The cold air bit at the Detective as the dark sky loomed overhead. The rainfall had abated for a short while, but the dirt ground of the lumber yard remained sodden from the efforts. Claudia huddled closer to the cyclops for warmth as they watched three wagons loaded with Guard, flanked by rows of Guard on foot, approach from the road.
Patson, along with the rest of the Alpha team, were first to arrive - and greeted the Captain warmly; their awkward attempts to try not to hug him or pat him on the back were visible in their glistening eyes.
“For anything that you could fault the Captain for, he is certainly adored by the Guard,” Claudia said from halfway beneath Grugg’s shawl.
[He has a certain amount of charisma to him, as does his brother.]
The Detective turned to see Silverfang himself being led from the ruined wooden structure that masked the underground lair. Restraints on his wrists, followed by similarly shackled workers as they were taken to the wagons by the arriving Guard. Neither the Nightshade boss nor the dwarven woman gave the Detective even the briefest of looks, playing their part in the charade. A few of the workers gave him dirty looks, but he supposed that was warranted.
[We should let the others know what happened.]
Grugg retrieved the Message Stone for Lady Valoth and gave it a tap.
“Grugg here. Not dead. Found Captain and made arrest Silverfang. Report in.”
A brief silence followed before the stone lit back up, and the static voice of Gregor chimed through.
'Lady Investigator is running errands. Suspect interrogated, will report later. Making dinner later - don’t be home late.'
“Grugg hoping Gregor would sound more impressed.”
“I’m sure he is just jealous that we had the more fun task.” Claudia smiled, “It’s not every day you get to almost die - oh, actually, I take that back.” She stuck her tongue out at the cyclops briefly, then looked back to the road.
“Grugg had fun on adventure with Claudia,” he shuffled awkwardly.
“Well, get used to it; we’re a team now.” The clothesmaker nudged him and gestured to start walking. “What should we do now?”
[If I may make a suggestion? Let’s go and see Eleanor; let her know we aren’t dead. We can pass the time safely before going home to Gregor’s… cooking.]
“Bart says Eleanor shop?”
“Suits me; I might want to have a look around for more armor, anyway. I’m getting tired of my blood being outside of my body.”
The pair started to set off before being quickly hailed by the Captain behind them.
“Detective! You stay safe, but we will need to catch up tomorrow. Plenty to discuss.”
“Breakfast on Captain then,” Grugg smiled with a nod to the amused half-orc.
----------------------------------------
The walk to the shop was, in a word, pleasant. Despite the waves of lethargy, the looming clouds desperate to release rainfall, and the glares of the workers as the wagons passed them by, it was a nice walk compared to being cramped up in a Dungeon, sewers, or a prison cell, or even an underground lair. It was the most freedom Grugg had tasted in over a day, and it was bliss. Even the passersby were just blurs in the background of his walk with Claudia, and even though they did so in silence, he knew she felt the same way.
Bart would probably call it Trauma Bonding and must have done so at some point for it to even be in Grugg’s head, to begin with. It was common with adventurers; the near-death experiences and reliance on each other to stay alive drew the members closer. Between the trust and the shared traumas of violence and comradeship, you became a team. The Private Eyes were certainly an odd bunch, but they had been through the rough of it and come out the other side stronger for it. Grugg hoped anyway.
The Detective pushed open the door to the shop, allowing Claudia to enter first.
“Ah, Barthelemy and friends! It’s good to see the little turtle out of his shell again.” Eleanor jumped up from her chair and leaned across the counter with a bright smile across her face.
“So it seems. You weren’t down there very long?”
“Boss killed himself and Dungeon boring,” Grugg glumly exclaimed, walking over to the counter.
“Aw, I’m sorry to hear that, pup. So it was a total wash?”
Eleanor screwed her face up in thought. “In the last year, I’ve done a couple, anything older than that, and I can’t say. Mine were just for shops in the nearby area - can never be too careful.”
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“Heavens!” Eleanor stood back in shock. “To even know that spell, let alone imbed it into a trap, would take an arcane user far greater than I’ve ever known. You encountered that down there?”
Grugg raised his hand sheepishly.
“And you are still alive; how?”
“You are full of surprises, turtle. I think you owe me some explaining.”
The arcanist drew a wand and leveled it at a chair. With a short zap, it then grew to twice its size - big enough for Grugg to sit comfortably. Claudia put a chair next to the Detective and sat, taking out a needle and thread to start to work on repairing her dress.
“Where should we start? Just start explaining stuff, and I’ll catch up; I’m sure you ain’t had the chance to prattle on about the arcane to your friends.”
“All that from just the earring,” Eleanor leaned back in her rocking chair. “You want the upgrade, right?”
“They did, but I kept one for the novelty. Only made me queasy, so it has been sitting collecting dust.”
The sound of Grugg snoring began, as Claudia now also lay asleep with her head on the Detective’s arm where he had removed his spiked gloves.
“And you said that it’s different for you now?”
“Fascinating,” Eleanor rocked slowly as her eye gleamed with excitement. “Far be it for me to treat you as a guinea pig, little turtle, but I am very intrigued as to how far you can push. I would like to invest in your success.”
Eleanor chuckled a dry laugh. “You sound just like your brother sometimes. But yes, in a way, although I am sure you would not ‘pop’.”
“Turtle, please. That’s only happened once - you are safer than that. Here, let me get the buckle; just try not to destroy yourself or your friends.”
The aged arcanist lifted herself off the rocking chair with a snap of joints and went over to one of the many drawers behind the counter, humming a soft tune to herself. After a brief shuffle around, she brought out a small buckle shaped like a skull with inlaid emerald eyes.
“Not quite the image you want to invoke as a spellcaster, but should fit at home atop your companion.” Eleanor reached over and popped the buckle on the ribbon around the wizard’s hat, a snorting snuffle coming from the cyclops as he was briefly disturbed.
“These two, alright? The Dungeon must have taken it out of them, poor kids.”
“All that is above! You really need to take care of them better, Bart!”
The Magic Lock on the shop's front door hummed as it closed, and the lights in the room flickered and dimmed.
“Barthelemy, I did not give you permission to access my defenses; why the nerve!”
Eleanor waved her hand in the air, and a light flashed across her eyes before fading. “How did you… the mind never ceases to boggle. You could just exert excess arcane energy from around you into the spell to increase the potency?”
“You turn evil, and your friends will be the first ones to deal with; they’re a good bunch of kids.”
“But you’re most worried about protecting them, right, little turtle?” Eleanor smiled sadly as she sat back in her chair.
“Always worrying too much,” Eleanor smiled. “Some things never change. They may be beaten up, but they’re happy. They’ve found companionship and friends to fight against this unjust and cruel world together. It’s thanks to you that they are on this adventure, and you need to suck up those feelings of inadequacy and be the weird wizard-talking-hat that the group needs.”
A brief, contemplative silence filled the air, save for the soft breathing of the two napping Private Eyes. Eventually, Bart broke the pause in the conversation.
Eleanor chuckled warmly, shaking her head with a smile.
“Don’t I know it, turtle.”