Fiona stepped forward to give the skeletal man a hug–which made a series of rattling bones and a rather forced wheeze from the man, which really shouldn’t have happened, considering his lack of lungs. It must be a reflex thing. “Regis, I heard you had a little misadventure on your last journey, and I never thought that–”

“Ah, you know how it is. Adventurers either retire rich or die young. Not exactly much middle ground on that one,” he chuckled as Fiona slowly let go. “Anyway, sorry guys. As you might have noticed, I’m uh…not exactly rich.”

“Oh goodness. Regis, how’d you come back?” Bonnie asked, her ears drooping slightly.

Regis made a low sound of rumbling bones, and wrung his fingers gently. “Unfinished business. I was looking for an item on the last trek I was on, and a surprise trap nailed me. I woke up, a pile of bones, but with my faculties intact. But even that isn't so sure anymore.” His glowing eyes dimmed lightly, and glanced down at the rattle of one hand. “I asked around looking for the item in question, having heard it might have made its way to Douglas treasure hoard, and by proximity, your possession, Fiona.”

“Regis, if I had anything of yours I’d give it to you without a second thought, but–”

“It’s not for me. It’s for my daughter. Marielle,” he stated solemnly. The lights dimmed completely in his sockets, for a brief second, before slowly flickering back to life. “I was supposed to get that last item as a memento for her, something from my father that was stolen.”

“What item?” Greg already had his arcanist pad out, and was flipping through the pages of neatly written notes, the sound of crisp sliding paper prevalent in the air.

“A small item. It was supposed to be a bracelet, a defensive magical shield, and an effective protection against projectiles or magic. It was tied to specific users, so its use on the broader market would be worthless.”

“Ah. A personal item, then,” Greg murmured. “Are there any other versions of it?”

“No. It was a one-of-a-kind piece. It was crafted by a family member. Only members of the Tel’darn family can utilize it, us or those related by blood to us.” Regis rolled back his other sleeve to show a leather and rune-carved bracelet adorned on his skeletal hand, with a silver charm hanging off of it. It almost looked like a small griffin, Fiona noted. “I wanted this item for her, in case she ever…became an adventurer. A protective item against the many dangers of our world. She was too young to wield it, before, but now…”

“It went missing,” Fiona concluded.

“Such an item from a family still has worth–the dragon could have ransomed it, knowing the magic was limited to only a select few. But alas…” Greg closed his notebook and Fiona glanced at him, a somber expression on her face when Greg shook his head.

“Not in our inventory, is it?” He shook his head at her question.

“No. What do they call it?” Greg inquired.

“The Aegis of Tel’darn,” Regis answered. “I’ve been looking for it, but you can imagine it has been hard to…actively pursue it, after my demise. I knew it had been recently seen by a traveler through Douglas’ territory–possibly stolen, or traded hands several times. At a glance it would indicate high value, but unable to be activated. It still had great material worth. My family wasn’t wealthy, but it was a prized craft.”

“I’m sorry, Regis. If I had it, I’d give it to you in a heartbeat,” Fiona said with a heavy heart. “Do you know anywhere else it could have been?” Greg however, had reopened his notes, and frowned.

“Fiona, we might have it. There is a recording of an unidentifiable bracer that resisted scrying attempts, according to the loggers. It wasn’t high on our list for priority to sell. Regis, would it have been designed to occlude its true origin?”

Regis’s eyes flared to light, with small purple motes joining the blue. “Yes, it might be! Could you take me to it?”

“Hang on. We can’t just give it to him–” Bonnie started to say, but Fiona interrupted her.

“We can. We talked about this before. There might be other cases of stolen treasure. It’s our duty as fellow adventurers–well, former adventurers,” she added hastily as Greg raised a sharp eyebrow, “To find the rightful owners! I would feel awful if there was a shot at–”

The thought concluded, and she turned to Greg, mouth slightly open, before he closed his teeth together. “That’s your unfinished business. Once you’re done, you turn to dust, don’t you?”

“I will have finished my business. I worry if I wait too long, I’ll turn into the mindless. I…do not want that,” Regis said with an airless sigh. The mark turned gold for a brief second on his wrist, before disappearing into motes. “I know I didn’t know you well Fiona, before your rise. But–”

“We can take care of this. Hey Greg, the festival runs for a bit tonight, right? Let’s take a detour, first,” Fiona interjected.

“But, we might miss–”

“Hey, I’m not an adventurer anymore, but I still remember what’s important,” she stated with determination. “Regis, have you got…well…your other things in order?”

“I wasn’t supposed to get a second shot at life…or whatever this is,” he shrugged, as he gestured at himself. “But, yes, I’m ready.”

“Right, then. To the vault!”

