The tavern buzzed with lively chatter and clinking mugs, the warm glow of the hearth casting flickering shadows across the room as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Amidst the noise, Nathan and Harald sat at their usual table, eyes glazed over in boredom, as Harald passionately launched into yet another impassioned sermon about Anna Noble—his muse, his ideal of elegance, and apparently, the centre of the universe. Keith idly swirled his pint of ale, barely stifling a yawn, while Nathan, barely keeping from snickering, leaned back in his chair, clearly acclimated to Harald's usual bout of dramatics
"Blimey, H, can't you give it a rest?" Keith asked, not looking up from his pint. "We're trying to have a pint here, ain't we, Nate?"
Nathan chuckled and took a sip of his ale. "Agreed. I think we've heard enough about your reviewing Ms. Noble's 'lessons' for one day, Harald."
Harald, undeterred, continued to expound upon the virtues of their instructor. "Meine Freunde, you must learn to observe the subtleties of magic. The way she moves, the way she speaks...it's all a lesson in itself."
Nathan raised an eyebrow incredulously. "I'm not really sure if ogling could be considered a proper approach to learning, to be frank."
Harald tutted. "Mein Herr, how could you doubt me so? Do not forget that I've gleaned knowledge from my conversations with dear Frau Noble. Now, observe…"
Harald breathed in, and a small flame erupted at the tip of his finger, no bigger than a candlelight. He then increased and decreased the size of the flame, his face drawing a clear picture of confidence in his skills. Nathan and Keith watched attentively, but the latter wasn't really impressed.
"Is that it?" Keith asked sceptically. "I could do the same thing playing around with a lantern's wick adjuster."
Harald laughed as he replied, "Funny you've mentioned 'adjuster', Herr Nimbus. From the research I've made through notes I took from my discussions with Frau Noble, I have learned to control the flow of my mana better when casting my spells, affecting its shape and intensity with my will." The pyromancer changed the flame on his fingertip into various shapes to accentuate his point. Taking things up a notch, Harald produced more flames at each tip of his fingers, and finally, a small blaze danced on the palm of his hand. Then he reversed the process, from the sizable little bonfire back to a small spark at his fingertip, and back again with gusto.
Mr. Barliman, the landlord, a stout man with a bushy beard, hurried over to their table. "Ah…young man! Please, put that out before you burn something. You're scaring away the customers."
Harald reluctantly extinguished the flames, but his mood remained intact. "As I was saying, with the proper application, my flames could be used in a variety of situations as many times as I like before I need to cool down. Wait till you see more of what I've found from our conversations!"
Keith raised his hand, palm facing outward and fingers spread slightly, offering a calm, accepting gesture. "Well, what can I say, Harald? I'm sold. Ms. Noble is a thing of wonder," he said with a small nod.
Nathan said, "Indeed. In fact, I feel tempted to learn some magic, myself. A spell or two in my repertoire could be useful for our journeys ahead."
Harald laughed, his chest filled with pride. "Do you, now? I am more than honoured to pass on what I've learned to my associates. In fact, I can help unlock your mana circulation and run you through the basics. What say you, meine Freunde?"
Before Nathan could respond, Keith chimed in. "Hold on, H, I think we should focus on getting some work, earn some coin."
Nathan smiled wryly. "Don't worry, Keith. I've earned enough to support us for the next two months. We're set for a while, at least."
Keith shook his head. "That's not the point, Nate. We're a team, we chip in together. And we can't just sit back and rely on your funds forever. You've got your own class to attend, yeah? The reason we're in Dunsgoil Hill in the first place?"
"Good point," said Nathan. "Say, Harald? I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Ask away, mein Freund," said Harald.
Nathan continued. "Speaking of gold, how much do you plan to gather for your nobility plans? I am no mason, but I wager that even a patch of land with a small castle on it would take more than, say, one thousand gold florins to gain."
Harald responded matter-of-factly, "Indeed, it is not, Herr Festivus. We would need at least thirty thousand gold."
Nathan and Keith stared at Harald as if he had grown a wiggling leg on the top of his skull.
"Come again?" asked Nathan, really wanting to make sure that he heard what Harald said right.
Harald spoke again in this theatrical tone. "Gentlemen, I repeat: to establish a proper noble house, one of great renown and standing, we shall require no less than 30,000 gold florins."
