And so, Cyrus spilled all the beans to Odette and his companions in the room. He held back no detail. He told them all about the hectic morning, the book thieving by Russell, the discovery of an additional missing book, and the whole spat with Yvon over his publications and the rumors about the princess. Luckily, Odette cuts him short at the parts that don't matter where he rambles. By the end of it, she seems to be trying hard not to laugh.
"...And that is the gist of the reasoning behind my inquiry here," Cyrus finishes.
"BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Odette bursts out in laughter. Raucous noises that had been held in for the past half hour gushed out of her. It had also been admittedly a rather long time since she had ever laughed like this.
"Oh, Cyrus, your natural attributes are beyond compare, both good and bad," Odette says, between bouts of laughter, "I would have figured your looks would get you in trouble someday... But I never imagined in my wildest dreams t'would be the princess of all people!"
Cyrus looks exasperated as Odette seems on the verge of coughing up her lungs out of laughter. Ophilia looks a bit sorry for the educator. H'aanit and her beasts seem rather indifferent, or just affirmative of his story. Alfyn gives Cyrus a pat on the back and a sympathetic smile.
"Yeesh, ya've had it kinda tough, Cy."
"Thank you, Alfyn," Cyrus sighs.
"Honestly, Cyrus, you have no idea what natural gifts you possess that make other men so jealous. But! I trust that nothing is really going on with Therese and the princess. After all, they are your pupils, and I know what strict scruples you have about student-teacher engagements..." Odette finishes her fun and puts her hands on her hips.
"Of course!" Cyrus nods furiously and sighs, folding his arms, "But even if that is obvious to a simpleton... Yvon does indeed have a point. The princess' reputation must be protected at all costs..."
"Doen his looks seemeth that fetching to thee?" H'aanit asks Ophilia on the side. The cleric gives a small shrug.
"And so here you are, on sabbatical. Thrilling, though I'd suggest a dip in Goldshore for you instead, really. You need to let out some of that tightness," Odette chuckles, "So, what are you doing here then? If you were looking to entertain me, job well done. I haven't laughed like that in a few moons, I'd wager."
"Well, I was hoping you might be of assistance regarding the missing tome I spoke of. Surely you still retain a vast knowledge on magical tomes."
"Uh-huh, and what's the name of the book?"
"From the Far Reaches of Hell."
"Hm, cheery title, that one," Odette puts a hand to her cheek, leaning forward on her knee, and scoffs, "Rings a bell, for sure. Can't say I've got it. It's a particularly old book, that I know. But the contents didn't interest me as much as others."
"Whatever contents did it hold?"
"It's been a while since I looked at anything about it. I never looked at the book itself... But it contained spells and dark rites. Human sacrifice, that sort of shebang," Odette sighs, "But that's about all I can give you off the top of my head."
"That sounds like something... perhaps ominous," Ophilia swallows.
"Oh, there's speculation about these old things all the time. Much of the time, the rituals inside were fake or no longer functional," Odette reassures the cleric.
"Ahh, I had been hoping you might yield some clue as to the tome's whereabouts..." Cyrus sighs with defeat.
"Now just a minute, I said 'off the top of my head,' you wild stallion," Odette scoffs, "If you afford me the time, I can easily dig around and see what else I have on the matter."
"Oh, splendid!" Cyrus exclaims.
"But! You have to do something for me," Odette folds her arms, "As you can see, I would be diverting precious time from my own work to do sleuthing for your own. Tit for tat."
"That seems reasonable," Cyrus nods, "What support do you require of me? Filing some papers? Conducting a survey?"
"Gods no, those are things I can do myself. I want you to investigate something for me," Odette sifts through some papers, pulling out a sheaf of bound parchment and tossing it on her desk before opening, "Missing persons."
"Hey, that'll be a breeze if Hägen can sniff 'em out!" Alfyn exclaims obliviously.
"We wille tryen our beste to aideth if we can," H'aanit scratches the dire wolf between his ears. Linde gives Alfyn a slight smirk.
"Well, good luck with these," Odette lays out the missing persons dossiers, "Ten women and men have been reported missing as of this month."
"How awful..." Ophilia murmurs.
"Hmm..." Cyrus places a hand to his chin as he looks over the papers before Odette, "Which of these are the most recent?"
"These two fellows and this lady," Odette taps the three portraits, "Two of them are miners in town for work, the other is a local. These are definitely some of the queerest happenings, I swear. One of the missing persons allegedly ran to the store and never returned. Another seemingly turned a corner and no one ever saw them again. The last one was taking in laundry and seemed to vanish as well. All without a trace so far."
At the mention of the miners, Ophilia recalled the conversation around the fire last night. Looking to her companions, they all may have arrived to the same conclusion.
"And how were these miners last seen?" Cyrus looks at the recent missing, "I believe I heard their names in tent town last night.
"Tent town, huh? Yeah, the vagrant worker population in this town makes it hard to keep track of them... They try to come to me with their problems," Odette sighs, "Anyway, you'll have to ask around for their last whereabouts. There were witnesses before their disappearances, I would wager."
"Wow, uh... sounds like folks 're being spirited away?" Alfyn scratches his head with worry, "That ain't good..."
"Most curious indeed," Cyrus places a hand to his chin in his classic pose of contemplation, "I will need more information before I draw any conclusions, but I believe this will be a rather interesting task, haha."
"Yeah, sure, go out and bother everyone else," Odette scoffs with a smirk, "Already on the hunt, are we, sherlock?"
