The Lutin

Chapter 1:

November 7th, 2021, 00:26 - Masters Council, Waldobury, Widdlington

The Master is in his Council dorm room late at night, drafting lesson plans for Waldo, when he’s suddenly startled by a peculiar figure who slips into the room through the open door, unannounced.

Stranger: Good evening, Master Devlin. Can I get you something... to drink? Here, have some warm milk...

Master Devlin: Oh my god! Who are you? What are you doing here?

Stranger: That's not important. Here, your milk is getting cold...

Master Devlin: Hmm. Where did the milk come from?

Stranger: A goat—named Phyllis, I believe. It's nice when it's warm. Drink up.

Master Devlin: Very well, give it here then.

The strange fellow hands the Master the glass of milk with a slightly sinister smirk.

Master Devlin: Why the devilish grin?

Stranger: Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about something amusing. Unrelated.

Master Devlin: Hmm. I see... Well, thanks for the milk...

The Master takes a sip, turning back to his work. The taste is rather unusual.

Stranger: Well, it's getting late. Must be off to bed, yes?

Master Devlin: I'm not tired, but feel free to retire yours—

He turns around, but the stranger has vanished. The Master is left feeling slightly unsettled.

The next afternoon, the stranger returns, this time appearing in the Master’s office.

Stranger: Good afternoon, Sir!

Master Devlin: Oh God! It’s you again!?

Stranger: Spot of tea?

Master Devlin: I think I'll pass. The milk you gave me was rather uneventful.

Stranger: Uneventful? What sort of event were you expecting, might I inquire?

Master Devlin: It was just a bit... boring...

Stranger: Milk? Boring?? If you say so, Sir. I'm sorry it wasn't to your liking.

Master Devlin: It wasn’t bad, per se. It’s just that, coming from a strange-looking fellow like yourself, I was expecting an alluring high of some sort...

Stranger: Strange...

Master Devlin: ...But nothing.

Stranger: You think I'm strange?

Master Devlin: Yes. A rather queer sort.

Stranger: Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. Alas, I cannot help my appearance.

Master Devlin: It's quite alright. Just disappointing, I suppose.

Stranger: Disappointing indeed. I must say—my self-esteem has taken quite a knock. My grandmother always said I was quite handsome, but I had my doubts. Now you’ve confirmed it... Well, I must go.

Master Devlin: Here, have a cigar...

Stranger: No thank you, I'm afraid I'm too upset. You've hurt my feelings and I wish to be alone.

Master Devlin: Perhaps you should find another profession.

The stranger leaves the office, leaving the Master bewildered once more.

Chapter 2:

Later that afternoon, as Master Devlin prepares for his evening lessons, he hears a knock at the door—a firm yet polite sound that echoes through the quiet room. Setting aside his notes, he strides over to the door and opens it. At first, he sees no one, but as he glances down, he spots a small, dignified, prehistoric-looking bird with a refined air about him, standing on the threshold.

Bird: Good evening, Master Devlin. I don't believe we have been formally introduced. I am Reginald Van Der Beak, Mr. Waldo's dictabird, but you may call me Reg. I was hoping I might ask for your assistance.

Master Devlin: Ah, hello, Reg! Very nice to meet you. Come in. How can I help?

Reg, unable to fly, hops across the floor. The Master, with a slight smile, picks him up gently and places him on a chair.

Reg: Thank you, very much. I am sorry to trouble you, but I believe something is wrong with Mr. Waldo. He has been in a curious state all afternoon.

Master Devlin: A curious state, you say? In what way?

Reg: He isn’t saying much, but I managed to ascertain that he had an encounter with some strange fellow around lunchtime and that he may have drunk something peculiar. I found him like this:

Reg pulls out a smartphone, tapping a few buttons with his beak, and then shows Master Devlin a video. The screen displays Waldo looking rather unusual—his expression vacant, his movements sluggish, and an odd, unsettling aura surrounding him. His face is contorted, stretching and twisting in impossible ways, as though molded by some strange force. His features have taken on a whimsical, almost Seuss-esque appearance, with exaggerated proportions and a mischievous, cartoonish grin that doesn’t quite reach his vacant eyes. His entire demeanor exudes a peculiar, effervescent energy, as if something is bubbling up inside him, distorting him from within.