Keith leaned in, speaking to Harald almost in a whisper, expressing disbelief. "Are you off your bleeding head, H? We ain't ever had that kind of coin, nor do I reckon we ever will, what with the way we're living. We're always on the move, taking jobs wherever we can. How in the world d'you expect us to gather that much gold and keep it long enough to make a go of it?"
Nathan nodded, frowning slightly, "Keith's got a point, Harald. Our line of work isn't the best kind for hoarding wealth in the long run. We spend almost as fast as we earn."
Harald's expression didn't falter, his eyes gleaming with the fervour of someone who had thought through every detail. "Ah, meine Freunde, I understand your apprehension, truly! Our profession, while one of movement and danger, holds within it an opportunity most men can only dream of. The path ahead may seem perilous, but there is a method to our madness." He took a sip of his ale and leaned forward, lowering his voice. "The key is not simply in accumulating gold, but in accumulating standing. Reputation, you see, is the true currency of the freelancer. With every task we complete and every service we render to those of import, we gain trust. And trust, my friends, is far more valuable than mere gold."
Keith grunted, unconvinced. "Trust won't pay for land, mate. Or build castles."
"Nein, not directly," Harald replied, "But think of it like this: A good public standing ensures better job offers, no? Better jobs lead to better pay. With more coin and prestige, we start turning heads. First from merchants, then perhaps knights, and eventually, nobles. They'll know our name. And in time, perhaps even the crown itself."
Nathan rubbed his chin thoughtfully, his words carrying a note of agreement, "You're proposing a chain reaction. We do jobs for the right people, earn their favour, and with enough connections and deeds, we might be able to parlay that into official recognition; nobility by merit."
"Exactly!" Harald exclaimed, tapping the table for emphasis. "We begin by offering our services to certain houses, build a reputation as problem solvers, and, eventually, when we've done enough incredible deeds, we earn our patents of nobility. By that point, the gold will follow, more likely than we can even imagine."
"Patents of nobility?" Nathan asked.
Harald nodded enthusiastically, saying "Documents written and sealed by nobles of high rank recognising the recipients of their authority and rights as nobility. Those hallowed pieces of paper would be our tickets to greater stations in life, and everything that entails."
Keith shook his head, though his expression had softened. "Sounds like a thorny road to walk, that. No guarantee we'll ever make it before we're too old to enjoy it."
Harald smiled, eyes twinkling. "Ah, but therein lies the thrill, mein Freund! The risk is what makes it worth pursuing. If we succeed, we will build an immortal legacy. Our names will echo through the ages!"
`
Keith chuckled, shaking his head but with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're a barking mad dreamer, H. But let's give this a shot anyway. We can just have you buy the drinks if we end up back here with nothing but a pile of debt and empty mugs."
Harald laughed heartily, raising his mug. "Then let us drink to the future, my friends! For courage, glory, and gold!"
Nathan and Keith raised their mugs, exchanging a look of reluctant admiration. They had chosen a treacherous path, no doubt, but with Harald at the helm, it promised to be an adventure like no other. The clinking of their mugs resounded like an oath that their names would soon be whispered among the halls of nobility before time caught up with them.
Come the next morning, Nathan hurried through his morning routine, finishing breakfast with his friends before making his way directly to Dunsgoil Hall to look into the list of courses he could take, promising to meet up with Harald and Keith later at the freelancer's guild as soon as his business was done. Upon entering Dunsgoil Hall, Nathan approached the receptionist and greeted her with a warm smile. "Good morning. I'm here to inquire about the available classes for the upcoming week."
The receptionist handed him a neatly folded sheet of paper, her eyes twinkling with a hint of excitement. "Certainly! Here's the list of classes available. At the moment, cooking and smithing classes are among the most popular. Also, we're introducing a locksmithing class next Monday."
Nathan glanced at the list, noting the variety of options. "Thank you. I'll see which course would suit me best."
With that, Nathan took his leave from the hall, making his way towards the freelancer's guild. As he walked, he decided to take a shortcut through the block where the warehouse he had helped clear was located. As he neared the familiar building, Nathan spotted Chef Skinner approaching with a sense of urgency. His instincts kicked in, and he quickly ducked behind a corner, watching the scene unfold with careful eyes. The bear-like government worker who had evicted the former restaurant owner also appeared moments later, lumbering toward Skinner, and the two began a hushed conversation in which Nathan attempted to eavesdrop.
