Harold stopped mid-rant as the shadow of the cyclops's hand loomed over him, the fury of his words faltering as fear and confusion washed over him. There was a brief pause before the sour expression returned to his wrinkled face. Grugg stood with hand outstretched, palm facing the old man, with his head lowered.
“Grugg is sorry for last time Grugg here.”
Harold shrugged and was about to launch into another tirade when he noticed all the people around them. They watched, waiting with bated breath to see what his next action would be. Now, Harold was no stranger to having an unkind reputation, somewhat of a prickly person to deal with. Even he could admit to that. However, he was a man that valued gumption and the apology had been made in earnest. He couldn't fault the cyclops that, even with the resentment he had.
“Fine. You've earned a short reprieve. I expect you to come by the stables and help with some jobs I have though. To properly make amends.” He folded his arms with a crooked, wry smile.
“Okay.”
[What an insufferable old fool. I guess if necessary, we will have to help to maintain good graces in the town. Nicely handled, though, Grugg.]
He didn't feel it was nicely handled. In fact, he was only a few moments away from popping the man's head off of his body, had the thoughts of the investigation not cooled his temper in the last seconds before. Giving out apologies was not something often extended to those past Thud. If you include the wizard, then humans were skewing that average, and it had only been a couple of days. Perhaps someone would owe him an apology soon and make it even.
“Good, you know where to find me. And don't skip town on me neither!” Harold gave a curt nod, with the wag of an accusatory finger, and then promptly spun about and stalked off as he glared at the gawking townspeople.
Seemingly satisfied and the drama over, the grouped onlookers slowly started to filter away back to their own business. Grugg just sighed and again took the path towards the Inn. He tried thinking back to all those years ago to recall if any other people may have a bone to pick with him. Most likely. It was easy enough to aggrieve people just by being different, cumbersome, and clumsy. Of course, he did have fewer wits about him back then too, but then again, maybe the intelligent magical hat was beginning to rub off on him.
[Here, just on this side of the street - look, there’s the sign.]
Indeed, hanging from a pole was a metal sign of a goat wearing a hat, with the text Wise Goat Inn painted in white across the bottom. Grugg grinned, despite his nerves, for he too was a wise goat. The building itself was mostly of wooden construction; around the slanted planks the oak framing looked worn but well-made. At the foundation was a gray slate stone that ran up to the large bay windows taking up most of the first-floor level. Somebody had taken the time to paint the detailing in a modest black around the framings of the windows and doors. By all accounts, it was most likely one of the town's nicer inn/tavern establishments. However, the most attractive thing about the design, he felt, was the doorway itself was double-wide. It at least meant that he would be able to enter the building.
“Okay, now what?”
[So, I am under the assumption that my death is probably widely known. But, if our tall gothic friend has been asking around then the likelihood is double. Just follow what I tell you again, and I think I can get us in.]
“Sounds good, Bart. I will copy.”
----------------------------------------
The doors of the Inn creaked as they opened wide, allowing the cyclops entrance. The interior of the building was a lot smaller than he had expected. Four tables sat in a row by the windows, each with a handful of wooden stools strewn amidst. Across from the doorway, a tall man stood behind the countertop of a bar. Nobody else was present, and even with Grugg’s limited knowledge of human civilisation and customs, that seemed a little odd. If there was one thing he knew about the short valley folk, it was that they did enjoy their alcohol. He approached the man, who eyed him up, brimming with suspicion.
“Hello… Jacob,” the cyclops began, with a slight pause as he waited for information to flow in from the wizard.
“What can I do for you …sir? How’d my name come to grace your lips?” He was slender, wearing a leather jerkin over a blue blouse. An attempt at growing a beard hung ashamedly from his chin, and whilst the innkeeper was apprehensive about the appearance of Grugg, he was not hostile.
“I am from estate of… the bee-raaud estate, to collect his posses-pos, his belongings.”
“Oh, you must mean that Béraud chap. I heard about the wizard’s passing. Shame; he had paid for a week's stay here already. Sorry for the loss.”
“Is okay. Sometimes feels like he is right here.” Grugg tapped the hat with a thick finger and couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face.
[Grugg!]
If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Er, okay. He did have a hat like that, as I remember. But you’ll be needing to prove that you are connected to him,” the suspicious squint from the innkeeper continued. “I’ll not be handing anything over to anyone who claims to know the lad; I already had some woman try to twist some information out of me.”
Grugg bit his tongue to avoid blurting anything further out. He would need to learn to keep some secrets if he was going to make it as an investigator. If he let slip that they had also met the Lady, it might do more to damage their credibility, just in case the innkeeper thought they were in league with each other.
“He left ‘safety box’ with you, yes? Has inscription underneath.”