"Hm hm hm! This is no errand for me at all, for an answer to such a riddle is reward in and of itself. Much like how we used to solve mysteries and riddles back in the Academy!" Cyrus says with his nose high.
"Right, right, we were joined at the hip back in the day," Odette sighs with amusement, "'Sherlock Cyrus and his warden Odette.'"
"Can see'n, I do, how he fallen into trouble oft without thine guidance," H'aanit says with a nod.
"Trouble? Oh, I can imagine it," Odette chuckles at Cyrus' expense.
"I will try to help as well..." Ophilia nods, "These workers almost feel like they are being preyed on since they are already without home... and now to just disappear..."
Odette's eyes soften at the cleric's sentiment, "Indeed. I'm not in any mayoral or headman position to turn this town around. I haven't any power, really. All I can do is lend an ear and try to help some days pass smoother."
"Do not discount your own efforts, Odette," Cyrus declares, "You are overperforming your typical scholar duties, going above and beyond!"
"Yeah, you're trying your best to help! I'll try an' help too!" Alfyn jumps to his feet.
"Just get out and find the missing persons already," Odette shoos them out with an exasperated smile.
…
Primrose quietly works her magic around town, inquiring about the whereabouts of the dark hooded men she heard from the inventor. It seems they have a working deal with town baron, Morlock, that involves oversight in the mines. They were essentially the muscle that broke up worker strikes and kept people working in the area.
With that information in mind, Primrose makes her way to the mines east of town. She mentally apologized to Alfyn for not keeping an eye on the thief, who was probably running around the town shop area.
The mines of Quarrycrest are entered in from the town's east area, where it winds along a precarious set of scaffolding and rope systems to scale higher along the face of the cliff. Escarpments had been carved into the cliffside so people could make new headway into the hard rock in search of branching veins of ore. Rickety rails were set up so that mine carts could bump along and transport mined ore and refuse.
Primrose keeps her hair out of her face as a blustery wind blows by, carrying with it dust from the miner's work. She frowns lightly seeing the working conditions. As she nears the work site, she overhears the supervisors shouting. Turning to look, she sees some of these dark hooded men scrutinizing at the passing miners toiling away. They smirk to themselves and bark at any miners who seem to be slowing their pace.
The sight of her prey makes her blood boil and she moves to close in... but she stops. To her surprise, Tressa is here. The merchant seems to have wandered around prior her own entry and now saunters up to some of the dark hoods, even seemingly speaking to them. Primrose does not hear their words. Tressa seems to tip her hat and skip over to some carts of mining refuse lined to be thrown into the river.
Primrose purses her lips and walks over to the merchant, flatly eyeing the men who also stare at her likewise. She taps on the merchant's shoulder lightly.
"Oh, Prim!" Tressa turns to her with surprise, "Didn't expect to see you here!"
"I could say the same for you," Primrose says with a small smile, "I thought you were at the market to outsell Ali."
"Well, uh, I figured after a few minutes that my inventory wasn't exactly up to task," Tressa pouts slightly, "So I'm hoping to find something valuable maybe they missed something around here!"
"Curious. Are you well-versed in geology?" Primrose looks over at the carts loaded with stones and discarded rock, "These were thrown out because they have no value, after all..."
"My nose for treasure led me in this direction!" Tressa declares, tapping her schnoz, "And I'm never wrong about these things!"
Even though she said that, the merchant is quite puzzled herself. After leaving the market to save face, she wandered absentmindedly into the mining area. She spoke with some miners here and there and heard their complaints about the lack of valuable ore. Many came with hopes to strike it rich, only to be tethered to unfair commissions by Morlock and then finding nary even a trace of gold dust or premature gems. She'd spoken to the supervisors about poking around the trash they throw out and they gladly obliged with a small laugh.
"Alright, let's see!" Tressa flexes her arm and pulls out a pair of gloves she bought for her voyage. Slipping those on, she begins to inspect the stones bit by bit. Primrose watches with slight amusement at the girl's spunk.
"What was Ali selling?" Primrose asks with a small, amused smile.
"Some textiles and pottery. I gotta admit," Tressa frowns as she scrutinizes the rocks, "His stuff ain't bad. Real, legitimate goods from the Sunlands are pretty hard to transport up north this far... And despite the vagrant worker population, there's a decent amount of well-off clientele here that really like that sorta stuff. But don't tell him I said that!"
Primrose chuckles, "My lips are sealed. It seems you have a worthy rival indeed."
"Huh! I'll smoke him out, just you wait!" She grumbles and takes two stones, clicking them together, "Mgrgrgrgr..."
"Maybe you should think about selling something other than stones?" Primrose suggests.
"... Huh?" Tressa ignores her and clicks the stones together again. Bits of the exterior chip off. Staring hard at the stone, Tressa spits on the surface and rubs furiously on it. Slowly, she reveals a small glint of blue as clear as the sky under the shell of dirt.
"Hm?" Primrose peers a bit over the smaller girl's shoulder at the glint, "My word..."
"Ha... haha! Take that, Ali!" Tressa grins and tries to keep her giddiness contained as she begins shoveling the waste rocks into her bag, "Help me grab a few, will ya, Prim?"
"What are they?" Primrose looks at the stones curiously, picking one up gingerly.
"I'unno just yet but it should fetch me some pretty penny!" Tressa chuckles, keeping an eye over her shoulder at the supervisors in black. They don't seem to have noticed her windfall just yet.
"Wow, never thought I'd see the day the princess is picking up rocks for a living."
Tressa and Primrose turn at the sound of that familiar voice and see Therion trot up to them. The thief tosses about a nicely hefted pouch in his hand. The two girls can make a good guess that it did not belong to him.
