Gregor winced as the voice echoed throughout the dilapidated tavern. “You wanted information, right? This seemed like a good place to get some.” He walked back over to their captured prize, giving the wizard’s hat a furrowed glare.
“You knew these men had connection to yeti boss?” Grugg asked, tying the last knot of the linen bandage around his forearm. It itched already.
“No, I’m not sure what yeti have to do with anything.”
[So he got us into a fight with some random thugs because they looked like they might have some information. I would be literally shaking if I had the capability; I am furious.]
Grugg shrugged and smiled. It was an okay fight; he didn’t really get to get much brawling in - but on the other hand, he probably shouldn’t be killing or maiming everyone he came across. Civilized lands tended to have a dim view of wanton murder, even for criminals of such obvious guilt. Looking at the tied-up man, he tried to imagine what an astute detective would ask to get helpful information.
The ratman pulled up a stool next to the restrained ‘Shadow of Helpart’ and leaned his chin on his hand. His fur had started to dry off now, but was fluffy and messy. “You know, they say that torture isn’t really effective for getting the correct information out of someone.” A thin sliver of a dagger was withdrawn from under his jacket by his tail, and he waggled it back and forth in the air at the man.
“Makes sense,” Frank spat, his eyes darting side to side in tandem with the knife. “Much more likely to just tell ya what you want to hear, so you’ll stop hurting me.”
“What do you think, ser Grugg?”
[I suppose now that we have him here, we might as well find out what he knows. But torture isn’t the way of a detective, my friend.]
The cyclops rubbed his chin and removed the knuckle duster to put it back in his sack. It had been a fun toy, but he secretly hoped they could fight something more substantial to use it on soon. Maybe both - although even better, would be to have the mended Thud by his side. The repair of his club circled his thoughts back to how it got damaged in the first place and where.
“Mr. Shadow. When did you last see Hakran?”
Frank licked his dry lips, sweat beading on his brow. Despite his prior insistence that he would give up no information and their agreement that torture was not an effective way of getting him to spill anything except his blood, he was not sure that they would stick to that. There was a chance that Reggie could return with backup…
“But, who is ser Hakran, as well?” Gregor added, rolling his beady eyes.
“Well, first off - why does your hat keep shouting at me?” the Shadow began, squirming against the uncomfortable bonds that kept him seated on the wooden seat. “Secondly, how do you know of Hakran? I thought he ran that mountain?”
Grugg leaned forward towards the man, pushing a large stubby finger against the captive’s chest, tilting the chair backwards at a slight angle. “Hat can do what Hat wants. Hakran had something Grugg wanted. Grugg also does what Grugg wants. Grugg wanted mountain. Is now Gruggs.”
Gregor sat and watched, still idly playing with the pointed dagger with his tail. His job was mostly done here, he felt. A source of information rooted out and secured. Now he was content to make sure the human didn’t try to do anything silly like escape. Plus, he wanted his whip back before he left.
“Curse that imbecile.” A brief flash of anger flickered through Frank’s eyes. “We shouldn’t have left him with that Orb. He was too easily swayed.”
“Yes. Now Grugg has Orb and Hakran’s head is on the wrong way.” The cyclops pushed the chair back a few more degrees, putting it close to unbalancing. “Does Frank like having head on right way?”
“Wrong side? Can help Frank be inside out.”
The man sat, teetering both physically and emotionally, unsure what to make of the very grave threats of the cyclops and the disembodied pleas of the wizard’s hat. If Hakran was indeed dead, maybe he could spill some beans here to save his own skin but blame the leak on the blasted yeti. Maybe the hat was right. Things weren’t entirely his fault, and he didn’t owe the boss a broken neck for his loyalty. The chair creaked as the legs slid inches across the floor.
“Okay, okay! Just don’t hurt me. Also, don’t tell anyone that I told you any of this.”
The cyclops withdrew his finger, and the chair lurched forward with a clunk, causing the man to yelp in surprise more than pain.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
[This is all on you now, Grugg. Sorry, I let my emotions get the better of me and overdid it with Voice. I need to regain mana, but I will listen in.]
“Gregor, do you have-” he began, taking a seat in front of Frank, but stopped as he saw the ratman withdrawing a notepad and pencil from his waist satchel. Grugg was impressed, but kept a stoic face in front of the detainee, just giving his assistant a slight nod instead.
“I met Hakran about six months back. He originally came to us seeking some help in ousting the previous yeti leader; he had some aspirations himself and wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. So we helped him, taught him how to militarize the other yeti, and that the Orb wasn’t just a shiny statue rock.”
“What did yeti give in return?”
“Nothing at first,” Frank gulped before continuing. His previously furious scowl that illuminated his scarred face now sat dull, tired - he seemed much smaller and more human now. “But once he organized all the yeti, he was supposed to join our group… and, uhh…” he trailed off, realizing he had to say more than he was willing to.