The government worker's gruff voice, though muffled by distance, carried a note of frustration as he said, "The routes for those shipments are essential to get the business running smoothly. I hope this trouble will be worth it."
Skinner's voice responded, "Now, don't you worry your little head, my good sir. The passage is so discreet even the dogs won't catch wind of it."
Skinner unlocked the warehouse door, and they both entered. Though he was tempted to move closer and eavesdrop more, Nathan felt a pang of hesitation. The large bear-like man looked to be more than capable in a scrap than even Nathan himself could at this point, and his pillar-like arms looked like they could smash heads with a swipe of his hand. And then, there's the possibility of him bringing in his henchmen like he did when foreclosing that restaurant. At that moment, the best thing Nathan could do was to withdraw, as acting alone would only land him into a world of trouble, and dragging Harald and Keith into problems he started was the last thing he wanted. He took one last glance at the warehouse before turning away, resolving to meet his friends as planned.
Later, Nathan arrived at the freelancer's guild building where Harald and Keith waited, and they immediately led Nathan through the bustling streets of Dunsgoil Hill as they talked about the job they'd picked for the day. Before long, the trio arrived at Lockson and Co., a locksmith shop with a quaint charm and a sturdy oak door that hinted at the craftsmanship within. Mr. Lockson, a man with a meticulous air and a keen eye for detail, greeted them warmly.
"Welcome, welcome!" Mr. Lockson's voice was rich and authoritative. "I assume you are here for the shipment job?"
Nathan nodded with a slight smile. "Yes, Mr. Lockson. We're ready to assist. What's the task?"
Lockson's face brightened with a hint of excitement. "Ah, splendid! I need you to go to Everstead, just outside the city. Fetch the lock parts from the blacksmith there. If you can complete the round trip before sunset, I'll see to it that you receive a handsome bonus."
Keith's eyes widened with interest as he took in Mr. Lockson's horse. The horse stood tall and robust, its muscular frame a testament to its strength, with powerful legs built for heavy work. With a calm yet commanding presence, the creature exuded an air of dependable grace, ready to pull the cart effortlessly. "Blimey, sir. That's a fine steed you've got there," he said, awed in the presence of the horse.
Lockson chuckled, clearly pleased. "Irmgarde here's a reliable one. Treat her like a lady, and she'll take you home."
With the cart hitched, the trio set off. The ride through the countryside was uneventful, and they reached Everstead just an hour shy of noon. Everstead, a quaint hamlet bordering the sprawling Evergreen Forest, was a picture of quiet charm, with its cobblestone streets winding through clusters of wooden cabins. The village was peaceful, framed by towering pines from the nearby forest that stretched endlessly into the horizon, providing both shade and a sense of mystery. As they approached the village square, a familiar sight caught Nathan's eye: a man being unceremoniously ejected from a local establishment. The man tumbled onto the cobblestone street with a thud, and a stout woman stomped out of the establishment, looking incredibly cross.
"And don't let me catch you stealing again!" roared the woman, presumably the landlady. "My bread is for my paying customers, not sneak thieves like you!"
Nathan's eyes widened in recognition. The man being thrown out was the same former restaurant owner he had seen before, and it was clear that he had lost everything that day as he was still wearing his chef's uniform, which now looked incredibly shabby and dirty. He turned to his companions and said, "We should help him."
Keith and Harald exchanged sceptical glances. "You sure this is a good idea, Nate?" Keith asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Before either could say anything else, Nathan strode over to the former restaurant owner with a cheerful wave. "Ah! There you are, chef! We've been looking all over for you!"
The former restaurateur looked up in confusion. "Who-?"
Nathan, seemingly delighted and relieved, continued, "Why, it's Nathan, sir. Your favourite customer! But why did you run off? Your restaurant's been closed for days, and everyone missed your cooking!"
The restaurateur looked pained by Nathan's proclamation, remembering what he had lost recently. The landlady eyed Nathan warily before she asked, "Do you know this vagrant, stranger?"
"I do," Nathan responded. "But I can see that the chef's in trouble with you, madam."
The landlady huffed. "Damned right he is! This old blighter snuck into my restaurant and ate some of the bread, and he had the nerve to sneak his way out without paying! I'm not letting him out of sight unless he pays for them!"
"…and is that why you've tossed him out of your eating house, giving him plenty of opportunities to escape without paying?" Nathan wondered aloud. Seeing that the landlady couldn't find a suitable retort, he continued, "Never mind, then. Please tell me how much he owed you, and I'll pay for him."
