The adventurers set out at sunset, with a promise to return as soon as the beast was dealt with. They left most of their gear in order to travel lightly, but Al and Bote both brought some supplies in their pack. They each carried half of the remaining health potions, and Al packed the least decrepit of the crossbows they'd gotten from the bandits and the two bolts with the "ultraphlogisticated oil" tied to them. Al also packed the empty potion bottles, and a few other sundries such as rope and writing supplies, and, of course, his book of wizardy notes. Bote packed similarly lightly but made sure to bring first-aid supplies.

Once the villagers had been reminded of its existence, the directions to reach the keep were simple and easy to follow - a narrow road up a hill would split off of the main road less than an hour's walk out of the village. That road would lead directly to the front of the keep.

The villagers retreated to either their unlit homes or into the Biggest Coop to huddle together, drink, and perhaps even offer a prayer or two asking the town's minor patron goddess to intercede on the adventurer's behalf. Nobody was sure what Gallina, goddess of chickens, would be able or willing to do, but the hope was there. As the party left the town, their departure was acknowledged only by the sleepy clucking of the last henhouse on the road, and the braying of a lone donkey guarding the chicken-yard.

The walk was uneventful aside from Al's stumbles in the darkness under the overcast night sky - he'd opted not to light a torch or lantern to avoid potentially attracting the beast to the light. No doubt everyone but him would be able to see the beast if it did approach despite the darkness.

The keep was much as Gertrude had described it. There was a set of wooden double-doors, probably oak, bound with iron bands. They were centered in the front wall of the building, and a reddish flickering light was barely visible shining through the very small gap between the doors, and from under the bottom of them. The keep itself was a small, blocky, two-story building, more like a short square tower than a large fortification or manor. Al thought perhaps it had originally been built as some sort of watchtower and converted into a residence later. Oddly, the only windows visible in the structure appeared to be a colorful stained-glass work to the right of the door, near the corner of the keep, as best Al could make out up close in what little light was available. No light was visible through them. Bote was kind enough to describe how they formed a storybook scene of a village, a small castle on a hill, and someone in a suit of plate armor next to a thin woman in an elegant dress since Al couldn't see the details in the dark.

Bote also mentioned that he could see crenellations along the edge of the roof, so there was probably a way up there from inside.

"Or from outside, if I climb." Wikwocket offered.

"I'm not sure your rope will even hold my weight, so probably not Bote's and almost certainly not Gruntle's, so you'd be going in alone."

"So?"

"So, you wouldn't leave us here by ourselves to be ravaged by a horrible beast while you're not here to protect us, would you?" Al pleaded melodramatically, then stroked his chin as if deep in thought. "Then again, if I remember the stories correctly, when there is a monster killing people the best thing to do is to split up and look for it separately, isn't it?"

"Hey, I'm the drama expert here, if you start doing it I'm going to have to take over the wizardry again."

Wikwocket conceded the point, though, and slipped the grappling hook back up her sleeve. The four of them gathered at the doors. Al laid down on the ground to try to look through the gap at the bottom. He stared squinting for a while, then quietly stood back up and pressed his ear to the door. He shook his head.

"I can't see much of anything under the doors," he said quietly, "but it didn't look like anything was moving around in there, and I can't hear anything."

"Let me check something." Wikwocket suggested. She extracted a thin, flat piece of metal from somewhere under her jacket. She knelt down and slowly slid it through the gap between the two doors at the bottom, then carefully moved it upward. She paused to look meaningfully back at the others when she got to the top of her reach, somewhere a little above where Al's navel would be, until Al asked Gruntle to lift her up.

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The metal shim slid smoothly all the way up to the top of the doors.

"No bar, no wires," Wikwocket announced.

"'Wires'?"

"Trap-makers love using wires. They're harder to spot before it's too late."

"So, no bars to hold it shut, and probably no traps. Gertrude said it opened right up for her. Do we just push it open and see if we get attacked?"

Gruntle's opinion was made obvious as he immediately got his shield and flail ready. The sliver of flickering red light through the gap between the doors drew a bright line down his face to reveal the jagged teeth of an eager grin. Wikwocket and Bote, seeing this, prepared themselves similarly.

"That was just a rhetorical...," Al began, then sighed. "My own fault for even suggesting it. All right." He drew out his mace, stepped back, and readied himself.

"Okay, Gruntle, gently open..."