Reg: Do you know anything about this?

Master Devlin: Well, now that you mention it, a rather queer-looking fellow appeared in my quarters last night out of nowhere. It startled me—one moment, I was alone, and then suddenly, he was just there. He offered me a glass of milk, which I, somewhat carelessly, accepted and drank. The man behaved strangely and suspiciously afterward. Thankfully, the milk had virtually no effect on me, which seemed to displease him. He showed up again this afternoon and offered me a spot of tea. I politely declined and mentioned that I didn’t much care for the milk he gave me. I also remarked that he looked a bit odd, which he seemed to take offense to. Then, he left.

Reg: I see... How very strange. Thankfully, I think Mr. Waldo is starting to recover. He’s a bit less wrinkly than before, and his hairs have returned to normal. I left him at home drinking some Lucozade, but I think we should keep an eye out for that strange fellow you mentioned. We can’t have him going around dosing our Waldo.

Master Devlin: Yes, you did the right thing coming to me. I assure you, the council will be investigating this creature. I can’t give too much away, but there have been reports of this stranger from all over the city.

Reg: Oh my...

Master Devlin: Reg, would you be able to ask Waldo about his witch doctor? Perhaps we should get his opinion.

Reg: I’m not sure, sir. I’ve tried to inquire about Mr. Waldo's healthcare before, but he was quite stern with me—told me to mind my station. He seems to keep that business close to his chest. Frankly, I suspect you'd have more luck. I am but a humble tool to him. Mere office equipment—though I do try to look out for his well-being nevertheless.

Master Devlin: Fine. Let me know when he’s fit enough, and I’ll ask him. It’s not about Waldo's healthcare, which is utter nonsense. Waldo’s witch doctor might know who this strange fellow is.

Reg: Indeed I will, Master Devlin.

Chapter 3:

The next day, Master Devlin arrives at the Waldo residence, a small cottage nestled on the Council’s campus grounds. He lets himself in and is immediately greeted by Reg.

Reg: Thank goodness you've come, Master Devlin. I thought he was getting better, but then this morning, he seemed to go all strange again—worse than before.

Master Devlin: It’s good you called. I’ll need to examine him.

The Master and Reg enter the compact living room, where they find Waldo staring vacantly into space, just as he had appeared in the video. His face is contorted and wrinkled, and his three hairs have grown considerably, twisting and writhing in unnatural patterns.

Reg: Mr. Waldo... It's Master Devlin. He's come to see how you are...

Waldo's eyes remain unfocused, staring off in different directions. However, he gives a faint sign of recognition as his mouth twists into a wriggly smirk before he burps up a burst of confetti. The Master moves in closer to inspect him.

Reg: Be careful of the tallest hair, Master. Earlier on, it... bit me...

Reg gestures to a plaster on the tip of his talon.

The Master then lightly smacks Waldo’s face, attempting to snap him out of his stupor.

wF: Whassat?? Banana boat??

Master Devlin: Oh dear... Sit up straight, please, Waldo.

wF: Hey, who jou tink you talkin' to, uh? (Waldo says in a thick Cuban accent.) I taught I tolyat'tellem... jou was... jou was...

Waldo abruptly vomits more confetti and glitter all over the room. His hairs begin to wave and pulsate like some sort of alien plant life.

Master Devlin: Reg, do you have scissors?

Reg: Yes, sir! On the table over there... I'm sorry, Sir, I'd get them, but... It’s a pity we don’t have Stanbot around anymore. Might I inquire how he is? He was such a polite robot...