The landlady stated the former restaurant owner's bill, and Nathan handed her some copper florins. She looked satisfied after giving it a count. "Well, I suppose that clears things up. Thank you." The woman gave the restaurateur one more nasty look before she went back inside her establishment.
The former restaurateur looked bewildered but grateful as Nathan gestured for him to join them. "Come on, we're heading back to Dunsgoil Hill. You're welcome to join us."
The restaurateur blinked at Nathan before relief took him over. "I…I don't know what to say, monsieur. Thank you, thank you…"
With the former restaurant owner, now slightly more cheerful, and the cargo secured, Dreisterne set off for their return journey. As the sun began its descent, casting a warm glow over the landscape, the trio and their grateful companion made their way back to Dunsgoil Hill. After receiving their payment from Mr. Lockson, Dreisterne had the restaurateur clean up and buy him a new set of clothes before they took him to their usual haunt, The Walking Pony, a cosy, bustling tavern famed for their aromatic roasted meats and freshly baked bread. The trio sat at a corner table, their guest of the evening hunched over a plate stacked high with food. The former restaurateur devoured the meal with an enthusiasm that spoke volumes of his previous hunger.
Nathan, leaning back in his chair with a contemplative expression, watched the man with a mix of empathy and curiosity. "It's good to see you enjoying the food. I imagine it must be quite a relief after your ordeal, sir."
The restaurateur, between mouthfuls, nodded vigorously. "Bon sang, this is divine!" he said, the exclamation betraying his subtle Charlemagnean accent. "I cannot express how grateful I am for your kindness. Without you, I would…" He paused, chewing thoughtfully before continuing, "I would still be lost." The restaurateur then finished his meal moments later and wiped his mouth with a napkin, his eyes misting over slightly. "Ah, it has been a rough time indeed." He turned his attention to Dreisterne and bowed respectfully towards them. "My name is Robinson Gusteau, and once again I thank you, good gentlemen, for this kindness."
"The pleasure is ours, Herr Gusteau. I am Harald Nachtwasser, co-founder and spokesman of the Dreisterne freelancing enterprise," said Harald, gesturing towards Nathan. "Anyway, I must say that the credits should mostly go to my friend here. Nathan took the initiative to speak with that indomitable landlady at Everstead earlier."
Gusteau raised his eyebrows. "So your name is Nathan. I thought that was a bluff as well!"
Nathan laughed before he answered, "Please forgive the deception on my part, sir. I was keen on getting you out of your sticky situation no matter what."
"Oh, come now, there's nothing to apologise. I didn't expect anyone to stick their necks out for someone like me. You've done me a great kindness, Mssr. Nathan." said Gusteau soberly.
Keith casually chipped in, "You can always count on good ol' Nate to save the day, chef. You should've seen him the times he rescued a girl's lost cat and saved the life of a lost damsel from a bunch of murdering thieves."
Impressed, Gusteau responded, "Did he, now? This country would be better off with more heroes like him!"
A round of appreciative laughter resounded around the table. Nathan pretended to enjoy his mug of thin beer to get his mind off the conversation, his cheeks warming up for some reason, while Keith struggled not to laugh at Nathan's reaction. Gusteau then asked moments later, "I don't mean to look at the gift horse in the mouth, gentlemen, but I have to ask. Why did you go so far to help me in the first place? We've never even seen each other until today."
"We…saw you got kicked out of your restaurant when we just got here," Keith stated, his brow furrowed. "I'm not sure if this means anything after all was said and done, but I'm so sorry for your loss, chef."
Gusteau sighed. "I have been thinking non-stop since I've lost my restaurant. I've dotted every 'i' and crossed every 't' when I obtained the deed for that place, and I kept it safe for all those years. And yet, it's gone just in time for that… that… coup d'état. Yes, a coup d'état, that's what it was! I don't know how they did it, but for my deed to vanish from its place in perfect timing with the eviction just reeks of treachery!"
Harald then asked Gusteau. "Is the restaurant that important to you, Herr Gusteau?"
