Grugg grunted as he looked back at the gathered villagers. “Lady food must be very good.”
Bart didn’t seem inclined to agree, and was weighing up their options. Something that didn’t involve the cyclops turning everyone into pulp. The mud was bad enough.
From the group, the man who had stood atop the stage stepped forward. An almost-grin crossed his face, but his gave away that he was probably not as pleased as he was trying to show. “Apologies for crowding you… gentlemen. We have just not seen your kind before.”
This didn’t surprise the Detective much. While most towns—and especially cities—would have seen ogres before, a cyclops was a rarity. Much more tribal and secluded. Grugg noted that none of the people seemed to be armed. Not even a knife on their belts. It was unlikely they’d try to beat the pair of them to death. Not impossible, of course - he had met plenty of people who needed a few broken limbs to get their common sense back.
“Now you have,” he grunted in return. He was starting to believe the food might not be worth the wait.
“Although one of you is missing?” The man licked his lips as his eyes prodded at their surroundings.
Bart shuffled awkwardly. “Call of the wild. Small bladder. Small and weak.” Despite having no form of detection, the wizard was almost certain he could feel the red eyes of the ratman burning into him from somewhere.
“That’s…” the man rubbed at the back of his neck. “My name is Jack. It is an honor to have you visit our village, Detectives.”
Grugg puffed himself out, his badge on clear display on his jacket. “Total coincidence Grugg is here. Not investigating.”
A spark, as the dry tinder beneath the cauldron burst into flame, made Bart jump. Sometimes he missed being stuck in the hat. Not just because of the exponentially growing magical power he was accumulating, but it was nice to sit back and not feel like he was physically in danger. Guiding the cyclops was a lot easier through telepathy, too.
His eyes went back across the group, standing and observing them. Drab, almost ghostly in appearance. Matching the fog and overcast sky. Appearances aside, he noted there were no children. Most people seemed to be in their thirties and up, and their clothes were of a casual nature. No uniforms or workwear for after the meeting.
“Barthelemy,” he eventually said, “and this is Grugg.”
“A pleasure.” Jack grinned again, but the rest of his face appeared appalled. “We could go sit and talk, if it suited you - or if you wanted to wait for your mole-creature to return?”
“He takes a while,” Bart blurted out before the cyclops got a word in. “Shy. Ah, we’ll come talk, sure.”
With an awkward nod, the man turned and gestured for them to follow as the crowd of villagers parted to make a path for them.
Grugg gave the cooking pot one last forlorn look as the woman started filling it with water. He hadn’t even seen where she had gotten it from. They had just told him to walk over here, and now they were walking back. To talk, of all things. This day was becoming exhausting, and they hadn’t even had a sniff of the actual mystery behind coming here.
“Hey, Jack. Where stagecoach?” He saw the wizard stiffen up in his peripheral, but the body language of the man possibly in charge of the village didn’t change.
“I already told you, Mr. Grugg. We don’t have any here on account of the mud.”
They reached the village square where all the benches were sitting, and he took a seat at one. Grugg and Bart followed suit, sitting a comfortable couple of rows away from him.
“How do you receive goods?” the wizard asked. “Trade and the like?”
“Oh, we are self-sufficient here.” The faux grin returned.
Bart frowned. That seemed unlikely. A single village in the middle of a muddy forest, covered in gloom? And it was meant to provide everything from lumber, to clothing, to meat and vegetables? Dairy? None of the people were dressed in furs or leathers, and he had not had a sight on a single animal since they left their stagecoach. Maybe they had a special diet? He looked up at the cyclops to gauge his take.
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Grugg was thinking about food too, but for different reasons. While he had not expected to be labored with a feast out here in the wilderness, he hadn’t eaten anything at all. Or punched any criminals. A good adventure must have both of these things in abundance. It was in Thud’s contract; he was sure. As the man and Bart grumbled on, his mind drifted to thoughts of his Deputy. Perhaps he was finding food and having a good time.
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Gregor was not having a good time.
He flexed his right hand, the lacerations across his pain radiating with sharp pain. Enough to draw plenty of blood, but nothing functionally damage. With his fangs clenched tight, he withdrew a bandage from a pouch on his belt and wrapped it.
The gray linen immediately soaked through with crimson, but at least it was covered. It’d have to make do until he could meet up with the wizard again. There had been no sounds of fighting, so the pair must be fine, still - although he was pretty sure the overgrown hat would use the opportunity to insult him. He glared at the wall, as if his bright red eyes could piece through the village and strike Bart.
