In my thirty years of detective work, I never failed to solve a case, except for one: the missing scholar and his treasure. As this incident occurred nearly a decade ago, testimonies have altered greatly over the years, and facts are difficult to trace.

What I am sure of is this: on a blustery morning, in the midst of an unusual cold spell, a scholar known as Horace Howto arrived on Krawk Island. Horace was an academic who wished to study the Fungus Cave, which sits near pirate territory. For safe passage, he promised to compensate the pirates with “a treasure the likes of which you’ve never seen before.”

Naturally, this intrigued the pirates, and they agreed to the deal. Horace was seen in Kiko Lake, boarding a vessel bound for Krawk Island with a gilded treasure chest. When the ship arrived, he disembarked (as witnessed by fellow passengers) and secured lodgings at a local inn. But the next day, when the pirates went to meet him and collect payment, Horace and his treasure chest were both gone.

There are two possible eyewitnesses: the innkeeper, an old Kyrii who now resides on Ye Olde Lane, and Horace’s assistant, who traveled with him from Kiko Lake. But neither recall seeing him after he went into his room the previous evening, and the case was eventually closed unresolved.

Yet I wonder always: what befell Horace? And what was within his mysterious treasure chest?

- From the journal of S. Herelocke

As he finished reading, Walter checked the street sign again: Ye Olde Lane. He’d made it.

His entire life, Walter had looked up to Herelocke, a Blumaroo just like him who was famous for his detective skills. After stumbling upon Herelocke’s journal in an antique store, Walter had known immediately what he had to do: solve this final mystery. He’d jumped on the first ship to Krawk Island and set off to find the witnesses – starting with the innkeeper Herelocke, who now resided right on this street corner…

He cleared his throat, running through the line of questions he had previously prepared in his head.

“What do you want?!” croaked a mean-mannered voice from the other side. They did not open the door.

“H-hello,” Walter nervously began, not expecting such a crotchety response. “My name is Walter and I—“

“Whatever you’re peddling or whatever you need, I’m not interested!” the voice hissed venomously. This was going to be much harder than the Blumaroo thought.

“I’m just going to have to think on my feet. I’m going to have to do whatever it takes to get this information, just like Herelocke would,” Walter thought to himself.

“I understand, ma’am. I quite hate solicitors and salesmen myself. That’s why I hate to have come here like this, truly,” he began.

The other side of the door was silent and seemingly motionless, which Walter took as a sign of the innkeeper listening. He knew he was taking the right approach.

“I’m trying to find information about my Uncle, Horace Howto. He went missing awhile back and the last place he was seen was at your inn… You’re the innkeeper at The Black Barnacle. Aren’t you?” Walter asked sternly, yet non-accusatory.

“Aye, that I am,” the voice said.

“Then, I’ve come to the right place, it seems. Like I said, forgive me for this invasive approach. I just… I just didn’t know where else to begin,” the Blumaroo said, dejectedly. Even Walter was impressed with his own acting skills.

He waited a moment as it seemed the old innkeeper was mulling over his words. Without a response, Walter continued, “No matter. Thank you for your time, ma’am. I’m sorry to have bothered you.

Just as he was about to turn to leave, the door opened a crack to reveal an Elderlygirl Kyrii with deep-set wrinkles in her periwinkle skin and wiry fuchsia hair sprinkled with grey.

“My name is Lady Clara. Come in,” she said, her gravelly voice softening.

Walter nodded gratefully and walked through the threshold. Lady Clara closed the heavy oak door behind him…

"Pardon the dust, dearie," Lady Clara said. She managed a small smile. "So you're looking for your Uncle Howto?"

"That's right," Walter said as he sat down. He carefully glanced around the room desperate to see if there were any clues around.

"Well, how can I help?"

Walter fidgeted in his seat a bit and subconsciously touched the journal in his pocket hoping it would give him the courage and strength to keep up his lies convincingly so he would get down to the truth. All Walter ever wanted was the truth; solving a decade old mystery and the fame that would come with it was a nice bonus.