"Ah, you have no idea of that restaurant's worth to me, Mssr. Nachtwasser," Gusteau began, leaning back against the wooden wall, his eyes clouded with memories. A sigh of deep melancholy escaped him before he continued, "I once had the privilege of toiling in the royal kitchens at Londinium. You see, it had always been my dream to cook for the King. Though I was not deemed worthy to serve in the Iron Castle, my passion for cooking was never diminished. So, I shifted my aim to my next best dream: opening my own restaurant. So, I travelled far and wide, armed with the knowledge and experience I've acquired to work in the most respected kitchens I could find. Each one brought me a step closer to that dream, and then... I met my wife, Irene." At the mention of her name, a tender, almost reverent smile touched his lips. "Ah, Irene. She was a light in my life, a wonderful woman who shared my passion for cooking. Together, we opened our own little restaurant here on Dunsgoil Hill. It wasn't much at first, but over time, we built something truly special."
Harald, his interest piqued by the story, leaned in. "And what of Frau Irene, if I may ask?"
Gusteau's face fell, and the sadness returned to his eyes. "Irene… She passed away from consumption six months ago. Her loss..." His voice wavered slightly, but he pressed on, "Her loss shattered me. The restaurant, you see, was all I had left, a testament to our shared dreams, our life's work. When I was expelled from it, it felt as if my entire world crumbled in that moment." He paused, his gaze growing distant. "Perhaps I should have sought work in one of the many kitchens across the city. I was a skilled chef, after all, but instead, I was lost in my grief. I turned to alcohol, thinking it would ease the pain, but it only dulled my senses and dragged me further down." A heavy sigh followed his words, the weight of his sorrow palpable. "In the end, I lost everything: my livelihood, my dignity. The only thing I have left from those days is my wedding ring. I could not sell it for all the gold in the world, so I fell so far, that I resorted to stealing bread just to survive. Truly, I can't thank the powers that be enough for our meeting."
A moment of silence followed, the trio absorbing the gravity of Gusteau's story. Then, Nathan asked, "What will you do now?"
"I haven't the faintest clue," said Gusteau, contemplatively. "Wait, strike that. I did say I should have sought work in one of the kitchens in this city. Perhaps I could start with the one in this establishment. At least I could keep myself fed and clothed without causing trouble to anyone."
Then, Keith remembered an interesting detail and broke his silence, saying, "You know, the cooks at Dunsgoil Hall have been wondering about you since your place was closed down. Some of them were even hoping you'd come their way so they could learn from you."
Gusteau's eyes widened in surprise and hope. "Really? They've been thinking of me?"
Keith grinned, his enthusiasm evident, "'Pretty much, yeah. So, how 'bout it, chef? If the top dog over at Dunsgoil's kitchen agrees, we can take you there. You can show 'em what you're made of and pass on some of that know-how while you're at it. Make a fresh start out of it, you know?"
Gusteau's face lit up with a mixture of relief and joy. "Pass on my know-how, you say? That never crossed my mind, I admit. And to know that there's someone out there who still needed me even when I've lost everything, how could I refuse?"
"Well then!" said Harald, raising his mug in a toast. "To new beginnings and the revival of a true artist. May your journey forward be as fulfilling as the artistry you bring to your craft, Herr Gusteau!"
Dreisterne grinned as they raised their mugs for Gusteau, and the chef too smiled once again, his future no longer uncertain.
After taking a swig from his mug, Nathan asked, "Mr. Gusteau, do you happen to know anything about Chef Anton Skinner, the new owner of your restaurant?"
Gusteau, his eyes narrowing in thought, replied with a slight frown. "Ah, Anton Skinner... Oui, I remember him well. We were acquainted about a year and a half ago. He struck me as rather... slippery, always with that overly polite smile, dripping with insincerity. There was something oily about his manner; so eager to please, yet you felt as though you needed to wipe your hands after shaking his. I also can't help but wonder how quickly the government conferred ownership to Skinner."
Harald leaned in with a hint of suspicion. "Could there be a possibility of title theft, perhaps?"
Gusteau shook his head, his face troubled. "I cannot say that Skinner ever caused trouble to anyone during the time I knew him. He was always quite respectful, even if he was unctuous. Yet, the loss of my deed still haunts me. I remember precisely where I placed it, and only Irene and I knew of its location. To lose it without explanation..." He trailed off, his frustration palpable.
Nathan nodded thoughtfully. "Do you have any suspicions about how the deed might have been lost or if anyone else might have had access to it?"
