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Chapter Seven Hundred Thirty Seven

Devule was smaller than I’d expected. Ascendant cities tended to be large, but Imperial towns ignored the convention because of the Empire’s taxation system. Still, this wasn’t actually Empire territory, and most of the cities I’d seen had been decently sized, barring outliers like the town with no name.

In contrast, Devule was more of a hamlet than anything else, and it was surprisingly peaceful and picturesque…until we arrived.

“And I’m telling you, that bear was going to attack us ANYWAY. We trespassed on its territory, and it wasn’t going to let us go regardless of what I did or didn’t do.” Argued Chester as he and Bell trailed behind me.

My apprentice glared at him. “You have honey on your FACE right now, as you’re saying that. That basin of cave honey was in the deepest part of its lair, it was OBVIOUSLY protecting it.”

“You say that.” Drawled Chester. “But you had some too.”

“Because you didn’t TELL us where you got it!” She shouted in exasperation. “Master, can you tell this sticky fingered lunatic that he shouldn’t STEAL from dangerous wild animals. There’s being a thief and then there’s being an idiot.”

I sighed. “Chester don’t steal from bears, Bella let it go. We’ve arrived, so you two need to calm down so we can work. Now, obviously we’re heading for the local tavern to collect information, I need you two to try to blend in.”

“Master, you’re nearly six and a half feet tall and you’re wearing a full set of C-ranked plate armor.” Bella said carefully. “I feel like that ship has sailed.”

She wasn’t wrong. I mostly just wanted them to shut up for ten minutes. But I didn’t admit that. “Bella. Am I or am I not your master?” She nodded. “Then trust that I have a reason for the assignments I give you. I need to know you can move undetected. We’ll be separating. Your mission is to make conversation with the locals. I’ll be acting as a distraction, so they’re less likely to single you out as outsiders.”

Her eyes widened in understanding. “Of COURSE.” She said in an awed voice. “You’re going to be using your obvious and incredibly overdramatic presence to act as a cover for us.” She bowed to me deeply. “I’m so sorry master. I should never have questioned your wisdom.”

“Sure.” I said unconvincingly. “That’s definitely what I’m doing. Wait- what do you mean overdramatic? These are just my clothes.”

She was already heading for the tavern, dragging Chester behind her. “Of course master, they’re every bit as eye catching and pointlessly extravagant as you had hoped! You’re truly a master of subterfuge.”

Then they were gone. “Next lesson.” I muttered to myself. “You’ll be running laps. Around the planet. On your hands.”

After giving them a minute to settle in, I headed to the tavern, taking a beat before I shoved open both doors loudly. All the talking stopped (opening both doors is such a power move) and I stepped heavily into the tavern, my boots thumping on the wooden floor.

Rather than talk and ruin the mystique too early, I walked slowly to the bar, thumped down an E-ranked chit, and said. “Your finest brandy.”

The bartender looked at it, then raised a brow. “Our finest brandy is eight hundred years old and brewed from the tears of an Alderian Snow Wyvern. This will buy you a thimble of it. And it won’t cover the actual thimble.”

“Your most one chittingest brandy.” I corrected. And the man laughed, pulling out a cup and pouring a healthy measure of amber liquid into it before passing it over. “So, I haven’t seen you around these parts. Just passing through?”

“Bob?” I asked in a quavering voice. “You don’t remember me? It’s me, Lance.” My mask opened up and I tossed back the brandy, having to take a beat to keep from choking at the burn. I really didn’t like alcohol. “Kidding. I know I make an impression. Yeah, I’m here to ask some questions about something that happened about two hundred years ago?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He nodded. “The Danhalt murder.” He said knowingly. I stared at him in shock. He shrugged. “This isn’t a big town. Not a lot of stuff happens. Two hundred years ago would have been the eighty third year of the Eclarian Red Calender. Pretty much the only thingsof note that happened in that whole decade were the Danhalt murder and the mayor accidentally inventing a new variant of local cheddar.”

“Fair enough.” I laughed. “Do you happen to have any-” He rolled his eyes and pulled out a block of cheese and a knife, cutting it into slices and quickly arraying it on a plate with a selection of sturdy cheese bearing crackers. “Cheers.” I said happily, passing him another E-ranked chit. “So…the murder.”

The bartender, who was an E-ranker, chuckled. “Aye, I was around. Just a boy at the time, but I still remember it. I’m Kirk, by the way.” He held out a hand.

“Mephistopheles.” I responded, shaking it. “But you can call me Fist. Apparently its easier to say.”

“Less dramatic too.” He said cheerfully. “Anyone ever tell you that you might be trying a little too hard?” He waved at my armor. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s an intimidating image, but it seems like a lot of effort.”

I groaned. “It’s NOT.” I argued. “It’s just good armor and I’m very tall. I use it when I need it, but it’s not THAT over the top.” He looked skeptical. “Look, I didn’t ask for fashion advice, Kirk. If I want to know how to dress like an old timey bartender I’ll give you a call. Stay in your lane, buddy.”

