Volanta

Despite his parents wishes, Oliver chose not to attend the gala at the university. He’d graduated the university at such a young age, he felt he didn’t fit in with the rest of the alumni he’d studied with. That, and he was tired of dressing up for all of these parties. It was going to be all gossip and people trying to schmooze each other, which Oliver wasn’t interested in. And if what Elliot was saying was true, most of Oliver’s peers were going just so they could try an impress Pippa with the size of their donations, if not anything else.

Oliver stayed behind, claiming he was feeling under the weather, to continue with the work he had with Dr. Glasswell. However he was quickly distracted by one of his old Barty Brave books. It was the third in the series, and it was practically falling apart with how much Oliver had read it over and over. He cracked it open once more, getting comfortable in his regular spot by the fireplace to start reading. He’d been stuck on real history and facts for so long now, he’d almost forgotten how vivid and incredible the writing of the book was. He’d always had a feeling that those descriptions could only come from someone who had seen the place itself. He ended up dozing off in the middle of the story, waking up to the sound of the door opening and his family returning.

“Treating a woman like that?! I thought I taught you better!”

“She was exxaggerating, mother.”

“I’m a woman! Do you have respect for me, Elliot?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then respect all the other women, too”

Oliver sat up in time to see Colette smack her eldest son with her purse. Elliot winced in pain at the blow, only to get hit three more times before their mother felt he’d gotten what he deserved. Colette’s expression softened when she saw Oliver sitting there, giving him a sweet smile and going to him. Colette Lambert had always been a beautiful, graceful woman, and she always seemed to glide, like walking on air. She gave Oliver a big kiss on the cheek and smoothed out his hair as if he was a small child.

“How are you feeling, my darling boy?” she asked him. “Better?”

“Much better,” Oliver said, glancing past her at a very irritated-looking Elliot.

“That’s good,” she said. “It’s a shame you couldn’t attend. It was a lovely event, and it would have been nice to have at least one of my sons representing my family in the best way.”

She shot a cold glare at Elliot, who just shook his head and went up the stairs to retreat to his room. Oliver looked from Colette to his father, who looked worn out as he undid his tie.

“What did he do?” Oliver asked.

“I overheard him talking to that awful James Ingerson,” she huffed. “I'm not sure who they were talking about, but whoever it was, no lady should be called words like that. I can't even repeat it. You two ought to stop spending time with James Ingerson. He's such a bad influence, on Elliot, especially.”

“Are you sure James is the bad influence?” Oliver mumbled.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly. “I'm off to bed. Goodnight.”

He escaped with his book tucked under his arm, before his mother or father could ask him any more questions. He stopped by Elliot's room, leaning against the door frame with a sly grin on his face. Elliot wasn't amused, glaring at him.

“What do you want?” he snapped.

“I don't know,” Oliver shrugged. “Mother is pretty mad, isn't she?”

“Thanks. I hadn't noticed.”

“It's a good thing she doesn't know who you were talking about,” Oliver said. “If she knew you were talking about Pippa Glasswell, she'd probably cry.”

He noticed Elliot stiffen, and he tilted his head to the side with a mock confused look on his face.

“Oh, are you worried?” Oliver said, feigning a gasp. “Never fear, no one is around but me. She didn't hear. But wouldn't it just be a shame if someone told? Father would go ballistic, too. They'd probably never let you out of the house again.”

“You're threatening me,” Elliot realized. “You twerp, do you want me to knock your teeth in?”

“Well, that won't keep me quiet, will it?” Oliver said.

“Fine,” Elliot sighed. “What do you want? Cigarettes? You always wanted those when you were a teenager.”

“I'll buy my own, thanks. I don't want anything right now. But I'll let you know. So you better be nice to me or I'll forget that we have this little agreement.”

“You're the worst kind of person.”

“I'm okay with that,” he grinned. “Don't test me, Elliot. We don't want a repeat of last time you thought I was bluffing.”

Elliot grimaced, thinking back on the time he was in a similar situation, but didn't cooperate. It was months before he was allowed to show his face at a high society event again, and even longer before anyone allowed their daughters anywhere near him.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

“One more thing.”