He disliked the mud and the open space outside of the village. Disliked the village even more. It would have been nicer if Peony gave him leave of this case so he could pursue his own matters in Galeden, but perhaps he could bail the other two out at some point. It was his job, and one of the things he enjoyed. And secretly, he took pride in the things he enjoyed.
The pain flared up in his hand as he tried to grip at his whip. Nothing he couldn’t live through in a pinch. While the villagers had seemed weak and unarmed, he knew better than to trust appearances. Grugg would find a way to get in trouble and the useless wizard wouldn’t be able to do much except light candles and heal them up once the dust had settled.
Still, now on the outskirts of the village, he wasn’t much use to them even if they did get into a fight. The gloom of the woods seemed to be even darker behind him. A handful of trees before it became impenetrable to his gaze. Perhaps clues led in that direction. Often secrets liked to hide in shadows, just begging for him to come find them.
As he looked back up to the top of the walls of the large building, he had other things to address first. The darkness could wait.
Right now, he’d like to find out why they had built in broken glass shards around the top of the granary walls.
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“I find your line of questioning rather rude, Mr. Barthelemy.”
The wizard fought hard not to roll his eyes at the statement. While the man was amiable enough, it was clear he didn’t want to give them any sort of information that gave anything away. Everything was deflected away from or talked around. The question about why there were no children here had been the last straw.
Exasperated, he just gave a shrug and relented.
Grugg leaned forward, his eye widening as he got gradually closer to the man. “Did villagers eat children?”
“No! What? We just don’t have any.” The man shook his head. “Perhaps you’d best take your leave. You are clearly not of sound mind.” After chastising them, he looked around, perhaps trying to locate the avoidant ratman.
They were clearly wearing out their welcome. Grugg scratched at the back of his head as he sat back. No closer to finding anything out, other than things were very suspicious and the food wasn’t readily available. He caught movement out the side of his peripheral and turned to see nothing once more. It wasn’t Gregor sneaking about, but something was lurking where they couldn’t see.
It was irritating, and they wouldn’t want to see him in a bad mood.
“Jack,” he turned back to the man. “What is hiding in village?”
“I’ll answer no more questions from you.” Jack stood up and adjusted his clothing. “I suggest you take your leave before nightfall.” With that said, he walked away before the other two had a chance to respond.
Bart turned to see the crowd of villagers had dispersed, yet he couldn’t actually see any of them anywhere else. “I feel as though we are getting nowhere, but the fog is growing denser around us.”
“Grugg agree.” The cyclops stood again and stretched out. “Maybe start using hands to find answers. Also, find Gregor.”
“Perhaps two feet are better than four, then?” The wizard grinned.
Grugg gave him a nod in return, and then with a short shimmer of light illuminating his face, he leaned down to pick up the wizard’s hat. It was the perfect fit for his head, and brought familiar comfort when he donned it.
“Just don’t drop me in the mud, please.” The now hat-shaped Bart asked.
“No promises,” the grumbled reply came, a mischievous grin across the face of the cyclops.
Withdrawing Thud, Grugg tapped the steel-tipped weapon on one of the benches, activating the Moonchaser Orb embedded within.
A wave of white light flooded out across the surroundings, turning his singular eye white before it faded back to bright blue. He turned slowly, trying to find any objects that remained with an outline after the magic had dispersed.
He grunted. There wasn’t really anything.
“You weren’t thinking of goats again, were you?” The hat asked.
“No.” Grugg sighed and went to scratch the back of his head again, knocking the wizard’s hat off his head. “Oops.”
“Yes, it was much nicer when we were immutably attached. At least from my perspective.”
The cyclops leaned down to retrieve the wizard, and then frowned.
“Grugg can see object,” he murmured, very quietly.
Bart was silent, apprehensive over the hushed tone used.
Grugg stood back up straight, to affix the hat back to his head as he looked around the perimeter of the white outline.
Something below the village. Almost a circle of faint color deep below the dirt. He didn’t have the best depth perception, but it looked like it could be large. Almost like the giant skulls underneath Helpart, but different. Misshapen, like a puddle or pond of liquid. It faded away, leaving him with a brief afterimage that he blinked away.
“Found a clue,” he said, still quietly, before gulping.