Let's Try This Again

The next day…

We arrived in front of towering, black gates with the words “Guilds Bureau,” proudly sculpted into them. I was told to leave my sword and dagger with the guards.

Upon entering, we spotted a woman in a booth marked “Investigator’s Guild.” She greeted our approach with an unamused look. “What can I do for you?” she asked.

“We’d like to apply for an Investigator License, please,” I told her.

She grunted and tossed some papers onto the table. “Read the rules and fill out your information. Sign at the bottom of the page.”

I glanced over at Erin’s sheet, to copy her home city. Somehow, I could read and write in this foreign language just fine. We handed the receptionist our forms and she read through them. “Wait over there,” she instructed, pointing to a table and chairs.

She joined us ten minutes later with two small cards containing the information we had just provided her. “You are now certified investigators. Congratulations and good luck on your investigations. Make sure you don’t fancy yourself a hero and die like the rest of them.” She walked off without ceremony.

***

On our way to what Erin called an "Investigator Hub," we made a stop to buy some gear. Erin introduced me to this world’s idea of a camera and an audio recorder.

The audio recorder was a perfectly spherical, glowing orb.

The camera was… well, a camera.

Seems awfully anachronistic, I thought, as I inspected the mechanical device.

We bought one of each, along with backpacks, cloaks and handcuffs. I gave Erin my dagger, since she didn't have a weapon of her own. She eyed it disappointedly.

"I can't do any damage with this; it's so small," she whined.

So, I imparted some Earthly wisdom upon her: "Size isn't everything. And anyways, we don't have the money for a sword and sheathe," I pointed out as an afterthought.

***

The Investigator Hub looked like a massive bar or common room. It had two floors. There were tables, sofas, a bar and a man playing the piano. It was bustling with all different kinds of people; all certified investigators. However, given the underwhelming admittance process, I wasn't sure how impressive that title really was. Erin guided me to a board, titled "Cases." It was full of posters about missing people, highwaymen, fugitives, serial killers and criminal organisations.

“Aha!” Erin snatched a poster off the board. “This must be it,” she said.

“Why is a slave trading ring on the board, anyway? Isn’t that stuff legal here?” I asked, confused.

“Kind of. You’re only supposed to buy people who offer up themselves or their children. Usually, they do it to pay debts and are let go once their contract is fulfilled. But you can’t steal people and force them into permanent slavery, like what was going to happen to us,” she explained.

“Then why did the city guards let them past the checkpoint? I can't imagine voluntary slaves are locked up and bound, right?” I asked.

“You're right. I suppose they were bribed,” she guessed.

She handed me the quest poster, and I read over it:

“Illegal human trafficking ring operating throughout Boneview. This organisation calls itself the "Whip." They kidnap men, women and children to be sold into permanent forced labour. Its base of operations is unclear, if one even exists.

The Whip consists of members of both the “Triple H” and “Zero Limit” gangs. Official investigations have led to the theory that the Whip uses homeless people, prostitutes and street urchins to lure in victims. This is unconfirmed, as no victims have ever come forward.

Rewards: Case too big to determine.”

“This poster's virtually useless,” I pointed out. "It doesn't even have a prize listed."

But Erin wasn't listening; she was already on the move. I followed her over to a woman behind a counter. Erin snatched the poster out of my hands and slammed it down onto the counter. “Hello, we’d like to register for this job,” she announced.

“May I see your licenses?” asked the woman.

We gave them to her. She inspected them suspiciously, before pulling out a book, titled Incomplete Investigations. She opened it up. The contents were one long list of cases. She flipped to a recent page and wrote our names down next to “Illegal Slave Trading Ring.” There was a long list of names next to that case. Some of them were crossed out, though I didn't dare ask why.

Outside, I reached into my pocket and handed Erin a map. “Here, I took it from the inn where we stayed the night,” I explained. “So, Erin, how do you suppose one brings down a criminal organisation?” I quizzed her, as we climbed back onto the horse.

“By catching them and making them regret the day they were born?” she asked, innocently.

I sighed. “That comes later. First, you must follow the money, and luckily for us, I know where to find the first link. I’ll need your help navigating, since I’m new to the city.”

She enthusiastically agreed and we departed.