"Done with your pickings already, Therion?" Primrose tosses him a sideway smirk, "Or did the poor alley cat get chased out when he got caught?"
"Hmf, no one here could notice if I stole a mountain," Therion pockets his earnings, "Just poking around like a good citizen."
"Well, if you have time to talk, help me haul some of these waste rocks!" Tressa barks at the thief like a commanding captain.
"Ever heard of asking nicely?" Therion stands idly by, showing no intent of acting on her demands, "Haul your own rocks."
Tressa grumbles and almost falls backward trying to carefully heft her now-very heavy bag back on her back. Primrose helps her bear the weight, though even she has to marvel that Tressa carries that big a bag for a girl her size.
"Maybe you should consider carrying less..." Primrose helps Tressa steady her footing.
"Yeah, the bag's weight is probably keeping you a short stack," Therion smirks.
"Aw, be quiet!" Tressa pouts and starts walking out of the mining area, waving to the supervisors, "Alright, thanks guys!"
The supervisors chuckle with amusement at the merchant's bulging bag as she makes her way out with difficulty. Therion follows, but Prim lingers. She looks slightly over her shoulder at the supervisors and sees that they do indeed have the same design of dark clothing as the men who murdered her father that night... but slightly altered. She had been wanting to rush in earlier, but, now, she was thinking a bit clearer. Likely, these are grunts. The true head of this place would probably be the one dealing with the baron Morlock.
The three of them return to the market place, where Tressa goes to sit down with her find at an empty spot between stalls. The ad hoc style of business here allowed people to easily set up shop so long as they had goods to display. You don't even need a blanket if you don't feel uncomfortable.
Primrose looks over the selection of vendors. There are people with stands selling produce and others with signs for services like fortune-telling. There are also some selling goods like rugs and clothes, Ali being one of them. His stuff does seem very authentic, reminding the dancer of the designs from Sunshade. His name is also much like the patrons she used to serve who were Sunland natives, and he certainly fit the bill for a born-and-raised Sunlander with his tanned skin and loose clothing. He mentioned his father Maruf, but the dancer knew nothing about that.
From the quality of his goods, Primrose hoped Tressa had more than just some dusty old rocks to tip the scales in her favor.
The thief sees the merchant girl take out a kit from her bag and dump out several rocks she had collected. The kit seems to have a small mallet and pick, likely some rock cleaner kit. This girl must carry everything.
Tressa begins to tap at the rocks and use a rag that she wets with her spit to clean the stones carefully. People pass by with disinterest, barely giving her a glance. Therion stands by, looking with a wary eye for easy pockets. Primrose stands opposite to the thief so they both flank the merchant girl's spot.
At first, Therion didn't pay much attention to Tressa either. Primrose notices Ali glance over and give a slight, self-assured sigh to himself now and then.
He is a rather confident one, isn't he...
The girl takes sparing drinks from her waterskin to keep her mouth moist. After a few minutes of polishing one stone, the dancer and thief look to see a stunning gem. With more of the grit rubbed off and the surface polished, the entire gemstone is the same brilliant color of the sky as Primrose had glimpsed. It is a color that is neither emerald, turquoise, nor sapphire, a gem which Therion had never lain eyes on.
"Eureka!"
Heads in the market turn to see the merchant girl now as she lays out more of these beautiful stones before her while polishing new ones still. Interest that was nonexistent exponentially increases. She waves a dirty rag with a triumphant smile.
"Come one, come all, feast your eyes on... the sky stone!" Tressa jumps to her feat with her sales pitch.
"Ohh!"
Therion and Primrose are suddenly on guard duty to prevent the surge of people rushing to get a look at these fancy new rocks. The thief grunts as he pushes back on some overeager buyers, clearing a small circle around their little shop.
"Where in the hells did she find those?" Therion growls under his breath as Tressa begins selling the gems like hotcakes.
"They were in the junk pile you saw us at..." Primrose says back, under her breath, "Amazing. No one realized what they were, but she... I've never seen those before."
"Don't tell her that or it'll get to her head."
Primrose glimpses Ali now looking over with interest over at the newfound hubbub.
"What a sparkle! The clarity value is amazing!"
"The color, oh, it goes perfectly with my headdress!"
"I'll take two!"
The rabble of excited buyers yells orders left and right. Tressa impressively handles the crowd with a confident aura, like she has been doing this all her life. The thief and dancer watch, impressed, as she handles orders and collects payments without missing a beat.
"This isn't gold but, oh my, the cut is precious!"
"Yep! And not only are they amazingly beautiful, sky stones are also super rare!" Tressa announces with the confidence of a professional swindler, "So this could be your own chance to own one of these stunning rarities!"
Therion thinks a moment and rolls his eyes. She literally picked these out the trash... there has to be more of them around the refuse discarded by miners. But, at the same time, no one else had the mind to look any closer. He keeps his trap shut.
"Amazing, I'll take one."
"Me, too!"
"Pleasure doing business with you!" Tressa chuckles.
By the end of merely a little over an hour, Tressa looks with exhaustion and pride at her emptied inventory. Every pebble of sky stone was sold so that not a speck remained before her. Her money box is filled with coin from the buyers, and her ego had positively swelled after such a good debut showing.
She looks to the dancer and thief, "Hehe, this place really is great for business! My nose was right!"
"More like those things sold themselves... along with your little fibs," Therion smirks.
"Hey, twisting the truth isn't a lie," Tressa gives him a playful punch on the arm.
"How much did you make? It seemed like a small fortune," Primrose chuckles.
