Running was not something very high on Grugg’s list of favorite things. It was both too unpleasant to not hate, but necessary enough that he couldn’t add it to the collection of things he hated; such as rain and magic. So here he found himself, running through the town, cobbled roads still damp from the earlier rain, trying to track down some bandit with a magic shadow. He had not expected Detective work to be so miserable.
His bare feet thud across stone pathways, keeping pace with Captain Wanu, who wasn’t much faster, thankfully, due to his armor. Buildings he had not seen before slid out of his view as he progressed, not having been down this side of Helpart yet. Curious onlookers gave them a wide berth, which Grugg was thankful for. Mostly because he didn’t want to run anybody down like a dense landslide; he already had enough blood and muck slathered onto his new clothes. Not to mention, he was confident that some of the stitching had come loose due to his current strenuous activities.
[We should be getting to the meeting point soon with the rest of the Guards.]
Rounding the corner and almost losing traction as his left foot hit a deeper than expected puddle, it appeared the wizard was correct. The Captain slowed pace, as just ahead, there was a group of six Town Guard standing ready. Grugg followed suit, coming to a stop with haggard breath, his left leg now also soaked with cold rainwater. Still, at least it kept part of him cool; not being used to clothing, his temperature regulation was running hot under all these layers.
“Well met,” the Captain hailed the Alpha team, “Remind me next budget meeting that we should have a couple of horses for internal travel.” The half-orc seemed just as drained from the running as Grugg but hid it much better. “Ready to proceed, Detective? We will approach with a bit more, ah, restraint.”
Grugg nodded, double-checking that his badge was still attached to his outfit. Despite every thread of his tailored clothing looking worse for wear, the badge sat prominently on his waistcoat, just as shiny and pristine as when he picked it up. In fairness, that was very recently. Inside his head, Bart prompted him to ask some questions.
“Captain, what kind of building Frank in?”
“About three streets away near the South gate, there is a warehouse that is occasionally used as a temporary holding location.” Wanu gestured for the other Town Guards to follow, and they all set off walking towards their destination.
“Only Frank and other Nightshade criminals there?” Grugg was thankful for the slower pace; his breathing had calmed, and his lunch stopped bouncing around in his stomach.
“Correct,” the Captain wiped the sweat from his brow as he continued, “It has the capacity to hold around twenty men, but until recently, it hadn’t seen much use and has been housing livestock.”
“Goats?” the cyclops asked, as casually as he was able to manage.
“Cows, I believe. So expect more than just the stench of unwashed criminals.”
Grugg scratched his head. He remembered something about Bart telling him to steal livestock, but couldn’t remember what it was. Definitely something about goats, at least. Or was that just the tavern name? Just thinking about the Wise Goat made him smile.
“I am glad you are in good spirits, Detective. I do hope this is not a wild goose chase.” Although the Captain sounded ready to give the cyclops a stern reprimanding over wasted efforts, the blood-soaked suit tempered his cynicism.
Wild Goose would also be a good name for a tavern. Grugg idly looked around at the buildings as they passed. None of them had particularly amusing names; there was a lumber yard, a dairy, and a cobbler all down this end of the town. But, unfortunately, it looked like they had just gone with family names for their business rather than animals.
[Perhaps we could get you some boots there once we are done?]
He grunted with a slight upward inflexion to denote reluctant agreement. Whilst the thought of boots encasing his feet still didn’t appeal to him, the town had lacked the mud and grassy patches that his mountain did, and his soles, as tough as they were, had started to ache. Plus, and he had only just realized this recently, boots made it easier to kick things. Maybe not in these trousers, though. He tried to flex them out as he walked, the sweat and rain-soaked fabric having dried to his leg.
As clouds continued to roll across the sky, a dim, overcast light accompanied the early evening, to the extent that people had begun to light candles inside their homes and businesses. There was still just about enough daylight outdoors to function, and whoever was tasked with lighting the streetlights hadn’t started making their rounds yet. Whilst this was nothing too out of the ordinary, it did help in casting unease amongst the group as they approached the holding warehouse. It was dark inside, with no light emitting from either floor of the dark wooden structure.
[That is rather ominous.]
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
“Hold. There should definitely be some of our own men outside on guard.” The Captain stood with hands on his hips, scowling at the building as if he just expected it to give up its secrets due to his stern glare. One of their small band spoke up.
“Fletcher, Sir. And at least five others.”
“Grugg will go in,” the cyclops offered, finally deciding to remove his suit jacket. Then, with an awkward tearing sound bisecting the silence between conversations, just the left arm came out, the shoulder seams splitting in his attempt. He dropped the loose fabric in resignation.
“Not a chance, Detective. You are unarmed, and we don’t know the status of the occupants.”
