S1 E7 - Bulls on Parade

S1 Episode 7: Bulls on Parade

Intro & News

Calling all adventurers, I repeat, calling all adventurers.

We've got a few simple jobs today. If any take your fancy, go check em out.

First, Bard Needed in Briar Hollow. A tavern brawl occurred two nights past and this client needs a bard to compose a song that makes them sound like the winner. Payment is negotiable.

Next, Escort for a Strange Box. A store owner in Widdishire requests the careful transport of a parcel. No shaking, no opening, and no asking questions.

Lastly, a man in Silverlake requires a...well...he says a "Reverse Thief?" Someone has been sneaking gold into his house and he needs someone else to remove it and find out why it's happening.

That's it for now but I think we'll have a few more later.

Right, we've had a few people writing in and asking me some questions. Is Valuin actually a villain? Why do you sound so young if you're over a hundred years old? Why are you called The Host, is it because you Host the show?

No, it's not because I host this show, but if you want real answers to any of those questions you're going to need to be patient. We are just at the beginning of a fairly long story, and plot twists come to those who wait.

Since you're all so enraptured with anticipation, let's get back into that story. Shall we?

Story Start

After our investigation of the monsters and our encounter with Bob, we emerged from the sewers. I clambered out of the manhole to my feet and studied the town square.

The clean, fresh air washed over me and I took a deep breath that filled my lungs to near bursting.

The monster's body had already been taken away but the area was still cordoned off. A smart choice; don't know what else could pop out the ground when no ones looking.

I turned, took Val's outstretched hand and hoisted her all the way from inside the manhole up to her feet.

Val: "Thank you. Right, let's inform the guards of our discoveries, and then see if anything else has transpired in our absence."

We marched over to a nearby guard who was hovering around the perimeter of the square, clearly told to watch for our re-emergence.

Host: "We've found several bodies in the sewers and have taken care of another beast down there. I'd suggest sending a detachment to get the area back under control. Oh, and has something happened about two streets west of here?"

The guard looked at me with genuine surprise.

Guard: "Yes, sir. Aloysius Garrick has had a terrible accident. How did you know?"

I nearly rolled my eyes. Val was right on the money.

Host: "Understood. We'll continue with the investigation and you report our update to Tranter. Make haste. "

The guard again nodded and turned to go one way, before quickly stopping, turning around and rushing off the opposite direction down the street and round a corner. I looked back at Val.

Host: "Your experience pays off again. An unrelated accident appears to have occurred away from the town square. An Aloysius Garrick has perished."

Val: "Oh, how strange. Let's go take a look, shall we?"

We quickly departed and made for west of the square and there it was, sure as roundness in the dewdrop; two streets down there was a smattering of guards outside one of the houses. Definitely looked like something had happened. I was struck by the thought that there's a lot of guards for a relatively small town.

We approached the guard blockade being gently swarmed by prying townsfolk. You'd think they'd had enough excitement for one day.

A guard piped up.

Blockade Guard: "It's Tranter's mercs, let 'em past."

The nosy civilians enviously stepped aside as Val and I strolled past. The guard who let us through gestured toward the house with a wave and a silent nod while holding back the curious tide.

That was easy. I found it to be a much nicer experience in those sparse moments when the guards were actually working with us.

Standing between us and the front door was another guard I hadn't seen before. He was maybe an inch taller than me, six-four six-five, and a bit wider with his bulkier frame. He had a cropped fauxhawk and a thick beard. A tattoo of a hammer covered his right forearm. It was clear to see with his arms folded in front of his barrel chest. He was pushing his ill-fitting uniform to the limit.

It was like facing down a wall as he glared at me. I wanted to ask where he had been when the beast appeared earlier but I thought better of potentially antagonising the local law enforcement.

Instead, I looked into his eyes, then at the door behind him, then back to his eyes. His glare made me nervous.

Host: "May I?"

He didn't move a muscle for about five seconds, obviously contemplating not letting me in, but he soon relented and stepped aside with a grunt.