"Upwards of two thousand, but not much more," Tressa pats her money box and distributes out some of the earnings to her pouch. Then, she hands Primrose and Therion some coinage with a triumphant smile, "Here's a tip!"
"Oh, uhm, thank you," Primrose counts about fifty leaves, "How generous of you."
"... Generous isn't the word, but whatever," Therion pockets his coins.
"Hey, I did a lotta heavy lifting! You guys did help though, so enjoy the allowance!" Tressa chuckles, "Meanwhile, I am off to restock! The day's still young!"
As the merchant packs up and runs off, the thief and dancer linger a little. Primrose pockets her earnings and gives the thief a slight smile, "Better to work for a living, isn't it?"
"This is pocket change compared to what I can get," Therion scoffs.
"Well, if you want some more, we should make sure Tressa can safely procure her next shipment," Primrose skips after the merchant, "She will probably end up our little group's piggy bank, hehe."
"Tsk, so you don't care that she's a kid," Therion scoffs, "Awful cold of you."
"She insists on being treated like an adult, and she will earn her keep," Primrose merely gives him a mysterious smile, "Don't tell me you've grown attached to her as well as Alfyn."
Therion doesn't say anything and trots past the dancer.
…
After exiting Odette's, Cyrus and his three companions were left with a strange mystery in their hands.
"Ten women and men were missing over the course of a month and no one the wiser! I say, that is worrisome," Cyrus seems deep in thought, "First, we must seek information from those nearest those who disappeared latest. Tis the best chance we get fresher information."
"Say, maybe the workers know something. They were talkin' about them at the fire and all," Alfyn taps his cheek as he thinks too, "Though... it didn't seem like they had any ideas either."
"Hägen hath the nose to tracken, if need be," H'aanit offers with a nod.
"If we are to track them, we will need a piece of their belongings," Cyrus seems to decide on a course of action, "I believe we shall conduct oral investigation first. Afterward, we may decide on further action of this bears no fruit."
"Hm? Lia?" Alfyn glances to the cleric, who seems a bit distracted, "What's on your mind?"
"Huh? Oh, uhm... Well, all this talk of missing persons..." Ophilia gives a worried sigh, "We haven't seen Berg at all since we arrived first together..."
The sudden connection dawns on the other three. H'aanit seems frustrated and Linde gives a worried growl. Alfyn pats the cleric on the shoulder, trying to be as reassuring as he can. Cyrus pauses and then nods.
"... All the more reason we must hasten to solve this conundrum! Perhaps this is also a bit of luck as well..." He declares. Then he looks to H'aanit, "Did you happen to see where he may have gone?"
The huntress nods and goes to lead them back to her exact steps that night to the inn from the town square. Stopping before a fork of stairs that led toward the inn and general store, she points at where the warrior split from her and Primrose.
"He weren talking to a man and hath interest founde," H'aanit folds her arms, "Mayhap to do with his search. He hadden with the man left whilst I and Primrose continued to the inn."
"Most intriguing... How did this man appear? Perhaps we have just found our first suspect..."
"Hmm... dark hair, dark eyes... common clothing..." H'aanit's brow furrows a bit as her description comes off rather generic, "... Pardon, I hath not much attention paid to him... But if I weren to see him, I would knowe."
"Ah, unfortunate..." Cyrus sighs and folds his arms, "But he went up the town steps here, yes? Did you see him turn?"
"Aye, nearest the shoppe venue..."
"Odette did say one of the guys went for a shop and never came back, right?" Alfyn pipes up.
"Then we have just found an overlap with two instances!" Cyrus nods as he starts up the steps, "Come, let us to the store!"
"Hägen, have you got a scent of Berg at all?" Ophilia looks to the dire wolf. He seems to flap an ear a little and then gives a slight snort before directing his snout downward.
"It seemeth not," H'aanit says with a slight sigh.
As their little group approaches the store, they can see that this venue leads further into a dead end abutting a side river, connected with the main river where all the town's sewage is disposed of. The river runs into a seeming cavern of rock, which is obscured by many outcrops and seems precarious to enter due to a sloping entry hole. The river then flows out, downtown, where H'aanit, Primrose, and Hägen were poking around last night.
"Curious..." Cyrus looks over the surrounding area attentively, "Perhaps the shopkeeper saw something?"
He enters and spends less than five minutes in the store before leaving promptly, a confused expression on his face. Alfyn looks to him with surprise, as do the girls and the beasts.
"I merely asked him a few questions and he said I was wasting his time because he didn't know anything!" Cyrus balks.
"..."
His three human companions sigh and the two beasts give the scholar an exasperated look. Knowing Cyrus, "a few questions" was likely an entire interview.
"Lemme try..." Alfyn goes to give it a shot.
"Best of luck, Alfyn," Cyrus sighs, "Tis disheartening, that townsfolk won't lend an ear with their fellows in possible peril."
"Uhm, how exactly did you ask him, Cyrus?" Ophilia asks, despite having an inkling already.
"My manner of asking? Well, ahem," Cyrus clears his throat, "My good sir, I am currently investigating a series of disappearances in your town and at least two of the lost are said to have vanished near your shop. Would you happen to have any recollections of missing individuals who patronize your establishment? I require an exact date or time of day when you had last seen them. Additionally, did they come with anyone who may have been suspicious to you? Please describe in detail what you-"
"T-that's quite enough..." Ophilia says with a weak smile, "I... think I understand why he might have been frustrated with such a loaded set of inquiries..."
"What? But why? That is hardly a page's worth of response..." Cyrus says, still confused.
