Jacques stood atop the grand entrance as his companions pushed their way through the crowds of men scurrying before the clock struck twelve. Eagerly, he assisted Arieshell and Belle, lending them a hand.

"Thank you," Belle uttered, her voice cracked with each word.

"Of course! Are you feeling okay? You look pale," he expressed.

"Yes...," she paused. "No. I've been feeling more overwhelmed and lonesome."

Jacques nodded as he offered Belle his hand, ushering her into the building- leaving Arieshell and Gus outside.

Poor Belle. Arieshell pondered. She let out a harsh breath and felt a strong squeeze in her chest after recognizing Belle's personality was shattering into pieces.

"Well," Gus coughed. "Shall we?"

Arieshell brought her attention to his palm held out for her to grasp. Her lips curved into a radiant grin. She glanced at his empty hand before she embraced his warm gesture.

"Let's start over," he began. "You're right about being harmless. After seeing Belle becoming more docile, it hurts my soul. It hurts to watch Jacques doing his best to support her and we're over here quarreling in the corner."

Arieshell shook her head, completely mesmerized by Gus's newfound perspective. They glanced at each other for the last time before entering the old, elegant structure.

Once inside, Arieshell quickly assessed her surroundings, searching for any signs of Belle and Jacques. Her heart started to jump, eager to reunite with her trusted friends. Stunned by the unique and extravagant interior, her body spun in circles as her eyes were fixated on the monstrous chandelier suspended from the domed roof.

The interior's arrangement had dim shadings and red and brown hues spread about adding pigmented tints illuminated by all sizes of candles. Underneath, an elongated velvet rug stretched luxuriously across the rich, dark wooden planks.

Arieshell's eyes gazed toward two twin stairs which seemed to mirror each other, dominating the room. Young men with their hats tucked under their arms holding their canes imposed a gentlemanly manner while Arieshell meandered through them, ca her path.

With her hands squashed between her chest, a rough grasp of a mighty force tugged her to the stairs. As the shadow ushered her with a scurried demeanor, her head perked up hearing familiar voices.

"Yes," Jacques spoke. "We're here to learn more about a former student who attended here a few years back."

Casually, Arieshell jerked to confront the mysterious figure to be met with Gus's buoyant smile casing his wrinkles. His striking, light blue eyes shone with a lively glimmer, while his bushy snow-white mustache seemed to twirl playfully, emphasizing his round, rosy cheeks that glowed like ripe apples.

"I apologize. I lost sight of you once we were inside. A few minutes later, I caught sight of you, mesmerized by everything presented to you."

Arieshell chuckled, her eyes meeting his. "I should've been cautious. After all, I was being oblivious, preoccupied by humans again."

For a moment, Arieshell convinced herself she saw a glimmer in his eyes. In her peripheral vision, the silhouettes of Belle and Jacques absorbed her attention. Upon walking in their direction, she noticed an older woman with silver hair neatly pulled into a bun.

The woman glanced up at them, her glasses sat on her nose her eyes glazed with heaviness. "You're here to see Headmaster Burton, correct?"

The woman's sluggish stare pierced her soul as Arieshell approached the old, creaky desk. On the edge of her desk sat a plaque with the name 'Helen B,' skillfully etched into it, causing her to raise an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes! Is he available?" Belle inquired.

Helen shrugged as she begrudgingly stood from her chair and disappeared into a long corridor. With each step, the sound of her heels clicking became distant.

Moments later, Helen returned. "He will be with you in a few minutes," she stated. "Please serve yourself some tea and biscuits."

"Thank you!" Jacques humbly responded.

Arieshell took her seat aside from Belle, glancing at the massive plate filled with the freshly baked biscuits Helen briefly mentioned. Water began to form on her lips at the view presented before her.

Next to the plate stood a large teapot at the center of the undersized glass table with tiny cups and tiny handles prepared for them. How Amazing! We never had anything like this in Sirus. Well... when we find sunken treasures.

Her attention was focused on the crispy biscuits perfectly stacked on top of each other, each layer gaining height and one sitting proudly on the highest peak.

"Would you like to try one, Arieshell?" Belle's soothing voice beckoned her, drawing her gaze with an irresistible allure.

Arieshell swallowed the extra saliva after the compelling scent flooded her nose. "I'd love to."

She observed Belle meticulously handle some of the biscuits as she gradually slipped the knife through the soft dough. Belle's slight movement of precision, the flaky exterior yielding a satisfying crunch as the knife's sharp edge meets the soft interior's resistance.

Belle placed the knife back on the table and tore the biscuit into two halves. While she buttered the surface, Jacques suspended the teapot above the cups as he leisurely poured the boiling liquid into the four cups.

"Here," he said, giving one to Arieshell. "Be careful. Do you want any sugar or cream in your tea?"

