By the time Grugg left the Metal Mule, he was thoroughly soaked from the rain. He had put the two knuckle dusters in his sack with the money pouch, and they made a distracting grinding noise against each other as he walked. Thankfully, it was not a great distance across the sodden ground before his next stop; he assumed. There was an odd dry patch on top of his head where the wizard’s hat sat. Despite it being pretty soaked from the continual rain, it seemed to be somewhat water resistant.
The wizard still was quiet. More than a little worried, his brain had a flash of panic - what if the wizard was no longer in the hat? Grugg didn’t know how the magic that kept Bart there worked. What if the spell had run out, and the wizard was lost to the afterlife, or even if he had found a way to project himself to a different object or place? The thought of being alone in his head again felt strange; he had gotten used to sharing the space. His thoughts raced erratically over the possibilities as he trudged across the quiet, rain-swept streets.
[You did okay in there, Grugg, well done.]
He jumped in shock at the sound of the voice, almost lashing his arms out at an imaginary presence.
[Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you - it had been a while, and I didn’t want you to think I’d disappeared. Casting spells like this takes a lot of my mental capacity, although I have no corporeal form to show the fatigue.]
“Grugg wasn’t worried,” a slight mistruth to deflect away from his jumpiness. “Managed to get more work, though.”
[It’ll be fine; it will probably work out in our favor - you don't mind getting your fists a bit dirty in exchange for a free service on Thud, right?]
“True. Grugg wanted to punch the crime people already, getting stuff for doing it even better.” He shrugged as the rain beat down on his bare chest. “Bart, Gruss is sorry for not listen to your story.”
[Don’t worry, my friend. I tend to ramble on, especially about the past. And about magic. It had the desired effect; look at where we are. No, I mean - look at where we are. This must be the clothing place.]
Grugg stopped and looked up at the building. He hadn’t been paying a great deal of attention; between the waves of water droplets being blown into his face and the grinding of the knuckle dusters, it was hard to concentrate. But the wizard was correct. Here, in the backlit windows, there were a handful of different garments. Shirts and blouses on little wooden mannequins, folded trousers and other assorted fabric items in neat piles. The sign simply said Threads, with a picture of a small spool and needle. That was disappointing. He had half hoped it would be called animal related.
[They should have called it something animal related, like Clothes Horse.]
The cyclops laughed to himself. He didn’t track the reference, but it still sounded amusing to him. Much better than Threads. A horse in a fancy suit trotted through his imagination. With a wide grin, he pushed through the doorway into the shop, which was a slight struggle as it wasn’t quite built for a person of his size. A small bell rang over the door upon entry.
“Good morning!” A voice rang out melodically from a doorway behind the main counter. “I’ll be right out.”
Grugg took a moment to look around the place's interior whilst he waited. It wasn’t a particularly large shop; the walls were lined with shelves, and there were tables around the perimeter of the room. All available space was filled with either folded clothing or stands displaying one garment or another. They were all pretty small, for him at least. Clothing had always been the least of his worries - as long as he had something to cover his modesty, that was all he needed.
“Sorry for the wait - ah.”
He turned to face the counter as the proprietor of the shop emerged. A tall, human woman wearing a flowing multi-colored dress on her thin frame. Her frizzy auburn hair was like a lion’s mane, or to Grugg, like one of those fancy bearded mountain goats. Just a bit curlier. She looked a bit startled, but then again, it was not that uncommon for people to have that reaction to seeing the cyclops.
“Good morning,” Grugg offered, with his best attempt at politeness - he was getting used to this social stuff. He resisted the urge to bow, however, if only because he might accidentally headbutt one of the two simple chandeliers lighting the room by candle.
“Mountain’s greetings to you, great-one.” She cleared her throat with a sheepish smile. This time it was Grugg's turn to look a bit shocked. It was very unusual for a human to speak Giant.
“Great Mountain’s blessings to you, she-who-weaves.” There wasn’t a proper word for seamstress or haberdasher in Giant, as clothing was just whatever could cover their body with the least amount of hassle. They-who-weave was more of a prestigious title given to the few cyclops in the tribe that would be in charge of making the ceremonial style apparel that the leaders or elders would wear. The woman must have recognized the importance of the term, as her pale face flushed pink slightly.
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“It has been a while since I’ve had to use Giant; excuse my pronunciation. My name’s Claudia.”
“Grugg. Sounded good.” In truth, Giant had more of a loud, guttural outburst to it - given the nature of those who spoke it. So, although Claudia had said all the right words, it had almost been like she was whispering.