H'aanit just sighs with a wry smile on the side, "Thou hath the social graces of a fledgling avian with a hobbled beak... worse than mine."
"Professor, do try to keep your questions shorter so that the one answering might have an easier time with it," Ophilia tries to suggest helpfully.
"Hmm... I will keep your suggestions in mind, dear Ophilia," Cyrus sighs, "I do hope Alfyn fares better than I..."
"Tis no surprise thine tongue hath thou ensnared in politic at thine work," H'aanit says off-handedly.
"We-well, Alfyn seems to be a very amicable person," Ophilia says quickly, trying to steer the conversation in a positive direction, "I'm sure he can talk to just about anyone really!"
"Wait, is that truly how you perceive my speech?" Cyrus seems perturbed at H'aanit's words so much that he utterly ignores Ophilia, "Hmm... Odette had mentioned this but... I hadn't ever received such complaints from my other fellows... But if you all feel similar..."
"Tis a disservice to hiden it," H'aanit says tersely before Ophilia could stop her.
"Are my mannerisms that beguiling?" Cyrus seems deep in thought now. He looks to Ophilia and H'aanit in earnest.
"... I see not. Thou art far from any strength of a hunter," H'aanit says flatly. Linde chuckles.
"That's not what he means... Or what Odette means," Ophilia sighs, "Professor, it's just that... you are very, uh, attractive for your age so your words have, erm, unexpected effects sometimes..."
"Attractive? Nay, surely you jest," Cyrus points at the two women, "If anyone were to befit that adjective, why, you both are beautiful women."
Suddenly, Ophilia's face flushes like crazy. H'aanit blinks blankly, then seems confused as a slight blush tinged her normally neutral and calm expression.
"... Hm?" Cyrus looks at their reactions, befuddled.
"... Haven not a person sayeth to me afore," H'aanit mutters as she cools back down. The beasts eye her in amusement.
"S-see, that is a great example of something you should be careful saying!" Ophilia exclaims, "A-a woman could easily take that to mean something, er, very … enticing!"
"Enticing? But I was merely stating my thoughts. You both are very beautiful," Cyrus says again without hesitation, "Am I not allowed to tell a beauty she is so?"
Alfyn walks back out of the store with a skip in his stride, "Hey guys! Sorry about the wait, but we were talking up a storm and- huh?"
He comes back to find the cleric covering her red face, H'aanit looking lost, and Cyrus stumbling for words.
"Uh... Did I miss something?"
…
Back at the mining site, the merchant girl is appalled to see Ali now looting around the same area she was at where the carts of refuse rock are. Therion snorts seeing Tressa march up to her fellow merchant with a head of steam built up.
"Hey, what do you think you're doing?!" Tressa yells.
"Huh? Oh, heya, Green Pea," Ali waves nonchalantly, "I saw the show you put on with these rocks. Good stuff."
"Uh, yeah... So, what are you doing here?" Tressa huffs, "Shouldn't you be selling your rugs or whatnot?"
"Nope, past that now. I'm cashing in on the new hot topic," Ali smirks, tossing a rock up and down, "You got an eye for them, I'll say. But they're sorta everywhere in these garbage bins, too. So, I figure, may as well get a slice of the pie before the supply gets too big and price drops."
"Can't find your own inventory?" Tressa folds her arms, pouting.
"Hey, you didn't mine for these either, right?" Ali says smugly, "This is all free real estate. C'mon, if we sell the same thing, then we'll really know who's the best merchant."
"Hmf! Challenge accepted!" Tressa announces, "Our only stake is the pride of a merchant. The money'll speak for itself!"
"Well said!" Ali extends a hand with a cocky grin, "May the best merchant win!"
"Short stack doesn't stand a chance," Therion mutters.
"... I would ask for your opinion, but I'm afraid I agree..." Primrose purses her lips, "I don't know anything about merchant battles, but he certainly seems to have some experience and charisma over her. In business, that can be the deciding factor alone."
"You'd know all about charisma and sales," Therion says on the side.
Tressa and Ali scoop up their shares of as many rocks as they can before making like two mad dogs back to the market to clean, display, and sell. The thief and dancer follow along for the show, mostly. A fresh crowd of customers enter the market place, looking with slight confusion at the addition of a new sky stone purveyor. The two merchants are not making it easy on their new cash cows.
"Come one, come all! Feast your eyes on the rare and beautiful sky stone! It can be yours today for a price that can't be beat!" Ali bellows.
"Shoot, he stole my lines, too...!" Tressa scowls, biting her thumb, "Come on, people! Sky stones, they sparkle like nothing else! Get 'em quick while they last!"
"Hnn, you're slipping up, Green Pea..." Ali smirks and counters, pointing to a woman in the crowd, "Ma'am, that is a beautiful shawl you have!"
"Huh? O-oh, why thank you..." The woman looks to him gratefully, "I bought it just last week..."
"That is a wonderful choice. You must have a real eye for beauty, ma'am," Ali chuckles, "What would make it even more beautiful is if you had the right jewelry to accompany it... like a ring made from this stone, or a brooch."
The woman's eyes glitter as she seems hung on his every word about these gems before him. She runs over to his stall.
"... and the fish takes the bait," Therion mutters into his poncho, "Game set and match."
Prim watches as Ali entices another customer; a man who wants to buy a gift for his daughter. And then another; a richly dressed man with a multitude of stones encrusting his fingers in ringlets.
"You look like a great appreciator of such collections, dear sir!" Ali says without needing to take a breath, "Surely a sky stone would fit perfectly in your set? Look how it glistens all the way through, not a speck of impurity..."
