The old shoesmith plunged his short knife deep into an apple, catching the fruit totally unawares, rocking the table slightly with the overly aggressive motion.
“So silly, in fact, that your hat reminds me of the time-” the wild-eyed man began, still somewhat shrieking.
“Nope.” Grugg waved his hands, declining the conversation.
“But… about sixteen years prior, with the foulest of-”
“Nuh-uh. Just boots, please.”
The shopkeeper screwed his face up, blowing exasperated air from his nostrils. He turned away from the cyclops, facing the desk more. “Big stuff is over on that wall,” he jerked his thumb in the direction of said boots, a more gruff, tired tone to his voice.
[Already have enough on our plate. Figuratively.]
Grugg turned to look at the wall where the extra large-sized boots were displayed. He agreed with the wizard; if they kept picking up loose threads, then they’d never get around to helping Bart find his brother's killer. Loose threads reminded him of Claudia. Scratching his nose, he glanced at the various footwear designed for those of his stature. They were all pretty plain, simply made brown leather boots, durable and functional. He imagined they were made for the work ogres that would occasionally pass the town.
[Up here, Grugg, on the higher shelf.]
The Detective looked up, and on the highest shelf half obscured by darkness, he saw them. A black leather pair of work boots with metal caps covering the toe, the dull metal still catching the low light enough to look like hidden treasure. Grugg imagined kicking in a door and not getting thick splinters stuck in his foot. His legs were on the short, stocky side, but he still had enough weight behind them to deliver a good amount of force. It might be a little overkill for detaining criminals, though, perhaps literally.
[I think they would suit you perfectly.]
Indecision weighed on the mind of the cyclops. He still had the errant thought about being selfish with how they had spent their time in the town, and the guilt was a barrier to the purchase. He had survived his whole life with bare feet; did he really need this extravagance?
[Claudia would probably like them too.]
Grugg brought the boots off the shelf and plunked them onto the counter. The amount of metal on them was definitely noticeable just in weight alone. Oh, he should probably give them a try first. Placing the suit box on the counter, he moved the boots to the floor and tried to wedge his foot in under the side-eyed glare of the elderly shopkeeper. It was a bit of a struggle, and he almost tripped through half a shoe display, losing his balance, but eventually, both feet were in the weird contraptions.
[Walk about a bit. You will want to see if they slip or constrict your feet too much.]
He did as the wizard instructed, pacing up and down the shop. They certainly felt weird, in a way he didn’t have a comparison for. The extra weight was something to get used to as well; the first few steps were short stomps, with the heavy impact of the boots followed by the grinding sound of the cobblers teeth. All that aside, though, his feet didn’t feel crushed, and they had a surprisingly comfortable lining that gripped his heels. He was sold.
“How much heavy boots?” he enquired, awkwardly stomping back to the man at his desk.
“Those ones are fourrr- seven gold. Seven gold for you.” Shrieking again, a slight smile curling up his jowls as he watched the cyclops withdraw from his money pouch.
[Almost double the price; he is up charging just because you snubbed him.]
Grugg blinked slowly at the small, frail, and frankly quite crazy shoe salesman. It would be quite easy to threaten the man, and he already had the boots on; he couldn’t stop him from leaving. That would not go well for his longevity in this town, though. Especially as a Detective, he had a reputation and a duty to the badge to upkeep. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much option in this situation.
Digging his thick fingers into the coin pouch, he brought a single gold coin out and placed it very deliberately on the man’s desk in front of him.
“One…” Again, some digging around, the small pieces of precious metal hard to grasp.
“Two…” The second coin was placed heavily on top of the first.
“Uhh…three” A wince and slight twitch from the old man as the tower of gold grew taller.
“Four!” Grugg was getting the hang of this now; he withdrew the fifth coin but held it in the air a few inches from the payment stack.
“Mister Rolando. Grugg asking just asking... boot-man hasn’t done any crimes lately?” his single eye blazed electric blue from beneath the brim of the wizard’s hat.
The old man’s gaze twitched between the coin held aloft, the glare of the cyclops, and the polished badge on his chest. “W-what, no, of course not!”
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“Ah, shame,” Grugg pressed down the coin on top of the pile of four, the added pressure causing the light wood of the desk to crack. “Said five gold? Grugg sometimes hard to remember numbers.” He flashed a wide maw of stubby teeth, both goofy and intimidating in equal measure.
“Yes, five… goodbye, silly hat!” the shriek was extra piercing, and he had paled a little, his mustache dancing a nervous tune beneath his nose.
“Goodbye, Sir.” The Detective grabbed the suit box from the counter and gave a nod, tipping the brim of his hat.
[I am constantly in awe of your problem-solving abilities, Grugg. You are much more socially competent than I ever was.]
“Grugg actually just forgot how much,” he murmured to the wizard as they exited the shop. Plus, he was hoping the man would admit to doing some crimes; at least then he could get a quick arrest and maybe the boots for free. He waved them about as they stepped into the gloom-ridden streets of Helpart, and almost collided with two large figures.
