The wizard groaned at the sight of the proposed emblem—just the same as the Investigators logo, but with one more sword behind it.

Grugg, however, loved it. “More swords, so must be better Detectives.” He ran his stubby index finger along the four swords. “Udok.”

“You think so? Who is the fourth?” Claudia radiated with interest as her eyes sought the answer, any further insight into the cyclops' life.

The Detective pursed his lips, trying to find a quick answer. It was unfair to her that he held this secret since she was so trusted, but at the same time, Bart would be really mad at him. There was already an interest in the burgundy hat; it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to invite more trouble on themselves.

[You can tell her if you want to. I trust your judgement.]

“Grugg has a wizard friend, uhh, but wizard is dead…” he trailed off, Bart's permission coming as an unexpected wedge in his scramble for an excuse.

“Does he live on through the hat? Literally, or figuratively?” Her question was delivered earnestly, as flat as if they were discussing the weather.

“Yes,” the cyclops replied, unsure of which it was. Or both? “Say hello, Bart.”

The hollow voice rang out through the shop, thankfully not as overbearing as the previous times that he had used the Voice spell.

[I’ve been working on my volume control.]

“Oh! A well-made hat, and with polite manners, too.” There was a playful spark in her eyes, even as she stood there in awe. Compared to Gregor's continued cynicism towards the hat, Claudia seemed immediately accepting.

“It makes some sense, as people were saying yesterday, about some strange voice and spells used during the fight with Nightshade yesterday. Plus, you are remarkably healed.” She ran her eyes up and down the cyclops, flushing slightly. “Just really dirty still.”

[Yes, let’s add bathing to our to-do list.]

“Hat doesn’t talk much out loud because it uses ‘mana’ and gets tired a lot from helping Grugg.” Grugg looked down at his feet a little sheepishly, feeling some guilt about how he was always getting them both in trouble.

“He sounds like a very good man then,” she beamed and ran her hands along the clothes on the counter to straighten them out. “Thank you for trusting me with his information, Grugg.” She leaned forward over the counter and gently pushed his chin up with her fingers, their eyes meeting. “I have a secret I can share with you, too.”

She stood straight up and gestured for the Detective to follow her to the room behind the counter.

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Gregor awoke suddenly with a spasm and growled in pain. Opening up his wounds that morning had perhaps been foolish, as now they had scabbed over in the odd position he had been sleeping. Movement felt like it would tear his skin apart and rip the fur from his body. It had been a necessary evil, though. Grugg did deserve a hearty breakfast. He himself needed to find some information out and put some things in place…

A quick glance around the room to make sure he was alone, and he painfully withdrew a small round stone from the depths of his baggy trousers. Taking a moment to admire the onyx marble, a flash of lightning quickly illuminated the glassy, pitch-black surface. He held the stone between his two clawed hands and took a deep breath. In the dim light of the barn house, the ratman’s eyes turned a smokey pitch black.

Things were progressing well.

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[Wow, I have never seen one that size before.]

Grugg shrugged. It’s not as though he had much experience with the tool, but he supposed it would make it cumbersome to hold with one hand. It was impressive though. He glanced at Claudia awaiting further explanation.

The back room of Threads was about as cluttered as you could get. A narrow stairway led upstairs, but this main room was wall-to-wall shelving. All manner of cubby holes filled with fabric of different colors, multiple weights, and most materials you could imagine wearing comfortably. The shopkeeper had lifted a box down from one of the higher-up platforms, a small avalanche of dust and cobweb falling atop her red, frizzy hair. It reminded Grugg of his mountain with the snowy peak.

On placing the decorated wooden box on one of the few surfaces not already covered with off-cuttings and parchment patterns, she had popped it open with a small amount of trepidation. Inside, seated on a plush black silk cushion, was a very large sewing needle. At around nine inches long, in beautiful light silver metal. It looked flawlessly made.

It could be just a hunch, but I get the feeling that this object is more than it looks - it is magical.

“This belonged to my mother; it has been quite a while since I could even look at it…” she ran her finger along the edge of the box, gathering the dust. “Would you like to see me use it?”

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Grugg nodded, slightly star-struck and tongue-tied. He had come to secretly covet magical items and the exciting things they could do. With as much patience as he could manage, he watched on with bated breath.

Claudia took the large needle from the box, revealing a small recess beneath, from which she withdrew a leather glove and a raveled-up amount of thick thread. The glove, of dyed red leather and ornate golden yellow threading, slipped comfortably into the pale, slim hand of the clothesmaker. She picked up the thread of a mesmerizing, shimmering blue hue and tied it through the hole at the end of the needle.

“It’s called The Storm. I think just for the pun.”

[The hole at the end - Eye of the Storm, very droll.]

As much as Grugg liked some excellent wordplay, it would usually have to involve animals to elicit amusement from him. Still, he chuckled a little to be polite.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Grugg; I am very rusty.” With the length of thread traipsing along the floor now, she stood at the other end of the small room. The Storm in one hand, she sighed in an effort to loosen up and then dropped the metal object. Although it didn’t fall, instead it hung in the air, defying gravity.