"Oh my, you're right...!"
Tressa watches in hopeless confusion as the customers are slowly drawn to Ali's stand entirely despite her loudest sales pitches. They were selling the same product, weren't they? What was drawing them over there? She watches as Ali weaves his magic with the crowd, complimenting this and commenting on that...
"..."
It was a marvelous show of merchant skill... and she was just a bystander.
Within another round of sales, the rug before Ali only has bits of dust left. His entire inventory is sold. On the other hand, Tressa still has quite a few sky stones available. But the market traffic has reduced barely even a trickle as the day begins to turn into the later hours. The battle is over, and victory is obvious.
"..." Tressa silently sits behind her product, looking down at the dirt particles that gathered on the stones before her.
"Whew! Business sure boomed!" Ali chuckles, stretching after a long sale. He tosses a snide grin at Tressa's area, "Well, not for all of us."
"... He's real proud of that tongue, isn't he..." Primrose folds her arms, displeasure growing on her features.
"You gonna cut it off?" Therion asks, half-jesting.
"..." Tressa sighs and grips the rim of her hat as she stands, "I'll concede this round, Ali."
The dancer and thief are somewhat surprised by the merchant's mature response.
"Gotta say, I've never heard that kind of pitching from a merchant," Tressa looks at Ali with begrudging acknowledgement, "You really sold the product."
"Well, it takes practice. But that's business as a merchant. Just tugging hearts and loosening the purse strings," Ali smiles confidently to himself as he goes to close up for the day.
Tressa purses her lips and pouts, "That's not... That's only about the sale! What about what the customers need?"
"Well, they don't need a sky stone, but they certainly want one once they hear my pitch," Ali shrugs, "No harm there."
He starts rolling up his rug, "You still got a way to go learning words, green pea. That's a merchant's greatest weapon. Ya gotta use it or lose it!"
"W-well, there's always next time... and by then, I'll beat you!" Tressa folds her arms with a confident huff.
"Oh yeah? Tell me something, pea."
"My name is Tressa!"
"You know anything about the state of this town?"
Tressa looks at him, puzzled. What did that have to do with anything? "It's a shanty place that's just up to mine. It'll be gone once the gold and ores are."
"Tut tut. See, that's only part of the picture, green pea," Ali wags a finger, "You were sitting around that fire last night, same as me. And we both just got here yesterday, too. But you didn't really look around, did you?"
"So?" Tressa's eyes narrow slightly. She didn't like where this was going.
"You gotta know your clientele a bit better than that, green pea. 'What the clients need,' right? As my old man always said, 'don't go looking for gold where there's diamonds,'" Ali slings his rug roll back into his bag, "Merchant to merchant, we make people happy by giving them things they want. Nothing wrong with making coin off that."
"That's got nothing to do with...!" Tressa bites back at her other words, "...Whatever, I know my way as a merchant. My ma and pa drilled those into me. What makes a good merchant is giving customer's their needs' worth!"
"Oh, your folks bought you into the business, huh?" Ali points smugly at his chest, "Well, not to brag, but my dad Maruf is one of the most famous merchants down south. Everyone and their uncle knew him for his smooth-talking salesmanship! Never a disappointed customer in his tent!"
"Oh yeah? My dad's the Muscled Merchant!" Tressa sticks her tongue out childishly, "And he could take any job anywhere on the continent!"
"What a bunch of kids," Therion scoffs.
"Hm?" Primrose glances as a small platoon of who look like armored guards come walking by, led by a man with a ponytail and a finely dressed man in an ivory suit and tall hat. The finely dressed man is rather pudgy, with a whitening mustache and potbelly. They stroll up into the marketplace, interrupting the rivalry.
"Well, well, well, so these are the stones that I heard were selling so well in my town," The fat man tugs at his mustache, looking at Tressa's unsold inventory, "You both have made quite a splash in less than the span of a day."
"... Is there a problem, Mr. Morlock?" Ali folds his arms, looking at the fat man. Primrose stiffens hearing that name. So, he's the one who hired the Obsidian overseers here...
"Morlock?" Tressa perks up, "Wait, you're the land baron!"
"Indeed. Chuffed to make your acquaintances," Morlock gives a brief huff, "I own all the land here for leagues, as well as any bounty they offer. Omar."
The man with a ponytail, who seems to lead the guards, steps up to Tressa's sale area and bags the entire lot of unsold stones. Tressa balks, "H-hey...!"
"Mr. Morlock owns this mountain, its gold, and everything unearthed, including these," Omar stares down the merchant girl, "We will take these poor sellers off your hands."
Primrose feels at the hilt of her dagger. Therion eyes the development flatly. Tressa bits her bottom lip and keeps her trap shut. The dancer sees the merchant's girl restraint and mentally chastises herself for being hasty. There were fifteen guards here, at least... She'd be making a scene for a losing battle.
"We harvested those from the junk rocks you were about to throw out!" Ali protests in Tressa's stead, "What you're doing is arbitrary and stealing!"
Morlock bats an eye at the impetuous boy, "That's a big mouth on you. Judging from your clothes, you're an outsider in my town."
"I am the son of Maruf, legendary merchant of the sands!" Ali slashes his hand through the air, "And you are just about the foulest thing in this town, Morlock! Now give back the merchandise you stole!"
Ali makes a sudden move to jump forward for Omar's bag. Omar makes a swing at him, which makes him dart back reflexively. Omar's armored arm clips his dark hair just barely.
"Ali! You dolt, don't-!" Tressa flails, trying not to escalate the situation.