----------------------------------------

Five minutes after they got to the storage space, Fiona was ready to scream to the heavens, and they would tremble at her wrath. “How is it not here? Why is it not here? Why are several other small things missing? Are the gilded rats stealing stuff again?!”

“Fiona, I think that was a fluke,” Bonnie assured her, before frowning and putting a claw to her muzzle. “Though, they are pretty smart. Maybe you could train one to grab riches, and no one would bat an eye?”

“Kleptomaniac rats?” Darla scoffed. “Bon-Bon, I think your hat is a little too tight on you.”

“Bite me, shark girl,” Bonnie growled.

“But I might enjoy that,” she said in a low, sultry tone. Bonnie threw up her hands in exasperation, while Greg peered at his list.

“It shows up. Regis, here, does this–”

The skeleton took the list from his hands gently, and he ran a bony finger across the text, trying to absorb the implication. His mandible hung low, and he groaned. “I can’t believe this. How can it be so close, but not here?!”

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Fiona glanced at the skeevy-looking guy down the hall, who was busy staring at his arcane relay, playing what looked to be a game of snake, using the magical controls–he was young, and utterly engrossed by this device. “Pretty sure I have a theory or two,” she answered as she narrowed her eyes on her target. She walked over to the desk down the hallway. Greg locked up the vault room while Fiona hummed and approached the desk–the blonde man was completely oblivious to his surroundings.

“Excuse me.” She tried the polite way, but the man looked at her with scorn.

“Yes, can I help you?” he asked with a curl of his lip.

“Yeah. I seem to be missing some items in my vault. Small things that I think people figured that I wasn’t going to miss,” she added with a laugh tinged with manic undertones. No one stole from her, it was a sin punishable by utter doom. “Wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

“File a complaint, the paperwork is in the little cubby hole down, and to the left. Away from my desk,” the man replied and gave her a dismissive wave. “We bear no responsibility if you guys leave the vaults unlocked, and you signed a waiver–”

“Guy, Seriously? That vault was locked. The treasure didn’t grow legs by itself, just to walk away,” she stated in a menacing tone, and the man peered up from his little device, looking unimpressed. “I want to speak to your manager.”

“I am the manager, lady, and I don’t care. No responsibility for lost items.” He pointed at a sign above his desk, just for emphasis. She gritted her teeth to prepare to say something unflattering, but then, she thought of something.

“Greg, a word aside?” she stated with incredible calm. He shrugged before gesturing over to a courtesy seat that had seen better days–burn marks from some newbie mage, a chewed-on armrest that some pet had been offended by, and stains from various careless children. She didn’t have the urgency to sit down, to say the least. “Okay, I need to know any of the items that were missing, that aren’t the aegis.”

“Well, there was the small teleporting dagger–best used by singing assassins assigned quests from gods, in retrospect–and a few other items.”

“Hey, I remember that one.” She tried to picture it, and suddenly–the scent of perfume filled her nostrils–whoever had been using it before might have been a femme fatale, in hindsight, and that dagger made it very clear the scent had baked into the metal.

She frowned. That scent was there, it had just been faint, earlier, and it was only now that she could place it on something familiar. It was coming from somewhere behind the man’s desk, while he continued to scowl at them from afar. As if waiting on customers was something he didn’t enjoy doing.

She was surprised that he didn't have even less clientele. This place seemed like an utter bargain basement of storage and long-term safekeeping needs. And now, she had a theory on what had happened, and she hummed and skipped along to the main desk.

The scent was much stronger, here, for sure, and she saw a series of crates, unsealed, that were marked for office supplies. The scent was coming from there, underneath, somewhere. “Say, what’s your name?”

“None of your business,” the man snapped. “This place doesn’t pay nearly enough to deal with nonstop questions–”

“They do, when it involves theft.” She tapped her hammer haft, and the man peered at her warily, once again interrupted.

“Are you threatening me?”

“Me? Nah, I make promises, buddy. See, I've seen a gilded rat pilfering one of my prized possessions earlier today.”

“What the…gilded rats?” He sat up like a light had just lit up over him. “Hang on a second. I saw one earlier today, and I keep this place checked for infestations, and I put in a request for pest control. “What exactly did it steal?”

“A gold bangle. Why?” He thumbed through an arcanist pad, eyes dancing left and right as he read through numerous entries, only interrupted by him turning the pages. After a few seconds, he stopped.

“Someone just yesterday complained that some gold baubles went missing. I have wards to keep people tracked on what goes in and comes out. And…” he frowned as he swiped through his arcanist pad. “Two more people complained last week about small missing items. All with gold. I mean I get it, it's a tough economy.”

“So this isn't new to you?” She relaxed her stance, and could still smell the scent. “Let me pose a theory. I think one of my items is under that cabinet. I can smell it.”