“Wow!” Grugg was immediately impressed and stepped backwards, away from the dangling needle, pressing himself against the shelves. “Why is it doing that?”

Claudia raised her eyebrows and gave the cyclops a nervous smile. “Just watch.” She moved her gloved hand, and The Storm followed the movements in the air. Gently rotating in place at first, and then, with slow caution, it began to loop a circle in the middle of the room.

[That is incredible! I have never seen something like that before.]

“You should have seen my mother use this,” she continued, eyes watching the needle in the air with stern caution. “She… she actually used to be an adventurer before I was born.” The Storm slowly returned to her gloved hand, and she grasped onto it tightly. “This was her weapon.”

“Sounds like mother was strong woman.” Grugg spoke softly as he relaxed away from the shelving. Family was always complicated, and there was a twinge of hurt from deep inside him when he thought of his own mother, too.

“She was,” a sad smile marked her face, and she wiped her eyes with her apron sleeve. “Grugg, do you think if I learned to use The Storm, I could join you on your adventures?” Her eyes looked away from the Detective, but he could see how upset she was. It was something he was wholly unprepared for.

[As much as I am loathe to add more complications to our investigation… I don’t think declining is an option.]

Grugg stepped over the slim woman and wrapped his arms around her in a soft embrace. “Welcome to team,” he grunted, a wide grin pasted across his face.

“Oh, Grugg,” she let the tears held back flow freely down her face. “You really do need a bath.”

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The cyclops stepped out of the shop, accompanied by the tinkling of the bell, and waved through the window at Claudia.

[I guess we really are Udok now, aren’t we?]

“Strength in numbers,” Grugg grunted, casting his single eye to the sky to take stock of the weather situation. A soft rumble off in the distance declared the storm's gradual departure, and whilst the floor had received a modest amount of rain whilst he had been shopping, the dark clouds now held tightly onto their payload. Just as well- the box he carried under his arm had his new clothes in, and the latest member of their investigative team wouldn’t forgive him for ruining two suits in as many days.

[True. With the amount of crime apparently in this town, we may need more strength than smarts, after all. And in fairness, I haven’t been keeping up my side of that bargain.]

“Has been big change for us all.” Maybe they had been averaging out, Grugg thought to himself, the wizard's smarts sinking into his skull from the hat. Doubtful. Bart was probably just struggling to adapt; he was now a hat and lost most of his spell-casting abilities - that would be enough to knock anybody's confidence. It would be like if he didn’t have his club- oh. He missed Thud.

[In all the commotion yesterday, we didn’t get to meet my contact. We are pretty busy today, too. I suppose these are just the growing pains of our partnership.]

Grugg could tell the wizard was a little disappointed in their progress. He had wanted answers and was now unable to seek them out himself, so some frustration was understandable. But, trudging through the gloomy weather towards their goal of him getting new boots, he also felt that he had been a bit selfish with their time spent in the town so far.

“Hey Bart, tomorrow morning, should get whole team together. Meet in barn and plan the investigating proper.” He gave a little more credence to the stealing intelligence theory, casting a glare around to ensure nobody was listening to him talking to himself. The storm had kept all but a few stragglers at bay, and he saw no lurking black cloaks in the shadows behind them.

[That is a wonderful idea, Grugg! We could really do with a session to go over details and decide our next steps. I was feeling as though my talents were being a bit wasted on being reactive rather than proactive.]

They stopped outside of a modest-looking shopfront, one passed the previous day, nearby the warehouse. Grugg scowled at the sign hanging above the door - Rolando Footwear, the picture of a smart-looking boot. If the sign was food, he would spit it out. So bland. Actually, he would still probably eat it; he couldn’t turn down a meal. Despite his dim view of the establishment, Claudia had reassured him that it would be the best one in town for his needs.

[Let’s try not to befriend and adopt this shopkeeper too, huh? I’m saying that in jest, by the way, just in case that did not come across in my tone. I can see you are shaking your head!]

Grugg pushed into the shop, also disappointed this one didn’t have a bell to denote his entry. The pungent smell of polished leather filled his nostrils as a sea of different shades of brown comprised the majority of the room. The pairs of boots and shoes standing around on display reminded him of the Captain’s office.

A petite, elderly gentleman sat by a desk, his drooping white mustache twitching as he silently mouthed the words he was reading from a book. A gray bowler hat sat atop his head, matching his waistcoat and slacks; his undershirt, perhaps white a long time ago, had dulled with wear. He hadn’t seemed to have noticed Grugg enter.

The Detective crouched down to be closer to eye level. He had heard that it was more respectful that way. “Grugg likes boot-man hat.”

The cobbler turned with a start, his eyes wildly sizing up the cyclops.

“Well, yours is silly!” he shrieked, pulling a small knife out from under his book.