"He was last seen entering the inn but was never seen leaving and he wasn't in his room when he had an appointment. His assistant never provided investigators with detailed or reliable statements, and not too many others involved at the time have been cooperative for one reason or another. This has haunted my family for years."

Walter's hands started to tremble. He wasn't a great liar. But he pressed on, just like Herelocke would.

"We have little to offer you in terms of payment, but we would be ever so grateful if you could provide any insight about that night. Even if it wasn't about him, was there anyone or anything unusual in the days before or after he went missing that you can recall? Even the slightest bit could help us!"

"I'm afraid I don't remember much about that Blumaroo, or that chest that was left in his room. It was a long time ago, you know," Clara said.

Walter froze.

"I never said anything about a chest..."

She accentuated her pronunciation of the word vest, but Walter was sure he’d heard her correctly the first time. He was even more sure Herlocke never knew that bit of the story. What did it mean that Horace’s chest was discovered in the room without him? He cleared his throat, trying to reign in his excitement.

“Was there anything else unusual about the room? When it was discovered my Uncle had disappeared. Anything that popped up in the subsequent weeks?”

“Surely not,” the innkeeper said, plucking a wad of dust from the armchair where she sat. “Everything was business as usual. This place used to be much more than it is now, you know.”

“I understand,” Walter said, watching a Spyder crawl between two floorboards near his feet. Struck by a sudden idea, Walter asked, “Can I see it? The room where he stayed?”

Lady Clara pursed her lips, hesitating. “The rooms are really only for guests.”

Walter took the hint. “I can pay for a night’s stay,” he offered. Obviously, she needed the business. Even better idea. He’d be able to search the room to his heart’s content. He doubted there’d be any sign of the gilded treasure chest at this point, but there may be other clues.

“Well alright then,” Lady Clara said, clapping her hands together and getting to her feet a tad more spritely than she had before. “I’ll get your keys.”

After Walter paid for the room and obtained a set of golden keys from Clara, the Elderly Kyrii told him it was the third room on the right and left him at the bottom of the staircase, claiming her joints would scream too loudly if she had to climb all those stairs.

Walter thanked her and proceeded onwards alone. He had the strange sensation Clara watched him the entire ascent until he disappeared down the eerily silent hallway full of more dust and Spyderwebs.

He found the room, and with another touch of Herlocke’s journal to calm his nerves, he unlocked Horace’s room…

Coughing and sneezing until he finally opened the shutters he took a big gulp of the fresh sea air.

"...that's what I'm saying..." "... yes a nosy Blumaroo..." "...it's been ten years..."

As he cleared the dust from his lungs, he finally registered bits of the conversation down below. He took a hesitant peak out the window. Lady Clara was rasping in hurried whispers to a cloaked figure. Eyes widening, Walter backed up to not be seen, hoping he could overhear more.

"I got him to stick around... yes I gave him a room..."

The cloaked figure barked something unintelligible to the Kyrii.

"Now why would I give him the real room Mr. Howto stayed in?" "He's in the room a floor above... don't you mind, he'll be gone after a night."

Walter's mind spun. Wait, if she didn't give me the real room...

"I know you'll be able to take care of it..."

The scruff on the back of his neck rose. His mind latched onto the one thing Lady Clara said, the room below! He could see about getting into Horace's real lodgings!

He ran his paw over the journal for courage. "Here goes nothing..." Walter breathed.

Edging his way out of the room and down one flight of stairs, careful not to disturb as much as a Miamouse, he reached the floor below. Scanning the hall for anyone he let out a sigh of relief when it was empty and tiptoed to the right door.

Thinking he was in the clear he took note of the hallway, what looked like a gouge was in the doorjamb above the potential room of Horace Howto. As he reached for it, the old floorboards cracked and broke beneath his foot.

"Is that you, dearie?" He heard the croak of the old Kyrii as footsteps echoed from the stairwell...

Walter squared his shoulders. To solve this mystery, he would need to channel a little more of the spirit of Herlocke. One thing Herlocke did better than anyone else was notice things that others just skimmed over. There must have been dozens if not hundreds of Neopians who had been through his inn, trying to solve the mystery of Horace’s disappearance. What could they have missed?