Regaining his composure, he realized it was a pair of ogres heading up the street. They were both a few inches shorter than Grugg, but a lot more muscular in comparison to his almost genetic pudginess. Wearing simple brown shirts, trousers, and heavy scowls, the two ogres looked immensely identical - with their grayish-toned skin, green eyes, and shaven heads.
“Oh - Mountain’s blessings, brothers.” The cyclops gave a quick nod of respect to the pair.
The closest of the two spat on the floor near the new boots of the Detective, and they carried on walking past, with only a maintained glare at his single eye before they could no longer physically continue looking in his direction - a feat they tried to push the limits on, necks twisted uncomfortably to make their point.
[Well, they looked friendly. Are all ogres like that?]
He shrugged. Some were, but most were reasonable. Despite getting a bad rap for being even shorter on brain cells than cyclops’, they were good-natured enough to respond to a Mountain hail in kind, no matter how rough and hardheaded they were. Grugg filed the duo in his suspicious person folder in his head. He made a note to remove Claudia and probably add the shoe shop man in there. Gregor was half-in, half-out. Not that he didn’t trust the ratman, just that his assistant practically oozed suspiciousness on a constant basis. For all Grugg knew, he could be using his injuries as an excuse to sit around and make evil plots. He did bring him a good breakfast, though, in fairness.
[Okay, what was next on our agenda?]
“Wise Goat?” the Detective recalled, through a grin. “Get Gregor and find Captain?”
[Actually, there is somewhere I want to go first if that is okay?]
Grugg nodded; with his new shiny stompers, he would gladly do whatever the wizard wanted for the rest of the day; he had his treat. Bart began to relay directions to him as he set off through the town's winding streets. A left, straight down for a while, another left, and finally, a right. They were now by a cluster of different shops. Grugg glanced around for any amusingly named ones.
[To your left a little Grugg - it’s a map shop, a cartographer. Remember that I had said I would show you where we are? They have a world map in the window there - Othea in all its glory.]
The Detective practically leaped in the direction of the window, the momentum of his heavy boots almost overshooting him overbalanced into the pane of glass. Eye wide, he stared at the various blobbed shapes that made up the land masses of the world. The font was difficult to read, and fancy calligraphy had been utilized to enhance the wonder of the piece. Grugg mostly wondered which blob was where home was.
[On the left side, the red area is called- no, the other left, it is called Mubet. That’s the nation we live in currently. Helpart, and your mountain range, is along the North side, a few miles before the sea.]
Grugg tried to imagine the scale of the world if his mountain was so small on there. There were lots of name places, and even more across the sea. As much as he loved staying near his home, he also wanted to see more of the world. He wondered if Gregor and Claudia would come with them if they had their fill of Helpart.
[When we travel, we will get a new map that has more detail. I used to have a really useful one, but that’s wherever… I never thought to question where or what they did with my body.]
“Can ask the Captain?”
[It might be worth a try; he may know something since suspicion was cast on my departure from my physical body. Onwards, back to the tavern, then?]
“Thanks, Bart.” He tore his gaze away from the large map and stomped away.
----------------------------------------
The pensive dark clouds, still threatening rainfall, continued instead just to mar the town with gloom, the duo eventually reaching the Wise Goat tavern, their place of rest and apparent new headquarters for their misfit gang of investigators. Grugg stopped outside the doorway rather than heading straight for the alley that led to the back and his barn house residence.
“Think Grugg will get lunch this time. Surprise Gregor.” His thoughts wandered to the injured ratman opening up his wounds with attaining the breakfast this morning.
[That is very thoughtful, Grugg. I am sure he will view the act with scepticism, but be my guest.]
A familiar creak as the tavern door opened wide, revealing another mostly empty day at the establishment. All except for two large figures sat at one of the wall tables. The suspected twin ogres glared at the cyclops as he entered. Grugg chose to ignore them; they had lost their chance at civility. Instead, he strode up to the tavern-keeper, Jacob, who looked incredibly pale and sweaty. Either he regularly looked like that, or he was having a bad week.
“Ah, D-detective. I have two messages for you.” The man grimaced in the absence of the ability to smile through his nervousness.
Grugg nodded. “And Grugg has two lunch orders for Jacob.” He shot the man a broad smile in an effort to assist the man with the action.
“Er- okay. First, is that the Captain wants to meet you at the warehouse; he said you’d know which one.”
[Ah, excellent, investigating the crime scene!]
“And the second…” his voice faltering, as behind them, the screech of wood as chairs slid back interrupted the thought “…Mub and Baff here would like a word with you.”
Grugg turned to see the twins standing, each lifting a chair with a thick fist, their intent palpable. Mub, or maybe Baff, stepped forward, giving the wooden chair a few test swings. His first thoughts were to Thud, oh, how he missed his club. But, he did have a few useful things in his sack if the ‘words’ these ogres were looking to have were of the bludgeoning type.
“Great Mountain crushes da weak,” the first spoke in more broken Common than the cyclops.
“Like we gonna crush you,” the second affirmed, preparing to use the chair as a club.