"Maruf, you say?" Morlock eyes Ali flatly in disinterest, "... Omar, take him down."
"Don't worry, green pea... I am known as a legendary fighter down south... One-man-army Ali! Defender of the working men! I have killed innumerable criminals with these hands!" Ali takes off his pack and takes a fighting stance, "Hoooaaah!"
"Hmf."
In a flash, Omar shoves the bag he was holding to another guard. He closes the distance between him and Ali in a blur of movement and shifts all his weight and momentum into the force of his armored gauntlet. With the motion of a tidal wave, he socks Ali straight in the solar plexus. The force of that strike sends Ali rolling backward until he ends up a heap on the floor, twitching.
"GUH- Blargh...!" Coughing, wheezing, hacking, and now vomiting out his guts, Ali is reduced to a trembling lump on the floor, clutching his chest.
"... Welp," Therion sighs under his breath, "That was embarrassing."
"Uh..." Tressa's nervousness increases as Omar goes to pick up Ali's listless body like a sack of potatoes.
"We'll show him what happens when people smear my good name in my own town!" Morlock scoffs. He gives an ingratiating smirk to Tressa, "Oh, if you're ever interested, I do hire merchants to be my loyal worker ants. Come find me in my manor should you ever desire a real job."
At Morlock's signal, he and his guards leave with Ali and Tressa's stones. The marketplace is deathly still, with many people having already either closed shop for the day or hid at the sight of the baron's guards. Tressa sees that Ali's bag is still where he had dropped it. She goes to pick it up as Primrose and Therion trot over to help.
"... Guess he'll think twice before telling his goons to throw rocks out from now on," Therion kicks a rock, "Well, you made some money today anyway. So, we can get a real room at the inn."
"... Are you alright, Tressa?" Primrose gently places a hand on the merchant girl's shoulder, "You were very brave to show such restraint there..."
Tressa sighs, "I'm no dummy. I know the odds. Merchants aren't fighters. We talk big but... without backing, we kinda fall flat when it comes to the first punch."
"Huh, you're sounding more like an adult already," Therion chuckles on the side with a smirk, "So, I say we take his stuff for ourselves, since he won't be needing it anymore, and call it a day. Sound good?"
Primrose rolls her eyes at the thief's avarice. Now that she knew the baron's odds, she was going to make her move to get him to spill about the Obsidians.
"... He was a dummy, yeah... But what Morlock just did is wrong, too...!" Tressa adjusts her hat on her head, "What's he gonna do to him..."
"Hard to say. No one to stop someone who owns the whole town," Therion shrugs, "I say we cut our losses. Not our problem he had such a hot head."
"... Do you want to go talk to Morlock?" Primrose asks gently, "If you do, I am right behind you."
Tressa looks to the dancer in surprise and then nods, "I can't just leave that idiot. I'm scared of what they'll do to him... I guess I should ask for where Morlock's manor is..."
"After we get rooms at the inn then," Therion points to Ali's bag, "Then we'll have a place to dump that, too."
"Alright, alright," Tressa sighs and picks up her own belongings. She frowns as she and the other two walk towards the inn, "I wonder what Ali meant by the bigger picture of this town..."
"My guess is the usual baron sucking the life out of everything," The thief follows around nonchalantly, "Pretty common story."
"It is?" Tressa looks to the thief.
"We'll see perhaps once we get to asking around," Primrose sighs, "I won't be optimistic about it... and I also would worry about what we do once in his manor."
"What do you mean? We'll just talk, I hope, and he'll let Ali go!" Tressa says with as much confidence as she can muster, "He might never be able to sell here again, but... hey, that's business."
"Oh, of course..." Primrose gives a facetious smile, concealing her intentions. She will have that baron tell her everything about the Obsidians, even if she has to gut all his guards to do so.
"What a great way to spend a day," Therion says sarcastically. However, he secretly preferred this to whatever the scholar might be doing.
…
"Lia? You're looking kind of pale. You coming down with anything?" Alfyn places his hand against Ophilia's forehead. The cleric shakes her head.
"I'm fine, Alfyn... I just..." Ophilia grips her staff, "I felt an ominous chill down my back."
"Hmm... This weren where I and Primrose hath followed Hägen in the night afore..." H'aanit points at the river following out of Quarrycrest, "There be a scent of human blood..."
As the huntress says that, they all can smell it better, too. There is a fetid odor about the water, like something rotten.
"W-well, it is sewage..." Ophilia lightly covers her nose.
"Yeesh, and the miners have to bathe in this?" Alfyn folds his arms, "Be better not to wash, I think."
"Indeed. The storekeeper said he saw someone go here. Whyever for...?" Cyrus folds his arms.
"Rowf!" Hägen darts towards the old, decrepit tree at the riverbank suddenly, barking at the water where the branches dip in.
"Hm?" Cyrus narrows his eyes at where the branches creak and splash in the running water, "It appears to be caught on something...!"
Ophilia reluctantly offers her staff to the huntress. With the added length, H'aanit prods where the branch is caught and feels a significant weight caught on it. Without further delay, she sheds her layers, wearing only her thin hide shirt and pants as she wades into the river and gives the branch a good yank.
Her hands grasp something disturbingly … human. As she pulls it free, she reveals a pale human body, with flesh and skin already macerating from being in the water for a long time. Ashore, Cyrus and Alfyn look aghast, and Ophilia gives a shrill cry. H'aanit's own breath catches in her throat before she wordlessly pulls the corpse ashore. As she slops the dead body down, the huntress realizes her own arms are suddenly shaking.