The Blumaroo looked closely around the room. There was a large bed up against one wall, covered with an ornate quilt. He peered under the bed—only dust bunnies. A dresser stood against the wall opposite the bed, with a filthy mirror propped up against the wall on top of it. In the corner sat an old armchair, covered with some odd stains that Walter decided did not need further investigation. Maybe the dresser drawers had false bottoms? Walter checked each one, but was forced to admit that all the drawers were perfectly ordinary.

Discouraged, Walter stepped up to the mirror. He reached up one paw, intending to wipe the dust away to check his reflection. He was sure he looked a mess after such a long boat ride. He paused just in time. There, at the sides of the mirror, were paw prints in the dust. Someone had touched this mirror, and recently.

He carefully grabbed the sides of the mirror, right were the prints were. It felt—loose? He pried a little harder and, like a door, the mirror swung open. Walter’s heart sunk. It was a safe. He checked the door, but it only confirmed what he already knew. The safe was locked.

He couldn’t give up now. He’d found a hidden door, just like in Herelocke’s classic stories. But where could he find the combination?…

These four numbers must be a part of the combination!

He sat on the dusty floor before the safe and took out his notebook and pencil. It would take a while, but he’d try to guess the combination.

He tried out 1479 first, almost falling backwards when it emitted a beeping noise and a red light. After the beeping stopped, he noticed footsteps again coming from downstairs, sending his heart racing. He listened carefully - Lady Clara was going up the steps and now turning toward this very room!

He quickly and quietly returned the mirror to its original position and hid under the large bed. He covered his mouth with his paws, trying his best not to cough from all the dust. He heard the door creak open as Lady Clara entered and looked around, and she was not alone. The cloaked figure was behind her, his footsteps light feathers on the floor.

"It’s safe and sound, just as I told you." Lady Clara moved the mirror and entered in the code, which thankfully Walter could see from under the bed - 9174! He heard the clicking sound of the safe opening, though the cloaked figure stepped forward and blocked his view of what was inside.

"I see... take care of the nosy Blumaroo tonight, understand? And report back to me tomorrow." He could hear Lady Clara mumble "Yes, sir" as the cloaked figure opened the door.

The two left without another word, leaving Walter still breathless under the bed. He waited until the sounds of footsteps completely disappeared before exiting from his dusty hiding spot. Though his heart was still pounding, part of him was excited. After this experience he could understand the great Herelocke even better. What a dangerous, yet thrilling world detectives live in!

He quietly moved the mirror again and entered in the combination of 9174. The light turned green and he heard a sweet clicking noise, telling him it was unlocked.

He pulled it open and saw...

Walter was stunned into stillness for a moment. The inside of the safe was completely empty. But Clara had said 'it' - whatever it was - was safe and sound. She had showed the cloaked figure something.

Walter's mind began to spin. He used a paw to guide himself backward until he could sit on the bed for a moment to collect his thoughts. Had Clara or the figure taken what was in there? He hadn't heard any objects being moved, but the figure had blocked his view. Neither Neopian had said anything to imply they had taken anything.

Think, he urged himself. What would Herelocke do now?

Though his heart beat heavily, Walter forced his breath to remain light and even so as not to disturb the dust throughout the room. There must be some other clue. He held his breath as he inspected the interior of the safe more thoroughly. What had Clara showed the cloaked figure? What had the figure seen and accepted?

And then he saw it.

Walter could forgive himself for missing it at first. Even Herelocke would have been taken aback at first by a secret safe being completely empty, after all. But, there, at the very back of the safe, was a small elevated pressure plate. It was, as with everything else in the room, covered in a thin layer of dust. If someone had known what to look for, they would have seen a hand print pushing into the dust in an instant.

Knowing he had to be careful, Walter reached into his jacket's inside pocket to pull out his favorite trusty pen. A small speck of dust out of place would be less conspicuous than a whole hand print. With one last look at the door to make sure it was closed and that he was alone, Walter reached into the safe and pressed down upon the pressure plate...

The box was small, but in good shape. On the top of the lid he saw H.H. engraved. Horace Howto. Slowly, he lifted the lid open.

