The descent down the mountain was undoubtedly less arduous than trying to climb up the steep, rocky face the day before. It had not taken Grugg long to gather his things, for as few possessions that he had, most of them would have no use in the valley town. He had taken the extra time to wrap Thud in some leather. Not only to hide the magical Orb now fixed within, but also the less threatening he could appear, the better. Generally, most ancestries that stem from the Giant family aren’t welcome in civilized society - usually seen as monsters. In fairness, if you look at yeti, rock trolls, and Giants, they are often antagonistic or destructive towards those smaller than them.
Ogres were an exception to this, depending on the tribe or location they were from. It was uncommon, but some of the smarter ones would be hired as bodyguards or laborers. Cyclops were the cousins of the Ogres in that they had similar build and disposition. Still, they were much less likely to want to be a part of everyday society, instead preferring to stay in their own tribal villages near mountains or hilly plains. Other than having a singular eye, one of the main differences between the two is that Cyclops put less value on both money and taking orders from those smaller than them.
It was no surprise then that Grugg had that odd anxious feeling in his stomach again. It wasn’t that he was worried about getting into a fight, but he stood out a lot, and it might make things complicated to help the wizard with his investigation. The last time he was there, he wasn't very welcome. The destruction of the stables was only partially his fault, but he shouldered the blame. In his quest to get some of the delicious food cooked in the town, he had to earn some coin first, and one thing led to another and-
[Are you okay, Grugg? You've been quiet since we set out.]
He paused to take in his surroundings. The steep, rocky landscape sparsely populated with stubborn foliage has gradually given way to gentler slopes and great variety and coverage of all manner of greenery. It looked much nicer in spring, but now that they were getting to the lower part of the valley, the wide-stretching expanse of the horizon was now mostly dominated by the forest surrounding the town. In a way, it was claustrophobic to see such little of the world in comparison.
“Just bad stomach,” he lied, glancing back up the mountain briefly before setting back off down the lower mountain.
[Well, I have something that may help with that. As luck would have it, I've already paid upfront for a room at one of the inns there. It's called The Wise Goat. I have some supplies stored there that I didn't feel necessary to drag up a mountain.]
“Hmph. But can Grugg go in there?”
[It may be difficult, but I think there is a way. It could work out if we can establish that you and I were connected.]
The cyclops grunted but had nothing to add. Being in a town around people again was raining on his excitement at investigating the crimes. He tried to think about the positives. For one, the name of the Inn was pretty amusing. Although he doubted it, he secretly hoped that there were actual goats there. Finding out why Bart had been reported as poisoned was a close second on the important list. Indeed, if someone wanted the trail to go cold on the brother's death, they wouldn't raise suspicion of foul play on the investigating wizard. Best not to speculate. His imagination would convince him of reasons that had no basis in reality, and it wouldn't help to lead them down stubbornly wrong paths.
[Almost there now. I will admit that as much as the mountain is beautiful, I miss civilisation.]
The town of Helpart now lay but a half mile down slope from where they stood. It was getting into the late afternoon by Grugg's reckoning, and some torches or lanterns had already been lit amongst the streets and houses. As the sun retreated to the horizon, the dusk would bring out even more of the small amber light sources; he could usually spot the town easily at night due to the glow. He was not one for torches himself, often finding that it messed with his night vision too much to be worth it. Anything he needed light for, he would just do in the daytime. Fires were only made when it was time to cook some meat, which had become more of a rarity lately.
[When we get there, there will be a couple of guards at the main gates. Have you thought about what to say to them?]
“Erm, let Grugg in; Grugg needs to go to the goats?”
[You have the basics, but we will word it in a way that makes it sound like you aren’t about to plunder their livestock.]
“Shame.” Grugg idly clenched his fist, wishing that he could still carry his club instead of Thud being slung on his back.
[They will ask you some questions but I will tell you what to say; just follow my lead and repeat, okay?]
Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!
He nodded and continued down the now grassy hill towards their destination.
----------------------------------------
It was not long before part of the hill birthed a rough gravel pathway that led to the main road on this side of the town. There was still an amount of trepidation that slowed down their approach, but the comparatively smooth path helped to make up for it. At last, just before the crux of dusk, the town now stood before them. A wooden wall surrounded the town, with a large double gate at the end of the road. They were not too keen on uninvited guests, especially not from the direction of the mountain. Two guards sat at either side of the closed gate, light silver plate armor with dark green clothing - the standard Helpart colors. A torch blazed at the apex of the gate, casting a flickering amber glow across the scene. As Grugg approached, one of the guards stood up, carrying with him a halberd.
