fixed it quickly, just as Lydia Ingerson approached them.

"Hello, Derek," she said, giving him a polite smile.

"Oh, um, hello," Derek said a little too quickly, trying to find a casual way to stand to hide how nervous he was. Lydia didn't typically talk to him, either.

"Is it true that you play polo?" she asked sweetly.

"I... Yes..."

"Is it true that you have quite a number of awards and trophies for it?"

"I've got a collection, I suppose."

"Let's dance," she grinned, holding her hand out to him.

He hesitantly took it, giving Oliver a confused and somewhat apologetic look as she led him away. Oliver just shrugged back. If Derek was alright with women spending time with him just so they can brag to their friends about his achievements, that was completely up to him.



When Oliver arrived back at the Glasswell residence the next morning, he was surprised to find that the staff was still cleaning up after the party. It had been quite the crowd, but he didn't think it was that wild. Perhaps it was because he didn't take any part in the festivities. He weaves around the maids and ducked under a table two men were carrying away before he made it to the library, where Nigel Glasswell was waiting for him.

"Ah, Oliver," he said, happily patting him on the shoulder in greeting. "See, I knew you'd be responsible and watch your drinks so you'd be a-okay in the morning."

Oliver just nodded with a half smile. He certainly hadn't counted his drinks and wasn't feeling "a-okay", but he was at least grateful that the hangover didn't show. He could handle a little bit of a headache. He sat down at the desk across from Nigel, setting down the briefcase with his work in it.

"Did you read the book I gave you?" Nigel asked him. "The one about the people of Nthuri?"

"I did," he nodded. "A week ago, actually. I was trying to make sense of it."

He took the book out, which was an extensive study of the tribal people who lived within the Nthuri jungles. He'd stuck in at least a hundred bookmarks with notes, analysis, and questions written on them.

"The Nthuri people," Oliver said, skipping to the middle of the book where he'd marked a specific page. "Here, it says that they are a 'people that were not people'. And then it no longer mentions anything of the sort. And they just clean up their village and disappear in a single night? I'd like to meet the man who claims he experienced this first hand."

"As would I," Nigel chuckled. "Unfortunately for the both of us, he passed away shortly after his return and the publish of the book. Sadly, few people even took notice that the brilliant man was gone. Even few bothered to read it. They say he's out of his mind, because like you say, the accounts make no sense."

"How can people not be people?" Oliver asked.

"I was hoping you'd ask me that question," Nigel grinned, pushing away the notes to pick up a children's book that was underneath it all. "Perhaps they just look like people."

Oliver took the children's book, running his thumb over the spine. Barty Brave and the Adventures in Volanta: The Curse of the Emerald Lagoon. The book was the first installment a popular adventure series when Oliver was a child, and the series was his absolute favorite until he was well into his teens. He set it down slowly, looking up at Nigel.

"Mr. Glasswell, I see what you're suggesting," he said quietly, looking down at the papers, "But that theory I came up with is wrong. Extremely wrong. My father says that lingering on it is a waste of my talents. My mother won't even discuss it with me. And anyone else I've told it to has told me I'm just crazy."

"And you're going to believe them, just like that?" Nigel asked.

"But they're right," Oliver sighed. "It makes no sense. Absolutely none."

Nigel seemed disappointed in Oliver's answer, but he still smiled. He stood up, pushing the book on the Nthuri people back towards Oliver.

"Well, why don't you try answering your own question with a little deeper reading," he suggested. "You may just find something that you didn't pick up on before. I'll go call for a pot of tea."

Oliver nodded as Nigel left the room, looking back down at the book. People that were not people. It wasn't possible. Shortly after, someone returned to the library, but it wasn't Nigel or a servant. Pippa looked from him to all the books and papers spread around the desk.

"I'm busy, go away," he grumbled.

"I live here," she reminded him. "If I want to go in the library, I can."

"I had such a productive summer when you weren't around to bother me," he said.

"I'm not doing anything," she said. "I'm just looking at the books. In the library. Of my home. That I live in."

Oliver just shook his head and looked back down at the book, though he couldn't focus on reading anymore. Pippa wandered over to the desk, picking up the Adventures in Volanta book.

"I remember you reading these when we were kids," she said. "I never found myself interested enough to read it, though."

"You never read Barty Brave?" Oliver frowned.

"It sounds stupid."

"It's not stupid," Oliver said a little too defensively, feeling himself turn a little red.

"Alright, calm down," she smirked. "What, are you Barty Brave? You got so insulted."

"I'm not insulted," Oliver said. "It's just... A good book. You should read it."

"It's a children's book," she said.

"Then it's right at your level, isn't it, Pips?"

She whacked him in the back of the head with the book and he winced, his headache intensifying. Nigel returned then, with a maid bringing in a cart with a tea set on it.

"Pippa, my darling," he grinned, kissing his daughter on the cheek. "Will you be joining us?"

"No, I wouldn't want to be a bother," she said, putting emphasis on the words as she looked right at Oliver.

"Not even for a cup of tea?" he asked.

"Thank you, but Oliver is going to need the tea to help with his raging hangover," she said, making Oliver turn red again. "I'll see you at lunch, Daddy."

She smiled brightly and hugged her father before leaving the library. She was seemingly trying to be subtle about it, but Oliver noticed the Adventures of Volanta book tucked under her arm.