***

I peered around the corner of a brick building. I could see the spot I had appeared in, but that wasn't why I was here. I scanned the crowd for my target. There he was, up ahead, still sitting on his barrel: the caped fiend who had sold me out to those traffickers. This time, he was tossing a coin. Worried he might run away upon seeing me, I devised a plan.

“That’s him right there,” I indicated to Erin. “The plan is simple. You go talk to him and convince him to come here. I’ll wait around the corner and ambush him.”

"That sounds dangerous," Erin said, uncertainly.

"I am the danger," I responded. "Now, go."

She nodded determinedly and skipped off towards the man. As soon as I had confirmed the two were engaged in conversation, I got into position: sword drawn, ready to fight. The streets weren’t as busy as yesterday, but the few passersby shot me suspicious glances.

Eventually, I heard their voices approaching.

“So, what sort of ambush are you leading me into?” I heard the man ask. Erin nervously groaned and denied the accusation. She was a horrible liar. Regardless, the man followed her, and they rounded the corner.

As soon as I caught a glimpse of that caped bastard, I geared up to kick him in the stomach. Before my leg could go all the way, the man flung his coin into my face. I yelped out and stumbled backwards.

“Good afternoon, my friend,” he said, in a genuinely cheerful tone. Somehow, the coin had bounced right back into his hand, and he continued tossing it, like nothing had happened.

Recovering, I put my sword up to his neck. It didn’t feel menacing, since I could tell he’d let me do it. “You’re going to talk,” I sneered.

“Sure. About what?” he calmly asked me.

“Tell us everything you know about the men you sold me to. Especially the one with the beard,” I demanded.

“Sometimes they pay guys like me to find them new merchandise,” he shrugged.

“By merchandise, I assume you mean people?” I asked.

He gave me a thumbs up.

That confirms the official investigation's theory, then, I thought. "Where did they recruit you?"

"Around here."

“Any names?”

“They never gave them to me.”

“You’re useless,” I sighed.

“I said they never gave them to me, not that I don't have them,” he slyly remarked. He tossed his coin into the air, caught it and slapped it onto his forearm. His tossing hand covered the coin. “But is this really the mystery you should be investigating?”

His question caught me off-guard. It was true that I had bigger issues. Had he seen everything yesterday, including my appearing out of thin air? “What do you mean?” I asked, feeling my bravado deflate.

He shrugged. “Could be dangerous.”

“Thanks, genius. We just need information,” I said, regaining my wits.

He smiled. “The one with the beard goes by Hollow Hands Halton, though his real name is Halton of Rielfeld. He's the unclaimed son of Dorian, the lord of Riefeld.”

"How do you know who his father is, if he's unclaimed?" I questioned.

"It's an open secret."

Hollow Hands Halton… the Triple H gang, perhaps?

“Is he still on the patio?” I asked.

“No, he’s almost never here,” the caped man said. “But some of his minions are. Maybe you could get something out of them?” he suggested.

“Don't tell me what to do. But, yes, I will do that. What else do you know?” I asked him.

He uncovered the coin with his hand. Whatever it had landed on made him chuckle. "I suppose, if you ever need anything opened, head to AT Locks," he said.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You will see, my friend, you will see," he cryptically assured me.

"Congratulations," I sneered. "You have provided no value to us."

The man simply smiled, tipped his top hat and slunk off. I didn't try to stop him. Something told me I'd be seeing him again.

"So, what now?" asked Erin.

"Now, we have to interrogate some very dangerous people," I said. "But don't worry, I have a plan."

***

I shushed Erin and beckoned her forward. We were crouched atop the roof of the restaurant bordering the public patio. I peered over the roof's peek. Down there, were three men, locked in conversation. I listened for anything incriminating, but they were just joking around about nonsense. "Remember the plan, okay?" I whispered to Erin.

"What if they're just three random men?" she worriedly asked.

"They're not. I recognise the one facing us," I told her. I pointed out a man I'd seen sitting next to Halton yesterday. He was in the same magician's costume as before. Man, these people look goofy, I thought.

"Get ready," I told Erin. She nodded, full of determination. I was banking on pulling off whatever weird, switchy thing I'd performed back on the cart. I breathed in. "Hey!" I yelled. "Up here!"

The men all looked up. My eyes were so focused on the magician, they almost hurt.

I need to be there. They might recognise me, and if they do, they're going to try to kill me. My life literally depends on me being where that man is right now!

The magician and I locked eyes. The world shifted.