Master Devlin: No trouble. Yes, Stanbot is doing well, thank you. He has a job at the council library. Seems to be enjoying himself.

Reg: I’m delighted to hear it.

Master Devlin: I can take you to see him sometime, if you like.

Reg: Why, that would be splendid. Thank you, Master Devlin.

Master Devlin: No trouble... Now, let’s see...

The Master takes the scissors and carefully snips the three hairs.

Reg: Oh my...

Waldo slowly begins to recover. His wriggly mouth reforms, and he starts to emerge from his trance, reaching up to pat the top of his head in distress.

wF: I'm... BALD!!!!? 😣😖😫 What have you done??

Master Devlin: Oh, pull yourself together, Waldo. They’ll regrow. It was necessary. You were being controlled—your hairs are antennas.

wF: Exactly! How am I supposed to transmit now?? And controlled by whom, flatfoot?

Master Devlin: We don’t know yet. You were infected with something.

wF: Oh... Feel sweepy...

Master Devlin: Well, thankfully, removing the hairs seems to have stopped it. Now, you get some rest, Waldo. I’m going to take Reg with me for a bit. He would like to visit Stanbot.

wF: Yah yah, sure, whatever...

Master Devlin: Come along, Reg.

Reg: Will you be alright, Waldo?

wF: Sure...

The Master and Reg leave the cottage and head in the direction of the Council Library.

Chapter 4:

The Master is engaged in a conversation with Reg, who is perched on the reception desk of the Council Library. Stanbot is intently working on a sketch of the stranger who had previously visited Devlin and Waldo.

Master Devlin: Yes, his ears should curl up into pointy, devilish shapes. His eyes need to be narrower and more sinister. And his mouth should be a bit more wriggly...

Stanbot adjusts the drawing accordingly.

Stanbot: How about this, sir?

Reg: Yes! By Ed, that's him alright!

Master Devlin: Yes, very good, Stanbot. I must say, you’ve come a long way since we freed you from Waldo’s employ...

Stanbot: Thank you, sir. Shall I make photocopies of this sketch and have them distributed throughout the campus?

Master Devlin: Yes, please do. But we also need to warn people not to drink anything from...

A voice interrupts from behind Devlin.

Stranger: Good evening, gentlemen... Is this the library, then?

Master Devlin: WHAT??

Master Devlin turns around to find the stranger casually standing in the library.

Reg: Master Devlin... It’s him...!

Stranger: Ah, Master Devlin. I was hoping I might find you here.

Master Devlin: GUARDS!!

At Devlin’s command, a group of Master Council guards in uniform appears and surrounds the stranger.

Stranger: Oh my... Is there a problem?

Master Devlin: Guards, take this individual into custody. We have a few questions for him...

As the guards attempt to apprehend the stranger, they are suddenly enveloped in a swirling green mist. They cough and wave their arms to clear it away. As the smoke dissipates, the Master, Reg, and Stanbot find the guards looking around in confusion.

Guard: Sir... It’s gone. He just vanished.

Master Devlin: GOD DAMMIT! Lock this place down and find him...

Enraged, Master Devlin excuses himself and heads to his office to be alone. He sits at his desk and pours himself a stiff drink. As he sips, a voice interrupts his solitude.

Voice: Oh, Master Devlin, drinking on the job? Wouldn't you prefer some milk instead? It's Bison, you see. I think you might find it more interesting than goat's milk. Oh, and don’t bother calling the guards; I gave them the night off...

Master Devlin: Take a seat...

Devlin says nonchalantly, attempting to mask his rage.

Stranger: Thank you...

Master Devlin: So, what do you want from me? The last time I saw you, you stormed off in a tantrum.

Stranger: Tantrum? Hardly. I merely left after being insulted. Fortunately, I’m not one to hold a grudge. Later, I thought to myself, "You’ll win over the Master with even more intriguing and exotic beverages." So, I decided to bring you some bison milk this time, from a bison named Neneh Cherry. Would you care to try it? It’s right here in my thermos.