Walter quietly gasped at what he saw inside. A small blue pendant on a gold chain was carefully tucked inside the box, casting a faint blue glow onto Walter's face. Thyoras Tear. He couldn't believe it. This charm was a myth... a legend.

The Blumaroo was instantly pulled out of his awe when he heard a soft tap on the window. Startled, Walter looked out the window to see find a Camouflage Mynci staring right at him.

"Hurry up and let me in," the Mynci mouthed. "I'm on your side, kid."

Walter closed the box and put it in his pocket. Carefully, he lifted open the window and the Mynci slipped inside.

"So you found it, eh?" he said. "That means we don't have a lot of time. When you lifted up the box, it set off a silent alarm. They'll be here any moment."

Walter's head was spinning. "Who are you? Wait, who will be here?"

"Ah, my mistake," The Mynci answered. "The name is Higgins. I am, er... was, Horace's assistant. I've been keeping an eye on the inn for two weeks. I couldn't figure out how to crack the safe without setting off the alarm and tipping off the Assembly, but it seems like you took care of that."

"Wait, how do you know we're on the same side?" Walter asked Higgins as he slowly backed toward the door.

Higgins shrugged. "You've got that journal with you, don't you? I saw you looking at it before you walked into the inn. Anyone who is a fan of Herelocke is a friend of mine. Now let's get out of here before..."

Suddenly, the door slammed open. The cloaked figure was standing in the doorway with Lady Clara peering over their shoulder. "Hello, Higgins..."

How will this story end?

The cloaked figure slowly pulled down his hood, revealing an infamous hat and long, grey hair from the shadows of his disguise.

Walter gasped at his immediate recognition of this individual. The hooded figure was none other than Krawk Island’s political leader - Governor Gavril McGill.

“Governor McGill?!” the Blumaroo asked incredulously.

“Indeed. ‘Hello’ to ye too, Herelock Jr.! I’ll admit… Ye made it farther than I ever thought ye would, me boy,” the Green Krawk said with a facetious wink.

“B-but… I don’t understand. You were supposed to help give Professor Howto safe passage to explore the Fungus Caves with the other pirates of Krawk Island,” the Mynci said, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Aye, I was… But have I always been known to play fair, Higgins?” the Governor teased with a toothy grin. “Recall me rise to power and ye will find yer answer.”

“Never mind all of this! Where do you think you’re going?” Lady Clara croaked from beside Governor McGill, her rickety arms crossed over her frail chest.

“We’re going to find Horace Howto and you can’t stop us!” Higgins said, grabbing hold of Walter. “Clutch Thyora’s Tear with all your might. It will protect us. Let’s go!”

With that, the Camouflage Mynci and his new Blumaroo counterpart pushed past the Governor and the innkeeper. A radiant blue forcefield emanated from the pair, driving McGill and Clara out of their way by force.

“Now that I know who’s behind this, I know where to find Horace,” Higgins exclaimed as they began a full on sprint.

“Get back here, thieves!” the Elderlygirl Kyrii shouted after them, pulling herself to her feet. Governor McGill and Lady Clara ran to the window to watch as Walter and Higgins made their way through Warf Wharf and towards the Governor’s Mansion.

***

“There is a dungeon rumored to be beneath the Governor’s Mansion. I bet Horace is being kept down there. We just need to find him and release him before that traitorous McGoon makes it home,” Higgins explained as they rushed through the cobblestone streets of Krawk Island.

“Okay. Why do… You think the Governor… Betrayed Horace?” Walter asked, huffing and puffing to catch his breath.

“As someone who destroyed and rebuilt Krawk Island just to gain control of it, I’m sure the last thing he wants is a brainiac snooping through uncharted territories like the Fungus Caves. Besides, that plus the promise of bountiful treasure? I’m sure the greedy Green Krawk couldn’t resist,” asserted Higgins with a disgusted sneer.

“That makes… Sense,” Walter answered. He could see the looming white mansion in the distance with red, clay roof tiles and an ornate wraparound balcony. Knowing what could be inside, the Blumaroo felt unsettled.

