Chapter 2: A Town In Need Is a Town Indeed…

They call this a town?

The thought came unbidden to Cyrus as he looked around at the alleged splendor of the town of Spielburg. Tucked within the confines of its walls, there were hardly enough buildings to qualify it as a village (well, to his knowledge; actually, he wasn't sure what the specific difference was between a town and a village). There certainly were not enough streets (which, of course, were unbelievably short in length). He could see the two nearest corners of the town from his own point at the entrance; if not for the sheriff's office, he was sure he'd be able to see the furthest.

So lost was he in his own indignation, he was quite surprised when, from right in front of him, a voice caught him unawares.

"Welcome to Spielburg."

Looking down at the porch in front of the sheriff's office building, Cyrus somewhat dumbly noted the town sheriff sitting on it. He was a somewhat comical looking fellow, with a large grey mustache; a thick body that may have been physically fit once, but now was sagging with age and lack of use; and a pipe he was puffing on contentedly. His blue eyes were alive with intelligence, but his demeanor suggested he wasn't the type to help much beyond providing information or advice.

"You must have made it through the pass before the avalanche blocked it. I'm Schultz Meistersson, sheriff of the Town of Spielburg, and this here is my assistant, Otto von Goon."

Leaning on the wall not far from him was the looming, lumbering form of a bald goon. To Cyrus's mind, this meant he was both immensely stronger and infinitely dumber than a normal human. And, to both his amusement and disdain, the behemoth was alternating between clumsily playing with a yo-yo and staring stupidly at it.

Convinced he wasn't in any immediate trouble from the lawman and his assistant, he moved forward to greet them.

"Good to meet you," he said. "My name is Cyrus, and I'm… responding to the ad."

The sheriff nodded, apparently none too impressed. "I thought you looked like an adventurer," he said, taking a pull on his pipe. "Well, we could certainly use one, what between the brigands and the monsters that have taken up here. And, of course, there's that darned ogress."

"Whoa, whoa, what? Ogress?" Cyrus asked, alarm suddenly shooting through him. "There's an ogress involved?"

"Ad didn't mention that?"

"Do you honestly think I'd be here if it did?"

At that the sheriff actually laughed. "Well, I guess it's good that we didn't mention it, since you're the only one that's been dum—brave enough to respond to it. So I guess you've got your work cut out for you!"

Cyrus crossed quickly to the old man, barely suppressing the desire to use his dagger to cut the sheriff's own work out for him. "Oh, yeah," he said, laughing bitterly. "This doesn't change the landscape one little bit. Maybe I'll get turned into a frog and frappéed if I'm lucky!"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll do fine," the sheriff said, patting him on the shoulder. "Quick, resourceful young man like you—I'm sure you'll figure something out."

"Thanks. So much."

The sheriff, if nothing else, was helpful in providing an overview of Spielburg's problems: some years ago, Baron Stefan von Spielburg tried to drive an ogress from the valley; he had failed and she had cursed him. Apparently it worked, as the baron soon lost both his children, and monsters and brigands besieged the valley in just a few years. The baron fell into a deep depression, and hadn't been seen outside his castle for years.

"What can you tell me about the ogress herself?"

"Name's Baba Yaga, and lives somewhere in the valley. That's all I know about her."

He provided the thief with the names of several people he could talk to about the valley and town's problems, including Wolfgang Abenteur at the local hero's guild, Zarra at the town magic shop, and the Kattas at the nearby Inn, where there currently dwelt a man who'd recently been robbed by the brigands. He also mentioned that the local tavern might be a place to get some information, but he seemed reluctant to mention it.

"Don't trust that place, myself," he said. "All the local trouble I have to deal with usually comes from there. Bartender also has a mean goon in there. Mostly local riffraff. I wouldn't go in there unless you have to."

Cyrus nodded, thinking he might have to give the place a visit for precisely that reason. Local riffraff…

"Thanks for your time, Sheriff Meistersson," he said with a bow. Taking a final look at Otto, who'd become extremely interested in examining the various sides of his yoyo, he started to walk away, saying, "I guess I'd better get started."

The sheriff smiled slightly and nodded at him. "Best of luck on your quest!"

Walking away from the sheriff, Cyrus thought bitter thoughts at the old man. I'll certainly need it NOW, won't I?

Mentally cursing his luck yet again, he made a silent vow to personally get even with the sadistic entity that decided to create ogres and release them upon Glorianna.