Bart stepped out of the stagecoach and his boots sunk another two inches into the ground.

“Mud,” he sighed to himself, gradually moving his way to a patch of grass that might be more stable.

Behind him, Grugg immediately leaped out, landing in the muck and spraying a dotted wave of it across the wizard’s burgundy robe.

“Oops.” The cyclops grinned sheepishly, now looking down at his suit slacks, which were no better off. It was just as well that Claudia had forced him into bringing his kilt along, as his track records with the suits was… well, abysmal.

Gregor lowered himself down slowly, and walked away from the worst areas, barely making indents in the soft dirt. Bart paid off the driver and, with little ceremony, the horses started off, dragging the wheels through the muck and back around to head toward the city.

“Stuck here now,” the wizard sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “I suppose I’d have to send a Message for when we want rescuing.”

“Best keep you alive then, ser Wizard.” Gregor grinned, but the smile slowly faded as his feet started to spread apart across the slick ground.

Grugg withdrew his large club and held it over his eye to peer out ahead of them, knocking the fedora off his head and into the mud. He turned and grimaced at it. “Oops, again. Grugg tell Claudia that Nightshade broke hat.”

“I’ll back you up on that,” Bart said with a brief nod. He looked over to see if the ratman would be their partner in crime, but Gregor was currently using his tail to try to stop himself from falling over as he continued to slip. “Perhaps this is penance.”

“Is muddy,” Grugg agreed, narrowing his eye once again at their surroundings. It was certainly woods, but unlike those both on his previous mountain home, as well as the forest around the lumber yards near Helpart. Everything here seemed… spooky.

The trees had shed all their leaves for the encroaching winter, leaving skeletons of cold, deep gray to stand in clusters. Where the ground wasn’t wet mud, it had grass that was bordering on brown. Waterlogged? He rubbed his chin in thought. The city hadn’t seen that much rain this week, and they were only a couple of hours away.

“Bart have compass?” Every direction looked the same, save for the route that passed as a road that they have traveled down. Small mounds and gradual slopes here and there, but otherwise the gathered trees blurred the horizon into dim gray shadow.

“I do.” He withdrew it from a pocket and wrinkled his bearded face up as he watched the needle. “That way.” He pointed a finger out towards trees.

“Let’s go solve crime.” With a nod, they set off, only slightly slowed by the patches of slippery mud.

After five minutes, and Bart falling over three times, they made it deep enough where most of the mulch and dirt were dry enough to not threaten their footing any more.

The wizard bent over and wiped his dirtied hands off on his robes, mostly spreading the muck around than really doing anything useful. “Perhaps I should just shape-change it away,” he said to himself.

“Who will you grace us with today? Lady Hairdresser, ser Mob goon, ser-”

Bart held his hand up. “I’m not sure if there is much of a point at this stage. Given present company, I doubt a disguise would draw less attention to us.”

“Cannibals have a strong dislike for elderly wizards, ser Hat. Especially inept ones.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I’ll be better off than you two then, won’t I?”

Grugg didn’t engage. He was on edge. Although the Investigator had said it was only a chance that it might be Nightshade related, he could almost taste it. They had their time to settle, but fate was right around the corner. Ready to drag them through whatever trouble the organization could cook up. Hopefully goats. He licked his lips.

“Should be about… twenty more minutes of walking?” The wizard had turned away from the ratman—who had equally faced away—and was comparing the compass to the small map he had brought.

The cyclops just grunted and gestured them onwards. He wished that Claudia could have come along. Even Peony, too. The times spent apart were few and far between these days, unless a case required it. Once they had gotten the royal approval to act as Detectives, they had been almost inseparable. Still, he was sure he wouldn’t have been such an embarrassment, and should have been chosen to help the goliath.

He could behave, sometimes.

----------------------------------------

“Want to make a bet?” The Investigator raised an eyebrow as she adjusted her round glasses.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“Ugh.” Claudia pulled a face. “That feels like we are inviting trouble on the guys.”

Peony’s office was pretty much as she had expected it to be. Very tightly organized. Sharp edges, monochrome decor. Despite her love of hanging around the Private Eyes, she seemed to be very efficient at her job.

“You’ve known Grugg long enough. Trouble will be working overtime to get in their way, whether we wish it or not.” A wry smile went up the pale face of the Investigator.

“True. What’s the bet on then? How many people they murder?”

“No!” Peony grimaced. “Why do you always think of murder first, Claudia?”

The clothesmaker opened and closed her mouth a couple times, before giving up on gathering an answer. “What then?”

“Whether it’s the Nightshade or not, of course.”

Claudia tilted her head to the side and looked around the walls. They had come here in search of the criminal organization, and found absolutely nothing so far. It was strange, in comparison to how out in the open they were in Helpart. Grugg had practically tripped over one mob boss into another in search of answers.