“And why would… Lady Clara… Want to… Help… Such an… Evil Neopian?” he continued, heaving harder.

“The inn wasn’t doing well. Even before Horace’s disappearance, The Black Barnacle wasn’t a bustling business. Afterwards… I’m sure she needed a rare and powerful item like Thyoras Tear and an alliance with a Neopian as powerful as Governor McGill to keep her Spyder-filled bed and breakfast afloat.”

Walter’s mind was racing and he couldn’t tell if it was the lack of oxygen flowing to his brain from all the running or his desperate need to mentally categorize and connect all of these clues, but he had to stop to catch his breath.

“Good idea, let’s pause and check the perimeter before we enter!” Higgins whispered. “I’ll check the back. You check the front.”

“Right… Yeah,” the Blumaroo waved to his new sidekick. “Go… Ahead.”

After taking a few moments to collect himself, the pieces were all falling into place. Walter felt deep down in his gut that the answer to all of Herelocke’s questions were in the mansion that towered before him.

“The coast is clear and I found cellar doors! I think they lead to the dungeon. Follow me!” the Camouflage Mynci said, barely detectable in the sunset dusk.

Walter jogged to the back of the mansion, following Higgins and descending the dark stairs into the basement. Torches lit their path overhead, but that certainly didn’t keep the cold out. The Blumaroo shivered as he watched the reflection of the flames dancing upon stagnant puddles on the dungeon’s dirt floor.

To either side of them, the corridor was surrounded by arched, iron prison bars. They were in the right place.!

Suddenly, they heard whimpering up ahead. Wordlessly, they stopped at the cell from which they heard the noise and peered in. In the corner was a feathered Neopet crumpled into a heaving ball, rocking back and forth.

“P-professor Horace?” Higgins choked out. At the sound of another Neopet’s voice, the figure unravelled itself and sprung up, clumsily jolting towards the bars.

“Higgins, is that you?!” the figure cried. It was Horace Howto, but he was in rough shape. His once White Vandagyre feathers were sparse and nearly grey from filth. There were circles under his eyes and pain in his expressions.

“It’s me! It’s me, Horace!” the Camouflage Mynci exclaimed through tears. Walter felt touched by the moment he was witnessing and honored to have helped make it happen.

“H-how did you find me?” Horace asked.

“We don’t have time for that now. We have to get you out of he—“ Higgins began to protest, but was interrupted by a set of footsteps barreling down the hall.

“Not so fast!” Governor McGill boomed. “Give me back Thoyras Tear, ye scalawags!”

“And why would we do that?” Walter asked, gaining courage.

“I will release Sir Howto in exchange for me treasure. I’d say he’s learned his lesson not to meddle in me lands by now. Isn’t that right, bird brain?” the Krawk guffawed.

“We will agree to this exchange on one condition…” Higgins began.

“Aye, I’m listening,” the Governor said, his tone serious as he crossed his talon-ed arms over his chest. McGill knew he didn’t have the upper hand any longer and his gregarious personality wasn’t able to hide that fact in a room full of intelligent Neopians.

“You will give Horace and I what was initially promised: a tour of the Fungus Caves so that we can further our research. And Walter is coming too,” Higgins demanded, emboldened by the shift in power. He smiled at his new Blumaroo friend.

The Governor Krawk looked betwixt the trio before him, the torches and the blue light of Thyoras Tear the only illumination in the dark, mildewy dungeon.

“Aye, I accept… But I must know of any notes taken, any items found, and any discoveries made,” McGill conceded.

Relief washed over Horace Howto’s withered face as the Governor retrieved the large skeleton key from his coat pocket and released the professor from his prison cell. The Vandagyre and Mynci shared a long, tearful embrace.

“Alright, me hearties. That’s enough,” the Krawk said, waving off their affection in revulsion.

With that, a decade long mystery was solved through wit, perseverance, and unwavering loyalty.

As the four of them went upstairs to the mansion’s main floor to discuss their journey ahead, Walter retrieved Herelocke’s journal from his satchel and began to pen his own entry on how he solved the mystery of Horace Howto and the Fungus Caves.

The End.