“Smell it?”

“I smell treasure. I’ve got twenty-four-karat magic!” she sang proudly, while Darla tried to not laugh. “No really, it’s in my class!”

The attendant raised an eyebrow at this but otherwise remained composed. “I didn't steal it, if that's what you're asking. This place might be cheap, but I want no fireballs coming my way for that, no thanks,” he added with a defensive wave of his hands. “But, under the cabinet? How would it have–”

Tink. Tink.

Everyone heard the sound of something metal clicking softly, and Fiona's ears twitched. “Uh, I’m checking now.”

She knelt to look under the cabinet, and found a rat with a knife hilt in its mouth, held delicately, and it froze. It had been trying to climb into a recently chewed hole in a corner, judging by the wood shavings, and it had been trying to carry the dagger through–and catching on the knife tip, the hilt end through the too-small hole. The rat hadn’t worked out to turn the item sideways to drag it in.

Even Regis knelt and grunted. “Ah my old bones, I'm getting too old for this. We have ourselves a rat thief.” Fiona didn't wait and offered another segment of cookie to the rat, which tilted its head in curiosity.

“Hey buddy, a treat for a dagger. It's mine, you know.” She could also see the inlaid gold on the cross piece, with light runic work that likely contributed to its telekinetic control. The rat dropped the dagger with a clang and accepted the gift before scurrying off into the hole. He now had the most important prize in his mouth before disappearing in a scrabble of claws through the structure.

“Holy cats. Thieving rats!” The man gasped, and Fiona tucked the item into her belt after confirming it was, indeed, on the item inventory. “That is just…I…I'm screwed.”

“Uh, Greg, have you ever heard of rats committing organized theft?” Bonnie queried, and he rubbed his chin for a second, considering the possibility.

“Druids with certain traits could command animals to follow complex tasks, yes. But this is grabbing small items, and with deliberate tact and organization. The fact that we have witnessed two thefts by rats on Fiona's property suggests either extreme coincidence, or–”

“Someone's trying to mess with me, and their name rhymes with Larry,” she said as her hand drifted to her hammer haft. “I'm getting my cat. Time to solve this mystery, and find Regis’s family heirloom.”

“I'm gonna call the watch and report this. I have to, but I don't know if they're gonna believe someone is organizing animals to steal items,” The manager of the storage facility looked panicked. “You saw it, I didn't steal anything.”

“You might want to let your clients know, so they can inspect for missing items,” Greg suggested before pocketing his notes. “Well, Miss Swiftheart, I think we have a mystery to tally up.”

Bonnie looked deflated at this. “But Greg, we're gonna miss the…” She trailed off, and glanced at Regis, who despite his status as a set of walking bones, carried himself a little taller, knowing they might have a possible clue. “Ya know what, I changed my mind. The thrill of helping a lost soul find peace is too much to pass up! We can try to catch the festival later, we've got time!” She reached into her purse to grab a wand. “Fiona, can you do that uh…scent thing? I want to see if I can figure out what exactly is going on with it, and if it uses magic–and what kind, too.”

“I can't. I’d need something to compare against. I think,” Fiona explained, but then Regis glanced down at his wrist, and pulled off the bracelet.

“How does your power work?”

“Still trying to figure out that part. I think it has to be tuned in to something familiar about the person or the item. Like an…emotional bond, or something that makes them, them.” She wiggled her nose, and glanced at the bracelet. “What's with that thing?”

“It was my mother's bracelet. Perhaps, you can use the familial relation to find the other item? She did wield the item, same as my father, and it wasn’t just a mantlepiece,” he continued with a hint of optimism in his tone.

“And here it gets weirder,” Greg said, but made no motion to stop her as she took a sniff–and then her mind was flooded with the scent of something like pine, and something else…a metal tasting of salts. It was a strange combination. She opened her eyes after taking a good sampling, and could feel a trail guiding her–outside of the warehouse.

“Guys, we’re grabbing Tucker on the way. You know, just in case we need to bully some thieving mice.”

“Might I also suggest a druid?” Greg pushed back lightly. “Gilded rats are ferocious if you attempt to hurt them.”

“Well, I’m outta cookies, and apparently, they can be bribed with snacks. You know what, maybe we won’t need one if Granny has any more at home,” she finished with a grin. “Shall we, Regis?”

“Keeping it interesting as ever,” laughed with a slight rattle of bones, and wearing that eerie visage of a grin–even though his glowing eyes conveyed delight. “Fi, you do instill a lot of cheeriness in the world, you know that? Don’t stop doing that.”

“I’m incapable of stopping. To my lair, to retrieve our mega mouser!” she declared with a triumph.