The Candlestick in the Ballroom

An unholy silence has taken over Old Man Wellington’s manor house. The man was a nut but a long-time collector of all things cryptic. Pay him a visit, and find out what happened.

I let my hand drop and my quest menu closed along with it. I’d read the description any number of times and yet I still didn’t understand it. Walking around the main hall hadn’t helped me a lot either. The four doors leading off this room were locked, all of them showing an hourglass icon directly under its unique golden knocker in varying numbers. The first door on my left had only one. It then circled the room from there until the door on my right had four of them. Trying to climb the stairs was no good either. Trying to climb them was also the reason there were two brand new ass-shaped holes in the plaster of the walls opposite. The golden wall of light keeping me from climbing them wasn’t as violent as the one Stella had slammed into but it was still enough to toss me. It would have left an epic bruise on my rear end if my replenishing health wasn’t so good at washing them away.

I stepped back into the odd little alcove formed by the twin curving staircases. It would have made for a nice sitting area if it wasn’t being taken up by an enormous grandfather clock placed right in the middle over a red and yellow rug. The odd-shaped walls formed by the stairs were covered by paintings. All of them looked ancient and stupidly expensive but maybe I was talking out my ass. It’s not like I knew anything about art.

The grandfather clock itself was exquisite. At least it was to my eyes. A piece that belonged in an upper-class antique shop or maybe even some Lord's castle across the pond. The dark wood was carved with intricate designs of vines, flowers, and even what looked like an angel right on top, although it might have been a cherub. The clock hands, numbers, and the great swinging pendulum were bright and golden. If I could figure out a way to disconnect it from the floor I would squeeze it into my bum bag and take it home.

What can I say, I like clocks.

Only there was something off about this one. The time was wrong. The big hand was sitting a fraction past twelve. The clock wanted me to believe it was eight o’clock. There was only one problem with that, I’d just been outside not long before this, so there was no way it was eight o’clock at night. Not even with the sun's slow descent in the warmer months.

So, so far I’d discovered that the manor house had a strict rule against guests going upstairs and the pretty clock was a fucking liar. That wasn’t a lot to go off.

The fact that only thieves were allowed to play this quest line gave me another hint I suppose. Whatever the answer was to this it was something only a thief could do. As far as I could tell there were no level prerequisites which implied it didn’t need higher level skills to accomplish.

That’s how I looked at it anyway. I have a long history of being correct about stuff so clearly I must be completely correct about this as well.

“Stella would you stop that,” I begged, snapping my fingers to draw her away from whatever it was she was growling and digging at.

She had the audacity to stop for long enough to glare at me with her newly purple eyes before continuing like I had not said anything at all. Her claws scraped across the floor, damaging the wood as she snapped her jaws and left slobber over the wall. I frowned, seeing what could only be a mouse hole that she was trying to get herself into. I’d caught her hunting mice around the haybales before but this was a whole new level for her.

I turned back to the clock. On one side of the clock face was a skeleton holding a scythe in one hand and an hourglass in the other. Opposite the little grim reaper figure was a rampant lion with its paw on a decapitated head with snakes for hair. The artist that had crafted these put a lot of heart and soul into them. I was sure both figures had a meaning, I just didn’t know what they were.

Frustrated, I turned and marched to the first door. I ignored Stella’s wild hunting noises; it was the price I paid for bringing a warrior class with me. I worry about that sometimes. What happened when my shadow friends decided they were done listening to me? I didn’t want her to get hurt.

I reached for the handle of the door and just like the times I had done it before the singular hourglass icon lit up in red and flashed three times before fading back again.

“What do you want?” I barked at it like a hunk of solid wood could actually answer me.

A gust of icy cold air struck my face as it howled around the main hall. I squinted against it, trying to find where the damn thing came from. It howled and whistled and disappeared all before a single minute had passed.

I sighed and scratched at the growing stubble peppering my chin. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say Old Man Wellington bought a haunted painting or three.” The scratching and barking continued until I was grinding my teeth. “ Stella, down!”

The cattle dog's ears flicked back at me as she took a few steps back and lay on the ground, her nose still twitching as she stared at the mouse hole.

“Why are you so damn interested in that thing?”

Is she gone? Can I come out now?

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I leaped back and spun in a circle, reaching up to yank my sword free. The source of the squeaky voice was nowhere to be seen. And, just like every time a random voice sounded from nowhere, this one was something I heard inside my head and not with the use of my ears.

“Come out and face me?” I bellowed, flinching as my own distorted voice bounced back at me from the towering ceiling. Do I really sound like that?

Make the animal go away and I’ll come out.

I spun again, staring at the mouse hole. I’d heard it this time. That’s where the voice was coming from. This didn’t bode well for me in the slightest. Damn, I suck at sneaking.

