Dr. Emerald Bruttenholm is the sole survivor of the Blackwood massacre and is taken to the BPRD to help them investigate the attack. She takes the meeting with the paranormal creatures surprisingly well because deep down she has secrets of her own...
Dr. Emerald Bruttenholm did not like where this meeting with the director of the Blackwoods Gallery of Ancient Art and Culture was leading to. She could not believe that the museum wanted to auction off the Bethmooran relics which took her father years to find and collect.
"The majority of the public have never even heard of Bethmoora. Only a few patrons are truly interested in these relics and they are ready to pay very pretty prices for them. It is the only source we have to fund your research. The museum needs repairs and maintenance. We're the only museum who still hasn't digitized their collections."
"Why can't we have the relics displayed to the public first and then decide whether they need to be auctioned off. These relics are true facts that point to the existence of the fae folk. The public must be shown that we must hold our part of the ancient treaty. The people must be made aware that there are faeries that are dying...." Dr. Bruttenholm was cut off as the director slammed his hands down on the table.
"Enough Emerald! Your father lost his reputation talking about faeries and trolls and lost the Blackwood Foundation its patrons. I will not have you repeat it again!" the director shouted.
Emerald was too shocked for a moment to speak anything.
The director took the opportunity and said, "The auction is tomorrow. I want you to give a one-hour lecture before the items are brought in. This meeting is over!"
The director pushed his chair and walked out. He knew he had just played dirty but it could not be helped. The museum was in a financial ditch because of this wretched economy and he could not afford to lose the donations and the patrons' interest. Mr. Waldorff had remarked, "These relics would lose their exclusivity if we let the flea-bitten public and those damned tree-hugging hippies see them. As if we need to give them more reasons for putting more stoppers to our businesses. No Sanders. Put them up for an auction. My friends and I would be delighted to own them."
The director had a bad feeling about the whole situation. Museums were meant for the public. They were not mere treasure hoarders that sold historical artefacts to the rich. This was wrong but what could he do? If he did not cave soon, there would not be a museum to direct.
Dr. Emerald sat down heavily and put her head down on the cold wooden table. It had been a year since her father had passed away. He had been the one who first got her interested in Bethmooran legends by reading to her at night when she was only 4 years old. She missed him terribly and it ached her to see her father's life's work being lost from all public knowledge. He had been mocked over the years for pursuing his research on the Bethmooran legends but he had not given up. With Emerald's help, he had quickly deciphered the ancient Gaelic texts from which he had deduced the location of the place where the legendary last battle between the humans and fae had been fought over a thousand years ago.
It had taken a long time to bring them over to the museum for studying them further. Emerald could feel the aura around these objects. The strongest of them was emitted by a thick piece of gold metal. She and her father had decided that this was perhaps the third piece of the crown that controlled the Golden Army. The very idea of holding a piece of the crown sent made the professor shiver with the possibilities that the discovery would bring. Perhaps, mankind would finally turn from the path of self-destruction and seek the old world wisdom once again. They performed a number of tests on the gold piece which confirmed that its properties were different from ordinary gold. For one, they could not damage the piece. Not even a scratch surfaced on it!
Soon after this, the professor had fallen ill. Emerald got steadily worried as his condition worsened. She took a sabbatical from her research and tended to her father. He passed away all too soon on one night. It took some time for Emerald to cope with his death. She had no family or close friends to turn to in her time of grief. The only relative she knew was her uncle Dr. Trevor Bruttenholm and he too had passed away mysteriously. The agency he had worked for was an underground government facility which refused to release any information about his death. Her uncle, like her father, believed strongly in the paranormal. She learnt to trust them because her uncle often brought along photographs of the strangest creatures one could imagine. He also had an adopted son nicknamed Hellboy of whom he spoke with pride and affection. Emerald never understood why anyone would name their son like that but her father and uncle were always amused by her confusion. It was a joke, or rather a secret that the two men shared. She now wished that if she had been more persistent with her uncle he would have eventually found a way to introduce her cousin. She knew his identity was a top-secret and there was no way she could find anything about him. Even her uncle had lived at the facility and she only saw him when he visited her at their suburban home.
Emerald realised that it had gotten dark outside and got up to leave her office. She had to bite her tongue and accept defeat for now. "But I won't let them forget father's work. Even if it takes decades I swear I will find the Golden Army and prove that he was right all along".
With that, she collected her long green coat and briefcase and headed out into the night.
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