Just One More Thing

The following takes place following: The Price of Peace

A few days later, the Master had sobered up, though the hangover still lingered. Irritable and increasingly paranoid about the compound’s vulnerabilities, he started making preparations — barking orders to tighten defenses. Everyone else seemed to have gone soft since the peace talks. But not Devlin.

Guard: : Excuse me, sir, but is all this really necessary? I thought we had a peace agreement?

Master Devlin: It always pays to be prepared for any eventuality. Besides, none of the other warlords can be trusted. More than likely, we’ll be at full-scale war again before long.

A croaky little voice spoke up behind him.

Voice: : "Full-scale war, huh? That’s just terrible... Just terrible."

The Master turned to find Waldo standing there in a shabby raincoat, holding a half-lit cigar. One of his eyes was wonkier than usual, drifting off in the wrong direction. He spoke in a raspy Italian-American accent. Lt. Waldo...

Lt. Waldo: Y'know, if there’s one thing my wife can’t stand... it’s war…

Master Devlin: Ohh… hello, Lieutenant... There you are… again. What is it this time? 😒

He was back. Again. The fourth time this week — or maybe the fifth. Devlin had lost count. Every time, “Lt. Waldo” brought the same damp raincoat, the same cheap cigar, and the same godawful smell. The stink clung to the air like mildew and made Devlin’s nostrils twitch. His eyes were starting to sting. Rage bubbled up behind his eyeballs, threatening to turn his face an unhealthy shade of pink — but he forced it down. Barely.

Lt. Waldo: Hello, sir. Yes, I know, I’m probably the last person you want to see during such turbulent times. And believe me, I want to get this case wrapped up more than anyone. But if I don’t cross all the I’s and dot all the T’s, then my boss down at the station’s gonna be very mad at me. Just a formality, y’see. You understand, I’m sure...

Master Devlin: Well actually, Lieutenant, I’m very busy right now...

Lt. Waldo: Oh, I believe it, sir. I know you’re a very busy man. My wife, Mrs. Waldo — she’s a huge fan. She’d get a real kick out of this. Always talking about all the important things you’ve done for the realm. Like the time you led that revolt against the Editor in Antarctica… Just terrific, sir…

Master Devlin: Yes. Yes, your wife is clearly and excellent judge of character, but I must implore you to PLEASE GET TO THE POINT.

Lt. Waldo: Ah, there I go rambling again... I'm sorry. It's just — there’s a few little details that have been bugging me about Captain Katsuragi’s death. They just won’t stop bothering me, and I had a few final questions for you. Won’t take a moment…

Master Devlin: Very well. Proceed.

Lt. Waldo: Now, in our last conversation, you confided in me that despite barely knowing Captain Katsuragi, you did, in fact, engage in , uh, personal relations with her on the night of her death. Is that correct, sir?

Master Devlin: Yes. As I said, myself and the Captain had a brief one-night stand the evening after our first encounter. Not the kind of thing I usually do, but these are unusual times... You understand, I'm sure?

Lt. Waldo: Oh yes, sir. I understand perfectly. And sir, I appreciate you being so candid with me. Makes the job a lot easier... And then, after she left your room, you never saw her again?

Master Devlin: That's correct. She left in a bit of a hurry. I presume it was guilt—she was engaged to the Warlord, y’see.

Lt. Waldo: That's probably it, sir. It's just unfortunate that no one saw her head back to her room. As is the unfortunate lack of an alibi for you, which makes things a little tricky. Now, you said at the time of the murder you were, uh... uh... just a second, please...

Lt. Waldo starts searching his old coat for his notepad. This goes on for some time. He pulls an assortment of knick-knacks and curiosities out of his deep pockets.

Lt. Waldo: Ah, here we are... Let’s just see now...

Lt. Waldo: Ah yes. Now, according to your statement, at the time of the Captain's death—around 4 a.m.—you were in the bathroom at the far end of the upper west wing floor... for approximately half an hour with explosive diarrhoea. Is that correct? That is your statement?

