"As far as what I think about the current case; This village is in a forested area, so there are plenty of opportunities for people to go missing, many of which can involve supernatural creatures, but many of which do not. As far as which creatures in a forest might kidnap someone, I'm not too sure yet. Without having any current evidence, it could prove to be anything from a werewolf, to a griffin, to a manticore, and a multitude of this in-between. Hopefully we'll be able to find some evidence that supports something, and soon at that."
"I feel that perhaps the Mayor may know more than he was letting on," she murmured after a moment. "But I don't think it would be worth questioning him... I'm sure others would have already, and a person questioned too much will become irritable. The villagers, however, may have more information. I also wonder if such cases have taken place before or not..." Her voice trailed to a pause.
While Lian and Johan discussed the case, a sleepy silence enveloped the dining room. Tables had gone quietly empty, the platters of food had gone lukewarm, the coffee was cold. Filtered sunlight sifted gently through the open window; the fireplace crackled warmly. It was hard to believe that anything could ever go wrong in this perfect little village.
crrrackCRASHBOOOM!
Then Uwen tried to take a step to move the boulder, but sadly tripped under the weight, dropping the boulder onto an unsuspecting tree with a crash.
The walls of the village houses shook with the noise of splintering wood and thunder; curtains shifted furiously behind sealed windows, and suspicious eyes peered out at the scene of destruction. Surely the citizens of Riff-Raff were now convinced, if the disappearances hadn't been enough, that to step outside their bolted doors would be certain death.
Almost as an afterthought Uwen stopped at the treeline and shouted back, "You guys can come too! It'll be fun!" He then began tracking the cat tracks, snagging the first of his treats from the box.
Following the reverberation of Uwen's assault on the unsuspecting trees, the forest had gone still and silent. The ogre's footsteps crashed heavy in the underbrush, accented by the crunching of a boxful of snacks, as he made his way through the wild pathless woods.
The going would not be easy; rocky slopes dipped suddenly, roots and thick thorny bushes grew in his way, a creek and muddy ground passed straight across his path -- but pressed into that mud were two more footprints identical to the one he had found at the boulder's former location, pointing onward ahead.
As he walked, the forest began to come to life again; the trees rustled, a mourning dove cooed, a woodpecker assaulted the bark above. Bright purple butterflies hovered over a mass of little white flowers; buttercups gleamed on a cascade of vines. Uwen would find a broken sapling and a tuft of reddish fur, but otherwise there was little more evidence to be gleaned -- until, far ahead, he would find a clearing of bright green grass, and an old well at its center.
Once they arrived at the cottage, at the end of he muddy street, Rhea wasted no time in knocking at the door vigorously, before announcing their presence. "Is this the residence of Mr. John Tregear? We are hired detectives of the Tin Dragon Agency. We would like to make a few question on behalf of Mayor Toll, if possible," she said, falling silently afterwards as she waited for a reply, or any other sound from inside the house.
A crashing and shuffling issued from within the cabin -- then a silent moment before the curtain moved in the window and an eye peered out at the detectives on the doorstep. Another crash, another fumble later, the locks on the door clicked.
shhhhff. clack. clatter. click. thunk.The doorknob turned, and the door creaked open just enough to allow a young man to squint out at them from the darkness. He was disheveled, his black hair full of dirt, his ripped clothes streaked with grime, as if he'd been crawling through holes for three days without showering. His eyes had a wild gleam to them, though he attempted to hold himself as properly as he could in the presence of the two ladies.
"I'm John," he introduced himself with a nervous tremble in his voice. He caught a glimpse of Rhea's odd-colored eyes and immediately turned his attention to Alice's shoes.
"I guess you're here about . . ." he took a shuddering breath.
"I have nothing to hide." He stepped aside and opened the door wider; the air inside the house was stale and dusty, with a pungent metallic smell laced with grime.
"Please, come in."There were wires and metal apparatuses and half-finished machines everywhere. Rotting food sat in bowls and plates balanced on the corners of tables and armrests; moldy cups sat in old machines. The sticky floor was littered with paper scrawled with chickenscratch drawings and unreadable notes, some of which suggested a deep study of the drop-gates and the true nature of the ancient glyphs and keys that caused them to work. John laid a boot on some of them and shoved them underneath a chair. There was barely anywhere to walk, let alone sit.
"Can I get you something to drink?" he offered shakily; he clasped his arms behind his back to keep them from shuddering too noticeably.
In the back of the house, by the kitchen, the basement door was open a crack. From within the darkness beyond it, a noise echoed: the clatter of a tin can, a shuffle of movement, and a small whimper.
John coughed loudly, limped to the kitchen, deftly shoved the door shut, and began searching the cupboards for a clean mug.
"So, how can I help you ladies?"
Outside the inn, the Mayor stood at the edge of the porch, staring down the road where Rhea and Alice had gone. He'd watched them disappear into the house at the end of the row. He clasped his hands nervously over his stomach, his face white as a sheet, and he never took his eyes off that door.
The well in the forest was stout and mossy, built of flat balanced stones a hundred years old, so full of vines and tufts of weeds that it had nearly grown into the surrounding landscape. The well itself yawned wide, dark and deep, far bigger than any usual sort of well. The curious thing, though, was the machine.
Something bright and metallic was spinning around and around the lip of the well, too fast to see; a copper ring fit snugly on top of the ancient stone, and along its tracks a hinged metal snake whirred and sparked with an occasional bright blue glow. The outside of the well had been fitted with a dozen little cages; inside each of them, a chunk of precious skiurium ore glowed with a pulse to match the spinning snake. Knotted wires draped down into the darkness of the well, humming gently.
At the far side of the clearing, underneath a rotting fallen tree, a burlap sack had been stuffed into a crevice. Inside it was the rest of the missing skiurium.
meanwhile . . .
It was late in the afternoon, Comet-by-the-Sea grew warm with the anticipation of the evening meal, and Albert would hear a tap-scratching at his front door. A little automaton shaped like a dog butted its head against the door. There was a sealed envelope, addressed to Albert, pressed in its mouth.
The letter read thus:
Congratulations!
Your application for employment at TIN DRAGON DETECTIVE AGENCY has been accepted.
Before you can be officially hired as an official agent, officially, you must pass an introductory investigation assignment.
Please find enclosed an identification card that must be carried with you at all times. This card will grant you access to most restricted files and areas, and will act as proof of authority in most situations where such a thing might be useful in your work on behalf of the Agency. Losing or misusing this card will result in automatic failure of your introductory investigation.
Please find also enclosed a sum amount that will cover your travel expenses to the village of Riffraff. You will investigate the disappearance of two individuals: Kenver Edwards, 57, last seen four days ago; and Sewena Toll, 22, last seen yesterday morning.
Take the nearest drop-gate to Timber Moren. A lumber-wagon will be waiting for you and your fellow trainees to deliver you to Riffraff. The lumber-wagon departs at noon today. If you are not on it, you automatically fail your introductory investigation. A HORSE IS WAITING FOR YOU THERE NOW.
The driver has been instructed not to speak unless spoken to. THE OTHER APPLICANTS HAVE ARRIVED AHEAD OF YOU. YOUR ACCEPTANCE IS ONLY DUE TO A SUDDEN NEW OPENING. GO QUICKLY. FAILURE TO ARRIVE BY NIGHTFALL WILL FORFEIT YOUR APPLICATION.
Good luck.
Part of the letter had been scribbled out and replaced by hurried words in the margin -- but the card and the seal were legitimate indeed. When Albert arrived at Timber Moren, he would find a horse -- with the ouroboros symbol etched on its bridle -- tethered by the gate.