With a snarl Gruntle slammed bodily into the doors, swinging them forcibly inward as he charged into the foyer. There was one fewer beast than expected inside. Frustrated, Gruntle began smashing one of the fine but neglected padded chairs that was there, raising a cloud of dust.

Al cringed at the amount of noise being made and examined the room.

There were several of what had once been very fine padded chairs around the center of the room. They were all covered with dust, aside from the one that was being vigorously beaten into a heap of splintered wood and torn upholstery. A similarly once-fine wool rug covered nearly all of the floor. There was a path across the middle of it that seemed clear of dust, and the side nearest the front door was soaked with congealed blood. A chandelier hung in the center of the ceiling. Its candles were long ago burned out. A torch with a flickering reddish flame rested in a sconce on the left side of the door on the opposite side of the room, its light scattered around by the crystals in the chandelier. An empty sconce was on the other side.

Al waited until Gruntle seemed content with the amount of harm he'd done to the chair for the crime of not being the beast he'd expected to fight, then Al motioned for the others to follow him into the room. From inside, he could see an additional door in the wall to the right, which he guessed led to whatever room had the stained-glass window. From inside, a pair of banners could be seen hanging down the walls on either side of the front doors. They were faded and visibly moldy, but both had a lighter patch in the middle as though some shape had once been painted on them. The overgrown fungus covering the banners now made them indistinct, but they might have once been the outline of an animal's head in profile. The thick plank of wood that appeared to be intended for barring the doors rested against the wall, its own layer of dust a testament to how long it had been since it had been used.

Al quietly went over the clues he could see inside.

"Let's see...the room hasn't been used for anything in a long time, but there's been plenty of recent traffic across the middle of the floor, so someone's been going in and out through here. There's the torch Gertrude mentioned, next to the door she said she saw someone run past. Judging by the dust on the floor, nobody's been going to the stained-glass-window room through here. Anything else I'm missing?"

Bote considered. "The doors to the outside were closed, and the door opposite them is also closed. Someone at least has presence of mind not to leave them open. Gertrude had said the inner door was open, hadn't she? And the torch appears fresh to me."

"Let me take a look," said Al, "Wait...Gruntle? You okay?"

Gruntle had calmed down and hung his flail back on his belt, but he gave the destroyed chair a final sullen glare. "Yah."

"I think you've probably got the best hearing, listen at the door and warn us if someone's coming."

With a grunt, the gnoll loped across the room and pressed his forehead against it so that his ears could swivel to rest against the door.

Al looked over the torch. Up close, it was obviously magical in nature. It reminded him of the perpetual candles they had at Notamimic manor, but this was different. The "fuel" of the torch appeared to be a roll of paper wrapped around the head, with some obvious arcane markings written along it and continuing in a spiral of symbols carved into the wood of the haft. As with the perpetual candles, there was no actual combustion associated with the flames of the torch, which produced only light and no heat. A few of the symbols were familiar to Al. He remembered them being commonly used by wizards to represent vitality and spiritual connections, which seemed strange for a simulated torch. It was hard to tell, but Al didn't think there was anything recognizably hostile in its design, so it might be safe to take for light if they needed it.

The sconces, by contrast, were ordinary works of iron, worn and pitted with rust from neglect. Al consulted his expert.

"What do you think, Wikwocket? Anything bad going to happen if we take the torch?"

She clambered up Gruntle's back so she could get a closer look. Al was relieved that Gruntle didn't seem to mind.

"Well!" Wikwocket finally said with a grin, "Maybe if you pull on it, it'll open a secret door!"

Gruntle reached over and grabbed the torch, yanking it down and ripping the sconce from the wall.

"Didn't work." he announced.

"So, no, as you can see, unless there's something magical that I don't know anything about, it's just a torch in a torch-holder. Well, it was." Wikwocket said, stifling a giggle.

Al cringed at the sudden noise again. "Please tell me that didn't bring someone running." he asked Gruntle, who pressed his ears to the door again. Gruntle shook his head.

"Quiet in there," he said.

"Okay, good," said Al, relaxing, "I will push the door open a little this time and take a look at the inside before we go in. Okay?"

Then, he gently pressed against the door. Its weight alone seemed to have been holding it closed and it swung open a few inches without much effort. Al carefully looked through the gap, and saw an inhabitant of the keep for the first time.