Master Devlin: Yes, that sounds about right. I’m on medication, and it can make my stomach a bit vicious.

Lt. Waldo: Yes, sir... I confirmed that with the doctor. She explained that in great detail. Now, here’s my problem...

Master Devlin: Yes? It seems like you do have a problem. You’re very green, you know.

Lt. Waldo: Oh, don’t worry about that, sir. It’s just the olive oil—I’m soaked in it. I’m Italian, y’see... No, my problem is that there were many guards posted outside this house on that night with a clear line of sight to that bathroom window. Now, I asked all of them, and not one remembered seeing the bathroom light on at that time.

Master Devlin: Oh? And?

The Master starts to tense up again.

Lt. Waldo: Now, I have to ask myself—why would a busy, learned man such as yourself be sitting for half an hour in the dark? If it were me, I’d be reading... catching up on paperwork or something. Not to mention, you can’t see what you’re doing. I mean, how are you supposed to even wipe properly?

Master Devlin: Lieutenant… do you have any idea how many times I have to defecate in a day? I can assure you, it’s a lot. I also have a habit of rushing and crashing onto the seat. In some cases, I don’t even have time to catch the light switch. That might seem strange to you—but not to me.

Lt. Waldo: Huh...

Waldo starts jotting down in his notepad, mumbling as he writes.

Lt. Waldo: "Didn't have time to catch light switch"... Oh, well, sir, I guess that explains it. I gotta tell you, Master Devlin, I don’t envy your predicament. A thirty-minute diarrhoea dump in the dark... That's something. How did you wipe properly?

Master Devlin: I managed. I must have wiped by moonlight.

Lt. Waldo: Oh no, sir. I already checked that. There was no moon out that night... Furthermore, I checked that bathroom after the first time we spoke—and it was spotless. It was like a showroom. It’s something that’s been bothering me, and I was wondering if you could shed some light on that?

Master Devlin: Now look here, Lieutenant... what exactly are you implying?? I'm growing very tired of all of this... I’ve already told you everything I know! Why must you insist on harassing me everywhere I go?? Everywhere I turn, you’re there! You’re always, always there!

Lt. Waldo: I'm not implying anything, sir, and I don't mean to upset you. I know I’m a pest, always showing up like this—but the thing is, I just keep finding these little details that keep bugging me about the Captain’s death. And it’s my job to follow them up, you understand?

Master Devlin: (Sigh) Yes... of course. Forgive me, Lieutenant. I’m very tired, that’s all. As I said, my IBS is a recurring problem for me. It was late. I had to get out of bed suddenly and rush to the toilet. Perhaps I made a mistake. Whether that was the actual bathroom I used… maybe. Maybe not. I use a lot of bathrooms. The moonlight occasion must have been another night. Either way, it’s not the first time I’ve taken a dump in the dark, and it won’t be the last time. As for the cleanliness—well, because of the car crash I unfortunately leave behind, I’m usually forced to deep-clean it after.

Lt. Waldo: I see. Well... perhaps you’re right, sir. Frantically running around a big house like this in the middle of the night, straight out of bed... perhaps you did mix up the bathrooms. It’s an easy mistake to make, I suppose.

Master Devlin: Indeed.

Lt. Waldo: Well, thank you sir. You've been very helpful. I hope I haven't upset you too much. I just like to follow up on these things. It's helpful to talk it out with someone. Get another point of view, you understand...

Master Devlin: It’s alright Lieutenant, my bowels are something of a burden as you can quite imagine. It can be rather frustrating...

Lt. Waldo: I'm sure sir. Well goodbye.

Master Devlin: Yes. Goodbye, Lieutenant.

Lt. Waldo turns and walks away. The Master waits for it. Waldo turns back.

Lt. Waldo: Oh sir!

Master Devlin: Yes?

Lt. Waldo: Just one more things sir, I promise...

Master Devlin: What is it?