In truth, Grugg was pretty drained. So the rejection of the half-orc was not so much of a disappointment as it usually would have been. Catching criminals was one thing, but doing so ceaselessly without goats was no fun. Not goats; he meant rest. The warm glow of the travel over to the warehouse was fading now, and only his brain remained warm mush.
[He has a point. It could be a trap. They might have escaped already, and it is empty. But we can’t risk getting caught out; neither of us are in a position for a big fight.]
Nodding in acceptance to both Bart and Wanu, he resigned himself to observing what the Captain had planned to do next. If only there was something he could sit on too, to soothe his complaining muscles. Oh! A bath, that would hit the spot. He had not had a good soak, especially not a warm one, for quite some time. However, he wasn’t sure if the Wise Goat had something suitable; perhaps he would ask the wizard once they had some time to talk privately.
“Right then,” Wanu drew his sword and turned to the Alpha team. “Bridges, Carrington; you are with me. Harnn, Jallot; watch the sides and other exits. Kristo, Patson, keep the civilians out of the way; there are some noses already starting to poke around.” He gestured towards a couple of ill-dressed men gawking from the sidelines.
All six Guards barked their acknowledgement of the order, with two of them going off to have words with the onlookers, the rest assembling in a loose formation around the Captain. Grugg just stood looking a bit sheepish, undecided if he wanted to tear the building apart plank by plank in search of crime or just melt into a warm bath for a couple of days.
“Detective, as this is part of your case, please follow - just keep your distance until we can confirm that it is safe. You have already been through enough today.” Although the nod was brief, and the instructions were not to be questioned, the half-orc again had a softer look to him, before he turned back to his troops.
[You must really look terrible, Grugg, if they think you should sit this one out.]
He grumbled to himself. Looks had never really been too important to him before; he looked grizzled and rough on the best of days. Reaching down to grab one of his knuckle dusters, he realized he had forgotten to grab his sack when he changed into his new clothes. So it would be lying in the room with his kilt still. As if the day couldn’t get any worse. He bit his tongue in reflex at this thought. Now he’d gone and cursed himself, surely.
Looking up at the sky, he expected the rain to start falling. It certainly looked like it was threatening as such, the dark gray expanse returning his disdainful gaze. He wondered how Gregor was doing. This was as much the ratman’s case as his, and he did want to see the revenge enacted. In an ideal world, his assistant would also have a Bart-Hat to heal him whilst he slept. Unfortunately, not everyone was as lucky as Grugg, he admitted.
The Town Guards drew their weapons and prepared their final checks for their armor and gear. All standardized silver plate with amber trim and well-made swords that were more functional than impressive. It was more than a match for a couple of restrained bandits, if that was what they would be up against. Somehow, Grugg very much doubted that was the case. In fact, it was looking likely that the Nightshade thugs had made their escape and ran off back into hiding. Perhaps he would get to have the night off after all.
Captain Wanu made his slow approach to the large door of the holding building. Two Guards flanked him, weapons ready. Two more made a broader path to make sure of no surprises. Grugg followed slowly behind them all. The building loomed into view, the dark recesses of the barred windows offering no hints of the inhabitants within. Silence permeated the area, save for armored boots' careful, deliberate footsteps. Even the handful of townspeople, unable to be fully shooed away, stood with bated breath at the suspenseful spectacle.
The half-orc made it to the doorway and crouched down to observe something in the dirt just to the side of it. Grugg couldn’t see what but strained his eye trying to pick any detail out, as any good Detective would. The Captain then gestured for one of his flanking Guards to come and have a look with him. Mystery burned up behind the eye of the cyclops, a small slice of renewed vigor at wanting to learn more. He fought the urge to ask out loud what they could be looking at.
[I assume that is where a couple of the Guard would have been posted. If something had happened to them, there might be signs of struggle or blood.]
Bart’s insight did little to quell the curiosity inside the cyclops. Grugg stood with teeth clenched, waiting to be clued in. He may be the Detective, but there was a pecking order, and for some reason, he felt that he didn’t want to let Wanu down. After all, there may be even shinier badges or rewards if he did a good job. He shuffled with impatience before feeling it - the first drops of renewed rainfall, as the sky found the most opportune moment to lower his mood.
[I can’t even feel it, and I am tired of the rain too.]
He lowered his gaze back from the looming dark clouds to the looming dark warehouse to let the brim of the wizard’s hat stave off some of the precipitation droplets from getting in his eye. The Captain now quietly gestured for him to come over and peruse the potential evidence. Then, with a deep breath, he took his first quiet step across the cobbled distance between them. And then a second.
An almighty crash interrupted the third from happening, as suddenly the warehouse door exploded outwards, knocking the investigating Guard and Captain to the floor. Emerging from the dark depths of the interior, a wave of dark leather and makeshift weapons spewed forth.