By late afternoon, we were plodding back towards the tower.
Mudge was slathered in gore and blood.
The huge Abomination didn't seem to care, but the crowds of Waggenrook weren't amused. They scattered out of our path with such eagerness that I considered dumping a few buckets of offal over him every time I left the Tower for a walk.
I admit I was a feeling a touch tired after giving the Dungeon Core a solid speaking to about misusing stereotypes.
My rant had gone on for quite some time, and I had definitely waved my arms more than once.
"Boss?" Mudge's heavy voice broke through my thoughts. "Looks like trouble."
"Hmm?" I looked up and saw a small gathering of armoured men standing in front of the Tower. Their helmets shone brightly in the sun. Their pikes equally as bright.
I sighed.
The City Guard.
"Are we in trouble?" Penelope asked nervously.
"Penelope, you are a Death Knight," I told her. "You could quite easily kill every last member of the guard with just your knuckles. You have nothing to be afraid of."
"Oh, I could never do that!" She cried, putting a hand over her helmet where her mouth should have been. "What if I hurt someone?"
"Well, that's the point, innit?" Mudge asked.
"Nevermind," I said, shaking my head at them both. "They're probably here for the monthly accounting."
As soon as I'd said this, the collected guards whirled with a loud clatter of armour, putting on a nice show of solidarity as they faced me. Each doing their best to keep their facial muscles under control.
As a tall grey-haired old man swaggered towards me, his helm tucked under one arm. "Taran," he called. "We were just about to leave. Is the timing inconvenient?"
"Ah. Sir Holmwood," I said, accepting a casual salute before shaking hands. "It's good to see you. My apologies for being late. I had some business in one of the dungeons to take care of."
The old man glanced at Mudge, taking in the Abomination's large grin and dripping gore. To his credit, he didn't even wince at the awful stink. "Mudge," he said in greeting. "Feeling playful today, I see."
"It was a good day," the Abomination said breezily. Then rubbed his chin. "I suppose I should put everything in the larder."
"Bath first," I said.
"But some-"
"Bath," I said, more firmly. "First."
"Right, boss," he sighed.
"Penelope? Please make sure he visits the bath before the kitchen."
"Yes, sir."
I stood with the guard while my two minions went on ahead, shaking my head as I caught a few grumbled protests from the Abomination.
Sir Holmwood chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. "Is that…?"
"A Death Knight," I confirmed. "Yes. Although she has decided to be a maid and seems rather unsuited to the role of a mythical undead warrior. I'm considering other options for her future."
"That would be… good," he said carefully. "Death Knights are considered to be a little bit naughty, you know, Taran."
"She wasn't mine originally," I said. "I more or less freed her from the necromancer who'd created her. Although I might have made a few improvements."
"Of course."
"Shall we go inside, Sir Holmwood?"
"If I'm not intruding…"
"Of course not," I led him up the stairs. Not bothering to reach for the door, I let it open for me and dropped my coat into Grimsby's waiting arm. "Grimsby, could you please arrange drinks in the Drawing Room and ensure the guard outside are refreshed?"
"Of course, sir." He inclined his head gently. "A pleasure to see you again, Sir Holmwood."
"Likewise, Grimsby," the old man said cheerfully. "How's un-life treating you?"
Grimsby's lips twitched a little. "Quite well, thank you."
"Very good. Very good."
I led the old man to the Drawing Room, exchanging small pleasantries until my brain started feeling like ants were crawling through it. I was never very good at this sort of thing.
But my years in the military had conditioned me to be a little bit patient with people like Sir Holmwood. Not because I was afraid of anything he could do. More that men such as he were lifelong servants of the armed forces and as such had learnt the value of using bureaucracy as a weapon.
And void portals will only take you so far in the never-ending wave of such pettiness.
Which is why I held my patience firmly in check and allowed the old man to natter on in my ear while throwing back some nonsensical little sounds which he took for engagement.
Eventually, gin and tonic in hand, I was able to heave a nice sigh and turn a look to the old man which he understood to be sign that I'd fulfilled my obligations and that any more would be an inconvenience to us both.
"Anyway," he said with a smile. "I didn't come to talk about all that. As part of the agreement between yourself and the City Guard, I'm formally here to request your assistance with a number of trivial matters."
"Of course," I said. "The monthly accounting."
"As you say." He pulled out a small notepad and a slip of paper. He handed me the paper before also finding a pencil somewhere and scribbling a quick note in his notepad.
While he scribbled, I unfolded the paper and tried not to sigh.
The list was a little longer than usual.
