Volanta

Oliver knew something was wrong when Pippa didn’t appear for breakfast. His suspicions were confirmed when Rena claimed not to know anything either. He decided not to say anything in front of the Volantians, but set out to look for her once he had a moment to himself. He didn’t find her anywhere in the temple, and was beginning to worry. He carefully made his way to her room, making sure none of the Volantian women were around to assume that Oliver had some kind of bad intention.

He let himself into the room and his jaw dropped. It was grander than anything he’d ever seen back home. And he had to sleep on a mat. He tried not to linger on the thought of the unfair sleeping situation as he checked the room. Her things were all there, but she was not. It seemed that nothing had been touched for a little while. The bed wasn’t made, but when he touched it, it was quite cold. No one had been the room that night.

“If you couldn’t tell already, she’s not here.”

Oliver whipped around, startled. He was at once annoyed and disgusted to see Peter in there, leaning against the door frame with a smug look on his face. Oliver said nothing, watching as Peter closed the door and started walking towards him. And now he knew that Peter, to no surprise, was probably the culprit behind it all. He stopped coming closer when Oliver held a hand up, raising a brow at him.

“Look, I know you did a lot to get us alone in this really nice room,” Oliver said slowly, “But I’m not really interested.”

Peter’s smile fell right off his face and twisted into a glare, but Oliver felt a glimmer of satisfaction when he noticed Peter take an uncomfortable step back.

“No, it’s not- Nevermind,” he huffed. “I have a proposition for you.”

“And what proposition is that?” Oliver asked, narrowing his eyes at him suspiciously.

“We find the heart, sell it, and then sell Volanta to very adventurous rich people who would love a new travel getaway,” he explained with a half smile. “We go home rich, respected men. No less than kings, if not richer than them. What do you say?”

“I say you’re insane,” Oliver said. “The very thought of it is enough to send a man straight to hell. These people have clearly been hurt before. I would never sell them out like that.”

“Not even for the respect?”

“Not for all the money and respect in the world,” Oliver said confidently.

“That’s a shame,” Peter mumbled. “I thought it would be easy with a guy like you. Don’t even have the respect of your own brother. Elliot is probably laughing already. He’s been laughing since the start.”

“That’s none of your- Hey, how did you know that?”

“I did my research, much like you did,” he smirked. “So it’s absolutely and utterly no?”

“No. Go away, I’m busy.”

“See, I figured you’d say that,” Peter said. “That’s when our beautiful Pippa comes in.”

Oliver froze, staring at Peter. “Where is she?”

“Oh, she’s safe,” Peter shrugged, pulling a pistol from his waistband. “For now, at least. You won’t find her, I assure you of that. You won’t get a chance to look, anyways. You’re coming with me. Unless you want something to happen to your dearest. It’s up to you. It’s Volantia’s heart, or hers.”

“You’re despicable,” Oliver growled.

“Maybe, but what they tell you is false. Money does indeed buy happiness.”

Oliver pursed his lips into a tight line, feeling every muscle in his body tense. Pippa was at stake here, and he wasn’t about to gamble her life like that. He was tempted to punch Peter right in his smug face right there and then, but decided against it. It was a delicate situation, and he wasn’t going to risk anything.

“Fine,” Oliver said, a harsh tone in his voice. “Just give me a chance to get my notes.”

“By all means, Doctor.”

Peter followed closely behind Oliver, hiding the gun from view, but making sure Oliver knew that it was still there. He followed Oliver all the way to the room he had been made to stay in. Oliver looked down at his things, then over at Peter.

“Can I have a minute?” he asked.

“Just grab your things and let’s go,” Peter said impatiently.

“I want to change my… underwear,” Oliver said. “I thought you said you didn’t want to watch.”

Peter drew back, and Oliver felt glad that he had found a weakness in the man.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll give you less than a minute before I shoot you through the door.”

Oliver rolled his eyes, waiting until Peter was gone before he scrambled to grab his journal and the loose pages of his notes. He tore a blank page out messily, quickly scrawling a note on it.

Pippa is being held hostage. He’s making me find the heart, or he will kill her. Find her, then find me.

He crumbled up the note and shoved it into his sleeve, then picked up his things and met Peter outside. Peter shoved him forward.

“Lead the way, nerd.”

“Insulting me is only going to make me slower at my job.”

“I’ll kill you.”

“Then who’s going to lead the way?”

Peter glared at him, and Oliver reluctantly started walking.

“I have an idea of where it might be,” Oliver sighed. “There are catacombs below this entire building. It’s where they keep the deceased, since they don’t have very many. All of their deceased are considered on the levels of gods. It makes sense to put the heart there. Life and death go together.”

“I don’t care about the history,” he scowled. “Just keep walking.”

Oliver did as he asked, looking around as they went. He noticed Rena walking in their direction, though she paid them little attention. Oliver ran into her on purpose, making her stumble back a couple of steps.

“I apologize,” he said.

She looked at him with murderous eyes, then seemed to noticed the crumpled paper that had been slipped into her hand. She didn’t draw attention to it, but her expression softened. Peter didn’t notice.

“It is forgiven,” she said bluntly, before walking away.

Oliver let out a relieved breath as he started on his way as well. At least he knew that not all hope was lost. He could only hope that Rena could find Pippa, and help would come down to the catacombs in time.