“Let me guess, ser Shadow,” Gregor interjected, the venom still lingering over the man’s title. “You are part of some shady underground criminal gang who have aspirations of… taking over Helpart?”
“Y-yes, I suppose that would sum it up. How did you guess?”
“That is simply what I’d do. If I had rocks in my head.” He looked away from the again incensed gang leader to scribble something onto the held paper.
“Are you the boss?” Grugg stretched out his fingers. Some of his blood had dried along the back of his hand, and now it was all cracking and scabbed.
“No, well, I lead a group of the whole. We used to be a group of bandits until we got absorbed into this organization. They kept me in charge of the lads because they trusted me. But, to tell you the truth, I’ve never met the ones higher up than me; they don’t live here in Helpart.”
“So, big criminals in charge of medium criminals, running groups of little criminals.”
“In a manner of speaking.” Frank had started glancing around the tavern more frequently now. Still no reinforcements, just the sound of rain creeping in through the slats of warped wood. Damned barkeep was still hiding down behind the counter, too. He would have to have words with him once this was all through.
“Classic pyramid scheme.” Gregor shook his head. “Little lawbreakers do all the damage, give a cut to their bosses, and then their bosses give it to their bosses, and so on. Ser Gang Boss does very little work of his own, but leeches all the rewards.” He presented his notepad to Grugg, showing a triangle shape with simple round faces in rows from the bottom to a singular one at the peak. The lower faces were unhappy, and gradually they were more neutral until the one at the apex was smiling. He grunted his thanks to the ratman.
“How high up the triangle was Frank?”
The gang lead looked at the crude sketch presented to him, unsure whether it was a question of ranking or job satisfaction. Either way, “Probably second row from the bottom”.
“And how many rows are there?”
“Below me are the footsoldiers, and then my rank is to lead the group. There are usually a few group leaders in an area for which there is an area boss. And then above them is the main guy himself. Or woman, or group. It was never really clear who owned the Nightshades. Oh, shit.”
“Nightshades,” the ratman repeated, overly loud as he made a show of writing this down. The Shadow looked as though he might ask for his head to be popped off anyway now that he had said too much.
Grugg tuned out the panicked squirming of the man and the mocking jubilations of Gregor so that he could focus on the case. This Nightshade group definitely sounded like the reason Hakran was able to speak some Common, so that mystery could be shelved for now. There was no indication that they were related to the wizard’s death or that of his brother. And whilst he was certainly a self-admitted bandit and gang member, there were no crimes he had witnessed or could prove against the man at this juncture.
“Okay, Gregor, let Frank go.”
“Really, ser? You’re the boss, I guess.” The ratman put his notepad away and hopped down, dagger still held at the end of his tail, as he untied his whip.
The cyclops stood and brushed the dust from the back of his kilt. Oddly, he was looking forward to trying on his new clothes. He mustn’t forget to go see thread-lady for the promised adjustments. Although, right now, food sounded pretty good. Watching the man rubbing his wrist and ankle as he became free from the whip’s embrace jogged his memory.
“Has Nightshade been watching Grugg today?”
Frank eyed him wearily as he hobbled onto his feet, muscles cramped from the odd position. “Wouldn’t have been my lads. If anyone from our group, it’d be Don Kean's group of weird peeping toms. The Don runs a supposed ‘spy network’ in Helpart, but it’s just a bunch of cloaked weirdos keeping notes on everyone. Of course, you can have that information for free, as I hate the self-important prick.”
The Second Helpart boss was named. Probably be harder to find if he stuck to the shadows and wanted to know everyone’s business. Grugg thought back to the object found in his bed previously. How much did they know about him? In truth, there wasn’t much to know up until a few days ago. Did they know he had killed the wizard, though? That was his only big secret. Well, plus the hidden item he kept at the bottom of his sack at all times.
“Can I, uh, retrieve my swords?” Frank had gingerly started to edge towards them under the watchful glare of Gregor.
“Okay.” Grugg shrugged, his mind still elsewhere. “But, if Frank uses them to fight Grugg again, then big trouble.”
“I promise me and my lads will steer well clear of you; I swear on it.” He didn’t seem earnest or trustworthy, but his self-preservation instinct was certainly selling his intentions away. Reaching down, he grabbed both shortswords and made to place them away in their sheaths.
“Right then, ser Frank, I suppose we’ll be-”
There was a sudden crash as the tavern door slammed open, shards of wood splitting off as it impacted the wall. A group of men clad in black leather armor stormed into the building, led by Reggie, wielding a crossbow aimed nervously at the cyclops.
“Sorry boss, we came as quickly as we could.” The returning bandit nodded to the Shadow, hoping not to have invoked his ire just yet by bringing the full fifteen of their men to bear.
The crossbow bolt flew out with little ceremony save for the sharp twang of the loading mechanism, but it struck wide - hitting the back of the wall with a thud of dry, old wood.
Grugg turned to Frank with a sigh, shaking his head.
“You just committed a crime.”