Gusteau frowned hard over Nathan's query as he attempted to recall everything about his former restaurant's inner management. Then, a flicker of realisation crossed his face before he answered. "There was someone. Erica Miles, a sommelier I employed. She was one of Irene's closest friends. If there were any secrets or if Irene had mentioned something about the deed, Erica would know."
"Are you sure about this? We don't want to jump to conclusions," Nathan said.
"She knew where my wife kept her stash of money she saved for rainy days. If there's anyone Irene could trust to keep a secret aside from myself, it's her," said Gusteau resolutely.
Harald's eyes lit up with interest. "Ah, an intriguing lead. Perhaps speaking with Frau Miles could shed light on this matter."
Gusteau nodded vigorously, his expression resolute. "Yes, I suppose you should speak with Erica. I will give you her address. She may provide some insight into what truly happened." Gusteau wrote down the address on a piece of parchment and handed it to Nathan. "Here is her address. Please, do not hesitate to inquire. If there's anything I can do to help, do let me know."
"There is one thing," Harald stated. "Do you know where Skinner used to conduct his business before he obtained your venue?"
Gusteau frowned. "I do know that he used to run a restaurant on the city outskirts, but no more. Now that I think of it, I've never even bothered to ask where, much less seen it myself. I'm sorry I couldn't help you much in this regard, mes amis."
Nathan smiled appreciatively. "Your assistance is still invaluable, Mr. Gusteau. Thank you."
The group nodded in agreement, their focus now shifting to the next step in unravelling the mystery surrounding Gusteau's lost deed and the enigmatic Chef Skinner. As they finished their meal, the sense of purpose was palpable, each member ready to delve deeper into the unfolding investigation. Dreistrne parted ways with Gusteau later, who was thankful to Harald for sponsoring him a room for the night.
The trio arrived back at their modest lodgings later, the evening's shadows stretching long and dark, and they retired for the night, their minds already turning over the possibilities of what the next day would bring. The investigation into the mysterious circumstances surrounding Chef Skinner and the missing deed was now a shared endeavour, and each member of Dreisterne was determined to uncover the truth.
The next morning, Dreisterne arrived at Erica Miles' house. It was a modest, unassuming building tucked into the quiet side of Dunsgoil Hill's residential district. Nathan knocked a couple of times on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness. After a long pause, nothing but dead silence greeted them.
Keith, impatient as ever, muttered under his breath, "Doesn't look like there's anyone in there, Nate. Bet she's legged it."
Before Nathan could respond, a neighbour, a hunched, elderly woman, approached them from the adjacent house. She eyed them with curiosity before speaking. "You're looking for Ms. Miles, aren't ya?"
Nathan turned to her, smiling at her. "Indeed, madam. Have you seen her lately?"
The old lady shook her head, her voice raspy. "Hasn't been home for more than a month now. Left without a word to anyone. It's strange, really."
Harald stepped forward, feeling inquisitive himself. "Excuse me, madam, but do you know if Frau- err, Miss Miles has seen anyone else before?"
The old woman squinted, thinking for a moment. "Well, there was a man with her the last time I saw Erica. They were talking out front. Short fella, small moustache, dressed up neatly, and always talked like he wanted to sell me something."
Nathan's eyes widened ever so slightly at the description. "Was this man perhaps a chef? By the name of Anton Skinner?"
The old lady snapped her fingers. "Aye, that's the one! He was the new owner of some restaurant, wasn't he? Why, do you know him?"
Nathan exchanged a glance with Harald and Keith before replying, "In a manner of speaking. Thank you, madam. You've been most helpful."
The trio moved down the street, leaving Erica's house behind. Once they were out of earshot, Nathan's expression turned thoughtful.
"Well, that's certainly more than a coincidence. But I'm afraid directly asking Skinner about this is out of the question," Nathan said, folding his arms.
Keith raised an eyebrow, confused. "Why's that? Can't we just walk up and ask him what he's been up to? Seems simple enough."
Nathan shook his head. "Keith, the three of us wandering around asking questions already makes us stick out like a sore thumb. If Skinner is involved in something untoward, we're already drawing too much attention."
Harald nodded, his expression serious. "Nathan is right. We must tread lightly. Do not forget that it was that government official who ousted Chef Gusteau from his restaurant. If this plot runs deeper, we must assume the possibility that civil servants in Dunsgoil Hill have been bribed or corrupted. They may already be watching for anyone poking around."
Keith grumbled but couldn't argue with the logic. "Alright, alright, I get it. So, what's the plan then?"