"Daryl Jordan? Mark Griffiss?" I read the first two names. "I don't recognise these…"
"Common garden variety mooks, I think you would call them," he said. "Perhaps the date might nudge something. And the location. It was close to The Fluffy Lamb."
"Ah," I said. "Yes, I do remember these now. A small group of mooks who were harassing my new guests."
"You have guests?"
"Yes. Three of them."
"Would they be the cursed sisters? Violet, Clover, and Poppy?"
"That's them," I said.
"They don't know who cursed them, do they?"
"Not yet."
"Ah," he said, making a note. "So, you'll be looking into that, then?"
"I will."
He nodded along, still scribbling. "Condolences to whomever they are."
I smiled before returning to the list.
One by one I went through them.
"Sam Liddleton?" I frowned at that one. "At the Mage Guild? I know I was there, but I don't recall a Liddleton."
"That's an indirect one. He was in one of their rooms when the former Headmaster activated his, err, defensive arrays. Due to an overload in the array's mana channels, it exploded and he was killed." The old man scribbled a note. "Sorry, I thought I'd scrubbed that one out."
"Hmm." I shook my head. "Add him to the Fund."
"Are you sure? It was the Headmaster's fault on that."
"It's only right that I share some of the blame," I said. "I caused the panic."
"Then I'll do as you say." He said, sounding like he approved of that one.
The Fund was my way of compensating families of those who might have been caught within some of my more destructive moments. While not a formal obligation, I was a gentleman. And a gentleman should take some responsibility for these sorts of things.
I smiled again as I read the names of the necromancer Noodle had eaten.
"Yes," I said, pointing. "These were technically mine, but more accurately some were my cat's."
"Noodle?"
"That's the one."
"Very well," he said. "I'll make note of it. Might I ask, Taran. There was a baker there, who-"
"Necromancer."
"Oh." He frowned and scribbled something else. "And the priest?"
"Him, too."
"My investigators weren't sure. They did register some necromancy had been used at those locations but couldn't be sure if it was one of your, err, minions or not."
"No, I only took Noodle with me," I said. "He was feeling peckish."
"Right you are. Remind me not to visit when he's hungry."
I pulled out a slip of paper of my own and handed it to him. "On the subject, here's a few names you've missed. Not your fault. They set up a Ghost Trap in my library."
"Very rude of them."
"Very," I agreed, sipping my drink. "So, I went to have a chat with them. They'd set themselves up in a small necropolis."
He froze. "A necropolis? Were there many of them?"
"I'm not overly certain of their number," I said. "At a guess, about a hundred?"
"A hundred necromancers?" His face paled.
"Yes."
"Do you know where the necropolis was?"
"I'm not entirely sure where exactly, but it was somewhere in the Helsom Ranges."
"Ah. That's in Allorica, isn't it?"
"That's right."
"We should let them know, I suppose."
"I'm sure they know about it by now," I told him gently. "I burnt the place to the ground. There was only one survivor, and I have ensured he won't be practicing necromancy ever again."
"Oh!" He let out a sigh of relief and gave his little moustache a happy twirl. "Well, that's much better news. I will pass it on, of course. If you don't mind?"
"Of course not."
"Excellent." He took a sip of his own gin and tonic before scribbling more notes. "There was also a sighting of your ex-wife, Taran. Lady Westingham?"
"That's been resolved peacefully with some assistance from my legal team," I said. "And I've been assured it should not happen again. Henceforth, she should not be returning to Waggenrook."
"Well, that is good news."
"For all of us."
"I wasn't going to say it."
"It's okay," I said. "I will do it for you."
We shared a polite chuckle and another sip of gin and tonic.
These little celebrations are what make these sorts of meetings somewhat tolerable.
"What's this one?" I asked, pointing. "Dermit Shanks."
"Ah. A curious one, that," he said. "At first, we didn't think it was one of yours. Dermit appears to be the son of a local Blacksmith. He was reported missing some months ago by his father. We found his body stuffed behind an Inn on Hazard and Ninth street. It was a bit of a mess."
"I don't recall having been there this month."
"Really?" He paused. "In all honesty, it was a bit of a surprise to me, too. But I did check it before adding the name. The only reason we thought you had dealt with him was he the slime."
"Slime?"
"Yes, he was covered in it from head to toe." He gave a small shrug. "Well. What was left him was."
I shook my head. "I don't think that has anything to do with me."
"My Investigator checked the slime. We even sent it to the Mage Guild for confirmation and they confirmed it, too." He frowned slightly. "It was from the void."
"Slime? From the void?"
"Yes," he said. "Shoggoth slime, to be precise."
"As far as I know, I'm the only one who can open portals to the void," I said softly.
"Hence why we attributed it to you." He winced. "Well. This is a pickle."