"H-H'aanit!" Ophilia goes to dry the huntress off with her own cape, ignoring the dirty water, "Are you okay?"
"Aye..." H'aanit says with a slight shiver, her eyes rather wide.
"G-golly..." Alfyn looks at the body, "Phew...! That's gotta be why... the body's rotten..."
"Indeed..." Cyrus scrutinizes the body, "It must have been dead for a bit, not fresh... and that thus tainted the river with its scent..."
The scholar's eyes look with direct scrutiny despite the grotesque scene before him, not missing a detail. The body is naked save for scraps of cloth hanging to its waist. It appears to be a male. The entire body is discolored, though not as though it were drowned, perhaps. It is bloated from water, but rather than being bluish or purple, it is a deathly pale color. Cyrus notices several marks that appear like cut flaps on the skin under the arms, sides of the torso, and on the inner side of the legs. He wasn't an anatomy expert, but those would be where the blood vessels are strongest... And this man's face... he looks emaciated and unshaven, but the scholar's eidetic memory is infallible.
"This is Marc... one of the missing miners from Odette's list...," Cyrus sighs.
"Wha-?! Really? Cripes... The miners were just talkin' about him!" Alfyn exclaims in disbelief, "We gotta report this, right?"
"Indeed, but... The nature of his death is unsettling," Cyrus taps his chin, "I am not completely certain, but I am fairly sure he was... exsanguinated!"
"B-but... why?" Ophilia helps H'aanit clean up a bit with some simple purification magic.
"I do not know... but that means whatever could be happening to all the people missing is something heinous... Now, I truly worry for Berg," Cyrus straightens, a determined look of grim resolution in his eyes, "Something foul is occurring and we cannot wait another moment to stop it!"
He then points upstream, where the water flows out of an opening in the mountain stone that supports some houses higher up. Where it appears to be a simple opening in the rock, there appears to be room to maneuver inside. A cave of sorts.
"I see now... the criminal must have been hiding right under all our noses," Cyrus purses his lips, "I hope to the gods that we find a less grim answer for what happened to Marc..."
H'aanit stands, thanking Ophilia and drawing her furs back on, "Letten us hunt, then."
"Sorry dude..." Alfyn looks down to Marc's body, "We'll be sure to find out what happened to ya!"
"Please, rest now... we will be sure to inform your family and give you a proper burial upon our return..." Ophilia says a quick prayer, still rather shaken.
H'aanit looks to Hägen, "Thou willen stayeth here?"
Hägen gives an affirmative growl. Linde sniffs the body tentatively before looking to the scholar walking ahead. The big cat follows alongside the huntress as she walks alongside the cleric and apothecary towards the caves beneath Quarrycrest...
…
Drip...
…
Drip...
...
Water falls onto the floor, gathered from moisture in the cave.
Blood gathers into a vial, connected to strange apparatuses of metal and glass.
Fssh...
Fssh...
The water running through these tunnels smoothly washes over the old, forgotten sewer structure under Quarrycrest.
The machines crank and spew a steaming byproduct as they run, pumping tubes of red.
A few flickering candles set around the room sputter in the humid air.
All this Olberic is vaguely aware of, along with the quiet moans of something in the corner of the laboratory. He alone is in this particular room, as the mad scientist was rather shocked to find he had ensnared the Olberic Eisenburg.
Olberic strains for the umpteenth time against the tight leather and metal bonds that hold him to the wall. His strength had been failing. It's no wonder, seeing as his precious blood is being drained from his body as we speak.
Whoever the captor was, Olberic bore some of the blame. He had been careless, following a stranger who claimed to know about everyone in town. The stranger offered to buy him a drink, as he had just arrived in town. After he thirstily drank the draught, Olberic remembered his vision blurring and his legs giving away before waking up in this dark and malicious place.
Strange tubes and wires run into his muscular body; stripped nude save for a dirty loincloth. A sort of muzzle is affixed to his face, preventing his bellows from echoing through the caves. Not that he had all the strength to give his war cries anyway.
His captor had been rather assuring that he had been quietly running this heinous operation for a while now... and no one had even an inkling as to his whereabouts.
"Is this... where it ends?" The beleaguered warrior heaves an uneasy breath through the muzzle.
No, he had to maintain hope. His companions were not your run-of-the-mill dullards... One of them was bound to notice something... He had to keep his trust in them...
The dark grate to the room swings open and the dark hooded man enters: his captor. He hums a mirthful tune as he walks over to a table next to the machines and strange technology with blood and stained glass. Opening a sort of bound sheaf of papers, he leafs through and twiddles a bloody, wicked knife in his free hand.
"Blood of a hero... This will do nicely...!"
A single eye peeps out from under the hood as he leers at the weakened Olberic in his grasp. The cur sidles up to him with a snake-like smile.
"Another one bit the dust just last night... Pah, who needs the run of the mill when I have some big, strong new specimen..." The stranger drags the edge of the dagger teasingly across the skin of Olberic's muscled abs, just enough not to draw blood.
His eye trails down to one of the collectors hooked up to Olberic. He frowns, seeing it hasn't collected as much as yesterday.
"Let's fix that shall we... sleepy time..." He says in a sing-song voice as he pulls out a metallic needle filled with fluid and jabs Olberic in the chest with it.
Olberic feels his world go white as the drug takes effect. The cultist watches with ecstasy seeing the warrior's body spasm in his restraints, going stiff and rigid before flopping back limply. There is the lowest wheeze of breath through the muzzle, barely heard through the drip and rush of water through the dark sewers. It is followed by deranged snickering, bordering on insane laughter.