That felt weird but I dropped the issue immediately and stepped past him, slowly pushed the door open and moved into the house. No guards, it was empty inside. So I slipped in and closed the door behind Val, separating us from the snooping crowd outside.

It was nice to get a little bit of a breather, I thought, for about 5 seconds before I saw the body.

Barely a few steps in. An older man, laying on the floor; dead.

A familiar sight at that point.

I wondered how many times that sort of thing would come up. Would it start to seem normal? Would I start to get worried whenever there wasn't an old dead guy on the floor of whatever house I entered?

I shut the thought down with a pang of guilt over my callous attitude as Val advanced into the room, knelt beside him and began looking the body over.

I felt calmer this time. Didn't need to take a breather outside. Val's demeanour in Greywall suddenly made more sense.

Time to make myself useful, I thought, and began checking over the abode. It was a nice house, homely and snug but not small. Made good use of warm coloured wood finishes and thick drapes.

There were five rooms to inspect and I set to studying each of them intensely. Had I not encountered a similar scene in Greywall, I may have passed this off as an accident without too much thought. But already I knew better, Val and I knew Aloysius Garrick had been murdered; we just needed to determine how, why and by whom.

First was the living room. It possessed a small kitchenette, a two person dining table set for one, and a stone hearth with a variety of cast iron cooking pots and utensils neatly arranged. Beside the hearth was a tufted high-end leather sofa with coordinated red and black pillows placed delicately at each end. A fancy chair for a modest house. That was also the room where the body was located. We'll come back to the body in a moment.

Second was a well lit bedroom with a clear window view of a small garden out back. It had a comfy looking single bed, a chest of drawers, and a large strongbox with a combination lock. Upon inspection, I found the strongbox lock had been cracked apart, as though someone had struck it with a large weapon. I thought back to an old druids trick my mother taught me.

I knelt down, closed my eyes, and emptied my lungs to make myself as still as possible as I touched its thick iron shell. Softly, I moved my hand and could feel a gentle hum under my fingertips. It was enchanted, likely for added strength and security. The power required to get it open would have been astonishing. I checked the inside and it was packed with a sack of gold, the deed to the house, a fancy bottle of wine, and some jewellery. At that point, it was hard to say if anything had been taken from it.

The bed was made; the sheets were tucked tightly under the cotton mattress and the two fluffy duck down pillows rested freshly plumped and neatly stacked at the head. I pulled out the top drawers and inspected their contents. Way too many clothes were stuffed in, undergarments, belts, and tunics all squashed in together. The drawers below were sparse comparatively.

Attached to the bedroom was the third room, an ensuite bathroom with a sizable wooden tub and a small vent window. I checked through the window, and could see the alleyway where I faced the dogstrocity from earlier.

The fourth room was a windowless study, well-lit by multiple metal lanterns. At the far wall across from the doorway sat a large wooden desk. Packed bookshelves lined the walls on either side. They were messy and unkempt, with loose papers sticking out from between the pages. The books and diaries were shelved in seemingly no particular order or system, and the scrolls were stuffed into whatever space there was between them. I pulled out a leatherbound diary close to me that was wedged a little too tightly between two others and flipped to a random page. His penmanship was delightfully neat with little in the way of mistakes.

Regarding the diaries' contents, from what little I could actually understand, they seemed to be meticulously recorded and dated notes on spellcrafting. By his notes, he was trying to create some kind of magical cipher and disenchantment techniques? It was all nonsense to me.

I placed the book back where I found it and then quickly checked four other random books. Their contents stayed on the subject of spellcraft, but the dates were all mixed up. Just from what I saw, they spanned a career of over 60 years, but weren't in chronological order. Strange.

I turned my attention to his desk. The papers on it were at a neat right angle with the top left corner, and at the right was a brass inkwell and quill holder, complete with crow feather quill and midnight black ink that matched the writing in the diaries. Its neatness scratched that particular pervasive itch of mine for things to be orderly. I also checked the drawers, and found that they were just filled with poorly arranged stationary.