“What?”

“Back off of Pippa. You're never going to get anywhere with her. And take James with you.”

“Fine,” he repeated. “I don't think James needs to be told twice, anyways. Pippa gave him a good earful herself.”

“Really? What did she say?”

“Get out of my sight, Oliver.”



Oliver met with Nigel Glasswell early in the morning the next day, bringing along his notes on the Nthuri with him. He had suggested dropping the subject altogether, but Nigel wouldn’t even discuss it. He was locked onto Oliver’s theory, likely more than Oliver even was. Oliver flipped through the notes while Nigel talked, though at some point he was feeling his eyes drooping and the words slurring together. It wasn’t until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder that he snapped awake again and noticed the Glasswell’s maid looking at him.

“Hello,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes.

“Erm, hello,” she said. “Actually, I asked if you would like any tea, or coffee?”

“Coffee, please,” he said.

She smiled and nodded, fetching the drinks and setting it down for him and Nigel. Oliver glanced up and noticed Nigel staring at him with a pensive look on his face, tapping his pen on the desk.

“Have you been sleeping well, Oliver?” Nigel asked him.

“I’ve been reading a lot,” he said.

“That wasn’t my question.”

“I’ve been sleeping,” Oliver shrugged. “Maybe a couple hours every night.”

“That theory,” Nigel said. “It’s tormenting you, isn’t it? You’re trying to convince yourself that it’s not real, and you just can’t.”

Oliver didn’t say anything, turning his attention to the coffee.

“Now, before you say anything, I want you to listen to everything I have to say,” Nigel said, unusually serious all of a sudden. “You have something great, Oliver. Every great explorer was considered to be crazy at some point in their life. But then they proved everyone wrong, and became household names. You have enough information to back your theory. The Nthuri people, who disappeared, and were described as not quite human. And then there’s the ‘natives of Volanta’, who are described as ‘humanoid creatures’, but with abilities exceeding that of humans and distinct physical features of their own. Now, if someone cared enough to visit the site of where the Nthuri once were, I am almost positive there are clues to how they disappeared, if not where they went. A study on that alone would be work that you could be quite proud of. You’d be a pioneer in that field. And if that leads you to actually find this lost civilization, imagine what an experience that would be.”

“What if I don’t find anything?” Oliver asked.

“You will,” Nigel reassured him. “A new species of plant, if not anything else. No one goes to that part of the world. There are very few studies of it, and the wildlife there. If there are studies, they’re horribly outdated. And if you still come back empty handed? I’ll tell everyone that I forced you to go.”

“My father won’t finance it,” Oliver added.

“No he won’t,” Nigel agreed. “That’s why I’ll be financing the entire trip. Supplies, crew… everything. Even your shoes, Oliver. Everything.”

Oliver wasn’t sure what else to say. He sighed, putting his head down on the table. Nigel waited for a little bit, then Oliver lifted his head and shrugged.

“Alright. I’ll do it.”

Nigel laughed in delight, jumping up from his seat with a victorious leap. A thud and a soft wince sounded from behind the door, and Oliver glanced up towards it, brow furrowed.

“Is someone behind the door?” he asked.

“This is the best decision you’ll ever make in your life, Oliver!” Nigel said. “I can promise you that!”

Oliver stood, feeling a burst of energy from the excitement radiating from Nigel. He smoothed his hair back and straightened out his suit, giving Nigel a smile to ease the old man and assure him that he was being serious about taking on the responsibility.

“Excuse me, I just need some fresh air.”

He stepped around the table and out the library. He started down the hall, but ran into a very wide-eyed Pippa. She stared at him, seemingly with something to say, but held it back. She just stepped to the side, looking down as if she were trying desperately to hide a smile.

“Are you just standing in the hallway?” Oliver asked her.

“No, I’m going to my room,” she said.

“Isn’t your room the other way?”

“Yes. That’s where I was going.”

She gave him a look he couldn’t read, then turned and practically ran up the stairs two at a time.