But the Investigator wouldn’t send all three out on something that didn’t really sound like it was in their wheelhouse. Especially those three. They were a tidal wave, not precision tools without either her or Peony to help guide them. Perhaps that wasn’t really giving them much credit.

In all honesty, as cliche as it sounded in her head, there was a storm brewing.

----------------------------------------

“Gloomy,” Grugg noted, looking out around them.

Despite there not being much in terms of canopy, the light of the day had sunk away.

Bart held up his hand. “I don’t think this is due to magical means.”

“Could you tell?” Gregor murmured from behind them.

The cyclops growled. “Will crush both heads if don’t play nice.” He leveled a large finger toward the ratman before moving it across to the wizard. “Play nice.”

They both nodded in response, looking sheepish at having to be admonished by the larger detective.

In silence, they continued on their trek, only mildly grumbling at the terrain or the Investigator for sending them on such a journey. Grugg thought they should have just taken the stagecoach all the way into the small village. If they were kidnapping people, then imagine the surprise in seeing the cyclops burst out, Thud in tow.

Even now, the closer they got to the target, it was as if the atmosphere was warning them of something untoward. The air had a damp mistiness to it that clung to their clothing, and it had gotten even darker still despite how little time they had been walking. Gregor triple checked his watch to confirm, but it was definitely still morning.

“Something foul afoot,” Grugg said in a low tone. Whether it was Nightshade or not didn’t seem to matter now. He wouldn’t go as far as to say it was evil, but there would be no surprise in his large eye if it were the case.

“Hopefully not a trap,” the wizard agreed. He had been tempted to bring out a lantern, but they had decided not to draw more attention to themselves past how odd a trio they were.

Gregor was silent, but kept his glare around the fogged horizon. Occasionally, he sniffed at the air as his tail waved around.

Before long, as the miserable environment finally damped their spirits, the looming shadows of structures emerged from the fog, pinpricks of light amongst them like sinister eyes. It was enough to cause them to stop in their tracks.

“Hmm,” Grugg grunted and scratched at his chin. Their plan was always just to walk straight into the village and see what was up. Now that the whole area was layered in spookiness, they weren’t so keen on wandering into the unknown. “What if it has ghosts?”

Bart tried to wipe the condensation from his beard. “We have a couple of spell scrolls that could damage them, I suppose.”

“What if it’s cannibals?” Gregor asked, his arms crossed.

“Better hope they got no cannons,” the cyclops nodded sagely. Why the ratman thought the village was full of cannon balls was a mystery to him. Perhaps his Deputy just liked to lose bets.

“Well, we don’t have much choice either way. Think positive.” The wizard grimaced and adjusted his belt so that his dagger was easier to reach. While he had a decent amount of practice with it against Unhappy, he was still a little green when it came to using it on temporarily alive targets. But he had to kill to get new shapeshifts.

“Positive they better have some food.” Grugg patted his stomach and then continued forward. They had packed enough rations to survive, but nowhere near the amount the cyclops would need if given the chance.

As the shapes of the structures drew closer, more details were able to be made out. Single-story houses, made of the drab wood of the surrounding forest. Pale lanterns on posts around the pathways between them. No sign of life.

“Some gathered people at a larger building near the back, ser Grugg.”

They turned to see the ratman walking slowly and cautiously behind them, his normally crimson eyes now pitch black as he held a sphere of obsidian in his hands. His Magic Eye artefact allowed him to project his vision around like a ghost, and he had decided to scout ahead now that they were close enough.

“Fightin’ or feastin’?” Grugg narrowed his eye. He was pretty sure there was another word in that saying, but Claudia had bent the ear of the thug who has said it during that case.

“Talking, mostly. They don’t seem aggressive… nor particularly elated.”

Bart nervously drummed his fingers at his side. “Well, they’re about to have a bit of a surprise. Hopefully, they’ll be the latter rather than the former.”

“Be former people if mess with Grugg,” the cyclops said as he shook his head. He was yet to find a human that could humble him. Even with magic, he had always come up on top. Usually on top of their broken bodies.

“Maybe I’ll do the talking to start with?” the wizard asked diplomatically. Although the ratman had his eyes elsewhere, he actually nodded in agreement.

“Okay.”

While Grugg had his qualities, and was certainly charming in his own way, his usual way of dealing with problems historically usually involved threats of violence. He sighed and rubbed his bare head. Better that Bart make friends rather than they ended up outcasts in this miserable, muddy place for the whole investigation.

They stepped in between two of the buildings, having found one of the pathways that relieved them of having to slop through the muck and dead leaves. It was made of damp wood, and Grugg was sure he was possibly sinking them deeper into the ground as he stepped across each, but he chose to ignore it.

“Who goes there?”

From their right, a man with a long gray beard that rivaled Bart’s own sat in a worn down rocking chair.

“We are lost in the area and seek a night to stay.” Bart smiled, opting to delay the truth in case suspicions arose before they had a chance to get their teeth into the mystery.

“Bull!” The man grimaced. “You’re the cause of all this!”