Above the desk, tightly fixed to the wall, was a large, boxy, ornate brass clock. Must have been important to him with how it took pride of place in the room. Its craftsmanship quality implied it was likely fairly expensive, so I understood that.

The time on it showed exactly 12 o'clock, which didn't feel right.

Host: “Val, what's the time?”

Val: “Um...9:16. Why?”

Host: “His clock in here is broken. It looks expensive.”

Val: “Still works twice a day though.”

I turned away from the study and checked the final room.

The foyer we had entered through. A cloak hung on a wall hook and a tall walking staff leant against another I checked the staff. I didn't need to test it for enchantment when I could see the runes carved into its length. The man was clearly a mage, which lined up nicely with what I'd already seen. The front door still had the key in it and the rug on the floor was slightly askew. Good taste in decoration, I thought.

I faced the body in the center of the living room. This scene reminded me of those old crime serials my mother would get from the newspapers. I'd read them over and over, and bother the passing peddlers to bring me as many as they could from the cities. It didn't bode well for dear Mr Garrick that his death was so reminiscent of a murder mystery. I doubted we'd run into the potential killer so soon this time.

I knelt down beside Valuin, who was now sat on a nearby step, and began to study the body. Long white hair, a thick white beard, and dressed in fancy dark blue tunic. Various bejewelled rings adorned his fingers. No shocked expression, he was just staring at the ceiling.

Host: "What are we looking at?"

Val: "Meet Aloysius Garrick. Human male, late 70's, no obvious health issues. As you can see from the large contusion on his torso, he suffered massive blunt force trauma to the chest that likely resulted in his immediate death. Been dead about an hour based on his body temperature. Likely case is he was being killed as you were dealing with Big Boy in the square."

That didn't feel good. To have been as close as I was but couldn't do a thing to help. I knew then that I couldn't save everyone and I know that now more than ever, but it will always be a hard truth to face.

Val: “Eyes are still open, and no markings on hands or forearms, no other bruises or injuries. I suspect he didn't see it coming. Struck down in the blink of an eye with a heavy blow to the torso. Was gone before he knew what was happening. I can't determine anything else. Did you get anything from the environment?”

Host: “Yes. This place has been turned upside down in a search for something.”

Val glanced around at the relatively clean house before looking back at me.

Val: “What?”

Host: “There were a few things that gave it away. The bedroom has an enchanted strongbox in it that's been smashed open. No easy feat, but if you were looking for something precious, that's the first place the killer would try to get into. But I don't think they found what they were looking for in there.”

Val: “Why not?”

Host: “Because they also checked other places. His clothing drawers are a mess, the second most common place to hide things of import. But most usefully, I think every book on his office shelves was pulled out and stuffed back in. I mean, his couch cushions have been arranged in colour order and his bed looks to have been made with a ruler, but I'm to believe he doesn't have a system for his expensive socks, stationary, or his numerous, carefully handwritten diaries? Nah, I'm not having it. Someone was looking for something book shaped and they didn't find it.”

Val: “Books shaped? Oh, I get it! The rest of the house is tidy, but the bookshelves have been torn apart. Presumably, that was the next place the killer looked. The shape or function of the object informs where they were looking for it.”

Host: “That's my thinking. Third option implies the killer was struggling, which means there's a good chance that whatever they were looking for is still here.”

Val and I stood and studied the room around us.

Val: “Well, there's got to be something we're missing.”

Host: "I agree. Something about all this doesn't line up. It's probably something we've already clocked as well. But what?"

I was standing there wracking my brain when I saw Val's lips slowly stretch into a grin.

Val: "Oh, that's funny!"

Host: "What is?"

Val: "Wait, that wasn't on purpose? Take your 'time piece-ing' it together."

Host: "What are you talking about?

Val: "Don't make that 'face.' Are you getting 'ticked' off?"