Arieshell squinted her eyes, causing small wrinkles to form. "I'm not sure. Do they add anything?"

"It depends on the person," he admitted. "I'll advise you to try the tea on its own first before adding extras."

Arieshell nodded as she lifted the cup to her lips. She could feel the steam wafting gently against her mouth. As she inhaled the fresh fragrance of earthly grounds she never knew could exist, she exhaled, squeezing the cup in her hands, her fingertips scorching. She refused to place her cup down.

"Well," Jacques initiated. "How does it taste? Do you find it to be enjoyable?"

"I am not able to."

"Why not?" Belle examined.

"The liquid is still too scalding for me to taste."

"No worries! Give it a minute or two," Jacques suggested as he took a swig.

A momentary silence engulfed the room, broken only by Helen's soft humming, while the distant buzz of traffic outside created a rhythmic environment.

Arieshell adjusted her direction from her tea back to Belle. She frowned, catching Belle's expression shift from a calm state to the cusp of breaking into tears. Belle clutched her cup, battling a turbulent storm awaiting to be uncaged. A soft whimper escaped her lips, each tremor revealing the chaos she confronted to maintain authority over her body.

As Arieshell weighed the moments she had with this tortured woman, an invisible source jabbed her chest; like a knife carving the outline of where her heart lay. Belle's silent demeanor spoke with the rash and harsh reality her soul had to endure.

"Belle? A-are you alright?"

Belle jolted as she clasped her cup but set it on the table. Still, her head lay downward as her fingers fondled around her jasmine-shade yellow dress. Finally, she withdrew a rugged cloth and proceeded to wipe her tears.

For a minute, she remained, in her seated position, choosing to be mute. Her posture had a sense of elegance and beauty while she kept the rag hooded over her eyes.

Arieshell's forlorn gaze met Jacques, silently pleading for assistance. Magnificently, Belle sprouted up, drying the remaining tears leaking from her eyes.

"I am," she paused. "I'm sorry. It's-"

"Yes, go on," Jacques soothed. He motioned to Arieshell, rousing his body as he sat beside Belle.

Belle sniffed. "Before William left, he taught me to drink tea and the biscuits. We were planning ahead because he was convinced I could attend school in England with him."

Arieshell frowned, her hands gripping Belle's shoulder while Jacques assisted in drying Belle's face. As they finished tending to Belle, Helen stepped in their direction.

"Parden me, Headmaster Burton is ready for you. Please go to the end of the hall."

Arieshell offered the woman a charismatic smile while carefully aiding Belle up to her feet. While behind her, Arieshell saw Jacques and Gus following them down the long hallway, where a heavy oak door presented itself with a shiny textured copper handle illuminated by a sleek reflection from the candles.

Under the weight of her companions' agonizing terror, Arieshell would never find herself in a world that had confined the most sorrowful yet untainted souls like Belle. A forceful tug on her shoulder felt almost like a puppeteer controlling a marionette. However, when she glanced back, one thing met her gaze.

The void between her and Jacques.

As they approached closer to the door, Jacques came up behind Arieshell. She noticed him raise his arm but immediately pulled back after an older man with gleaming white hair that seemed almost slick to the touch, paired with his gentle, deep-set black eyes, which sparkled with kindness, encountered them.

His wrinkles danced as his facial expressions changed. His creases lightened as his eyes lured his attention toward Belle.

"Hello, Miss! You must be Belle."

Headmaster Burton's Yorkshire accent wrapped his words in a warm blanket of Northern comfort, its rugged edges softened by a gentle lilt.

Arieshell glanced inquisitively at Jacques. Their eyes bounced back and forth as they scrutinized Burton's interaction with Belle. Upon looking in their direction, Burton quickly gathered his composure.

"Ahem, please," he motioned toward the opened door. "We have much to discuss."

After walking into the room, Arieshell's attention was immediately drawn to the exquisite sight of grand hand-carved wooden furniture which complimented the dark shades, and hues of red and gold. On the right-hand side, a tremendous fireplace stood with an extended vertical mirror above reflecting the entire room.

As her eyes continued to skim the room, Headmaster Burton crossed on a dark blue rug toward his desk, leaving a bay window framing him in a halo of natural light, illuminating his silhouette against the floor.

"Please," he welcomed them, gesturing toward two chairs. "Please take a seat."

Arieshell caught a glimpse of Belle debating her next move. Her fingers intertwined together as her eyes flickered with shock. Is she okay?

"Go on Belle." Jacques soothed. "We're closer to locating William."

"I can escort you if you need?" Gus offered.

"Well..." Belle mumbled, her hands clasped over her mouth. "Arieshell! Do you mind, joining me?"

Her eyes popped open as her body became rigid like a deer caught in its place.

