Bart rubbed at his tired eyes. “There’s not meant to be a village or anything this close to the other, as far as I’m aware.”
Gregor shrugged. “Whether or not there is meant to be, there clearly is right now.” It was like how he wasn’t meant to take things he needed—stealing, apparently—yet that had never stopped him.
The cyclops was still in a frenzy, pulping the hordes of undead. Their numbers seemed to be thinning now, however. As the dark shapes of the apparent buildings became clearer, the groups of undead weren’t as dense, and soon enough, there started to be gaps in their patterns that grew wider.
Eventually, as his swings slowed at the fewer opponents, Grugg started to run out of steam. The powerful glow from his eye dimmed, and any anger hissed away. Crushing the last of the dead beneath Thud, he dropped the club to the floor and put his hands on his knees, breathing heavily.
“Grugg lost temper,” he said, turning a sheepish grin toward the pair behind him.
“You certainly know how to solve a problem,” Bart said, diplomatically. Casting a glance back down the road, it was now absolutely covered with rotting bodies in various parts. There must have been over a hundred, easily.
“Now we are just left with questions, ser Hat.” Gregor crossed his arms and glared at the handful of buildings in view. “And a prime location to search for answers.”
“Grugg glad stopped being angry before broke buildings too.” He sighed and stretched his back out. “Also very hungry.”
“We have some food,” the wizard gestured towards the backpack the ratman was now wearing. “Unfortunately, not a lot - I know you’re probably ravenous, but it was meant to be for the road home rather than an extended… investigation.”
With a grunt, the cyclops walked over to Gregor, hands out expectantly for any morsel they did have. The guards had brought snacks, as requested, but it barely made a dent.
“Pretty sure you should have washed your hands first,” Bart added, watching him tip all the food straight into his open maw.
“Why?” Grugg munched the food. “Didn’t touch it.”
“You are covered in corpse filth. What would Claudia say?”
The cyclops went to say something, but paused. He considered this question and grunted. She probably would have some stern words about not catching diseases or becoming a zombie himself. They had learned early on that it was good to stay on the clothesmaker’s good side. There were stronger things than physical power in this world.
With a shrug, he’d have to consider that enough of a meal for now. Buildings sometimes had food in them, so with a little concussive persuasion, he might be able to get a little nourishment for his complaining stomach.
“Eyes ahead then,” the wizard said, narrowing his own toward the structures. “Just because the undead are put to rest, doesn’t mean there isn't something worse.”
For a change, neither of the others had any quip to remark on what could be worse. Once again stuck in the middle of nowhere, there was an unsaid agreement to get the job done as soon as possible so that they could return home. Sometimes, being serious was the right play.
They fell in to step with each other, to approach the closest building. As the mist resceded, they could see the footprints through the dirt. The dozens upon dozens of zombies definitely clamored from this location.
Bart held his arm out, and Gregor held it with a clawed hand, while the other palmed at his magic orb. His crimson eyes faded to pitch black as the invisible seeing-eye floated ahead of them and into this unknown village.
“Appears deserted,” he murmured. “Four buildings. One of them is smaller and sturdier, whereas most look cobbled together.”
“No signs of life?” Bart asked.
“Or food?” Grugg added.
The ratman exhaled slowly through his nose and was silent for a few footsteps. “No,” he eventually said. “All doors are open except for the smaller building. Windows are barred and dark within, ser Bart.” He released his grip on the wizard and returned to his own sight.
Bart nodded. “If we are to assume that the buildings housed all the undead, then the defensible building that is closed is probably the office or place the living agents worked.”
“A leap,” Gregor agreed, “but a reasonable guess.”
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The cyclops grunted and turned his head back to them. “Grugg think best place to look first.” Not only because that was the most likely place they’d find food, of course. It sounded like a prime location for clues.
With little more than nods of agreement, the trio stepped up beside the first building and walked along its edge to greet the center of the constructed warehouses - for that is what they looked like up close. Dull boxes of rough material hastily put together. Enough to keep the undead in one place. But for how long had this been here, unseen within the fog?
The mud here was turned and soft, hundreds of footsteps and the odd bit of discarded rotting flesh now causing the area to be mulched. Each of them eyed up the darkened larger structures as they made their way to the smaller building. Not only were the windows barred, but the door was too - a hefty lock visibly hanging from the front.
“Normally Grugg make his own door,” the cyclops offered, “but might ruin tasty… clues.”
Bart was about to agree, and suggest that the ratman could probably pick the lock, when he paused - something wasn’t right. Before he had the chance to vocalize this, fire bloomed out across the small building, an inferno that spread unnaturally quick over the whole structure.