“Oi, who goes there? State your name and business.” There were some tangible nerves to this request; the guard himself looked on the younger side, although it was usually hard to tell for Grugg. Unless they had gray hair or a big beard, there wasn’t much difference to him.
[Okay, just repeat after me:]
Grugg stood like a statue, palms open and slightly away from his body. It was the least threatening he could look as the wizard filtered in the dialogue for him.
“My name is Grugg. I have an appointment.”
“Oh yeah? With who?” The possibly young man did not seem too convinced as of yet; despite the guarded tone, he wasn’t being overly aggressive.
“Edward Pendleton, works at the li-ber-ary.”
“Not sure I know of any-” the guard began before the second guard interjected.
“Ah, I know Edward,” the man stood up and continued as he walked over, “Doris had asked him about some old books she had lyin’ about from her old pops. He is new in town, but a good fella.” The older guard eyed up Grugg with curiosity. This one was definitely older; the gray mustache hung out from underneath his nose like a thatched roof of wire-like sticks. He was a slightly portly fellow and seemed more relaxed about the situation.
“Just have some questions for him, from a friend,” Grugg recited, the words forming in a stilted, awkward sentence as he tried to copy the wizard’s guidance verbatim.
“Okay…” The bristle-faced guard raised his helmet so that his beady eyes could get a better read of the large figure before him. “Ah, I remember you. Broke old Harold’s stables down. Heh, pretty funny if you ask me, that Harold is a prick.”
The younger guard rolled his eyes. “Jeras, you can’t say that.”
“Eh, he is, though. You’re too young to know… but that’s beside the point.” He turned again back to Grugg and folded his arms with an animated show of fake disdain. “Well, you’re not going to cause any problems this time, right? The questions you have for Edward aren’t going to involve crushing his little head, I hope?”
“Don’t think so.”
[Grugg! Wait for me to give you a response.]
“Well, good enough for me. Let him in lad.” The older guard raised his hand to cut off any protest from the younger. “But you best behave yourself in there, Grugg, was it? And try not to knock over the stables again.” A wink followed the request, but the subtlety went over the cyclops's head.
[Phew. Looks like we are in.]
Grugg just nodded to the guards as they moved to open the gate. He felt mentally exhausted already and hadn't even entered the town yet. The large wooden gates opened outwards with a creak, revealing the road continuing into Helpart itself, the buildings partly gray stone, partly oaken wood now looming in front of the pair. A handful of nearby townspeople going about their business stopped now to stare at the large figure now silhouetted against the opening.
[Well, this is slightly uncomfortable. And I'm just a hat. Let's focus on the task at hand; the first thing will be to get to the Inn. It's not too far from this entrance, thankfully. Straight ahead.]
He was now very self-conscious over every heavy, deliberate footstep and the familiar feeling of being over large compared to everything as he narrowly squeezed under the open gate. As memory served, he broke through part of the fencing on his relatively speedy exit from his last visit. If he could just ignore the whisperings and wide eyes of the other people there, he might be okay. Gradually he made his way along the road, the heavy gate closing behind him, casting a shadow across the path ahead of him.
[You’ll be okay, friend. They are more scared of you than you are of them.]
“Grugg not scared. Just… miss cave,” he murmured so that he wouldn’t be overheard. It was a half-truth; he would much rather be in his cave than here in the town. As he progressed down the road, building by building, he would get new stares and people commenting. Mostly he couldn’t hear them, partly thanks to the wizard going on at him, but he did catch the occasional word, and it seemed like a few people remembered him.
[And for the innkeeper, we will need a story for why you can have the room.]
Hmph. Too much to concentrate on, and his belly wasn’t full enough for it. The cyclops was fed up with humans enough for one day, even the wizard. At least until he could get some peace and a bit of rest. Still, Bart had said the Inn wasn’t so far awa-
“Oi,” a nasally voice came from behind. “You one-eye-having bastard! I’ve got a score to settle with yer.”
Turning to face this voice, it came from a short, gangly old man. His long scratchy white beard was halfway down his chest, his expression angry and like he had been sucking on lemons. The sheer ferocity blazing from his small dark eyes could only mean that this was one person; Harold Fersnich.
Grugg raised one large, meaty hand into the air.