Master Devlin: What do you want?

Stranger: I believe I just explained that quite clearly.

Master Devlin: I’m not interested in trying your beverages.

Stranger: Why not? You were quite eager before.

Master Devlin: You’ve been traveling all over Waldonia, offering beverages that result in deaths, serious illnesses, and mind control. Thankfully, I was unharmed. So, what can I call you?

Stranger: Well, who I am is hardly important, but you may call me Mr. Vincent. Delacroix Vincent.

Master Devlin: Vincent, eh? That’s funny. I was just thinking your voice sounded exactly like Vincent Price.

Mr Vincent: Never heard of him. Now, regarding those absurd, wild, and defamatory allegations about my beverages... I don’t suppose you could start by telling me what evidence you have?

Master Devlin: Well, Mr. Vincent, there are several eyewitness accounts matching your description from across the country, all claiming to have been handed strange beverages. That’s hardly normal behavior. You tried to poison me and failed. You also poisoned my pet goblin.

Mr Vincent: Eyewitness accounts are notoriously unreliable. I travel a lot, it’s true. It’s hardly a crime. Nor is offering beverages. You have no evidence of foul play—poisonings or otherwise.

Master Devlin: What do you want?

Mr Vincent: Master Devlin, we’ve been over this. I’m a traveling Lutin. I simply enjoy sampling and sharing various drinks from across the realm. But alas, I am used to being troubled by xenophobic buffoons and ruffians such as yourself. "Oh yes, let’s blame all our woes on the stranger who has just arrived in town." No need to look at yourselves. 😒

Master Devlin: ...

Master Devlin: I will be going now. Your invitation to sample Madam Cherry’s buffalo stance milk has been rescinded. Good day, Madam...

With that, the strange Lutin disappears in a cloud of green smoke. The Master clenches his fists in frustration.

Chapter 5:

Later, at Waldo's cottage, Master Devlin finds a now-recovered Waldo in a very cross mood.

Master Devlin: Perhaps you should have a nap, Widdle Frunkut...

wF: No! You and Reg colluded against Wiffuhuh... Poisoned it! Cut its hairs! Reg will have to be punished now, and it's all your fault. Most severely. And you can has that on your consciences. Revenge shall be swift and merciless.

Master Devlin: Widdle Frunkut, please be reasonable. You were sick. I helped you. I had to amputate your three hairs. I’m sorry, but they will grow back. As for Reg, he did nothing to harm you. I’ve taken him into my care.

wF: Your care?? Who the hell do you think you are? First, you steal and break my robot, and now you steal my office equipment! You will give me my bird back this instant. You can’t just keep taking my things...

Master Devlin: No, Waldo. Just who the hell do you think you are, you pathetic, short little man? You don’t have any friends, any family, or any land! You’re just a horrible little monster! Don’t you dare speak to me like that!

wF: 😡

Master Devlin (cont'd): Now, look, firstly, I didn’t break your robot. You abused and mistreated him, leaving him a mess when you eventually got bored. I asked him if he wanted to go live somewhere else, which he did. You showed no interest.

Master Devlin: Secondly, you plan to punish and mutilate this poor bird because of your paranoia and psychosis. Of course, I’m going to take him into my care. Now, get yourself sorted out. You can see Reg again once you’ve calmed down.

wF: You poisoned me!

Master Devlin: SHUT UP, Waldo! I did not. And even if I had, it’s not like you don’t deserve it.

wF: Then who did?

Master Devlin: From several eyewitnesses, including myself, we came up with this sketch.

The Master pulls out a copy of the sketch and shows it to Waldo.

Master Devlin: He claims his name is Delacroix Vincent. A traveling Lutin...

wF: A Lutin?? Don’t be preposterous, Sidney. There hasn’t been a Lutin in these parts in over 700 years! Your reports must be inaccurate.