“Oh, he did; let me check.” Jacob leaned back behind the bar to a cupboard and pulled out a small black box with golden flowers embossed around the edges. Tilting it away from himself, he nodded. “What does it say, then?”
[Al-Vinctu Desi Lanth-uiné.]
“Uhh,” the cyclops began, his eye widening and beads of sweat forming on his round head. “Is some fancy text… Alvinn Desilath Ween. Grugg no good with words.” He shrugged in simple resignation.
“Don’t blame ya. He did seem like the fancy-word-using type. You must know him. I don’t see a reason why you would have an inkling that close otherwise. Here.” The innkeeper handed the box over to Grugg, who took it gently in his large hand. “I’ll have the rest of his things brought to you.”
“Could we still have the room?” If it was already paid for, that would save them a lot of hassle in having to find another source of accommodation, who may just turn them away due to the whole cyclops thing.
“We?”
“Uh, Grugg and the things.” Grugg stared blankly at the innkeeper.
“…Sure. It is paid up for the week, and we don’t exactly have a waiting list. You’ll have to move to a different room, as our stairs wouldn’t accommodate your size. As luck would have it, we do have an Ogre-sized room that would be more to your liking.”
“Sounds okay to Grugg.”
“Fantastic, Mr. Grugg. The room is around the back of the building; I will get our help to transfer your things. Gregor! … Gregor! Seven hells, where is that damn… oh, there you are.” A disheveled male ratman appeared from a back door around the side of the bar, wearing a gray tunic that was slightly too small, so tufts of his white fur poked out from between the gaps. His long tail was wrapped around his waist like a belt. Despite his grubby state, he did not appear to be that old. At least to Grugg, who had never seen a rat folk before.
“Sorry, ser Jacob,” Gregor half-bowed in apology, “I was arranging some… things.”
“Could you please move any items of personal nature from room three down to the garden building for our guest here?”
Gregor looked up at Grugg. “You’re a big one, ser. Eye thing is a bit weird, but the hat is nice.” The ratman nodded whilst looking up and down before catching Jacob glaring red hot daggers into his side. “Right, I’m on that.” With another half bow, he backed out of the room towards the staircase.
“I apologize, Gregor is from one of the more disadvantaged ratfolk dens southeast of here, and his manners are a little on the rough side. As is his work ethic.” The innkeeper sighed as the sound of clunking and clumsy footsteps began in one of the rooms above them.
Although Grugg had never seen someone like Gregor, he was no stranger to some similar ancestries. The goatmen of the mountain he had regular, if brief, contact with. Back when he lived with his tribe, they had frequent trade with some centaurs and some less than cordial interactions with gnolls. Something about this small furry ratman was both endearing and terrifying to the cyclops.
[We should go to our room now, it has been a long day, and we will need to check all my belongings are still present.]
“Thank you,” Grugg bowed to the innkeeper, “Going to room now.”
“I wish you a good rest. Kitchen is closed for the evening, but we will serve breakfast come morning.”
Now that sounded good. Grugg’s mouth was practically watering just at the mention of cooked food. He turned and left the Inn, circling round the side of the building until the alley opened up to the garden at the back. It was a simple grassed area, with some flower patches around the borders and a couple of wooden benches dotted around. A handful of trees from a park beyond the fencing of the Inn’s boundary hung over the edges, providing shade from the setting sun. On one side of this garden, a small barn-like building sat. The door size indicated that it was most likely the room they sought.
[Well, let’s see what we are dealing with. I suppose it doesn’t really matter to me since I can’t sleep properly anyway and can’t move from your head…]
The wide door of the barn surprisingly did not creak when pushed open, somewhat at odds with what Grugg had come to expect from wooden entryways so far. Although relatively spacious, the majority of the room was taken up by a low bed—a sturdy, thick oaken frame covered with an amount of hay and leather to substitute for a mattress. Two crates sat on either side of the bed, one with an open top, presumably for storing things in. A small lantern had been placed on the closed second one.
[Looks like a bit of a fire hazard to me. No offence.]
The cyclops shrugged. He didn’t care much for the light anyway, and the room had a few open slats near the top of the walls that let in enough of the dying daylight to suit him. He sat on the edge of the bed, which did allow itself a groaning creak underneath his weight.
“Not quite cave, but it will do.” It was definitely more comfortable than his excuse for a bed at home; perhaps he would have to learn some carpentry whilst here. Or buy a bed.
[It would be best to rest for tonight; we can explore the town further and get started on our investigation tomorrow in the early hours.]
“Good idea; Grugg has some places he wants to go as well.”
[I’m sure we will have plenty of time for everything after breakfast.]
“Oh yeah! I hope they have-”
“Who are you talking to?” The accented voice came from the doorway, cutting him off mid-sentence. Two red eyes beamed from a darkened silhouette as the figure slowly crept in.