Host: "Val I will put you in the bin."

Val: "The clock."

My head whipped around and I stared straight through the door into the study at the brass clock on the center of the wall.

Val: "I think you're right. What would a man with his level of attention to detail be doing with an expensive broken clock?"

She was on the money again; she had to be! I marched into the study, stepped up onto the chair, then the desk, and reached up to grab the clock.

There was a hitch. I couldn't remove the device from the wall. I was bolted into place with the intent to keep it there no matter what.

I felt something under the fingers of my right hand. Behind the right side split pediment atop the clock were three buttons that could be pressed in. I pressed one in but nothing changed. I then attempted to rotate the hands, but it seemed as though they were stuck together and would only move as one. Pulling my ear in close, I could hear a mechanism inside. Gears moving as I moved the hands.

Host: "It's not a clock, it's a combination safe! The hands are the dial! I assume if I place the hands on the right number and click these buttons behind the pediment, it will unlock."

Val: "This is so cool! Now it's just a matter of identifying the correct numbers. I doubt it's the obvious options. Who'd go through the effort of commissioning a safe like that, even implementing a decoy safe, just to fall at the last hurdle with rudimentary shit like a birthday code?"

I thought about tearing it off the wall and breaking it open, but I didn't know what was inside. I might have broken its contents. I also didn't know if the thing was enchanted like the strongbox. I could get badly injured for my efforts. Val was right, we'd have to work out the code.

I'd already checked his house. He didn't give the impression of someone who'd leave it laying around on a piece of paper or clear as day in a diary.

I checked everything from the paintings on the walls to the various items on his shelves. They looked like pieces he'd collected over the years. If he was sentimental about these trinkets, then the combination being a date made more sense, but it would have to be something of great personal importance to him.

Eventually, I found my way back to his strongbox. I knelt down and went through everything in there and rediscovered the bottle of fancy wine. I picked it up and inspected the label:

'Serpent's Vine Reserve.' A full bodied red with a fruity bouquet, dated the year 411. That wine was 36 years old.

Host: “Val, what about this? You know more about wine than me, so I need you.”

Val: "I heard wine."

Host: “Serpent's Vine Reserve.”

Val: “I know them. What vintage?”

Host: “411. Here.”

[SFX bottle changing hands]

Val: “Oh, an interesting year. Not for wines, but for mercs. That was the year that the Ministry of Security put through all those new merc regulations. The golden age of adventuring had been over about 70 years by that point but, even so, that is the year it was considered to have died its true death. Ah what was the date for that again? The 15th of the 4th, I think. I remember because it lined up with the new tax year.”

Host: “Why would that date hold specific sentimental value?”

Val: “Well, a lot of existing mercs -sorry- adventurers, gave up the gig after that day. They were the heroes who fought for valour and righteousness, and they felt the King had just privatised justice. The ones who were okay with the change of job description stayed and became Private Military Contractors.”

Val's lips parted as though she would say something else, but clamped shut. Clearly she had some more to say about it, some conflicted feeling that wouldn't feel good to air at that moment, so she didn't and I let it go. My attention returned to the bottle as she silently handed it back to me.

The death of heroes. That would certainly match the sentimental angle; 15-04-11 could work. I walked back into the study and up to the clock and immediately hit another snag, there is no 15 on a clock face.

Unless, I was using the minutes, not the hours.

I gently moved the hands to quarter past 12 and pressed in the first button behind the pediment. I felt a satisfying click and the button stayed in place.

[SFX 15 ticks and a click]

I immediately felt a rush of relief.

I continued. Moving the hands to 4 minutes past.

[SFX 11 ticks and a click]

And then 11 minutes passed.

[SFX 7 ticks and a click]

I waited two full seconds with nothing happening, then slowly I heard the mechanism inside begin to move.

[SFX clock safe opening]

The front of the clock released on a hidden hinge, and fell open. Like a door left slightly ajar.