Harald stroked his chin in thought before proposing, "We should split up to divide our efforts and minimise suspicion. I will go and speak with Chef Gusteau again. Perhaps he knows more about his former workers or has some insight he overlooked."
Nathan nodded, quickly understanding the plan. "And Keith and I will investigate Skinner's old restaurant on the outskirts. There may still be some clues there that were left behind."
Keith crossed his arms, thinking it over. "Splitting up, eh? Not the worst idea. If anyone can sniff out clues, it's you and me, Nate."
Nathan smiled faintly, grateful for Keith's confidence. "As long as we're discreet, we'll uncover anything we're looking for."
With their plan set, the three parted ways. Nathan and Keith set out from Dunsgoil Hill and travelled to the city outskirts, following a series of tips and leads about Chef Skinner's old restaurant. The sun was high in the sky as they walked along the main road, asking residents of the small settlements they passed.
The search was proving to be a bit of a slog. Keith's patience was wearing thin. "Oi, Nate, I reckon we've asked half the folks around the city walls by now. When's this gonna end?"
Nathan, maintaining his composure, responded, "Patience, Keith. We'll find someone who remembers the place, eventually."
Their perseverance paid off when they finally encountered a horse rancher who had frequented Skinner's restaurant. The man was animated, his face lighting up as he spoke about the place. "Ah, Skinner's restaurant! That was a hidden gem. I dunno what he put into his food, but they could get a tired farmer right back on his feet and keep working for another day, and they tasted great too. With him moving into the city, he'll be raking in gold every day his place opens!"
"I see. Do you know where I can find his old restaurant?" Nathan asked.
The rancher said, "Why, not far from here, you'll see a smaller path breaking off from the main road to the left. Just walk on from there until you reach the edge of the forest. You can't miss it!"
With the directions in mind, Nathan and Keith made their way down the road, finally arriving at the edge of a forest where Skinner's old restaurant lay. The building was in a sorry state—its exterior weather-beaten and overgrown with creeping vines. The restaurant was abandoned, standing forlorn, facing the southern wall of Dunsgoil Hill quite some ways away from there.
Nathan glanced around, checking to ensure no one was nearby. "Let's make sure no one's watching before we start," he said quietly.
Keith nodded, taking a moment to scan the immediate area. "Still looking all nice and deserted. Let's get to it."
They approached a window on the side of the building, facing the forest. Nathan skilfully broke one of the panes with a rock he found and unlatched the window from the outside. Nathan carefully climbed through the opening and made sure the coast was clear. He called for Keith, who immediately followed suit and hopped into the restaurant. The interior was just as desolate as the exterior. Dust-covered furniture and empty shelves greeted them. The space was small, and most of what had been inside was either damaged or removed long ago. As they moved further inside, they came across a door leading to what was presumably a cellar. It was locked tight. Nathan and Keith put their backs into it, trying to force the door open, but it refused to budge.
"This door's as stubborn as a mule," Keith grumbled, his hands sore from the effort. He then tried bashing the lock thrice with his shield but to no effect. "And this lock's bleeding sturdy. It looks brand-new."
Nathan, panting slightly, nodded in agreement. He pulled out a small notebook and jotted down a quick note about the door and their findings. "We'd best turn back until we know what to do about this."
Keith glanced around one last time, clearly disappointed. "Makes me wish I'd learned how to pick locks."
Nathan asked, looking curious. "Didn't your old crew know about lockpicking? Being thieves, and all."
"Eh…probably not," said Keith dismissively. "Simple, violent thugs, the lot of 'em. They couldn't be bothered to do anything more taxing to the head than recite a nursery rhyme."
Nathan and Keith had just started to head back to the broken window they used for entry when they heard the distinct sound of clicks coming from the front door. The sharp and deliberate noise made Nathan's heart skip a beat.
"Cor blimey!" Keith hissed, grabbing Nathan's arm and pulling him behind a bar to hide.
They huddled in the dim, dusty space beneath the counter, trying to remain as silent as possible. Nathan's breath was shallow as he listened intently. The clicks continued, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps moving purposefully across the floor. Nathan certainly couldn't see what the new figures looked like from under the counter, but he could guess from the promptness of their actions that they knew this place very well. The sounds of footsteps grew fainter, and Nathan and Keith could still hear a distant, metallic click coming from the direction of the cellar door. He glanced over at Keith, who was peeking cautiously from behind the bar.