Grugg was off before they had a chance to make a plan. He didn’t want any potential food to burn up in there. Winding up his arm, he swept Thud around into the front of the building, completely shattering the supports and collapsing the wall. Thankfully, the roof fell inward rather than toward him, but he powered forward. Nearly lifting the whole thing from the ground, he tipped the burning debris clean over.
Bart and Gregor slid up beside him to grab at anything on the inside that looked useful.
Thanks to the quick actions of the Detective, most of the desks and draws hadn’t had the time to catch alight. The back of the building seemed to be where the blaze had started from, and a writing desk had taken the brunt of the fire damage. Stepping across the ashes and splinters of the previous house, Grugg leveled a punch into it - bursting it into parts like a pinata.
“No food,” he said, a glum grimace across his face.
“We got here just in time.” Bart wiped the sweat from his brow and glanced around at the warehouses surrounding them. “Clearly, they set off a spell or mechanism to destroy the evidence once the zombies were found out.”
“Probably didn’t expect someone as proficient as ser Grugg to deal with them,” Gregor agreed. His tail lashed back and forth as he thumbed through a recovered journal.
Grugg narrowed his eye to the horizon, as if expecting to catch the perpetrators fleeing. The mist made it difficult to see past the trees. He shrugged, his mind already moved on from that train of thought. If anything, this all made sense.
Most of their wins against Nightshade were because he and his group were the right people in the right place at the right time. Or maybe some of those should be ‘wrongs’? Either way, they had the bad habit of stumbling through the criminal organization and usurping the best laid plans just by being themselves.
Gregor tapped at the book. “Says here, ser Hat, that your father is the one running this operation.”
The wizard narrowed his eyes. “Oh, you mean the wolfman’s father? Looks like we have the first lead for our investigation board, then.”
“What else it say, Gregor?” The cyclops shuffled back and forth. Not that he wasn’t keen to fill his head with clues, and get some exposition on what was even going on… but the sooner they could wrap up, the sooner he could get home and fill his stomach.
Bart could see what was going on, and with a nod, started to cast his Message spell.
Better than standing around for an hour or two going through all that they could recover - getting a stagecoach out here so that they could load all the evidence for transport seemed like the most sensible thing to do.
With a snap, Gregor closed the journal, a sour look across bared fangs. “We are going to have a problem, sers.”
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“What is it?” Claudia furrowed her brow in seeing the pained expression on the Investigators pale face.
“Another message from Barthelemy.” Peony exhaled through her nose and looked around the restaurant to get the attention of a waiter. “Best we wrap things up. Duty never ceases.”
“Are they all okay?”
“Of course. They found a storehouse full of clues and need picking up.”
Claudia smiled. Even though she had no doubt they could handle themselves against a few walking corpses, it always paid to be apprehensive about anything they go up to on their own. That said, however, they seemed to have done well enough without the guidance of Peony or herself. She watched the Investigator pay their bill and then start gathering her things.
The clothesmaker stood and brushed her outfit down. It had been a pleasant meal - and despite the dull meetings taking up most of the day, she had enjoyed her time spent with Peony.
“Care to shadow me a little longer, Claudia?” The Investigator brought out a stone to call up the local Guard. “Some fresh country air might help our meal settle.”
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“Grugg going to eat so much back home.” The cyclops rubbed his stomach, now sitting in the midst of the collapsed house. Gregor had gone and checked out the warehouses and could confirm that they were now empty.
The ratman huffed as he walked back over from the third one. “All the same.” He crossed his arms and glared into the mist. “Definite signs that they were used to hold the undead, but little else of note. What do you think, ser Hat?”
Bart had fully withdrawn to have his nose deep in the journal as soon as the Deputy had handed it over. They had a lot riding on the hope the fire would destroy this evidence, and it didn’t paint a pretty picture. Definitely not something they would want to be caught possessing… but strange that they’d give up on everything within - unless it was copied to a different location. That might be the odd magic energy to the book. A replicating ink that-
“Ser Hat?”
The wizard looked up, confusion over his face. “If the Guard truly had no idea of any of this, then things are a lot worse than we had imagined.”
Grugg grunted. While he didn’t share the pessimistic attitude of the shapeshifter, he allowed the thoughts of food to sink away from his mind. What the ratman had said… the words repeated clearly in his mind and grounded his usual flair. Nothing like the petty or ham-fisted attempts of Helpart’s gang. The criminals here didn’t just want to dig up old artefacts.
Nightshade were planning to siege and eradicate Galeden from the map.