Master Devlin: I thought so too, but I met him three times. He tried to offer me milk and tea. He’s been on a poisoning spree!

wF: Stan, the galaxy’s literally billions and billions of stars. It is not on Orion's Belt...

Master Devlin: Reg confirmed he was the one who visited you.

wF: Reg? He’s hopeless. Faulty! All clogged up...

Master Devlin: Are you faulty?

wF: No... Of course not. My Waldo OS is running flawlessly...

Master Devlin: Delacroix Vincent, does that name mean anything to you?

wF: Nope. Sounds French though. Like the Masta!

Master Devlin: 😠 Can you take this seriously, please, Waldo?

wF: I take your national heritage very seriously, dear boy. In fact, I do recall a French noblewoman, Mary Delacroix Vincent, from back in the day. She was known for consorting with us folklore critters. Apparently, she married a Lutin, so they said. Though even then, Lutins were considered a myth.

Master Devlin: How long ago was this?

wF: Oh, about 500 years ago. Give or take a century...

Master Devlin: Hmmm. Alexander Devlin was a Master around then. I have many of his old diaries.

The Master leaves the cottage.

Chapter 6

Master Devlin walks back to the main campus courtyard, finding it unusually quiet. Stanbot emerges from the main building, carrying Reg.

Reg: Master Devlin, I’m so relieved you’re back. We have a serious situation here on the Council grounds.

Master Devlin: Are you okay? What’s happening?

Reg: We're fine, thank you, but many are not.

Master Devlin: Poisonings?

Reg: It seems there’s some sort of epidemic! An outbreak all over campus. Many Masters have become very ill.

Master Devlin: Good God! We need to go into lockdown. No one in or out.

Stanbot: Many Master units have already been deactivated, Sir...

Master Devlin: 😔

The Master feels a surge of pain and shock at the thought of his colleagues dying.

Stanbot: ...However, some who haven't been affected by the illness have descended into violent madness. Approximately a quarter of the Council body remains unaffected, while the rest are either critically ill, deceased, or in a state of complete insanity.

Master Devlin: Go back to the library. Instruct anyone who is well to sedate the mad ones, on my order. I must go to my office.

The Master heads to his office, closes the door, and sighs.

Master Devlin: Come out, Mr. Vincent. I know you’re there!

Mr Vincent: You rang? Changed your mind about the bison milk, did you? I thought you might. Unfortunately, my supply has run dry. For now.

Master Devlin: I know it was you. Why are you doing this?

Mr Vincent: I’m not quite sure what you mean.

Master Devlin: Look around. Surely you know what’s happening here.

Mr Vincent: Oh, you mean all the excitement? Yes, I’ve noticed.

Master Devlin: Excitement? That’s one way to put it.

Mr Vincent: Did you know some of your colleagues have barricaded themselves in the infirmary, in the east wing of the southern building? Quite curious. What’s all the hubbub? There’s a scent of death in the air—actually quite pleasant.

Master Devlin: Do you know how to stop this?

Mr Vincent: I couldn’t say. I’m not even sure what this is, exactly. Though, if I were you, I’d be looking at a certain pupil of yours—a genocidal goblin under your care. I understand he has a track record for this sort of thing.

Master Devlin: Yes, that thought crossed my mind. But he’s not been right since you interfered with him.

Mr Vincent: That was never proven. Once again, you assumed my involvement. If there’s nothing else...

Master Devlin: What exactly did you do to him?

Mr Vincent: Platypus milk... Would you care to try it? I have it in abundance. I assure you, I did nothing but let him sample it. You can trust me.

Master Devlin: I don’t know who to trust—the weirdo who’s shown up at the same time as all these strange occurrences, or my own pupil who has betrayed me more times than I can count.

Mr Vincent: This is the Waldoverse. Strange things are par for the course. Now, I bid you adieu, madam.

Chapter 7

The Master heads over to the library, where he finds Stanbot and Reg at their stations.