"Do you see anything?" Nathan asked quietly.
Keith shook his head, his eyes fixed on the narrow view he had of the room. "Nothing yet, but we gotta be ready for anything."
The duo waited in tense silence until they heard the muffled sound of the cellar door opening. They barely managed to stick their heads out from their hiding spot just in time to see two figures clad in piecemeal armour sets making their way into the cellar. The door closed behind them with a heavy, final thud.
Nathan and Keith exchanged a relieved glance. "That was close," Nathan said, his voice barely a whisper. "Let's get out of here before someone else finds us."
They scrambled back through the broken window, making their way out of the abandoned restaurant with as much stealth as they could muster. Once outside, they moved quickly along the small path, their minds racing with the implications of what they'd just witnessed.
Later, the members of Dreisterne sat huddled around the table in their room, the flickering light casting long shadows on their faces as they shared their findings. When Nathan and Keith finished recounting their encounter at Skinner's old restaurant, Harald couldn't help but grin with intrigue. "Fascinating," he said, rubbing his chin. "To think you stumbled upon men in armour, using the cellar as if they've always known its secrets. It raises so many possibilities, ja? Something more sinister may be afoot than we first imagined."
"Yeah, well, I don't fancy going back there without a proper plan," Keith interjected. "Those blokes meant business. No way are we gonna just waltz back in there."
Harald nodded sagely. "You spoke truly, Herr Nimbus. Prudence is key in this venture. Now, allow me to share my findings." He leaned forward, his fingers dancing in the air as if weaving his tale. "I spoke with several of Herr Gusteau's former kitchen staff. Most of them now work under Skinner. They took up positions mere days after Gusteau's eviction, which is conceivable since no one wants to lose their jobs, especially on such short notice. Those who did not join Skinner disappeared from Dunsgoil entirely, apparently left for parts unknown. Again, very conceivable since they might not support the sudden regime change and wish to seek their fortunes elsewhere. But, what are the odds that Herr Gusteau's former workers either work for Skinner or be nowhere in Dunsgoil Hill at all, with none in between? We couldn't even spot one former Gusteau crew member working in the other eateries in this city."
Nathan narrowed his eyes. "Do you suspect foul play in this?"
"Probably as foul as a ten-year-old jar of sauerkraut. Unfortunately, we have no proof of anything, at least for now." Harald sat up straight, grinning conspiratorially. "Therefore, I propose a plan. One of us will infiltrate Skinner's kitchen, probably as a helper, and dig out as much information from the bowels of the restaurant as we can."
Keith perked up at this. "Well, that leaves just me then, H. My cooking classes will be done in two weeks, and I reckon I could use the practice. Besides, no one's gonna expect a bloke like me poking around the place."
Nathan smiled. "You're sure you're up for it, Keith? It's not just cooking we're talking about here. You'll have to gather information and be subtle at it."
Keith waved a hand. "Don't you worry, Nate. I can handle it. What better way to mix business with pleasure, eh?"
Harald chuckled. "I have no doubts about your abilities, mein Freund. And while you embed yourself in Skinner's kitchen, I shall work to raise the necessary funds for this venture. Investigations of this nature don't come cheap."
Nathan nodded thoughtfully. "That leaves me then. There's a locksmithing crash course starting Monday up in Dunsgoil Hall. Considering what we saw with that cellar door at Skinner's old restaurant, it might be useful to develop a knack for lockpicking right now."
Harald's eyebrows shot up, a smirk forming on his lips. "Locksmithing, Nathan? How uncharacteristically crafty of you."
Nathan grinned, shaking his head. "A necessary skill, considering our circumstances. Knowing how to unlock secrets might give us the edge we need. And the timing for this crash course couldn't be better."
With the plan set, Harald leaned back, folding his arms in satisfaction. "Sehr gut, sehr gut. So, in summary: Keith shall infiltrate Skinner's kitchen, I'll see to our financial needs, and Nathan, you'll become our master of locks. Between us, we shall uncover the truth."
Keith gave a mock salute. "Here's to the next two weeks, eh?"
Nathan smiled, though his mind was already turning over the possibilities ahead. Dreisterne were taking their first real step toward unravelling the mystery surrounding Gusteau's eviction and Skinner's meteoric rise. The threads of deceit and ambition lay tangled, but the team's resolve was unwavering.