Lt. Waldo: I hate to bother you with this but as I was saying, my wife is your biggest fan. Could I trouble you for your autograph? It would mean the world to her...

Master Devlin: If you don’t mind, I rather not. I don’t like giving out my autograph. My former pupil once used my autograph to steal my identity. Caused years of issues... As you can imagine, I’m very cautious.

Lt. Waldo: Aw, that's too bad. Mrs Waldo had her hopes up. She was going to have it framed on the wall. Between the peppersteak and the portrait of Mr Travers but I'm sure she'll understand. Can't be too careful - Identity theft is no joke. Millions suffer every year. I'll get of your hair then sir. Thank you again. Goodbye

Master Devlin: Goodbye, Lieutenant. Um, feel free to bring you and your wife over for dinner sometime, to make up for the autograph thing...

The Master immediately winced, wondering why he just said that.

Lt. Waldo: Really? No kidding?

Master Devlin: Ahem...Of course. It's no trouble.

Lt. Waldo: Oh sir...I can't tell you how happy that would make her...That's just terrific. I will absolutely do that...Well sir. Goodbye

The Master nods.

Lt. Waldo: Oh geez... I’m always forgetting things. There was one more thing I wanted to ask you about...

Master Devlin: Naturally.

Lt. Waldo: I understand you’re friends with a, uh... Mr. Harris Travers? The celebrity?

Master Devlin: Hrmm... I suppose you could say that.

Lt. Waldo: Oh wow, that’s terrific. You must be very proud. You know he’s a national treasure.

Master Devlin: So he says. To be honest, Lieutenant, I find him quite insufferable much of the time—but we do get on, to a point. Why do you ask?

Lt. Waldo: Well, you see, sir... I’ve been trying to find him all week, but whenever I look for him, he somehow eludes me. And whenever I ask anyone else about him, they start acting rather peculiar... Any idea why that might be?

Master Devlin: I’m afraid I can’t speak to other people’s behaviour, Lieutenant. I find Waldonians to be an eccentric people. And as I said, these are particularly unusual times.

As for Travers—I haven’t seen him in days, and I’m not sure where he is. He’s a sleazy womaniser... probably getting an oil change from one of his whores somewhere.

Lt. Waldo: Huh... well, that’s too bad. I just thought I’d ask. Well, I’ve taken up more than enough of your time. Goodbye, sir.

Master Devlin: Goodbye.

****

The Master, his anger still simmering, takes a walk through the estate grounds, trying to clear his head. As he passes the infirmary, something draws him in.

Inside, the air is heavy with antiseptic and quiet suffering. Though the ceasefire has held and the demonic creatures are gone, injuries—and deaths—continue.

He spots Ermintrude, asleep in one of the hospital beds. Goblin Slayer sits beside her, a silent sentinel.

Master Devlin: How’s she doing?

Goblin Slayer: Improving. Her body’s still weak, but the doctor says she’s getting better. If all goes well, she’ll be discharged soon.

Master Devlin: That’s good to hear...Goblin Slayer, may I have a word? In private.

Goblin Slayer nods and follows him to a quiet corner of the infirmary.

Goblin Slayer: What is it?

Master Devlin: The ceasefire may be holding, but I wouldn’t call this peace. Not truly. I want your opinion, because those who did this to Ermie should answer for it. That said, I’d understand if you wanted to just take Ermie and leave. But... if you stay—if you want justice—I could use your help.

Goblin Slayer: The Dictabird must pay... for what he did to Cow Girl. You have my sword...

Master Devlin: Good. But we need to be smart about this. The Warlord thrives on chaos, but Travers wants a stable pipeline of girls into that mansion. He’ll fight to preserve this so-called “peace.” And if we act openly, we break the ceasefire. Reg and Tess wipes us out. So we don’t. We start a different fight. Turn them on each other.

Goblin Slayer: I see...

Master Devlin: Then...When they’re too busy fighting among themselves—we strike. We deal with the Bird.

Goblin Slayer nods.

Season 5 continues in Threads of War