I turned to Val who gave me a subtle nod in anticipation. Pulling the clock safe door open, I could finally see its contents.

Break

Ooh, that's a heck of a place to pause for a break right? Well, tough. With the spread of the receiver boxes comes an increase in jobs and other notices.

DUNGEON FOR SALE

Renowned wizard— oh wow okay— Thalioren Virelithar Eldrithar Lysandor has a vast crypt that he's selling to anyone who may need one. Comes furnished with traps and puzzles, but treasure will need to be supplied by the purchaser.

The Crumbling Crust Bakery in Larkspur has posted an emergency request for an experienced Rat Catcher. It states "Rats very organised, have begun to unionise. Send skilled negotiator."

There. That's all for now. Wasn't so bad, was it? Let's continue.

Story Resume

I stared into the safe. A large metal book of strange design placed delicately inside. I carefully removed it from its home and stepped down from the desk chair.

Val: “It was a book. Looks very fancy. Second fanciest book I've ever seen.”

I thought the same as I ran my fingers over the cover; It buzzed with a strong magic. The book was made from a white metal I'd not seen before. It was accented with patterns and corner protectors that looked like gold, but I could tell weren't gold. I knew because the book was too light. Gold is heavy, but this thing weighed no more than a standard vellum book half its size.

This next bit is hard for me to explain, so bear with me.

I opened the book, which was easy enough, but when I tried to read the writing on its metal pages...something happened.

[SFX piercing noise with unintelligible whispers and raised pulse]

Host: “Ah, what the fuck?”

Val: “Woah, are you okay?”

Val: “Here, let me—”

Val: “Ah fuck. What's happening?”

Host: “I don't know. Oh gods that hurts!”

I slammed the book closed.

[SFX metallic book slamming]

I couldn't read it. Not like it was a language I couldn't understand. It was more like a language I couldn't comprehend. Whenever I tried to look where the letters should be, my eyes would blur over and I'd get a piercing headache. The discomfort would cease quite quickly after I stopped looking at it, but would return immediately if I dared look back.

We took a full minute to recover.

Host: “A curse?”

Val: “I've not seen one like that. Usually cursed books get you when you first touch them or when you open them. But this waited until we tried to read it, and then would cease when we stopped. That's not a curse, you get stuck with curses. It's kind of in the name. Why would Aloysius make this?”

Host: “Wait...a magic cipher.”

Val: “Pardon?”

I walked over to the diary I'd picked up when I first walked in.

Host: “We can't read the book, and we know he didn't make it, because he couldn't either.”

I showed her the notes.

Host: “He was researching magic ciphers and disenchantment techniques. He was trying to understand the metal book too.”

Val took the diary and flipped through the pages.

Val: “Based on the dating in here, he's been at it for at least 30 years. That's some dedication. He's careful not to mention what he's actually trying to decode, just repeated mentions of new techniques and continued failures. We can't be sure, but this metal book is likely what the killer was searching for. They want it badly.”

I waited a beat, then two, then three before speaking up.

Host: “Do we tell the guards?”

Val: “I think we should keep the book to ourselves for now. Let's try to get a little more time to study his notes before making any decisions about it. Go tell the guard out front that we've got a lead we plan to follow but don't give any other details yet.”

Host: “Understood.”

I left the room and strolled to the front door. All the excitement was wearing me out. A nice cup of tea and reading through some notes would be a nice change of pace.

I checked through the peephole and saw the big guard was still waiting outside. Opening the door, I walked out into the street which was now desolate, cleared from nosy townsfolk. 

It was just him.

Host: “Mister Guard, we've got a lead and we will be staying here for a bit to follow it.”

The guard looked down at me again with that intense gaze. Like he was trying to figure something out. Made me a bit uncomfortable, but I waved it off as bad people skills.

I had relayed the information to him, expecting him to turn away and go tell Tranter...but he didn't. He eased his weight from one foot to the other, unfolded his arms, and briefly looked around.