“Stella, get back,” I said. Stella whined and crawled back a little. I repeated my command and she moved halfway back across the room. “Good girl, now stay.”

Is she gone?

“Yes, come out. Slowly.”

The breeze came back, whistling through the hall and chilling me to the bone despite my leather armor. I spread my feet, preparing myself to launch a skill and stab at whatever it was. Nothing happened until the chill wind had disappeared again leaving the oddly stale air to take its place. Twitching whiskers and a tiny pink nose were the first things I saw followed by the rest of the tiny pure white mouse with red eyes and a silky tail.

Thank goodness, I thought for sure that beast was going to eat me. How the hell did a dog even become a thief anyway?

I just stood there in my awkward crouch, my sword raised as I stared at the little creature who lifted itself on its hind legs to wiggle its nose in my direction.

“Who or what are you?” I demanded.

The mouse ducked its head and then rose again to look at my face. You can call me Mr. Wellington. I would have thought you’d know that since you broke into my home. So what is it thief, are you some unlucky traveler who stumbled on an open door or are you simply not very bright?

I stiffened at the question, wondering if this was an unkillable NPC or if I would fail the quest with a simple well-placed swing of my blade. The description of this quest specifically mentioned the man was a nut. It had failed to mention the whole mouse thing. Another glaring oversight by the Guardians.

“I’m supposed to find out what happened here?” I didn’t word it like a question but I sure as hell meant it to be one.

Do you really want to know, sneak thief? The mouse asked before skittering across the floor toward the intricate clock. He ran up the side of it and crouched atop the carving of the angel.

I followed, holding a hand out to Stella who was almost whimpering now as she crawled across the floor, her purple eyes locked on the mouse she so desperately wanted to catch.

I jabbed my thumb at the solidly locked front door behind me. “Yeah, I kind of want to know. Stella and I have places to be you know.”

Not anymore. Not unless you can break this curse. If you take too long you’ll end up just like me. Your dog too. At least, I assume it will get, what did you call her, Stella? Yeah, I think it will get her too. I’ve not had an animal in here since the poltergeist took over my manor.

“A poltergeist? Seriously?”

What? I’m a man of culture. I have traveled the globe looking for rare, unique, and ancient trinkets to add to my collection. How was I supposed to know one of them would house an actual ghost?

“Oh, I don’t know, ever read a book or watched any movies? The cursed object trope is pretty damn widespread.”

Pish, posh. That’s all nonsense for entertainment's sake. Don’t get me wrong, they are extremely engaging but I’m not so easily tricked. I’ve studied the ancient histories. I’ve looked into their curses and lore and not any of it was enough to frighten me away. They are stories to keep people away who are just like you. People who steal for the sake of a little gold. Well, now that one of them has come to life to ruin me, I need a thief's help. Someone who can trick and deceive. Someone who can sneak around in darkened corners where a poltergeist might not look. Someone who can get the damn thing back in its box.

Now hop to it, sneak thief. The longer you take the more you’ll turn into a mouse and once you’re there it's damn hard to avoid the Hunters.

Quest Updated: The Candlestick in the Ballroom

Description: You found Old Man Wellington himself. The fool brought a trinket into his home that he scavenged from overseas. Much to everyone's surprise the trinket held a poltergeist that has now claimed the man’s manor house as its own. You’ve been told if you take too long to solve the poltergeist’s puzzles he’ll turn you into a mouse. So hurry, solve the puzzles, and find the clues to trap the poltergeist and get the hell out of here a slightly richer and less mousey man.

I clapped my hands together once the words had disappeared and eyed the little mouse. “Well, go on then. Tell me how to open the first door.”

Oh, I have no idea. A few people have been here before you but not once did I see them go through that door. To tell the truth, I normally just give my little speech and disappear. Speaking of which, tallyho sneak thief.

I watched the mouse run down the side of the grandfather clock right as another icy wind swept through the place. Old Man Wellington squeaked in terror and sprinted across the room, barely disappearing into his hole before a blue glowing arrow dug into the wood of the floor where he had once been. I shuddered, and not just because of the cold.

I guess now I knew what he meant by ‘Hunters’. The clock chimed behind me so loud I almost jumped clean out of my boots. I spun toward the thing, watching as the two figures on either side of the clock face rose to touch one another right under the delicate feet of the angel on top. Now it looked especially strange with its angel standing over a rearing lion, who itself was standing over a decapitated gorgon’s head, and a weird-looking skeleton reaper who was either battling the lion or simply greeting him. I couldn’t tell which. When the clock chimed for the ninth time the figures returned to the place they had been on either side of the clock face.

I don’t care how slowly Old Man Wellington had been to tell me the next part of the quest. There was just no way it had already been an hour since the last time I’d looked at that clock. There was something very wrong with it, and I for one was determined to find out what it was.