He laughed, which had been my intention, and shook his head. “Touche.” He chuckled. “Anyway, the murder was big news that year. Old Ted Donahue’s boy Teddy. He was closing up one night and someone came up behind him and slit his throat. Bled out right there in the shop. No trace of who did it.”

“There wasn’t an investigation or anything?” I said, a bit put out. “Evidence collected? Maybe some pictures of the scene.”

“Devule is a small town.” He said with a shrug. “The local constable is also the candlestick maker. I mean, they looked into it, asked around. I remember Teddy having a bit of a beef with the butcher’s son, pardon my pun. They were both after Dana Cassidy, though she ended up marrying the baker’s boy.”

I latched onto the comment. “Do you think the butcher’s son might have done it out of jealousy?”

“Harley?” He said with a laugh. “Harley’s too lazy to get out of bed most days. He took a job over at the bookstore a few years later. Still works there. Sleeps most of the day behind his counter. No, the constable questioned Harley, and he wasn’t motivated OR skilled enough. They were all F-rank at the time, just barely strong enough to live here. There really was no obvious motive.”

“And there haven’t been any other murders?” I asked, desperate for some kind of clue.

He snorted. “Of course not. We have some runaways once every few years. Someone decides they can’t take it and leaves, but that’s nothing big. They’re always pretty vocal about wanting to get out of Davule. Most don’t have too many connections here, so they don’t keep in touch.”

That sounded kind of suspicious to me, but he seemed not to mind it, so I just filed it away. I sighed, eating a few more crackers. “Can you give me directions to the bookstore?” I asked with a sigh. “I’d like to at least talk to Harley.”

Laughing, he shook his head. “You kids and your capers. We get a couple of you popping up every decade or two. Hear about something suspicious and try to make your bones as a detective by solving the great mystery. Not a lot of those around. Your Path something related to investigation?”

“You could say that.” I said wryly. “Anyway, thanks for the info Kirk. I’ll be sure to swing back by for those bartender fashion tips.”

He guffawed. “You do that. I’ll show you the ropes. Nothing screams ‘charming and debonair’ like a stained leather apron with a dirty bar rag in the pocket.”

Chuckling, I turned and headed out. I didn’t move right over to the bookstore, but waited outside for about a half hour. Finally, Bella and Chester came out. “Well?” I asked. “How did you do? I made a big enough ruckus to give you something to talk about.”

“It was genius master!” Bella squealed. “It actually seemed like you were a total idiot who embarrassingly tried to underpay for good booze. If I didn’t know you were doing it on purpose, I’d have assumed you were completely incompetent.” I took a deep breath, counting to ten and promising myself to double her laps when I assigned them.

“Yes.” I said blandly. “That was clearly my intention. No need to keep going on about it.” I’d actually planned to play up the intimidation vibe, but since it didn’t work and I’d mostly abandoned my persona, I just went with friendly and personable. I hadn’t realized they’d have decent brandy, and that part hadn’t been intentional, but I wasn’t admitting that to my apprentice.

Bella beamed, but continued. “Anyway, we asked about the incident after you finished talking to the bartender. A few of the other patrons had a bit to say. Most of them didn’t want to talk to strangers, but there was a drunk or two who felt compelled to comment on your performance. You really had them convinced you were a complete dumbass.

“Basically, they said that they weren’t so sure the ‘runaways’ were runaways. One of them said his niece vanished. She was an orphan, but he swears she would have called or written at some point.” She frowned. “The others seemed to dismiss him, but I thought it was really sad. Do you think it has to do with the secret we’re looking for?”

“My gut says yes.” I nodded. “I’m going to look into the bookstore. I want you to go back in and talk to the locals some more.” I passed them a bag with ten E-ranked chits. “Buy some people drinks, get them to open up. Try to get dates for the disappearances, we need to see if there’s any patterns besides ‘people who won’t be missed’.”

She nodded solemnly. “You got it master. I sent word to some of my contacts, but they don’t know much about this place. It’s kind of off the beaten path.” Chester echoed the sentiment.

“I know. I didn’t have much hope for outside sources on this one.” I shrugged. “I’m sure SOMEONE on this planet knows something, but I’m not interested in paying some information broker a fortune to get answers. I sincerely doubt it would count anyway.” My task was to find the secret, and the investigation and discovery was the whole point. I might pass by buying the info, but I doubted I’d make a very good impression, and if I was doing this I might as well do it right.

They headed back inside, and I turned and made my way to the bookstore. As I did, I smiled to myself. This felt…good. Looking for answers, hunting for the truth. Something weird was going on, and if I figured it out, i might be able to really help these people. I wondered what I was going up against. Surely nothing too overpowered, the god of secrets wouldn’t send me after some ancient demon or something on my second trial.

As I arrived at the bookstore, I pushed the door open, the next steps on this journey were clear enough. I needed more info. A bookstore seemed like the perfect place to get it. Now I just needed to ask the right questions.