A chill went down my spine and I felt a pit form in my stomach…

[SFX punch]

In an instant, he reeled back and swung at me. I leant back, but not far enough and his fist connected with my jaw. The power of it made my vision go dark for a moment as it drove me to one knee.

What was happening? A guard was attacking me? If I'd been anyone else, I wouldn't have survived that punch. I looked up to see him preparing for another strike. I couldn't stand up yet, his punch had turned my legs to jelly. I felt time slowing down again.

I had a fraction of a second to respond, but would never get my hands up in time to defend myself. But damn if I wasn't focused. If he wanted a tussle, I'd give him one, I didn't give a shit that he was a guard or that he was bigger than me.

As the punch closed in, I wrenched my neck forward with all my strength. His knuckles connected with my forehead.

[SFX punch]

He reeled back, his hand was clearly broken. He made a strangled sound, but didn't say anything. In the moment I thought he had some kind of speech disability, because that should have gotten some kind of response out of him.

This guy wasn't a normal guard. His combat form was too different, he was much better trained, but it seemed he still wasn't prepared for me to put up any significant fight. He'd underestimated me. A bad mistake, but he could reflect on that in the hospital.

I'll admit, I had temporarily lost my cool.

I dragged myself to my feet while he clutched his shattered knuckles. Each step was wobbly, but I was up and regaining composure by the second.

Val: What's happening?

Val appeared from the front door. The guard was now outnumbered but he didn't flee. Instead, he changed his stance, like he was readying something.

Tranter: Cease, both of you! Whatever it is that's going on here, it stops now!

Tranter? I turned to the side to see the guard captain himself arrive with a full entourage of guards with weapons drawn. I was a little disappointed that he'd interrupted the scene but maybe it was for the best.

Tranter: Hands in front of you! I'm taking the three of you into custody. I can't have one of my guards and a merc I just hired to have a brawl in the middle of the street like a pair of common thugs.

Host: Hey, he started it. I don't know what his fucking problem is but—

Tranter: Save it. We'll discuss this at the guardhouse, away from prying eyes. Now, hand over your weapons and do not resist. Compliance works in your favour here.

Damn it, he was pulling rank. There was nothing I could do, but we weren't in the wrong, so the law should have been on our side if they'd let us explain.

I slipped my sword off my back and handed it to one of Tranter's men, Valuin did the same with a concealed dagger from her tunic that I didn't know she had. With a hand signal, Tranter had cuffs put on me, Val, and the big guard. I relaxed a little knowing that he was being taken in as well.

We left for the guard station. I kept my head up, not wanting to get another surprise attack from the guard, and saw townsfolk watching us from behind their window curtains or from their front gardens. This probably didn't look very good, but that was not my main concern at the time.

A minute or two later, we reached the station. It was essentially a larger house that had been converted into a barracks, jail, and makeshift information centre.

We were guided inside, Tranter's men took the guard who attacked me and put him in a cell, while we were escorted into another room through a thick reinforced door. It looked like a private cell designed for multiple prisoners.

Tranter: In the cell, please. 

We were pushed behind the bars and the cell door was closed and locked. Tranter's men left. He followed but paused in the doorway, deep in thought.

Tranter: I cannot fathom why all this is happening. I suppose it was simply bad luck. I mean, who could have predicted two mercs would show up in town the very day we were planning on killing that old man. I wish you'd have just died in the sewers like you were meant to.

Host: What?

Tranter: Nevertheless, you can rot in here until I know what to do with you. Until then, I have a meeting to attend .

Host: W-h-what the fuck are you talking about? You did this?

Without a response, he turned and moved through the door we came in. The last thing I heard was the key rattling in the lock on the other side.

And just like that, he was gone. I couldn't hear any noises beyond the door. 

No one was coming to help us.

Outro

Let's stop there for tonight. I feel myself getting into it and if I don't cut us all off now, I'll be talking all night.

Keep your spells prepared and your blades sharps, adventurers.

But most of all, rest well and good hunting.