Master Devlin: Reg, Stanbot... where is Doctor Sanders?

Reg: I'm afraid he was one of the first to...

Mr Stanbot: That unit has expired, Sir.

Master Devlin: 😔 ...What about his assistant, Abigail?

Reg: I'm sorry, sir. I don't know. But I heard there are some survivors, led by a man named Travers. They might be in the infirmary. She could be there.

Master Devlin: I'm going there now. Stanbot, lock the library behind me.

Reg: Understood, Master Devlin.

Mr Stanbot: Locking the library now...

The Master turns and makes his way to the infirmary. The campus is eerily silent, with only the occasional distant shout or the sound of shuffling feet echoing in the empty corridors. As he enters the infirmary, he’s immediately struck by the chaotic scene before him. The room is a jumbled mess of beds, overturned chairs, and scattered medical equipment. Several patients lie in various states of distress—some thrashing about wildly, while others lie still, their faces pale and lifeless. The air is thick with the stench of sickness, spilled food, and the harsh odor of disinfectant. A few bodies are strewn across the floor, unmoving.

As Master Devlin carefully navigates the room, a human male in a frenzied state suddenly lunges at him. The man’s eyes are wild, his movements erratic. The Master barely has time to react and is forced to defend himself, delivering a punch that knocks the man out cold. The figure crumples to the ground.

He then approaches a storage room at the end of the hall, where he hears hushed voices and the sound of shuffling. Master Devlin opens the door cautiously and finds a small group of survivors huddled together. The room is a chaotic mess of overturned chairs, scattered medical supplies, and makeshift beds. Several people are lying down, clearly unwell, while others sit or stand in a state of anxious exhaustion.

Among the survivors, Master Devlin spots Abigail, who is treating a wounded master. Seated against the wall, she looks visibly shaken, but she manages to make eye contact with him as he steps into the room.

Master Devlin: Abigail... I'm glad I found you. Are you alright? What is going on here?

Abigail: I—I don’t know, Master. It all started in the canteen this morning. People were having breakfast and coffee when, suddenly, they became violently ill.

Master Trelawny: Or just violent...

Abigail: Yes. Some were vomiting, others just... went mad and started attacking everyone.

The Master listens intently, his mind racing as he tries to piece together what happened. He notices the fear and confusion in Abigail's eyes and the hopeless expressions on the faces of the other survivors.

Master Devlin: (frowning) Did you notice anything unusual? Anything that might have caused this?

Abigail: Not really. Everything was normal until people started vomiting and losing their minds.

He looks around at the survivors, feeling a deep sense of responsibility for their safety.

Master Devlin: (to the group) Stay here, all of you, and keep this room secure. I need to investigate the canteen.

With a final look at Abigail and the others, Master Devlin leaves the storage room and heads toward the mess hall. As he enters, he finds the space transformed into a nightmarish scene: bodies lying around, smashed mugs and cereal bowls scattered across the ground, and puddles of milk pooling everywhere. The sight of the green-tinged milk sends a chill down Devlin’s spine.

He carefully picks up a half-empty carton, sealing it for analysis.

Master Devlin: (to himself, grimly) This might be the key.

Suddenly, a voice can be heard from across the mess hall.

Voice: There's some fecal matter over here, Master Devlin... Perhaps you should taste it to ascertain what poisoned our friends...

Master Devlin: Who's there??

A small goblin in a suit with a brown wig and a bushy mustache appears from behind a toppled table.

Travers: It's me, Master Devlin. Travers... Your boss...

Travers approaches the Master, hoping for a friendly embrace.

The Master snarls and grabs him, lifting him by the scruff.

Master Devlin: What the hell are you doing here, Travers? We have a crisis on our hands. I have no time for your silly behavior...

Without waiting for a reply, the Master hurls Travers across the room and through a window. He then looks back at the milk carton.

Master Devlin: I need to get this to the lab...

Continued in The Lutin Part 2