“So, how may I help you today, Mr. Grugg?” With her soft smile, she definitely seemed more relaxed about his presence. It stood to reason that if she could speak Giant, then she had some previous experience around his ilk.
The cyclops pointed to his primarily bare and somewhat rain-covered body. “Need some clothes to make Grugg look more, uh - so that I don’t stand out.”
“Let me see what I can do.” She twirled on the spot and exited back through the door, her footsteps audibly going up some wooden stairs.
Grugg yawned and stretched out his arms. The scar across his hand had fully healed now, as had the other wounds he had been inflicted up in the mountain. It was certainly impressive what the wizard was able to-
Movement caught his idle eye, and he turned to see a dark shape flash past the window. He ran up to the window, almost tripping on the wooden legs of one of the small tables before catching himself against the window frame. Peering out, he saw nothing untoward. Other than the rain, of course. The street was empty, and whatever figure had been peering in at him had moved on. Or it could have just been someone just passing by. He shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
The footsteps returned as Claudia made her way back downstairs, and the cyclops moved away from the window to see what she had come back with. She carried quite a handful of garments emerging from the doorway, dropping them onto the counter in a huff. She smiled and brushed one of her curls from her face.
“These should do you better than your current… attire. Some simple trousers, a shirt, and a waistcoat. Not rainproof and won’t be a perfect fit, but you won’t find anywhere else able to get you something better off the shelf.”
Grugg nodded and waited. He was half expecting some kind of job offer or task that needed to be completed. There was also the fact that he wasn’t looking forward to wearing any type of outfit. It would be stifling and uncomfortable after having lived his life mainly with the bare minimum of clothing. Claudia seemed to take his silence as a prompt to spill her own story.
“I don’t usually make clothing in this size either, in fairness. However, a few years ago, I met an injured ogre in the woods - his name was Jack. He had amnesia, but he started to remember bits of his past over time. So I helped him out with Common and learned some Giant from him.”
“What happened to Jack?”
“Oh, he had to leave eventually.” The clothesmaker looked away, down at the counter. “He remembered something important that he had to attend to. That was about six months ago.” She was silent for a few moments before looking back at the cyclops. “Can I ask you what your plans are for your visit to the town, Mr. Grugg?”
“Solving a murder mystery. Maybe some other crimes if come across any.” He fully intended to do more than just find out who killed the wizard’s brother. Hopefully, that mystery would take a while and give him more opportunity to do some side-investigating.
“Wow, that is impressive!” Claudia looked genuinely taken aback, her pale green eyes now with an excited shine to them. “In that case, I may have something even better for you to wear, although I will have to make some adjustments so that it is a better fit… If I may?” She unfurled some form of fabric measuring strip from a cubby under the counter.
Grugg nodded, grunted in acceptance, and stood like a statue as the woman darted around him, wrapping the measuring tape around and across various parts of his torso and arms. Occasionally jotting down notes on a slate on the counter, she eventually finished the process and gave Grugg a warm smile.
“That should do. It will take me a couple of days to make the necessary adjustments. Will you pop back then?”
“Er, of course.” He relaxed from his statuesque pose and scratched his chin. “How much will this be?”
“For you, Mr. Grugg… it’ll be two gold for these basic clothes, plus adjustments to a more fitting outfit - you can pay on collection to make sure if it’s to your liking.” Claudia held the measurement slate to her chest and bit her lip, awaiting the cyclops's response.
“Okay.” He was pretty sure the money bag the wizard gave him had more than two coins in it, and he had no further metric upon which to gauge the value of things. In his tribe, the bartering of goods and services was more common than using the national form of currency. Of course, it was handy to have some around if you ever needed to trade with the local town or village, but he personally had no idea how much a gold coin was worth.
“Fantastic! In which case, I look forward to seeing you soon. Mountain watch over you.”
Grugg smiled, causing the woman’s face to flush again. “Mountain watch over you.” He awkwardly stuck the clothes into his sack and, with a nod, turned to leave the shop. For some reason, he felt a lot better about this social interaction and had barely missed the imposing interjections of the wizard. Perhaps he was learning after all, or with practice comes something something. He was sure Bart had some clever phrase about it, but it had not sunk in.
The bell of the door gave a little chime overhead as he stepped out into the street. It was still wet, the gray clouds overhead seemingly unending as they blocked the daylight from shining through. He went to turn and head to somewhere else with shelter and food when to his right - a figure was standing in the middle of the path.
“You are being followed,” a rain-drenched Gregor hissed, arms folded and foot tapping on the wet cobblestone.