"M-me? Ar-"

"Pardon my interruption but you all are welcome," proposed Burton.

"Brilliant! Thank you!" Jacques cheered.

After claiming their seats, Burton smiled while clapping his hands on his desk. Nevertheless, a melancholy stare clouded his features, almost silently verbalizing his guilt-driven actions. Beyond the stillness of a monetary hush, the warm embrace of the fire covering them like a blanket eased their tenseness.

"Ahem," Burton calmed himself. "Could you please stay at your place for a moment? I need to attend to urgent matters requiring my immediate attention."

"Wait a minute! We came all this way to speak with you! You can't shoo us so suddenly!" Jacques protested.

Arieshell glanced up at the older man grabbing old keys from the desk's doors. His posture seemed stiff due to Jacques's impulsive interaction. His hands trembled as they navigated the jagged edges of the weathered wood, the coarse texture contrasting sharply with the cool, smooth surface of the metal.

"My kind sir. I will only be gone momentarily. Please, I advise you to take a seat."

"Jacques, please," Belle pleaded.

Her eyes were swollen with the essence of leftover tears due to the past breakdown. She clung to his coat, her arms shaking with the last of her strength. With a benevolent embrace, Jacques consoled her as they heard Burton's struggles in the distance.

His weathered face, etched with lines of experience and toil, perspired under the strain of a massive, iron-clad safe clasped in his aging arms. After acknowledging the man's struggles Gus jumped up.

"Oh my! Let me handle that, Sir," Gus insisted. His powerful arms heaved the large crate from the man.

"Thank you," he expressed. "You can place that on my desk."

Gus nodded as he carefully held on to the desk brushing away papers and quills out of his way. After a minute of relief, Burton used a little rag to dust the remaining debris before making eye contact with Belle.

"My Lady, in this box, I have valuable belongings that are yours," he spoke.

Arieshell jolted as tingles ran down her spine. She recalled the night at the asylum when Jacques took Belle aside after Armand handed her William's letter addressed to him. It can't be?

During her whirlwind of thoughts, Arieshell observed Burton as he withdrew a smaller crate filled with envelopes, leaving the seals untouched.

"I've been waiting for this day to return these to you, my dear," Burton disclosed.

Arieshell surveyed her peers tentatively as Belle solemnly nodded. Her hands trembled still scrunching the damp handkerchief. The soft whimpers of her faltering breath began to ooze in the tranquil ambiance.

While Jacques ran to her aid, Gus reluctantly furrowed his brows crossing his arms, gatekeeping his stance on Burton.

"What is this? A trick? A sick and twisted scheme?" He interrogated.

"I-I beg you pardon? I am simply disclosing information that this young lady needs."

"Gus," Arieshell interjected with a calculated yet pointed tone, "To quarrel over a matter so trifling would serve no purpose, least of all for Be—"

"Foutre! I loathe this old gentleman!" Gus bellowed, his fits clenched tight.

What's he doing? Why is he so furious? Arieshell gripped the edges of both sides of the chair's arm, sinking into it as if she were shifting to avert a blow to the head. Her eyes remained on Gus as a horrid realization came over her.

"No, no! Please, Sir! I beg of you! I'm only tr—"

"Gus stop!" Jacques pleaded, reaching his arm while gripping Belle tight with the other. "Remember, we're here to gather information about William's whereabouts. Not engaging in harmful disputes!"

"Please have mercy!" Burton beseeched.

Gus's facial expression softened. He turned his gaze toward Belle and then to Arieshell. He stepped back, his hands shielding his hot face, getting nearer to the doorway inch by inch.

"Please forgive my volatile behavior," Gus pursed his lips. "A-all I desire is to see Mademoiselle reunite with her good friend."

"Please, Sir," Belle mumbled. "Where's William? Do you have any leads where he is? D- Did he say in the letters? Please! Anything."

Arieshell pouted as she glimpsed at Burton drumming his palms on the smooth chilled surface emitting a rhythmic pattern. While she observed his movements, small wrinkles began expressing themselves as his eyes dilated.

"I recall Mr. Baker, his professor of culinary school, could have some leads but he's not on campus at the moment."

"Oh great," Belle wailed.

She raised her hands to her head, fingers tangling in her hair, as her body slowly curled inward, contorting into a tight ball in the chair.

Arieshell thrust her body upward. Her hands grew clammy as she became restless with Burton's reticence of sharing information.

"Look at this woman! She has done a lot to get this far! Now, you continue to toy with her and us!" she roared. "Do you know anyone else or do we have to interrogate it out of you?"

Shakily, his face transformed into an assortment of horror and shock. His old thin fingernails fondled behind him as he retreated to his seat, stumbling backward almost descending flat on the wooden surface.

"P-please! I know a place William visited before departing for Africa!"